#Clair sling bag

[rafeny]

Can I Tell You...about Clair Concepcion-Barberis.

Can I Tell You…I have known Clair Concepcion-Barberis since the late 80s when I started my fashion brand in Manila. She and her best friends were rebellious teenagers who dared to defy the rules of their strict Catholic school to model for me. We had so much fun going against the status quo in those days. We kept in touch after I moved to New York and whenever I was in Manila, I would always make time to see her and the gang for a proper catch-up.

About twenty years ago, Clair and her husband purchased an island in Palawan as a private family retreat. Slowly over time they built a few more cottages to accommodate more people and eventually due to popular demand opened it up as a boutique resort called Bamboo Private Islands, available to rent for the entire family or a group of friends. The next time I’m back in the Philippines, it’s definitely going to be on top of the list of places to go for a long weekend.

But Clair isn’t one to sit still. She had been dabbling in creative projects over the years and finally decided to launch a design workshop called Artifeks. The goal is to partner creative individuals with artisans who can realize their designs using local materials. Case in point, if you want a chic umbrella similar to the one Clair is holding in the photo, they can make it for you.

On a recent trip to New York, Clair had expressed her desire for a bag that she could wear with everything and wear anywhere, a bag that could dress up even her most casual looks. The #ClairSlingCrossbody I designed with her in mind is crafted from handwoven leather in a super neutral color I call stucco. It’s a grab and go kind of bag that compliments Clair’s easy breezy style.

And judging from these photos, it looks like she loves the bag. It’s so her!

Read our Q & A below :

1.    What is your idea of happiness? That moment or time of deep, real connection. 2.    What is your greatest extravagance? Travel is priceless. 3.    What is your current state of mind? Thunderous! 4.    Whose style do you most admire? Carmen Dell'Orefice and Isabella Rossellini. 5.    What do you consider your greatest achievement? I wouldn't go so far as calling it my greatest achievement (yet!) but certainly an achievement. Starting Artifeks, a design and manufacturing business at an age when one typically slows down.  6.    What is your most treasured possession? Printed photographs of family and friends. 7.    Who is your favorite writer? Too many! 8.    Which living person do you most admire? I admire a few people, many of them are friends. Each one possesses a particular quality I am inspired by which I try to consciously apply in my life. 

9.    Where is your dream destination? Bhutan and Machu Picchu. 10. What is your motto? Amor Fati.

#Clair sling bag #crossbody bag #handwoven leather bag #handwoven by artisans of India #Rafe bag #neutral color bag #sling bag

[iconsfinder]

#claire cottrill #claire cottrill icons #icons claire cottrill #claire icons #icons claire #clairo #clairo icons #icons clairo #icons #girls #girls icons #females icons #twitter stuff #twitter icons #immunity #bubble gum #sling #sofia #bags #flaming hot cheetos #indie #indie girls

[rowniebow]

we were here | steve harrington x male!reader

summary: you and steve are good friends and someone feels it's about time to take it to the next level.

pairings: steve harrington x male!reader

cw: bickering, fluff

word count: 2.6k+

an: steve harrington is bisexual and it's definitely cannon! (/s, i wish) if you read/watched all the bright places...you get it

masterlist

⭒

"dude, we're slinging it right now!" robin called out.

"we're totally slinging it." you echoed.

"we're slinging so hard."

"we're so slingin' good at slinging."

"will you two please shut up?" steve interjected.

silence came between you and robin for only a moment as you shared a glance with two sets of pursed lips.

"but we're slinging so hard right now, steve!"

"we couldn't be slinging any harder!"

steve groaned from the back room. "you guys make taking my break like hell!"

"that's the goal, dingus."

steve stomped up to the door to look out at us from the back room. "no one is even here! you're not slinging shit!"

your scooper seemed to gather ice cream in itself on it's own. you placed your scoop into a cone and took a bite that stuck needles into your teeth and all the way up your skull.

"i slung that."

"oh, you slung it so well!" robin cheered for you while steve groaned again.

⭒⭒

"you're really slacking with the ladies, man." you taunted with a smile as you watched claire robbins walk away with a grimace on her face.

"yeah, well i don't see you pulling any." steve groaned.

"oh, i could if i wanted!" your eyes danced as you found an opportunity to play your favorite game: teasing steve harrington.

"prove it."

"i will!"

⭒⭒⭒

"i love that necklace, angela! where'd you get it?" you spoke over the counter to the blonde you had no real interest in.

"it's sick how he can just ... look at her like that." steve's narrowed eyes watched your laughing back. how you could conjure a sparkle in your eye like that was baffling.

"what, are you jealous, harrington?" roving smiled at the glaring man next to her.

"jealous of what?" the venom in his voice told robin all that she needed to know.

"jealous that he can charm any girl in a mile radius and you can't even get one? or that he's not looking at you like that?"

"shut up." steve pouted his way into the back room of the ice cream shop.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

robin kept a count on her whiteboard.

steve: 0

you: 9

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"what's up, lover boy?" you cheesed at steve as you climbed in his car through the window. when you would use the door like a sane person - he'd never know.

"w-watch the seats!" he groaned watching your dirty shoes leave marks on the leather. "i just cleaned this car."

"sorry!" you mindlessly apologized as you pulled a map out of your bag and unfolded it. several bright sticky notes that you had plastered on to it fell on to the floor of the car.

"where are we going?"

"you'll see when we get there!"

"it better not be like the gas station from last time. shit was creepier than the monster dogs."

"it'll be fun for me, at least."

"yeah, you said that about the gas station..." steve mumbled to himself seeing you were too entranced by your map of excitement.

he noticed that your collection of road trips around indiana (that you were keeping for you two to travel to had grown from not just a green (the scary gas station), yellow (a river in south indiana that you wanted to show him), and blue (wherever you two were to be headed today) route. now, various shades of reds, purples, pinks and browns littered the page.

"what are those new ones?" he asked, his eyes trailing from the road to you.

"you'll see when we go! don't get ahead of yourself." you folded the map onto your lap and pulled out one of the many cassette tapes from you bag and popped it into the car radio.

'oh! darling' began humming from the speakers. steve rolled his eyes. you had abbey road on repeat for far too long. he didn't need to know every single word in the album.

though, he didn't hesitate to start screaming along with you and your air guitar by the time the third section of the song came along, of course.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

steve's car couldn't seem to fight off the summer heat. sweat dripped down both of your foreheads. the windows rolled down allowed the blue sky and fluffy clouds to leak in and fill your noses with hot humidity. your shirt clung to you and constricted your breathing.

"there it is!" you shouted, nearly falling out of the window after steve slammed on his breaks.

a green sign with white print read 'hoosier hill - indiana's highest point - elev. 1257'.'

"pull over, pull over!"

"oh, you gotta be shitting me," steve grumbled under his breath. you heard it very loud, of course. you always heard him loudly. you were also always very aware that his complaining meant next to nothing when it came to you, though.

you climbed out of the car before steve could turn the car off, "c'mon, steve!" you practically whined for him.

"is this really it?" he questioned as if he were going to leave you there if you said yes.

"no, there's stuff up there!" you pointed up a hill amidst the trees and green bushes to a faded trail that looked as if it were going to blow away in the summer breeze.

steve huffed, preparing himself for the short walk that would feel like miles in the heat. you didn't take a second to wait for him, though. you ran up the hill even with the heat filling your lungs and making them as small as could be.

steve watched your frame stop. "this is it!" you called to him.

he shrugged after arriving next to you and catching his breath. "it's a little underwhelming but at least it's not that gas station."

you both stared at a wooden sign that restated what the green sign said. steve plopped down onto a bench that sat on the same small plot as the wooden sign.

you looked at it for a moment more.

then ran down the hill and back to steve's car. he stuttered out a call for you, but found his attempts fruitless.

you returned a moment later, out of breath and more sweaty, but with your bag. you fished out a push pin with white fabric on it and a black marker.

you tossed the bag to steve, scribbling your name down on the fabric.

"the hell are you doin'?"

you scooted the pen over to him with the fabric, "write your name."

"what? no, what is this for-?"

"steve," you watched him with a look he knew all too well: 'just do it for me'.

he rolled his eyes and participated, "i swear to god, if this is going to put my name into a cult or something i'm never forgiving you."

you snatched the fabric and pen back and finished what you wanted to write, then went to pin the fabric to the wooden stick.

steve and y/n were here.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you have to bring extra shoes," you scolded in through the window of his car. your backpack begged you to set it back down in his car but you needed to go home for the night.

"what the hell do i need extra shoes for?"

"you should bring some you don't care about,"

"i'm not bringing extra shoes, alright?"

"if you say so. you're going to regret it, though." you turned and began taking your steps toward the door.

"why would i regret it?" he called to your retreating figure.

"eight a.m, harrington! we need to go before work!"

steve watched your door shut.

"god-dammit!" he muttered to himself as he began driving home into the newly born night.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"we're going to milltown, you should probably get gas," you choked out while you climbed into the car. dirty feet all over the seats (once again).

"milltown? dude-,"

"no complaining! i'll pay for your gas if your going to have a hissy fit about it."

"maybe you should try driving for once."

"no thanks," you plugged a cassette in to the car radio, 'come on eileen" started playing from the middle of the song.

steve mindlessly nodded his head along to the songs, listening to your mindless humming.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you know what? this one is actually kinda cool." steve admitted.

