#or a reflection of me giggling away while playing lads

[kindalonely-ngl]

Man, I would cry from stress! I've been broke since childhood and the last time I ever wore branded clothes was when I was 9 or 10 years old. After that my family's financial state went 📉 until now. In our tradition, parents would give their daughters gold bracelets, necklaces or anklets but I'd never have those. Never had jewelries, branded and pretty clothes, fancy handbags, pretty shoes, and never have I ever own nice skincare and makeup sets. Bet I am the most unfashionable person you'd ever meet in this life lol. If Sylus ever come to me and give me his card expecting me to go batshit crazy, he would have chronic migraine for a whole week and I would be sobbing like a kid from the stress and pressure to have tons of money and don't know what to do with it. I mean, I would use his money to pay my student loan, although it won't be enough for him, I have about $2k left. While I'm at it maybe I'll buy a unit of comfy, private condominium. Fully furnished with air conditioners in every room. I would schedule weekly groceries delivery, maid service every fortnight, an on-call driver who will be there whenever I want to go somewhere. Maybe change my ugly appearance ie dentist, hair treatment, skin expert, monthly spa session, ugh do I have to workout though?? Nah, let's just go to slimming and center or whatever and let them slim me down without me lifting a finger lol. I guess that's it?? He wants me to cover in shiny jewelries? Pretty clothes? Expensive head-to-toe? He needs to buy all that shit for me because I don't know a thing about fashion and jewelries. Oh, the gap between us is too huge that I'm happy he's not real. I wouldn't even dare to steal a glance at such a prestige and divine man like Sylus. I'm just a potato who dreams of owning a cute lil apartment and live there alone, walking through life at my own pace.

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[assortedseaglass]

Come Back To Me - Chapter Seven

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers

Author’s Note: Are Billy and Ida going to be ok? Sorry to have kept you in suspense…

Word Count: 2.8K

When Billy and Ida were ten, they caught the train out of the city with Lana and some of her friends. It was August, not long after Billy’s birthday, and the late summer heat was sweltering. Outside the city, an hour by train, was a small village set on the banks of the Thames. Sun cream, swimming costumes and cider for the older kids were tucked into backpacks. Billy brought his football, Ida her battered copy of Little Women.  

Lana and her friends, at twenty, spent much of their time swimming in the river, smoking and drinking. A lanky boy with greasy hair kept rubbing his hand on one of the girl’s legs, and when they thought no-one was watching, snuck off to kiss behind the trees. Ida, reading in the long grass, watched them with fascination as their tongues darted between each other’s mouths, hands exploring their sun-tinged skin. After a little while, it disgusted her, and she ran cackling to tell Billy what she had seen. He was too busy playing football with the older lads, so she perched by Lana who was dangling her feet in the river, a cigarette in her mouth. When the ball soared over their heads and landed in the river, one of the boys followed. Shrieking at the cold, he surfaced laughing and encouraged the others to join him. The boys threw Billy in, and he laughed with glee at being included in the big boys’ club. Lana swam around them. “Careful with him!” she called occasionally, though she knew her brother was a tough little thing. Ida, always quiet and watchful, stripped down to her swimming costume and walked to the weir up river. She stepped onto the metal pipe and walked along it to the middle of the river, listening to the raucous laughter of the others drift upstream. Her back to the oncoming water, her eyes drifted to the perch swimming against the current, and the weeds dancing mesmerically in the depths. She sat down, her hands cutting through the silky water, watching the clouds in its reflection, listening to the laughter dying away. Ida looked up. Billy was front-crawling towards her, the others swimming down stream to the little bridge. Billy hauled himself onto the weir, and together they watched the others jump from the bridge into the Thames.

“I saw that ugly boy kissing Lana’s friend behind the trees,” Ida whispered to Billy with a giggle. Billy didn’t say anything but made a face in disgust. “He kept putting his tongue in her mouth.”

“That’s gross,”

“Yeah, like sucking on a slug!” They dissolved into fitful laughter. When they were finished, Billy stood on the weir and jumped into the water below.

“Careful, Billy!” Ida called to him, watching the rolling water at the weir’s base. She stood as he ducked his head under the frothing water.

“It’s fine!” He said when he surfaced, splashing water at her. “I’m gonna join the others, you coming?”

“No, I’ll wait here,” Just as Billy began swimming away, another perch emerged from beneath the weir. Watching its scales glisten in the August sunshine, Ida leant forward. A blinding pain shot through her legs as she hit the metal hard, her nostrils burning as they filled with river water. Beneath the river was orange, and as she paddled frantically for the surface, her arms tangled in the weeds.

“BILLY!” She screamed as her head breached the water, before the churning weir dragged her under again. Ida couldn’t swim away. Kicking her legs in panic, she felt a pop in her ankle. Her foot was caught in the metal grate, keeping her in the deep water and preventing escape. “Billy…help me.” Her energy to keep above water was waning. Just as black rings formed in the periphery of her vision, a pair of hands pushed her body upwards then curled behind her head.

“I’ve got you Ida, I’ve got you.” Billy’s voice was strong and assured, no trace of worry as he called for his older sister. Eventually, when they had freed her foot from the metal grate, it was wiry, ten-year-old Billy that carried Ida out of the water and onto the bank. Billy that held her hand when the paramedics arrived, and Billy who was the first to sign the cast on her ankle when she got home that evening. He was the person she ran to when another useless boy broke her heart, when she missed her parents, when she fucked up her exams. For fifteen years he was her protector. Now, she would do the same for him.

*

“DON’T SHOOT!” Lana screamed at Trojan Unit. “DON’T SHOOT!” A dull gunshot rang through the air. Lana looked up from her position on the floor, Trojan Five Four on the ground beside her. She had knocked him to the ground. Ida was still pelting towards the car, and Billy.

“LANA!” Billy screamed. “The timer, I’ve got to get out.” His sweating palms fumbled for the door. They found the handle and just as he reached to pull it towards him, a flash of hair flew past the side mirror and two hands slammed into the window.

The sight of Ida was enough to make him freeze. Her freckled face was brilliant red, and she was heaving deep breaths that shook her entire body. She stared him down, eyes wide with terror and determination. Tears were filling them, and a few dropped to mix with the sweat sticking her hair to her face. Wayward strands were blowing in the wind.

“Ida,” he whispered, dazed. He stared at her, staring down at him. Time froze, until a beep behind him sped it up tenfold. Eight seconds, seven seconds. Billy grappled with the door but Ida was faster. As he tried to pull the handle, she held it in place. “IDA!” he screamed at her, pounding the door with his shoulder as he tried to open it. Five seconds, four seconds. She wouldn’t relent. Not for his screams, nor the anguish on his face. Ida pressed her whole body against the door and let him struggle inside. Two seconds, one second. Ida closed her eyes and waited for the blast. Nothing. Just Billy’s muffled struggling from within the car.

“Billy,” she said shakily. Still he pounded the door, shouting incoherently. “Billy,” she held the door still. “Billy, please. Please.” Ida waited. Waited until he screamed himself into silence. He bent his head over the steering wheel, exhausted, before looking at her once more.

“Ida?” he said weakly.

“Hey mate,” she smiled softly at him, resting her head against the window as he did the same. “I’ve got you Billy, I’ve got you.” Billy listened to her gentle murmurings through the glass. He was alive. He didn’t understand it, but he was alive. A moment later, he heard Lana’s muffled voice.

“You’re insane,” she was speaking to Ida, not him. Suddenly, the gravity of what Ida had done hit Billy, and he watched her in awe as she stepped away to allow Lana at the window.

“Lana,” he muttered. She had been crying. Worry was drawn in the contours of her face. “I don’t understand.”

“The timer. It was a decoy. They planted it there to make sure you opened the door. Thank God for Ida and her recklessness.” Lana laughed but it sounded manic. Ida placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. The timer has stopped but the bomb is still active. Just like you did before, I’m gonna need you to stay still and not touch anything for me, ok? Me and Has are gonna get you out!” Billy was too exhausted to argue. “I’m gonna go and get my kit on, but I’ll be back in a few minutes. Come on, Ida.” Lana began walking away but Ida didn’t move.

“I’m staying here.” She said defiantly.

“No.” Lana turned back to her. “You heard what Has said, no civilians-”

“I’m waiting with Billy until you come back. I’ll not leave him on his own again.”

Lana huffed a resigned sigh, and Ida could have sworn she saw a faint look of pride cross her face as she turned to leave. When she and Has returned moments later, Ida watched in confusion as Lana held out a helmet for her.

“It’s pointless, trying to get you to leave him. If you’re going to hover around, wear this.” Ida reached out to take it, but Lana moved it away. “One condition. You stay well away while we work to deactivate the bomb, yeah? When it’s time to get him out, we’ll let you know.” Ida nodded.

“Billy?” she tapped gently on the glass. He looked up, tired and glassy-eyed. “Lana and Has are going to deactivate the bomb now. I’m going to wait just over there,” she pointed to the trees at the edge of the football pitch. “But I’ll be back soon, ok?” He simply nodded and watched her retreating form.

*

From the shade of the trees, Ida watched Lana and Has work to deactivate the bomb. While Has stayed by the driver’s window, Lana paced the car slowly, checking around and under. When she reached Has again, it was she who waited with Billy while Has did his checks. It was a small comfort to Ida, that they were not leaving him alone. She picked at the skin around her nails, pulled at clumps of grass, even took to pacing the line of trees. They hadn’t been able to diffuse the bomb at Amburiq Mosque, hadn’t realised there was a third bomb at Westhaven until it was too late. What is this was the same? What if, after everything, it was all in vain? Ida had never prayed to a god before, so instead, she prayed to her memories.

She saw Billy’s face at her bedroom window. When she couldn’t sleep, she’d text him and there he’d be, sneaking into her room to lie next to her and keep her company. She remembered them holding hands, jumping up and down on the bouncy castle at her ninth birthday. Flashes of his eighteenth birthday were next, when she’d forced him to dance with her on the sticky, strobe-lit dancefloor of a dingy club. When he’d had a particularly bad argument with his dad, and he’d come to the flat, letting Ida stroke his hair as he lay in her lap. Watching him run into the sea in the dawn light at Dungeness. All the times they’d driven aimlessly, singing along to the radio, chatting, or just sitting in silence. When Ida was ill, and he’d read her childhood favourites to her from the bedside.

THUNK

The sound of the rear window hitting grass brought her back to the scene.

“Ida!” It was Lana, beckoning her to the car. With her heart missing every other beat, Ida ran to Lana’s outstretched hand. Lana took her hand and looked her seriously in the eye.

“The bomb is still live, ok?” Ida nodded and Lana continued. “We’re gonna get him out now but we need to go carefully. Do exactly as me and Has say. That means no interruptions, no sudden movements, nothing. Ok?”

“Ok,”

“Billy?” Has was calling to him. “We’re gonna guide you out of the car, ok mate?”

“I’m scared, Has,” Billy’s voice was so small that Ida had to fight with every fibre of her being not to reach in and pull him out herself.

“I know, mate, I know, but you’re gonna be fine. Lana’s still here, and Ida too. We’ll look after you. Ida,” He spoke directly to her now. “Lana and I are gonna be on either side of the car, making sure Billy can manoeuvre safely. You stay here and wait for him to get to you.”

“Ok,”

“Did you here that Billy? When we say so, start moving yourself towards Ida!”

The two EXPOs moved to either side of the car, Lana with Billy, Has by the passenger seat. Lana spoke. “Billy, very slowly recline your seat for me so that it’s lying flat.” With a shaking hand he did so, and Ida had to grip the window frame to stay calm. Fuck. Come on, Ida. Billy needs you.

“Perfect. Now, slowly turn in your seat towards Has, and bring your feet up onto the chair. Nice one.” Billy was on all fours, facing the rear window. His arms were close to buckling in fear, and a few beadlets of sweat and tears dropped on the seat below him. “Look up for me, Billy. Ida’s right there, waiting for you.” Billy raised his eyes, and sure enough saw Ida there, framed by the rear window. She smiled a watery smile, her breath catching as he looked at her, and held out a hand.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered to him. Billy continued to watch her, as though he was unsure she was real.

“Very carefully for me, Billy, move yourself onto the backseat.” Lana encouraged, but Billy was frozen. “You can do it, Bill. We wouldn’t make you do it if we weren’t certain you’d be fine.” Tentatively he began to shuffle forwards, then, feeling fresh air through the window, hurried towards Ida. “Not too fast, Billy!” Worry hitched in Lana’s throat as she called to him. He slumped onto the back seat, and Ida reached in to stroke his hair. Billy whimpered at her touch. Lana and Has positioned themselves by the back windows.

“Almost there!” Lana sounded more like she was talking to herself than Billy. “Now, pull yourself up onto the boot.” Tremulous excitement pooled in Ida’s stomach. She almost had him. Billy hauled himself into the cramped space between the boot and the roof of the car. Ida wasted no time. She hooked her arms beneath his armpits and pulled. Dragging him through the window, Ida toppled backwards under his weight and he landed on top of her.

Immediately he began to wail, hands scrabbling at every piece of Ida he could reach. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she repeated to him as she peppered kisses across his cheeks and hair. His frantic crying was barely distinguishable, apart from occasionally rasping Ida, Lana. Lana dropped to the ground, wrapped her body around Billy’s and with shuddering breaths whispered, “oh my God.” Ida held the two Washingtons there, safe in her arms. She looked up to Has, who had removed his helmet to wipe his brow.

“Lana,” he said. “Let’s deactivate.”

Two paramedics raced onto the field and began to assess Billy. Realising he could stand, they extracted him from Ida’s grip helped him walk to the cordon, Ida following behind. Once there, a woman’s cry rent the air and Val Washington rushed towards her son. Ida looked towards the gathered crowd and saw her grandma holding the hand of an ashen-faced Jeff. Of course, they had seen the whole thing playing out from their homes across the park. What had happened, when they saw it was Billy’s car?

BANG

Birds took flight into the pink evening sky as smoke curled into the air. The bomb was gone. Ida sunk slowly to her knees and watched the smoke rise above Cranstead Fields and disappear. Removing her helmet, Lana trudged wearily towards her and sat on the grass at her side. She was staring at the car and Has finishing the final checks. Ida reached out to take her hand, and Lana jumped a little at the sensation. “He’s ok, Lana. You did it, he’s ok.” Lana’s bottom lip trembled and she dissolved into sobs. Ida didn’t know how long they sat there, Lana quivering with near-grief and herself numbly replaying the days events, but when a gentle hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see her grandma’s kind face looking down at her, Ida noted that the sky had turned from deepest pink to tangerine orange.

“Come on, love, let’s get you home.”

The ambulance was gone, Billy and his parents with it, and the crowd had disappeared. Without speaking, Lana stood and walked back to her team. Gwen encouraged Ida from the floor, held her face in her hands and said, “I’m so proud of you, my darling girl.” Together, they walked through the park gates, and home.

Note: It feels like such a long time since Billy and Ida were together, I can’t wait to give you guys the next chapter. I’m already working on it, but I want it to be perfect!

Sorry for any mistakes, I'm still quite ill so forgive me!

Tags: @jessssica1234 @anditsmywholeheart @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @aemonds-wifey @slytherincursebreaker @valerie977 @i-killed-ramsey @greenowlfactif @yentroucnagol @schniiipsel @just-emmaaaa @multiple-fandoms-girl

[mxsinizter]

Take Me Away Like A Dandelion Seed

*Hands over Mountain/Cumulus fluff*

Mountain just wants to hang out with one of his girls and appreciate her! (He makes her a cute little gift 🥰)

WC: 1,413

"Psst."

Cumulus turned in surprise, not having realized there was a ghoul at her door. The dim light from her desk caused a small glow on the lenses of the ghoul's helmet, contrasting their dark outfit. Based on the figure and scent, she quickly realized who it was.

"Mountain? You can come in."

He approached her where she sat at her vanity, jewelry box open and accessories neatly scattered across the desk. Cumulus watched him curiously as he reached out for a particular earring, holding it up to one of her lamps.

"This is cute, where'd you get it?" The amusement was clear in his voice and Cumulus giggled when she realized which set he was referring to.

"Hmm, pretty sure one of my best friends made me those, actually." Her smile was wide as her voice feigned ignorance, going along with Mountain's little play.

"Wow, sounds like a magnificent lad." Mountain smirked down at her as his thumb and index caressed her chin.

"Meh, he's alright I guess." Cumulus' shoulders lightly shook as she tried to hide her laughter. Mountain scoffed in return as he carefully laid the earrings next to its companion.

His hands moved to his pocket where he retrieved a small plastic bag, holding it up with two fingers in front of the ghoulette. "Well, now he's thinking twice about giving you these." Although hidden from Cumulus, his face sported a blush and a pride filled look.

Cumulus gasped enthusiastically as she realized what was in the small bag. It held a pair of earrings, wire containing dangling shiny rocks. She took the baggie from his grasp, opened it and carefully extracted both pieces of jewelry.

Mountain chuckled as he leaned against the desk, lightly sitting on it as he watched her. She inspected the earrings, running her fingers along the intricate pattern of the wire. Both rocks were a mixture of blue and white but one was roughly in the shape of a heart while the other resembled a crescent moon.

"Mountain, these are gorgeous! Are they really for me?" Cumulus looked up at the tall ghoul, her eyes shimmering with a child-like awe. Mountain leaned forward, placing both hands on either side of her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks.

"Of course they are. From the moment I found this one," he gestured with his chin to her hand holding the heart shaped rock against her chest, "I intended to make these for you."

Cumulus couldn't help the way her eyes teared up at that. Mountain laughed at the cute and greatful expression on her face. He hunched over to place a soft kiss on forehead, careful that his helmet didn't knock roughly into her horns. "Wanna try them on? I cleaned them not too long ago so they're ready to wear."

Cumulus nodded eagerly, holding the earrings for Mountain to take and tilted her head so her ear was exposed to him. He took them both as he pushed her hair to the side and slide the earring in place, repeating the same on the other side.

Gently shaking her head, Cumulus tried to get the feel of the jewelry; they were comfortably heavy and cool against her skin. She faced her vanity, turning her head to take in the jewelry framing her face. They matched her natural look very well, the white specks on the rocks mirroring her freckles.

Mountain leaned to the side, his head tilted above her as he observed her reflection. "You look as stunning as ever, 'Lus." His voice was soft, but filled the otherwise silent room. She stared at herself for a few more seconds before meeting Mountain's eyes past his lenses through his reflection in the mirror.

Her face was relaxed and joyful as she spoke, "Thank you, Mounty. I really, really love them." She turned in her seat to really look at him and grabbed a hold of his hand to kiss his palm.

"I'm glad, my love. I uh, I also came to ask if you wanted to go on a walk under the stars with me?" Mountain looked at Cumulus with a hopeful expression that morphed into amusement due to the way her earrings swung as she nodded.

"Yeah! I can definitely go for a walk with you - just let me get dressed!" Cumulus scrambled up from her seat and gave Mountain a quick hug before rushing around her room. As she slipped on warm clothes and shoes, he walked over to her helmet and readied it for her.

"There we go! All set." Meeting at the doorway, he helped her slide the helmet over her head, careful to not pull her curls or the earrings. Slipping her small hand into his, the two quietly made their way out the building hand in hand.

- - - - -

There was a peaceful hum coming from Cumulus as they walked. Mountain's fingers thrummed against her soft hand. It didn't take long to reach the nearest door to head outside. Mountain pushed the door open for Cumulus to exit before him, following closely behind. She grinned ecstatically as the cool air hit her skin and rushed ahead pulling a stumbling Mountain along with her.

"Race you to the gazebo?" Mountain's eyebrow upturned as he glanced down at her before looking over at the nearby structure.

"You get five seconds." Cumulus laughed and dashed off, counting down in her head. When she reached five, she sprinted, hopeful when the structure was only a few feet away. Of course, it wasn't quick enough to beat his fast long legs. Suddenly Mountain was at her side, sending her off track. They went tumbling down, Mountain making sure he'd cushion her fall.

The two burst out in laughter as they rolled, struggling to sit up from their position on the damp grass. Eventually catching their breaths, they sat and exchanged grins. Mountain carefully pulled his helmet off and shook off his hair, Cumulus following suit. He let himself fall back, long limbs sprawled across the grass.

Cumulus looked around and picked a dandelion from her other side and turned to Mountain with a teasing smirk, "it looks like you!"

He rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed her forearm, pulling himself up to lean in close to her ear. "You blow me away." Cumulus giggled and blew the dandelion seeds at his face, causing the earth ghoul to sputter when they tickled his face.

Cumulus bit her lip, deciding not to mention the few that stuck to his hair; it was a very cute look on him. His features soft and relaxed made Cumulus feel warm and a small wind swirl surrounding them picked up pieces of the earth as her heart soared.

Mountain broke the stare first as he bumped his forehead to hers, careful with their horns. He rubbed his nose against hers as a hand toyed with the moon shaped earring. His eyes roamed her face in the slightly awkward position which made Cumulus laugh when his eyes went cross-eyed.

"Such a beautiful sight tonight." Cumulus instantly flushed as she lightheartedly pushed him away and looked up towards the stars.

"You haven't even looked up yet since we got outside."

"I don't need to. I have all the beauty I need right in front of me." His hands settled on her thighs with slight comforting movements.

"Dammit Mounty, stop being so effortlessly amazing. Give the rest of us a chance," she joked, looking down at their helmets while a hand tugged on an earring.

"I only dare speak the truth, my sweet amaryllis." Cumulus let her head fall against Mountain's bicep and hugged his arm, a dramatic sigh escaping her.

"I love you, Mountain."

"And I love you, Cumulus. Endlessly." She preened at his words, soaking up the love and glanced up. She took in the sight of the stars glimmering behind Mountain, who's dark eyes never left her. What a sight to behold.

"Thank you, Mountain. You've made my night infinitely better." She placed a hand over his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"We can stay until the sun comes up? If you'd like?" Cumulus gazed at him lovingly and grabbed a hold of his face to bring Mountain closer to her eye level.

"I'd love that, darling." A loose, goofy smile found its way onto his face as he cupped her chin. Their lips met as did earth and wind when the night breeze set dandelion seeds free.

[aurorablue22]

Scarface - Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Somebody decides to mess with Moony. 

(A/N): This can be interpreted as a platonic or romantic relationship between Remus and the reader, it hasn’t been specified! Also, as far as I know, I have created the names and characters of Michael Bershire and his crowd. 

Warnings: violence, blood, mention of scars, heavy swearing. If you are sensitive to these things, please do not continue below the “keep reading” line. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a typical Sunday night for Remus Lupin. As per usual, he had picked up prefect duties for this evening, and wandered throughout the corridors of the castle. 

Midnight was fast approaching, and Remus paused for a moment. Due to him being a werewolf, his senses were amplified, meaning that one of his abilities was superb hearing. 

Lupin cocked his head towards the dungeon staircase, where he heard a bit of commotion. He didn’t even have a moment to approach the noise before the cause was revealed. 

