#man i wrote a wee bit more than planned sorry sorry

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I rewatched The Wicker Man, as you expected if you noticed the poll.

In case you don’t know the movie: Christian nut job cop Prude McJudgie (not actual name) arrives on an island to investigate a missing child. Unfortunately for him, the nice little villagers are all neo-pagan nut jobs. The devout vs the devout! Not to worry, by the time it’s over the locals will give him a very warm farewell. The warmest!

I should say upfront, my brain simply isn’t wired for religion. All religions are equally bizarre and incomprehensible for me. Even in the real world I struggle to tell the difference between why some religion is “main stream” and another is “a cult” baffle me. Don’t ask me to explain the various flavors of christianity. I expect I view the movie differently than those have some religious norms that can be shocked.

So for me the religious clash amuses. You obviously have “sex is sin” colliding with “sex is sacred”, which I expect plenty of people find fun. I also find it fascinating you have the cop coming from a religion that worships people that were sacrificed encountering a society that believes in being hands on with sacrificing, sort of victimization vs being pro active. You have a religion cooked up over a couple thousand years ago by a mish mash of people meeting one that was created less than 200 yrs before by a specific person on fell swoop.

And yet in the end the village isn’t that different than any other little village. People do normal jobs, kids attend school, families function like any family. It’s a parallel universe…

With human sacrifice.

Okay…so maybe the religions here aren’t quite equal.

Human sacrifice is bad! Bad! BAD, BAD villagers! Sacrificing someone, even someone that believes in martyrdom as sacred, against their will, is beyond rude!!

Besides “sacrifice” suggests means something you don’t want to get rid of. Killing a goat can be sacrifice you need that goat, you’ve invested in the goat, there will be a cost in killing the goat. But how does killing someone you met three days before cost you anything?

Killings strangers, prisoners, and the like does have a long history, but that’s because humans also have a long history of willfully misusing the word. No one likes to pay a price, so if the price is human blood wouldn’t you rather use a foe than cousin Joe? But if whatever deities are being sacrificed to actually existed, wouldn’t they be a bit annoyed at such a cheap gift?

I have to admit that in the end I do feel sorry for the protagonist. I hate cops, and growing up in the bible belt as a non-believer has made me a wee bit wary of devote christians, so for most of the movie I’m not sympathetic. But in the famous conclusion to the story I’d have to be a monster not to feel the horror.

Of course, one has to wonder what would have happened if the cop hadn’t gone out there by himself. Maybe cops in that part of the world and era would go off to investigate mysterious letters all by their lonesome, with an open ended return schedule… but it does seem odd. It seems highly unlikely a partner wouldn’t have mucked with the islanders’ plans.

I’ve probably wrote about this movie before, back in the days when I blogged about everything I watched. I’ll just stop now and suggest you go see if I posted something more coherent when I wasn’t such worn down wreck!

[acemapleeh]

2, 4, 9, 11, 12 for HWS Canada? Your fics are so underratted!

Thank you, that’s sweet of you <3

Link to the ask game here

2. What is their favorite piece of technology?

Honestly, when you live for so many centuries, what do you pick? Space heaters are definitely on the top of the list, instant coffee and electric kettles for an easy, hot drink in the morning, solar panels to heat up isolated ice fishing shacks. It’s all the little things that have added up that’s made life so much easier and warmer. Telephones took a while to get used to, but having his family and friends so easily available is both a blessing and curse. He’s not afraid to shut off his phone and fuck off for a few weeks, but given the fact the people who understand his existence most are typically hundreds of miles away, this makes reaching out for reassurance for his loneliness easier.

4. Was there anything their parents pushed them to do? (e.g. sports, theatre, band)

Matthew had the absolute joy and privilege of having to be raised under Arthur's roof for the majority of the 19th century. He had already mastered his reading, writing, and arithmetic, so now what was left to teach was how to be a proper English gentleman of society. He didn't need to be a scholar and like hell was he going to be sent to Public School or university. Matthew's education focused heavily focused on sportsmanship, etiquette, leadership, and even confidence, so he would have all of the necessary skills to eventually be a legitimate member of society as well as a proper nation (someday). His governess taught him the waltz, conducting himself at dinner parties, poetry, art, music, languages (such as Latin and Greek), and various other subjects (astronomy, history, classical text, geography, etc.). He was expected to be well-rounded.

Arthur took charge of teaching him hands-on, practical skills. Matthew enjoyed learning to shoot long-range, how to sail on Ullswater Lake, and even military strategy was a useful skill. He could care less about playing the violin or the harpsichord, he still doesn't understand how cricket works, and though he isn't terrible on horseback, the English sidestep and other equine traditions boggle his mind. Also, he will appreciate the works of Shakespeare, but please, he's retched on stage.

9. What chronic illnesses does your muse have if any?

Chronic depression, anxiety, vitamin D deficiency, and hockey ankles.

On a serious note, I think I'll answer the other part of this in the next question as they go hand in hand.

11. Does your muse wear glasses/contacts?

He must absolutely wear glasses. I, like many, say that this all started in World War 1 with the Second Battle of Ypres where the Germans first utilized poison gas. Matthew would wake several days later after his death at this battle, screaming in confusion and absolute agony. His wails only stop when his throat no longer lets him, coughing and spitting blood as his chest feels as though it's on fire. He pauses when a hand holds his and he could hear cries that were not his own. Matthew's death was not a kind one. His eyes were bandaged and sewn shut in order to heal properly. For days the world was darkness, he lay only in content because of the constant morphine being put in his veins. He feels guilty as he's told his sight will soon return, that he was healing well. Too many of his men, some not even old enough to even lie about being a man, were dead.

He could hardly recognize his reflection when he finally has the chance. His eyes aren't focusing, he scolds himself. There were still bandages, his skin blistered and burned from his face to his hands. Deep breaths hurt, sitting up hurts but it won't be until autumn evenings will the true damage his lungs received will come to light. He pants while continuing to march forward, clouds of cold breath painful, he places a hand against a tree, winded.

Things get better with time but his sight is never what it used to be, glasses a must whenever he leaves the house. His lungs are irritated in the cold. He hates that those deep breaths of frigid air that should bring him nothing but comfort now trigger coughing fits and moments of weakness.

12. What are some warning signs that your muse is getting depressed?

It's something that's definitely easier to notice in modern times. Having a case of the morbs back in the day was him wallowing in the halls and staying in bed past ten in the morning like a dysfunctional member of society. He would lounge in the fake graveyard his father staged, reading morbid books and poems while hoping the ground would swallow him whole. He was very quiet about his depressive episodes for a very long time. It was normal, everyone surely had to have felt the same way he did from time to time. Desperately needing a laudanum and opium nap every other day was normal, right? He had yet to realize just how deep his exhaustion was running from upkeeping appearances. 

These days it all starts showing by how long it's been since he's looked at his messages. He won’t leave anyone on read, just scrolls to see the notification to make sure it’s nothing urgent, then promptly ignores it. A few days is usually okay, he might have the honest reason of work piling up or he was camping somewhere with no reception. Weeks to a month go by without one call or message to Alfred, there’s a problem. Matthew’s way of coping is self-isolation. His family doesn’t respect him, his friends hate him, everyone only pretends to mildly tolerate him- oh! Alfred texted him to go out for coffee... maybe it’d be best if got out of the house. 

If it’s not isolation, it’s his sleeping habits. Are you sleeping too much or too little? Yes. He goes back and forth of sleeping for twelve hours or more a day to staring at his ceiling thinking it’d be easier to have a quick death. He’s lethargic, you have a conversation with him and he spaces out. A quick apology that he’s just tired and has a headache. He takes another painkiller because his shoulders and back were killing him on top of it.

Really, just check up on him once in a while because depression comes from nowhere and sticks like a tough stain. Pick him up, brush him off, and let him know you remember him and don’t hate him, then put him to bed and throw a forty pound blanket on him for good measure.

[jessicaowo1]

Sweet Affections

Pairing: Kirshima x Shy Reader

Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 933

He was extroverted, affectionate, friendly, and manly. You were introverted, shy, soft-spoken, and disliked any physical affection. It was a mystery to you, why he asked you out. Of course, his friends said he liked you for a very long time, but that was hard to believe. 

He asked you out after summer break, more like a confession out of a love story. You were bewildered that your crush liked you. He respected your boundaries, he understood why you didn’t like hugs or kisses and took each shrug and shove in stride. It was only after three months that you guys began to hold hands with the occasional hug.

There was always this guilt lingering in the back of your mind. He put in 100 percent when you thought you gave only five. You tried - you did, you wrote cards to express your feelings but, you end up throwing them away too afraid to tell him. You even tried to initiate hand holding but backed out. You had promised yourself that this time you would surely muster up the courage. Valentine’s Day was approaching so you wanted to do something. 

You concluded that you were going to make chocolate, some of the girls in Class 1A were planning to make chocolate for their significant other. This was your first Valentine’s Day with somebody so you decided to make chocolate. You settled it would be better to make them at home so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself as much and the factor of Kirishima walking in the kitchen would be eliminated. 

You decided to make Nama chocolate, you remember he used to buy it when you guys went to the grocery store or whenever you frequented the movies. As you whipped the chocolate into the heavy cream, you reminisced on why you liked Kirishima. He was always someone you looked up to, as a friend and a s/o. He always helped you with homework even though he didn’t understand. He tried his best and respected you. 

You creased your brows in concentration as you shaped the sweet into a delicate heart. Careful not to place too much pressure through your nimble fingers. A sharp ring brought you out of focus. You pat your hands on a towel before reaching into your pack pocket. You got a text message from Kirishima, “I’m out with Bakubro. He needs help with his gift so we’ll return to the dorms a little late. Head to bed early, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” You had a bad habit of working into the wee hours in order to finish assignments. On one particular occasion, you had fallen ill and from then on your boyfriend would make it a habit of texting reminders to sleep early.  

After exchanging messages, you waited for an hour for the chocolate to cool. You gathered each nugget into a festive container. A fluttering of footsteps echoed through the halls until Mina burst through the door. 

“Y/n, do you have the notes from yesterday. I completely forgot and I don’t want Aizawa to give me detention again.”

Your eyes opened and your stomach dropped, panic set in. You had completely forgotten about the assignments. 

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot.” You shoved the contents on the table into your bag and headed upstairs. Little did you know, you placed the chocolate in your bag instead of the fridge. 

As you woke up the next day on Valentine’s Day, the realization hit you like a train, you forgot to leave the chocolate in the fridge, now the hearts were deformed. 

As you walked to the kitchen, you felt the chocolate melt in your bag. Before you could put the chocolate in the fridge, you heard a familiar voice call out to you, it was Kirshima. He reached into his pockets and brought out an item, motioning for you to take it. It was a shark plush with a taut black yarn that looped around Kirishima's calloused finger. He explained, “I was out with Bakugo the other day and found this manly shark plushy to put on your phone.” Then he lifted his phone, “Now we can match. And, you have something to remember me by.” You were flustered by the sudden gesture, Kirishima was so sweet. Kirshima then notices the bag you had clasped tightly to your chest. 

“Hey, y/n! What’s in the bag?”

“Oh-, it’s nothing.” 

“Oh really, looks like a gift. Is it for me?”

You sighed realizing Kirshima wouldn’t stop hounding you till you spilled so, you reluctantly showed him the box of chocolate. “I am sorry Kiri, I made chocolates on Valentine's Day. I wanted to give them to you earlier but now they melted and now they are misshapen. Again, I am sorry that your gift ended up like this.”

Kirshima looked inside the box, as you said there was misshapen heart chocolate. You thought he would be pitiful about the entire situation when his heart actually began to flutter. He noticed it was his favorite kind of chocolate. The thought of you working so hard for him made him adore you even more than before. As he looked up, he noticed the disappointment in your eyes. He began to panic about how he was supposed to cheer you up. 

He took one of the pieces of chocolate and stuck it in between your lips. Your face said it all, what was this man doing. Before you could process, he went in and bit the chocolate.

“It tastes alright to me.”

[sxfterhearts]

hidden

➳ pairing: jaebeom x oc

➳ genre/warnings: soulmate!au, set in the olden days (dare i say historical!au), fluff

➳ word count: 1,075 words

➳ inspo: “I remember every single thing about you. I would change my everything if I could make you stay.” - @got7creators​ 7for7project week, physics of love poem, the truth untold by bts

➳ author's note: i am one day late!! took inspo from the prompt and turned it into this ;__; i know this chapter is not much, but it’s just to set the scene and i do have plans of turning this into a mini series!!! first time trying soulmate!au + i love this prompt so :)) hope you enjoy!! (even if its a lil short)

hidden // masked // exposed

Lim Jaebeom never let anything, or anyone, for that matter, disrupt his beauty sleep. Always eight hours, no more and no less. If he didn’t get a full eight hours, his entire system would get thrown out of whack and a sour mood would linger over his head for the remainder of the week.

He already had a late night, what with the newest modification in the garden keeping him up late and all. It was a wooden trellis that he made out of a fallen cedar tree, carved and sanded to near perfection with his own bare hands. The soreness of his muscles made it even more difficult to fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. Plus, the frigid air at the top of the tower where he slept did little to soothe his aching joints. If anything, the chilly surroundings made his body feel worn beyond his years. As he got older, he learnt that sleep was a precious, fleeting commodity.

Which was why he did not appreciate the ear-shattering scream that pierced his eardrums in the wee hours of what was to be a quiet Sunday morning. It sounded as though someone had snuck past the four sturdy deadlocks to his tower, climbed up the flight of spiral stairs and barged into his bedroom to scream in his face.

With a frustrated grumble, Jaebeom harshly threw the covers off and bounced out of bed, feet stomping on the creaking floorboards as he went to inspect the source of the ruckus from his window, thirty feet above ground.

He was met with an appalling sight. From the vantage point he watched in utter horror as his tirelessly crafted trellis shattered into a million pieces, lying scattered amongst the mess that was once his beloved vegetable garden. His precious baby cabbages, carrots and tomatoes were either covered in dirt or squashed by a human figure who planted head-first into the ground. It was a girl.

Jaebeom watched with an increasingly curious gaze as she peeled her face off the ground and pushed herself onto her feet, her back towards him. She was petite, not any taller than his shoulder, he guessed. Even from afar, he could see how her limbs were as thin as straws, her legs barely holding up her tiny frame. She bent forwards, brushed clumps of soil mixed with fresh fertiliser and bits of withered leaves off her beige linen dress before standing upright and turning around.

Jaebeom swore his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

In a flash, the man dropped to the floor. Much like in a battlefield when the general yelled ‘fire in the hole!’ and ordered his men to take cover, Jaebeom covered his head with his hands and said a silent prayer. He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t, let the girl see him. Not like this. Especially not like this. He hadn’t washed, hadn’t brushed his wavy, shoulder-length hair, and he certainly hadn’t worn his mask to hide the horrendous scar on his left cheek from her glistening, hazel eyes.

“Hello?” Came a voice – the softest, sweetest voice Jaebeom had ever heard.

“Go away, go away, please just go away-” He muttered to himself, wishing and willing the girl to get away from here, away from him. Nothing good would fall upon her shoulders if she were to interact with him in any way, shape or form.

“I… I’m sorry, kind sir!” A pause. Jaebeom imagined her pondering over her next words. He wondered whether she would chew her lips in nervousness. “I’ll pay you back! Here… I’ll…” Another pause. He didn’t want her money, he just wanted her to leave him in peace so that he could go about his usual Sunday routine and clean up the mess she made. “There’s five shillings in the sack of seeds by the shovel. Please accept my most sincere apologies!”

For the next two minutes, the man waited with clammy palms and a sweaty forehead. Only when he thought the coast was clear did he dare to peek out the window once more.

A twang of emotion (Was it disappointment? Emptiness? Or sadness?) shot through his chest. Inexplicably, his eyes followed the girl’s figure as she walked through the meadows, towards the town centre and away from him and his tower, his safe haven. Her servants’ dress was plain, the basket she held in her hand was common, and yet to Jaebeom, she stood out like the most eye-catching flower amongst the luscious greenery and the speckles of vibrant yellows and pinks. Like a main character of a play, she swayed and glided through the early spring blooms, becoming one with nature and completing the picture-perfect scenery.

There was an unmistakable pull towards this girl that Jaebeom could not articulate into words. He had only caught a glimpse of her face earlier before he hid himself, an action he now regretted as he longed and yearned to see her again. Something made him lean out of the window, his fingers itching to stretch towards her retreating figure.

That morning, he stayed by the window until late noon and the sun was high up in the sky, hoping, wishing, willing for her to return, the very opposite of his prayers earlier today. But that was before he was sure.

Now, as he sat by his desk in the candlelight, twirling a quill in his fingers while chewing on an apple, he knew.

He wrote:

“Mass is not proportional to volume

A girl as small as a violet

A girl who moves like a flower petal

is pulling me towards her with more force than her mass.

Just then, I am

Like Newtons Apple

I rolled towards her without stopping

Until I fell on her

With a thump, with a thump

My heart

Keeps bouncing between the sky and the ground

It was my first love.”

When he was younger, his fondest memories were of sitting with his grandma, helping her rub salt and chilli flakes onto napa cabbages while listening to her stories. She had many, but Jaebeom’s all-time favourite was a story of two lovers.

Two lovers separated by time and connected by a red string of fate – soulmates.

As his pinkie throbbed from the relentless tugging by an unseen red string towards the direction of the town, he could only sigh.

The girl who stumbled upon his vegetable garden and tripped over his cabbages was his soulmate.