"right!"

you two stood admiring what looked to be several trees that had been covered in shoes with their laces tied so they hung off the branches.

you plopped down on to the grass. the cold morning dew seeped through your clothes and pinched your legs. you tugged your dirty reeboks that were too small off of your feet. "you brought extra shoes, right?"

steve let out an extended breath as he watched you tug a pair of converse out of your bag and pulled them onto your feet.

"i told you to bring some!"

"yeah, i know!" he rolled his eyes but sat next to you and pulled his own pair of reeboks off.

you both tied the laces of your pairs together, tugging to make sure they'd stay on with the rest of the hanging shoes.

and off they flew as you both tossed your pairs in the air together. the summer breeze carried the two pairs of reeboks onto the branches, shaking the tree and it's leaves and shoes.

"dude, you didn't get yours anywhere near mine. how will the people know that we came together?"

"'the people' wont give two shits about where our shoes are on the tree. they're all in that pile."

"i will care!"

"alright, well you can get a ladder and go move the shoes." steve said as he sat on the ground and leaned back onto the soft grass. "i will be right here whenever you're done with that."

you glanced from the lounging man with his eyes closed to still swinging shoes in the sky.

you decided it wouldn't matter in the long run, and at least he had done it with you despite having no extra shoes to wear (maybe it'd be nice if you offered yours to him but, also, maybe he should have just listened to you!).

you laid down next you him with your hands behind your head and stared up at fluffy white clouds that swam in the sea of blue above. the breeze moved the blades of grass to dance along your cheeks and neck. your hair danced with them.

you watched the clouds mold into their own shapes and pointed out different things you saw to steve:

"that one looks like a turtle!"

"that's a fucked up turtle."

"that one looks like a shark!"

"it looks like it's swimming after the turtle to eat it."

you both continued on like that for seemingly forever. the midday heat began to creep in and making it to work began to clog your mind but steve was in no rush, so you pushed the thoughts away.

"i gotta ask you for advice about something." steve began out of nowhere. he dressed his words in formal attire. "i've gotten really close to someone recently, like a lot closer than we've ever been before."

steve doesn't get serious with you (or anyone) often. so, of course, you listened with every fiber in you. you treated his concerns with upmost importance.

"and i've - i don't know. i've started to-to like this person. a lot. but, well, i don't even know if they'd feel the same way about me."

"that's never stopped you before," you smiled, glancing to the side to read his features.

"yeah, but this person is just... different."

"what do you mean?"

"well, for one, i can't even imagine what other people would think. my dad for sure. he'd kill me. but, i also just actually like this person. and like... care about them and our relationship, and what would happen if they didn't end up liking me, too."

"does it really matter what your dad thinks?"

"i mean, i don't really care. i just always imagined he'd be at my wedding and it would be pretty shitty if he wasn't there."

"you're already thinking about marriage with this person and you haven't even asked them out yet?"

"yeah, is that bad?"

"i think that just proves that it shouldn't matter what your dad thinks if you really are already thinking about marriage with them. since when does steve harrington think about marriage with a girl?"

"i-i mean, yeah! that the dream, you know?"

"really?"

"i'd love to have a bunch of little harrington's runnin' around."

"so what advice do you need from me? it sounds like you already know what you want, you just gotta get the balls to go get her."

"sure, sure. you're right. thank you."

"'course man," a nervous silence overwhelmed you. you could never tell if you said the right thing, especially with steve. he was so difficult to read.

"that one looks like a squirrel that can't get open an acorn," steve pointed to a cloud above with a smirk over his features as if he knew he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"no it does not, you idiot,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

your name echoed from the street outside of your house that night. your eyebrows shuffled together in confusion as you scurried to your window to see what - or who - could be causing all that noise.

you peaked your head out to see steve harrington holding roses, 'i just called to say i love you' blasting through his car stereo from one of the cassette's you had given him.

you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face at how absolutely sweet he looked with his nervous feet and fingers tapping. his eyebrows were sewn together and his lips looked licked raw. he motioned for you to come down stairs and that's exactly what you did.

"what the hell are you doing?" you laughed as you ran out in your pajamas, sandals, and a sad excuse for a jacket.

"listen to me,"

"you are so lucky my parents aren't here right now, harrington, they'd kill you for being so loud!" you reached in his car and turned the volume down to a reasonable volume. the smile never left your face, though.

steve spoke your name again, and grabbed your arm to turn you around. "listen, i-" his eyes searched your face for the words he wanted to say. he couldn't find them, though.

"i'm listening," you smiled, leaning against his car as stevie wonders continued to play.

he rolled his eyes (at himself) and found his answers away from your face. "i-i-i-i've just- i've been talking to robin a lot more lately and she's helped me understand that i-i, you know, i like you and i think you're really cool but i've never liked a guy before you, ya know? i don't know how to do any of this shit," he mumbled to himself. "here," he shoved the flowers into your hand.

the smile never left your face, "steve,"

he looked up at you. he hadn't realized how close he had come, practically trapping you against his car.

"is it okay if i kiss you?" you whispered into his ear.

his cheeks went as red as could be. you'd never seen him so flustered (or flustered at all, for that matter).

his mouth opened but no words came out. just an eager nod.

the hand that wasn't holding the roses found its way to his cheek and pulled him in to meet your lips. it was short and sweet, the smallest bite of chocolate. it drew steve in and let him know what he was in for in the coming future with you.

and steve was absolutely in love.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x male reader #male reader #gender neutral mc #gender neutral reader #bisexual steve harrington #steve #male mc #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x reader

[turbulenthandholding]

👀 just wondering if you’re writing anything these days!

1. Hi, hello, thank you for the ask @anxietycroissant! ❤️

2. I am...or I am trying! I am about 16,000 words into what is probably going to be a pretty long fic. It's an unexpected pregnancy/speed-run-the-relationship Sydcarmy and I am happy to be writing it because it's what my brain wants to read but it alternately falls out of my head and gives me great angst. I had been pretty blocked for more than a week but 3000 words fell out of my head like nothing last night which was a nice surprise.

Excerpt (Syd and Carmy are at IKEA):

“Sammy, right? Weren't you Carmy's sous?”

Sydney looks up to see Claire standing before her. “Claire. Hi. It's Sydney, actually,” she says and rises. Claire's eyes fall to Syd’s abdomen. “And I'm his CDC now.”

“Oh, that's so cute!” Claire says, her eyes falling to Syd’s belly. “You finally got over your weird obsession with Carmy and moved on,” Claire says. “Congratulations!”

“Weird obsession?” Syd asks. She feels pinned again like she did the first night she met Claire during the reno, glared at for reasons Syd at least thinks she understands now. Jealousy, and this time, lingering anger at her breakup with Carmy, which Claire lobs at Sydney like a knife.

Syd struggles to respond. “Sorry...are you like here to look at a couch? Or like, eat some meatballs? Sorry.”

“How do you feel about a lingonberry juice box?” Carmy asks Syd as he returns, focused, unaware, unwrapping and inserting the straw as he moves to hand it to her. “Got some water too,” he says, finally engaging with the scene in front of him.

“Carm, hi,” Claire says, features pinching. Syd takes a sip from the straw.

“Uhh, hey, Claire,” Carmy returns. He slips his arm around Syd, possessive fingers digging into her hip. A united front.

“Just one…” Claire begins. “Did this, uh, overla…how far along are you?”

“Due at the end of February,” Syd says.

Claire calculates, glares at Carmy. “You didn't waste any time.”

Carmy shrugs.

“Well, this is just so fucking precious,” Claire says through clenched teeth. “I guess when you said you didn't have space for fun or enjoyment in your life, you really just meant you don't have space for me. Cool. Cool. That's just…I’ll see you around, Bear. Good luck with whatever.” She slings her bag over her shoulder and stalks off back towards the escalators.

“Uhh,” Syd says, before taking a last drink from her juice box. The lingonberry juice is good, a little tart cutting through the sweetness. The box scrunches and crunches in her hand and makes the sound that juice boxes do when they are finished. “Sorry, that was loud. And just like…sorry that, uh, this happened.”

(2.5 - I could probably use an alpha reader if any of my Sydcarmy mutuals wants to take a look and tell me if it's bad or that I'm crazy because it could very well be!)

3. I'm also working on a soul mark/soul scar Sydcarmy. It's probably about 3k words so far but I put it to the side because I realized I had a huge plot hole and haven't quite figured out how to come back from it yet.

Excerpt:

Sydney gets really good at applying foundation to her arms, pressing it in with setting powder to help keep it waterproof just in case. The number of tattoos gracing her arms has been growing exponentially over the last few months. There's a pyrex measuring cup holding the whole world, a couple of angels, a fish. S-O-U on the fingers of her hand. She's a senior in high school on track to graduate with honors and the body art would be a distraction, a mark against her. An indication that she's not serious enough to do anything other than make terrible decisions or jeopardize her future; a constant, tangible reminder that she doesn't have the grace about things like this than people whose skin is lighter than hers. She wishes she didn't care. But she does, so she covers them up every day in a routine that feels like it has become her religion. She wears button-down shirts with long sleeves secured at her wrists most days, even when the heat and humidity in Chicago are oppressive. Counts the seconds until she can go to the CIA where maybe the sight of Schrödinger’s tattoos (simultaneously hers and not hers) won't hold her back.

