#it also lifted a wee little spell they did on her that wiped all of her memories from before she met the sisters 🥀👁️

[thedeadthree]

🥀💌🕯️💀 <33

*old person yells at cloud* THEORY TIME <3 but i was thinking of the skill trees screens we’ve seen so far and i am like…… super certain that ingellvar is the mourners surname and soo that calls for an update to irulannes pin interest board <33

(ill cry change it if it isn’t though but hehe anyway im stoked to at last have a surname for when i save her edits bc rn her folder says i.datv xixjjxhx *WHEEZE* 💀)

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Paths We Take

Pairing: Fairy King!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, mentions of stalking.

Words: 2789.

Summary: As your little sister has been kidnapped by the fair folk, you have to set her free, exchanging your life for hers.

________________

"Remember, you shall not give him your name." The old woman told you, putting a little iron coin into your mouth. "Wait for him to give you his word. Unless he does, neither you nor your sister are safe."

You bowed your head to her, thankful for all her advices that could save your life - this woman was the only one to escape faerie ring and stay alive. She was a young girl when she got lost and returned when her hair turned grey, her skin wrinkled. Her scarred face warned the ones wandering the woods from going too far to the north.

"Do not be afraid." She said gently, caressing your cheek wet from tears with her rough, work-weary hand. "Your sister is still alive. Do everything right, and you will set her free."

You nodded and lifted a heavy basket filled with jugs and jars with wine, honey and butter, your offering to the wee folk to pass safely. If not your stupid, uncaring sister, you would never have to set your foot so far into the forest. But with no one to seek protection from, you had to go there yourself.

If only your sister didn't spend her days dancing in the woods despite all your warnings. You admitted you didn't raise her well, yet with no one by your side you spent all your time trying to provide for the both of you - life in this little village surrounded by woods had never been an easy one, especially for orphans.

As she had never listened to your pleas, no wonder one day your sister didn't return. The villagers had immediately gathered to start the search, but the only thing they found was a piece of your sister's dress hanging on a bush right near the faerie ring. Everyone knew then what had happened to her, and no one was ready to risk their life to save a silly young girl who didn't know better but enter the realm of the fair folk. People were helpless against the faeries, and many of the villagers had lost their loved ones to them. You could still find human bones if you went too far into the woods.

The basket was heavy, and you exhaled loudly as you set your foot outside of the elderly woman's hut, looking at the dark gigantic trees far away with worry. The woman told you that you wouldn't return - you would ask the fairies to take you away instead of your poor little sister.

"Wait, Y/N!" You heard someone's voice and turned around to see another woman, her hair all grey too despite her age - she was the one who had lost her only daugther to the wee folk a few years back. Since then she had aged faster than any other woman in the village. "I... I have something to help you!"

You blinked when she got close to you and reached out to your face, a little bottle in her hand. You closed her eyes as she rubbed a strange smelling salve into your eyelid, covering your eye with something that made you feel like someone poured a bucket of cold water over your head. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes and realized one eye was seeing much better than the other. The objects became sharper, the colors more bright as you stared in the woman's face with confusion. What was that?

"This is what one witch gave me when I was looking for my daughter." She whispered quietly as if she was afraid the Fae would hear her. "Now they won't fool you with their glamor. But don't show them you can see everything!"

"I won't." You assured the woman quickly and squeezed her shoulder gratefully. "God bless you for your kindness."

She nodded and hurried away, hiding the bottle inside her long worn out dress and never looking back at you. You knew she was scared. No one dared to come with you to the faerie ring, afraid to be tacken away by the creatures they feared and detested. Yet you were grateful to the woman - she knew how much it hurt to lose your beloved ones to the fair folk.

Turning to the woods, you licked the iron coin in your mouth and pushed it to the side, pouching it in your cheek. It didn't feel pleasant, but it was the least of your worries now as you went closer and closer to the gloomy forest, thinking of all the dangers it hid. Why did you sister go there? Why didn't she dance somewhere on the meadow, basking in the sun? What made her forget all the warnings every child was given?

Biting your cheek, you stepped inside the forest and clenched your fists, following the path an elderly woman had showed you. You stopped near the huge stump, taking a few pieces of fresh bread out of your basket and placing them on an improvised wooden altar for little forest sprites as an offering. Although you didn't need them to guide you, you asked them not to play with your path, twisting it such way you might end in the village again instead of the faerie ring. Losing their favor was not wise.

As you moved further, you sensed yourself speeding up despite feeling lightweight as if you were a little feather carried by the wind. For a moment you felt frightened, but then realized the sprites took a liking to the offering you brought them and helped you on your way. Did they know why you were coming so far into the woods? Maybe they did.

The further you moved, the more nervous you became, afraid to put your head up and look upon your surroundings - you saw elderflower glowing on your left and averted your eyes immediately, afraid to be charmed before you reached your destination. Then a few blue sparkles lit up the trees to your right, and you hurried further into the woods, wiping away your tears. You could make it. You could save your sister despite fairies' attempts to charm or scare you away.

Soon you moved to the left, leaving the path, and saw the ring formed by those little white mushrooms. It looked odd as the ring was the perfect round shape as if someone purposely made it.

Sighing heavily, you had doused your lantern and set it on the grass. Dear God, you were truly doing it. Licking the iron coin in your mouth, you pressed your lips into a thin line and stepped inside the ring, closing your eyes for a second. The moment you were past the line of mushrooms, your senses were clouded, your head light, your body almost flowing in the air - you could feel you entered the other realm as the forest lit up around you, and you heard the laugh and charming voices.

When you opened your eyes, you saw a great fire and many strange-looking creatures circling it. They danced, screamed, laughed and cried as they sat together, certainly celebrating something, and you stared at them in awe, blinking and unable to move. Your left eye showed you graceful fairies with their long curly hair laying on their shoulders, their faces strikingly beautiful, their bodies glowing warmly as they sat close to the fire. But your right eye, the one covered with that salve... it showed you ugly, revolting creatures with their fingers crooked, their faces dry and wrinkled, tree branches piercing their backs, their silky clothes being just some dirty rags. Not all the fairies looked distgusting, but many, many of them did. You almost flinched when they looked at you, standing in the ring with your large basket full of food and wine.

You didn't see the man sitting on what appeared to be a throne on the other side of the cirle, hid by the flames of the fire, but once he rose to his feet everyone fell silent. He was tall, well-built, looking stronger than any man in the village, his dress made out of pure golden threads. Certainly, his glamor spell was way stronger than the charmed salve made by the witch as both your eyes showed only one of his forms, unlike the other fairies.

He was the fae's lord, you realized as you bowed deeply, refusing to look him into his deep blue eyes. You didn't even see his face clearly as you stared at your own shoes, clenching the basket.

"What a lovely human I see." The man said, and you heard the wee folk chuckling at his words, whispering something to each other. "Will you give me your name, little one?"

You gulped and froze on the spot. You knew well you should never respond to the fae's question with your name as you would simply hand them the power over you with it, "giving" yourself to them. But staying silent was considered rude, nonetheless.

"Forgive me, lord fae, for I cannot. But I can tell you it is Acantha."

A thorn. It wasn't your true name, of course, as even saying, not giving it to the fair folk was dangerous and unwise. The lord fae knew it well, of course, and narrowed his eyes at you, smiling.

"My name is Steven, little one. I am the King of the Fae, and this forest belongs to me just like the meadows, fields, rivers, and lakes." Though he was smiling, it didn't reach his eyes - you didn't realize you weren't bowing to him anymore and stared at his pale face, glowing in the dark. "Why did you come here, little one? What are you searching for?"

As you heard nasty cackling to your right, you clenched your teeth, realizing these very creatures had trapped your poor sister for their fun. Now you saw many of them drinking not only ambrosia and wine, but also a dark red liquid that looked like blood.

Murderers. Ugly beasts banished by God himself to all the darkest places, unworthy of sunlight. Did they claim they owned the meadows and rivers and lakes? No, the villagers did. And they would drive out and kill all the fair folk with iron knives and pitchforks who would dare to come out the woods. The forest was the only place humans were afraid to enter.

Gritting your teeth, you bowed your head again and gently set the basket in front of the fairy's circle, taking a step away. You had to keep calm. You needed to get your sister out.

"I am searching for my sister, fae lord. She's a silly little thing, and I'm afraid she took the wrong path in the forest, disturbing your kind folk with her dancing." You said, choosing your words wisely and not looking at anyone, savouring the taste of iron in your mouth. The coin was muffling your words, but no fairy had sensed anything yet. "I came to plead you for help, fae lord. Please, bring her to me, let her come back to the realm she belongs to safely, and I will give you whatever you would like me to."

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. You said it. You just exchanged your life with hers. If he took your word, you would be trapped here, in this cursed place belonging to The Unseelie Court.

The King looked content with you being so courteous, your offering very generous for a simple village girl, indeed. He motioned to two forest sprites to bring your basket to him and pulled a jug filled with the finest wine you could find, setting it near his thrones while handing the basket to others. As they flew to it, ripping it apart and claiming whatever they could reach, you bit down on your tongue, feeling utterly disgusted. All of them deserved a pair of shoes made from branding iron.

"You have good manners, little one." The King smiled at you, and the next moment he wasn't standing near his throne made from gold and decorated with gemstones shining in the dark, but cupping your chin as he stared down at you, his warm breath tickling your skin. "You brought a nice offering. I will give your sister back to you, and sprites will escourt her to your people. I give you my word."

Your eyes went wide. He said exactly what you wanted him to, and it only took you an offering and a plea. How was it possible? You knew well how cunning, haughty, and treacherous the wee folk could be. But the King himself gave you his word. It was an oath the fae couldn't break.

Before you could bow your head again and express your gratitude, however, the King had suddenly put his warm palms on your shoulders and turned you around, forcing you to stare at the procession, several fairies leading your still dancing sister to the fire. You could see her feet bleeding, but she had that strange little smile stretching his lips and enlightening his eyes as she kept moving, laughing and throwing her hands into the air. Her clothes were dirty, her hair disheveled, yet she didn't see it, caring about nothing but dancing.

You realized you were crying only when the King gently wiped your cheek with his palm.

