#In this abandoned car lot tonight lads

[strangelylass]

What up, I'm [REDACTED]

And this is late night spiraling!

#*kesha's Die Young playing in the distant #but only I hear your heart beat followed by a loud boom #And its getting closer and more distorted #Only to suddenly cut off at #I hear you- * #Anyway #I feel like the silence after #You know what i mean? #Yeah #Ya boy is straight up not having a good time #In this abandoned car lot tonight lads #Ask for tags #Just chattering #Just screaming it all out #Kinda feeling nauseas rn #Not gonna lie #Got a bloody nose for the first time since 4th grade #So that was interesting

[izzy-b-hands]

Save Your Love

Freddie/Roger, inspired by this song (literally I just wrote the dude version of this essentially, but I fell in love with the song and this fic has been haunting me for two days now jdsalfdja) 

So here it is, just as the song goes: Set in an AU in which Rog has remained a bachelor for Obvious Reasons once you read this, and let’s say set in about 1978, why not. Roger goes to pick a drunk Freddie up from a party he and the other lads have elected/not been able to attend for various reasons, and Roger Yearns while his best friend tries to win over a boyfriend that doesn’t seem to give a shit about him, even while he’s wrestling with the same feelings Roger’s having. 

They’ll get there lol. 

TW for mentions of drinking/being drunk, emetophobia. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“Let me come get you,” Roger says it softly, both because he’s still half-asleep, and because he feels like Freddie is expecting him to yell at him. But that’s the last thing he wants to do. 

“I can walk home,” Freddie stumbles over his words, tongue heavy and Roger can almost smell the alcohol through the phone. Though that isn’t a judgement; they’ve all had those nights. 

But this is one of the few nights Freddie’s been out alone, without even one of them with him. He’d taken his current boyfriend to the party, held by some somebody in the record industry that none of them really know, but who tosses invites their way like candy every time they have any sort of event. 

“Oh really? Because you don’t sound like someone capable of walking home,” Roger says. “Don’t argue with me; you’re being silly.” 

“Am not,” Freddie says defensively. “I feel sick.” 

“Too much to drink?” Roger asks, leaning as far from the phone as he can to snag his car keys off the hook near the front door. 

“No,” Freddie replies glumly. “Him. He’s ignored me all fucking night, and I’m the one who brought him! He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. Prick.” 

Roger swallows hard. He has a lot he could say, about the current boyfriend. None of it particularly nice, but honest. 

Now probably isn’t the time for it though. 

“Well, why not abandon him there then?” he finally suggests. “Would serve him right, wouldn’t it?” 

“Had expectations for the end of the night,” Freddie grumbles, and oh that does do something else to Roger, though truthfully he thinks Freddie is far too drunk to actually safely act on any wants or urges. 

“Could still be a good night, letting me pick you up,” Roger murmurs, and he can hear the emotion in his voice that he had been hoping to hide. 

“Alright,” Freddie finally acquiesces, and Roger’s heart soars even as he fights to drag it back down. 

“Good! Stay put, and wait for me outside the house. I’m not far away, it won’t take me long to get to you.” 

“You...have the address?” Freddie mumbles. “You didn’t want to go to this thing even.” 

Didn’t want to go to it because I couldn’t go with you on my arm, is the sentence that Roger holds back. “Uh...yeah. I held onto it, just in case I changed my mind.” 

Freddie mutters something Roger can’t understand, and the phone goes dead. 

---

He wants to speed, but he knows better. The streets are fairly empty tonight in the area, and it would be his luck to be caught and ticketed while Freddie was waiting for him. 

After all, if he takes too long, Freddie might change his mind. Go back inside and try to get his attention again, pointless though it might be. 

And that would only hurt Freddie, as well as Roger, if he’s fully honest with himself. Even harder than knowing Freddie is with someone else (and probably doesn’t consider one of his best friends to be boyfriend material) is having to hear him talk about how his boyfriend hurts him, ignores him, just generally treats him like shit. 

Freddie deserves better, and as he drives, Roger can feel the love he constantly pushes away and down so Freddie won’t see it, bursting at his seams. 

The front of the house is littered with people as he parks, but he doesn’t see Freddie. 

He’s never felt out of sorts at parties like this before, but still in his lounge clothes and disheveled, he feels it for the first time now. 

He doesn’t like it, but he’d bear most anything to help a friend. 

A good ten paces away from the house, leaned against the brick of it, he finds Freddie. 

“Sick?” Roger asks, though he doesn’t really need to, as he gets close enough to help Freddie up. 

“It’s his fault,” Freddie mutters coldly. “I went back in to tell him I was going, and that someone who cared was coming to get me. And he laughed! Fucking bastard...only a few of them in there dared laugh with him, the rest were smarter than that.” 

“What would you have done if they’d all laughed?” 

Freddie shrugs as he leans heavily on Roger. “Probably gotten sick all over their shoes.” 

“That seems good revenge,” Roger says, giggling as Freddie stumbles and laughs at his own disobedient feet. “I bet they’ve got expensive shoes on tonight too.” 

“Next time,” Freddie says it like a promise, but Roger hopes desperately he won’t be picking him up like this again any time soon. He can feel the hurt and sadness coming off of Freddie in waves as they make it to his car, and it isn’t his pain, but he feels it strongly all the same. 

You do that, he’s found, for the people you love. 

“You’ll drive slow?” Freddie asks as he drops his head back against the seat. 

“I’ll do my best,” Roger replies. “No bumps, if I can help it. The roads back to mine aren’t too bad.” 

His empty flat, that he’d gotten after Freddie had revealed he’d be moving in with the boyfriend. Another new flat that Freddie wouldn’t have enough space in, but that they’d watched him try to make partially his own, the rest of his things going into storage. Another man who claimed to love Freddie, but made no room for him in his home or in his life.

 It makes him sick, but there’s no time for him to be feeling that way. 

“Oh, there he is!” Freddie leans too far out the window, and Roger’s grateful he’s only just started to back out of the driveway so he can quickly brake and snag the back of Freddie’s leather jacket before he falls out of the car. “I’ve got an idea. Can you do me a favor?” 

He wants to say no. Wants to tell him that he needs water and sleep, so no, he’s not doing anything except driving Freddie back to his, and that it’s for his own good. 

But he can rarely say no to Freddie. “Sure. What is it?” 

“I don’t think he’s sober enough to realize who I’m with,” Freddie replies. “Drive up and down the street a few times. I bet we make him jealous, when he sees me in here.” 

Roger winces, but Freddie isn’t paying attention, eyes tired and struggling to focus through the haze of booze on the form of his shitty boyfriend in the doorway of the house. 

“I could, once or twice. But then we ought to go. And we’re not many blocks away from mine, so it’ll take no time at all to get home.” 

“Thank you, Rog,” Freddie turns and smiles at him. His hair is mussed, his smile is wide and gorgeous and Roger bets that if he could rest a hand on his face, his skin is delightfully warm. 

He’s feeling flushed himself as he does as Freddie asks. A drive down the street past the house, Freddie hanging out the window, waving and sticking his tongue out. If it weren’t in this particular situation, Roger would find it funny. 

Instead, he sighs as he reaches the end of the road and does his best to turn around quickly before going down it again. 

But this time, his window faces the house, and he glares as hard as he can at Freddie’s boyfriend. 

The street is narrow, the house close to the road even with the sidewalk. He knows the other man can see him. 

If Freddie wasn’t watching him, he’d do worse than glare, but he can feel Freddie’s eyes on his back. 

“Another time,” Freddie begs, even as he goes pale when Roger gently hits the brakes. 

“Fred,” Roger sighs. “Even if he is paying attention, he’s not coming over. He hasn’t reacted at all.” 

And he doesn’t mean to say anything sensitive, but he clearly has, and in retrospect, he can see that he should have said it differently. It would have upset him too, were the positions here reversed. 

Freddie’s eyes fill with tears, but he wipes them away fast as anything. “Fine. Take me to yours then. I’m not even tired, but I might be sick again. Better to throw up in your flat than in your car, I suppose.” 

He drives slowly, like he promised, but Freddie still reaches over for him after a few blocks. Aiming for arm, but landing on thigh, and if Freddie feels the way his touch makes Roger’s muscle twitch under his fingers, he doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t actually want to be sick in your car,” he whimpers, and Roger pulls over just soon enough for him to pop open the door and throw up near the kerb instead. 

“We’re like a block or so away yet,” Roger soothes, leaning over to rub Freddie’s back. “Think you can make it?” 

Freddie flops back into the car, slams the door shut, and nods. 

It’s not far to drive, but in that time, Freddie leans over so his head settles onto Roger’s shoulder, his breath warm. 

Now, parked back at his flat, he doesn’t want to move, can’t bear the thought of disturbing Freddie. 

He tries not to, as best he can, but Freddie still whines when he slips out of the car. 

“I could sleep here. That wouldn’t be so bad. A hangover is a hangover, regardless of location, right?” 

Roger can’t fight back his giggling. This is the Freddie he knows well, the Freddie that might lose his head momentarily over a boy, but who ultimately has all control over himself. 

Though he wouldn’t hate if Freddie lost his head over him, instead of any other man. 

“I think you might be right, but I bet you’ll be more comfortable in my bed,” Roger says as he opens the passenger door and helps Freddie out, and goodness he did not mean that to sound like a proposition (even if he wishes they were in a moment where it could be), but it sure did sound like one. 

“You really want to share with me?” Freddie is adorable, leaning on him again, smiling brightly. “No, I’m a mess. Put me on your couch.” 

“You need a bed,” Roger protests with a smile. “I’ll take the couch. Or the floor, or the tub. I don’t mind, you can put me where you like.” 

His smile doesn’t fade as he helps Freddie into his flat, but inside he is screaming at himself. He couldn’t be hiding his feelings worse if he tried, his foot is so far down his mouth it’s going to be coming out his ass soon, and-

“Thank you,” Freddie mumbles sleepily, turning to hug him, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder. “For coming to get me. You didn’t have to, you could have made me call Brian or John.” 

“I wouldn’t make you do that,” Roger says, and his hand shakes slightly as he rests it on Freddie’s back. “You know I’ve got you, if you need someone.” 

Freddie looks up, and oh those beautiful brown eyes drown him, but he’s never been so happy to not be able to breathe. “I love you for that. And other things, of course. I’m very lucky to have you, you know that?” 

He wants to ask if Freddie means this in the way he desperately wants him to mean it. He wants to kiss him. He wants to beg him to break up with his boyfriend, for his own good and for his selfish sake. 

Before he can find his tongue, Freddie does instead. 

The kiss is just as warm as he’d hoped it might be, and he’s well aware part of him should probably be grossed out since Freddie’s been sick a few times now, but he’s been wanting it so much, so badly, that that part of him is silenced. 

“Sorry,” Freddie’s blushing, and the tears are back. “That wasn’t right of me, you aren’t-” 

“I am,” Roger spits it out, strangled, a confession premature. In another universe, he would have prepared it. Would have had every word he wanted to say memorized perfectly. But this will have to do instead. “I know I’ve never mentioned it much, but-” 

“The constant stream of unhappy short-term girlfriends sort of made me wonder,” Freddie interrupts with a giggle, even as he wipes away the tears. “But me-” 

“Yes, you,” It’s Roger’s turn to interrupt, and he’s fighting off his own tears now, even as he has no clue where the fuck they came from. “It’s always been you, I’m just...really slow on the uptake, or dumb, apparently. But I finally figured myself out, and this out, and it doesn’t matter. Tomorrow you’ll be sober, and won’t remember this, and you’ll go back to that asshole, so I can say all this freely.” 

Freddie’s arms are still looped around his shoulders, his weight still leaning somewhat on him, and that gives him away as still drunk. 

But his eyes are focused and bright, and if you only looked there, you’d never know he wasn’t sober. 

“What if I told you I wanted to break up with him?” Freddie asks, his voice so low Roger can barely hear him. “What if I told you I’d like to try this. Us. No more picking me up drunk and angry from parties, you could come with me to them instead.” 

“And get drunk with you?” 

“If you so desire,” Freddie grins. 

The tears fall before he can stop them. “But you won’t remember this tomorrow.” 

“You don’t know that,” Freddie says softly, and he readjusts, no longer leaning on Roger. His arms move so his hands can rest on Roger’s hips, and suddenly it’s Roger who finds his legs refusing to obey him and keep him upright. “Give me something to remember.” 

He knows what Freddie means, and he wants that just as badly. 

“Another night,” he replies, even as it stings to say. “When we’re both sober, when we can both enjoy it properly.” 

Freddie nods. “Then let me clean up, and spend the night in your bed with me. At least you can give me a good night kiss then.” 

He follows Freddie around the flat, helping him when he stumbles. Tossing him a spare toothbrush out of the hall closet. Finding him extra lounge clothes for pajamas (he can’t stay in the leather he’s wearing now, that’s for certain.) 

Only after they’re both cleaned up and settled into the bed, does he let himself go for a moment. 

They’re laying side by side, and he does his best to kiss Freddie breathless with just the one good night kiss. It turns into two, then three, then four, then roaming hands pulling at clothing before he can stop it. 

“Tomorrow night,” he gasps it out because he can’t catch his breath either. “I promise. If you remember this. And still want it, and break up with him.” 

“Consider it done,” Freddie smiles, eyes fluttering shut. He’s exhausted, obviously. 

But not too exhausted to snuggle closer to Roger, to toss an arm around his waist and pull him close. 

It’s a psychedelic sort of dream he has, watching himself and Freddie in the bed. Sleeping soundly, happily. 

But he can see all that tamped down love leaking out now, rich yellow and orange and red like the warmth of the sun, from his chest. It surrounds them both beautifully, and he wonders why he tried to hide it so much before. 

And hopes that Freddie really will remember the night, and feel it in the morning. That he’ll call the boyfriend and break up, and start to work out moving himself back in with Roger. 

For now, he enjoys the dream, and the colors, and the love that flows from Freddie, to match and meld with his. 

#text post #queen band fic #freddie mercury x roger taylor #you might read this and ask hey is the author yearning a little themselves #and the answer is oh good god yes #but hey I got some of it out here and had a lot of fun writing this so #ya know there's a positive to it

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man III

Chapter: 3/28

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo felt the same intensity he had always felt around George, but something was different this time. As soon as he agreed to have dinner with him, George seemed to relax somewhat and his eyes were no longer so piercing. Ringo had insisted that he drove them for even though he was almost certain that he wasn't in danger here, he didn't want to let his guard down entirely; George didn't seem to mind and got into Ringo's car without any fuss. It was silent when they shut the doors behind them, Ringo gripped the steering wheel tightly as he couldn't shake his feeling of being on edge.

"So, where do you wanna go?" George asked plainly, his slim legs stretching out in front of him.

"I don't really know." Ringo found it difficult to look at him "I don't eat out much, it's probably best if you pick." He didn't want to give him the power in this situation, but if it was up to Ringo they'd probably just end up at a pub eating crisps.

"Alright then, I know just the place. Just drive and I'll tell you where to go." George got comfortable in his seat, taking off his coat and holding it neatly in his lap.

They drove in almost complete silence, with Ringo not really knowing what to say and George didn't seem like he had anything to say. It was around 10 minutes later before George told Ringo to pull out and he was relieved to see an upstanding restaurant, rather than something dodgy-looking. George got out of the car as soon as Ringo turned the ignition off which made him panic, maybe this wasn't the best idea after all. He undid his belt quickly and worried that he had put himself in a vulnerable position but before the panic could truly set in George was on the other side of the car opening the door for him. Ringo certainly wasn't expecting that. It was an odd gesture but it made Ringo feel somewhat more comfortable as he stepped out of the car onto the pavement suddenly feeling very under-dressed.

"Thanks." Ringo muttered, stepping past George who closed the door behind him, he was unnervingly close.

There was a long line stretching from the front door and Ringo prepared himself to have to get back into the car to find somewhere else to eat, he didn't think he'd feel too comfortable in a place as posh as this anyway. George hovered his hand behind Ringo's back to guide him but Ringo jumped away suddenly, the last thing he wanted was someone pressing up behind him again. George looked at him worriedly, his brows knitting together as he pulled his hand away quickly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" He started but Ringo interrupted him.

"No, no, just still a bit freaked out after the whole thing. He had his knife in my back, you see." Ringo chuckled flatly, and his words seemed to anger George somewhat. "Are we even gonna be able to get in here?"

"Don't worry about that, just leave it to me." George winked, it was a jokey gesture Ringo thought but it still made his breath catch in his throat and he felt his cheeks warming.

George started walking again and Ringo followed beside him as they walked around the corner until they came to a small door on the side of the building which George stepped up to and knocked. After a few seconds it opened, behind it was a burly looking man with suspicious eyes which immediately lit up upon seeing George. The door was swung open and the man stepped aside to let George in, Ringo followed behind sheepishly. They exchanged no words which Ringo found very strange, but not as strange as the path they were taking as they passed through the back of the restaurant into the kitchens and finally into the dining room; along the way many people called out George's name and shook his hand, not paying much attention to Ringo at all. This just added onto the ever-growing list of Ringo's questions which he was hoping would be tackled soon. When they entered the dining room someone rushed over immediately to set George and himself, they were put into one of the few empty booths which allowed for privacy but you could still hear the band playing. Ringo felt extremely out of place and when he sat down opposite George and met his eyes, he only felt himself shrinking further. George simply smiled at him and picked up the menu, gesturing for Ringo to do the same. Ringo realised the menu didn't have any prices on, so his strategy of picking the cheapest thing on the menu was abandoned, and the realisation sunk in that they were in a really fancy place.

"What do you fancy?" George asked, his voice sounded different now from when he was talking to the array of people on their way here.

"I haven't the faintest." Ringo laughed awkwardly "I'm not really into fancy food and that."

"It's not that fancy, really. They just give it poncy names so that you think it's fancy. Why don't you get the steak, that's pretty straightforward, right?" George smiled almost sweetly, Ringo didn't think George was capable of being sweet.

"Sure, sounds good to me. I'd love a drink too, if you're offering." Ringo was feeling somewhat more comfortable but he couldn't help feeling out of place in such an upper class environment, and he wondered how George felt so relaxed too for while he knew he must have a lot of spare change to throw about, he didn't carry himself like a rich person and he definitely didn't talk like one.

"Of course. How about we get some wine?" George put his menu down and gave Ringo his full attention, who just nodded with a sudden inability to speak. "Lovely." He signalled a waiter over who, like everyone else in this place, seemed elated to see George.

"Mr. Harrison, its been far too long!" The waiter seemed genuine, which surprised Ringo as he knew far too well how often he had to pretend to be happy to see customers "Will it be the usual tonight, sir?"

George seemed somewhat embarrassed to be receiving this reception, and looked over at Ringo with a reassuring smile "No, thanks. Two filets and a bottle of red wine, please."

"Certainly, right away sir." The waiter bowed slightly as he walked away with their menus. The silence he left behind was thick.

"So..." George seemed properly relaxed for the first time "I'm sure you've got a lot of questions you want to get through."

Ringo scoffed, it was an understatement for sure "Well, first off, what are you doing eating at my place when you can afford to eat here!?" He didn't want to get down to the serious matters straight away, he felt like he owed it to himself to enjoy himself at least for a little while.

George chuckled at this and Ringo found himself being charmed by his grin once again, though he wouldn't like to admit it "To be honest I don't really like places like this, far too poncey. I only come here if I'm with other people, Paul seems to like it. I'd much rather go somewhere where the people are normal, you know? " As time went by the facade he seemed to be playing up when he first spoke to Ringo seemed to vanish.

"So why do they all treat you like some celebrity then? I mean, if you are and I'm supposed to have recognised you or something then that's my fault I suppose." Ringo couldn't look at George for too long, it made his stomach feel uneasy, so he looked around at the restaurant instead which was certainly the most lavish place he'd ever set foot in or ever would again.

"It's difficult to explain. I know I said I'd tell you everything, but there are certain things I can't say. I have a lot of influence, I have... connections, let's say." George was very careful with his words and Ringo could see him thinking. "Me, Paul and John are all part of this certain group which is respected around here."

"You're not talking like a cult, are you?" Ringo wanted to keep the tone light but he was still desperate for answers, but a part of him knew he wasn't going to like whatever the truth was.

"No, no, nothing like that." George laughed again "It's pretty secretive though, exclusive is the best word I think."

The waiter returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, he showed the wine to George who nodded in approval but it didn't look like he examined it at all, and so they began to drink.

"So it's like a job then? I mean where else do you get all that money from? I doubt you've been saving up your wages just to splash out on a tip." Ringo chuckled as he took a sip from his wine, he was never very interested in the drink but it tasted delicious and he knew it must've been ridiculously expensive.

"Yeah, it's kinda like a job. A family business, I suppose." George smiled when he saw Ringo's pleased reaction to the wine.

"But what's any of that got to do with you following me?" Ringo spoke in a lower voice as if it would make the subject less tense.

"Honestly, nothing at all. I didn't plan on you finding out because I expected you to react the way you did, I know it's not a normal thing to do." George grew quieter too.

"Then why-" Ringo began.

"There's something about you Ringo, I don't know what it is. We only popped into your work the first time cause Paul was desperate for a piss." He chuckled and took another sip of wine "But then I saw you, and I kept dragging the lads back there just because I hoped I'd get to speak to you, I mean the food's not bad either but we could've gone anywhere. Then when you did speak to us, I just had this strange feeling that I can't quite describe, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I convinced John and Paul to follow you on your way home with me, they didn't mind much but they thought it was a bit odd, then we saw you head down that alley and my heart sank. I know a lot about what goes on in this city, I know the shit that goes down in dark alleys, and from then on I swore I'd make sure you got home safe every night. The night you got mugged Paul and John walked ahead in case anything happened, and unfortunately it did." He looked down at the floor when he remembered the event, his voice was heavier "I was so angry at myself that I didn't intervene sooner, but I really didn't want you to know that I'd been following you, but I was just filled with so much rage knowing that someone had done that to you, I just had to step in." He stopped talking like he'd run out of energy rather than having run out of things to say, rather Ringo knew he had a lot more he wanted to get off his chest.

Ringo was speechless, this was not how he had expected this to go at all. The worst part about all of this was that he wasn't shocked, he wasn't disgusted, because he knew exactly the indescribable feeling that George had talked about. Even if everything wasn't laid out on the table, it was clear that George was involved in a dangerous line of work and he must've seen a lot of terrible things, so Ringo wasn't surprised that he had such a drive to protect the things he cared about, but why was he one of those things? Of course it wasn't unheard of for boys to like other boys, but it certainly wasn't something Ringo ever expected to affect his life, definitely never something he'd be participating in, yet here he was sitting across from someone who made him feel things that nobody else ever had. But he couldn't be gay, could he? George looked up at him after a long period of silence and Ringo's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, he hated that he now understood what this feeling was and why it had felt so alien and scary to him before.

"Do you... get this feeling with a lot of people?" Ringo breathed, taking a big swig from his glass.

George shook his head "Just you."

The tension felt like a heavy fog, neither one knew what the right thing was to say so they sat in silence and drank, still looking deep into each other's eyes for what felt like an age. Eventually the waiter came over with their food who was as cheery as ever, it gave them both a breather for at least a little while. The food looked exquisite, Ringo had never seen anything like it, and he just knew it would taste even better than it looked. George had already begun to eat and Ringo quickly followed suit. They finished the bottle of wine fairly quickly and George ordered another which they went through just as ravenously. They hardly spoke between sips and bites, but it didn't feel like they weren't saying anything. Ringo was only getting more intoxicated as time went on and he found himself focusing on strange things, like the fabric of the table cloth, the pattern of the carpet or the way George's lips looked as he sipped his wine. He seemed to notice Ringo's glances but he didn't shy away from them, instead he drew more attention to himself by licking his lips slowly which made Ringo squirm. It was as if they were speaking a non-verbal language with one another and it wasn't until their plates were empty that one of them spoke.

"Do you want dessert?" George's voice sounded huskier now and his eyes were darker somehow.

"No thanks, I'm stuffed." Ringo tried to laugh but it just wouldn't come out with George looking at him like that.

"You're far too drunk to drive home." George stated as he finished off his glass of wine "I can get you a taxi, if you'd like."

"What's the alternative, driving into a lamppost?" Ringo managed a choked chuckle.

There was a pause "You could come back to mine." Ringo swallowed "It's not that far and I can give you a lift home in the morning."

Those final three words swam around in Ringo's head and he felt completely overwhelmed. He was definitely too drunk to drive home, that much he knew, but did he want to get a taxi home alone to just pass out on the bathroom floor? That same old panic crept into his mind but he wasn't even sure what he scared of; he knew without a doubt that George didn't want him to get hurt but what scared him was what George might want. Heading back to a strangers house wasn't unknown to Ringo, it had been his preferred way of doing things his whole life, but this was different, George didn't feel like a stranger and even stranger still he was a man. Ringo had never even kissed another man before and he wasn't even sure that he wanted to, yet deep down he knew that he wanted, no needed, to go back with George. Ringo took a final gulp from his wine glass and flashed George a smile who had been watching him intensely while he debated with himself.

"I think I'd like that." Ringo felt small again, like he was completely exposed and George was looking right at him.

George simply nodded and asked for the bill which he paid without a second thought, Ringo could see that his wallet was filled with money, and he dared not count how much he put down lest he feel guilty. They both then stood up and George waited for Ringo to walk ahead so that he could follow behind, he placed his hand on the small of Ringo's back again but this time he didn't flinch. Ringo felt his cheeks heating up as he could feel George's slender fingers on him and he allowed himself to be guided out the main entrance of the restaurant which still hosted a long line of people eager to get in. The staff at the front doors gave George a knowing nod, who responded with a flashy grin and Ringo found himself staring at that sharp tooth again. It was cold outside but the wine kept Ringo warm and he could feel the heat radiating off of George, who moved his hand onto Ringo's hip so that they were being held together as they walked.

"Is that okay?" George asked softly, Ringo watched his lips intensely as they moved.

"Yeah, that's okay." Ringo whispered back.

#beatles #the beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #the beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Would you mind writing something around Fergus coming back to Lallybroch and his/Claire's comments that he was meant to be with the Frasers? Feeling robbed that we didn't get to see that or an arrival at the house in the show. Thank you!