Michael Bershire and his Slytherin gang. 

Remus forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course, they just had to be out while he was on prefect rounds. 

It seemed that the five lads didn’t notice Remus until he cleared his throat. They quickly snapped their heads in his direction.

“Lupin, ol’ chap! What’re you doing out so late? Haven’t you got a book to read?” Michael Bershire held his head up high, an annoyingly perfect grin plastered on his face. His gelled auburn hair reflected so strongly the candlelight in the halls. 

Remus had to refrain from rolling his eyes as Bershire took a few steps forward. “Gentlemen, it’s approaching midnight. I’ll have to ask you to return to your dormitories.”

“Oh and that we will do! It’s just, we’re a bit preoccupied at the moment. Isn’t that right, lads?” Bershire looked back at his companions, who nodded fervently. 

Remus was taller than Bershire, but because of his horrible posture, they seemed to be on the same level. He bit back a grimace when Bershire’s painfully minty breath stung his eyes. 

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” Bershire dramatically turned, his house robes swishing behind him. 

“Well then,” Remus says, “I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to your head of house, and I don’t believe you’d want that to happen. So if you don’t mind-”

And just as dramatically, the Slytherin boy whipped around again. 

“What was that, Scarface?” 

Before Remus could even form words, Bershire was stalking towards him. 

“How dare you speak to me in such an authoritative tone? After all, you’re... well you’ve got mud in your veins!” 

“And blood on his face.” one of the boys behind him added. Remus recognized him to be Adam Percival, the greasiest boy he knew. 

“You’re right Perce, he does have blood on his face. What, was ol’ Minnie upset you didn’t grade her papers for her? Or was it-”

“Shut it, Bershire.” Remus tried his best to compose himself, but couldn’t seem to look away from his shuffling feet. The full moon was only a few days ago, and he’d been left with a couple scrapes around his jaw and cheeks. 

Michael Bershire was baffled. That is, until he came up with another one of his clever ideas. 

“Boys, I’d say we teach Lupin a little lesson. After all, he should know - given his crowd - that snitches are frowned upon.” The 5 Slytherins slowly stalked towards Remus. “And you know what they say-”

“Snitches get stitches.” 

It was then that Remus was swiftly grabbed by two of the boys, and his arms were held behind him as Bershire swung at his stomach. Once they’d decided he’d had enough, Remus’ arms were dropped and his knees buckled under their forceful kicks. 

They pushed him onto the ground where they continued to harm him; kicking and hitting with all their might. It seemed like ages before they let up. 

Slowly, they backed away, but not before Michael could kneel before Remus’ shaking form. 

“Remember what I said, Lupin.”

And with that, he stood up and hurried away, while Remus was left alone in the dark corridor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius’ head perked up as Remus entered the common room portrait hole. 

“Moony you’re back! Merlin we thought you got lost-”

“Where ya been, mate?” James cut him off. “We had to play three extra rounds of exploding snap waitin’ for you!”

Peter sat up from his position in front of the fireplace. “Alright Moony? You seem kinda quiet-”

“Good Godric Remus, you look awful!” Sirius shouted when Lupin faced them. 

“Yeah, and I feel just as great.” he said, taking a seat on the worn out couch. 

James came to sit on the armrest beside him. “What happened Moons?”

After Remus came to explain the series of events, the rest of the Marauders were fuming. 

“Oh I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him!” Sirius shouted as he kicked over a coffee table.

“Sirius please, not now!” Remus groaned, covering his ears. “All I want right now, is to go to my room, and get a good night’s rest. Alright? I’ll deal with this bullshit in the morning.” 

“Here, we’ll help you up.” James offered his arm, to which Remus took politely. Just as they were lifting the lycanthrope off the couch, they heard giggles coming from the staircase leading to the girls dormitories. 

“Who’s there?” Peter whisper shouted, receiving a “You bloody idiot!” and a slap from Sirius. 

“It’s just us!” Marlene whisper shouted back, as she, followed by you and Lily, entered the common room. 

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“Nice to see you too, Black.” Marlene raised an eyebrow. 

“If you really wanted to know, we were hungry, and figured the house elves might have some snacks for us. What’s your excuse?” Lily said, crossing her arms over her pajama top. 

“Remus just got back from prefect duties, figured we would-”

“Sweet Merlin Remus, what happened to you?” you suddenly exclaimed, making Peter jump. 

You rushed over to him, taking hold of his face, forcing him to look at you. 

“It’s nothing (Y/N), really. My transformation was a little rough, that’s all-”

“Remus, your transformation was three days ago. What the bloody hell is all this?!”

“Bershire beat him up.” James confessed. 

Remus turned to face Potter, shooting imaginary daggers at him. 

“She was bound to find out anyway! Besides, look what he’s bloody done!”

“Michael Bershire did this to you? That bastard-” 

Remus gently removed your hands from his face. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t want to deal with this right now. Can somebody please just help me to my room?” 

The boys swooped in and half carried Remus to their dormitories, while you and your girls quietly said goodnight. 

“Can you fucking believe that?!”

“Marlene, hush.”

“That fucking twat. Oh, I can’t wait to see what the boys have in store for him. I bet-”

“Marlene, please! Remus said he didn’t want to deal with this right now, so we’re dropping the subject. I say we go back to our rooms and get some rest.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“Swallow your spit. Now c’mon.” Lily ushered Marlene back up the stairs, before turning back and taking your hand. 

“You alright, (Y/N/N)?” she gave you a knowing look. 

“I’m with Marlene. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily was the earliest riser in your dorm. That being said, she took it upon herself to wake the rest of you up in the morning. You’d had a half decent sleep, and as you rubbed your eyes awake, you heard the playful banter of Marlene and Alice.

“Marls, get a move on!! You know what we said about those Hollywood showers!”

“It’s Americano, Ally!”

“I don’t give a damn what it is! Get out!”

You and Lily were ready before the rest of the girls, so you walked arm in arm down to the Great Hall. It wasn’t until the Marauders sat at your table you recalled everything that happened last night. 

“Alright (Y/N/N)? That vein in your forehead looks like its’ bout to burst.” Sirius said while grabbing a stack of pancakes. 

“Do you have an bloody clue what you’re going to do about this?! Remus, you can’t let Bershire off this easy.” you turned your head towards your favorite (and slightly bruised) lycanthrope. 

“I swear, I’m fine. And besides, the boys will work up something eventually.”

“Yea, eventually.” James exclaimed through forkfuls of food. “Moony made us promise to not even look at Bershire for a week!”

“A week?!”

James nodded enthusiastically, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

“Since when do you defend bullies, Remus?!” you practically yelled, clenching the cutlery you were holding. 

“It’s not that (Y/N), it’s just-”

“It’s because he’s afraid of him.” Peter blurted out, making everyone’s heads turn. His hands shot over his mouth in realization. 

“Why is it the only time you open your mouth it’s to say something stupid?” Sirius said, hanging onto a glare. 

“You’re afraid of Michael Bershire?! Remus that’s not healthy! That’s- that’s horrible! Sweet Merlin Rem, I’ll show him what to be afraid of-” Remus cut you off.

“I’ve told you already, please don’t make me repeat myself again.” Remus placed his hand over yours. “The boys will handle this eventually. If you really love me, stay out of it.”

You settled down then, but still scanned the Hall for any signs of Remus’ attacker. The rest of breakfast carried on as usual, the rest of your friends joining you for the meal. 

Sirius walked you and Mary to class, giving you each a courteous bow. 

“Shall I pick you up after your lesson, my fair ladies?” he said in a deep bow, with a rigid posh accent. “The gentlemen and I were planning on.. err.. skipping our courses.” 

You giggled at Sirius’ poor attempt of finding a replacement word for “skip”.

“Yeah, why not. See ya then, Black!” Mary turned towards the door.

“I bid you farewell my lovelies!” he then proceeded to bound down the hallway to Astronomy, which was on the complete opposite side of the castle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, passed fairly quickly. And just as he had promised, Sirius came to pick you up, now with James and Marlene in tow. 

Marlene beamed at the sight of you and Mary. 

“Thank Godric you’re here! I was getting tired of these two.”

James gave her a light shove. “We’ll be meeting Moony and Wormtail towards the east end.”

“Couldn’t convince Lily to come along?”

James looked like he was about to protest, but sighed in defeat. You and your friends continued down the corridor, eventually meeting Remus and Peter after their rigorous Astronomy note-taking. You soon found yourself squished between James and Remus, marching down the main hallway.

“Hey, I thought we were sticking to the east end?”

“Silly (Y/N), we were meeting in the east end.” Sirius explained, as if he were speaking to a child. “Now, we’re on our way to the west end.”

“Ah right, and it makes perfect sense to take the busiest corridor in the school.” Mary quipped, and Marlene giggled.

The walk was pleasant, and filled with greetings from fellow classmates. Every now and then, James and Sirius would snicker about something, or mutter jokes to the group. It was then, that you saw him.

Michael Bershire, proud and tall, lead his pack of nuisances opposite you down the bright hallway. Most students ducked out of the way to avoid him, and a few first years were visibly shaking at the sight of him.  

Your vision went red as you locked eyes on your target. It was time.

“James,” you slipped your bag off and passed it to your left, “mind holding this f’me?”

“Uh, yeah su- (Y/N)!!”

In the blink of an eye, you had left your friends’ sides and found yourself hurtling towards Bershire. Although you were smaller than him, the sheer impact of your collision with him knocked the two of you off your feet. You landed on top on him. 

He knocked his head off the stone floor, and for a moment you thought he’d lost consciousness. But the bewildered look in his eyes told you otherwise. It was now or never. 

“YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” you screamed, letting hell rain down on Michael Bershire. You swung left and right, pummeling his once perfectly sculpted face. You could feel the bruises forming on your knuckles already. “HOW DARE YOU TOUCH REMUS LUPIN?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU BLITHERING FUCK!”

Somehow, Bershire had managed to wrap his legs around your waist, pulling you towards him and flipping your bodies so that you were beneath him. He pinned your wrists beside your head, and you felt the concrete sting your hands. 

‘No, how dare you, you muddy little bitch?!”

And that’s what set you off. You produced a sound that could only be described as a battle cry, and flung your forehead up and into his. Distracted by the headbutt, Bershire’s tense core loosened the slightest bit. It was enough for you crunch up and bring your knees into his groin, causing him to cry out in pain. 

Using his own momentum against him, you successfully flipped around again, resuming your position above his quivering form. Your hands found themselves around his throat, and without realizing it, you were bashing his head in the ground. 

thunk, thunk, thunk.

It was only Professor McGonagall’s shrill cry of fear that brought you back to reality. 

“MISS (L/N), GET OFF OF THAT BOY!”

You felt strong hands wrap around your arms and shoulders, whipping around to see that it was the four Marauders pulling you away from Bershire. The Slytherin gang was dragging said boy’s writhing and groaning form onto a cot from the hospital wing. 

You only stopped your kicking and resistance when McGonagall approached you, pointing her finger in your face, looking more angry than you’d ever seen her. 

“My office. Now.” she spoke, in such a tone that visible shivers went down your spine. The boys had yet to let go of your arms, and half carried you down the hallway of gawking and goggling students. 

Once arriving to her office, McGonagall stood in the doorway. She looked expectant and impatient all wrapped into one. You were finally let go of, and slowly turned to the four boys behind you. 

James and Peter still looked a bit shocked, and you found little comfort in the proud look Sirius was trying to hide. But Remus’ face is what hurt you the most.

“Rem, I-” you croaked. He wouldn’t even look at you. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

McGonagall cleared her throat bitterly behind you, cutting you off. You whispered another, barely audible “I’m sorry”, before following the Professor into her office. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello my lovelies!! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Let me know if I should follow up with this fic! 

Also, a reminder that requests are open!! <3

~Aurora

[thedemonconstantine]

adventurepunks​:

“I am surrounded by workaholics!” Zatanna sighed out loud and very very obviously sighed to get them to pay attention that she dissaproved that both Nick and Ash seemed to be defined by their massive amount of workload that they required to complete even thinking about work when they were enjoying a nice drink and some take away. “You can have my tuning fork, just post it back when you get yours back or something” she wouldn’t need one for a while and if she did she could easily acquire one. If Nick was being the spirit of generosity she too as his apprentice would be as well specially if it was required for Ash’s task.

“Write a list of what you need and we will make sure you have it by tomorrow afternoon. Our procurer doesn’t work public holidays but a urgent fire message rarely goes unanswered…” The ingredients were not exactly rare and what was the point of having a good working relationship with an alchemist if not to be allowed to raid her pantry of hoarded stashes of random ingredients once in a while.

“How you don’t throw up John is a miracle” she giggled at his abomination of a ‘sandwich’, it wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’s seen him eat but it certainly was cringe inducing, her face scrunched studying him like some wilderbeast grazing in the wild.

Their meal finished, table cleared up and time came to conquer New York…or at least a small part of Brooklyn. “Are you sensitive to energies or only the energies of the Convergence lines?” Zatanna asked Ash looping her arm around his to walk side by side with him, he was such a fascinating guest after all. “Sometimes a room just feels electric, you know?” Some adepts made a whole career out of siphoning said energy but such nefarious things had a time and a place to be addressed.

Two ghosts of workmen in attire of the 30s were chatting outside their local pool bar but so faint was their connection to this world that they were practically fading away with each passing day. You eventually would be forgotten and you’d forget too…and the peace of oblivion would embrace you never truly have found peace in the afterlife. It was a sad thing to reflect on but Nick snapped out of said reflection pretty fast when a man was thrown right out the door causing Nick to push John right up against the nearby wall to shield him out of reflex.

If I ever see you around these again it will be the last thing you ever see motherfucker!

Oh hey guys! The barman slash bouncer greeted the trio and even held the door for Zatanna.

“Spare us the side of heart attacks next time?” Nick suggested feeling his heart rapidly beat in his chest from nearly having a grown ass man used as a projectile on him. 

You’ve seen worse. Hey man! the bartender slapped his hand against John’s to greet him. The trio always were a peculiar looking bunch but in New York everyone had their own little flare and seeing as the trio usually kept to themselves they were always a welcome sight.

“What’s everyone drinking?” Zatanna inquired to go queue up at the bar while John found them a table somewhere. The good thing about a good dive bar was that even in New Year’s eve it wasn’t as packed as the fancy places…and John usually somehow managed to get a table relinquished for them if it was.

“Have you played pool before?” Nick asked their honored guest, some Walkers got very involved some kept themselves from purposely getting too attached to any realm.

“I play carrom, if that is all the same to you,” Ash was politely bemused when he studied the surroundings that was referred to as a ‘dive bar’. It looked just as much as any other watering hole did in his opinion, but perhaps it was the locale that had the draw. 

“Do you mean to present me with a challenge of the pool?” Oh, so perhaps this then! 

“I’ll have a mug of tap, thank you Miss Zatanna-ji.”

“Oi, yer lookin’ gud lad, Kiss yer Ma fer me willje? Heh!” Bartender, bouncer, John always had a way around these places. He snagged a drink off another table too, not his fault if it was left unattended!

“Mmm, stout, me favo,” Said with a big foamy moustache just to annoy the hell out of Zee!

“Me saviour,” John had the glittering eyes and all too, feigning a swoon from the very gallant swooping save Nick managed earlier by the door.

“Aye I play carrom too I does! Awful shite at it buh is brill it is! Dun need sticks fer a game ‘n powder goes on th’ board instead. Needs more skills den marbles it does. Aye buh g’wed, I’ll keep Zee-zee-ji company.”

“All energies are unique and have their own chakra. All chakra make the dhammacakka, the wheel that keeps moving. I see all energies even now, Miss Zatanna-ji, and you have one that is of the brightest kind. Mr Nick not so much, and Mr John is strange. Mr John’s energies look like magnetic dust that is being pulled this way and that. I’ve never seen an energy like this before. Mr Nick looks purple.” 

Ash was finally done with his procurement list and handed it over to Nick with a grateful nod. 

“Mr Nick’s absence of gold energy and the abundance of grey shows his specialty is necromancy. I can see half of him is cloaked in the Black.” 

“Cor, wohsit yeh blimpin’ at rite now, mate? I’ve got woh pullin’ where?” John was both intimidated and amused at how sensitive the Walker’s ajna was.

“Stop peekin’ at me knickers ‘n go play some bloody pool!”

[missymurphy1985]

The Strip Club - Cillian Murphy X Female OC

A/N - Set in 2010, and I've used fictional names for his wife/children

A night out with his brother and closest friends doesn't end the way Cillian expects it to.

Warning - Smut

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone

"I'm really not up for this Pad, can't we just go for a beer at the Anchor instead?" Cillian complained to his younger brother.

"You haven't been out with us in months, Dermot has had this all planned out for ages Cill, come on!" He rolled his eyes, knowing he couldn't get out of it, no matter what he said. Pulling his boots on, the two of them left the house, getting into the waiting taxi outside.

Walking into the strip club via the VIP entrance at the back, Cillian kept his head low and his brother and friends close around him so as not to be seen. Last thing he needed was photos in the press of him coming here!

"We're here for The Secret Show? Booked under Padraig Murphy?" Paddy told the bouncer, who checked everyone's ID and led them through a curtained off section at the back of the club. No cameras, no members of the public, completely private.

The boys sat around the stage area, a waitress coming over to take their drinks order. Once she returned with them, the lights dimmed and the music from the movie Burlesque began to play through the speakers. A single spotlight on a stool on the stage.

Cillian could feel his cheeks burning, he genuinely had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. He'd never been to a place like this, had always avoided them like the plague. The idea of a stripper had never appealed to him. Someone he'd never met, stripping to her underwear to please him and his drunk friends and even more cringe-worthy, his little brother, was not something he was remotely interested in.

The dancer came out, swaying her hips as she walked to the stool. Perching herself on it, legs crossed. Dressed in a black corset, short black skirt, fishnet stockings, black stiletto heels, and a black masquerade mask covering the top half of her face. Her long, silky brown hair flowing loosely down her back.

She was beautiful, there was no mistaking it. Cillian spotted Paddy nudging Dermot and whispering something in his ear and rolled his eyes. Probably something incredibly inappropriate about the young girl in front of them. He couldn't help feel sorry for her - lecherous old men creeping all over her as she danced for them, throwing money at her like she was a cheap prostitute...

The routine began. Cillian remained stoic, arms folded across his chest while the other lads cheered, louder each time an item of clothing was sexily removed from her lithe body. Her heels had been kicked off, her stockings slowly moving down her thighs, he couldn't watch any more. Standing, he made his way over to the bar to order another Guinness.

"I'd have thought you'd be over there enjoying the show with your friends?" A familiar voice from behind the bar startled him.

"Kate?"

"Long time no see," she smiled.

"Wow! Last person I expected to bump into tonight, how are you?"

"I'm okay, I see you're doing pretty well too." He nodded, his latest film, Inception, had been a box office smash. Professionally, at least, he could say he was doing well.

"Yeah, I guess so." His head lowered slightly, as Kate placed his pint in front of him.

"You guess? You okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine. Although, no disrespect? Kinda wish I was anywhere but here right now!" He chuckled. Kate smirked.

"I get off in 20minutes, fancy a walk?"

"You know what, I'll take you up on that Kate. I'll meet you outside?"

"Deal."

Thirty minutes later, after Cillian had made his excuses to his brother, he was smoking a cigarette walking along the canal with Kate at his side.

"Did you travel the world like you planned after school?" He asked, stubbing the cigarette out on the floor.

"I did, a full year of travelling before I went to university."

"Where did you go?" She told him about Australia, backpacking across Vietnam and Thailand, before heading to California for three months on a work visa.

"It was amazing. Truly wonderful. I met some great people over there. But all good things must come to an end, right?" She looked at him, and quickly looked away.

"I couldn't stand in the way of you living your dream Kate, you know that. We ended on grand terms though, right?" She linked her arm through his and squeezed it.

"We did. Promised we'd stay in touch though didn't we..."

"Yeah, I admit that was my fault. Tanya wasn't overly keen on you was she?" His ex wife. Or soon to be ex, anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened Cill. Are you okay?"

"I'm getting there, you know? If she'd rather fuck her friend's husband instead of her own, then so be it," he smiled as much as he could.

"Well if it's any consolation, she's clearly lost her mind." She squeezed his arm again, and he found himself moving it so it was wrapped over her shoulders. He could feel her shivering and pulled her a little tighter against him.

They approached a small apartment block around 100yards further down the canal, and Kate dug her keys out of her handbag.

"Thanks for walking me home. It was good to see you again," she smiled, unhooking herself from him.

"Maybe I could - " he was interrupted by the door opening, and a younger girl stood in the doorway with a toddler in her arms.

"I'm so sorry Kate, I gave her Calpol an hour ago but I couldn't get her to settle..."

"Hey it's okay, I'll take her now. Get yourself home sis, I'll see you tomorrow yeah?" The young girl nodded, before nodding at Cillian and heading off down the street.

"Liane grew up!" Cillian laughed. The last time he'd seen her she'd still been in primary school. "And who's this little one?" He reached for the toddlers hand, grinning when she took his little finger and squeezed it.

"This is my daughter, Lily."

"Well Lily, you've certainly got your mama's eyes, haven't you?" Cillian glanced quickly at Kate's left hand.

"Her Dad isn't around Cill, I'm not married." He bent his head down. Busted.

"Then am I allowed in for a coffee at least?"

"If you don't mind sharing me with a teething baby, then yes, you can come in!" Kate led him through and fetched the teething granules from the cupboard and a teething ring from the freezer. Cillian offered to take Lily while she prepped a cup of warm milk for her.

Seeing him bounce her on his arm made her smile.

"Reminds me of Jack and Niamh when they were teething. Had to be moving around, constantly needed distraction. You okay if I take her a walk around after? See if I still have the magic touch?"

Kate nodded, and took her back to give her the nurofen, teething granules, followed by her sippy cup of warm milk. Once she'd finished, Cillian offered his arms out for her. She reached up for him, surprising Kate as she normally shied away from strangers, and off they went around the apartment. She watched from a distance as he took her around, showing her the ornaments on the window ledge, her reflection in the mirror, bouncing her up and down as she giggled lightly.

After around fifteen minutes, he made his way over to the radio in the kitchen, fiddling with the buttons before he found the station he was looking for. Soft, gentle classical music played through the speakers. He turned the volume down so it was barely audible, and leaned Lily into his shoulder, rocking her side to side gently. She nuzzled into his neck, Kate watching, smiling, as her baby's eyes grew heavier. She could feel past feelings coming back as she watched them. As much as she'd pretended losing him when he left University to pursue his acting career was fine and she had gotten over it, she never had. And now, bumping into him again all these years later, those feelings were coming back with some force.

Lily was snoring gently in his arms now, and Kate gently took her from him. Taking her into a small room at the back of the apartment. Coming out ten minutes later and closing the door as quietly as possible.

"I'd say you still have it Cill," she laughed, switching the baby monitor on in the corner of the living room where he sat on the sofa, two glasses of red wine in front of him. "You read my mind."

