#(at least he thinks he’s hiding the blush. Ian can hear it in his voice. knows how cute it is. is dying to get home and see it for himself!)

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #125

Back on these, after a slight hiatus. Set during 6x18, if Lauren had a different ending. Slight Emily x Ian, more in memory only.

#125: Make A Wish

“Make a wish, Lauren.”

The voice behind her is as cold as the gun placed at her temple with a sure hand, his other clamped firmly on her shoulder. That voice is completely devoid of the lust it used to hold when he would speak to her, when it was the two of them, him and her, in a world of their own. A world that was dangerous yet exhilarating, yet a place she somehow never questioned if she belonged. Not that she had a choice. It started as an obligation, part of the raw deal that came with infiltrating an international terrorist organization. There was no limit in her quest to prove her loyalty, she quickly learned through the nights she spent in his bed, the mornings that followed. He worshipped her body with his own, took her past her own limits only to lull her to sleep in his embrace. She earned his trust but he also gained hers, and only after he uttered the words I love you did Emily realize just how entrenched she was, the only way out meant sure death for one of them. Ensuring her own survival meant further entangling herself in lies and believing them with all her heart. If you play, you play for keeps. The only thing she didn’t expect was for the lies to become the truth, because after a while, each time she repeated his sentiment, she meant it just a little more until she wasn't sure she knew the difference anymore.

Except this isn’t Tuscany or Galway, Rome or Dublin. Gone are the beautiful views from the balconies of his villa, where she could at least pretend like this wouldn’t all end horribly one day. The green pastures of Ireland don’t exist here, the springtime sun is gone. Instead, her ankles and wrists are bound to a chair in the middle of a cold warehouse in the middle of Boston, and she has mere minutes left to breathe, because she’s about to die at his hand.

“Lauren, are you ready to pay for what you’ve done? I told you I was going to take your life.” Emily closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. It’s been years and yet hearing his voice again, even after all this time, is like a window into the past.

Her security was built on a web of fallacy, it had been all along. Hushed promises behind closed doors in sound-proofed rooms in the middle of European cities that it was over, that she was safe, were mere falsehoods. She left Lauren Reynolds and the world of Interpol behind years ago, a conscious choice that was never regretted, only remembered from time to time in the quiet silence accompanied by the unrelenting pull of too much alcohol. She never lingered on it for too long, wouldn’t let herself go down that path, until she had no other choice, when she saw the messages from Sean that pulled her right back in.

Ian Doyle had escaped from prison. The moment Sean uttered those words Emily knew he would find her eventually; it was only a matter of when. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. There was hardly any time to get things in order, to arrange for them to be taken care of, to ensure her team would be safe in the days, weeks, months, even years after she was gone. Whether that meant disappearance or death was anyone’s guess, but not a choice she’d have to worry about because it wouldn’t matter. Emily lured him out of hiding in DC, followed him to Boston a few days later as he rampaged his way through her friends systematically one by one. It essentially stole any chance of saying goodbye, and she’d turned away from them one last time, through the doors of the BAU, only giving in to the sob she’d been holding in her throat once she was safely in the car.

“Are you afraid?” Ian asks, his hand moving from her shoulder to the side of her face. His palm is rough, hardened from his years in prison, yet there’s something fleetingly reverent about it. Emily always marveled at the contrast of his hands, responsible for the pain and suffering of so many, could be so gentle and adoring with her. But that was long ago; the tables have long been turned.

“No,” she lies, and he just laughs, brushes his thumb over her jaw almost adoringly.

She straightens her back, her arms trembling and her heart pounds through her chest. The gun cocks in her ear; she feels it brush her temple again.

“Make a wish, Emily. It’s time. You have ten seconds.” When she hesitates, her body tensing at his words, he chuckles. “Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps.”

She obeys, and, it’s Aaron’s face she sees, brief moments in time as her life flashes before her eyes.

“Ten.”

It takes almost a month to speak of the first kiss (it happened after a few too many beers one night with the team) and two more weeks before there is another. The second time around they’re stone cold sober (it’s better that way), and when he asks if she’d like to go out with him sometime, she blushes with a resounding “yes.”

“Nine.”

Their first date is one she’s always held close to her heart. He’d made reservations, planned dessert, and on a whim, she bought a new dress just for that occasion even though there were more hanging in her closet than she could count. This one was dark green, with an open back, and she knew right away it was the one. Except they never made it to the restaurant, because a case in Memphis called them away the morning before. She only smiled when there was a knock at the hotel room door late on the evening that should have been spent with their heads bent together over a table in the back of a picturesque Italian restaurant. But instead he held a bag of takeout, wearing a grin while uttering the words “Plan B?”

“Eight.”

He’s still inside of her for the very first time, unable to focus his mind on much of anything because Emily is still panting his name in his ear, when he decides he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, ever again.

“Seven.”

In Colorado, mere hours after the compound went up in flames, Aaron can hardly be objective as she ambles toward the hospital exit with discharge papers in one hand, the other cautiously guarding her broken ribs. Her face is bruised, her clothes dirty, and while Reid is just a few feet away dozing fitfully in chairs, Aaron goes right to her, thumbing her cheek in a rare display of public affection. “I’m alright. It’s not as bad as it looks,” she tells him bravely, even though she’s already sore, muscles aching, exhaustion starting to cloud her every thought. “I just want to go home.” In those moments, Aaron realizes he is the closest thing to home she has right now, and he doesn’t leave her side for the rest of the night.

“Six.

As she stares at JJ’s newborn son cradled in her arms, Emily wonders, with a fleeting glance at Aaron, if she’ll ever have the chance to do the same thing. Now, she never will.

“Five.”

On many mornings, Aaron wakes her up with coffee on the nightstand and gentle hands pulling the covers from her legs, pushing the hem of his shirt past her hips as he settles her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes aren’t even open before she’s already rocking her hips up towards him, an uncoordinated hand grappling for something to hold onto. The way he moves, slow and determined, is a contrast to the speed at which they’re used to, frantically moving from one case to the next. He’s taught her to be patient; he’ll get her there eventually, but she’s not in the mood to wait this morning. “Aaron,” she breathes his name, but he shakes his head in tandem with the flicks of his tongue. “Soon,” he assures, a promise he’s never broken. And true to that promise, he sends her spiraling into bliss a few moments later.

“Four.”

“I want to tell Jack,” Aaron says one evening when they’re sitting in traffic in the middle of Dallas, on the tail end of a case as she gazes out the window. “About us.”

“Three.”

“Can Emily stay for dessert too?” Jack asks innocently, his face covered in spaghetti sauce as the plates are cleared from the table. It’s about time they told him why his father’s pretty friend from work was spending more time than usual at the apartment, why a sweatshirt was left on the couch the week before, why there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom and a few extra bottles in the shower. It’s been something they’ve held off on, Haley’s death still fresh and the timing not quite right. But the look on Jack’s face tells him everything they need to know, and Emily’s heart swells when Aaron smiles and murmurs, “sure, buddy.”

“Two.”

The two and a half years they spend together, in some semblance of the word, one way or another, are some of the happiest she’s ever known, the most peace she’s ever felt.

“One.”

I hope you can forgive me, for never telling you the truth, she thinks as she pictures the hurt and pain that will darken on his face when he finds her body. Emily knows they’re coming, but they’ll be too late. Tell Jack I’m sorry too.

Her eyes flutter closed again on their own accord as her lip trembles in unbridled fear. It’s so silent in the warehouse she hears the gentle scrape of Ian’s boots on the ground as he steps back, taking a steadying breath of his own, his finger curled around the trigger.

This is it. Make a wish.

The gun fires; she’s acutely aware of the throbbing echo in her ears as the sound reverberates, which confuses her, because it’s not supposed to be this way. It’s a dissonance of sounds - things she shouldn’t be cognizant of because the bullet that pierced the air is supposed to be in her head. But another voice - she recognizes this one instantly too - bellows something she can’t quite decipher, calm and steady, accompanied by the thunderous footsteps of a team of agents that sweep into the room. Glancing down at the concrete ground Emily sees Ian’s body, his gun a few feet away. A pool of blood seeps around him, her stomach lurches at the sight of his head split open, and she has to look away toward the small window, where the dawn of another sunrise has started to bleed through the sky.

They made it.

“Emily!” It’s the same voice as the one from moments before, and when she realizes what just happened, Aaron is already kneeling in front of her, frantically working at the plastic zip ties that have cut welts into her wrists and ankles. He’s shouting at someone that isn’t her, something about hurry up, and soon she’s freed, but her limbs don’t want to work correctly or coordinate at all. They don’t have to, because strong arms are pulling her into his chest, her chin hits his vest, and the scent of him nearly splits her heart in half as he lowers her to the ground.

And for the second time since this hell began, she starts to cry, her fingers clenched around the fabric of his shirt. Through the deep sobs she attempts to speak, apologies that aren’t even close to coherent, the adrenaline that’s coursed through her already starting to give way to exhaustion. But words won’t work either, and he shushes her with a finger to her lips, matted hair pushed out of her face as Aaron thumbs away the tears that collect in her eyes.

“It’s over,” he soothes, repeating the words over and over, until they both believe it. He’s unaware of the extent of her injuries, won’t risk adding to them as he signals for a medic. She breathes through the tears, her chest heaving, the only thing she’s remotely aware of is the beat of his heart, unsteady against her own.

It’s over, she reminds herself as she takes one last look at Ian’s dead body a few feet away, a reassurance to herself that this is in fact real, that he can’t haunt her again. And as she lays on the ground, enveloped in the protective embrace of Aaron’s arms, Ian’s words linger in her mind.

Make a wish.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fic #prompts #Ian Doyle is here too #I've been sitting on this one for awhile and finally worked up the motivation to do it

[yeah-all-of-it]

I wrote a fic the other day (my first!) that included a brief appearance by an original character named Rhonda, who is Ian and Mickey’s neighbor across the hall. Decided to write a bit of a prequel, exploring how they came to be friends with her. It’s 2 parts because it’s 4.7k and I don’t have an Ao3 account. Link for part 2 is here and at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

Spill Your Guts: Part I

“Mickey, shut the fuck up! We’ve only lived here for like four days!” Ian whispers, dragging his slightly inebriated husband down the hall toward their apartment door. “We don’t want everyone to hate us already!”

“No, you don’t want everyone to hate us. I don’t give a fuck.” Mickey replies.

“Mickey.”

Ian’s trying to convey irritation, but the truth is, he’s so giddy about the evening’s surprise anniversary party, he’s struggling to come off as anything other than completely fond of his loud-ass, thoughtful husband. He’s a little drunk himself which isn’t helping matters.

“What? The only person I want to like me is you, Gallagher,” Mickey says, trying to be only slightly quieter.

“And I do like you, very much. But it would be nice to make a couple friends here too. Waking people up at 2 am probably isn’t the best way to do that,” Ian explains.

Mickey stops walking and gently pushes Ian up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand on his chest. Mickey says slyly, “Oh, you like me, huh? How much? D’you like me… this much?” Mickey plants a soft kiss on Ian’s neck.

“Umm, yeah, I like you that much,” Ian responds.

“Okay. What about… this much?” Mickey steps closer, placing his hand on the side of Ian’s face and softly kissing his lips, just barely slipping his tongue in.

“Mmm, yeah,” Ian replies once Mickey pulls away. “I definitely like you that much.”

Mickey steps right up to Ian, pressing his body into the wall with his own. Their faces are so close, they can feel each other’s breath hitching. He slowly slides a hand down the front of Ian’s jeans.

“You like me this mu-,” he doesn’t even have the words out before Ian is devouring him. Bodies pressed together, hands gripping each other’s hair, tongues tangled together.

Things are so intense that they didn’t realize that they have somehow moved and are now up against their across the hall neighbor’s door.

The next thing they know, they are both plummeting toward the ground. It takes them a moment to realize that their neighbor, apparently hearing strange noises coming from her door, had opened the door they were leaning against.

Ian is flat on his back on the floor and Mickey is directly on top of him. Their arms are still wrapped around each other and it’s blatantly obvious what they’ve been up to.

“Do you know what time it is? I thought someone was trying to rob me! Scared the life outta me!” a slender lady, likely in her late 60s who had clearly been in bed based on her attire, yells at them.

The two men scramble to their feet, Ian panicking when he realizes that at some point Mickey had managed to undo his belt and his zipper. His plaid boxers were on full display as well as an obvious display of what’s underneath them.

“We’re… so, so sorry, ma’am,” Ian says sheepishly as he pulls his pants closed. “It won’t happen again.”

Ian grabs Mickey by the jacket and yanks him out the door and across the hall. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the door as quickly as he can, the neighbor eyeing them suspiciously the whole time. Once she’s presumably satisfied that they do actually live there and aren’t burglars, she closes the door to her own apartment.

They stumble through the doorway, slamming the door behind them and Mickey bursts into laughter.

“Holy shit, that’s one way to make friends, Gallagher! Wonder how long it’s been since that woman’s seen a dick?” Mickey laughs, as Ian’s face turns the same color as his hair.

———

It’s been almost a week since Ian inadvertently flashed their new neighbor and so far, they’ve managed to avoid running into her in the hallway.

Saturday morning, Mickey is sleeping in and Ian goes for an early run. He sneaks out the door, hoping the lady across the hall is still in bed, and walks quickly down the hall to the elevator. He manages to evade her again but when he returns, she opens her door before he’s able to get his key in the lock.

“Well, hello there,” she says cheerily. “Long time no see, neighbor!”

“Um, hi there,” Ian nervously replies.

“So, the name’s Rhonda. I figure we should be on a first name basis, you know, since I’ve seen your penis and all.”

Ian blushes and chuckles uncomfortably, but for some reason, finds himself feeling a little less embarrassed. He likes this woman already and they’ve barely spoken. She seems like a pretty no-nonsense, calls a spade a spade type of person.

“Oh, uh, I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Well, Ian Gallagher, I was about to head out to the pool to get a little sun. Care to join me?” Rhonda inquires.

Ian looks down at his watch and figures Mickey will be asleep for at least another hour. And he does want to make friends.

“Umm, sure. That sounds nice,” he ultimately decides.

“Well, let’s get goin’ then!” she exclaims, linking her arm with Ian’s as they take off down the hall.

———

Once they reach the pool, they find two lounge chairs. Ian drags a patio umbrella over by his.

“Ginger,” he points to his hair. “I fry in the sun, even in the morning.”

Rhonda nods understandably as they kick back in their chairs.

“So,” she begins. “What’s your story, Ian Gallagher?”

“Umm, my story?” he answers, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s just met this woman and his “story” is… a lot. They’d be here all day if he told the whole thing. He decides to stick to the basics.

“Well, I’m from the Southside. Born and raised. Have a huge family, five brothers and sisters. Got married last year and moved here with my husband a couple weeks ago.” He decides that’s enough of an introduction for now.

“That’s all? That’s your story? I imagine it’s way juicier than that, but I get it. You don’t know me. I’m sure we’ll get to the good stuff eventually,” she winks after she says it.

This Rhonda, there’s just something so warm and vibrant about her. She has long wavy hair, white with a little gray mixed in. She has on a bohemian style dress and some turquoise jewelry. Ian imagines she’s had quite a life, well traveled and all that. Probably been outside of Chicago more times than he’s been to the Alibi. Her laugh is melodious, and her voice is cheerful and friendly. She’s one of those people you instantly like, that makes you want to open up and share your deepest secrets with.

“So that man that you were ravaging in the hall the other night. Your husband?” Rhonda asks.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s Mickey,” he replies. “Sorry again, about the uh, disturbance that night. We had just come from our first anniversary party and were, um, celebrating. Mickey planned the whole thing as a surprise for me.”

“A surprise anniversary party? Well your Mickey sounds like an absolute gem.”

“Yeah, he really is.” Ian can’t hide his sweet smile and look of adoration in his eyes. It makes him so happy when others notice the goodness in Mickey.

“So, how’d you two boys meet?” Rhonda asks, like she’s waiting for Ian to give her the real dish.

“Uh, well, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Grew up around the block from each other. I didn’t even know he was gay too until we hooked up as teenagers. The rest is sort of complicated, but that’s the gist of it”, Ian replies, and hopes that satisfies her curiosity. He’d love to tell her more but the whole unvarnished truth is a lot to unload on someone you’ve just met.

“Another Cliff’s Notes version, I see, but I’ll accept it for now,” she laughs.

Ian glances down at his watch and notices the time. Mickey is surely awake by now.

“Listen, this has been really great but I need to get back upstairs. Mickey is probably awake and we always make a big breakfast together on Saturday mornings. He’ll be pissed if I’m not there to flip the banana pancakes.”

“Oh I understand! This has been lovely and we should certainly do it again soon, Ian Gallagher!” she says with that cheery voice. Makes it hard to say no.

“Absolutely, Ms. Rhonda. That sounds great.” Ian rises from his chair and heads back inside, offering her a friendly smile that she returns.

———

“Where the fuck you been?” Mickey inquires as Ian walks through the door, not heated, just a question.

“Good morning to you too,” Ian replies teasingly. “I went for a run, then I was sunning by the pool with Rhonda.”

“Rhonda? Who the fuck is Rhonda?” Mickey asks, confused.

“Uh, the lady that lives across the hall from us.”

“The lady that liv- the one that caught us the other night? The one that saw you with your cock out?” Mickey is growing slightly agitated.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What’s she want with you? She tryin’ to pull some Mrs. Robinson shit on you? Saw somethin’ she liked?”

“Relax, Mickey. She’s just a friendly older lady. She didn’t do anything, we just talked for a bit. She’s nice,” Ian tries to assuage the situation. “Plus, you are aware I’m not attracted to women, right? And she’s old enough to be my grandma. Don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Whatever, man. Come in here and flip some fuckin’ pancakes.”

———

The next Saturday morning, Ian decides to skip his run and knock on Rhonda’s door to see if she wants to take a walk with him. He really enjoyed their chat last week; it felt good to talk to someone new, someone who had no preconceived notions about him or his life. He wanted to continue that.

He knocks on the door and Rhonda answers, dressed in lilac colored athletic wear, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was in remarkable shape for her 65+ years.

“Well hello, handsome. I was just getting ready to go do some yoga on the roof. Would you like to come?”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. “I was actually going to see if you wanted to come on a walk but yoga sounds nice. I’ve been wanting to try it but didn’t wanna go alone, and yoga’s not really Mickey’s thing so…” he drifts off.

“I have an extra mat, let me grab it and we’ll head upstairs!” Rhonda says cheerfully.

Once they’re all set up, Rhonda begins, ”I like to start my mornings with something called sun salutation. Do you know what that is?”

“No. I don’t really know anything about yoga, just that it’s supposed to be good for you. Always wanted to try it, especially since moving here. Show me?” Ian requests.

She walks him through step by step, reaching up to the sky and back down. They go through some basic flows, downward dog, warrior, tree pose, cat-cow. She makes sure he concentrates on his breathing.

“All done!” Rhonda chirps and they sit up from their final shavasana position.

Ian feels amazing. Relaxed and limber and strong. He’s surprised how difficult some of the poses are, especially because he’s always considered himself to be in pretty good shape. Yoga is definitely something he wants to continue. Rhonda really knows her stuff, too. Maybe he could convince Mickey to do yoga on the roof so he wouldn’t have to go to an actual class with people.

“Wow, Ms. Rhonda, that was incredible. I see why people love yoga. I feel amazing.”

“We can make this a regular thing, if you like,” she offers.

“Sure, I’d love that. Maybe I could bring Mickey sometime?” he asks.

“Sure thing, handsome!” She smiles at him.

“So, your Mickey. Tell me about him. What made you fall in love with him?” Rhonda asks casually, like she’s just making conversation but he knows she’s trying to dive deeper, get to know him better. He can’t figure out why she’s taken such an interest in him but she’s just so sincere. He can’t help but feel a connection with her.

“Well, Mickey is… complicated. He’s rough and tender. He’s vulgar and beautiful. He’s tough but so kind. He’s… everything.” Ian pauses and Rhonda doesn’t say anything, indicating she wants him to continue.

“He had a rough upbringing. I did too, actually, but not nearly as rough as his. I had druggy, absentee parents and was mostly raised by my older sister Fiona. Struggled to pay bills. Had to steal to survive sometimes. But Mickey…” Ian drifts off, not sure how much deeper he should go. There’s just something about this kind, welcoming woman in front of him that makes him want to open up. He wants to be careful though, as Mickey’s story isn’t entirely for him to tell. He wants to be respectful of that.

“Mickey was raised mostly by his dad who was in and out of prison. His dad was homophobic and violent and was awful to Mickey. Obviously he didn’t support us being together. Mickey had to hide who he truly was for so long which made it tough on our relationship. But we survived all that and Mickey now is just… he has rough edges. Anyone that is around him can see that. He’s Southside through and through. But when you really get to know him… he’s the best person I know. I guess that’s why I love him. Because he’s just… good. And he’s always had my back no matter what. He’s damn good in bed too, so there’s that,” he laughs.

“Oh trust me, I can tell you boys have no trouble in that department!” she cackles and Ian blushes.

Her tone turns a little more serious after that. “So when you say his father was homophobic and Mickey couldn’t be who he really was…” she leaves it open ended for Ian to fill in the blanks.

He sighs, “Yeah, um. His dad had threatened to kill him. And me. Actually tried, after our wedding. He caught us together once, years ago, naked in the living room. It was… really bad. Traumatizing but I won’t go into details. Mickey spent his whole life hiding deep in the closet because of his dad. My family always supported me and loved me no matter what, but Mickey didn’t have that. We had to hide our relationship for years which was tough. I just wanted to be a normal couple, be able to hold his hand in public, shit like that. But he was scared. Wanted to make his dad proud. He finally came out… I kinda pushed him which wasn’t my proudest moment. But he came out and his dad beat us up. It was awful, but he was out so it was kinda freeing too, I guess? I don’t know. Then there was my diagnosis in the midst of all this. I don’t really tell a lot of people about it but I’m bipolar. Did some crazy shit when I was in a bad manic state several years ago. Then spent some weeks in bed, couldn’t even get up. Mickey never left my side. I’m really not sure where I would have ended up if it wasn’t for him. He saved my life. I’m stable now, on meds that are working well for me. Plus Mickey is really good at picking up on shit, like if he thinks I’m starting to get depressed or something. He’ll say something or do something to help me through it, but like, subtle.” It’s all coming out like word vomit. But it feels so therapeutic at the same time, like just saying these words out loud lightens the weight of them.

“I don’t know. We broke up a few times over the years, forced apart by circumstances out of our control. Oh, and we were in prison together for awhile. We’ve been through some shit. We’d be here all day if I told you even half of it. But despite all that we found our way back to each other and never have to let go again.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

“On and off for ten years. Since we were just dumb teenagers, banging secretly in the walk-in cooler at work,” Ian answers.

“Well that’s one hell of a story, Ian. I’m sorry things were bad for so long but I’m so happy you are in a good place now. Your Mickey sounds just wonderful though and I can’t wait to get to know him better. Maybe we could do dinner one night! I’m a pretty fantastic cook.”

“That actually sounds really great, thank you. I’ll check our schedule,” Ian replies.

“Anytime next week works so just let me know.”

They get up and begin to roll up their mats.

“You know, I just realized,” Ian states. “I don’t really know anything about you. I’ve just been droning on about myself. What’s your story?”

“Oh, Ian. I promise, we can discuss my wild life at dinner,” she laughs.

“Sounds perfect,” Ian smiles.

———

“We gotta do what?” Mickey complains.

“We are going over to Rhonda’s for dinner this Friday. It’ll be fun. She’s wonderful. You’re gonna love her. She’s really excited to get to know you better.”

“Better? You’ve already fuckin’ told her a bunch’a shit about me, haven’t you?” Mickey grumbles.

“Listen, Mick. Yes, I’ve given her the gist of our lives and our relationship, nothing too in depth. I didn’t go into great detail about your history because I didn’t think it was my place,” Ian explains. “Just told her how rough we had it in the past. She’s just so kind, and she really listens, no judgment.”

Mickey hesitates. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But if this woman isn’t as amazing as you say she is I’m leaving. Unless the food is really good or there’s free booze. Then I’ll stay.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and gives him a hug, whispering a quiet “thank you” in his ear.

———

Friday is here before Ian knows it. He’s chatted more with Rhonda this week, seeing her for a few minutes in the laundry room, waiting for his clothes to dry. Then again out by the pool when he went to swim some laps. They were both looking forward to dinner.

“Mick, you about ready? It’s almost 7,” Ian yells back to the bedroom from the living room.

Mickey walks out into the living room wearing his black skinny jeans with the ripped knees and a gray long sleeved waffle knit shirt with his black boots.

“Wow, Mickey, you look really nice.” Ian walks up and kisses him on the forehead. “You smell great too, what is that?”

“Some cologne I found at some fuckin’ hipster shop the other day. Thought it smelled nice. Wanted to make a good impression on your new best friend,” Mickey states, with a slight hint of feigned attitude.