The Tagalong - Part Nineteen

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen

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

Fergus vacillated with each step he took toward Lallybroch. Should he just go back to the stones and try to get back to Mother Claire and Brianna? Would he even be able to get back if he tried? 

What would he tell Jenny and Ian when he appeared on their doorstep? Would they even allow him to stay without Milord or Mother Claire there? He would be just another mouth to feed and he knew from Mother Claire and some reading just how bad things got in the Highlands after the Rising failed. But he had two hands and his time in that prosperous future had given him strength and health and a bit more learning than he’d had before. He could make an argument that he would earn his keep. 

But what would he tell them of Mother Claire? They were sure to ask. Should he tell them about Brianna? How would he explain why they hadn’t heard from them in the last two years? 

He doubled back twice but his fear of what might happen if he touched the stones for a third time turned him right back around again. 

When he crested a hill and spotted Lallybroch nestled quietly in the valley below, his legs went out from under him and he spent at least an hour just staring at it, telling himself he would figure it out, whatever else happened. He would make Mother Claire and Milord proud. 

The women of the house were in the yard managing the laundry with several children playing around them. Fergus paused outside the gate, watching. He knew how quickly the little ones could grow, having watched how fast Brianna went from sleeping most of the day to crawling and finally walking and talking, following him around and toddling to keep up with him. Maggie was tall enough to help her mother stir the steaming kettle of clothes while Kitty wandered around waving soiled hosiery above her head. 

A cry came from a basket on the ground and Fergus watched as Jenny bent to pick up and soothe a baby who couldn’t be older than a month or two. 

Kitty suddenly stopped her dancing and scurried to her mother’s side, tugging Jenny’s skirts and pointing to where Fergus was concealed among the shadows. He’d been spotted. 

Fortifying himself with a deep breath, he stepped into the light and self-consciously walked toward the group of women. 

Jenny muttered something in gaidhlig under her breath and set the baby back in its basket with shaking hands. Then she shooed Kitty away from her skirts and strode forward to stand before Fergus as he came to a halt. 

“Mistress Murray,” he croaked, offering her a small bow. “You may not remem—”

“Fergus,” she breathed, shock causing her voice to crack. She lunged and pulled him to her breast, pinning his arms to his sides as she crushed him in her embrace. 

“Mistress,” he murmured, surprised himself by the greeting. He hadn’t expected—

Then she released him and held him away from her at arm’s reach, her eyes taking in the new inches, the cropped if dusty hair, the strange clothes and shoes. Her hands went to her hips as she pulled herself up and began to scold. “Where in heaven’s name have ye been, lad? Jamie was beside himself when he came round and heard ye’d no shown up. We thought ye were deid!” 

That was more along the lines of the reaction he’d expected. 

“For him to lose you on top of losin’ Claire,” Jenny continued to lecture, but Fergus jolted at the mention of Claire, part of what Jenny said clicking into place. 

“Milord? Milord is alive?” he sputtered. 

“Aye, lad. And no thanks to you for it. He was in a bad way when he arrived here after the fightin’ was through and it was all I could do to keep him from slippin’ away on me and joinin’ the lot of ye we believed were gone and buried.”

“Where is Milord? I must have words with him. There is much he should know,” Fergus babbled excitedly. Just as the stones had brought him to Mother Claire so she wouldn’t be alone while she carried Brianna, they must have brought him back so he might tell Milord about the family that had survived and thrived despite his greatest fears. 

“I’ll send word to wee Jamie in the field to steal away and tell my brother he’s needed at the house as soon as he feels it’s safe. It’ll no be till dark at least so best get ye in the house, washed up, fed and rested,” Jenny insisted. “I s’pose it’ll be best to wait and make ye tell yer tale once rather’n tire ye wi’ tellin’ it to ever’one ye see.”

Fergus might have tried arguing but his stomach grumbled at Jenny’s mention of food, so she refused to be put off her plan. 

He let them lead him inside and ate the food Jenny set in front of him, pushing from his mind all he’d learned of the deprivation that struck after the Rising. A stream of people came through to see him and welcome him back while he ate—some he recognized, but there were several new faces as well. 

Jenny rattled on telling him of what had passed at Lallybroch since he had ridden away to join the Bonnie Prince’s army. The potato harvest had yielded more and more each year, which was a relief since they had lost more and more of their other crops, both to poor conditions and army raids. The men Jamie had sent home ahead of Culloden had arrived safely but many drifted in and out of hiding whenever the soldiers passed through. More of the tenants had been forced to abandon their crofts and some had fled to Edinburgh or Glasgow in the hopes of finding work. 

“And… Milord? How did he make his way home? From how he spoke when I saw him last… he did not mean to leave the battlefield,” Fergus inquired, cautiously. 

“He didna leave of his own power,” Jenny said, sitting at the table to nurse the babe from the basket along with his twin sister. “He took a nasty wound across his leg and near bled out but somehow he was pulled free alive, packed in a wagon, and sent here. Fever nearly killed him after that but we pulled him through it. He’s… he’s no been the same… no wi’out Claire. Keeps hidden and away from the house most of the time. He’s a price on his head again. Hunts and traps a bit, brings it back to share. Can go weeks wi’out seein’ him in summer. Stays in the priest hole more in the winter—my parents would never forgive me did I let him freeze to death in a cave.”

Fergus pushed his empty plate aside, watching as Jenny rearranged the baby in her arms, wiping his face clean. The baby yawned, emitting a squeak. A moment later, Fergus lost the fight against a yawn of his own. 

“I’ll show ye to a bed. Ye’d best get what rest ye can ‘fore nightfall. Jamie’ll have plenty of questions for ye to answer, and what he doesna ask, ye can be sure I will.”

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

It was twilight and Claire was struggling to carry a slumbering Brianna and keep an exhausted Roger moving forward when a car came driving along the road. It’s headlights were dim and it took Claire a moment to realize what it was, causing her to jump out of the way at the last minute, startling Brianna awake and jerking Roger from his daze. Luckily, the car was moving at a slower pace than most vehicles traveling that road did (perhaps because of the limited light coming from its covered headlights). 

It slowed further when it noticed their movement, pulling up along the side of the road where Claire was suddenly struggling to calm Brianna. 

“Do ye need a lift to town?” the driver asked. “Ye ought not be walkin’ the road this time of day and ye ought to be indoors after nightfall wi’ the blackout restrictions.”

Roger looked up at Claire. 

“Yes, thank you. Is there an inn that might have a room for us tonight? Our vehicle broke down a ways back and we’ve been walking for a while,” Claire lied.

“Aye. I ken a place’ll take ye. Can put in a call to have someone out to tend yer car but it’ll no be done till it’s light again,” the man told her, reaching across to unlock the passenger door. 

“Oh, I can make the necessary calls,” Claire told him, ushering Roger into the car. “Thank you though. We just need a place to sleep and we’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

“As ye say ma’am.”

Within an hour, Brianna was bathed and in bed. Roger, too, had had a quick wash and was resting while Claire inventoried her supplies. There would be time in the morning to restock a few things.

“Where’ll we go to find Fergus?” Roger asked, watching Claire. 

She began repacking her bag. “We’re going back to Craig na Dun.”

Roger took an unsteady breath before continuing, “And what will we do when we get there?”

“It’s apparent Fergus didn’t follow you to this time… so we must follow him wherever he landed.”

“I’m comin’ with ye? Ye’re no takin’ me back home?” 

Claire looked up and her heart squeezed tightly at the fear and disappointment in Roger’s voice. She left her things half packed, circling the bed to kneel beside the low settee where Roger lay. 

“I’m so sorry, Roger… I can’t take you back. I don’t know that I can make more than one trip more through the stones. I can’t explain why or how… but I think if I try too many times—”

Roger blinked and nodded. “I ken,” he told her. 

“I promised your father I wouldn’t leave you alone,” she said. “And I can’t leave Fergus alone wherever he is. So you’ll have to come with me and we’ll have to figure out our way whenever that may be. Is that alright with you?”

Roger sniffed but nodded again then closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. 

She brushed some hair away from his face before pushing back to her feet and going back to the bed where Brianna slept and their supplies were half packed. She knew Roger was trying to keep the noise down while he wept and her heart went out to him. 

The poor boy had lost both his parents in the war and now he was losing the only family he had left. It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t think of any other way forward. Sending him alone and hoping he ended up in the right place was out of the question. Each time she’d passed through the stones, the voices and screams she heard in that between place had gotten louder, more forlorn, like they were calling her to join them. She wouldn’t leave Roger to navigate that space between on his own—she would spend the rest of her days haunted by the fear his voice had gone to join the others. 

So she would bring him with her and Brianna. And there was only one place she could think of where Fergus might have ended up. 

She just hoped that the next time she touched the stone and heard those voices, Fergus’ voice wouldn’t be one of the ones she heard trapped and calling her. 

#;mod lenny #The tagalong #fergus through the stones #featuring: fergus #featuring: jenny #featuring: roger #featuring: bree

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 2: The Rainbow Diet

Y’all, this one got angsty. Sorry I have a lot of feelings about this topic, I promise promise promise the next one will be fluffy. I was thinking like, one angst, one fluff, one in between, I don’t know. This one has a happy ending, though, so not too much angst. Also this one is mad long. Also maybe the next one will have more stuff with John, though I must admit I am a little terrified of writing him, but oh well.

Also also also thanks to everyone for all the love this first part got. 

Again, credit to @casafrass for everything. For every part of the story I will list the headcanons that were inspired by their blog. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. 

Part: 1, 2

Words: 5,336 

Headcanons: I don’t use any as the main piece here, but here are hints of how close she is with the girlfriends/wives of the Beatles

Pairings: None, just fluff and friendship, though you can read it through the lens of a pairing if you want 

Warnings: Eating disorders, crude language (but y’all knew that) 

“Now, y/n, I understand that, especially when you were in the Beatles, there weren’t a lot of women in your business, and that particular business was very cruel to the women who were in it. Is there any discussion of that in this book?” 

“I mean, the book is my story, so far, and the way that the music business treats women is a very important part of my story, and the way that my identity was determined, especially in the era that you discussed, so there is a lot of that in there.” 

“Would you like to give us a little preview of some of the issues discussed?” 

“Well, it’s pretty standard fare, honestly, and a lot of the issues that we discuss in the book are some that are still being discussed today. How women are sexualized, the ‘ideal’ female body, and unrealistic standards for the rest of the world to follow.” 

“Hm. That is surprisingly relevant to the modern conversation, and I look forward to seeing how you can expand on them.” 

“Well, thank you, though I wouldn’t really call it in ‘expansion’. I don’t have anything deep to say, it’s honestly just my experience and my own reflections about what these sorts of things can do to people. Though, yes, I still think it is something that today’s youth could relate to.”  

You wanted to throw up. Or die. Or something. Anything other than stand on two feet and face the world. You’d run out of barbiturate, and you thought that it would be okay, and that you were tough enough, or something like that, but you weren’t. You were weak, and now you were going to be punished. 

It would be at least a week before you could refill your barbiturate, but you couldn’t just stop with the amphetamine. That would make everything worse. Perhaps you could charm the pharmacist or something.

You told yourself to calm down. Just deep breaths. Get through the day, then it’ll be over tonight, when you sleep. Deep breaths. 

The vomit was creeping up the back of your throat. Fine, breath through your nose. The minute you started talking with someone, you would forget about it. Everything would be normal. 

The car stopped. You stepped out, your knees wobbling, the guitar case you held in your hands not helping one bit. You just prayed that the lads wouldn’t notice. They definitely already suspected something, but nothing as horrible as this. Hell, you hardly expected yourself to have come to this. And, yet, here you were, in the supposed prime of your life, wanting nothing more than for the whole thing to be over. 

Your head had a heartbeat. 

You pushed the door open, and noticed that your hand was sweating. This session was just 5 hours. 5 hours, that’s 5 individual hours, each hour is 6 individual periods of 10 minutes, so really it was only 10 minutes. 

“Y/n! Pattie made us food!” Ringo had seen you enter. The entire group was sat around the table, munching on sandwiches, and fruit, and a whole bunch of other lunch supplements that would’ve looked appetizing to any normal person, but only made you feel slightly queasy. 

“How lovely. Are you sure it wasn’t all for George?” John, Paul, and Ringo chuckled, though George was too busy eating to notice what you said. 

“Come and get some, before the rest get here.” Paul patted the seat next to him. 

“Thanks, though I’m afraid I’m not hungry.” You set your guitar down next to the rest and peered into the sound booth. There was always a fan in there, and it was right next to the bathroom. 

“You’re never hungry, anymore. Remember when you used to bring food to sessions? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to be,” George paused in a fake grimace, “Healthy.” 

“And what if I am?” 

“It’s just, I remember, when you first joined the band, and you and I would always be the ones who would order everything on the menu and still be skinny as a rail the next day. I feel abandoned, is all.” His expression of mock-hurt put you very slightly at ease. Slightly. 

“I recall you two used to have contests to see who could down the most by the end of the night. Though we never really did get a winner.” Paul interjected between bites. 

“See! So what do you say, y/n, for old time’s sake? Pattie made your favorite, y’know, the American-style BLT.” George really wasn’t going to make this easy for you. 

“Perhaps a small bite, though I really must use the loo first.” You weren’t lying. You really did have to throw up. 

“Coward.” Ringo called after you. You didn’t even turn around with a comeback, you just fled straight to the bathroom and carefully shut the door behind you, before vomiting in the toilet. 

You had recently developed a phobia of vomiting, just because you were so familiar with how terrible it was. And, yet, at the same time, you were so used to the sensation. Even with the barbiturate suppressing some of the side effects of the main pills, nausea was common for any amphetamine of the time. Just a small price to pay in order to keep your appetite at bay. You hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, which was one of your longest, and you knew that you would have to break it eventually, you just didn’t want to do it in front of them. 

You would have to eat slowly, wait until they all got bored, and then throw it out. No disrespect to Pattie, of course, but you really couldn’t stand to eat anything more than a few morsels without your body acting up. 

You stopped your vomiting, and sat on the ground for a bit, just taking in how pathetic you had become. 

“Y/n can’t-” you heard Paul say your name from outside the door. No point in not eavesdropping, they should know these walls are as thin as paper by this point.

“She’s as skinny as a rail. I thought the girl was tiny when we first met her, but it seems that in the last few months she’s just become nothing but skin and bones.” Oh, Ringo, you have no idea.

“I just don’t understand.” George was a part of this conversation. Ironic. 

“I just don’t understand why you all are at some Machiavellian shit to get her to eat. Just tell it to ‘er face. She deserves to know what we think.” John was never one for beating around the bush. 

“You know she hates people telling her what to do.” Paul loved treating you like a child, though you couldn’t help but admit that he was right. They all just didn’t understand. 

“She’s a bloody adult, and one that we all have a hell of a lot of respect for, yeah? I mean, we’ve known her for how many years, now? Just tell her what’s goin’ on.” Thanks, John, though that could never get you to stop. 

“And what are we supposed to say? Hey, slowly destroying yourself to succeed at something that you’re already really good at isn’t going to work out in the long run.” 

“Why, yes, Paulie, that’s exactly what you say.” 

“No, no, you two, you’ve both got it wrong, you have to-” You cut George off as you opened the bathroom door, feeling a little better now that you got all the crap out of your stomach. Just act like you didn’t hear them. 

You sat down at the table. The air was tense. You took the sandwich. It smelled really damn good. Too bad you weren’t hungry in the slightest. You took a small bite. 

“That’s it.” John stood up and slammed his hands on the table, startling everyone around him. 

“Now, the y/n I know may have the willpower to turn down food due to some bullshit, and of course, the y/n I know would turn it down with the same attitude that she always has. The y/n I know is absolutely smart enough to be conscious of how the media treat a women’s appearance. The y/n I know is one of the smartest goddamn people in the world, especially when it comes to that. But, the y/n I know would never overhear people talking about her behind her back and then come back, sit down all innocent-like, and pretend that she didn’t know what was going on.” 

You gently folded your hands on your lap. Of course John knew you were listening. What an asshole. 

“Y/n, he’s right, what the hell has been going on with you? Every time I see you now you seem like a skeleton, and your eyes, they have those, those shadows under them, and you always seem sick or something, and I don’t-” 

“What Paul and John are trying to say,” George put a hand on Paul’s elbow, “Is that you’re clearly not well, y/n, and you haven’t been for a while. And we got concerned.” 

“Concerned? Is that what that emotion is?” You could feel your face getting red. You had been exposed, sure, but you sure as well wouldn’t let yourself seem any weaker. Even if you felt nauseous again. 

“Oh, don’t give us any of that bullshit. You’re not angry at us, you’re angry at yourself, and you’re just mad because we’re goddamn right.” John’s words stung, but of course he would know that, the damn hypocrite. 

“John, I don’t think-” Ringo, bless him, didn’t know how to handle any of this arguing right now, though he was going to try his best. 

“While I wouldn’t have said it that way, I’d have to agree with John on this one, y/n. There’s no point in lashing out.” George was so gentle. You couldn’t be mad at George. 

“Yeah, well fuck you. I’m gonna do it anyway.” 

Why the hell did you decide to stand up. You were way shorter than all of them anyway, it didn’t help your case, and you just felt weaker. You looked at them, and had a brief moment of reconsideration. Even John was preparing for the tirade. 

“You all don’t know shit about me, you don’t know shit about my life, you know fuck all. And even if you think you do, guess what, ya cunts. You’re not me. I will do whatever I damn please and as long as I keep goddamn contributing and doing my job, you all can’t really say shit about it, can you? I don’t care what you all think about me, I’m just here to record this goddamn album, and go home.” Your throat felt ripped, the same way that it felt after you absolutely belted out a note on a record. Thankfully, you didn’t plan on saying anything else. 

“Well, guess what, then. You’re not gonna do shit until you decide to get yourself together, yeah?” Paul was standing now. 

“What the hell are you talking about, McCartney?” Everyone was standing now, George and Ringo were looking at you with concern, and a hint of sadness, both of them ready to interject if any of this went too far, and John with his stoic, unforgiving look that could kill. 

“Y/n l/n, you are to go home until you’ve decided to stop killing yourself.” Paul was firm and resolute, which was honestly a rare trait for him. As someone who so desperately wanted to be liked by everyone he met, everything he said seemed as though it could be changed at any minute in order to please the person before him. 

“I’m not a child, Paul.” You sounded an awful lot like a child. 

“No, you’re not, and that’s why we’re gonna do this democratically. All in favor of giving y/n some leave?” John raised his hand as he spoke, Paul immediately after he finished, and slowly, George and Ringo followed. 

“Alright, fine.” You turned and left without another word, leaving your guitar behind. You didn’t want them to see you cry, though your face already began to feel numb, and you could feel a single tear slide down your left cheek. You bumped into Mal on your way out the door. 

“Morning, y/n. Hey, are you al-” 

“I’m fine, Mal. Just a little unwell. Heading home for the day.” You pushed past before he could say anything else. 

Mal headed into the main room. The lads were already cleaning up, all perfectly silent. 

“Is y/n okay?” Mal was always better than the four of them at emotions, especially after they’d had their meteoric rise to fame. He’d always been grounded. 

“No, she really isn’t, Mal. And I don’t know if she will be for a long time.” Ringo said, refusing to look him in the eye. 

“Oh, come off it, Rings, you know it had to be done.” Paul was cooling down, his temper flaring up had even surprised him a little bit. 

“You didn’t have to be quite that harsh, did ya?” 

“Well, what was I suppose to do, then? You know her, she would’ve never accepted our resolution otherwise.”

“She’s a tough one, I’ll admit that,” George interjected, “But there might’ve been an alternative. She’s definitely gonna go home feeling a lot worse.” 

“As she should,” John’s movements had become a lot sharper and more direct, as he too was trying to control his temper, “She’s fucked up, she has, and she has to feel shitty enough to make the decision to get herself better.” 

“Perhaps y/n finally let the media get to her,” Mal piped up, “I mean, she used to vent to me all the time about how all the newspapers and stuff were designed specifically to make women feel inadequate. I’d think her, as a woman in the public sphere, finally let it get to her head or something. You know how birds are. Either way, it’s a little harsh to say she ‘fucked up.’“ Mal was helping them throw the food out, ever their wise companion. 

“Maybe you’re right, Mal. But the fact is, she isn’t just hurting herself anymore. She’s hurting everyone around her.” John Lennon would never, ever, go soft, but damn if he wasn’t very close right there. 

“Well, then, you’ve got to tell her that, haven’t you?” Just as soon as he came, Mal was gone, behind the sound booth, leaving them all to stare at each other once more. 

“Well, then, lads, should we get started?” Paul peered at his bandmates. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Paul, we’re gonna need y/n to record today.” Ringo never liked being a know-it-all, but he also didn’t like pretending that nothing was wrong. 

“I know, Rings, but I really don’t know where to go from here.” Paul sighed. 

“I think, perhaps, we should all spend a little time at home.” George needed to lie down. 

“I hate to say it, but Georgie is right. Let’s, uh, let’s meet up another, time, yeah? And someone pay Mal for his troubles.” John rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was embarrassed. 

The studio was cleared out in less than five minutes, with nothing but y/n’s guitar left behind. 

- time skip brought to you by obnoxious tumblr attitude in the middle of a serious story, damnit - 

You had ended up calling one of your friends to help with your refill of the barbiturate. You just couldn’t bear the symptoms any more, and needed something to resettle your stomach. The whiskey was for your aching heart. You could feel your blood pounding through your veins. Every second you spent staying awake hurt more and more. 

You took a long swig of the whiskey directly out of the bottle. The glass was only for when other people were around. You had to suffer in silence. 

You peered through some of your fan mail, which happened to be at the same desk you were sitting at. All of them were filled with the same questions. Oh, y/n, when will the next album be out? Y/n, are you sure that the band doesn’t want to tour anymore? 

The newspapers were no better, especially towards you. Selfish, vain, they called you. A bad role model, the only thing they got right. The band was “slow”, “inconsiderate of fans”, “too famous to care anymore”. 

And here you were in the middle of it all. The bottles on your desk stared back at you. 

Red amphetamines for holding back your appetite, orange laxatives for decreasing your weight, yellow diuretics for losing that water, green supplements so none of those pills could slack off, and blue barbiturates to stop all the side effects that you were getting. Meanwhile, your fridge was completely barren. 

The newspapers and the fans, they were free agents, but whatever you put into yourself, that was all you. 

You took another swig of whiskey. You really couldn’t drink too much, or else you would end up having to go to the hospital, and that would be damaging beyond compare. No, just a conservative amount of whiskey. Barbiturates made the physical pain go away, and whiskey could make the emotional pain go away. 

You passed out on the desk, whiskey still in your hands. 

- time skip again for that crazy moment when you try to be like a real writer but you have to write in time skips oop - 

Moonlight was streaming through the window as you woke with a jolt. You were alright for about 5 seconds, before you remembered everything that had happened eight hours ago. You didn’t quite feel like bursting into tears, you had already spent your time sobbing. 

Before you were going to decide a course of action, you had to re-become a functioning member of society. A good start would be going to retrieve your guitar. None of them, not even John, would’ve had the balls to take it from you, it would definitely still be there. 

The drive to the studio was surreal. Eight hours ago you had been driven here and been in possibly the worst state that you could’ve been in, but now, you were driving yourself, almost completely functional, except for that slight glaze over your eyes, and your robotic countenance. Both versions were hardly human. 

The studio had blacked out windows, as you had expected. The Beatles weren’t strangers to ridiculously long sessions, but eight hours was especially ridiculous. 

You opened the studio with your keys, your hands shaking, though this time out of unwarranted anxiety that one of them would be there rather than the effects of the pills. 

You swung the door open. The studio was completely empty, except for your guitar, still in its case, leaning against the wall. You crept further into the building. 

You decided to check the log in the sound booth. There was, after all, no harm in checking. Every time something was done in the studio, someone, usually Mal, would record what happened in the log, for legal purposes or something. You flipped through the book, reaching today’s date. 

The page had one time written on it, 1:00, with the description being that the entire band and Mal had lunch, and then promptly left after 20 minutes. No recording had been completed. You felt a little uneasy.

It was their fault that they didn’t get anything done. They had kicked you out, it was their dumb idea. 

You recalled what their faces had looked like.

No, it was your fault. The functioning of the band had stopped because of you. And only you could heal the rift that was left. 

The lights were still completely off, and the studio was almost creepy at night, but you felt no need to high tail it out of there. For the first time in a while, you felt at home in the studio, and you also felt like absolute crap when you realized that you had been pushing it off for so long. You had to fix this. 

It was at this point that the whiskey hit your digestive system in just the the wrong way. The world went black. 

- yee yee time skip i’m running out of clever things to say here - 

“Y/n! Y/n, oh God, wake up!” 

Your eyes fluttered open. George was hovering above you, holding his face in your hands, his eyes reflecting back just how shitty you looked. 

“Hey, Georgie.” 

“Y/n, what the hell happened to you, you just-” 

“How did you know,” your voice was strained, “I was here.” 

“I saw your car in the parking, lot, and I got worried, and I-” 

“Georgie, I’m gonna get better. For the band. And for all of you. I’m sorry I hurt you all and I don’t-” you started to cough. The vomit was returning. 

“Shh, shh, don’t strain yourself, it’s not gonna... I mean, I know y/n, that’s great, but don’t strain yourself or anything. Here, sit against the wall.” He dragged you to the side of the room, and you pushed yourself up against the wall, with what little strength you had left.

“Pattie.... Pattie’s in the car. I’m gonna go get her. She’ll know what to do, I think. Just, just stay awake, okay?” And with that, he left.

You did not stay awake. 

- time skips are my drug - 

The room that you were in was dark and dry. Not a touch of the outside had made its way in. Everything was shaded with a bluish hue as things were in mid-afternoon. You felt like crap. 

Someone had gone to all the trouble of covering you in a blanket, leaving a glass of water by your bed, hell, even changing your clothes for you into pajamas. You took a long, controlled sip of the water, with the ice half melted. You swung your feet over the bed and let your toes touch the ground, next to the small trashcan someone had placed by you in case of nausea. 

You knew where you were. This was Pattie and George’s house. 

The nausea swung back into your system after a small moment of peace of mind. Thank god the trashcan was there, you thought as you cleared all of the shit out of your system. 

You heard feet rushing upstairs. Pattie emerged in the doorway and held your hair back gently. God bless her. This time the vomit was mercifully short, and pretty soon everything had left your system. 