[the-tactician-magician]

This @flufftober2021 piece ended up being kinda similar to yesterday's, but at least I wrote a different ship to it lol. And it still turned out cute, I think!

Day 5: Watching the Sunrise

Rated G, Ignatz/Marianne, 1110 words

Ignatz honestly didn’t know what to expect when Marianne asked him to come with her in the wee hours of the morning. He thought that maybe she needed his help with caring for an injured animal, or perhaps she spotted some nearby enemies. The latter wouldn’t surprise him, seeing as they were marching towards their next battlefield.

But no. If Marianne noticed any danger, she would’ve brought more people than just Ignatz. The two of them weren’t carrying any weapons either. It was just him, her, and her sable pegasus that carried them towards the top of a tall hill.

Or… What if Marianne was leading Ignatz to such a secluded spot for more... private reasons? Like a confession of some sort? His cheeks burned at the very thought, even though he wouldn’t be completely opposed to it. Marianne had always been such a kind and gentle soul, and watching her blossom throughout the last five years was one of his greatest joys. She went from being a somber wallflower that could barely look him in the eyes into a lovely and composed woman that invited him to this outing without hesitation. And he would be delighted to keep on watching her, to grow alongside her. The only thing holding him back, he supposed, was the war that waged all around him. He couldn’t ask her to love him when his life may be taken the very next day.

Yet if Marianne really was planning what he was thinking, what was he to do? His face must have been so flush with embarrassment, it radiated enough heat to catch Marianne’s attention.

“Ignatz? Are you well? Your face is so red…” She turned around to ask.

“Ah.” Ignatz instinctively raised a hand to his cheeks. “I’m fine, truly. The wind is a bit chilly up here, that’s all.”

Marianne shot him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. But we’re nearly there. I promise.”

Ignatz felt the urge to ask her where was ‘there’, exactly, but didn’t trust himself to speak without accidentally blurting out his earlier thoughts. Plus, they were actually almost there. A few beats of a pegasus’s wings later, Marianne and Ignatz arrived at their destination on top of a hill.

“Oh! This is…”

He almost tumbled out of the saddle in his excitement to absorb the details of his surroundings. From their vantage point, he saw endless swaths of forest down below, with mists still clinging to their canopies. A fiery speck among those trees indicated the location of their campsite, dirt roads winded around trees before being swallowed by the fog of distance, and an even more distant lake reflected a splotch of sky amidst the greenery. On the horizon, golden rays wreathed the rising sun like a crown, and the encroaching dawn painted the skies with beautiful shades of pinks and purple and oranges and blues that spurred his imagination.

Ignatz was almost too stunned by the magnificent sunrise to finish his sentence. It was only when Marianne took a step closer that his tongue started to work again.

“Marianne, this is wonderful.” He managed to say. “How did you even find this view?”

She fidgeted in place for a moment. Ignatz worried that he said something to offend her, but her answer, uttered as a whisper, put his fears to rest.

“Um... I took Sigune for a ride because I couldn’t fall back asleep, and stumbled upon this hill. I… thought you might like it, so I tried to find you as fast as I could, before the sun had fully risen. I’m glad that we made it in time…”

By now, Marianne was right next to him, her serene face accentuated by the dawn’s light. She really was a beautiful woman, perhaps even more beautiful than the sunrise before them. Again, Ignatz double checked himself before he could blurt out some sort of foolishness that would sully the atmosphere.

“I’m glad too.” He paused to mull over his next words. ��Was there… a particular reason you thought of me? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

Marianne turned to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh. I guess I wanted to repay you for when you showed me the sunset at Garreg Mach. I know that was a long time ago, but…”

Now it was Ignatz’s turn to gasp. “Oh! I’m honored that you still remembered that, but I didn’t need any repayment. Even so… Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

When he punctuated his gratitude with a smile, Marianne smiled back. His chest was thumping so loudly, he thought it might break free and let the whole world know how he was feeling. How much he adored Marianne, and how much he wanted to capture this scene for eternity…

“Oh.” He uttered for the third time. “I should have brought my drawing tools with me. This would make for a beautiful painting.”

“That’s true…” Marianne nodded as she returned her gaze to the sunrise. “But I don’t think there’s enough time to go back and grab them... I’m sorry. I should have thought about it.”

Gripped with concern, Ignatz shook his head like a man possessed. “It’s not your fault, Marianne. Besides, not every sunrise needs to be drawn. Sometimes it’s better to just sit back and enjoy it with you.”

Ignatz didn’t even realize what he said until he noticed how Marianne’s mouth formed a surprised ‘o’ shape. He felt his face burning up again as he stammered and pushed his glasses up a little higher.

“A-ah. I mean to say, it’s better to just enjoy it. N-not that I wouldn’t enjoy it with you, Marianne. It’s just that…”

A soft giggle, akin to the most soothing of lullabies, wiped out all other thoughts in Ignatz’s head. Marianne’s smile widened as she took him by the hand.

“Well… I would like to enjoy it with you too. If you don’t mind…”

The warmth from her touch flowed through Ignatz like liquid fire, but in a good way. It suddenly felt like everything was alright in the world, they were where they needed to be, and the words that formed on his tongue were the right words to say.

In an unwavering voice, Ignatz said, “Of course I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

Ignatz and Marianne proceeded to sit down on the earth and look towards the rising sun. They exchanged no more words between them as dawn turned to morning, but they didn’t need to. The occasional peeks at each other and light squeezes of their hands conveyed everything their hearts wanted to say, and then some.

[redsector-a]

AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist*  The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is  it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around.  One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

[voletapril02]

The Doctor Will See You Now

Summary: You are an established artist living in New York. You just got out of a breakup when you physically collide with a handsome doctor that saves you from almost getting hit by a car. ever since then your electric connection is undeniable. But will it be enough to withstand the trouble that could be lurking just around the corner?

Warnings: Head injury, car accident, suggestive conversation

 Pairings: Chris Evans X Reader, Y/N X Chris Evans

 Word Count: 1,525

 ** Loosely Edited/ Proofread**

 **This is my first fic so please be kind. I plan on making this a series**

 **The photos are not mine**

      You had just left you’re the gallery where you were going to have a show in the next few weeks. Ever since you left your fiance Evan  you had been in a rut with your work and you didn’t want to be the girl who focused everything around a bad breakup. Since that wasn't what it was, Evan was everything you had ever wanted and when he asked you to marry him you felt like everything in life was finally coming together.

You had moved to New York for your work causing the both of you to test  you relationship  and it almost dint work out. But when he moved here from Seattle where you were from you felt like you too were finally able to start a life together. But a few months after you got engaged and everything was going good Evan got a letter from a girl he used to date a year before the two of you met. She wrote him saying that she had gotten pregnant when they were together but she didn't find out until they broke up and by then he had already moved to Seattle and she didn't want to interrupt his life. When Evan let you read the letter it was as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of your lungs. It was your idea for the two of you to break up. You had grown up without a father and you didn't want that for this baby. In your mind he had already gone a year without a father and that was long enough. Evan wanted to go back to long distance but you told him he needed to go and be with his child and figure out what he wanted and he owed it to his child to be there fully. It broke your heart when he left but you knew it was the right decision. At first you texted here and there until you stopped responding because it was too painful.

 It had been a year now and you were finally able to get your life on track again. When you're in a love like the one you and Evan shared it's hard to untangle them from your life in order to find out who you are again without them. That's why this art show was so important for you since it was more than just a new art series, it was the beginning of a new you. As you walked down the street about a block away from the gallery you were looking through your purse on your shoulder not paying attention to where you were going when you heard a loud car horn before you felt like you had been hit by a bull causing you to fall down on the pavement hitting your head.

  "Miss-" a voice echoed in your ears

Your head was pounding and your vision was blurry from your fall, the sun beating down on you didn't help the situation either. You could see what looked like a small crowd of people crowded around you except they all looked smashed together in one big blob.

"Can you hear me?" the voice continued

Moaning in slight pain as your eyes shuttered open you were finally able to focus your vision enough to see the figure that the voice belonged to.

"There you are" the man said and punctuated the statement with a soft smile.

Finally fully coming to you looked at him and you were taken back at just how handsome he was. He was the kind of beautiful that woman only bumped into on the train in movies or the  guy that you pine over your whole life but never actually talk to.

"Are you okay?" he asked while he held what looked like a mini flash light in front of your face checking your eyes. It was also now that you realized that those blobs were not blobs at all but they were concerned strangers with their phones recording this marvel of a man while he gave you an impromptu exam. He saw you looking at everyone filming and ogling at you when he stood and spoke to the people.

" Everyone thank you so much for your help but she is in good hands in a doctor so I can handle everything from here. Thank you so much, now lets give her some space please. Thank you so much" he said while smiling an and humbling looking everyone in the eyes. The crowd of people smiled and waved to you. Some giving you best wishes and others getting one final photo before they walked away. He looked around and saw a corner store with a chair outside. He reached down and took your hand and lifted you to your feet in one swoop. When you reached your feet your legs didn't get the memo that they were on the job now so you almost fell again when he caught you.

"I got you" he said sweetly whiled he helped you over to the chair. Each step helped to awaken your legs.

"What happened?" you asked while looking at him kneeling in front of you.

"You speak English?" he questioned

You gave him a confused look as if to ask him why he thought that.

"You just never spoke and you looked really confused when I spoke to you"

You smiled slightly before speaking " That might have had something to do with me being mildly concussed, but you're the doctor here so.."

Laughing he shook his head at you

"Good to know you sense of humor wasn't knocked a loose, but to answer your question on what happened. I was walking when I looked up and saw you walking and there was a car headed you're way so I ran over and tackled you, thus being the reason you are mildly concussed as you so expertly put it."

   You were shocked, the thought that you could have been hurt or killed if it hadn't been for him was scary but you were grateful nonetheless.

" I don't even know what to say, thank you so much. I mean what are the chances that you would get to me in time and you just so happen to be a doctor I mean that's such a blessing"

 he helped you up and handed you your bag that had started this mess in the first place.

" I don't know how to repay you, I have money or I can buy you something-" you rambled as you looked around for solutions to your problem.

He cut you off while shaking his head "No no no that won't be necessary I promise, I'm just glad you're okay"

" Please It would make me feel so much better if I was able to do something" you stopped for a second thinking when it dawned on you

 " I've got it, I'm actually an artist so I could make you something. A custom piece"

 Looking at him you could tell he was about to turn you down. You grabbed his forearm and looked at him tilting your head slightly in order to meet you gaze

"Before you say no, just say yes" you pleaded innocently

He looked at you with that million dollar smile  and nodded his head slowly. You lit up knowing that your negotiating had actually worked out.

" Thank you, I appreciate you letting me do this. Okay so we'll meet for lunch and you can tell me what you want"

"you know you really don't have to go through all this trouble if you want to go on a date with me. I'm sure there are less painful ways to go about it" giving you a smirk and sent shivers all over your body

You were speechless from how forward he was being. You hadn't been flirted with properly since you broke up with Evan. At first you wee gonna shy away but that wasn't you.

" Oh I'm sorry you must have hit your head at some point as well. Because if my memory serves me correctly you're the one you tackled me to the ground"

You could tell he was looking for a witty comeback but he just couldn't find one.

"Touché"

This made you both erupt in laughter. You then pulled out your business card that your manager forced you to make. You always thought they were too flashy giving how relaxed your profession was.

" Okay so here's my number and we can schedule a meeting so we can work out just exactly how you want me to express my gratitude"

The double meaning was no lost on you but it had been so long since you had seen a man like him that you just couldn't help but mess with him a little bit.

" I can already think of a couple" he retorted while smirking at you.

"Well I'll be happy to see what you come up with"

With that you both went your separate ways, knowing that you wouldn't be able to get him out of your mind. It was only then that you realized you never even got his name.

[prrplwtch]

Hello! Can I request general wedding head canons with the boys? Thank you!!

Hi nonnie :) Of course, sorry it took a while 💜

Lucifer:

Lucifer does not want his wedding to be a big affair, but the moment Diavolo finds out that his best friend is getting married, it turns into a huge affair.

Diavolo insists the wedding happens in his castle and Lucifer accepts.

Lucifer is highly involved in the planning - the man likes to control everything in his life, and wedding is definitely no exception. 

The primary wedding color will likely be red, with a lot of red roses incorporated into decorations. 

Lucifer insists that he helps pick out his intended’s wedding attire, just to make sure that it is the right kind of fancy for the occasion. All arguments about that being bacd luck would fall on deaf ears. 

Diavolo will be Lucifer’s best man. 

The wedding is so well-planned that it runs very smoothly - mostly because Lucifer’s brothers are behaving themselves because they know just what would happen if any of them start something. 

Lucifer will likely will opt for traditional Devildom wedding vows. 

The happy couple’s first dance is utterly gorgeous. Because it had been practiced time and time again. 

After the party is over, Lucifer and his new spouse leave to enjoy some newly-married fun. 

Mammon

Mammon is terrible at planning, so his intended will probably have to be the one to plan the entire wedding. 

But, besides his inability to plan, he’s also pretty chill with whatever it is that his s/o wants, so he’d just go along. 

Seeing as funds are pretty limited, as Mammon is perpetually broke and likely has already started on his s/o’s money if they commingled finances, the wedding likely would not be a big affair, almost exclusively family and a few friends.

Mammon’s best man is Levi - how that came about is not clear, but everyone just went along, not wanting to question in.

Mammon will probably ask so to include yellow/gold into the wedding decor, since that’s his color.

Mammon’s s/o will likely need to get involved in him buying the suit for the wedding, simply to ensure that it is proper for the occasion.

Mammon will likely opt out of traditional vows and try to write his own. He’ll get flustered, of course, looking at his s/o’s happy face as he recites them, and probably mess up. It’s ok, his so loves him anyways. 

Then Mammon will find himself blushing profusely, as he has to kiss his now spouse in front of other people. 

The wedding overall would have a relaxed, happy, simple atmosphere. 

He’ll definitely won’t be able to wait until the end of the party to get...intimate with his new spouse, so they’ll likely depart during the middle of the party. 

Leviathan

Levi had been planning his theoretical wedding in his head for the longest while. Of course, initially his bride was Ruri-chan, but, MC will have to do. 

He is so happy when his s/o agrees to have Levi’s favorite anime as wedding theme. 

The wedding will be a very small affair - Levi doesn’t have many friends outside of his family, and it’s not like MC can invite many people to Devildom. 

Upon MC’s instance, Levi would consider making one of his brothers his best man, but in the end he’ll still opt for his best friend Henry 2.0.

Levi’s suit and his s/o’s wedding attire would also be themed after his favorite anime. 

He’d find himself tear up as his s/o walks to the Devildom’s equivalent of altar to one of his favorite ever anime songs.

Definitely opts for writing his own vows. Refers to TSL too many times. 

Is hugely embarrassed about kissing his now spouse in front of so many people. 

The figurines on the wedding cake are him and his now spouse in cosplay.

Levi and s/o disappear quite quickly from the wedding party - both to enjoy marital bliss, but also because they are tired of being around so many people.

Satan

This man will probably opt for a traditional wedding. Satan’s pretty good at planning, but, unlike Lucifer, will actually involve his s/o in the process.

The wedding is probably going to be bigger than a lot of people expect - Satan has a lot of good acquaintances and friends and he wants to invite them all. this is inspired by one of his devilgram stories.

The decor for the wedding will likely feature quite a bit of emerald green color. 

And cats - there will definitely be a cat motif, is not straight up cat guests.

After pondering for a while, Satan invites Asmo to be his best man, and Asmo agrees. 

Satan chooses a traditional-looking suit for the wedding. He, of course, doesn’t tell MC what they should wear to the wedding, but reminds them to be mindful of the wedding’s theme. 

Like Lucifer would likely go for traditional vows, although he might decide against it if he heard in one of his dramas or read in one of his books some kind of vows that he liked. 

Weeding cake? More like wedding apple pie - and that’s probably the only non-traditional element in the entire wedding. 

The first dance is to some song that he and s/o heard in one of the romance dramas that they watched together that he really liked. 

While Satan fully intended to stay for the entire duration of the party, he and his s/o will find themselves quite impatient to be alone, so they’ll leave slightly after the halfway point.

Asmodeus

Asmo loves parties - and planning a wedding, especially his own wedding is quite exciting. He involves his s/o in the planning. 

It’s a grand affair, and he plans to have a reception in one of the most famous clubs in the Devildom. 

His s/o is shocked to find out just how many people Asmo knows, but Asmo’s such a life of the party that it’s no surprise at all.

Pink, everything is going to be pink - the decorations, the cake, the napkins, everything.

Asmo picks Satan as his best man, which Satan begrudgingly accepts. 

Likely will get very emotional during the wedding vows that he wrote himself that he might start tearing up a little bit - he just loves his s/o so much. 

Wedding kiss? More like wedding make out session, that his s/o has to interrupt before too long. 

The reception is a huge party in one of the best clubs in the devildom. Asmo spent quite a bit of time picking out both his and his s/o attires for it.

Wedding cake? No thank, there’s a tower of wedding cupcakes. 

Everyone’s surprised that Asmo and his new spouse did not leave the party early to go enjoy some...fun newlywed activities, but joke’s on them - Asmo & s/o managed to get some private time as they were switching from ceremony clothes to reception clothes.

Beelzebub

Beel is not very big on planning, so his s/o would likely have to do most of the planning for the wedding. The one thing that Beel definitely would be involved in is the wedding menu.

Will likely be a medium-sized wedding - Beel seems to have a fair number of friends. 

Who is Beel’s best man? Belphie, of course, as if that was even a real question. 

