#the sound is apparently talking Tom saying 'ah ah ah'

[skruttet]

what did they mean by this

[angiefsutton]

Quantum Leap (1989) Re-watch

So, now that I've fallen headfirst back into QL slash, I decided to give the show a re-watch. Probably the last time I watched it was in 2001 or so, the LAST time I was obsessed with slash.

Figured I'd liveblog some of my thoughts. I'll be using the tag "#Quantum Leap Re-Watch" if you want to follow along.

Episode 1 & 2: Genesis part 1 & 2 / the pilot episode

And here we go....

Al's first appearance: "I'm a lot friendlier than HE is." And I didn't fall in love with him right away WHY?

I remember reading back in 2000 some meta about how many similarities Sam has with Tom Stratton, and fanoning it that GTFW was making that first leap 'easy' (both testing new things, best friend who's a hound dog, etc.).

Poor Sam - while I know he goes through a hell of a lot worse later ("Shock Theater" anyone?), I can't help but feel for him as he tries to figure out what's going on. (best bit: "Oh, I gotta couple of them." with regards to 'new' ideas)

And THERE'S that Mike Post music we all know and love. (Sounds a lot like his Law & Order theme.)

Ah - shirtless Scott Bakula RIGHT from the get go. Yay!

"You'll snap back faster than a pimp's suspenders." Oh, Al - promise me you'll never change!

huh - Al being an astronaut was in the pilot? Could've sworn that wasn't put in until "The Wrong Stuff".

God the ADR is horrible in this episode.

miniskirts and panty hose and streaking - obviously written before they decided to make Sam a goody two-shoes. ;-) (also feeds the fanon that Al started doing it specifically to get Sam to 'behave' himself)

Also - he apparently remembered a LOT here? (Or maybe Al helped him fill it out? <G>)

Sam trying to remember his last name so he can call his dad, who is alive: my dad died of lung cancer in 1986 (when I was 12), and so this scene always hits me hard. If I could time travel, that's what I'd want to do.

Late because of a Laker's game and meeting Martha? Al, Al, Al....

I remember noting this LAST time I re-watched: Al says, "I'd trade my ex-wife for any wreck they got." SINGULAR ex-wife. I know this is Bellisario just being Bellisario (canon? what canon?), but the very next episode is where we run into Donna: I know I wrote that that was a timeline change in one of my stories. (Sam getting together with Donna causes Al to get four more ex-wives <g>.)

Ah - the unofficial theme song of the show: "Que sera, sera".

God, I love how Scott Bakula kisses. He just puts his whole body into it, doesn't he.

While we do get an 'Oh boy' when he sees a pregnant wife, he does NOT say it when he leaps into the baseball player. Curious when that becomes a 'thing we do'.

Huh - we get an 'animals can see Sam as Sam and Al' in this first two episodes.

Al in that silver jacket. Lord have mercy. And our first 'Al sneaking up on Sam'!

"No wonder they're in the cellar: they've got as much enthusiasm as a $10 hooker." God bless you, Al Calavicci. And GOOSHIE made Ziggy print out X-rated pictures?

And the first 'let's go to the bathroom to talk'. Huzzah!

"Seems like someone wanted both Tom and Samantha to survive." - the dual meaning of that when you know the whole show. :-)

"I could be bouncing about forever." / "Nobody lives forever." - adds to the fanon I remember hearing that Sam died in the Imaging Chamber (which is why he's able to leap, because he now knows the 'end' of his life for the string theory) and is why he can never leap home.

Ziggy's 'afraid to print it out' - huh, no voice yet.

Yay - magnafoozled! One of my favorite words from this show.

"You hold six doctorates" - ah, a true canon moment.

Oh, Al looks so heartbroken that Sam can't remember his last name.

"I've named my boy Sam." - not my youngest boy. Tom doesn't exist in this timeline! :-) (Katie does, though. Huh.)

Damn, both Scott and Dean are phenomenal in this. No wonder they won so many awards.

Oh my God - the look they share when Sam comes back after calling his dad. MY HEART.

Ah, Scott Bakula's butt in baseball pants. Can life get any better? ;-)

And the first 'homage' - this one to The Natural.

Had to look this up (don't know much about baseball prior to the '80s <g>): 'Al says "You know who that kid kind of looks like out there?" According to the script, it's supposed to be Tom Seaver, although at this point in time, Seaver is playing for the New York Mets.'

And that's episode 1 & 2. You know, considering this was 1989, it holds up surprisingly well. It's got a good hook, the acting (no surprise) is amazing, and Bellisario does a good job of balancing out 'getting the premise of the show' with 'having an actual plot happen'.

[mossyscavern]

I know you can’t understand… but I’ll try

______________________

“What’s wrong with him?!”

‘There’s nothing wrong with him.’ Sam thought, clutching the rattle tightly in his hand. “He’s in destress.” He says out loud, trying not to let his anger get the best of him.

He gave it a shake and only silence came from the toy. How horrible of a life did these kids witness? He won’t understand.. he’ll never understand-.

*Pained growl*

Sam’s eyes shot opened at the sound. ‘Fuck, I forgot.’ Sam thought after covering his eyes and pointed the rattle at Tom. “I-I know how to use this!” He threatened. It was… pathetic on his part but it’s working… kind of.

“Ah, geez here we go again.” Sam heard, it was a new voice.. maybe another survivor? The voice made Sam peak over his arm. Nope. Tom is still there.

“I know you can’t understand me but put down the rattle or I…” he paused, looking like he’s trying to think of something, judging from the crack on his mask. “Will electrocute. You..! That sounds stupid.”

*bang*

“Oh… that’s unexpected-. Are you looking at me?!”

He shouted as Sam’s vision became more distorted. Immediately he used his arm to cover eyes. “Sorry! Sorry just… you can talk?” He asked, still not looking at him.

“… did you understand me?” Ok apparently that’s the wrong thing to say.

“N-nooo..? Bye!”

He yelled running out of the bus before he can say anything else. Leaving behind a frozen, bewildered Tomothy weaver behind.

“Oh my gosh he can understand me!!” He says, smiling widely under his mask.. than frowned. “Oh… that’s not good, that’s not good at all.”

Tom says again, eyes widen in concern. ‘Not good. Definitely not good.’ He thought, immediately teleporting off the bus. Hoping to god the unexpected, red headed human isn’t what he thought he is turning into.

Cause if so…? Than somethings wrong. Very. Wrong.

______________________

I’m starting to think context is in order.

I think during the 3:00-4:00am route after Sam collects each item, there are symptoms whether you’re going to be one of them or not.

And in my last headcanon when it came to the really gifted, Sam is one of those people from a theory that I’ve done... which is being a seer…

Plus, I couldn’t resist placing in a detective pikachu reference.

[disappointingyet]

Design For Living

Director Ernst Lubitsch Stars Gary Cooper, Miriam Hopkins, Fredric March USA 1933 Language English, French 1hr 33mins Black & white

Dear boy, you can’t possibly be telling me Gary Cooper is in a Noel Coward picture

Ninotchka

Director Ernst Lubitsch Stars Greta Garbo, Melvyn Douglas USA 1939 Language English, a tiny bit of Russian and French 1hr 50mins Black & white

Garbo laughs! Stalin doesn’t!

Many of my favourite films are Hollywood comedies of the 1930s and ‘40s. Ernst Lubitsch is regarded by critics as one the best directors of the era* and he specialised in comedies but I haven’t seen many of his films and those I had seen had watched hadn’t sold me on his genius. In particular, The Shop Around The Corner, which I saw on the big screen, left me underwhelmed. But it seemed like time to give him another go…

The attention-grabbing thing about Design For Living is that it is a Noel Coward adaptation starring Gary Cooper. Slow-talking cowboy Gary Cooper? Yeah, that one. Gary Cooper as a Cubist painter living in a Parisian garret and involved in unconventional sexual arrangements? Uh-huh. In a comedy? Yep. 

It’s apparently a very loose Coward adaptation (I’ve never seen the play) but his spirit remains, even if all the characters are now American. George (Cooper) and his playwright chum Tom (Fredric March) meet Gilda (Miriam Hopkins), who does art for an ad agency – ie, unlike them, she has a real income – on a train. Soon, and unknown to George and Tom, she’s carrying on with both men.

Ah, yes, something important to say: this is what is known as a pre-Code movie – one made before Hollywood’s system of self-censorship (which lasted until the 1960s) kicked in. 

Anyway, the guys rumble what’s going on and tell Gilda she has to make a decision: But instead of choosing one of them, she moves in to sort them out on the condition that there will be no sex… What are the odds that that will stick? 

If an Americanised Noel Coward  play sounds like a classic Hollywood monstrosity, it turns out that this film is pretty funny and still a bit daring. And Cooper could do comedy: he’s opposite Barbara Stanwyck in Ball Of Fire, a Howard Hawks screwball classic from 1940 in which he plays a linguistics professor researching slang. My assumption is that Cary Grant must have been first choice for that film but Cooper is good, and he and March and Hopkins are an appealing trio (or maybe throuple?) in Design For Living.

Ninotchka is much more famous movie and one I’m 95% sure** I saw as a kid. The tagline was ‘Garbo laughs!’ – this was a big deal. I feel that Greta Garbo is somewhere between those old-time movie stars who are almost completely forgotten – Sonja Henie, for instance – and those who have endured more clearly, say Marlene Dietrich. Even if you’ve never seen a Dietrich movie – and let’s be honest, most people alive have not seen a Dietrich movie – there's a reasonable chance you have some sense of what she looked and sounded like, if only from parodies and drag queens. Garbo, on the other hand, seems like just a name now. 

Considering she’s playing the title character, Garbo takes a while to turn up in Ninotchka. We’re in Paris again and a trio of Soviet officials are in town to sell some jewels. News of this mission reaches the Russian Grand Duchess (Ina Claire) who was the former (or, in her view, still rightful) owner of the jewels and she sends her boyfriend Leon (Melvyn Douglas), a French count, to try to retrieve the stuff or at least put a spoke in the Soviet plans. Pretty soon, he has the three officials thoroughly seduced by Western decadence. So Moscow sends a much more hardline comrade to sort things out… and that’s of course Ninotchka.

The broad strokes of this kind of hardened yet naive Bolshevik were familiar until at least the 1980s: she’s baffled by fun, she asks the Count’s butler why he subjects himself to the indignity of being a servant and the old man turns out to be far more conservative than the count etc.

 But the film is smarter than that (and Garbo was a huge star known for dramatic roles.) So we get nuance – for instance, we learn that Ninotchka had been a frontline soldier in the wars that followed the revolution, something not possible in the US until this century as far as I can tell. I don’t think the film is disapproving of this. 

The film’s take on the USSR is fascinating. It was claimed by many Western Communists and other apologists for Stalin (so-called fellow travellers) that it was impossible to know how oppressive the regime had become until the death of Stalin (1953) or even the invasion of Hungary (1956) – but this mainstream Hollywood comedy from 1939 has a clear idea. 

‘The latest mass trials were a great success,’ reports Ninotchka. ‘There are going to be fewer but better Russians.’ That’s a pretty brutal joke even now, but kind of astonishing at the time. The working assumption is that anyone who has messed up and has to return to the USSR will be shot. The scene of a Moscow parade shows Stalin’s cult of personality in full effect. The Russians are in Paris as a part of a programme to flog off Tsarist-era treasures to feed a starving people. 

Ah, but this was anti-Communist propaganda, so they would have said all those things, wouldn’t they? But American anti-Communist propaganda, by and large, didn’t work like this. It wanted to show that the USSR was powerful, dangerous, its agents insidious, not (for instance) easy to derail with champagne and cigarette girls. Anti-Communists were constantly warning everyone to be on their guard (and, during the Cold War, waved through absurd defence spending). This film, instead, is suggesting that people like fun and anyone in a position to compare the two will decide that the decadent West is simply a better time than Marxist-Leninism.

There are three writers credited with the screenplay (although apparently Lubitsch also did some of the work): Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder and Walter Reisch. Reisch I know nothing about, but Brackett and Wilder wrote Ball Of Fire (mentioned earlier) and Sunset Boulevard together, among many other films, before Wilder went on to an even better partnership with IAL Diamond. Pretty much any film Wilder worked on will have some great lines, and this is no exception. (‘A Russian! I love Russians! Comrade, I've been fascinated by your five-year plan for the last fifteen years.’)

Ninotchka is a terrific movie – silly when it needs to be but often extremely smart, funny but also quite tough in its way. It does so many interesting things, like holding off on bringing on its star, and the politics are super-interesting. So, yes, I'm starting to understand why Lubitsch mattered.

*One time and one time only I was invited to the Christmas party of Sight And Sound, the most serious-minded non-academic film magazine there is. My main memory of the evening is lurking uselessly on the edge of an intense conversation about Lubitsch, knowing I had nothing to add. 

**The tiny bit of doubt is because the story was reworked as a Fred Astaire-Cyd Charisse musical called Silk Stockings. I may well have seen that too, but my memory is of a black & white film, not a musical – so Ninotchka. 

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 38: Summer 1924

Masterlist

In the afternoon, Emma finds a moment to have a break during her shift at the Hospital and decides to wander into the square of the Village to see how far the war memorial is coming along. She's there for only a few minutes when she spots Tom, Robert and Mary walking past and hurries over to them. They must've just finished their meeting with Mr Wavell on Pip's corner. Emma knows there's still disagreement on what to do about Pip's corner. Robert is still stringently against the idea while Tom and Mary support the idea.

"Hello!" She calls to them. Tom sends her a beaming smile while Mary and Robert simply smile in greeting. She reaches them and Tom pecks her on the cheek as they embrace. "How was the meeting?"

Robert grumbles.

Mary grimaces. "Well, Mr Wavell has definitely given us something to think about."

Emma winces in sympathy. "Ah."

"He plans to take over whole field with houses not keeping with the area, selling them off and we get a portion of the profits. One time payment and that's it. It doesn't sound right to me." Robert complains.

Emma shares a look with Tom. She knows her husband can tell that she agrees with Robert. Tom sighs. "Can't stay long, I want to call on the blacksmith. I'll see you all back at the house."

He kisses her cheek and walks away. Mary and Robert stop, spotting Sao eating. Emma turns to see it's Mrs Patmore, with a basket over her arm as if she's been shopping. She's watching the work at the memorial site and wiping tears.

"Mrs Patmore?" Robert calls.

"Oh, good afternoon, M'lord. M'lady. Ma'am." She hurries away, embarrassed that she's been seen.

They all watch after her in confusion.

"I wish I knew what that was about," Robert comments as he and Mary begin walking again. Emma decides to join them for a short while. "And why the funny look when I asked after Shrimpie at luncheon?"

"What's this about Shrimpie?" Emma questions.

"He's back in the country. I didn't want papa to discuss it a luncheon because I suspect he's come to tell Rose they're getting a divorce." Mary explains.

Ah, Emma isn't surprised by that statement. She hasn't met them but from what she's heard, they've never been a well-suited pair.

Robert looks at her alarmed, slowing to a stop. "Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. He's hinted at it in his letters, apparently, and I gather things have not been improving." Mary replies.

"That's the end of his career." Robert says solemnly.

"You've said yourself that the Marlboroughs have survived divorce." Mary retorts as they all continue walking again.

"Well, the Marlboroughs are very rich. Shrimpie hasn't got a bean. People will drop them like hot potatoes." Robert counters.

"Are you suggesting that you'll drop Shrimpie?" Emma questions. "Susan's your cousin, not him."

"No, I won't take sides, whatever Susan wants." Robert retorts.

——

Emma is thankful she had the day shift at the Hospital today and didn't have to face luncheon where Robert and Tom apparently clashed over their views on the Russian refugees. Emma knows that this is more than ever driving Tom towards their move to America idea.

Thomas had returned from his trip to supposedly see his gravely ill father that morning but when Emma gazed upon him at dinner that night, her suspicions are heightened. Thomas doesn't look well, he's pale and has dark shadows under his eyes.

Her eyes follow him with suspicion and concern as he and Mr Molesley serve coffee in the Drawing room after dinner as she sits on the settee. Billy, Tom and Mary are standing while Rose and Edith sit on chairs nearby.

Cora walks over to where they are all gathered after having a muttered argument with Robert and sits on a chair on the other side of the settee. "Edith, darling, why so glum?"

"I'm not glum, am I?" Edith replies with no upbeat in her tone.

"How's your prodigy child?" Cora asks. This piques Emma's interest, and she keeps an ear open as she talks to Rose.

"I haven't seen her for a while. I was getting rather under their feet, so I thought I'd give them a rest." Edith says.

"I knew that would happen." Robert remarks almost smugly. "Why don't you leave it for a few months?"

"A few months?" Edith looks cloaked up at the thought.

"I should. Then they'll be pleased to see you when you do go back."

Emma frowns in concern. She wishes Edith would just tell someone, other than Rosamund who Emma suspects to be involved in whatever this is.

Mary turns from talking with Tom and Billy to her parents. "Any more thoughts on Pip's Corner?"

"I'd love to understand the merits of the argument." Cora says.

Robert walks dismissively past her as he speaks to Mary and Tom. "You want us to do it, don't you?"

"Well, it's a lump of capital with no outlay. We have to consider it." Tom argues.

"Consider it, yes. But it's complex. Do we really want to start breaking bits off the estate and selling them piecemeal?" Robert counters.

"Emma?" Mary asks.

Emma shrugs. "I agree with Robert. I don't think it is wise to sell land as a lump."

Robert smiles and nods. "Exactly."

"I thought you'd wanted to sell land when Matthew died?" Billy says to Robert.

"I was wrong." Robert admits. "I didn't see then how many owners would chip away at their land until there was nothing viable left. Anyway, we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Not me. I'm going up to London first thing. Aunt Rosamund's taking me to a dress show." Mary says. And to see Tony Gillingham to turn him down.

"It's good to know you've got your priorities straight." Robert remarks.

——

The next day, Emma has the day off from the Hospital. Emma spends most of her day with Ivy, Michael, George, Sybbie and their Nannies outside, playing, with Tom joining them briefly on the way while he does his rounds.

When the children are resettled in the Nursery for an afternoon nap for the young ones, Emma takes the chance to browse the Library and do some reading since she has the time. She's sitting on one of the settees reading when Edith comes walking in. She had been in the room earlier but there had been a call for her, so she stepped out.

"It was Michael's office on the telephone." Edith speaks. "There's been a development. Apparently, there's a trial going on in Munich." She sits down on the ottoman. Emma lowers her book. "Of the leader of a group of thugs there."

Emma swallows thickly, trying to keep her voice steady and not to give anything away. "Yes, I've read about this. They wear brown shirts and go around attacking anyone that doesn't fit their ideals. The leader, Adolf Hitler I believe, tried to start a revolution."

"That's it. It was absurd." Edith replies.

Emma presses her lips together. "Maybe. But after the Treaty of Versailles, we shouldn't be surprised that there's this extremism happening. Germany was pushed very hard with the allies' demands after the war."

"It seems it was this gang... that got into a fight with Michael." Edith manages to say.

Emma sighs. "I can easily believe it."

"Yes, but we might be close to finding out what happened to him." Edith is certainly close to tears.

Emma's heart drops. "That's why his office telephoned?" Edith nods. Emma moves so that she can sit next to Edith and puts an arm around her. "I know you probably don't want to hear this but at least we'll know what happened to him, you'll have answers. Surely that's better than the unknown, always wondering?"

Edith is crying now. "But as long as I don't know for sure, then, in a way, I'm keeping him alive. I hate to let go of that." Edith argues. "Can you keep this to yourself, Emma? Until we're told for certain? I don't want to put up with Mary's pity any longer than I have to."

"She will pity you. Who wouldn't?" Emma squeezes her as she strokes her arm.

——

Emma learns from Robert why Mrs Patmore was so upset when they had seen her by the memorial. Mrs Patmore's nephew, the one that got shot for cowardice, is not being allowed on his Village's memorial and Mr Carson has been against him being put on Donwton's.

Robert is at the desk and Emma stands next to him as Mrs Patmore is standing nearby, with Mr Carson next to her.

"There are laws that govern the whole business of war memorials." Robert says apologetically.

"So, Mr Carson's told me, M'lord." Mrs Patmore replies softly.

"I appreciate how distressing this is for you and your family."

"Do you, M'lord? Because I'm not sure Mr Carson does." She speaks softly rather than angrily.

"I'm sure Mr Carson is sorry about it as we are. Aren't you, Carson?" Emma looks pointedly at the butler.

"I'm sorry that Mrs Patmore should be distressed, Mrs Branson." Mr Carson replies stiffly.

"But you're not sorry Archie's name's to be left off the memorial." Mrs Patmore retorts. "He volunteered. He didn't wait to be called up. He went to the front to fight, and as for his so-called cowardice... that were like a wound in battle, a wound to his brain, so he didn't know what he was doing. He were a good and decent lad."

"Of course, he was." Robert says.

"We do not doubt it." Emma adds sorrowfully. She can't imagine the pain this must be causing, to imply your relative doesn't matter.

"But doesn't that make him a casualty of war, Ma'am, M'lord? Same as our William or any of them. He could have stayed here, safe and well, until they came for him. But instead, he chose to fight for his country." Her voice fails her.

Robert rises. "It may surprise you to learn, Mrs Patmore, but I agree with you, even though I can do nothing about it. It's not helpful, but I do."

"No, it is helpful." Mrs Patmore reassures him. "It helps to think that decent folk can see our Archie was a victim. Even if Mr Carson can't." She walks out.

"Thank you, Carson." As the servants leave, Cora arrives.

"When does Shrimpie get here? And your ghastly art dealer?" Robert asks his wife. Emma glances at him in surprise. She doesn't particularly like Mr Bricker but she didn't know Robert felt like this towards him.

"They're both on the same train and the car's gone to meet them, so they'll have lots of time to change. And he isn't a dealer. He's a historian." Cora retorts.

"Is he, indeed? Lawks a-mercy. I wish I knew why he was coming."

Emma feels awkward like she's intruding.