You sat straight up on the bed, not daring to look Pattie in the eye. Damn you were pathetic. 

“Oh, y/n, what have you done to yourself! I was just talking with the lads, they’re all worried sick about you, thought you overdosed, or... or died!” 

“Pattie,” you started to clean yourself off with a rag that was left on your nightstand before downing some water, “I’m gonna get better.”

“Yes. Yes you are, y/n. Now, look, I know that I can’t make you do anything, but you must admit this is getting ridiculous.” 

“The lads put you up to this, didn’t they?” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“Because only they would acknowledge that they can’t make me do anything and then tell someone else to try to make me do it.”

“Well, they did mention something, but y/n, we, the girls, and I had all been worried about you for a long time.” 

“Really?” 

“Really, y/n.” 

“Wow, I thought...” 

“You thought what? That you can just rip yourself apart while getting away with it? Too bad.” 

“No, no, it’s just, I didn’t expect the girls to-” 

“Y/n, you’re not a goddamn robot, you’re a-” 

You were too dizzy to hear what she had to say. 

 - time skip for more sickness - 

You sat writhing in bed. Pattie had let you be for another hour, since there was really nothing she could do, and perhaps you wanted peace and quiet more than anything, she had said. 

George was out at the moment, he hadn’t told Pattie where, just that he would be back before nightfall. 

You had missed so many conversations. So many moments of personal connection had just passed over your head. The past month, you had been feverishly either working on songs, dieting, or updating your wardrobe. You were an image, a construct, you were y/n l/n, songwriter in the Beatles, icon, and influencer worldwide. 

And yet you had missed so much of them. 

You recalled Ringo’s last birthday. You hadn’t eaten anything the whole time, and you refused to take part in any of the festivities that had food. You had been withdrawn in conversations, and had ultimately left early.

You recalled when John had a breakdown at the studio over his role as a father. The other lads had offered comfort, pats on the back, even well-meaning, though pointless advice. You, on the other hand, had continued picking away at your guitar, offered some kind nods, and felt yourself go dizzy in the corner. 

You recalled when George and Paul had gotten into a fight, and John and Ringo, much as they tried, couldn’t mediate anything, as that task was normally yours. So they fought, and fought, until both of them had torn their entire throats out, and stayed fuming for days and days until you offered a few small sentences and suggested that they go out for a drink. They’d made up. 

If only the magazines had allowed women who were comfortable with themselves to be the ideal persona. If only the ideal persona was exactly you. If only the ideal persona could allow themselves to talk to their friends, and comfort them in the way that they always had, and not worry about what the media would think, or how whatever she was doing would affect the public image of the band, because she was the public image. 

You’d missed so much. You’d done your job flawlessly, been y/n the songwriter, y/n the woman of the sixties, and y/n the fashionista. Not once in the past few months had you been y/n the friend. And that was really what the band needed.

You felt a single tear fall down your cheek, but you sat up straight and wiped it away. No time for that. 

The clothes that you were wearing when you had passed out had been washed by Pattie. Perfect, as you had to quickly go home and carry out your unfinished business.

You hopped down the stairs like you hadn’t just been suffering from withdrawal. Pattie was sitting on a chair in the living room, reading a book. 

“Y/n, you really should be resting.” 

“I can’t Pattie, I’ve got to get better.” You grabbed your guitar from the living room, and your coat off one of the pegs. 

“Y/n, the band can wait for gods sakes!” Pattie stood and started rushing towards you, but you kept putting the coat on. 

“Yeah, the band can wait, but, John, Paul, George, Ringo, Pattie, Jane, Linda, Maureen, and Cynthia can’t. Thanks for all the help, I’ll be repaying you for your troubles sometime.” You waved goodbye as you rushed out the door before Pattie got another word in.

You had to be quick. If you stopped long enough for someone to get a good look, they would know it was you. You hid your face in your coat, your guitar swinging to your side, before ducking into one of the alleyways. 

You hadn’t eaten anything in what must’ve been three or four days now. You were absolutely depleted, energy-wise. You most-likely would not make it back to the studio before being noticed, and there was no way in hell that you could run. 

“Y/n? Is that you?” Paul’s head was peaking out the window of his car, or, his driver’s car, the less recognizable one that he always had out in public so fans wouldn’t be trailing it.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me Paul. Can you maybe give me a ride home?” 

“What the hell? Why, I-” he peered out the window, looking left and right, as people were beginning to notice the scene before them, “Get it, you.” 

You swung the door open and stepped inside, sitting across from Paul in the velvet-covered backseat. 

“Paul, I’m gonna get better. That’s why I’ve got to go home.” 

“And why should I believe that?” he crossed his arms, giving his typical, Paul sass. 

“I just strutted outside, in broad daylight, looking like absolute death, in order to get to my car at the studio. If you can’t believe that I’m getting better, can you at least believe that I’m serious about this?” 

“What could possibly help you at home.” 

“I’m gonna... I’m gonna throw ‘em out. The pills, I mean, before I regret it and change my mind.” 

“Y/n, I don’t know if I can-” 

“Paul, I’ve been a really ass friend for the past few months. I hurt you all, and I’m sorry, I really am. You are within your right to be an ass friend for the next few years if you want to, but right now, I need to ask you for one more favor, please take me to my house.” 

He rubbed his face with his hands in the way that only he could. 

“Alright, fine.” 

- time skip, last one, I promise - 

“Morning, everyone.” You dragged your guitar behind you into the studio. You were extremely sluggish, the doctor said it would be one of your side effects from withdrawing from your pills. 

“Y/n, I didn’t think-” Ringo stood up from his drum set. John and George were strumming on their guitars, chattering about something, while Paul was absentmindedly fingering his bass. Perhaps withdrawal also meant some form of delusion, but you could’ve sworn that you saw a hint of a smile on Paul and George’s faces. 

“Yeah, Maureen told me you all were doing this today, and I thought, well, you really can’t do it without me, can you? So, here I am.” 

“You’re sure you wanna commit to whole three hours, birdie?” The light reflected off of John’s spectacles. 

“John, it’s the 20th century, women are just as capable, you know this,” There was a small ripple of laughter, “But, yeah, I guess the elephant in the room. I finally got my shit together, and I trust I don’t need to go into details, but I just realized how much I was messing with all the people in my life that I should’ve been valuing instead of what the hell everyone else thinks. So yeah, let’s do this album, and then afterwards, we should all go out drinking and talk about our feelings, y’know, like used to, because hell if you all aren’t stressed,” You sat down like you belonged there the whole time and set your guitar on the ground, “I was working on a song of sorts, something-” 

You were trapped in a hug, though admittedly it was your fault for not seeing it coming. Another pair of arms gave you a pat on the back. You pulled yourself out of your attacker’s chest to see Ringo and George staring down at you.

“That was a good one, y/n.” 

Paul materialized next to you and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” 

You stared at Lennon, you both understand that he was very much expected to show some token of affection. You also both understood that John Lennon was not a hugger, and when he was a kisser, it was after a few drinks. You stuck your hand out as a peace offering. 

“It’s good to have you back, kid.” He shook your hand vigorously, almost to the point where it would’ve been funny, before he pulled away. 

“Wasn’t aware you had all gone soft.” You muttered under your breath. 

“Beg your pardon?” John’s head whipped around. 

“Nothing, nothing at all, dear John. Now, about my song?” 

#beatle!reader #beatles #the beatles #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #paul mccartney x reader #george harrison #george harrison x reader #ringo starr #ringo starr x reader #pattie boyd #60s #classic rock

[j--halstead]

This has been a long time coming (no seriously like over a month at this point. my b) @ohmyolicity sent me this request literally weeks ago and I’ve been swamped with job interviews and exams and practicals and everything under the sun that I finally finished it before I start by end of senior year bender (:  this is also 5K words and it got out of hand because I forgot there were going to be 5 of the little one shots 

PROMPT: Four times Magnum was on a date with Abby but had to leave because of Higgins and the One time Abby leaves 

one

Business for Magnum had actually been booming lately, which he wasn't sure was a good thing or a bad one but he wasn't complaining. Neither was Higgins, considering he paid her his bills and got the Ferrari detailed at that place she said Robin prefers. Tonight he had brought Abby to a new restaurant right on the water that she had mentioned a couple weeks ago, back when his wallet was pretty thin.

"Thomas, I still don't know how you got these reservations. I've tried and they're booked for weeks."

 "Oh you know how it works on this island. You know a guy who knows a guy." Actually, the owner was an old client. He hired Magnum to prove his wife was cheating, and well, Magnum nearly got his head blown off with a shotgun when he got caught.

 Magnum picked at the plate of calamari between them, watching Abby take in the atmosphere. This was their fourth date and it's been going great in his opinion. Being a lawyer, she's busy just as much as he is so, unlike other women he's met, she understands the crazy hours.

 After he apologized for pretending to be Dr. Tomas Caballo, Magnum and Abby realized they actually have a lot in common. Obviously he knew, from her little speech ending their fake first date. But once he told her who the real Thomas Magnum was, she was quick to give him a second chance at a first date.

 "Did you wrap up your case? The one with the twins?"

 Magnum sipped his wine. "Yeah, it was a happy ending for once. Always like when that happens." He reached over and held her hand. "What about your case?"

 "My case actually settled out of court, so I guess also a happy ending." She popped a piece of calamari into her mouth, eyes dancing over Magnum's face. It may be a small island, but there are over 350,000 people here. And Abby was happy that she managed to run into him. The restaurant around them buzzed, but it seemed like they were in their own little world. "Since we've both had some crazy weeks I thought it would be nice if we spent some time together and I took the a couple days off."

 They both paused when the server brought their meals out. Magnum thought over what she was saying. Spending a couple days together might be a slightly bigger step, but it might be what they needed. "Yeah, yeah that sounds amazing." Just as the words came out of his mouth, Magnum's phone started barking.

 Abby laughed at the ringtone. "Seriously? Dogs barking?"

"It's Higgins, I thought it was appropriate because of the lads." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I'm sorry I'll only be a minute" he said as he bent down to kiss her cheek.

Walking outside, Magnum answered the call after getting some looks about the barking. "Higgins, what's up?"

 "Sorry to interrupt your date but your clients are here. And they don't seem happy. They mentioned something about you needing to look into another photo they received. I guess your case was not closed."

 Magnum ran a hand down his face and sighed. "Did you tell them I'm not around?"

 "I did. They're demanding to see you." Juliet hesitated before she spoke again. "Thomas, I can handle this for you if you'd like, but they do seem adamant on speaking with you tonight."

 "Thanks Higgy, but I should wrap it up." He looked into the restaurant at Abby. He felt awful, but he had to finish the job. "Just- can you let them in the guest house to wait til I get back?"

 Magnum heard Juliet apologize again before he hung-up and walked back to the table. His hand brushed against Abby's shoulder before he sat down. She looked up at him smiling, but the smile slowly dropped when she noticed he didn't move to pick up his napkin or fork or knife.

 "You have you go, don't you. That's why Higgins called?"

 His eyes dropped to the table as he spoke. "I am so sorry, Abby. I know how much you were looking forward to this." He scratched his beard as he continued. "And it looks like my case isn't over, so our couple days together might have to wait."

 Abby reached out for his hand. "Thomas, I understand how this goes. Go, do your thing, help people." Magnum pressed his lips in a thin line. Finally, he nodded and stood up, pulling Abby up by the hand. He kissed her cheek before slipping out, leaving enough cash with the server to cover the bill.

two

It was rare that Magnum's cases went to court. Even rarer that Magnum himself had to go to court for it. But ever since he started seeing Abby, he didn't mind being in court. She was typically in the courthouse. And when she wasn't, her office was close enough that if Thomas had court, they could meet up.

 A father had hired Magnum to find the drunk driver that killed his son and fled the scene. But once Thomas let the name slip, the father found him and beat him beyond recognition and got himself arrested for aggravated assault. And that is how Thomas found himself standing outside the court house. His phone was buzzing with notifications from TC and Rick, but he ignored them all and waited for Abby to answer.

 Walking towards her office, Magnum pulled his phone out and silenced all the texts, calling Abby instead. It rang out to voicemail so he figured she was in a meeting or on another call. "Hey, uh, it's me. Thomas. I just got out of court if you still wanted to meet up for lunch. I'm going to walk to your office just incase you don't see this."

 While he waited for the crosswalk sign, he checked his texts and saw the guys asking about his case. He had one from Kumu, reminding him that she's on the mainland for the week at a family event, and to check in with Higgins every now and then.

 Higgins told him the other day that she had business to deal with. Something about the estate and meeting with people. Honestly, he stopped paying attention after a few minutes and couldn't remember. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time that he had actually spoken to Higgins. She hadn't been around the estate in the morning when he was walking back from his row on the beach, and Thomas can't remember seeing her last night either.

 Whether she was just in the main house, or completely of the estate, Thomas felt like he should at least try to call her. If not for anything else other than he hates when Kumu gets mad.

 As Thomas pulled his phone back out of his pocket, Katsumoto's contact popped up. The two weren't involved in a case recently so Thomas stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and stopped to take the call.

 "Detective Katsumoto, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

 "Magnum. When was the last time you heard from Miss. Higgins?"

 With that, Thomas' stomach dropped. "Yesterday morning I think. But I was just about to call her so if you let me call you back, I'll find out where she is." He heard the detective sigh. "Okay that's not a good sound so why don't you tell me what's going on? Preferably before Kumu or Robin comes after me for not looking out for her?"

 "Uniforms found the Range Rover, crashed into a telephone pole. Her weapon was still under the seat, phone and wallet both still inside. CSU found a good amount of blood inside the car."

 "Higgins is O+ if you're trying to match it." At the sound of his name being called, Thomas' head snapped up. Abby was walking right towards him. He managed a tight smile before giving his attention back to the phone call. "I'm coming down to the station. I know her better than anyone else on this island and you know if you don't let me help then I'm just going to go off on my own."

 A groan came through the phone. "Fine. But only because I don't need you going all cowboy trying to find her."

 Abby stepped closer when she noticed Thomas put the phone away. Taking in the regretful look on his face, Abby could already make a guess. "You have to go."

 "Higgins is missing. I've gotta find her, Abby." He watched Abby sigh reluctantly, but nonetheless, she was okay with it. She kissed his cheek and gave him a light shove before watching him jog towards the Ferrari.

Sixteen grueling hours later, Thomas and Katsumoto found Higgins, hands and feet secured to the legs and arms of a chair. An old colleague of Ian's tracked her down and brought her to an abandoned  warehouse. Thomas was the first through the door. Two shots brought down the man responsible and, without pausing for a moment,  he was on his knees by her side in seconds.

 "Magnum, EMS is only a couple minutes out." From his experience, Thomas knows her injuries were solely to cause pain. Broken ribs and fingers, her face severely bruised, and a deep cut to the side of her head that would explain how she was grabbed and the blood in the car.

 "Thomas?" The warmth from his hands resting on her cheeks brought her back to consciousness.

 "You're alright, I got you." He watched her try to stand which caused her to collapse in pain. "Yeah, no. Don't do that." Thomas kept his hands resting on Higgins. One laid on top of her knee, his thumb dragging soft circles against the fabric of her jeans. The other slid into her hair. He was trying to get a better look at the gash and see if it was still bleeding. Once Katsumoto cut off the zip ties, Juliet's hand moved to cover Thomas'. She caught his attention and Juliet breathed a sigh of relief seeing his eyes. Her head leaned into his hand more, finally letting her guard down and relax knowing she was safe with Thomas.

three

Thomas had been staying at Abby's place a couple nights a week and that's how he knew this was getting serious. The first few nights he didn't truly plan on it. They had gone out and she invited him inside after and he did the walk of shame in the same clothes the next morning. Recently, he started keeping a go bag in the Ferrari just in case. Tonight though, tonight Abby had other plans.

 He had just finished brushing his teeth and went to put it back in the travel case when Abby walked into the bathroom. "What are you doing?"

 "Uh-" Thomas hesitated, not knowing what he was doing wrong. "I was just brushing my teeth?"

 She walked up to him and grabbed the hand that was holding said toothbrush. "You do this every time you stay over. Why not just leave it here?" Oh, hm, ya that's what was wrong.

 Thomas really liked Abby, seriously he did. But he really didn't do the whole serious, live-in relationship thing. Not since Hannah. The only woman he's sort of lived with is Juliet. But even then, they each have their own house. Even if they do wander into each other's almost everyday, and eat most meals together, and work together.

 "Just, like to keep my bag complete. You know, in case I need to stay over somewhere else." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and tossed the brush in the bag, zipping it up, and tossing it in the corner of the room. He noticed Abby walk in the bedroom behind him. "You have court early right? We should probably catch some sleep."

 In the nights that Thomas has been there, they created somewhat a routine. He climbed in 'his' side of the bed, waited for her to climb in, and shut the lights off. Thomas leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. "How about I cook breakfast in the morning? Higgins always says a good breakfast can change your entire day." His lips trailed kisses down the side of her face with a smile.

 "Yeah, I think that sounds good." She inhaled deeply, trying not to get annoyed, and turned to kiss him back.

 Lately, it seemed like every time they were together, every conversation Thomas mentioned Juliet Higgins. In a way, Abby gets it. They live at the estate together and she helps him on his cases sometimes. And Juliet's nice, but she can't help but get annoyed. No matter how many times Thomas denies there was ever anything between the two of them, Abby is convinced there is something. But she pushes it to the back of her mind because he's here with her, and he seems happy to be. She leaned towards the warmth coming from his bare chest and let his arms pull her closer and within minutes she was asleep.

 The mellow sound of a Hawaiian song filled the room. With how dark it still was, Thomas knew that it can't be an alarm. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and waking himself up to be a little more aware, Thomas realized that the song is his ringtone for Kumu. But picking up the phone showed that it's almost three in the morning. His mother always told him nothing good happens after two am.

 "Kumu?" Thomas' voice was barely a whisper in hopes that Abby didn't wake up.

 "Thomas, I'm so sorry to call so late."

 "No it’s okay. I know you would only call if it were important." Thomas heard shuffling and mumbles in the background. Then he heard a loud speaker and some beeping. "Kumu are you in a hospital?"

 Within seconds, all the worst scenarios began running through his head. Someone was badly hurt, or dead. Someone close enough that Kumu was calling him and not HPD. Higgins, most likely, but maybe Rick or TC. But that would only happen if they were both in there and that would be the-

 "Did you hear me Thomas?" He hadn't. He had been so wrapped up in his head that he didn't realize Kumu was speaking, or that his breathing was getting very rattled, or that Abby had woken up and turn on a lamp. "I said it's Juliet. They think she'll be okay but she's still in surgery."

 "Wait, what? Surgery?" Thomas could feel Abby's eyes burning into him. "I'll be there in ten." Hanging up without letting Kumu get another word in, he got out of bed and grabbed his clothes out of his go bag. "That was Kumu, she's at the hospital with Higgins." He pulled a pair of jeans on and slid a gray tee over his head as he walked over to where she now sat up in bed. "I'm sorry I woke you. You should get some sleep." Thomas took her face in his hands and kissed the top of her head. And with that, he was out the door.

 Kumu sat at Juliet's bedside when Thomas came bursting in. She watched as his eyes immediately landed on the woman in the bed and then watched him inhale so deeply it was as if he was reminding his body to breathe.

 "They were just coming out to tell me they were done when you hung up on me." His eyes snapped to the older woman. She motioned to the chair on the other side of the bed for him to sit. "Appendicitis. She called me and said she was in excruciating pain and couldn't walk or drive herself. The doctors said she's lucky she made it here just before it burst."

 Thomas reached out and picked up Juliet's hand in his own. She was colder than anyone should be in Hawaii, and paler than usual. Kumu walked behind Thomas and stopped for a moment to put a hand on his shoulder. She knew that he was at Abby's tonight, or else he would have been the one to drive Juliet in. And the fact the he left her in bed to come here says a lot. She just doesn't think either of the young couple knows what they mean to each other.

 He didn’t know how long he sat there, people were moving in and out of the room without bothering him. Kumu came back with a coffee and took her seat on the other side of the bed. She was engrossed in a magazine when she noticed Thomas sit up slightly. She watched his hand move to caress the side of Juliet’s face and within seconds the other woman’s eyes started to flutter open. Kumu said something about getting the doctor, giving them a moment.

  “Hey, you’re alright. It’s just me.” He watched her eyes scrunch shut before they opened again, fully and focusing on him. He felt her lean into his hand as she started to wake up. ”You know,” Thomas’ voice was soft as he spoke. “I really hate getting calls that someone’s in the hospital. Let alone someone I- I’m friends with.” Juliet caught his slip but was too tired to do anything other than push it to the back of her mind. She just smiled as much as she could at him. And if neither of them let go of their joined hands resting on the bed when Kumu returned, well then no one mentioned it after that.

four

"Thomas!" He had pulled Abby under a wave, sputtering a laugh when they both surfaced.

 "Come on! The water's perfect and you wouldn't even go past your knees." He floated back, hands brushing against rocks in the sand. "Don't tell me you can't swim."

 Abby rolled her eyes. "Thomas, why would I move to an island in the middle of the ocean if I couldn't swim?"

 A grin spread across Thomas' face. "To find a charming, handsome man who just happens to be an ex-Navy SEAL to teach you to swim."

 The two had been rescheduling for weeks. Between his cases, her cases, and just crazy things not lining up, they needed a day to themselves. One of the perks of living at Robin's Nest is the stretch of private beach on the property. Kumu was swamped with tour's all day and Higgins was dealing with some things for the property, so he was sure they would be the only ones around.

 "I came here for a fresh start" Abby's words were whispered. She waded through the water until she was waist deep. "And I just happened to find a very charming, very handsome man. And this man just happens to live on one of the largest estates on the island.

 Thomas made his way over and stood, wrapping his arms around her. "A fresh start? Picked hell of a place for it." He peppered kisses down her cheek before stopping on her lips. Abby's hand threaded through his short hair, deepening the kiss.

 Thomas' phone could be heard barking from back on the beach. "Just let it ring out" she whispered against his lips. She nipped at his jaw, moving down his neck and feeling his fingers dig into her waist. The barking continued for a few moments until it finally silenced. He wrapped both arms around Abby's waist and whispered in her ear, "Hold your breath." In the next moment, he fell backwards and pulled her with him underwater where he pressed his lips against hers.

 Pushing against his chest gently, Abby stood up for some air. Her head tossed back with a laugh when Thomas stood and seaweed was in his hair. Another voice cut through the air and caught their attention. Higgins was standing where the sand met the grass of the yard yelling for Thomas.

 "Higgy!" Both Abby and Thomas began shuffling towards the sand. Abby had never seen the other woman anything but calm and right now she definitely was not. Thomas was visibly worried as he began to jog through the water. Abby slowed, watching as he ran through the shallows and up the sand. "What's wrong? What happened?" He watched Higgins' eyes scan over him as if checking for injuries, her hands were shaking.

 Abby continued until she was close enough to hear, but not too close to feel as if she were invading their space. After the first few times being at the estate, or just around Thomas and Higgins, Abby had realized that the two had a special bond. Going through horrible things can bring people together.

 "You didn't answer your phone. I've been calling and you weren't answering and I thought-" Juliet trailed off. She ran her hands through her blonde hair trying to calm herself. Her chest was heaving with each quick breath and her eyes were shut tight.

 "Higgins." Thomas reached out and placed a hand on her arm. "Hey, Juliet. Slow down. What happened?" He can honestly say that she had never been this shaken up about anything in the time he's known her, except for once. And he hoped it wasn't related.

 When her eyes opened he saw tears threatening to fall. "I thought something happened to you." She saw a protest building on his lips, or more likely more questions. "An old friend at MI6 just called. Ian escaped and they believe he's coming back here. So when I called and you didn't answer I thought about Richard and I thought the worst had happened."

 Juliet's words were piling up in Thomas' mind and she wasn't even aware. He knew that the only thing that could get her to react like this was Ian. Without even thinking he pulled her into a hug. His hand rubbed her back while the other rested against the back of her neck, trying to calm her down. He could feel her hot breath against his bare chest. Thomas honestly forgot that Abby was feet away, back on the beach. All he was concerned about in that moment was keeping Juliet safe.

 "I'm right here, I'm fine Juliet, I'm okay." Thomas felt her nod against his neck. "We'll find him, and I'll double check all of the security cameras and sensors and the gate when I get back up there. But I promise you," his lips dropped to brush against the shell of her ear. "This time, I'll let you put the bullet in him."

 She took in a shaky breath and put both hands against his chest. Looking over his shoulder quickly, Juliet noticed that Thomas wasn't at the beach alone. "Right, well, let me know if you need anything regarding the security measures and I’ll let you get back to your date." She watched as his eyebrows pulled together. "Abby, she's down at the beach. Or did you already forget her name?" Juliet meant it teasingly, but neither were in the joking mood and Thomas wasn't budging.

 "I'll drive her home, I should get to work on the security system." Neither had moved in minutes. Thomas' hands were now loosely around her waist, keeping her closer than he probably should with his girlfriend standing feet away. Juliet had left her hands on his chest, fingers pressing into his chest.

  Juliet sighed "Thomas, he's not on the island, it's okay. Go back to her." Giving him a gentle push, Juliet tried (and failed) to smile. Thomas copied her sigh when both of his hands dropped. He watched her walk back towards the main house for a moment before going back to Abby.

plus one

Thomas had started cooking dinner almost an hour ago. Abby was coming over soon and he kept messing up the fish he bought. He wasn't usually a big fish person, but she had opened him up to trying new things and he wanted to do something nice for her.

 The past couple of days he could tell that something was off. Whether it was just him overthinking, or if there was something going on, he wasn't sure. But Thomas knew that having her over to the guest house would be just what they needed. The views, the breeze off the water, and the peace and quiet, as long as the dogs behaved themselves and stayed away from the guest house.

 His phone beeped with a text from Higgins letting him know she let Abby through the gate. That was another thing that was weird. Every since he and Abby started getting serious, Higgins was rarely around to berate him about anything. She still helped Thomas with his cases, but she was popping over less and less and she kept the dogs away from bothering him.

 Women were always a confusing area in Thomas' life.

 Hearing the car door shut, Thomas tossed a piece of fish on the grill and turned the oven to low to keep the vegetables warmed. He left the beers in the fridge for now, knowing that this wasn't a wine meal or night.