“You’re my best friend, Mick. Rhonda’s just a nice lady that I enjoy talking to and hanging out with. She’s definitely a friend though, the only friend I’ve made here and I really like her company.”

“If you insist. Let’s go, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

PART 2

#gallavich fic #post season 11 #original character #ian and mickey #tw slight exploration of past trauma

[graces-secret-tommys-love]

Falling All Over Again

Title: Falling All Over Again

Pairing:Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 7900 (BIG GENUINE OOPS)

Warning: very slow burn smut

Summary: The Reader has known the Shelby’s nearly all her life. Like many she had a crush on Tommy. After a sweet moment many years ago she became almost speechless around him. Following a very embarrassing moment she finally found the courage to start to converse with him again. 

A/N: I definitely got carried away with this one. The slow burn just kind of did it for me, and I hope it does for you too. Enjoy and I’d love your feedback!!!

---------------

“Shhhh Elena, you’ll get caught!”

“Ada, shut it! You’re the one who said it’s here!”

You kept an eye on the staircase, while Hannah was downstairs watching the front door.

“If none of you shut up, then everyone will hear!” Hannah hissed up the stairs.

Elena got it in her head that Thomas was hiding something of her brothers in his room and had set out to get it. Of course the rest of you girls thought she went mad, but you weren’t about to let her attempt a solo mission. The four of you had grown up together in town since you were children, so when one of you started something it became everyone's job to finish it.

Elena had older brothers always telling her she was too much of a child and didn’t know anything about the world, despite all of us being around twenty years old. She worked it out that if she pulled a stunt like this, then she wouldn’t be such a child anymore. The rest of you also worked out that she might lose her head trying to dig around in Thomas Shelby’s room, so you hoped by there being a group of you, there might be less bloodshed. In theory of course.

Hannah’s loud slam of the book on the table meant someone was coming. You held up a finger to the girls, telling them to be quiet, and kept your eyes open. Mens shoes were making their way to the bottom step and you whirled around towards the girls. As you tried to push up from your crouched position, your foot slipped backwards off the top step and you went crashing ass over tea kettle backwards down the stairs.

“Fuck! Shit! Damnit!”

A man had gotten nearly crushed in your fall. He was able to move just to the side fast enough that your tumbling body only grazed him and didn’t knock him down. It wasn’t the plan, but now Ada and Elena had plenty of time to get out of there.

“Y/N!” Hannah rushed to your side. “Are you okay!”

“Wha-yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I think.” Sitting up slightly your head was throbbing in the back, and you could feel the bruises settling in already.

“Are you alright?” The man’s voice startled you. When you looked up, Thomas Shelby was crouching down next to you, helping you sit up. He kept his hand on the small of your back, and helped you straighten out your legs.

Before you could answer, Elena and Ada were practically in your lap screaming and panicking like your head had been snapped off.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! Fuck stop screaming!” Elena and Ada froze, but Thomas laughed a little. “And what’s so funny?” You snapped as you turned to him.

The second your eyes met his, you felt like someone sucker punched you. Of all people to get snippy with, hurt or not, he was the last person to do that too.

“Oh my god Tom- Mr. Shelby. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at yo-”

“It’s fine, Y/N. Please just call me Tommy. We practically grew up together for fucks sake. I just never heard you raise your voice like that before, let alone throw the word fuck out so easily. I forget you girls aren’t all seven and eight anymore.” He gave you a small smile, helped you to your feet, and then headed upstairs.

Now you were not only in pain, but absolutely mortified as well.

The girls got you in a chair, and near the fire to relax.

“You yelled at a Shelby!” Elena teased.

“She yells at me all the time,” Ada rolled her eyes.

“Then don’t be an ass!” you shot back. “And I didn’t mean to yell at him. You were both so fuckin’ loud though!” You grabbed each of their hands. “I didn’t mean to be harsh though. I was just scared.”

“So were we!” Hannah threw her arms around all of you. “You could have died!”

“Oh shut up Hannah,” Ada laughed. “She fell down the stairs. We’ve all done it. The real triumph of the day though was that she didn’t turn into an absolute mime in front of Tommy.”

All the girls started laughing and poking fun at you. Literally everyone in the world must have known you’d had your heart set on Thomas Shelby since you could remember.

-------

When you were all much younger, Thomas and Arthur would lookout for you since you were an only child. Being Ada’s close friend, they saw you as another little sister they were protecting. Thomas was different than Arthur. Some would doubt it possible, but he was very gentle with you. He was patient and would play along with the games you came up with with Ada. Arthur was more of the one to beat someone up if he caught them looking at you wrong. It was once the boys all got older and went to war that they all became the ones to beat someone up before they would sit down and listen to a silly child’s game.

When you were around 10, one of the boys on the street dared you to kiss Thomas. He said that if you didn’t ask Thomas to kiss you, then he would tell everyone that you never stopped wetting the bed and no one would ever like you. Of course this was the worst dare in the entire world because Thomas was around 15 or 16 at the time.

Finally, one night when you were leaving dinner with their family, Thomas said he would walk you home because he was going out for the night anyways. When you crossed the street you stopped and started to panic.

“Are you alright?” He had looked so concerned. “Love what is it?”

“I...can….uh…” He was so patient, waiting for you to come up with some sort of a coherent word. “Kiss me.”

Your eyes slammed shut and you wanted to die the second you let those words slip past your chattering lips. The silence was painful, and then you heard him take a few steps towards you. His breath was suddenly warm on your face.

“You want me to kiss you, love?” When you didn’t open your eyes or respond, he laughed to himself a little. “And why would you want me to kiss you?”

“Ian said he would tell everyone I pee the bed if I didn’t kiss you and then everyone would hate me and I am so sorry Thomas. I didn’t mean it. Just leave.” Your face softened, but your eyes never opened. Just a small tear ran down your face. It was the epitome of embarrassment.

You flinched when a rough thumb grazed your cheek. “Well now love, we know that’s not the truth. Ian’s probably the one to still pee the bed.” When you started to laugh, you could hear him laugh as well. “Now, lets see those eyes.”

Taking a shaky breath you opened your eyes. The two of you just stared at each other. Thomas straightened up a bit, and then looked around the street. No one was outside. He held out his hand, and you took it.

Taking off at a brisk walk, you followed him down the road. When you saw the destination, you started to pull back. But Thomas didn’t stop, he pulled you along the entire way.

The door flew open and of course Ian was the one to answer it.

“Uh, hello.”

Thomas pointed at you. “Did you tell this girl that you would tell the block she wet the bed if she didn’t kiss me? And don’t you lie.” Ian went white as a sheet.

“I, well..yeah.”

Thomas nodded, then turned to you. He took off his hat, picked you up just like a groom lifts his bride, gave you a nod, and then kissed you. Soft, quick, and extremely chaste, but it felt like so much more to you.

“Now, Ian, you leave her alone and tell everyone that she kissed Thomas Shelby. You hear me?”

Before Ian could shut the door Thomas turned around, carried you home, and was setting you down on your doorstep in what felt like only moments. You tried to say something, anything to let him at least know how grateful you were, but he kissed you on the forehead, turned to light a cigarette, and left before you could. After almost nine years, that was still the moment that came to mind every time you saw him. You could do nothing but just freeze up, barely say a word, and blush.

----------

Tommy ran his hands over his eyes as he stood from his desk. As he started to cross his office to get a drink a soft knock at his office door startled him. His hand went to his gun as he slowly moved to the door. “Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

When the door opened Tommy visibly relaxed when he saw it was just you standing there. The second you saw just how tired he was though, you started to regret even showing up.

“Mr. She- Tommy, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m so-”

“How are you feeling?” He laughed when your face froze. “From the fall?”

“Oh! Oh, um. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Come in,” Tommy moved to the side as you stepped past him. You didn’t make it more than five steps though before you froze up again. “Drink?”

“Yes.”

“Everything okay? Here, sit.” Tommy went to the drink cart as you slowly sat yourself down across from his desk. The bruises from the day were definitely setting in.

Tommy handed you a glass of whiskey before moving to sit behind his desk again.

“So, Y/N. What’s on your mind.” He took a sip of his drink, and relaxed back into his chair, not really looking at you.

“I’m sorry,” you declared before downing your drink and setting your glass down a little too hard on his desk. You made a face at the harsh, sudden whiskey burn, but you needed the help to talk to him. “I didn’t mean to be short with you earlier. I almost hurt you on the stairs. Ada and Elena just wouldn’t shut up. I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to yell at you I ju-”

“Yell?” Tommy cut you off. “That’s what you thought you did? Y/N, you’ve been to so many family events I would have guessed you’d worked out what real yelling is. But, then again you rarely ever talk, so maybe that is yelling for you.” Tommy smiled as he lit another cigarette.

“Well, either way. Yelling or not, I am sorry. Just wanted to tell you that.” You shot out of your chair to go, and immediately regretted it. “Fuck.”

“There’s that word again,” Tommy grinned. “Sit down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

As you sat back down slowly, Tommy crossed the room and brought the bottle back. This time he took the chair next to yours so you were both on the same side of the desk. He poured each of you a drink.

“Out of curiosity, what were you doing up there?”

“Where?” You sipped at your drink, this time letting the warmth rush over you.

“By my room.” Tommy watched you as you focused on your glass, not looking at him. “ As soon as I realized it was you coming tumbling down I was actually quite shocked. Ada and Elena didn’t surprise me at all though when I saw their heads at the top of the stairs.”

“Nothing. Just bad timing. I fall a lot.” You took another sip.

“Mmmm and this had nothing to do with my borrowing something of Elena’s brothers?”

“Didn’t know one of them was missing anything.” Your grip got tighter on the glass. Why did this feel like an interrogation all of a sudden? Did you step into something more than you should have?

“You’re very good, Y/N. Much better than Ada when I talked to her about an hour or so ago. She told me right away what the plan was.” He took a long drink. “Not talking must do wonders for you.”

“Oh I talk all the time,” you shot back. You tried not to externally show how shocked you were that you managed to say that so quickly without a care in the world. Damn whiskey.

“Is that so. Well, what do you usually say?” You hesitated.

“Nothing important I promise. I should go.”

“Oh come on, you never talk to me, or anyone. Can’t be shocked I’m curious.”

You took a long swallow and finished your glass. As the whiskey warmed your body, you were finally able to turn yourself towards Tommy and actually look at him.

“I talk about a lot of things. All of us girls do when we get together. Town, the world, clothes, boys, drinking, trav-”

“Boys and drinking? I’m surprised.”

“What? That twenty year old girls talk about boys and drinking? Like you said earlier, we aren’t seven and eight anymore.” You grabbed the bottle and poured yourself another glass.

Tommy sat a little shocked for a moment. He hadn’t heard you speak this much in years, and now you were very clearly not the tiny little girl who begged him to play anymore.

“No, you definitely are not. None of us are.”

“I’m sorry if that was rude. Like you said, I don’t talk much around you.”

“And why is that exactly?” You froze. Shit. That was not something you deliberately meant to point out like that.

“You, uh, you’re just usually the one talking, or Ada, or Polly, or something. So, um, not much to say I guess.”

“Bullshit.” Your head snapped towards him. “You do talk, like you’ve said. I’ve heard you talking with the girls. With Polly, and sometimes John or Arthur. Just not me. Why is that?”

Your hand started to shake so you slammed your whiskey again, and this time tried to fight the weird face that came with it. You took a deep breath and reached for the bottle again.

“You’re not an idiot Tommy. You know why.” You’d decided there and then to just let it all out. Fuck it. You’d embarrassed yourself several times already. May as well.

“What? No I don’t. We were friends, I left, came back, and ever since I haven’t heard more than ten words.”

“Twenty,” you smirked. “It’s been more words than that.”

“I doubt it.” Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his drink. “Y/N, look at me”

Taking another deep swig, you let yourself truly look at him. Let your eyes wander over his handsome face. You could still see the remains of where there would be crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. You could see the curves of his face you’d memorized over so many years. You finally looked into his eyes, and your heart broke when you didn’t see the sparkle that used to be so irresistible. Now he just looked tired and worn down.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” His words snapped you back to the present.

“Because I can’t. Not like I used to.”

“Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

Tommy straightened back up. He prepared himself to hear the worst of one of his actions thrown back at him. Looking down at his glass, he finished the rest of his drink.

“You kissed me.”

You could feel him staring at you, but you kept your eyes locked on your glass resting in your lap. You’d said it. It was out in the open. But the whiskey confidence wore off and you felt extremely vulnerable all of a sudden.

Tommy’s laugh made you look up. “I did kiss you. I picked you up like a bride and kissed you in front of that little prick of a boy. He was bullying you or something right?”

You relaxed back in your chair and started to laugh a little yourself. “That’s right. He was going to tell everyone I was ten years old and peeing the bed if I didn’t kiss you. And I had a crush on you, so he figured I’d never do it. You made it happen, like you make everything happen, and that was that. He never bullied me again.”

Tommy looked more relaxed as he rested in his chair than he had in ages. He sort of marveled over the silly story from the past as he finished his drink.

“Well, apparently I cannot kiss properly since you have refused to talk to me for so long after.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laughed back. “That wasn’t the case and we both know it. Like I said, you’re not an idiot.”

“Clearly I am, Y/N. I kissed you. You had a crush. That was the-” And that’s when it hit him. You had a crush. Back then. But also right now. That’s why you couldn’t talk to him.

When you realized it was finally setting in you finished your drink, gave yourself a moment, and started to stand.

“Y/N, wait.” You paused, but you couldn’t look at him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it before. I truly am. You just pulled back. Stopped talking. Ada never let a hint on. I just didn’t notice. I’m so sorry.”

“Well,” you laughed a bit, “Ada was on notice that she would die if she let anything slip. So believe it or not she can keep a secret.”

The two of you laughed quietly as you stood at the desk. Tommy took a moment to truly look at you, as you were now in the moment. He let his eyes wander over your curves, how your clothes fell across your body. His eyes traced the profile of your face.

Tommy stood up and poured himself another glass. He shifted his weight so he was all of a few inches from you.

“There was a boy once sitting up at the bar at the Garrison. He was talking with his mate and I overheard him say he was going to go and talk to you and Ada. It immediately made me on edge. So I watched as they strolled over. They talked with you two, made you both laugh. As I watched the one with Ada, everything in me wanted to hit him for coming onto my little sister. But the other one talking to you, I just wanted to hit him because he was talking to you. You both left with them, and it took everything in me to not chase you down.”

You looked up at him, completely confused. “Why would you be mad he was talking to me? You’ve said it yourself I never talk to you. We’ve both been with other people. Why would it matter?”

“It just….it was the first time it really hit me how gorgeous of a woman you grew up into. We’ve known each other for ages. I was your first kiss I’m pretty sure. And seeing another man suddenly have an interest in you...you just weren’t that girl that only had eyes for me anymore.”

“Well, I knew there would be no point waiting for you to be all my firsts,” you laughed. “If I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you, I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to ask for anything else. Besides, you had so many others that adored you. One’s who never begged and cried for a kiss.”

Getting all of that off your chest, and the whiskey, made you suddenly feel lighter. Stronger almost. He was Tommy, the boy you grew up with. Your old friend, and someone that you could in fact talk to.

“I’ve drank enough of your whiskey for one night I think. I’ll let you go.”

When you set your glass down, Tommy slid his arm around your waist and turned you to him. He rested his forehead on yours, and you could feel his chest rising and falling.

“Y/N.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I’ll cry,” you could hear him smile a bit, “but would you kiss me?”

You didn’t know if you were suddenly hallucinating or what, but the only thing that came to mind was what he had said when you had asked him that, so many years ago.

“And why would you want me to kiss you?” You smirked.

“Please, Y/N,” his tone was more serious than you expected. “I have to know that I taught you well.” The laugh was back in his voice as his thumb came to raise your chin.

Your lips brushed as they found each other, and as soon as they did, he pressed long, drawn out kisses into your trembling lips. You couldn’t believe you were actually kissing Thomas Shelby. And not because he pitied the embarrassed little girl. But because he wanted the beautiful woman you’d become.

You decided it was now or never, and stepped into him. You pushed deeper into his kiss, letting him know how desperately you craved it. You let your body press against his, running your arms around his waist. If you were going to kiss him, you wanted to make sure he knew how badly you’d been dreaming about this moment.

Pushing your chest into his, you could feel how restrained he was trying to be. You dug your nails into his lower back just slightly as you pulled him tighter. One hand moved to his face as you pressed your hips into his. Pushing your tongue past your own lips, he eagerly met you with his own. Tommy’s arm circled you, one on your waist, and the other moving up your back to the base of your neck, bringing you closer. As your tongues caressed and teased, you could feel your own breathing becoming slightly labored at your own self restraint.

You slid your hand up to his hair, lightly tugging as you dug your nails into his lower back again. He slid the hand on the back of your neck up to grab a handful of hair before gently thrusting his hips into yours. Each of you pressed your bodies as close together as possible as your kiss deepened. Tommy was the first to pull away, his lips finding your neck as he teased you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, giving a slight pull and the tiniest groan passed his lips. That sound shot through you, and you knew you needed to hear it again.

Bringing his lips back to yours you swirled your tongue around his, teasing him with the skill you had developed. Your hand on his lower back dropped to his ass. Giving him a long, deep kiss you tangled your fingers in his hair again. Biting his lower lip, you squeezed his ass and pulled his hair all at once. Just as quickly as that groan passed his lips, he was pushing himself from you.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Tommy stood there, his eyes burning into you as they ran up and down your body. His chest was literally heaving as he tried to make up his mind.

“Y/N. You….you’re not as quiet and docile as you seem are you?”

You could see where this was going and immediately knew you needed to step up if you really wanted him to know how badly you wanted this.

Closing the distance between you, you pushed Tommy down into his seat. Before he could fully process everything, you were slowly dragging your skirt up your thighs, and climbing into his lap. You made sure that you adjusted yourself in his lap as slowly as possible. Making sure you used his chest and thighs to brace yourself. Pushing your chest into his face whenever possible. And when you finally got settled, your lips went straight to his ear. Your hot breath on his skin made him stiffen underneath you as your words sunk in.

“You want the truth? The entire dirty truth?”

He simply nodded. You shifted yourself again, dragging your chest across his face as you settled to whisper in his other ear.

“I have dreamt about you for longer than I can remember. I have craved the feeling of your hands on my skin. I have spent hours wondering how your lips would feel, not only on mine. But everywhere on my body. I have ground myself onto my own fingers, dreaming about how your cock would feel instead.”

Pushing back a little, you brought both hands to the sides of Tommy’s face as you let yourself ease down into his lap. You started to slowly roll your hips as you locked eyes with him.

“I am not docile. I am definitely not quiet. And I am all yours Thomas Shelby. All. Yours.”

“Fucking hell,” tumbled like a groan mixed with a whisper from Tommy’s lips as he crashed his lips back into yours. His hands found your hips almost immediately. As his tongue met yours again, his fingers dug into your ass as he ground your hips harder into his. You moaned into his mouth as your hands ran up his chest, one hand cradling his face and the other moving to his hair. You dropped your lips to nip and bite at his jaw. His head fell back as you sucked at his neck. Bracing yourself with one hand on his chest, you circled your hips into his, grinding as hard as you could on the bulge in his lap.

One of his hands moved between you, finding your breast he grabbed hard, and pulled you to him. His breath hitched as your fingers brushed the skin on his chest as you undid his buttons. As one of his large hands palmed your breast, his other hand ran up your thigh, pushing your dress as far up your body as he could.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, and needed more. Capturing Tommy’s lips again, you teased him with your tongue as you pushed his shirt back over his shoulders. When his hands left you to pull his shirt off, you grabbed the edges of your dress and pulled it over the top of your head. When your face cleared the fabric, Tommy’s eyes were locked on your body.

He looked hungry as his eyes traveled over your breasts, down your torso. His hands ran up and down your thighs, occasionally grazing your ass. Your eyes fixated on his lips as your hands ran over his chest.

“Tommy.” Your voice snapped him from his trance. “Fuck me.”

Tommy crashed his lips into yours, his hands gripping your ass as he lifted you from the chair. Your legs tightened around his waist as he spun you. He took two strides and then slowly lowered you both to the ground. With each of you on your knees, Tommy’s lips left yours to find your neck once again. Your fingers flew to undo his pants as his fingers started to remove your slip. As soon as you felt his pants give, you slid your hand down his length and started to pump his cock while it was still in his pants. His breath hitched and then he grabbed a thick handful of your hair.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He breathed against your ear.

“Getting ready to suck your cock...Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy released your hair a bit, and pulled back so he could look at you. “Normally, that’s exactly what I want to hear. But right now...call me Tommy.”

Pushing his pants towards his knees with one hand, you pushed his shoulders back gently with the other. Tommy shifted so his pants came off and he slowly fell to his back with you moving over him.

“Tommy,” you breathed as you kissed his chest. “You are too tired. Let me take care of you. Just this once. Please. Tommy.” Pressing a deep kiss into his lips, you leaned back to read his face. You could see how badly he wanted control, how he wanted to show you how badly he wanted you. But you could also see the relief in his eyes. How desperately he needed to be taken care of as well.

Tommy raised his head, gave you a slow and tender kiss, and then nodded his head as he let it fall back to the floor. You pressed gentle kisses onto his forehead, each cheek, and then quickly on his lips. You let your warm breath and wet tongue drag down the sides of his neck. Your fingers trailed over the curves of his arms and shoulders as you left wet kisses across his chest. Your hand lazily trailed down his sides as you dragged your tongue down his torso.

His head came up when he felt your touch leave him. You pushed off the floor, and stood at his feet. He had never fully removed your slip, or your panties. Making sure he was looking at you, you slowly raised your slip over your head. As you let it fall to the floor, your hands found your breasts and slowly messaged them, showing Tommy just how you liked it. Your hands slowly made their way to your panties. Leaning over so your chest fell towards him, you pushed your pantines down your legs. As you stepped out of them, you let one hand slip between your legs, playing with yourself for a moment as Tommy’s eyes blew wide open.

Towering over him, you couldn’t believe it. Thomas fucking Shelby was laying completely naked on the floor of his own office. He was laying there for you. Practically drooling as he watched you tease yourself. His cock literally hard and throbbing only for you.

As you lowered yourself back between Tommy’s legs, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you. Moving forward like you were going to kiss him again, Tommy leaned in, but let out a small huff when your lips dropped to his chest instead. One hand moved up his thigh making him twitch. Your teeth grazed his nipple and his head fell back again. Teasing him with your warm tongue, you swirled and dragged it down his torso as you took his length in your hand again. Slowly pumping his length, you lowered yourself between his legs, making yourself comfortable.

The second your tongue flattened and touched the tip of his cock, Tommy fell back onto the floor. You slowly swirled your tongue on his tip, letting your hand fall to the base of his cock. Keeping your tongue wide you lapped at the sides of his length. You could feel his veins pulsing underneath your tongue. As you let go of his cock, you positioned yourself on both hands. Slowly you lowered your mouth around him, just covering his tip. You sucked gently, and then pulled back. Leaning down again, you moved just as slowly but this time going an inch or so deeper, gently sucking, and then pulling back. Slowly, and painstakingly, you worked your way down Tommy’s shaft as it literally throbbed against your warm, wet mouth.

When you finally got to his base, you just held him there for a moment. Just let the warmth of your mouth surround him. Without backing off, you pressed your tongue hard into him as you lapped and sucked. Tommy’s body nearly seized up as the pressure changed. Bobbing your head gently, you slowly backed off him. Letting him go with a pop, you ran your hand up and down his cock, changing the pressure of your grip as you went.

“You like my soft mouth, Tommy?”

There was only a strangled whisper that passed his lips.

“Do you want me to keep sucking your sweet dick?”

“Ye...yes” This time his whisper was a little clearer.

Moistening your lips, you settled yourself back in. Holding him at the base, you used your other hand to start massaging his balls. Once his hips settled from the sudden change, you flattened your tongue and lapped at the sides of his cock. You let yourself coat him in your spit, literally drooling over him. Your hand started to pump him again as your tongue began to tease and flick at his tip. Beads of precum began to meet your tongue and it was just as sweet as you imagined. The heat between your legs was pooling more and more, part of you actually worried you might drip onto him. But you knew that would only make it that much better.

Taking his length all at once you let him hit the back of your throat. Holding him there for a moment, you felt his dick literally twitch in your mouth. Practically begging you for more. As you let him go with a pop again, you braced yourself on either side of his hips. Running your tongue up and down his length a few more times, you looked up at him.

“Fuck me, Tommy. Fuck my mouth.”

Tommy’s hands flew up to your hair and where slamming you down on his cock in an instant. Again and again he drove you down on his cock, fucking your mouth as hard as he could. He felt you tighten your grip on his thigh and his hands let up. You took a huge gulp of air, and then grabbed his cock. You pumped him hard as you bobbed your mouth up and down. Coating him with your spit you moaned on his cock as you worked him with your tongue. Strangled moans started to pass from Tommy’s lips and his breath started to become even more ragged. He was nearing his limit.