#thh writes #sydcarmy #sydcarmy fic #thank you for the ask <3 #anti claire bear

[ladyviolethummingbird]

The Gloaming

An Outlander/Jane Eyre crossover

Read chapter 1 here

Read chapter 2 here

Chapter 3: Wolverton Hall

An imposing grey stone building, Wolverton Hall looked like the kind of place that would be draughty even in the summer. A thick wood bordered it on two sides and in the pale morning sun it almost melted into the landscape. Boots crunching on the gravelled forecourt, Jamie headed towards the front door. Made of oak, it held a sizeable wrought iron dragon’s head as a knocker. Rapping with the metal ring, he took a fortifying breath and waited.

The minutes ticked by and Jamie wondered if the servants had been given the day off. At length, the door opened and he was greeted by a man in his mid-thirties wearing a fine blue coat. Jamie stuck out a hand by way of introduction.

“James Fraser, pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir”

The man in the blue coat’s eyes widened as he took Jamie in.

“Good heavens man, what happened?! Are you all right?”

No overcoat, arm in a sling, suit torn and muddied: Jamie looked quite the sight. As first impressions go, it was a terrible one. His face fell, convinced he’d be turned away from the house before even starting his new job.

“I ah...got into a spot of bother on the way here from Lerwick. But if ye have a laundry I can use...”

“Oh don’t worry about any of that, I’ll have one of the maids sort some clean clothes for you. Do you need a doctor?”

“No, I’m fine; really, Mr...?”

“Abernathy, Joseph Abernathy. I’m the butler here at the hall.”

To Jamie’s great relief Mr Abernathy had a kind face and, smiling, ushered him into the house.

“Now, if you’re sure you’re all right Mr Fraser, at least let me take your bag for you.”

“Thank ye, Mr Abernathy”

Jamie followed his host through to a wood-panelled parlour. Hunting trophies adorned the walls and suspended from the ceiling was a candelabra at least triple the size of a carriage wheel. Mr Abernathy poured Jamie a glass of whisky and bid him to wait while he went to speak to the cook about lunch.

Settling into a plush leather armchair, Jamie sipped his drink - enjoying the heat it brought to his belly. His chair was positioned beside a sizeable fireplace, the fire within crackling and popping as it warmed the room considerably, allowing his bones to begin to thaw from the chilled morning’s walk. Despite this, Jamie noticed a definite coldness to the house. It felt like he’d walked into a museum rather than a family home.

After being provided with fresh clothes and a bowl of warm water to clean himself up, lunch was served in the butler’s sitting room. Jamie was presented with a steaming bowl of stew and a large chunk of crusty bread, his empty stomach grumbling from the mere site of it. The meat it contained was was juicy and tender, leaving Jamie struggling to remember when he’d eaten a cut that wasn’t sinewy and requiring several minutes of chewing in order to swallow it. Those times, he dared to hope, were in the past and he wolfed the meal down, eagerly accepting seconds.

While they ate Mr Abernathy told him about Wolverton Hall. Built by Lord Jonathan Randall in the 1720s, it had remained in the family ever since. The present occupants were the English widow of the late Lord Franklin; Lady Claire and their son Fergus. Eight years old and with a mop of wild brown curls, he was a cheeky lad with a good heart. The information put Jamie at ease considerably.

“Is the family home at present?”

“No, her ladyship and Master Fergus are away on business. We’re not expecting them back until early next week”

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. His shoulder would be healed by then; the last thing he wanted was his new employer to think he was unfit to perform his duties.

After lunch, Mr Abernathy showed Jamie to his new room. At the workhouse, bed was a canvas cot in a room with twenty seven others. At the blacksmith’s it was a mattress on the floor separated from the workshop by a thin sheet. Walking into his quarters at Wolverton Hall, he was dumbstruck. A canopy bed, writing desk, window overlooking the kitchen garden and a fireplace all to himself. As far as rooms in large houses went, it was perfectly standard, but to Jamie it was a palace.

The rest of the afternoon was spent touring the house and grounds. Marvelling at the fine stable of horses kept at the Estate, Jamie was in awe that all this finery was for the use of just two people. Assuring Mr Abernathy that he was well enough to ride, he saddled a grey speckled mare that afternoon and trotted through the wooded paths surrounding the house. There was so many new areas to discover and despite the chill in the air, Jamie was excited to begin work. It gave him a little thrill to know that he’s be back in the saddle again, especially riding horses as fine as those kept at Wolverton Hall.

As he lay down to sleep that night (on what he was quite certain was the softest bed he’d ever rested upon), Jamie reflected on the day. Despite their short acquaintance, he’d decided Mr Abernathy would be a source of congenial company; something that had been sorely lacking in his life for many years. The Butler was clearly a man of intelligence and Jamie had enjoyed discussing a number of subjects with him over supper. Originally from America, Abernathy had met the Randalls whilst they were travelling through Europe, and having no fixed plans himself had accepted an offer of employment. That had been eight years ago and in spite of the remoteness of the location, he found the situation suited him perfectly.

“Plenty of time for reading, Fraser. My mind can travel, even if my body does not. Do you read?”

Jamie had nodded in the affirmative and they’d spoken of their favourite tomes; Mr Abernathy offering to show him the library the following day.

“It’s an extensive collection, plenty of things to keep one’s wits sharp. Lady Randall is an erudite woman and would be pleased to have another reader in the household I’m sure”

“What else can you tell me of Lady Randall? I’m afraid I know very little of my new mistress”

Abernathy smiled at mention of the lady of the house, telling Jamie that when he’d first met Lady Randall she was one of the funniest and liveliest people he’d come across. Hailing from Oxford, which is where she’d met Lord Randall, they’d married when she was just 17. Doing the quick calculation, Jamie was surprised that a woman of the mistress’ age would be shut away in one of the remotest corners of the country. Intrigued, he wondered if perhaps she’d not recovered from the death of her husband to such a degree that she chose to shut herself away from the world? Keen to understand what he’d be dealing with, he pressed the butler further.

“I hope it isn’t out of place for me to ask, but did the passing of Lord Randall affect her deeply? Does she mourn him still?”

Mr Abernathy’s fork hit his plate with a clang. Collecting himself he quickly stood and began clearing the table.

“Yes very much. A wonderful man was Lord Randall. A great loss to us all”

It had been clear to Jamie that Abernathy was lying, but the butler’s diverted gaze told him that the subject was closed. Lying in bed hours later, Jamie pondered the reason for Abernathy’s reaction. Had Lady Randall been driven mad by grief? Was he worried that Jamie would leave if he knew the true state of his mistress?

Jamie did not have too much time to ponder this, as with a full stomach and a comfortable place to sleep for the first time since he’d been forced from his beloved Lallybroch, he was soon drifting into a blissful slumber. When dreams came however, they were not of Wolverton Hall but the golden eyes and gentle touch of the mystery woman in the forrest. Jamie smiled in his sleep.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #thanks for reading #the gloaming #fanfic #jane eyre

[august-grey]

i don't need your closure | chapter 10

read on ao3

masterpost

May 1985

“Honestly, Steve, stop being so dramatic. You can do so much worse than scooping ice cream for the summer.” Stepping out of the brand-new Starcourt Mall into the late-Spring sun, Alice slid her sunglasses onto her face. The day of job hunting had gone well, if she did say so herself. Claire’s certainly hadn’t been her first choice, but it was better than nothing. Plus, she thought, self-consciously, if you stood on your tiptoes in just the right spot by the earring racks in the front of the store, you could look directly into Scoops Ahoy on the lower floor of the mall. Alice chose not to dwell on why this fact was so relevant to her.

“Are you kidding me? This is bottom of the barrel stuff, Alice. You didn’t see the uniform they’re making me wear. Look at this!” Steve threw himself onto a bench and dug through the brown paper bag he’d been carrying before brandishing a white sailor’s cap in Alice’s face. She took it from him and swatted his hand away. Oh. Yeah, this was pretty bad. “Also, I’m pretty sure my coworker hates me already even though she barely knows me, so that’s gonna be fun.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Alice tried to console her obviously distraught friend. “This is just a stepping stone, Steve. We’ve gotta start somewhere.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got that cushy job upstairs selling scrunchies to preteens. Meanwhile I’m going to be in the trenches, slinging ice cream to hoards of hot, hungry customers.” 

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got that cushy job upstairs selling scrunchies to preteens. Meanwhile I’m going to be in the trenches, slinging ice cream to hoards of hot, hungry customers.” 

“Think of the tips, though! People are going to be so grateful to you for providing respite from the heat, you’re going to be swimming in that sweet, sweet ice cream money.” Alice plopped down on the bench next to Steve, straightened out the cap in her hands, and placed it on his head. He immediately yanked it off and shoved it back into the bag out of sight, but not before Alice caught a flash of bright blue polyester. “Besides, it’s just for the summer, right? In a couple months we’ll be off to college and have to start the job hunt all over again.”

“Yeah, about that.” Steve’s voice lowered and she had to lean closer to hear him. “Turns out I’m going to be stuck in Hawkins a while longer. I didn’t get in, Al. No one wanted me.”

Alice’s stomach dropped. Oh god, she was an idiot. When her acceptance letters started coming in, she’d ignorantly assumed Steve’s were similar. He hadn’t mentioned anything to the contrary, at least. Regardless, she should have known something was off. Alice knew he’d been anxious when applying, but he’d worked so hard this year. Certainly the admissions offices could see how much improvement he’d made, why couldn’t that be taken into account? This was completely unfair. After what Steve had gone through…everything with the demodogs and the bullshit with Nancy and being bullied by Billy...Steve deserved so much better than feeling rejected yet again.