 "Hey, sorry I'm late. My meeting with a client ran late and then traffic and-" Thomas cut her rambling off, cupping her face and pressing his lips against hers gently. "I meant to call." Her words were whispered against his lips as she pulled away.

 "Don't worry about it." Thomas grabbed her bag and placed it on a chair in the living room. "I've got some of that fish you like on the grill, and asparagus in the oven." He started scuffling around between the kitchen and the grill out back.

 Abby's been to the estate before, and she's been in the guest house before so she's seen the few personal items that Thomas has placed around. A few pictures of him with Rick, TC, and Nuzo. One of him and his dad when he was little at a Tigers game. And one of him and his mom at his BUD/S graduation. But there was one she'd never seen before. It was of Thomas and Juliet Higgins. It looked like they were somewhere on the property, but it was how they looked in the picture that struck Abby. It was a candid photo, Juliet was laughing with her head tipped backwards while Thomas stared at her, a smile on his face, almost in awe.

 While she understood that Juliet was a part of Thomas' life, she didn't know how big. Abby turned to watch him, mumbling to himself while he checked out the fish. He brings Juliet up in conversation almost every night they've been together, and she's never been the jealous type but there was something about his tone and the look on his face. He's in love with Juliet Higgins and he doesn't even know it. And from what Abby has seen between the two's interactions, Juliet feels the same.

 "Abby?"

 "Sorry, what did you say?"

 Thomas laughed softly. "I said you might want to check the fish, I still don't think I'm cooking it right." He stood at the grill, but his eyes wandered out to the grass. Over his shoulder, she could make out Juliet walking after the dogs. His eyes never left her.

 Thomas is a good man, one of the best she's ever met. And Abby knows that he would never intentionally hurt her, but if she's being honest: Thomas was never hers to begin with.

 "Thomas." Abby slowly moved to where he stood at the grill and closed the lid on it, getting his attention back. "Just come sit," she saw a protest on his lips, probably about the fish. "It needs to cook and the smoke will help."

 She led him to the couch and sat to face him, holding his hand between her two in her lap. "I'm not staying for dinner tonight. Thomas, I've had this feeling, like a voice in the back of my head. It keeps telling me that this isn't right." His brow pulled together. "You are such an amazing man. You have the biggest heart, and you can't cook for your life but you tried anyway because you know I like fish, and you watch the Dodgers with me even when they play the same time as the Tigers."

 "I don't understand."

 "You do everything you can to make me happy. But you deserve someone who can make you just as  happy. And I don’t think that’s me." Looking down at their hands, Abby took a deep breath. "I think that this needs to end because your heart is already someone else's."

 As if on cue, the dogs started barking at each other and Juliet's voice drifted into the guest house.

 "I'm not upset, I truthfully saw it in the beginning and tried pushing it out of my head. But the way you look at each other, that's something special." Abby leaned over, squeezing his hand between hers while she kissed his cheek. "She loves you, Thomas. And I think you already know you love her. So just take the leap."

 And with that, Abby grabbed her bag and walked out the front door. This left Thomas with his thoughts, and so many questions. He'd always known Juliet was attractive, and they just click because they've both been through a lot. But they fight all the time. But then again, they've never truly been mad at each other. And maybe he did have feelings for her, but she couldn't have them for him. Could she? Thomas always thought that she didn't date because she closed herself off after Richard's death. But she'd been flirty with him, which never happened ever before. And he truthfully couldn't picture his life without her in it.

 So that was it. He had to act on it now before he got too scared. Abby's words hung heavily in his head, he had to take the leap. And if Thomas' didn't know, he would've thought he had been speaking out loud. Because the next thing he knew, there were footsteps out by the grill.

 "Magnum are you aware that your grill is smoking?" His eyes snapped up to her and taking one deep breath, he took the ten steps to outside. "Are you trying to burn the guest house down?"

 Thomas stopped inches away from her, and he knew she had to think he was crazy at this point. And if she didn't, well she might in a couple seconds. Slowly, he lifted one hand and threaded it in her hair, pulling her against him within seconds and closed the gap between them. He caught her bottom lip between his and held his breath. Waiting three seconds, Thomas pulled away.

 "Thomas." Within seconds, Juliet pulled Thomas by his shirt and sealed their lips again. His hands dropped to her waist, fingers flexing against her hips and eliminating any space that was between them. Juliet's hands gripped the ridiculous floral shirt he was wearing, leaving wrinkles in it when she finally let go. Seconds passed like hours and by the time they both caught their breath, neither knew what to say. Until Thomas did.

 "Juliet," his breath tickled her skin as he let the words she never expected to hear tumble out. "I'm in love with you."

#magnum PI #Thomas Magnum #juliet higgins #Kumu #Gordon Kastumoto #higgins x magnum #my fics #miggins #idk if thats a thing #these are all ridiuclously long #should've all been posted seperately but w.e

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading so far.

Gaelic translations are at the end. Apologies if they’re not correct, had to rely on internet translation!

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and encouragement.

Chapter 19: A Problem Shared

Manny: I understood "crazy old witch," "go kill yourself," then "I love you." Jay: I'll never get this; how you all yell at each other.

Gloria: That's how you know that your family loves you, when they feel free to scream at you.

- Modern Family

Geneva: Ultrasound is on 15th. 11:40. Princess Royal Maternity hospital.

Jamie: Fine. I will meet you there, coming from work.

Geneva: I will be telling people after this scan, so better tell your family before then.

Jamie: I’m going up to Lallybroch this weekend, will tell them then

Geneva: I can come with you to tell them. 

Jamie: Thanks but that’s ok. Claire is coming with me

Geneva: ok.

******

The weather was perfect for the journey through the Highlands, another day of blue skies and warm sunshine, thanks to an unusual but very welcome heatwave.

Jamie should have been in his element driving his favourite route home to Lallybroch. Instead he clenched the wheel with grim determination, eyes focussed on the road ahead, willing the journey to be over.

Claire was silent and did not even comment when they sailed past their customary stopping point. She realised he was best left to his own thoughts at the moment.

Jamie still hadn’t planned how to break the news to Brian, Murtagh and, God help him, Jenny. He knew none of them would be thrilled with the news, but it was Jenny’s quick temper and razor sharp tongue that he was dreading.

Claire glanced over at Jamie, noting the tension in his jaw, teeth clenched tightly together. She rubbed his arm, feeling his strong muscles through the thin shirt. His strength was obvious, but this weekend, she knew he would be relying on her to be strong for him.

Jamie smiled tightly. “The thing is, ye ken,” he spoke as if they were just continuing a conversation, rather than having spent the previous fifty minutes in silence.

“The thing is, Mam told me always tae think about my actions, and whether I would be ashamed tae tell her and Da about it. If I felt ashamed and wanted tae keep it hidden, I shouldna do it. Weel, I’m no’ exactly ashamed, but I’m no’ verra proud either. Although...”

He paused, working out how to put his thoughts into words. “...no, I am ashamed. Ashamed of no’ considerin’ the consequences of my actions, ashamed of sleepin’ wi’ a woman I dinna really care for, ashamed of conceivin’ a bairn in this way.”

Jamie picked up Claire’s hand and brought it to his lips. “But, one thing I am verra proud of is ye. And, idiot dickhead that I am, that ye still love me.”

Claire smiled. “You may be many things, James Fraser, including an idiot dickhead, but I do… I do love you.”

******

Claire was relieved when they turned into the driveway to Lallybroch and finally pulled up outside the house. She clambered out of the car, her legs stiff after four hours with no breaks, and headed for the side door with Jamie just behind.

Before they reached the door, Brian appeared around the side of the house, stooped over a vision in Spider-Man blue and red. Clad in a Spider-Man tracksuit, with a Spider-Man helmet perched on his head, Wee Jamie sat astride a Spider-Man tricycle, making no attempt to pedal whilst his grandad steered and pushed him forward. He rang the tricycle’s bell.

“Stop now… pease, Grandab.” He instructed his grandfather.

Wee Jamie quickly dismounted and rushed over to his uncle who scooped him up in his arms for a kiss, tickling the lad’s cheeks with his bristles. Wee Jamie pushed him away, giggling helplessly, and held his arms out to Claire. She held him tight, pretending to bang her head on the helmet he was still wearing before giving him a kiss.

“And what is all this finery ye have here, mo laochain?” Jamie asked his nephew with mock seriousness.

“‘S from Maggie. Imma big brover… a good one, aye?”

Jamie caught the eye of Jenny, who had just emerged from the house, and smirked.  

“From yer wee sister, eh?”

“Aye,” Jenny said firmly. “Because he is such a good brother and Maggie loves him.”

“And ‘afore ye say anything,” Jenny spoke to Jamie in a low voice. “It’s no’ a bribe, it’s jes’ reinforcing good behaviour towards the baby.”

“Right.” Jamie laughed and hugged his sister.

Brian abandoned the little tricycle and came over to join them.

“Ah, Claire, ‘tis good tae see ye again.” He kissed her cheek. “Murtagh has jes’ gone tae the village fer some provisions. Mrs. Crook’s no’ too well, so we have tae do some cookin’ tonight. If we pitch in together, we can manage, nae doubt… but not ye, Jamie, son. Anyway, come in, come in, and we’ll put the kettle on and mebbe a wee bit of cake. Here, Claire, gi’ the lad tae me. Ye can freshen up if ye want.”

Brian held out his arms and his grandson flung himself into them. He led the way into the kitchen.

“Where’s Ian?” Jamie asked.

“Och, Maggie had a wee accident, a wee bit o’ nappy leakage. He’s jes’ cleanin’ her up.”

Claire looked across at Jamie and nodded at him meaningfully. He blushed slightly and pushed Claire ahead of him into the house.

******

In Mrs. Crook’s absence, dinner had been surprisingly good, thanks to Murtagh creating his version of beef chilli, served with enough rice to feed the whole village. Now the adults all sat companionably round the kitchen table. The baby monitor, placed on the dresser, provided a background of gentle snores and snuffles from Wee Jamie and Maggie asleep upstairs.

Jenny picked up her cup of decaffeinated tea reluctantly, staring at the strong coffees and whiskies of the others with jealousy. “It’s no’ fair.” She muttered. “No alcohol, no caffeine.”

She looked at her husband accusingly.

Ian smiled. “Tell ye what. Fer the next bairn, I’ll gi’ them all up wi’ ye. Is that fair?”

“It’ll no’ be fair till we can share the pukin’ and the swellin’ and the pain too. Still I appreciate the offer. But, Ian Murray, yer daughter isna even six weeks old, and ye’re thinking about another! Gi’ me a break first, please.”

Jamie felt Claire’s hand squeezing his knee, her finger tapping against his skin repeatedly, prodding him to start his confession. He took a sip of whisky and sat back in his chair. His eyes sought hers, begging: ‘I’m no’ ready yet… let me enjoy this family moment a wee bit longer, please.’ Claire stilled her finger but her hand remained on his knee.

“Wee Jamie seems tae be gettin’ more used tae sharin’ his Mam.” Brian began. “I ken the wee gifts help, but it’s good fer him tae learn tae share his Mam, his Da, weel, all of us wi’ other bairns. Call me a sentimental old fool, but I love it when Lallybroch is filled wi’ family and bairns rather than jes’ Murtagh and me rattlin’ ‘round all these rooms. The more the merrier, I say.”

Jamie felt his cheeks start to burn. He dropped his gaze and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the bubbling sensation in his stomach. Claire squeezed his knee reassuringly as he sat up straight.

“I have something I have tae tell ye all.”

He noticed Jenny’s eyes leap straight to Claire’s left hand, wrapped around her whisky glass.

“It’s no’ about Claire and me. Weel, I suppose it is… no’ directly… I mean, it affects Claire… and me.”

Conscious of his ramblings, he paused before blurting his confession out in one breath. “I’m having a bairn. Geneva’s pregnant wi’ ma baby. I’m no’ wi’ Geneva. But I will support her with the bairn. No’ sure how yet. Claire kens all this. And, as ye’re nae doubt thinkin’ about it, ‘twas ‘afore I met Claire.”

The room was silent. Jamie looked at each of his family members in turn. Brian had closed his eyes, processing the information. Murtagh’s thick brows were drawn together in a deep frown. Ian gazed into his whisky, shaking his head slightly. Jenny, God help him, had gone white, her lips pursed together, her chest heaving, ready to let rip. Claire brought her arm up and slid it around Jamie’s shoulders, bringing him closer to her, a visible show of support.

Suddenly, a baby’s cry rang out. Jenny stood up and stared at her brother. “I have tae see tae Maggie, but this isna over, brother. I have a few things tae say tae ye.”

Claire could feel Jamie untense slightly as Jenny left the kitchen. “Weel, does naebody want tae say anything tae me, or are we tae wait fer Jenny tae gi’ me a tongue lashing?”

Brian spoke first. “Lad, I canna say I’m no’ shocked at yer news and, truth be told, a wee bit disappointed. And I have tae question what ye were thinkin’ tae be sae irresponsible. I could sit here and lambast ye fer what ye did. But lookin’ at ye, I dare say ye’ve been punishin’ yerself plenty over it. If it’s yer bairn, as ye say, and ye’re man enough tae accept responsibility, then that’s as it should be. We’ll welcome the child intae the family. Jes’ gi’ us time tae get used tae the news. But, Geneva… nah, I’ll no’ say anything about her. She’ll be my grandchild’s mother.”

“Weel, if ye willna say anythin’ aboot that, I will.” Murtagh interrupted. “Sgliùrach! Tè innleachdach! I never liked that one.”

Claire looked questioningly at Jamie who shook his head slightly.

Murtagh turned to Claire and continued. “And are ye alright, m’eudail? If yon bod ceann isna treating ye right ye tell me now. If ye stick wi’ him, it’s a lot fer ye too.”

Claire was touched by the usually gruff Murtagh’s concern. Although she didn’t understand the Gaelic words he used, she understood enough from his tone of voice and his hand reaching across the table to pat hers.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Jamie looked across at Ian. “And have ye nothin’ tae add?”

Ian smiled weakly. “I dare say Jenny will have enough tae say for the pair o’ us. Good luck wi’ that.”

Everyone grew silent again, awaiting Jenny’s return. Finally, with Maggie settled, they heard her footsteps along the stone corridor. Claire felt Jamie tense once more. Jenny came and stood by Jamie, leaning against the table.

“Sae,” Jenny started, sounding surprisingly calm. “Has everyone said their piece? What’s the thoughts?”

This was obviously a rhetorical question as, poking her finger at Jamie and now sounding significantly less calm, she continued without pause.

“What were ye thinkin’ man? Tae get yer end away in a one-night stand is one thing, and I’ll let that pass for the moment, since we all know how easily men can be led by their cocks. But, tae bed her wi’ no thought fer protection, like some sort o’ desperate teenager, that is jes’ too much. And this is Geneva, ye ken what she’s like. Did ye no’ remember? Or were ye sae consumed wi’ lust, ye jes’ had tae go fer it. And bugger the consequences. ”

Jamie tried, against his own better judgement, to interrupt. “She said…”

“Ah, she said, she said. Nae doubt she said, ‘oh, it is absolutely fine. Do not worry about it James. I will take care of that.’” Jenny affected a high-pitched posh English accent in some sort of impression or caricature of Geneva. Then, mindful of the current audience, she added. “No offence, Claire.”

“None taken, Jenny.”

“Aye, but lots taken here, sister…”

“Did I ask ye, James Fraser? No?... well then… Cast yer mind back tae Rupert’s wedding. Correct me if I’m wrong, bràthair, but did I or did I no’ say to ye that I could see the way she was lookin’ at ye like ye were a catch and she meant tae reel ye in again? And that’s exactly what she’s tried tae do. Unfortunately for her, a combination of ye fallin’ fer Claire here and Geneva’s awfa personality means ye got off her hook again. But, mark me, she’ll no gi’ up tryin’.”

Jenny took a sip of her now cold cup of tea and grimaced. Ian handed her his whisky glass and she took a large gulp.

“Christ, that’s good…” She forgot herself for a moment as she savoured the taste of the whisky before getting back to the task of berating Jamie. “See what ye’ve driven me tae, Jamie, ye’ve driven me tae drink. Now I canna feed my own child for hours because of this.”

“I think ye’ll be ok with that wee bit…” Ian began, then quickly stopped as Jenny shot him a withering look.

“What I will say tae ye then, Jamie, is this. Ye have been a damn fool and an absolute arse with nae more sense than a sixteen year old trying tae get laid fer the first time. I wouldna blame Claire if she upped and left ye. Ye’ve given her a lot tae put up with. And more yet tae come, nae doubt, because I dinna think that Geneva will gi’ up so easy. She’ll try to catch ye again, this time wi’ a bairn as bait. But I will be civil tae Geneva if I have tae be, for the sake of my niece or nephew. And we will all love the bairn because, in spite of the fact of who its mother is, it will be yers.”

And with that Jenny gave Jamie a kiss on his cheek and sat down next to Ian, taking another swig of his whisky, as Murtagh gave her an exaggerated thumbs up.

******

Jamie lay in his bed, watching Claire potter around his bedroom. He loved how well she fitted into his life and his family. This would have been so much more difficult without her here. He felt fully relaxed for the first time in a couple of weeks. Claire rummaged in her bag for her night shirt.

“Leave that, Sassenach, please?” Jamie asked. “I dinna want ye tae wear anything. I want tae feel yer skin on mine. In the night, I love tae know there’s nothing in between us.”

Claire didn’t answer but stripped her clothes off, leaving them neatly by her bag, then walked over to join him in bed.

“Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Claire. Christ… wi’ the coldest feet. There’s a heatwave in Scotland, how can yer feet still be cold?”

“It’s this house, the stone floors downstairs.” Claire laughed as she curled her legs up and manoeuvred her feet to press against Jamie’s thighs.

Jamie switched the light off and they lay curled up together in the dark. He thought that Claire had drifted off to sleep when she started to speak.

“You said you love to know there’s nothing in between us, but there still is something. You know, when we make love.” Fearful of being misunderstood, she quickly continued. “Do you want me to go on the pill?”

“I wouldna ask ye tae do that, unless ye wanted tae.”

“I do want to. I want there to be nothing in between us either, but… would you get tested, please? I’ll do it too. Although Frank and I always used condoms and I know you believe that she… er, Geneva didn’t sleep with anyone else, you can’t know for sure. So would you?”

Jamie moved to rest on top of Claire. “Aye, ye ken I’d do anything fer ye…” he whispered as he placed a trail of kisses down her body.

“...anything at all.” His voice became muffled as his mouth reached its exquisite destination.

**********

mo laochain -  my little hero

Sgliùrach - Slut

Tè innleachdach - Scheming female

m’eudail - my dear

Bod ceann - Dickhead

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #the ties that bind #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 19

[basketcase1880]

Thanks everyone for your patience, I’ve just started my final trimester at uni, which incorporates 1 day of uni and 4 days of placement, and my mum has been in and out of hospital since the 11th of January so most of my free time is spent in the hospital with her.

But enough with my sob story, and on with the fluff. As for the nonnie who confused some people thinking they had missed something in the story: are you psychic? Can you read my mind? (As you read this chapter, you’ll know who you are).

CHAPTER 9

Previous

Midnight mass at St Mary’s was beautiful. Claire had rarely been to church in years, but she had to admit that the service was wonderful. She really could see herself coming to church with the Frasers in the future. She just hoped that Jamie wouldn’t hate her for what she wanted to talk to him about.

 Fergus fell asleep on Claire’s lap in the back of Brian’s car on the way home, so Jamie was glad he had listened to his mother when she said let him go to mass in his pyjamas. Jamie took Fergus from Claire’s arms to allow her to get out of the car. Carrying Fergus up to his bed, Claire followed behind and watched from the bedroom door as Jamie lovingly placed Fergus in bed and tucked him in before kissing him on the forehead.

All of this just made Claire think that her line of thought was about to be proven true.

 When Jamie had finished with Fergus, he encouraged Claire to get changed into her own nightwear just in case she fell asleep and he had to carry her to bed too.

 “Whose bed?” Claire asked with a wink as she closed the door to Jenny’s room.

 Jamie went off to change too. He had a feeling he would want to be comfortable for this conversation. Upon exiting his room, Jamie found Claire waiting with a pile of presents at her feet and a sheepish look on her face. “I suppose ye wan help carrying this lot downstairs to put under the tree then?”

 “If you don’t mind,” Claire said with a shrug.

 “When did ye buy all this stuff, Sassenach?” Jamie asked as he lifted some of the presents. “The only time ye’ve been out the house is when ye’ve been wi’ me. An’ I don’ remember ye buyin’ anythin’ that looks like this.”

 “I bought everything back in Glasgow,” Claire said as she began placing the presents under the tree. “I didn’t know about Louise or Murtagh, so, I picked up a spa voucher for Louise and a whiskey glass for Murtagh when we were in Inverness earlier for them.”

 “Ye didna have tae dae that, Sassenach,” Jamie said as he placed the remaining presents under the tree, glad that his parents had divided the presents into bundles for each person. “No’ wha’ did ye want to talk tae me about?”

 “It’s quite a sensitive topic,” Claire began hesitatingly as they settled into the large armchair next to the fire as the room was lit by the dancing lights on the tree. “So, please don’t be offended if I’m entirely wrong in my assumptions.”

 “I’m yer servant, Claire,” Jamie said honestly, his hand over his heart. “I’ll try answerin’ yer questions wi’ complete honesty. But I’m no guaranteein’ it.”

 “I know,” Claire nodded. “So, I’ll just come out with it. Is Fergus your son?”

 The silence in the room was deafening. Jamie was shocked that someone outside the family had made the connection.

 “What makes ye say that, Claire?” Jamie asked.

 “The way you are with him,” Claire began matter of factly. “The tension between you and your father when he refuses to call him Fergus. And those curls, God, those curls are as wild as the ones you had at that age. Yes, your mum showed me baby pictures.”

 Jamie just gave a sigh and shook his head. His mam had been trying to get him to acknowledge this fact since they had brought Fergus back with them following the visit to their cousin Jared.

 “Aye,” Jamie said quietly. “Aye, Fergus is mine. Mam an’ da ken, as does Jared. An’ no’ ye ken, bu’ ‘m no’ sure who else kens.”

 “Why are you so worried about this?” Claire asked as she stroked Jamie’s face soothingly. “You’re more than capable to be a dad to Fergus. And he adores you, you’re his very own superhero.”

 “I bedded a lass out of wedlock,” Jamie said as he lowered his head in his believed shame. “I took what shouldna have been mine to take an’ I ended up wi’ a son whose mam has rejected ‘im.”

 “You’re not at fault here, Jamie,” Claire reassured. “Did you love her?”

 “Annalise? Aye, she was my first love,” Jamie smiled. “I thought we had something special but turns out she was seein’ a couple of other guys on the side.”

 “So, how did Fergus come to live here?”

 “Jared called my da a couple of months back,” Jamie began. “Said a social worker had turned up at his door wi’ a young lad and his address. The social worker said the lad’s mam was a young lady called Annalise an’ Jared remembered I had dated an Annalise. So, he took ‘im in an’ called here. I couldna get the time off work, so mam an’ da went over to Paris an’ came back wi’ ‘im.”

 “And how did he go from Claudel to Fergus?”

 “Ye’d have tae ask Annalise that, if ye can find her,” Jamie explained. “‘Is full name is Claudel Fergus de Marillac, but I’m workin’ on getting’ it officially changed tae Fergus Fraser. Ye’ve seen the face ‘e makes when da ca’s ‘im Claudel?”

 “Who hasn’t?” Claire asked with a small laugh. “What about your parents? When Jenny invited me, she said she could do with more female company over the holidays because your parents had somehow ‘acquired another son’, her words exactly.”

 “Mam an’ da’ decided to keep up that pretence until things got sorted,” Jamie explained. “Because Annalise abandoned ‘im in the care of Jared, but didnae name me as father on the birth certificate I’m goin’ through legal loopholes to claim ‘im as mine. We’ve got the DNA test off the no’ tae prove ‘m Fergus’ da, an’ then I can officially adopt him.”

 “So, your mum and dad are down as Fergus’ legal guardians just now?” Claire asked.

 “The social worker said that Jared could name anyone within his immediate family as Fergus’ legal guardian while they searched for either Annalise or found ‘is da’ if he couldn’t care for ‘im,” Jamie explained. “So, Jared said he had an idea who the father may be an’ contacted mam an’ da.”

 “So, you’re working with the French authorities to prove you’re Fergus’ dad?”

 “Aye,” Jamie smiled. “God, I cannae wait tae tell everyone I’m his da’. I love the lad sae much.”

 “He’s easy to love,” Claire smiled. “Just like someone else I know…”

 Jamie gave Claire a bright smile at that. They hadn’t said the L word yet to each other, but both knew it was a natural progression for them. There was something special between them, and neither could identify exactly what it was.

 “I’d like tae kiss ye again, Sassenach,” Jamie said as he moved closer to Claire.

 “On one condition,” Claire said with a coy smile. Jamie signalled for her to ask her question. “Why do you keep calling me Sassenach?”

 “A Sassenach is an English person, an outlander, if ye will,” Jamie said. “I mean no offence by it, ‘tis but a term of endearment.”

 The only reply Claire gave to that was pressing her lips to Jamie’s. Jamie soon wrapped her up in his arms and they lost themselves in each other.

 “Can ye join me in bed tonight, Claire?” Jamie asked when they broke for air. “I jus’ want tae hold ye an’ wake up wi’ ye in the mornin’”

 Claire smiled and got up from the arm chair, pulling Jamie along with her and led him to his bedroom.

Next

#outlander secret santa 2018 #ladyviolethummingbird

[troutpopulation]

Transformers: Antebellum ch.1

Cybertron, millions of years ago. While the working class carries the gilded society on their backs, the Senate perches at the top reaping the rewards. The system is rigid, and unchanging. The way things are now are they thing always have been and always will be. That is, until a miner from Tarn begins to plant seeds of autonomy. Revolution and revelation is growing like a weed, and soon the senate crumbles beneath a forest of ideas.

•••••

A discarded can had toppled from the stoop it had been abandoned on, and the clank and grind of it rolling down the street startled Gasket. He watched the mangled logo disappear and reappear along the circumference of it. The crumpled container seemed to drag itself down the pavement as if to flee from the alley’s gaping maw. It bumped into a fissure in the sidewalk and rolled back a bit, closer to where it had started. A bump in the road prevented escape. Just like anything else that tried to get out of the Dead End.