"He wants to discuss the painting."

"With you?" Emma winces at that and begins to quickly depart from the room.

"Yes. Is that so shocking?" That harsh retort from Cora is the last thing she hears as she runs from the Library.

——

The guests, Shrimpie and Mr Bricker have arrived, and Violet and Isobel have been invited to dinner as well. The only one excluded is Mary who's still in London. Emma had spent all dinner watching Thomas with concern as he doesn't look any better.

The ladies have retired to the Drawing room after dinner. Cora, Emma, Isobel and Rose are talking in one corner of the room, Violet and Edith in the other. Emma glances worriedly over at Edith. It seems she's becoming more and more glum and Emma knows that the news about what might've happened to Michael is not helping plus whatever is happening with the child she's interested in.

The conversation between grandmother and granddaughter is tense and leads to Edith getting up just as the men – Robert, Billy, Tom, Shrimpie and Mr Bricker – have arrived. Shrimpie and Rose move to Violet while Tom and Billy move over to Isobel, Emma and Edith, who's joined them.

"Why not invite Miss Bunting to dinner tomorrow night? Mary will be back - we'll be quite a party. Edith, Tom, Emma, persuade him." Isobel says.

Emma and Tom share an awkward look while Edith shifts uncomfortably.

"I don't think Papa would think it a very good idea." Edith answers.

"It would make things awkward." Emma agrees. Edith gives her a thankful look.

Cora comes over with Mr Bricker behind her. Emma pulls a slight face at the man's appearance.

"What's this?"

"I wanted Billy to invite Miss Bunting to dinner tomorrow, but Edith says Robert won't allow it." Isobel explains.

"Nonsense. Of course, you must bring her, if you like. I insist." Cora declares.

Billy smiles awkwardly.

——

Sarah Bunting does end up joining them for dinner. Mr Bricker is seated next to Cora. They're both turned towards one another, muttering between themselves. Emma watches them sceptically from where she sits between Mary and Rose.

Shrimpie addresses Mary across Rose and Emma, "Did you have a good time in London?"

"Quite good. I set myself rather a difficult task, and it's always a relief when it's done, isn't it?" Mary replies breezily. She exchanges a look with Emma that shows she's not as calm as he is trying to appear. Mary had pulled Emma to the side to tell her that apparently, Tony hadn't taken the rejection very well. Emma thinks that's putting it lightly with what was apparently said.

"How are your lessons going?" Emma hears Isobel ask Sarah.

The teacher smiles and is about to answer when Robert cuts through, "What's this?" He questions.

"Miss Bunting is giving instruction to Mrs Patmore's under-cook." Edith explains.

"Oh, yes. I heard about that." Emma frowns. Had he? She doubts it.

This doesn't stop Sarah. "You sound as if you don't approve."

"I approve." Robert retorts. "As long as you're not making... her unsettled."

Sarah sees his hesitation. "You don't know her name, do you?"

Emma glances at Tom, who's sitting between Sarah and Edith to see he's already looking at her. He's as worried and as uncomfortable as she is.

Billy leans towards her from between Edith and Isobel. "Sarah, please."

"Of course, he does. Daisy." Mary says with false cheer.

"Well, he knows it now."

"Well, he hardly interacts with her, does he?" Emma butts in, trying to calm the situation.

"I knew it before. And from what I've been told, it sounds as if you're upsetting her and Mrs Patmore." Robert counters Sarah's claim.

"I think you should drop this." Violet mutters.

"Why don't you send for her? Bring Daisy in and ask her yourself." Sarah pushes.

Billy looks very disquieted while Mr Carson looks scandalised.

"I'm sure she's too busy." Robert replies.

"I doubt she's too too busy to answer a summons from you." Sarah retorts. Robert puts his glass down with a clank.

"We don't want to embarrass her." Tom says pointedly.

Robert ignores this. "Carson?"

"This is the busiest time of their day, M'lord." The butler replies. "Maybe it would be better—"

Sarah scoffs at this with a slight smile. Emma narrows her eyes at the woman. She's all for social justice and equality but why does she have to be so hateful? It's not exactly going to win this lot over.

Robert catches this. "No. Fetch her." He cuts Mr Carson off. "And ask Mrs Patmore to come up as well."

"Very good, M'lord." Mr Carson leaves.

There's an embarrassed silence all around the table. Even the servants look deeply unsettled.

"Your father may regret this." Violet murmurs to Mary.

Mr Carson returns upstairs with Mrs Patmore and Daisy in tow. The two women look rather alarmed.

"Is something wrong with the dinner, M'lord?" Mrs Patmore questions somewhat shakily.

"Not at all." Cora reassures her.

"No, we apologise, Mrs Patmore, for interfering with your duties in this strange and inconsiderate way." Violet adds, taking a dig at Sarah.

"Mrs Patmore, Carson tells me you feel Daisy's lessons have disturbed the peace of the Kitchen." Robert says, directing them to why the two had been brought up in the first place.

Daisy looks at Mrs Patmore in surprise. "Did you say that?"

"I don't know what I said. I was upset about that other business." Mrs Patmore replies. Emma feels the sorrow fill her. Poor Archie.

"I wondered if it were true." Robert interrupts. "Daisy?"

"Well, I'm sorry if I've made trouble downstairs." Daisy says.

"Well, you haven't. Not really." Mrs Patmore rebuffs.

"But I must say this, M'lord. Miss Bunting here has opened my eyes to a world of knowledge I knew nothing of. Maybe I'll stay a cook all my life, but I have choices now, interests, facts at my fingertips. And I'd never have had any of that if she hadn't come here to teach me." Daisy speaks with such real passion that Emma feels emotional, and she can see some of the others feel the same.

"Brava. Well said." Isobel congratulates.

"Quite a testimonial." Shrimpie remarks.

"May we go, M'lord? Only we've still got the pudding and the savouries." Mrs Patmore asks.

"Of course. Thank you." Robert accepts. The two women leave. "Obviously, the lessons have proved successful. I'm pleased to hear it."

"Are you, Lord Grantham?" Sarah Bunting is a woman who just can't let it go.

Mary rolls her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, let it go. You've proved your point."

"Have I, though? All I've proved is that Lord Grantham would like us serfs to stay in our allotted place from cradle to grave."

Robert finally loses his temper. He jumps up from his chair and turns his furious face towards Sarah as he yells, "There is only one thing I would like, and that I would like passionately! It is to see you leave this house and never come back!" He throws his napkin down with such force that he makes the plates and glasses rattle causing everyone to startle and marches out.

Emma gives Sarah a disappointed look. "Happy now?" She asks sarcastically.

Billy looks ready to cry and Tom looks over at him sympathetically.

Violet takes it upon herself to save what can be saved of the evening. "Edith, dear, are you still writing that very interesting column?"

Edith takes it. "Yes, Granny."

"Oh, you must show me some of them. What is the latest one about?"

"What are they all about? The way the world is changing."

Nice try. The awkward silence continues.

——

Emma walks up the stairs with Tom. Up on the gallery, she finds Billy leaning on the balustrade, looking lost. Emma gives her husband a look, trying to convey that she wants to talk to Billy on his own. Tom nods, kisses her and carries on to their room.

"Billy?" Emma says to get his attention.

Billy turns and Emma can almost see tears in his eyes. He gives her a listless smile. "Emma..."

Emma gives him a sympathetic smile as she walks up to stand next to him. "Suppose it's wrong for me to ask how you are."

Billy sighs, looking out into the Great Hall. "I don't know what to do..."

"Do you love her?"

Billy frowns. "I don't know, I could, maybe."

"I don't know if this helps but I don't think she's the right person for you." Emma admits.

Billy turns to her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Whether you stay or go in the future, it doesn't matter as you'll always be attached to the Crawleys. Your daughter is the granddaughter of the Earl and Countess of Grantham. Sarah Bunting will never truly accept that. You need someone that can accept this other side of your life." Emma explains.

Billy is deep in thought again and turns to look out once more.

"I'll say goodnight." Emma says, rubbing his arm.

Billy gives her a slight smile. "Goodnight."

——

"Mrs Branson?" Emma turns to see Miss Baxter hovering in the corridor.

"Miss Baxter?" Emma gives the woman a polite smile. She doesn't really know Cora's lady's maid very well other than she's close with Thomas and the whole Thomas knowing she was a criminal but that seems resolved as Cora has allowed Miss Baxter to stay on.

"There's something that's been worrying me, and I don't know who to turn to and I thought you are probably the best way to turn." Miss Baxter explains, shifting uncomfortably.

"What is it?"

"It's Thomas. I don't know if you've noticed he's been unwell since returning from seeing his father?"

Emma frowns she had noticed that. "Yes, I had."

"At first, I thought maybe he was the one who was actually ill but then I found a magazine of his." Miss Baxter admits.

The look on her face worries Emma. "Go on?"

"I think- I think he's trying to change himself."

Emma feels her heart drop. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Annual 2012: Big Trouble in Little Italy

Read Date: January 15, 2023 Cover Date: October 2012 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Tom Waltz ● Art: Kevin Eastman ● Colorist: Ronda Pattison ● Letterer: Robbie Robbins ◦ Shawn Lee ● Editor: Bobby Curnow ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● oo, I like that Kevin Eastman does the art for the annual! It really hearkens back to the Turtles' early Mirage days… but in color! ● Leo, Mikey, and Donnie are parkouring through the city for training exercise while Raph and Casey do their own thing somewhere ● Donnie and Mikey finally convince Leo to call it a day, as they've been training hard that day ● Can I say that the idea of Splinter watching soap operas makes me so happy ● cut to Casey Jones on a rooftop near JOSIE'S BAR! (I love the ties with Daredevil) ● he's beaten Raphael in a race to the top. Raph, being a sore loser, tackles him and they both plummet to the alley, their fall broken by deep garbage ● They hear a crash, and a suitcase flies through the air beside them ● a homeless man, British by the look of his dialect, greets them. Casey says he knows that guy, but Raph says to forget it for now, they need to check out the crash ● car crash victims:

Eric Conner, driver for the savate ninjas

Louis Royo, underworld arbitration specialist; a go-between in a suit

Kanada and Timmy Two Shoes, possible cause of crash, two-bit no-good crooks ● a couple of cops (?) show up, Corbin and Miller, wondering what the hell the other is doing there ● (5 minutes earlier) two other people in the car

Fershid Diaz, lieutenant for the savate ninjas making a delivery

Max Frezatto, savate ninja strongan and bodyguard. brawn, bullets, and braggadocio ● apparently there's $5 million in the briefcase ● the deal is between the Savate Ninjas and the Foot Clan ● Kanada and Timmy Two Shoes are standing in the middle of the street, looking at the baseball bat that just fell from above (Casey's bat, dropped when Raph tackled him) ● Ah, the homeless man is Kid Kennedy, Scottish, former boxer. His earlier, "Oi, where'd ye come from, eh?" was a greeting to the briefcase that landed in the alley, not a greeting to Raph and Casey ● Kanada and Two Shoes go into the alley in search of the briefcase; they see it in Kid Kennedy's cart ● they threaten Kennedy for the briefcase, but the former boxer holds his own ● another Scot, Fightin' Ferguson, comes out of the bar the Skara Brae (which is where Casey's dad hangs out), and finishes off Two Shoes and Kanada ● (5 minutes earlier again) (this is kinda fun) ● Angel and the Purple Dragons gang outside Skara Brae. The bartender inside is Brooklyn S. Bridge, Angel's dad ● Brooklyn and Ferguson hear what sounds like Kid Kennedy ● cut to after the fight. open the briefcase and it's full of diamonds. (gems and jewelry would be a pain in the butt to fence, wouldn't it? just give me a cashier's check) ● Brooklyn sees Casey and Raph; he knows Casey because of his dad. orders them inside to figure out about the case ● they start talking about getting rid of the diamonds when there's a knock at the door ● 5 minutes earlier… back to the scene of the crash, and Corbin and Miller ● Max (bodyguard who was in the car) and Corbin (one of the two dirty cops) were in cahoots for an ambush to make off with the diamonds ● they wander to the Skara Brae to use the phone ● they call a guy called Fabrice ● 5 minutes earlier, Fabrice's p.o.v. His description: leader of the savate ninjas. French and frustrated. ● he orders Victor (Savate second-in-command) to go find the diamonds; he thinks this is a double-cross by the Foot ● Victor and Miller working together like Max and Corbin ● 5 minutes earlier, in the antique shop that is the new lair ● they see a news bulletin about the crash and see Raph and Casey in the background

● Splinter tells the remaining 3 to go get Casey and Raph ● in the bar, they decide to drop the diamonds back at the crash scene and let the cops find them on their own ● Foot Ninja, with Karai and Shredder both in attendance. Shredder tells Karai to gather her best ninja and go find the diamonds ● Corbin and Miller overhear Kanada and Two Shoes, who admit the diamonds are at the Skara Brae. Corbin and Miller secretively let their associated know as well (Max and Victor) ● word gets around, all the heavies converge on the pub ● Savate, Foot, and TMNT all clash ● Brooklyn, cops, Purple dragons, more Savate in pub ● fighting, fighting, briefcase keeps changing hands ● (I don't thing SWAT just drive around until they're summoned somewhere…) ● SWAT shows up, TMNT disappear, Foot vanish, Savate fall back ● nothing left to see but Casey's baseball bat ● next day, Shredder tells Karai that the Savate are going to die ● Raph and Casey are doing the dishes as punishment ● 👏👏

Synopsis: Leonardo, Michelangelo and Donatello are racing over rooftops, having just finished their workout. Donatello is disgruntled because Raphael is off with Casey rather than participating in their teamwork, but Leonardo seems more accepting. They head home for the night to the Second Time Around apartment, and greet Splinter.

At the waterfront, Casey Jones and Raphael wrestle and trash-talk as they tumble down the side of a building, landing in an alley. Suddenly they hear a car crash somewhere nearby, and as they rush to investigate, they're nearly hit by a flying briefcase and encounter a homeless man that Casey recognizes. When they get to the crashed car, Raphael smells leaking gas, and declares that they have to get the passengers out before it blows up. At the same time, two small-time crooks named Kanada and Timmy Two-Shoes scuttle away from the crash scene.

They rescue the men inside - including three Savate ninja and a professional underworld arbitrator, Louis Royo - just before the police show up. Unfortunately, a second cop car arrives before Casey and Raphael can flee the scene, driven by the two crooked cops Corbin and Miller.

A brief flashback shows that the Savate were on their way to pay five million dollars in tribute to the Foot Clan when their way was blocked by Kanada and Timmy standing in the street, looking at Casey's "flying" bat. The car spun out of control, and as it crashed, the briefcase full of money was sent flying into the shopping cart of the homeless man, an ex-boxer named Kid Kennedy.

Kanada and Timmy spot the briefcase and decide to steal it from Kennedy. A fight breaks out, and Kennedy is defended by his old friends Fight'n Ferguson and Brooklyn Bridge at the Skara Brae. Once Kanada and Timmy have been disposed of, Ferguson looks inside the briefcase, and is shocked to find diamonds.

Brooklyn spots Casey and Raphael on the street nearby, and orders them inside the Skara Brae. Raphael is dismayed by this development, since he's been spotted for the second time in one evening, and he's sure Splinter will be upset. Once inside the pub, Casey informs the three older men of where the briefcase came from and how they came to be there, Brooklyn predicts that whoever had the briefcase will come looking for it, and kill whoever has it. So he suggests that they quickly fence the diamonds and split the money amongst themselves.

Back at the crash site, it's revealed that Corbin is on the payroll of Savate bodyguard Max Frezatto, while Miller is working with Royo to steal the diamonds. Both cops arrived at the crash site as part of prearranged meetings with the car's passengers. Royo and Frezatto head straight to the Skara Brae in order to use the phone, and are surprised to find it closed. Inside the pub, Brooklyn orders the others to hide the case and act as normal as possible while the two underworld figures are there.

Elsewhere, the Savate leader Fabrice sees the crash on television, and is enraged by the loss of his car. Frezatto calls him from the Skara Brae, and tells him of the loss of the diamonds. Fabrice is convinced that this was all a setup, and so commands the two to go back to the scene of the accident, so he can send a troop of Savate ninja - led by his second-in-command Victor - to find the diamonds or kill who has them.

Back at the Second Time Around shop, the other three brothers are grousing about Raphael's long absence, especially as it is his turn to do the dishes. While Michelangelo is channel-surfing, Splinter spots a news report about the crash, which includes a photograph of Raphael's face. He orders Leonardo to go find Raphael and Casey, and bring them back as quickly and quietly as possible. And as the Turtles head out to find their brother, they spot a line of Savate ninjas running over the rooftops, and decide to follow them.

At the Skara Brae, Royo and Frezatto depart. Brooklyn argues that they should split the money from the diamonds' sale, but the others disagree with him. Ferguson argues that they should simply dump the briefcase near the accident site, and Kid Kennedy volunteers to do so.

At a Foot Clan facility, Karai and Shredder are informed about the loss of the diamonds. Shredder order Karai to take the diamonds from the crash site, and declares that one way or another, the Savate will pay.

Royo and Frezatto stumble across Kanada and Timmy scheming to reclaim the briefcase for themselves, and quickly learn from the two thugs that it's at the Skara Brae. The two separate for a moment to call their respective crooked cops, declaring that they now know where the diamonds are. A Savate lieutenant, Fershid Diaz, quickly informs Fabrice of the diamonds' location as well.

As Miller and Corbin converge on the Skara Brae, Kid is preparing to depart with the briefcase. Raphael and Casey decide to follow the older men, out of concern that the Savate ninja will find them. As they leave, they realize that Kid and Ferguson aren't heading back to the crash.

Ferguson has decided to sell the diamonds himself, in hopes of getting Kid the brain surgery he needs and a trip back to Scotland for them both. However, they run right into the Savate. Before the Savate can do anything, Raphael, Casey and the other Turtles all arrive to defend the old men, and the Foot Clan arrives to take the diamonds themselves.

Miller and Corbin burst into the Skara Brae to demand the return of the diamonds, and are interrupted first by Angel and the Purple Dragons, and then by Fabrice and the Savate. A massive fight breaks out, with Fabrice being knocked out by one of the corrupt cops. Brooklyn orders Angel to call in the cops, and a SWAT team is summoned to the Skara Brae.

While the Foot and Savate battle over the diamonds, the Turtles decide that they simply need to get Casey and Raphael and get out. The briefcase is tossed from person to person until Karai and Victor both manage to grab hold of it, only for Michelangelo to swoop in and take it instead. As everyone piles on him, the briefcase is sent flying again and is caught by Casey. He tosses it away, only for it to fly open and scatter the diamonds inside.

Just then, the police arrive, and all three groups of ninjas decide it's time to leave. By the time the police make their way in, they find nothing but a baseball bat. The diamonds have fallen into the water below the docks.

The next day, Corbin and Miller view Fabrice, Royo and Frezatto in their jail cell, and swear off any further dealings with ninjas. Now that Victor is the new leader of the Savate, Shredder declares that the only tribute he will accept from the Savate is their lives. The Skara Brae is being restored to normal. Kanada and Timmy are still down on their luck.

And at Second Time Around, Raphael and Casey are washing dishes as a punishment for having gotten involved in so much trouble. After they've finished, they race each other again, and Raphael tackles Casey down a building, sending his bat flying once again.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/Big_Trouble_in_Little_Italy)

Fan Art: TMNT by kcspaghetti

[prettierthanurbf]

So What?

Y/n walked down the halls to find her best friend, getting the overwhelming feeling she’d be stuck walking into class alone, when she finally bumped into someone she knew. “Oh, great.” She mumbled irritably.

He turned around with a grin. “Well, hello, y/n.”

She rolled her eyes at his cocky grin. “Where’s your brother?”

The question just made his grin grow wider, making your patience even thinner. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.

She let her eyes wander around the halls to avoid eye contact when her eyes landed on him, sighing in relief, she pushed past his brother and hurried off to Tom. “Hey.” She said happily.

He looked up from his book. “Nice of you to wake up early for once.” He teased.

She laughed. “My parents are going to cut me off if I miss school to sleep in.” She explained.

He looked over her head, his eyes stopping on something that made his eyebrows furrow. “Mattheo’s staring at you again.” He whispered.

She quickly spun around to meet Mattheo’s eyes, turning back around so quick she almost fell over.

Tom helped her stand. “You alright?” He asked concerned.

She put a hand to her head. “I swear if he hexed me I’ll burn the little bastard.”

Tom chuckled. “Now I might just help you with that.”

Before y/n could say anything else, the teacher opened the doors for everyone in the class to walk in.

The whole class was a blur, mostly because y/n was asleep through half of it and hurrying to copy off of To ‘a notes during the other half, paying no attention to the teacher whatsoever.

Tom had to talk to one of his teachers before the next class started, which left y/n waiting outside on a bench alone with a book until class started.

Mattheo, who had grown bored of his friend group, walked off to bug y/n, sliding onto the bench and taking the spot a little too close to y/n.

She didn’t glance up from her book or move. “What?” She asked calmly.

He raised a brow. “No snarky comment? Hm.” He hummed. “Are you feeling alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

“Ah, there’s the tone I was looking for.” He grinned. “What’re you reading?”

She clicked her tongue. “You could check the cover, you know.”

He shrugged. “It would sound so much better coming from your lips than mine.”

She shut her book, her finger holding the page she was on, snapping her head to look at him. “What do you want, Mattheo?” She repeated, this time a little less calm.

He smirked. “Maybe I want to help with your anger issues.”

“Maybe you should work on yours first.” She said back.

He laughed. “We could work on it together.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather burn. Over and over. For eternity.”

He shrugged. “I could make it worth your while.”

She raised a brow. “What’s your angle, Riddle?”

He looked away with a small grin. “There’s no angle. I just think we could help each other out.”

“Have fun finding someone for that because I’m not your girl.” She slipped a small piece of paper into her book before getting up.

“But you could be.” Mattheo mumbled, but y/n had already walked off with all her things.

His shoulders slumped. “Great.”