“Steve…”

“No, no. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter, really.” The catch in his voice gave away the fact that it did, in fact, matter to him. It pained Alice to see her normally overconfident friend like this; shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the concrete sidewalk. She laid a comforting hand on his back and felt him lean into her touch. “Don’t blame them, honestly. Just didn’t have the grades. Probably should’ve started caring before my last year of high school, huh? My parents are pissed, obviously. Which is why I’m going to be working a fucking dead end job instead of starting with my dad.”

“Screw what your parents think, Steve. This isn’t the end.” Absentmindedly patting Steve’s arm, Alice wracked her mind for a solution. “First of all, don’t think of Scoops as a dead end job; it’s a jumping off point. It’s experience to add to your resume. Secondly, have you looked at the community colleges around, or maybe a trade school? You don’t even need to go to school, really. We can look for apprenticeships or get you in at an entry level position somewhere. We should grab a paper and check the classifieds, do you have any change?”

It looked like Alice had a mission now; there was no way she was letting Steve feel this badly about himself without exhausting every resource. Spotting the newspaper vending box near the entrance of the mall, she sprang from the bench, digging through her purse for a few coins. Before she could rush off, she felt a hand snake around her wrist, refocusing her attention. Steve was looking up at her, amusement and something else she couldn’t place was sparkling in his eyes. Heart beating a bit faster, Alice let herself be pulled back down onto the bench.

“Jesus, Alice, calm down. You don’t need to solve my problems all at once. God, you don’t have to solve any of my problems, that’s not on you. Besides, it’s not so bad. At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on Dustin and the kids next year. Make sure they don’t get into much trouble without you here to wrangle them. Let’s just enjoy the summer for now, yeah? We can take a couple months to have some fun and work our minimum wage jobs and take advantage of not having to literally fight for our lives. We can just be teenagers for once.” Steve slid his hand from it’s gentle grip on Alice’s wrist, shifting to lace their fingers together. “Then we can figure out the future, okay?”

Shit. Alice seemed to have forgotten how to breath. This was just some friendly, casual hand-holding, right? All friends did this, didn’t they? Of course they don’t, you moron. She shook away the thought. This was really beginning to become a problem. 

She had tried. Truly, honestly tried. For months. But despite her best efforts, Alice had continued the long and deep decent into a full blown crush on Steve Harrington. Of course, she outright refused to admit it to even herself, let alone Steve. Alice genuinely didn’t know what she would do if the relationship they had built over the past several months was suddenly gone because she did something stupid like admitting her stupid unrequited feelings for him. There was no way she’d even consider jeopardizing their friendship over that.

So instead Alice chose to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that stirred up every time she had any sort of physical contact with Steve. Which, to both her pleasure and dismay, seemed to be happening much more often lately. The occasional hug or accidental brush of limbs had evolved into much more purposeful touches. Ones that lingered maybe a tad too long. Thighs pressed against each other during movies or while studying. An arm draped over her shoulders or guiding hand on the small of her back while walking. And now, apparently, holding hands for no reason other than to just…touch.

“Okay?” Snapping back to reality, Alice nodded enthusiastically, giving him a tight-lipped smile. Steve grinned and squeezed her hand; Alice had to take a breath to center herself. She really had to sort herself out. “Speaking of being normal teenagers, what are we doing after prom?”

“Prom?” Alice parroted, brain not quite caught up yet. “You literally told me last week that prom was boring and overrated.”

“Well, yeah, it is. But I was mostly trying to make you feel better about being too sick to go last year. It won’t be so awful this year, not with you.” Catching the skeptical look on her face, Steve’s tone became more serious. “Alice…we can’t not go to our senior prom.”

“I don’t know…it’s only a week away and I don’t even have a dress or anything.” Alice bit her lip; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. Between college prep, extracurriculars, finals, and job hunting, prom had been the farthest thing from her mind. By the time she realized how quickly it was approaching, she thought it felt too late to consider going. “You really don’t have a date, already? No one asked you?”

Steve looked a bit sheepish before brushing off the question, “I mean, someone might’ve asked. But I don’t want to spend the night with some rando when I know for a fact I’d have an infinitely better time with someone I actually like.”

The fact that Steve had turned down going with an actual date for her did not escape Alice’s attention. Trying not to let it go to her head, she extracted her hand from Steve’s and stood up. 

“If this is your way of asking me to prom, I pity your future fiancé.” Steve rolled his eyes at Alice, biting back a smile. “She won’t even know you’re proposing. Very roundabout, Harrington. You could’ve been like, ‘hey Alice, let’s just go prom together as friends ’ and I would’ve been like ‘sure, Steve, sounds great’ and this would’ve been settled a lot quicker.” 

“Yeah…as friends…” Steve grumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?” Alice asked, not quite catching what he had said.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. So…is that a yes or are you going to drag this out for the rest of the day?” 

It was Alice’s turn to roll her eyes. Obviously she’d go with him. There wasn’t any part of her that would say no to Steve at this point. She was long gone, even if she wasn’t ready to reconcile that with herself just yet.  

“C’mon. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had nothing to wear.” Steve scrambled up from the bench, following Alice back to the entrance of the mall. She slid her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head. “We’re shopping, Harrington.”

***

How the prom council managed to transform the high school gym into an Under the Sea  fantasy completely mystified Alice. She had to admit, it was pretty impressive. Metallic streamers covered the walls and hung from the ceiling, papier-mâché jellyfish and cutouts of tropical fish bobbed above their heads, and the whole gymnasium was cast in a pretty, blue-green light that truly made it seem as though they were in whimsical underwater world instead of small-town Indiana. 

Overall, prom really wasn’t as awful as Steve had made it out to be. The food left something to be desired, but Alice was actually having fun. When she wasn’t dancing wildly with her friends from band or drama club, Alice was being swept away to graze at the snacks laid out and gossip about their classmates with Steve. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much. Steve was right, this was exactly what they needed after everything they’d been through. 

The ending notes of a Pat Benetar tune rang through the gym, making way for the beginnings of a much slower song. Alice extracted herself from the small group of girls she’d been dancing with, face-flushed and fixing the straps of her dress, as her classmates began to pair off. Just as well, she needed a breather; her feet were screaming from inside the heels she’d naively convinced herself to wear, and she desperately needed a drink. She had somehow lost Steve a few songs ago and she scanned the crowd for him as she made her way over to the punch bowl.

Suddenly Alice felt a hand slide into hers. Before she had time to react, her arm was lifted above her head and she was being twirled straight into Steve’s chest. The emerald taffeta of Alice’s dress swished around her calves as she tried to regain her bearings after the sudden, full-body contact with her best friend.

“Dance with me?” He grinned down at her, wrapping his free arm around her waist to place his hand on the small of her back. He was gorgeous, almost ethereal, cast in the artificial light. His classic black tuxedo turned to a rich, deep midnight blue and the tie they’d scoured three different stores to find the exact shade of her dress, more teal than green now. 

“We’ve been dancing all night, dummy.” She took a half step back, moving her free hand to rest on Steve’s shoulder. They really had been dancing, if you considered hopping around like maniacs and shouting lyrics at each other when their favorite songs played as dancing. But Alice wasn’t an idiot, she knew this was different. This felt different. 

She swore she felt something shift as she and Steve swayed together to the beat of the music. Steve pulled her closer so that their bodies were flush with one another, so close that she could feel his heart beat against her own chest. Adjusting to the lack of space, she twined her arms around his neck. His hands settled on either side of her hips, holding her tight. Alice’s entire body was on fire. 

“You really do look beautiful tonight, Alice.” Steve leaned down to whisper in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Well, you clean up pretty well yourself, Harrington.” Alice bit back her smile, playing it cool. He didn’t make it easy on her, however. 

Alice’s mind spun as Steve’s head tilted, angling his face toward hers. He paused, gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips, as if waiting for Alice to grant him permission. Oh god, this was happening. Suddenly extremely grateful for the few inches her heels added to her height, Alice would only have to lean in to close the small gap between their mouths. If she did this, if she kissed Steve Harrington, everything would change. Their friendship would never be the same. But God did Alice want it. She wanted it so badly she could scream. 

Fuck it. There was no way she could know what would happen after, but there was only one way to find out. Not giving herself another second to overthink, Alice rose to her tip toes and gently pressed her lips to Steve’s. 

Or, at least she would have if someone hadn’t violently shouldered Steve as they passed by the pair. The sudden impact nearly knocked Steve off his feet, but Alice, already unsteady in her shoes, slipped and lost her grip on Steve’s neck, sending her toppling to the unforgiving gymnasium floor. 

Landing hard on her elbow, Alice stifled her grunt of pain. Steve was upon her in a second, crouching down to help her sit up and scanning her for injury. 

“You good?” Alice nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. She made to smooth out her skirt and make sure everything was covered when a shadow fell over them.

“Ooh, nasty fall, Henderson. My bad.” A voice drawled from far above her. Alice looked up into the smug, smirking face of Billy Hargrove; tie hung loose around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned to show off a generous amount of chest. His date draped over his arm at least had the decency to throw Alice a look of pity. The couples around them had stopped dancing, finding more entertainment in the storm brewing in front of them. 

“Fuck off, Hargrove.” Steve growled, wrapping a protective arm around Alice and hauling her to her feet. Alice steadied herself, cradling her sore elbow. That was surely going to bruise by the morning. 