Gasket leaned against the wall of a building, overlooking the bright city lights that shot into the sky. Nighttime in the slums of Polyhex was dangerous, but it did at least have one hell of a view. Skyscrapers reached for the stars with unyielding hands, and the break in their canopies let the light-polluted sky peek through, their matte veins of coal murky against the lively cerulean of Cybertron’s nightlife.

  The feeling of dirt against his body had long ago ceased to bother Gasket, and he sighed, pressing the back of his black horned helm against the grimy alley wall as he gazed down at the event below. When he used to watch, he used to watch longingly. How he used to wish he could go down into that valley and mingle amongst the upper class. But even in the cover of night his pasty yellow form was tarnished and dirty, and his alternate mode deemed him second class. He long since abandoned that dream, but not the affinity for spectating the lightshow in place of it. At least he could have that. And besides, in the day, there wasn’t much to see anyways. Only at night was the stage anything more than just a stage.

  From the distance behind him, heavy stomps echoed rhythmically from the belly of the alleyways. Gasket shifted, turning his head to the source and instinctively pressing himself into the wall, shrinking back, out of the path of the towering officer that patrolled alone past him. Though his armor was shrouded in the night, it was clear who it was from the robust crimson frame and blue two-pronged helm. He watched silently as Orion Pax prowled past him, out of the alley, and down the sidewalk. His handgun glinted in the dim glow of the street lights.

Orion Pax made his way back to the police station, another patrol successfully executed. He hadn’t needed to arrest anyone, which struck him as a relief. The Dead End, unfortunately, was home to quite a few surly mechs who would be prone to disturbing the peace, especially while the city’s attention was directed to the Senate’s latest celebration. Trouble always seemed to be more prevalent while eyes were turned away.

Tonight, though, all he had to do was make his rounds and crises were averted. His presence alone and a scrutinizing glare had caused a sleazy looking thug to cower in fear, and scurry away from the tipsy bot he appeared to have been fixing to pounce on. That had been tonight’s worst incidents. Despite that, he kept his gaze flickering down the corridors between buildings, scanning as one would the isles of an upgrade shop. Nothing but the occasional huddle of homeless mechs. They accumulated at the mouth of the alleys the way dirt and grime accumulated in the seams of their armor. Orion’s shadow in the white streetlight prowled behind him. The homeless bots flinched as it lapped over their faces like a predacon's tongue.

They watched him pass like he was the reaper.

  Automatic doors darted with a hiss from Orion Pax’s path and he stepped into the stuffy orange lobby of the police station. A fellow cop looked up from the computer at the front desk. He nodded in greeting, the large fins on either side of his head prodding the air.

“Not at the gala?” Sunstreaker sneered, still typing. Of course he wasn’t. Mechs from their precinct were never invited.

“Evidently.” Orion made a bee line for his cubicle. He was sure there were reports waiting to be filled.

“I’d like to go. But,” Sunstreaker lamented, more to himself than Orion. “Senate’s only letting Iacon police do security shifts. It’s stupid. Gala’s not even hosted in Iacon. They’re literally celebrating the knew Polyhexian senator, but nobody from Polyhex can go.”

“They think Polyhexian police are too ‘uncouth’,” Arcee rolled her eyes, skulking out from the corridor past Orion. “Hey Pax.”

“Hello, Arcee.” He returned the greeting and left the two to carp about being blacklisted from the senate’s lavish events.

“I mean, come on! Crystal city? That’s right next to Polyhex! That’s right next to us!” “It’s not about convenience, Sunny, they think we’re common .”

“Maybe you, but me? That’s stupid, I’m incredibly refined.”

“Obviously.”

  Orion was growing restless. He considered for a moment going back out for another patrol, but shook the thought away. They all had better things to be worried about. But, Arcee was right; they were banned from attending specifically because they were from Polyhex. The senate’s supposed reasoning? It’d be bad for conversation. Polyhex, Kaon, Stanix, they were dirty cities, full of dirty bots. Any honest answer about the nature of their work would make guests, and the Crystal City elite guard, uncomfortable. Worse yet, none of them looked any good in blue and gold. Best they just keep to their patrols and let the Iaconians delegate in place of them.

Sunstreaker also had a point; it was more than a little disappointing to be told you simply lacked class for something. Orion supposed that was honestly the issue he had with the blacklist. He wasn’t ever interested in galas, it was the principle, it was being told short and plainly: You are not good enough for this. You will never be good enough for this.That’s what left him with a bitter taste.

He glanced up at the live feed and hollowly watched shots of smiling ambassadors shaking hands and drinking, and the tall, uniform formation of Crystal City’s elite guard standing proudly amongst Iacon’s best force captains. The guardsmen were painted in uniform, white with gold and blue trim, all sporting visors. Gold on the jets, blue on the cars. Orion had considered at one point in getting a visor. He tried one on, but felt that he looked rather stupid in it. Nothing at all like the distinguished mechs that saluted the senators as their newest member cut the ribbon around the new bridge: his first act as senator, and therefore initiating him into the ranks. He waved to the flashing cameras, and the recording panned to the rest of the soiree. Orion recognized a force captain conversing beside a guardsman as someone he graduated with from the academy. He felt a twist in his mechanisms as they smiled and spoke.

Perhaps a walk wouldn’t hurt.

  Arcee and Sunstreaker gave him half attentive goodbyes as he left, and once again found himself taking to trekking the streets. Although he didn’t have an exact plan or destination, his mechanisms surely seemed to. With his head light years away, his body carried him deliberately to the archives. He pushed the heavy doors in and peeked inside. As usual, at this hour it was empty of patrons.

“Alpha Trion?” He called upon arrival. “Are you in?”

“Aye, lad.” A familiar voice echoed from somewhere far in the forest of datapad filled shelves. Orion squeezed past the doors, and they thundered shut as he strolled inside.

“It’s empty tonight.” He noted, looking around at the vast trove of rentable data.

“Ah, you know where everybody is.” The sage had appeared from the depths of the library, and gave Orion an amicable pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Pax. You look well.”

“You too.” He replied as he followed the datakeeper down the isles. “I'm surprised you weren't invited to go.”

“Ha! I was. But you know I've no interest in those. Really nothing but an excuse for the higher ups to get drunk.” The burgundy mech seemed to be compelled by whatever whimsical force tugged him along through his actions, as without warning he waltzed towards a random shelf, inspecting it with optics that twinkled with amusement. He chuckled. “They're celebrating fixing the bridge. Can you believe that? Celebrating using the people’s shanix for something important by blowing it out on something less so.”

“I don’t understand how they could do that.” Orion muttered, running his servo over the racks of information, gazing upwards at the endless bounty of it all. “I always believed they acted in our best interest. That’s what my superiors always told us, at least.”

Alpha Trion hummed in response, and handed Orion a datapad.

“For shame.” The librarian chided playfully,mirth lifting his mustache. “Here lad, this one’s got your name on it.”

  Orion took the datapad, turning it over curiously in his servos. He’d spent the majority of his free time indulging in the vast expanse of the library, but not once had he seen this work before.

“‘On Our Six Foundations’... Is this new?” Orion’s digits grazed the cover slide. The title stood out in a cold, proud font.

“Aye,” Alpha Trion nodded, watching expectantly as Orion tentatively studied the book, shy and bold so very curious, a young animal finding a new scent. “Brand new. Provocative stuff. I suggest you give it a read, though. I feel it’ll answer a lot of questions you’ve had on your mind.”

“Thank you, Trion.” Orion looked hopeful, delighted even. He gingerly clutching the datapad with a firm grip as though the ornery contents of it would writhe angrily from his fingers.

“Think not of it. Instead,” Alpha Trion smiled, his house’s white facial insignia lifting as he did. He give the fascinated young bot a pat on the back as he ushered him outside. “Think about what you read. Goodnight, Orion, get home safely.”

  “I will. Goodnight- wait, Alpha Trion, are you giving this to me?” Orion stopped in his tracks, holding up the datapad and looking so penitent he may as well have stolen it. It was uncustomary to take the physical copy of the datapad from the library. One simply downloaded the data, and read through it during the duration it was rented before time was up. When it was, the data either got wiped or you renewed it.

“It’s yours if you want it lad. The mech that came buy to deliver that brought a whole stack of them.” Alpha Trion noted, looking fondly at the tablet in the younger bot’s servos. “I think he wants people to have them.” Orion was nearly giddy as he thanked the librarian again; he couldn’t help but wonder ardently what could be so inflaming, so controversial in this one work of writing. He rushed home, eager to devour the contents.

He had forgotten all about the gala downtown.

  That was no matter. Quite a while ago, it had forgotten about him too.

  “Do we really need so many guards?” One mech whispered, more to himself than the diminutive minibot he trailed behind. Neon lights danced off of his polished armor and fresh, gleaming white paint job that was accented by regal golds and sapphire. His extravagant build, though dripping in high status, was betrayed by slumped shoulders and droopy optics that lingered over the murmuring line of elite guardsmen and Iaconian police. Their conversations ceased and they saluted as he passed.  His name was Shockwave, and this was his party.

“They are no cause for concern, Senator. Merely here as formality. If you’d like, we could request them relocated.” The minicon that escorted him piped up reassuringly.

  “No, thank you. They’re fine.” Shockwave sighed, glancing once more over his shoulder at the mechs in their line. When he again faced forward, Shockwave was greeted with the appraising smiles of the other senators. They watched him expectantly, as he strode towards them, one gesturing Shockwave to the empty seat reserved in his honor. The minicon, all waxed and polished in uniform blue and gold, bowed deeply as they pulled the chair and presented it to the senator to sit down in. Too late was Shockwave in opening his mouth to thank the tiny bot for escorting him, as he'd already been dismissed and was now ushering another distinguished mech to his table.

“Senator Shockwave!” The mech beside him clasped his gilded servos together, the silver sweeps of his mouth curled smoothly in a grin. “Welcome to the table, are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Why, yes, I am, thank you,” Shockwave returned a kind smile, his hands folded politely in front of him. “I’m surprised so many people showed up for… A bridge reopening.”

“But of course they did,” Senator Pylon cooed. He swirled his drink, taking a thoughtful sip of the glowing liquid. “It is, as well, your coronation.”

“Right…” The young politician averted his gaze, the accented armor atop his shoulders drooped ever so slightly. He seemed to catch himself, forcing his chest to puff out. Poor posture, he was told repeatedly, was unbecoming of an elite.

“I sense a ‘but’.” Pylon raised his eyebrows. He sat back in his seat, his narrow chin tilting downward. From this angle, one could see clearly the pink stripes that streaked upwards atop his green helm in lavish designs. One could also feel expectant yellow optics peering into their spark from beneath the brow of it. Shockwave’s own furrowed under the scrutiny.

  “I just, well… I just feel as though I could have done more. As my first action taken as Senator, I mean.” Shockwave explained, stifling a dejected sigh. His words seemed to go into one of Pylon’s audials and promptly out the other. “It is wonderful to see someone so young and ready to contribute, is it not?” Pylon raised his glass, grinning at the others seated at the table. There was a gentle rumble of agreement as the senators all voiced praise at once. He then elected to opening a tiny hatch on the table, and a small beacon lit up. Almost at once, a servant minicon appeared beside the senator.

“Yes sir, how may I be of service?” They said with a curtsy, voice soaked almost sickeningly in reverence.

“A round of your finest, for the table.” Pylon ordered, the sweep of his servo producing a grand gesture to the seated senate. Like birds of paradise, the figureheads of glorious city states all perched in their finery. Their presence alone caused the servant to bend their brow, deep in deference.

“Yes sir, right away sir.” The bot again curtsied, and the beacon flickered off as they scampered away to the bar. Pylon turned back to Shockwave.

“Don’t worry, you will have plenty of chances to make contributions.” He sipped his drink. “Your ambition will take you far. But tonight? Tonight we drink.”

  Shockwave could only offer a halfhearted nod. The other senators dismissed his concerns with laughter, sampling fine concoction of solidified energon placed in intricate designs on platters and insisting he indulged. He did, the shame of weighing down the lively mood of the soiree overpowering the embarrassment of how small his feat was. All he did was call for a bridge to be fixed. He hadn’t even noticed it was broken, Senator Sherma did. He hadn’t even built it, Senator Decimus had. He didn’t even instruct the construction team in their repair, Senator Momus did. All Shockwave had done was issue the order. It simply did not feel like his accomplishment.

He stared down at the table, watching neon lights dance along the topography of the polished brass. When the senator shifted, his preened features were distorted by the designs etched in the gilded mirror surface. His frown looked deeper reflected in gold.

  His rippled reflection was obscured by a glass of radiating violet liquid that was slid in front of him. He murmured a thanks to the servant, who only bowed deeply in response before turning and briskly making their way to the next table. Senator Pylon stood up and pressed a button. A loud chime sounded among the gala, the music softened, conversations hushed, the bots perched in the rafters with the spotlight alt modes focused their beams on the senator. He absorbed the light and radiated back glory. Glossy verdant armor shone, the rose stripes and swirls among it gleaming near white. He was the star in the dark of the galaxy, the luxurious image of cosmic brilliance. Seated beside him, Shockwave squinted against how garishly Pylon’s frame caught the light. Stars were much better appreciated from afar.

  “Thank you all for attending! I hope you all have enjoyed our humble hospitality.” He paused and smiled, the uproar of laughter thundering on queue. “As this city’s representative, I am beyond honored that, in every sense of the phrase, a bridge has been mended between our glorious Crystal City…”

Senator Pylon gestured down at Shockwave, and from above, two of the many spotlights trained on Pylon shifted their focus to the newest member of the oligarchy. Shockwave blinked in the blinding light, rising slowly to the gala’s roaring applause as if pulled by string.

“And Polyhex.” The mech beamed in pride, as if sparing a slice of his distinguished radiance for him to borrow and wear. He still had plenty to spare; brilliance exuded from him like an endless stream of liquid gold.

  Pylon’s approving smile, the cheer of the attendees, and the high grade in his systems all at once teased their presence over Shockwave’s worries and escorted them further and further from the young politician. His qualms seduced out of mind by the attention, Shockwave found himself dazed by the glory of it all. Blinded, he smiled, waving to the press and basking in the flash of cameras.

“And so, let us toast.” Pylon continued, raising his chalice. “To the newest member of the Senate, to his grand achievement, and the many more to come. To the noble state of Polyhex. To Shockwave!”

“To Shockwave!” The gala roared in unison and downed their drinks. The soiree’s festivities had  truly began. Music pounded from the small mechs with speakers on their armor that sat on the outskirts of the venue. Their bodies shook with the bass, and they signed to each other in a silent language, commenting on the elite’s taste in music. They gesticulated back in forth; their heads hurt, their speakers ached, they wanted this shift to be over.

Dazzling neon light danced from the outdoor rafters. So high up, the bots producing the lightshow were nearly invisible in the cloak of night. They undulated, revolved, and swayed to the music. Their dance was not one of celebration. As they gyrated, they flashed their biolights in code to one another, complaining of how tired they were. How they wished to go home, how the filaments in their light bulbs were sore.

How they all hated the Senators.

#MTMTE #Transformers #maccadam #fanfiction #pre war cybertron #senator Shockwave #gasket #Orion pax #elixtxt

[gwenore]

The princess of Avonlea. Part 7

Happy birthday @dekujin! I hope you will like this next part of this story which has grown way more than I ever expected, but I really enjoy writing. After this I will do a tiny follow up for this part of the story.  Btw, everyone should see the awesome cupcakes she got for her birthday! I am so jealous!

“Urgh… nothing…” Neal was ready to slam his head into his laptop.

“What?” Emma, his girlfriend, glanced over towards him, looking at what he was up to. “The old rundown amusement park? Doesn’t your dad work there?”

“Uh… yeah… he has just discovered something… strange might have caused it to be shut down…” Neal was not certain if he should tell even his closest friend about the fact that his father had brought home a sentient animatronic.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her it was just… well… blabbering about sentient animatronics were an easy way to make people believe you are not quite there.

“Have you heard about what happened?” he asked, Emma having lived longer in this town than he had. Emma shook her head.

“No… it has been closed for as long as I can remember… but…” she paused.

“What?” Neal asked.

“Well… I did sneak in once as a child…” she then muttered.

“I am honestly surprised that you have only snuck in once,” Neal shrugged. “You like to sneak into all sorts of places.”

“Yeah… but… well… there is something wrong about that place,” Emma looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Did… did something happened?” Neal asked, moving a bit closer to her. Emma was quick to shake her head.

“No. I don’t actually remember much. I was like… five. Ran away from another home. Hey that is hardly new. I used to believe that my parents were prince Charming and Snow White. I was… a rather strange child. The orphan who had found parents who didn’t reject her… too bad they were not real,” she sighed. Neal swallowed. He knew Emma lived in a youth home, having run away from all the foster homes she had in the past.

“But…”

“What?” Neal asked.

“You are going to think I am insane,” she then said.

“Look… I am not going to think  that,” he assured her. What could be more insane than a living sentient animatronic who he had eaten breakfast with?

“It is just… I could swear that if no one was around they… the animatronics I mean, would act different,” she then said.

“Different how?” Neal moved even closer. Could it be… that Belle was not the only one?

“Like… real? They would speak to me, like… not voice lines… but actually respond and praise me, ask questions and such… look I must have just imagined that part, but… the memories feel pretty real,” Emma then admitted. “I… I think that was why I thought they were my parents and I wanted to go live with them. But… something happened.”

Neal was practically at the edge of his chair. “What?”

“There was this monster… this monster with yellow glowing eyes. He tried to take me, but they protected me. I was found by them in the morning. I was scratched pretty badly on the arm,” she rolled up the sleeve showing a couple of old scars going across her forearm. “See. I have no idea where they came from had it not been from that monster. I cannot remember being hurt except for when that monster grabbed me.”

She took her sleeve down, Neal staring astonished. His father had said Belle could not remain at the amusement park which was why she was staying with them now.

“And you haven’t gone back since?” he had to ask.

“No… haven’t had a reason… and I haven’t dared to be honest. Hey, are you looking into this because your father has seen something?” she asked.

“Yeah… there is something strange going on there,” Neal had to admit that. Emma breathed out slightly leaning her chin on her hand as she thought.

“Hey, have you checked the library? They must have records of whatever happened right? Old newspapers and stuff like that?” she asked after a while. Neal light up at once.

“No. I haven’t. But I will, the moment school is out,” he nodded.

“I’ll come, you have me curious,” Emma nudged him. “Still class is starting. Miss Mills is such a pain.”

She rolled her eyes, Neal sighing too before they wandered to class.

  Rum Gold stirred softly, and seeing someone close caused him to startle, his forehead slamming into a metal skull, causing him to groan.

Belle’s glowing eyes widened with worry as Rum was clutching his head slightly.

“Rumple! You alright?” she asked, resting her arms on him, trying to figure out why he was acting so odd.

“I am fine… just… not used to waking up next to someone so close,” he rubbed his forehead, finding that he was actually pinned to the bed by the animatronic’s arms laying across his chest.

“I am sorry I was just… I wanted to be close,” Belle could not say why she wanted to be closer to the human, they were in the small room together and it was certainly not a big room. Rum gave her a gentle smile before nodding his head.

“It is fine,” he assured her. “I will get used to it.”

A smile came upon her faux lips.

“So… what are we going to do today?” she then asked as she watched him sit himself up when she allowed him to get up. Rum still had to rub his head, aching still. The human skull really did not have anything against metal it would seem.

“Well… I haven’t planned anything,” he shrugged her shoulders. “However…”

He hesitated slightly.

“I have to go back to Avonlea in the evening… being a security man… that is my job,” he then said. It was a job he would gladly quit… but living paycheck to paycheck… he had no other choice, but to go back. At least until he could find something else.

Not that there were anything other work in this little town.

The animatronic sat herself up, her blue glowing eyes meeting his.

“I’ll come with,” she said firmly. Rum visibly hesitated.

“Belle…” he began.

“I have to. I can keep you safe, trust me!” she grabbed his hand.

“But what if he hurt you?!” he then blurted out his fear. Belle shook her head firmly.

“He won’t. He won’t hurt me,” she said.

“How can you know that?” he said.

“Because I am like him… I...” her eyes looked down. “I do not want to stay there anymore. I do not want to be under his spell anymore. His curse… but more than anything I do not want him to hurt you.”

Rum lowered his head, her strong metal arms holding him in place.

“I… I do not want you to be hurt either,” he admitted his fear, looking into her glowing blue eyes.

“We… we can just stay in the office… I also have a taser. I do not know what that would do to him… but it is something…” he then said. “Also… we are close to the truck so we can get away if he appears,” Rum then said, though his face was filled with worry.

He didn’t want to go back. Belle was the only good thing about that place and now that she was here…

But he had no other choice.

“Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea!” She light up, the glow of her eyes growing stronger. “We could bring some books to pass the time!”

Rum had to give a soft laugh as he nodded. “Yes… we can certainly do that.”

  The hours before work started had gone far too fast in Rum’s opinion. Once Neal came back from school, no doubt having had some fun with his friends too as he was a bit late, they had all had dinner together.

Neal had gone to the library like he had planned earlier in the day, but they had to order the papers they needed from the archive on the other side of the town, but they should arrive tomorrow. They had asked the librarian if she had known what had done on there, but she had only moved to Storybrooke from Australia a couple of years ago.

Still… what happened must be in the archives right? The newspapers certainly must have written about what was going on.

For now he had decided to keep his investigation secret from his father and Belle. Best not to let them know until he was certain that he had something.

“Are you certain it is wise to go back dad? Didn’t you bring Belle here for a reason?” he asked. His dad and Belle hadn’t really said why she couldn’t stay at Avonlea anymore… not that he minded… the animatronic was really nice.

“I have no other choice, laddie,” Rum sighed.

“But don’t worry we will be careful. We will be in the guard office and read,” the animatronic mentioned to the stack of books that she had eagerly picked out for tonight.

“Well… that is good, just… be careful alright?” Neal clearly had a worry in his voice.

“We will,” his father informed him. “Reading is all the excitement we will have tonight.”

Neal really didn’t know how that was possible when you would be spending time with an actual living animatronic.

“Alright… but be safe… and if some animatronic… you know… other than Belle, promise you get out of there!” he then insisted.

Rum nodded.

“Yes, we will,” he said, swallowing nervously. It was nothing which could have him stay if that… thing, showed itself. Rum knew he was a coward, but in this instance, he was certain that no one would blame him.

“Alright then…” Neal swallowed as he nodded his head. “You two have a safe night, I will see you in the morning.”

“Tomorrow lad,” Rum nodded as he ushered the animatronic out to his truck. Luckily it was already getting dark, not that there were many who walked past the small house even during the middle of the day.

Most of the time… the street was practically abandoned.

Still with making sure that no one could see her they piled into the car and drove off towards Avonlea.

  Pulling into the parking, quite the large lot with the asphalt cracking and weeds growing up between them. Rum drove slowly, not wanting to hit a pothole, or the like… especially with the added weight of the animatronic seated next to him.

Finally they pulled close to the entrance where a car was already parked. Rum let out a sound of surprise.

“Huh…”

“What is it?” Belle asked curious.

“That is Archie’s car,” he muttered in reply.

“Who is Archie?” she cocked her head towards.

“He works the shift before mine… he usually has gone before me… perhaps he is running late?” Rum didn’t believe this himself. Archie may be a bit of an airhead at times, but he was very eager to get away from the amusement park.

Rum didn’t know Archie well… but he did know that he was scared of the park, but like Rum needed the money. Finding work in a small town isn’t easy after all…

Belle’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“So… is he still here…?” she asked. Rum froze. Archie seemed like a nice guy as far as he knew, but he didn’t knew how he would react to a sentient animatronic. He was rather… skittish.

“I suppose he is…” he glanced around. From where they were parked they could look into the office and there were no one there, but the light was on.

“But he should be in the office… unless something has happened,” Rum swallowed the dread building in his throat.

Belle was completely silent, the soft sound of the mechanical parts inside her.

“Um… you don’t think…” her mechanical voice came without her moving her lips as she stared at her.

Rum froze, gripping his hands on the wheel, his nails digging into the fake leather.

“I do know…” he whispered slowly.

“We have to help him!” Belle was already moving out of the truck, Rum feeling it move.

“Belle wait!” he rushed out the car before he followed her closely, grabbing her arm, glancing over at her. She stopped looking over at him, and Rum didn’t really know what he should say.

“We have to be careful!” he then burst out.

“I know! And we will, but… I… I believe… I believe that he was the reason… for all of this… and we cannot let him do the same thing again!” Belle insisted.

“Belle, you have to be careful! If he is in there…” fear was twisting his stomach making him practically tremble. He hated how scared that he felt. How many times had he been called a coward in the past?

Far to many… but here he didn’t care.

For the longest time Neal had been the only good thing in his life… and he still was the most important to him, but she… she had become so immensely important to him during the time he had known her.

More important than he could imagine.

So loosing her?

What worse dread could there be in this world?

“But your friend!” she insisted, continuing to walk on, pulling him along, hardly noticing the weight of the man she was dragging after her.

“What if he sees you! We do not know if he is going to keep you a secret… and if you are exposed…” Rum tried to get her to stop, but he was not strong enough. Belle turned towards him, blinking her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if he is in danger! Look… you know him don’t you? Isn’t he a good man?” she then asked.

“I don’t really know him…” Rum hesitated.

“But do you believe that he is a good man?” she repeated. Rum hesitated for a moment.

“Uh… I mean yes… but…” he stuttered nervously.

“Then he will understand, come on!” her metallic hand wrapped around his hand and pulled him into the park. Rum still had a bad feeling in the bit of his stomach… but… if Archie was in danger… then again… what could they do?

He unlocked the door to the office, still feeling his hand tremble slightly. He prayed in his mind that Archie’s things wouldn’t be there… that perhaps his car had broken down and he had gotten another ride home.

But as he opened the door he saw the other guard’s coat, his thermos and his book… but no sign of the guard himself.

Rum took his taser out, feeling himself tremble so much that he struggled to keep his hand steady.

“Alright… let us just… look around…” he swallowed the animatronic nodding her head.