Tom walked over to him laughing. “Did you seriously think whatever you were planning would work?”

Mattheo scowled at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve tried getting with her. Why is she so difficult.”

“She’s not into like that.” Tom said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Mattheo scoffed. “All the girls are into me like that.”

Tom shook his head and laughed a little more. “Not the one you like like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like her like that, Tommy.”

“Then stop going after her, because I swear on my life and hers I will make yours a living hell if you break her heart or mess around with her for kicks. Got it?” Tom said sternly.

Mattheo put his hands up, a familiar teasing grin growing on his face. “It’s not that deep, brother.” And with that he walked off, another grinning glance at Tom before going straight ahead to see if he could find y/n.

He didn’t see her until school was over, when the clouds were making weird shapes up and the colors were changing from the sun going down, the black lake always looked prettiest at this time of day, which is why Mattheo chose to walk alongside it, also in hopes he’d find a weird creature in the water and draw it.

He came across y/n when he was walking back to the school, she was laying on her back, her head rested on her book bag, with a different book in her hands than she was reading hours prior. He walked over to her confidently.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She sighed. “What?”

He sat down beside her. “So this is what you do after school?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quidditch practice was canceled today.”

He nodded. “Totally forgot you were on the team.”

She glanced at him. “Is there any reason you’re here or what?”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to know how you were doing.”

She pulled a piece of paper put of her robe, handing it to Mattheo without looking away from her book. “You read that and tell me how you think I’m feeling.”

His eyes scanned over the paper. “An animagus? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Now I’ve got to wait for my uncle Newt to come down here and talk to me about everything.”

Mattheo handed the paper back. “So you can’t go home?”

She shook her head. “Apparently my brothers tore up the place pretty bad and they’re trying to get it under control.”

“So why don’t you just stay with me and Tom?”

She snorted. “Because it’s you and Tom. I swear both of you don’t know how to not argue, especially when you’re trying to do something ‘important’.”

Matthe scoffed. “We do not!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re just gonna play that game now?”

He shrugged. “I mean…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot if you think you don’t argue with your brother a lot.”

“Just stay with us.” It came out more as a plead than a suggestion, which was not Mattheo’s intention at all.

Y/n laughed. “Beg me.” She joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” He said sarcastically. “Just stay with us.”

She glanced at him from her book. “If I do will you go away?”

“Maybe.” He said.

She shrugged. “Fine. Just let your brother know so it’s not a surprise or anything.”

“Okay.” Mattheo got up. “Did you finish the other book?” He asked, stopping himself from running off to find his brother so he could talk to y/n some more.

She looked up at him. “Yes. I had most of my classes to read through it.”

“How long have you had this one?”

“Since lunch. Why?”

He grinned. “No reason, no reason.”

“Why?” She repeated, this time sternly.

Mattheo looked down at her. “You’ll find out.” He winked at her before running off to find Tom.

When Spring break rolled around, y/n, Tom, and Mattheo went to Tom and Mattheo’s mansion they inherited when their dad mysteriously passed away.

Y/n explored a little since it was a bit of an upgrade from where the Riddle brothers were staying when she last stayed with them.

She stepped into a dark ish bedroom with lots of books. She walked over to the blinds and pushed them open so she could get a better look in the room.

“I usually like the curtains closed.” Mattheo said, scaring the shit out of y/n.

She turned to him with a hand over her heart. “Warn a girl next time, Mattheo!”

He laughed. “Sorry, sorry.”

She continued to look around. “You know, your room is the darkest one in this whole house. And the most gloomy.” Her eyes landed on the bookshelves. “Except for the books. They’re gorgeous.”

He chuckled. “You can go ahead and take some if you want. I’ve read all of them so I don’t really care.”

She raised a brow before laughing. “You’ve read all these? Like actually, actually? You’re not screwing with me?”

He shook his head. “Is that a surprise?”

“Yes! In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you open a book.”

“You don’t spend any time in the library.” He stated. “That’s where I am during my free time.”

“When you’re not walking around the lake.” She said.

He laughed. “You stalking me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mattheo. I’ve seen you walking around like a loner because I spend most of my time by the lake. It’s where some of the hot guys at our school swim so it’s a pretty good view.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw before letting out a forced laugh. “I forgot you like staring at strangers who are half naked.”

She shrugged. “If they’re hot, they’re hot. I gotta stare.”

“You’re not like… staring at them like that, are you?” He laughed. “Cause that would be weird.”

“Oh, like how you look at me?” She said, raising a brow as a grin pulled at her lips.

He chuckled. “Now, darling, I think you’re just seeing things.”

“Oh?” She asked, walking over to him. “So if I were to take my sweater off you’d keep looking at my eyes?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, I think a lot of people would look, honestly…”

She raised a brow. “If your brother was changing you’d look at his chest?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Obviously not.”

She nodded. “But you’d have a problem looking in my eyes instead of at my chest?”

“Well you’re not my sister so I can look.”

“Well now you just sound like a creep.” Y/n teased.

Mattheo scowled. “Well now you’re not being fair.”

“Oh no?” She grinned, unzipping her hoodie and sliding it off her arms. “My eyes are up here, Mattheo.”

“Screw this.” Mattheo mumbled annoyed. He cupped y/n’s face gently before pulling her in and pressing his lips against hers.

She pulled away for air after what felt like a short time period. “You do that to all the girls who try to take their sweater off?” She asked dumbfounded.

He shook his head and laughed, his hands still cupping her face. “You’re so blind sometimes, y/n.”

She raised a brow. “And you’re not?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“You sound unsure.” She teased. “But you are.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away. “You are more than I am.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” She said quietly. “And you never noticed.”

He grinned. “So the flirting was getting to you?” He teased.

“I’ll cut your throat.” She said quickly.

He chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.” He pulled her in for another kiss, pulling away when he heard footsteps getting closer to his room.

She quickly pulled back and stood by the bookshelf, getting a book off the shelf quickly. “What’s this one about?” She asked calmly.

Matthe cleared his throat. “Uh, uhm… werewolves.” He said after clearing his throat.

Tom knocked on the door frame. “Hey, there’s hot water on the stove right now. I’ve got to stop by the market to get some more stuff for dinner. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Mattheo grinned at y/n as Tom walked off to get his shoes on and leave for the market.

[pedrito-friskito]

same room - frankie morales oneshot

summary: you and frankie broke up two months ago; molly begs you to come out for a drink, swearing up and down he won’t be there, but lo and behold….

warnings: breakup/makeup, sex in a bathroom, frankie yells but is also super soft

a/n: tbh this was pretty therapeutic to write…love me some frankie morales let me tell U

(main masterlist) (ao3)

“C‘mon, please,” Molly begs, pulling on your wrist and all but yanking you off the couch. “He isn’t even going to be there. It’ll just be you, me, Tom, and Santi. I promise. It’ll be good for you.”

You level her with a stare, raising a brow, before dropping your gaze. “I’m not saying no because I’m worried he’ll be there, Moll. I’m saying no because I don’t want to go.”

She stares right back, clearly not buying it. “Say that again without looking at your lap and maybe I’ll buy it.” Molly sighs, planting herself on the couch beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Just one drink, come on. We’ll make the boys pay, and I’ll even call you a cab after the first round if you’re not having it. Just one drink.”

You heave a breath, knowing that no matter what you say next, Molly is going to force you to come along anyway. “Fine. One drink.” You pause, nervousness immediately rushing into your gut as soon as you agree. “You’re sure he’s not going to be there?”

Molly gives you a sympathetic look. “Yes, I’m sure. I double checked with Tom and everything; apparently he’s down south right now, visiting his mom.”

You say nothing, just nod, and let Molly pull you off the couch and down the hallway of your shared apartment, steering you towards your bedroom and telling you to put on something cute.

+

Half an hour later, you’re both dressed and done up, Molly in a pretty dress she’s borrowed (read: stolen) from you and you in a dark miniskirt and a flowy top, the sleeves flared and perfect for you to fiddle with while you wait for the boys outside your apartment building.

Tom greets you with a smile and Santi pulls you into a hug the moment you slide into the backseat of Tom’s truck with him, Molly taking the passenger’s seat in front of you. “Hey, you,” he grins, pulling you against him so your shoulder slips under his arm. “How ya been?”

You shrug, letting your head rest on his warm shoulder. Santi always smells nice, and he’s always been a comfort to you, even before…You’ve always been good friends, meeting in college before he enlisted, then his friends became your friends and well, the rest is history.

“Best as I can be, I guess,” you mumble, toying with the end of your sleeve. “I feel bad for Molly,” you say, jutting your chin towards your roommate in the front seat, but she’s too engrossed in conversation with Tom to even notice. “I’m sure she can hear me weeping through the walls.”

“Ah, kid,” Santi chides, rubbing the side of your arm. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know that,” you whisper, your voice going tight. Already, you can feel the tears creeping up the back of your throat. When Molly had started begging you to come along, you’d just finished crying over a picture you’d found buried on your phone.

“Three years is a long time,” he continues, and this time you just nod. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“So am I,” you mumble, turning to stare out the window. “Have you talked to him?” You don’t want to ask — you don’t want to know — but you can’t help yourself.

Santi nods. “The other day. He’s visiting his mamá.”

“Oh,” you manage, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Is she okay?”

“Sounds like,” he tells you, “Fish just wanted to get away, I think. Needed some time.”

You just nod. Even the nickname makes your chest ache. It’s been about two months now, since you and Frankie broke up. Santi’s right; three years is a long time, and you’ve been working through it on your own mostly, but it’s hard. So many things remind you of him — little things, like the coffee you always kept in your kitchen because he liked it better than the stuff you drank, or the tune of your alarm that he’d make up songs to every morning, crooning in your ear until you woke up to his smiling face.

It had been a silly fight, in retrospect, one where you’d both had too much to drink, picked a fight for no reason, and ended up saying things you didn’t mean. You’d been screaming at each other, blind with rage you didn’t know you were capable of, and when you’d yelled at him to get the fuck out, he had. The next morning, you called him, sober and upset, apologies spilling from your mouth. Frankie had returned them with “I’m sorry, querida”s of his own, but had told you he needed time, that he thought it would be best for you both to take a break. A few days later, there was a box of your stuff outside the apartment door, and Frankie wouldn’t answer your calls, not that you really wanted him to.

You’d moved through your own stages of grief; first being unbearably upset with him, outraged that he would do this to you both. Then you had some semblance of acceptance, deciding that maybe he was right in saying a break would be best for you both. You could take time to work on yourself, without him. But then the depression had hit you like a ton of bricks, leaving you where you were now, mostly functional but weepy and tearful at the drop of a hat, the majority of your nights spent flipping through old photos you didn’t have the heart to trash or delete from your phone.

At the end of it all, you know Molly’s right: a night out will be good for you. But Santi is also right: three years is a long time, and while you know there’s no timeline to these things, getting over the love you had with Frankie has been nothing short of impossible.

Tom pulls up to the bar, parking along the curb and killing the engine. Molly clambers out, pushing the seat forward so you and Santi can climb out, and she hooks her arm with yours the moment you’re close enough. Tom takes her hand, steering you both towards the front door of the bar, and Santi brings up the rear, hovering behind you.

You find a booth towards the back of the bar, Santi sliding in beside you while Molly and Tom take the opposite bench. Santi gets up after a moment to get the first round, and you let your eyes skim the space. There’s few pool tables close to your booth, a single bathroom tucked in the corner behind them, and an ancient ATM you’re pretty sure is older than you are pressed against the wall. It’s pretty full for a Thursday night, and you quickly look away when a sleazy-looking guy at one of the pool tables gives you a grin.

Santi returns with beers for you all, accompanied by shots of whiskey. You stifle a laugh; it’s the same thing you used to drink in college, the campus bar special — a beer and a shot for five bucks. You all cheers, taking your shots with varying grimaces and chasing it with beer. Molly’s watching you, and you can feel it, turning to Santi and asking him about his latest contract. He’d been in Peru for a few months, the last you heard.

The conversation comes easily, and one round turns into two, then two into three, and soon enough, you can feel the buzz of alcohol dripping through your limbs, that familiar warmth spreading along the base of your skull. Tom talks you all into a game of pool and you’re the first one up, reaching for a cue and racking the balls.

The noise in the bar grows steadily louder as the night progresses, and you and Molly are dancing to the song playing over the loudspeaker when you hear a familiar voice that makes you feel twice as drunk and completely sober, all at once.

“Pope, idiota, ¿qué haces aquí?”

Your heart lurches in your chest and you push yourself behind Molly, watching over her shoulder as Frankie approaches Santi and Tom on the other side of the pool table, shaking hands and hugging his friends. Santi meets your eyes as he hugs Frankie tightly and you can almost read his expression: I had no idea he would be here.

“Hey, Molly,” Frankie calls, stepping towards her, and just his voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Who’s you friend…?”

The question trails off as you step the wrong way and instead of hiding behind Molly, you’re directly in his line of sight. Your throat goes dry as he takes a careful step towards you, his hand dragging on the pool table. His hat is low on his brow, and when he looks at you, his eyes are shining, his cheeks flushed. He’s drunk, you realize, probably just as drunk as you are.

“How are you?” he asks, taking another cautious step towards you. Beside you, you can feel Molly’s eyes boring into your face, watching your expression.

You’re not sure where it comes from, but you wave her off, taking a small step towards Frankie, linking your hands in front of you. From the corner of your eye, you see her move around the pool table towards Santi and Tom, shrugging at them both.

“Fine,” you answer, looking down at your knotted fingers. Your tone isn’t exactly friendly, but you can’t help the edge in your voice. “Thought you were down south.”

“I was,” he whispers, “just landed this afternoon. I was with the Millers, and Ben and I got to talking.”

“Well, Benny does like to talk,” you say, still unable to meet his eyes.

Frankie chuckles, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. “He does,” he agrees, and his foot slides towards yours until the toe of his boot is just touching the edge of your sneaker. “We got to talking about you, about…us.” When you don’t reply, eyes still staring downwards, he continues. “Can we talk, cariño, you and me? Please?”

He reaches out and puts his hand over yours, and when his thumb swipes over your knuckles, your breath hitches and you finally look up, your eyes finally meeting his coffee-coloured gaze. Fuck, how you’ve missed those eyes.

You just nod, your movements growing a little frantic, and you unknot your fingers, curling them around his wrist and turning on your heel. Your friends have averted their attention, giving you some semblance of privacy, and no one pays you much mind as you drag Frankie towards the single bathroom, shutting the door behind you both.

It’s not overly dirty, which you appreciate, even a floral air-freshener stuck high on the wall. The fluorescent light overhead buzzes when you hit the switch, but you barely notice, dropping Frankie’s wrist and moving to stand in the middle of the space with your arms crossed over your chest.

He doesn’t say anything, so after a moment you do. “So? What do you wanna talk about?” you say, popping your hip. He stands in front of the door, hands shoved in his back pockets, his mouth slightly open.

“I miss you, mija,” he says instantly, leaning back against the door. “I never should have…”

“You said you wanted space,” you say, the memory of the phone call you had that day clear as anything in your mind. “For fuck’s sake, Frankie, you left a box of my stuff on my doorstep two months ago and I haven’t heard a word from you since.”

“I thought it was better that way!” he shouts, and you flinch, your brow furrowing. “I thought that if we had a clean break, that if I cut myself off from you completely, it would be better. That it would be easier. And I was wrong, querida. I was so fucking wrong and all I’ve been able to think about for the past two months is you. I fucked it all up, and I know that, okay? I know it’s my fault and I know I should have done it differently and that you’ll probably hate me for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t stay away from your three years ago and I sure as shit can’t stay away from you now.”

His chest is heaving by the end of his rant; you can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest through his t-shirt. His eyes are still shining, brighter now, and he pulls his hands from his pockets, yanking his cap off his head with one and pushing the other through his half-flat hair. You’ve always liked his hair, how he has perpetual hat-head from that stupid oil company trucker hat, but it’s always so soft, and always sticks up when he first wakes up in the morning.

“What are you saying, Frankie?” you ask, your arms dropping to your sides. Slowly, cautiously, you take a step towards him.

“I’m saying,” he starts, staring at you hard, still catching his breath, hand still knotted in his hair, “that I’m still in love with you. I never stopped. I can’t stop, and I know that you hate me, but I love you, and you have to know that.”

Your heart is in your throat, pulse hammering so hard you’re half sure he can see it. “I don’t hate you, Frankie.” The words are out of your mouth in a rush, and you all but run to him, closing the distance between you and throwing yourself at him.

Your arms go around his neck like an old habit, and you heart his hat hit the floor as he drops it, gathering you into his arms like you never left them to begin with. He kisses you hard, mouth slotting against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues that sends a warm spark through you like a bolt of lightning. His palms are warm, settling on the bare strip of skin between the waist of your skirt and the hem of your shirt, and you don’t stop the moan that crawls up your throat when he digs his fingers in slightly.

“I miss you so much, mija,” he whispers against your lips, kissing your bottom lip and then your top one, the space beside your mouth and all along your jaw. “I just want you back, please.” He says the words like a prayer, your name falling from his lips as you hold him tighter, one hand slipping up the back of his head, his curls getting caught between your knuckles.

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, feeling tears spring along your lashes but blinking them away, your other hand resting on his cheek, thumb swiping along his patchy jaw. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Querida,” he groans, and then his mouth is on yours again, a heavy kiss that steals the breath from your lungs.

Frankie crowds you against the door, one jean-clad thigh sliding between your knees and making you gasp. The kisses grow hungry, both of your pulling and pawing at the other desperately, trying to make up for lost time, like it’s been years since you held each other. It certainly feels like it.

“Wanna take you home,” Frankie says against your lips, hands twisting in the fabric covering your hips. “Won’t ever leave you again, I promise.”

You pull back slightly, eyes searching his. You can see the surety in them, a streak of wetness in his bottomless gaze. For a moment, you just stare at each other, mouths parted, chests heaving with shaking breaths.

His eyes break from yours only to watch your hand move down to the door handle, fingers flicking the lock. “I don’t think I can wait for home,” you whisper, your eyes moving to his mouth, swiping your thumb over his lips, his full lower one catching on the pad. “I think I need you right now, Frankie.”

“Fuck,” he curses, your name on the heels of the word, and without another, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you across the room and setting you on the counter beside the sink. It’s almost filthy, you think, fucking in the bathroom at the back of the bar, but at least the place is mostly clean.

It all happens in flashes, hazy moments of pleasure that turn your brain to mush. His hand between your thighs, your fingers curling around his cock, mouths meeting in wet kisses that are so familiar and loving that your heart aches in your chest. He tries to go slow, to work you up in all the ways he knows you like, but you’re impatient, pulling at his t-shirt, rucking the fabric up and running your hands all over his chest.

“Now, Frankie,” you groan into his ear, your knees hooked around his hips, angling your own up to chase the knuckles grazing your clit. “I need you right now.”

There’s shuffling of fabric, the clanking of Frankie’s belt and the quiet slap of your flip flops hitting the floor. He yanks your panties to the side a little too vigorously, both of you freezing when there’s the sound of tearing fabric, then dissolving into giggles as he kisses you deeply and pulls you close.

The sigh that escapes you when he pushes inside, one hand gripping your thigh like a lifeline, the other pressed to the small of your back, tilting your hips at a perfect angle that makes you gasp, your own hands curling around his shoulders.

You cum easily, quickly, spurred on by Frankie’s forehead against yours, his hat sliding off his head, and whispered I love yous falling from his lips like a prayer. You bury your face in his neck as you come down, legs tightening around him as he finds his own pleasure, an almost quivering groan reaching your ears, your name said softly, reverently afterwards, gentle kisses at your temple.

You catch your breath slowly, Frankie moving his hand up and down your bare thigh, his head now tipped into the crook of your shoulder. You rub his back, drawing aimless shapes that make his eyelashes flutter against your pulse. “Come home with me,” he whispers, nose against your throat, inhaling deeply. “Please, baby.”

You just nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, Frankie.”

There’ll be more talking, you know. More apologies and explanations, more details and more talking through of what’s happened between you, what you had and what you lost, and what you both know, even without saying outright, you’ll find some version of again.

He breathes out a sigh, lifting his head and finding your mouth easily, a searing kiss pressed to your lips, his fingers knotting in your hair. “You know what we gotta do first though,” he grumbles, nipping at your bottom lip and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. When you raise a brow, he continues, “We have to go out there and face our friends.”

You stifle your giggle, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I suppose we should do that. Already suspicious enough, how long we’ve been in here.”

Frankie just smiles.

Ten minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom, both looking decidedly more dishevelled than you had going in, Frankie’s arm around your waist and your hand slid into the back pocket of his jeans. Santi lets out a wolf-whistle as you rejoin the three of them, and Molly just grins, nudging you with her hip as soon as you’re close enough.

[bananonbinary]

Time for a Salty Meta Post about Martin!

people who’ve followed this blog for a bit know that spending six hours combing through text for some goddamn sources is my specialty, so i compiled every time jon ever talked about martin’s work in season 1. which for the record, he stopped complaining about all the way back in episode 26, where he was angry that martin of all people got hurt.

things jon gets mad at martin for:

not being able to find records that don’t exist

not being able to find someone based only on a first name

the Dog

not wearing trousers in his off-hours

being the one that got caught up in the jane prentiss thing

mag 004 and mag 012 both have jon taking potshots at martin over research that was proven accurate by outside sources

things jon has never once complained about:

martin not understanding the filing system and just putting stuff away at random

martin being clumsy, constantly ruining things, spilling tea everywhere everyday, etc

martin turning in incompetent, poorly-edited, or badly formatted reports

martin not understanding the terminology used, skills expected, etc., and generally being extremely new to the field

please for the love of god stop making martin the silly bumbling idiot who can’t do anything right just because he doesn’t have a formal education. there’s zero evidence for it in the text, and it’s really weird to act like a 4 year degree would outweigh the *10 years* of job experience he has, not just in academia, but in the institute itself by season one. my boy has worked there longer than ANY of the rest of the main cast. screw you guys.

tl;dr: martin is never once shown to be bad at his job, jon pretty much only ever gets mad at him for the really stupid first impression and also not finding stuff that no one else was able to find either. after martin got hurt, jon talks about his research basically the same way he talks about tim’s or sasha’s work.

fucking proof under the cut:

(i didnt include the s1 finale or martin’s statement bc that’s just...two entire episodes of them talking to each other, but there isn’t really any notable Martin Complaints in either of them imo)

I swear, if he’s brought another dog in here, I’m going to peel him.