She sat next to him, clinking her glass with his.

"Did you meet her Dad while you were travelling?" He asked, after taking a sip.

"Yeah.. he erm.. he died not long ago. Cancer."

"Shit I'm sorry... Oh Kate that's awful..."

"No it's okay.. it was just a brief fling you know, we weren't together or anything. But it's sad for her. She'll never have that father figure. Just me and her against the world now." She felt his fingers brush her hair out of her face and gently down her cheek. Turning to him, she put her glass down on the table and turned to face him. He placed his down too, and moved closer.

Their faces centimetres apart, she could feel his warm breath against her own.

"I should probably go..."

"Again?" She whispered. She didn't want him to leave her again, as much as he had no intention of actually leaving. Their lips met, a kiss that was fifteen years overdue.

"I haven't spent a day not thinking about you, Kate..." He smiled, pulling away.

"You mean that, or are you just looking to get your end away?"

"Which is why I'm going to kiss you now, and go home. But I want to see you again. If I can?"

"And what if I don't want you to go home..." She kissed him again, this time straddling her legs over his thighs on the sofa. Even if this was a one night stand for him, she needed him, and he wasn't getting away this time.

"Then I'm not going home." His hips rose to meet hers, gyrating over his erection under his jeans, both of them removing each others clothes in record time until they were left in just their underwear.

"My god, you're incredible... Let me taste you..." He flipped her onto her back on the sofa, spreading her legs and placing gentle kisses along the inside of her thighs. His fingers teasing against her underwear, softly caressing her mound, before sliding a finger inside and groaning at how wet she was already.

"Cillian please...." She almost whimpered underneath him, her hips squirming against his lips and fingers. He pulled her underwear down her legs, and unceremoniously threw them across the room before moving his lips to her open slit, drawing his tongue slowly up and down her folds. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the cry of ecstacy within it so as not to wake Lily.

"You need to be quiet, you're not going to want me to stop once I've started Kate..." He smirked, before attacking her clit with his mouth, drawing it between his lips, rolling his tongue over it, increasing the pressure. His fingers pressing into her thighs, surely leaving bruises, as his mouth worked magic on her, her hips rocking against him.

"Oh god... That's so good, please don't stop..." Her words coming out in breathy little moans as her orgasm built quickly. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him where she needed him. Two fingers suddenly entered her, making her gasp as they found the small bundle of nerves deep inside her, pushing and rubbing against it hard, matching his motions against her clit. Suddenly his mouth was off her, his fingers pumping into her, the palm of his hand pressed against her clit now as he moved his body up, his lips now pressed to hers. The taste of herself on him turned her on further, and she could feel herself letting go.

"Cum for me..." He whispered in her ear, sending her over the edge with a small cry into his shoulder, her body writhing against him. His fingers removed, replaced with his now solid cock as it pushed inside her quickly, picking up the same pace his hands were, hard and fast thrusts as he hooked her leg up under his elbow, forcing himself deeper.

Her nails scraped over his shoulders as she buried her face into his neck, frantic thrusts against each other, fifteen years of buried feelings coming out of them with a force that took her breath away.

"Yes... God yes..." Her moans into his neck drove him wild, her walls contracting around him pushing him closer. He could feel another orgasm building inside her, and angled his thrusts to hit that magical spot inside her perfectly.

"I'm so close Kate... So fucking close, you feel so good around me..."

"Cum inside me Cillian, please..." He grunted against her ear, nibbling on it gently as his hips pounded into her relentlessly now. Reaching his high, he flooded her, spilling inside her with a deep groan into her neck, sending her into her second orgasm, her legs wrapping tightly around his back pulling him even deeper inside her as she felt his cock pulsate, emptying into her.

He rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting, smiles forming as they looked into each others eyes.

"You're on the pill, right?" He chuckled, coming back to his senses.

"No." He lifted his head quickly.

"What?" She started to giggle, grinning at him.

"I'm on the coil, you're fine, don't worry!" He rested his head back into her neck, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Good to hear. I think three kids between us is enough for now, don't you?"

"What do you mean, for now?"

"I made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you Kate, I'm not planning on doing it again," his lips gently kissed the side of her neck, running the tip of his nose along her jawline softly.

He pulled out of her with a groan, taking her hand and leading her into her bedroom - he'd clocked which one it was earlier that evening.

Kate smiled watching him grow hard again, knowing not much sleeping was going to be done once they got in there...

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The infamous wild girl spends a night with Alfie and he soon seems to forget about her, or it seems until they run into each other in a familiar setting and this time, she’s the one pulling at his ropes.

Part 1

“Bite me..” “Where?”

The inside of the gallery is empty.

Other than the canvases laying around, splashes of paint on different surfaces and the many used rugs on the floor, there’s nothing else. There’s a hum that goes around, the quiet tone of a voice that fills the empty space. It’s a song from a movie, the one that Annabelle played for the younger girls in the school.

It’s hard to tell what time it is, the sun is not so cheerful these days. The sleeves of the dress you have on are covered with paint but you’re not the one to care. Most of the clothes you own have splashes of paint on them anyway. There’s the smell of oil paint but it’s familiar, there’s comfort in it.

You recall the bloke who gave you this place.

Some of the lads were so rich that they didn’t mind giving away a small  property for the pretty lady who was willing to kiss them. In many occasions, you had been that lady. That was as far as you had taken with that particular lad, he still thought you’d open your legs for him but you just kept him waiting, on his toes like most men liked to be even though they wouldn’t admit it.

The etiquette classes start in an hour, you realise once you have fully grasped what time it is. It takes half an hour to get to the boarding school, a little more to prepare yourself for the scoldings you are going to have to listen to for showing up in a paint covered dress. There’s the meeting after that, the generous donors are invited to the house for an event. 

It’s to show appreciation, Annabelle says, but you know the school’s just trying to snag more money from the rich. It’s like that night where they’d paired up girls with people twice their age to show their ‘good manners’ when it just meant that they needed them to be out of their hair for the new youngings. The men were mostly in their thirties, rich and known around the area, although they were all unattractive and inappropriate.

Yours hadn’t been though.

Alfie was his name, you recalled. He had blue eyes that were curious at times but he mostly reminded you of a calm ocean that could sweep you at any given moment. He’d taken you to his house that night, being a saviour of sorts and save you from the wrath of the head lady. 

He had turned out to be nothing like you’d expected. His house was fairly large, and you’d seen your fair share of lavish houses. The furniture was mostly made of wood, the calm image of the interior suited him and it was easy to pinpoint that he, for a sole fact, lived on his own. He’d told you his maid had gone home but you could help yourself to anything you’d wanted and he had stared at you the whole time you played with his dog.

He wasn’t rude but intense. He’d asked you questions through the night, some of them were answered whereas for some, you just clicked your tongue. You had played a game of question for a question and he’d done the same, answering only a handful of what you’d asked. 

But both of you had heard things on the street.

The chatter never stopped and especially not when it came to people that stood out, which was Alfie and you. You’d heard of the jewish gangster, too scary to even have a proper look at his face, they said. He’d killed many before, you knew that for a fact from the way he had looked at you when you’d asked if he’d killed over a dozen people. People didn’t talk to him, they just got out of his way and prayed that he didn’t pick on them. He had a temper, it was easy to tell from the way his calm side would disappear but he had been nothing but kind to you.

He’d also heard things about you. It was impossible not to, you thought, especially when you were someone like Alfie. You were the infamous girl every cockney banged on about, it was the way you moved or your million dollar smile he’d heard about but he hadn’t believed in any of it. He was proven wrong when he’d seen you, you were much younger than he’d thought but had a side to you that he’d only seen in reckless men during the war, the kind of people who’d go out knowing they wouldn’t see the end of it.

You didn’t think much of the way his eyes would soften when they landed on you.

Daydreams were not your thing, trouble was and you were known for it. You knew that Alfie was a cruel man in a harsh line of business and that night was the one time your paths had crossed and it would remain that way. Even though you couldn’t deny the fact that he sparked your curiosity.

A thrilling one he was, Alfie.

You had met your share of men, as most of the city knew, who were all dull and rather boring. Alfie seemed calculated, cold and distant at first and he was all those things but it was easy to see the layers he had, he needed time to peel back all of them to reveal a truer version of himself and that was a challenge you were willingly up to.

Although you doubted he’d come around again.

It had been a lucky day for you when he’d showed and saved you from hours of endless posh talk but that happened rarely, you knew. You had no problem with the life you had now: parties, sneaking out and making trouble. As far as you could tell, the lads liked it and that’s all you needed to get out of the boarding school with the excuse of having a date.

You’d had a lot of them until now but no one stuck. You were young, that was no deniable but the night was younger. Your reputation preceded you anyway, there was no reason to hide that and especially not when you’d turned out to be the opposite of everything the ladies in the school expected from you. It was fun, to say the least.

After making it to the school and hearing an earful from Annabelle about just how unlike a lady you were, you went up to change for the event. The classes had begun anyway and you didn’t want to attend. The mirror in your room soon showed the reflection of someone you knew, you liked her.

The blush colored dress had been deep in your closet somewhere with the delicates, it reached just under your knees with the silk material. The weather was cold for a slip dress, or so you figured so a beige cardigan was thrown over the dress and your hair was left unruly, the way it was after a shower. You didn’t bother scrubbing your hands hard enough in the shower to get the paint off, it looked better this way.

And so you made your way downstairs and saw that some of the most generous donors had already made their way into the large salon near the entrance. There were pastries and little treats everywhere, no drink other than red wine was served and you realised, almost all of the people who’d showed up were men. They liked to look at pretty young things, you knew, so they had given away more money than they could realised and you were sure some of the older girls would marry these rich men, it was regular occurrence. 

Just when you were about to enter the salon and say hi to couple of these said gentlemen, you felt a harsh tug on your arm as Annabelle made you face her older face.

“Y/N, my dear..” she spoke in a soft tone. My dear? She never called you that. You squinted your eyes and didn’t say anything but she kept on talking anyway. “There’s a guest coming in a few minutes...He requested your company through the evening.” she said, the tone of her voice unfamiliar to you. Was it jealousy Annabelle was feeling?

“You’ll behave, won’t you?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. It was no. You nodded regardless before she spoke again but didn’t realise a big car, bigger than the ones the other gentlemen came in pulled up right in front of the school and a cane stepped out. 

“Use your words, dear?” she said one last time while not letting go of your arm. She was behaving suspiciously but you chose to ignore it, it wasn’t your problem.

“Yes, Madam.” you half-whispered but before she could scold you furthermore, you heard a familiar voice. The one that had been hanging at the back of your mind since he’d left.

“’ere’s the lass I came to see.” he spoke, your eyes widening before you gained your composure again. It would take a lot for him to impress you, he knew that.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” Annabelle spoke and you shot him a knowing smirk. He was putting on a plan like he did when your teachers were around but in private, it was you who played the devil.

“Yeah, it ‘s. Why the fuck is everybody inside, then?” he asked and you chuckled, not low enough so it made Annabelle turn to you and then to the broad gentlemen who was currently drinking your figure in a dainty slip dress.

“Well, the weather’s not been the upmos-”

Annabelle started speaking but Alfie just took a few steps towards you and she immediately stopped. His hand was tugging at his beard, your amused orbs met his and you eyed the hat afterwards.

All along, Alfie ignored the way Annabelle’s eyes widened. He had no manners, she concluded but it’s what made him better than the rest. He had no time for bullshit and you came to realise that once more as he stood right in front of you, hand around his cane while the other brushed through his beard. You had to look up to meet his eyes as he was twice your size but you were fairly short and he was larger than the average person.

“‘ello, lass.” he said, a hint of a smirk on his plump lips hidden between layers of scruff. You tore your eyes away from the dreamy pink clouds and met his orbs with a smile.

“Nice hat.” you said, a giggle at the end of the sentence. You didn’t want to do the proper greeting and all that, you knew he was here to see you so why waste time?

You saw Annabelle go crazy at your words, since you hadn’t said ‘good afternoon, mister’ with a fucking curtsy like she’d taught you on numerous occasions. You’d just smiled sheepishly and made a remark about his hat. Alfie realised it soon after your eyes drifted away to the old lady and he decided to remedy the cause for the rest of the evening.

“Her, yeah, she’ll be with me for the rest of the fuckin’ evenin’. That a problem?” he spoke, turning to Annabelle while your eyes caught his rings again. You had traced his tattoo the last time you’d seen him but you wanted to feel the golden  rings against your skin. 

She nodded, almost frantically and you chuckled with an unimpressed face. She was nothing but screams at you but when a rich guy told her something, it was like she has lost all power and became an obedient servant of sorts. You caught the flickers of jealousy mixed with worry in her orbs when he looked at you again.

He was dangerous, you knew that for a fact as most of London did, too. He wasn’t so easy to the eye, which was why he lit something up in you. He looked strong, enough to crush a man’s windpipe with one hand but that didn’t worry you, he didn’t seem like the type to hurt a woman.

“Shall we?” you spoke in the sweetest you could muster. He didn’t know where you’d be taking him but he shot the curly haired bloke,Ollie, a look and he disappeared in a matter of seconds as Annabelle also took the hint.

He offered his arm to you and you smiled wickedly, taking it still. The truth above it all was that Alfie had come back for more. He didn’t just pursue women. They were beautiful to look at but most of them were too scared of his reputation, which was mostly made up of things that were true, to come talk to him. He had his share of women around brothels but that was it.

His line of work didn’t permit it anyway, he’d be putting someone innocent in danger if she were to become his in a public manner. Most women until now had been a bit too hesitant, not voicing their opinions on matters but just agreeing with what he would say but you didn’t do that. 

He knew you had a reputation as the girl who’d steal the air from your lungs and it was true, he had been proven of the fact the first time he’d met you. You danced in a way that made Miriam close her eyes and Alfie gulp, your smile was far too innocent in a way that made Alfie think that he was now dancing with the devil.

You were much younger, too but that didn’t bother him that much.

You took him up the stairs and he felt like he was in a brothel again until you made your way into the semi-large tea room. There were wooden shelves and paintings around and a tray. This was where you’d come to read and where Annabelle would have guests of high importance. The decoration was much more simple, he noted as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

“Tea?” you asked and he nodded. His eyes got stuck on your hips as you swayed them while walking towards he tray. 

He was looking at the devil herself now.

Alfie didn’t shy away from danger, everyone knew that but you were a different kind of danger. You could very well ruin Alfie, without even getting in his bed and he knew it, maybe that was why he wanted to find out just what you would do with a man of his wrath. 

You noted the way his eyes roamed around your body, stayed on your hips for a while and then focused on your hands that were still slightly covered in paint. You handed him his cup and he nodded as your hands brushed against his in an obvious manner.

“Yer hands..” he spoke, the first word to come out of his mouth since he came into the room and you settled on the chair, leg crossed in a manner Annabelle had labelled as ‘unladylike’.

You didn’t break eye contact while speaking, you knew the state of your hands. “I was painting.” you spoke in a soft manner and Alfie hated it, he hated the affect you had on him and how he’d been trying to get rid of the stiffness between his legs for the past two weeks since he’d seen you dance the way you had.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Solomons?” you asked in a sweet tone that made his attention snap back from his manly troubles to your shining orbs. A gangster of his reputation didn’t just come around for a cup of tea, or so you guessed.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he asked, the feeling of deja vu washing over you when you recalled the first encounter you had with him where he’d asked the same exact question. You still didn’t have a clue.

“Not really. Some said that you were a cruel gangster but that’s not too hard to believe.” you speak, eyeing the way his eyes look at yours with some kind of feeling in them but it’s hard to read the man.

“Why’s that?” he asked again, hands moving around the air towards you but you had no intentions of answering.

“You always ask this many questions?” you spat back but he was quick to battle it out.

“You always this fuckin’ feisty?” his voice was tailored with amusement behind it.

You smiled then, a genuine one and he felt the need to memorise the lines of your face but soon reminded himself of the man he was and the young little thing you were.

Alfie has called beforehand to make sure that you’d be in, that you wouldn’t be in a class or whatever it was that they made you do here, he wasn’t quite sure. He knew a couple men in his business who ended up getting married to girls from this school, they were proper and posh, raised the way a high society lady would be but he ceased to see any of that in you. And he wasn’t keen on seeing you in another gangster’s arm so he figured he should act quick.

“Ain’t ya’ supposed to be in a fuckin’ class?” he asked, not touching the cup you’d given him but drinking you instead. He thought it was the better option out of the two.

You appeared annoyed for a second, your pretty features seemingly tense and Alfie lost his breath but was quick to gather himself. You were truly as beautiful as they’d said. “You were the one who asked for me in the first place so I should be the one asking the questions.” you spat out, not daring to break eye-contact as he tugged at his beard.

“Ask away, luv.” he said, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. He was toying with you, in a way that made you feel all bothered which only happened when you felt like you didn’t have the upper hand. You always had the upper hand.

“What do you want?” you asked, in an innocent voice which threw Alfie off. You were fighting his wrath with fire, the kind of thing Alfie wasn’t accustomed to.

He didn’t speak.

He wasn’t sure, if he were to tell the truth. He felt drawn to you, not like a moth to a flame but it felt as though you had gone through the same thing he had. You had lost something, he could tell but he didn’t know what it was and the exterior you had built yourself to cover that: the filthy dance moves, the beautiful smile and the trouble that always seemed to follow you, intrigued him. It made him wanna observe you.

And he wasn’t even going to mention how he had envisioned you in inappropriate scenarios, that was for him to know at the moment.

You spoke, cutting through the silence with a deep knife as you used your words to entice him further, even though he was already fucked. “You want a fuck, a kiss, a dance or just to talk?”

He didn’t like the words you said, they didn’t fit your pretty little mouth but it just aroused him more. You didn’t seem like the obedient type, although he didn’t need to come all the way to the school to know that, he could’ve just asked around the pubs and they’d tell him all about the wild girl who went home with a different lad every night, most of them left bruised now.

And he had done that.

They’d told him about that one time where you’d broken a man’s nose just because he had tried to touch you inappropriately, you could dance naked and it still didn’t give them the permission to be near you. They’d told him about your uncle, your deceased parents and how your uncle was getting married to a young thing soon, about five years older than you and how it had made you drink more lately and dance less, although you did both equally well.

But he wanted to hear them from you.

“None of that.” he said, one sentence and done with the conversation. You held his gaze, trying to read him but it was not so hard to realise that Alfie was nothing like the ordinary men.

You were tired, he wasn’t telling you what he wanted either. You sighed, wanting use vulgar words but you didn’t like it when he almost winced when you did it earlier. You weren’t a dainty lady but you’d put up with it for the sake of trying to get him to talk.

“Bite me...” you whispered, under your breath on purpose so that he wouldn’t hear it but he had and you hated the little glisten of amusement that appeared on his blue orbs.

“Where?” he asked, not missing a beat and you shot him a smirk. He wasn’t a regular one you were dealing with. Men usually wanted a fuck, open your legs or a nice dance, something to satisfy them. You wouldn’t give them the first option. Unlike what many of the inhabitants of London believed, you were still an amateur in the bedroom but you knew damn well to kiss and dance enough to keep them on your toes. 

That’s what made it exciting.

“Are you going to take me to your house then?” you asked, nicer this time. You desperately wanted to be in the big place again, play with cyril and maybe even have a look at that library he had told you about but didn’t let you go in.

“Ya’ wanna come to my fuckin’ house?” he asked, clearly taken back but you just smiled.

“Well, seeing as you’re not here for a quick fuck or a chat, I don’t see why not.” you giggled at the end and spoke again before he could, you needed to speak or else the man was looking at you like his last meal before his death. “And I’d like to see Cyril again.”

If Alfie was honest, he’d like that too. It had been a while since there had been a woman in the house, let alone one that came just for cyril. He had his housekeeper but that was about it, he didn’t see a good reason why not but he was busy. Alfie was always busy.

“How ‘bout I pick ya’ up, hm?” he spoke and didn’t wait for an answer. “Seein’ as I’m fuckin’ busy now, yeah, I can have ya’ picked up tonight.” he spoke and you waited for a moment.

They were all excuses.

You wouldn’t go to his house for the second time just to play with cyril, you wanted to play with him and push Alfie’s buttons. He seemed calm as you assessed the offer. No one usually said no to Alfie, including the ladies he’d offered to have around.

Much to his surprise and dismay, you shook your head. A low smile resided on your lips as you spoke to him. He was in trouble, deep trouble.

“You told Annabelle that I’d be accompanying you for the rest of the evening..” you spoke and he gulped, women were far too dangerous. “..How bout I do that?”

It could go many ways. 

He saw the visions of you bent over his desk or maybe his bed, he hadn’t decided yet as you’d chant his name over and over again until he knew you wouldn’t be able to move properly the next morning but you were not predictable, he didn’t even know what he’d do if he took you to the bakery.

But he wanted to see, desperately.

And you were out ten minutes later, out to his said bakery and a world filled with the kind of danger you weren’t quite familiar with.

------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I read all of the sweet comments on the first part and thank you!!! I’m so happy that you guys liked it and this will be a multi-chapter series so i’ll keep them coming! Lemme know what you thought of the chapter <3

[ijustwant2write]

Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @everygif​)

Part 1

Masterlist

Prompt List

‘OMG! I loved Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader! I’ll love to see a part two where they go get the baby back! Hopefully if you have time, it was so cute‘

‘Grow Up Fast was so cute and amazing!! Part 2???‘

‘loved you’re recent Fred piece on the baby! just wondering if you could do another one along those lines but the reader is pregnant with twins and the whole family is finding it special obviously because Fred’s a twin, just something along those lines 💖‘

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (brother-in-law), Weasley family x Reader (in-laws)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Adoption, pregnancy symptoms/pregnancy talk (throwing up/check ups/scans/trimesters), lots and lots and lots of fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are we really doing this?” I excitedly breathed out, squeezing Fred’s hand.

He slightly nodded, looking apprehensive himself.“We really are.”

We were stood inside the orphanage, and this wasn’t our first time here. Ever since the baby had left our short care, something had felt off in our lives. In the beginning, we blamed it on the shock of it all; it’s not everyday that you find an abandoned baby behind your shop. Even George pointed this out, saying that our minds seemed to be elsewhere. So here we stood, waiting for the care worker to come back down the hall, but this time she wouldn’t be by herself.

I held back an excited giggle when she turned around the corner with the baby in a carrier. He was awake, kicking his legs about under his blanket, gurgling away as if he knew he was going to his forever home. I tried not to start crying, even though my emotions were all over the place, but it seemed that Fred was happy to let the tears fall. Smiling up at him, I quickly made him face me, giggling as I wiped away his tears. We didn’t exchange any words, but he nodded his at me as if I had asked if he was alright.

“Here he is, little Tommy.” the woman beamed, handing him over to us.

Fred held the carrier in both arms, and we cooed at Tommy. We had helped pick out a name for him when they couldn’t find any recent hospital records, they had no idea where he came from or who his mother was. And just like that, we were taking him home with us.