“What? It was an accident.” Billy feigned remorse, turning toward Alice. “Right, Henderson? You forgive me, right?”

“Leave us alone, Billy.” She muttered, just wanting to be done with him. Alice was so sick of this man. He’d already done enough damage, how much more could he possibly do to her and her friends. 

“Aw, c’mon now. Don’t be like that.” He crooned, condescendingly. Alice pressed her lips together defiantly, not willing to give him any more satisfaction. “I’m hurt, Alice, truly. I thought you’d be a little more understanding when you consider our, uh, intimate history.”

That last dig had the tears Alice had been swallowing down finally fight their way to the surface. She was absolutely mortified. There wasn’t a day she didn’t regret her drunken tryst, if you can even call it that, with Billy. Unfortunately for Alice, not only did he know it, but he found some sickening pleasure in taunting her with the knowledge of how much it bothered her. He’d shown his true colors that awful night at the Byers. Threatening physical harm to literal children, nearly killing Steve. Her stomach turned every time she thought of the genuine terror in Max’s eyes when she heard the revving engine of Billy’s car. As far as Alice was concerned, Billy was a monster. One that was somehow proving to be much harder to get rid of than the actual monsters she’d seen. 

Alice could feel the judging stares of her classmates on her. A few hushed giggles and whispers rose above the music, and her face burned with shame. The music and commotion of the gymnasium soon gave way until she could only hear the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. What once felt magical, soon turned almost claustrophobic as the room closed in on her. She could only think of getting out of there.

Seemingly satiated by the few, humiliated tears leaking down Alice’s cheeks, Billy gave her one final arrogant grin and sauntered back into the crowd, pulling his date along with him. 

Fists balled at his sides, Steve furiously made his way after the boy, but Alice clutched his arm, pulling him back to her. The fire in his eyes melted as he caught her expression, his attention torn between Billy’s retreating back and the pathetic girl before him.

“Can we get some air?” She sniffled, hastily wiping her face just for new tears to replace the old. He just nodded, jaw clenched. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Gripping her hand tightly, Steve wove his way through the throngs of teens toward the exit, pulling Alice along with him. He didn’t let go until they had safely pushed through the double doors in the back of the gym. 

Alice hadn’t realized how overheated she was until she was met with the cool, late spring air. Head spinning, she frantically searched the area for a private place to have her breakdown. Small groups of people littered the courtyard and parking lot; couples making out in the shadows, a trio of boys passing a flask back and forth, a gaggle of girls comforting a crying friend. 

Steve hot on her heels, Alice settled on a well-hidden spot behind a low brick wall. Deeming it far enough away from prying eyes, she plopped herself on the concrete, buried her face in her hands, (knowing fully well that she was ruining the makeup she’d spent so long perfecting that evening), and let herself truly cry.

What was wrong with her? There was no way the Alice of a year ago would have let a glorified bully get under her skin like Billy had. She did what she could to avoid him, but it was a small school. As if the taunts and snide remarks he threw at her in the halls weren’t enough, just the sight of him brought her back to everything that happened that fall. Everything that Alice was doing her best to put behind her. But there Billy was; a constant reminder of the horror they all had faced. Graduation couldn’t come quick enough if it meant seeing the last of Billy Hargrove. 

She felt Steve settle in next to her, his body pressed against hers from shoulder to thigh. Alice was suddenly struck with the memory of that first night when everything had gone to shit, at the hospital after she, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan had fought the demogorgon. She’d almost broken down then, too. But Steve had been there, offering a light and anchoring her reality. Things had been so different then. She had barely known Steve (or any of them for that matter) as anything other than the douchebag constantly interrupting every class they had together with pointless questions. Now, Alice couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Back then they’d been so sure that the worst of it was over. That the monster was dead; gone for good. How were they to know that the worst was yet to come? 

Even now, after once again narrowly escaping death via horror-movie monsters, Alice wasn’t convinced that their otherworldly troubles had come to pass. Hawkins had been so quiet since Eleven closed the gate between their world and the Upside Down. But deep in her bones, she knew it wasn’t over. Alice was sure that the others felt it, even if they didn’t say so. There was a kind of tension, as if they were all just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

But that wasn’t the current issue. For now, at least, Alice could focus on a problem much less deadly and more grounded in the present: fucking Billy Hargrove. Not only did Billy basically physically assault her tonight, he had interrupted the perfect moment between her and Steve. 

“I hate him.” She let out a shuddering breath, strategically wiping her face in an attempt to minimize the carnage of her eye-makeup. “Just one fucking night to forget everything and I let him ruin it. He shouldn’t be able to get to me like this. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Stop that, c’mere.” Steve scooted over, angling himself toward Alice and gathering her in his arms, practically pulling her into his lap. Alice allowed herself this moment of weakness and melted into his side. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she took in deep, steadying breaths; Steve’s familiar scent of aftershave and salty sweat grounding her.“Hargrove’s an asshole, that’s all he’ll ever be. Don’t let him be what you remember from tonight. You had fun, right?”

She nodded, her cheek brushing against the slippery material of his tuxedo jacket. 

“Well then, there we go. We’re not going to waste our time on losers like him, okay?”

She nodded again.

“You feel any better?”

“I guess.” 

Steve sighed, his breath rustling her hair. Guilt ate at Alice. Billy may have ruined her night, but here she was ruining Steve’s. She couldn’t let that happen. Time to put on a brave face and endure the rest of the night. 

“You wanna skip Tammy’s afterparty and just go back to my place? We can forget about stupid prom and…I don’t know…raid my dad’s liquor cabinet, order a pizza, and watch movies all night.”

Alice shook her head, turning so she could properly face him. “No way. As tempting as that sounds, we’ve gotta go. What kind of friend would I be if I made you miss the last good party of high school?”

“We’ve got Sixteen Candles at home.”

“Seriously, Steve. I’m just overreacting. It’s fine, let’s just go and-”

“Splash?”

“-I’m not going to make you miss out on-“

“...Annie?” 

That made her give pause. An offering of Annie from Steve didn’t come lightly. Alice had made him watch her favorite movie about a half-dozen times since they started having regular movie nights. She’d been extremely hesitant to bring it up for the first time, knowing the musical wasn’t quite Steve’s speed, but she’d been having a particularly rough week and needed the comforting wholesomeness of Little Orphan Annie. And Alice was right; Steve hated it. But since then, any time Steve noticed her getting more stressed out or upset than usual, he’d put on a brave face and pop in the well-worn VHS without complaint. Alice liked to think he was coming around to it. 

“Are you sure?”

“There’s quite literally nothing I’d rather do, Al.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington/original character #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington/oc #Steve harrington/ original female character #Steve harrington/ofc #Steve harrington x ofc #Steve harrington x original female character

[balls69ball]

time to talk about music

clairo's live at electric lady album is currently my favorite release of hers!

as a short time clairo fan, sling was my first listen of hers, and i'm so happy that she has continued to stick with giving it all the love and attention it deserves.

this new texture for bags is amazing. it keeps the tone of the original but in an angrier voice, a side of claire that we dont get to see in a lot of projects. the rockier elements give it a lush feel and it's overall an incredible stage-version-to-recording translation.

for the four sling songs on the single, i'll apply my comments to all at once to save words, and also because i have so much i could say about all of them.

in comparison to the album versions of these songs, they are equally as beautiful and intimate sounding, but the most noticeable difference for me is the step up in confidence in each song. it's clear that she loves the original works but feels that they have room to improve as well.

this has been one of my favorite works of music of the past four years.

my favorite song on the single is partridge.

#clairo #claire cottrill #music #Spotify

[starlingsrps]

when you know, you know

it matters very much to eliza that she look nice when indigo comes to visit her in santa monica. they’ve talked on the phone damn near every day in the month since they met so she clearly left an impression but still - she left an impression in her flight suit and reeking of engine grease. sue her if she wants to knock him dead a little. she’s pretty all the time but she’s prettier in a dress and smelling like flowers.

she snatches her green dress with the cap sleeves and little buttons back from dorothy’s closet while she’s at work and trades dishes duty with claire to have her brush out her bangs  when she realizes she’s all thumbs. while the boarding house isn’t her favorite thing (privacy is a foreign concept and someone is always borrowing something without asking) but it does come in handy. she only had joey growing up and while she certainly misses him, she still hasn’t stopped wishing she had an older sister instead. it’s nice to have friends to help her get ready for a date instead of a brother lurking nearby being vaguely threatening.

instead she has claire, who has been perched against her headboard like a mother bird.

“one more time,” claire asks. “where are you going?”

eliza rolls her eyes at the floor while she squats to buckles the ankle strap of her shoe. “for the last time: the pier, dinner, and then we’ll figure it out.”

“dinner where?”

“no idea,” she straightens and laughs at the look on claire’s face. she looks like she’s been sucking on lemons. “what?”

“do you plan anything?”

“claire, look: when you see him, you’ll understand why there’s no plan. if he wants to park and screw, i don’t care if he wants to buy me a hot dog when it’s over.”

“your funeral. i’d at least try to get a steak out of it.”

“i’m not going to stop him if he does. might even bring you a doggie bag.”

“ass.” claire shifts to her knees and eliza’s bed and gives her a long, steady look. “do you have rubbers?”

“claire!” eliza feigns shock, as though she’s not checking her purse for them at that very moment. “what kind of girl do you take me for?”