[pre-launch trailer]

.

Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.

[...] Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

[MAG001 Anglerfish]

.

Martin couldn’t find any records of Ex Altiora as a title in existent catalogues of esoteric or similar literature, so I assigned Sasha to double-check. Still nothing.

[MAG004 Pageturner]

.

I had Martin conduct a follow-up interview with Mr. Woodward last week, but it was unenlightening. Apparently there have been no further bags at number 93 and in the intervening years he has largely discounted many of the stranger aspects of his experience. I wasn’t expecting much, as time generally makes people inclined to forget what they would rather not believe, but at least it got Martin out of the Institute for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.

[MAG005 Thrown Away]

.

Martin was unable to find the exact date the original house was built but the earliest records he could find list it as being bought by Walter Fielding in 1891.

[...]

We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

[MAG008 Burned Out]

.

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was, and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

[MAG010 Vampire Killer]

.

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, according to Martin, which means to cauterize or brand. Admittedly, if Martin speaks Polish in the same way he “speaks Latin,” then he might be talking nonsense again, but I’ve looked it up and it appears to check out.

[MAG012 First Aid]

.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character - not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently, he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

[MAG014 Piecemeal]

.

Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic”

[MAG015 Lost John’s Cave]

.

There simply aren’t enough details given in this statement to actually investigate, short of Martin confirming that Mr. Vittery did indeed live at the addresses he provided.

[MAG016 Arachnophobia]

.

Oh, he’s off sick this week. Stomach problems, I think.

Blessed relief if you ask me.

[...]

I asked Martin to try and hunt down Mr. Adekoya himself for a follow-up, but have been informed that he passed away in 2006. 

[MAG017 The Boneturner’s Tale]

.

MARTIN

Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?

ARCHIVIST

…

That is beside the point.

[MAG022 Colony]

.

Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!

[MAG023 Schwartzwald]

.

Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th, 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel.

[MAG025 Growing Dark]

.

I know, but it would have to have been Martin, wouldn’t it? I mean, anything goes wrong around here, it always seems to happen to him. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Why didn’t you report this?

[MAG026 A Distortion]

.

Martin made contact with the son, Marcus McKenzie, but he declined to talk to us, saying that he’d “already made his statement.”

[MAG027 A Sturdy Lock]

.

Tim and Martin had a bit more luck investigating Tom Haan, though only really enough to confirm that he seems to have completely vanished following his departure from Aver Meats on the 12th of July.

[MAG030 Killing Floor]

.

Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books

[...]

TIM

Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

ARCHIVIST

No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

[MAG036 Taken Ill]

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Sunflower !! Hi!! I thought of a request (and if youve seen it somewhere, it's cause im asking lots of different authors to see the idea in their style !!) so the idea is really angst,,, but its basically that reader (he/they) is a god/admin on the server and he's the dad figure of the bench trio (it can be cc! Or c! You can choose :} ) and so recently the benchtrio has been asking him for more and more things for creative mode. Like tommy asking him for netherite and reader struggling to say 'no' cause he doesn't wanna be a bad parental figure. His mental heal stars declining,,, cause he's just doing so much for these damn kids,, and the bench trio realizes and is just like "What have we done...." and then the end :p you can make it fluffy or angsty !! Just make sure you drink water :D -🔗

Ah this was actually really cute, I'm a sucker for any kind of parental content, anyways here ya go and drink water as well :] <3

Summary: You’re boys messed up

Pairing: P!Bench Trio X Reader

Pronouns: He/they

[A/n]: Requests are closed, 650 special will be posted soon <3

Most people on the server knew you as The Man of Many Wishes, as you were a god-type being that could grant any wish. At least that’s what the legends about you were, really you were just able to summon any item you wanted at no cost to you. Physically that is, as you had recurring guests that would always ask for items, which wasn’t the problem. You loved making a good deal and trading with fellow beings, but when the people ask you for things and don't give anything in return is when it starts getting to you.

You had adopted three boys almost as soon as you had been discovered by them. You were simply going about your day-to-day life, occasionally stopping by a few places to pick up things you needed. Just because you could create your own items didn’t mean you disliked supporting local businesses, plus it helped you to blend in with the other townsfolk.

It was when you were heading home that you stumbled upon a skeleton, it was hiding under a shady tree and had fired an arrow at you. The arrow struck you but did no damage, only sticking into your skin. You were quick to summon a sword and take down the mob, fighting with no hesitation. Once it was dead you plucked the arrow from you before using a summoned healing potion to close the wound.

Apparently, you weren't watching closely to your surroundings as three pairs of eyes watched you in curiosity. Did you just magically create items?

As creepy as it sounded, the three boys followed you home, watching your behavior closely for the next few days. Just as they were about to give up they saw you summoning in some items for yourself, prompting them to knock on your front door.

While everything was a tad odd, the four of you bonded quickly, you becoming like a father figure to the boys. Their fathers were either missing or terrible anyways.

They had started asking you for small things, only the things they needed. Then they began asking for things they wanted but simply couldn’t get right now. Then they began asking for anything they could think of.

“Hey, Dad could you summon me some netherite ingots? I need them to buy something.” You wanted to tell the boy no, tell him that he couldn’t rely on you for these kinds of things and needed to acquire his own goods, but you couldn’t. What if he hated you for saying no? What if he got so upset that he refused to talk to you again? What if he disowned you as his dad?

“Sure Tom, how many do you need?”

“Twenty-five is good enough, if that prick tries to raise the price again then I’ll kick his ass.” You passed the items to the boy who shouted a thank you as he left. What were you going to do with him?

“I don’t know Foolish, sometimes I feel like they only pretend to see me as their dad to get free stuff from me. I just feel used. I don’t know, I’m probably just overthinking it.” Words spilled from your mouth at record speed, all your worries and thoughts running out and flowing into your friend's ears.

“Actually that sounds kinda reasonable. I would probably think the same way.”

“But what do I do about it. I can’t just sit them all down and say ‘Hey do you guys actually care about me or do you just pretend to for free stuff because sometimes I don’t know.’”

“Well, technically you could.”

“Ok but think about how much that could break their hearts, I don’t want to do that to my boys.”

“Well something’s gotta give eventually, you aren’t gonna be able to keep this up forever.”

“Yeah, I know.” Foolish is a good friend, but this was something you’d have to work through on your own.

“What are you guys doing here?” The last thing you expected to see was all three boys sitting at your kitchen table waiting for you. They all had spare keys for emergencies but it seemed as though they had been there a while.

“We uh, we want to apologize for the way we’ve been acting recently.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“We heard you talking to Foolish earlier. We didn’t realize that we were making you feel that way and we’re sorry.”

“I promise you’re really my dad, I wouldn’t just use you like that! I’m so sorry for how I was acting, you're just really cool, please don’t unadopt us.”

“I’m not unadopting anyone, you can all calm down. And thank you for the apology, I suppose I should also apologize for assuming the worst of you all. I love you, my boys.”

“I love you too!” “Love you too dad.” “Love ya too.”

Taglist: @minty-ghast @rokkyy @dreamsmpfangirl @joyfullymulti @l0ver0fj0y @monochromeno (the gang’s all here :]) (< that was a spongebob reference I’m sorry I’ll go )

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[lizzy-williams]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭

🐺Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamic, SMUTTTT, neediness, language, mature themes, dubcon?

🐺Masterlist

🐺Summary: Every Omega knows that going into heat is rough, especially when unclaimed. All eyes are on you. So when it hits you in the middle of a coffee shop with your friends, a particular alpha is very willing to help.  

🐺Theme (All I Need by Radiohead)

🐺A/N: Lol we gonna get dirtttyyyy. By the way, you’re small in his, like body proportion wise, like 5′4 small so there’s that. I know people want the ‘independent strong hardheaded alpha female’, but in this one ur compliant, sorry if ya don’t like it. There will most likely be a part 2 :)

“Y’know, I dunno how you drink that stuff,” Anna-Lynn said from across the table, making [ y / n ] roll her eyes and look up.

“You’re just jealous cause your tastebuds are weak,” she retorted, taking a teasingly long sip of her dark black coffee. 

It was nice having a day out like this. Especially when everyone seemed so busy with preparing for the spookiest holiday of the year. Paper bats and small pumpkins littered the store-fronts of London, the summer weather fading with the light chilly breezes autumn seemingly brought. 

The calm warm light streamed through the window of the coffee shop the three young women were in, the dusk just hitting them. The tree leaves complimented the light as it covered the area in a soft blanket of pink and orange hues. 

“So, um,” [ y / n ]’s other friend, Elizabeth, began to speak, clearing her throat and shooting a daring look at Anna-Lynn, “Have you thought about Ethan at all?”

Ah, yes, Ethan. He was Elizabeth’s younger cousin, just then turning 19, a simple beta with no claimed mate. 

[ y / n ] shook her head, and to this, the two girls let out a defeated huff, “You need to chose someone,” Anna-Lynn’s voice was clipped as she huffed, but it had a hint of concern. Worry even. 

And of course there was a stipulation to one of [ y / n ]’s favorite seasons. Because for her kind, not only was it autumn, but it was also mating season. A dangerous time for any omega unclaimed. If you were unclaimed when the time came around, you were easy pray, and other alphas and betas could smell you much much easier. 

You would become a target. Even more so if you were in heat. 

“I’m not worried about it.” [ y / n ] sighed, nonchalantly, taking a large gulp of her drink before setting it back down. But deep down she truly was.

“We just don’t want you to become like one of those other omegas... you know, getting claimed by someone on the street during their heat... someone they don’t love at all and being forced to have pups, it’s just barbaric.” Elizabeth glanced down at her dwindling hands. 

“I understand that. But I’ve had no issues with this before. I’ll just... lock myself up in my room with a vibrator and some porn. That’s worked before,”

“Bullshit, you were a grump for like a month because you had built up aggression. Ethan’s a good guy. You should really consider it.”

Yes, Ethan was nice. But when it came to [ y / n ]... she just felt as if they weren’t meant for each other. And there was no way that she would consider having pups with him and-

Speak of the mother fucking devil-

It was as if she was hit with a million bricks at once, her body becoming hot, a powerful wave of uncomfortable warmth crashing through her body like a tidal wave, her mouth clamping shut tightly. Her breath hitched, her thighs tightening around nothing, her legs shaking as she felt herself feel as if she were going to throw up. The moisture between her thighs was uncomfortable as she felt her panties stick to her mound.

How could she be so careless? Now she was in heat in public and she knew that nearby alphas and betas had already caught onto the scent, most likely heading their way. She knew it was roughly the time she would go into heat. And it was hell on earth right now, knowing that now that the sun was just now taking it’s last breaths over the tall buildings, the night heightening her kind’s senses acutely. 

Her friends caught on almost immediately, knowing the mannerisms of the heavy breathing and the quivering lips. Her eyes were wide as she bit down on her bottom lip harshly, trying her best to keep her whimpers and whines in the back of her throat. 

Thoughts raced through the young woman’s mind. Thoughts of her being taken in the most delicious ways possible by any man that just so happened to look her way. And her friends could tell that there were already at least a few alphas coming in hot, the sudden howling through the now darkened air making the 2 other girls’ senses hyperactive. 

What was ironic was that there was a conversation going on between two baristas behind the counter, “The dogs are at it again, they’ve been a lot noisier than usual.”

“We need to get her home, right now.” Anna-Lynn commanded, Elizabeth giving a chaste nod before flipping through her phone as a poor, squirming, [ y / n ] sat right across from them, panting in her intense discomfort. 

She shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to ignore the ache in her core. She wanted, no, needed to be filled up. To be claimed. But the thoughts only drove her down deeper, desperation seemingly seeping out of every pore. 

As soon as she was called an Uber, it was an agonizing amount of time before it finally came to a stop, the driver flashing concerned looks at the poor squirming girl in her back seat. Throughout the whole ride, it took everything for [ y / n ] not to touch herself, and all she could do was shift her thighs together, and thankfully, (soon enough), the car came to a stop. 

[ y / n ] let out a strangled ‘thank you’ to the driver before getting out, and after the woman drove off, she found herself stumbling into an alleyway. Her whole body was on fire and she needed release, any release. 

Her back violently hit the brick wall of a darkened alleyway, her loud and labored breaths echoing through the seemingly empty face. She needed tension. At least a little bit. 

As if her legs weren’t her own, [ y / n ] spread her legs only a small amount, just enough to slip her hand under her pants and softly drifting her fingertips over her clothed clit. 

A smooth and controlled rubs soon turned into harsh and fast circles, her needful thoughts forcing her mind to tune out the howling that was getting closer and closer to her. It wasn’t until a low and terrifying growl resonated through the hollow space, making her stop in her tracks, yanking her hand out of its position, doing her best to stand up and steady herself. 

But it was far too late, because by the time she finally started bolting towards the opening in the cold alleyway, her body was caught and thrown against the frigid brick, a pitiful yelp leaving her lips, unleashed tears forming in her eyes. 

“You smell fucking delicious,” a dark voice spoke, no doubt an alpha, and [ y / n ] wouldn’t dare look up and meet his eyes. 

“P-Please, I c-can’t-”

[ y / n ] didn’t even know why she was saying please, for there were so many reasons she could be saying it. 

Please don’t.

Please help the pain.

Please touch me.

Please don’t touch me.

Please.

But the young woman’s thoughts were cut short by a violent tug to her hair, forcing her gaze on the person in from of her. He had bright red hair, freckles apparent, even in the dull light of the closed off space. He wore a jet black hoodie, and that was all that [ y / n ] bothered to take in. 

“You’re a pretty one...” his words rattled through her mind, muffled by the sharp ringing in her heat from the sudden contact to the wall only moments earlier, “Glad I claimed you before anyone else could,” he paused to chuckle to himself, “Would hate to touch damaged goods.”

[ y / n ] whimpered and almost recoiled away, but she knew better. This alpha seemed ill-tempered, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she dared to disobey. 

He gave a rough tug to her hair, standing her up, and immediately started to kiss her neck in hopes of warming her up a little bit more, not that she needed it, but nonetheless, his lips continued their assault on the young woman’s neck, whimpers and whines escaping her lips. 

“Just one little thing, pretty girl, you’re unclaimed, I can smell it on you.” he spoke before leaving a long, sinful lick up her throat, “I’m going to bite this pretty little neck and make sure that nobody else is going to touch what’s mine.”

The girl’s body shivered violently. He was talking about a claim mark. If that happened, she could never escape him, it was a tracking device. Where ever she decided to go, he would know exactly where she was. 

“Please, don’t, I-”

But a violent growl made her blood run cold and her words pause half-way up her throat. But it wasn’t from her captor. His head was already snapped towards the source of the sound, which was at the opening of the alleyway, the minimal light caused by the streetlight exposing a clothed figure with its hands in its pockets. They weren’t tall but they weren’t short, but their stature was confident. 

Great. Another alpha.

“Drop her.” the voice spoke, straight to the point and commanding. 

“Fuck off, she’s mine, I got to her first.” the ginger male snapped, his eyes now a vibrant scorching gold, shining in the darkness. 

“Drop the fucking girl or I’ll rip you’re fucking head off.” this time it was a vicious growl, strong and unwavering that sent goosebumps down [ y / n ]’s spine. 

“That a challenge, pint-size?” the ginger taunted, referring to the other alpha who only stood at a good 5′8, while he stood at a large 6′1, slamming the girl onto the ground making her yelp out in pain.

Finally, the young alpha stepped into some form of light, making his face visible, and the ginger’s expression of defense faded into a face of fear and regret, the eyes that once glowed yellow dying down to it’s original color. 

“T-Tom, Jesus, man, excuse me, I didn’t-”

The alpha, apparently named Tom, harshly grabbed the ginger’s shirt, pulling him in and looking up at him with deadly eyes, “Leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, and hopefully never going to be seen again. 

Tom’s expression turned soft when he saw the poor writhing omega in a mound on the hard concrete of the ground, small whimpers of discomfort making his chest clench. 

“You live here?” he questioned, motioning to the building she was now leaned against. 

All she could to was let out a whine of confirmation, nodding her head slowly as she clamped her thighs together as tightly as possible. 

“Come on then, can’t have you out in the open, there’s already talk, let’s get you inside,” he said, kindness and understanding in his tone, holding out a hand to [ y / n ], who in turn took it almost immediately. 

It took her a second to walk, her knees weak, not to mention it was hard not to notice Tom’s muscles, and his face. God, he was truly attractive. 

She let her mind wonder as they began to walk, his arm firmly around her waist, trying to keep her steady. She wondered what it would look like when he came, filling her up to the brim, making her full, a thin blanket of sweat covering his body, his eyes glowing, hungry, and she let out a whimper at it. 

“You’re staring.” Tom smirked as they stepped into the elevator of the complex. 

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying to shake the embarrassingly dirty thoughts from her mind as she continued to try and focus on just getting to her apartment. 

The sooner she got there, the sooner she had her vibrator, the sooner she had release. She was convinced, at least, that that would solve her problems, at least temporarily. 

She led him to her apartment, still holding onto him for dear life as her core throbbed with need and want. When the door unlocked with a small click, she turned the doorknob, almost collapsing through the doorway. 

“Do you need any help?”

This could have meant many things. But of course, [ y / n ] was oblivious in her response. 

“N-No, I think I can manage to put myself to bed.”

Tom gave a small chuckle as he sat her down on the couch, sitting next to her as she slouched back, “No, I mean I can help with your problem... that is, if you want me to,”

[ y / n ]’s mind was clouded in a haze of neediness, so with no hesitation, she whimpered a small yes, before immediately unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them down a little bit to eagerly. 

She knew this was happening to quick, almost irrationally quick, but the need in her pounding cunt was much more important to her at the moment than her petty morals and reason. 

“Are you sure?” he looked at her with sincerity, watching as she shifted out of her pants and took his hand, placing it on her covered mound. 

“Please, just touch me, Tom,”

Hearing his name on her lips was almost enough to make him lose his control and say ‘fuck it’, but he figured that if her were to do this, he might as well try to do this right. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, darling,” he muttered, easily finding her sensitive bud, even through the material of her panties.

She let out a soft and breathy moan, taking her hand of his own and moving it to his bicep, squeezing, as if it were anchoring her down to Earth, because she had never been touched like this, especially by someone else. 

As if Tom had read her mind, he looked up at her, drinking in her reactions before speaking, “Are you a virgin?”

She nodded her head, his pace never faltering. 

“I’ve been waiting- ugnh - for the right person... I trust you,” she managed to get out between moans.

“You barely know me,”

“But I want to. There’s - ah, fuck - something about you. I l-like you,” she admitted, the filter between her mouth and her brain nonexistent as she felt nothing but pleasure and a release from the uncomfortable pressure she was feeling only moments before. 

“Fuck,” to Tom, it was nice to hear that somebody needed him, trusted him, especially with something like this, so sacred and meaningful. She was giving him the gift that could only be given once, and he was happy to receive. 

After a few moments of him rubbing her in all the right ways, he hesitantly pulled his hand away from her, hating the noise of protest that she released. 

“Come on, princess, let’s take this to you're bedroom, yeah?”

[ y / n ] was compliant to his suggestion, standing up best she could without Tom’s help, but soon leaning on him as she directed him to her bedroom door. 

The door was busted open, and she was thrown onto the bed, and as soon as she hit the mattress, she stripped off everything else, leaving her completely nude, and her actions inspired Tom to do the same. 

He quickly got on top of her, grinding the length of his cock against her soaking wet folds, making him growl. 

“Fuck, darling, I’m not even inside you yet and you feel heavenly-” he hissed, the little omega nodding in response. 

“Alpha, please, I need you inside me, I want you to fill me,” she desperately pleaded. 

Tom let out a feral snarl at the use of the word ‘alpha’, surprised it had so much of an effect on him being used like this. It was so fucking hot. She had him wrapped so tightly around her pinky and didn’t even know it. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he muttered, lining himself up and ever so slowly easing himself inside his new mate, a pained whimper escaping her, his cock seemingly splitting her in half. 

Tom finally remembered that she was a virgin. And that made him even harder inside her. He waited for him, for her mate, while he was out fucking every omega that crossed him. But with her, she wasn’t just an omega. And he wanted to prove it to her. 

He took his time, almost cockwarming, staying still inside of her as her body naturally adjusted to his size, feeling so close to each other, it was enough for the two of them to almost fall in love right then and there. Tom finally took in how perfect she was to him. Someone he knew he wanted to keep around in the long run. Someone he knew he wanted to protect, even when she didn’t need protection. 

[ y / n ] scratched up his back, signaling that she was ready, and confident that he could move with little to no discomfort from her. 

The alpha started to move his hips, her tight cunt making his eyes roll back in his skull as he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving soft and reassuring kisses to her neck as she made the most delectable noises, making him addicted, almost like his own brand of opioid. 

“So fucking tight, princess, you feel like fucking paradise,” he praised as he drank up the omega’s reactions as she experienced her first time with him. 

She’s like this for me and only me.

Her face was scrunched adorably in pleasure, her eyes shut tight as she felt the moment, his skin under her finger tips, the burning that was set in her core easing as she finally had pleasurable relief. Like getting a refreshing drink on a particularly hot day. 

Tom couldn’t help himself, and as if his body wasn’t his own, primal instinct took over as he began to make his strides harder and quicker, making the most pathetically cute noises release from her mouth. 

“You like that, darling?” he panted licking and sucking her neck, making one of her tiny hands weaving itself though his chestnut curls, “Why did I bother asking, of course you do. You love it when your alpha fucks you.”