Once home, we found ourselves lying on the bed, with Tommy in the middle (just like we had the first time we brought him home), and just staring. We had fed him before, meaning he was now sleepy, slowly dozing off.

“What do we do know?” Fred whispered.

“I don’t know.” I honestly answered.“It feels so strange to have him home again, even after seeing him in the care home for so many months.”

“I wish we were there to see him properly grow, he’s so much bigger now.”

“Well he’s here now. And it’s almost his first birthday, we should start planning.”

Fred chuckled, eyes widening when Tommy stirred. Tommy opened his eyes, face scrunching up to cry when I pulled him closer, holding onto him. He calmed down, a few whimpers escaping him before he nodded off again. I glanced at Fred, who was already looking at me, sharing a smile. This was our life now.

A few more months passed, filled with getting used to being parents; the late nights, early mornings, dealing with the ear piercing cries and smelly nappies, but also the bursts of giggles, funny noises and cuddles. So many of our friends and family had come forward to help, giving advice and wanting to get to know the new member of the family. Molly had been extremely enthusiastic after finding out we planned to adopt Tommy. She had worried that there had been problems with us, that we weren’t able to have babies of our own, though even after reassurance, she was still excited. And she offered to babysit way too much (though sometimes that was used to our advantage). 

Now it was the day of Tommy’s first birthday. Since there were no hospital records to show his birth date, they had to give it their best guess. Nevertheless, Tommy was going to have a proper birthday. We had decorated the home, our presents were stacked next to the fireplace, the cake was displayed alongside the rest of the food, and I had picked out his outfit for the day, now all that was left to do was wait for the guests. 

“Wow, look at my handsome boys!” I exclaimed when I entered the living room, seeing Fred holding up Tommy to look at himself in the mirror. 

Fred gasped, turning around so that they were looking at me.“Tommy, look at mummy! Good thing she put in an effort too.”

I scoffed a laugh.“Is everything ready?”

“Yep. Guests should be arriving any minute.”

“Today is all about you Tommy.” I tickled his stomach, laughing with him as he squealed.

The party went amazingly. My family and Fred’s turned up at the same time, all loudly entering our home, gifts in hands, talking over one another. It was hard to take it all in, trying to answer all their questions as they passed me their coats and took off their shoes. Although all their excitement got the best of them, instantly going to greet Tommy and Fred, I didn’t mind, relishing the sight of our entire family together; it was the simple things in life that you could miss, and this was one of them. The day was filled with laughs, too much food and bad singing. There were also nudges towards Ron and Hermione, as well as Harry and Ginny about children, and poor George was being told to keep his search going for the right girl. Both grandmother’s wanted time with Tommy, but I knew he was going to become annoyed being passed around too much. Everyone was content watching him sit up by himself, cushions surrounding him in case he fell, playing with his toys.

Sitting back with Hermione, I found it hard to concentrate on her words. I suddenly felt tired, and also didn’t want to even think about the lunch I had served up. Trying to keep up with the conversation, I sipped at my water, feeling ill. Perhaps I was over tired from the late nights with Harry, we hadn’t had a gathering like this in a while, it was a lot to keep up with, especially when you were one of the hosts. I excused myself, quickly walking to the bathroom. Just as I was about to splash some water on my face, a horrible feeling rose in my throat, and I found myself bent over the toilet being sick. No, surely not, I couldn’t be could I?

Luckily I wasn’t throwing up for long, taking a moment to catch my breath, causing me to cough. Slowly standing, not feeling dizzy now, and quickly brushing my teeth as I flushed the toilet. Checking my reflection, I sighed when I saw how pale I had become. People would definitely notice, if not, then Fred certainly would. I had to act normal, be as bright and bubbly as I was ten minutes ago.

Upon my return, there was music playing, Ginny and Hermione swaying with Tommy on the floor whilst our parents conversed, and the lads talked about something unrelated to babies, families or weddings. Passing by them, I smiled, needing a glass of water. I realised Fred had followed me into the kitchen, sighing as I realised I would have to tell him.

“(Y/N), you don’t look well, are you OK?” Fred asked closely, his hands rubbing my arms up and down as he stood behind me. 

I nodded after taking a sip of water.“Yeah. I’m fine now.”

“What does that mean?”

I turned around to face him, leaning back against the counter.“I um...I was just sick in the toilet.”

“Should we take you to a doctor? Do you need healing? What are your symptoms?” he rushed.

“No, I’m fine really. Perhaps I ate something bad....or....”

“Or what?”

“Fred, your mum babysat for us a couple of weeks ago.”

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“We were alone, all day and all night...can you connect the dots?”

It took him a few more seconds before it clicked, and as his eyes widened, I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him from yelling.

“Yes, Fred, I might be pregnant.” I whispered.

“Uh, am I interrupting something here?” Ron said from the doorway, confused when he saw the position we were in.

“Uh, y-yes! Fred was about to yell about the cake, but...but we didn’t want Harry to hear and get too excited.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at us as he slowly stepped back.“OK. I mean, he’s only one, I’m sure he wouldn’t have realised.”

Removing my hand from Fred’s mouth, I let out a sigh of relief.“Look, we don’t know if that’s true yet, so for now, don’t even think about it.”

“But, if you are...” Fred trailed off, smiling to himself.

“Would...would you be alright with that?”

“Would you?”

We hadn’t come back to that conversation, instead trying to focus on the rest of the party. Because Tommy was easily tired out, they didn’t stay for much longer. At any other time, I would insist they stay, even after putting Tommy to bed. However, I wasn’t being a good host as I let them put on their shoes and coats, each waving goodbye to little Tommy. With the door closed, and just the three of us leftover, Fred and I flopped onto the sofa, letting Tommy roam and tire himself out.

“I’ll book an appointment for this week.” I mumbled, trying to not let my eyes droop.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fred said.

“I...I don’t know. It would be nice but George might get suspicious.”

“Would it be so bad if he found out? You know he would keep it a secret.”

“That’s true. Alright, come with me. Let’s find out together.”

And that’s what happened. Unfortunately it was almost another two weeks before I was able to be checked over; there had been a strange atmosphere as we waited, that’s all we were concentrating on. Tommy still received as much love as he usually did, but there were times where I would stress about the future. Tommy was just one, and if I was pregnant, there wasn’t going to be a big age gap between the children. That would be hard. They would be toddlers together, there would be screaming, crying, toilet training, the money for nappies, clothes, toys....but every time I found myself down that hole, Fred was there to pull me out, consoling me, assuring me we would be alright with one more child.

I had been bouncing Tommy on my lap as we waited for the doctor to see us. Fred had to take him away from me, worried that I would cause him to be sick, but it was a nervous tick. I was extremely grateful to have Fred with me, concentrating on his thumb running over the back of my hand, and the gentle kisses he would place on my forehead. But the appointment went by in a flash, and as we walked outside, I couldn’t help but squeal in excitement and shock, exclaiming loudly to everyone around me;

“WE’RE PREGNANT!”

George obviously had to know first, seeing as we took the day off work. But he was sworn to secrecy. We wanted to keep it under wraps for a while, waiting to see what my first trimester was like. The excitement was almost too much for me, I couldn’t stop picturing what it was going to be like for Tommy to have a sibling. Another person to add to our family, someone else to give our love to. Things were going well, of course there were the horrible symptoms, though I said to myself over and over again that this would be worth. The weeks whizzed by, and soon, I was starting to show, meaning Fred and I couldn’t stop rubbing the tiny bump. I had bawled when Tommy rested his head on it one night, as if he understood his brother or sister was in there.

We knew it would be impossible to keep it hidden anymore, and I seemed very healthy so far. We were also bursting to tell our friends and family, trying to think of ways to announce it. Fred suggested huge fireworks that wrote it out, but I knew that would be too much. Instead, he settled for a cake where the icing would start writing out the message ‘We’re Pregnant!’ when the candles were lit. Once again, the family found themselves squashed together, this time meeting at the Burrow. Tommy stood on Harry’s lap, clumsily using his face to balance himself as Fred and I caught everyone’s attention.

“We thought we would bring you all something special, a thank you for supporting us through the entire adoption process and for helping us get used to being parents.” I explained, pushing the cake into the centre of the table.

The candles had just been lit, and as everyone licked their lips at the sight of it, they realised what was happening. Screams, hollers and cheers erupted throughout the small room, causing me to burst into tears at the happiness. This was good, this was going to be an amazing chapter of my life.

My mother and molly would send me pregnancy books, recipes for meals that were good for the baby, or just natter on and on about advice, side effects, and what childbirth actually entailed. Sometimes it was a bit too much, I would wish they held some details back. The checkups were going well, Tommy’s behaviour was getting better as he grew, also Fred’s enthusiasm seemed to never die down. However, it had come to that certain appointment, the one some couples longed for. It was time to find out the gender of our child. The results we were given weren’t what we were expecting.

Stepping into the shop, I relaxed when I saw it wasn’t too busy. Fred was desperate to tell his brother the news. As he went to get him, I laughed at Tommy’s wide eyes, taking in all the colours and noises. Fred gestured for me to follow him into the stock room, getting their workers to take over the floor. As I stepped in, flashbacks to Tommy as a newborn came to me. How strange, it was almost like a full circle.

“So, what’s it gonna be then?” George grinned.

I giggled at Fred who was almost jumping up and down in excitement.“Go on then, I said you could tell him.”

“Well, Georgie, it’s a boy-”

He threw his arms up in the air.“Yes! I knew it!”

“And a girl.”

“Wait, what?” his arms slowly sank down.

“We’re having twins! There’s going to be another set of Weasley twins!”

George responded with a loud cheer, throwing himself onto his brother in an engulfing hug. They were patting each other on the back, at first jumping about before they calmed down, swaying side to side.

“Freddie, that’s amazing! (Y/N), you’re going to be massive!”

I scoffed a laugh, knowing he meant no harm.“Thank you very much George. You’ve already earned yourself a whole weekend of babysitting.”

“Have you told mum yet?”

“No,” Fred said,“you’re the first.”

“She’s going to go crazy.”

“So is mine.” I stated.

“Who would have thought, eh? Another set of twins?”

“I’m going to finally know what it was like to raise you two. Perhaps I should have a masterclass from your mum.”

“She’ll give you lots of tips, and stories about how much of a terror we were.”

“Great, looking forward to that.”

Leaving the shop, Fred took over carrying Tommy in one arm, his other hand holding mine. We dawdled on our way home, seeming to be in no rush as we took in what news we were given today.

I smiled as I placed a hand on my bump.“Fred?”

“Hm?” Tommy was already falling asleep on his shoulder.

“Are we really doing this?”

He smiled back.“We really are.”

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 4 ~Reunited~

Picture Source

 Previously in Twists and Turns

Although it was a cold, dreich and cloudy day, it didn't stop the strains of Pharell William's song, "Happy" playing in his head. He was having one of those days where he had the world on a string, and it felt like nothing could thwart his good mood. His Sassenach was coming tomorrow, and she'd be staying with him for at least a week. She already warned him not to make too many plans as she had work to do, but he didn't care. He would be waking up every morning for the next few days with Claire in his arms, and they'd eat dinner together when their day was done. That was all that mattered.

He was about to turn around and make his way into the living room when he saw Jenny leaning against the far end counter, her arms across her chest. It only took Jamie a second to deduce his sister had been standing there a while, her grin saying it all. 

"Jenny!"

"I called out to ye when I came in, but ye didnae hear me. Looks like someone is happy," Jenny observed, smirking. "What's up with ye?"

"Claire ...ye ken Claire. Ye met her over two weeks ago. She's coming over to stay for a few days. With me." 

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Jamie eased his car into the parking lot, focusing on his breathing when his heart began to pummel against his chest. He'd known this might happen, and he'd come prepared ...or at least he hoped so. Taking his key out of the ignition, he reassured himself Claire would be with him soon enough, so he tried to remain calm. 

He leaned back against his seat and shut his eyes for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. C'mon Fraser lad, ye got this.

Claire had initially planned on making her own way to Broch Mordha, too worried for him, in case he had another one of his panic attacks. But Jamie had vehemently insisted on picking her up despite her protestations. There was no way he was going to sit around in his cottage, waiting for her to arrive when he could be with her sooner. Every second spent in her presence was precious, and he wasn't about to give up any opportunity to be with her.

When he finally gathered himself together, he noticed his knuckles had gone white from gripping the steering wheel and a dull throb slowly working its way up to the back of his head. Every noise, every reflection of sunlight bouncing off the windshield was a torment. Ah, shite! Please, not now! His jaw already ached from its constant clenching and unclenching and his molars grinding during the drive, an attempt to smother the anxiety threatening to bubble up. He'd just arrived, and already he felt like he was going to suffocate. 

All the way from Broch Mordha, he'd centred his thoughts on Claire, afraid that if he allowed his mind to wander, the panic attacks would get out of hand. In his head, he'd pictured her laughing, full of life and excitement, and the way she made him feel. And he'd thought, if he could hold on to those images, he might just be able to keep the anxiety at bay, long enough until Claire was by his side.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, he exited his car, the noise around him giving off a static buzz, rivalling the one crackling in his head. On cue, an onrush of whirring sound intensified and just when he thought he was going to pass out, he caught a familiar scent as a blur in beige walked past him. Surprisingly, the din between his ears subsided into a distant hum, and his head shot up in time to see a man in an old fashion trenchcoat and a flat cap, hurriedly zig-zagging past oncoming and ongoing crowds. What the ...?

He felt drawn to the man like it was pertinent to get hold of him right this instant, not quite comprehending why. "Hey ye!" Jamie shouted after the bustling figure. "Wait up!"

The man stopped as if he'd heard he was being called, long enough for Jamie to see his profile. Harry? Harry ...as in Claire's father? Surely not! It cannae be. 

Before Jamie could make sense of what he was seeing, the figure began moving again, and so he picked up the pace. "Harry?!? Hey! Stop! It's me, Jamie," he shouted.

Jamie began to walk quicker, straining his neck so he wouldn't lose sight of Harry, but the man was fleet, occasionally stopping, looking for someone or something before rushing off again. Although Jamie was agile himself on his feet, he couldn't seem to catch up, and it wasn't long before Harry disappeared through the glassed entrance. Bummer!

He ran this time. When he eventually made it inside the airport, all he could see was Harry's head, bobbing up and down among a moving group of bodies heading in the direction of the arrivals' waiting area. He continued to follow, wondering what the hell Harry was doing here. The last time he'd seen the man was before Christmas, and after that, on an old photograph, Claire had shown him. Ah, fuck! Jamie thought he must be losing his mind. Is Harry alive, or is he a ghost? Claire did tell him that Harry or Henry, or whatever he was called, died in a car accident. So what the hell is happening? Is his condition making him see the deceased or is Harry a figment of his imagination? 

His eyes scanned the crowd, but Harry's head was replaced by an image of a bouncing oversized red beanie. Jamie continued to walk forward, dipping and diving, not wanting to lose him, but red beanie head was waving an arm, and it kept getting in the way. Ah hell, where did he disappear to?

Irritation coasted down his back, and his eyes landed once again on the red beanie head, walking towards him, just a few feet away. Underneath the brightly coloured headgear was a mass of dark curls that framed a rosy cheek face with crystal clear amber orbs and a smile that tugged at his heart. Gradually, as if coming out of a trance, everything came into focus, and the backdrop and the noises dissolved. His heart stopped as realisation kicked in. It's Claire!

"Sassenach," he whispered. His lungs dislodged every iota of oxygen in his body, the world seeming to suspend around them expectantly.

Before his brain could compute what was happening, Claire dropped her bags and launched herself into his arms. Her warmth, scent and breath enveloped him, soothing his soul. In that instant, everything in the world felt right again as she buried her face against his neck. 

"Oh, God Jamie, I missed you," she whispered, her grasp tight around his neck. "You came, even when I told you not to. Stubborn, stubborn man!"

The tension in his muscles loosened, and the feel of her body was worth the stress he'd put himself through coming to the airport. He drew away slightly and gazed down at her beautiful face. "I had to come so I could do this," Jamie murmured, ensnaring Claire's mouth with his own. 

Her lips parted on a breath, and his tongue delved in, claiming her. Reminding them both and anyone in the vicinity who was watching, to whom she belonged. She must have sensed the psychological toll on him being in a busy place and what it took out of him to drive here, and his need to be grounded and centred. She clasped his face in her hands, forcing him to withdraw the kiss on a groan. She glanced up at him and searched his face, and when she was satisfied that he was alright, she gave him a smile that caused his throat to tighten with emotion. His heart pounded so hard, she placed her hands on his chest as though to keep it from bursting free. Wanting to feel more of her, he hoisted her up and pressed her closer against him. When he lowered his head to reclaim her lips a second time, she playfully nipped at his lip, before taking control of the kiss, reminding him he belonged to her too. She tunnelled her fingers in his hair and tilted her mouth over his, kissing him fervently until they broke away, gasping for breath.

She giggled, sliding away from his grasp, only for her arms to encircle his waist. "That was some welcome. I'm tempted to come more often now if I get to receive a kiss like that every time I arrive."

A harsh sound escaped his mouth. "Ah, Christ. What universe am I on that I get to keep ye for mysel', huh?" he breathed, running a thumb across her lower lip.

"A universe tucked away in a Highlands, one that I'm so chuffed to have found because you're in it," she replied, smiling, her breath ghosting on his chin as she looked up to meet his gaze. "Though I must admit, I wasn't too thrilled when you insisted on picking me up. I have faith you'll get over your anxiety one day, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard. Healing takes time, Jamie."

He tipped her chin and smiled, oblivious to the hustle and bustle of their surroundings, finding his calm in her presence. "I ken ye still worry, but I'm getting better every day. I promise. The meditation playlist ye sent me helps a lot, and it works even if I get leg cramps out of it as a result. Next, ye'll be suggesting yoga, but I'm warning ye, that's where I draw the line, Sassenach. My limbs are fine as it is."

She scrunched up her nose at his attempt to downplay his condition. "So, no more anxiety attacks? How about nightmares?"

"No nightmares," he reassured her, picking up loose curls resting on her shoulder and letting them slide between his fingers. "Though I still wake up sometimes in a cold sweat and occasionally, I have wee attacks when I'm under stress. But they're manageable as long as I remember the breathing exercises."

"That's good, Jamie," she said, sliding her hands up and down his back. "For a minute there, when I came out, and first saw you, I thought you seemed rather pale. You looked past me like there was no recognition in your eyes, but your colour returned when I got closer. I have been worried about you coming ...so I must have imagined the whole thing."

Ah hell, Harry! He'd forgotten about him. He looked beyond her head, even though he knew Harry was long gone. Knowing it was a futile endeavour to even contemplate Harry's whereabouts, let alone start looking for him, Jamie cleared his throat and brought his attention back to Claire. He didn't want to lie to her, but there was a time and place to talk about Harry. He knew he'd delayed it for too long, but it had to wait just a wee bit longer. "Ye didnae imagine anything, Sassenach. I felt the beginnings of the panic attack, but when I saw my mate and started to call after him and follow him, I realised the distraction helped suppress it. He was going in the direction where ye came from. And then right after I lost him, I saw ye."

She cocked her head and looked at him curiously, amber eyes inquisitive, always reading between the lines. Even though he knew she appreciated that piece of information, there was still something niggling at her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Aye, I'm certain now that ye're here."

Claire studied him. "Well, the distraction from your mate helped for sure. Or at the very least, it took the edge out of the anxiety."

Jamie gave her a reassuring smile. "Indeed, it has. Shall we go?" he proposed, eager to get going.

She visibly shook herself and nodded as he stepped away from her embrace and made a move to collect her bags. Once they got going, he twined their fingers together, powerless to stop himself from kissing her knuckles and brushing them with his thumb. The noises in his head had already ceased, and with Claire by his side, not even the drone of a busy airport could yank him back into the grips of immobilising anxiety bouts.

Although seeing Harry earlier had helped quell down the panic attacks, he knew it wasn't a permanent fix. As Claire had once told him over the phone, part of his recovery included finding a healthy way to let go of the past and forgive himself. It was taking time for sure, but the more he acknowledged his demons, instead of burying it deep down into his subconsciousness, the easier it got. The more he talked about the death of his best mate, Simon MacKimmie, the lighter the load on his shoulders became. There might still be lingering guilt and the image of Simon's death deeply embedded in his memory, but as Claire often had, and time and time again said, real progress took time. Jamie understood the fix needed to be on a mental level, and that was on him. 

Despite it all, he felt incredibly blessed to have a lass who was willing to walk with him through it and not for him, something perhaps his sister should take note of. He'd shared with Claire his living hell, and still, she found something beautiful in the midst of so much ugly. He was convinced more than ever, with Claire everything was possible and he was looking forward to their future.

As they made their way out of the airport and into the parking lot, Jamie squeezed Claire's hand and smiled. "So what are yer plans today, Sassenach? Do ye have to work?"

She beamed up at him. "No. Work can wait until tomorrow. I think these past few weeks I've worked enough ...not to mention missing out on a lot of weekends. I think I deserve a break."

"Aye, that ye do. So, lunch perhaps, then?" Jamie suggested, releasing her hand and clicking the key fob as his car came to view. "Ye must be hungry."

"Did you make something?"

He swiftly deposited her bags into the boot and shut the door before kissing her on the forehead. "No. But I can always whip us up something, or we can stop somewhere on the way to grab a bite ...if ye wish."

Claire shied away, for once looking reluctant. "I'm not really hungry, to be honest."

"So do ye have anything particular in mind ye want to do?" he asked, his curiosity spiking when he noticed a bright shade of red rising from her neck to her face, causing her face to flush prettily. 

She chewed her lower lip. "Are you working today?" 

He grinned. "No. I took a day off." And he'd arranged with Willie he wouldn't be starting work until ten tomorrow morning.

"Well, ..."

"Weel what?"

"I think I'd like to go to bed."

To bed? He searched her face looking for any evidence indicating she was unwell or fatigued. After all, she'd been working a lot these past few days. But he found none. Instead, her eyes betrayed what she had in mind. Still, he could be mistaken and wanted to be sure. "To bed or to sleep?" he asked slowly and cautiously.

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, making his stomach flipped. "What do you think?" she whispered against his mouth.

There was an awareness on Claire's face that revealed she felt the wild rapping against his rib cage. Both of their breathing changed, and in an instant, the closeness of their bodies was no longer means to keep anxiety at bay.

His heart rate suddenly became an equivalent of a man running from a bull in Pamplona. "Ach, Sassenach, couldnae ye wait until we were nearer to home to tell me that?" 

Her shoulders lifted. "Well, you did ask ..."

He walked her backwards against the car and pressed their forehead together. "Ah, damn it! Here I am trying to block images of what I want to do to ye the moment we're alone and be a decent boyfriend and treat ye like the sweetheart ye are. Now all I can think of is ..."

"What?" she asked innocently, her lids fluttering, her pupils obstructing out some of the gold of her irises. "What are you thinking of?"