"Set her free once she steps out the ring." He said as fairies lured her to that little circle of mushrooms. "Bring her home safely and make her forget all that she saw. Do not ever let her come back."

You tried to make a step towards her, take her into your embrace, kiss her cheeks, whisper her to never set her foot into the forest again, and ask her to promise she would take care of herself, but the King still had his hands on your shoulders, and his grip was becoming tighter and tighter, forcing you to stay still despite all your attempts to run to her. He wouldn't let you tell goodbye to your own sister. You were made to watch as she was taken away from you, and your eyes were full with tears again. Dear Lord, why? Why didn't he let you approach her for a mere minute? You wanted to scream and cry, but realized you couldn't open your mouth. The Fae King had charmed you.

Once your sister disappeared inside the faerie ring, you had collapsed to the ground, your fingers buried into your hair, pulling at the roots in despair. You would never see that little girl again. Cruel laugh of the fairies surrounding you made you face wet from all the humiliation and pain.

"Shhh." You heard the Fae King speaking as he got down to you and caressed your hair gently. "It will be alright. She will live her life like all humans do, and you will stay here and forget all your sorrows."

You cried harder at his words, and an iron coin the elderly woman gave you slipped on your tongue. The King had immediately reached out to your face and opened his hand, looking at you patiently. Now he knew you carried a coin in your mouth.

Pausing for a moment, you realized it was meaningless: it was over now. You were in the hands of the wee folk, and no one would come to save you. You submitted, dropping a coin to the fae lord's hand - he hissed as it burnt his skin, but once he clenched his huge fist the coin disappeared as if you had never brought it in your mouth.

"See? It's easy, little one." The fairy murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of your head and making you turn your face up as he wiped the remains of the salve from your eyelid - he saw it, too. In the next moment the darkness became light, and ugly creatures surrounding you turned into the most beautiful beings you had ever seen. "You will forget. Don't you know you were born under the Milk Moon, little one? You shouldn't live the life full of hardships as a peasants' daughter. You deserve to be happy in my lands."

With me, you could hear his whisper inside your head.

He didn't tell you he had been watching you gathering herbs and berries in his forest close to the village for years. He didn't tell you he lured your sister into the faerie ring, knowing you would follow and try to save her, ready to trade your own life for hers.

You didn't tell him you kept an iron nail in the pocket of your dress, prepared to fight for your life till the very end. You weren't born to become a little doll of the Fairy King, and you were ready to prove it.

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Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lovelydarkdaydream

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 4: A Fall of Rain

Chapter 4 Summary: Claire delights in a new experience, and later comes to a startling realization.

Read on AO3

Chapter 4 below the cut...

Chapter 3 , Chapter 5

Chapter 4: A Fall of Rain 

Jamie couldn’t stand the look of pain still etched into that bonny face as Claire thought about the stones. He longed to tell her aloud all the vows his heart was making, but that would have been very foolish indeed. 

No, he would honor her request of not talking about the stones. What she really needed was a distraction. 

Her eyes were still downcast and clouded with thought. Jamie carded his fingers through her curls briefly in one last wordless reassurance and then caught her chin with two fingers to draw her face up to look at him. 

“Do ye maybe want a shower? That always helps me feel better,” he offered with a smile. 

She blinked, and much to his relief, the charged atmosphere dissolved in an instant. 

“A shower?” She mimicked the word but it came out slightly funny as she struggled to form the unfamiliar pronunciation. 

Jamie chuckled. “I keep forgetting. Do ye not bathe then?” 

“Of course I do,” she looked affronted, “in the loch. But what does that have to do with this ‘shower’ of yours?”

“Oh, ye’re in for a real treat, lass.” 

With some fortitude he wasn’t sure he possessed, he detached himself from her. He led her to the bathroom and set to work getting the water warming. When she followed in behind him, she tried to immediately strip her tee-shirt off. He stopped her with a stilling hand on hers (which were crossed over each other and gripping the edge of her shirt, mere seconds away from--). He let out an indulgent chuckle.

“Wait until I’ve left, mo nighean donn.” 

She leveled him with a wide-eyed golden look. “You won’t go far?” she asked a little anxiously. 

He shook his head with a smile. “I’ll be just outside.” 

Pulling the shower curtain away once more, he stuck his hand in and found it to be the perfect temperature. He tugged it open the rest of the way and stood aside to show Claire the water. She peeked hesitantly inside, and her look of wary confusion quickly morphed into amazement. 

“It’s like rain,” she exclaimed as she turned and looked at him, wonderment lighting her eyes. 

“Aye,” he laughed, “but jes’ wait until ye stand beneath it.” 

He showed her the towels to dry off with when she was done, and then reassured her one last time that he would be just outside. Then, he ducked out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

Jamie rested his back on the door and indulgently pressed his ear to it. He was admittedly eager to hear her reactions if not also a bit concerned that she might slip and fall despite his warnings. The telltale scratching sounds of plastic loops of the shower curtains indicated that Claire had stepped in. A second later he heard a cry of delight. 

“It’s warm!” she squealed in what could only be blissful excitement. 

“I kent ye’d love it,” he called in. 

He heard gleeful laughing and splashing, and could only imagine Claire— her hands outstretched with palms lifted to catch the water, her face upturned toward the showerhead with a radiant smile, drops of water splashing over those perfect shoulders and creamy white skin to trace down…

-Christ! Dinna disrespect the lass like that. 

He took a tight rein on his wandering thoughts and instead called in, “ye can use a wee bit of that soap as well. In the bottle on the side there. Ye rub it on yer skin and then wash it off.” 

Instead of a reply, there was a loud clunk from the bathroom, and Jamie’s heart leapt to his throat. His instinct was to immediately rush inside, but first he forced himself to anxiously call, “Claire?” 

“Sorry, just dropped it. It’s slippery,” came the reply. 

Jamie let out the breath he’d been holding in a huge but shaky exhale. His heartbeat slowed immediately and he couldn’t help but laugh at his overreaction. Claire just seemed to bring out every ounce of protective instinct in him. Maybe it was her vulnerability paired with curious naivety, maybe it was the circumstances in which he’d found her, or maybe it was just something about their connection, but Jamie had never felt anything of the sort. He wasn’t exactly what people would call the alpha-male possessive type. His previous flings (not that he’d had many nor had they stayed around long) were always very independent from him. They were like two ships passing in the night-- barely a connection, just occasional proximity. They had never needed him nor him them. But with Claire… God— with Claire it seemed that she needed him. And it was growing more and more apparent with every second that he needed her just as much, albeit not in the exact same way. 

He was interrupted from his musings when the bathroom door that Jamie was leaning on suddenly opened and he nearly came crashing inside. His hands caught the doorframe to keep him from falling, and when he straightened, he came face to face with a wide-eyed and apologetic Claire, wrapped in a towel with droplets of water dripping from her curls and beaded all over her skin. 

“Sorry,” she stuttered. 

He stood frozen in front of her, still startled by her abrupt opening of the door, but mostly he was taking in her appearance and trying to get his brain to restart. 

She’s sae bonny. 

“I couldn’t figure out how to stop it,” she admitted, giving a vague point in the direction of the shower that was still running. 

“Oh… aye,” Jamie said dazedly. He snapped himself back into the moment and hastily added, “I’ll take care of it while ye go to yer room and get dressed again, aye?” 

She nodded at his suggestion and scooped up her discarded clothes. Then she stood looking at him expectantly. He wondered for a second why she was just standing there before he realized he was still frozen in the doorway and blocking her path. 

“Eh… sorry,” he murmured as he stepped aside and allowed her to exit the bathroom. 

He couldn’t help but stare after her as she walked down the hall toward the bedroom. Squeezing his eyes shut in self admonishment, he quickly turned away and stepped into the bathroom to shut off the shower. Truth be told, he needed one of his own, but he couldn’t yet bear to leave her alone for long enough for him to do so. He absently mopped up the small puddles of water Claire had made on the bathroom floor, and then he left the bathroom and returned to the living room to wait for Claire on the couch. 

Nearly a second later, before he had any time to get into his own head and begin contemplating again, Claire returned. Her damp curls rested on her shoulders making his tee-shirt a bit damp. Even wet she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

She gave him a smile, as if reading his thoughts, and began to head straight for him again. This time, she sat down next to him and nestled into his side. Flustered for only a second, he recovered and put an arm around her so she could burrow in further. Then, she brought her knees across his lap to rest her folded legs over his. 

“I liked-- what did you call it? Shower? Well, I liked it very much,” she commented happily as she looked up at him. 

His voice was low as he answered tenderly, “good, I’m glad. I kent ye would.” 

As he was speaking, Claire’s hands began to wander over him. Her fingers touched at the edge of his jaw, just below his ear, and rubbed the corner of it. He couldn’t remember someone ever touching him just there, and an odd sensation gripped him in his wame. But he found he liked it-- just that slight fluttering of excitement and the tingling going through his face where she touched him. 

He wanted so desperately for her to continue her strange explorations of him that he felt he must keep perfectly still and silent in order to not break the spell. Not moving his head, he glanced down at her to see her expression was that of enrapturement. 

Her hand traveled higher, tracing the shell of his ear with a feather-light touch. It was amazing to Jamie how just the barest hint of her skin on his could rattle him so. 

Then, without warning, she buried her hand deep into his mussed hair, fingers sinking deep into the curls. 

He had started a bit at her suddenness, but instantly melted as her fingers began to press delightfully into his scalp and massage in little circles. A sigh automatically tumbled from his lips.

“Are all fair folk sae tactile?” he asked as a laugh rumbled deep in his chest at her odd affectionate and intimate behavior. 

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still enthralled by his hair. But then she jerked her gaze suddenly to meet his, as if his words had finally penetrated her brain, and she flushed a very becoming shade of pink. (Jamie was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to lose all brain functions). 

“Oh... no, ah-” she withdrew her hand from his hair and leaned away a bit, her body parting from his, “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” 

He quickly caught her hand and squeezed it, as if that could pull her back to him. Perhaps the right thing to do would have been to keep the more appropriate space between them, but Jamie couldn’t help but reinitiate contact; he couldn’t seem to be without it. 

“I like it jes’ fine,” he murmured, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended. 