Moving your hands away again, Tommy fisted your hair and drove you back down around his cock. This time he lifted up his hips and fucked your mouth fast and quick. He barely let you do anything with your tongue he was going so fast. When you finally did squeeze his thigh, Tommy let go of your hair and pushed you back.

“Now you’re mine.”

You’d barely even registered what he said when Tommy was pulling you on top of him, his lips crashing into yours like he’d been craving them for ages. As your tongues met again, he groaned into your mouth as he rolled you to your back. He laid to the side of you and let his fingers travel up and down your body. Tingles flew across you as he moved up and down your back, down your stomach, and then his fingers settled on your breast. Slowly massaging and cupping just how you liked, you arched into his touch.

Tommy’s lips dipped to your neck, nipping as he moved to your shoulder. His fingers rolled your nipple between them and you let out a soft whimper. Tommy’s cock was still pressed against you and you could feel him twitch with every soft moan and hitched breath. He captured your lips again and muffled the sound of your whimper as he brushed along the inside of your thigh.

Torturing you with his pace, Tommys fingers ran up and down your thigh, inching towards your center. You could feel yourself literally dripping onto the carpet beneath you. Tommy bit at your lip as he finally brushed at your sex. Your whole body responded and you could feel him smile as he kissed you deeply. Your hand dropped to stroke him, but he caught your wrist.

“No, no, not now. This...this is all for you, Y/N.”

As your body relax back into the floor Tommys fingers cupped your pussy and started to rock his palm into your crest. His lips latched to your breast as his teeth grazed your nipple. Letting out a loud whimper you writhed underneath him. His fingers glided through your folds as the heel of his hand pressed into your clit. Rolling it beneath his palm he let one finger tease your entrance. As he bit at your nipple you arched hard into his mouth, pressing yourself into his hand.

“Please Tommy...please….I...please let me feel you.”

Tommy groaned against your breast as his fingertips found your clit. Pressing his calloused fingertips into you, you whimpered and moaned as you ground yourself into him. His mouth left your chest as he rose up, pressing is strong lips into yours. As he teased your clit he swallowed each moan as his tongue teased yours. Dropping his lips to your neck, his breath was hot on your ear.

“You said you weren’t quiet.”

“Yes” you breathed, trying desperately to keep some control over your body.

“Prove it. Let me hear how bad you want it.”

Your eyes snapped open as Tommy pushed a thick finger inside you. Curling and dragging at your walls you ground yourself into his hand and cried out. You dug your nails into his back as your other hand pressed into the carpet. Another finger joined the first and he stretched you perfectly. The slight burn was incredible as he plunged deeply inside of you. The heel of his hand stayed presssed to your clit as you fucked yourself into his hand.

“Tommy….oh fuck...yes…..oh god….Tommy…”

You were so strung out you couldn’t think straight. Your pussy drenched his fingers as he buried his face into your neck. Biting and sucking, occasionally dipping to tease your breasts. As you started to tighten around his fingers you could hear how his breathing changed. He knew you were close. You rocked your hips faster, trying to keep with his pace as he fucked into you. Your fingers found his hair again and started to pull as you cried out.

“Please...yes...Tommy I’m so close...I...Tommy I’m so….fuck….oh fuck...Tommy!”

You tightened hard around his fingers, your orgasm slamming through you and into him. Your grip on his hair made him practically growl as you spasmed around him. No one had ever made you feel this high before. His fingers started to slowly bring you down. You felt his body shift and before you fully processed it, Tommy was pushing your legs apart. You tried to speak, but you had nothing left.

Tommy’s fingers never left your core, completely dripping with your release. Your legs slammed around his head the second his strong tongue touched your clit. You were still on fire practically and he wanted to keep you there. Tommys tongue flicked at your swollen clit, his fingers expertly curling and scissoring inside you. You were arching practically off the floor and too dizzy to know which way was up. Your legs were like live wires, kicking out every time he grazed your g-spot, but then clamping down around Tommys head each time he sucked at your clit. You were writhing so much that Tommy finally took his fingers out of your spasming pussy so he could hold your hips down.

His tongue lapped through your folds. Lazily finding every glistening and dripping wet corner of your pussy. You drenched his face as he fucked into your core with his tongue. Lapping up your sweet taste and literally groaning into your cunt. His tongue was strong and quick as it would go from rolling your clit to flicking it like mad. Your fingers were buried in Tommy's hair, pulling and yanking. He had scratch marks all over his shoulders and forearms.

“Tommy! Tommy!” He just groaned into your cunt sending waves through your already overloaded body. “Please! Please fuck me...please Tommy….oh god I wanna feel your cock inside me...please…”

In an instant Tommy was off of you. He flew to his knees, grabbing your hips and dragging you down the carpet towards him. Tommy thought about flipping you over, fucking you from behind so he could get deep inside you. But this time he wanted to watch you. He wanted to see you come undone around him. There would be plenty more times to fuck you howeverelse he liked.

Tommy settled himself over you, panting as he looked down on you. Sweat glistened his brow, his lips were bright red. His eyes were in a daze, but still hungry. You had a sheen of sweat as well and couldn’t get your breathing together to save your life. Thomas Shelby held himself over you on all fours. Just watched as the mess of you he created. You were practically vibrating there was so much energy and heat running through you. Each of you tried to match your breathing as you both prepared yourselves.

Lowering himself towards you, Tommy rested on his forearms on either side of your face. His fingers intertwined over your head as he rested his forehead on yours. You let your legs fall apart so he could line himself up. You reached down to feel him throbbing, to the point you wondered if it was painful for him.

Slowly taking him in your hand, you felt him twitch at your touch. You gave him a moment before sliding him between your folds. You felt like someone had dumped a bucket between your legs, you had never been this wet in your life. But, you’d never fucked Thomas Shelby before either.

You lined him up with your literally aching core, and waited for him to press into you. You let your other hand drag lazily over his back. You could feel from the weight of his forehead on yours he was trying to collect himself. Maybe steel himself somehow, you weren’t sure.

“Tommy,” you whispered only loud enough that the two of you could hear. “Tommy look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, Tommy shifted so he could look into your eyes. You could see a small sparkle coming back to his eyes. They were lustful but content. You’d never seen him like this before. You let both of your hands rest on either side of his face, and then gently lifted your head to kiss him tenderly.

“Let’s just….Tommy…”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“Just let me feel you.”

Tommy’s entire body relaxed into yours. Slowly pushing himself into you, your arched as he slowly filled you. Letting that gentle stretch and slight burn wave through you. You pressed warm kisses into the tops of Tommys shoulders as he settled himself inside you. One of his hands cupped your face as he kissed you deeply, you could feel him twitching inside you.

“I want….Y/N….I want you to feel how badly I wa-”

“Tommy,” you cut him off with a quick kiss. “Just let yourself go. It’s me. I’m right here. Just let go.”

Slowly Tommy started to thrust into you, keeping himself inside of you as he rocked his hips. He filled you so completely that every movement was so intense your eyes were pressed shut and you were biting into his shoulder as you whimpered. As his pace started to pick up, his hips started to snap into yours. Thrusting fast and hard he shifted his weight and lifted his hips.

Tightening your legs around him, the angle shifted and he drove directly into your g-spot with unrelenting force. You lost all control and whimpers moved into screams as Tommy fucked you. His pace was unrelenting as he fought his own orgasm. You had come so many times at this point, you weren’t even sure you could again. But when your name slipped past Tommy’s lips, your coil tightened immedaitely.

“Oh fuck….Tommy...I….oh I’m gonna cum...oh...Tommmy…”

“Y/N,” his strangled moan of your name almost made you snap. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. Oh god, Y/N. I’m….I…”

“Yes...yes Tommmy!” you cried out, your hands pressing into the floor below you. “Please! Please I want to feel you!”

You were so close you felt like any second you would snap. Tommys pace almost faltered for a moment, before he finally just let go.

“Y/N, Y/N….I’m….I…”

“Come for me” you breathed.

At that moment, everything went black. Your body coil snapped harder than you knew it possibly could. Every emotion of ecstasy you ever had in your entire life intensified and crashed into you. Tommy completely lose control and buried himself inside of you as he exploded. You could feel him coating your walls as he shook and whimpered over you. Each of you collapsed into each other, completely and utterly spent.

Tommy rolled to your side and pulled you close. Each of you glistened in a layer of sweat as your bodies came together. His frame held you perfectly, and you fit in to every inch of his embrace. You could feel his heart racing with yours, and the last thing you remembered was trying to slow your breathing with Tommy’s.

When you both heard people coming into the office the next morning, you started to wake up. Your body felt like you’d been run over by a series of trucks. Between the fall down the stairs and having the most incredible sex of your life on the floor, not to mention sleeping on it, you were in more pain than you had been in a long time.

“Y/N?” You rolled over and Tommy was looking you over as if he broke you. “Oh my god. Fuck. Y/N, I am so sorry. This floor. And last night I was too hard on you a-”

You stopped his rambling with a deep kiss, and pulled him close to you. Your fingers ran along his jawline as he caressed the side of your face. You both just laid there, lazily kissing and soaking up each others presence.

“If you so much as attempt to apologize for anything that happened last night Thomas Shelby, it will be the last thing you do. Understood?” You laughed as you gave him another kiss.

Voices started to get louder outside, and you knew it was time to go. As you tried to sit up though, your body was having none of it.

“Here,” Tommy sat up next to your side, “let me help you.”

Tommy handed you your clothes as you both got dressed on the floor. He helped you sit up and gathered his things and your coat. When you were all settled he helped you gently stand.

“You alright?” Tommy’s eyes searched yours trying to read your mind for how you were really feeling.

“I won’t lie,” you laughed. “It does hurt pretty bad. But I’ll make it home. With some help if that’s alright?”

Tommy smiled wider than you had seen in years before he gave you a deep and long kiss. He broke the kiss only to dip down and sweep you into his arms, just like a groom does to his new bride.

“Let me take you home, and let me take care of you. How does that sound?”

You couldn’t find the right words, so you answered with a kiss instead.

As Tommy carried you out of the office heads turned to stare. Polly and Arthur came through the door just as Tommy was carrying you out.

“Hello Polly. Hello Arthur.” You smiled and waved as you both left. They stood in the doorway and watched Tommy carry you to his car just down the street.

“So she’s talkin’ around him again then?” Aruthur looked at Polly, completely confused.

“Oh she’s talking alright,” Polly smiled.

#thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader smut #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby smut

[maximoffvizh]

fic: the sun is too bright for me (but your smile is brighter)

he’s imagined how he’ll tell people this story. ‘i grabbed her scarf when it blew out of her hands in the wind’ said in a dreamy voice. absolutely no mention of the vampire reflexes that allowed him to do that | scarletvision au: vision is a vampire trying very hard to pretend to be human for the sake of his new girlfriend. don’t ask him why he doesn’t want her to know

He tugs anxiously at the tight collar of his turtleneck, wondering whether he should drop down to an even lighter shade of blue. Maybe this rich colour is too much of a contrast to his pallor, maybe it shows that his eyes shine a brighter colour than they should, maybe it means that this magical woman will take one look at him and realise that he wears high necklines to hide the two distinct round scars on his neck.

Vision forces himself to step away from his wardrobe, smoothing his sweater down with anxious fingers. She won’t know. She has no reason to suspect that he’s a vampire, that there are bright white marks on his neck showing where the venom flowed into his blood and changed him that late fateful night. He isn’t like those who lean heavily into this part of their identity, dressed all in black with silk-lined capes around their shoulders, haunting the vampire bars and living in apartments filled with expensive furniture and black marble.

He lives as a normal twenty-seven year old, in a cosy apartment decorated in pops of warm yellow, attending night classes for his third degree and holding down a job as a copy-editor. He speaks French, Italian and Sokovian, he knits and crochets and paints, he plays violin and piano and all of those are accomplishments he’s sure anyone who puts their mind to it would have achieved at twenty-seven. It just happens that he was bitten and made into a vampire in the seventies, and has been aging at a snail’s pace ever since. It allows for plenty of time to master the skills of a child prodigy.

He wishes he could check his reflection as he leaves the apartment, but at least it just so happened that her shift today meant she wouldn’t be free until after dusk. No prickle of sunlight will touch his skin, and he intends to treat her at the wine bar and be able to take a walk with her in the moonlight. They can talk about their lives, and he’ll let her do most of the talking - hearing about her life will be far more interesting than telling the lies of his for the hundredth time.

Wanda is waiting outside the bar for him, and he pauses for a moment to admire her, the dark red dress that hugs her figure and her hair tumbling in gentle waves around her shoulders. A black coat skims around her, and she’s examining her nails as he crosses the street and says a soft, “Hi.”

She starts, almost dropping her purse, then smiles, colour flooding her cheeks. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately horrified. Not even thirty seconds into the first date he’s had in almost fifteen years, and he’s messed it up.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, seemingly collecting herself. “It’s impressive, being that silent. How’d you learn that?”

“Master of hide and seek in school,” he lies quickly, and she giggles. It’s better than telling her he’s so silent because he’s a predator and she, with her blushing cheeks and beating heart, is technically prey. ‘I am, biologically speaking, supposed to eat you’ is not a sentence to say on a first date. Or ever.

Luckily, she talks enough for both of them through their date. Telling him about her cat and her friends and her job and her childhood, talking about the country he saw before war devastated it, stood on its hills and watch dawn stripe the sky pale lavender. He’s content to listen, to hear her accent emerge more the longer she talks, to take in all of her. He can see the myriad shades of green in her eyes, the dark spread of her eyelashes, the faint freckles scattered across her nose breaking through the thin layer of make-up. Every twitch of her fingers draws his eyes, and he can smell the musk of her perfume, and beneath that the sweetness of her skin, his eyes tracing over the web of veins crisscrossing her wrist.

He takes a deep breath to clear his head, and instead takes a long sip of wine. Wanda giggles and says, “Slow down, handsome, I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you home.” She reaches across the table and brushes a stain away from the corner of his mouth, her finger so warm against his skin, and he stares at her for a long moment before he ducks his head.

Their walk through the park takes them to a stream, a picturesque curved bridge, and he grins helplessly when she tangles their gloved hands together, tossing her hair back over one shoulder and smiling at him. She pauses at the arch of the bridge, and he looks down at the colours caught in the water, at the trembling reflection of the moon.

Then her lips are on his, scalding hot, and he leans into this first romantic contact in so long, the first real human contact in years. Her hand touches his cheek and doesn’t jerk back at the cool of his skin, but cradles him closer. His arms wrap around her and he’s sure that he wouldn’t even notice if the bridge collapsed beneath them.

He does, however, notice when it starts to rain. But Wanda just beams at him and pulls her umbrella from her bag, raising it above them and continuing to kiss him. It feels like a scene from one of the movies he loved so much in the eighties, still watches despite Sam insisting that he has to get a more modern taste in his media, and he smiles against her mouth.

Being in a relationship - that’s what this is, a relationship, a beautiful woman who cheerfully and casually calls him her boyfriend and brings him coffee and buys him novelty socks just because - is somewhat difficult when he’s keeping such a huge secret from her. But he can’t bring himself to tell her. She thinks he’s just a normal guy, admires his cosy apartment and beams when he answers her questions in her language, gushes over the painting and scarf he gifts her for her birthday and lingers in his arms even when he makes excuses about poor circulation and not being able to warm her up.

She’s also shrewd, and clever, and it’s difficult to fool her. He can put her off kissing him after she’s eaten Italian by lying that he’s allergic to garlic, but he ruins that by kissing her when she leaves and having to quickly backtrack and claim the allergy isn’t so severe that it will affect him if he doesn’t ingest garlic. She wears a silver necklace one night that makes his nose itch and his eyes water, and the first excuse that comes to mind is that he just got very emotional over the sight of an old man pushing his equally old dog in a red wagon. He tries to put her off taking photos again and again, until she thinks he’s ashamed of her and that turns into a three-day silence before he turns up at her door with an armful of flowers and a mouthful of apologies, and she kisses him and promises she won’t do anything he isn’t ready for.

She falls out his lap, rumpled and panting and wanting, after they’ve been carefully and slowly making out for minutes at a time, her skirt tugged up high on her thighs and her shirt riding up, and he feebly lies that he has a migraine and leaves her apartment. He’s thrumming with desire, shaking with it, and his fangs are dropped and he runs his tongue over their points with a shudder of horrors. If she’d felt them...if they’d gone further...if he’d hurt her...he has to break up with her.

“Or you could just tell her the truth,” Sam says. He’s lounging on his couch, playing MarioKart, and Vision is fretting on the gaudy rug he’s always hated that Sam bought. For someone who was born in the eighties and turned in the early noughties, Sam really has a thing for the garish seventies aesthetic. “Vampires are common knowledge, she’s not gonna run away screaming.”

“You don’t know that,” Vision says, miserably picking at the seal of a blood pouch. He can still see Wanda’s eyes dark with desire, feel the press of her hips into his, and he can imagine how he looks after dinner. Fangs dropped and stained crimson at the tips. She’d be horrified to see him like this. “I really like her, and-”

“And the last time you really liked somebody you ended up hiding from the crazy father that thought you were a demon and tried to shoot you, I know,” Sam says, and Vision shivers at the memory. Virginia’s father screaming about the devil and his monsters, the bullet that passed harmlessly through him, diving into a river and letting the current carry him away, emerging hours later with nothing to show for it but the filth that caked him, the silvery scar in his chest and the knowledge that getting too close to humans is dangerous. “But times have changed, my friend. We’re an acknowledged species. And this girl doesn’t have a father to chase you with a shotgun, anyway.”

Vision throws the blood pouch at his head. Sam catches it, tears the corner off with a quick flick of his head, and drains it without losing first place in his game. And Vision mopes to bed, lying awake as the sun rises.

He doesn’t see Wanda for a week, avoids her calls and answering her texts. He paints sad dark paintings, works harder, and spends his nights reading long rambling stories about love and crying while Sam makes fun of him. He stares down the barrel of eternity and no more time with her, and he pretends that he isn’t upset. Pretends that he knew that an ending was inevitable, because a relationship between a vampire and a human can’t work out.

He pretends that even when Ian proposes to Sam, and he realises that maybe it can.

To: Wanda

Hey. I’m really sorry. Can we talk?

The knock on his door comes three hours after the fateful text, and Wanda is in his apartment. She’s wearing an enormous grey hoodie and leggings, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and carrying a coffee cup. And she stares at him witheringly, arching an eyebrow, and says, “So you ghosted me for a week, and you wanna talk?”

“I’m so sorry,” he says weakly. “I...I didn’t know what else to do.”

“If you didn’t wanna have sex with me, all you had to do was say so,” she says, and the defiance is fading into hurt, and guilt is pouring hot and gnawing into his chest and he wishes he was human. That he could take her in his arms and show her all the things he wants to do without being paralysingly afraid of hurting her. “If you want to break up-”

“No!” he insists, and she looks up, her eyes narrowed. “No, the last thing I want to do is end this. I...Wanda, you make me feel human-”

“But you are...” She trails off, and her eyes drop to his neck, deliberately bared. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He slumps back on the couch, and she’s still standing, moving closer. “I...the last relationship I had ended in her father chasing me off the property with a gun, before people really understood vampires, and I couldn’t...I can’t bear to think about losing you because of this.” He pushes a hand through his hair, and says, “But if you want to leave...if this is all too much for you...I won’t begrudge you your decision. It would be for your safety-”

“Vizh.” Her voice is soft, sweet, and she cups his face between her hands before she cradles his head to her stomach, and he closes his eyes and breathes her in. “You make me feel safe. It doesn’t matter to me what you are, you’re clearly in control of yourself. And now it makes sense why we only meet at night, and why you don’t wanna take photos, and why you don’t like when I eat Italian, and why you flinched every time I touched you when I was wearing silver jewellery...” She trails off, and he lifts his head to see her frowning adorably. “But why wouldn’t you have sex with me?”

“Oh...um...” If he could blush, he certainly would with her curious expression and her bright eyes. “See...it’s hard for us...vampires, I mean...to control ourselves with human...lovers. And I’m scared that I...I might get carried away and hurt you. Because I...we’d be so close. I’d hear your heart so loudly, and we’d be...naked. And things. I don’t...I don’t want you to get hurt. Not by me.”

“Oh sweetie.” She lifts his chin and plants a simple, sweet kiss on his lips. “You could never hurt me.” Then she smirks, slides into his lap, and breathes, “And make no mistake - I’ll always be the one in control.”

She kisses him, long and hard and dirty, and his breath rasps into her mouth. Her kisses trace a path from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and she whispers, “By the way, you’re a terrible liar. I’ve known from the start.” A tug of her teeth on his earlobe, and she breathes, “Fucking a vampire is on my bucket list. But only if I top.”

If a dead heart could come pounding back to life, that would be the sentence that does it.

#beth writes fic #scarlet vision #scarletvision au #visionmcu #scarletwxnda

[secret-time-is-here]

The King and his Aid

Chapter 9: “I’m here.“

I hope you enjoy this, towards the end my hands started cracking (I have eczema on my hands) so put on some lotion and they were burning the last hundred or so words. BUT I FINISHED IT :’D

Previous - First (Season 1) - First (Season 2) - Next

His body shivered as the cold licked and bit at his bones. Despite the freezing and depressing aura the house held, he moved forward automatically, walking through calmly when his Father and friend couldn’t even brave it. All of this felt so familiar, but he’s never done this before. Never dared to make it through to the villain’s lair. At least in this life.

Were they even a villain? If what everything his family has told him about Neil is True, then he’s far from.

“An angel.” A voice in the back of his head provided, “So amazing that he wears his imperfections not as barriers or blocks, but as advantages, the traits that make him, him.”

His pace through the house slowed, why would he ever think about Neil like that?

“You may not think of him like that openly,” He started to stutter on what to say, deny the voice in his head, and blush. “However, I nearly always have.” The voice spoke further, seeming more self-aware than the preassumed simple voice of conscience.

Was someone there with him?

He began to turn his head from each side look everywhere he could, even to see if some small being was hiding in the beams of the self-made log cabin. The voice continued: “It only took me months of knowing him to realize that I love him and that in the eyes of society, our kind is wrong.”

He gulped, thinking of the different punishments and convictions you could be given for simply being different. He wasn’t just scared for himself, he was scared for the voice in his head as well.

“That in the eyes of society, it is wrong for me as a man to like another man. That it is wrong for a woman to like another woman. That it’s wrong to like someone of the same gender. That it’s wrong for anyone to be different than the path laid before us.”

Gene stopped just a yard away from Neil’s bedroom door, not in fear of the pools of negativity that oozed out from under the door and into the weak fabric of his shoes, threatening that if he were to not be careful they would stain his pants as well. He stood in confusion.

“Edwin?” Gene spoke aloud, hoping that he wasn’t going crazy.

“Yes, I’ve been here with you the whole time. Just waiting for you to accept how we are.”

“Why did you show up now and not earlier?” His expression still held confusion, but the dark droplets of anger started to spread, overtaking him with anger.“So i wouldn’t have to deal with all of this?” He gestured, getting more frustrated, “The mess that you left behind?! I’m supposed to be a kid! I don’t want to deal with these problems...” The anger left as soon as it came, “Why?”

“If I showed up before you solved your personal problems, I wouldn’t have been able to put all of this to rest.”

“What...” His gaze dropped to the floor, hunched over, defensive. Worry began to spread and the tension left his body, leaving his head hanging, and mouth dry as he asked: “...What are you suggesting?” He had only been able to hear a few stories about Edwin and was still unsure about him.

“We merge our lives, our memories, live as one being.” Gene just stared at the floor, contemplative, “I can tell you care for him just as much as I do.”

“My mental age doesn’t help, though.” Gene sighed opting to sit on the floor, frustratingly puffed cheeks resting on his fists as he continued to stare at the ground, “I’ve only known him for a few weeks- how- why… is he so amazing?? And cute?? And handsome??”

“He’s naturally obviously quirky and goes out of his way to make the people he cares about happy, even when he doesn’t realize it. Even when his soul was physically cracking and he was stuck to bed rest, he tried his best to make me happy.” Gene’s frown curved into a smile, he wanted to be able to remember what Edwin could, to know for himself how caring Neil could be, “If we merged, we could live happily with him.”

“...Is he a good lover?” Edwin laughed as if he heard the funniest joke. “It’s an honest question!”

“Yes, he’s an amazing lover, he’s treated us like royalty over the years. Which is fitting considering that: If the world was different, Neil and I would be married and sitting on thrones right now.” He could practically feel Edwin’s smile, “I still hope, one day the world will change, and we can truly have our wedding.”

A silence fell, and he could feel Edwin’s smile drop as well.

“...I need to get back to him.” Gene raised a brow, once again confused, “We’ve lived nearly our entire lives side by side. Acquaintances to friends to best friends to secret lovers. It’s always been the two of us. Even when Neil was forced to marry Cecil. It was still just the King and his Aid.”

Gene moved his eyes from the floor back to the door, letting his soul hear the desperate call of Neil’s.