All she could do was nod her head as she felt a coil inside her tighten. Tom felt his cock inflate as he continued to drive into her, pounding her into the mattress as he growled praises into her neck, her moans and whimpers never stopping. 

Soon the praise turned into a single word, falling out of his mouth like a prayer, even though what they were doing was the farthest thing from holy. 

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The omega could take it anymore, whimpering out, “P-Please, I... want you to b-bite me. Please, I need you to claim me,” she begged, which made his assault on her cunt falter slightly, slowing down to a calm and intimate pace. 

He knew what that meant. When an alpha bites an omega, she’s claimed. It means that nobody can touch her. Almost like an unbroken bond between two of their kind, and it meant a lot. 

And though they had just met only a half an hour prior, he knew that she was special, and he knew that this was who he was meant to be with, and his heart swelled at the thought of getting to know her inside and out. A true connection. 

“You want me to claim you, huh?” he paused his movements, [ y / n ] nodding frantically, wanting more than anything, “I’m not going to go easy on you. I want you to feel nothing but you inside me while I claim you, nothing but rapture as I claim you as mine.”

[ y / n ] nodded once again, to while Tom protested, “Words, darling,” 

“Yes, alpha, I understand, I- OH FUCK-,” she yelled out. And she thought he was going hard before, but that was nothing compared to the pleasure she was now presented with, his cock properly railing into her as he left a long and sinful lick up her neck before taking a bite, his eyes glowing a bright fluorescent gold as she let out one of the most pornographic moans she had ever heard. 

The copper taste in his mouth tasted like candy, and home, the sweet substance covering his lips as he finally pulled back, knowing that she was close. 

And close she was. She was so close to release she could almost taste it, and god did it taste good. Without warning, the coil inside her snapped, making her vision cloud, her thoughts unable to collect themselves as her vision clouded, and she swore she blacked out for a second. 

She was so overcome with pleasure, she didn’t notice that he had cum himself, the sensation of him pulling out and his cum spill out of her enough to get her riled up enough. But if what just happened didn’t vanquish the heat she was experiencing before, God only knew what would. 

Tom stepped back, taking in the sight of his new mate, completely fucked out and covered with marks, his cum dripping out of her like a faucet. He wished for this image to be branded into his mind so he could see it every time he closed his eyes. 

“Absolutely stunning.” he praised, his hands now running up and down her thighs. 

[ y / n ] was finally Tom’s, inside and out, and Tom couldn’t be more proud. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love, yeah?”

The morning was soft and filled with nothing but admiration to each other, the two staying in bed most of the morning until they finally went to the omega’s kitchen to make breakfast/lunch.

[ y / n ] was cooking the bacon and eggs when she suddenly felt arms wrap around her from behind, a chin resting on her shoulder. 

“How’re you holding up?” he questioned, and it make [ y / n ] blush at how considerate she was about her state, his fingertips dragging lightly over the violent-looking bite mark on her neck.

“I’m absolutely perfect,” she smiled, “Feels nice to belong to someone.”

“You know what? I was thinking the exact same thing.”

And for once, the two of them were truly excited for the future. 

[wizkiddx]

ruining the plan isn't always so bad

you can tell whenever I have really important things to be doing in my life - bcos instead I will spend hours writing for no apparent reason ah kmn ;///

tomhollandxreader - pure fluffffff

Summary: tried to base off when Dom and Sam surprised Tom shooting a couple of years back- but this time they got Y/n with them too

(I don't own the pic nor claim to ...idk how to do this crediting bit sorry :/)

The plan was in place. Tom was really struggling with homesickness on set of his newest film. No real reason why; just long hours, living out of a hotel room, half the world away from ‘home’. Harry was always flying out to join Tom as his ‘assistant’ however after a pretty heart-wrenching phone call Tom had made to Y/n, while she was hanging around with Haz and Harry at the Holland’s house... the plans had changed somewhat. He just seemed so distant and run down, when Nikki got her turn on the  phone she instantly knew that they had to do something. Naturally then, putting her superior organising skills to good use she arranged for Dom, Sam and Y/n to accompany Harry to Atlanta; and surprise Tom there. 

The way the last minute booking happened meant that Harry, Sam and Dom were all flying out on the same flight (though Harry was in first class, while the surprise guests were in economy). Y/n, because of her university timetable, couldn’t leave till a bit later, so was on a plane 2 hours after the Hollands - it wouldn’t make that much difference and if anything would prolong the joy of the excitement for Tom. They, meaning Harry who was oddly invested in the intracacies and details, had been brainstorming different ways to do the reveal- not sure whether to just do it in the hotel when Harry would be meeting Tom anyway, or waiting and surprising him when they were out for dinner or in a bar. Eventually they’d decided it would just be easier to have Harry, Dom and Sam just meet him at the hotel- then take him out to dinner, allowing time for Y/n’s later expected time of arrival, where she would then appear at the restaurant. 

Ever since Harry had let Tom know that he’d landed (if half an hour late), Tom had been excitedly texting him back constantly. The pair had agreed that Tom would simply meet him in Harrys hotel room when he got back from set. Yet when the time came, Sam and Dom were hiding just further down the corridor- waiting in the corridor. From their hideaway a couple of metres down the way from Tom and Harry, the obvious exctiement they could hear when Tom arrived and the two reunited warmed Dom’s heart. He just loved his sons all being so close- it was perhaps what  he was most proud of as a parent. Especially after witnessing both Harrison and Y/n loose a parent, he knew if god forbid anything happened to him and Nikki - they had each others backs completely. Sam was excitedly shifting from foot to foot hearing his brothers - Dom just subtly shook his head at the endearing nervous energy, clearly Sam was impatient for his turn. The idea was Sam would knock first then Dom, so after allowing a short time of just Tom and Harry reuniting, Sam pranced down the hallway and knocked. Yet it wasn’t Tom who flung the door open to Sam as per the scheme, instead his fuzzy haired twin.

“Harry what the fuck” Sam mouthed, daring to glance over his shoulder to attempt to spot Tom - annoyed at his brother for getting in the way.

“He’s on the shitter, change of plan bring Dad in.” Harry whisper-explained, making Sam roll his eyes at Tom unintentionally ruining his own surprise, before retreating to the hallway and beckoning his dad in. Dom pulled an equally bemused face until Harry filled him and he chuckled - earning him a harsh shush from both boys as they sat on the bed, facing the toilet door.

“So why did it take you so long to get here?” Tom asked through the thin loo wall, while Harry pushed his dad to sit further over on the bed.

“Oh ermm….they had some mix up with the luggage so we” Immediately getting slapped on the leg by his twin with a piercing glare,  Harry corrected himself “I mean -I had to wait for like an hour and a half to get my suitcase. Then I think I had the worst taxi driver in the world like down country roads and all.”

“Yeh like that drive should take like 40 minutes I thought? But when you texted me saying just left” He paused as the sound of the toilet flushing and the sink turning on flooded through the room ”that must’ve been at least an hour ago”

“I guess” Harry replied, hearing the tap turn off while Sam ran his fingers through his hair yet again - an excited or nervous tick.

“So how is everyone? I tried to call Dad and Y/n today but-“ The door opened, the stream of light flooding into the main room. Tom stopped dead in his tracks, voice cutting off but mouth hanging agape, still clutching onto the doorhandle. 

“Hello son” 

Dom spoke softly as he stood up from his choreographed position on the bed. Only at his words did Tom believe this was actually reality and literally sunk to his knees at the boundary between the ensuite and bedroom. He was awash with pure emotion, mainly relief - this was the exact thing he really needed right now. His dad soon pulled him up and hugged him, Sam following close behind. Tom’s reaction was priceless, the few tears being more than enough of a tell to his family how much he had needed this. 

It was an emotional reunion, there was a hell of a lot of hugs and suddenly the 14 hour journey was so worth it to Dom and Sam. Afterwards, they just all sat together on the bed and caught up on each others lives, Tom not really wanting to speak about himself - much preferring to hear all their stories from home about his mum and grandparents and the family that live down the road. He loved the normalcy of it. 

That was until a voice grabbed the attention of the whole room and Harry inwardly and silently cursed himself - in all the excitement he’d left his phone on silent in his jacket pocket, which was hanging on the coat rack so he hadn’t even heard it vibrate.

“Harry pick up your phone!” An exasperated voice exclaiming from the hallway half caught the Hollands’ attention, their heads all spinning in unison to the wooden hotel room door. It started to jerk open as Y/n wrestled with her suitcase ”You’ve left your hotel room open you div.Anyway I’m just dropping my case in your room so please text me where to go because - ugh- because right now you could all be anywhere in Atlanta and I-” 

The conversation within the room had died- all of them watching the petite brunette fight her way past the door with a silver suitcase that seemed ridiculously large and heavy for a weeks holiday. She had pressed her phone to her ear using her right shoulder and was wearing beige tracksuits a white crop top and a black leather jacket - as she grunted in frustration at the case, yanking it unceremoniously over the threshold. Subtly, Sam looked up at Tom, seeing his brothers eyes widen in shock, whole body turned completely rigid and Sam had to smile smugly - it was actually quite cute, even if he would never admit it to their faces. Y/n only stopped speaking into the receiver when her eyes finally darted into the room - noticing she had an audience. 

“Oh.” 

She stopped herself, pressing the end call button and pocketing her phone, whilst moving into the centre of  the room. She shot an apologetic smile to Harry, knowing she’d technically ‘ruined’ his plan - though to be fair it wasn’t her fault he didn’t answer the phone; or that his flight had been delayed meaning he didn’t get Tom to the resturaunt at the agreed time. Actually she could blame it all on Harry. He just rolled his eyes back at her whilst she looked past him and onto the shellshocked face of her boyfriend. 

Not being able to hide her grin, she halted at the foot of the bed, meanwhile Tom leant forward from the headboard - his eyes not leaving her. “You gonna say hi or am I just gonna stand here?” Y/n smirked, Tom still not moving from his shellshocked stance. Slowly her smirk morphed to a concerned look, eyebrows drawn inwards, as her look darted between Dom and Tom. 

“Tom are you okay?” she tried speaking gently, but before she could push anymore he launched himself off the sofa and into her arms, Y/n barely staying upright. Then Tom started spinning her round and round all the while squeezing her as tightly as possible. Y/n squealed an ‘I love you’  into his ear , already knowing Tom wasn’t ready to talk yet- instead just pressing his face closer into her neck. After a short while Tom lowered her to the ground and pulled away enough for Y/n to see the smudged tears around his eyes. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and looked deep into his mahogany brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I am now” he nodded jerkily, all the while inching his lips closer to hers. Both consciously aware of half the Hollands just viewing them, their kiss was fleeting and light - but made Tom’s heart want to burst. 

“God I’ve missed your stupid face” She laughed, now her eyes filled with tears too. He let out a breathy chuckle in reply and used his thumb to wipe away a single droplet that escaped her eye.

“Missed yours more” her smile lit up the entirety of her face, such a natural glow across her face Tom shook his head slightly marvelling at her. 

“Ohhkkkayyy well I don’t really want to witness the making of nieces and nephews”

“Harry” Dom warned in a disapproving tone, even if he did have to fight back the laughter. To be quite honest he’d really enjoyed seeing his son and almost adopted daughter reunite. Both him and Nikki absolutely loved their relationship, they just went together oh so well, whilst slightly reminding them both of their younger carefree days. Harry rolled his eyes at his dad before continuing. 

“But shall we get dinner and then you can be alone all night” His eyebrows wiggled in such a manner Y/n swore she felt a little nauseous witnessing it. 

“Harry stop!” Sam interjected, elbowing Harry harshly in the side, earning him a  playful slap in return.

“Someone remind me why I’m paying the wrong twin to be my assistant?” Tom still hadn’t looked away from Y/n as he quipped a response at Harry, while Y/n was gently stroking up and down his cheeks with such a soft look in her eyes. 

“Because I rejected it” Sam smirked, making Harry yell out in anguish-

“I was second choice?!?!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Honestly just go play golf with your them! I have to do uni work anyway and-“

“But I don’t want to leave you! You’ve flown here too and I missed you.” Tom moaned, pressing a kiss into her hair from her position lying on his shoulder. Having slept uninterrupted for the first time in ages, Tom wasn’t even sure he wanted to venture away from Y/n and the bed at any point that day- even if it was for golf. 

“Your dad and Sam are only staying for the weekend so make the most of it! Me and my uni work are happy here-“ Tom’s eyes once again bugged out his face, as he caught on to her slip up.

“How long are you staying?” Shit. That was another thing she’d spoiled - getting a reputation to be as bad as Tom. Harry was for sure going to kill her.

“Oh fuck sake… that was my second surprise ruined… I’ve booked a week and a half off from uni so I can look after my little baby boy”

“Y/n don’t joke with me please.” Tom sat up, forcing Y/n to too which she huffed a little at, disrupting her comfort. It had her sitting up straight so she could look him in the eye and resting her hand on his exposed abdomen, asserting her authority on him. 

“I promise! My flights home next tuesday, but I’m missing uni so I have to be boring and keep up so it’s not a real holiday but-“ 

“I love you” 

Tom smiled for Y/n could never not surprise him. University was so important to her - she was really dedicating her life to it, especially financially. So her managing to put it on hold to look after him in a time of need was testament to just how kind and caring she truly was. 

“But you need to promise to look after yourself Tom. I haven’t seen bags under your eyes quite as impressive as this before. Think of your poor make up artists!” And she was back to being her usual sarky self. 

“I feel like I should be offended?”

“Or you can learn. Now go get showered before they leave without you.” Finally ralling off his side, then pushing him forcefully so he half rolled off the side of the bed. 

“Only if you shower with me.” The biggest smirk on his face, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief - which Y/n wanted to punch off so badly. On the other hand though, his idea didn’t sound half bad- letting him drag her up too. 

5 or so hours later, Y/n had written her assignment due in for next week and had submitted it online- making her feel pretty darn put together. She knew the boys had got back from the golf, and from the WhatsApp group Tom wasn’t very happy about his performance, so he was going to be moody. After closing her laptop triumphantly she chucked it in her bag and grabbed the spare key card and roamed the corridors of the hotel to find Sam and Dom’s room - where they all where. Tom had messaged her to let her know they were filming Dom’s podcast, so she had to be stealthy in her entrance - since to the public they were still just good friends. The secret still wasn’t ‘out’ so to speak. 

They’d left the door on the latch, allowing Y/n carefully pushing it open without making any noise. Immediately the golf-related bickering met her ears, while she peeked her head round the corner of the door. The four had set up armchairs by the window, with the camera balanced on top of a table and a stack of suitcases - in order for Harry to get the ‘perfect’ shot. Silently chuckling at the precarious arrangement, Y/n slid in through the door, turning round to gently close it shut again without noise. 

As soon as Tom had seen the door opening he had jumped out of his chair, walking up to Y/n and wrapping his arms round her- pulling her back into his chest off camera. Whispering a silently ‘I love you’ he grinned at the girl who was now arching to look into his eyes. She mirrored his sentiments, placing a bottle of water in his hand while pushing him back into frame. 

In reality, the whole of this podcast Tom had been attempting to summon energy in his body that was just not present. Don’t be mistaken, he had thoroughly enjoyed the time with his dad and brothers- but simply he only had today and tomorrow off filming for another 2 weeks, and the plan had been to stay as close to his bed as possible before the surprise happened. In all honestly, he caught his eyes drooping numerous times while they were filming the podcast- feeling safe in the surrounding of his family, the exhaustion was finally catching up to him. 

Y/n spent the rest of their podcast hidden behind the camera, doing some extra research on Sam’s double bed - yet sometimes having to stifle a chuckle at the boys filming. It was perhaps another 25/ 30 minutes before they finished, during which there was a hell of a lot of spoilers that they only realised too late could not be included. She really really did try to focus on her work, yet instead she found her eyes being drawn to her boyfriend. He still looked shattered. All she really wanted to do was wrap him in a thick duvet and cuddle into his side. She even promised herself to only find his occasional snores endearing tonight, which was something she often struggled with normally.

So when the camera was clicked off, Y/n spent a short amount of time chatting with all the Hollands, before suggesting they went to their own respective rooms before dinner. Unconsciously, when Y/n had suggested it, out of pure relief, Tom leaned almost all his weight against her side - anchored by the strong clasp on her hand. Of course, Y/n noticed and practically pulled Tom down the hallway without saying a word. Only when she let go of the door of their room, allowing it to close with a small slam, did she speak her mind.

“You shower, I’m getting room service then movies in bed… no arguments Holland.” He stared at her ,mouth agape, a little taken aback by her assertiveness, typically the opposite of Y/n. 

“I feel like you’ve just been inside all day, let me-“

“Nope. Nope. My holiday this is what I want… now shoo” She smirked, pushing him toward the ensuite door. Tom knew he did not have a choice in the matter, and even if he could possibly have some sort of influence- he was way too tired to argue.

Barely 15 minutes later, the two were wrapped cosily in the crisp white bedsheets, Tom with a small glass of a negroni cocktail and Y/n with her lime soda. Both were semi-reclined in a mound of pillows, yet Tom felt the need to also lean on her chest slightly. The familiarity of Y/n’s favourite movie ‘sunshine on leith’ playing on the screen, meant that within the first 10 minutes Tom was no longer alert. The smell of her perfume and the warmth of the duvet lulled him into a much needed slumber, making Y/n have to save the half-drunk negroni from spilling across the bedsheets as his grip relaxed. She just nestled in to the pillows further, a satisfied small grin dancing on her lips as she looked ahead at the TV, reducing the volume a little.

“Tom?…..Y/n?… Is anyone home?” A familiar voice sucked Y/n out from the next film ‘the greatest showman’, making her jump a little. Recognising it to be Dom instantly, Y/n had a mini argument in her head - whether to risk disturbing Tom by wriggling out from under him; or to call out instead, granting Dom independent entrance to the hotel room. It was possibly a bit of a weird position for her unofficial father-in-law to see his son and his girlfriend in, but she cared more right now about Tom resting than Dom’s opinions. 

“Dom…. come in… it’s open I think.” Desperately trying to get the volume right - enough so Dom could hear, but not so much as to wake Tom she called out, craning her neck toward the door. Luckily almost immediately Dom let himself in, and quizzically walked in seeing Y/n in bed.

“Sorry… it’s just I didn’t want to disturb him” Nodding in understanding, Dom inspected the state of his grown up, yet childlike son, asleep on her shoulder. 

“No no… he needs it. He always works himself raw for jobs but this…”

“It’s impressive even for him.” Y/n agreed, Dom noticing her unconscious stroking of his sons arm, soothing Tom as he slept. 

“Well me and the boys were trying to phone you both because we are going for dinner-“

“Ah sorry my phones in my bag”

“No no it’s fine… just it looks like Tom could do with an extra hour or so.” Dom motioned again to the slumbering figure with his trademark small grin, finding the whole situation entirely heartwarming.

“I was planning on waking him up so we could all go to the pub this evening… but yeh skipping the dinner might be a plan. I know it’s your last night and all but-“

“-Don’t apologise Y/n. I’m glad you’re looking after the kid.”  Y/n just smiled slightly, a small blush glowing from her cheeks. “I’ll um….leave you in peace… so maybe 9 o’clock? That gives you both 3 and a bit hours.”

“Sounds good!”Still speaking softly, Y/n freed one of her hands from the duvet and gave Dom a little wave as he exited the room giving a nod to her as the door closed. 

It was a sign of the times. Dom used to be Tom’s go to whenever he was tires, frazzled or fed up. But now he had been superseded by a far superior option. A kind, beautiful, intellectual choice - that Dom would graciously accept defeat to. 

He was awfully glad Tom had Y/n in his corner. And he was awfully glad he had found a surrogate  daughter in Y/n too. 

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 15 ~Etched On Wood~

Previously in The Element of Surprise

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed. 

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?" 

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Claire stood in the quaint wonderland of whisky, gin and assorted spirits, also known as The Island Spirit Whisky Shop. One side of the store was given over to the whiskies, while numerous craft gins and spiced rums were on the other. Absently, she touched one of the bottles of liquid gold, mentally calculating how many bottles she could fit in her small luggage to bring back as presents. When she heard laughter, she glanced up to find Annalise sampling a dram with the owner, effectively ending her dithering and opting to grab just a bottle of single malt in front of her instead. They'd just arrived in Stornaway over an hour ago and decided to put her gift shopping spree on hold .

Annalise raised a whisky glass and winked. "You better start getting busy. Our driver isn't going to hang around and wait for us all day. Found anything you like?"

Claire approached her friend and showed the bottle. "Aberfeldy, sixteen years old. For us tonight."

"Very nice. Glad to see you warming up to this trip for a change. How long has it been since you last checked your phone for Jamie's message?" 

"Five minutes," she replied, scrunching her nose at Annalise for bringing up the sore subject. She handed the bottle and her credit card to the shop owner before facing her friend. "I've sent Jamie a message, and he hasn't replied yet. He's got some explaining to do ...sending me away like this with too little notice." She let out an unladylike grunt. "Why can't our men be here? We're in a beautiful location ...romantic even ..." She waved a hand in the air to prove a point. "I don't understand why you're not so bothered not spending time with your boyfriend when you rarely see him, and you're only here until Monday."

"Oh, poor us girls! Without our men! God help us!"

Claire fought a smile. "Hey, now, if I recall correctly, I had to listen to you moan endlessly about not seeing Willie enough. What was that again, you said just a week ago over the phone?" She tapped her chin and pretended to go through her memory bank. "You can't stand living without him."

"Correction, missy. I told you I couldn't stand living on my own in London. Which means I'm not used to not having you around."

"Ah, my mistake. Must have misheard that part." Annalise snorted a laugh and went to grab a bottle of gin from the shelf, leaving Claire once again to thoughts of Jamie. Any day now, John would summon her back to London, probably with Mary Hawkins and Tom Christie in tow. Though she dreaded going back, she'd placated those thoughts by telling herself she'd be moving to the Highlands soon. 