At that, her lips quirked up in a smile and all hesitancy vanished. She scooted closer to him, molded herself to his side once more, and then went back to his hair again— this time both hands smoothing up his nape to tangle in his curls and pet him gently. 

Jamie couldn’t have wiped the smile off his face if he tried. 

“You’re so beautiful…” she said under her breath, perhaps mostly to herself as her fingers carded through the curls, “I’ve never seen this color hair before.” He felt a finger brush his forehead and then twirl a wayward strand around it, “like the red of a stag, but with bits of sunlight glinting through it…” 

He didn’t have time to respond because suddenly the loud ding-dong of his doorbell rang through the house and sent Claire jolting back in alarm, back ramrod straight and head whipping in the direction the sound came from. 

“Dinna fash, it only means someone is at the door,” he explained (already mourning the loss of her hands on him), “stay here.” 

He got up from the couch and walked to the entryway. Unlocking the door and freeing the bolt, he opened it to reveal a postman holding a package. 

“Good day, sir,” the postman greeted. His eyes flicked over Jamie’s shoulder and he added with a polite nod, “ma’am.” 

Jamie’s head swiveled in surprise, and he saw Claire had followed him and was peeking warily around the corner like a shy animal. Her eyes went wide as watermelons when the postman addressed her, and she quickly disappeared behind the wall. 

He returned his attention to the postman and hastily signed the sheet on the clipboard with the proffered pen and then accepted the package. A quick “good day” was all he managed before he shut the door, locked it, and rushed back to Claire. 

Abandoning the package on the desk, he made his way over to her. She was standing in the corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around herself and eyes distant. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of urgency creeping into his tone. 

He couldn’t help but reach out his hands to smooth up and down her arms. The touch seemed to calm her somewhat— as he was finding out that it often did— and a bit of the tenseness in her shoulders lessened. But only a fraction. 

“It’s not just you,” she whispered, nearly under her breath. 

He made an interrogative sound in his throat. 

“He could see me, too,” she said softly, looking down with her brow furrowed. 

Jamie wasn’t exactly sure of the implications, but the gravity of her tone and how upset she was indicated that it wasn’t good. He gave her an encouraging nod to continue. 

“Like I told you, that shouldn’t happen. You see, the fair folk operate on a different plane than you do. That’s why you can’t see us and we rarely leave a mark on your world. Unless we choose. We can open the veil into your plane to reveal ourselves. But all the time with you, and just now— I haven’t been. I think…” she trailed off, her eyes growing stormy and her words catching in her throat. Her voice had been growing thicker and thicker with emotion, and now it stopped entirely. 

Jamie left one hand on her arm and reached the other down to catch her hand in his. 

“What is it, a nighean?” he asked gently. 

She looked up at him again. “I had a theory, but it seems even more likely now. It feels different here... It would make everything make sense,” she said disjointedly. 

She looked so saddened by it that Jamie was growing worried. 

“Tell me,” he encouraged, trying to keep his tone soft and calm amidst the growing anxiety for her. 

Once more, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on him. “I think the stones brought me to the human plane of existence. This plane.” 

Jamie nodded, still a little confused. “Aye…?” 

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I can ever go home.”

***

Next chapter

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims and @lcbeauchampoftarth for being awesome betas.

To @but-little-she-is-fierce, how can I refuse? Please enjoy!

AO3 :: Previously

8: Coffee [Jamie]

This is not a date, not a date, not a date, I kept chanting in my head.

I walked through the door of the Costa Coffee, the aroma of roasted coffee beans sharp in my nose. It was mildly busy, a few customers milling around tables and a few others queued up for their evening caffeine fix. I scanned the tables, but she wasn’t here yet.

Of course, I was fifteen minutes early. One could say I was a bit overeager. I was also willing to admit (but only to myself) that I had spent close to an hour deciding what to wear.

I couldn’t believe I had said the words, “it’s a date” to her when we hung up last Sunday. I felt the strong urge to wipe the grin off Janet’s face as we bid each other goodbye after our lunch, except I was pretty sure she’d give back as good as she got, the wee meddling besom. So now I waited for Claire, coffee cup in hand, fingers tapping on the table.

I felt much better than I had in months. Not only was my ex-girlfiend mortified at the idea of me being happy and dating someone, but the lass I was supposed to be going out with was Claire: beautiful, witty, strong. And in turn, I was to accompany her to a wedding. As her date. We could also pretend to be dating there; I’d hold her hand, sit very close to her, maybe even slow dance again with her body pressed against mine—

With the chime of bells above the door, Claire’s appearance in the coffee shop distracted me from my increasingly lascivious thoughts. She shook off the light rain from her tangled curls, and then she spotted me. A smile lit up her face. Well. My memory had not done her justice. Granted, we had both been a bit pissed when we met, and then afflicted with massive hangovers, but now beautiful did not seem an apt enough description. She wore jeans, boots, a green sweater, and a thick black parka.

Claire strolled over to the small table and slid in front of me. She shrugged off her coat, with a simple, “Hi, Jamie,” and ducked her head shyly. I realized then that I hadn’t said a word, and I was still staring.

“Jamie?” Claire folded her hands in front of her, looking back quizzically.

“Oh, aye, lass. Sorry. How are ye?” I managed a crooked smile. A light blush colored her cheeks. Was it overwarm in here?

“I’m fine. Just closed down the shop. Could I have sip of that?” She gestured towards my coffee cup and I pushed it towards her, amused.

“I can get ye a coffee, if ye’d like. I just didna know what ye would fancy.”

“No, it’s alright. It would keep me up all night.” Her pale pink lipstick left an imprint on the rim, and I immediately thought about putting my own lips there. Focus, man!

“So, Sassenach. We have Sunday lunch coming up, and then a wedding to attend. As… a couple.” I could feel the tips of my ears burn. They’d almost match my hair. “Is that the way of it?”

Claire grinned sheepishly. “I guess so. We can always break up right after. No harm done.” She fiddled with the edge of her sweater. “How do you want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“This. Us. You know. On Sunday. For instance, how should we tell them we met? I doubt ‘blind drunk at a pub and wound up in bed together’ is ideal.”

“Guess not,” I laughed. “How about if we say we met here, at a coffee shop?”

“A little boring, but it works. We can say you spilled my coffee—”

“I’ve seen ye dance, Sassenach. More like you spilled the coffee.”

“Fine. And then I offered to buy you another one.”

“I asked ye out to dinner, since ye were so bonny and clumsy,” I said, trying to play it off.

“Or I asked you. This is the 21st century, you know.”

“They’ll probably find that more believable, since I’ve not been out with a lass in—a year.” I gulped, and took a swig of my coffee to cover it up.

“Okay. That’s sorted then. What other questions should we expect from your family?”

“Och, the usual, I’d say. Where ye grew up, yer parents, yer job.”

“Alright. It’s simple enough. I was born and raised in Oxford, until the age of five. I already mentioned what happened to my parents, and that I was taken in by my Uncle Lamb.” My breath caught at her recitation of the facts and I instinctively reached out to touch her hand in sympathy.

“And how did ye get involved with botany and flowers?”

“My uncle taught archaeology at Oxford. After I arrived, Lamb stopped traveling and focused on his teaching career. He kept a garden and tended it every free second he had. I used to help him and grew to love flowers. Lamb helped with the money to open the shop.”

“It sounds… peaceful.” My fingers were unconsciously tracing patterns on the back of her hand; she accepted the gesture, moving her fingers gently under my touch.

“It was. He’s still back in Oxford, retired, devoted to growing things.” Claire smiled fondly before turning her attention to me. “Was growing up on a farm peaceful too?”

“Sometimes.” I laughed. “Whenever Willie and I were not causin’ mayhem. Janet was easier, I suppose, but she never refused to play wi’ us unruly lads. She’s actually an artist – she designs the labels and paints in her spare time. Not a lot of that, with a son and daughter.”

“And the distillery?”

“That’s the Fraser family business. My uncles Dougal and Colum MacKenzie were the investors, my mam’s brothers. But the whisky we produce carries my father’s name – Fraser Fire. I run the business end, distribution and such. Jenny and Ian help with that, since they live close to Lallybroch. Willie lives in Edinburgh with his own lass, Mary MacNab.”

“That sounds lovely,” Claire sighed. “To have such a large, tight-knit family.”

“I canna say it’s easy sometimes, Sassenach, but we love each other. For the most part.” I grinned. “I wanted to murder Jenny last time, for what she said.”

“I don’t mind. I like her. She looks out for you. She wants you to be happy.”

We spent the next hour trading tidbits of our lives. We learned each other’s favorite color, favorite food, favorite place to travel. How she took her coffee (cream and sugar), if she liked movies (historical romances), how much her tattoo had hurt (a lot). I filed away all of this information for future consideration.

A comfortable silence fell between us, once we had exhausted topics. Our hands were still intertwined, and I marveled at the normalcy and ease of touching Claire. It did not feel forced or awkward, but utterly right.

“Sunday then,” she said, breaking the spell. She removed her hand gently from mine, to check the time on her phone. “Should we meet somewhere beforehand?”

“I’ll pick ye up at eleven, yes? I ken fine were ye live, after all.” I smiled. “‘Tis a bit of a journey and we’ll need the four-wheel drive on my Jeep for a stretch of it.” The thought of a long road trip with Claire lifted my spirits immensely. “Do ye have to go?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll be doing a wedding in a few weeks and have to get the centerpieces designed, seasonal flowers ordered in, meeting with the bride to review all the details.”

“Would that be the wedding?” I raised my eyebrows and she laughed.

“That’s the one. We have a few weeks, though, so I’ll let you know about it later. We’ll tackle your family first.” We stood up and headed for the exit.

“My mam’s a good cook. If nothing else, ye can look forward to a great meal,” I offered, pulling the door open for her.

“I can look forward to so much more than that, Jamie.” Her honey-hued eyes held mine, piercing, suddenly bright and intimate in the middle of the coffee shop. I stopped breathing, the world grinding to a halt.

For a minute, I thought she would kiss me. We stared each other down, seeming to get closer and closer; our gaze flickered between meeting and tracing our mouths until all I wanted to do was close my eyes and lose myself in her.