Beel would likely let his s/o choose the wedding suit for him if the s/o insists. 

During the wedding Beel is likely to get all emotional - the rest of the guests will likely to get emotional too when he reads his own vows, which, while very simple, communicate perfectly the whole depth of his feelings for his s/o

At the after-party everyone will be overwhelmed and excited by the amount and variety of the food. 

The reception would have a light, fun, happy atmosphere, and the guests would be quite happy spending their time dancing and eating the food.

Beel and his s/o will feed each other wedding cake :) 

The merriment will last into the night and into the wee hours of the morning. 

Beel’s spouse will likely fall asleep at the wedding tired from all the food and dancing and Beel will carry them back to the room. Then the two of them would cuddle to sleep - there’s always time to enjoy some newlywed fun later, in the morning. 

Belphegor

Belphie is not big on planning, so like with Beel, his s/o will probably have to be the one to plan the wedding.

He doesn’t want to have a big wedding - first, he does not have all that many friends outside the family, and, second, planning a big wedding is too much effort. 

His best man is, of course, Beel. 

Belphie will insist on picking out his own wedding suit - the suit he ends up choosing is a little bit less formal than his s/o would like, but Belphie is pretty happy, as it is quite comfortable to catch quick naps in. 

Belphie, just like some of his brothers would likely opt for traditional vows. 

Wedding decorations heavily feature color purple because it’s Belphie’s favorite color and his s/o wants to make him happy. 

During the tossing of the bouquet, it’s Beel who catches it, and while Belphie makes a joke about it to his twin, he truly he hopes that one day his brother will find the love and happiness that he had found. 

Belphie realizes that it might have been a mistake, letting his brother help out with the wedding menu, when he sees just how much food is on the tables during reception. Nonetheless, he cannot be mad at his brother. 

Belphie and his new spouse leave the party pretty early - they want to have enough time to properly...enjoy each other’s company before they drift off to sleep. 

[mournthewicked]

Electic Moves--Montgomery Scott x Reader (ToS/AoS compatible)

This is the LONGEST insert I have ever written holy MOLEY. Here it is at a whopping 5,423 words. I mostly wrote this with ToS!Scotty in mind but I think it also works for both ToS and AoS! I’ll also pop this up on Ao3. Fic is based off my favorite band The Orion Experience and their song Electric Moves

Warnings: Kissing

Electric Moves

“Alright that’s the last of the wires!” you yelled to your superior wiping your safety glasses clean of debris.

“Alrigh’ let me take a look at ‘em,” Montgomery Scott said, crouching next to you. He examined the junctions of the circuit boards and nodded in approval. “Not bad…not bad at all Lieutenant. No bubbles… joints are solid. This soldering is better than some of my own. Must be those steady medical hands.” He winked at you and you put your safety glasses back on to conceal a blush.

“Thank you Mr. Scott,” you replied.

“Lass, I’ve told you already just call me Scotty. Don’t make me order you now,” he joked.

“Sorry. Thank you Scotty,” you put your tools back in the small box and hand it back to the older man. His hand brushed over yours as he takes it from you making your breath hitch.

“No thank you for lending us a hand down here. Doctor McCoy said you were a fast learner but neglected to tell me you were a near genius with mechanics. I ought to have a word with him, keeping a talented lass like you all to him—_______, you alrigh’?”

Scotty must have noticed your face morphing into a deep red from underneath your goggles. You run the back of your hand across your forehead, hoping he’d buy the redness from the heat down in the engineering room.

“Yeah I’m…I’m fine just warm. Goodness how do you live like this down here all the time? It’s hotter than Vulcan!” You exclaimed, earning a chuckle from Scotty.

“Well I s’pose we just get used to it eventually, ain’t that right Kern?” A man slightly younger than Scotty nods in agreement, through you’re pretty sure he didn’t hear what Scotty asked. “Well I think we’re all done down here. Thank you again. It was an absolute pleasure having you down here. I hope we’ll see each other soon.”

He held his hand out to you and you took his surprisingly gentle hand in your own. “Any time, Scotty. It was an honor working on her.”

“Her?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“It! Her—uh the Enterprise!” You ran your hands over your face. Surely your blush was obvious by now.

Scotty belted out a hearty laugh. “Lass, I thought I was the only one who referred to the ship as a lady, other than the Captain of course.”

“Well—yeah it’s like in those old stories about sea mariners and pirates and even in early space exploration. Their ships were always referred to as female so I just kind of let it slip into my vocabulary. Besides,” you gestured to the warp core. “The Enterprise is like a human being. She has a heart, a circulatory system, a brain…All sorts of anatomy. It’s just made of metal.”

Scotty looked at you full of admiration. “Lieutenant _______ I believe you and I are going to get along quite well.”

You turned to him and smiled. “I sure hope so Scotty.”

The next few days you doubled back and forth as both Assistant Medical Officer and engineer. Though most of your time was spent in med bay assisting Doctor McCoy with patients and testing, you also assisted Scotty with warp core diagnostics and repairing small details on the lower decks. You grew fond of the crew down below becoming friends with Ensigns Kern and Russell but your admiration mostly resided with Scotty. If fact, your admiration was becoming even more: each time you passed him your heart would speed up and you could feel yourself going red. Your stomach flipped and your knees weakened and if your eyes met his, oh stars your words would catch in your throat and you could barely keep yourself from stammering. Eventually, though your heart still raced when he got too close, you managed to get used to his sweet conversations about the starship and his daily life.

Two weeks after the two of you met Captain Kirk announced there would be a week-long shore leave after a recent encounter with Harry Mudd left the Enterprise in disarray and in need of refueling.

“Can’t believe we nearly lost the ship in a bet. Mudd would have had us floating through the galaxy if you hadn’t gotten that gauge recalibrated Mr. Scott,” Bones said as he stepped off the landing pad and onto the Federation sanctioned planet.

“Aye, but I can’t take all the credit Doctor. In fact it was your assistant who wrote the equation. She’s the real star of the show,” Scotty said clapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Well Lieutenant, seems like we owe you a drink or two,” Bones said.

“That’s very kind of you but I plan on curling up with a good book and working on some small projects I’ve been meaning to get done during leave,” you replied.

“Ach lass you have to take a bit of a break. You’ve been working plenty,” Scotty said.

“Thank you Scotty but I’m going to sit this one out.”

“I understand,” he replied. You didn’t catch the sadness in his eyes as you turned to head to your hotel room. “It won’t be the same without you!” He called after you.

You turned around and threw him a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your evening gentlemen!” You responded with a mock bow and disappeared into the crowd.

As soon as you were out of sight Bones turned to Scotty. “You really have it bad for her, don’t you?”

Scotty scoffed at the doctor. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean!”

Bones rolled his eyes and retorted, “Oh please. ‘It won’t be the same without you’?”

“Well I simply meant we would miss her.”

“You’ve been looking at her like a lovesick teenager. It’s sickening,” Bones responded. The two of them began to walk to a small diner, serving refreshments from different parts of the galaxy. “One bourbon and a scotch on me.”

“Doctor you aren’t going to get me drunk and have me spill my secrets.” Scotty said as a Betazonian male placed his drink in front of him.

“You don’t need to spill anything it’s written all over your face. You get all goo goo eyed with her. Nurse Chapel noticed it, Uhura noticed it, hell, even Spock has mentioned how you’ve been talking about her nonstop.”

Scotty sighed and took a sip of his scotch. He ran his hand through his chestnut hair for a moment before saying, “I don’t know what to do McCoy. She’s on my mind constantly. Working, off duty, hell even in my dreams. The first day when she came down to work on the circuitry she was so kind and sweet, a wee shy too, but she’s also smart and creative. The way she figured out the equation to save our ship was incredible!”

“Then what seems to be the trouble, Mr. Scott? You aren’t technically her reporting officer so there aren’t any regulations against it.”

“That’s not the problem I just…I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She’s a quiet woman and she hasn’t made any indication that she wants to pursue anything outside of work. I, well, I don’t even know if she considers me a friend,” saying that out loud broke Scotty’s heart and McCoy could see it on his face.

Bones waved the bartender over and ordered another round for his friend. “Listen Scotty, I’m a doctor not a love expert. But I do know my assistant pretty well and she talks about you a lot. She sings your praises. Hell, she’s been spending more time with you than in her own office. The girl likes you she’s just too shy to make the first move.”

Scotty shook his head in doubt and McCoy sighed. “Come on Scotty. Let’s finish up our drinks and we can talk about this some other time. I know Jim was thinking about going to a little hole in the wall club of some sort and I’m going to need someone to help carry his miserable behind back when he out drinks himself.”

Scotty stared into his glass and said, “Aye.”

 ***

Meanwhile you began to unpack your shore leave bag, distracted by Scotty’s words.

‘It won’t be the same without you.’ What could he mean by that? He’s never been out with me before, heck I’ve never been out with anyone on the starship before. Could it be that he had hoped I would come out?

“This is all so confusing!” You yelled to yourself, throwing down a towel. “Stupid feelings.”

You flopped on your bed and stared at the pastel purple ceiling weighing your options. You could continue to pine after Scotty in secret, watching him as he eventually fell in love with someone else and—no that felt awful. You could tell him how you feel, get rejected, and never be able to work in the same room with him—that felt even worse.

You sat on the edge of your bed and sighed. You needed to do something to keep your mind off Scotty. The clock on the computer on your desk flashed 20:00.

“Computer, what is there to do on this planet during the evenings?” You asked. The computer whirred to life, ticking with calculations.

“Sources for entertainment near your current location. There are six bars within walking distance. Two are karaoke bars, three are exotic stripping clubs, and one is a dance club.”

A dance club? You thought excitedly. It’s been so long since I’ve been dancing. “Who’s performing at the dance club? Anyone good?”

The computer whirred again before stating: “Popular intergalactic band The Orion Experience will be performing live throughout your shore leave.”

“Thank you Computer. That is all,” you said and the computer powered down. You sat on the edge of your bed staring at your luggage in front on you. If I’m going to do this, I’m going all out tonight.

You sprung up in excitement and grabbed your bag. “Screw sadness, screw the rules, I’m about to be Cinderella at the ball.”

An hour and a half later you checked yourself out in the mirror. You purchased two dresses, your choice for this evening was a jeweled emerald green dress that stopped mid-thigh and white boots. You even splurged on some makeup and changed your hair. At a glance you could barely recognize yourself.

Shooting a wink at your reflection you strutted out of your room and out the door not even noticing the three Starfleet officers you passed on the street.

***

“Mr. Scott, Bones is right. You need to just come right out and say it. Quick, like a band aid. It will be over in a minute.” Captain Kirk tried to persuade the Scotsman.

“Thank you, Captain, for the sage advice. And thank you Doctor McCoy for telling the Captain about my personal affairs, I greatly appreciate it,” Scotty replied with a glare to the brunette.

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Well I’m sorry but I wasn’t going to let you look like a depressed Sehlat the whole shore leave.”

“I do not look like a depressed Sehlat!” exclaimed Scotty. Bones and Kirk stared at him intensely and he relented. “Gentlemen, I thank you for support. But I’m an old man—much older than __________. And she should be with someone else her age. As beautiful as she is, finding someone else wouldn’t be a problem.” Scotty’s eyes began misty and he blinked back tears.

Kirk clapped a hand on his friends shoulder. “Now Mr. Scott there will be no tears tonight. The night is young and there is a bar just down the streets with all sort of intergalactic alcohol. Let’s forget about our problems even if it’s just for the night.”

But I don’t want to forget about her. Mr. Scott thought to himself, but he knew voicing his opinion would get drowned out by his two friends. “Aye, where are we going lads?”

“Well,” Kirk began rubbing his hands together. “I thought we would check out that bar I was telling Bones about earlier. I’ve heard that they have these dancers that—“

Kirk was cut off as a woman walked past in a short green dress and white boots. The three men stared after her as she sashayed out the door into the crowd.

“Jim…who was that?” McCoy asked staring after her.

“I’m…not sure. I don’t recall ever seeing her before,” Kirk replied.

“She has to be on the Enterprise though. This hotel was booked for us by Starfleet and no other ships are docked so it’s just us,” Scotty said.

“She couldn’t be a Romulan spy could she?” McCoy asks.

“A Romulan, spy or not, would never—could never—have that strut in their step. Especially in those shoes,” Kirk responded.

“Of all things you could comment on you mention her footwear?” Bones joked.

“Of all the things I could comment on her shoes were the most appropriate. Do you have anything to add Doctor McCoy?”

“Not at all, Jim.”

“Good,” Kirk began to follow the woman but was stopped by Scotty.

“You don’t plan on following her do you?” He asked.

“Scotty, the three of us have no idea who she is and we know our crew better than anyone else. Whoever she is, she’s obviously gotten through our security systems and we need to know how. Besides aren’t you two a little curious to see who she is?”

Scotty sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day and he followed his two friends through the street after the mysterious, and yet oddly familiar, stranger.

The bar pulsed with the beat of the band and you were bumping and grinding your way through the crowd. You felt different, alive, on the dance floor. A cheer went through the crowd as you spun through a dance circle. Each move was filled you with energy, you were electrified by the music and you sang out with the rest of the crowd.

“Somebody told me, you got electric moves. Out on the floor you’re like lightening striking,” you sang off key with everyone as the band went into the final chorus. You turned again as the song began to transition to another but froze mid step as you spotted McCoy, Kirk, and Scotty staring in your direction whispering to themselves. You made eye contact with the chief engineer for a brief second, both confusion and recognition evident in his eyes. He slowly got off his chair and began to walk towards you, startling you out of your trance. You turned your back towards him and ran out the door.

***

The three men sat down at bar scoping the dance floor for the mysterious woman.

“You sure she went into this one Jim?” McCoy asked the blond sipping a drink.

“Positive. Keep your eye out for anything suspicious,” Kirk said surveying the dance floor. “Mr. Scott, have you given any more thought to what Bones and I were saying earlier.”

“Now Captain, I told you I don’t want to pursue anything—“ he was cut off by a cheer and applause on the dance floor.

“There Jim! She’s over there,” McCoy exclaimed. The three men stared in her direction, watching as she danced sensually, hands in the air laughing and stomping her foot to the beat.

“She looks familiar. I just can’t put my finger on it,” Kirk said. McCoy and Scotty nodded fixated on the woman. She did one final turn as the song transitioned into a new one but, as she looked in their direction she froze.

“It can’t be…” Bones mumbled.

“Is that…Lieutenant ___________?” Kirk asked still staring at her.

Scotty watched her intently as they maintained eye contact. It was _________ there was no doubt in his mind. Seeing her with such fire in her soul was intimidating, there was no doubt about that. She radiated confidence and seeing her with such energy made Scotty’s heart swell in infatuation. Clenching his fists, Scotty knew he had to take a chance or he was going to have a heart attack. Taking a deep breathe he stood up, knees weak not from the alcohol but from the nerves. He steadied himself and began to approach her gaining confidence with each step. However about ten steps in the woman who held his soul broke eye contact and ran out the door, leaving the shattered pieces of his heart where she last stood.

***

Morning hit you like a Bat’leth; your mouth was dry and every vibrant color of the wall sent a wave of nausea through your body. The headache you had was unsurmountable and you grabbed the hypo you left on the table and injected it. Moments later your headache was gone and your nausea was slightly more manageable.

You revisited the events of last night grinning s the memories came back to you. You looked at the dress that was discarded on top of your suitcase with a fond grin, eagerly thinking about the second number you had waiting for tonight. However your feelings of excitement were smothered as soon as you remembered who saw at the bar watching you. McCoy. Kirk. Scotty.

“Oh my God,” you cried out to yourself putting your head in your hands as you tried to erase that memory from your mind.

They must have thought I looked ridiculous, you thought. I made such a fool of myself. Tears pricked at your eyes and you tried to will them away. Even though you knew none of them would make fun of you—well McCoy might tease you but you could handle him—you knew it would impact how the other two would look at you. If there was a black hole close enough you would jump right into it.

Your stomach growled and decided to get something to eat to keep your mind off of everything. Throwing on your blue Starfleet uniform you walked across the street into a diner. Beings of different races, genders, and ages sat throughout the establishment and were even peppered with Enterprise officers and crew.

Walking to your table you heard the voice of someone you didn’t want to hear: Captain Kirk.

“Lieutenant _________! Come have a seat with us,” he said.

You sighed and though you could have rejected his proposal you also wanted to have a moment to explain yourself—to explain you didn’t always look so uncoordinated and dramatic.

“Good morning Captain, gentlemen,” you nodded to McCoy and Scotty as you sat beside the latter. He didn’t greet you with the usual smile he always had around you. In fact he didn’t greet you at all.

“We were just discussing this woman that we saw dancing last night. It really was something else,” Kirk said.

Oh God here it comes, you thought to yourself.

“She was fantastic, _________, you should have seen her. She had this control over the floor. It was almost supernatural,” McCoy exclaimed. “At first glance we thought she was you,”

You nearly choked on your water. “You thought she was me?” They didn’t realize it was me?

“We certainly did. Then Scotty said you planned on working on some projects during shore leave,” Kirk replied. “How did they turn out?”

“O-oh. Fine. They weren’t anything too difficult,” you replied, relieved.

“And your reading? How was that?” Scotty asked bitterly.

You were taken aback by the harshness in his voice. “It was…fine I guess. Scotty are you—“

“I’m fine Lieutenant __________,” Scotty said. Kirk and McCoy exchanged looks as Scotty got up from the table. “Lads I have some work that I need to catch up on so I’m going to head back to my room. Have a good day.”