They started to walk into the depths of the park.

  Like always Avonlea was silent as the two walked along the paths, Rum holding the taser tight as he moved his flashlight around.

But there were no sign of the other guard.

“Where could he have gone?” he whispered.

Most of the attractions in the park was boarded up, so it was impossible to get inside them and they seemed so far to be undisturbed. The old theater which was where he had seen the monster animatronic was also silent. No sign of him.

Belle shrugged her metallic shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. She kept close to the guard, trying to silence her steps as much as possible on the paved road.

“Archie hates this place,” Rum muttered, shaking his head. “He would never leave the path and would do his rounds as quickly as possible… or so he told me… I have no reason to believe that he was lying about that…”

“If only there was a way that we could contact him…” Belle tried her best to look in the windows of the abandoned attractions. She jolted a bit surprised when the security guard beside her slammed his and against his face and groaned.

“The phone!” he fished up his old flip phone. “Why didn’t I think to call him!”

At times he was marveled by his own stupidity.

“Oh that is a good idea!” the animatronic said as cheery as ever. Rum simply rolled his eyes. It would have been when they had first noticed the abandoned car… still… better late than never he supposed.

He pressed Archie’s number and called.

There were no one picking up. However they could hear a faint chime not far off.

“I hear something!” Belle tugged at Rum. “It is over there, by the Haunted house!”

Rum had never explained the buildings in the park and he was surprised that she knew the term… but she was correct.

The sound was coming from the haunted house… and he didn’t like it one bit. Still there weren’t really much that he could do, as he found himself pulled along by Belle.

The haunted house of Avonlea was a massive mansion of a building, clearly inspired by Old Hollywood horror movies. It had been boarded up for as long as Rum had worked there… and probably far longer than that.

However this night was different… this night the door was opened the sound of a ring tone coming from inside along with a very terrified whimper.

Something else were also moving inside… something large… heavy… metallic.

Rum was absolutely frozen in terror.

“That must be Archie!” Belle exclaimed and without concern rushed inside.

“BELLE!” the cry coming from the security guard betrayed the terror which came from the man as he ran after her into the haunted house.

There just beyond the hall laid Archie clutching his bleeding arm, looking frozen with fear into the distance, the phone was continuing to ring, but this went totally ignored by the terrified man. he didn’t even seem to notice them coming in.

Not daring at all to look away from whatever was terrifying him in the dark.

“Mr. Hopper! Archie!” Rum was the one to rush over to him, Belle standing a bit back, not wanting to scare the man more than he already was. When the security guard put his hand on him, Archie was able to pull his eyes away from whatever terrified him.

“Gold! We have to get out! It is here! There is more! The animatronics! They are STILL HERE! THEY ARE ALIVE!”

Rum swallowed.

“Calm down… we will get you out alright… alright?” he attempted to calm the guard down, so they could get to safety. However… explaining Belle would be hard… but he could not think about that right now.

Archie then let out a terrified sound as he clung to Rum.

That was when he heard it.

Very heavy steps moving closer to their position, and then he saw it. Yellow glowing eyes from the darkness… but this thing was much larger than the Rumplestiltskin animatronic. Closing in further he saw it looked like a big bipedal animatronic wolf. A werewolf.

He was frozen in fear when he saw Belle walk over, but she actually seemed excited to see this monster, waving her hand towards it.

“Hello Ruby!” she smiled happily. The large werewolf lifted its clawed hand and waved back excitedly.

“Hi Belle!”

#the princess of avonlea #dekujin #rumbelle fanfic #Animatronic!Belle #SecurityGuard!Rumple

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

But, in the end if I’m with you, I’ll take the chance - Robron Week - Day 3

This is sort of a sequel to this ficlet, but it works well as a standalone. I’ve probably taken liberties with police procedure but no more than the show.

The title is from ‘Right here waiting’ by Richard Marx. Blame spotify!

*****

*…We’re getting reports of an extremely dangerous escaped prisoner from the Yorkshire area…*

Aaron wasn’t really watching the news, it was just background noise. His French was still rubbish and it was the best he could find. The added bonus was it made him feel closer to home.

*…We’re told the prisoner’s name is Cameron Murray. He escaped while being transferred. The public are advised not to approach him…*

The plate he’s drying slips from his fingers, smashing around him.

“Aaron? What happened?” He couldn’t move, eyes fixed on the TV in the corner. “Aaron, what is it? Talk to me.”

“It’s Cameron. He’s escaped. I need to get to Mum.”

“Whoa, hold on. Come here, sit down.” Robert leads him into the living room, sitting him on the sofa. He’d done the same thing the night his Mum had called, telling him all that Cameron had done. He’d had to talk him out of going home there and then, even hiding his passport for days.

“No Robert. I need to…she’ll need me. What if he’s going back there?”

“If you go you’ll be arrested the minute you set foot in the village. How’s that going to help? The place will be crawling with police. It’s too risky.”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing. It’s my family!” He’s up and in their bedroom before Robert can stop him, rummaging in the wardrobe for his bag.

“It’s my family too! He goes to the pub, Diane is there. He’s not going to care who gets in his way is he? What about Sarah and Jack? Just stop and think.” He slumps down on the bed in defeat. “Right…here’s what we’ll do. You go call your Mum.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be booking a ticket into Leeds Bradford. If I’m lucky, I’ll be there by tonight. No one is looking for me and if they are, I can lie with the best of them. As far as anyone knows, I haven’t seen you since you left me to go on the run.” He was right, Aaron knew. Even if they tracked Robert’s passport the day he left, there was no trace of Aaron leaving the country. The police couldn’t prove anything.

“I…you’ll be careful though, won’t you?”

“Of course. Call your Mum. Don’t say I’m coming, just in case.” He watches him go into the other room before finding his phone. It’s been a couple of weeks since he called her and she still sounded shaken about everything. He dreads to think how she is now.

“Mum? It’s me. I just saw the news. Are you alright?”

*****

A few hours later he’s watching as Robert checks he has everything. It’s stupid but he has a bad feeling about all this and the only thing stopping him going too is the knowledge that it’ll make things a whole lot worse.

“You’ll call me, yeah?” He’s sitting cross-legged on their bed, fingers clutching his phone for something to do. His Mum had promised she was fine, that the police thought Cameron would be heading abroad. He wasn’t convinced but maybe they’d get lucky just this once. He snorts to himself, when did that ever happen.

“Yes. It’ll be alright you know, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He joins him on the bed, tugging until they’re laying side by side. “What is it?”

“Just…jealous I guess. Stupid, you’re not going for a holiday are you?”

“I can talk to Adam while I’m there. Get him to go to the police.” It was an old argument and his answer never changed. Robert might have willingly come with him,  but he was furious with Adam, even a year and a half later.

“No! I mean it Robert. Just leave it. I made my decision. I’m just being daft. As soon as I know Mum’s alright, I’ll be fine. We’re managing ok though, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are.”

“You know, if you wanted to, you could stay. Like you said no one’s looking for you.” He didn’t think he’d survive if he did, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was somehow holding Robert back. Even though Robert wasn’t on the run, they were still careful. Robert had a fairly decent job with a haulage firm but it wasn’t what he wanted to be doing. He’d picked up more French than Aaron had and the work meant speaking English most of the time. They were more settled than ever.

“Do you really think I would do that? Leave you here alone? For one thing your Mum would kill me! Besides, I’ve grown pretty fond of you.” He laughed, as he kissed the end of Aaron’s nose.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you idiot.” He glanced at his watch. “I should go. I’ll call when I land. As soon as it’s all sorted I’m on a plane straight back home to you.” He gets up reluctantly, picking up his bags. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Gives me a fair amount of leeway.” Aaron laughs, grabbing him for one more kiss. “Love you. Go on, go. Be careful.”

“Promise.” He watches from the door until Robert is out of sight before going back inside, the flat suddenly feeling incredibly empty.

He doesn’t go into work the next day, tells his boss he’s sick. He misses Robert already. He’d called the night before to tell him he’d landed and was staying in a hotel before going to Emmerdale first thing the next morning. He feels utterly helpless. The last year and a half has been tough but he’s never felt like this.

When they left he’d still been in shock that Robert had left his life behind and turned up at the airport. He’d tried to make him go back, even though it had originally been his idea. He didn’t want Robert ruining his life on the run with him but the older man wouldn’t budge and really deep down, he was glad he wasn’t alone.

They hadn’t settled anywhere for long those first months, living off the money Cain had given him, and some of Robert’s savings, wanting to keep moving, just in case. It had been fun at first, like an extended holiday. Eventually they’d settled in Paris, managing to blend in as best they could. Those were the days he looked back on when he was regretting his decision, when he wanted nothing more than to go home.

He wouldn’t have made it without Robert, he wouldn’t. He’d spent weeks expecting him to leave, still does sometimes. Every time, Robert would tell him not to be so soft, that he loved him, didn’t want to be anywhere else.

It’s not until the evening that he hears his voice again, having to settle for texts until then.

“You ok?” He sounds tired.

“Yeah. How’s Mum? Any sign of him?”

“Nothing. I’m staying at Paddy’s. There’s police outside the pub and Debbie’s. They’re convinced he’s out of the country but your Mum said they’d be there until they knew.”

“And she’s alright?”

“You know your Mum, she’s fine. Can’t say she was too happy to see me until I explained that I hadn’t abandoned you,” He laughs, imagining the ear bashing that she gave him. She’d hadn’t been happy at them being together in the first place. Maybe she’d come round now she knew he’d stayed, all the things he’s done. “I’m going back over in a bit to see Diane. Bit of luck and they’ll have him by the morning and I can come home to you.”

“I don’t mind if you stay a while, spend time with Vic.”

“Well I do. Not the same around here without some lad scowling at me.”

“Is that right?”

“Right pain in the arse he was. Couldn’t get rid of him.” The gentle teasing relaxes something in him, he feels calm for the first time that day.

“Oi, watch it. As I remember you followed me out here Sugden.”

“Guess I must like you then.”

“Guess so.” If anyone had told him a couple of years ago he’d miss someone the way he’s missing Robert right now, they would have got a right mouthful. Now he doesn’t know where he’d be without him.

“I’m going to head over. I’ll call before I go to sleep, yeah? Oh, by the way, you won’t believe how much Leo has grown.”

“Take pictures. I’ll talk to you later.”

When they’ve hung up, he forces himself to make something to eat, toast being the only thing he’s had all day. That feeling is still there, he can’t shake it. He wants Robert home, safe.

*****

The police car is still parked up outside when he wanders across to the Woolpack. He could have stayed here, Chas had grudgingly offered and he knew Diane would do the same, but when Paddy had butted in saying he was putting him up, he’d never been more grateful. They’d probably never be friends but the two of them recognised they both wanted the best for Aaron and that was enough to keep them civil.

“Back again?” Chas is behind the bar when he walks in. She’s smiling but he can tell it’s forced and he can’t help admiring her. Most people would have gone elsewhere, escaped the threat, but not Chas. She was staying put, loud and confident as ever, at least on the outside, just like Aaron said.

“If I leave without seeing Diane she’d never forgive me.”

“I’ll get her. Pint?”

“Cheers. I er…” He lowered his voice, ever careful, there were some unfamiliar faces in. “I spoke to Aaron. He told me to tell you he loves you and when this is over, you’re paying us a visit.”

“What do you think to that?”

“Fine with me. We both love Aaron after all. Be easier if we got on.”

“Hmm. I’ll fetch Diane.” She puts his pint on the bar and he takes it to a table, nodding at a few familiar faces.

Paddy had told him most of the village had guessed he was with Aaron but no one had said anything to the police. He supposed that was one of the advantages of a small village, everyone looked out for each other. At least they did for Aaron. He’s not sure he’d be afforded the same loyalty if he were alone.

Later, when he’s finished catching up with Diane, he’s in the bathroom, just about ready to go back to Paddy’s. That’s when he hears the screams. He risks peeking through the swing doors, sees Cameron behind the bar, shotgun in hand. He ducks back inside the Gents before he can be seeing, calling the police. He can either hide, or go out there. He’s bound to be found but before he goes he has to call Aaron. He knows he’s glued to the news and this is bound to make the headlines. He can’t imagine Cameron is just going to hand himself in.

His hands are shaking so much he keeps selecting the wrong number. Finally he manages, has no idea how he’s going to tell him. He’ll want to come home, he needs to stop him, because the thought of losing him, even just to prison is more than he can bear.

“Rob? What’s going on?”

“Um, I need you to listen ok? Listen and not freak out.” His voice was shaking and he couldn’t hide it. “I’m in the pub and…well so is Cameron.”

“What? Robert get out of there!”

“Your Mum and Diane are still inside. I’m in the toilet…I can’t leave them, Aaron.”

“I want you safe.”

“You want her safe too. I can’t Aaron. I’d never forgive myself and neither would you.” He needs him to understand.

“I can’t stop you. I’m stuck here, useless.”

“Hey, listen to me. You are not useless. Trust me, the one thing I’m glad about is that you’re safe. Promise me you’re not going to do anything daft like get on a plane. Promise me Aaron.”

“Ok.”

“I should go, before he finds me. I’ll…I love you, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He was crying, he could hear it, knew him too well. “Love you too.”

“I’m coming home.” As the words left him the door banged open and he was face to face with the shotgun. “Aaron, I er, I have to go…”

“Robert? ROBERT!” That’s all he hears before Cameron rips the phone from his grasp and throws it to the floor, stamping on it until it’s in pieces.

He doesn’t bother saying anything as he’s pushed into the bar with everyone else. There’s no point, he can see from his eyes there’s no reasoning with him and even he knows his smart mouth will only get him into trouble. He stumbles into Chas as he’s pushed forward and he sits beside her.

“What the hell are you doing? Why didn’t you get out?” She hisses when Cameron’s attention is elsewhere.

“Do you think Aaron would forgive me if I left you here?” Her face softens and he shuffles closer. “I managed to call the police. I’m not completely stupid.”

“You pick your moments to start being bloody sensible and thinking about other people though, don’t you?”

He lets out a breathy laugh because the old him, the person he was before Aaron probably would be outside, safe by now.

*****

*…We’re receiving reports of an ongoing hostage situation in the Yorkshire village of Emmerdale…*

“Took your time didn’t you?” Aaron mutters. He’s curled up on the sofa, fist clenched around his phone. He wants to do what Robert said he would, get on a plane, train, get to Robert. He won’t, he promised. He wants to call Paddy, anyone who can help him find out more, but he doesn’t want to use the phone in case Robert manages to call.

He knew something would happen, should have stopped him going. Now he’s here, alone, helpless, just having to wait and hope. He’s never felt further away from Robert.

*****

It all happens so quick. One minute everything was still and the next Chas has hit Cameron with a chair and Zak has rushed him. He doesn’t feel it, not really, thinks he’s been punched in the struggle. It’s not until Diane screams that he realises something’s wrong. Everything is a blur of panic and noise and all of a sudden he’s scared.

There’s pressure on his chest and Chas is there smiling at him. Something is definitely wrong then, and he wants to laugh but it hurts and she’s telling him to lie back, to keep looking at her.

“Chas?” He reaches for her hand and she holds on tight. “Aaron’s gonna kill me.”

“No he won’t love. Soon as he can, he’s going to hug the living daylights out of you. Hmm? You just hold on.” He lets his eyes close because it definitely hurts to breathe, and he’s not an expert but he’s pretty sure that’s not good.

“Don’t…don’t let him…make him stay. Can’t…come back.”

“Shh, don’t worry.” He nods, closes his eyes again. “Robert, you have to stay awake. Stay with me.” He tries, he really does but it’s too hard. In the end it’s easier to just float away

*****

It’s dark when he wakes up, but he knows he’s in hospital, there’s never any mistaking them. His chest aches but it’s easier to breathe and he remembers everything so clearly. Someone’s holding his hand and he looks round, expecting Vic or Diane, but it’s Aaron. No, it can’t be. He’s meant to be in France. He tries to sit up but all he manages to do is feebly lift his head from the pillow and send the machines he must be attached to into a frenzy.

“Robert? Hey, calm down. You’re ok, you’re safe.” He’s stroking his hair and it’s nice. He does it sometimes if he has a bad dream. Maybe that’s what this is. “What did I say about being careful, huh?”

“No’ my fault. Shouldn’t be here. Should be home.”

“Yeah well, that’s what happens when your boyfriend gets himself shot. It’s fine. I handed myself in. Cain’s talked to Adam and he’s done the same.” He’s trying to follow but his brain is full of cotton wool. “Doesn’t matter. They let me stay until you woke up. Mum’s here, she’s going to stay with you until Diane gets back.”

“Where you going?”

“You really are out of it aren’t ya. I’ve got to go, they’re not going to give me bail Rob.” “No, wait! You can’t.” There’s a police officer at the door and Aaron’s leaving and there’s nothing he can do. “Just one more minute.” Aaron says and then he’s back, kissing him softly. “It won’t be for long and then we can be together again. No more running. Just get yourself better yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘s my fault.”

“No, no it’s not. It’s what should have happened in the first place. I’ve got to go.” He leans down again as close as he can. “I love you.”

Then he’s gone and Robert’s alone. This isn’t how it was supposed to go and now Aaron’s gone again, who knows when he’ll be back. Before he knows it his cheeks are wet. It’s not long before Chas is there, looking tired and as though she hasn’t slept a bit. He guesses she hasn’t.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“All it took was me gettin’ shot. Shoulda stopped him.”

“He was on his way before I even got to speak to him. That boy loves you. Can’t say I’m not glad that he’ll be at home again soon enough.” He couldn’t really disagree with that. As much as they’ve had a good time and gotten on alright in France, Emmerdale is home.

*****

Two months later he’s in a taxi parked up outside the prison. Eight long weeks. He’s visited, but only a couple of times, only out of hospital for a few weeks himself. Since then he’s moved back into the pub, into Aaron’s old room.

Within days Chas had despatched Cain to France with their keys to collect their stuff and Robert had contacted their bosses who were none too pleased at losing employees without any notice. He didn’t care, they weren’t going back.

He’s all healed, a scar to show for being in the wrong place and now all he needs is Aaron. There’s a party planned back at the pub and Chas had offered to drive him, but he wanted a little time alone, just the two of them before their families descended.

It feels like an age that he sits there waiting and the taxi fare will be extortionate. Then he sees Aaron at the gate and he smiles, getting out of the car. He’s still tired, still a little week and he’s not sleeping properly after that night, doesn’t without Aaron.

“Hi.” Is all he says before Aaron launches himself at him, arms clinging tight as he drops his bag. Eventually he pulls away, hand laying flat over his scar.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He laughs and pulls him close, nodding against his shoulder.

“I promise, the next time it happens, I’ll get out of the way, ok?”

“I was so scared.”

“I know. Me too. But it’s over now. I’m fine.” He keeps his arm around him as they head for the taxi, doesn’t want to let him go just yet. “No more getting arrested.”

“I couldn’t stay away Robert. You were hurt.”

“I get it. Just don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t. I promise. Take me home.”

So he does. They go home. Together.

#robron week #rw2018 #day 3 #tw: guns #tw: gun violence #aaron dingle #robert sugden #cameron murray #chas dingle #part of my 2012 au world #if i'd hadn't started writing it the day before #it would have been better #and i've changed the ending to because i'm evil #anyway enjoy

[takemeawaytocamelot]

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 19

I can’t believe how quickly @outlandishchridhe and I got this chapter written. We sat down for a few hours and BOOM! Chapter 19 was born! This is a major set up chapter that will lead into some really amazing things we’ve got planned for the future. So stay tuned!

Also, Ish is IN LOVE with all the little baby things Fergus does, so I added as many as I could just to make her squeak.

Check out chapter 18.3 HERE or the whole fic on AO3 HERE

Waving at his wife and son, Jamie left for work. His day went smoothly, though his mind wandered to Murtagh. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his godfather since the showdown with Claire. When lunch rolled around, Jamie took the time to call Murtagh.

“Fraser,” came the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

“Murtagh, it’s Jamie.”

“Took yer sweet time callin’ me back,” the other man muttered.

Jamie sighed and got his thoughts in order.

“I have some things I need to say to ye and I need for ye to listen. Can ye do that? Wi’out interrupting?”

“Aye,” Murtagh said. “I can.”

“I’ve spoken wi’ Claire about why she snapped at ye. I’m sorry for what she said to ye and I ken she is as well. But ye must know something. She and Fergus are my life, Murtagh. This relationship I have wi’ her is the most precious thing I’ve ever had. I’ll no’ let it fall by the wayside. Do ye understand?”

There was a long pause and Jamie wondered if his phone had died.

“Aye. And I’m no’ tellin’ ye to abandon yer family, ken? I’m only sayin’-”

“No,” Jamie said sharply. “I willna gi’ them up. No’ for anything. You’re my family, Murtagh, but if ye force me to choose between you and Claire, I’ll pick her. Ye might want to keep that in mind next time ye come by.”

Jamie waited patiently for Murtagh to formulate his response.

“Maybe yer right, lad,” he said. “Ye arene the same man that left Lallybroch, that’s for sure. I ken I had no right to demand ye leave yer pregnant wife behind. And I havena treated her verra well since. Pass on my apology?”

“Aye. But ye can apologize to her in person when we have ye over sometime. I canna say when, I have to talk wi’ Claire first.”

“Of course, ye should speak wi’ her about it first. Do ye have some time?”

Taking a bite of his sandwich, Jamie nodded.

“Aye, I’ve a few minutes. Why?”

“There’s some things I think ye need to hear, about yer family.”

For a moment, his blood ran cold.

“What’s happened? Is everyone alright?”

“Oh aye. Everyone’s doing verra well. I want ye to consider taking a trip to see them. Introduce them to yer wife and son.”

“After what happened? They dinna want to see me. No’ after the way I left.”

Jamie took a long drink from his bottle of water, trying to ignore the feelings that came with thinking about his family.

“Christ, lad. Yer mam cornered me no’ long after ye left and begged me to find ye. They miss ye and want ye to come home. I spoke wi’ Ellen a few days ago and she wants to see ye.”

“Ye expect me to just show up at Lallybroch wi’ my Sassenach wife and newborn son in tow?”

“Well ye did just get through wi’ tellin’ me ye’d no’ leave them behind. I’m no’ sayin’ it needs to be right now. Just think on it a bit, aye? Talk to yer Claire.”

“Aye,” Jamie said, mind racing at the new possibilities. “I’ll think it over. I need to get goin’.”

Jamie gathered up his garbage from his lunch and threw it away.

“I’ll let ye go, then. Thanks for callin’.”

“I’ll see ye later, Murtagh.”

####

Claire and Fergus waved Jamie off as he left for work. Once he was gone, she turned her son and smiled at him.

“Alright my darling, how about we go out for a little while?”

He stared up at her, mouth opening and closing with a soft popping sound.

“My thoughts exactly. Come on. A few of my friends are working at my old job and I know they’d love to see you.”

Claire parked the car in the lot outside Springs Preserve and settled Fergus into his sling. She walked the grounds for some time, enjoying the sunny spring day, murmuring softly to Fergus as he gazed up at her, wide awake.

“Claire? Is that you, Claire?!”

She turned at the sound of the happy voice and grinned as a woman bustled over to her.

“Mrs. Fitz! Oh it’s so good to see you!” Claire exclaimed, returning the woman’s hug, trying to not squish Fergus between them.

“You too! Last I saw you, it looked like you were ready to pop!”

“Well, this is him. Fergus Fraser, meet Mrs. Fitz.”

Claire maneuvered and got Fergus out of the sling so Mrs. Fitz could see him.

“Oooh he’s so handsome, Claire! Those eyes!”

“He takes a bit after his father. But he’s a good lad,” Claire joked, cooing softly at Fergus as his eyes tried to focus.

“Ooohhh! That handsome knight you told me about?”

“One and the same.”

Mrs. Fitz squeaked in joy and clapped her hands.

“Are you here for a few minutes? I’m about to go on my break and I’d love to treat you to lunch.”

“We’d love that! How about we wait here for you?”

“Perfect! I’ll be back soon!”

Claire found a small bench and sat, cradling Fergus against her.

“Now that is Mrs. Fitz. She’s one of the reasons I enjoyed working here. She is quite a character, but a very sweet woman.”

When Glynnis returned, she bustled over and lead the way to the cafe. Once they were seated, Claire tried to get Fergus comfortable in her arms.

“He’s a beautiful boy, Claire. I’m so pleased for you.”

“I didn’t think…” she looked down at the little boy. “I didn’t think I’d love him so much.”

“Motherhood suits you.”

The waiter came by and took their lunch orders, leaving them in peace once more.

“Would you like to hold him?”

Glynnis’ face lit up and she gasped.

“Oh! I would love to! It’s been such a long time since I’ve held one so small.”

Claire handed the baby over and laughed as Fergus cooed up at this new face. It was delightful to have some time out with a friend. She and Glynnis talked and caught up all through lunch. When she had to return to work, Claire promised to have her over for dinner.

Glancing at her watch, Claire decided to wander around the preserve for a little while longer. Jamie wouldn’t be home for a few more hours and she was enjoying the sunshine.

“Alright, little one,” she said to her son. “I’m going to tell you something but you have to promise you won’t tell your da.”

With his tiny fist in his mouth, he looked up at her.

“Good. I’ll hold you to your word. But… I’m working on a surprise for him. Our first anniversary is coming up soon and I wanted to do something special. So would you like to help me?”

She smiled down at Fergus and he gave her a slobbery grin in return. Deciding they’d been out long enough, Claire buckled him back into his seat and drove home. After all his excitement, Fergus was asleep before she got back, so she settled him in for a nap. That gave her a few minutes to clean up a little and get the leftovers warmed up before Jamie came home.

####

Claire sat down at the table with the project she’d been working on for the last week. Fergus burbled happily in his bouncy chair, fumbling with one of his stuffed toys. She finished the last piece of the gift and put it all together.

“There,” she said to her son. “Do you think your da will like it?”

Fergus looked up at her, completely unaware, arms starting to wave around erratically.

“Yes, I think so too! Now I just have to get dinner together and in the oven, so you just sit tight.”

Gathering her supplies together, she followed a recipe she’d found for a cheesy chicken broccoli casserole. Once it was cooking in the oven, she cleaned the table and set out the dishes. She changed Fergus into his wee kilt before sliding into her own black dress. Claire smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror, remembering the last time she’d worn this.