Claire was suddenly stumbling, nearly falling into a slushy puddle. I caught her around the waist while an angry customer pushed past us, muttering about inconsiderate time-wasters.

“Are ye alright?”

“I am now,” she managed, our eyes locking again.

I held Claire close to steady her, fine strong fingers gripping my arms. We stood there in the misty cold rain, holding on to each other. I tried to recapture the intensity of the moment we had just lost.

But it was gone.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Accidental Happiness | Part Two

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 3,035

Summary: Sams being overprotective and Y/N decides on a midwife.

Warnings: Pregnancy, non-graphic description of labor.

Betaed by @manawhaat. Written for @saxxxology's October Angel request.

---

You pause at the top of the kitchen steps, rubbing your palm against your belly, and then move to start down the two steps.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.”

You can’t help an eye roll as Sam appears at your side, one hand on your back and the other hand on your elbow as he helps you down into the kitchen.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asks, already steering you towards the nearest seat. “Here, sit down. I’ll make you something for lunch.”

You sink into the kitchen chair, more than happy to get off your aching feet. You’re only just starting to really look pregnant at going on five months but you’re definitely feeling it. At least the morning sickness is over. Now you’re getting into craving territory, though you haven’t been craving anything too strange - no pickles in ice cream or whatever weird shit people joke about pregnant women wanting. You know Sam wouldn’t stop you from satisfying those cravings if you had them, but he definitely wouldn’t be happy about it. While you love your boyfriend to death, he’s taking ‘protective father-to-be’ to a whole new level.

“You need to eat more veggies,” Sam is saying, rummaging through the fridge in search of something to make for you. “And of course we don’t have any.”

“That’s because you keep feeding them all to me,” you grumble. “I want a burger. With cheese. And bacon. And fries.”

Sam makes a face. “But you need good, healthy meals. Lots of leafy greens, lean proteins, you know. If you’re craving red meat ‘cause it has iron or something, why not just eat spinach?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ve been telling me for months.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you, emerging from the freezer with a triumphant sound and a package of frozen salmon in one hand. You groan at the sight and he drops the fish onto the counter, rushing to your side.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, crouching beside you with one hand on your belly.

“Will you stop fucking touching my stomach?” you growl, knocking his hand away.

Sam flinches back with an expression like a kicked puppy and you immediately feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just don’t want to be touched like that right now.”

Sam flushes, rising. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

You reach out one hand to grab his closest one. “Sam, baby. I love you but right now I also want to kick your ass.”

“I just want you and the baby to be healthy,” he murmurs.

You tug him down so you can kiss him softly. He braces his free hand against the kitchen table and returns the kiss. “I know and I love that about you. But I also would love it if you gave me a little room to breathe. I’m not made of glass. I can get down two steps on my own. I can walk across the kitchen on my own. You don’t have to hover over me every moment of every day.”

He starts to speak but you silence him with another kiss.

“You’re just stressing yourself out. I will let you know when I need help,” you promise him. “And one burger, cooked through, with some cheese, fresh lettuce and tomato, a few slices of bacon, and a healthy serving of fries isn’t going to do me or the baby any harm. I’m even willing to eat a salad on the side if you want to throw one together. Maybe something with Italian dressing?”

“We don’t have any of the veggies I would need,” Sam says quietly.

“Well,” you pat his cheek. “I don’t think we have any of the things for burgers, either. Sounds like you need to go grocery shopping. Have Dean go with you. Take your time. Go find a used bookstore, play a round of pool, something to get you out of the house for more than thirty minutes. Then go grocery shopping and come home so Dean can make me one of those delicious burgers.”

Sam hesitates and then nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’ll be fine here with Cas and Rowena?”

“You know I will be. Cas is too excited about being an uncle to let anything happen to me and Rowena wouldn’t dare, not if she wants to still have access to the library.”

He chuckles, straightening up. “Good point. Make me a grocery list, then.”

“Go get me something to write it on,” you respond, poking his hip.

“I thought you weren’t made of glass,” he teases even as he moves to fetch the notepad and pen Dean keeps by the fridge for grocery lists.

“Listen. My feet hurt.” You take the items from him. “Now that I’m sitting down, I’m not getting up until I have to.”

“Which means until you need to pee.”

You shake the pen at him. “Whose fault is that?”

He leans gently against your back, folding over you to see the list as you write it. “Last time I checked, it takes two to tango.”

“You’re the one with the super swimmers that beat my birth control.”

“I really didn’t need to hear that,” Dean grumbles as he enters the kitchen, making a face.

“If you don’t know how babies are made, that’s not my fault,” you shoot back, grinning as you finish off your list. “I’ve got a chore for you boys.”

You tear the list off the notepad and hold it up. Sam moves to take it but Dean gets there first.

"Groceries?" he whines.

"I want one of your burgers and we don't have any of the shit we need."

"Mmm burgers," Dean says, more to himself than anyone else as he leaves the kitchen.

"You're sure you'll be fine?" Sam asks, leaning down to kiss you one last time.

"I'm sure." You give his ass a smack. "Go get some air, and then come home and rub my feet.”

Sam laughs. “Deal.”

--

Eventually, you drag yourself to your feet and make your way down the hall to the bathroom, gently scolding your baby for sitting on your bladder. It’s as you’re sitting on the toilet that you realize you haven’t felt the baby kick in a while, which is really abnormal considered how active they’ve been since you were first able to feel them. You wrack your brains as you wash your hands, trying to remember when you last felt the baby and quickly coming to the conclusion that you don’t know.

Your stomach twists at the thought and you hurry to the library, calling for Cas. You only find Rowena, though.

“Where’s Cas?” you ask, trying to remain calm.

“No idea,” she says, glancing up from the book she’s buried her nose in. Her bag sits next to her on the table, open to reveal a variety of spell ingredients. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate to trust Rowena with something like this but Cas is going to insist on calling Sam and you don’t want to worry Sam if it turns out to not be anything serious. That makes Rowena your best option.

“I can’t feel the baby,” you manage, curling your arms around your belly.

She immediately drops her book, rounding the table to guide you into a seat. “Oh, goodness. That’s always stressful. Here, sit. When did you feel the wee one last?”

You shrug, watching as she rummages through her bag. “I don’t know.”

“That’s quite all right,” she soothes, tossing a little of this and that into her mortar before grinding everything into a paste. “Lift your shirt a little, please. I need to draw a sigil on your skin in order to check on the baby.”

“And this is safe?” you ask, already lifting your shirt to reveal your belly.

“Perfectly safe,” she assures you, carefully drawing the sigil onto your skin just above your belly button. The paste is a little cold and you can’t help a shiver. “This is an old spell midwives have been using for centuries. I used it myself many a time when I was carrying Fergus.”

She finishes the sigil and wipes her hands clean on a cloth she pulls from somewhere in her bag. Then she lays her palms on either side of your belly and says a few words in a language you don’t recognize. The sigil glows purple and Rowena is silent a moment, concentrating on whatever the spell is doing. Then she draws a deep breath and straightens up, the glow of the sigil fading as soon as her hands leave your skin.

“Your baby is perfectly healthy,” she says with a soft smile. “Just sleeping.”

Relief floods your body as she gently wipes the sigil away and you slump a little in your chair. Of course the baby’s sleeping. Babies do that.

“Thank you,” you say, pulling your shirt down.

“It was nothing,” Rowena replies with a soft smile. “I’m more than happy to help an expecting mother. It’s been a long time since I was able to use my midwifery skills.”

“You were a midwife?”

Rowena pauses in cleaning up the spell ingredients. “I’ve taken that role several times over the centuries. I quite enjoy it and if I could do it permanently, I would. But it’s better to leave at least a few decades between. Keep people from being suspicious and all that.”

You nod. “That makes sense.”

The two of you settle into silence, Rowena cleaning and you watching while your mind rolls over this new information and you come to a decision.

“Rowena?”

She glances over at you. “Yes?”

“Will you be my midwife?”

--

“What the hell, Y/N?” Sam says through gritted teeth, dragging you into the hall outside the library. “She’s a witch!”

“A witch with several centuries of midwife experience,” you explain, fighting to keep calm despite your annoyance with Sam.

“So she says,” he snaps back. “We can’t trust her.”

“You’ve trusted her in the past!”

Sam tenses and there’s a moment where his gaze on you softens but it's only a moment. “I can’t trust her with this, Y/N. With you. And with them.”

With understanding eyes cast up at him, you can’t hold your tongue, no matter how sweet Sam’s objection is. “Don’t you think this is something I should have the final say in?”

“It’s our baby,” he sneers, all too possessive for something he can’t even touch, yet.

You stab him in the chest with one finger. “Yes, but they’re living in my body. I want Rowena as my midwife.”

His jaw clenches and he steps back, glaring down at you. “And if I say no?”

You return his angry glare. “You can’t, Sam. I’m doing this. Your choice is whether you’re going to be there for the birth of our child, or not.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and he takes another few steps away, clearly putting distance between the two of you and the emotions he’s clinging to.

He mouths your name and you know what he’s feeling - you know Sam. He’s terrified of the possible complications that you could run into in labor, in a hospital, let alone with a centuries-old witch overseeing things at home. You’re scared of those things, too. But you know what scares Sam the most is that the look in your eyes means you’re serious. If he walks away, you will do this without him.

“Okay, he sighs, voice weak but growing stronger as he approaches again. “Okay. It’s your decision and I’ll respect it. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect it.”

You lay your hands on Sam’s waist. “Thank you.”

He nods stiffly. “Yeah.”

You sigh and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Sam. I’m not doing this to make you upset. She really does know what she’s talking about and I feel safe with her. Plus, this means we can have the home birth I wanted.”

“I know,” Sam admits.

You smile and bring his hands up to press flat against your belly. “Give her a chance? For us?”

Sam’s expression softens as his thumbs stroke back and forth. The baby shifts to kick at his hands, pulling a smile to Sam’s face.  “Anything for you,” he says quietly, kissing your forehead.

“Anything?” you lift a playful eyebrow at him.

“Anything,” he repeats.

“Good because I want a foot massage while Dean makes dinner.”

Sam chuckles but allows you to lead him down the hall to your shared bedroom. He doesn’t even complain when you choose a really flowery-scented lotion for him to use, just pulls your feet into his lap and gets to work.