The three of you watched as Scotty left the diner without as much as a goodbye to you. You looked down at your plate of food that was just served suddenly nauseous again.

“What the hell was that all about?” McCoy asked in shock.

“I have no idea,” Kirk replied. “But I intend to find out.” He and McCoy followed the Scot out the door leaving you behind, your food hardly touched as tears welled in your eyes.

***

“Scotty! Hey Scotty!” McCoy pounded on the door to the Chief Engineer’s room. “Open up we know you’re in there.”

“Step aside Bones,” Kirk said, punching an override code. The doors slid open to Scotty’s room revealing the Scot seated at his table a bottle of scotch in hand.

“Hello lads, I wonder what brings you here?” Scotty asked sardonically, taking a hearty swig of his drink.

“You know very well what brings us here Scotty. What the hell is your problem? You’ve been in a crappy mood since we got back to the hotel last night and now you’re taking it out on _________?” McCoy asked, arms crossed over his chest. Kirk watched Scotty, slowly putting pieces of the puzzle together.

“I don’t feel like answering that question, Dr. McCoy. Frankly I don’t want to discuss anything with anyone. I wish to be left alone with my scotch,” Scotty said.

Captain Kirk sat at the table to level himself with Scotty. “Scotty,” he said. “Mr. Scott, look at me.”

Scotty sighed and turned to Captain Kirk. Kirk studied him for a brief moment.

“We were right weren’t we Mr. Scott?” Kirk asked softly and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

McCoy looked between the two. “Right about what, Jim?”

“The woman at the bar last night. It was Lieutenant __________, wasn’t it?” Jim asked.

Scotty stared at the Captain for a long time before whispering, “Aye.”

The three men waited in silence, waiting for someone to say something. The room was filled with nothing but the ambience of chatter in the halls and the echo of Scotty’s affirmation.

“She ran from me,” Scotty said mournfully.

Kirk nodded.

“Why? Why would she run?” Scotty asked.

“I can’t answer that for you, Scotty,” Kirk said.

Scotty stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the city below. Midday had approached by then, the sun high up in the cyan sky. “I don’t know what I was thinking going up to her. She was having the time of her life dancing and singing. What would she want with an old fool like me?”

“That’s horseshit,” McCoy said, going over to Scotty.

“Bones…” Kirk warned.

“No, Jim I have to say it. Scotty what you’re saying is pure horseshit and you know it. You’re making assumptions and that’s all you’ve done this whole time. Have you even talked to ________ about your feelings yet? I bet you haven’t and I guarantee you have her feeling like complete crap after the way you ignored her this morning.”

Scotty contemplated everything his friend said, knowing he was right. He hasn’t talked to ________ since they docked and not giving her a chance to explain herself wasn’t fair.

“But why would she run from us. From me?” Scotty asked.

“Hell if I know. Maybe she was embarrassed that we saw her, you know how shy she is. And I’m not saying what she did was excusable, but dammit talk to her. Ask her why she ran away and tell her how you feel. Because if you don’t you’re going to lose any chance to have with her, and that will be a damn shame,” McCoy said.

Scotty nodded his head, understanding that everything McCoy was saying was tough love. “Do…do you have anything to add, Captain?”

Captain Kirk waved his hands innocently. “No…no I do believe Bones covered it all.”

Scotty grabbed some glasses from his cabinet and poured drinks for the three of them. “Well then let’s have a drink shall we? And then…well then I’m going to go make a visit to ________’s quarters.”

***

You wrapped your hair in a towel as you stepped out of the shower and threw on some loungewear. Your hangover was completely gone by now but in its place was a heavy heart. You messed up really bad, running away from him last night and then not explaining yourself this morning. You looked at the dress laid out on your bed and sighed, debating whether or not you still wanted to go out when you heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” You called out.

“It’s Scotty. May I come in lass?” He asked.

You nearly tripped over yourself running to the door, pressing the button to open the door to let him in.

“Mr. Scott, good evening,” you said hoping the waver in your voice wasn’t as prominent as you thought.

“Back to calling me Mr. Scott are we?” He asked gruffly as he stepped inside.

You winced at his tone. “Sorry…Scotty—“

“I was joking _________,” he said with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh.” The two of you stood in silence trying to figure out what to say next. Moment’s passed, then you two both began at once.

“Lass, I—“

“I’m sorry.”

The two of you looked at each other at the same time before letting out nervous laughs.

“You’re sorry?” Scotty asked in slight confusion.

You nodded. “Yes I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run from you. I didn’t…I didn’t want anyone to see me dancing and I was so embarrassed when I saw you…” You were so overwhelmed with everything your lip began to tremble.

“Now, now ________, don’t you start crying,” Scotty said as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. “You have nothing to be sorry for, this is my fault. I jumped to conclusions.”

You allowed yourself to be held by him for a moment, relished breathing in his scent of scotch and oak, and savored the feeling of his one hand stroking your hair while his other hand rubbed circles on your waist.

After a moment you pulled back to look him in his eyes. “Jumped to conclusions?” You asked.

Scotty took a deep breath and took your hands in his. “Yes I…I may have thought you didn’t want to have a dance with me. Thought that you thought the idea would be repulsive.”

Your hand flew to your mouth. He was going to ask me for a dance?  “I thought you were going to tell me that I looked ridiculous,” you confessed.

Scotty’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Now why in heavens would I do that?” He exclaimed.

“I mean…I probably did look ridiculous flailing around like I was,” you said.

Scotty laughed. “You looked nothing of the sort. You…you were incredible! You dance beautifully, hell McCoy and Kirk didn’t even recognize you until I told them today. We thought you were a spy.”

“A spy?” You shout in laughter.

“You have to admit you looked a lot different last night.”

You chuckled and nodded. “I certainly did.”

You two stood in silence for another moment. “Why would you think I wouldn’t dance with you?” You asked.

Scotty sighed, “It was a little foolish of me. I’m so much older than you are—“

“Not by that much,” you cut in.

“But still old enough. I thought you were repulsed by the thought of it. I should have known better,” he said.

“Scotty, I would have very much liked to have danced with you had I not run away,” you said placing a hand on his cheek.

He put his hand over yours, rubbing it slightly. “________ I believe we both are foolish.”

You nodded in agreement your eyes captured in his gaze.

“I—also was going to tell you something last night.” Scotty said hesitantly.

You nodded for him to go on.

“Seeing you dancing there—every time I see you as a matter of fact—I get so overwhelmed in your beauty. That day you first came into engineering you were just a ray of sunshine without saying anything. Then you finished those wires and talked to me and I thought I was going to pass out. You talk about the Enterprise like she was your child and I know you can’t see the way your eyes light up when you talk about her but I do and it can make even Klingons blush. You can imagine what it does to my heart.” Scotty paused to take a breath and you could feel your heart racing.

“_________, I know this might be wishful thinking but I need to tell you that I like you. That I am falling head over heels for you. And I don’t intend on making you feel uncomfortable in any way regardless of how you answer my question. If you want to just be friends and never speak of this again I will. If you want me to leave you alone for the rest of our time on the Enterprise together I will. I just want to ask if maybe you would like to go out with me?”

Your breath hitched head absolutely spinning with every word he said.

“Scotty,” you began. “I would like it very much if you would kiss me.”

A chuckle of relief escaped Scotty as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a gentle kiss. It was neither long nor short, just enough for the two of you to lose yourselves in each other’s touch of your lips.

You both pulled away, light blushes on your cheeks.

“I would love to go out with you Montgomery Scott,” you told him.

Scotty was so overjoyed that he let out a boisterous laugh and hugged you, lifting you a few inches off the ground.

You laughed, body feeling like it weighed only feathers.

“Would you like to go on a date right now?” You asked boldly. “I was thinking about going to the dance club again.”

“Now how could I pass up dancing with the most beautiful woman in the universe?” Scotty said, pecking your cheek.

You blushed, realizing you would never get used to being showered with complements. “Wait here,” you said. “I’m going to change.”

“You could always change right here.” Scotty joked, laughing as your face turned crimson. “I’m teasing you. Go ahead and get ready.”

You shook your head and grabbed your dress of your bed. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll be right out.”

Scotty sat down and waited in anticipation. He took in all the details of your hotel room wondering what kind of stuff you kept in your room on the Enterprise. He saw your dress from last night peeking out from your suitcase and he chuckled thinking about the last twenty-four hours. You were his; he was yours even with how ridiculous you both acted.

A few moments later, you poked your head out the door. “Hey Scotty, would you mind zipping me up?” You asked holding the front of your dress up.

Scotty looked at you, mouth open in shock. Your hair and makeup were styled the same way you did yesterday but the dress was different. It was a dark blue glittery dress with three quarter sleeves. The dress was short in the front and long in the back and flared out beautifully. You wore black pumps with it.

“Scotty?” You asked, snapping him out of his trance.

“Sorry lass, you just…you look stunning.” Scotty said as he walked over to you.

You turned and he slowly zipped up your dress his fingers occasionally brushing against your skin, leaving your skin burning where he touched you.

Once zipped, Scotty kissed the nape of your neck making you go weak in your knees. You turned to him and pulled him in for a searing, passionate kiss. His hands pulled you tight, dipping you slightly, and ran them across your back. You ran your hands through his mahogany hair gasping slightly at his desperation. He took that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth increasing the passion of the kiss.

The two of you pulled away after a moment, blushes evident in your faces.

“I do believe you owe me a dance.” Scotty whispered to you.

You smiled and pulled him towards the door. “I certainly do. I believe we have time to finish this later if you want?”

“For you, my love, I have all the time in the world.” Scotty said, squeezing your hand as you led him to the club.

We believe in love, and love saves the day—The Orion Experience

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

Ao3

Previous

Happy Sunday. And thanks for reading this. We’re now on Chapter 19, and more wedding planning. Hope you enjoy. 

Special thanks to @wickedgoodbooks, @mo-nighean-rouge, @happytoobserve for their support.

Chapter 19: A Juvenile Costuming

CHANDLER: Hi. Anybody know a good tailor?

JOEY: Needs some clothes altered?

CHANDLER: No, no, I'm just looking for a man to draw on me with chalk.

JOEY: Why don't you go see Frankie? My family's been goin' to him forever. He did my first suit when I was 15. No wait, 16. No, 'scuse me, 15. All right, when was 1990?

CHANDLER: You have to stop the Q-tip when there's resistance!

Friends

Wee Jamie sat quietly in the back of the car, content for the moment to watch the passing scenery and listen to the conversation in front between his da and his uncle.

He didn’t understand all they were talking about but that didn’t matter. He felt like, this weekend, he was one of the men, for once not bundled together with his sister and now his wee cousin, having to be looked after by his mam. He still wasn’t totally clear on how William was his uncle’s baby, but not Claire’s.

Alex, at pre-school, had told him that his mam and da had a special cuddle to make a baby, but that couldn’t be right. He had never seen his Uncle Jamie cuddle anyone but Claire, and they seemed to spend a very, very lot of time cuddling, in his opinion.

He returned his attention to the conversation in the car. His da was talking with his usual calm voice but Uncle Jamie seemed a wee bit cross. He hoped he wasn’t angry at Care Bear, or Mam or even him.

“I tell ye… the nerve of that man, suggesting himself tae visit Lallybroch for that article. I dinna want him anywhere near, Ian. I mean it. I gave him a chance at that fundraiser. I didna punch him but that doesn’t mean I want tae have anything tae do with him again. I hope ye told him he wasna welcome at all.”

Wee Jamie could see his uncle’s hands, resting on his jeans clad legs, balled tightly into fists.

And now his Da was talking. “Dinna fash. I told ye, man, it’s sorted. Jenny spoke tae Malva again and suggested that it would be better fer a more… er… balanced article if one of Tom’s team visited and wrote it. He willna come. And, it’s agreed, the article will be in the December issue. Jes’ in time fer all those Christmas present ideas.”

Wee Jamie watched his uncle’s hands relax. Time, he felt, to join in the man talk. He didn’t want them forgetting that he was with them.

“Da, Unca, is this a stag weekend?”

His da laughed, but not in a mean way. Uncle Jamie craned his neck around to look at him and smiled.

“Where d’ye hear that?” he asked between chuckles.

“Well, Alex from preschool, he said that his uncle had a stag weekend afore he got wed. Alex’s dad went on it, but they didna let Alex go. Alex said it was all boys, nae girls at all… and they went on a plane tae Beni… Beni… tae abroad.”

Wee Jamie was now in full flow, sure of his audience.

“Anyways, when his da came back, he wasna very well. He said it was something he’d ate, but Alex’s mam reckoned it was the ‘dirty beer’ what did it. And Alex’s uncle got a tattoo done… and his auntie was awfa cross about it. It was on his bum.” Wee Jamie whispered the last words before bringing his hand to his mouth in mock horror.

“Weel, now, I willna be having a stag weekend like that…”

“Och but we will be havin a wee night out, in Glasgow.” His da caught his eye in the rear view mirror and winked. “But only for grown ups. Sorry, lad.”

Wee Jamie persisted. “But today, we’re going tae Lallybroch, aye?”

Mumbles of agreement came from the front seats.

“And there’s only us men here, and Grandda and Murtagh?”

“Aye, that’s right.”

“Weel, is that no’ a stag weekend?” Wee Jamie sat back, pleased with his argument.

His uncle turned around once more.

“Ye’re no’ wrong, lad. I canna fault yer logic. How about we call this the family stag weekend with nae dirty beer and definitely nae tattoos?”

Wee Jamie clapped his hands. “Aye. Oh, and Alex’s da told him what happens on tour stays on tour. So, dinna be telling Mam… or Care Bear neither. Promise?”

“Agreed.”

“Aye son, agreed.”

******************

Jamie looked around the kitchen table, the scene of so many Fraser, and Murray, family moments. Everyone was munching their way through the large pile of sandwiches prepared by Murtagh. It was all so comforting and familiar, but now, whenever he came back to Lallybroch without Claire, it felt like there was something missing, incomplete. She had become such an intrinsic part of the family, in the same way that Ian was, albeit over only eighteen months rather than thirty years.

Wee Jamie helped himself to another sandwich and a handful of cheesy puffs.

“I like it when Murtagh does lunch,” he announced. “He lets me have Wotsits. Mam doesna let me. I’m too messy wi’ the orange dust.”

He wiped a hand across his face. The ring of orange around his mouth and the orange streaks on his cheeks proved the veracity of his mam’s concerns.

“So, why are we going tae the kiltmaker up here? Is there no’ any back in Glasgow?”

Brian ruffled his grandson’s hair affectionately. “Aye, there is. But this kiltmaker’s been here a long, long time. And we Frasers and Murray’s have always used them. When yer da and yer uncle were wee lads, they had their first kilts from here. When I was about yer age, I went with ma da fer ma kilt. Even Murtagh, as a wee boy went there.”

Wee Jamie looked across at Murtagh in amazement.

“The kiltmaker must be very, very, very old,” he stated solemnly.

“Ye wee gomeril,” Murtagh looked fierce for a moment, brows knitted together before smiling broadly at the little boy.

****************

The bell rang as the Fraser and Murray men entered the old fashioned establishment. Wee Jamie looked around, mesmerised by the contents of the wooden and glass cabinets. He peered closely into one of them.

“Hey Da, can I have a skin doe?” He asked hopefully.

“Sgian-dubh,” Ian corrected. “And I dinna think yer mam would be too impressed with that idea. Imagine if Maggie got hold of it?”

Reluctantly, the little boy moved to another cabinet. “But can I have a sporran?”

“Aye, Jamie, that'd be fine.”

“Jamie, lad,” Brian joined his grandson to admire the collection of sporrans. “What would ye be using yer sporran fer?”

“Weel, Unca Jamie is teaching me how tae skim stones, so if I see any good flat ones, I can keep them in there.” He had clearly been giving the matter some thought.

“And mebbe some sweeties,” he added optimistically.

The tailor emerged from a back room and greeted Brian and Murtagh like old friends.

“Good tae see ye,” the old man commented as he shook their hands warmly.

“And ye too, Hector,” Brian agreed. “It’s been a wee while. We’re on tae the next generation now, ye ken. Ma grandson here needs a kilt. It’s fer ma son’s wedding.”

Hector greeted Jamie and Ian. “Ah, Jamie, so ye’re tae be wed? About time too. See how well Ian looks on married life. Now, I ken the two of ye have yer kilts, so is it jes’ the young gentleman here that we are fitting today?”

He turned to Wee Jamie and shook his hand. “And ye are?”

“James Murray. I’m the ring bear… er fer Unca Jamie and Claire. We’re all gonna stand together. Am I going tae have a kilt the same as ye then, Unca?”

“Och, Master Murray, ye’ll be having the same as yer da. Yer uncle has a Fraser tartan like yer Grandda and Murtagh. Ye and yer da are Murrays, so that’s the tartan we’ll be using. If ye jes’ head intae the fitting room, I’ll be doing some measurements.”

Brian pointed to a door in the far wall. “Ye head in there with yer da, Jamie. We’ll wait fer ye out here.”

Wee Jamie skipped over to the door and beckoned his father to follow.

In a dramatic stage whisper, he asked, “Da, d’ye think I should tell the man I willna be wearing pants under ma kilt? So as I can pee?”

With everyone trying hard not to laugh aloud, Ian patted his son’s head. “No need tae, son,” he stage whispered back. “I think he already kens.”

*************

“Ye do realise yer lad is snoring in the back.” Jamie turned around to glance at his nephew, fast asleep in his car seat, head lolling awkwardly to one side.

“Aye, I reckon we’ve worn him out this weekend… what with getting measured fer his kilt, and the picnic in the glen today. That was a fair walk tae get there. And he didna complain… much.”