The memory of watching him joust and fight in his knight’s costume made her smile. That night had been the first flower he’d given her. Now they had a son and had reached their first anniversary.

When the keys clicked in the door, she gathered her son up into her arms and went out to greet the man of the house.

“Sassenach, I’m home,” he called over his shoulder, putting his keys on the hook.

“So I see,” she said, waiting for him to turn around.

He held a small bouquet of roses in his hand when he turned around and his mouth fell open.

“Happy first anniversary,” Claire said, smiling brightly at him.

“Claire…” he breathed, eyes taking in everything she’d done. “Ye look…”

His mouth opened and closed half a dozen times as he tried to find the words.

“Well,” she said, walking toward him. “Fergus and I thought it was important that we celebrate this properly. So I’ve got dinner ready and a gift for you.”

He looked away from her, his ears turning a little pink.

“We havena talked much about what our actual anniversary is, so… I didna ken when ye wanted to celebrate it. I ordered somethin’ for ye, but it’s no’ come yet.” He paused for a moment, before adding uncertainly, “I brought ye flowers in case ye wanted to do somethin’ tonight.”

“That’s alright, darling,” she said, smiling softly at his wavering voice. “We’ll do something special later for our other anniversary.”

Jamie nodded, lurching forward as Fergus decided he wanted Da rather than Mum. He took the boy into his own arms, giving Claire the roses and accepting her quick kiss.

“Aye, mo chridhe. We’ll do something verra nice. And look at my braw lad! Wearin’ his kilt like a proper Fraser!”

Claire lit the candles and set the table. The casserole sat in the center with a nice cucumber salad beside it. Jamie walked around the front room, bouncing Fergus as he moved.

“We agreed we should both dress for the occasion.”

Jamie tore his eyes from his son and gave his wife a proper once-over.

“Ye look verra bonnie, lass.”

She turned in a slow circle.

“Do you recognize the dress?”

“Aye,” he said, settling Fergus in his bouncy chair again. “Ye wore it when ye came to watch my show.”

He came around the table to stand closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You really remembered it from that night?”

Jamie nodded slowly.

“Of course I do,” he said softly. “We went on a proper date that night. How could I ever forget that?”

“You,” she said, draping her arms around his neck. “Are a rare sort of man.”

He smiled and kissed her.

“Indeed I am.”

Jamie pulled her chair out for her and helped her settle close to the table. With a large spoon, he dished up the casserole for both of them before taking his own seat.

“Fergus seems to be gettin’ bigger,” Jamie said, stabbing a cucumber with his fork.

“He is! He’s growing very well, right in line with where he should be.”

Jamie stared at the cucumber on his fork for a minute before he spoke again.

“Is he big enough, ye think, for a trip on an airplane?”

Claire chewed slowly, looking up at him.

“A trip where?”

“Scotland. The three of us could go together.”

He busied himself with his salad, giving her a few minutes to sort through what he’d said.

“You want to go to Scotland?”

“I… I dinna ken yet. But I willna go wi’out you and Fergus,” he added quickly, remembering her anxiety.

She sighed, setting down her silverware.

“Why do you want to go?”

Jamie took his time in answering, getting his thoughts into order.

“D’ye ken what ye said to me when ye had Fergus’ kilt made?”

She nodded.

“I wanted our son to know about his family history.”

“Scotland is a part of that history,” Jamie said. “I want him to ken his family, to meet his granny and grandsire, to meet his auntie.”

Claire watched him for a long moment before reaching out and taking his hand.

“But that isn’t all of it,” she said, her voice gentle.

Staring down at their hands, he took a deep breath.

“Ye ken me too well, it seems. No, that isne all of it. It’s… Since Murtagh came and found me, it’s been weighing on me.”

“What has?”

“The last conversation I had wi’ my Da, all of it. I thought… I thought he hated me and when I learned about his stroke, I blamed myself. I ken I canna cause a stroke, but it all felt like that. I ken he’s alive, but nothing more than that. I hate that the last words we said to each other were full of anger.”

Claire gave his hand a squeeze.

“So you want to try and make amends?”

“What amends I can, at least. I canna take back what I said, or gi’ back the years lost between us. But I can speak wi’ him, introduce him to my wife and son. Maybe begin repairs on our relationship.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Jamie. I think we can start looking into how to make that happen.”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and bright.

“Ye mean it? We’ll go to Scotland?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” she asked him, a short laugh erupting from her at his astonished face. “Scotland is your home. I couldn’t bear it if I was the reason you never went back. So long as you take me with you. Take us with you.”

“When I moved to America, I didna ken when, if ever, I’d get back to Scotland. But it hasne bothered me since I met ye, for you are my home.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back softly.

“And you are mine, Jamie. I love you.”

“I love ye too, Sassenach.”

With an immense weight off his shoulders, he dove back into his dinner. Claire got up and poured him a generous dram of whisky before pouring herself a glass of sparkling cider. It was a non-alcoholic drink, which made her more comfortable with it.

Leaving the dishes rinsed in the sink, Claire ushered him to the couch while she tended Fergus.

“I’ve got a gift for you,” she said, sitting beside him.

“Have ye? Claire, ye didna need to get me anything.”

Her eyes rolled.

“Just open it.”

Smiling, he tore the wrapping paper to reveal a picture frame. He frowned down at it, trying to understand what he was seeing.

“I saw this idea on the internet,” she admitted sheepishly. “And I decided to make one for you. Each of those is a location that was important to us.”

She pointed to the first and he realized it was a cut out of a map with a small heart drawn on it.

“That was the bar I worked at, where we first met.”

He nodded, looking to the second.

“Ah! My old job at Excalibur!”

The third was the address of his old apartment, where they’d lived before Fergus was born.

“Okay, I dinna ken what this one is.”

“Well, it’s sort of our firsts. First jobs, first place we lived. That’s our first vacation together, when I took you to Colorado.”

Closing his eyes, he could remember those cool nights spent cuddling together near the fire, or teaching her how to fish. A faint tinge of bitterness swept through the happy thoughts as he remembered his decision to let her go. He’d already fallen in love with her, but she hadn’t fallen for him.

“Hey,” she said softly, her hand gentle on his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head.

“Nothin’. Just rememberin’ things. What’s the next first?”

She hesitated a moment before looking back down at the map cut outs.

“Oh! That was our first time at Lake Mead.”

“And the hospital where Fergus was born.”

They smiled at the second to last cut out.

“The first place we got together,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Our home, wi’ our son.”

The final piece was blank, Claire’s fine handwritten ‘Our Future’ replacing the map pieces.

“I was thinking… When I made this, I decided to leave this blank so we could fill it in later if we wanted. But… Maybe, in the future, we could put Scotland there.”

He nodded, grinning.

“Aye, Sassenach. I think that would do verra well. Thank ye, lass. This was a lovely gift. I’m sorry yours isne here yet.”

“Don’t be sorry, love,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “We hadn’t talked about it. And I think we should celebrate our other anniversary too. That one is just as important as this.”

“Aye, it is.”

They cuddled on the couch for a little while before Claire fed Fergus and put him to bed. Jamie groaned and stretched before he too got up.

“Come to bed with me?” she asked sweetly, batting her lashes at him.

“Aye, in a moment. I didna get to shower after work. I stink to high heaven.”

“Alright.”

Jamie headed for the shower, already unbuttoning his shirt. He turned on the shower to let the water warm before he turned to close the door. Claire stood in the doorway, watching him with open appreciation.

“Fergus is fast asleep,” she said, walking slowly into the bathroom and placing the baby monitor on the counter.

“Aye, he is.”

“So I thought…” she trailed off as she took the pins out of her hair. “Maybe since our alone time is so rare…” reaching behind her, she began to unzip her dress. “I should join you.”

He smiled slowly, moving to help her out of her dress.

“Oohh… I canna complain about that, Sassenach.”

It was his turn to enjoy the sights as she stepped out of her panties and let her bra drop to the floor. Quickly, the rest of his clothes joined hers on the floor and he offered his hand. She took it and followed him into the warm water.

The water pelted his back as he brought her with him. She brought herself closer and reached up to kiss him. Her left hand began a downward descent, but he grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

“Nay, lass. Ye made me a fine dinner and took the time to make me a wonderful gift for our anniversary. Let me love ye.”

For a few moments, he kissed her hungrily, hands wandering aimlessly over her whole body. His lips traveled down her neck, pausing to nip here and there. His hands finally settled on her backside, squeezing firmly.

Making his way down her chest, he nipped a circle around one breast. In answer to his ministrations, Claire moaned just loud enough to hear over the water.

“Harder, Jamie, please,” she panted, squirming against his mouth as he finally, gently, bit down right where she wanted him and suckled against her.

She moaned again, spurring him on to the other breast, following her chest as it heaved with each breath.

“Ahh!” she cried out as he moved to push her against the tile wall again, cold against her heated skin as he skimmed himself further down her body, pausing to kiss and nip her sensitive skin as he went.

Her hand fisted in his hair as he reached his target. He gently pushed one leg out a little, granting him easier access. The sweet, heady scent of her surrounded him, filling his lungs with each breath.

“Oohhh…” she moaned.

He smiled to himself as she began directing him with the hand in his hair. She continued to squeak as he tasted her, growing ever closer to her climax. But he had other plans.

Standing suddenly, he caught her as she sagged against the wall. She was panting heavily now, her mouth hanging open.

“Why did you stop!?”

“I’m no’ ready to let ye off just yet.”

“Bastard,” she wheezed.

He chuckled, hooking one leg around his hip.

“Do ye ken, mo graidh, how much has changed in a year? How ye turned my life upside down and showed me all I was missing?”

As he spoke, he probed a finger into her.

“Jesus H…”

“Ye’ve given me so much, Claire, and I dinna just mean Fergus. Ye truly gave me something I’ve never had, not wi’ any other person. I love ye.”

“It’s the same for me,” she whined into his ear. “I love you too, Jamie, but…” her back arched a little and she gasped as he added a second finger. “Christ! Please, Jamie! Stop torturing me, damn it!”

Kissing her deeply, he reached underneath her arse and hitched her other leg up around his hip. One arm stayed entwined around his neck as her other reached between them to guide him home. He pushed in hard, making her breath catch and a high pitched noise leave her throat as her had raced back up behind his head and into his hair, holding on tight.

“Yes! Oh God, Jamie!”

Sensitized as she was, she didn’t last long. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her body shook and contracted around him. Keeping his hold on her, he moved until he reached his own end. He muttered quiet praises in Gaelic in her ear, trying to catch his breath.

“Happy anniversary,” she said with a lazy, sated smile on her lips, leg still wrapped around him.

“Aye,” he answered, kissing that smile. “Happy anniversary indeed. I canna wait to see what the next year brings us.”

He turned the water off and they toweled each other dry. They crawled into their bed, tangling arms and legs together. Claire started to get up when she realized they’d left the baby monitor in the bathroom, but Jamie stopped her.

With the monitor within earshot, he settled in beside her, holding her body close.

“You don’t work tomorrow,” she said quietly, tracing the lines on his face.

“Aye. It’s my day off.”

“What would you say to having breakfast in bed tomorrow? Having an exceptionally lazy day in bed?”

He gently bit the bottom of her ear and smiled.

“Mmm. I could go for a full English breakfast tomorrow.”

“What if I want a Scottish breakfast?”

“Och, well I’ll no’ deprive ye of that! I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see who gets to eat first.”

She giggled and kissed him sweetly.

“I do love you.”

“And I love you. Thank ye for doing all this today. And for agreeing to go to Scotland, Sassenach. I canna tell ye how it lightened my heart to hear ye say those words.”

“Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. As a family.”

“Aye, mo chridhe. As a family.”

Jamie pulled her close, tucking her into the hollow in his shoulder as he kissed the top of her head, and settled in to sleep.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #a wild night in vegas au #jamie x claire #also featuring: baby fergus #takemeawaytocamelot #outlandishchridhe #we did this chapter in like three hours #and it's so short! #one chapter in one chunk! #but i love us #we're amazing

[gaybabymisfits-blog]

if you want, write something about your favourite character for me? :) you don’t have to if you don’t want to okay?

This might get long and it might get angsty but it won’t be too bad I promise. Thank you for this, Jay :) 

Also this is being posted much later than I intended, but things got busy with college things. Consider this my Christmas present to all of you!!!

Title: Dirty Frowns To Golden Smiles

Characters: Genderfluid!Gavin, background FAHC OT6

TW: Transphobic Slurs, Lowkey Angst (Flashback)

Word Count: 3,070

The world is an interesting place. It’s full of people of various genders, sexualities, races, and more. Life is also interesting. You’re born as male or female and most people expect you to like the opposite sex. And depending on your race, people might hate you before they even know you.

However, there’s always going to be a select few out there who don’t discriminate and are open minded. Those are the people that once you find, you stick with them no matter what. Make them your new family, let them know your deepest secrets and let them know your backstory. Let them into your life so they can make you whole again.

Before:

A young and overly excited Gavin had the whole world in front of him. He was finally accepting who he was and couldn’t wait to tell his parents he was genderfluid and wanted to be called Gavin. The lad ran home from the school yard with a smile on his face.

When he got home his parents were fighting which they never do. They saw their daughter enter the house and got even more upset. Gavin’s father turned and started walking towards him and quickly changed into some sort of monster. A fist was thrown into the wall next to the lad’s head and tears sprung into Gavin’s eyes.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here, calling yourself Gavin? I found your journal open on your desk this morning, and I am beyond disgusted. Get the fuck out of my house. Now!” The booming voice and harsh words echoed around the house, a place Gavin once knew to be safe now turned into a living hell.

Being that the lad was only 15, there wasn’t anywhere for him to go if he left, so he stayed in the toxic household. His mother grew distant and his father grew cold. There was no form of love anywhere. The only person Gavin had in his life was a fellow student at school named Dan. He was kind and accepting, but was mean and cold-hearted when needed.

Gavin had a bit of makeup and had gotten good at covering up the various cuts, marks and bruises his father would leave. The school had no idea of any of this, no one knew. If anyone found out, Gavin was afraid he might get killed. One day, his father walked into his room and saw all the makeup and made comments. “So the tranny decided to act more ladylike and put on makeup? About damn time, bitch.

Over the years, Dan and Gavin had become great friends and would spend a lot of time together. During their last year of school together, Dan had let Gavin stay at his house. He was the only one who knew anything about his friend’s life and swore if he ever got the chance, he would beat the living shit out of Gav’s father.

Dan also taught Gavin how to use different computer programs and Gav found it interesting and started to experiment with different things. He quickly learned how to do basic programming and soon knew how to complete complex tasks within a matter of seconds with his new skills.

Things were tight living at Dan’s house, and they didn’t quite make ends meet with a new face living under their roof. Gavin felt like he needed to help out, so he did the only thing he could think of. Late nights where he spent awake because of nightmares, he would get up and sneak outside. No one in the neighbourhood would ever expect the scrawny 18 year old to be the one stealing their cash or prized possessions.

There was one night where Gavin had managed to snag an expensive gold watch from the small brick house at the end of the street and he knew it would be worth a lot. Yet, he was so entranced by the shiny metal, he decided to keep it. No one ever questioned where it came from which helped him stay undercover.

After Dan and Gavin graduated, they went their separate ways. Dan enlisted in the military and Gavin booked a one way ticket to America with the leftover money he stole. His plan was to go to Los Santos to have a fresh start. It was a big city and no one would know his name. It sounded like heaven.

One ten hour flight later, the lad was finally in Los Santos. It was bright and hot and vastly different from his hometown in England. Gavin felt out of his element, but he couldn’t be more excited. On the plane, he heard a few passengers talkin about the rise in crime in the city. The names Geoff and Jack were mentioned briefly. He wondered who those two men were and why they were causing a scene.

And he wanted to know how to get in touch with them.

With his luck, he would never meet these people and would be stuck on the streets forever. He knew how to survive, but what if he got himself into a situation he couldn’t get back out of. He would end up dead and no one in this damned city would give two shits about the british bloke who got stabbed to death. There was one point shortly after arriving in the city where he debated just giving up on everything. He couldn’t make it on his own. He wasn’t good enough for this.

Weeks passed and Gavin had managed to find himself in an old abandoned apartment complex with a bit of cash he managed to get from pedestrians walking by. He could live like this, but he needed more. A computer would be ideal, but maybe he should think about smaller things first, like food and heat. Granted, it didn’t get very cold in Los Santos during December, but it definitely wasn’t hot.

He also needed to locate these mysterious people who seemed to be climbing the ranks faster than Gavin could blink. He was gradually making a name for himself, but he could never compete to them. Gavin needed to try to one up his previous robberies.

The gas station next the the abandoned apartment complex would be perfect to hit up, and he’s surprised he hasn’t gone there yet. Gavin grabs his knives and his black beanie he converted into a mask and heads out. It’s a quick walk over and he is feeling confident about tonight.

Except he wasn’t aware other people had plans to rob the gas station tonight.

Gavin was just planning on making it a quick thing. Go in, get the cash and some food and leave. No big deal. But these people, they went all out. One was waiting in a car outside with tinted windows. There were two other people inside, one was at the counter, twirling his moustache as the clerk filled the bag. The other was off grabbing various items off the shelves. Gavin knew he couldn’t take these people, they were too good for his skill level.

He turned on his heels to leave and came face to face with a red headed woman who quickly gave him a right hook and laughed when he fell to the ground. The last thing Gavin heard was a deep voice coming from the moustached man saying, “This is the kid, we need him to succeed. Trust me Jack.”

The next time Gavin opened his eyes, his head was pounding and he was in a foreign room. He was expecting to be tied up and get tortured for ruining their heist, but he was laying in a bed instead. The door opened and in walked the same redhead who punched him. He wanted to glare and make his face look darker than it usually was to scare her off, but he was too tired to care much about that.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good, thought I punched you a bit too hard out there. Sorry about that by the way. Boss’ orders. Speaking of, he probably wants to speak to you. I’ll go grab you a glass of water and see where he is.” The woman walked off again and Gavin was more confused than he was previously.

A few minutes passed and a new face came in holding a glass. He had tattoos covering his arms and a moustache which Gavin recognized from earlier. This must be that woman’s boss or something to that sort.

The man set the glass down and cleared his throat. “So, you’re probably wondering what the hell is going on here. Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m Geoff Ramsey, leader of the Fake AH Crew. You’ve previously met Jack, the redhead who kicked your ass, which was funny as dicks.”

The man, Geoff, paused and let Gavin absorb the information. These are the people he first heard about when he came here. Jack and Geoff. He’s been trying to find them for months, and they found him first. But, why him?

“Judging by your expression, you’re probably wondering why we grabbed you. We knew where your hideout was and faked a heist to take you back here to our base. Didn’t do a very good job at hiding your tracks. However, we’ve begun to catch word of your skills and as the leader, I decided to see for myself just how good you are.”

Gavin was now sitting on the edge of the bed, his thoughts running faster than he could process. Not only was he in the penthouse of the biggest up and coming gang in Los Santos, but they wanted to possibly take him in as their own.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “So, Geoff, if you’ve heard about me, I assume you probably know everything about me. You, you don’t think I’m a freak?” His voice cracked and his insecurity started to seep through. He promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen but he couldn’t stop it.

Geoff had a confused look on his face. “Kid, why would I think you’re a freak? Because you’re genderfluid? Christ Gavin, just because we’re criminals doesn’t mean we’re not accepting or cruel to others because of their identities. That’s the last thing we’re worried about here. Now come on, we’re making Christmas cookies. Plus Michael and Ryan want to meet you.”

The moustached man walked out of the room and Gavin followed behind. The two made their way out to the kitchen where they found Jack and two other men Gavin could only assume were Michael and Ryan.

“Crew, this here is Gavin Free. Be easy on him, will ya? He’s fragile.” Geoff snickered after he finished talking and the younger lad reached up to punch him lightly in the shoulder.

The five of them gathered around the counter and started introducing one another while cutting out cookies. Gavin could see himself with this crew for a while and hoped they liked him enough to let him stay.

The next few days consisted of various tests to see how good Gavin’s skills actually were. Michael quickly found out to not trust this British lad anywhere near explosives. Ryan had shown the kid how to properly throw knives and where the best places were to stab someone. Jack discovered that Gavin was definitely not the best pilot or driver but it got the job done. Plus, he could easily talk his way out of a situation since no one end in Los Santos had a british accent.

Geoff’s tests were the most important ones. The leader needed to see if Gavin had any skills with computers and more importantly hacking because no one else knew how to do any of that stuff. Needless to say, Gavin was more than excited with this specific task. He had 6 hours to hack into the LSPD security system and erase the files they had on the current member of the crew.

Gavin finished within 4 hours. Geoff was more than surprised at this and debated hiring him right then and there. But he still needed to discuss it with the others. The other members held a meeting the next day and within minutes of discussing their test results decided to hire Gavin full time. Considering it was Christmas Eve, what better present than getting hired to the best crew around?

Gavin woke up on the 25th to find his room was decorated with lights and there were new clothes in the closet. He got up and made his way to the living room. When he got there, he noticed Michael and Ryan sitting on the couch while Jack was in the recliner. They were all staring at him.

“Morning loves, anyone care to tell me what’s going on here?” The lad questioned to which everyone pointed behind him. He turned around and found himself face to face with Geoff. He had his arms open and quickly embraced Gavin in a hug.

“Welcome to the Fakes, kid. We all decided you will be a great fit here, and this is your Christmas gift. Merry Christmas Gavin!” Geoff laughed and everyone else joined in, causing Gav to smile. Jack got up and handed the British lad a small case. Inside was a pair of golden sunglasses. She must’ve caught him looking at them online the other day and got them for him. The two hugged and he tried the glasses on. A perfect fit.

This was his new family. They took him in when he thought no one in this world liked him anymore. He hoped to do them well.

After:

“Gavin! Get your ass out here, boi! You’re gonna miss the news report!” An overly-excited voice yelled down the hall of the penthouse.

The hacker sighed and saved his progress then proceeded to shut down his computer for the night. After all, it was Christmas Eve and he planned on spending the night with his family. Gavin made his way out of his cave as the others liked to call it and walked out to the living room. He found his other lads on the couch with the remote in their hands.

The whole crew had been out all day on a heist that they didn’t need Gavin for so he wasn’t paying much attention to them all day. He was gathering information on the other rival crews and potential next victims.

“Gavvy, comensit! You showed up just in time for the news report!” Jeremy patted the seat next to him. He’s only been here for a few years but Gavin still couldn’t get over his overenthusiastic behaviors. Once the Lads were all settled in, the Gents filed in as well. Geoff and Jack were cuddled up on the love seat and Ryan was lounging in the recliner.

The crew focused their attention to their beloved news reporter, Jon Risinger, as he began to talk about the crimes that happened during the day. The first few mentioned were harmless robberies where the suspects had gotten caught. Gavin snorted over this.

Then came the big story of the night. Jon had started his report the same as he had done the other ones, but one phrase caught Gavin’s attention. “The Fake AH Crew is back at it again with another big heist, but this time, they seemed to have had a certain end goal in mind.”

Gavin glanced around at his family and noticed all of them were staring at the tv, smirks on their faces. He turned back to the report.

“The Kingpin and Mama Bird can be seen here at Vangelico, taking only the golden accessories. In this next shot you can see the Vagabond at Ammunation stealing all the golden plated guns and knives. The last few clips we have here are of Mogar and Rimmy Tim, seemingly in a stolen car. It looks like they took it to Los Santos Customs and sprayed the car with a gold paint.”

Risinger stopped talking for a bit to let the audience see what the Fakes had been up to all day. The last shot the news showed was of the 5 of them on top of Mount Chiliad shooting off fireworks. Gavin was getting ready to ask them what the hell they were on about today and why they did all that when Jon began to talk once more.

“It seems like these crimes were all linked together and that it was all for the crew’s Golden Boy. No one has found out why these crimes were committed but if anyone founds out any information, contact the LSPD.”

Geoff clicked off the tv and stood up. He made his way over to Gavin and dragged the lad up off the couch into a hug. No words were said but there was no need for them. Gavin was fully aware this was his anniversary of joining the crew, but he wasn’t expecting his family to do all this for him.

“Gavin, you’ve been an amazing part of this crew, this family, and most importantly, this relationship. You do so much for us and you don’t get enough credit for the work you do. We decided to do something special this year and spoil you rotten for Christmas. So, Merry Christmas Gavin. We love you.”

Gradually the rest of the Fakes joined in on the hug which quickly turned into a cuddle pile on the sofa. Jeremy made popcorn and Jack put on some classic Christmas movies for them to watch. Gavin didn’t pay much attention to the movies, but instead thought back on his life and how he had gotten to this point.

He was forever grateful for these people in his life and would do anything to protect them. Afterall, they’ve saved his ass countless times from random bar fights he got himself into. Gavin took his golden shades off of his head and placed them on the coffee table as he settled down into the arms of Ryan and rested his legs on Michael’s lap.   

Gavin sighed contently as he looked at his partners sitting next to him. He was thankful to have them be part of his life. It only took him a few years, but the Golden Boy finally realized his potential and that he was loved and was worth his weight in gold.

#fahc #golden boy #gavin free #fahc gavin #fake ah crew #fahc ot6 #genderfluid gavin #tw: slurs #jayisaqueer #jay #cameron.doc #me? projecting onto fahc gav? never #cameron.ask

[unfolded73]

The Nonlinear Property of Time (2/4)

I wasn’t going to post this tonight, but 7x03 didn’t do anything for me, so maybe everyone else also needs something else to think about too?

A Season 7 AU story with time travel. Rated Explicit.

This fic is dedicated to @allrightfine – you finally wore me down. Thanks to @j-philly-b for giving this a readthrough.

A few important notes:

1. I came up with this fic before 7x02 aired based on a lot of the speculation going on in fandom, and even after it was no longer consistent with canon, I couldn’t resist writing it. It just became more involved to fully describe the time travel scenario. Anyway, the point is Wish Hook isn’t in this. But that does not mean I’m anti-Wish Hook – surprisingly, I’m pretty psyched for that story now. So please don’t compliment this fic by slamming that character and his storyline, because I don’t really want to see that.

2. This story is going to eventually have a present-Killian/future-Killian/Emma threeway. If that’s not your thing, this fic might not be for you, and that’s okay!