Ah, bloody hell! He certainly didn't want to answer that. Not here at the airport's parking lot anyway. He blew out a shaky breath and adjusted his jeans. "Get in a car." The growl that broke from his throat sounded foreign to his ears, but it couldn't be helped when the sudden urgency to have Claire was thrumming in his veins. "And not another word, until we reach home."

She smiled and made a motion of zipping her lips as she got into the passenger side. He groaned inwardly, hoping and praying for another distraction. But this time for an entirely different condition that was tormenting him. 

  Dear Readers,

Well, I did try my hardest to finish this chapter in time for Valentine's day, but I was having too much of a good time with hubby that I thought surely you guys wouldn't mind. We had takeaways, a bottle of wine and cuddles on sofa rewatching Hunger Games. I know it's hardly a romantic film befitting Valentines, but we both loved it. My thoughts are, every day should be Valentine's day, so I hope you felt Jamie's love (and lust) for Claire in this chapter.😁

Before I sign off, I'd like to thank you for your continued readership and feedback, and I am so looking forward to what you think in my latest update. Take care of yourself and keep the love vibes rolling. Until my next instalment ...X

[dreamthinkimagine]

Ugly

Here’s the fic from the Voting Poll. Also apparently Leonard Nimoy lived life thinking he was ugly and in reality he was beautiful.

For @august-anon and whoever left me that very kind anonymous message.

WARNING: sad!spock​

It all started with some simple banter in the break room. Okay, maybe it was more of an “Everyone Roast Bones Hour,” but after ten minutes of continuous jokes, Bones fought back with one of only two safe ways he knew. The other being a gentle hit, but that would probably lead to more commentary since he took an oath to do no harm. So he went with the other.

“Nohohohoho!” screeched Chekov as his ribs were attacked by the vicious doctor; his hands sliding up and down the ladder of bones.

“You shoulda thought about this before saying anything, Chekov,” said McCoy nonchalantly.

“Aye, Lad. You shouldn’t have insulted the hair on his head.”

“Thank you, Scotty.”

“Yeh shoulda gone for the hair on his arms! Thickest I’ve ever seen!”

“That’s it!” McCoy let go of Chekov and tackled Scotty to the floor, digging into his belly. Scotty screamed as laughter bolted out of his mouth. His legs kicked and he tried to roll from side to side to save his sensitive stomach.

“I don’t know why you’d make fun of McCoy’s hair,” said Kirk. “Especially since your getting a little bald spot. Is your head hair going to his arms?” Kirk had been laughing through this whole ordeal, certainly not as hard as Scotty or Chekov, but hard enough not to notice when Spock left the room. As soon as he did notice, however, he stood and left without another word and without Scotty or McCoy even knowing.

***

Spock laid down on his bed staring at the ceiling. Everything rang thorough his head - the insults, the chants, the cruel songs. Everything. The ones that stuck out the most weren’t the insults about him being part human. The ones that he remembered most was when he’d be called ugly.

Due to his human heritage and nose they’d call him, “Elephant seal.”

They’d chant, “Ugly! Ugly! Ugly!” That was a double insult, since “ugly” was a human word.

They’d sing, “Vile profile! Spock has a vile profile!” His human part thought it sounded odd, but his Vulcan part knew what they meant, so his human half hurt. His human half still hurt.

As he stood and looked at his reflection in the mirror on his wall, his fear came true. One of his deepest insecurities had grown - they always did after he had these flashbacks. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t like what he saw. He saw an ugly crossbreed. His eyes were small, his nose was too big. He had what humans called “laugh lines” - Vulcans didn’t laugh. Or even smile. They were ugly.

He was ugly.

The more he looked at himself, the more disgusting his face became. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was almost as if he was frozen, left to himself and his thoughts. Humans judged by appearances. If he was ugly on Vulcan, he must look horrendous to the humans. He looked so different from them with his eyebrows and ears. How could they see him as an equal when he was so ugly?

The Vulcans thought he was ugly. The humans thought he was ugly. It had to be true. Perhaps that was why he was often treated as an outsider. Treated like he was different.

His door opened. “I thought you’d be here,” Kirk said stepping into his quarters. “I wanted to check up on you. You left so quickly that...Spock?” The half-Vulcan had turned his back to Jim, sparing him from having to look upon his monstrosity of a face. “Look at me, Spock. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Captain,” he lied as he slowly turned to face him. “You may depart and resume comradery with the rest of the bridge crew.”

“I make the rules around here, Spock, and  I’m - ”

“Starfleet makes the rules and regulations of each starship, Captain.”

“...And I’m staying. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Is that an order, Sir?”

“...Yes.”

“I just thought it most logical to exit before everyone turned their insults toward me.”

“Ah, you mean your being half Vulcan and half human.”

“Somewhat...” Spock said quietly, turning away again. “I thought they might  comment on my appearance. I thought you might.”

“What are you talking about, Spock?”

“You humans call it... ‘ugly’.””

“You are not ugly, Spock. Look at you! How many missions have we gone on where the girls were all over you?”

“Compare that to your number of occasions where females wanted your company.”

“It’s happened to you more than Bones.”

“At least he is treated well. Humans see that I am not one of them. They treat me differently for it. Sometimes they point out my difference I even say anything.”

“Spock, you know that -”

“Of course I know it! Look at me. My nose is massive. My eyes are miniscule. I have wrinkles around my mouth. I was ugly on Vulcan and I’m ugly by human standards. Two planets - two completely different species - two different cultures. Both say it in different ways. I’m ugly, Jim.”

***

“Hey, where are Jim and Spock?” Bones asked as he stood up from the floor, finally letting poor Scotty go.

“I saw ze Captain leave, but Spock was already gone,” Chekov took a sip of the drink he must have gotten while Bones was getting his revenge on Scotty, whose breathless giggles sounded in the background.

“Well I gotta get them too. Jim making fun of my arm hair and Spock is probably trying to protect him. Let’s go, Scotty.”

“’Let’s’?” Scotty asked as he sat up, finally catching his breath.

“Yes, ‘let’s,’ the two of us.”

“Why?”

“Because he made fun of your hair too!” A memory of Kirk mocking his hair played in his head, as vague as it may have been since he was distracted at the time, it still played.

“Aye, he did. Alright, Doctor; let’s go.” As soon as he was alone, Chekov shook his head with a smile.

“Zis is going to be a long night,” and took another sip of his drink.

***

Kirk sat with Spock, flabbergasted over what he just said. How could he repel the words and actions of two planets. Two separate people. Two separate cultures - wait a minute. That was it!

“Spock, I want you to listen to me now.” The Vulcan made a small sound, he was listening, even though he wouldn’t show Jim his face. “You’re part human.”

“Do not remind me.”

“Unlike Vulcans, most humans believe in the phrase ‘beauty comes from within’.”

“I’m not like you within. My heart is where your ribs should be.”

“Most humans believe that physical appearance doesn’t matter. Looks don’t define beauty, but it is how you behave that makes you beautiful. The way you speak, how you treat others, how you treat yourself. I can’t promise you that there won’t be anyone ever again who will treat you different or even say that you’re ugly. But I can promise you that you are one of the most beautiful people inside that I know.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying that the people who bullied you, shouldn’t bother you anymore because they ignore the universal truth - that beauty does not come from the outside; but from inside. They looked over your beauty and proved their own ugliness. Spock, you’re intelligent, kind-hearted, and very loyal. These are three of the many things humanity knows is beautiful. You’re not ugly, Spock. And I’m lucky to have you as my first officer and friend.”

Spock didn’t know what to say, how to react. Thankfully, he didn’t have to because his door suddenly flew open to reveal a smug looking doctor and a proud engineer. Before Kirk could even speak, Bones looked at the Scotsman. “You get Jim. I’ll get Spock.” As the two of them were tickled to pieces, Spock didn’t hold back and let his laugh lines show.

Because he knew now that he was not ugly.

[legolasoftherings]

Wildflower

Pairing: Legolas x elf!female reader

Warnings: teeny bit of angst, fluff

Word Count: 2036

A/N: This has been a WIP basically since I started this tumblr, and I’m so glad to finally be finished with it :) it really isn’t that long, but I lacked motivation to finish it for a few months (whoops). Happy reading, my darlings!! 

Request: @aeryqueen​ “heyyy I hope your requests are still open! Could you please do a one-shot with Legolas x elf!female reader?? It would be amazing! Thank you!! ❤️”

I hope this does your request justice, love, and I’m so sorry it has taken so many months 🧡

A bouquet of wildflowers hung from your hand, waving slightly in the wind. Tears stained your cheeks, and you looked out onto the mostly barren landscape near your camp. You had just gotten into a heated argument with your closest friend, Legolas, and both of you left quickly in opposite directions. 

You had come with the Fellowship along with Legolas only because he insisted that you were a powerful fighter and he wouldn’t go without you. At the beginning of the journey, you had been fast friends, but now, there was perhaps something more; both of you recognized it but were too shy to address the feelings.  

You reflected back on the argument as you walked away. His words replayed in your mind over and over, as your tears stung your eyes. Legolas had gotten in between you and a threat, and had almost been gravely injured. 

“I’m trying to do what is best for you! Why can’t you see that, Y/N?” he yelled.

“Just because I’m your best friend doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself! You yourself said that I was a skilled warrior!” you shot back. 

“I just want to protect you! Are you seriously that brainless?!”

“Legolas, you don’t mean it!”

“Maybe I do, Y/N!”

To distract yourself, you were picking flowers from the surrounding hills. As you walked, you found a small, safe cave to hide in, and in there, you cuddled yourself into a ball and sobbed bitterly at your predicament.  

Everyone back with the group knew that when you were in a mood like this, it was better to leave you alone for a little while. Eventually though, it had been long enough, and they were worried. The sun was beginning to set, and the surrounding lands were dangerous at night. 

The fellowship appointed Aragorn, against his better judgement, to try and talk to you, knowing that you just might talk to him. He had become somewhat of an older brother to you, and the only one that you could trust with your true feelings. 

“Y/N?” Aragorn called apprehensively, approaching the little cave, “Are you up here?”

“No,” you answered, “Go away.” He chuckled softly, and walked up to the entrance of the cave. “What do you want?” you questioned, bleary eyed. Picking up a stone, you began to sharpen your dagger as a way to busy your hands.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Everyone is worried about you, Y/N,” Aragorn said, taking a seat next to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You laughed without mirth at his question, and he stared at you in confusion for a second; blinking back his confused look, he replaced it with a concerned one. 

“Y/N, please. Be reasonable.”

You huffed and put your head in your hands, “It’s stupid, really. Legolas and I had an argument, and that’s that.” 

“I hope you can understand that he wishes to apologize to you. Would you please consider coming back to join us?”  

“I’ll consider it, Strider,” you mused, while a tiny smile played on your lips, “On one condition.”

Aragorn sighed, guessing where this was going, but replied, “What is it, Y/N?”

“He has to give me a flower to make up for it,” you answered with a watery grin, making him chuckle.

“You’re quite obstinate, Y/N, but I’ll fetch him.” he said, standing up to leave. 

“You’re a jerk, but thank you.” 

A few minutes later, you barely heard light footsteps from outside the cave.

“Are you in there, Y/N?” you heard his normally strong, now shaky voice ask.

“Yes, Legolas,” you answered, adding an icy edge to your voice for dramatic effect.

He appeared at the mouth of the cave, holding a torch and a wildflower, face full of concern. He opened his mouth and words tumbled out like a waterfall, “I am so incredibly sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it, and I was just being utterly ignorant.”

“Yeah, you were,” you replied, sighing, “But, I forgive you.”

A look of relief washed over his anxious face, and he crossed over to you and leaned down. “Y/N, I believe this is yours,” he stated, handing you the delicate flower.

“I believe it is,” you replied, “Thank you, mellon.” 

He smiled at you and stood up to leave, but you grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave,” you said, a pout on your face, “It’s cold.” 

“Alright,” he stepped back and sat down close beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Leaning slightly into his side, you smiled at his comforting warmth. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, causing you to scrunch up your nose. Legolas laughed softly at your adorable expression and tightened his grip around you, inching you closer to him. Finally, he pulled you all the way up to his side and you leaned your head against his collarbone. 

Because you were such close friends, you had been this close to him before, but this time, something was different. All at once, you reached out for him and captured his lips in yours. He started in surprise, but immediately grabbed your waist and pulled your body into his lap. Deepening the kiss, your hands tangled in his hair, eliciting a groan from his lips. You were the first one to break away for air, and you held his face in your hands.    

His bright eyes only held adoration for you, and at that moment, you discovered something about yourself. 

“I love you,” you blurted without thinking, causing him to grin in surprise. You stared at his expression and groaned, “Oh, Eru. Did I say that out loud?”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh good, I was a little worried that you didn’t,” you bursted out, relieved. 

“Why would you think that?”

“You were mad at me, Legolas.”

“Right, sorry, meleth nìn,” he apologized, letting the term of endearment fall from his lips easily. 

You threw your arms around his neck and embraced him, murmuring, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to call me that.”

He chuckled as his strong fingers traced patterns on your hips where he held them and kissed the tip of your nose.          

“We should probably return to camp,” he whispered, a slight frown on his face. 

“Can’t have Gimli eating all the food, eh?”

“Be quiet.” 

You snickered, and began to lift yourself off of his lap but were immediately pulled back down again by Legolas’ hands. 

“We really should be going, Leggy,” you groaned.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever, Leggy.”

“I’m warning you once and for all, Y/N. You call me that again, and I’ll…”

“Hm? Are you threatening me?” 

“You don’t want to know what I’m threatening.”

“Well, maybe I do, Leggy,” With that, you jumped up and, picking up the torch, ran out of the cave.

He chased you out, following the torchlight, and caught you by the hand. Pulling you back to him, he took the torch and smashed his lips into yours aggressively. You stumbled back, but his other arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Kissing back, your arms snaked around his neck. 

At that moment, you heard a twig snap behind you, and, by instinct, you quickly turned and drew your sword. To your surprise, you were greeted by the terrified faces of Sam and Merry, who were no doubt sent to fetch you. 

“Oh, boys! I’m so sorry about that. I promise, that’s just an instinct,” you reassured them, taking a step toward them, but realized Legolas’ arm was still around you, “Oh.” 

“So Y/N, uh, are you and Legolas courting?” Sam asked, toying with a piece of rope in his hands.

You looked at Legolas, who nodded with a smile at the young hobbits. They grinned back, Merry more suggestively than anything, and began to trot back to camp.  

“If you were planning to keep this a secret, it’s a little late for that,” you commented with a smirk at the retreating backs of the hobbits. 

“Why would I want to keep us a secret?” he asked, his eyes blatantly betraying his confusion, “I’m in love with the most beautiful elleth, and you expect me to want to keep that hidden?” 

You flushed shyly, looking away from him, making him smile and lift his hand to your cheekbone. He traced the top of your cheekbone, eventually replacing his fingers with his lips. 

“For the last time, Legolas, we have to go.”

“Alright, alright. We can go.”

You led him by the hand back to the camp, where the Fellowship was waiting expectantly. Boromir pretended not to notice the two of you, but you were pretty sure he winked at you when Legolas wasn’t looking. 

Legolas pressed a kiss to your cheek as his arm wrapped around your waist, and you smiled at him sweetly. A slight blush slowly crept across his face, making you giggle, only reddening his face more.  

“You alright, lad?” Gimli asked, guffawing loudly at the annoyed glare Legolas reserved especially for him, as he briefly tore his eyes from you. You grinned at the dwarf, who raised his lembas in your direction as a toast. The hobbits huddled together against the cold, but watched the two of you from a distance with small smiles. 

Suddenly, Sam spoke up with a heartbroken sigh, “I may never see Rosie again.” 

“Oh Sam, don’t say that!” you replied, untangling yourself from Legolas and moving over to the bundle of hobbits. Taking his hands, you looked into his eyes and murmured earnestly, “I promise that I will protect you on this journey as best I can. Love is one of the most wonderful feelings, and Samwise, I hope you can live to see your Rosie again.” 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied, sniffling slightly. You pulled him in for a hug, and found yourself surrounded by shivering hobbits. 

Pippin wormed his way under your left arm, Merry under the other, and Frodo wrapped his arms around your shoulders. Soft sobs came from the halflings as you held them tight in your arms, and you gave each one of them a sweet, motherly kiss on the forehead. 

“You four had better get some sleep,” you murmured, standing up. The hobbits nodded tearily, and laid down on the ground. You covered them in their cloaks, and let them drift off. 

Returning to Legolas, you sat against the log he was sitting on and stretched yourself toward the fire. 

“I see you made up,” Aragorn commented, a smirk on his face. 

“Thanks to you, Strider, and I won’t forget that,” you replied earnestly, reaching over and squeezing his hand, “I just hope we can make it out of this journey alive.” 

“For your sake, I hope so too.”  

The firelight and soft voices lulled you into relaxation, and you found yourself leaning against Legolas’ legs. His comforting presence made you forget where you were, and you began to climb into his lap. Aragorn’s eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you were doing. Stopping your motion, you began to move away, but Legolas pulled you right back to him. 

“Stay,” he murmured. You returned to your intended destination, and he cuddled you close to his body. You finally felt safe and warm in his arms, and your eyes began to feel a little heavier. He began to sing softly, something he had done since you were children. Recognizing the melody, you smiled and hummed along, shifting in his hold to look up at the stars. The soft twinkling mixed with the moonlight washed over the camp, and you finally felt at peace. Realizing that you hadn’t slept in days, you retreated further into his hold. 

You smiled sleepily, and murmured, “‘Night, Leggy.” 

He chuckled and rubbed your arm, saying, “Get some sleep, meleth nin. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” you said, and your eyes finally were able to close. Soon, your slow, even breathing affirmed that you were fast asleep, and Legolas stroked your hair gently in the pale moonlight. 

“Goodnight, my sweet wildflower.”

Tags: 

@elles-writing​ @guardianofrivendell​

[doctors-star]

16 for cowboys??

“Look, I care about you, alright? Quite a bit, I’m afraid.”

Johnny flops on his back, head slightly downhill of his feet in a way which makes the blood in his skull rush and whirl bewilderingly and his eyes pressed closed against the burning-bright sun, as yet undimmed by the afternoon. Someone drops a hat on his stomach and he flinches as though it had been a cannonball, sticking his tongue out and playing at being injured like the hognose snake Will had found in the shade under the general store’s porch - he’d rescued it from being killed as a copperhead, scooped it up in his hat, and brought it round to Ainsel’s back window to show the kids, thoroughly derailing all schooling for the day, as they all crowded around the hat to watch the creature resolutely turn on its back and stick its tongue out in repeatedly feigned death.

He stretches massively on the grass, smiling at the gentle laughter and the feeling of someone sitting near him and reaching across to give him two firm pats on the flank like a well-behaved horse. It’s been a long day, and it started early, but Johnny does like the big drives and hay harvests - all Danser collected together for one purpose, to help their neighbours and be rewarded in turn. Before dawn, he’d been drummed awake by fists on his door and had dressed quickly in the dark to stumble out into the street and go about mustering up others in turn. Of their little gang, he’d been first out of doors, followed by Will - looking bleary but drawn out by the other men staying in the saloon - then Ainsel, who seems to think they might be more use in bed than on horseback every time they see their own horse, then Tommy and Finn looking respectively disgustingly bright and alert, and still mostly asleep. Will, with his extremely biddable broad-chested nearly-a-draught horse, is quickly co-opted into driving one of the carts out of town and along the dusty prairie roads, uphill to the Wilder ranch to deliver tin pails of food and heavy stoneware bottles of drink and the very young and the very old, so that all of Danser may equally participate in the drive. Johnny, Finn, Ainsel and Tommy saddle up and cut north through the prairie, up the steeper side of the hill where the road can’t run; there, Diaz, Wilder, and Wilder’s eldest lad are calling instructions over the heads of the crowd and pointing in disparate directions to where the cows oughtta be, and where the cows oughtta go. A further crowd of skirts and fine hats - for today the town congregates, and it had better be in full finery and Sunday best - has collected around Mrs Wilder and Mrs Diaz to make tea and grits and beans cooked with salt pork in molasses, the scent sticky and inviting on the air even now, with hours of cooking left. Johnny tilts his nose into the air and breathes deeply, shooting a wink at Jody Masham when she passes near and earning a delightfully saucy grin for it. Her ma notices, of course, and gives him the evil eye, but Jody lets her fingers trail down his thigh from hip to knee on the pretense of admiring his horse and looks up at him through her lashes and he could perish on the spot for love of her, so what does he care anyhow.

She passes up chunks of soda bread, steaming in the dawning light and golden with butter, and he tosses them to his fellow riders - dinner will be late today, what with the distance the herd might have gone. And then they’re away, riding nearly the full complement of the town’s horses across the plains to where the herd stands, sedate and well-fed on the last of their summer grazing and ready to be collected up, split once more between Wilder and Diaz, and stowed in smaller paddocks with good solid barns over winter.

There ain’t no point in racing, really. There’s no advantage to getting there ahead of any other person. Johnny grins up at the sky, remembering the wind in his hair, hat brim in his teeth, crouching low over his horse to eke out those crucial inches that keep his horse’s nose ahead of Finn’s as they hoot and holler with the freedom of the run.

“Aww,” Finn says in a tone of very mocking gentleness as he nudges Johnny’s knee with the toe of his boot. Johnny cracks an eye open in preparation to glare at him for the inevitable teasing; against the bright and sunny sky, Finn’s hat is like a halo though his face is dark in the shade. “Didya go too fast today? You ain’t got no endurance, Johnny.”

Johnny allows the glare to settle, but before he can retort, someone on his blind side snorts. “No endurance - how many girlfriends has he got, again?”

Johnny chokes on startled laughter. Finn is wide-eyed in delight as he stares across Johnny’s prone form. “William,” he says, sounding scandalised.

Johnny props himself up on his elbows and sticks his hat back on his head so’s he can watch Will spread his hands defensively. “What,” he says, “I can’t be crude sometimes?”

Finn gestures at his own cheeks. “Naw, sure ya can, only it makes your face go so red that I get worried about ya.”

“That’s just the sunburn,” Tommy says cheerfully, clapping Will on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway and dropping to the grass next to Johnny. As promised, Will’s fair skin is flushed with embarrassment and striped with an angry red across his angular nose and cheekbones, the skin already starting to peel from a day under the sun. He huffs and folds to the floor, knees up to his chest and sleeves shoved up to his elbows to display a bar of red down his forearms too.

“I hope you weren’t teachin’ my kids that kind of joke,” Ainsel says, an enormous black umbrella hooked under forearm and over shoulder to shield them from the sun as they carry a wicker basket in two hands packed with tin pails, bread, biscuits, and bottles over to their little circle. The rest of the town is ranged likewise on the hill overlooking the town and, beyond that, the desert; the horses are tacked out near the farmhouse; the kids themselves are enjoying the freedom and sunshine having been released from hay harvest duties and are tearing up and down the hill, weaving in between groups and only occasionally stopping by their families to grab more food before haring off again.