“And the fish and chips. From the chippie, no’ home made, like Mam does.” A sleepy voice piped up from the back seat. “Wi’ gravy too.”

“Aye, son, they were a rare treat.”

Wee Jamie yawned. “And remember… jes’ between us men. Dinna be telling the lasses at all. Promise?”

Jamie and Ian replied in unison. “Aye, Jamie, we promise.”

[idontknowwhatsarcasmis]

Hi! I'm a big fan of your writing. Can you or are you planning to write a fic about Maria or Natasha being jealous? I need some angst in my life.

Helloooooooooooo! 

Nawwww! That’s so nice, anon!! Thank you so much! I’m soooo sorry this took a wee bit! WAs lacking inspiration, buuuut here it is now! 

You asked to see either Natasha or Maria jealous and I thought…. Why not both!? =D

It’s quite short, but I wrote it really fast cause I’m working on other stuff (sorry), but I dooooo hope you like it! It was really fun to write haha

Also, it takes place during Iron Man 2, soooo it is a Lost Moment as well but a prequel! =D

Anyways, enjoy!

P.S.: this fic starts with Natasha’s POV and alternate with Maria’s every “Xxxx”, kay? Sorry if it’s confusing!Ao3

Ff.netXxxx

“Sooo, Hill asked you to her room, eh?” Clint’s voice was loud and far too happy for her taste.

“It’s for a mission, Barton.” She stated, not bothering to look back.

“Actually, she never said that. She said, and I quote, ‘Romanoff, my room in 10, and  keep the idiot that tends to tag along away.’” He said.

Natasha smirked.

“We always knew she was ridiculously smart.”

She didn’t need to look back to know he was rolling his eyes.

“And ridiculously attractive?”

It was Natasha’s turn to be exasperated.

“I never denied that, Clint.”

“True, but you keep saying that’s all there is…”

She finally stopped to look at him, right outside Hill’s door.

“Yes, so? It is.”

He just looked at her.

“It is, Barton. I’m the Black Wi-“

“Widow, I do not do love, infatuation or crushes. I have no feeling. I am a dark knight, yadda yadda.” He cut her off, shaking his head. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh, and yet we’re best friends, Miss I-feel-nothing! And you keep flirting with her!”

“Friendships are different, and jury’s still out on that, fyi. I flirt cause it’s fun. I wanna see how far she can take it.”

He gasped in mock outrage.

“I am hurt! Also, I’m betting marriage and two kids.”

Silence.

“What?!” She whisper-shouted.

“How far she can take it. Marriage and two kids.”

“To the Black Widow? You’re out of your mind.” She turned around and opened the door before he could say anything else. It was just harmless flirtation. Hill didn’t even acknowledge her, most of the time.

As soon as she walked inside the room, however, she stopped. A very unpleasant feeling crept along her spine, and a heaviness settled in her stomach. Right in front of her was Coulson and Hill. Less than an inch between their faces, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Coulson’s hand was on Hill’s shoulder and Maria’s on his sternum. She clenched her teeth and put on the best fake smile she had ever plastered on her face.

“Oops, so sorry! Are we interrupting something?”

It was with very little pleasure she saw the two officers spring apart, a blush rushing to Coulson’s cheeks. As her gaze locked on Maria’s, she felt her perfect spy smile diminish a notch… there was also some redness on the older agent’s cheek.

Natasha clenched her fists.

Just harmless flirtation…

Just fun.

Then why the fuck was her stomach clenching more than her fists?

Fuck Clint.

Xxxx

“I hate that bastard.”

Coulson rolled his eyes and closed the laptop that was in front of them.

“I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Just blatantly flirting with every woman that passes by him. What is wrong with him?” She started muttering, drumming her fingertips on the table. ”And what is Romanoff thinking? Actually answering to it like that?!”

Coulson laughed at that.

“Come now, Maria, she’s hardly answering in an encouraging manner. She’s being more sarcastic than anything.”

“Well, Stark keeps on going, so she’s not stopped him.” She continued, even though she knew there was absolutely no point in doing so. There was just… this unpleasantness in her stomach. She did not like it.

“It’s in her best interest to keep him thinking she might be interested, but either way, Stark is harmless in that regard, Maria.”

“There is no point of view or regard that could or would EVER make Tony Stark harmless, Phil.” She kept glaring at the laptop in front of her.

He stopped gathering the stuff around the table at that.

“Fair, but worry not. There is no way Natasha would ever look at him that way for real.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked, knowing it was futile, but trying for a confused tone, even as her fist clenched under the table.

He just stared at her.

She stared back.

Silence.

Sigh.

“She’s far too busy making goo-goo eyes at you to really notice anyone else.” He finally caved, rolling his eyes.

Maria scoffed even as her heartbeat accelerated at that.

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Maria, the other, day when we told her about her new assignment to Stark and she saw us close to each other, she almost killed me with her eyes. I was honestly quite scared for my life.” He mumbled that last part as an afterthought, but Maria chose to go with that.

“Serves you right for teasing me so much about her!”

“I was just showing how she stood with you the other day! You were that close, and don’t dare say it was nothing, otherwise she would not have been that jealous.” He quickly answered, throwing his hands in the air. Maria rolled her eyes.

“I’ll just ignore that, and say that we can’t have a handler being scared of his agent, now can we? Maybe we should give her to someone else?”

He laughed at that.

“Sure, to you maybe? It’d be fun to see the Black Widow’s impeccable record plummet ‘cause she couldn’t pay attention to any debrief by being too busy making heart eyes at her handler.”

Maria huffed at that, getting up and starting to fix some papers herself.

“Enough with the eyes this and that already. I’ll start to think you’re the one with an infatuation.”

“Huh.”

She stopped at his tone. The paper in her hands crumbling a tad. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. He looked pensive.

What.

“What?”

“She is quite attractive.” He shrugged.

“What the fuck Coulson?”

He held her gaze.

1…2…3…

He exploded in laughter.

Fuck.

“Oh my god, you should have seen your face!” He breathed out, still laughing.

She clenched the bridge of her nose, pissed at herself.

She could not believe she’d fell for that. What the hell was wrong with her.

“Oh my god, you’ve got it bad!” He said as he kept on laughing. She counted to ten. “I honestly thought it was just a harmless crush, but for you to glare at me like that! Oh my!”

… Maybe one hundred… Fury would kill her if she killed Coulson.

“Maybe I can make her even more jealous next time she’s in for a debrief! Oh, this should be fun.” He mumbled, wiping the tears in his eyes.

Or maybe she could do it and just ran away. Or make it look like an accident. She was quite the agent, after all, Fury would never find out.

“Oh, stop planning my demise! You know you can’t live without me!” He said, coming around to her side and patting her back. “Also, making Romanoff jealous might work in your favour!”

Silence.

She would not ask.

Silence.

Sigh.

“Why is that?”

“Maybe she’ll finally make a move, you’ll have dinner, bang, fall in love, get married and adopt a couple kids!” He said joyously as he walked towards the door.

She stared after him for a few stunned seconds.

“Are you high?”

“Nah, can’t. I’m on the clock.”

“Then maybe I should just ask Fury to reevaluate your mental stability.” She deadpanned, because okay… maybe she did harbor a bit of a… ahm… liking… for Romanoff’s flirting. It was… nice… and funny. The Russian woman was quite creative. And maybe she often awaited those moments. Also, she maybe did realize her glaring at Phil last meeting. But from that to ‘marriage and a couple kids’? What the hell.

“I’m pretty sure he’d agree with me!” He called over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn back.

“Well, I’ve always known he had one or two loose bolts.”

Coulson laughed at that and looked at her once more right before closing the door.

“Fair, but anyways, remember one thing, Maria.”

Against her better judgment, she nodded at him.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt.” A wink and a closed door were done faster than the paper weight she tossed in his direction. Damn him.

She looked back at the table in front of her, which had a picture of Stark starting at Natasha’s ass as she walked away.

Maria calmly picked up the paper… then promptly crumbled it into a very tiny ball.

Maybe Phil had a point.

Fuck.

Xxxx

“Ooh, another meeting, huh?”

Natasha had to very count to ten very quickly as she made her way through the halls, Clint hot on her tail. She had no idea how they were friends.

“I called for it.”

“Hm, couldn’t keep away, huh? The assignment kept you too far apart for too long, I know. I get you, I get you.”

Worst part? He did. She hated it.

… Not.

Best friend indeed.

“Not the point of the meeting.”

“Maybe, but a bonus, for sure!” He said cheerfully as they rounded the last corner. Soon she’d be free.

He was making good points, though. Maybe he did deserve something.

She stopped and turned around, making him almost lose his balance trying to stop before hitting her.

“Fine, I’ll give you that. A very good bonus.”

“Aha!”

“But not the best part.”

“Hah, and what would that be?”

“You’re not in it.”

She smirked, opened and closed the door on his face. She was almost fast enough not to hear the small ‘liar’ that came from Clint’s voice. Even so, she was still satisfied with her last word.

As soon as she looked inside, however, her smirked died.

“What’s he doing here?” She said before she could control herself.

The three other people in the room looked at her with wide eyes at that. Fuck.

Silence.

“He is your handler, Romanoff.” Fury finally said, looking between her and Coulson.

Right.

“Right.”

Coulson had a little smirk on his lips. Why did Coulson have a smirk on his face?

Silence.

Long silence.

“Is there a problem, Romanoff?” Natasha’s heart skipped a beat.

The question came from Maria.

Swallowing both her pride and absolutely nothing, she turned to look into blue, blue eyes.

Was that… a smile on her face?

God.

She was beautiful.

“Romanoff?” She raised an eyebrow.

Right. Question. She looked back at Coulson.

“No, of course. I was just surprised.”

“Good, ‘cause after your report, we thought of a few changes.”

“Oh?”

“I’m meeting Stark. And you’re meeting me there.”

“Already?”

“It’s time. He’s become too dangerous.”

“Worried about me, Commander?” She smirked at Hill. To her surprise, the other agent mimed her.

“I worry about all my agents, Romanoff –“

“Oh?”

“And their missions.” Hill completed over her, but her smirk grew.

“Stark is the mission. You worried about him?”

Maria’s eyes narrowed at her at that, and a brief glance around showed Coulson and Fury fighting to keep laughter in. Interesting.

“Well, hard not to. Being played with by a pretty girl is quite the hardship…”

Natasha did not hear anything else said, her mind froze on one single thing.

“You think I’m pretty?”

As Maria’s smirk grew, Natasha was very proud of not blushing, even with Coulson and Fury’s barely contained laughter as she focused on Maria’s blue eyes.

“Well, I had meant Pepper, but…” She trailed off, and this time Natasha could not stop the blush.

She had been played, yes, but… That was not a no.

“The complete report, Romanoff.” Nick had apparently decided to take pity on her and she turned to the matter at hand. But before she could focus on the one-eyed director, she saw Maria.

Not Commander Hill, Deputy Director. She saw Maria Hill’s shoulders shake with silent laughter and an easy and content smile on her lips.

Natasha’s heart did funny flips and flops at that, translating into just the slightest pause on her speech to Fury, barely noticeable to anyone but herself.

Damn… Maybe Clint was right.

It was more… And she was jealous. But Maria had laughed with her, looked at her. Called her pretty (indirectly, but still…).

Fuck.

She was in deep.

Xxxx

“Where’s ‘Phil’?”

“Where’s Stark?

Silence.

Clearing throat.

“Phil is at a date I set him up on, he’s my best friend, and he needs to get over his infatuation with a mutual friend.”

“He’s hopefully on a date with Pepper if either of them took my many hints that although he’s too good for her, she loves him.”

They said at the same time, eyes snapping back to meet each other at that.

…silence.

Oh. Both Phil and Fury had been right about Stark, then. Maybe… maybe they were right about Natasha as well.

They started at each other for a long time.

Maria cleared her throat.

“Well… that, ahm… that was a very good mission, Romanoff. Congratulations.” She passed over the completed dossier.

Natasha smiled at the papers for a moment, then moved it on to her.

“Another compliment? Why, Commander, a girl could get used to that.”

Heart beating so fast it felt like it would come out of her chest at any time, Maria answered, deciding not to deny that she had indeed called Natasha pretty. She was. Beautiful in fact.

“Well… I’d love to keep them coming, Agent Romanoff.” She said, deliberately slow, as she got up and around her desk, coming face to face with the other woman.

“Oh?”

“Aye, you just have to keep excelling at the missions.”

Natasha smirked.

“Are you asking me to keep being a good girl?”

Maria was very proud of not choking at that.

“A good agent.”

Natasha hummed.

“Is that an order?

“It is, agent.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine; (Part I, Chapter 2)

Rating: General Audiences (for now)

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Previous Chapter

A/N: Thank you so much for the enthusiasm surrounding this story! I have to thank my betas, @smashing-teacups, @missclairebelle, and @lcbeauchampoftarth - without the three of you, this would read like a college freshman’s first drunken essay. Thank you to my future-wife @filledwithlight for the incredible mood board. Here we go!

Chapter 2: Thirsting for Knowledge

By the time supper was served, more people had arrived than I expected. It became a reunion of sorts with everyone and my uncle, and I didn’t mind that it left me free to engage in my own conversation down the table. I was seated next to Jamie's childhood friend, Ian Murray. Across from me sat Jamie, and by the look on his sister, Jenny’s, face, she was happy to follow my lead and speak with the person across from her.

“Jamie, your home is beautiful. It must take a lot to maintain the grounds. Do you take care of by yourself?” I asked curiously.

When he shook his head, red curls bounced to and fro, barely grazing the sides of his neck. “No, I’m braw, but no’ quite that braw,” Jamie admitted. “Along wi’ my da and I, Ian helps in the stables and my godfather, Murtagh, lives wi’ us as well to help.”

My eyes scanned the faces at the table, unable to place a face with the name.

“He’s no’ here at the moment,” Jamie explained, realizing what I was doing. “He tends to business on my father’s behalf, ye see.”

“Well, I do hope to meet him, though I’m sure I will at some point in the next few months.” The prospect of living here, in the same house with the man across from me, made my stomach knot and my mouth dry.

“Oh, aye, should be the day after next. He’ll likely be bringing more wine from a shipment coming in from my cousin Jared’s warehouse in France,” Jamie explained, even as he poured to fill my current glass.

“Your family is quite impressive,” I noted with a soft smile. “What is it that you hope to do one day?” I realized I’d hardly touched my food and corrected my mistake by eating a few forkfuls of meat pie.

“At the end of the summer planting, I’ll be going to finish my studies in France along wi’ Ian, travel a bit and see more of the world. But after that, here is where I plan to be, to live and work the rest of my days.”

He would build a family here, I thought, as my mind drifted to thinking of his own curly, red-headed moppets, following him around and hanging on his every word. So far, I’d spent no more than ninety minutes or so with him, counting introductions and the courses of our meal. That was plenty of time to know anyone with common sense would follow Jamie anywhere. I couldn’t explain it, but he had an ease about himself that made him seem invincible. Not that he realized it, I posited. He was so charming and endearing that the word precious came to mind. His life would be filled with manual labor, but if seeing him without his shirt was any indication, his body was built for it. He’d looked like a strong, Viking warrior, taller than most Scots. I imagined his life would be filled with laughter as well; his eyes always seemed to dance with it.

“What about you, Sassenach?” he asked casually.

I blinked, turning my brain over in search of the meaning of that word. “What?” I responded ineloquently, wincing internally at myself.

“I mean, what do ye plan to do at the end of the summer?”

For some reason, I could feel my cheeks flushing red, and I cleared my throat, switching to the cool water glass for a sip. “I’m going to nursing school, in London,” I finally answered. “And after that, I’ll keep traveling with my uncle, I suppose, going from place to place.” Finding and discovering new things, and always on the move.

“Ye dinna think of ever settling down somewhere?”

His eyes seemed to be boring into my own, and when I wet my lips, I saw his stare drift down, then back to my eyes.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a permanent home since the age of five. I believe the longest I’ve stayed anywhere was a year and a half, and that was only because I became ill and was bed-ridden for weeks.”

“What happened to ye?” he asked in alarm, looking me over now for signs that anything was still wrong.

I smiled, hoping that it eased him. “I was fourteen and contracted mononucleosis. It causes a fever and sore throat, not to mention extreme fatigue. I recovered fine, I promise,” I assured him.

He seemed concerned still, but soon settled back in his seat. Before he could speak, raucous laughter drowned him out, and we glanced down at the men laughing over one another’s stories. My gaze moved back to Jamie as he stood, then came around to my side of the table, bending to speak against my ear.

“Would ye care to walk wi’ me, Claire?”

I felt an involuntary shiver run up my spine and wet my lips once more before smiling up at him. I nodded, then scooted my chair back before offering my hand. When he took it, I stood and found myself just a bit shorter than him, my chin tilted up a slight bit to meet his gaze directly. Still holding my hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it. This is what having butterflies in your stomach feels like I thought to myself, feeling my stomach twist in a pleasant, likely cliché, way. Leading me away from the table, he tucked my arm into his and we walked through the dining room, the living room, and eventually out through the front door.

“What did you call me earlier? When you asked me what it was I wanted to do with my life?” I was curious; I assumed it was a Gaelic phrase and hoped it didn’t mean anything unpleasant.

“Oh, I called ye a ‘Sassenach,’” he replied easily. “It doesna mean anythin’ more than ye’re no’ from the place ye currently are. I suppose wherever ye go then, ye’ll be a Sassenach.”