“We have family. More family and friends that are strongly trusted to keep our secret.” Gene perked up at this, “Neil’s brother Dean, and his husband Cecil, they share a seret similar to ours.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is stuck in a female body. He doesn’t like being a princess. Like our situation. Stuck in a body that does fit how we mentally are.” Gene nodded in understanding, “They have a son, Martin, they’ve been raising him to treat everyone, no matter their sexuality, gender identity, or romantic preference, with respect. Our friends have learned of both of our secrets, and are secretly pulling strings in the castle as we speak.”

“...you have friends that… that accept us being, you know?” Gene questioned, genuinely surprised by the information.

“The different heads of departments, and Dean’s own personal guards. Even the head of Heads, and now Head of the court as well, Ian is on our side. When we were thrown in a cell, before Neil came to save us, he visited. Bringing food and questions. He left with answers and a different train of thought. It took time, but Cecil confided in all of them too, we write to each other as much as we can.”

“Alright, I’ll do it.”

“Then this will be the last time we can talk. Just know, we will live happily...”

“One last thing, though.” Gene shyly spoke up, “Why was our connection gone? Why didn’t all the memories stay?”

“We aren’t allowed to exist together, but don’t worry, when I do this, we will be one and the same. One life. One person.”

-----

He was a monster.

There was no question.

The shivering winter frost keeping him rooted. Seas of corruption and the pure negativity his soul was made of pouring from him. His bones were nearly melting from the sheer amount of it. His jaw long since hanging. Eyes covered by the goop. Feeling lost in his arms. The only senses left were hearing and smell. The two most useless ones when you’re alone.

The weight of the silence fell onto him like a piano. Any small noise cutting through him with a weapon of fear. It could be an animal or the police coming to jail him for suspicions of being homosexual. Either seemed to be a logical option at this point.

Then, the muffled sound of a voice. He couldn’t tell who it was. The sound echoed and distorted through the door and the pools of runny liquid.

A whimper escaped him. It was hopeless. The police were here, his life would be uprooted. He would either be sent back home and likely thrown into a secluded cell or religious place or kept in America to do the same things. It was a coin toss and he didn’t like either choice.

Then, a pair of muscular arms surrounded him and his nasal cavity was filled with the smell of parchment and flowers. The smell of plants and books. The smell of his lover. The feel of his lover.

The negativity stopped flowing from his body. One of his eyes was uncovered.

A teary-eyed Edwin looked at him happily.

“It’s okay.” He was carefully pulled into Edwin’s lap, and an arm moved to caress his cheekbone, moving his jaw back into place “Emotions are fine. You’re safe. You don’t have to hide anything with me.” His arms were pulled around his lover’s neck, and Edwin moved his skull to nuzzle Neil’s neck, “Shhhh, I’m here.”

He really is.

“I’m so sorry it had to last this long. I had to let Gene handle his problems before we could live happily again.”

“S-shut up, glitch-fest,” Neil hiccuped, squeezing his arms tighter around the other, “P-please, I just need to cuddle you right now. Just know that… that you’re really here.” Neil’s soul glowed as he spoke, and Edwin carefully pulled it out with his own, letting them drift next to one and other, Edwin exchanging his magic to the nearly shattered soul. For some time, he would need to heal, but, they would do it together.

Geno and Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Ink belongs to @comyet

Ccino belongs to @black-nyanko

Dream and Nightmare belong to the fandom

#Undertale #my writing #Fanfic #The King and his Aid #I'm here. #nightmare x error #Error x Nightmare #Geno x Nightmare #Nighmare x Geno #Tecnically? #Neil x Edwin #Edwin x Neil #Gene x Neil #Neil x Gene #Neil Nightmare Joku #Nightmare #Gene Geno Toby #Geno #Edwin Error Seeque #Edwin #Ian Ink Comyet #Ink #Dean Dream Joku #Dream #Cecil Ccino Nyanko #Ccino #Martin LaMacchi Joku #lamacchi #ShipKid #Dream x Ccino

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Trust (SuperCorp Criminal Minds AU)

I have 2 SuperCorp versions of this. This is currently my favorite one. Born mostly because Katie in Kevlar is HOT. 

DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about the FBI, law enforcement or intelligence agencies, sorry. Also, for the FBI agent watching me, THIS is what all those searches were for, and nothing else:

⦁ The BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) team in this AU is led by J'onn, and consists of Alex, Maggie, James, and Winn. Brainy is their technical analyst. Sometimes I add Sam in as the PR liaison in the team, and Nia as an FBI trainee. 

⦁ Lena is in the team, too. She's a transfer from Interpol, and she's had years of experience in profiling, suspect and victim identification, as well as infiltration, under her belt (I also hc that she worked with the CIA and the MI6, mostly in intel, profiling and undercover work). In this version, I kinda put her in Prentiss's role, but y'know, more Lena Luthor-esque.

⦁ Lena is still a Luthor in this one. Lex is a serial killer, and this is part of the reason why Lena took an interest in criminal profiling, and joined the BAU in the first place. She feels responsible for not stopping Lex before he could kill at least 47 people (that they know of).

⦁ Lex started killing when Lena was ten. She'd been shipped off to boarding school, and she didn't know about it. During the holidays when she returned to Luthor Manor, she didn't see it at first, because Lex was very clever at hiding it, but soon, she begins to see signs of his psychopathy.

⦁ In one version of this story, Clark is a reporter who, like Lena, made the connection between Lex and the murders. One night after dinner with the Luthors, Clark sneaks into Lex's study to find evidence he can use for his story. 

He’s rummaging in a desk when he hears a voice from the doorway.

"You won't find anything there." Clark whips around to find Lena standing there, silhouetted against the light coming from the hall. He tenses, thinking she's about to tell her brother what Clark was doing. 

"If Lex really is behind these murders, and I know you think he is, you won't find anything there. He's not foolish enough to hide evidence here." 

Clark doesn't say anything, he just stares at her. Lena pauses, looking away. "I... I didn't want to believe it. Not Lex... He wouldn't..." Steel injects itself into her green gaze. "But the more time I spend with him, the more clearly I see the truth. You see it too, don't you?" 

Clark straightens up and nods gravely. “Yes.”

⦁ I haven't thought it through quite yet, but they get the FBI involved, including one agent on the fast track to unit chief, J'onn Jonzz. He meets Lena only briefly, and he's struck by the young girl's keen intelligence and remarkable calm. He's the one who suggests that she consider a career in profiling and criminal psychology.

⦁ Fast forward 12 or so years later, Lena is on the BAU with the others. For the sake of her anonymity (and also because it was necessary for her undercover work), she's erased all connections to Lex and the Luthors (including old photographs and newspaper articles until the name Lena Luthor is but a footnote in the Luthor history with nothing to tie her to who she is now). She's also changed her last name to her birth mother's (and just because I'm also an Adlocker, I hc that her last name now is Wolfe but whatever).

⦁ She's very professional, is revered by the younger agents in the Bureau, well-respected by her colleagues and highly praised by her superiors (they all secretly call her "The Ice Queen"). But she's very guarded and keeps everyone at arm's length, doesn't go out for after-work drinks with the others, practically sleeps with one eye open -- years of working undercover and living with a serial killer will do that to you.

⦁ Until a certain promising young recruit comes along. Special Agent Kara Danvers is new in town -- adopted sister of Agent Alex Danvers, the cousin of one of J'onn's old friends (I don't think teaming family members up is actually allowed in the FBI, so some suspension of disbelief is required here). Since he doesn't want to be accused of nepotism in his own team, he asks Lena to oversee her training and transition into the team herself.

⦁ Kara's sunny demeanor couldn't clash more with Lena's icy, professional front. Lena approaches the task with thinly-veiled impatience and something remarkably close to disdain. 

However, Kara quickly proves to be more than a perky attitude and a pretty smile. She squirms at blood, which Lena is initially quick to exploit (What FBI profiler can't stand the sight of a bludgeoned corpse? "We profile serial killers here, not celebrities in high-waisted jeans.") -- but Kara displays true empathy to the victims and their families, she's sensitive to other people's emotions and knows just what to say to get a reluctant victim or witness talking. She's extremely dedicated to catching the unsubs, and relentless in her investigation, and she's extremely handy to have around in a crisis.

⦁ Lena finds this last part out when they're on a case, trying to find a missing girl. The team is headed to the unsub's apartment, but on a hunch, Lena heads to an abandoned warehouse near the apartment, with only Kara as backup. They enter the warehouse, and just as they're clearing the rooms and checking for the missing girl, the unsub attacks Lena and manages to pin her to the ground, choking her. Kara gets there just in time to shoot the unsub in the leg, saving Lena's life.

⦁ Later that evening, Kara and the rest of the team go to the bar to celebrate. Lena is absent, as usual. 

Just as Kara is getting another round of drinks at the bar, a low, smoky voice interrupts her. "Didn't profile you as a drinker, Danvers. I wonder what other surprises you're hiding behind those glasses and cardigans." 

Kara squeaks and turns to see Lena behind her. "Agent Wolfe! I didn’t expect to see you here-- No, these aren't all for me, I--"

Lena's face softens at Kara's babbling, and she takes a few of the shot glasses from Kara's hands. "You know, I have a rule... Anyone who saves my life gets to call me Lena." 

Kara blushes profusely at the other woman’s arched eyebrow. "Well then, if I'm calling you Lena--" 

Lena smirks. "Kara it is, then." 

For the first time -- much to the gaping surprise of the rest of the team she's worked with for years -- Lena joins them for a post-case drink.

⦁ To everyone's -- and no one's -- surprise, the pair quickly become the best of friends. 2 days into their friendship, Lena starts jokingly calling her Supergirl. 3 weeks later, they start grabbing lunch together. 

3 months in, Kara sends Lena a video of herself petting a St. Bernard on the street only to be bowled over in a mass of furry paws and puppy licks -- and the cadets Lena is training are even more bowled over to hear the "Ice Queen" laugh (of course, they're later treated with a scorching glare and a sharp reprimand, but it's a revelation just to discover that she's actually physically capable of laughing). 

By 6 months, the whole department is in a secret "will they or won't they" betting pool. A year in, and every other department has stakes in the pool (Alex publicly condemns the pool, but secretly has Maggie bet a hundred bucks for her that "they will" by winter next year).

⦁ But despite their growing closeness, Lena has yet to tell Kara about Lex, or about her life working undercover for Interpol (which includes a decidedly less-good Kate Kane). She decides to bury it in the past, (wishful) thinking that it belongs there. Lena is no longer the same teenager betrayed by her brother when he killed forty people. Nor is she "Lauren Reynolds", the undercover "arms dealer", who had betrayed Valhalla, the woman who commanded a terrorist cell by day and worshiped Lena’s body by night (yes, I put Kate in the role of Ian Doyle). 

So she keeps silent. About Lex. About Kate Kane and Valhalla. About the beautiful little boy with wide, trusting eyes, who was not her son, but whom Lena had loved and protected all these years as if he were.

⦁ There are too many secrets, Lena decides, as she shoves them all one by one into their little boxes, clamping the lid securely shut. Kara is too good to be tainted by any of them. Kara, who gets squeamish at the sight of blood, but resolutely hunts each killer like an avenging angel. Kara, who somehow, still believes in the good in people, and when she realizes that there is very little of that to be found in Lena Wolfe or Lena Luthor, Kara will hate her as much as Lena hates herself.

But then the day comes when Lena receives a package in the mail. She reaches in and pulls out two things: a four-leaf clover, and a surveillance photo of Kara and Lena having lunch together. On the back of the photograph are three cryptic little words that fill her with dread: “See you soon.”

[yeah, so I’m binge-watching Criminal Minds with these AU-goggles firmly in place now] Should I continue this????

#supercorp #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #lena luthor #supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #j'onn j'onzz #clark kent #lex luthor #criminal minds #fanfic #supercorp au #i just had to get this out of my head

[wafflesetc]

What’s in a name?

OL: Missing Moment, Drums of Autumn Timeline.

Shout out to @missclairebelle and @kkruml for being the ballers they are. XO.

She thought she had seen what marriage was like- once upon a time, in a whole other century.  Yet, she also thought she had known who Claire Beauchamp was- that is, until she saw Claire with him.

The first time she heard it, she was standing inside the house: the windows were open and the door was ajar with the light autumn breeze that filled the house. The mountain air was cool and crisp on her face. Her mother was standing on the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around her body while she watched the horizon for a sign of her husband.

She peered out the window to see her father coming with a deer on his back, his cheeks flushed from the day’s work. Bree watched as her father dropped the deer onto the porch and her mother opened her arms. Jamie reached and pulled Claire into his embrace, kissing her forehead.

“Sassenach,” Her da breathed quietly, pushing a curl out of her mam’s face,  “I missed ye.”

“Mmhmm,” Claire sighed happily tilting her head up and kissing the base of Jamie’s jaw. “It is good to have you home.”

He pulled her mother closer, each just breathing the other’s air—present and whole—alive and together.  She watched their embrace for a moment, her eyes lingering on them for what seemed like an eternity.

Sassenach, she thought to herself- that’s an odd term of endearment.  But as her mother reached up and cupped her father’s cheek, she witnessed a look shared between them- a million unsaid words and feelings conveyed with just a look- in the moment it was just them, their own little universe.

Bree smiled to herself, turning on her heel, leaving them in their own little world.

The second and third time she heard it, she didn’t even realize at first her father was doing it.

She had heard the stories. Her Da’s time of war, of prison, of living in a cave. She had heard the tales of the three years Claire had spent with him. She had heard about the man named Murtagh, their careful guardian and companion, a man she wished she’d also get the chance to meet. She heard their tales of the Bonnie Prince and that terrible day where their lives had taken that dreadful turn. Brianna knew all the bad, ugly, and torturous things that had happened to Jamie Fraser.

He had once been a man in a story: a man that had no face, no image in her mind. Jamie Fraser was just the hero of her mother’s story- but now he was living, breathing, and before her very eyes.

Bree poured a cup of whisky and set it on the table. Her father sat, his hand reaching for hers and giving it a light squeeze.

“Thank ye, lass.” His voice was quieter than usual and she could hear and underlying tone of pain beneath his bravado.

“You were out working all day, while I just stood around and washed and folded clothes. It’s the least I can do.” She put a hand on his shoulder giving him a tight squeeze in return.

“Have you seen yer mam?” Jamie asked as he reached for the glass and took a sip.

“Not too long ago she went to stitch someone up, I think- she should be back any minute….” Bree answered as she heard the door creak open. “Speak of the devil.”

“The devil am I?” Claire smiled, medical box in hand, and shut the door behind her. “Am I needed somewhere?”

Bree leaned against the counter and turned to face her mom. “Da was just asking where you were.”

“I see,” Her mother shrugged off her scarf and hung it on the wall, “Did you cut yourself today, Jamie?”

Bree watched as her father shook his head, and with tired eyes looked back up to Claire.

“Mo nighean donn,” He breathed almost silently, and stuck his hand out to his wife.

Oh for the love of god he needs her. He just… needs her. She thought to herself, she could feel her heart swell in that moment.

Bree turned her attention to her mother, whose entire demeanor changed at Jamie’s words.  Her smile faded and was replaced pensive look and a raise of her eyebrows.

Wordlessly, Claire took his hand and sat on his knee. “Headache?” She asked.

Jamie shook his head and Claire’s hand came to the base of his skull, rubbing small circles in a uniformed pattern. Jamie let out a breath and Scottish grunt of relief; it caused Bree to stifle a laugh.

“I’d say Da is happy you’re home.”

“Appears so.” Her mother laughed and moved her hands now Jamie’s neck.

“Mo chridhe, ye have the hands of an angel.” Jamie laughed and kissed her neck.

Bree stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt and blushed, almost from embarrassment, seeing her parents be intimate and make references to their sex life- that’s for sure one thing she had missed in her teenage years. Yet, part of her enjoyed seeing this- whatever it was between them- to see Mama nothing but happy.

“Bree, open my medical kit. Top row there is a black bottle, hand it to me.”

Brianna nodded in response, walking across the room and opening the box and grabbing the item, handing it across the table to her mom.

“Thank you, love.” Claire beamed with a smile. She stopped rubbing the back of Jamie’s neck and opened the bottle, pouring some oil onto her hands.  

“I’m going to rub this on your neck and your temples,” She started massaging Jamie’s neck again, “And then I am going to go get out of these dirty rags and feed you two.”

“Aye, Sassenach.”

“I’ll set the table.” Bree turned to the shelves and grabbed some bowls, while her mother finished rubbing her father’s temples. She felt the temperature rise in her cheeks as her father’s moans filled the silent room. Thinking to herself, I think they need a moment.

“Alright, finished.” Claire kissed Jamie’s cheek. “You taste like peppermint.”

“I smell like it too.” He agreed.

“I’ll be right back, then we can eat.”

Bree kept her attention on getting the dishes and silverware out as she heard her mother’s footsteps leave the room. She turned to find her father sitting still, a grin across his face and the tips of his ears turned a shade of red.

“Yer mam, lass…” Jamie started, she couldn’t tell if it was meant to be heard or not, so she just let the words linger as she set the table around him. “Is sae good for a lot of things…. Tendin’ to me, Christ. Woman has an angel’s touch. I am a better man because she grounds me.”

She stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. “I bet she’s good for other things, aye?” Bree said in her best Scottish accent.

Her father turned his head, his brown quirked and an impish smile, his face blushing.  “Aye, lass.”

Bree could feel her father’s eyes watching her as she finished rinsing the bowls. “If you want to ask me something, all you have to do is, you know, ask.”

He laughed at that and ran a hand through his hair. “Yer mam may say we look alike, and we do, but I canna lie to ye, Bree. Ye are definitely Claire’s daughter.”

Bree’s cheeks flushed at that, because of course she was Claire Fraser’s daughter- no matter who had fathered her or raised her, or was in her life now, her mother had always been there. She knew she had inherited some of her mother’s stubborn tendencies, knack for speaking when less than appropriate for a woman in this present time, and having a predisposition to not hide some thoughts

“And what makes you say that?” She turned and sat back down at the table, across from her da.

“Ye both do this small furrow in your brows,” Jamie grinned as he reached across the table. He placed his finger right in-between her eyes. “And when ye have somethin’ ye want to say, it stays. And ye purse yer lips.”

“Hmmm.” She said as she pursed her lips.

“Just like that.” Her father sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Out wi’ it.”

“It sounds funny….” Bree admitted and tossed her hair into a bun.

“Mmm.” Her father said, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Okay, fine.” Bree said in defeat, “You know, I didn’t think much of it at first. But being around you two, and seeing and hearing you two talk… I realized, you never call mama, Claire…” She stopped and pulled her eyes up to meet her da’s gaze. “Daddy always called her Claire, or Dr. Randall. But she’s not just Claire to you…”

“Ah,” Her father whispered. He sat at the table, his fingers fidgeting and she could see a look of inquiry on his face. “I see.”

“I was just wondering… Why is that?”

“Did yer mam tell you about the night we met?” He asked, leaning his arms onto the table.

“She did. She fixed your shoulder.”  

“She was in naught but a white shift, hair disheveled, and I woke up in the dark, lookin’ up at her face…” Jamie smiled to himself, a memory coming back to his vision. “I didna know her name or where she was from, but she saw me in that moment. I wasna a wanted man, a traitor, or a prisoner, I was just there.”

Her father stopped talking and reached for her hand. Bree reached across the table and took it, his hand warm, large, and encompassing.

“I told her once that for so many years, I had been so many things to other people. I was ‘Uncle’ to yer cousins, ‘Brother’ to yer auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian, ‘Milord’ to Fergus, ‘Mac Dubh’ to my men at Ardsmuir, and then ‘MacKenzie’ when I was at Helwater, ‘Malcolm’ the printer.... I am only Jamie Fraser when I am with yer mam.”

She watched a small film of tears covered her da’s eyes. “I dinna ken how to explain it lass, but she’s Claire to everyone else… But to me, she’s so much more than just a name.”

Her own eyes filled with tears now, and she let one fall down her face.

“Thank you for loving her, me… Us.…” She whispered as she felt his thumb wipe away her tears.  “And what am I to you, then?”

“Mo cuishle,” her father said, barely above a whisper, “Yer the one who makes my world go round.”

#Outlander #Jamie x Claire #Brianna Mackenzie #outlander fanfiction #Ol: drums #missing moment #myfic! #craigh na queue

[whiskynottea]

An interruption in the 1st law of thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33

AO3

@wunderlichkind, thank you so much for being my beta for this chapter!! ❤️

Chapter 34. Lingering Smiles

Lingering smiles are sly creatures. Reluctant to leave your face, they tug up the corners of your lips until you’ve forgotten they’re there.

Clueless, you keep going on, proud that no one can understand what’s hiding under your skin; until that lingering smile betrays you, disclosing information you believed camouflaged.

Jamie had been gone by the time Lamb came back home, but a soft smile was still changing the shape of my mouth, lighting up my face. Lamb’s glance traveled from me to the chemistry book in my hands, and a raised eyebrow accompanied the glint in his eye. I didn’t know what he’d thought or had guessed, for he didn’t talk – thank God. He leaned over me and planted a kiss on my forehead, saying, “Hello, lamb.”

His hands ruffled my hair, something that he hadn’t done in years. “Welcome home!” I said, and swallowed my self-consciousness as I sat up on the couch, carefully placing the book on the coffee table. Lamb moved to the kitchen, opened the fridge absentmindedly, and stared at its contents.

“How’s it going?” he asked in a casual tone and nodded to the coffee table. The air tightly held in my lungs left my chest in a sigh of relief, and I started talking about my studying plans, thankful for escaping an awkward conversation.

Two days later, I found out that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop smiling on Friday.

“So?” Jenny appeared next to me the moment I entered the courtyard, pursing her lips as if she was trying to keep tons of questions inside.

“Good morning to you too, Jenny,” I said with a yawn. I’d overslept after staying up until late to study, and all I wanted was to get back into my bed. My pillow… my soft duvet… I had already closed my eyes, stretching my neck, when Jenny’s voice dragged me out of my dreams again.

“Good morning, Claire. So?”

“So what?” I opened my eyes to see Jenny Fraser looking back at me, expectant, her blue eyes slanted from the slight smile on her lips.

“So, my wee dolt of a brother came back home on Friday night, wi’ the broadest smile I’ve ever seen on him.”

“Did he now?” I asked, feigning ignorance, while a similar smile was curving up my lips.

“Mmmph,” Jenny rolled her eyes, but decided that the Scottish noise wasn’t enough – she needed to say more. “Claire Beauchamp, d’ye think I’m a bloody fool? I know ye two did it! I was almost sure when I saw my brother, but I actually know it because Jamie told Ian!”

“He did? Oh, cool. Glad we are all up to date then.” I looked around, searching for Jamie, not sure what I’d do to him once I found him. Ian was his best friend – of course he’d tell him. “Oh, wait.” I felt my eyes go wide and turned my attention to Jenny again. “Does Murtagh know, too?”

“Ah, I dinna ken. I guess so. When Jamie arrived, Murtagh let out one of his unexplained grunts, shaking his head, but I think I saw him smiling under that thick castaway beard of his.”

Oh my God, Jamie. You could have at least tried to be a little less obvious.

“He couldn’t help it, Claire,” Jenny said as if she’d read my thoughts. “The lad was positively shining.”

“So, what else do you know?” I asked, wondering whether I really wanted to know the answer.

“Not much. No details, at least… Just some rubbish about ‘making love’ – as he called it – being magical and him being the happiest man in the world.” Jenny batted her eyelashes, mocking her brother, but she suddenly stopped. “You did use a condom, right?”

“We did,” I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks soon burned crimson with the memory of how we came to use that first condom.

“Oh my god, you’re blushing, too! Ian told me Jamie’s face looked like a ripe tomato when he told him ye’d had sex! You’re both insufferable.” Jenny linked her arm with mine through mine and we started walking towards the building.

“So how was it?” she asked, he voice now caring and serious.

“Good,” I said, nodding to emphasize the single word that didn’t even begin to encompass the experience; something surpassing words and meanings.

“Just good?” Jenny asked, worried. “Did he do anything stupid or – ”

“No, no. Jamie was perfect,” I interrupted her, smiling at the thought of him. I hadn’t lied, he was everything I could ever ask for. “The first time was okay, I guess… The – ”

“The first time?” It was Jenny’s turn to interrupt me, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “How many times did ye bang? Couldn’t stop after trying it, huh?”

I chuckled and shrugged. “Well, the second time was more than fun… I can’t even imagine how good it’s going to be from now on.”

“Good… Fun… Are you going to tell me the truth, Claire, or am I just losing my time here instead of… doing nothing but wait in the classroom?”

We both laughed, and I felt an easiness softly spreading around us like a comfortable, warm sheet in the crisp winter morning. It kept the emotions safe, close to our bodies, protecting them from roaming freely around the courtyard.

“It was amazing, Jenny.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “The way we felt, the way we connected, it was so different from anything else. We were really one.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jenny said and sighed, squeezing my arm. “Lucky you!” she continued with a pout. “And I’m with Ian for so long and still nothing.”