Despite the valuable inroads to their relationship, Claire wondered if she would have given up London and her job so soon, supposing that Jamie hadn't had PTSD. Would their relationship have moved this fast? She immediately quelled that thought because deep down, she knew in her heart whatever their circumstances might have been, they would have chosen to be together whether it was too soon or not.

She glanced once more at her phone, inwardly debating whether to call Jamie or not. What the hell is he up to? She hadn't heard a peep from him since she'd left the cottage. Something was definitely up, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"So, this work of yours is moving along fast. I bet you can't wait to start your life in the Highlands with your love, no less. So, what's the plan? Are you and Jamie buying a bigger property together, or will you be staying in the cottage to see how the relationship pans out?" 

"His cottage for now. As for what lies ahead, we haven't talked about that far into the future yet."

"Quite right. Future planning is tedious, anyway. It's pretty obvious you and Jamie are meant to be together, no matter what. I saw it coming from a mile away. The way he looks at you ...you can literally see smoke coming out of his ears." Annalise comically waggled her eyebrows as she eyed the other sample bottles on the counter.

"Well, since we're talking about the future and wotnots," Claire began, lowering her voice, "I have been doing a lot of thinking myself. For starters, I want to have Jamie's babies one day." 

Annalise's eyes widened. 

She frowned. "Wot?"

"Babies?"

"Yes, babies." When Annalise continued to stare at her, Claire groaned. "Not now, though, silly! Our relationship might be going at full speed, but God ...I have other plans in mind before that happens."

"Yes, I get that ...but ...but have you and Jamie talked about babies?"

Claire gave the store owner an apologetic smile and pulled Annalise into the alcove by the window. "No. As I said, we haven't talked anything about the future. What's wrong with you? I know it's too early to be talking about babies, but everyone knows where our relationship is heading to. Eventually, somewhere down the line, starting a family would be the next step. Or did you think my move to the Highlands is experimental?"

"No! Of course not! It's not that ... it's..."

"It's wot?"

"I, ah ...the babies part."

"Jesus, Annalise, what's your fret about babies?"

"There's no fret!"

"What is it then?"

"I, ... I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you this, but ..."

"Tell me wot?"

"I thought you knew because why else would Jamie ..."

"Know what? For God's sake, spit it all out! It quite apparent you know something."

Annalise shook her head and sighed. "It's something Willie told me. It was right after when Jamie started to remember bits and pieces about his past. Willie thinks Jamie may have been deeply affected by what he'd learned. You know ...him witnessing your parents' death and you becoming an orphan at such a young age." She puffed out a breath. "Jamie confided to his brother that ...he doesn't want to have children because he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it if they would go through something as horrible as what you've both been through. I know that's not really Jamie talking, and I understand those fears are coming from a place brought about by his condition. Maybe it's something both of you should talk about. I thought Jamie might have already mentioned it."

Claire paused for a few heartbeats, absorbing Annalise's words. Should I be worried? A part of her knew it was his PTSD symptoms amplifying those fears in Jamie's head. The other part, she wasn't too sure. But he'd made so much progress, she thought. She waved a hand in dismissal and let out a humourless laugh. "Oh ... don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure Jamie didn't mean to say that in its entirety. You know how men are like ...they tend to have reservations about children and stuff like that in the beginning. Besides, he understands how his condition affects his reasoning, decisions and emotions. He's very aware of that. He told me so. So him saying not wanting to have children is not a projection of what's truly in his heart." She gave her friend a reassuring smile even though a smidge of uncertainty was starting to creep in. "Jamie and I are in love," she said with all the conviction she could muster. "And we've proven that with love, we can achieve anything. As for his current views about not having children, they will eventually change. After what he's been through, it's understandable he'd be worried about history repeating itself. He's slowly but surely recovering, and as soon as the new therapist arrives, it can only get better from there. I'm quite sure of it"

"Claire ..."

"There's nothing to worry about," she said firmly this time. 

Annalise grabbed her hand. "Claire ...I have no doubt that he loves you. Even a blind man can see that. But think about this. What if ...what if he can't give you what you want? I mean babies. That's what you want one day, isn't it?" When Claire nodded, she continued. "You should talk to Jamie about your dreams of having children one day before moving here to Scotland. I don't want you to invest your time and emotion in a relationship that will probably end in regrets. I like Jamie, and I love you, and I love the love you have for each other. But I don't want to see the both of you hurt ...just because you failed to see each other eye to eye. Please promise me you'll talk about this with Jamie before turning your life upside down and moving here to Scotland and start playing house. There's a lot at stake here, Claire. Please, just talk to him. At least you know if you're both on the same page or not."

"Fine. I'll talk to Jamie. But under one condition." Annalise nodded in response. "If we're going to have this break together, promise me to refrain from any more baby talks."

"You started it."

Claire sighed. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "But it ends now."

"Alright, but I'm only going to say one more thing and then we can go back to holiday mode." Annalise made a broad gesture. "I can see that our little talk rattled you a bit. And don't you dare deny it!" When Claire shrugged and made a gesture to carry on, she proceeded. "I just want you to know, despite the uncertainties you may be harbouring right now, ...thanks to my big mouth, nothing changes the fact that Jamie loves you. I'm sure after you've talked, you'll arrive at some compromise about this baby thingy."

Despite herself, Claire laughed out loud and rolled her eyes. "Holy hell, we sure are a bizarre duo, aren't we? Poor Jamie. Here we are talking about babies when he probably hasn't even thought about marriage. If he could hear us talk right now, he'll probably put me on the next flight to London."

Annalise looked at her sheepishly. "Or perhaps not. Shall we get going?"

She raised a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Hey. What's that look for?" 

Annalise wandered back to the check-out counter, laughing. "That was my wise, venerable sage look. You like?"

"No, knock it bloody off!"

..........

Jamie pressed the cold pack against his throbbing eye and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his irritation at Quentin. Stood in the cottage's open space lounge, which comprised the kitchen and dining area, he turned away to face one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. For the first time, he noticed the stunning vistas before him. Looking out to the south, there's the view of the village and valley, and the west the vast, beautiful beach, and to the north, the rolling hills. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the sceneries, but the crunching sound of Quentin's meat mallet on walnuts might as well have been a tree stump grinder splintering his skull.

"Do ye mind?" Jamie muttered, turning around to glower at Claire's uncle. "That godawful sound is making my headache worse." 

"Stop whingeing." Quentin didn't bother to glance up from the chopping board on which he seemed resolved to make continuous head-splitting rackets. "Because of you, I haven't eaten all day. What kind of boys' trip is this anyway? There's no food or booze except for the bottle of expensive champagne... these walnuts ...and that ..." He jutted his chin at the fruit basket and shook his head in disgust. "Sorry I can't accommodate your headache." He watched the walnut shell fly across the counter when his mallet hit the chopping board. "As for the black eye, I'm sorry about that too."

Willie chuckled from behind his open newspaper as he lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "Everyone will now think Claire dropped one on ye. How did it happen again? I didnae quite catch the whole story since both of ye were too busy grumbling at one another when I arrived."

Jamie glared with one eye. "As ye've already gathered, Quentin did this." He pointed his index finger at the evidence and adjusted the cold pack with a free hand. "And I cannae for the life of me understand why it was supposed to be a good thing."

"I told you already ...we had a bit of miscommunication," Quentin shot.

"Miscommunication?" Jamie sputtered, throwing a hand in the air in disbelief. He spun around and faced Willie. "I said to him if I start having one of my panic attacks on the ferry..."

"...you wanted to be knocked out," Quentin interjected.  

"Jesus Christ! I never said that, and I wasnae having a panic attack. I was feeling queasy."

"Yes, so queasy he turned green," Quentin added, hammering the walnut with more force this time, making Jamie flinch at the offensive sound. "And here I thought he was having a panic attack. He never mentioned anything about being prone to seasickness. So when he started to act all weird on me, I decked him."

"On my eye of all places!" Jamie shouted, slamming the cold pack on the kitchen counter. "When I said I'd knock myself out, I meant I'd take my medication and sleep it off in the car." He pointed a finger to his eye. "Look at this ...I look like I participated in a pub brawl."

Willie glanced up before turning a page of the newspaper. "Aye, that ye do."

"Well, you should have told me more about your condition," Quentin stressed, pointing the mallet at him. "How was I supposed to know what a panic attack looks like?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "Even if it was a panic attack, what made ye think socking me on the eye is the answer?"

Quentin shrugged. "I guess I get panic attacks too, ...now there!" When Jamie turned away in frustration, he pressed on. "Look at the bright side ...I got rid of your seasickness and saved you from having a relapse."

"I told ye already I wasnae having a panic attack, and I havenae had one for some time now!"

"Hey, may I remind you that I offered to drive Claire and Annalise to the airport and fly in later as Willie did? Your brother would have been in a better position to deal with your condition. I know you wanted to talk more about that bloody bench, but ..." Quentin shook his head as if remembering something. "Say ...I still don't understand why we haven't gone altogether. All this palaver with keeping this whole thing a secret and Willie taking the next plane after dropping off the girls." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Another thing, no one's told me yet where the girls were heading to."

Jamie gave his brother a warning cough.

Willie sighed and lowered his newspaper. "The lassies are somewhere having fun. Anyway, ye'll be getting yer wish granted. Ye'll be flying in my place when we return back to the mainland. Jamie told me CalMac ferries banned ye for a year."

Jamie bit back a smile at Willie's smooth change of subject.

"So Jamie told you." Quentin popped a walnut in his mouth. "Did he also tell you he didn't even try to explain to the police that it wasn't my intention to knock him out cold? That my intention was to help."

Jamie took a slow breath. "How could I? My head was still reeling from your punch. The police could only take in reports from eyewitnesses." 

Quentin cast the mallet aside and flattened both hands on the counter. "All right, all right ....never mind that. What's done is done, and I apologised already." He paused for a few beats and frowned. "So ... what's happening now? Why are we sitting around in this cottage when we could be organising some grub and booze?"

"Just hang fire for a little bit more." Jamie took out his phone and pretended to fiddle with it. It was becoming more difficult to distract Quentin by the second, but he needed to do this right if his plan was going to work. "The landlord is supposed to stop by. It shouldn't be long now."

"Well ..." Quentin glanced at the wall clock. "If the landlord doesn't come anytime soon, I'm going to find the nearest pub. I'm starving. And don't tell me to eat fruits. I want a proper hot meal. And I need a drink after the morning we had."

Not happening! Jamie couldn't have him doing that. "Look, dinnae start lining yer imaginary shots just yet. Pubs open much later here. Maybe while we're waiting, ye can show me that bench we were talking about." He gave Quentin a meaningful look. "Remember? It's one of the reasons why we came here for. Ye've delayed it long enough bashing those walnuts."

Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "Can you blame me? If we'd eaten first, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and we could be looking at that bench already. As it stands, I have to settle for walnuts. Besides, can't the bench wait? You said this trip would be entertaining. And smashing walnuts is not my idea of entertainment."

Jesus, why does everything have to be difficult with this man? 

Willie finally took pity on Jamie as he regarded them both with a mixture of impatience and amusement. "Look, I ken ye're both a bit on edge and didn't have a good start to the day." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I know ye're hungry, Quentin, and I know yer eye's in pain, Jamie, but bickering at one another is no' gonnae help yer cause." He clasped his hands and gave Jamie a knowing look. "Why don't ye both go and look at that bloody bench while I wait here for the landlord. That way, we're getting something done. Fair enough?"

"Fine." Jamie and Quentin said simultaneously.

Willie's head briefly fell back, and he heaved a relieved exhale up at the ceiling. "Finally, they agreed on something."

Quentin ignored Willie and looked at Jamie. "Right, we might as well." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "If you'll follow me," he instructed before heading for the front door.

Jamie glanced at his brother, who just nodded and returned back to reading the newspaper. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he followed Quentin out of the house and to the back garden. 

Halfway, Quentin glanced back at him. "So ...about that bench, you still remember this place?"

"Only vaguely," Jamie responded quietly, overcome with acute nostalgia as he began to take in his surroundings. 

The last few nights, while Claire had been cooped up in the shed doing edits, he and Quentin had been trying to piece their history together, mostly to help Jamie understand the past. It had been a frustrating feat at best for Quentin, trying to unravel Jamie's memories as a toddler that they'd almost laid the past to rest. Until Jamie had mentioned a bench with engravings in a garden of a coastal retreat, he'd once visited as a wee bairn. To his astonishment, Quentin had immediately known the place. The more they'd talked about it, the more the memory of that day made sense and became vivid until an idea came to Jamie's mind ...to use this trip for his plan.

When they reached the back of the house, they came to a stop, and there in the middle of the freshly trimmed lawn was the bench. Fragmented images began to flood Jamie's brain, colliding together to form a vivid picture. As if being pulled by an invisible force, he made his way towards the seat. Laying a hand on the surface, he caressed the weather-worn wood, relying on his heart to know what to search for. When he found the familiar yet foreign carving, he knew he'd made the right decision to arrange this trip. "Here it is."

Quentin stooped down beside Jamie to take a better look. "Jesus, it is really here," he whispered. "Just as Henry told me." He glanced at Jamie. "And you remembered. How old were you when you were last here?"

Jamie sat on the bench and briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he took a deep breath. "At the most, I must have been four. It was summer. My ma needed a break from us boys, so Murtagh took Willie and me on a trip here to visit Harry. Jenny stayed behind. I cannae mind what Harry was doing here, but I do remember him showing me this when my godfather disappeared into the house." His fingers traced the engraving. "I never understood then what it meant when he read it out to me. He'd told me it was our wee secret."

"It was a secret, alright. Henry wouldn't have wanted Murtagh to know." 

"Aye, I sort of caught the gist of it then even though I was too young to understand."

Quentin spoke with a distant look in his eyes. "Henry told me everything that happened that day and how it had been difficult for him to keep their trip here a secret from Julia. It was supposed to be a surprise."

Jamie couldn't help laughing out loud. He knew the feeling. "Aye, I can imagine," he replied, hoping Quentin would finally take the hint and see the real reason behind this trip.

"Did you know Henry had always wanted a son for his firstborn?" Quentin asked out of the blue. "Don't get me wrong, though. Claire was the light of his life, and he loved her. So much so, he would stare at her for hours while she slept. So Julia told me anyway. But he'd always said he wanted a son. I think it had something to do with him spending a lot of time with you and your brother during the summer, even before he met Julia." He smiled at Jamie. "He had fond memories of you and your brother, and it was very apparent from the stories he told me of you."

"A son," Jamie murmured, shifting on the bench as another memory popped up. "Aye, he'd mentioned something about wanting a son. He used to joke about having one, one day ...a strong lad like me were his words." He got up from his position and scoured the seat once more with his fingers and eyes, trying hard to remember where the other etching was. "I seem to recall myself asking Harry what if the baby turns out to be a girl. I cannae mind his reply, but he told me to pick a girl's name because he'd already had one for a boy. After I picked one, he carved both names we came up with on this bench ... it's here somewhere."

"Really?" Propping his specs on his nose, Quentin hunched over and began to search. "Can you remember the name you chose?"

He shook his head. "I probably came up with something daft ...like some cartoon character Jenny used to watch. "

"Or perhaps not." Quentin hunkered down, gliding his hand over the wooden surface of the edge of the bench. "Take a look at this." He stood up and took a step back to allow Jamie to see better.

What Jamie saw next took his breath away and only confirmed that niggling feeling in his guts. It hadn't been a misplaced memory nor a dream. He unseeingly watched Quentin squat down again to take a better look at the engraving, barely able to formulate words to express his emotions over the thoughts running through his head. Was this Harry's way of sending him a message ...a blessing of some sort? Or was it just some quirk in the universe, and everything had been purely coincidental? If it was the former, he'd been taken on a merry rough ride, and he could almost envision Harry's delight at his handiwork, watching them by the sidelines. Like Quentin, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"You know, Henry's been gone for years," Quentin finally spoke after a long silence. "And it astounds me that you refer to him by his nickname with such familiarity. Only Julia called him Harry. As a matter of fact, now that I think of it, sometimes you talk about him as if he's still alive. You may have forgotten many of your memories of Harry, but it's quite obvious the special bond you had with him is still there, and it must have made an impact on your life."

Jamie almost laughed out loud. If only Quentin knew. He debated whether to say anything about Harry's mysterious appearances, but after a few indecisive heartbeats, he thought, bugger it. He might as well let the cat out of the bag. "Harry has appeared to me," he blurted rapidly before he could change his mind. "Numerous time. As solid and as real as we are standing here right now."

Quentin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Briefly, he filled Quentin in on the mystery that was Harry, from the first time the appearances began and everything in between and watched an array of expressions register on the older man's face. "I've only shared this story with Willie and Claire, and now ...you. It's not something I like to share with just anyone. But because ye're Harry's brother, I thought ye ought to know as well."

Quentin let out a low whistle. "That's some story. I don't know what to say. I've never believed in all these mumbo-jumbo spirit sightings, but ..." He let out a huge sigh. "...though your story is bizarre, strangely enough, I believe you. That night when you mentioned this place and this bench, I dreamt of Henry after. For the first time in years. He was sat right here, not saying a word. That's why I agreed to go on this trip. The notion that he may be trying to say something did occur to me and thought I might as well see this special place of Henry and Julia for myself."

Jamie let out an exhale of relief just as he saw Willie walking in their direction. His brother made a motion of tapping his watch, which could only mean one thing. He needed to make a move. Straightening up to his full body height, Jamie faced Quentin and cleared his throat. "Speaking about this place ..." He swallowed and braced himself. "I haven't been entirely honest with ye."

"Is that so?"

Willie came to stand beside them, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Jamie disregarded his brother's knowing smirk. "There's also another reason for this trip that I meant to tell ye."

Quentin muttered a curse. "You're going to tell me this isn't the all-lads trip you'd been going on about, is that it?"

"Aye ...no! I mean ..." He tunnelled impatient fingers through his hair. "What I meant to say is ...with everything falling into place ...Harry, the engravings on this bench a-and how our history are sort of intertwined together ...I -I thought ...right here and now would be a perfect time."

"Perfect time for?"

Jamie puffed out a breath. "Perfect time to ask for your blessing."

"Blessing for what?" Quentin's brow puckered, but by then, he knew Jamie well enough, and it only took a quick study of the situation to determine exactly what was going to be asked. Quentin's eyes widened at the realisation. "Holy hell, Jamie! Are you bloody kidding me? Is this what all this has been about?"

"It's been coming to this, cannae ye see it?" He worked to steady his voice. "Ye dreamt of Harry sat on this bench. That must mean something, and ye know it. Everything that's happened to me ...Claire coming to the Highlands ....those ..." He pointed at the bench. "...those engravings ....they didn't happen by chance. All of it has led to this day.."

"Jesus! I can't believe you're making me want to thump you a few hours after I just walloped you on the eye and apologised for it." He rolled up the sleeves of his top. "I was just beginning to warm up to you, lad. But it has to be done. It's a rule."

"Rule? What bloody rule?" He watched Quentin clenched and unclenched his fist. "Ye really are gonnae thump me, is that it?"

"Rule is rule," Willie murmured, watching them closely while sneaking glances at his phone. "But best get this settled soon because we dinnae have much time left."

"Time for what?" Quentin shot. "What the bloody hell is going on now?"

Jamie's patience was swiftly deteriorating. "Look, Quentin ...ye can thump me later, alright? I'll even offer ye my good eye. But right now, I need yer blessing." 

Quentin laughed incredulously. "Listen, son, you don't get to schedule your own thumping." 

That was the last straw. Whatever patience Jamie had left dissolved. There was no time for pussyfooting. He took two steps forward and brought his face close to Quentin's. The older man looked too shocked to react, so Jamie took advantage. "Listen to me, ye cantankerous ol' git. I tried being patient with ye because I know ye like me even if ye have a funny way of showing it. But this intent on giving me grief for whatever demented reason ye have and deriving joy out of it is bloody mental. So, I'm asking ye in the nicest possible way ...give me yer blessings. Ye're gonnae give it to me anyway. So cut out all this shite and give it to me now."

A tense silence between the men ensued, and they all stood stock-still waiting for each other to give in, and the only discernible sound to be heard was the waves crashing on the beach.

When the phone notification went off, Quentin and Jamie momentarily forgot their stand-off and whipped their attention to Willie. "So gentlemen, what is it going to be? It's nearly showtime."

Quentin's eyes narrowed. "Showtime?"

..........

"Òran na Mara," Claire read out loud as they drove past the hand-carved wooden sign. "Song of the sea. How very fitting."

"I think it's romantic," Annalise whispered in response, smiling at her from the passenger seat in front. 

"Weel, here we are," the driver announced as they pulled into the driveway. "Welcome to yer home for the next few days." 

Claire leaned forward to take a better look at the cottage with a thatched roof and stone wall. Though it retained its traditional features, the beautiful structure had all the subtle hallmarks of luxury, and she could tell it had been sympathetically modernised without compromising its original character. She smiled when she caught a glimpse of the white sand beach and the turquoise Atlantic ocean. "This is gorgeous, Annalise. Jamie's outdone himself with this surprise."

"He certainly has," Annalise grinned. "Shall we?"

They both hopped out, and while Annalise sorted out the driver, Claire could only stand there in awe of the surrounding. Everywhere she turned, there was something to look at - beaches, rolling hills, and islands on the horizon. She was so taken by the natural beauty around her, she didn't even notice the car drive away. 

"Wait till you see inside. Jamie showed me pictures of the interior." Annalise walked up to the house and opened the wooden door, and Claire followed, hefting her luggage.

Inside was just as breathtaking as outside. "Wow," Claire breathed, admiring the views from the numerous windows. "This place is huge. There's probably enough room to accommodate ten people here. What are we going to do with all this space? The boys should have come."

Annalise just shrugged and smiled as she opened the glass door that led to the back garden overlooking the beach. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the view. There's a seat over there. I'll go and find us something to drink."