I was quiet for a moment as I processed what he was saying. Maybe I was quiet for too long.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I didna mean to offend ye,” he apologized hastily, and I quickly looked over to reassure him.

“It’s alright. What you said isn’t untrue, I suppose. I’ve always thought of myself as a gypsy. Going from place to place and trading stories of other lands with the locals before moving along. And eventually, I’ll be able to help with medical needs in small communities with no access to proper health care.” It was the most I’d said about it so far, and I instinctively began to apologize for dominating the conversation when Jamie interrupted me.

“Ye must learn so much of the world, see things that most people never will,” he said in awe.

His appreciation of it and understanding why I would choose such a life put me at ease, and I nodded over at him. “I had one of the best educations a child can get, in my opinion. The world was my classroom.” Which sounded a bit forced to my own ears, so I swiftly changed the subject.

“When you travel, where do you want to go first?” I asked, eager to hear more of what he had to say.

“I dinna ken just yet,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I found a journal that my mam must have kept. She died when I was younger, so I read it, to be reminded of her. There was a list in the back, of all the places she wanted to see, so I thought I might honor her memory and begin there.”

I felt my heart swell in my chest at his sweet words and thoughtful idea. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Jamie,” I encouraged. “Let me rephrase my question then. Where would you like to go first from your mother’s journal?”

“The first country listed is Greece; she wrote that she wanted to see all of the ruins. Have ye been, Sassenach?”

I nodded and turned my gaze toward him. “It’s beautiful and old. Even despite that, it’s so easy to see what it once was. I enjoy the mythology of it all, and the ocean is beautiful.”

“When I leave at the end of the summer, it will be the first time I’ve seen such large waters, and I’ll only be flying over them.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” I asked curiously as we walked on a path that meandered lazily toward a field of heather. The moon was bright and full, making the purple flowers seem translucent.

“No. After my mam died in childbed, my brother, Willie, died of a fever as well. I’ve never thought to leave Lallybroch and no’ help. I went to school each day, down in the village wi’ my sister, but ‘tis only because of my godfather moving here permanently that I feel alright wi’ going away now.”

And even then, in a few years, he would be right back here. He was a good man, a good son, and I found myself, for the first time, longing for that sort of feeling. To know that I could go anywhere and always come home.

“I’m sorry that you’ve lost so much, Jamie. I do think following your mother’s list is beautiful. Perhaps I could even help you plan, tell you where to go in each place that’s especially worth seeing?”

His grin at me was broad and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Aye, that would be verra kind of ye, Sassenach.” I supposed I had a new nickname, and I couldn’t find a reason to dislike it coming from his mouth. As we walked through the heather, his free hand grazed along the flowers before speaking again. “My da told me a wee bit about ye, that ye live a nomadic life. Has it always been you and yer uncle, then?”

I could tell he was curious but trying not to be blatantly nosey, and I reached to pat his arm both in reassurance and so that he would stop and we could sit on an old stone wall that cut across the field. Once settled, I crossed my legs at the ankles and braced my hands on either side of me. “My parents died when I was a very little girl, and my Uncle Lamb took me in, rather than have me shipped away to a boarding school in the mountains.” I thought back, to the first time I’d slept in my new (temporary) home. Everything had felt so cluttered with books and papers; it felt claustrophobic, and the bed hadn’t been mine. I could still remember lying awake until, eventually, my uncle began his nighttime ritual which included smoking his pipe. The smell had wafted to my nose and been such a reminder of home, that I’d fallen right asleep.

Jamie reached out to cover my hand and pulled me out of my thoughts. “Ye’ve lost too much as well then,” he said in understanding, but not pity.

“I suppose I have. But I can’t really remember my mother the way you remember yours.” I didn’t know how to explain it, that I’d spent more of my life without parents than with. It didn’t truly feel as though there was anything to mourn when I was raised by someone I loved and lived a life others envied. “I just mean, I don’t miss as much because there wasn’t enough time for me to make cohesive memories.” I had a sinking feeling I was making myself sound like a terrible person, but Jamie surprised me.

“Aye, I understand ye, Sassenach. Ye never had cause to truly be sad and lived happily. Ye dinna need to worry about that, ‘tis genuine.”

Without even realizing it, he’d soothed a quiet voice in the back of my mind and I couldn’t help but scoot a bit closer to him. When my hand drifted to rest on his leg, the rough fabric beneath my fingers reminded me of something I’d wanted to ask. “Do you and your father, your godfather, always wear kilts?”

“Aye, we do. Once the ban on them was lifted a couple centuries ago, it became a custom of the men left in the Fraser clan to wear them. And so, we’ve always upheld the tradition. There are times that call for trousers, but ‘tis my kilt I’ll wear on my travels as well.”

He was a proud Highlander; it was clear he would bleed for Scotland through and through. “I like that. The spirit of keeping your traditions alive, honoring your ancestors who fought and died on this land,” I murmured as I leaned into Jamie. The sounds of night were all around us, various insects coming to life somewhere beneath our feet, which dangled from the wall.

“May I ask ye a question, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, turning his head just enough that the words fell into my hair.

“Of course,” I responded, my speech lazy and unhurried to end the conversation and thus the walk with Jamie. So far, it seemed the attraction was mutual on both sides, and I decided to let the evening --and conversation-- go where it would.

“Do ye think in the future, our paths could cross on our travels? I ken ye said you’ll be going to nursing school, but after that, perhaps.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You would want to travel with me?” I asked. Wasn’t the point of a young man traveling (before settling down) to experience life on his own, sow oats, and make memories, as it were?

“Who better a companion than someone who’s likely seen every place on my mam’s list? Besides, something tells me she wouldna want me to do it alone. She’d want me to bring someone along.”

I smiled softly and pulled back so I could look at him fully. “You would wait until I finished school?”

“Oh, aye. Two of those years, I’ll be finishing school myself, so that’s no’ a problem, Sassenach. And after that, I can do a bit of traveling wi’ Ian before circling back to London for ye.”

He already had a well-thought-out plan, and I stared at him in shock and amusement. “How long have you been coming up with this?”

There was only a small pause, small enough that I noticed it before Jamie spoke again, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of red. “Since I saw ye in the window, staring.”

His confession made my stomach twist in a way that made me tense in some sort of anticipation. Of what, I wasn’t sure. “Jamie, you should do some traveling alone, too. Experience things at your own pace for a while.”

“I will, there will be time for it when Ian and I part ways. He’s promised to Jenny, ye ken? So he’ll be coming back here to wed her I suppose, and after the wedding, I’ll have time enough to travel on my own.” He had a plan for every part of this and looked at me in expectation.

I couldn’t deny that the idea thrilled me. I wanted to know more about Jamie, I wanted to never stop talking with him. Already I missed the warmth of being pressed into the crook of his body. I’d never dated seriously before now and I suddenly understood why: it was supposed to feel like this. Nothing ever had before. I found myself agreeing before thinking any further on the matter.

“All right, Jamie. When I’m done with school, we’ll meet in London, and then go to Greece. Together.” Saying it made me smile; I’m sure it looked a bit crazed, because that’s how I felt making long-term plans with a man I’d only met hours ago. Still, I rationalized, for four years we would be slowly getting to know one another.

Taking hold of my hand, Jamie kissed the back of it. “Then it’s settled. I’ll wait for ye, Sassenach.”

We held one another’s gaze for a while, before the sound of Uncle Lamb calling for me from the house slowly filtered into my ears. For the most part, he knew I was a wanderer, but he was still protective of me in some ways, knowing I’d wandered with a boy.

“Come, Sassenach,” Jamie offered, standing and reaching out. He didn’t offer his arm this time, but his hand.

Smiling, I lowered myself to the ground before reaching out for him, tangling our fingers gladly. We seemed to fit together and walked leisurely back to his home. We let go of one another once we were within viewing distance, but exchanged sly looks as we walked through the archway. Moving toward Lamb, I kissed his cheek.

“You really should go on a walk of the property, Uncle. It’s beautiful.”

“Oh, yes,” he’d agreed. “And moreso in the daylight, I’m sure.”

His comment made my cheeks flush a bit and I was glad it was likely too dark to see. Once inside, the four of us were soon joined by Jenny and Ian, and we all enjoyed a dram of whisky. I listened as Brian regaled us all with a story about Jenny getting stuck in a tree and Jamie having to bribe her down with sweets. It was the sort of memory I lacked; one filled with playing with another child. I had no siblings, and it was always difficult to make friends as a young girl, traveled as we were.

Eventually, I could no longer hold my eyes open, and when I jerked awake after briefly nodding off, Jamie was looking at me, features soft.

“I could walk ye to your room if ye’d like,” he offered.

Deciding it was likely for the best, I bid my uncle and our company goodnight before letting Jamie lead the way upstairs. I fell into step beside him as we walked down the hallway, admiring portraits along the walls as we went. Outside of my door was a portrait of a woman with hair as red as Jamie’s.

“Your mother?” I guessed, my fingers hovering over the canvas, not touching.

“Aye,” he confirmed with a soft smile. “A self-portrait. She did all of them,” he explained, gesturing down the hall.

“She was an incredibly talented woman, Jamie,” I breathed out in genuine admiration. Pulling my eyes away from the portrait, I opened my bedroom door before turning to face him. “Thank you for your company this evening.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, but I hated that it sounded so formal. I hoped to remedy that by reaching for his hand, holding onto him again.

We locked eyes, and for a moment he let go of my hand, only to cradle it in his before tracing the lines of my palm with his fingers. I didn’t know what it was that made my heart tighten in my chest, but it also made my lips part and the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Ye’re sae bonny, Sassenach,” he murmured then, fingers dragging along my life line. “And delicate.”

“I’m not made of glass,” I managed, swallowing heavily.

His eyes flicked to mine, and then he smiled, full of warmth, before raising my hand to his lips and bowing his head to kiss it. He lingered for beats longer than typical before letting me go.

“Goodnight, Sassenach.”

I felt myself reach behind me to grip the doorknob in an effort to keep from falling over.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

I watched him smile one more time before walking down the hall and disappearing into his own room. I only had one thought as I stepped into my own quarters and shut the door behind me.

He’d picked a hell of a time to be a perfect gentleman.

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[treenahasthaal]

Hi! For the director’s cut thing: “Pinned, belly down, Luke watched his breath ghost against the polished marble of the floor” to “He stared up at Vader and smiled as oblivion took him.” for chapter 16 of Dark Times? (Sorry if someone’s already asked it!)

My sincere apologies for not replying sooner. Life has been hectic and I’ve had to work ridiculous hours with not many days off. Also, this is a helluva difficult scene to talk about! 

Wow... 

Okay, a few things. My husband died, very suddenly and completely unexpectedly, on our 14th Wedding anniversary, 26th September 2011. He walked to the local store for a few items and collapsed and died on the sidewalk. I was called and rushed round. He took his last breath as I reached him. I started CPR... 

What followed was the most difficult time of my life - and I’ve had few heart breaks before and since, but nothing compares to that day and the following weeks and years. 

I had a severe writers block from about 1995 to 2005 and in 2011 I was still writing. 

Dark Times was initially started in 2004. (I think) I am not a quick writer. Never have been - I sweat over every word. 

After losing David I was left to bring up our kids alone and I had (still have) a very intense, emotionally draining, pretty fraught, career. 

I turned to my writing and poured every ounce of my grief into my stories. They became darker than ever. 

Born In Fire and Blood is an example of how dark.

Dark Times: Absolute was written during my grieving period (I’m still grieving) and I poured every ounce of feeling I had into that chapter of the story. I vividly remember sitting down to write that court scene (the appeal for innocence) and looking at the page thinking “I can’t do this,” That gave me the mind set for Luke.  The “I can’t do this...” with the “too bad, buddy, you have no choice.”  

That became my mantra of sort, for my own life, not just for Luke. I don’t want to attend his funeral - too bad, you have no choice.

I don’t want to get out of bed - too bad, you have kids, you have no choice.

I don’t want to work anymore - too bad, you have kids, you have no choice. 

The “stay up, stay up, stay up,” that was going through Luke’s head was also with me - I’ve gone through hell at work and I have had to stay up and stay standing for my principles. (I am the only female manager, managing a bunch of guys - yep, I don’t need to say much more, do I?).

Absolute is probably the most personal thing I have every written. It exhausted me emotionally. That court scene in particular was agony to write, I really didn’t want to write it, and yet I feel it is probably some of the best writing I have ever done.

However, you don’t want to know about that scene - you want to know about what follows. 

In comparison to the court scene this scene was easier to write, but I was very nervous about it. I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. I sometimes write without much of a plan and I just go with the flow and follow where the characters take me. Somehow we ended up with Luke bleeding out in snow fall being held by his father. 

This is hard! :D 

Lying on the floor, Luke is terribly afraid here, trying to keep it together. Not only is he back in Imperial custody, but he’s terrified for Leia and Han. He’s barely holding it together and here again (a theme in Dark Times) he thinks of his aunt. He is again, reminded of his childhood on Tatooine and the one constant person who never berated him, who gave him time, and solace and care. His main caregiver - Aunt Beru. 

Beru, a firm, solid attachment. :P 

Her memory is a grounding for him, so it was important to keep that in there. Of course, the Force has a role in this. 

And then, there is change within the hall way as they wait, a feeling of a shift within the Force and “hey,” things aren’t quite so bleak. 

I believe I was listening to Marillion at the time (When Fish was still their lead singer - he rocks! They were never the same after they split with him) and these lyrics were very important as I wrote:

“You’d resigned yourself to die a broken rebel, but that was looking backward, now you’ve found the light.”

“Childhoods End - Marillion.”

Luke learned Leia was safe and boy, is he buoyed to have one over on Vader. It really gives him a boost - what he doesn’t realise is how twisted his happiness is. He doesn’t realise how dark he is already becoming. I mean how could he really without any teaching?  

He’s almost... almost... giddy that Leia and Han got out, because he can do this now. He can go (as though he had a choice) with Vader and they can do what they want with him; his friends are all okay. 

He has a new found confidence and can really talk back to Vader and he knows, he feels, that with a battle coming up that he can feel a victory ahead. He might not know what it will be, but he knows... feels... that it’s there somehow - even if that victory is dying in interrogation without telling Vader anything (which he kinda doubts).

Of course the confidence slips when reality crashes in when he’s taken on the walk toward the shuttle. 

I wanted this walk to be anticipatory. Like a condemned prisoner being lead to the gallows, which in a way Luke was. Or a bride being escorted down the aisle. A line of troopers either side, lights shining, the dark shuttle (the alter?) waiting with the ramp lowering. The crunch of snow beneath feet as more flakes fell (confetti?) 

I wanted the reader to think, oh well that’s it, Luke’s getting taken and we’ll have more of the same. But I wanted to put some doubt there that maybe something else was going to happen. So, yeah, I wanted to build anticipation. 

Did it work? I don’t know! You tell me! 

I wanted Luke to start losing that little bit of confidence. I wanted him on the edge again, his conflict, his absolute terror to start seeping through. On the edge of mental collapse as he has so often been throughout the story. 

(wee side note here. First Minister Teraten was based on the then First Minister of Scotland. I like the man’s policies and beliefs in an Independent Scotland, but I personally don’t like the man himself) 

At the end of corridor of soldiers, the aisle, is Thecla and of course Luke knows why she is there. And, I’m not sure if anyone notices, but Luke echoes Palpatine. Echoes what Palpatine told Thecla at the start of Absolute:Chapter 8 because of course Thecla was the holograph figure he spoke, too. 

“Do it.” 

(A phrase that has become a meme since!)

And Thecla does it.

And of course Anakin panics. That’s his boy that’s just been shot! This, this, is the really the first time that Anakin reacts... not just Vader with a wee bit of Anakin Skywalker thrown in for good measure. 

This whole end scene was pure Anakin. In agony. And he lets it slip without truly meaning to.

“Stay with me, my son.” 

He’s tender, desperately so, gently wiping away the blood that keeps dribbling from Luke’s mouth. All Anakin.

Luke is dying. He knows he’s dying. He asked to die and.... 

What? 

What?

Son? 

My son?

Again his aunt, memories of his aunt, of the vision that has arisen since he hung helpless on the end of that corded durasteel line. Home... It all rattles through him (life flashing before his eyes type thing) and understanding swiftly follows.

This is his victory over Vader. 

You know what, dad? 

I win!

The scene exhausted me in a different way to the court case. This scene killed me and I wept writing it.  Not just because I killed Luke Skywalker, and he died in the arms of his father, but because I had been Anakin and my husband had been Luke. I cradled my David, I begged him not to leave me, to stay - and being the mother of two kids I can imagine the pain of losing a child (I’ve had plenty of nightmares about it). 

So.. @spell-cleaver I hope I have fully answered the ask and again my apologies for not answering sooner. And it gives me the excuse to use this beautiful art work from @sskywallker again. 

[punkpoemprose]

Comatose- Kristanna Bodyguard AU

Hi @frenzy5150! I’m your secret santa! So sorry I’m a wee bit late on the posting! I’ve been having an... interesting weekend to say the least. You said that you wanted some hurt/ comfort and some Kristanna being loving dorks, and I intended fully to deliver on both counts. I wrote this in the universe of my bodyguard AU X X which I hope is alright! I hope you like it!

Now with Art by the lovely @epbaker

Universe: Modern Royalty/ Bodyguard AU Rating: T (Teen & Up) Length: 3226 Words

Kristoff combed his fingers through Anna’s hair as Elsa left for the night. They’d said that they would take shifts, but really it was more that they both sat at her bedside all day and well into the night, only taking breaks for the two hours in the day where nurse rotations and other hospital policies asked respectfully that they wait in a room other than Anna’s. They had, however, made the agreement that it made much more sense for Kristoff to stay with Anna between the hours of midnight and 9am as, despite the fact that the hospital had excellent security, particularly in the royal wing, Kristoff was her bodyguard after all. He was also her fiancé, although no one outside Elsa and a handful of others were aware of that.