“I have done no such thing,” Will objects crossly, but Ainsel gives him first choice from the basket and tucks him under the umbrella and out of the sun when they sit beside him so it’s quickly forgiven.

“He was exceeding useful,” Noel pronounces, kneeling by the big enamel dish which represents their share of the molasses and beans and salt pork, and wielding a large spoon like a sword. Johnny gathers that she had appeared some time after dawn, to the disparaging muttering of many of the elder town ladies, but had done so with such a quantity of fine bread and pickles and preserves that her critics had been forced to quiet down to faces of pinched displeasure while Noel held court, knowing that it was not a competition and that she had, regardless, won. She had then gone about supervising the hay harvest, keeping the younger kids in line and occupied while those trusted with scythes cut the hay and Will, on horseback, ran the new hay tedder up and down the field, and then releasing them to stack the hay under her exacting eye. Jody and Peggy had been amongst the scythers and had told Johnny with mouths full of giggles how Will had been left “in charge,” and then done every single thing Noel told him to without complaint or thought of defiance - but the harvest had been done, and Danser is too fond of Will to mock him for being hen-pecked by a woman he hasn’t even married.

Johnny reaches across to ruffle Will’s hair, but he ducks away like a feral cat. “Aww,” he laughs, “you’re useful.”

“Wish the rest of you were,” Will grouses, folding sulkily around his plate.

Tommy catches Johnny’s eye and grins wickedly. He beams in reply; Noel sighs in advance. “It’s true,” Johnny says, assuming a woebegone expression and trying not to snigger when Tommy looks similarly sorry for himself. “We ain’t good for anything whatever. Wholly useless, and you don’t love us.”

Will sniffs, mouth turned down comically in disdain. “You’d be mad to do otherwise,” he tells them sternly, in his finest clipped tones - brought out for special occasions, and their amusement.

“Why, Mister Williams, that don’t reflect very well on me at all,” comes a voice behind Johnny’s left shoulder, light and familiar fingers coming to rest there in accompaniment. Distantly, Johnny is aware of Finn choking on laughter and cornbread, and of Will straightening awkwardly with an air of panic, and of Tommy smirking and kicking at the sole of Johnny’s boot in a teasing, vaguely encouraging fashion - but mostly Johnny is aware of those five delicate points of gentle contact over the ball of his shoulder, and the swishing press of skirts against his side, and how if he tilts his head right back and left he can see all up the willowy line of Jody Masham, hip to hair, her blue eyes and golden curls like a field of cornflowers. There’s a little compressed mischief at Will’s expense tucked into her smile, and Johnny wants to kiss at it until she shares it with him; and there’s a loose, frizzy loop of hair that has escaped from the large bonnet that keeps her pale skin free of the sun, and become darkened with sweat and flyaway in the heat, and Johnny wants to press his nose to it, smooth it between his fingers, tuck it carefully away with pins so that she needn’t mind it - he could do that, he thinks, could give up on all other professions but following Jody around to tidy her hair and carry her basket on one arm, shielding her with a parasol with the other hand.

“Um,” Will says guiltily. “I - well-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean it,” Ainsel says sternly. Jody is smiling fully now; she is so beautiful Johnny could burst.

“I’m not going to lie to the lady,” Will replies, relaxing out of his tense, guilty stance to be indignant at the idea that he might. She is rubbing little circles into his upper arm with her thumb now: Johnny could not tell you for love nor money what Will just said.

“Well,” Jody says, a laugh bubbling in her voice, “how ‘bout you lend me this young man in recompense an’ we’ll call it quits? I’d like a word.”

Johnny is already scrambling to his feet, pressed up on his toes in eagerness to follow her away. Her hand slides down his arm, shoulder to elbow, and the press of it leaves hot lines in its wake that make him shiver. “Ma’am,” Finn says politely, not without amusement, “you keep him.”

Jody curls her fingers around his elbow joint and guides him gently a ways away from everyone else. Once done, he scoops her hands up in his own and holds them carefully like something immeasurably precious. She smiles indulgently and nods at the basket on her other arm, which he’d barely noticed. “Present for you,” she says.

Johnny juggles her fingers into just one hand, freeing up the other to push aside the flannel cover and fetch out a thin, steaming disk of fried batter. “Johnny-cakes,” he says, delighted.

“Couldn’t resist.” He takes a bite, savouring the salty cornmeal cut through with sticky maple syrup, and grins broadly at Jody. She laughs at his enthusiasm and allows him to feed her the other half without letting her hands go, chasing the syrup from his sticky fingers with her tongue until he can barely breathe.

“So, what’s the word?” he manages, biting the tip of his thumb to keep from kissing her, here where her ma is almost certainly watching.

“The word.” Jody bites her lip, huffs a big breath, and looks away - and a solid feeling of dread settles in his stomach. He’s had it good for so long - with Jody, and Cathy, and even Peggy and Anne-Marie, in a way - and he’s always known it wouldn’t last, and that it would ruin him, and-

“The word is baby,” Jody says eventually, tilting her head to one side and pinning him with her gaze, eyes narrowed in consideration. All thoughts leave Johnny’s head in a moment, to be replaced with vague, foggy panic. “Not-” she squeezes his hand until it relaxes a little and ceases crushing hers, “not right now, Johnny, jesus. Come back.”

The fog recedes and he musters up a gentle pat of her fingers in apology for squashing them in his paw. His hands are so much bigger and stronger than hers, tanned and weatherbeaten where hers are pale and delicate with flour worked into the nailbeds, and he oughtta be more careful with them. With her, and with - with the word, if there is to be one.

He can’t tell how he feels about that, in the moment.

“Sorry,” he says ruefully, offering her a clumsy, lopsided smile. “I weren’t - anyway. You go on.”

Jody takes a deep breath and nods firmly, gaze fixed at some point on his left shoulder. “Alright, I will. Johnny, I’ve spent the day cutting hay with a whole herd of the town’s kids, an’ it’s occurred to me, I want one.”

“I’ll get you one,” Johnny says on instinct, like he does with everything Jody says she wants however unrealistic, from hair ribbons to haywains to the entire Union Pacific Railroad. And then she raises an eyebrow at him, and he remembers how that’s what they’re talking about, actually, and to deflect from this he nods his head at one of the kids pelting past on little chubby legs. “That one’ll do - will he suit ya?”

Jody’s face relaxes into amusement and she huffs, leaning forward to press her forehead into his sternum. He must stink of sweat, and wants to tell her to shift in case he does, but he doesn’t want her to move like he doesn’t want to lose his right arm and she doesn’t seem to care. “Sweetheart,” she says into his shirt, “you ain’t never gonna be friends with my ma if you go about giving her grandchildren by stealin’ em.”

“Not even a little one?” Johnny says, tilting his head to catch her eye and watch her giggle. “‘Sides,” he says, considering it with a slight frown, “not sure she’s over fond on my givin’ her grandkids the other way, neither.”

Jody leans back, smiling. “Only ‘cause we ain’t married,” she corrects brightly, and then falters back into seriousness, biting her lip. Johnny squeezes her hands in careful encouragement, for he feels (fears) they have reached the crux of the matter. “Johnny, I - I wanna have kids. Not today, or tomorrow, or maybe even a year or two yet, but I want ‘em. An’ - I know we’ve not ever been traditional, but my ma - my ma really is gonna disown me if I ain’t married when I have ‘em, so.” She shrugs, fingers tapping in agitation against his palm and her gaze fixed back over his shoulder. “I’m not saying now, but I am sayin’ someday, and if that don’t fit with you someday then - I gotta find someone else. An’ I don’t know how that someday fits with you and Cathy, or Peggy and Anne-Marie, or - or I guess just with you, but I’m sayin’... I don’t mind, I guess, so long as you do right by the kids, and we’re…” She trails off.

“Miss Jody Masham,” Johnny says solemnly, raising her hands between his own, “are you askin’ me to marry you someday?”

She meets his gaze at last, frowning shrewdly at him. “Depends,” she says shortly. “Are you gonna say yes?”

Jody hasn’t never said she loves him. Johnny doesn’t need her to: he knows she does, on account of how she smiles at him and teases him and trounces him at cards to win kisses five nights in seven on lamplit nights where her ma can’t see them. And he bandies about words of love to everyone and everything, enough for the both of them, and they’re well-settled into the kind of long-standing devotion that doesn’t need professing very much. She’s told him before that she’s no good at romancing others (though personally Johnny reckons she’s not bad) ‘cause of how she can’t be sentimental with them; she loves them, and they gotta figure that out, or they ain’t trying hard enough.

Johnny told her he loved her on their second meeting, but then, he’s like that. Always has been. And it doesn’t mean he loves her any less, or any more, than she does him; he’s just got an awful lot of love to share, and she doesn’t mind him sharing it.

He could be married, he thinks. He and Jody could do it, and do it well, and marriage was always waiting for him somewhere - now that he’s not looking at it down the barrel of some angry pa’s shotgun, and without the threat of that too, it looks mighty appealing. They’ll have to get a house, of course; somehow stop renting, and own outright, but how hard can that be? He’ll get her fine printed calico, and build a table for her sewing machine, and Ainsel will school the kids. Finn and Tommy can teach them to ride and make great pets of them, and this time years from now Noel will have them harvesting hay neatly under her stern eye, and Will can bring them hognoses cradled gently in a hat.

He could live in that future, and live long and well.

Johnny pretends to think about it, but lets his grin slip through so’s she knows he’s teasing. “Well, you ain’t hardly romancin’ me.”

She purses her lips against a real smile and uses their hand grip to punch him gently in the chest. “I brought you johnny-cakes, special,” she objects, and he laughs. “Look,” she says firmly, “I - care about you, alright? Quite a bit, actually, and so you’re just - gonna have to deal with that.”

Johnny ducks in close and presses his forehead to hers, beaming. “An’ I love you too,” he croons to make her blush, and then ducks under her bonnet and kisses her softly. He can do that, now - here before the town, on the day of the hay harvest and cattle drive, for they are, someday, to be married.

Jody pulls back, smiling secretly in the corners of her eyes, and strokes a hand through his hair. “I always forget,” she says absently, eyes on her fingers as they comb and tangle in his curls, “how nice your hair is without your hat on.”

Johnny frowns, puts a hand up to his own head. “Where is my hat?”

“It fell off when you leaned back to see me,” Jody supplies. “You didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t remember that.

Jody smiles with resigned amusement. “Lord help me,” she sighs, “for I’m marryin’ a moron.”

Johnny puffs up in indignation. “You don’t have to.” Of course she doesn’t - Jody Masham is the prettiest girl in the county - the west - the world - and could have any man she pleases.

“Naw,” she says, rubbing her thumb along his chin. “I’m gonna.”

[scapegrace74-blog]

Don’t Call It Love

A/N  With Saorsa done and dusted, it’s time to return to the Metric Universe.  When we last left Jamie and Claire in October 2017, they were sharing comforting silence and attending a Depeche Mode concert together.  Will things fall easily into place now that they have tripped over the line from being roommates to being friends?   Oh, hell no.  What would be the fun in that? 

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Zero 7 (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

Winter, 2017 - London, England

It happened by accident.  Happenstance.  Serendipity.   Fate.  The words she used to explain the fact that she and Jamie started seeing each other outside of the flat in social circumstances that would typically be characterized as dates varied, but her opinion remained fixed.  They weren’t dates.  Jamie was her roommate, a good friend, a fellow enthusiast of the culturally obscure, and a brilliant pub trivia partner.  They had both agreed that a romantic relationship between them would be disastrous; ergo, there was nothing romantic about their increasingly frequent outings.  If she could memorize the names for the 206 bones in the human skeleton, she could certainly manage to keep her feelings for Jamie inside the tidy box she had built for them.

Non-Date #1

They crossed paths inside the massive Spittalfields Market, both of them with shoulders damp from the chilly November rain.  Jamie was on his way to the fishmonger, while Claire carried a cloth bag filled with late-season vegetables, determined to eat something other than take-out on a rare day off from lectures and the hospital.

“Are ye on yer way back tae the flat, then?” Jamie asked, physically fighting the urge to offer to carry Claire’s wee sack.

“No, I’m off to the charnel house first.”

“The what, now?”  Surely he’d misheard her.

“The charnel house.  Don’t tell me you’ve been living over top of a medieval burial ground all this time without realizing it?” Claire teased.

Intrigued as much by her beguiling smirk as the opportunity to explore a bit of London’s history, Jamie followed Claire to a commercial highrise near the edge of the market.  Descending a non-descript stairwell in Bishop’s Square, they came to a halt in front of a glass wall.  On the other side was an excavated ruin, the crypt of the long-vanished chapel of St. Mary’s Spital hospital, a quick scan of a nearby information plaque informed him.

“They only discovered it was here when construction of the office tower began,” Claire said, a wistful look on her face.  “For centuries, travelers and the victims of London’s many plagues were buried around the hospital, quite literally in the Spital fields.  When the graves overflowed, they brought the excess bones here and stacked them for safe-keeping until the Apocalypse.  Imagine, forgetting something so...fundamental.”

Jamie grunted in acknowledgement, seeing the reflection of Claire’s face superimposed on the glass.  He couldn’t decide if this human tendency towards forgetfulness pleased or disappointed her.

“Tis rather...”

“Macabre?” she suggested with a grin, turning away from the display and climbing back into the cloud-roofed square.

“I was gonna say morbid, but as ye like.”

“We build our present on the bones of our past, my Uncle Lamb used to tell me.  He was referring to archaeology, but I’ve found it to be true of life itself.”

They walked back to the flat, collars raised against the hastening rain.  Jamie had bought enough hake for two, so they shared the narrow worktop, dicing fresh vegetables and letting their shoulders bump together occasionally.

Claire ate at the two-person dining table while scrolling social media on her phone.  Jamie used the coffee table to hold his plate and the gaming magazine he was flipping through.

It wasn’t a date.

Non-Date #4

Her cellphone rang as she was leaving the bathroom, thoughts bouncing between her end-of-semester exams and her non-existent plans for the Christmas holidays.  She accepted the call with one hand while starting the tedious job of separating her soaking curls with the other.  At first there was only static.  She glanced at the screen, recognizing the familiar number.

“Jamie?” she tried.

“...mac na ghalla, Hamish...” followed by muffled noises and masculine jeering.  She switched hands and started to towel off, making certain first that the video call button wasn’t active.

“Hal-lo.  Paging Mr. Fraser.  You have a call on line one.”

“Ach, sorry Claire.  I didna mean tae... That is, the lads were just... How are ye?”

She giggled at his discomposure.  “I’m well, thank you.  And you?”  They had seen each other that morning, as he came off shift and she was leaving for her morning lectures, so she assumed there was more to this call than a polite inquiry into her state of well-being.  She had learned over their months as roommates that sometimes you just needed to wait for Jamie to get to his point.

“Braw, thank ye.  I was... weel, I’m at the park with some o’ the lads, tryin’ tae put t’gether a side, an’ we’re short a winger, an’ I was jus’ thinkin’, ye said ye wanted tae learn tae play an’...”

Another James Fraser quirk was that he rambled in broad Scots when he was nervous.

“Jamie, are you asking me to play rugby with you?”

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  If ye wish, o’ course.”

“I did just step out of the shower...” she mentioned, already peering outside at the threatening sky and mentally assessing her wardrobe for something suitable for a ruck and maul in the rain.  “Hello?” when there was no sound from the other end in some time.

“Aye, I’m here.  Nevermind, Claire.  I dinna consider, ye must be gettin’ ready to study fer yer finals, an’...”

“Where are you?” she interrupted, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of yoga pants.

“Victoria Park?” Jamie replied, sounding hesitant and hopeful.

“Give me twenty minutes.”

“Splendid!”  She could hear his smile down the line.

“I better not get mud in my hair, Fraser,” she retorted before hanging up, her own smile lingering on her face.

There was nothing romantic about rugby.

Non-Date #7

The flat was strangely forlorn, even with Christmas lights twinkling merrily in the living room windows and a tiny fir tree precariously balancing its five ornaments standing in the corner.  

They had exchanged their gifts on December 23rd, sipping on hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua and grinning shyly at each other.  She’d bought Jamie the next Call of Duty game for his XBox.  Nothing intimate, just something he’d mentioned in passing he was looking forward to trying.  His boyish glee upon unwrapping the package warmed her more than her drink.   Hands shaking slightly, she delicately opened the tastefully wrapped rectangle he presented to her.  Inside was a cashmere scarf, luxuriously soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it.

“Is this?” she asked.

“Aye, tis the Fraser plaid.  Ye ken there’s no’ a clan named Bee-cham, right?”

She was deeply touched, and thanked him was a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

Jamie had left for Scotland the next day, having somehow managed to secure a week’s worth of leave from his uncle over the holiday season.   As was her wont, she’d put down for as many shifts as possible while medical school wasn’t in session, but by some fluke she wasn’t scheduled to work New Year’s Eve for the first time in recent memory.

Some of her classmates from nursing college had invited her along to a “raging party in Shoreditch”, but she’d made up some excuse.  The truth was, she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and over-priced drinks with a group of virtual strangers.  If Geillis had been in town, she would have allowed her friend to coerce her into whatever mayhem she had up her sleeve, but Geillis was still in Columbia and eight months’ pregnant with twins, to everyone’s collective shock.  Especially the mother-to-be.

No, what she really wanted was a quiet evening at home, snuggled under her favourite fleece blanket on their couch, the latest Ferrante novel in her lap and a glass of Pinot Noir at the ready.  Jamie had a turntable and a surprisingly well-curated selection of vinyl in his bedroom, but she didn’t like entering his domain without his permission.

Without giving it a second thought, she rang his cell.  It was only upon hearing the raucous sounds of a party in full swing that it occurred to her that just because she was spending New Year’s Eve alone, it didn’t mean Jamie was as well.

“Claire?” he yelled over something that sounded a lot like live music.  “Are ye all right, lass?”

“Oh!  I’m so sorry, Jamie.  I just wanted to ask... never mind.  It’s not important.  Enjoy your party...”

“Wait!” the background noise mutated, sounding like a riot underwater, and then there was a wooden slam.  Jamie huffed a sigh of relief.

“Mu dheireadh.   Are ye still there, Sassenach?”

“Still here,” she confirmed, suddenly feeling sorry for herself.  She might be the most pathetic thirty-year old in London.

“Did the hospital no’ call ye in for a shift, then?”

She tucked the blanket under her feet, warding off the chill that always seemed to creep in from the wall of windows.  The Christmas lights she’d strung reflected against the glazing in alternating colours: blue, red, green, blue, red, green.

“No. By some miracle of the festive season, I have the night off,” she joked halfheartedly.   “I’m sorry for interrupting your night out.  I wanted to ask if I could borrow your turntable and a few of your albums?”

“O’ course.  Ye didna need tae ask.  An’ I’m no’ out.  I’m at home, at Lallybroch.”  He pronounced the word with a guttural flourish that made Claire think of an exotic kind of pastry or a rare tribal custom.  Any time Jamie spoke of his family’s home in Scotland, he imbued it with an otherworldly quality, like a fortress in a fairy tale, a far away land of warriors and mist.  It was strange to think of him there now, while she sat alone in their flat.

“It sounds like quite the party.”

“Aye.  The Frasers take their Hogmanay celebrations verra seriously.  Ye shoulda come wi’ me.”  Then, as though realizing what he’d said, he added quickly, “We could use a doctor.  Dougal sprained his ankle doin’ a sword dance, and Angus singed his arse somethin’ fierce jumpin’ o’er the bonfire.”

She laughed, her mood suddenly much lighter, and asked for more particulars as to how his cousin’s naked ass came to be in close proximity to open flame.  Without either realizing it, the last minutes of 2017 crept by.

Fireworks erupted outside, followed by the tolling of bells and honking of horns.  On the other end of the call, she could hear cheering and an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne.  They were both silent, embarrassed to have been so caught up in their trivial conversation as to have missed the arrival of midnight.

“Happy Hogmanay, Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice came soft and sure over the line.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” she replied.  “I should really let you get back to your party.   Your family must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

He hummed noncommittally.  It occurred to her that had they been in the same place, they would likely be kissing right now.  It sent a shiver of want down her spine.

“Jamie?”  Her voice sounded thready, like she had just woken from a deep sleep.

“Hmmm?”  Shivers, again.

“What’s a Sassenach?”

He laughed softly, and she had to bite her lip.  What was the matter with her?  “Tis a Scottish word for a foreigner, particularly an English one,” he explained.

“You’ve never called me that before,” Claire remarked.

“I’ve ne’er spoken tae ye while on Scottish soil.  T’wasn’t an accurate description ‘til now.”

There was a long silence.  She could hear the sound of revelry through the door of whatever room at Lallybroch he’d hidden inside.  Outside the flat there were firecrackers.   They reminded her of mortar rounds heard from a distance in Afghanistan.

“You don’t like fireworks, do you?” she guessed.  It didn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to know that bright flashes and sudden pops of sound would trigger his PTSD.  They really were a mess, the pair of them.

“Nay.  Jenny an’ Ian’s bairns love them, an’ I told them no’ tae hold off on my account, but they insisted on a bonfire instead.  It reminds me o’ when I was a lad, a’fore ye could buy fireworks along wi’ yer ham at the local Tesco.”

Jamie launched into a long account of the significance of bonfires in Highland culture, and she let herself drift on the melody of his voice, the turntable long forgotten.

“Tell me about yer most memorable New Year’s,” he prompted after his cultural diatribe wound down.

“Oh, well, they all rather blur together, actually.  Too much drink, too much spent on the cover charge.  You know how it is.”

“Nah, I mean when ye were younger.  Ye must ‘ave celebrated in some remarkable places.”

She thought back to her time spent following Uncle Lamb around the globe.  Truth be told, traditional holidays weren’t something that stood out in her memory.  They felt like a foreign custom, a series of drawings taken from a picture book that showed a mother, father and children crowded around a loaded table while snow piled up outside.  They bore no relation to her reality.  It was no wonder Christmas and New Year’s left her feeling ambivalent.

Still, she didn’t want Jamie to feel sorry for her, so she launched into one of her favourite tales.

“One year, I must have been eleven, Lamb was leading an excavation of a Berber oasis town in northern Mali.  The site closed down for the Christian holidays, but Lamb decided to stay behind rather than travel back to England.  We ended up riding camels through these enormous sand dunes, following a local guide on an ancient caravan route.  On December 31st, just as the sun was setting and we had begun to make camp, the camel Lamb had been riding let out this infernal noise, leapt to its feet, and started to gallop away.  Lamb and the guide set off after it on foot, hollering and waving their keffiyeh in the air.  It was the funniest thing.”

“They left ye all alone in the desert?” Jamie asked, horrified.

“Oh, well, they came back eventually.  The camel had been stung by a scorpion, you see.  Once it got over the fright, they were able to catch it and bring it back to camp.”

“Were ye no’ scared, tae be out there in the dark by yerself?”

“No.  Not as I remember it.  The sunset was glorious, and little by little the sky came alive with a million stars.”