She stepped out of the cottage and sucked in a deep breath of salty air, and immediately felt at peace. Shading her eyes from the sun, she surveyed the curved bay of the beach and the peninsula in the backdrop. As far as she could see, there wasn't a soul in the area, nor were there passing cars to be heard, just the sound of nature, white sands and blue skies ahead. Oddly enough, the scenery uncannily reminded her of her mother's painting, which hung in her family home in Oxford, making her momentarily wonder if it was still there.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. There was still no message from Jamie. She decided it was no use pining over him when he must have spent a fortune sending her here to have some quality time with her best friend. He was thoughtful that way, even though sometimes to a fault. With a shake of her head, she shoved her phone back in her jeans, but something brought her up short as she made her way towards the bench. A familiar scent.

Before she could turn around to seek for the source, a pair of strong arms slid around her waist, soft, warm lips gliding along the back of her neck.

Exhilaration snapped in her veins. "Jamie," she breathed, turning around to wrap him in her arms. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jamie returned gruffly, his big hand rubbing circles on the small of her back. "Did ye really think I'd let ye out of my sight for a whole weekend when ye could be returning to London anytime soon?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling his nose against her skin. 

"A part of me didn't think so." She tipped her head back and forced him to look at her. When his face came to view, she did a double-take. "Your eye! What happened?"

His lips twitched. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach. It's just a minor accident. So, do ye like yer surprise?"

Her lungs released the pent-up breath she was holding in a rush. "I love it and even more so now that you're here." 

He smiled and took a moment to search her eyes before their mouths joined, warm hands cradling her face. His tongue parted her lips and stroked with the utmost tenderness in a slow, savouring kiss making her aware of their hearts pounding in unison.

"Sassenach ..." He trailed off to brush his lips against her temple. "Before anything else, there's something I have to show ye."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Another surprise?"

Tongue tucked into his cheek, he momentarily glanced over her shoulder before his gaze ticked back to hers. "I suppose ye can call it that. Have ye been here before?"

She noticed the immediate gravity in Jamie's expression as he kissed her brow. "No. I haven't. But I must admit this place does feel familiar."

"How so?"

"The views ...it reminds me of my mother's painting. She's probably been here at one point."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "She was."

"She was? How do you know? Uncle Lamb told you?" she asked rapidly.

"Patience, woman! Too many questions all at once." He tugged her towards the bench, and when he let go, he stooped over the seat and ran a hand over the wooden surface. He glanced up at her and smiled. "Come here and take a look at this."

Claire did as she was told, and as she crouched down, her eyes landed on a string of words carved in what looked like a feeble attempt at calligraphy.

 Henry and Julia - At the end, as at the start, through all the in-betweens, until the world stops spinning.

 A choppy breath passed her lips as she ran her fingertips over the etchings. "It's my mum and dad."

"Aye."

"They were here." She stood up and looked around her, this time, trying to see the surroundings through their eyes. "It makes sense dad brought mum to this place. It's so romantic, and from stories I've been told, he was just ...that. And I can imagine my mum sitting here on this very spot, capturing the moment with her artwork." An intense wave of gratitude suddenly rose, almost making the moisture in her eyes spill. Jamie had done this for her because he knew, just like him, she was trying to put the pieces of her past together. "God, this is bloody insane. I wouldn't have seen this if we hadn't met."

"Ye want to hear the best part?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Go on then."

"Yer da proposed to your ma on this very bench."

She let out a soft expulsion of breath. Something expansive and extraordinary stirred within. It was as if, in this very moment, Jamie's revelation had taken back to her parents' past and was there to witness it. "I don't know what to say." 

"The carvings on the bench was yer da's tribute to the day he proposed to yer ma."

"And you know this, how?" she asked quietly.

"Yer uncle and I put two and two together," Jamie explained, with a one-shoulder shrug. "I told ye ....some memories of my childhood have started to come back. Weel, this was one of them. When I mentioned to Quentin about how yer father showed me his handiwork on this bench when I was a wee lad, he'd figured this was the place Harry proposed. Yer father must have spoken of this place to yer uncle. I didnae understand any of it back then. I was too young. I wouldnae have realised the significance of it if I hadn't told Quentin about it. After some thoughts, I knew I had to come back and see it for myself just to prove I hadn't imagined any of it."

"But did you have to put me on a charter plane?" she softly admonished. "With Tom Christie? Are you mates with him now?"

"Tom is often hired to fly some goods to Stornoway for some restaurant. When I heard he'd be flying today, I thought it fitted perfectly with my plan. I must admit it pained me to ask him to take ye girls, but he was happy enough to sneak ye in."

"We could have flown here together."

"Aye, we could have." He took her hand in his and played with her fingers. "But I wasnae sure how I'd fare in the plane with my PTSD. Besides, I had a few personal businesses to attend to. 

"Such as?"

He shook his head in amusement and kissed her lips, lingering there before drawing away. "Ye're distracting me, Sassenach and I still have something to show ye."

She heard Annalise's laughter coming from the cottage. "I presume Willie is here with you too."

"Your presumption is correct. Now stop asking questions and take a look at this." He pulled her towards the other end of the bench.

She sighed. "Alright, let's see it then."

Jamie let go of her hand and tapped a finger on the spot. "Take a look."

Claire leaned forward and read the inscription.

 Jamie/Claire - the promise of greater things to come.

 She frowned as confusion settled upon her. "What's this?" She traced the grooved marks of the words with a fingertip. "This has the same indentation as the other engraving. And it looks old. This couldn't have been recent."

"Yer da wrote it."

She straightened up. "Wot? But what does it mean?"

Jamie blew out a breath. "He wrote the names he would name his firstborn. He chose my name for a boy, and I got to pick yers."

Her eyes widened. "You picked my name?"

"Apparently," he grinned.

A laugh bubbled out of her. "God, so much to take in. Whatever next?"

"This." Jamie picked up a paper bag she hadn't noticed before by the bench and pulled out a padded envelope. "It's from yer workplace." He read the sender. "Dreamcatcher."

She sighed, still reeling from what Jamie just told her. "It's probably from John," she murmured more to herself as she took the envelope. She tore it open and was surprised when she pulled out its content and realised it was a children's book. "It's from Louise." When Jamie gave her a bland look, she sat down on the bench and stared at it. "She's a good friend of Annalise and a children's book author as well as an illustrator. I convince her to publish with Dreamcatcher when she showed me her work. I admitted to her a while back I wanted to be a writer. Every time our paths would cross, she'd asked me if I'd done anything about it. And every time I told her I was still working as an editor, she would give me a disappointed look." She smiled and shook her head. "I wonder why she sent this to me." Admiring the colourful print, she ran her hand over the cover. "What a talented woman."

"So ...what is the book about?"

Claire examined the book. "It's about The Unicorn and the Lioness," she answered, reading the title and leafing through the pages. As she suspected, each page was beautifully and colourfully illustrated. "Well, shall we see what we have here?" She opened it to the beginning and began to read aloud.

 There once was a unicorn

That fell for a lioness. 

She surprised him with her charm,

And her comeliness.

 She grinned as she flipped the page. "Unusual pairing," she observed, making a face at Jamie. "...but hey ...the unusual ones tend to be the best." 

She licked her lips and continued reading.

 The two, you see, 

Were from different worlds 

So it made him wonder, 

How'd it all unfurled?

 "Ah ... makes me wonder too," she added softly. "This is getting interesting."

Jamie laughed, angling his body so he could also see the pictures.

 In spite of their differences, 

It was love at first sight. 

Their feelings grew quickly, 

Their hearts took to flight.

 She smiled and turned to the next page.

 The unicorn, his life, 

Once troubled and scattered 

Now calmed and on the mend

In all ways, that matter.

 She glanced up at him and grinned. "Well, love heals, so they say," she remarked with a wink. "And love is all there is."

"Love is all there is," Jamie echoed with amusement.

She took a deep breath and resumed where she left off.

 There were simply no words 

For how lucky he'd become. 

Without her by his side 

Life would be hopelessly glum.

 She paused for a beat as a peculiar inkling tugged in her guts. Swallowing the odd knot in her throat, she forced herself to say something. Anything! "We wouldn't want the unicorn feeling glum now, would we?" she managed, suddenly unable to draw breath. 

"No," he replied. "A glum unicorn would be a tragedy."

Oh, lordy, lordy! Is this what I think what's happening? She took a fortifying breath and lifted the next page with a shaky hand. 

 It's hard to believe 

Just how happy they were. 

He could not conceive 

Even one day without her.

 "Happy is good," she squeaked, working her throat to be heard. 

"Happiness is always a good choice ...grab it while ye can," he returned quietly.

Unable to get a grip of her runaway thoughts, a dull pounding began in her chest, gradually accelerating and drowning out the noise in their surrounding, portraying the moment with a dreamlike quality. She peered up at Jamie. Underneath his handsome exterior, she could see he was anxious, the lines around his mouth more noticeable than usual. The bruise on his eye, as much as she didn't believe it resulted from an accident, added a mixture of masculinity and vulnerability. God, I love this man! She wanted to stand up and hug him and let him know she knew where he was going with this. But now was not the time to ease his anxiety. She needed to pull herself together to see through what Jamie had probably painstakingly arranged for this moment.

"Weel, are ye gonnae finish reading it?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Batting a speck of non-existent dirt from the book, she filled her lungs, nodded and read the next lines.

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 A silver piece? A record-scratching moment descended upon her like a heavy lead. What's a silver piece? Had she misinterpreted Jamie's intention? But when she glanced up from the book, there he was kneeling in front of her. Holding an expensive-looking velvet ring box, looking determined and brimming with adoration. It's not a ring, Beauchamp! It's a silver piece ...whatever the heck that is. Get a grip. She mentally shook herself. Of course, it couldn't be a ring. It's too soon for him to be asking her hand in marriage. The tiny box had to contain a key to his cottage, ....but he'd already given her one. Perhaps he bought a new house?

"Are ye gonnae to open it?" he asked, breaking her thoughts.

At a loss for words, she took the velvet box with trembling fingers. She reminded herself to calm down. She wouldn't want to embarrass them both into thinking Jamie was proposing.

"It's no' gonnae open itself, Sassenach. Or do ye want to keep holding it until ye're ready?" His lips twitched at its corner, and a spark of amusement lit his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and opened the tiny box. When she glimpsed its content, she could only manage a weak "Oh!" Nestled in the case was a shiny one-pound coin where the ring should have been. Too confused for words, she gave him a questioning look.

On his knees, Jamie edged himself forward and took her hand. Keeping his eyes on her, he kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sassenach ...ye ken how I've always talked about how fate in some strange, mysterious way brought us together?" Claire slowly nodded in response, unsure where he was going with this. "Weel, to this day, I still dinnae ken how it all works. This may sound mad. But with everything that's led to here and now, I firmly believe some force, unknown or known, has had a hand in bringing us together. And every day, I thank whoever is listening up there for bringing ye into my life." 

Her heart swelled with love. "Jamie, you don't have to do this," she said, laying a hand on his cheeks. "I know what's in your heart."

"No." He took the coin from the box and pulled something from the back of his jeans. "I want to do this." Whatever he reached out for inside his pocket, he kept it hidden in his hand. He cleared his throat and gave her a small smile. "Loving ye is the best part of my life, Sassenach. You brought light and colour in, and for that, I'll always be grateful. Ye brought me back to life when I didnae even realise I'd stopped breathing. From the moment I first laid eyes on ye, I wanted ye for keeps. I want to be yers and for ye to be mine, and I promise I will always try my utmost best to keep ye happy."

"I've always been yours. And always will be. My move to the Highlands should have made that clear enough for you."

"Aye, I had no doubt about that. But I ken that stubborn, practical side of ye will try to argue what I'm about to ask ye is too soon." When he opened his hand, she gasped. On the middle of his palm was a three-diamond stone engagement ring with two smaller ones flanking a bigger brilliant round centre. Emotions tangled in her throat as he raised the one pound coin with his other hand. "If ye, like me, believe destiny ...the universe ...yer da or whatever ye wish to call it ...conspired to bring us together, I'm gonnae dare ye to leave it up to fate with this one-pound coin I have here."

"Wot?" Now she was utterly confused.

"I'm proposing a coin toss. The rules are simple, and it only takes five flips. If it comes up heads each time ... ye'll wear my ring. We dinnae have to marry right away. We can wait a day or ten years. Either way, I want ye to know I plan on loving ye straight through eternity. If the coin comes up tails, weel ..." he trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I have no choice but to wait until ye're ready."

She looked down at Jamie's opened palms, a coin in one hand and a ring in the other. He was doing this so she wouldn't feel pressured to marry but feel secure enough in the knowledge he'd always be waiting for her no matter how long. She squeezed her eyes shut and crammed her fingers to her lips to keep a cry from escaping. She was not interested in tossing a coin to prove they're meant for each other. What they felt for one another wasn't based on fate or luck. They'd met, fallen in love, and now they're taking their relationship to the next level. It's something that happened all the time. They may not love each other the easy way, but their hearts were in the right place every single time. They're rock solid, and she didn't need a flipping coin to tell her that. 

When she opened her eyes, a sound broke free in her chest. "Bloody hell, Jamie! Just stop with all this silliness, and put the damn ring on my finger," she hiccuped, giving him her hand. 

Jamie's shoulders drained of tension as his breath released in a rush. "Did ye just agree to marry me?"

Hot tears rolled down Claire's cheeks as she let out a watery laugh and fell back on the bench, right where her father had proposed to her mother all those years ago. Though it felt right, a slight uneasiness tried to sneak in when she remembered what Annalise had told her about Jamie's doubt about having children of his own. She searched his face, and all she could see was his love and promise to make her happy. Isn't everything supposed to fix itself when two people are in love? She made a decision not to bring it up ...for now. "Yes, Jamie. I did. I want to marry you too," she breathed as she watched him take her hand to slip the ring on her finger. When she gazed at it, she could only make out the twinkle of diamonds through her tears.

"Christ, I cannae believe ye ditched the coin toss. and agreed to marry me ...just like that."

"I don't need the coin toss to know we're meant for each other," she pointed out. "And you shouldn't either."

He gave her a boyish lopsided grin, one that he was very aware always had an effect on her. Damn! He rose to his full height, tugging her along with him. "Ye have no idea how happy you made me, Sassenach," he breathed, pulling her roughly against him and grazing her earlobe with his teeth. "Now, for the love of God, give yer man his engagement kiss."

Committing this moment to her memory, she slipped her hands under his top to feel the warmth of his skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she tipped her head back and laid a soft kiss on his lips. She smiled when his chest and stomach muscles strained and swelled underneath her touch. "Is that better?" she whispered.

Jamie muttered a curse under his breath, rolling his forehead side to side against hers. "Sassenach, I said kiss. Ye cannae touch me like that when there are people that could be watching us from the house."

"Why?"

"Jesus!" Jamie's exhale came out hot against her forehead. "Why? How am I going to walk back in there in this condition? Ye look at me so innocently when ye ken well I feel a little crazy right now. It wouldnae take much to get me going. Look at what ye do to me."

They both dropped their attention to the bulge straining against his jeans. "I see," she whispered with a shrug, drawing away. "Too bad. I guess we just have to have that celebratory kiss later ...when we're alone."

Looking pained, his hand dug into her hair, pulling her back in, in his hold. "Not too fast." His lips swept over hers before his tongue dipped inside to give her his own brand of teasing. Seconds ticked by while he tantalised with a deep kiss, causing a moan to pass her throat. She felt the shudder that passed through him, the ecstasy of this second, his love, the pressure of his lust pressing between their bodies, the awe and gratitude. It was their own private celebration, drowning everything else out and ...

A throat cleared gruffly. Jamie stiffened and dragged his lips from her mouth, pink blooming on the tips of his ears. Just beyond his shoulder, she saw uncle Lamb averting his eyes and rocking on his heels. 

"Uncle Lamb?" Claire croaked. "Don't tell me you're on this as well?"

"Trust me, sweetheart, you're not the only one who's been bushwhacked."

"Bushwhacked?"

"I guess this is the part where we say, congratulations." Willie's voice cut through her surprise at seeing her uncle, causing her head to drop forward on Jamie's chest. As the reality of their surroundings slowly began to encroach, Claire somehow found the willpower to unwind her arms from Jamie's neck and turn around. Three pair of eyes were trained on them with a mixture of amusement and joy for their happiness and mild annoyance from her uncle.

"Aye, we're officially engaged," Jamie announced, his arm going around her waist to pull her back against his chest. He pressed his lap to her backside to let her know the situation in his pants. 

Claire stifled a giggle and put on her best smile, fully aware of Jamie's mild discomfort. "We are, indeed," she grinned, leaning back to kiss the underside of Jamie's jaw. "I must admit, I never saw this coming." She lifted her hand to show them the ring.

Annalise whooped and clapped her hands. "Well, this call for a celebration then," she beamed, skipping towards them. "Let me see it." 

Squeezing her hip, Jamie let her go. She smothered the urge to laugh when she supposed that probably nothing loses a man's erection faster than a sight of her uncle Lamb's tetchy demeanour. Dismissing her silly thoughts, Claire splayed her hand out for her friend. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Stunning. I'm so happy for you." She looked Claire in the eye and spoke for her ears only. "Did you tell him what we talked about earlier?"

"Which one?"

"Babies. Hello?"

Claire sighed. She didn't want to lie to her friend, nor did she want to taint the occasion by bringing the subject of future babies up. There was a time and place for that and now wasn't appropriate. She hugged Annalise briefly and spoke into her ears. "Everything is going to be fine."

Annalise brows furrowed, but when she saw how happy Claire was, she immediately dropped the subject. "If you say so."

"I know so," Claire smiled, pulling away from her friend at the sight of Willie approaching. "Now, scoot and celebrate with us."

Annalise did an eye-roll and let Willie through.

"Congratulations!" Willie broke in, raising the bottle of Moët in his hand and giving Jamie a high-five with the other. He dropped a kiss on Claire's cheek and grinned. "Welcome to the family, Claire. My not so wee bràthair doesnae mess about, does he?"

"Thank you," she smiled. "And, no, he certainly doesn't."

Jamie received a back slap and a hug from his brother while Claire watched her uncle slowly approached them, shoulders strained, and hands shoved in his pocket. Something was amiss. Quentin was avoiding her eyes, and she noticed his face was devoid of emotions. She strode to his side. "Seriously, uncle?" she hissed, disbelief colouring her tone.

Quentin ignored her. "You sneaky piece of shit!" he barked at Jamie. 

"Oh, dear God, here we go again," Willie muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Again?" Claire gasped as she noticed Annalise and Willie's eyes ricocheting between Jamie and Quentin. She was about to scold her uncle when his face broke into a grin. She held her breath and stilled in anticipation.

"Congratulations, son! I couldn't think of a better man for my niece!"

"About time ye realised it, ol' man," Jamie grinned.

"Who are you calling an old man?" Quentin ground out in mock displeasure.

Annalise, Willie and Claire gaped at Quentin.

"What?" Quentin chuckled. "If I'd come right out and told Jamie right at the start, I couldn't think of a better man for my niece, he would never have fought for her the way he did."

"What kind of logic is that?" Claire fumed.

Jamie crossed his arms. "Oh, this is gonnae be gold."

"It's a men thing, sweetheart and complicated," Quentin muttered, giving Jamie a dirty look.

"I'll try and keep up. Explain."

Quentin released an impatient sigh. "Men in your generation have none to too little backbone. Jamie had to realise he was good enough and strong enough for you. And you had to make him realise it. That's the top and bottom of it."

Her uncle was right, Claire thought. A few weeks ago, Jamie wouldn't have thought himself capable of coming this far with his condition. She might have been instrumental in pulling him out of the darkness where he'd lived for so long, but all the hard work had come from Jamie.

When Quentin took her hand and pulled her into an awkward embrace, she relaxed. "I'm not going to be around forever, darling," he said gruffly before pulling away to look her in the eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were in good hands if anything happened to me." He glanced at Jamie. "I had an inkling when Claire first told me about you, and we talked for the first time on that video chat, that your relationship was serious. The second I found out Henry's connection to you, I had to delve more into your history. When you started talking about fate and all that tripe, I didn't believe in it ...but these last few days, after spending time together, you made me believe in you. I saw something in you." 

Quentin gestured toward the double-headed one-pound coin Jamie had left on the bench. "So when you tried to extract a blessing for this proposal after dragging me here under the pretence of a boys' weekend, I thought I'd have a little laugh and grant it by giving that coin Henry gave me and challenging you to leave it to fate ...without telling you it was double-headed. As you know, I was still a bit miff with you for not letting me into this big secret thing. But you surprised me when you agreed to take the challenge and told me you'd leave it to Claire to toss it. You really believe in all that destiny nonsense, don't you?" He shook his head in disbelief. 

Jamie just shrugged and smiled.

"Uncle Lamb! How could you?" Claire huffed indignantly, crossing her arms across her chest. "For your information, we didn't toss the coin even if Jamie suggested it."

Quentin's eyes widened. "You didn't?"

"I don't need a damn coin to make my decisions, for God's sake."

Jamie slipped his arm across her shoulder and squeezed her. "It doesnae matter, Sassenach. All that matters is he gave us his blessings and that we love each other."

"I know," Claire whispered before glaring at her uncle. "As for you, no more tricks up your sleeves, are we clear?"

"Jamie caught me off guard with this marriage thing. Can you blame me for what I did?"

"Uncle Lamb! That's not the issue here." She pegged him down with a look. "You've been giving Jamie a hard time from day one. No more tricks and no more taunting Jamie. I love you both, and I want you to get along. Promise me."

Quentin raised his hands in the air before placing them on his chest. "Promise. Jamie's read me the riot act earlier today, and you're speaking to the converted. And I meant what I said when I told him I couldn't think of a better man for you. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you." He opened his arms to her. "Forgive me, sweetheart?"

With a roll of her eye, she stepped away from Jamie's hold and threw herself in her uncle's arms. "You know I'll always forgive you," she mumbled against his neck, hugging him close. "Despite you being such a grouch, I want you to know I am happy that you're here."

"Me too, sweetheart, me too," he said gruffly. "Now, shall we start the celebration? I'm parched and starving." 