If you’re going to be honest, you decide as you lay back against a pile of pillows,  you could definitely get used to this.

--

Rowena is a dedicated midwife. Sam is still wary of her but he relaxes when he sees how comfortable she makes you, how attentive she is to the needs of both you and the baby. She teams up with him in making you eat a healthy diet but is willing to take your side when you’re craving something that’s not on the list of recommended foods. She introduces you to the wonders of red raspberry leaf tea. When she mentioned raspberries, you were excited to try it, but you were soon disappointed to discover it to be more of a green tea than a fruit one. Still good but not as good as plain raspberry tea would be.

With her help, the final months of your pregnancy are slightly easier to handle. She’s there to answer any questions you or Sam have, which lowers your stress levels immensely. Possibly the best thing she does, though, is show Sam all the ways to massage your aching body and actually make things feel better. Sam’s a quick learner and his hands are magical. So magical, in fact, that you almost don't notice you're in labor. Almost.

"Fucking hell," you grumble, rolling your neck when Sam stops rubbing your lower back. Nothing quite like a massage to get you ready for bed - though you're still aching. "I don't know why I've been so sore. It's worse than it was yesterday."

Sam frowns and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Want me to go get Rowena?"

You shake your head, tugging on one of Sam's shirts. “I'll talk to her if I'm still hurting in the morning. I’m just,” you sigh, “really fucking uncomfortable.”

Sam nuzzles softly into the curve of your neck. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’s late and she’s probably already in bed. I don’t want to bother her. Lemme up, I need to pee before we go to bed."

Sam pouts but lets go and you get up. You only make it two steps, though, before you feel what can only be described as a slight pop and then a small gush of liquid escapes your body. At that moment, everything - the discomfort and pain in your lower belly and back, the pressure on your pelvis - makes sense.

“Sam?” you say softly, reaching behind you blindly until you find his hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe you should go get Rowena.”

He’s immediately on his feet, come around to grip your shoulders with a concerned expression. “Is everything okay?”

You nod, looking up at him with what you hope is a smile full of excitement and nervousness, but is really a grimace full of terror. “My water just broke.”

Rowena is by your side in minutes, bag in hand. She gives Sam a list of things to gather for her. He looks grateful to have something to do. Things develop slowly from there - much slower than you expected - and it isn’t until over a day later that things really start to pick up and you go into what Rowena calls active labor. Rowena and Sam are by your side through it all and when the time finally comes to push seven hours later, Rowena is there guiding you with her soft voice and Sam providing his hands for you to cling to. You know you’ll feel bad about cussing him out later but in the moment, the words are therapeutic.

After a total of about thirty-two hours of labor, including the time you were in labor but didn’t realize it, the room is filled with the angry cries of your brand new baby girl.

“Oh,” you breath when Rowena places her right on your chest, umbilical cord still attached. You’re naked except for some sheets, having ditched your clothes sometime earlier because they were drenched in sweat, and the press of your baby’s skin against your own sends a surge of warmth through your body and happy tears leaking from your eyes. She settles immediately once you offer her a nipple to nurse at. It takes a moment for you to get the angle right and for her to latch on properly, but once she does, you’re filled with a maternal instinct you never knew could be so strong.“Hi, little one,” you murmur as Rowena works around your hands to clean her up. “Hi.” You’d planned for either a boy or a girl after deciding you didn’t want to find out until the birth, and now, looking at her, you know the name Sam picked is perfect.

Sam is watching in awe. He shifts to sit next to you on the bed, one arm around your shoulders as he tentatively reaches the other hand out to brush his fingertips over her cheek.

“Hi,” he says, voice trembling a little. “Welcome to the world, Rose.”

When you look up at him, there are tears in his eyes. “Sam?”

He sniffs and presses his cheek to the top of your head. “I just… I never thought I would get to have this. You, her. A home, a family. And now she’s here and we weren’t even trying to have her, but she’s perfect.” He squeezes your shoulders, drawing a deep breath. “Everything is perfect.”

You smile, fresh tears dotting your cheeks as you stroke Rose’s fuzzy head and lean into Sam’s embrace. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @imsuperawkward​​​​ @emoryhemsworth

[sankt-brekker-the-demjin]

You Know, For Research Purposes - Tom Holland x Reader College!AU

Summary: Working on their research project, group mates Miles, Ned, Haz, Betty, Tom and Y/N grew closer together over the course of a few months. Also, how does Cheetos and ice cream taste together? ;)))

Word Count: 2,433

A/N: (gif not mine.) lolz hi! Look what boredom did to me.. I made a fanfic... [first time doing this idk what to do so there's that moving on. Hope u like it! Geronimo.]

Tom ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands with force. He banged his head lightly on the table. He looked back at his Lit folder and saw he still had half of it to finish. He closed it and decided he would do it later. Managing the research project and studying for exams were taking a toll on his body and his sanity. He got up and went to the get some water.

It was halfway through midnight. His parents and brothers were asleep on their rooms. Miles, Haz, Y/N, Betty and Ned - his Qualitative Research applied subject classmates were sprawled all over the living room, laptops shoved to their faces, bond papers in hand. It was a typical students' night. The group had gotten together at Tom's house, and planned to stay overnight.

Miles and Y/N have History 1 together, while Betty and Haz had Calculus. But other than that, this was the only classes they all had together. Being in college is no easy feat, proper time management was necessary. 

Ned had assigned each member to a specific part of the paper, and they've been at it since 8 pm. They all have to multitask and manage their time. Tom had almost finished his part of the paper, so he tried to do his Lit homework now.

Tom heard footsteps stomping on the floors. He turned and saw Y/N marching up to him with an annoyed look on her face and was about to speak but he cut her off.

"If you complain about the heat one more time, I'm give you a real reason to sweat," Tom set the cup of water with a smug look on his face.

She halted on her tracks and smacked the paper she brought on his arms. Tom chuckled, but didn't move.

"No, you idiot," Y/N rolled her eyes. "You might wanna fix that paper before you go off scaring people to death with that annoying face of yours."

His mouth twitched in amusement and took the stapled papers from her hands. "So you admit you've been looking at my face."

"You're so full of it," Y/N stepped around him and grabbed another glass, getting water from the tap.

Tom looked at the incorrect charts and tables he had made on the paper. He cursed under his breath. He had been working on it in the wee hours of last night. Spontaneous typing, no pit stops on spelling errors and everything else, just got it done.

"The original file is on my computer upstairs," he groaned. "I'll have to re-do this again."

"You do that," she clicked her tongue. "And I'll just chill here by your fridge for a moment."

Y/N opened the fridge and took the remaining slice of cake laid on a plate.

"That's mine -" Tom protested.

"Not anymore." Y/N ate the cake.

He scowled and moved to close the door of the fridge. Y/N leaned her back on the door. There they were, a few inches away from each other. Tom stood seething; Y/N chewed the cake with an amused expression. She wiped the frosting on her lower lip with her tongue reflexively. Before he realized it his eyes wandered to her lips.

Tom inched his face closer, eyes darting over to her eyes and lips. "If you don't stop biting your lips ..."

"What are you gonna do?"

Tom remained quiet but clenched his jaw.

Y/N chuckled, "You're all talk and no action."

Heavy footsteps echoed on the hallway to the kitchen, gaining both their attention away from each other. Tom whipped his head to the of the voice and shot him a look.

"I told you 7000 times, a chicken is a bird -" Haz bursted into the room with a phone clutched to his ears, pausing when he caught sight of Tom and Y/N. "D'you have a charger I could borrow?" Haz covered his phone with his hands.

"I have one in my backpack." Y/N said.

Haz nodded, talking again to his sister on the phone about chickens. He walked back to the living room, waiting for Y/N to follow him.

Y/N stopped by the table where Tom had been working on, and pointed at his paper. "I can't finish my part if you can't finish yours." Seeing as his paper's original file was on his computer upstairs, she grabbed his laptop without waiting for him to reply. "Imma borrow this ... Thanks."

She went back to the living room, laptop on hand.

"And don't look at my browser history!" She heard Tom call back from the kitchen.

"Wouldn't dare," she countered in a mocking tone.

As the weeks passed, they started collecting data on the field. They went through one institution to another, gathering reports and statistics, and validating it with professionals. Then after that it was all a blur. They submitted the paper to Mrs. Luxley and was graded, only given back to them for minor revisions.

The gang decided to spend that same night they passed the assignment on Tom's house again, just like they did when they were still making the paper. Tom's parents had gotten used to them staying over, and Sam always tried to flirt with Betty when he was around. 

Ned and Haz raced to Tom's bedroom. Ned threw himself on the bed first. "God, I've never felt the bed being this good," he sighed and melted with pleasure. All those sleepless nights they've had finally paid off.

Haz hit him with a pillow. "Move over!"

Y/N laid on the couch, feet perched on top of Tom's lap, getting comfortable. Betty and Miles slept on the carpets of Tom's living room. They just sort of crawled to the floor in delight and just stayed there, too tired to move anywhere else. Haz came back to the living room, holding a bottle of champagne on his hands from the Hollands' cupboards.

He cheered. "Let's celebrate!"

But they celebrated the victory by sleeping out for an entire day spread all over the Hollands' house.

Even though their project was finished, the lot still remained close with each other. They spent times at Miles' favourite diner by the corner of the campus during their collective free time.

And last week, Haz's sister gave birth to a pretty baby girl. Haz invited them over and they all came to join the little house party his sister threw. The group counted on this as the official celebration of their hard work.

It was a Thursday afternoon. Family and friends chatted and caught up with each other in the Osterfield's backyard. Dream by Fleetwood Mac could be heard playing on the living room speakers.

Tom was talking with his dad. Betty and Ned sat at the garden chairs talking to one of Haz's brothers. Those two really were people persons. Miles and Y/N laughed at a hilarious history joke their professor rambled about. Tom tried to pay them no mind, though his glance drifted to them every now and then. His dad eventually noticed the shift in his mood, but decided to ignore it because his mum came to them, carrying Haz's niece. Tom accepted the baby to his arms while his mum and dad went to the kitchen.

Lily, the smol bean's eyes crinkled with joy and giggled. Her chubby little hands reached out to him. Tom stuck his tongue out affectionately her. He turned his head to the low whistle he heard.