“well, at least one who’s not getting knocked up by an airman. aren’t you the one who always says they’ll fuck anything that moves and hump anything slow enough to catch?”

eliza clicks her tongue and gestures for her to get off of her bed so she can lock her door and go downstairs to wait. “there’s always an exception.” while locking up, there’s a rustle and the door opening down in the entry hall and she hears the chirp of linda’s voice answered by the rumble of indigo’s voice. she hadn’t heard it a month ago and now can’t picture going without.

claire leans over the edge of the bannister and whistles under her breath. “shit. hell of an exception.”

“when i do it, i do it right.” eliza smooths her dress over her hips. “do i look okay?”

“i’d buy you a steak.”

———

he buys her a burger when they emerge from the backseat and finally make it to the pier. 

eliza can’t remember ever feeling this comfortable with anyone but with indigo, she can’t picture any other way. his arm slings so easily around her shoulders when they’re walking that it’s only natural for her to reach up to twine her fingers with his. she knows from their phone conversations that there’s very little they haven’t talked about yet but they don’t seem to run out of topics. 

texas feels less like a fluke and more like fate.

they make their way down to the beach when the sun starts to set, settling on the sand. generally, she doesn’t think much of california - it’s where she hangs her hat between flights and she misses the rain - but times like this, she understands the appeal. sitting on the beach with a gorgeous man she’s definitely falling in love with? that’s almost certainly worth getting sand all over.

“what do you want to do when it’s over?” she asks, bumping her shoulder against his. 

he shakes his head and snorts. “no idea. probably go back to seattle, make it up as i go along.”

“i could go back to seattle,” eliza says, hoping she sounds casual.  

he surveys her and then smiles. “good. i guess keep flying but-“ he shrugs. “bound to come up with something. now you.”

“me?”

“yeah, you. you want to fly?”

“i do but not all the time,” she says honestly. “just for fun. i want a husband and kids and all that but i’d be miserable if i couldn’t fly.”

“how many are you thinking?”

she screws up her face, pretending to think. “ten.”

“ten?” he laughs. “how about three?”

“six.”

“five. final offer.”

“six. i like even numbers.”

he rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh before extending his hand for them to shake on it. “deal.”

“seattle and six it is,” she says, kissing him instead.

his smile is soft around the edges when they part. “seattle and six.”

#type: writing #s: eliza x indigo #verse: at the end of the world

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 383, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, blood, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage)

WORDS: 1287

“Sweetheart, oh my sweetheart, are you alright?”

I squeaked softly as gentle lips were pressed to my brow, strong arms wrapped around me, snugging me in tightly to a beefy chest.

 “My love…” I whined softly, peeling my eyes open and smiling at the groggy face of one Peter Thomas Ratajczyk. “Are you alright?” I touched his face, concern flooding out of my every which pore as I took in his leg, heavily wrapped in a thick cast and elevated in a sling. In little baby cots next to the beds slept Baby Tommy and little girl. Baby Tommy had a little green cast on his little leg, having fracture it during all the chaotic excitement the night before.

 “The babies?” he demanded to know with fear in his eyes as I tugged the cots closer so that he could look in on the two slumbering kids. “Sweetheart, what happened to Baby Tommy?”

 “He suffered a minor fracture,” I told him, lifting the kids out and settling them onto the Ratajczyk patriarch’s chest. “Ryley thought it would be best to put him into a cast until it healed up fully.”

 “Poor babies,” he whimpered, cradling them close to him as I crawled out of the uncomfortable hospital issued bed and began to putter about, my anxiety at an all-time high as I just sorted through the duffle bag of clothes that James had dropped off after running the girls back to the house.

 “Rescue efforts found Baby Tommy’s dollie, James took it home with him last night and the girls stuck it into the wash,” I told him with a sniffle, pointing to the little man’s favorite toy, who also had a bandaged leg. “My love, the unmentionable one’s fan club has already copped to the sabotage from last night. Law enforcement are hunting them all down as we speak.”

 “Mary Claire…” I looked up at my husband’s emotional whimper. My lower lip trembled before I dropped the shirt that I was refolding and buried myself deep into his side, dry heaving as my dry eyes stung painfully. “Sweetheart, my sweetheart… you are safe… Baby Tommy is safe… Elizabeth is safe… Elle is safe… Katie is safe… Jing is safe… little girl is safe… I am safe… we are all safe…”

 I just couldn’t stop hysterically sobbing, my emotions running every which way as a nurse came in to check up on my husband’s vitals.

 “Sweetheart, can you please stop crying?” Peter murmured, baring his teeth when the nurse tried to take the babies from him. “You keep your fucking hands to yourself!”

 “I can run a line of fluids for your wife sir,” she offered, laughing away Peter’s clear threat. “She has been crying for most of the night last night and she’s running a high risk of becoming dehydrated.”

 “Do it,” he grumbled, maneuvering me to recline against his chest, giving the nurse plenty of room to work on me. “You’re safe now sweetheart, my sweetheart, love of my life, mother of my children, blueberry of my heart.”

 I giggled watery at his sappy words, cooing tiredly as I settled myself down to sleep for a few more hours.

 I kept being roused from sleep when people would come in- nurses to check up on Peter and the babies and check that they were doing alright, Elizabeth and Katie, Aaron and James to pay us visits, a doctor entered at one point to pay Peter a visit and discuss what would happen now that my husband had a rod in his leg, and pair of federal agents who came in to get statements from us. At one point, Slitzy had popped in to drop off Elle and Jing, who the girls had forgotten to grab during all the chaos the night before.

 “Sweetheart?” Peter ask me in an annoyed tone of voice later on the morning. “I need to pee.”

 I jumped up at once, grabbing a bed pan and closed the door to offer him some privacy before heading into the bathroom to grab a fistful of toilet paper for him to wipe himself clean with. I heard him shuffling about before the faint sound of trickling liquid met my ears.

 I came out of the bathroom and kept my eyes focused on his face as I handed him the bath tissue with a kind smile on my face.

 “Here we go now, my love,” I told him, smiling when he motioned for me to wipe him off. I did so awkwardly- I never had the privilege of wiping my husband’s massive dick clean before. “Is that good?”

 “It is, yes,” he rasped, suddenly looking sleepy. I slid his limp manhood back into his pants before carrying the bedpan into the bathroom to flush his urine down the toilet, rinse out the bedpan and wash my hands. I came back out of the bathroom to find him dead asleep with a small smile on his face as the babies napped on his chest.

 I cooed softly as I laid myself down next to him, tugging the babies’ sleep cots closer to us before curling up and drifting off to sleep again.

 I woke up later that night, opening my eyes to see a nurse drawing blood from my husband, jumping with a soft yip when I raised my head to blink sleepily at her.

 “So sorry, I didn’t want to wake any of you,” she meeped. “Do you know if he needs to use the bathroom?”

 “He already did earlier,” I rasped out, crawling out of bed and picking up Baby Tommy to have his diaper changed. “I brought him a bedpan and grabbed some toilet paper from the bathroom.”

 “Do you know if he had any trouble going at all?” she asked me in a kind voice, coming over to offer me a helping hand.

 “No, I don’t think so,” I answered, placing my son back into his cot and grabbing little girl next. “I didn’t hear him having any difficulty, to be honest with you.”

 “Well, if he would prefer it, the doctor can put a catheter in,” she suggested, reaching out to grab little girl’s foot. “Oh, how I love babies!”

 “Yes, those two as the bestest babies in the world,” I hummed, resettling the child back down again. “So what now? Another surgery, physical therapy, Peter just goes about life as normal…”

 “Peter will need at least two to three months of physical therapy, recommended three times a week,” she read for his folder at the door. “I can send the residential physical therapy specialist your way tomorrow morning, how does that sound?”

 “That sounds perfect,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

  TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

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 PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@starchild0985​

#Real person fiction (RPF) #Tattooed Wings #Peter Thomas Ratajczyk #Type O Negative #Vanessa Rose Pickings/ little girl #Special needs baby. #Aria Bradley #Evie Bradley #Deaf #American Sign Language (ASL) #Elizabeth Ratajczyk #Alopecia #Thomas Joseph Ratajczyk/ Baby Tommy #Autism #Katie Ratajczyk #Down's Syndrome #Matching tattoos soulmate AU

[coloredgirlshuffle]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Gorgeous Ora Delphine Claire Bucket Bag.

[tychsen19tychsen]

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[leejungchans]

caught : y.jh

word count | 1.1k

pairing | yoon jeonghan (svt) x female reader

warning(s) | none (lmk if i missed anything!!)

genre | fluff, humour (a lil), coworkers au

summary: valentine’s day means helping your students make valentine cards. you didn’t know you’d be receiving one too, though.

a/n: @hannietonin happy belated valentine’s day 💗 this really, really isn’t much, but here’s a little ‘thank you’ for hosting the carat admirer event 🥺 i hope you enjoy (it’s a little bleh ><) and ily!!!!

“That looks very nice, Isaac,” you say, smiling down at the young boy, “I’m sure your mom will love it.”

“Thank you!” he chirps, chest puffing up with pride as he proceeds to explain the various doodles he had drawn on his card. You listen intently, nodding along as he tells you about his mother’s prized rose (“I didn’t know she grew roses!”), the pearl necklace she always wears that was a gift from his father (“That’s so romantic!”) and their family’s pet dog Bacon (“That’s an… interesting name, I like it!”).