“I miss you Anna,” he whispered, tucking bits of hair back behind her ear. “Wake up soon, okay?”

Her car had been struck by a drunk driver while she had been returning from a visit to a children’s hospital, and while she’d been able to walk away from the crash, she’d been on the ground by the time Kristoff could extricate himself from the security car following hers. He’d been the one to hold her until the ambulance arrived. He was always the one holding onto her after something awful happened and it made him ill. He’d wanted to be her in car security, but she’d insisted that she didn’t need him there.

Of course, it was because they’d had an argument that morning about when they should be going public with their engagement, and she hadn’t wanted him so close by until they’d both cooled down. He’d expected to find himself in her bedroom before the end of the night to talk things out and work off their stress and anxiety in the way they usually did once her heavy soundproofed bedroom door had closed.

It was four days after that now, and he hadn’t even been able to tell her that he was sorry for asking her to wait, and for presuming to know what would be best for her. The doctors said that she would be waking up “soon” and “any time now” for the last few days, but the tabloids were already running half mad stories such as “Arendelle’s Princess on Deathbed! Queen Silent on Sister’s Condition!” and “Assassination Attempt on Crown Princess??? Palace Insiders Confirm!”. Kristoff frankly, didn’t care if it was all some kind of PR nightmare, or if people in their tiny kingdom were wondering what was going on. He only cared about Anna.

The doctors were optimistic that she’d make a full recovery, but the longer she stayed comatose, the less certain anyone felt. Of course he wasn’t a stupid man, he knew that she must have hit her head fairly hard in the crash, but when people tossed around phrases like “possible traumatic brain injury” and “uncertain recovery period” he felt less confident.

He let his hand shift, trailing his fingers gently over her arm. The doctor had told them that keeping her stimulated would help. It felt strange to touch Anna so openly, and technically without her consent. There’d never been a day that had gone by where she’d objected to his touch, and in fact she was often the one to initiate contact when he didn’t instantly do so. He liked the way she looked at him when he was touching her the way he was now. She’d give him a conspiratorial smile and lean into him, her eyes pleading with him not to stop. He’d thought a couple times since she’d been admitted that maybe she was smiling when he spoke to her or when he touched her, but he couldn’t be sure.

He wasn’t even sure that she’d want him there when she woke. They hadn’t been on particularly good terms before the crash, and it made him wish that he’d just taken the time to talk with her about the reasons why he was worried about making a public announcement of their engagement. He wished that he’d been in the car with her when it had been hit, not that he had any certainty that it would have made any difference, but if nothing else he would have liked to have been there for her when it happened instead of being there seconds after.

The only thing he was certain of was that he loved her very much and that the doctor had said to keep her senses working, and so at least for the next hour that’s exactly what he planned to do.

He held her hand and shifted so that his other hand could trail slowly up and down her arm.

“Do you know how many deliveries of flowers and chocolates I had to send elsewhere today feisty pants?”

He paused, as if she would answer, and was only slightly disappointed when she didn’t.

“You wouldn’t believe how many gifts people are sending you. You’re very popular my Princess. I keep telling the delivery people that we can’t bring the gifts into your room because it’s a safety concern, but I keep having the guards safety check all the sunflowers first. You should see it in here Anna, it’s like the fields we used to play in as kids, you can’t turn without bumping into a sunflower. I think the doctors are going to tell me any minute now that I need to get some out of here because they can hardly make it to your bed.”

He thought he saw a ghost of a smile cross her lips but he couldn’t tell for certain. He had toyed with the idea of kissing her. She’d loved fairy tales when they were young, and it would be just like Anna to wake up to true loves kiss. He didn’t want to test the theory, not only because kissing her lips while she was out felt uncomfortable to him in a way it never had before when she’d simply been asleep, and also because he knew that there would be nothing more disappointing to him than her not waking up if he did so.

Instead he settled for kissing her forehead. He leaned in close to her, just looking at her face for a moment, taking her in, noticing the lack of expression on her face, like a baseline from which he might determine if she was cognizant at all of what he was about to do. He pressed his lips to her forehead, just below her hairline, and let his lips rest there for a moment. He tried to be gentle, he wanted her to feel his kiss, but not any pain on her nearby bruises.

“When you wake up,” he muttered against her skin, “I’m going to beg your forgiveness and kiss you senseless if you’ll let me. Then I’ll go check through all those gifts and let you eat as much chocolate as you want, hell I’ll have some sent over from the castle or that fancy chocolatier you hire for all the parties if you want.”

He pulled back slightly and noticed no changes on her face, something that he had half expected, and yet something that still disappointed him more than anything.

“I hope you can hear me Anna, because I love it when you hold me to a promise. I’d be happy to hear you yell at me about the engagement or about not being in the car with you. I just want to hear your voice baby.”

He shook his head, “You know they don’t want me to keep Sven here with you, but I think I’ll bring him tomorrow. Maybe dog slobber is just what you need, yeah? If you don’t mind being covered in dog hair I’ll fight someone on the rules, I know he misses you and I’m sure you miss him too. He’s just moping around according to everyone else on staff and I think maybe you’d do well to have him around.”

When she still didn’t respond he sighed and readjusted his gun belt and turned his walkie down to just audible. He wasn’t on the clock, he hadn’t been since the accident, but he was still prepared, even as he was about to fall asleep in the chair beside her bed.

“Please wake up Anna,” he said again, this time softer, “Or just give me a sign you hear me please. I’m going crazy missing you.”

He closed his eyes, and almost swore that he felt her hand make the tiniest squeeze against his own.

***

Anna blinked against the light. It was harsh and fluorescent, and it hurt her eyes. They stung anyway, like they were too dry, and her head felt like it was full of rocks. She felt like she was suffering through the worst hangover she’d ever had in her life, but she couldn’t quite recall drinking anything. She only remembered being in a car and now she was somewhere with a strange ceiling and her limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each.

She couldn’t really even move her head though with a little bit of effort she managed to roll it to the side slightly as she blinked her eyes again and again, trying to remoisten them even slightly. When she managed to make a somewhat full head roll to the side she felt the crick in her neck begin to abate and saw a bleary eyed Kristoff looking at her.

She opened her mouth to speak but found her throat too dry to produce much of anything for noise. Her “Kris?” came out like something more of a squawking sound than any real word.

He was off his feet in an instant, calling for someone to come into the room, and just as quickly as he’d moved, there were dozens of people around her, there were lights in her eyes, someone scratching notes down on a clipboard and while Anna was somehow tangentially aware that this was all somehow important, it was also all rather annoying to her, particularly because she couldn’t see Kristoff anymore and she didn’t know any of the people around her.

She opened her mouth to speak again and she, this time with a bit more concentration managed to call out his name somewhat satisfactorily.

Then he was there, on his phone, but there, with one hand extending toward her. She saw the worry in his eyes, the bags under his eyes and his mussed hair. He was usually so put together and calm, so prepared for the worst, so to see him that way caused her great concern. Her arms still felt heavy, but she managed to reach her hand up, albeit shaking as she did so, to take his hand. Everything was too loud or too quiet. She knew people were talking but she couldn’t quite hear what was being said, she was mostly watching their mouths move and listening to her own heartbeat above the din of everything else.

Kristoff squeezed her hand and said something to one of the people scurrying around her. She couldn’t figure out what he had said, but she calmed at the sound of his voice. If he was there things were going to be alright, whenever Kristoff was there everything was alright.

Soon enough the crowd of noisy people left the room, and Anna was quite embarrassed with herself that it was only when the last scrub wearing nurse left that she realized that she was in the hospital. Kristoff was seating himself, once again next to her bed when she started working through the fog in her head to figure out how to ask him how she’d ended up there.

“What the hell?”

When he started laughing she smiled.

“You’ve been in a coma for five days and the first thing you say to me, other than my name is ‘What the hell’? The doctors were worried about you being yourself when you woke up,” he said with a grin that lit up his whole face, erasing the look of exhaustion and replacing it with more of the exasperated look she was familiar with.  “But sounds to me like you’re fine.”

Anna shook her head slightly, it still felt heavy and she had a headache, but it was bearable. It took her a little longer than usual to process what he was saying, but she knew he was teasing her just from his tone, and that was good. She liked it when he teased her.

“I’ve been…?” She was still having some difficulties responding, but she could feel words coming back to her, and her throat, while still scratchy, was no longer at odds with her tongue, allowing things to come out of her mouth more or less as she wanted them to.

“In a coma. Anna you’ve been in a coma. The doctor said you might not remember what happened. Do you remember why you’re here? Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” she replied quickly, having already had the thought, “No. I don’t know. Well you said coma, but why?”

He frowned then and she immediately pouted in return. She didn’t like it when he frowned.

“We were on the way back from the children’s hospital on the other side of the city and we got to an intersection and there was a crash. You walked away, then fell unconscious.”

Anna frowned then fully, “Oh no! Was anyone else hurt?”

He shook his head, and a ghost of a smile returned to his lips.

“Just like you to come out of a coma, find out what put you in it and ask about everyone else.”

She nodded, because yes, it was like her, and she knew it, and that felt good.

“No,” he added, “no one else was seriously hurt, just some scrapes and bruises, you took the brunt of the crash. The driver walked away too. He’s in a cell somewhere waiting for a court date.”

She didn’t like the sounds of that, “It’s not serious is it?”

“Drunk driving,” he said back, “And he went through a police barricade to get into the intersection in the first place, so yeah, pretty bad.”

She frowned again and teared up a little bit, “That’s so sad. Does he have a family?”

He rolled his eyes but scooted closer to her bed and leaned in close, “I’d say you hit your head too hard, but no. It really is just like you to start worrying about the family of the drunk driver that put you into the hospital.”

She smiled and made the effort to put her arm up to pull him in closer. She wanted a kiss and she would have one.

“I’m the Princess. It’s my duty to look after my people, even when they make mistakes.”

Kristoff sighed and kissed her. She knew that he knew that arguing with her was futile. She was still a little confused and it was taking her a little longer than normal to think about what she wanted to do or say, but Kristoff knew her and she knew him.

She also knew that she was supposed to be mad at him. Or at least she was pretty sure that she was much earlier in the day, before the crash. He’d made her take the ring he’d bought her off before they went to the hospital. He didn’t want people to know that they were engaged until they made the official announcement, and she’d been ready to go tell the world since he’d popped the question. It seemed silly now, for them to have fought about it. She had wanted to announce it to the world, but she should have been ready to give him a little more time before he had an even bigger spotlight placed on him. She should have been more willing to be flexible.

“I’m sorry we argued,” she said just as the thought came to mind. “But I’m glad you weren’t in the car.”

He huffed, “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

“I remember everything important.”

He grinned slightly and gave her another kiss, this time on her forehead, “So the car crash isn’t important?”

“Not as much as arguing with you,” she said in return, confident in her answer despite the look he was giving her over it. “I’m sorry, we can wait before we say anything.”

He grinned, “Well it’s a little late for that,” he said gently, “I had to tell the hospital staff I was your fiancé for them to let me stay in the room instead of outside the door and when they didn’t believe me your sister confirmed it. While they’re supposed to be quiet about it, but you know someone will overhear something and it’ll be front page news any day now, if it isn’t already.”

She smiled, “Does that mean I can wear the ring?”

He leaned back and picked up her hand in his own before placing a kiss on her knuckles, “You already are.”

She glanced over to see that she was in fact wearing the ring he’d given her just a few weeks prior. The stone didn’t glitter quite so much under the fluorescents as it did in the sunlight, but it was absolutely her ring.

“I kept it in my pocket after we fought, and I put it on your finger after the doctor’s gave me permission. I hope you don’t mind.”

He seemed almost sheepish, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

“I don’t mind as long as you don’t mind the fact that I’m never taking it off again.”

She felt more awake now. Things were making sense, her brain was getting up to speed and she was able to move a little better.

He chuckled, “Even in the shower?”

She grinned, “Especially in the shower. You never know, some water droplets in the kingdom might not know I’m a taken woman.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, this time letting her take her fill of him. She relaxed into the mattress and sighed against his lips, her hands, while still heavy, moving to card through his hair. They only broke apart when a nurse came in and coughed politely. She needed to check some kind of level and informed Anna and Kristoff both that her royal majesty had just arrived again to check on her sister.

Anna had a feeling that it was less of a notice to her than it was an indication to Kristoff that he might want to unmuss his hair. When she left to fetch Anna a pitcher of fresh cold water, Anna giggled.

“We were caught! So much for constant vigilance Mr. Bodyguard.”

He smiled and leaned back down to kiss her again, “Oh I knew we were getting caught,” he said before resting his forehead on hers, “I just didn’t care.”

Anna giggled again and did her best to straighten herself before her sister arrived. She felt like she needed a shower, and maybe also a tray of chocolate cookies, and also maybe for Kristoff to take her back home as soon as possible and give her some specific affection that she knew neither of them would like very much to be caught in the act of.

[owlish-peacock36]

A Piece of Home: A Christmas One-Shot

I hope everyone has had a wonderful Christmas!

Claire had a theory: whatever deity presided over this world was out to get her. Plain and simple. Bad luck followed her, like an unnerving shadow. Perhaps she had walked under too many ladders in a past life. Perhaps it was a genetic disposition, like left handed-ness. Perhaps she was cursed.

Despite the reason, she knew herself well enough to know that her current situation shouldn’t have surprised her: flat tire, middle of nowhere, snow storm, Christmas Eve. It was a goulash of bad luck ingredients just simmering into a unfortunate evening. And, as unfortunes go, she was woefully unprepared. No spare. No tools. No hope.

Damn.

She was going to freeze to death in her car. Or, at least lose her fingers to frostbite. Whichever came first.

Her panic subsided as she remembered the invention of mobile phones.

Thank God.

Claire thrust her hand into the depths of the oversized pockets on her wool coat, fishing out said device. The metal was cool against her hand. Pressing the home button, her heart plummeted.

The phrase no service blinked up at her.

Shit.

She really was screwed.

***

Deep within her rational mind, Claire knew that there was a slim chance of her being stranded for long in her situation. The road she was on was less traveled, but not totally abandoned. It just seemed so for the lack of cars—owing to it being late Christmas Eve night—and the muffling snow.

Despite such knowledge, she could help the panic from settling into her throat. She began crawling about her car, raising her phone at awkward angles. But the no service did not disappear. Settling back into the driver’s seat, she began fiddling with the radio as a distraction.

“...I’m dreaming of a whi..”

“...On a one horse…”

“...Jack Frost nipping at your nose…”

“Excuse me!”

A knock at her window startled her, causing her heart to spasm within her chest.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

The man hovering beside her window was tall, handsome, and vaguely familiar. Claire rolled it down to get a better look.

“Hello?”

“It seems ye may need some help.”

Claire’s gazes roved over his face, from his auburn curls to his deep slanted eyes to his wide, good natured mouth.

“I know you…?”

A chuckle. “Aye. Yer Claire.”

“And you’re… from Professor Bailey’s class, right? The Literature Seminar.” A pause, as she searched her brain for the man’s name. “It’s James, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he repeated. “But ye can call me Jamie.”

“Well, Jamie. I am in a bit of a sticky situation. You don’t happen to have a spare tire, do you?”

“Nay, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck!” Remembering her company, Claire clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

But Jamie just laughed, his smile crinkling his eyes. “Nay worry. This is a bit of a fuck situation.”

“You got that right…”

“Here, let me help ye. My parent’s house isna verra far. That’s where I’m heading. Ye can call someone when ye get there.”

“That’s kind of you, Jamie, but—“

“Please. I dinna feel right leaving ye out in the cold.”

Claire sighed. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

***

The ride was almost silent. Although Jamie and Claire were acquainted through school, their knowledge of each other was limited. What they knew, they learned from others: Claire knew Jamie had a large family, played rugby as a teenager, and had a sensitive heart towards babies and animals. Jamie knew Claire wrote for the university newspaper, owned a cat, and loved the rain.

Everything else was in the realm of unknown. Claire broke the silence first.

“I don’t wish to ruin your Christmas Eve with your family.”

“Nonsense. Ye willna ruin Christmas. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think your parents would be too pleased that you’re bringing a strange woman you rescued from the road to their house.”

“Honestly, I think they’ll just be happy I’m bringing a woman,” he teased. Claire stiffened. Would his parents think they were a couple? “Besides, yer no a strange woman. I ken ye, ye ken me. I was just at the right place at the right time.”

“If you’re sure…”

Jamie reached over, and patted her hand gently. It was a quick gesture—one of reassurance—but Claire couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. He really was incredibly good-looking. His profile was strong, with an angular nose and a steel jaw. His deep red curls softened his severe features, lending him a more boyish charm. Claire could, quite honestly, stare at him all day.

“Aye, I’m sure.”

***

The house rose through the trees, the lights through the windows casting a dim glow on the surrounding land. It was large, retangular, and obviously old. Houses nowadays weren’t made like that, with faded gray stones and overgrown vines. With the strands of Christmas bulbs that outlined the roof and windows and the snow that covered the grass, it looked very much like a fairy tale.

“Wow.” Claire hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but the word exited her mouth in a breath.

“Aye, I ken. It’s quite a sight.”

“How old is it?”

“About 300 years, I think. It’s been in my family for so long. Lallybroch, we call it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Lazy tower. There’s a tower to the east, there.” His hands pointed into the darkness. “Ye canna quite see it now. It’s too dark.”