"Wow... Daddy," Y/N smirked.

That day was all fun and games, but by the end it they still had school stuff to catch up on. A few weeks later, they decided to cram in the library.

Nothing feels better than suffering with acads together friends.

The group sat in a table by the corner, immersed in their own world. Tom went to the bookshelves to look for an autobiography book his proffesor suggested. Ned was compiling essays on his laptop. Miles was reading a book by Neil Gaiman. Haz and Betty were doing their Calculus homework.

Y/N's chin rested on her hands, staring blankly at her laptop screen. A straight line blinked repeatedly on the ends of the only sentence she typed.

What the fuck |

She just needed a head start on this critique paper. Nothing too heavy, just one paragraph to kick it all into place. That's where it's always hard. The first line. So now she's stuck with cursing. Before Y/N realize it, she's slumped her face down to the wooden table with a light bang. The group lifted their eyes to her, asking if she was alright. She shoved her thumbs up above her head, and they went back to what they what they were doing.

Haz who sat on her right, patted her back. "Same here, sis," he fought back a yawn.

Her eyes felt heavy. Then she groggily looked up to the little 'thunk' dropped on the table.

"Oh, great you're alive," she muttered before setting her face back on the table again.

Tom pulled his chair beside her. "Miss me already? I was barely gone for a few minutes."

"I'm so blessed to be with your presence," she stated in a monotonous voice.

Tom snorted. "Your professor is really gonna give you an A+ with those colorful words. 'What the fuck,' short but sweet."

She looked up and stuck her tongue out. Seeing his face has started to get old ... she tried convincing herself that, though.

They did their business. Ever so often, Y/N and Tom's elbows would brush against each other. Y/N had her earphones on, listening to her shuffled playlist on Spotify. Tom heard muffled tunes, and turned his head closer.

"What are you listening to?" He whispered; his breath fanned the side of her neck that sent chills up her spine.

She didn't look at him and instead continued to write key points to make on her essay. She spoke, her voice low. "This one's called Uncomfortable by Wallows."

He grinned and leaned even closer. "Can I listen?"

From across the table, Ned took 10 bucks from his wallet and shoved it on Betty’s hand. She pumped her fist in a silent triumph.

Y/N shifted her head to look at him, only to find his cute, devilishly handsome face inches away from hers. If she would tilt her head a little... their lips would touch. They locked eyes for a second, before she plucked one earphone and gave it to him.

He cocked his head, liking the song. Minutes passed. The only noises were from turning book pages, soft patter of keys on the laptops, and bits of hushed voices encompassed the area.

An hour later, Y/N felt herself getting hungry and went out to buy food, Betty tagging along. They ate outside since the library was strict on the 'NO eating policy.' Not even other drinks are allowed, only water. The others stayed behind. Then Betty came back to her seat.

"Where's Y/N?"

Betty sat on her chair, "She's outside, still eating."

Tom nodded and felt himself getting hungry, too. He opened his backpack and took a bag of Cheetos he stashed. He stood and said to them he was gonna eat outside. He went out, and spotted her leaning on a pillar, scooping ice cream out of a cup.

"I'm starving," he stood beside her.

"We've been there for ages," she scooped another spoonful of mint chocolate ice cream she got from the shop across the street.

Tom munched on his Cheetos. He turned to look at her happily savoring her ice cream. He moved for Y/N's ice cream cup but she swerved it out of his reach.

"Get your own," she swatted his arms away.

A thought crossed his mind. It reminded him of the last time they did this at his kitchen, over a slice of cake. And how they've been so close...

For the past few months, he's gotten a strange feeling whenever Y/N was around. Like there's an electric buzz in him, his heart would warm up at the sight of her. He couldn't stay away from her, and he wants to know her better, and feel her and just be there right beside her. He couldn't explain it.

Tom grinned at the memory, chucking a piece of Cheetos on his mouth. He stepped forward. "D'you wanna know how Cheetos and mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like together?" he leaned closer to her face; his breath hot against her skin. His gaze shifted down to her parted lips. "You know, for research purposes..."

"Hmm?" She held her eyes up on his own gleaming brown ones. "Probably good. Anything's good with mint chocolate ice cream."

"Yeah?" His hands reached out to move the strands of her hair away from her face. "Wanna test it out?"

She shrugged.

Tom found his hand on the back of her neck and slammed his lips to hers. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut. He tasted full of that cheesy goodness. And her, a heavenly taste of vanilla and the aroma of mint. Her arm stretched out to keep the ice cream cup away. She parted from his lips to set the cup down onto the pillar. He wrapped his arms to her waist, pulling her flush against him. With her now empty hands, she ran her fingers on his soft brown curls. She tugged at the strands, eliciting a low guttural sound from him muffled by her mouth on his.

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers, breathless. "We should get back inside to do ... stuff."

"No no. Don't care." She pulled the back of his neck and closed their distance again. He chuckled.

Y/N loved the way their mouths danced to a rhythm, flavors mixing together from the forgotten taste-testing session, now a different kind of session.

A hand still on her waist, the other cupped her cheeks and tilted her chin to give him more access. She wrapped both her arms around his neck, welcoming warm the feelings burning inside her.

They parted, but still inches away from each other. Y/N bit his lower lip. Tom hissed in surprise but she kissed it better.

"So ... what do you think?" He murmured in a low voice.

"Mmm, I like it." Cheetos and ice cream forgotten.

"Yeah?" He grinned at her. "Me too."

Seconds lapsed. Neither of them moved, still stuck in a more romantic version of a staring contest.

"I like you." Tom's heartbeat raced.

She grinned back at him. "I like you, too. Like 3000. I like you that much."

-

Roll the end credits.

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

“Ladies and Gentlemen The King Has Left The Building!”

FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

Your feedback means everything to me honestly! so please don't hesitate to leave a wee note!

Pairing: Liam x Riley, Hana x Maxwell

Summary: … Liam and Riley are a little too ready to celebrate at the Halloween ball and Maxwell's costume has the guests talking.

Word Count: 2,268

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat  @drakelover78  @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879  @kawairinrin  @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56  @gardeningourmet  @blackcatkita  @syltti78  @diamond-dreamland  @theroyalweisme  @hhiggs  @mfackenthal  @bruteforcebears @pens-girl-87 @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @speedyoperarascalparty @katurrade @scarlettedragon @zeniamiii 

 ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! 

I SINCERELLY APPOLOGISE IF I MISSED ANYONE, IM TRYING TO KEEP TRACK OF WHO WANTS TAGGED AND STUFF, IM GONNA PUT A POST OUT TO SEE WHO WANTS TO BE PERMANENTLY TAGGED!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

 Riley and Liam stood at the main doors, waiting to be called into the room. Tonight, was the annual Halloween ball, their first one as a married couple, the two had decided to dress as Professional assassins, the two dressed in all black. They had holsters, weapons, blood all over their faces. The king and queen had just made a deal with Italy that they had been trying to get for months, they were most definitely in the mood to celebrate! After they were called into the room, Riley and Liam descended the stairs, hand in hand.

The two made their way to the stage where they ascended the podium.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the court” Liam started as everyone stopped talking with their eyes on the royal couple.

“Her Majesty Queen Riley and would just like to say thank you for coming tonight, you all look magnificent! Tonight, we are here to celebrate, enjoy yourselves. Again thank you for coming”

Liam and Riley climbed down from the stage and headed over to their table where Drake, and their friends where sitting they grabbed some champagne from a passing tray then greeted their friends.

“good evening your majesties” Hana greeted them with a gentle nod of her head as she stood from her seat.

“Lady Hana, its great to see you” Liam smiled “where is your fiancé? I can’t wait to see his costume, he’s been telling me about it for weeks” he chuckled

“he is over by the buffet table and I promise you…you do not…I repeat do not want to see his costume.” A light blush hit Hana’s cheeks.

“is it THAT bad?” Riley asked

“oh yes…it is THAT bad…and its his fault!” Hana pointed at Drake

“what did you do!?” Riley smirked

“I may have told him, if he wore a costume that I picked out for him, I would take him camping with me next weekend! I did not think he would do it! I’m annoyed that he did…now I gotta take him camping…I purposefully picked the worst costume ever so that he wouldn’t do it!!”

“all he said to me was he was going to be parking the beef bus in tuna town” Liam replied confused, riley nearly choked as she took a sip of her drink.

“he wouldn’t tell me what it meant though…” he added, Riley leaned close to his ear then whispered the meaning of the phrase as the words left her mouth, Liam's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“wait…but how can he-”

“oh, my goodness here he comes” Hana sat down and covered her face.

Both Riley and Liam looked at each other confused then turned to look in the direction of the buffet table.  You couldn’t miss him…as soon as they seen him the two burst out laughing, Riley had to try and stop herself from laughing so much due to the tears daring to fall down her face and ruin her make up.

“no, he didn’t!?” she laughed “I don’t…I’m not…I don’t even know what to say” she guffawed as he approached them.

“SOOO…what’d’ya think?” he smiled that goofy grin he always had on his face.

“Maxwell…I apologise…but I have to walk away…because…I’m unsure of…hmmm…I’m not sure if I could talk to you right now with a straight face” Liam walked away laughing as he shook his head, taking one last look behind him, he threw his head back laughing.

“it’s great isn’t it?” Maxwell laughed

“Max” Riley smirked “it’s funny I’ll give you that…but I should give you a warning…maybe avoid Hana for the rest of the night.” She chuckled

“yes, please do” Hana giggled

“hey Maxwell…has Bertrand seen your costume yet?”

“no, he was out with Bartie”

“well…he’s about to see it…” she laughed as she walked over to where Liam was standing.

“you don’t want to miss this” she took his hand and guiding him back to the group. Maxwell turned and looked at Bertrand, Riley was ninety nine percent sure…Bertrand almost had a heart attack…his face dropped.

“Maxwell!!!” Bertrand seethed “what have you done? look at you! This! This is why I tell you to let me approve of your outfits…look at this” Bertrand not thinking reached forward and grabbed the stuffed woman by her ass, within a split second he realised where his hand was, he cursed under his breath as he quickly pulled his hand away.