You leave Isaac to finish the rest of his card when your other students rush up to you, eager to show you their own cards. “One at a time, one at a time, guys,” you laugh as their little hands lightly tug at your sleeves and jeans, all wanting you to react to their creations first. “I promise I’ll get to everyone!” This seems to do the trick for most of them, and they quickly leave your side to add the finishing touches to their Valentine’s Day cards.

You can’t help the fondness that blooms in your chest as you watch your students animatedly interact with one another; being a preschool teacher came with its stressors like any other job would, but the time you spend with your students reminds you of not only the beauty of youthful innocence, but also your personal goal to ensure they come to school feeling safe and leave feeling understood.

You don’t realise how quickly time flies by until you hear the familiar chime of the bell, signalling the end of the school day just as the last of your students finishes her sharing about the recipient of her card.

“Your older sister will love it, Judy,” you say sincerely, smile growing at the beam that lights up the young girl’s face. “Okay, Class Sunflower, it’s time to pack your bags! If your loved ones are picking you up today, you can even give them your card right when you see them!”

The classroom buzzes with energy as your students, excited at the thought of presenting their gifts, gather their belongings in record speed, slinging their tiny colourful bags over their shoulders before neatly lining up by the door so you can take them outside.

You’re bidding your students and their families goodbye at the front gate when you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve. Excusing yourself from the parent you were talking to, you peer down to find a student from Class Tulip gazing up at you with adorably wide eyes.

You kneel down to match her height, shuffling forward a little when the girl beckons you closer; her breath tickles your ear as her tiny hand forms a barrier around it like she’s about to tell you a secret.

“Mr Yoon told me to tell you he has a present for you,” she whispers, “he says it’s important.”

“Really?”

She giggles with a nod, turning to point in the direction of Jeonghan’s class. “He’s waiting for you inside!”

Oh, what could he be up to this time?

“Your student told me you have a gift for me?” Your smile is teasing as you lean against the doorframe of his classroom, amusedly observing him as he hastily hides something behind his back.

“Ah, I knew I could count on Claire.”

A playful tsk falls from your lips. “You keep turning your kids into your little personal messengers.”

“They love it,” your boyfriend responds cheekily while striding over to you, “then they report back to me about how shy you get after.”

“I’ve never gotten shy because of that! You’re a liar, Yoon Jeonghan.” Okay, so maybe you do get a tiny bit flustered every time he gets one of his students to deliver a sweet message to you—not that he needs to know.

He places a hand over his heart in feign hurt, long lashes kissing his cheekbones as he makes a wounded expression. “My angels would never lie!”

“Mm, I don’t know about that, Hannie. You’re a bad influence on them sometimes.”

“I beg to differ. Now close your eyes and hold out your hands for me, love. I’m gonna give you your present.”

You oblige, resisting the urge to peek as something light and smooth meets your skin, a smile unwittingly stretching across your face when you quickly figure out said present.

“Okay, you can look.”

Jeonghan watches you closely as your eyes flutter open, landing on the red heart-shaped card in your hands, completed with sparkly stick-on gems and your name written in gold glitter glue.

“Oh! Uh… the glue isn’t fully dried,” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “might wanna be careful there.”

You throw your head back as you laugh, making sure to avoid the sticky parts while reading the contents of the card, a warm rush of adoration coursing throughout your body as you take in his heartfelt words.

“Thank you, Hannie,” you smile softly, “I love it. Really.”

“Well, I had some help,” Jeonghan admits with a twinkle in his eyes, closing the space between you as he wraps his arms around your waist while your own loosely drape over his shoulders. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jeonghan.”

Your boyfriend flashes you a crooked grin, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes as he asks, “Now, how about a Valentine’s Day kiss?”

Shameless. So shameless.

Just as he’s above to dive in, however, a startled squeak emits from behind you. Utterly embarrassed, you glance over your shoulder to find Claire, the same girl from earlier, standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hi, Claire,” Jeonghan casually greets with a lazy smile like the two of you didn’t just get caught nearly kissing by one of his students. “Why are you back?”

“I forgot something,” she giggles as she runs over to her seat to fish out a pink umbrella from the drawer. “Bye, Mr Yoon! Bye, Miss L/N!”

She’s gone as quickly as she appeared, vanishing around the corner with a wave goodbye. You can still hear her delighted giggles as her footsteps retreat, and you bury your face into Jeonghan’s shoulder with a loud groan. “Oh my God, we’re never living that down! This is all your fault!”

He merely chuckles at your embarrassment, hand rubbing up and down your back to calm you. “Well… at least we didn’t actually start kissing?” he offers, yelping when you weakly slap at his chest.

You pull away with burning cheeks, already knowing the news of what just happened will surely spread to your own students by tomorrow morning. “I’d be more annoyed with you if your card wasn’t so cute,” you grumble halfheartedly, unable to bring yourself to actually be upset.

Jeonghan wriggles his eyebrows. “Well, then you’re going to love me after you see the huge bouquet of roses in the teachers’ lounge.”

“The what?”

a/n: thank you for reading and feedback is greatly appreciated hehe!!! 💗💗💗

#ficscafe #caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #sol.writings #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #yoon jeonghan scenarios #seventeen drabbles #svt drabbles #jeonghan drabbles #yoon jeonghan drabbles #seventeen x you #svt x you #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan x you

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

TEACHERS PET- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Professor!Barnes x Student!Female!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Professor Barnes wants to reward you for being such a good girl and for being such a good, hardworking student. You meet him after class for some much needed release. 

Warnings: SMUTTTYY SMUT, swearing, pet names, PRAISE KINK LORD, slight degradation kink kinda, teasing, slapping (face and pussy bc the best of both worlds am i right?!), fingering, blowjob mentioned, professor/ sir kink

Notes: Sorry this took so long to upload, I was watching Knives Out:) Also Y/N is a consenting adult! Would like to make that very clear. Enjoy!

-claire bear

The clock struck seven, as night began to fall, stars appearing from the sky through the hazy clouds. Students began to shuffle from their seats, gathering up their pens and papers in a rush, the faint sound of students murmuring fell across the room.

 You were much slower packing up your belongings, hand straying on your test for far longer than it should have. You glanced at the front page again, wallowing in fear. 

You had got a 97, the highest mark in the class. Yet in red ink, the words meet me after class was scribbled right under the gleaming A+. 

This could go one of two ways. 

Professor Barnes wanted to know where the other three percent went, or he wanted you. You prayed it was the second option. You had been crawling after the man all semester, doing anything to please him. You studied harder than anyone else in the class, getting straight A’s. You craved his validation like a drug. 

But you craved what was under the confinement of his black dress pants more.

 “Remember to read pages one thirty-seven to one fifty-two please!” he called after the students leaving the door, eyes straying from them to linger on you, gaze full of desire. He often looked at you like that, between reading the pages of his books or explaining lessons when no one noticed.

 It made you tremble, and clench your thighs harder together each time. His gaze burned a hole through you, and sometimes you swore he could see the wet patch that was displayed whenever he was around from under your skirt.

 You wanted nothing more for all the students to leave, and for him to take you over his desk- rough and hard.

 Tonight, it appeared, you would finally be getting your wish at last. 

The last student left, the door shutting softly behind them. You smiled softly, standing up to shrug your bag across your shoulder, walking slowly over to the man leaning against his desk, hunger burned in his eyes. “ You wanted to see me, Professor Barnes?” you asked meekly, swishing your hips softly as you made your way over to stand in front of him and his mean demeanour.

 “ Miss. Y/L/N, I’m glad you could stay. Come to my office with me?” he asked, voice gravelly and rough. You shivered, clenching your bag tighter. “Of course.” you smiled, watching him place his belongings in his leather satchel, slinging it across his shoulder. 

He clucked his tongue, urging you to follow him with his finger as he shut the classroom lights off and shut the door behind him gently. “May I ask why your office, Mr. Barnes? Have I done something wrong?” you questioned, worry laced in your voice. “ You’ve been a good girl. Nothing to worry about.” he chuckled, looking back over his shoulder to smile mischievously at you trotted after him like a lost puppy. 

You nodded quickly, eyes flickering over the closed doorways as you walked down the dim hallway. The lights were glowing a soft yellow, making shadows flicker across the room as you turned the corner. Suddenly, he stopped, fishing for his keys to unlock the ash door that stood in front of him. 

You nearly ran into the man, catching yourself with an oof! He was large, lean, and built of pure muscle, and you could feel the size of his biceps as you steadied yourself. It made you gulp, knowing he could easily toss you around like a rag doll. He looked back at you, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, and he laughed with a shake of his head.

 The door opened with a creak, and he slipped inside, flickering on the antique table lamp that lay on the corner of his desk. Bookshelves covered the walls, the odd painting of vintage art hung up. No photos of a wife, or kids of any kind, you thought, shutting the door slowly behind you. “ Lock it.” he murmured, setting his bag down on the ground. 

You obeyed.

  Click!

“Do you know why you're here honey?” he purred, hands resting gently on his desk as he stared you down. Like a hunter who caught its prey. Your hands fidgeted as you slung your bag down to meet his, wetness pooling to your thong as his gaze burned you like fire. “N- no Professor Barnes.” He beckoned you over.

 “Come.” 

You slowly made your way over to him, skipping around the desk to stare up at him. “You listen so well honey. You’re such a good girl, you know that?” A blush filled your cheeks, and you stared nervously at the floor, your heart beating faster with each passing second.