“Ye brave wee thing.”  Jamie sighed.  “I wish I was there wi’ ye.”

She didn’t know if he meant with her on that sand dune, or with her at their flat.  Either way, her answer was the same.

“I wish you were too.”

They finally hung up well past two o’clock.  It didn’t count as a date if the other person was five hundred miles away as you whispered goodnight.

Non-Date #12

The Royal London was expanding its pediatrics wing, and Claire was invited to a fundraising gala held, fittingly, in the Museum of Childhood.  The invitation included a plus one, and she’d been putting off asking Jamie if he could join her all week.  It wasn’t that she doubted his suitability as an escort.  Far from it.  But the gala was taking place on February 14th, of all nights, and the symbolism made her nervous.  Still, the alternative was spending the night being hit on by a drunken internist or hedge fund investor, and that was a headache she could do without.

“So,” she began casually a few nights before the event, “any plans for Valentine’s Day?”  If he said he was working or had, god forbid, a date, she would just have to go stag.

Jamie set down his gaming controller and turned to face her desk.  The pulsing  colours from the screen lit his curls like a neon nimbus in the dim room.

“Nah, nothin’ definite.  An’ ye, Sassenach?” he asked tentatively, as though easing himself out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the depth of the ice.  The nickname he had assigned to her during his holidays in Scotland had stuck.  She didn’t correct the inaccuracy, as she rather liked the idea of having a name that was only his.

“Well, I’ve been summoned to a fundraising gala for the hospital, and I was wondering... not that you need feel obliged... it’s black tie, which is really the height of pretension, if you ask me... anyway, there’s no way to decline gracefully short of an aneurysm, so...”

“Out wi’ it, Sassenach,” he prodded.

“Mightyouconsiderbeingmydate?” she blurted, before taking a large gulp of tepid tea.

“Yer date?” he asked as though he had never heard of such a thing.

She sighed, resigned to the fact he was going to make this difficult.  “Yes.  My date.  My plus one.  My social companion.  And hopefully, my defence against spending the evening being pitied and set up with someone’s second cousin, Nigel, the chartered accountant.”

“Do ye have somethin’ against accountants, then?”  The corner of his lip was twitching with the birth of a grin.

“Oh, very funny, you bloody Scot.  Look, I need a date on Valentine’s Day and you are the only man in the Greater London Area who won’t interpret that as an opportunity for a pity shag.   The offer is on the table.  Take it or leave it.”

Something flashed behind his eyes that she couldn’t interpret.  Then it was gone.

“Ne’er fear, Sassenach.  I’ll protect ye from all the wee Nigels.”

***

She’d forgotten to ask whether Jamie had suitable attire for a black tie event.   It was too late now, regardless.  They were meeting at the museum, since she was on shift until eight.  Using the nurses on-call room to get changed, she slinked into her burgundy chiffon gown, its gauzy layers wrapping around her like millefeuille.   Her hair was a lost cause, so she slicked it back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and hoped for the best.  Silver chandelier earrings and a dab of cologne below her jaw, and she was ready to go.  She carried a small beaded clutch and her dress shoes - there was no way she was navigating the Tube in stilettos. 

The museum was a single massive space, conversation and the tympani of glassware echoing against its high-arched ceiling.  She stood in the entryway after checking her coat, spinning in circles and trying to get her bearings.  More than one lascivious glance was directed her way, but she studiously ignored them in favour of looking for Jamie.  With his height and red hair, he shouldn’t be hard to pick out of the crowd.

There was an appreciative murmur from behind her, a gust of fresh air, and then a soft tap against her bare shoulder.  She turned around.

No.  Not hard to pick out from a crowd at all.  Standing before her was James Fraser in full Highland regalia.  He wore his family tartan, a black velvet waistcoat, brilliant white dress shirt and a black bow tie.  When her gaze fell to the floor, she noticed his polished brogues and white socks pulled up to his knees.  She’d never before considered how a man’s knees might be alluring, but there it was.   Jamie had very sexy knees.

“G’d evening, Sassenach.  Ye look... weel, ye look bonnie.”  Jamie’s normally deep voice was gruffer than usual, perhaps on account of the cold night air.  Or maybe his bowtie was tied too tight.

“Good evening, Jamie,” she replied once she found her voice.  “You look, well, if you were a Jacobite, I’d say you looked regal.”

The tops of Jamie’s ears went red, and he ducked his chin, his tamed curls falling briefly forward.  It gave him the look of a bashful child receiving unexpected praise, completely at odds with the strikingly masculine figure he cut.

“No’ a Nigel, then?” he teased.

“No.  Definitely not a Nigel.  Come, let’s get something to drink before all the top-shelf liquor runs out.  You wouldn’t believe how much some of these doctors can put away!”

Jamie was a perfect date.  He stood by her elbow as she mingled and greeted various colleagues and professors, nodding at their tales of medical misfortune and smiling at their awkward jokes.  He spoke confidently about his work and current affairs, and patiently tolerated endless jibes about what a true Scotsman wore beneath his kilt.

When she politely excused them from one such conversation, he leaned over to whisper in her ear as they walked away to fortify themselves with more alcohol.

“I’ve a mind tae lift my plaid an’ moon the entire assembly the next time one o’ yer wee doctor friends asks about my underthings.  Are ye sure they arena raising funds for a new proctology department, Sassenach?”

She snorted in a truly unladylike fashion and turned to meet his unrepentant smirk.  Just then, a figure approaching from the bar caught her eye.

Oh no.  It couldn’t be.  After five years, she’d finally relaxed her vigilance, had ceased anticipating his presence at every turn, and now, here he was.

“Sassenach?” Jamie was watching her with concern.  The blush had drained from her cheeks, leaving her wine-stained lips and sintering eyes the only colour on her face.

“Claire!  Fancy meeting you here!”  Had his voice always been so nasal?  His eyes so glassy and vacant, like portals into nothingness.  He’d obviously been drinking heavily.  A blond woman half his age had her arm linked through his.

“Frank,” she uttered his name.  Jamie stepped into her side, his posture erect, somehow sensing that she needed his protection from this unheralded threat.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.  I’d heard you’d gone into the army, or some such thing.  Afghanistan, was it?  Well, with your penchant for violence, I suppose that’s fitting.”

She breathed deeply through her nose.  She would not let him get the better of her.  She wasn’t that person anymore.  With a clammy hand, she grabbed onto Jamie’s fingers where they rested around her hip.  He squeezed back.  He was here.   She wasn’t alone.  It was all the strength she needed.

“Yes, that’s right.  I served overseas for a time, but I’m back in London now.  In medical school.   Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just leaving.”

Focusing on each step, she turned towards the exit, Jamie’s hand now warm upon the small of her back.  Her chin wobbled, but she bit down hard to stave off tears.

“A doctor?” Frank taunted from behind her.  “Wouldn’t a demolition expert be more apropos, darling?”

She froze, spine trembling with anger.  Jamie made a questioning noise, asking without words if she wanted him to intervene.   She didn’t.

Glancing over her shoulder, she dealt her parting blow.

“Give my best to Amelia and the children.”  Without waiting to witness the aftermath of her pronouncement, she made her way out into the chilly night air, Jamie’s bulk a silent sentinel at her side.

It wasn’t a date if it ended on the floor of your bathroom, crying ugly sobs as mascara stained your cheeks, while your partner held your shoulders and made soothing noises with his throat.  

That wasn’t dating, that was survival.

***

mac na ghalla = son of a bitch

Mu dheireadh = finally

[j-hawthorn]

To Sit in the Garden

Rating: EXPLICIT 

Word count: 3582

Find it on AO3 here

The palace gardens were quite lovely at sunset. In a secluded spot, on a bench hidden behind a tree and collection of flowering shrubbery, sat the patrician. He had wanted a quiet evening stroll to clear his thoughts. What he got was his leg seizing up in the cold weather. He made it to his little hiding spot, rubbing his thigh and sighed.

It was still a lovely evening. Leaning against the stone wall, Havelock watched a collection of small birds flit and swarm around a lamp, catching moths. The creatures darted and swooped, deftly catching their prey. Little paper thin wings fluttered to the ground. It was serene. A brisk wind caught him, and Havelock pulled his heavy cloak around his shoulders. With care, he crossed his bad leg over the other, hands clasped on his knee. Havelock allowed himself a moment of quiet and closed his eyes.

'What the bloody hell do you mean you don't know where he is?' Boomed a voice. Havelock opened his eyes. The birds scattered. A harried looking clerk trotted lopsidedly beside Commander Vimes, face beet red and hands waving.

'His l-lordship said he d-didn't w-wish to b-be d-disturbed!' Quivered the clerk. Vimes stopped in his tracks, his cloak billowing around him dramatically. The poor clerk couldn't stop his feet in time, and half trotted half tripped further down the path before he could catch himself.

Havelock sighed, but didn't move. He watched as the young man drew himself up, fiddling with his neck tie. 'I'm...going to...have to ask you to l-leave...?' The boy deflated even as he spoke, the hard stare from the commander breaking his resolve.

There was a quiet pause as commander and clerk regarded each other. Havelock stretched a foot out and snapped a twig under his heel.

Vimes threw up his hands, 'Ah, well. There we have it then. Fair enough lad, fair enough.'

The clerk shifted uneasily, 'Oh...okay-'

'Mind if I have a wander through the gardens while I'm here, lad?' Vimes clapped him on the shoulder. 'I've never really had the chance before.'

'Oh...yes, of course, Commander.' And with that the clerk shuffled off, a sunken shell of his former self.

Havelock smiled, and simply waited. He closed his eyes again, settling into a relaxed slouch. It took a couple of minutes. Boots crunched over gravel. Then stopped. Bushes were prodded. More crunching of stone. Then swearing and the rustle of shrubbery signalled the arrival of Commander Vimes.

'Did you enjoy yourself, harassing my staff like that?' Havelock asked, still not opening his eyes. He felt the bench shift as Vimes sat heavily beside him.

The man grunted, 'What are you playing at, sitting out here?'

'I simply wanted some time away from...people.'

'Oh...' He felt Vimes shift awkwardly.

Havelock placed his hand on Sam's knee, turning to look at him. In the fading light he looked tired, the lines and scars on his face deeper, but the distant lights reflected in those simple brown eyes of his. 'Don't worry,' he said softly. 'You don't count.'

'As people?' Vimes chuckled, his cheeks pink.

'Exactly,' Havelock moved closer, and leaned against Sam. He shivered as a breeze picked up. Vimes moved, wrapping his cloak around them both. With his arm around Vetinari's shoulders, Sam scooted closer. Havelock smiled. He settled against the solid warmth of Vimes, his hand still on his knee.

With the tip of a finger, Vetinari drew lazy circles on the man's leg. He felt the tiny shift in his breathing, and the small cough of Vimes clearing his throat. The last of the light faded, leaving the pair truly secluded. Sam tentatively plucked at the edge of his cloak, his fingertips brushing near Havelock's ear. His touch was light, almost timid as he let his fingers comb through Vetinari's hair. Turning into the touch, Havelock pressed a chaste kiss to the man's palm. Sam's arm tightened around him, and he leaned in, kissing just behind his ear.

Havelock shivered, humming. He let himself relax, head tipping to the side. They sat like that a moment, Havelock in his arms, Sam's warm breath on his neck. Then Havelock moved, now sitting in the commander's lap. Vimes cleared his throat, resting his chin on Vetinari's shoulder. His strong arms wrapped around his waist, and Havelock couldn't help but chuckle.

'What?' Vimes nudged him.

Vetinari waved a hand, 'Oh, nothing.'

Vimes grunted, rocking them both gently, 'Nah, come on, tell me.'

'I wasn't laughing at you, if that is your concern, Vimes,' He said sweetly. 'I was simply expressing an emotion. I do that, you know.'

His companion snorted, and nuzzled into his neck. And Havelock found himself near melting in the embrace. Crickets chirped. The city was still so loud, and yet right then, in that place, it could have been in another world. All that mattered was the warmth of Sam Vimes, and the feel of his stubble on Havelock's skin.

'...Sam?' Havelock pressed a kiss to his temple.

'Hmm?'

'Why are you here?'

Vimes pulled back, brow raised, '...You forgot.'

It was Havelock's turn to pull back, 'Forgot what?'

'Oh wow,' Vimes shook his head, tutting. 'I can't believe this.'

Vetinari frowned, and sent his mind hurriedly digging through his mental filing cabinets. He came up with nothing. He was certain there was nothing about the day to warrant remembering-

'Good grief, what am I going to do?' Vimes sighed dramatically.

Havelock narrowed his eyes, ‘...You’re lying. I haven’t forgotten anything.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I never forget,’ He frowned. ‘Unless it is prudent for me to do so.’

Vimes clicked his tongue, shaking his head. ‘Tragedy,’ He sighed. He tightened his grip on Vetinari and pressed his lips to the underside of his jaw. ‘I am beside myself in grief.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Vimes-’ The rest of his sentence was lost as Vimes kissed him. A hand in his hair, the other on the small of his back, Havelock was pulled in hard. He moaned. He couldn’t help it.

Light moved near them. The men stopped, barely breaking apart, but frozen. Two palace guards wandered nearby, torch in hand. Vimes started shaking. Turning with wide eyes, Havelock gave the commander a withering look.

The man was giggling.

Havelock clamped a hand over Sam’s mouth, which only made the man laugh more. By the time the guards were far enough away, Vimes was snorting, eyes filling with tears. Havelock slipped from his lap, straightening his cloak, ‘Stop it.’

Vimes waved a hand, sucking in sharp breaths. ‘Ah fuck,’ He snorted, shaking his head. ‘Come on, your lordship, let’s go.’

‘Go where?’ Havelock folded his arms, brow raised.

Standing, the commander grabbed him around the waist, knocking Vetinari so off balance he had to hold on to the man to stay upright.

‘Somewhere,’ The commander purred, hand moving lower, ‘With some walls. Maybe even a door. With a lock. Forgive me, but we’re too old to end up fucking in some bushes.’

‘Are you so certain that is how this evening is to progress?’ Havelock asked as haughtily as one could while being propped up, and having one’s backside groped.

Vimes simply rolled his eyes, gave him a squeeze, and pushed the patrician out of the bushes. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Lead the way – I’m sure you’ve got some secret little doors around here.’

He was right of course.

Havelock led him silently through the small passages, finding his way mostly by touch. Eventually they made their way to his suites. A fire already burned in the hearth, the warmth of the room hitting them like a wave. Not that Vetinari had a chance to really notice.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Vimes spun him around, and pushed him against the wall. Hot bites landed on his neck and throat. Callused hands roamed, unclasping his cloak and slipping under his shirt -

‘Shit!’ Sam pulled back, sucking on his finger.

Havelock blinked, momentarily dazed. Then he removed his top most layer, revealing an arrangement of criss crossing leather straps holding small and very sharp blades. They glinted evilly. With a look of half horror, half unabashed lust, Vimes looked him over. He hooked a finger through one of the straps and gave it a playful tug. He smirked.

‘Oh, I like this,’ He said, ‘Though perhaps without the shirt. And the knives.’

‘Don’t the blades add a little danger?’

Vimes chuckled, ‘You’re dangerous enough as it is.’ He stepped back properly now, moving to stand by the fire. He unclasped his own cloak, carefully picking it up to drape over a chair. He didn’t turn around as the sound of knives being unsheathed and placed on a table filled the room, and Havelock wondered if he really understood how special that made him, that he was to be allowed to be with him unarmed.

Their eyes met. Sam held out his hand, a softness in his face that made Havelock sigh. Sam knew. He took Sam’s hand, and stood in front of him. With a hand on his cheek, Vetinari kissed him. Soft and slow, quelling the fire that always burned within Vimes.

Sam held him at the waist, head tipped back as they deepened their kiss. Vimes made surprisingly soft sounds for such a gruff man. Havelock adored it. He dropped an arm, bringing his fingertips to trip delightfully under the man’s shirt and over his hip.

Vimes made a fantastic shocked and mildly choked sound, hips shifting forward, his back arched. Nails digging in, Havelock dragged his hand up Sam’s spine, drawing a snarl from him. Vimes walked him backwards – and pushed him onto the bed.

Landing with a gasp, Havelock wasn’t given any time to recover. Vimes straddled his hips. He pulled off his shirt before grabbing Vetinari’s wrists, pinning them to the bed above his head with one hand. Havelock made a show of squirming, pulling against the hold, biting back his grin when Vimes tightened his grip. He arched his back and let his eyes flutter shut as Sam sucked on his neck.

He’s going to leave marks, Havelock thought with a grin, Capital -

Sam’s free hand pressed between his legs, moving with excruciating slowness. Groaning, Vetinari writhed, needing something more through the layers of fabric. Vimes chuckled, a cruel and delicious sound.

He pressed the flat of his hand to Havelock’s abdomen, lips by his ear. ‘Well then, your lordship,’ he smirked, breath hot, lips brushing his skin. ‘I take it you liked that?’

Havelock rolled his eyes. He arched his back, straining against the hold on him, ‘Vimes?’

‘Yes?’

‘Fuck me.’

Between the pair of them, layers of clothing got rapidly removed. Vimes derailed himself momentarily, eyes wide when he discovered another strap of leather around Havelock's naked thigh, a blade holstered. The commander gently took his leg, laying it across his lap. He flicked the holster open with this thumb, slowly pulling the knife out. It clinked on the bedside table.

'Don't worry, Vimes. I don't have any more little secrets.'

'Well, that's a lie,' Sam chuckled, fingertips tracing the edge of the strap. 'I'd wager you're more secret than man at this point.'  

Havelock gave this a moments consideration. He sat up, arm around Sam's shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, 'Perhaps. But you know more of them than most.'

Vimes hummed, smiling, though there was something in his eyes that caught Havelock off guard. 'Well,' he said, 'As I am one of those secrets, I'm happy to be in such company.'

Cupping his cheek, Vetinari kissed him, moving to straddle his thighs. Sam made a small, strangled sound, stroking down Havelock's back, his nails dragging lightly. They were not men where the concept of love was an easy thing. Life – their lives in particular – was far too complicated and dicey to really allow it. Yet Havelock had to admit, even it was only to himself, that this man was someone who he held in high esteem and harboured a hefty dose of affection towards. He cared quite deeply for Samuel.

Dipping his hand down between their bodies, Havelock took hold of Sam's cock. He made another strangled sound, his grip on Havelock tightening. With firm strokes, Havelock drew a groan from the man. Vimes fell back on his hands, head tipped, throat exposed. He was quite handsome, in his own way. He kissed his throat, picking up his pace. Sam groaned, holding Vetinari's thigh, fingers hooked on the strap.

Sam sucked in a breath, brows knitted, 'H-Havelock-'

Vetinari hushed him, kissing him hard and catching his bottom lip with his teeth. Sam grunted, wrapped an arm tight around Havelock's waist, and flipped them. His kisses near burned with their hunger. Havelock gladly let himself be overpowered. Panting and flushed, the men moaned, bodies turning into a needy tangle. Vimes cupped his cheek, pressed his forehead to Havelock’s own and sighed. Carefully extracting himself, Vimes sat up and opened the beside table drawer.

As he listened to Vimes rummage through the drawer, Havelock got comfortable. He grinned to himself, cheek pressed to the cool fabric of a pillow. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, tying not to giggle as the man grumbled about condom packets. Just as he was rolling over offer his assistance, Vimes gently pushed his shoulder and slipped his hand down. He had found the small bottle of lubrication Havelock kept tucked away, and was slowly pressing his wet fingers into him.

Vetinari gasped softly, rocking back against Sam’s hand, the man’s movements growing firmer. Vimes nipped softly at the shell of his ear, and Havelock could damn near hear the grin he had as he whispered, ‘How’s that for you, then?’

Breathing out a small expletive, Havelock reached behind himself to grip whatever part of Vimes he could. It turned out to be his elbow. ‘Sam,’ he sighed softly, brows knotted. ‘Dear, I-’

‘Shh,’ Sam kissed the back of his shoulder, fingers slipping from him. Havelock groaned at the absence, eyes half shut. Carefully, slowly, he was filled again. Thighs giving an involuntary quiver, Havelock made a small sound, pressing back against Sam.

Vimes gripped his hip, steadying him, making them both take a moment to adjust. Then he moved. His hand slipped from Havelock’s hip to rest over his stomach, holding him tight as Vimes rocked. Matching his rhythm, Vetinari arched and rolled his hips, pulling some choice curses from the commander. Pushed further onto his stomach, Vimes changing the angle to get as much from him as possible, Havelock moaned and gasped, allowing himself the freedom to be as loud and wanton as he damn well pleased.

The men gripped bedding and thighs. Teeth grazed Havelock’s shoulder, stubble brushed his skin. Stomach tight, Havelock reached down and stroked himself. He started to quiver, sweat on his brow. Panting, toes curling, he groaned low in his chest, reaching his tipping point. Body shuddering, he was putty under Sam’s attention.

Vimes swore under his breath, forehead pressed to Havelock’s back. Sam fucked him till he got all he needed and Havelock was beyond delighted. The sounds of Vimes moaning against his skin, the feel of him, filled Havelock with an intense warmth and pleasurable ache. His whole body hummed, relaxed and satiated. They eased themselves apart, and Vetinari again made an involuntary sound at the absence of his lover.

Strong arms wrapped around his middle. Vimes pressed kisses to his spine, nuzzling into him. They lay like that for a while, bodies curled, fingers intertwined over Havelock’s chest.

Slowly, Havelock rolled over. Sam gave him space, then as soon as they were face to face, he pulled him back in, kissing Havelock’s cheek.

‘You,’ Havelock yawned. ‘Are an old softie really.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Vimes grumbled. He nuzzled into Havelock’s hair, breathing deeply.

Stroking his palm over his hip, along his waist and ribs, Vetinari admired the sheer amount of scars on the man. The older ones that had nearly faded next to fresher, more vibrantly coloured puckered skin. There were bruises too. A small pang of emotion rippled through his heart.

‘Get up,’ Havelock said, patting Sam’s hip before sitting up. ‘And follow me.’

Vimes didn’t move. With a deadly and pointed frown Havelock waved a hand, ‘You need to move if I am to get off the bed.’

Vimes smirked, and shrugged one shoulder. ‘Not me who wants to get up,’ he said, eyes narrowed in challenge.

Havelock heaved a mighty sigh. With great annoyance, and regret, he clambered over Vimes. Unsteady on his feet, he limped out of the room, ignoring the snigger that followed him.

In the bathroom, Havelock lit one candle. He sat on the edge of the large bathtub, turning the taps. The room soon filled with steam. The deep shadows flickered. Vimes came up behind him and kissed the back of his head. Chin on his shoulder, the commander’s hands knitted over his stomach, Vetinari was amazed at the sheer softness of the scene.

Warm water lapped up his legs. Turning off the taps, he slipped into the water, leaning back against the tub. Vimes watched him with a smile, then absent-mindedly patted his own naked body.

Vimes frowned, ‘I don’t have pockets.’

‘I’d be shocked if you did, Vimes, you’re not wearing any trousers.’