“Oh come on… You never know when it’s going to happen. It came out of the blue for us – and we had the whole place to ourselves. It’ll happen, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, sure. Ian thinks too much, in my opinion. He keeps saying that we can’t just do it and keep living under the same roof with Murtagh and Jamie!”

“It’ll be weird, you think?”

“Hmm, I dinna ken. But Ian definitely thinks so. I’m sure he’s afraid of Murtagh. Deflowering his niece and all.”

“Deflowering!” I burst out laughing.

“Ridiculous, aye?” Jenny joined me. “Anyway! I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks Jenny. Really.” We were just outside my classroom and I turned to face her, wondering how this amazing woman could be my friend. “I love your brother, you know that.”

“I do.” She smiled broadly and winked at me.

“Where is he, by the way?” I asked, while searching around for a glimpse of him.

“Monday.”

“Oh… Right.”

Monday. Morning session in the pool.

--

A few hours later, I saw Jamie Fraser entering the cafeteria and stopping short by the door, gazing around.

Searching for me.

I was sitting at our usual table, and his eyes didn’t leave mine as he was walking towards me, the curls on his forehead bouncing slightly with each step, his lopsided grin making me go weak in the knees. It was a good thing I was sitting down already. I smiled at him with my mouth closed, full of chicken, and my heart full of love.

He was like oxygen. Breathing him in was necessary to keep me alive. Having more of him made me light-headed; lost in a haze, never wanting to find my way out. It was always different between us, but this time I felt like nothing could break the bond we’d created. Something made by the two of us, for the two of us.

“I’ve missed ye so much,” he murmured when he sat next to me, pulling me to him and placing a kiss between my curls.

“Mmm, I missed you too.” I inhaled him deeply, his body’s musky scent mixing with the pear, nutmeg and driftwood of his shower gel - not that I could recognize the odors, but I’d read the description on the bottle when we bought it together.

“I’m sorry I couldna see ye during the weekend, Sassenach,” he said, lowering his head as his forehead came to meet mine.

“Power cleaning – I know.” I kissed the tip of his long, straight nose and he raised his head to look at me. “Is the house perfect to accept the Queen, now?”

Jamie chuckled, a hand moving from my hip to reach for my food. “Aye, ‘tis. Though I dinna think it’s the Queen. I’m pretty sure Murtagh regrets having his house full of people, sometimes.”

“He has someone?” I asked, raising both eyebrows and feeling happy for this grump, wonderful man.

“Mmm, I think so,” Jamie said, wiggling his eyebrows. “What are we eating?”

“I am eating chicken wings, Jamie Fraser, and you take your hands off my food!”

“Ye’re not going to share a wee bite wi’ the love of yer life?”

“The love of my life?” I asked, feigning shock. “That sure, are you?”

Jamie looked at me, seemingly deeply betrayed with a pout on his face and his eyebrows dropping low above his clear blue eyes. Before I had enough time to consider if he had taken my words to heart, a cocky smile changed his demeanor completely. “Aye,” he said, and his hand on my waist gripped me tighter. “And I intend to prove that to ye every day, until ye’re finally convinced as well.”

“Well now, that’s rather interesting.” Placing my elbow on the table, I cupped my cheek, ardently looking at him.

“I canna do it if ye dinna feed me, Sassenach.”

I sighed dramatically and pushed my plate towards him. “Here you are, my poor, starving lad.”

He gave me a cheeky grin and dipped a chicken wing in the tabasco sauce, almost emptying the container. “Hey!”

“You wanted that?” he asked, chewing. “Come, take some back.” He pursed his lips, full of tabasco sauce, and leaned in to kiss me.

“You fool,” I laughed and pushed him away. “Take it. It’s all yours.”

He licked his lips and came closer to me, bending his head so I could almost taste the tabasco on his breath. “I can’t stop thinking of you – of us.”

His husky words became images, dancing in my mind, and my body tightened in response. I breathed in deeply and gulped, trying to find something coherent to say in reply, but not a single thought in my mind made sense. Instead, I covered the small distance between us and kissed him, trying to share the fire he’d lit inside me before it would eat me whole.

“I didna ken that hot sauce is an aphrodisiac, Angus. D’ye think ‘twas written in Cosmo?” Rupert’s voice carried from a few feet behind us and we broke apart with silly, shy smiles on our throbbing lips.

“Ye’re the one who reads Cosmo, Rup,” Angus replied as he sat down across from us, but neither Jamie nor I had turned to look at him, still suspended between our precious bubble and reality. Angus lowered his voice and coughed, trying to sound more sophisticated. “Actually, tabasco peppers are grown in Mexico, not Africa.”

“What?” Rupert’s confusion was obvious in his voice. Jamie and I turned our heads in slow motion to face them, our initial frowns gradually transforming into wide smiles with understanding dawning on us.

“Aphro-disiac?” I asked, trying to suppress my laughter, already feeling Jamie’s body shaking against mine.

The next moment all three of us burst into laughing, with Angus looking at us confused. His furrowed eyebrows and the questioning grimace on his face made it even more difficult for us to stop. I had tears rolling down my cheeks when Ian and Jenny arrived at the table.

“What?” Ian asked, only to trigger another episode of uncontrollable, boisterous laughter.

--

I was in my room, with my chemistry notes spread over every inch of my desk, when my mind traveled back to the cafeteria and Angus’ dumbfoundedness. Chuckling quietly to myself, I did a quick search on google and reached for my phone.

Sassenach: So it seems that tabasco sauce actually is an aphrodisiac! And I found a Tabasco Chocolate Fudge Pudding recipe that we can keep in mind…

I turned my attention back to my notes, trying to focus, but the letters blurred, and the lines danced in front of my eyes. My gaze trailed back on my phone. No response from Jamie.

Sassenach: Hmm… Are you thinking about the pudding or would you rather have the chicken wings?

I put my phone to the side and grabbed my pen, deciding to concentrate on my homework on redox. A moment later, I reached for my phone again, realizing that he hadn’t been online for the last 30 minutes. Once in Oxford, I thought longingly, we wouldn’t have to deal with nights apart. We’d sleep together every night, whispering goodnights into each other’s skin with our eyes already closed.

But before that, we had our Easter holidays to look forward to. After Jamie’s win in the Scottish Schools championship, his coach had asked him to stay in Edinburgh during the break, not to miss his training sessions - which meant that he would stay with me, instead of going to Lallybroch for two weeks. And with Murtagh, Ian and Jenny gone, we’d have his place all to ourselves.

I looked again at my phone’s black screen. I missed him.

Sassenach: Do you think I can come to your place to study chemistry during the break? We could study together? 😎 😏

Sassenach: Where are you?!?!

It had been too long. It never took Jamie more than fifteen minutes to text me back. Moving from my desk, I lay in my bed and turned up the volume on my phone to distract myself.

“So if you're lonely

You know I'm here waiting for you

I'm just a cross hair

I'm just a shot away from you

And if you leave here

You leave me broken, shattered, I lie

I'm just a cross hair

I'm just a shot, then we can die”

Sassenach: Baby?

He must have fallen asleep. There was no other explanation.

I was already half asleep myself, when fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed against my pillow. In my rush to grab it, I hit it with my hand, making it fly halfway across my room, where it hit a chair and fell down on the carpet.

I rushed to retrieve it, praying not to see the screen broken. Making sure that it wasn’t, I let out the breath caught in my chest and unlocked the phone, fully awake again.

Scot: I’m here.

Sassenach: You okay?

Scot: No.

With my heart in my mouth once again, I dialled his number and waited, only to have him reject my call.

Scot: Can’t speak right now.

Sitting on my bed, I texted him back.

Sassenach: What happened?

The next messages came one after the other, in a success that made my teeth borrow deep into my lip.

Scot: Spoke with my da.

Scot: I’m not allowed to stay in Edinburgh during the break.

Scot: He said, I’ll have to stop swimming if my grades don’t get better.

Scot: MacMahon called him today.

Sassenach: MacMahon? Why?

I couldn’t understand why our maths teacher had called Jamie’s da, instead of sending a formal letter to him – no matter the reason behind sending the letter.

Scot: They know each other.

Sassenach: And?

Scot: He told him that I failed the last test.

Sassenach: Shit. I’m sorry, Jamie.

Sassenach: But come on! Failing one test doesn’t mean you have to stop swimming!

Scot: Tell that to my da.

Sassenach: It’s just one test! You’ll do better next time. I’ll help you!

Without waiting for a response, I texted again, typing words I’d already sent earlier, but truly meaning them this time.

Sassenach: We’ll study together.

Scot: I’m going to bed, babe.

Sassenach: Jamie…  

Scot: Sorry to fuck up our holiday plans.

Sassenach: Stop this!

Sassenach: You didn’t fuck anything up.

Scot: I’m going to Lallybroch for the break.

Sassenach: It’s just two weeks – and you can study there! Then you’ll be back, and you’ll rock both tests and the races.

Scot: I don’t know if I can. It’s getting too much.

Sassenach: Can I call you?

Scot: Ian is in the room. We’ll talk tomorrow, Sassenach.

Sassenach: Okay. We’ll fix this, Jamie. Promise. Sending a huuuuuuuuuuuge hug.

Scot: I wish you were here.

Sassenach: Me too.

Lingering smiles are sly creatures. When you think them gone, they’re still there; when you need them most, they disappear.

Chapter 35

#thermodynamics #The first law of thermodynamics #high school au #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Franz Ferdinard #take me out

[bloody-bee-tea]

Holding Back (and giving in)

This fic was inspired by this pic, which I have lovingly dubbed soft bathing pic, and it’s exactly what the fic is about. You can read it either here on AO3 or watch out for the read more since it’s longer than 3.6k.

~*~*~

Shen Wei knows that Zhao Yunlan has to deal with his superiors, that he owes them explanations for what the SID did or didn’t do in the past year, but he has barely seen Zhao Yunlan in the past three days and he is beginning to worry.

He hasn’t heard of a new threat, there is no recent report of a Dixing-ian getting out and causing trouble, and Shen Wei would have been informed about that anyway since it is the duty of the Black Cloaked Envoy to bring stray Dixing-ians to justice.

But everything has been quiet these past few days. Too quiet, Shen Wei admits to himself, because he misses Zhao Yunlan’s ever-present voice.

Shen Wei is standing in the middle of Zhao Yunlan’s apartment, desperately searching for something to do. But since Zhao Yunlan hasn’t been home lately, he hasn't had a chance of undoing Shen Wei’s work. Everything is still as tidy as Shen Wei left it yesterday evening. Even the bed is still made, and Shen Wei worries about Zhao Yunlan’s sleep. He doesn’t get enough as it is; he can’t afford to lose even more sleep. Shen Wei already fears that the dark circles under Zhao Yunlan's eyes will be permanent.

Shen Wei turns towards the kitchen, but he has already prepared dinner, choosing dishes that can easily be put into the fridge should Zhao Yunlan not come home again this night, so there is nothing left to do there either. Everything is already bottled up and put away, because while Shen Wei’s heart holds out hope that Zhao Yunlan will come home tonight, his head knows better.

Just as Shen Wei wonders if he should do his paperwork in his own apartment or here, like he has in the past two days, the door opens and Zhao Yunlan stumbles in.

“I hoped you’d be here,” he mumbles instead of greeting Shen Wei like a normal person, shrugging his jacket off and letting it drop to the floor.

Shen Wei watches it with an exasperated sigh that even to his own ears sounds too fond, before he turns a questioning gaze at Zhao Yunlan.

“I tried your apartment first, but you weren’t home,” Zhao Yunlan explains, shuffling across the room towards Shen Wei.

When Zhao Yunlan reaches him, he leans against Shen Wei, resting his whole weight against him.

For a second Shen Wei doesn’t know what to do with his hands in face of this sudden closeness, but then he carefully settles them on Zhao Yunlan’s upper back. “What are you doing?” he asks, mindful not to dislodge Zhao Yunlan even as he adjusts his stance to support his weight better.

Zhao Yunlan lets out a content little sigh and almost melts against Shen Wei for a long, wonderful, torturous moment, before he moves away again.

“Now I can go to bed,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes, but Shen Wei stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“You should shower first,” Shen Wei softly admonishes him, and Zhao Yunlan deflates.

“I just spent three days explaining every little detail of every case we had in the past year to my superiors. I think I earned going to bed.”

“If you didn’t have time to sleep in the past three days, you didn’t have time to shower either,” Shen Wei says, and he is helpless against the smile that plays around his mouth at Zhao Yunlan’s pleading look.

“Shen Wei,” Zhao Yunlan whines, but Shen Wei gently steers him towards the bathroom.

“You’ll feel better afterwards,” Shen Wei promises and Zhao Yunlan groans.

“If you want me to shower so much, you can do it.”

Shen Wei briefly freezes in his steps, sure that he must have misheard what Zhao Yunlan said, but when Zhao Yunlan notices that he was no longer following him into the bathroom he tugs Shen Wei along.

“I’m too tired to stay upright in a shower and I’m definitely too tired to not drown in a bath. If you want me to be clean that much, you have to help,” Zhao Yunlan explains, and Shen Wei wishes he would turn around so he can read his facial expression.

“Zhao Yunlan, I don’t think—,” Shen Wei starts but is cut off when Zhao Yunlan turns around, a pleading expression on his face.

“Please? I’m just gonna fall asleep where I stand,” Zhao Yunlan says and Shen Wei knows he should say no, but he is always so weak where it concerns Zhao Yunlan.

“Fine,” he gives in, silently wondering if Zhao Yunlan is just playing up his tiredness in an attempt to get Shen Wei close. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried something like this.

But when Shen Wei steps closer he can see the utter exhaustion in every line on Zhao Yunlan’s face and so he doesn’t think twice about helping him undress.

Zhao Yunlan moves where Shen Wei directs him to without complaint and so his shirt is quickly discarded to the floor. Shen Wei feels the faint itch to pick it up again and bring it to the hamper, but he will have enough time to do that once Zhao Yunlan is in bed. Shen Wei keeps his gaze averted as best as he can, because for all the time he has spent in Zhao Yunlan’s apartment, taking care of him and tidying up, he has never seen him without his shirt, let alone completely undressed. It is a lot to take in all at once, Shen Wei can tell just from catching glimpses, but then he realizes that he is about to help Zhao Yunlan bathe and he should probably get used to looking at him right now.

So he drags his eyes over Zhao Yunlan’s upper body, absently noting that he could do with a little bit more weight, taking it all in and suppressing the urge to immediately touch him, before he remembers that there are still clothes left he should help him take off.

Shen Wei kneels down, undoing Zhao Yunlan’s laces, and he has to hide a small smile when he hears a cut off noise at that.

“Up,” Shen Wei orders with a small tug when the boot is ready to come off, and Zhao Yunlan leans forward to steady himself against Shen Wei’s shoulder as he lifts first his right and then the left foot so that Shen Wei can take off his boots and socks.

“Didn’t think this through,” Zhao Yunlan mutters when Shen Wei stands up again and quickly undoes the button of his jeans.

Shen Wei ducks his head to hide his amused expression, but when his gaze falls on his hands, which are still lingering on the button, he has to swallow.

Maybe Zhao Yunlan isn’t the only one who hasn’t thought this through.

But there is no turning back now; Zhao Yunlan has asked for his help and as long as he doesn’t tell him to stop, Shen Wei will always do everything he can for him.

Shen Wei hooks his thumbs underneath Zhao Yunlan’s jeans and underwear and drags both down in one go, gently tapping Zhao Yunlan’s leg when he is a little bit too slow to lift his foot.

Shen Wei averts his gaze as best as he can, but it is almost impossible to not at least catch a glimpse. And Shen Wei wants so much more.

He wants to look his fill, wants to touch until he gets tired of it; he wants to roam his hands over the so tantalizingly displayed skin. But that isn’t what Zhao Yunlan wants and it definitely isn’t what he needs. So Shen Wei pushes down the urge to reach out, he has some experience with that after all, and fixes his gaze on something that is safer, like Zhao Yunlan’s face.

Shen Wei still notices the faint shiver that runs through him, because noticing Zhao Yunlan is what Shen Wei is best at, sees the goosebumps springing up on his arms, and Shen Wei pushes him towards the bathtub with a gentle hand to his back.

Shen Wei starts the water and plugs the tub with a blatant misuse of his power, but he figures staying close to Zhao Yunlan and allowing him to not only lean on him, but also leech a little bit of his—albeit scarce—body heat is more important.

“You’re lucky there’s no one who monitors the use of your powers,” Zhao Yunlan mumbles, leaning heavily against Shen Wei.

“Are you complaining?” Shen Wei wants to know and Zhao Yunlan hums happily.

“Never,” he gives back, and Shen Wei has to duck his head again, desperate to try and hide his blush. It is still novel to him that Zhao Yunlan isn’t afraid of his powers.

Shen Wei quickly checks the temperature when they are close enough and then he nudges Zhao Yunlan.

“Get in.”

“You’re not going to leave, right?” Zhao Yunlan asks and clings to his arm. “It wasn’t a joke when I said I’d drown.”

“I’m not leaving,” Shen Wei promises and Zhao Yunlan nods once before he steps into the tub.

He lets out a satisfied groan when he sinks into the hot water and immediately sprawls back against the tub, his eyes closed with something close to bliss on his face.

Shen Wei wants to always see that expression on him. He wants to be the one who puts that expression there, makes it permanent, but before he can do anything that he will regret, he takes a deep breath and stops the water that is now reaching up to Zhao Yunlan’s chest.

“Don’t drown for a second,” Shen Wei says, resisting the urge to run his fingers through Zhao Yunlan’s hair, and turns away to find a washcloth.

“Shouldn’t leave me alone then,” Zhao Yunlan mutters, but when Shen Wei turns back around, cloth in his hand, his eyes are following Shen Wei’s every move.

“You really should lose that,” Zhao Yunlan says with a nod towards Shen Wei’s chest, indicating his suit jacket.

Shen Wei looks down on himself, realizing that Zhao Yunlan is probably right, but if he takes off the jacket it will only leave him with his shirt; stripping him yet again of another layer of his defenses. And Zhao Yunlan is already dangerously close to breaking all the way through. Shen Wei doesn’t know if he can do it.

“I’m not asking you to get naked with me,” Zhao Yunlan mutters when Shen Wei takes too long to respond, closing his eyes and turning his head away, though it did nothing to hide the odd tone in his voice. “I’m just asking you to not ruin your suit because of me.”

Shen Wei can’t help the image that springs up in his mind; one where he does get naked with Zhao Yunlan and slides into the bathtub behind him, cradling him close and keeping him safe. But it won’t happen and Shen Wei bans the image from his head.

“You’re probably right,” he admits after a long moment and Zhao Yunlan lazily grins up at him.

“When am I ever not?” he mutters, closing his eyes again and leaning back against the tub, completely relaxing into the hot water.

Shen Wei knows that he will fall asleep rather quickly, and while manhandling him while he is asleep would be no hardship for Shen Wei, he prefers to get Zhao Yunlan into bed before he is completely asleep.

So he shucks off his suit jacket, quickly rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and then he takes the shower head and puts the washcloth down in reaching distance.

He uses his powers to turn the water on again and aims the spray away from Zhao Yunlan until it has an acceptable temperature.

“Lean forward,” he gently instructs Zhao Yunlan, who sluggishly blinks at him and takes a little bit too long to get his body moving.

If Shen Wei doesn’t want him to fall asleep in the tub, he has to be quick and efficient about this.

When Zhao Yunlan is slumped forward, Shen Wei gently tilts his head back, his fingers under Zhao Yunlan’s chin, feeling the breath flutter in his throat and his pulse beating against his skin.

These are stolen moments, and Shen Wei hates himself a little bit for taking them like this, but he also can’t help himself. Zhao Yunlan is like a siren’s call to him and he never learned to resist him completely.

Shen Wei brings the shower head up, directing the spray onto Zhao Yunlan’s shoulders before he carefully wets his hair as well. He follows the flow of the water with his eyes, watches it sluice over Zhao Yunlan’s skin, and before he knows it he is trailing one finger down Zhao Yunlan’s spine, feeling every vertebra under the tip of his finger.

Zhao Yunlan really ought to eat more, Shen Wei decides and mentally runs through a list of hearty foods he can make him.

He is startled out of his thoughts when Zhao Yunlan lets out a content hum, and Shen Wei remembers what he’s supposed to do. He takes his hand off Zhao Yunlan, reaches for the shampoo before he puts a generous drop into Zhao Yunlan’s hair.

He puts the shower head back, letting the spray add to the water in the bathtub, and gets his hands into Zhao Yunlan’s hair, massaging his scalp as he works the shampoo into the hair. Zhao Yunlan trustingly tilts his head back, lets Shen Wei hold his head, and Shen Wei is yet again overwhelmed with the urge to get his hands on Zhao Yunlan in a different way than this innocent action.

He can picture himself leaning down, trailing kisses up the so beautifully exposed throat; he could tilt Zhao Yunlan’s head to the side to get better access, could slide his hands down Zhao Yunlan’s front, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He’s not allowed to do any of that.

Shen Wei mentally berates himself, and focuses back at the task at hand.

Once he deems Zhao Yunlan’s hair clean enough, he carefully washes the lather back out, mindful not to let anything get into Zhao Yunlan’s eyes.

He gets the body wash next, grateful for the barrier of the washcloth between his hand and Zhao Yunlan’s skin, because even like this he struggles to keep his movements short and perfunctory.

All he wants to do is caress Zhao Yunlan until he’s putty in his hands.

Shen Wei cleans the washcloth and wrings it out, before he washes the lather off Zhao Yunlan’s body.

He could spend another hour with Zhao Yunlan like this and it would be no hardship, but he deems him clean enough and going by the way Zhao Yunlan’s head lolls on his shoulders it’s high time for him to sleep.

Shen Wei shuts off the water and unplugs the bathtub before he gently grabs Zhao Yunlan under his elbow.

“Alright, up,” he says, ignoring the unhappy sound Zhao Yunlan makes when the warm water drains away.

“Can’t be done yet, I just got in,” Zhao Yunlan sleepily protests and Shen Wei chuckles.

“You’re done, I promise,” he tells him, unable to hide his smile when Zhao Yunlan narrows his eyes at him.

“Impossible,” he mutters. “Gotta have to do it again when I’m more awake.”

Shen Wei presses his lips together at that, reminding himself to not read too much into it, because Zhao Yunlan clearly isn’t at peak mental capacity.

Zhao Yunlan clumsily gets to his feet, leaning heavily into the hand Shen Wei still has on his elbow, and Shen Wei steadies him as he steps out of the bathtub.

Shen Wei quickly puts a towel over the toilet and drops Zhao Yunlan off there, as he searches for a second towel and the hair drier. The first is easy enough to find, and Shen Wei has to admit that he isn’t too surprised when he can’t locate the second. Zhao Yunlan seems like the reckless type who would rather risk a cold than own a hair dryer.

But without it, all Shen Wei can do is towel his hair dry as best as he can. He tries to be gentle about it, and Zhao Yunlan seems to rather enjoy it. Shen Wei wants to untangle his hair by brushing his fingers through it, but he stomps down on that urge and instead puts the towel around his shoulders and gets the hairbrush. He runs it through Zhao Yunlan’s soft strands, careful not to tug too hard, and he can tell that the motion is lulling Zhao Yunlan into sleep, even more so than the warmth of the bath did. Shen Wei stops the motion, even though he wants to keep going indefinitely, but getting Zhao Yunlan into bed takes precedence. He towels the rest of his body off, quick and efficient, Zhao Yunlan allowing himself to be moved like Shen Wei wants him to. Soon enough he’s dry, skin flushed a lovely shade of pink,and Shen Wei clenches his teeth.

He can’t do it, he reminds himself. Can’t just trail his lips over the flush, as if he has every right to it. Instead he takes a step back and pulls Zhao Yunlan up.

Shen Wei guides him out of the bathroom, glad to see Zhao Yunlan’s sleeping clothes on his bed.

“Time for you to sleep,” Shen Wei tells him and Zhao Yunlan eyes him curiously.

“You’re not going to insist that I eat first?”

“I put the food I prepared into the fridge. It will keep.”

“Ah, Xiao Wei, Xiao Wei, you really are too perfect for me,” Zhao Yunlan mutters under his breath and Shen Wei’s stomach does a funny thing at hearing that nickname.

“Nonsense,” he brusquely says and sits Zhao Yunlan down on the bed. “Can you dress yourself?” he wants to know, and Zhao Yunlan tilts his head in consideration.

“No,” he finally decides, and Shen Wei suppresses a sigh. He really doesn’t make it easy on him.

“I’m not your nanny,” Shen Wei scolds him, half-heartedly at best and Zhao Yunlan’s eyes spark, despite the tiredness in them.

“No, you’re definitely not,” he gives back, and Shen Wei ducks his head again, busying himself with grabbing Zhao Yunlan’s sleeping shirt.

“Arms,” he instructs, and does not feel a rush of warmth go through him when Zhao Yunlan obeys him without hesitation. He slides his arms into the sleeves, tugs the shirt down and over his head, and once it’s settled on Zhao Yunlan, he reaches for the pants.