"About time," Annalise chirped with a little dance and fist pump.

Laughing, Willie popped the cork on a bottle of Moët while Jamie handed out the crystal flutes. 

Claire watched as their drinks were being poured and smiled. She said a silent prayer for her parents and thanked them. There were so many things to be grateful for. Life was good, and her heart was full. She was moving to the Highlands, start her career as a writer and marry the man she loved. This was what she wanted, and she was prepared for this whatever may come their way. Her only wish was, her parents could be here today, so her father could see what a fine lad Jamie had grown up to be.

Her attention was brought back to the present when Annalise nudged her with her foot. With champagne finally in everyone's hand, they all raised their glasses to their new beginning.

"To Jamie and Claire," Willie began.

"To your happiness," Annalise added.

"To family and friends," Jamie beamed.

"To what's next," Claire breathed.

"To my next meal," Quentin snorted. "Now drink up, and let's go. I'm bloody starving."

..........

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?" Jamie asked Quentin once they were alone, and the rest of the party walked ahead of them on their way back to the cottage from the pub. "About believing in me and being happy for us?"

Quentin glanced at him. "I always say what I mean, son. Best get used to it," he grumbled.

"Right ..." They walked in silence, watching Claire, Annalise and Willie as they began singing the chorus of Living on a Prayer for the umpteenth time. "About that double-headed one pound coin ..." Jamie began.

"That was a clever touch, huh?" Quentin grinned. "Would have come handy for you if Claire had decided to use it. You still got it?"

"Aye." Jamie handed him the coin. "By the way, I have a confession to make."

"What's that?" Quentin asked, taking the coin and shoving it in his pocket.

"The reason why I readily agreed to that coin toss you suggested earlier is that ...Harry gave me one too." Jamie dug his own coin from his pocket and showed it to Quentin. "I knew the coin ye were giving me was double-headed."

Quentin stopped to look at him. "You suggested the coin toss to Claire even though you knew it was double-headed?"

"Aye."

"If Claire had agreed, would you have used the double-headed or the normal coin?"

"The double-headed, of course," Jamie admitted.

"What about all your bloody talk of fate and destiny and all that?"

Jamie shrugged. "Oh, I still believe in fate, but I couldnae take the chance. I love yer niece too much. I think ye would be inclined to agree that the universe has an odd sense of humour, and I needed to cover my arse just in case it decided to turn against me." 

Quentin scowled. "Is it too late to change my mind about you?" 

"Aye." 

They watched as Annalise and Willie, doubled with laughter, latched on to Claire's arms after she stumbled onto the curb.

"Well, then," Quentin grunted. "What the hell are you doing here still babbling to me? Go join the fun."

Jamie shook his head. "Oh no, ye don't, spoilsport. Ye're here to have some fun too. Ye're joining in."

"I'm too old for all that. Now go and leave me in peace."

Jamie narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that really what ye want? To be left in peace?"

Quentin blew out an exasperated breath, but Jamie caught the sheen in his eyes and the smile he was battling. "No. I want you to get used to me showing up," he growled.

Jamie pretended to sound annoyed so as not to embarrass the older man. "Fine, as long as it doesn't involve ye decking me."

"Deal."

..........

Jamie looked up from the mock children's book, smiling when he heard Claire doing her nightly routine in the bathroom. The book disguising his marriage proposal had been Annalise idea. As soon as she'd heard of his intention from Willie, she'd made the suggestion, desperately wanting to play a part in surprising Claire. She even had him adding a few of his own words to the poem. How Annalise's friend managed to illustrate and have the book printed on such short notice, he had no idea. But he must admit, The Unicorn and the Lioness book had been a nice touch.

Claire walked into the bedroom, looking fresh in his t-shirt, her face still flushed from the champagne earlier. He watched her shiver a little, rubbing her arms to generate heat. The sight of her bare legs kicked his heart rate up a notch. He smiled and drew the bedcover back in an invitation to get in.

As she snuggled under the crook of his arm, she smiled when she saw the book on his lap. "I never got to read the ending," she said with a yawn, her arm sliding across his waist.

He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her in closer. "Shall I read it for ye?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll start from where you left off."

"Alright."

Jamie got comfortable and cleared his throat. "Here goes ..."

 So he got on one knee

To hand her a gift 

A tiny velvet box

Holding a silver piece

 Claire giggled. "You got me right there."

"I know," Jamie chuckled, turning the page. "Now wheesht and let me finish."

 Confused and bewildered

That it's not a ring

It became apparent

She wanted the real thing

  So still on his one knee 

He uttered the plea: 

"My dearest lioness, 

Will you marry me?"

  He felt his heart beating 

Right out of his chest. 

He could do nothing but wait 

And hope she'd say YES.

 When he ended and a few moments of silence ensued, Claire twisted from her position and looked up at him. "That's it?"

"Aye," Jamie replied, handing her the book. "Louise said you're a writer, so she left a blank page for you to write the ending."

"Is that so?" she said, laughing, reaching for her specs. "Well, let's see what I can do."

Jamie grabbed a pen from the nightstand and handed it to her.

After adjusting the pillow, she sat up and began scribbling, reading the words out loud as she wrote.

 When she finally answered 

He could not stop grinning 

Because he knew, in his heart, 

This was just The Beginning!

 Claire closed the book and took off her specs. "How was that?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.

"It was good, but I'm left hanging. I'm dying to know what happened after?" 

"Hmmm ..." She climbed on top of him and nipped his lips with her teeth. "They celebrated with their loved ones, ate a lot of food and drank too much champagne." She drew circles on his chest. "Although I have a sneaking suspicion, their night is not over yet." 

Jamie flipped her on her back, making her yelp. He scanned her face for a few heartbeats. "Ye're absolutely right. He's gonnae tell her how happy she's made him," he whispered, his words thick with emotions. "And show her in so many ways how much he loves her." 

She blinked away the tears blearing her vision and smiled up. "Well, he's got all night to prove he's not just a bunch of talk."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "A bunch of talk, huh? He's a big man, Sassenach, and he makes love twice as long."

She slipped her hand past the waistband of his boxer brief and gripped him hard, making him catch his breath. "We'll see about that," she challenged. 

He rewarded her by grabbing her hand and slowly pressing his hips into her. "You're on, Sassenach, you're on," he groaned into her mouth before silencing her with his kisses.

Dear Readers,

Firstly, apologies for the delay in the final chapter of this series. As some of you already know, if you read my Tumblr posts, I've had a bad reaction to my vaccination. Though I feel a little better, I don't feel quite right yet hence the delay of this update. I'm easily tired and have been writing sporadically, depending on my energy level. So, after this chapter, I will take a long rest before starting the next series.

Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the kudos and comments on AO3 and on my Tumblr and those who left best wishes in my inbox. I appreciate them all from the bottom of my heart. Though I haven't replied individually, please know I enjoy reading them and look forward to what you have to say.

Thirdly, as you may have gathered, this is the final chapter of this series. There will be a third series. When? I have no time frame yet as I will need time to recuperate. If you wish to be updated, you can always subscribe to the WONDERWALL series by clicking here. Or follow me on my Tumblr site here. 

Lastly, I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter. It's the longest chapter I've ever written, with 11560 words. If this update is all over the place, I blame it on my bad days. I personally think it's alright, but I can never be sure. I believe my reaction to the vaccination has dulled me a bit. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart: for your continued interest, readership, kudos and comments. I look forward to reading your remarks and constructive criticism on this latest update. Kudos to you all, my friends, and be safe. Keep the positive vibe rolling. Much love. X

 PS I will compile a Masterlist for WONDERWALL and post it on my Tumblr site, either tomorrow or in the next few days, depending on how I feel.

[frostironfudge]

Rush - Tom Hiddleston (Chapter 18)

Summary: Chapter 18 of Rush - Tom Hiddleston (check warnings please)

here is my main masterlist

< Chapter 17

Chapter 19 >

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, a few original characters.

Warnings: mentions of physical torture, fluff, angst?

Words: 2794

fanfic masterlist

--

The outcome of Valarie and MM’s talk cleared many things, MM got her daughter back. Cassandra tried to run away when it became apparent that her infidelity to Valarie was proven.

Valarie promised she wouldn’t let Cassandra get away.

Both women were discussing the next round of events to follow post the amalgamation of their facilities when a knock came upon the office door.

“Come in.” The mother daughter call out.

Jamal enters, “The Fox is here to meet the two of you.”

“Fox is here?” MM asks, looking at her daughter.

“How did he know we resolved things? Let him in.” Valarie told Jamal.

He nodded, retreating and letting the guest enter.

The Fox walked in with his eyes scanning the room, the room’s atmosphere shifting into a void, his footsteps echoed upon the hardwood floors.

“Ah, the reunited mother daughter duo.” Fox spreads out his arms, as though admiring the scene before him.

Valarie and Miranda knew Fox enough to know that his visits aren’t jovial.

“Fox, to what do we owe the pleasure?” MM’s expression impassive.

“Well I thought since mother and daughter are back together, I should pay a visit. Customary to celebrate family reuniting is it not?” Fox makes his way across the table, raising an eyebrow at Valarie, who quickly gets up from the head chair, clearing it for the built man.

Fox sits on the chair, a grimace on his face.

“I’m—I’m sorry.” Valarie apologises for the uncomfortable chair.

“Oh that is not why I am upset, sweetheart.” Fox smiles, resting his elbows on the table.

“Have we done something?” Miranda hopes her fear isn’t apparent.

“See I like you Miranda,” He snaps his fingers, “Always staying upon the point!” Fox gleefully smiles.

“You’ve done something and I am very fucking upset. Dare I say livid.” He stands, hands behind his back, looking out the window overlooking the garden.

“Will you give us a chance to rectify ourselves?” Valarie asks, silently praying to God.

“What good will praying do to you, when your judge, executioner, benevolent benefactor are all me?” Fox turns, expression unreadable, he smirks when he sees their faces pale.

The air grows colder, MM finds herself feeling much more insignificant.

“Forgive her Fox, please. I’ve shown loyalty, at every step, please, tell me how can we seek your forgiveness? How may we acquire atonement?” MM bows her head.

“You have, haven’t you?” Fox pretends to think, then smiles, “Alright, bring me the infamous Raconteuse, I’ve heard she received your signature upon her being.” Fox’s grip on the chair’s backrest tightened.

“If I had known, she was of importance to you I would have given her a warning only. I apologise.” Miranda hoped to convey honesty.

“Oh Miranda you will pay for the three brandings you graced her body with, I believe,” he sat back down on the chair, “How does an eye for an eye sound to you? Appropriate I believe.” Fox raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Mom,” Valarie looked with pleading eyes.

“I’ll take the brandings.” MM answered.

“Mom you can’t, I will.” Valarie tugged on her arm.

“How very sweet.” Fox tapped away on his phone, soon the room was filled by his people, the infamous rod sizzling red.

Fox gestured, a person from his entourage held back MM and Valarie each.

“You hurt what is mine, Miranda, it is only fair for what is yours to feel the same pain. Now Valarie, please count for your mother. So that she may remember.” Fox brings out a small pairing knife, twirling it on the mahogany table.

Valarie was pushed down onto her knees, her platinum blonde hair held back and her arms tied behind.

“Fox, please.” Miranda struggles against the restrained hold upon her.

“Miranda, please.” Fox looked at her, “I’ve told you to be careful, Miranda, everyone knows I have decreed no one dare touch my Raconteuse. Converse yes, but injure, tsk, tsk, tsk” Fox tuts unapologetically.

“Tell that to Tyre Burn and his crew!” Valarie screeched as the rod got closer to her side.

“Tyre Burn? That lowly transporter? What connection does he hold?” Fox held up a hand.

“She’s they are well, intimate. She took the third branding in place of him.” Miranda spoke quickly.

“Fine then. I decree, I want them, the entire crew.” Fox begins his walk towards the door.

“And we, we have your forgiveness, correct?” Valarie pleads, looking at his leather shoes as they come closer.

Fox, places the knife’s edge under her chin, making her look up. His smile sending panic through her.

“Lift.” Fox says, and Valarie doesn’t have a moment to process the command, but she’s wailing as the rod makes contact with her side, burning her flesh.

“Count.” Fox orders.

“One.”

She screams again, as the rod comes in contact again then again, “T-two-oh-Th-three!”

Valarie is then released, falling onto the floor, sobbing in pain.

“You have a week, and this is me being generous.” Fox steps out of the doors walking to his car, pulling out a picture of Y/N, “Oh my Raconteuse, you’ve been brewing a lot of trouble for me.”

———

“Have we heard anything further?” Pierce wonders out loud.

The quartet was handing out at the facility after packing up, Y/N had their IDs ready as well as back up IDs.

Tom and her were heading to the haven which Y/N only presumed God and Tom knew where it lay hidden. Where as Pierce and Lee were flying out of the country. Still believing she dreamed him calling her his haven.

Lee entered their hair coated in bleach, “Nothing yet last was one hour ago about Cassandra complaining of food.”

“It surprised me that even after doing what she did Valarie is keeping her alive.” Tom commented, trying on another style of glasses.

Lee nudged Y/N, “You might want to you know,” they motioned for her to wipe away the drool, she smacked a magazine on them.

Tom chuckled catching the conversation.

“What do you think? Do I fit the part of an American traveller?” Tom put on a flawless American accent. Y/N frowned, it made him sound much more different.

“Not a fan?” Tom quirked an eyebrow. She shook her head, “I prefer your voice.”

Pierce grinned wickedly, “Oh, Tom, Oh, Tom! Yes more!” She tried mimicking Y/N .

“She doesn’t sound like that.” Tom defended.

“Ah so you have heard.” Pierce laughed much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Well Lee and you are more famous.” Tom interjected.

“oh right. Five minutes to grab a tracker and we’re the ones making out or doing god knows what with ice.” Pierce rolled her eyes.

“You saw?!” Y/N was mortified, hiding her head in her hands.

“I mean, it was pretty implied…” Lee laughed, as they went to Pierce to have her check the foils.

“Should I dye my hair as well?” Y/N looked towards Tom to gauge his reaction,

“What colour?” Tom asked

“Oooh, please do a Cruella red!” Pierce offered, and motioned for Lee to wash their hair.

“I don’t know the whole bleach thing scares me.” Y/N admitted.

“Well you could wear a red wig?” Pierce countered.

“Where am I going to find that?” She wondered.

“Oh I have one, you can have the mannequin head too. I’ll get it as I’m done.” Lee retreated back to their room.

“Tell us where they are.”

Pierce, Tom and Y/N’s heads simultaneously turned to the small device.

“I don’t know! Why?” Cassandra grumbled.

“Cass,” Valarie’s voice carried through, “Honey, I’ll let you out, you have to tell me where they are.”

“But why?” Cassandra presses on.

“Because, Fox wants them.” Valarie says and shuffling of things can be heard.

“F-Fo-Fox?” Cassandra stutters.

Y/N looks up questioningly at her companions, who look like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Yes, Cass and you know we cannot say no to him, look what he did he gave me brandings, because mother—,” Valarie’s voice cut off the room is engulfed in silence as the line disconnected.

“Tom?” Y/N stands moving towards him, “Who is Fox?”

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“Will someone please fucking say something?” Y/N looked at Pierce expectant.

“Tom.” Pierce looked at him, he nodded.

“Go.” Tom spoke, standing up and grabbing Y/N’s hand taking her to his floor, Pierce climbed up the steps ahead of them taking two at a time.

“Do you have everything packed?” Tom’s voice is frantic, he’s grabbing the luggage taking it towards the door of his room.

“Tom, what is going on?” Y/N walks towards him her hand extended out to grasp his, he brushes past her going into the bathroom, bringing out the bag of toiletries and first aid.

She looks around the empty room, which housed a small amount of memories for her.

“Y/N, we do not have an ounce of time to discuss this, I promise I will tell you, just please help me get things into the cars. Then we will go help Pierce, Lee and Taillight.” Tom holds her face between his hands, letting go when she nods.

They rush through grabbing everything they need, Tom picks his Jaguar, changing the rotating number plates, adding reflective strips to block out cams from picking up the number doing the same to Lee’s Audi.

Y/N knocks on their floor door, both panic stricken and frantic, Lee hands her the wig and mannequin head. When Y/N gets a peek into their room it is almost as if no one was ever there.

“Why does it look like no one ever lived here?” She asks the couple.

“We don’t have time for your stupid questions.” Pierce glared at her, flinging a carry on upon the suitcase.

They made their way down, loading up the cars, Taillight’s bed sprawled across the backseat.

“Hop hotels, start the burners only after we are 2 hours away from here. If we cannot reach through the burners use the damn drive we made.” Pierce says as she hands out burner phones.

“No using google maps, till post two hours of being out of here. Unless you are in a crowded area public place, use landmarks that are popular to the destination you are going toward.” Lee explains.

“Drive along major roads, only leave if you know how to get back, always chain hotels a different chain every night, till you reach the safe house.” Tom hands Lee the keys to their car.

Y/N watched, understanding that Fox is probably someone bigger and badder that MM or Valarie. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to not panic as the anxiety began seeping in that once again they were in trouble.

“Take two days to reach the house, each day new number plate and switch them out on the third day.” Tom informs them, as they nod.

The four hug each other goodbye with a plan to meet up in place.

“Don’t do anything reckless and do not let him do anything reckless, I want both of you alive.” Lee whispers to Y/N tearfully.

“I’ll try.” She kisses their cheek, as they all get seated into their cars, ignition coordinating and then they turned onto separate routes.

Tom found himself reminiscing over his interactions with Fox. It wouldn’t bode well for either of them, if somehow they had done something to displease him.

He was driving since the past hour in silence, the only noise was of the wheels on the tarmac or Y/N speaking to Veronica regarding Bell’s care.

“I’m sorry we can’t take her with us.” Tom spoke to her finally, they were nearing the one and half hour mark.

“Its okay, she will be angry but ultimately may choose to forgive me.” She smiled at him.

“You still want to know about, Fox?” Tom looked at her as they stopped at a red light.

“Only if you want to, I can gather this much that he might be worse than what we’ve dealt with this far…” She shrugged.

“Well the story should last us through the remainder of our journey.” Tom nodded, clearing his throat.

“I was acquainted with him after a year of my first job with MM, I’d been working odd jobs before that as I’ve told you.” He gazed at her for a moment, she nodded.

“Four years ago this took place. The job was simple, we were supposed to divert the packages into the cars, as well as MM’s people. The job went smoothly, until we were heading into the facility. I had an off feeling, but there was no reason to feel that way, you understand?”

“Yeah, had those at times too.”

“So you know sometimes the feeling turns out to be right, the second the car ahead of mine enters the gates it is blown up, it never contained anything but still they were aiming for the cars.” Tom switched lanes, over taking the slower cars.

“I hit the brakes, and reversed because I will prioritise my safety—,”

“And the Jaguar’s.” Y/N teased.

“Hey the Jag’s dear to me.” Tom laughed.

“So yes, as I was driving fully reverse through the road, my phone rings, it is MM, I answer updating her what happened, she asks me to return. When I arrive and step out, MM has a man next to her, Fox.”

“What does he look like?” Y/N wondered.

“He’s tall, strong physique, eyes like yours but obviously less beauty held in them.” Tom winks making her blush.

“The person in the car ahead never made it, Fox prefers theatrics, very principled, if MM was the worst in your mind, Fox doesn’t give warnings like MM.”

Y/N took a steadying breath, when it dawned upon her, “I think, the person in the car was my brother, he never told MM about me, but told me about her, what she looks for in a recruit. The timeline matches, unless I’m wrong.”

Tom’s hand reached out to hold hers over the console, rubbing circles over her hand with his thumb.

“We received a compensation parcel. Wads of cash, his old belongings. As if that was enough, I thought he died on a job, not for theatrics for an asshole.” She completed.

Tom squeezed her hand, “I never had the chance to speak to him, your brother I mean, saw him several times, even drove him a few times. I wonder if he liked me. Did stare at a picture in his wallet a lot.”

“He kept pictures of mom and I, Dad and he never got along much. I think he would have liked you, minus reckless driving.” She giggled, Tom made a displeased expression.

“Its been four years, does it get easier?” Tom wondered.

“It hurts less, not having him to go up to or call. It gets easier to navigate, not keep it at the forefront. I did want to take down Miranda, drove me for a while but he taught me better than to chase ghosts.” Y/N shrugged.

“I’m sure he’s proud of you,” He took a breath in, “Is that why you helped Valarie?” Tom tried to understand.

“If I could take away her daughter, why not? Though that was temporary since Valarie is a power hungry individual. What happened after meeting Fox?” Y/N looked outside for a moment.

“Well, he hired me for a few jobs, he sort of brought all of us together, through odd jobs, we pitched in our earnings and set up the facility within two years. Y/N you need to understand he stops at nothing, running away from him, it has been tried but seldom worked temporarily. We have a head start, but his fingers are in too deep with a lot of people. No one dares to piss him off.”

“Are you telling me you will disappear to keep me safe?” Y/N strokes his cheek, Tom looked at her, concern laced through his blue eyes.

“If I have to I will.” Tom assured.

The car moves slow ode to the evening traffic, stopping for few minutes as the cars pass through.

“The other day, before I fell asleep, you told me, that I am your haven.” Y/N recounted.

“I, I did yes.” Tom looked at her again, bottom lip being chewed upon from his nervousness.

“I wanted to tell you that you’re my home. I won’t leave, I won’t let you leave.” She promised him.

Tom’s eyes welled up, he cupped her face pulling her lips onto his own.

“You’re my haven.” He whispers against her lips.

“You’re my home.” She whispers against his lips.

---

AN: my brain wanted this posted before it would let me work on my presentation, i hope you enjoy! my ao3

tagging these beautiful people, a big thank you for always giving my work love: @arcticclouds @confused-clary @fire-in-her-veinz @fa-me@littlemissslytherinprincess @stevesmewmew @anemois-hiraeth@thegoldenhood

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thank you for reading!

love, frostironfudge

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