“Maxwell…are you gonna take that?” Drake laughed

“take what?”

“your brother grabbing your girlfriend’s ass right in front of you” everyone burst out laughing…well everyone except Bertrand of course.

“Bertrand…he’s just having a little fun, it’s okay” Riley chuckled

“do you understand what his costume is doing to my houses reputation”

“listen, if either of us thought it was going to ruin the houses reputation, we would tell him to go and change, everyone’s dressed up, having fun, has a grown man Bertrand, just breathe its fine”

“everyone is laughing at us”

“no…everyone is laughing at his costume, if Maxwell had a problem with people laughing at his costume then he would say, or he would change”

Bertrand grumbled and groaned saying things under his breath as he stormed off.

“Maxwell, I think Olivia would um…like to dance…” Drake chuckled

“really Olivia? you want to dance with me?! C’mon!!!” Maxwell rejoiced as he took Olivia’s hand and gently pulled her to the dancefloor. Everyone chuckled as they watched Olivia’s face over Maxwell’s shoulder.

“hey Olivia!?” Drake called “I didn’t know you could ballroom dance in three’s” everyone chuckled as she growled back at him.

Just a few minutes later, Liam slid his hand into Riley’s as he turned to look at her “come for a walk?” he smiled

“I would love to” she whispered as Liam guided her out into the garden, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne with two glasses on the way out. The couple made their way to Liam's mothers flower garden, both taking a seat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the garden, Liam popped the cork for the champagne then filled the two glasses before sitting the bottle between them. Liam watched Riley as she looked up at the sky, watching the stars, a smile fell on his face as he watched the woman of his dreams in front of him, nothing keeping them apart…no one getting in the way…just the two of them.

“why do you have to look at me like that?” she smirked as she turned to face him.

“because I have never seen someone so beautiful, I never thought that I would get the chance to call someone as beautiful as you…my wife”

“Liam” she blushed as she reached for his hand “you gotta stop doing that” she whispered with a smirk on her face

“Doing what?” he asked a little confused

“saying things that make me want to kiss you” she looked up, into his eyes. Liam gently ran a finger along his lip as he let out a light chuckle “come here then” he whispered as he moved the bottle of champagne and the two glasses to sit on the floor by his feet. Keeping her hand in his, Riley moved as close to him as she could. Liam gently lifted Riley's legs to lay over his own, He lifted his hands, placing them on her cheek as the two leaned in, their lips pressing together, slightly parted. One of Riley's hands sat on the back of Liam's neck whilst the other gently ran through his hair. After a few seconds they pulled back slightly, Liam leaning his forehead against Riley's. “I love you” He whispered as he ran his thumb over her skin.  “I love you so much” Riley smiled. Riley repositioned herself to cuddle into Liam's chest with her legs still over his, he wrapped his closest arm around her. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Liam whispered “penny for your thoughts?”

“for the last couple of months…I…I’ve been thinking about us…about our future.” She whispered as she intertwined her fingers with his. “ive been thinking about…our lives…but one thing that keeps coming to my mind…is children and not just because the damn tabloids won’t stop asking about them” she whispered with a slight blush to her cheeks

“children?” Liam smiled, admittedly he had also been thinking about having children, he had been thinking about it a lot. “I have too” he whispered in her ear.

“I…Liam I’m ready to start trying…really start trying…I mean if you are too that is”

“I think that’s a great idea, I would like that very much” he smiled as he squeezed her hand.

“really?” riley sat up and faced Liam with a grin on her face. “you really want to try for a baby?”

“yes Riley, I really do” he chuckled as he gently wiped the small tear that had fallen down her cheek.

“oh goodness, that’s…Liam that’s great” she giggled as a few tears fell. “that’s so great” she whispered as she gently picked his lips with a giggle “I love you so much”

“I love you too ri, I love you too” Liam replied with a grin on his face.

The two were interrupted by a couple of drunk nobles stumbling around the gardens.

“maybe we should make our way back…we’ve been out here a little while” Liam sighed

“of course, shall we take the long way back?” Riley smiled as she lifted her empty champagne glass from beside Liam's foot then stood from her seat.

“definitely” Liam smirked as he lifted the bottle and his glass then joined Riley. The two walked around the palace gardens, chatting as they went. By the time they got back to the ballroom they had finished the bottle of champagne and were both most definitely feeling the buzz. Liam handed the bottle to one of the waitresses as they walked into the room.

“dance with me!” Liam chuckled as he gently pulled Riley to the dancefloor where they twirled and turned, laughing and joking as they went.

by the time the end of the ball came, Riley and Liam were more than a little tipsy, let’s just say it was a good thing most of the nobles had already gone home. Riley was two types of drunk she was either a giggly drunk or a human dustbin, where she just laughed at everything, if she wasn’t laughing…she was eating, she was a happy drunk. Liam was a loudmouth drunk, you couldn’t not know where he was, he was a that silly kind of funny drunk. As the party started really winding down, Riley went looking for her husband. She approached the table that their friends had been occupying for the night.

“h-have any of you s-seen Liam” she smirked with a giggle. Every single one of them pointed over to the corner of the ballroom, where Liam was stood bopping a waiter’s nose…BOOPING A WAITORS NOSE! He was prodding this guy nose then just bursting out laughing. The man looked petrified!

“oh…I…I should go and get him” she giggled

Riley walked over, calling out to him when she got close enough.

“l-Liam what are you doing?” she laughed

“Riley!” he shouted back not realising she was basically right next to him.

“Li-Am w-what are you doing?”

“WATCH THIS! WATCH WHAT HE DOES” He called as he reached his finger out, the waiter stood watching the kings hand, watching his finger as it pressed his nose, the closer his finger came to the boy’s face, the more cross-eyed he went. Once Liam touched his nose he burst out laughing again, causing the remaining guests to look over. As Riley watched she stood trying not to laugh but failing badly.

“c-come on…it’s time for b-bed!” she whispered in a giggle

“RILEY ARE YOU TRYING TO GET INTO MY PANTS?” he yelled causing Riley's face to turn a dark shade of red. Liam laughed as he turned from the waiter to face Riley. As soon as the king turned to face her, the waiter bolted back to the kitchens. Liam smirked as turned his back to Riley and bent down, he lifted Riley onto his back causing her to squeal.

“Liam! what are you doing?” she laughed as he stood up tall

“TAKING YOU TO BED MRS RHYS” he smirked as he made his way to the main doors. Riley buried her face into his shoulder from being a little embarrassed. Liam made his way down the hall laughing away to himself. 

“Liam I can walk” Riley smirked

“II KNOW! B-BUT FOR WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO TONIGHT MRS RHYS…I NEED YOU TO HAVE ALL T-THE ENERGY YOU CAN POSSIBLY GET!!! WE’RE GONNA TEAR IT UP!!!!”

“Liam!” she laughed “people can h-hear you!”

“GOOD! THEY’RE GONNA HEAR US TONIGHT TOO! BEDPOSTS ARE GONNA BE BANGING!! IM GONNA BE PARKING THE BEEFBUS IN TUNA TOWN!” he laughed as he reached for the handle of the royal quarters. He walked into the room smiling then turned, before shutting the door, he leaned his head out into the hallway and shouted, “LADIES AND GENTLMEN THE KING HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!!” he stood up then slammed the door shut, making his way over to the bed, he faced the wall then dropped Riley onto the bed behind him with a thud!

“ooff!” she gasped as she hit the mattress.

“LET’S PLAY HIDE THE SAUSAGE!!!” he laughed as he practically pounced on top of her causing her to laugh.

“god I love you” she smirked as she kissed him.

“hmm I love you so much Mrs Rhys!!” He groaned as he placed kisses on her shoulder. Riley closed her eyes leaning her head back in pleasure. After a minutes or so the kisses stopped...and loud snoring filled the room.

“Liam?...” she questioned as she opened her eyes to see him laying on top of her sleeping...mouth open like a fish...snoring.

“Lovely...just lovely“ she smirked

[turtlesoupstories]

through blue. i

good afternoon everyone! as promised here is (finally) the first installment in the latest series i will be posting here on tss, through blue! blue will be a series of one shots (or, for larger scenes, small ‘parts’) all from jamie’s pov. i am currently accepting suggestions for scenes both here on tss and on my main blog, @cagedbirdsong, so feel free to send them in! i am accepting both scenes from the book series and television show. 

i am also accepting prompts for scenes we didn’t get to see! feel free to send in requests for any scenes you wish we had gotten as well. :)

without further ado, the first part of through blue: the scene where jamie falls off his horse. as requested (and inspired) by my other lovely kilt kult ladies! this chapter, in particular, is for my tumblr mom @kaitrionabalfe (aka @mibasiamille). i love you lots 

Roadside Revelations 

In hindsight, perhaps the whiskey had not been the best idea. His shoulder was hurt bad enough, and a full night and day of riding had done him no good. His shoulder had nearly come out of place again twice, by his count, and the gunshot wound he had suffered was troubling him something horrid.

Come to think of it, between the exhaustion, pain, and adrenaline coursing through him - not to mention copious amounts of whiskey - Jamie Fraser was starting to feel well and truly wretched. He gave a small grunt as his vision swam and blinked hard, trying to clear his head.

It didn’t help.

He was already poorly balanced as is, what with the addition of a second person in his saddle and his injured arm, but he was positively reeling now, and was only vaguely aware of tipping, the sensation of falling, and the impact of his body hitting the ground with enough force to take his breath away.

He jerked back to reality with a Gaelic curse some time later, the Sassenach woman’s face hanging over him and her hands on the exposed skin of his shoulder, pouring the contents of a flask on the open gunshot wound. “I’m alright,” he panted, making a serious effort to sit up and shy away from the woman - Claire’s - ministrations. “Only a wee bit dizzy.”

“You are not alright,” she said firmly, hand on his shoulder to push him back down, yellow cat eyes gleaming. “Couldn’t you tell how badly you were bleeding?” She leaned in again, pulling back the material of his shirt to get a better look. “You’re lucky you’re not dead-” she snapped “-brawling and fighting and throwing yourself off horses.”