‘...Would you mind if I smoked?’

Havelock shook his head, ‘No, dear Samuel, just this once I won’t mind.’

Vimes padded out, returning with a cigar in hand. He lit it with the candle before climbing in the bath to join Havelock. He sat back, leaning against the patrician, sending a puff of smoke to mingle with the steam. Vetinari kissed the nape of his neck. He felt Vimes relax, his strong, weary body fitting so easily against his own.

With his fingertips, Havelock started mapping out pressure points along Vimes shoulders. He moved slowly, counting in his head. When he found the ones he was looking for, along either side of the man’s spine, he pressed hard with two fingers on each hand, moving them in tiny circles. The reaction was instant.

Vimes groaned, head tipping forward. Feeling the tension leave the muscles, Havelock worked upwards. He followed the points along the side of Sam’s neck up to the base of his skull.

‘...Fucking hell,’ Sam murmured, letting Havelock turn his head slightly to reach a particularly knotted muscle along his neck. Vetinari brought his hands around to Sam’s collarbone, frowning in concentration as he mapped the points out backwards. Each press and shift made Vimes relax even more. Soon he was a puddle of his former self, lounging against Havelock, his cigar almost forgotten.

Satisfied, Vetinari wrapped him in his arms, cradling his head against his chest. Sam’s breathing deepened, the hand which held his cigar over the edge of the tub growing limp. He yawned.

‘...Mm can hear your heart,’ Vimes murmured.

‘Shocked that I have one?’

‘...Kinda-’ he snorted, sitting up. Heavy lidded eyes gazed into Vetinari’s, ‘But not really.’

Havelock traced his fingertip along the curve of Sam’s cheekbone, ‘Did I actually forget something today, or were you pulling my leg?’

‘You did forget.’

Havelock growled, flicking Sam’s ear, ‘What, pray, did I forget then?’

Vimes wrinkled his nose, rolling his eyes, ‘It’s our anniversary.’

Vetinari blinked, ‘....No it isn’t.’

Snorting with laughter, Sam shrugged, ‘Yes it is!’

‘No it bloody well isn’t Samuel, I would know, I wrote it down-’ He stopped. Vimes’ expression was a mixture of pity, cruel joy and above all else, love. It hit Havelock like a brick.

‘You wrote it down, did you sir?’

‘Shut up-’

‘Keeping notes on us? Do you write my name in cursive in your diary?’

Havelock’s traitorous cheeks turned pink, ‘Samuel Vimes, I swear I will stab you.’

The man just laughed, turning to settle against his chest again. He yawned happily, ‘I was only pulling your leg, dear. I know it ain’t today. Well, not the main one anyway.’

‘If you don’t make your point soon, Vimes, I’m going to have to employ some rather cruel tactics to shut you up-’

Sam laughed, ‘Don’t get hiffy, Havelock. All I was going to say was, it is the anniversary of the first time you kissed me.’

‘...Oh,’ He breathed. ‘Well, I...’ Derailed, Vetinari took a moment. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek to the top of Sam’s head. ‘I can hardly be expected to remember that, we kiss so often it hardly requires any notice,’ He said, but his heart wasn’t in the quip. The memory had been jogged, and right then all he was able to think about was the feel of Sam’s had gripping his wrist, a hastily whispered confession, and the taste of his blood.

Vimes must have sensed something because he sat up, and turned, cupping Havelock’s cheek. This kiss did not taste like blood, and was slow, languid, and neither man was in any hurry.

‘Hey,’ Sam whispered against his lips, fingertips stroking his cheek. ‘Don’t frown like that. You’re alright. I...’ he sighed, ‘Look I’m not good at saying it, to anyone, but I...um-’

Havelock shook his head, smiling, ‘I know.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ Vimes nodded to himself, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Good, because that’s something you should know.’

Vetinari sighed, pressing a kiss to his forehead, ‘I love you too, Sam.’

[jaeminscoffee]

Shoot

Pairings- Park Jisung x reader

Genre- Fluff, Crack.

Warnings- None.

Summary- Park Jisung, while playing basketball, accidently ends up throwing the ball at you, sending you flying back, landing on your butt. He finds the situation hilarious and absolutely perfect to 'shoot his shot'.

"yoO Y/n it's this way!" your bestfriend, Mark whined as you turn away from the corridor leading to his class for the second time.

"But i have class to attend and i believe you do too-" you try reasoning, totally not interested in whatever he had to show.

"I do, but i still have 1 minute, 54..53..52..51..5-"

"Markus SHUSH", You hear Mark let out a small celebratory sound, watching you huff out a breath and walk straight towards his class.

As soon as the dispersal bell rang, Mark had practically sonic run towards you to tell about this new friend he made. According to what you were told, it seemed like Mark had found his soulmate, as he shared the same, if not an even extra personality as your bestfriend. Mark mentioned his name being Jungwoo and stated his want for the two of you to meet.

Walking down the corridor, turning a corner, you and Mark kept a conversation fueled throughout the entire walk, occasionally exchanging greetings with the ones who walked past you.

"Maarkkk! Mark! Mark Lee!" you hear over the crowded hall, turning heads in all direction to see who was desperately calling out to your partner. In finding no one who particularly stood out, the pair of you just ignored the calls and were now just a corner away from his class.

"MARKUS" This time, as you whip your head to look, you spot a certain ebony haired boy jogging his way towards you and your bestfriend. He was completely worn off the moment he reached you, resting his arm on Mark's shoulder, leaning forward to gain better control over his breathing.

After doing so, he looked up with pure fear and pity for his friend. As the total oblivious person Mark is, held his hand out to do their buddy shake only for the boy to yeet it forward, as a result, yeeting Mark further down the corridor, closer to the turning to his class.

"Chenle wha-" "Mrs. Addington is looking for you. She looked extremely pissed. She looked like something right out of Hades 'most feared creatures' dungeon" Chenle, a really close friend of yours and Mark's, said in one breath.

Mark, in contrast of your totally shaken friend, stood still for about a minute before confusion took over his facials. "But why? I still have like-" he started, looking down at his wrist watch, eyes widening, mouth falling wide open "2 seconds to write my final will" he said, turning around and bolting towards his class.

Chenle, completely opposite from his expression not a minute ago, was now clutching his stomach, hunching over, laughing super hard.

"Did you see his face?" He asked between laughs, you couldn't help but snort at it remembering how Mark looked.

You two keep laughing for god knows how long.

"I should get to class too" you say, finally controlling your laughter, Chenle doing the same.

"Oh which one?" He asked, wiping the tears that had managed to escape amidst the laughing.

"history ew" you fake gag, even mentioning the subject made you sleepy and sick at the same time. Chenle chuckled, looking ahead for a moment before turning back towards you. "Wanna skip? Me and the boys planned to skip class, they must be at the gymnasium right now."

"But attendance-" "gone down the drain, let's goo"

He said, pulling you all the way back to the main corridor, taking a left which leads to the hall where the gymnasium was located.

Gymnasium was not that far from where you guys were at previously, so it was a short walk.

The moment you were just seconds away from the place, you hear loud voices coming from inside. Not surprising, your group is a pretty loud group, i mean you have Chenle in it, what do you expect?

"Jaemin get back here!" you see Renjun, holding his fist up chasing a really scared Jaemin, Jeno strangling Jisung, Haechan filming it all in his phone, the moment you open the double door.

"Uh.. Guys?" Chenle calls out, the room going silent for exactly 5 seconds, looking over to the front to see who was there, seeing you and Chenle, they resume what they were at.

"h-hey Y/n!" Jisung greeted you, struggling as Jeno still strangled him, momentarily looking up to look at you with his infamous eye smile, giving you a small wave.

Renjun, Jeno, Haechan and Jaemin were of the same grade, and lucky for them they shared the same classes. Chenle was a year older than you, well a few months as he was born towards the end of the year.

You and Jisung were also in the same grade, but in different sections, you had a few classes together though. So you and him spent most of your time together.

Mark is the oldest among the 8 of you. You met him through Haechan and immediately clicked together because of your mutual love and appreciation for watermelon. He also happens to be the only one who knows about your little crush on Jisung. The day he got to know about this, he wasn't an ounce surprised, 'It's obvious you like him and he does too, i mean, have you seen him THAT comfortable with skinship with the rest of us?'

"Heyyyy, stop killing each other and let's do something!" Chenle called out once again. Jeno and Jisung eventually stopped. But Renjun was committed on wanting to tear Jaemin's limbs, reason? Only the heaven's would know.

"Me and Jisung are gonna play, anyone want to join?" Jeno asked, most probably to the walls as no one bothered replying, you and Jisung not even listening to anything that's happening around you, as you two got immersed in your own conversation the moment his throat was let free.

"No, Corndogs are definitely superior-" "-What no" "Enoughhh" Jeno interrupted, pulling Jisung away, gripping his hoodie. You see him lean closer to Jisungs ear, whispering something as you watch your bestfriends ears turn red, immediately starting his chain of 'wait a minute' 'bro' 'no wait', a habit of his each time he's nervous or flustered.

"Yes. And that's final" Jeno gave Jisung a cold stare. You hear a scream from the back of the gymnasium, you all go silent, wondering what's wrong. "ReNjUn NO NOT THAT" up on hearing Jaemin's scream, you do nothing other than laugh, "stop laughing you hoes i'm at the verge of death here!"

"I'll go help him" With that Chenle chuckled and started making his way towards the fighting pair. Not knowing what else you could do, you make your way towards Haechan, who stood beside the basketball hoop, a little too immersed in his phone.

"But Jeno!-" Jisung screamed, you pay no mind, sneaking up behind the phone obsessed lad, slowly creeping up beind his back.

"Don't even try, I can see your reflection through the screen" Haechan said, you whine muttering 'no jam' under your breath. You hear Haechan giggle, turning around to look at you, finally abandoning his phone.

"Hi hi" he said, messing up your hair, you swat his hands away, smoothing your now bird nest looking hair.

"Ass" you call him, he feigns offence, placing his hands over his heart. "You hurt me" Haechan said, letting out a fake sob. Being the drama queen he is, you see him falling almost onto his knees, so you hit him on the back, a little too hard than intended, which made him let out a sound of pain.

"Okay now that actually hurts, wasn't breaking my heart enough for you?" the boy asked, "HAHA ON YOUR FACE" Jeno screamed, you turn around to see him pointing at Jisung, most probably talking about the fact that he just made a score.

"no bro wait-" Jisung starts again, you shake your head turning back to Haechan, who was now whining "You hurt me, and now you're just going to ignore me. Tsk" you laugh loud, the two boys dribbling the ball stops for a second, the taller one blushing just a little too obviously and then they resumed the game once Jeno laughed at the youngers state.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, i didn't mean to hit you that hard, though, well deserved" it was Haechan's turn to hit you this time. "Hey! Now who's hurting whom huh?" you ask him, being an equal drama queen as the boy in front of you, clutching the part he hit. Haechan let out a scoff. About to turn back to his phone.

"Y/n watch out!" you hear either Jeno or Jisung scream out to you. You're practically known around your campus for your slow processing brain and reflexes. Few found it cute, few found it stupid and you found it to be painful.

"Hu-?" the moment you turn forward to face the two boys, you see the ball they were playing with, coming in full force at you. Before you could react or move out of the way, the ball collided with your middle. The impact made you stumble back a little, you try reaching over to Haechan to balance yourself, but that was a little too late too.

Next minute you find yourself, losing balance and landing right on your butt with a soft thud. You blank out for a second. Jeno and Jisung's mouth wide open, The two who were fighting now stopped and was looking over at you, Chenle lost it the moment the ball had hit you, and Haechan was awestruck.

You let out an 'ouch' after having the pain finally kick in, that was when Jisung stepped out of his subspace and started jogging his way towards you. "Oh god Y/n i am so sorry! Are you hurt? You okay?" Jisung rambles.

"oh yeah definitely, totally not hurting cause of that stupid ball you threw" you say with a strained smile. "Of course i'm not okay you bimbo". Jaemin and Renjun were now laughing out loud alongside Chenle, and Haechan, now out of his shocked state, let out the loudest snort you've heard in your entire life.

"Jisung you dumbass, when i said shoot your shot, i meant try your luck with y/n, not actually shoot at her" Jeno said, his voice sounding like he was restraining a laugh, because at least he had some human feelings still left in him.

You laugh at the way Jeno framed the sentence. Jisung's eyes widen at his older friend letting out his secret and that's when you register Jeno's words.

Wait.

"You have a crush on me?" You ask, voice high pitched but kept low. Jisung looks anywhere but you, playing with his fingers, dusting non existent dust from his hoodie "YES HE DOES BUT HE'S TOO MUCH OF A WUSS TO TELL IT TO YOU" Chenle screamed.

"No see look, yeah true i do like you and yeah i am a wuss but i know you don't like me so-" he stuttered while speaking.

"You waited for me to get hurt to confess because?" You reply, Jisung's eyes widen the second time. "No no, i didn't wait for you to get hurt but like Jeno wanted me to make a score for you after screaming 'This is for you Y/n' and then confess to you, but hold up woah woah, you like me too?" He asked, voice nervous and he made it obvious.

"Not until you do what Jeno wanted you to do" You reply, a blush forming on both of your cheeks but god bless your long hair, because it covered your cheeks the moment you looked down.

"What?" He asked, confused, not knowing what you're talking about, standing up and reaching his hands out for you to use as a support to get up, stupid move because the pain worsened as you strain your abdomen to get back onto your feet.

You groan and let go of his hand, sitting back down. "You heard me. Now chop chop, I'm not enough patient to wait for another hour sitting on the floor, i want to go brag about being the Park Jisungs girlfriend"

All the boys started to let out hoots and whistles at your words as Jisung finally processed the words you let out.

He breathes out a laugh, getting up from the ground, heading towards Jeno, as Haechan threw the ball that was beside you back to Jeno. He took the ball from his friend's hand.

"Watch carefully" he said with the biggest smile on his face.

-

So initially, this oneshot was suppose to be long and not rushed. But since i had to rewrite it at least 3 times, i forgot a few plot so i ended up writing this. It's realllyyy not proofread so um.. You're strong if you made through the ff! 💗

[fandom-collective-writers]

Reader x Mitsuhide {IkeSen} - Shibari with the Kitsune

Title: Shibari with the Kitsune Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku Character: Mitsuhide Akechi Genre: i only come back to write smut Warnings: kinky time  Kinks: dom!fem, silk bondage, face sitting (oral), riding, milkd dirty talk, etc Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience  Word Count: 1723 words POV: second person Requested by: @alerialumina (”You heard me. Take. It. Off.”)  Written by: @mythiica Other comments: i gave up with the title after about a minute  :D

When you had asked Mitsuhide if he was alright with the notion of allowing you, his little mouse, to take lead of the night’s adventures, he raised a white eyebrow. His golden eyes narrowed accordingly, like he was looking for your smile to waver out of embarrassment. When Mitsuhide cannot find it, he smiles, with teeth. “Alright then, you’ve gotten my attention. You wish to control me? I welcome it–” 

          Mitsuhide the Masochist, you like to call him (in the privates of your own mind, for if he knew that you named him that, he would tease you without end) because of his interesting fascination with bondage. Not only did tying a delicate rope or silken thread around your curves make him painfully excited, but it has nearly the same effect when inflicted on himself. You assume it has something to do with his part time occupation as the designated interrogator-torturer– would you ever learn? Likely not. 

         Regardless of this, you take to preparing everything with great care. Mitsuhide enjoys himself, indulging in the occasional sip of sake as you scramble around the room, trying to arrange everything. 

         “At this rate, I’ll have to cancel my meetings for tomorrow–” 

         Grumbling in response, you stick your tongue out at Mitsuhide and continue. The kitsune would not get inside your head, not this time. 

         And then, when you pull out a beautiful, royal purple silk rope, his eyes seem to light up. It might have been the flicker of the candle light reflecting in that piercing gaze of his, but you become far too distracted because Mitsuhide begins undressing himself. A viscous motion there, and then another, equally smooth slip of his shoulders– and suddenly he is sporting absolutely nothing. 

         “Where do you want me, little mouse?” 

         “Y’know, it doesn’t help that you still call me that–” 

         He pads forward, carrying no shame in the slightest, and pushes your hair back enough to kiss your pulse. “Pray tell, what should I call you? Mistress? My lady…?” 

         Your heart flutters at this– the fact that Mitsuhide is so willing to submit himself to your will. He’s versatile in nearly everything he does, and you curse him for it, because that is usually how he ends up on top by the end of every night. However, today will be different, you tell yourself, dragging your fingernails up his torso. Your touch is as light as possible, and it raises goosebumps to the surface of his skin before a shiver echoes down his arms. 

         “Hm?” 

         “My lady works well…” you reply with confidence, taking his wrists together to wrap them with one pass of the silk. “But I won’t call you pet.. or mouse, or anything like that.” 

         “Whyever not~?” he hums in response, lacing his fingers together for you. 

         You start to pace around Mitsuhide, bringing the rest of rope around his torso. Making sure his nipples stay exposed, you pull on it sharply, so that the fabric is taught against his skin. “Because I know you like the sound of your name on my lips–” 

         Mitsuhide groans at this. One of his few vices, and you’ve found it so easily. “Say it then.” 

         “Not yet!” 

         Heat radiates from his muscles, and you take pleasure in tracing the curve of his waist and then the dip down to his hips… You push Mitsuhide down so that his knees land on the plush futon. The last thing to do is restrain his legs. (And a good thing too, because you are nearly out of ribbon length. You didn’t realize how broad his chest is– you used most of it going around his breast and waist.) 

         Your present is perfectly wrapped and sits almost too obediently in front of you, awaiting orders. 

         He’s started to get hard, you can see the veins tensing every other moment until Mitsuhide clicks his tongue. “My lady… what shall you do to me… or have me do to you?” 

         Confidence bubbles in your lungs, and you untie your obi, letting it drop to the ground with a dull thud. Next comes the outermost layer of your kimono, but you leave the underslip and simply part it further along the leg slit. 

         Taking a handful of Mitsuhide’s hair, you pull his head back enough that you can sit yourself comfortably on his face. He knows what to do without having to be told– Mitsuhide’s tongue, usually sharp with words, delves into your core, swirling around without a moment’s hesitation. Taking a mouthful of your cunt, Mitsuhide relishes in the taste of your essence, sparing no expense to roll his hips and grind against the bindings, trying to find a sliver of relief himself. 

         “Nuh-uh–” you groan, tugging on his hair. Mitsuhide goes still, save for his lips that work your clit in every direction possible. He pulls all of his tricks and goes as far as to bite your outermost folds, trying to surprise you. 

         Pulling on his silvery locks would only urge him on more, you know this, so you instead step back. His chin, wet with slick, glistens in the light and makes you flush the slightest bit. Had you really gotten so wet from such little play? 

         “Behave or else–” 

         Mitsuhide licks his lips. “I do apologize, my lady. I got carried away. You taste divine…” If he were not restrained, Mitsuhide would have licked his fingers and wiped his chin. Instead, he tips his head upwards, as if asking for more. 

         This time, you rest your leg on his desk, opening yourself to him. Mitsuhide scoots forward, but not enough, so he has to lean forward and tense his abdominal muscles to reach you. He takes a single, languid lap every moment, torturing himself more than you. 

         You think you hear a whimper sound from his throat, and you push his face against you. While you hold him there, you grind against his wet tongue and moan. For a moment, you forget that he’s bound and nearly ask him to finger you. 

         However, Mitsuhide would be able to make you cum without needing for fingering. There’s a certain skill in his tongue that allows him to know exactly how to pleasure you. Indeed, before long, the knot builds up in your stomach and you are ready to explode. Mitsuhide reduces his motions though, however, you won’t let him get away with it– you push against his tongue, not letting him escape so quickly. He isn’t in control, and you want that to be clear. 

         “Hm… Mitsuhide– you’re behaving very well.” 

         He twitches at this, his whole body does, and you giggle because of it. His moans vibrate your clit enough to push you over the said edge. The warm rush bursts through you, drowning Mitsuhide. He doesn’t dare lean back though. 

         In fact, your lover continues to lap at you even through your orgasm. You have to step away from him and regain your bearings. “Mitsuhide…” 

         Smiling at you, he licks his lips. “Yes, my lady?” 

         Not replying right away, you guide Mitsuhide over to the futon once more. He sits on his knees, waiting patiently for you. By the look on his face, he seemingly expects you to take pleasure in his tongue once more, but instead, you sit on his lap. 

         Letting the fabric of your skirt fan out, you sit with your soaked pussy against his now throbbing cock. 

         “Hm… is it my turn to be rewarded?” 

         “If you want..” 

         “Oh, I do.” Mitsuhide presses his chest against yours, hard nipples grinding over your own. “Will you indulge me?” 

         There’s no need to fetch extra lubricant – the wetness from your folds and the precum from his cock are enough to allow him to simply slide inside. His tip rubs against your walls, reminding you of all the other wonderful times you shared with Mitsuhide. 

         You failed to tie the silk tight enough, and it starts to fall of his shoulders and loosen from his legs, allowing him enough movement to buck up into you. Mitsuhide lets his mouth hang open to moan for you, singing out his praises for your wonderful display of authority. 

         Riding him, he takes every liberty of showing off. Chest protruding, Mitsuhide laps at your neck and jaw, leaving small bites in his wake to mark you still– you do the same for him, knowing that the window of his kimono will be low enough to reveal the beautiful bruises. 

         Mitsuhide’s cock tenses against your walls. (You can’t really believe that he’s already this close to cumming. Usually he likes to show off that he can last ages without release just because he wants to focus on you. Now, it seems to be the opposite. 

         You have so much energy, and you pour it into bouncing up and down at a constant speed– enough to keep him drooling and moaning and utterly sinful. So wicked that you want to do this again and again. Being the one in control is so much fun, and you see why Mitsuhide likes it. 

         “I know what you’re thinking. This is a single treat for a single day!” 

         “Mitsuhide…” you mewl, tracing his face with a finger. “Then I’ll stop right here. And leave you bound.” 

         His eyes go wide at this, but then he smiles. “You’ve learned a thing or two from me, haven’t you?” 

         “Yes…” You throw your arms over his shoulders and kiss him everywhere, careful to keep your rhythm constant. “Now, don’t you want to cum?” Your smile grows ever devious, just like his when he edges you. 

         “Hm… I’ll give you the satisfaction you seek. Yes, I do~” 

         The ropes have fallen almost completely off at this point, and Mitsuhide nips your lips. 

         “Take. It Off.” 

         “My lady?” 

         “You heard me. Take it off– I know you can. You’ve been acting this entire time.” 

         Mitsuhide swallows hard and his gaze softens. “So I have.” With that, he shrugs his shoulders and the silk falls away, giving him his full range of motion back. His hands take their rightful place on your hips, and he pushes you all the way down. “But I’ll do what you ask me to do,” the kitsune adds with a whisper. 

         “Good… then I’ll ask you only one thing.” 

         “Do tell me, my lady.” 

         “Make me cum.”