Shen Wei gracefully kneels, desperately ignoring that there are many other things he could be doing in this position as he slides Zhao Yunlan’s feet into the pants.

“Up,” he says, but Zhao Yunlan is moving almost before Shen Wei voiced his command and he’s quick to tug the pants up.

Zhao Yunlan is not helping him at all, amusement clear in his face, before it’s all washed away when he has to yawn.

“Go get some sleep,” Shen Wei says and pushes Zhao Yunlan back down on the bed, still gentle, always gentle with Zhao Yunlan, but not allowing any resistance.

Zhao Yunlan flops down as if all his strings have been cut and Shen Wei wrestles the blanket out from under him, leaning over him in a way that would make it so easy to lean down and press a soft kiss to his full lips.

Instead Shen Wei just tucks him in, securing the blanket around Zhao Yunlan. Zhao Yunlan has his gaze on him, Shen Wei can tell, but he tries to ignore it as best as he can.

“There is one more thing you can do for me,” Zhao Yunlan sleepily mumbles, and Shen Wei bites his tongue to not let the ‘Always’ spill out. Zhao Yunlan doesn’t need to know that.

“What?” he asks, but his tone is softer than he has intended, even he can tell.

“Come to bed with me,” Zhao Yunlan says and grabs Shen Wei’s hand when he pulls away in surprise.

“Zhao Yunlan—,” Shen Wei starts, but he doesn’t really know where he’s going with the sentence. There is nothing he wants to do more than join Zhao Yunlan in bed, and with the pleading gaze fixed on him, he can’t remember the myriads of reasons why he shouldn’t.

“Please,” Zhao Yunlan adds when Shen Wei stays frozen with indecision for too long, and Shen Wei deflates.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for Zhao Yunlan.

“Scoot over,” Shen Wei instructs as he bends down to undo his laces, almost kicking off his shoes with impatience, and going by the amused look on Zhao Yunlan’s face, he will be teased about this mercilessly later.

Zhao Yunlan makes space for him in the bed, and Shen Wei only hesitates for a second before he slides under the covers. He doesn’t know how he will keep the proper distance between them after this, but when Zhao Yunlan pulls him close by his waist, rests his head on Shen Wei’s shoulder and presses a lingering kiss to his throat, he figures maybe he doesn’t have to.

“Wanted to have you here for a long time,” Zhao Yunlan mutters, sleep clearly already tugging at him and Shen Wei hides his helpless smile in his hair.

“All you had to do was ask,” he tells him lowly, gathering him closer in his arms and reveling in the way Zhao Yunlan goes boneless against him.

Shen Wei closes his eyes, concentrating on the weight of Zhao Yunlan half on top of him, his warmth seeping in against his side, the soft sound of his breaths tickling the skin at his throat. For the first time in way too long, Shen Wei feels at peace.

He doesn’t know who drifts off first but they both do it with a smile on their faces.

#bt writes #weilan drabble #weilan #guardian drabble #they own my soul #getting together #washing/bathing #non-sexual intimacy

[kiranatrix]

James Bond au omg that looks great

Ok, well here’s a teaser. 

Constellation of the Prince by ZJ

Summary:

With the dignity of Queen and country on the line, Special Agent L has been tasked by England’s Ministry of Defense to intercept compromising data hidden in a Fabergé egg up for auction at Sotheby’s.

But double agents, murders, and intrigue complicate the mission. Like a real Fabergé egg, this case is full of surprises. (this teaser is SFW)

[Inspired by Ian Fleming’s 1963 short story “The Property of a Lady.” The setting is sometime in the 1960s, London.]

A rope unspooled from the high bedroom window in Buckingham Palace, and a masked figure in black tested the rope then carefully, silently slid down. Lucky—no one was here. When their bare feet touched the floor, the intruder crept quietly towards the the portrait of Queen Victoria in the corner of the room. A safe was hidden behind this portrait, if their information was correct. They slid a finger along the frame to find the latch and pressed it, and the portrait swung from the wall.

The safe was ancient and thus its lock rather simple to crack with experts’ tools; clearly the safe’s owner had relied more upon the security of the palace and the secret location than the mechanism itself. When the safe was opened, the intruder clicked on a flashlight and looked inside. A gloved has pushed aside diamonds and bank bonds to what they were looking for. A smile in the darkness with no one to see it, and the item was pocketed with haste. Before closing the safe, a small piece of printed cardstock was flicked inside. A calling card. Up the rope and back outside to the cool London night.

A perfectly done job, as usual, and the rooftops became stepping stones to freedom.

——————

“Good morning Agent.” Miss Takada was sitting behind the expansive reception desk of the Ministry of Defense headquarters, smartly dressed in a tweed suit. She briefly looked up at the rumpled-looking special agent who had just burst in the door, soaked to the bone and without an umbrella. Takada giggled and stood up, taking a towel from a drawer and walking around the desk to hand it to him with a cocked eyebrow. “I don’t understand how someone who’s lived in England as long as you have doesn’t carry an umbrella at all times.”

Agent L shrugged off his damp coat and wrung it out over the trash can, then took the proffered towel and rubbed his hair with it. Somehow he could remember the minutest details of every case he’d ever worked but never to grab an umbrella on his way out the door. “Thank you Miss Takada.” He looked down at the puddle forming under him on the carpet, pressing a finger to his lips. “Um….”

Miss Takada sighed and opened a side closet, taking out a fresh suit of clothes. “Yes, I have some right here. Now, will you promise to return them dry cleaned this time?” She knew he’d do no such thing, but as she was the one who arranged his dry cleaning anyway, it hardly mattered. She held out the suit and he took it gratefully.

“Of course. What would I do without you?” L started to walk towards his office but Takada stopped him.

“Better change in here.” She pointed to the side bathroom connected to the reception area. She leaned in, whispering, “W is in your office waiting for you.”

“Oh really….” L looked at the closed door to his office. If W is in there, he has some important case to discuss. “Thanks.” He quickly changed into the dry clothes in the bathroom, but when he headed into his office, he saw that not just W was there.

“Agent L!” Watari looked up from where he’d been reviewing some documents, standing up to shake L’s hand with a smile. Watari paused a moment at the wet, disheveled look of L’s hair but just cleared his throat and went on. “Please let me introduce you to Agent M–”

Agent M leaned up from where she’d been lounging against the richly paneled wall, filing her nails behind dark sunglasses. She tilted her chin and let them slide down her nose a little. “You’re L.” She didn’t sound very impressed.

“Agent L, if you please.” So this is Merrie Kenwood. I’m the agent they call when the stakes are high, and she’s the one they call when it might get dirty. But we haven’t worked together before. Hmm, this might be interesting. L strode past her behind his desk, pressing the intercom button. “Miss Takada, could you kindly bring in some tea.” A bit quieter, hurried, “And don’t forget the sugar cubes.” He crouched in his overstuffed leather chair and gazed at W through tented fingers, “So W, what brings you here?”

“Right down to business, yes, very good, very good.” Watari reached into his jacket and took out a 5x9 photograph and tossed it on L’s desk. “This, unfortunately.”

L picked up the black and white picture in pinched fingers and blushed, hurriedly turning it over after a precursory glance. “W, is this what it looks like?”

Agent M giggled as she went back to filing her nails, “You mean is that really the daughter-in-law of the Queen of England? Well…does it really matter? Looks close enough I’d say. Close enough for blackmail at least.” She mumbled something about impressive flexibility under her breath that made W blush.

Watari huffed and adjusted his glasses, “Now really, Agent M, that is any way to talk about your future monarch?” He took the picture back hurriedly, holding it over the trash can as it started to burn. “But, yes…nasty business if this were to get out.” He dropped the burning picture into the trash, sighing his relief as it turned to ash.

L looked between them, “Damage control is not really my–”

“Its not like that.” Agent M looked up as Miss Takada brought in the tea cart. “It hasn’t hit the tabloids. Yet. There is only one other copy of that picture, but it was stolen last night.”

Agent L pointedly avoided asking where it was stolen from; there really was quite a resemblance. “And you want me to get it back…”

Watari took a proffered cup of tea and sipped it black. “Quite right, quite right. We must prevent that picture from leaving the country at all costs, Agent L. That is your task, should you choose to accept it. Recover that picture, for the sake of Queen and country! For your dignity as an Englishman!”

“I see.” L took a teacup too, picking up the delicate silver tongs and plopping cube after cube of sugar into his cup. “And this thief. Do we know their identity?”

Watari nodded gravely, “We suspect they are Kira, although our intel on that is exceptionally weak.”

Agent M shot W a look of irritation over her nail file, “Weak? I told you the thief left a message in the safe it was stolen from. A gothic K in red ink, just like they always use. It’s him.” She filed harder, scoffing. “Weak.”

L sipped his tea then added more sugar. “Kira. The jewel thief?” Damn it, him again. L swirled his spoon around in his cup, trying to dissolve the cubes. His jaw clenched, having to utter that name. L had been looking for this thief for nearly a year after they’d stole several of the Crown Jewels right from under the noses of the guard at the Tower of London. L had been asked to solve that case too, but Kira has seemingly vanished, the jewels never recovered. It remained his one unsolved case, a constant irritation like a splinter he felt but couldn’t find to remove.

W noticed the tension on L’s face, “Yes I know that the other Kira case is…still pending.” He coughed politely. “But this may be the opportunity you…we…need to close both cases Agent L.”

L grumbled, “I haven’t been able to find where he’s hiding yet.”

“Pity that.” Agent M slid her nail file into her patent leather boot and held out her nails for self-inspection. “And I thought the great Agent L never failed to close an investigation.” She smiled as L glowered at her from dark-rimmed eyes. “However, I have a good lead on where the picture is, even if I don’t know where the thief is.“

L leaned forward slightly, "Go on.”

“Well this intel might also be considered weak,” Agent K cut her eyes to Watari and he looked up to the ceiling, fiddling with his mustache. “…but my sources tell me the picture is hidden in a particular item meant to go up for blind auction in three days time.”

L hummed, thinking. A blind auction meant that bidders could use a proxy to bid, thus remaining anonymous. A perfect way for sensitive information to change hands and easily leave the country, as long as the item’s provenance and bill of sale were legit. “Three days? Not much time to prepare.”

Watari cleared his throat, “Be that as it may, Agent L, will you take the case? We could always give it to Agent M if you–”

“I’ll take it.” L leapt up from his chair, noticing the slightly disappointed look on Agent M’s face. Looks like she wanted a chance to catch Kira and show me up. Well too bad, he’s mine. He walked around the desk, taking the case file from Watari. “I’d like to get to work right away, so if you’ll excuse me.” Miss Takada conveniently opened the door at that moment, holding it open for the guests. She gave a brief appreciative look at Agent M that was not lost on Agent L.

Watari nodded, pleased. “Excellent, excellent. I knew you’d take it. Yes, we’ll leave you to it then.” He waited for Agent M to go out the door (Miss Takada’s eyes trailing behind her) and then turned back to L, lowering his voice. “Don’t mind Agent M, she’s still sore that you solved that business with the Vatican before she did. I have every faith in your abilities. Stiff upper lip and all that.” He patted L on the shoulder. “Oh, and don’t forget to check in with Q down in Tech. I hear he has some new toys for you. Should come in handy for this! Ta ta!”

#my writing #lawlight #or will be #fanfic #death note #asks #anon #mello will be q #all the gadgets will blow shit up lol #and Light will make an appearance #James Bond AU

[imagineclaireandjamie]

The Break Up: Part Four.

Part One.

Part 2.1.

Part 2.2.

Part Three.

...and so on to the next section...

Conversation had flowed for a while as Claire and Jamie re-acquainted themselves with one another. It was easy, Claire surmised, to fall back into the same patterns again. They were the same people they had always been, still connected to the other via something unknown, but an elephant hovered in the room with them still, a large grey vacuum that sat like a void between them as they talked softly. Neither mentioned it, but it was still there nonetheless.

“...and yer doing well there then?” Jamie asked, his tone light as he coughed and pushed himself further upright. Clearly he was interested, but it seemed as if he were leading her to something other than her promotion prospects.

Blushing, Claire nodded. Taking a sip of her water, she slowly screwed the lid back on top of the bottle before placing it on the bedside table. “Yes, I am. It’s a lovely hospital and all the staff are amazing to work with. I was really lucky, truly.” Said with a hint of sorrow, Claire noted Jamie’s slight melancholy as she spoke.

Not wishing to decrease the tenor of the mood anymore than they had already, Claire withheld the fact that although her colleagues were, in fact, lovely people, she had no real friends or social life. Her lips twitched into a sad smile as she plucked some invisible fluff from her jeans.

‘I miss this…’ Claire very nearly said, the words worming their way ap and along her throat as if trying to forcibly escape from her esophagus. ‘...I miss you.’ But she held them back not thinking herself worthy of voicing them.

Outside in the corridor the bell rang signalling the end of visiting hours.

“I guess I’d better go,” Claire whispered, the momentary lapse dissipating as the nurses began to wander up and down checking the rooms on their rounds.

“You’ll come back again tomorrow?” Jamie asked, his leg twitching nervously beneath the sheets.

Picking at the skin at the side of her nails, Claire glanced towards the open door as the noise outside intensified. “I think your sister wants a bit of time with you, Jamie,” she replied cautiously. “You’ll have physiotherapy starting soon and I’m sure she’ll be the one attending them with you. I don’t want to monopolise all of your visiting hours…” ‘...and you know I can’t be here whilst Jenny is,’ she thought but didn’t add to the end of her sentence. Trailing off instead, she  chuckled humorlessly as Jamie nodded.

“I’ll have Murtagh call ye then?”

“Of course.”

Waving goodbye, Claire heaved a huge sigh as she made her way towards her newly purchased rental car. Things seemed to be going well between Jamie and herself but fear was beginning to take root within her. Jenny still hadn’t looked her directly in the eye, neither had Ian. The only member of the family to truly welcome her home had been Murtagh and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the thin ice that was barely holding her and Jamie up would crack plunging them deep into the glacial waters below.

Putting on her strongest front, Claire clicked the button to open the car, slid inside the sleek leather interior and pulled out of the hospital. Resigned, she knew that she would stay until Jamie was fully on the mend at least. He hadn’t yet asked her to leave, so Claire took that as her incentive to stick around. Having extended leave helped, the Glasgow A&E sister had phoned her department at Boston General relaying the news of Jamie’s injuries and that had been enough to secure her the time she needed. Thinking him to be close family, Claire’s boss - with the assistance of a very helpful Joe - had accepted that she was required elsewhere...for the moment.

Rain battered the windows of her suite pulling Claire from her restless sleep. Peeling back the curtains, she sat and watched as the rivulets cascaded down the thick glass, enjoying the rhythmic pounding of the thick droplets as they splattered against the glass and ran before her eyes. She’d been dozing on and off for days now. Murtagh had called with a little information but Jamie had been eager to get back on his feet again and, as such, that had meant Jenny sticking around through most of Jamie’s visiting hours as well as his physio sessions.

Murtagh had tried to convince Claire to come in and see Jamie but she couldn’t ignore the small voice at the back of her mind that reminded her of Jenny’s anger. The eldest Fraser was certainly a tour de force when it came to matters of family and since Claire had so callously and without *good* reason thrown that away, she seemed adamant that Claire be kept at arms length as much as possible.

She wanted to walk. The sensation of guilt gnawing more heavily at her gut as she wrestled with herself. Thoughts of leaving re-emerged and, feeling useless, Claire bent her head to rest against the cool glass.

It should have been an easy choice. Stay or go. But neither option seemed to bring much relief. If she left there would be no turning back, that would be her decision made. Staying, though, meant facing up to Jenny once more and that in itself seemed like a mammoth task. Claire could picture the rage already alight in her deep brown eyes and it turned her stomach.

The bleep from her phone brought her out of her trance and she sloped back over to her dresser to retrieve the small plastic mobile from its charging point by the small television. As usual it was Murtagh giving her small updates on Jamie’s recent progressed. He missed her, she could tell. Even in those few words, Murtagh could convey a message that only Claire would understand.

*Come* - it said - silently, *come and interact with us all...we miss you.*

Sitting on her overflowing case, Claire brushed away the tears that lined her rosy cheeks. A whole twenty-four hours later she had changed her mind a million times but was still sat, completely undecided. She had packed her belongings, keen to be away as soon as possible. Away from the people who had once been such close companions but who now all seemed like distant memories. She didn’t feel as if she belonged, but she also didn’t feel able to leave either.

Running her shaky fingers along the length of her rigid case, she tried to conjure up any sound reasoning that might help her to decide, clearly, one way or another but her mind was blank. Fate, it seemed, was leaving this one up to her.

Picking up the phone, she dialled Murtagh’s number, her heart beating quickly in her chest as the ringing began.

The voicemail message sounded loud and crass in her ears as she hear Murtagh’s voice grunt out his missive; “I canna get to ye, leave a message, aye?”

“Murtagh,” she began hoarsely, “I just-- I know you want me to come down there, but I don’t think I can...I don’t know what to do…” Trailing off she held her hand to her mouth as she clicked the -end call- button and placed the mobile face down on the table in front of her.

She felt sick; her heart pounding furiously now as if it might suddenly crawl along her throat and scamper free in the fray. Pacing the length and breadth of the small hotel room, Claire clenched and unclenched her fists as if trying to dispel the tension that had suddenly arisen within her. She had promised to fix this, that’s what she’d prayed for the whole way over here committing herself to Jamie’s renewed good health in the aftermath of the hit and run, though now she was here and he was awake that seemed like an utterly impossible task.

Suddenly the room began to spin, causing Claire to turn on her heel and flee towards the bathroom. Falling to her knees, she clung to the white porcelain as the contents of her stomach rushed along her throat. Hunching her shoulders, she gagged and retched, her mouth tasting distinctly of acid. As the sick feeling began to subside, her belly emptied now of her last meal, Claire panted, her sweat coated brow scrunched as she trembled. The bathroom floor was faux-marble, a horrid cold amalgamation of black and grey swirls that hurt her knees as she continued to hug the loo for all she was worth.

She was so taken with the steady sway of her whole body that Claire failed to hear the ring of her phone as it vibrated across the table. Curling up at the foot of the toilet, she kept her eyes closed now as she fell in and out of sleep.

It was the strong arms she noticed first as they lifted her off the cool slabs beneath her. A rush of frigid air swirled around her as her rescuer carried her out of the ensuite and back into the main bedroom, placing her softly in the centre of the large queen sized bed. The covers felt inviting as she tried to burrow into the pillows.

“No ye dinna, lassie,” Murtagh’s amused voice said as he prodded her swiftly in the side. “I want to make sure yer no’ really poorly afore you drift off on me, aye?”

“I’m fine, honestly,” Claire whispered, lifting her head just enough to muffle the words across the soft down cushions at her head. “Just fatigue combined with stress and a tiny bit of jet lag, that’s all.”

“It’s all this hiding away, Claire, my favourite wee sassenach,” he quipped, sitting on the bed beside her, “I ken it isna easy, but Jenny isna going to get over her ire wi’ you sulking away over here, is she?” He said, making a very valid point - much to Claire’s immediate disapproval.

She grunted, shrugging her shoulders as if to try and ignore Murtagh’s insightful words.

Noticing the mostly finished packed, Murtagh’s brows drew together as his hand reached up to rub Claire’s back soothingly. “Going somewhere, are ye?” He asked curiously.

Shrugging again, Claire shook her head and bit her lip. “No - yes….*no*,” she mumbled, her teeth chattering a little as she pulled her knees up to her chest in an attempt to get warm. The room was feeling more fresh now, a slight breeze wafting over her as she lay with her back to the windows. Murtagh must have opened one to let some clean air in.

“Sure about that, Claire?” He asked, his interest piqued now.

“Fuck.”

“That bad, eh?” Murtagh sighed, his mood fluctuating between sombre acceptance and deep anguish. “Is there anything I can do to help ye wi’ your decision?”

“Tell me what the future holds?” She asked, her joking tone not masking the desperate need she had to actually find the answer to her almost philosophical question.

“The only way to really ken that, Claire,” Murtagh began, his old-world approach at advice coming to the forefront, “is to stay here and face yer demons...head on, lass.”

...to be continued...

#;Mod MBD #The Break Up #Slow Burn #Jamie X Claire

[nickrbockr]

Simon Vs Fan Fic: Chapter 7 - I Wore Contacts Today

Ao3

Warning - Explicit Scene

It was finally the weekend where I get to visit Bram in Baltimore. Spamalot closed last week and the next show was a some what new play by a local playwright. I had a lead role in this but we were given the weekend off of rehearsals because our professors knew how college students were about this holiday. I kissed Leah on the cheek after we had lunch Friday and I threw my suitcase in the back seat. Ian was also there, sad that I was leaving this weekend.

“Can’t you just tell Bram to come up here this time?”

“It’s my turn to go there, he’ll be up again.”

“Ugh, but not probably until Spring Semester.”

“Sorry, he’s a little grumpy because he hasn’t had lunch yet.”

“I’m not grumpy” Ian replied in a pouty tone. “But I am hungry. I need to go into the house; I’m raiding the fridge. Safe drive Simon.”

The door shut quickly behind him. Ian was also a little angry because it was Halloween (Halloweiner) weekend and I was going to Bram’s stomping ground. It worked out perfectly because this will be the first time in all four years of college that we can dress as a couple for Halloween! Bram had been a pretty safe Halloween dresser in college, only going as a soccer player. But knowing we’d be together on Halloween, he was willing to branch out.

“What were you thinking of?” I asked Bram a few weeks ago.

“I don’t know, but definitely a couple costume. I want this Halloween to be fun and cute and Disney for you and me.” He replied. It was becoming harder for him to hide the thirst in his voice for us to be together again. “I also wouldn’t mind if it was…uhm…”

I could imagine Bram blushing on the other end and it made smile.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was...a more revealing costume than conservative.”

“For you or for me?”

“Both.”

Hot. Hot, hot, hot.

“Bram,” I said, “I can imagine you in so many revealing costumes.”

“It can’t just be any costume though, it has to be us…I want to show you off at the party.”

Then it clicked. I knew what we could be. “Bram, I have the perfect idea, trust me, I’ll prepare everything.”

I gathered everything I needed and bought the ones I couldn’t make. I was now on the road and Bram still didn’t know what his Halloween costume was going to be.

“If I guess it can you at least tell me if I’m right?” He asked into my earbuds.

“Okay, but I don’t think you’ll guess it.” I reply, knowing he won’t.

“Mario and Luigi?”

“Ugh, too cliché now.” I respond.

“Batman & Robin?”

“Nope.”

“Thing One and Thing Two.”

I clicked my tongue. “No, but that one would have been cute.”

Bram guessed a few more minutes but was wrong on all of them.

“Trust me,” I tell him. “As soon as you see it you’ll get it. I hope you like it, you’re going to look super cute.”

“How close are you now?” Bram asked, probably biting his lip out of impatience.

“I just left, B” I laugh. “I’ll be in around 5pm.”

“That’s too long,” Bram moaned into the phone. “I need you here.”

���I’ll drive five miles per hour faster, I’m coming as fast as I can!” I plead.

“Si, I’m laying in my bed between classes and I’m only in my underwear.”

My heart started pumping blood to another extremity of mine as I imagined Bram laying down on his sheets and bulging out of his boxer briefs.

“I need to concentrate on the road, mister.” I say, lying because I didn’t want him to stop talking.

“That’s too bad,” Bram started, “Because, oops, now I’m naked.”

My pupils dilated and I let out an involuntary gasp. I had to unbutton my pants so that I could rearrange myself as I had a raging hard on and it was bending in my jeans.

“You’re bad, Bram. Don’t do this to me now, I want to wait til I can see you.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Bram said, straining and moaning his sentence. “I’m jerking off right now, Si.”

I swallowed hard and couldn’t keep my mouth shut as I kept licking my lips in hunger.

“Abraham Louis, what kind of man have you become?” I whisper into the dangling microphone. “What if I told you that I had to unbutton my jeans because hearing you talk about yourself doing that got me so hard I needed to let it out?”

Bram sensually breathed into the phone. “It’s out while you’re driving?”

“Yeah,” I reply. Cars are passing me on the highway because I am going five miles under the speed limit.

“You’re crazy,” Bram replied. “You’re so crazy sexy. But you’re right, I want to wait to see you too. But how am I going to go to my one o’clock class with this boner?”

My dick jumps at the thought of Bram laying in bed, extra hard, trying to put on jeans to hide himself.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to control myself when I see you, Bram.” I warn. “I would suggest to Nick that he finds himself away from your apartment between five and six-thirty tonight.”

“An hour and a half?” Bram purrs. “Ugh, yes, Simon. I will fulfill your wish.”

I was hard until just before I reached New York City, which was good because traffic was right next to my windows and could have seen everything.

Once I was outside of New York I began thinking about the proposal. I know I’m used to doing the sweeping romantic gestures, but when I asked Bram’s parents for their blessing, I didn’t do it in front of a group of people, I did it in a one-on-one setting. And it was perfect.