“How is it lazy?”

“It leans,” Jamie explained simply. “It’s been here as long as the house.”

“That’s amazing…” The history lover within her had some many questions, but she quelled them; she wasn’t planning on being here long enough to have them answered.

“Well, come on, then. Let’s get ye inside.”

***

If the outside of Lallybroch was exquisite, the inside was magical.  Garland and poinsettias hung in the archways, as ceramic Christmas trees lined the tables. Jamie led her through the archway on the right.

“Mam? Da?”

The room was large and open, with a shiny cherry hardwood floor and a fireplace crackling. The pièce de résistance, though, was the eight foot Christmas tree in the center of the room. Lights shone from every crevice and branch, and tinsel swirled toward the top where a bright star rested. Claire had never had large Christmases, had never had much of a family to share it with. But here, she could see the appeal.

So distracted she was by the incredible decorations, she missed the figures huddled around the fire. Jamie’s family, she presumed.

“Jamie? Is that you?” A woman’s voice rang out.

“Aye, Mam.”

The woman stood from her place by the fire to greet them. As she came closer, Claire could see exactly where Jamie got his looks. Same hair, same pointed nose, same dimpled chin. She started when she realized Jamie wasn’t alone.

“And who might this be?”

“Oh, this is Claire. We go to university together. I found her on the road with a flat. Claire, this is my mam, Ellen.”

Claire gripped the woman’s smooth hand in her own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a beautiful home.”

“Oh, thank ye verra much!”

“Where’s Jenny?”

“Oh, she’s putting the bairns to bed. They couldna wait. Ready for Santa, and all that. Come, Claire. Ye should meet Jamie’s da.”

“Mam, Claire isna planning on staying long…”

“It’ll just be moment, aye? Come, dear.”

Claire obliged, following Ellen Fraser toward the fire where a larger figure sat. He was broad and black-haired, cropped close to his head. Jamie definitely looked like his mother, but he had his father’s eyes: slanted and cerulean.

“Brian, this is Claire. Claire, my husband Brian.” Brian Fraser’s face softened, a half smile lighting his face.

“Pleasure to meet ye, Claire. What can we do for ye?”

“She’s a classmate of Jamie’s, dear. He met her on the road with a flat tire.”

“Oh, no. Yer more than welcome to use our phone to call a ride if ye need. It’s just across the hall.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She on her heel, and left the room.

***

“She’s pretty, Jamie,” Ellen whispered conspiratorially.

“Mam…”

“And polite, too,” Brian interjected.

“Ye too, Da?”

“Aye, someone needs to push ye a bit.”

“Push me?”

“Mmhmmm. Is she no the Claire ye had a crush on last semester?”

“I...I…”

“Though so.” Brian went back to nursing his tumbler of whisky, having proven his point.

“Perhaps it is yer lucky night, mo mhac. A Christmas miracle of sorts.”

“Yer exaggerating, Mam. It isna like that.”

“No? But it could be.”

***

Closed. Every single tow company Claire called was closed. Of course she had to have a flat on Christmas Eve. How was she supposed to get home, now? Was Uber open?

“Any luck?” The voice startled her, her hand flying up to her chest to keep her heart in place.

“Jamie! You’ve got to stop surprising me!”

“Sorry.”

She giggled at his contrite expression. “It’s okay. And to answer your question, no. No luck at all. All the towing companies are closed.”

“Yeah. It is Christmas Eve. Do ye have family to call to pick ye up?”

“No. I don’t.” She could feel her face fall at the mention of family.

Apparently, Jamie saw it, too. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

A silence, awkward and deafening, filled the room. And then, suddenly: “We’ll have to share a family then.”

“Pardon?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas. Not even filthy-mouthed Sassenach such as yerself.” Jamie’s grin grew broader at his own teasing.

“No, no. I’m not going to impose…”

“Ye won’t be! My mam loves ye already!”

“She just met me!”

“Well, she’s a good judge of character.”

“You don’t even know me that well.”

“We can get to know each other, become friends. Anything is possible at Christmas.”

“I don’t know, Jamie.”

Claire could see the wheels turning in Jamie’s mind, his eyes alight with ideas. Finally, he stuck his hand out. “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. 6’4. Twenty-one years old. Taurus.”

His smile was infectious, and Claire could feel her lips rising in response. She grasped his hand. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. 5’6. Twenty-three years old. Libra.”

“Nice to meet ye, Claire.”

“You too, Jamie.”

The two walked out of the room, their hands still inexplicably twined. So intent on the other, they almost tripped over a small huddled form in the hallway.

“Wee Jamie! Are ye no supposed to be in bed?”

The little form uncurled revealing a small boy in Christmas pajamas. He looked up at the two with innocent brown eyes.

“Aye, Uncle Jamie. But I couldna sleep!”

“Too excited, hmm?”

“Aye! Santa!”

“Well, he won’t come until yer asleep.”

“I ken… Who is this?”

“Oh, this is my friend, Claire. Claire, this is my eldest nephew, Jamie Murray.”

Claire crouched to Wee Jamie’s eye level. “Nice to meet you. I like your PJs.”

The boy blushed sweetly. “Thank ye.” And, then, distractedly: “What’s that?” A small, chubby hand pointed to the ceiling above where Jamie and Claire stood. A small sprig was hung there by a red ribbon.

Mistletoe.

“It’s mistletoe, wee’un. If ye stand under with someone, ye have to kiss them…”

“Eww!” And with that, Wee Jamie ran away with the threat of kissing.

Claire turned to Jamie, cheeks pinkening. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t break tradition…”

His eyes narrowed with desire. “Nay. That’s bad luck, I think.”

It was hesitant, slow. Achingly slow. Jamie placed a large hand on Claire’s cheek, holding her firmly in place. Claire’s arms wrapped around his middle, feeling the flannel of his shirt.

Lips brushed, quickly. A soft kiss. A chaste kiss that promised more.

Perhaps this Christmas wasn’t so unlucky after all.

[camillemontespan]

this heavy crown: part one [drake x mc]

I wrote a prompt called  ‘Moments That Could Be’ and thought the little story  at the end of that prompt, ‘The Kiss’ would make an interesting short series with Camille marrying Liam, while still being love with Drake. I never had my MC marry Liam in the game, so this is new territory for me, especially since I’m a Drake fan! Just know that  this doesn’t affect any of the fics I’ve written about them so far. This is just a stand alone series. (I have copied and pasted ‘The Kiss’ for the first section as I feel this is a good introduction).  Be warned, this has a lot of angst. So. much. angst. 

@jovialyouthmusic @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @tacohead13 @thequeenofcronuts @katedrakeohd @moonlightgem7 @be-still-my-aching-heart @pug-bitch

The party toasted the King’s future and the future of Cordonia. As more champagne was popped, the waiters brought out more canapes which Drake refused. He hated tiny finger food. He was sat beside Maxwell and Hana who were playing a card game, which Maxwell was losing badly in. The party had gone on into the wee hours and Drake was entertaining himself by drinking more whiskey than was necessary. He needed to. Anything to get through this.

He glanced up and watched King Liam gently tuck a lock of Camille’s hair behind her ear. Sat the top table, dressed in her white gown and her veil, Camille was a beautiful bride. Drake watched as she laughed at something Liam whispered in her ear and she reached out to steal another slice of wedding cake.

It should have been me up there, Drake thought then regretted that it had even passed in his mind. His stomach twisted as he watched the woman he loved be fed cake by his best friend. This was too much. Standing up abruptly, he threw his napkin down and left Hana and Maxwell at the table. They both stared after him, confused. Drake had kept his feelings to himself the past few months. Well, to most people. He had told Camille how he felt and she had felt the same. But they had both agreed, a month ago, that she would stay in the competition. If Liam chose her, she would yes to being his wife. To being the new Queen of Cordonia. They didn’t want to hurt him.

He rushed out of the palace and down the steps. He needed air. He needed to get away from royalty and opulence and romance for just one night. Tugging at his bow tie, he loosened it and then continued to run away from the palace.

Drake didn’t hear the sound of her heels running after him until he felt her hand pull his arm back. ‘Drake, wait!’

Camille tried to pull him around to her but he couldn’t face her. He didn’t want to see her beautiful face crowned by her veil. ‘Drake, please,’ she murmured. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up at him. He averted his eyes and tried to push her away but she held on. ‘Leave me alone,’ he whispered. ‘This is too hard. I’m so fucking in love with you and I have to watch you be with him instead.’

Without a sound, she reached up and gently pulled his face down to hers. To his shock, her lips softly met his. Once he registered what was happening, he reached his hands to wrap around her back, holding her in close as they kissed. They both tasted salt water as their tears mixed together. He wished he could keep her there forever. But she wasn’t his. She could have been his but he let her go. As they parted, Camille looked into his eyes. She wasn’t a happy, glowing bride anymore. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made you unhappy. You looked happy at the table. I’ve ruined it,’ he whispered. She shook her head. ‘I put on a good performance, Drake. I’m just a really good actress.’ 

She squeezed his hand and tore her eyes away from him regretfully. ‘I’m still in love with you...’ she whispered, before running back towards the palace, her veil blowing behind her. Drake watched her go. He wasn’t going back. He needed to go back to his room, drink a bottle of whiskey and leave this night behind him. 

                         **************************************************

Camille woke up to the feel of Liam spooning her. She breathed out and tried to shake off the claustrophobic feeling. The feeling that this didn’t feel right. The feeling that she wanted another certain man wrapped around her instead. 

Camille cared for Liam, yes. He was a good friend and he always treated her with kindness. Whenever he smiled, his eyes crinkled up and he had laughter lines; he was a genuinely good person. But he wasn’t the one she could see herself being with. However, her romantic life hadn’t panned out the way she desperately wanted and she reminded herself, probably for the hundreth time, that this had been her choice. She could have turned down his proposal but she said yes. Drake and Camille had agreed that they couldn’t hurt him and that their affair was just that. An affair. A ‘passionate, declarations of love’ affair but an affair nonetheless. 

She slowly managed to get out from under his arms and wrapped her bathrobe around her. Opening the terrace doors, she let herself out to survey her new kingdom. I’m a queen now, she thought. This is so surreal.  

They had returned from their honeymoon last night; their wedding party had been a week ago. She hadn’t seen Drake since that night, when she ran after him and he was crying, telling her that he couldn’t watch her be married to Liam. Camille felt an ache in her chest but she pushed it down. 

The honeymoon itself had been lovely. They had travelled to Venice and stayed in a beautiful villa on the water. Liam had planned their itinerary and he took lots of photos; mainly of her. Camille knew he would be a good husband. He would be loving, kind, loyal. But it didn’t stop her from picturing Drake’s face when Liam made love to her and it still didn’t stop her from picturing Drake’s face when she had an orgasm. Imagining that it was Drake who was touching her was the way Camille dealt with sleeping with Liam. Camille felt her face flush with shame at the thought and she sat down at the table, which already had a jug of fresh orange juice and a tray of pastries laid out for them. Their servants woke up at the crack of dawn and were silent in their work. 

‘Hey beautiful.’ She looked up and saw Liam up and dressed in smart trousers and a shirt. ‘You’re up early.’

Camille smiled. ‘You’re dressed early. What are you doing today?’

He poured himself a glass of juice and sat down opposite her. ‘I’ve got meetings. Since we’ve just got back from our honeymoon, there’s a lot to catch up on. But we will be together at 1pm for the official presentation of us, the king and queen. Hana, Olivia, Maxwell, Bertrand... everyone should be there.’

‘Drake?’ Camille asked, a bit too quickly. Liam didn’t notice. ‘Drake will show face. He can’t not say congratulations to the new Queen of Cordonia, can he?’

Camille nodded and looked out at the view of the kingdom. So Liam didn’t know.  Camille and Drake’s secret was safe. After months of them sneaking around, Drake had been certain that they would have been found out but thank God.  ‘I’m meeting with Regina now to discuss what we’ve missed, so I’ll see you later,’ Liam said, leaning down to kiss her. He left the terrace and Camille tried to push down the feeling of dread about her day. To be introduced as Queen in front of Drake... she didn’t want to see his face.

                          ********************************************

Hana helped fix Camille’s hair into place and stood back to admire her handiwork. Camille’s dark hair was teased into a fishtail plait and she wore a silk gold off-shoulder dress. ‘You look amazing, Camille!’ Hana said happily, clapping her hands in excitement. Camille smiled and slid a gold Chopard gobstopper ring on her finger. 

Liam entered the room and stopped in his tracks. ‘Wow.. you look incredible,’ he told her, looking her up and down. He was wearing official regalia and looked every inch a King. ‘Are you ready to meet your court?’

Camille nodded, exhaling nervously. Hana squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll celebrate with champagne after!’ She gave Liam a wink and left the couple to make their way to the Throne Room.

The Throne Room. Camille had always admired the beautiful architecture of this room, with its domed ceilings, arches and the gold statues of angels adorning the walls. It looked like a cathedral but in miniature. Now, as she held Liam’s arm and moved towards the Throne Room, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about entering. ‘Ready?’ Liam asked, giving her an encouraging smile. Camille nodded silently and took a breath. 

‘May we present the King and Queen of Cordonia!’ 

The court applauded as Liam and Camille entered the Throne Room. Camille spotted Bertrand who gave her a uncharacteristic wink. Maxwell and Hana were jumping up and down with excitement. Olivia curtseyed; she and Camille were friends now which was a relief. For a while, Camille thought Olivia would be her enemy. Madeleine clapped but her eyes were cold.

Camille couldn’t see Drake. Maybe he hadn’t come to the presentation after all. She didn’t blame him if he didn’t.

Liam and Camille stopped before the thrones. Both thrones were gilded. Camille swallowed, terrified. ‘Go on, Camille. Let’s sit,’ Liam whispered. She nodded and made her way up the marble steps to her throne. Slowly, she turned to face the court and they watched with bated breath as she sat down. Regina stepped forward holding an ornate, silver crown decorated with diamonds and standing behind Camille, she announced clearly, ‘The new Queen of Cordonia!’ She slowly placed the crown on top of Camille’s head and it was at that moment that Camille finally saw Drake. 

He was standing near the corner and his eyes said it all. They were filled with anguish as he watched her. All of a sudden, the crown on Camille’s head felt heavy. It was as if she had a weight on top of her and it was pushing her down into her seat, keeping her in place. She took a breath but it came out haggered; nobody heard as they applauded and cheered.  As she watched Drake, he mouthed, I love you. 

                             ******************************************

After she toasted champagne with Hana, was caught in a bear hug by Maxwell, had her crown admired by Olivia, was passive aggressively insulted by Madeleine and given courtly advice by Bertrand, Camille finally managed to get outside for fresh air.  She stood before the fountain and studied her reflection in the water. She looked regal; powerful with the crown on her head. 

‘Montespan.’

Her heart jumped and she turned around to see Drake standing behind her. She smiled weakly, her eyes filling with tears. His eyes widened in alarm and he rushed forward to hold her in his arms. ‘Shhh, it’s okay honey,’ he whispered, holding her close. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook, holding onto him for dear life. ‘This crown feels so heavy,’ she choked out. Drake closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say that would help her, make her feel better. But how could he when he felt so hopeless too? 

‘He is a good husband, Drake,’ she whispered, looking up at him now. He gently wiped her tears away from her face. ‘He is kind and gentle and he loves me. But I just don’t love him in that way.’

‘You will grow to love him,’ Drake assured her, though the thought filled him with jealousy. ‘Liam is a good man, you couldn’t find a better husband.’

She blanched at his words. ‘I think I could..’

Drake swallowed and tried to ignore what she meant. He exhaled. ‘He loves you, Camille.’

‘You love me.’

‘I do.’

They stared at each other, their eyes locked.  In a moment, Drake stepped forward and pulled her to him, their lips meeting in heated desperation. Camille tugged on his bottom lip and Drake groaned. God, he wanted her. He wanted to take her back to his room, undress her, take that heavy crown off her head and discard it, and feel her body against his. He wanted to feel her skin under his, her fingernails scratching into his back and he wanted to tell her that he loved her. 

Drake pulled away, breathing heavily. Camille’s cheeks were flushed. ‘We have to stop doing this,’ Drake managed to say, his eyes wild. ‘We could get caught. We’re torturing ourselves here. Think about Liam.’

Camille clenched her fists. ‘I never think about Liam. Do you know that when he is with me in bed, I imagine your face?’ 

Drake paled. ‘I don’t want to think of you two together in bed.’

‘This is my life now, Drake. I don’t feel complete anymore. I imagine you in those moments because your face gets me through it. I feel ashamed. He is such a good man and I am imagining his best friend.’

Drake closed his eyes and wished she would stop talking. Everything she was saying was torture. Yet he wanted her to still want him. He was slightly relieved that she hadn’t forgotten him. But he knew he had to let her go. He had to for Liam. 

‘Camille, I love you,’ he told her. ‘I always will. But while you are married to him, we can’t be together.’ 

Camille bit her lip and studied him. ‘What if... what if we still met in secret?’

‘Too risky,’ he replied. ‘Too selfish.’

‘You still want us to be together though,’ she answered defiantly. Drake sighed. She knew him well. ‘I do.’

She stepped forward and roamed her hands across his chest. Her eyes looked deep into his and his breath caught as he took her in. He loved this woman. But could he risk his whole friendship with Liam just to be with her? Could he stab him in the back? Could Drake live with himself if he met her in secret and felt her skin against his and made her feel complete again?

As she kissed him again, Drake knew the answer.