She stared down at him, a challenge, and he stared right back, blue eyes gleaming in the dark. She had quite the tongue, this Englishwoman. Quite the tongue and quite the temper… And, if he was being completely honest, quite the arse. He had noticed it first during their ride, with her wedged between his thighs, bumping up against him the whole way. And now he noticed it again, with her perched on his thighs, knees in the mud on either side of her hips. He couldn’t really have got up if he tried… or wanted to.

She tore her eyes away from his, and it was decided. Jamie would stay put and suffer her attentions. “Alright, I need some bandage and a clean cloth,” she called, turning back to the crowd of men looking on.

Silence. No one moved.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ,” she muttered, grabbing a fistful of her shift and tearing for all she was worth. Jamie’s eyes went suddenly wide, watching her with rapt intent, and then his modesty got the best of him and he looked away, cheeks flaming.

He wanted her.

He could feel the heat of her bare skin now as her shift rode up, pressed up against the bare tops of his thighs where his kilt had come out of the way. He clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and tried not to think of his current predicament. Between a rock and a, hmm, hard place.

“Hold still,” she murmured, dousing the rag with more whiskey before taking it to the wound, making an attempt to clean it.

Jamie’s eyes flew open and he grunted, sitting up more in an effort to get away from her, his sudden predicament forgotten in lieu of the searing pain in his shoulder. His eyes rolled momentarily, and he clenched his jaw harder, a fistful of grass caught in one hand.

“Easy,” Claire murmured, a hand on his shoulder as she wadded the makeshift bandage against the gunshot. She met his eyes again, hers somehow incredibly calm, and he nodded ever so slightly, taking a sharp breath.

When she was done, she gave him the smallest nod, and climbed off his lap and to his side, one hand on his back. “Alright,” she breathed and then turned to the other men. “Lift him up.” Together, she and Murtagh, who had dropped to Jamie’s other side, hoisted him into a sitting position so she could wrap the rest of the linen around his torso and hold it in place. He heard her curse under her breath as she fumbled with the awkward position, and then, louder, “Come on, you goddamn bloody bastard.” A momentary hush fell over the group, and Jamie struggled to hide a grin in the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve never heard a woman use such language in my life, hm?” He heard Dougal remark quietly, eyes peering down at the trio from beneath his cap.

Jamie arched an eyebrow back at him. Seems they were all entranced by this mysterious Sassenach woman.

“Your husband should tan yer hide.”

“Och, Saint Paul would-”

She stopped, eyes rolling, and Jamie saw the exasperation written clear on her face as she turned over her shoulder to face Angus and Rupert. “You can mind your own bloody business, and so can Saint Paul.” Silence again, and she nodded, pleased, then turned back to Jamie to fix him with another blazing look. “And if you move so much as a single muscle while I’m tying this bandage, I’ll bloody throttle you.”

Half of him wanted to take her up on the offer. The other half of him wizened up and sat still, letting her finish up the wrappings. His eyes flickered up to her face briefly, and both her eyebrows shot up, daring him to test her.

“Hmm,” he smirked, “a threat, is it? And after I shared my drink wi’ ye.” The other men didn’t seem to find his little joke as amusing.

“We’ve fifty miles ta go yet. Another five hours, at least,” Dougal growled. “We stay here long enough for ye ta stem that bleeding and dress his wound.”

“He needs rest,” Claire countered, shooting to her feet and leaving Jamie to sag against Murtagh. All eyes watched the interaction between the woman and the Scottish warlord, and Jamie could practically feel the tension ripple through the men. Someone nearby cleared his throat and let out a low whistle.

“Did you hear me?” She stomped off in Dougal’s direction, and Jamie’s heart leaped in his chest. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

“Randall!” He called quickly, relieved when she whipped around to look at him now. He sat forward, wiping a hand across his mouth, and tried to catch his breath. “The officer ye encountered,” she moved to sit back beside him, checking the security of the bandages, and he looked over at her, curious and intrigued all at once. “He won’t give up so easily. He commands the Redcoats hereabouts.” She glared testily at him. “He’ll ha’ sent patrols out in e’ry direction by now.” She paused, and he saw a flicker of concern pass over her features. She understood then, the danger that the captain posed, even after such a brief interaction.

Right then and there, Jamie would have rather gutted himself than seen her handed back over to the madman, and she was coming dangerously close with every snide remark in his uncle’s direction. She had to know that. Wherever it was she had come from, things were obviously different, but around here… Well, a tongue like that could get a woman in a lot of trouble.

“We canna stay here long,” he continued, reasoning with her, hoping she would just give up the argument and let Dougal have his way. He knew his little story about the Redcoat Captain was not exactly truthful. While, yes, they would have patrols out combing the woods, it wouldn’t be for the sole purpose of finding the Englishwoman. Jamie and his merry band of men were wanted for treason, and worth far more than an oddly dressed Sassenach found wandering the forest.

She licked her lips briefly. “You know Randall?” He almost laughed. That was an understatement.  “Black Jack Randall, that is?”

He nodded a little, head hung. “Aye.” A moment of silence lapsed between them. “I willna risk you-” quickly, he added “or anyone else” as an afterthought, “by that man.” He looked up at her, gaze level. “If ye canna fix me up well enough ta ride, ye’ll be leavin’ me here wi’ a loaded pistol so I may determine my own fate.” He felt her stare at him.

“Might have well told me you were shot before you fell off the horse,” she muttered.

Jamie grinned. “Didna hurt much at the time.”

She fixed him with another one of those looks. “Does it hurt now?”

He glanced down at the bandages, and then up at her, a smirk tugging on one side of his mouth. “Aye.”

“Good.” She smirked, patted him on the shoulder, and sat back. “That’s about all I can do. The rest is up to you.” She stood, and he nodded a little, lips pursed, and then looked up to see her with her hand extended.

He took it.

She pulled him up bodily, and the two stood facing one another for a moment, each trying to discern and work out a small bit about this stranger they had come to know. “Thank you, Sassenach,” he said softly after a moment had passed between them. “Truly.”

She stared back up at him for a moment, and the spell was back, and then she nodded, smiled, and wiped her palms on her shift. “Alright then. On your horse, soldier.”

He chuckled, nodded, and turned. Yes, ma’am.

[l0chn3ss]

a little childhood mastar for the childhood mastar feels, brotp friendly

MaStar Week Day 5; Coming of Age

She woke up to the sound of her friend’s sniffles and lifted herself away from the puddle of piss under her. Not again, she yawned, more or less unbothered by the stink itself and more concerned about Black Star’s pre-wailing noises.

He had a problem with controlling his bladder even at the age of five, and he had something against using the bathroom like a regular person. “I can’t pee where mortals do,” he would scream as he ran from Sid’s grabby hands. The thing was that he was properly trained at a very young age; Nygus wasted no time on teaching him the dos and don’ts of potty time. Unfortunately for everyone, he also rejected diapers, calling them unsuitable equipment for a big boy like him. All of these issues combined with weekly sleepovers did not make for a very fun sleep time, even if they did have a very fun play time just thirty minutes before.

Who ever imprinted on his little gullible mind that he was above using the toilet will eat her fist, Maka frowned, adjusting her eyes to the shine of her nightlight.

“What is wrong, Twinkle Star?” she asked out of courtesy, even if she knew exactly what was wrong from how wet her Hello Kitty sheets were against her socks.

He took a little longer to respond, but he eventually mustered out, “I didn’t hold it in again. I p-- peed.”

Maka nodded sagely-- well, as sagely as a four year old could. “You peed.” She put a comforting hand on his leg. “It is a lot of pee. You are Tinkle Star now.”

That may have been the wrong thing to say if his sudden sobbing was any indication of that. He was the type to talk during his watery release but his blubbering was incomprehensible. It took him a while to settle enough for Maka to catch the final thoughts of his outburst.

“I’m going to get into trouble again,” he said, wiping snot on his arm. “I don’t want to get yelled at anymore.”

A certain switch was flicked at the prospect of trouble. It was a seven letter word that Maka did not like (not even to spell), and she would know from regularly getting into it with her parents. If it can be avoid though, then it was best that it was. Her own papa also got into trouble with mama, and Maka has seen what mama does to boys who cause trouble, let alone someone as cry baby-ish as Star was.

There was nothing to do now; the damage was done. But...

Maka straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest. She brought her legs to a criss-cross applesauce and set her mouth in a straight line, ready for whatever was about to come next. Star looked over to see why she’d suddenly gone silent, only to realize that the puddle beneath them had grown a little larger and a little warmer very quickly. If he was going to get into trouble, then she would be too.

Prepare for trouble, and make that double.

Rather than accepting her “ride or die” actions though, Star had other thoughts.  His waterworks started up again, except this time it fell harder than ever. She really couldn’t understand why he was suddenly upset again. If they both got into trouble, then wouldn’t it mean they would only get half in trouble?

She didn’t have to wait long for his explanation.

“Now you will get into trouble, Maka,” he wept. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, too.”

Well dang, Maka didn’t think that through as well as she thought she did. Not only did she underestimate the scale of trouble that both of them would go through, but she also made him upset because she tried to help him. Everything was going south very quickly, and she felt her own eyes stinging, threatening to spill over too.

Listening to his ramblings eventually pushed her over the edge, and that was how Spirit found both Maka and Star, crying together surrounded by pee. Their pants were wet and their shirts even more so from the amount of tears they were shedding together, and honestly? Spirit was tired.

He mused over separating the two for the night, and maybe indefinitely as both of them had proven that they shouldn’t share a bed anymore. Perhaps one could sleep on a blow up mattress and the other could… not? But his threat had backfired as the two cried harder and harder, clinging to each other and shaking their heads aggressively.

“Well, the only other solution is for Black Star to go to the bathroom… in the bathroom. That way, Maka doesn’t have to pee in the bed with you, and you can both still sleep in the same bed next time.”

The two wholeheartedly agreed without hesitation, and it took them just a little longer for them to get all of their wee emotions out of their system. After finally cleaning up and settling themselves on the couch (because no father in their right mind would let them go back to the spoiled bed), they fell asleep happily knowing that their bladders were empty and that their sleepover was secured once again. Problemo solved.

A decade or two later in their twenties, Maka received a phone call in the middle of the night from a very shaken Black Star.

“Maks. Maks, I just realized. They bamboozled me.”

“No shit.”