Maybe there’s a time and place for the grand romantic gestures, but maybe when it comes to this proposal that the perfect scenario would be a place just for us. People were there for the ferris wheel moment and that was great, but the most fun moment was in the car the next day when Bram and I skipped lunch to eat Oreos in his car.

 And if you have a minute why don’t we go, talk about it somewhere only we know.

The Keane song played on the radio as I thought about the place only Bram and I know, and that’s our emails. For old time sake, we would cutely email each other from the fake emails fun messages. It would cause us then to review our old conversations and remind us how we fell in love and what we overcame and finally what we’ve built.

The more and more I thought on the drive, the more and more I convinced myself that perhaps my gut was wrong and that what’s best for us was a nice, Bram-style proposal: me and him and dinner. I needed to talk to Dad.

“Hey big guy!” Dad answered the phone. “How’s the drive?”

“Hey Dad it’s good, I just passing Philly so just about another hour and half.”

“You’re making good time. So what’s going on?”

“All’s I’ve been doing is thinking on this trip, and I wanted your opinion.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m thinking now about making it a more intimate proposal to Bram.”

Dad sucked in air through his teeth. “You’re trying to cut out your mother, I get it. Will it be weird if I’m still there?”

“No, Dad, I’m thinking of not having anyone but Bram and I now. What do you think?”

“I think,” Dad started, “That it’s your proposal and you have to do it in the best way you know how.”

“Yeah, but will that be the best way?”

Dad was silent, too silent. “When I proposed to your mom, I did the ring in the cake after a good dinner and she loved it. It was just us, at a restaurant, surrounded by strangers, but everyone still claps and congratulates you.”

That didn’t sound too bad. If I did the dinner thing, there would still be people there. But if people will be there, should I make sure it’s his family and friends?

“Simon,” Dad continued, “whatever you decide will be great. If I can give you any advice, Bram is a planner, he plans things and he knows every step. Try something so unexpected, so out of character from you that you’ll surprise him.”

“Thanks Dad.”

“I’m sorry kid, I wish I could help you more, but this is something you gotta decide on your own.”

“Don’t be sorry, I know, I know.”

“Okay, well do you want me to tell your mother you’re possibly booting her from your proposal?”

“Oh, god no. I can leave the house, you gotta live with her. I’ll tell here as soon as I decide.”

“Thanks for having my back, Si. Alright, go have fun, tell Bram hi for me.”

I pull over and fill up the tank and think about what Bram would expect from me. He knows I give things away accidently, he knows I am about showing all my cards, he knows I like grand romantic gestures. The opposite of that is literally Bram, so maybe the last thing he’ll suspect would be to do something extremely casual and then proposing.

The gas pump clicks and I fill it up until it’s an even dollar amount. I know you’re not supposed to do it, but I will add twenty extra cents to make it an even forty dollars.

Bzzz

Bram I don’t know how it’s possible, but I’m missing you more even though you’re so close!

                                           Just about an hour away, had to stop for gas

. .. … Why is it cute to think about you pumping gas? Am I weird? Be sure to pick up some peanuts Mr. Peanut! ;)

                                                       I was hard for so long after we spoke

. .. … Now I’m picturing you as Mr. Peanut, but with a humongous boner. And now I am sexually attracted to Mr. Peanut, thank you.

                      It was only a matter of time. I’m getting on the road again.                                                                                        See you so soon.

. .. … I love you Peanut. ;)

That better not transition into a new nickname, but if it did, I would only hate it until I head Bram say it in person because he can make any word sound sexy if he wants to. Ugh, I can’t think about the proposal anymore or it’ll stress me out and then Bram will notice and he’ll ask what’s wrong and I’ll probably let is slip. I gotta focus on this weekend and the sexy costume for Bram.

“Simon…Jesus Christ.” Leah commented after I laid out our outfits on my bed three days ago.

“What?” I adjust the fabric to let them lay out more.

“Are you positive Bram meant this when he said he wanted to be less conservative?” She asked.

“I don’t know, but it can be as revealing as he wants it,” as I point to an intricate part of the costume.

“That’s true,” Ian added. “So which one is Bram going to be?”

“That one,” I pointed to on the bed. “Definitely that one.”

Ian cackled. “Oh…Okay, I can see it now.”

“No you can’t,” Leah accused.

“Yeah, I can’t. Sorry, Si. But it looks like you’ll have fun. Hug Bram for me.”

I pulled into a guest parking spot outside of Bram’s building five minutes early. So efficient, Bram would be so proud of me.

“You’re here five minutes early, that’s….really hot for some reason.”

Bram told me as he opened the door. We fell into each other’s arms and kissed as he placed his strong hands on my cheeks and pulled my lips against his soft, open ones. My hands wrapped around his waist and I could feel his back became more muscular. I leaned back to catch my breath but Bram was too hungry and followed me as he found my lips immediately and pulled me wantingly towards his hips.

Our thighs pressed against each other as I moved from his lips to his neck. Bram moaned and tilted his head up and let his hot breath roll past my ear. I leaned up to his ear and whispered.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replied. He proceeded to place his lips on my neck now and lightly suck and caress my skin with is tongue. Our hips were moving against one another as we stepped into Bram’s apartment and closed the door.

I pushed my suitcase to the side with my foot and pushed Bram onto his living room couch. He looked me up and down with his sexy brown eyes and licked and bit his lip as his right leg dangled off the couch. I took off my shirt and Bram immediately inspected my body as his eyebrows shot up. I teased him by not straddling him on the couch and his eyes started to beg. I smiled coyly and looked at his bedroom door and started walking to it. I opened it just as Bram followed me inside his room and shut the door behind him.

I used the opportunity to pull up his arms and pin him against the door as he exhaled sharply as he arched his back and his butt rubbed against my crotch. My lips found his neck again and I kissed the spot that always made Bram shiver and moan. I spun him around and shoved him back against the door and moved quickly back to his tender lips.

I’m not sure why because I had never done this before, but I picked Bram up off his feet by his butt and it surprised him in the best way. His confused, sexy look was followed by wrapping his strong legs around my lower back as he aggressively resumed to kissing me.

I carried him to his cutely made bed and laid him on his back as I crawled onto it myself. I unbuttoned my pants and observed my boyfriend as he removed his shirt and his sexy brown skin looked flawless as ever. My pants dropped quickly around my feet as I kicked them off, sporting a solid boner through my boxer briefs.

“I’ve had this since you left me in August.” I tell him between pants.

“I’ve had this since I saw you in high school,” he replies, eyeing down to his print through his jeans. I unbutton and unzip them as I kiss the skin near his belly button. I can see his muscles respond as they flex and relax with pleasure.

I remove and throw his jeans onto the ground and immediately follow them with his boxer briefs until Bram is laying on the bed completely naked and I lose it. An animalistic urge overcomes me and I throw his legs on my shoulders. I lean between his legs, lips on his lips and hand on his penis, stroking it to work out his moans.

My other hand lays gently on his cheek as my fingers extend into his hair I gently pull his hair back to reveal his neck and plunge my lips upon his flesh.

“Si, top drawer.”

I open it and put the lube on my hands as I start to touch both of us as he lays down. I don’t want him to do anything. He’s not going to work at all right now, only lay back and allow me to make him feel physically what he makes me feel emotionally every single second since we’ve started dating.

His eyes cross and mouth dances, trying to properly manifest what he is feeling as I take my hand of myself and place more lube on it to rub between his round, full cheeks. Bram squirms as I apply a bit of pleasure and pressure and moans something I couldn’t hear. I continued until he place his hand on my wrist to stop me from jerking him off.

“St…stop. I need you inside me, right now.”

That sentence has never been such a turn on and the animalistic side took over. My finger began to softly and slowly enter Bram as his chest raised in lowered in ecstasy. I started with one finger until few minutes I added another. His head shot back in pleasure as it rolled slowly from side to side like he was trying to break through the bed. I removed my fingers and removed my boxer briefs that had pre come and lube residue.

“Right now, Si. Right. Now.”

I complied silently but my eyes told Bram a story as he stared deeply into them, extremely attentive to the tiniest of details. I rubbed more lube on and approached Bram, both legs still on my shoulders and I pressed myself into him.

Bram made non-verbal, extremely sexy noises as I made my way in. It felt so phenomenal as his penis seemed to get harder and I saw pre come leak up.

“Oh my god, Si.”

I began to thrust back and forth and the rhythm of our bodies created a symphony of pleasure. I felt every warm part of Bram around me and it egged me on as I increased my pace. I leaned more into him as he cried out in pleasure.

I pushed him further onto the bed and moved one of his legs off my shoulder, changing how deep I could go. I saw on his face how I reached the next level pleasure as he bit his lip and grabbed my butt to pull me in deeper. His eyes rolled back and his mouth couldn’t stay shut.

Like adding fuel to the fire, knowing I was causing him so much ecstasy made my thrusts longer, deeper, and more passionate. His fingers dug into the flesh of my lower back.

“Fuck…Si…Oh my fucking…Fuck.”

Nothing got me hotter than making him speak in fragments or when I made him swear. I had to pick up the pace, the feeling of only Bram around me made the feeling so much closer and deeper and more meaningful and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.

“OH, Si…Oh shit!”

Some of it landed on his face, most of it landed in the crevices of his neck, and the rest of it was scattered up his abdomen. No iris could be seen as he finished and I could feel him tense around my penis and that was it for me.

It was fire. It was passion. It was love pouring out of me and into him. I gripped him closely to me and fell into his chest and mess and shouted into his shoulder as sweat and panting mixed around my head. When I was sure I was done, I relaxed onto him, sill in him, panting ear to ear.

“I lo…love you.” He panted, a little dazed and confused.

“I love you…love you more,” I panted, a little dazed and confused.

“Impossible.”

I lay next to him on his bed, both of us messy and we soon decide to take a shower.

Together of course.

The lube and sweat and come wash off with little effort from the showerhead and we stand under it, next to each other. Once that has been taken care of, I notice Bram’s biceps and the way the water beads on his flesh. I get half hard again. Bram notices it as it brushes against his leg and he turns to me mouth open, eyes eager for another round.

Our lips kiss as the water washes over our backs, cascading between our black and white skin. Bram is now fully hard again and I squat down and put him in my mouth. It’s such a nice view of his abs when I’m down here as well has is sculpted v-cut and well trimmed pubic hair.

I was down there for about ten minutes until I tasted him. It was sweet, just like Bram. He returned the favor, but I couldn’t last that long. And could you blame me with you have the most gorgeous human being on the planet doing the one thing that proves the closest thing to the manifestation of love?

My toes shoot out as I shoot into Bram’s mouth and like me he swallowed. He came up to my eye level, even though he is a few inches taller than I am and I could see God in his eyes. This is what heaven is. The moments of pure connection with another human. When it’s not about you, but it’s about someone else. My heart pounded as he stared at me through his dripping wet hair

“All of that…was long over due,” I tremble out.

The water falls against my back and down through my leg hair.

“Every moment leading up to right now has been worth it.” He replied. Another kiss was taken, another given.

We finished washing ourselves and each other. I explored his body like I was seeing it for the first time, wanting to memorize ever inch, every area of skin to make mental image of his beauty. Bram got me a towel and he walked out of the bathroom.

The proposal. It was just about Bram and me. No one else. No one else makes me feel both giving and wanting. Selfish and selfless. When I ask him to be mine, to be my husband, for the rest of our lives, I want the moment to be between us and only us.

I dry off and walk naked from the bathroom back into Bram’s. He moved my suitcase into his room and it laid on the foot of the bed with Bram staring at it.

“You so badly want to know what it is, don’t you?” I ask, smiling the biggest smile.

“Almost as much as I wanted to have sex,” he replied, returning a large smile.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He complies and I set out our outfits on his bed while he impatiently tapped his foot. Once everything was arranged, I put my hands on his shoulders.

“Okay, you can open them.”

He did. And he open mouth smiled and let out a big laugh.

“Slutty Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!” He cackled.

Two Gryffindor robes, my round glasses (I wore contacts today), a red wig, two wands, and two black spandex trunk shorts with a picture of a gold and red tie down the center where our crotches are housed. No shirts, no pants, only robes.

“You're Harry and I'm Ron. I even have something to give you a scar...Do you like it? Is it too much? You can always zip up the robe.”

He turned me towards him and kissed me deeply.

“I love it.”

“Really?” I qualify.

“Really,” He plants another long kiss on my lips. “My Harry Potter nerd.”

#Love simon #simon vs #svthsa #simon spier #bram greenfeld #simon x bram #bram x simon #simonverse #gay love #love #marriage #proposal #love simon fic #love simon fan fiction #love simon fanfiction #Simon vs fan fiction #Simon vs fic #simon vs fan fic #my fic

[karaeww]

A quiet dinner

Request: Can I request a Carl smut where like he fingers u somewhere he's not supposed to like during class or near other people or something and like teases u and then later they have sex? No pressure but it would be great if u wrote it! Ur others smuts r amazing btw Thanks:)

uhh sorry i’ve been dead i am a busy girl 

Word Count: 1,735

You and Carl came from different worlds. You weren’t from the south side, and when you started attending his high school, you were the outcast. Your expensive clothes and name brand lunches set you apart from the rest of the south side high schoolers. You moved to Chicago after your parents split, and your dad brought you back to his hometown. Everyone viewed you as a rich bitch even though you were in the same boat as most of them. A lot of the guys hit on you, or tried to get you in bed, always wanting to be the one banging the rich girl. You turned down everyone and your reputation grew from rich bitch to rich prude. Carl, however, interested you. He had been sporting cornrows for your first few weeks in town, and he had recently taken them out. After this, his attitude changed as well. So after months of continuous flirting, you agreed to let him walk you home from school. At the end of your last class you found him waiting in the hallway.

“Didn’t forget? Surprising.” You comment while you both walk outside.

“Could never forget about you babe.” He says smiling at you. 

“Do you actually want to walk me home? or is there some ulterior motive?” You ask honestly. You know he doesn’t give a shit about walking you home safely. 

“I still can if you want. But I wanted to ask you something.” He paused and gave you a hopeful smile, making you slightly nervous. “Will you eat dinner with my family tonight? I told them I had a girlfriend as an excuse to stay out all night, and now they want me to bring someone over.” 

“Sure. Dinner with the Gallaghers should be fun.” You had heard all the stories about his family, they seemed exciting. He looked surprised by your answer.

“Wait-Really?” 

“Why not? I’m not as much of a bitch as everyone thinks. I’m also not a prude.” You say with a wink. “Lead the way.” He smirks and pulls you with him towards his neighborhood.

As you enter his house you drop your bags and groan.

“How do you walk that far everyday? I run track and that was hard.” You say pulling your hair out of your face.

“You live even farther away than me.” He says tilting his head towards you.

“I have a car.” 

“Oh right. Sometimes I forget your not from here.” He says while you walk into the living room and are greeted with another Gallagher.

“This the girl?” A boy with shaggy hair asks gesturing to you.

“This is the girl.” Carl concludes. 

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You say offering your hand and a smile. The boy shoots Carl a confused look before accepting your hand.

“Lip. You from around here?” He says before turning to walk back into the kitchen.

“No, I moved here a few months ago.” You and Carl follow him into the kitchen and are greeted with what you think is the rest of the family.

“Ahh, new girl. I’m Ian.” A red haired boy says.

“Y/N.” You offer your hand again but he looks down at it and laughs.

“Alright, That’s Fiona, Debbie, and Liam.” Carl says pointing to the people moving about the kitchen. 

“Hi! Debbie get the bread out of the oven, it’s burning.” Fiona says while bustling around with dishes and trays of food.

“Carl help, please!” Debbie says before shoving a stack of plates into his hands.

“I can do it.” You say quietly before taking the plates from his hands and placing them on the table. 

“She’s helpful, looks like a model, and has manners. Carl how much are you paying her?” Ian teased. Carl responded with a middle finger that was swatted down by Fiona. Soon the plates of food were sat on the table and everyone took a seat.

“So, Y/N, tell us more about you.” Lip asked slyly. 

“Um, What do you want to know?” 

“Where your from, hobbies, whatever you want to share.” He seemed to be asking only to taunt you.

“New York. I’m on the track team. I live with my dad.” You say while starting to eat the pasta that was put on your plate. You jumped slightly when you felt something touching your leg.

You glance down and saw Carl’s hand wrapped around your thigh. You shoot him a look and he just smirks back and joins in the ongoing conversation. He slowly brings his hand up more and more. His hand is wrapped around your upper thigh and he is starting to bring it closer to your inner thigh. You remain quiet but swat his hand away and glare at him again. He ignores you and he starts to rub your crotch through your thin panties. He continues eating and conversing with a slight smirk on his face. You scoot closer to the table to try and further conceal his wandering hands.

“I ran track in high school too. Is it something you enjoy or something your parents make you do?” Fiona asked looking up at you from across the table.

“Uh, more of an enjoyment thing. My dad likes me having something to do,” You stop talking to hide a gasp. Carl had switched from moving his fingers against the fabric to pushing a finger inside of you in one swift motion. Instead of finishing your sentence you just smiled and pretended that’s all you had to say. 

“What made you interested in Carl?” Ian asks. 

“He-His-He’s nicer than the other guys.” You say unconvincingly as Carl continues to speed up his fingers and make you squirm in your seat. The family stares at you with a confused look but then goes back to eating as if they are used to this. Surprisingly, nobody seems to notice your shaking hands or your changing facial expressions. 

Carl used his thumb to rub your clit, and you lost it. Your legs shook harder and you sat your fork down, gripping the table. As you came down from your high you looked over at Carl for the first time since he began fingering you. You glared up at his smug face and you pushed his hands away from your lap. When you looked back up at the table Lip was staring at you and laughing softly. Your cheeks were flushed with color, a combination of recent events and embarrassment. 

You flattened your skirt out against your legs and you stood up quickly, pushing your chair in.

“Excuse me.” You say giving the table a sweet, innocent smile. You walked into the nearby bathroom you had spotted earlier. When you turned to close the door you could see the whole family glaring at Carl. When the door was closed you leaned against it and breathed out. You hadn’t expected Carl to do that, especially with his family right there. You enjoyed it, and it was fun to step out of your usual box of vanilla sex, but you were scared shitless. As you tried to straighten out your appearance you heard the conversation returning on the other side of the door. You heard Lips muffled voice talk first.

“You just finger her?” He says and you can hear his laughter.

“Oh god, please say you didn’t.” Debbie said with obvious annoyance and discomfort. Your blush returned and your face felt hot again.

“Never a bad time for it.” Carl says and the table erupts with groans.

“And here we thought you brought home a nice girl, not another trashy one!” Ian said, offending you slightly. Although you felt trashy at the moment, this was way out of character for you.

“She is not trashy. If she was, I wouldn’t have had to push back so much fabric.” Another round of groans erupted from the table.

“Alright I’ve had enough. Carl, keep that shit in your room, or better yet, out of the house!” Fiona semi-shouts. She pauses, and you hear the clacking of a few plates hitting each other. “And please wipe your hands before touching anything.” 

You slowly opened the bathroom door and are faced with lots of stares.

“I’m-Um gonna head out. Thanks for dinner!” You say while speed walking to the front door.

“Hold up Y/N!” You hear Carl say before rushing behind you. He wraps an arm around your waist and grins down at you.

“Carl that wasn’t funny. I don’t like people viewing me like that. I’d rather everyone think I’m a prude then ‘another trashy one’” You say with air quotes on the last part.

“Come on, don’t be mad..You loved that.” He said nodding his head towards you and raising his eyebrows.

“That was the most stressful orgasm I’ve ever had.” You said with a straight face. “I’m serious though, Don’t pull shit like that again.”

“Are you confirming that I will have another opportunity to?” Carl said smiling.

“We’ll see. I really do have to leave. I have a psych exam tomorrow and an all night practice. Bye, Gallagher.” You said opening the door to leave, you turned back and gave him a sly wink before closing the door in his face. Once again you listened to muffled voices on the other side of a door.

“She has a psych exam? Smart girl. What’s she doing with you?” You hear Lip teasing his brother again.

“Fuck off. At least I get to fuck a smart girl who was born in the same decade as me.” You don’t understand that comment, but your sure you will soon enough.

You start to walk down the steps and farther out into the cold Chicago weather when you heard the door open again behind you. You turned to face the sound while rubbing your arms with your hands, trying to warm up in your thin clothes. Your greeted with the same smiling face you saw moments ago.

“Figured it’s late and I could redeem my pass to walk you home.” You gave him a look.

“You sure? It’s a lot farther to my house then it is to the school. I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can Princess. But someones gotta keep you safe and warm.” He said walking next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You smiled and leaned closer to his chest.

“We aren’t fucking at my house either.”

#Carl Gallagher #carl gallagher imagine #carl gallagher smut #carl gallagher fanfiction #Shameless US #shameless smut #shameless imagine

[cagedbirdsong]

pearls, chapter one

as promised, chapter one of pearls! i am beyond excited for this, and hope you all enjoy! you can find the prologue here!

feedback, is welcome, encouraged, and appreciated! mwah!

I. Nature Boy

It started in a bar on a rainy Friday night…

The door clanged shut behind him with a rattle of the thin window pane, and Jamie at once pulled his hat off his head to beat it against his leg, turning the collar of his coat down as he was at enveloped in the warmth and energy of the bar. Outside, a stray clap of thunder heralded the worst of the storm, and he shivered in relief to be out of the rain.

“Jamie!” The voice across the room caught his attention at once; his lifelong best friend Ian Murray was crowded with a group of guys at the end of the bar, and stood half out of his seat, flagging Jamie down with his hat over the crowd of people dancing, smoking, and drinking.

“Ian!” He clapped the other man on the shoulder, already reaching for a shot from one of the others, and tapped their glasses briefly together. “Sláinte!” They tipped their whiskey back together.

When they came up again, Ian grasped Jamie by the back of the head, pulling him in close to hear him over the din of people dancing and live music. “Whaddaya think, Jamie? A wee bit o’ trouble before the end?” His eyes glittered with the beginnings of a drunken stupor, and he punched Jamie neatly in the shoulder. “Find us some girls ta make us men before we die in this bloody war?” His smile faltered, the air momentarily silent between them, but then Ian shook his head and leaned across the counter, signaling for two more shots of whiskey. He pressed one into Jamie’s hand. “Nay mind that! Sláinte!”

Jamie flashed his own grin in return, and threw back the shot. Across the bar, a brunette woman peered at him from over the rim of her glass. He arched an eyebrow, and her eyes smiled, entrancing him for the briefest of moments. The slam of Ian’s shot glass on the counter broke him free of her gaze, and when he glanced back she had turned back to chat with a redheaded woman.

“Come, Ian,” he shouted, grasping his friend by the arms and hauling him up. “Have a dance!”

“Just a beer, thank you!” Claire practically had to shout at the poor server to allow him to hear her over the chaos of people talking, a live band playing music, and the stomp of dancing feet. Minutes later, the young man dropped a mug of ale in front of her and a martini in front of her friend Geillis.

“So, Claire.” Geillis leaned in, her glass untouched. “What say you to a little fun tonight? I’m sure there’s a young laddie somewhere in here just waiting to be seduced.” Her eyes glittered with mirth.

Claire felt her cheeks flush, and shook her head with a laugh, sipping at the foam of her beer. “I say not tonight, Geillis! Unlike our young laddie, I am waiting to be absolutely hammered. We’ve been accepted into medical school; we might as well kill our livers to celebrate!” The redheaded woman raised her glass in cheers, and the two sat peaceably in relative silence, enjoying the clamor of life around them.

After a moment, Geillis nudged her. “Well, don’t look now, but there’s a handsome young laddie just walked in, hmm? Are ye quite sure ye wouldna like ta get hammered and hammered?” She dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Claire’s face blazed.

“Quite sure, thank you, Geillis.” Nevertheless, she looked.

He was quite an attractive young man, tall and lean and broad shouldered. She could make out small details of his face from such a distance, but could see the prominent line of brow and jaw. A mop of auburn curls topped it all off. She couldn’t tell, but she’d bet his eyes were blue.

Geillis was looking at her with a gleam in her eye.

“Thank you, Gelis,” she said, raising her mug and turning her back on the newcomer. Still, she found her eyes sliding in his direction every now and again, drawn almost magnetically to the stranger.

She was looking at him again. That had to be at least the fourth time Jamie had made eye contact with her, that woman from across the bar. Naturally, he and Ian drifted closer, weaving through the crowd clustered on the cleared swath of floor being used for dancing, both curious to get a sly look at her.

He risked a smile in her direction, and he might have imagined it, but she ever so slightly raised her drink, eyes glittering. He lifted his glass.

Ian kept looking at him smugly, eyebrows raised. “Are ye no’ gonna go over there and talk to her?”

Jamie snorted, walking to the bar for another drink and leaving his friend to follow. “Am I no’ gonna talk to her? Of course I’m not.”

He might as well have been stupid, for the look Ian gave him. “And why no’?”