 “Thank you, Professor.” 

“None of that, don't be shy. You deserve the praise. I’ve noticed how hard you've worked.” he smiled down at you, cupping your chin with his hand to force it up to meet his eyes once more.

 “Really?” you giggled, clenching your thighs together tightly. The short little skirt you were wearing did nothing to hide the fact your thighs were quivering, his eyes sliding down to marvel at the sight.

 “Really. You’ve been so good I think you deserve a reward honey.” he cooed, thumb brushing your cheek lightly. “Yes sir.” He groaned at the name, his cock twitching in his pants. 

You’d be the death of him, truly. 

“Open.” he commanded, and you stuck your tongue out happily. A soft purr rumbled through his chest as he slid his thumb on your tongue, rubbing your saliva around and tapping it lightly, making you jolt. “Oh baby christ. Such a good girl.” he moaned as you took his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and letting it go with a pop, innocent eyes gazing up at him in delight at the praise.

 A light smack was placed to your cheek and you giggled, nuzzling into his palm, his rings cooling your red cheek. “Oh you like that don't you? Naughty girl.”

 “Yes sir.” you giggled, letting him smack you gently again. A loose moan escaped your lips and you blushed deeply, embarrassed that this man could do so little to you yet you felt like you were floating a cloud of bliss. “Up we go pretty girl.” he cooed, lifting you up by your thighs to sit on the edge of his desk, legs parted slightly.

 “ Want you.” you cooed, grabbing his tie and yanking him closer to you, your lips inches from his. A smirk adorned his face, and you let out a whine as he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail, baring your neck to him. “ I’ve wanted you ever since you've stepped foot in my classroom whore. You think I don't see the game you play with your short little skirts and those little socks? Makes me so fuckin hard every time I look at cha.” he growled against your skin, biting down harshly on your neck as you squirmed.

 “ Well I won the game, didn't I sir?” you teased, fingers wrapping around the desk so tight it hurt. “ You may have won the game honey but you're gonna have to keep playing it. I want you all to myself.” he smirked, flipping up your skirt to reveal the wet patch that dripped on your white lace panties. 

“You’re dripping on my papers baby.” he chuckled, running a finger against the patch. “S-sorry-” you keened, back arching as you gripped onto the desk, his fingers stroking your clit through the fabric. 

“It's embarrassing how wet you get for me whore and I haven't even touched you properly yet. But I don't need to do I? You’d cum like a little slut in these panties, wouldn't you?” he cooed, stroking you slowly as his thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing little circles on the nub. 

“Yes!” you moaned, beginning to rut against his hand like a bitch in heat. Your thighs were sticky and you desperately tried to close them, but Bucky wouldn't let you. 

He was in control here. He wanted you to know that. 

“Can I come James?” you asked, a growl emitting from his chest at the way you said his name. “Make a mess honey, but you're cleaning it up.” Your toes curled at the delicious friction he was providing you with, and with a scream, you clamped around nothing, cum seeping out of your quivering heat. 

“So pretty when you cum baby.” he sighed, rubbing your shaking thighs slowly as you came back to reality from your orgasm. He scooped up the cream from the desk that had leaked out of you, slapping your cheek again to get you to open. 

You happily obeyed, letting him smear your juices on your tongue with a wild look in his eyes. “Such a good good girl.” he praised, spreading your legs even farther apart as he slid your panties to the side, exposing your quivering cunt to the cool air. 

“Look at the way she's quivering and begging for me honey. I’ll give her what she needs.” He began to unbuckle his pants and you whimpered at the pure size of him, his thick cock slapping his stomach, pre cum leaking out of its red and swollen tip. 

“ Will it fit Mr. Barnes?” you asked, emitting a prideful smile from him. 

“We’ll make it fit honey.” Gripping the head, he began to swirl the tip around your soaking wet entrance, teasing you until you were about to cry. “So creamy.” he cooed, smacking his cock against your clit causing you to squeal. 

“Please!” you begged, tears brimming to the surface. He chuckled, sinking in it into the hilt, causing a scream to leave your lips.

 God you've never felt so full, so stuffed. 

He wasted no time letting you adjust, beginning to drive himself in and out of your spongy walls. “Feels like heaven around be honey you're so tight. Tightest little cunt I’ve ever had.” he moaned, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would linger the week. 

“S’full professor please!” you babbled, the feeling of his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust making you weak. “That's the spot right there isn't it baby? Yeah it is. You like being stuffed with your professor’s cock slutty baby?” “ Yes oh, gods yes!” you cried, gripping onto his shoulders as he pistoned into you with a roughness you only thought could happen in your wildest dreams. 

“ My honey likes it rough hmm? Such a good girl.” he growled, feeling your walls clench around him like a vice. “ James I'm gonna-” You came with a cry, body going weak in his grasp, your vision turning blurry at the feeling of release. You were in heaven as he continued to pound into you. “ That's it baby milk my cock. You want me to fill your pretty cunt full?” 

“Yes!” you moaned, head-turning to mush. With a growl, his sticky white seed coated your walls, making you clench and shake around him uncontrollably.

 “Gooood girl. Take it all baby take all your professor's cum like a good girl.” he cooed, cock twitching as he pulled out of you slowly, watching his cum spill out of you and mix with yours down your pussy and onto the desk. 

“Thank you professor.” you mumbled, voice hoarse from screaming his name. 

“ You're welcome, sweet girl. Did so good for me.” he smiled, brushing your hair with his hand gently. 

That same hand gripped your hair tightly as you sat under his desk the next lecture, warming his cock with your mouth until tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with your spit and his cum.

 “Use your headphones today class. I don't mind.” he smiled, feeling extra generous. 

After all, he didn't want anyone to hear the slurping noises you made from your hiding spot as you took him all in your mouth, nose pressed to his chest as you swallowed his load once more.

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[rizzinator]

The Letter Part 2

A/N: Here’s pt.2, as promised. Tagging: @winters-witch-bitch​ @notmanagingmymischief​ @badussy69

Pt.1

May 2 1942 My dearest Alma, I hope yourself, the children and the loop are safe. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that I have made a (mostly) full recovery of health. My arm is in a sling, and I think that, for now, I have lost the people following me. I thought of you and the children a lot today… so much so that my friend Digby told me I was making the lightbulbs flash! I get too distracted these days, he told me. How can I not be, though? Here I am, an ocean away from you, fighting for the lives of my friends and family. Sometimes I wish I never left, but I know that, while out here, I could save hundreds of peculiars from certain death. I have attached a photograph of my wonderful face, so that you won’t forget me! I love you, and give the children a big kiss from me! Love you always, Your Y/N

~

May 28 1942 My Y/N, The children were excited when your letter arrived. We have a new postboy, now. His name is Luke, I believe. Ms Varne has caught the flu and will be out of the job until further notice. I hope you’re alright out there. We do miss you so. Myself especially. Sometimes I ask for you in the bathroom until I realise you aren’t there. I hope you come back soon. Enoch wanted to ask if there are any new species out there, we wouldn’t find on the island, and would it be possible for you to harvest the organs and bring them back for him?

You could almost see her writing Enoch’s message with a small grimace. It made you smile.

Emma, Horace, Hugh, and the twins send their regards, though Millard asked if you could bring some new books back with you. He had already read the ones from your last visit to the mainland. Bronwyn and Claire wondered if there are any new toys you could bring back for them. Nothing too extravagant, please. I know how you love to spoil them. Fiona asked if you could bring a book on herbs and flowers back for her. I simply request your presence. I miss you more than you can imagine, so don’t worry about me forgetting what you look like. I, too, have attached a photograph. I hope it is sufficient. Forever yours, Alma

~

June 12 1942 Alma, I’m coming home

~

Alma stared anxiously out of the window, tapping her foot in time to the tick of her pocket watch. Horace was sure you would arrive at approximately three o’clock.

It was now approaching four o’clock.

She was worried, what if you had gotten captured on the way? What if you had injured yourself? What if-

“Y/N!” Claire sprinted past her and towards the approaching figure, limping slightly with one arm tucked under their coat, the limb in a sling.

You dropped your duffel bag, grinning at the approaching children and your wife, who was still standing at the porch, smiling softly. You crouched down to catch the children in a large group hug, careful of your broken arm, which had been damaged time and time again in the months after it had originally been broken.

“How was France?”

“Did you almost die?”

“Enoch!”

“What?”

“Did you get books?”

“Did you find any cool animals and slaughter them for their insides?”

“ENOCH!”

“IT’S A VALID QUESTION!”

You laughed, waving your arm to gain their attention. “I missed you lot too. I will hand out the gifts later, but I have someone else to say hello to.” You glanced pointedly at your wife, who was now leaning against the doorframe and watching you all with soft eyes and a smile.

“When you’re done, can I have my organs?”

“Enoch, let them reunite. Have you never read a romance? The reuniting is the best part!”

“Millard, where did you find romance books?”

“…None of your business, Emma.”

“Millard.” There was a warning tone in her voice.

“I didn’t steal your books, Emma, I pr- OW! That hurt!”

“You stole from my- MILLARD PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON!”

The chase behind you grew fainter as the woman before you became clearer.

“Welcome back, soldier.” Alma smiled softly, reaching forward to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“God, I love you.”

You pulled her in for a deep kiss, feeling her sigh and reach her hand up to cup your cheeks, your own arms winding around her waist.

“I love you too.”

“Not as much as me.”

“Impossible.”

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