Jamie shrugged, accepted a glass of brandy, and rubbed a knuckle beneath his nose. “I canna just go and make advances on a lady like that. She’s out wi’ a friend, enjoying herself. Would ye drop it, ye wee fiend?”

Ian groaned and threw himself bodily upon the bar. The tender paused to look at him, and he wagged a finger theatrically in Jamie’s direction. “He’ll die a virgin, my stupid friend!”

The bartender poured them both more whiskey.

“He’s looking again!” Geillis leaned in close enough that her breath stirred the hairs by Claire’s ear, and her skin momentarily prickled in discomfort as she shoved the other woman away.

“Oh, do stop, Geillis. Really, can’t you just enjoy the two of us being out at a bar? We’re women in a man’s world, this is call for celebration! Do you know how many women actually get to attend med school in this day and age?”

Geillis grinned. “I know o’ two!” She leaned in and dropped her voice. “One of which is about ta become a major in anatomy.”

Claire groaned.

“Maybe he’ll come over here.” The other woman was chattering now, brimming with excitement. “Oh, I wonder what his voice sounds like. I bet it’d make yer wee heart ooze.”

“If your heart’s oozing, my friend, find a doctor,” Claire grumbled into her drink.

But her eyes still flickered across the room. Hopeful.

“I suppose I could go and say hello…” Jamie caught her eye again, and this time gave a small smile. She blushed, he licked his lips, and her eyes grew momentarily wide.

“Damn right ye could go and say hello ye auld fool!” Ian leaned far enough forward to almost topple off his stool, grabbing onto the bar counter for support. “It’s one word! I’m sure ye can manage.” He giggled into a tankard of beer, and Jamie thought he heard him murmur “clotheid.”

One word. He could manage one word.

He took one last swig of his drink and stood up.

“Oh my God, he is coming over!” Geillis squealed, hiding her face in her drink, and Claire’s head snapped up.

Sure enough, the ginger fellow had abandoned his friend at the bar and was picking his way across the room, his eyes trained on her. Claire felt a shiver rip down her spine.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “he’s coming over.”

He was close enough now that he could see little streaks of honey amid the chocolate of her curls.

His face came suddenly into view, like a telescope put into focus. His eyes were blue.

“Evening, ladies,” he said too quickly, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

The redhead giggled. The brunette woman just smiled a little, cheeks flushing.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uhm,” Jesus Christ, this should not have been so hard. “Could I - I would like verra much to buy ye a drink, miss.” Blue met gold, and he could have died then and there and been a happy man.

She smiled, and something in his stomach tightened, like a rubber band stretched too far. “If you tell me your name.” Her voice was musical, and when she leaned in to better be heard over the sounds of the bar, he caught a whiff of her perfume; lilac.

“Jamie Fraser.” His name spilled off his lips all at once, his eyes locked on hers. “At your service, ma’am,” he added as an afterthought. Beneath the table, Geillis stepped on Claire’s toes.

“A pleasure, Jamie,” she smiled, extending a hand. “Claire Beauchamp.”

“Claire.” He said her name reverently, and she felt her knees go momentarily week as he took her hand and bent to kiss the knuckles, folding the fingers over his own calloused digits.

He hoped his palms weren’t sweating. Her hand was delicate and smooth in his, cool as porcelain, and the smell of her perfume was stronger as he pressed his lips to his knuckles, the smell of flowers and her skin suddenly heady. He straightened, and smiled, testing her name on his lips. “And what will ye be drinking, Claire?”

She smiled coyly, peering up at him through her lashes. “Whatever you’re having.”

Her lips met his with a clash of tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry, and her hands flew up to grab fistfuls of his curls, tugging and pulling in her need to be closer to him. He slipped his hands up under her dress, roaming over thighs and around the curve of her arse as she ground against his lap, pulling back to catch her breath.

They had gone outside to talk under the guise of it being quieter, but one thing had led to another and they found themselves a tangle of limbs in Jamie’s old Ford now, the windows slightly fogged and their breath mingling in the air.

“Oh God,” Claire groaned as he dropped his attention to her chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons as his lips sought out what skin he could reach. Her fingers tightened in his curls as he finally got the buttons open enough to expose the skin of her breasts, which prickled with goosebumps. Her hands dropped suddenly from his hair to his shoulders, clawing and pushing at his shirt. He had been wearing a tie, but he had no idea where that was now, and Claire was yanking at the collar, panting. It popped open suddenly, buttons flying, and she shoved it down off his shoulders, smoothing her hands over his now bare skin.

God, he could have died.

She caught his mouth again, and he tasted blood as her tooth caught his lip, her tongue smoothing over the cut without pause. He groaned and she swallowed it down, dragging her nails across his back.

“Let’s get out of here,” she breathed against his lips, and oh how he wanted to do just that. One of her hands shot momentarily down between them to grasp him through his pants, and his hips jerked of their own accord, eliciting a small noise of pleasure from her.

He wanted to lose himself in her, in the taste of her skin and the smell of her hair. It took entirely too much effort to pull back from her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Wait, wait.” She sat back on his thighs, hands falling from his shoulders, and he offered her a reassuring smile. “Believe me,” he murmured, and his voice was husky, “there’s nothing I should like more, but I can’t.” Confusion briefly flickered across her face, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I ship out in the morning,” he breathed, speaking the words for the first time. “I’m with the RAF. Gonna go and see if we can’t shake these Jerries.”

She sat quietly for a moment, and then laughed a bit, sliding off his lap to sit next to him. “You’re a crab.” She must have seen the question on his face - she raised her hand to fix her hair and then turned to face him. “It’s a term for the air force boys. I have a friend in the Marines.” The hand waved in dismissal. “Where are you going?”

He smiled a little, and licked his lips, shrugging. “Dinna ken. Wherever they put me, I suppose.” She laughed, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Well, I hope it’s nowhere too dangerous. Just a little. Get your blood pumping.” She was doing a well enough job of that right now, and she damn well knew it. He grinned.

“I’m sorry ta disappoint ye, lass,” he chuckled, gesturing to their varying states of disarray, and she shook her head with a smile.

“It’s probably best I don’t leave my friend to her own devices anyway.” She turned his rearview mirror so she could see herself, and did her best to quickly compose her appearance, and then she was opening the door of his truck and sliding out into the night as if their little tryst had never happened.

“I- Claire, wait-” he leaned over, making to get out of the truck as well, but she shook her head and leaned up to kiss him briefly, a fistful of his shirt caught in her hand.

When she pulled back, she pressed a small square of linen into his palm; a handkerchief, white and clean with a small rose embroidered in the corner. He caught a whiff of her perfume on it. He looked up at her and licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

She shrugged, and stepped back with a smile, backing away from his truck. “Just a little something to remember your life before the war when you get tired of shooting at Jerries all day.”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night and leaving him with little more than the taste of her on his lips and a folded up piece of fabric, warm from touching her skin.

He leaned back against the seat and blew out a breath. “Jesus.”

continue reading here...

#cagedbirdsong #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander #a string of pearls #pearls chapter one #nature boy #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jamie x claire #cagedbirdsongfic #my writing

[redstarfiction-blog]

Sonas/Happiness.

A very cool prompt from @yesfangirl :

Hi Han! Since Voyager is just around the corner could you give us a glimpse of Jamie's POV when he returned with Claire to Lallybroch and the intimate conversations of him and older Ian and Jenny. Showing Jamie's utter bliss having Claire back and the concerns Jenny has?? Thanks so much!!

I loved this prompt and I’ve run with it into a slight AU territory because as I wrote this I felt that so much of the heartache which occurred in Voyager could have been avoided with more honesty between the characters here. Much love, Han xx

“I canna believe it, ken?”

“Aye, it was no doubt a shock for Jamie too.”

“After all this time though? What do ye think she wants?”

“I imagine she wants to live out her days with her husband.”

Jenny felt Ian shrug his shoulder beneath her head and frowned in the darkness

“Do ye really think after near twenty years she’d come back just for that?”

“Och! A marriage is no’ a small thing Janet! The lass thought him dead!”

“So she says!”

Jenny sniffed. Ian kissed her head gently and wrapped his arm more securely around her, squeezing her against his side.

“Well she’s still hear after the chaos of Edinburgh.”

“Chaos that could have been avoided had she no’ just shown up.”

“It wasna Claire that set the fire. That was your son.”

“Mmmpphmm.”

Jenny grunted and Ian felt the curve of her cheek rise against his chest in a small smile.

“Why is it when they do something reckless they’re my bairns?”

“Because it is the Fraser in them that drives them to it.”

Ian smiled, the little exchange a familiar pattern between them for the past twenty-five years since wee Jamie streaked naked into the parlour at two years old and proceeded to regale Ian and his guests with a very energetic dance before Jenny caught up to him and was able to carry him out again.

“I ken ye love Jamie dearly, I do too, but he has lived a verra unconventional life. It’s no’ surprising that Claire couldna find word o’ him. He’s spent most o’ his life an outlaw of one kind or another, he’s never settled ...”

“Aye, it didna help that he marrit an uncanny Sassenach shrew...”

Ian clucked his tongue against his teeth impatiently

“Well I hardly marrit a timid mouse, did I?”

“Ian!”

“He loves her, Janet. It is as simple as that. He loves her as deeply as I love you and let me tell ye, that is no shallow depth.”

Ian heard a heavy exhalation of breath and grinned to himself, picturing the pinch of his wife’s nostrils and the narrowing of her beautiful bright blue eyes as she decided whether to be mollified or not.

“What about Laoghaire?”

Jenny whispered finally

“Mmmphmm. Weel that is another matter.”

Ian admitted and sighed

“Let them be for a while before ye bring it up, Jen. It’s been twenty years, they deserve a few days of peace at least.”

Jenny pursed her lips but was spared from answering by the sudden growl of Ian’s belly.

“Are ye hungry, ghraidh?”

“Aye, a wee bit. I could scarcely eat at dinner.”

“I’ll get ye something.”

Jenny patted his chest and sat up, reaching for her robe.

“Thank ye.”

Ian rolled over and caught her hand, drawing to his lips and lightly kissing the delicate knuckles before rolling onto his back and sighing contentedly.

*

Jenny could hear someone in the pantry and closed her eyes, praying it wouldn’t be Claire. She didn’t wish to bump into her errant sister in-law, especially not in the quiet, dead of night when any chance meeting is shrouded in a delicate sort of intimacy, but it was Jenny’s home and Jenny’s food and she was damned if she would hide on the stairs like a child up past bedtime waiting for Claire to finish her rummaging.

Lifting her chin defiantly, Jenny continued down the stairs. As she got closer she could hear a low, tuneless humming and the tension left her shoulders; it was Jamie.

*

Jamie seldom hummed, it was a sort of odd vibration in his throat that came with intense happiness and was not something he was particularly aware of doing. All the same, he fell silent at the sound of padding footsteps approaching and turned to the door, expecting Claire to come in. It was so strange but in the few days since she had been back, Jamie realised he had already come to expect her presence. He had woken in the night unsurprised to find her beside him and when she ran her hands through his hair as he sat at the table that evening, her touch didn’t surprise him. When their eyes met during conversation it did not feel unusual. It felt natural.

For twenty years he had lived with the ache of her absence and yet he had adjusted to her presence with such ease, like a flower struggling to survive in the shade, suddenly exposed to the brilliance of a sunny day; he absorbed the rich joy of her being there without hesitation or trepidation.

“Built an appetite as well did ye, Sass … oh!”

He broke off, blushing slightly as Jenny stepped into the pantry beside him

“I thought ye were Claire.”

“Och! I daresay she’ll sleep until noon, the journey she must have had.”

Jamie cocked an eyebrow at his sister but Jenny was keeping her eyes resolutely on the bread knife she had picked  up and the loaf she was selecting.

“Claire’s always been a fairly early riser.”

He said evenly, watching Jenny carefully.

“Has she? Aye, well I wouldna ken.”

Jenny’s face was carefully blank but her tone was clear enough and Jamie’s blush deepened, though not with embarrassment

“Have ye a thing to say, Janet?”

“More than one, James, but it can keep.”

Jenny retorted and Jamie closed his eyes striving for patience. It was a shock after all, Claire returning after so long and he reasoned that Jenny might feel a little put out, even with prior warning from Ian.

“Do bheachd cudromach gu mor rium, piuthar.”*

Jamie said softly, the language of their childhood easy on his tongue.

“Agus agaibh sonas cuisean gu mor rium, brathair.”**

Jenny replied, as she finished buttering the bread and turned to look up at him

“but ye ken happiness can no’ be a straight forward thing here. Does Claire know about ...”

“Seas!”

Jamie jerked forward reflexively, his fingers nearly covering Jenny’s lips but not quite touching her, his eyes wide with panic.

“Don’t speak that name here.”

He whispered, almost pleading.

“Ye canna ignore it, Jamie.”

“I know but …”

Jamie broke off suddenly, stepping back and hastily closing the door, shutting them into the tight space of the pantry.

“I canna tell her yet, she’s been through so much to get back to me…”

“Even more reason why ye owe her the truth then. If she loves ye, she will understand.”

Jamie snorted and shook his head

“Would ye understand such a thing?”

“After twenty years and no word? Aye, I would! What would she have had ye do?”

Jenny snapped, though she kept her voice to a low whisper.

“None of this is Claire’s fault, Jenny. She left because I made her go. I meant to die at Culloden.”

Jamie spread his hands helplessly a gesture of the angry futility of man against the twists and turns of life.

“If ye dinna tell Claire, I will. Or I will send for your other wife to come and deal with this.”

Jenny said, watching her brother with a hard gaze that he recognised as that of their father, strong and certain in her conviction and he knew that his temper would not sway her.

“If ye wish me to beg ye, I will. I have no right to your silence but I will ask it of ye anyway. Just give me a day to find a way to tell Claire the truth and I will do it. She deserves to hear it from me directly and make her decision accordingly.”

“So ye think she’ll leave ye when she finds out?”

Jenny demanded and Jamie shrugged but the strain of his fear was evident in his face.

“I dinna ken, but coward that I am, I canna bear to find out yet, no’ just yet. Please Jenny, do not say anything.”

Harsh times had placed many strains on the siblings relationship but as they stood in the little candlelit pantry, the years fell away and all the distances and barriers slipped to nothingness leaving only the core of their shared love and family ties behind. Sighing Jenny bit her lip and lifted a hand to cup her brother’s cheek.

“I can remember a time that I had to stoop to touch ye so.”

She smiled gently, tracing her thumb over the high arc of his cheekbones

“Ye deserve happiness Jamie, stability and a good home. Ye can have that here, ken? But with Claire ...”

“Claire is my home, Jenny. She always has been.”

Jamie interrupted, taking her hand and holding it lightly in his own. Jenny opened her mouth to say more but closed it again. She knew that what he said was true, that in all the years since Culloden her brother had been  living a rootless, joyless existence as his soul pined for it’s twin. She had thought … had hoped … that Laoghaire might plug the hole left in him by Claire’s loss but if anything, the marriage had only chafed at Jamie’s grief. And now Claire was back and Jamie had everything he had ever wanted. Could she really begrudge him that?

Finally she sighed and nodded.

“Aye. I ken she is. But for all she is your home, you are a verra large part of mine and I ken that ye willna stay here in Scotland if Claire stays and I might never see ye again if ye leave.”

Jenny dabbed the sleeve of her robe beneath her eyes and sniffed

“I have nearly lost ye so many times, I dinna want to lose ye for good.”

“Ghraidh,”

Jamie murmured softly, enfolding his sister in his arms, bowing over until his cheek rested on the smooth black curls of her hair.

“Ye willna lose me, whether I live at Lallybroch or on the moon it doesna alter what is between us.”

“I ken … and I do want ye to be happy, truly.”

“I know that. I owe ye so much Jenny, ye have been as much a mother to me as ye have a sister and I dinna think that I have ever properly thanked ye for it.”

“Ye dinna have to thank me!”

“Aye I do. Thank ye Janet, for everything.”

Jenny stepped back and took a deep steadying breath.

“Well you’re welcome. I won’t send word to Laoghaire, but she’ll find out soon enough and ye’d do better to have told Claire the truth before she comes knocking.”

“Aye.”

Jamie nodded. They stood in silence for a few moments, each of them lost to their own thoughts. The old house was still and quiet around them, the silent echo of the years reverberating in the shadows and nooks, lifetimes of secrets and shared moments kept safe within its stone walls.

“Are ye happy, brathair?”

“More than I ever thought to be again. My heart feels swelled to bursting and sometimes I look at her, and I feel that I canna breathe for joy.”

Jamie smiled almost shyly and Jenny breathed a small sigh of either relief or resignation, Jamie couldn’t tell.

“and Claire?”

“I hope so. I know I am not the same man that she wed, but God willing she might have found something to love about the man I am now.”

He shrugged and Jenny nodded in understanding

“She has, mo luaidh. I dinna doubt it.”

Tiptoeing she kissed Jamie’s cheek and picked up Ian’s snack

“Good night Jamie.”

“Good night Jenny.”

*

“Do bheachd cudromach gu mor rium, piuthar.”* - Your opinion matters greatly to me, sister.

“Agus agaibh sonas cuisean gu mor rium, brathair.”** - And your happiness matters greatly to me, brother.

#Outlander #outlander tv #outlander au #outlander fanfic #outlander fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #RedStarFiction

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Part Five: O Captain! My Captain!

Here’s the next installment! You can read the previous scenes here.

I stepped out onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air and found the Fraser children had had the same idea.

Ellen and Willie were laughing as they expertly waltzed circles around Jenny and Brian, the elder pair trying to teach the younger the fundamentals of the dance and not succeeding overmuch. Marsali called out, what I'm sure she thought were, helpful suggestions as she stood atop a bench. Joan and Maggie beamed from ear to ear, twirling ‘round and ‘round in the only dance step they knew: excitement.

“Here, let me try,” I offered when a new song began and took Jenny’s place.

The teenager rolled her eyes melodramatically, warning, “Watch your toes, Mistress Claire.”

I winked at Brian whose brows were furrowed in determination, giving his nose a playful tweak. “Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.”

“I keep losing count,” he complained.

Marsali cackled with glee, “How hard is it to count to three?”

Giving her a look, I cut off Brian’s retort. “Then I'll count, you just move your feet. Ready? ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three, ONE - two - three.”

We shuffled about the terrace, song after song. Brian did catch on quickly with a more patient teacher and soon we even tried to throw in a turn. It didn't end well, crashing headlong into Ellen and Willie instead of changing direction.

“Again, again!” Brian begged as a new melody started up.

“But this is a foxtrot,” I tried to explain, “I'm not sure I know it well en--”

“May I be of assistance?” The Captain quite suddenly asked, taking me completely by surprise. How could a man that tall appear out of thin air without a sound?

My hand flew to my neck, my pulse beating erratically as I stammered, “I, ah, that is, you should teach Ellen. She’s a magnificent dancer.”

He looked slightly amused as he offered his hand, “She kens the foxtrot well enough.”

I turned to find Ellen dutifully teaching Willie the steps. “Slow, quick, quick,” her voice floated past as they danced by.

“Show us too, Father,” Brian urged, grabbing Jenny by the hands and pulling her back into the middle of the terrace. “How does it go?”

“May I have this dance?” He asked, bowing low. His hand was still outstretched and I took it reluctantly. Brian tried to emulate his father’s courtly bow and nearly fell over in the process. I heard the captain chuckle as he drew me closer, placing his left hand on my lower back and stepping into the dance.

God, he smelled wonderful.

A more than competent dancer himself, he guided me effortlessly around the veranda for a time before commenting, “I wanted to thank ye, Nurse Claire, for all ye’ve done for my children.”

“Oh, but they're so delightful that it's really no trouble at all, Captain, truly.” I rambled like a lovesick schoolgirl, making my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

How had I never noticed what a deep blue his eyes were? They were magnificent. Rimmed in long lashes that somehow were a lighter shade of auburn at their base, the glow of the ballroom made them gleam like precious gemstones. He smiled then and it took my very breath away.

He didn't speak again and, as I didn't trust my own tongue, I embraced the silence. I felt like he may think me staring at him, so I dropped my gaze. My left hand rested just beside his lapel and the sparkle of my mother’s ring caught my eye.

She and my father had died in a car accident when I was young, making the small cabochon ruby encircled in diamonds of infinite value to me. I wore it on my ring finger, as that’s where it fit the best, and I absently wondered what they would have thought of my dashing Captain Fraser.

My Captain Fraser.

He wasn't mine. He could never be mine. At least ten years my senior, he was completely out of my league in terms of social status, and a widower with seven children to boot.

The song ended long before I was ready, my heart aching as he stepped away.

Pull yourself together, Beauchamp.

Marsali suddenly appeared beside me, commenting loudly “Your face is all red.”

“Is it?” I asked lamely, scrambling for something intelligent to say. “I guess I’m not used to dancing.”

Brilliant, I mentally kicked myself, you’re bloody brilliant.

Footsteps echoed on the paved patio and I turned to see Lady Dunsany walking towards us with Ian in her wake. She was making an effort to hide her jealous rage, but the scathing tone of her voice and set of her jaw gave her away. “Why, that was beautiful. What a lovely couple you’d make.”

The light in the captain’s eyes disappeared at once and it had nothing to do with Ian blocking the glow from the ballroom. I caught the distracted glance he gave her as he responded, making me wonder if I had flustered him the way he had me. A hint of a blush crept above his neatly pressed collar and I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

I felt three sets of eyes trained on me as I realized he had said it was time for the children to go to bed.

“Right! Yes!” I agreed, jerking to attention and tearing my eyes from his lips, “Let’s go, children. Come along.”

Turning my back to the adults, I quickly gathered the children into a clump, making preparations to leave the party via the garden next to the veranda. We would disappear to the east wing without disturbing the guests and in relative haste. I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole, but retiring with the children was the next best thing.

We were almost to the cobblestone path when a strong arm came around my shoulders and guided me back, “Jamie! Ye canna let the lass be tucked awa’ with the bairns for the night! She must come to the party!”

My heart skipped a beat at the discovery of the captain’s pet name. I knew his given name was James, and had assumed that he went by some sort of nickname with his family, but to hear it spoken aloud…

“Oh, but really, I can’t, I--” I tried to protest as we moved closer and closer to Lady Geneva and the Captain.

“Dinna fash,” Ian waved his hand in dismissal, then beckoned to Germain who happened to walk past, “Seat the lass next to me, will ye?”

The disgruntled butler looked to me and back to Ian, “If you insist, Mr. Murray.”

I broke the awkward silence that followed by pointing out the obvious, “I’m, ah, not dressed for it, Mr. Murray.”

Ian nodded, seeming to notice this for the first time, and grinned, “Ye have time to change, I’ll see to it.”

…

Lady Geneva had followed me up to my room despite my best effort to ditch her.

I opened my closet doors and stared stupidly at the clothing. All suitable for being with the children, even a few business formal outfits for if the occasion arose, but none would work for the dinner downstairs. “I’m not sure I have anything that would be appropriate.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Geneva spoke from behind me, sounding very condescending, “Where is that lovely little thing you had on when the Captain couldn’t keep his eyes off you?”

I spun around, “Couldn’t what?”

She smiled coyly as she stood next to me, “Come now, we are women; we know when a man notices us. You really are quite attractive, you know. The captain would hardly be a man if he didn’t notice you”

“I do hope you’re joking, Lady Dunsany,” I swallowed hard.

“Not at all.” She turned to me, eyes wide in mock innocence as she held a blue sundress in her hands.

Holyrood. I had wore the dress to Holyrood when she and the captain took the children on a tour of the palace. They hadn’t really needed me, which meant I had time to wander behind them and admire the place myself.

My mind replayed every interaction I’ve ever had with the man, searching for something that could have betrayed my feelings.

“But I’ve never--”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to, my dear,” she looked over her shoulder as she laid the dress on my bed, “There’s nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who’s in love with him.”

A woman who’s in love with him.

The air seemed to leave my lungs in a rush, “Is that so?”

“Of course! And what makes it all so nice is that he thinks he’s in love with you.”

“No,” I shook my head, “That’s not true.”

He couldn’t be in love with me.

Her eyebrows rose, “Surely, you’ve noticed the way he looks into your eyes... and you were blushing just now when the two of you were dancing.”

I’d always been told everything I thought showed on my face, but I had worked so hard to not give myself away. To love him from a distance, without his even being aware of it.

It seemed I had failed.

“Don’t worry, my dear, he’ll get over it soon enough, I should think,” shrugged noncommittally, “Men do, you know.”

I knew he would, but I wasn’t sure I could. Something deep within my heart told me that I would always love him.

So what now?

I couldn’t go on being a nanny to his children when he knew my feelings towards him. I couldn’t face him, couldn’t look him in the eye and see the truth.

What was the truth? Do I believe this woman? Does he really love me?

My heart sank as I realized that even if he did love me, we could never be together. We were from two completely different worlds, completely opposite stations in life. I couldn’t live in his and I would never ask him to lower himself to mine.

I have to leave.

I jumped, not realizing I had said this aloud, as Lady Geneva asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #sound of music au #o captain my captain