3. This whole scenario turned out to be way more angsty than I anticipated going in. (No wonder the Doctor is such a big mope.) Which I love but also it makes me glad this isn’t what happened canon.

(Chapter 1)

Chapter 2

The moment he saw Emma, everything froze.

As the portal opened from the end of the Black Fairy’s wand, he saw her, windblown blonde hair and red jacket, looking exactly the way she’d looked the last time he saw her. Which, he supposed, made sense: on the other side of that portal was the last time he saw her.

His heart pounding a quick staccato in his chest, Killian stepped through.

Everyone in the forest clearing stared at him, dumbstruck.

“What the hell?” said Emma.

Immediately, his younger self approached, putting himself bodily between him and Emma. “What kind of witchcraft is this?”

“Uh, why are there two of you?” Henry asked.

“This is some kind of imposter,” the younger Killian said, pulling his sword and holding it out with his arm outstretched. “It’s a trick. Show your true face!”

The older Killian held his hands up in surrender, realizing that he still wore the prosthetic hand and was holding the hook Zelena had given him in the other. “I’m not an imposter. I’m you from the future.”

Regina approached, and before he could react, she waved her hand in his direction and a puff of purple smoke briefly enveloped him before harmlessly dissipating. She shrugged at Emma and the younger Killian.

“If he’s an imposter, it’s not because of a glamour. It could be something more permanent. Some kind of blood magic.”

Killian growled in frustration, clenching his fists. “It’s not magic, other than the portal that got me here. I swear it, I’ve traveled from the future. You’ve traveled in time; you know it’s possible.”

Emma tucked her arm under her husband’s, all the while she kept her eyes locked on his. “He’s telling the truth. Or thinks he is,” she said to the man beside her, before aiming her next words at him. “Why have you come back in time? What’s happened?”

“He could be tricking your superpower, love,” the younger Killian protested, his arm going protectively around his wife. It made him feel a strange flash of jealousy to see it.

“Okay,” Emma conceded. “So tell me something I’ve only ever told Killian.” She glanced around at Henry and Regina. “Nothing inappropriate, though.”

“Mom.” Henry made a disgusted face.

Killian thought for a few seconds, looping his hook through a belt loop on his jeans while he pondered that riddle. “When you had sex for the first time, you accidentally left your underwear in your boyfriend’s car,” he finally blurted.

“Mom.”

“I said ‘nothing inappropriate’,” Emma said with an eye roll.

“Well, it is true,” younger Killian said, looking at his older counterpart with a little less venom.

Emma sighed. “And I never told that story to anyone else, so I think we can trust that this is really you, unless that guy from Stevenson High School was actually a wizard who figured out time travel and blood magic. Which seems unlikely.”

The younger Killian raised an eyebrow. “Says the person who unwittingly conceived a child with Rumpelstiltskin’s son.” Emma punched him in the arm. “All right, all right. I trust your instincts, darling.” He sheathed his sword.

“Why are you here?” Regina asked. “You must know how dangerous this is, crossing your own timeline like this.”

Killian scratched behind his ear; this was going to be the trickiest part, and it was hard to think when all he wanted to do was take his wife in his arms after so many years without her. “There is a great danger ahead for this realm, and Henry is going to need our help. And for reasons I can’t explain, Storybrooke is going to be closed off for some time.”

“What do you mean, closed off?” Regina demanded.

“For how long?” Emma asked.

He exhaled. “I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you anything that happens. I only can tell you this.” He pointed to his younger self. “You and Regina must stay here to be at Henry’s side. I will return to Storybrooke with Emma.”

“Bollocks,” his younger self said.

“If this realm is so dangerous, then we should all go back to Storybrooke together, and you should return to the future,” Emma said.

The older Killian turned to Henry. “I think you know why that can’t happen, don’t you, lad?”

Henry looked apologetically at his mothers. “Cinderella. I have to find her.”

“So we all stay here,” Emma said. “If there’s danger, I’m not going to just go home and wait for it to be over. Not where my son’s involved.”

Killian looked apologetically at her. He knew it wasn’t enough to say she couldn’t do that simply because it isn’t what happened on his timeline; she had to make the decision for herself. He had a sudden sharp fear that he was going to muck this up, and Emma would refuse to go. What would happen to him then?

He thought about Lucy, and how much more dangerous her existence had made things for all of them. “You’re carrying a child; the product of true love. It’s too dangerous to have that child here; not with what’s coming.”

His counterpart approached, standing toe to toe with him. “You seriously expect me to believe that I’m just going to let my pregnant wife go back to Storybrooke without me?”

Killian looked around and took in the expectant faces of Emma, Henry, and Regina. Gently taking his younger self by the elbow, he led him far enough away that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Aye, because that’s exactly what I did. And she won’t be without you. You’ll just have to be without her for a time.”

“I need more proof. One anecdote about Emma may be enough for her, but it isn’t enough for me.” He put his hand on his sword, his intent clear.

Killian raised an eyebrow at himself. “I don’t want to think about what it will do to the timeline if you kill me.” He sighed heavily. “How about this? You used to imagine that a witch had stolen your father away rather than admit to yourself that he abandoned you. After Milah died, you thought for a long time that you could still hear her speaking to you. The first time you made love to Emma, you shed a few tears, and you were terribly relieved when she didn’t notice—”

“Okay, enough,” his younger counterpart said, blushing to the tips of his ears. “I believe you.”

“I know this is hard. I do. I’ve lived without her for… I’ve lived what you’re about to live.”

Watching his own eyes well up with unshed tears was an odd experience. “How can I…? We fought so hard, overcame so much to be together, we’re about to have a child, and now I have to…”

“You’ll be with Henry, and I can’t overstate how critical it is that you are here to see him through what’s coming. And I promise there will still be people in your life who care about you. It’s not all loneliness.”

“Tell me how long I have to wait. Please.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He put a hand on his younger self’s shoulder, another odd experience. “Everything I’ve said risks your future as it is.”

He saw resignation on his own face, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

The other man looked back at Emma. “Do you have to go right now?”

He remembered what Henry had said in Hyperion Heights. “I’ve been told that we go back tomorrow. You have some time to say goodbye.”

At that, the younger Killian’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Every instinct I have is telling me not to let this happen.”

“I know.”

He watched as the other man’s eyes settled on his prosthetic hand. “I no longer wear the hook?” he asked, the change in pronoun seeming to indicate a growing acceptance that they were truly the same person.

He opened his mouth, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn’t reveal the curse he’d been under. “I haven’t for a time, but I will again.” His breath hitched. “Can I…?” He gestured over to Emma.

The younger Killian didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, gesturing for him to finally go greet his wife.

~*~

“Are you okay?” Regina asked her as Henry excused himself into the cottage to get everyone a drink, saying they probably needed it.

Emma had been watching the two versions of her husband talking in urgent, hushed tones, and dragged her gaze over to her friend. “I don’t love the implication that because I’m pregnant, I need to be sidelined.”

Regina conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “I understand why you feel that way, but I don’t think that’s what this is. Hook from the future has information we don’t have, and if he says a child of true love will be in danger here, then much as I hate to admit it, I believe him.”

“And it’s definitely him? He’s not just some kind of… I don’t know, mind reader or something?”

Regina nodded. “If my magic is to be trusted, then that’s really him.” She watched the two men talk for a few seconds. “He doesn’t look too much older. At least you’re not trading in your hot, young-looking husband for an elderly version.”

“I don’t care about that,” Emma said, although she had to admit to herself that maybe she cared a little bit. “What about you, are you okay? Apparently, you have to stay here too, which is not exactly what you were bargaining for when you left.”

Regina smiled a tight smile. “If Henry needs help, then it’s not even a question. I’ll gladly stay.” Her eyes suddenly turned sad. “But when you see Zelena and Robyn, can you tell them… I don’t know, tell them what happened? And that I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye?”

“Of course. Of course, I will. God, this is so fucked up.”

“To say the least.” Regina laughed suddenly. “Do you know what you should do?”

“What?”

“Take both of them to bed together.”

“Oh my God, Regina.”

“Oh come on, you weren’t thinking it?”

Emma looked over at the Killians again. “Well, I’m thinking it now.” She shook her head quickly to dispel the pornographic images that Regina’s comment had summoned. “No, no. This isn’t fun sexy time. I’ve got to say goodbye to one of them.”

“All the more reason to make a memory you won’t soon forget,” Regina said.

“Stop it,” Emma murmured as the version of her husband that had come through the time portal approached. While he wore similar black jeans to what she was used to, his jacket was cloth instead of leather, and he seemed to wear only a t-shirt under it. Most noticeably, he had a prosthetic hand on the end of his left arm.

Seeing the longing in his eyes, Emma met him and was pulled into a crushing hug. She clung to his back, feeling the way he trembled to hold her. “Gods, I’ve missed you, Swan.”

She didn’t know how to respond; saying she’d missed him too didn’t make any sense, when she’d been with him all along. “I’m sorry,” Emma responded instead. “I’m sorry you had to be away from me.”

He finally pulled back and put his hand on her abdomen. “The babe is okay?”

“As far as I know, yeah.” She frowned. “So, do you not remember all of this from his perspective?” she said, gesturing toward her husband in leather.

“Almost none of it, no. My memory of it is obscured.”

“Huh. So when do we have to go?” she asked as Henry emerged from his door with a bottle and a stack of clay cups.

“Not right away.” His eyes flitted to his younger self. “I won’t whisk you away from the other me so quickly. Take some time.”

“I don’t really have extra space for anyone to bunk with me, but you could build a fire and set up some bedrolls, maybe?” Henry said, looking apologetic.

Emma put her hand on her back, thinking of the pain a night on the hard ground would cause her. “Or maybe we could find an inn?”

~*~

“So I leave with him in the morning?” Emma asked as she sat down gingerly on the bed.

Killian shot her a frown from his position by the window. “That’s what the Henry of the future told him occurred.” The inn they were staying at overlooked the town square, and even at this very late hour, the sound of revelry reached her ears, both from the common room below them and from the street outside. Carriages rattled over the cobblestone streets, horse hooves clattering and setting her teeth on edge. Once she might have been used to so much racket, albeit of a different sort: car horns, mostly. But Emma had lived for years now on a quiet street in bucolic Storybrooke, and she doubted she’d be able to sleep now with all this noise.

She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “How long did he say it would be before you see me again?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “He wouldn’t tell me.” He continued to stare out of the window. “Long enough for him to miss you terribly.”

Emma stood back up and approached him. “This isn’t goodbye. He’s you, and you’re him, and that means you will see me again.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m sending you off to have our happily ever after with another man?” Emma could see his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

She shrugged. “Because this is a stupid, fucked-up, sci-fi situation.” She reached out and tentatively stroked his arm. “I get it; if I was in your shoes, I’d be furious. And jealous of myself, which is completely bonkers, but there it is.”

He turned from the window finally, and there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. “You’re pregnant, Emma, and I won’t… I know that because he’ll be with you, that means that I will. Intellectually, I know that. But I can’t stop the feeling that I’m abandoning you and our unborn child.”

She took his face in her hands. “You aren’t. You did the opposite of that, you bent time itself to ensure that you’d be with me and with Henry every step of the way, and fuck, of course you did, because that’s how much you love us. You aren’t abandoning me. He isn’t another man. He’s you.” She pressed their foreheads together. “He’s you.”

They stood silently that way for a long time. “Aye.”

Emma pulled away slightly and smiled, trying to put on a brave face. “And he can’t have been separated from me for that long; he doesn’t look much older than you do.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “I know better than anyone that there are scores of magical reasons that aging can be arrested. For all I know, he could have lived another century.” He shook his head in frustration. “I may have to live another century before I see you again.”

Pulling him into a hug, Emma squeezed her eyes shut. What could she say? She didn’t have to be separated from him, but he had to be separated from her. It was a cruel sort of gift.

Killian exhaled into her hair. “Where’d he… I… run off to anyway?”

She shrugged. “You seemed to want to give us some space to… you know. Say goodbye.” Emma blushed, which was stupid, she thought. She’d had sex with her husband hundreds of times — it shouldn’t be making her blush to refer to it.

He caressed her arm. “You don’t need to feel obligated to…”

“Give you one last fuck for the road?”

That finally brought out a whisper of a smile on his face. “Aye. I have many pleasant memories of nights with you to sustain me for however long it takes.”

Emma raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Yeah, but what else are we going to do? We could either lie here feeling sad and counting your remaining minutes with me, or we could make one more memory to help, like you said, sustain you.”

Killian leaned forward and kissed her softly, just a gentle brush of his lips against hers. “Only if it’s what you want, love.”

Shrugging her jacket off, Emma let it drop to the floor before draping her arms over Killian’s shoulders. “What I want is for you not to suffer through this separation and who knows what else when you’ve had to endure so much grief in your life already. What I want is for this time loop crap to take a long walk off a short pier. But since I can’t have those things, I’ll take a few minutes where all I have to think about is how amazing you make me feel. And I’ll take seeing that look you get on your face right before you come. Okay?”

He swept in quickly, gathering her up and slanting his mouth over hers. Their tongues met, familiar and comforting at the same time that it made her stomach swoop. Killian was suddenly all barely-restrained passion, his hook pressed tight against the curve of her ass as he plundered her mouth.

They undressed each other gradually, something they hadn’t done in a long time. Killian pulled her t-shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor as he pushed her bra strap off her shoulder and sealed his mouth over her collarbone, a sharp suck making Emma’s hips jerk in reaction. Once she could regain enough presence of mind, she reached for his belt, pulling it open and moving on to the button and zipper of his jeans. His hand slid behind her back to unclasp her bra. Hers slid his shirt off of his shoulders and unbuckled the straps holding his brace on his arm. Eventually, they settled into bed, the sheets rough against her skin and the mattress uncomfortable compared to their bed at home. Still, she was with her husband, his skin warm and muscles firm against her body, and that was all that really mattered.

Killian was drinking her in with his eyes, his fingertips slowly tracing over her breast. She imagined that he was trying to commit everything to memory, the only thing he would be left with for who knew how long. Quelling her own impatience, Emma settled against the bedding and let him look his fill.

“I swore to you that I would always be by your side,” he murmured, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss against her breastbone. “I guess this was the only way for me to keep that promise.”

Blinking back tears, Emma caressed his face. “No sadness right now, okay?” She forced herself to smile as her hand trailed down his chest to his stomach. “I just want to make you feel good.”

He didn’t answer that other than to lean over and kiss her, pulling her lower lip between his and nipping gently with his teeth. “I want to memorize the way you taste,” Killian said, sliding down her body, mouth tracing a pattern across her ribs. Emma looked down at the crown of his head, at the little swirl of a cowlick that she found so endearing, and she brought her hand up to trace the soft locks with her fingers. She smiled. "You haven't memorized that by now?" His answering smile was pressed against the small swell of her belly. "I'll admit I've made a regular study of it. But allow me one more attempt to commit it to memory, love." Giggling at the ticklish brush of his beard at the crease where her leg met her pelvis, Emma closed her eyes. "If you must," she replied with an exaggerated imperious air. He gave her a playful pinch on the bottom in response as he positioned himself between her spread thighs and lowered his mouth to her sex.

Sometimes when he did this, Emma felt a certain self-imposed pressure to enjoy it sufficiently, to show him how good he was. He was good, always had been, but she’d always felt a tiny nugget of discomfort in being the singular focus of Killian’s attention in bed. It was easier to take control — flip him over and ride him into oblivion, both of them reaching for their climaxes together. Being on the receiving end of Killian’s attentions, spread open and vulnerable like this, taking pleasure and not giving any in return, had taken some getting used to. Emma used to reach desperately for the orgasm she felt like she owed him, so that his efforts would feel worth it. But eventually, he’d noticed, and Killian had patiently explained to her that he enjoyed pleasuring her for the journey, not the destination. Still, old habits died hard, and even now she had to remind herself to relax and enjoy the journey.

Emma floated in a hazy, shallow lake of pleasure, her hips slowly undulating in time with the laps of his tongue and the movement of his fingers. She didn’t have any particular need to rush this. They had all night, and if this was the last time Killian could be with her for a long while, then she would stay awake for him, the exhaustion brought on by her pregnancy be damned.

When she began to feel a little oversensitive, she reached down and stroked his cheek, and he pulled away and kissed the palm of her hand, his fingers continuing a slow thrust in and out of her.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice soft and raspy.

“Come here,” she said, and he gave one final kiss to the inside of her thigh before crawling up her body. Emma reached for his erection, guiding him to her entrance. He pushed into her cautiously; he was always a little bit cautious with her these days, no matter how many times she assured him that sex wouldn’t hurt her or the baby, and that she enjoyed it as rough as she always had. But the perfect slide of his cock, dragging against her sensitive walls and touching something deep inside, was exactly what she needed. “Yes, right there,” she gasped, gripping his back as she drew her knees up alongside his hips.

Killian maintained a very slow rhythm, and Emma could tell he was trying to make it last as long as possible. His eyes were wide open, staring at her, drinking her in. She craned her neck up and kissed him, his beard still wet from her body, and she savored the way her taste lingered in his mouth.

They moved together, quiet and slow, slick and open, every stroke nudging her another hair’s breadth closer to release. When she finally fell, it was easy, and she forced her eyes to stay open so she could watch him watching her. Killian’s orgasm almost seemed to take him unawares, every muscle tightening, his face contracting as he groaned through clenched teeth.

He held her close for a long time afterward, nuzzling into her hair, the tension in his arms revealing his true feelings now that the sex was over.

“I love you,” Killian murmured into her skin. “I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes to be with you again, I swear it.”

“It won’t be that long, Killian.” She stroked his hair, trying to soothe his fears. “The time will pass in a flash.”

She could tell he was fighting sleep, but he dozed off after only a few minutes, his soft breath puffing out against her neck. Carefully, Emma extracted herself from his embrace. She cleaned herself up as best she could with a cloth, then pulled her clothes back on and crept out of the room.

Chapter 3

#cs ff #ouat s7 fic #s7 au ff #captain swan ff #cs smut #the nonlinear property of time fic #my fic

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Andrew Garfield x Female Reader: New Rule (Forty-Fucking-Three, Part 2)

A/N: To all those beautiful human beings who have been patiently waiting for this - I am so sorry it took me so long. There’s not much Andrew in this part (I’m sorry, this had to be written in order to put things into perspective), but in the next one (which will probably come out during the week) there’s going to be quite a lot of him… I’m actually planning on making two more parts of it, but only if you guys are interested. Feel free to message me with your opinion on the matter :) As always, I can’t ever thank you enough for taking your time to read this. This really means the world to me. I really hope you enjoy it, lads xx  Warnings: Overall sadness? A couple of swear words. My English… The usual, really. Oh, and also, there is that friend. The one who wants to warn you, but always ends up giving you all sorts of ideas instead… :) 

New to the series? Start by chilling at LAX

 here

!

The ride to Ritz took place in a deafening silence, as you stared stubbornly out the window, refusing to acknowledge Teddy’s concerned stare. Drops of rain rolled down the toned glass, blocking your vision, making it impossible for you to figure out where you were exactly and how much time was left until you could finally let out the sobs you kept swallowing down, in the silence of your empty, lifeless room with a king-size bed.

Struggling to make out the silhouettes of the speeding cars, rushing past the limo, you wondered where these strangers were hurrying. Bright, blurry shine of their headlights blinded you, but you refused to close your eyes. LA was heartbreakingly beautiful tonight. 

You knew he wasn’t coming, yet in that frantic whirl of completely oblivious people, driving their fancy cars, your eyes were still searching for him.

Ironically enough, the minute you walked into your Presidential suite, you didn’t feel tired anymore. Teddy carried your suitcases to your bedroom, not a word escaping his lips. Meanwhile, you made your way to the French windows and, dropping your bag on the floor, tore the curtains open, sparkling Los Angeles, naked and wet, unfolding before your eyes.

“I am coming for you at 7 am, is that right?” you could see Teddy’s reflection on the window surface as he paused in the doorway, waiting for your confirmation.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice strangely low. “Once I am done with Ellen’s show, you are free to go on your well-deserved holiday, Teddy”, you turned around to face him, hugging yourself.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, confused.

“I’ll explain everything tomorrow”, you hurriedly added before he could ask any more questions. “I’m sorry you did not make it to your kids tonight”. Teddy gave you an almost invisible smile before shaking his head slightly and disappearing behind closed doors.

And just like that, you were left all alone, one-on-one with your thoughts.

Exhaling noisily, you fell onto the ground in front of the window, not even bothering to reach a very comfortable-looking sofa further away. You dumbly stared into the ceiling, your mind completely numb yet restless. As much as you needed to get some sleep, you weren’t entirely sure that this was what the stars had in line for you for tonight. Turning your head towards your bag, your cheek feeling cold at the contact with the parquet floor, you pulled your bag closer by the shoulder strap. 

You knew you could allow yourself to cry freely now, but tears simply weren’t coming. God knows you wanted to cry. You wanted to cry, yell, scream at the top of your lungs, but its like your emotional switch was finally turned off.

You felt like you simply didn’t care enough to bother doing anything anymore.

Bringing your upper body abruptly up, you sat down, your legs crossed, tucking a strand of lose hair behind your ear. Digging in your bag, placed in your lap now, with both of your hands, a minute later you found what you were looking for. With your heart treacherously skipping a beat, you made the display of your phone come alive under your fingertips.

Seven missed calls. 

With your hands trembling, you slid you finger across the display, opening up his messages.

You groaned, dropping your phone back into your bag and burying your face in your hands.

If you could get a dollar each time you got this kind of messages from Andrew Garfield, you’d be as rich as J.K. Rowling by now. In fact, you could abandon your acting career on the spot, and the money you’d have accumulated would have lasted you a couple of lifetimes.

At least he wasn’t trying to reach you anymore.

All of the sudden, you felt an urge to talk to someone. To let it all out. If you couldn’t cry tears, you were sure as hell going to shower someone with words. 

And you knew just the right person for the job.

You met Brittnee, your voice of reason, at one of the movie premieres you attended back when you went out with Dane. She was there with one of her best friends – Ben Barnes, King Caspian himself. He was the one to introduce you to each other, and you have been inseparable ever since. You deemed yourselves lucky if you could meet in person at least once a month – being Ben’s publicist, she had a very hectic schedule – but that didn’t seem to stop her from being there for you when you needed her. You’d been calling her a lot lately, and although she was always happy to hear your voice, you knew she wished you’d have been calling for all the different reasons.

Feeling your head throb with yet another fit of a dull kind of ache, you got hold of your cellphone again, speed dialing the only person in the world who could stop you from making stupid choices you knew you’d regret in the morning. As you prayed for her to still be up, you heard a clinking noise, followed by an overly cheerful hello for three o’clock in the morning.

“Hey Britt, it’s me,” you bit your lips, staring at the winking city behind the glass. “Did I wake you? Where are you?”

“Y/N?” her voice suddenly came down an octave, the cheerfulness of it replaced by worry. “Are you okay? I’m in New York”, you internally groaned at the mention of the city you’d have razed to the ground if you could. “I just got back to my hotel room, I’ve been at this perfume event with Ben… It really did last forever! What’s going on, chica?”

“Do you want me to call you after you’ve gotten some sleep? I totally can”, all at once, you felt like you should stop bothering Britt with your stupid problems. She warned you about this. You shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess in the first place.

Yet here you were, sleepless and weary, wanting nothing more than to rewind the time back to when you could still walk away from it all.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in LA, doll? With Andrew? Where is he?” Britt inquired, pretending she didn’t hear your words. It was as if she could read your thoughts. You sighed heavily, brushing your hair back with you cold fingers.

“Out fucking I suppose,” you answered bitterly, dropping your head and closing your eyes. “He stood me up. I’m at Ritz, and he keeps bombarding me with messages of how sorry he is”. 

It was right there and then that you’d finally felt it – a giant lump, rising in your throat, blocking your breathing. Desperately trying to regain your composure, you inhaled deeply, but it seemed to only tighten your windpipe. You could feel your eyes water, and you fought the tears of stress and fatigue back with all the force that was left in you.

“Okay, Y/N, listen to me,” Britt’s determination resonated in her voice, so strong it made you open your eyes and raise your head back up. “It’s about time you stopped ignoring my every word, and listened to me just this once. Are you following?”

You nodded slowly first, but when you realized she couldn’t see you, you barely muttered a yes.

“What did I tell you the last time we had this conversation?” her speech became softer now. “Do you remember?”

“Yes,” you spoke more confidently now. “But I can’t just leave him. What kind of person would that make me? He won’t handle Ellen’s show all on his own…”

You could hear Britt puff her lips sarcastically, before she interrupted you:

“What kind of person would that make you?” she repeated in disbelief. “You could handle being left alone, when he promised you he’d show, couldn’t you?” she paused for a second, letting the meaning of her words settle in. “Is he with her again?”

“Yes,” you could barely feel your lips as they emitted that odious word. “He is”.

You were almost certain you heard Britt swear under her breath.

“Well, isn’t that just fantastic!” she was probably pacing in her hotel room now. “That guy just begs me to go winter soldier on his ass!” 

At any other time, you’d probably kill yourself laughing. Now you weren’t sure you were capable of handling even another breath.

“I’m out,” you heard yourself say all of the sudden. “I’m going to that Ellen’s show in several hours, and then I’m out. For good.”

Silence hang in the air for about a minute, which seemed like a century to you. Then Brittnee cleared her throat.

“Then what?” she asked simply.

You gripped your bag tightly in one hand, pressing the phone to your ear with the other. Standing up, you could feel your stiff legs shake, yet somehow you still managed not to fall.

“I don’t know yet,” you threw your bag on the sofa as you passed it by on your way to the bedroom. “Any ideas?”

“You gotta get yourself another acting deal, Y/N”, Britt’s voice was serious now. This was a publicist talking. “It will give you a legit excuse to ditch all the Breath’s promotional campaigns. I hear Tony Kushner is looking for an actress for one of his new plays… Rehearsals are going to start any day now…”

“How do I get in touch with him?” falling down on an enormous bed fully closed, you suddenly felt the weight of the world lifting off your chest. Brittnee’s voice was lulling your tired mind to sleep, making you feel peaceful.

“I’ll get in touch with him on your behalf. One of his people will most likely call you tomorrow morning. Don’t tell your publicist though, she ain’t gonna like it,” she said, as you heard her scribbling something down on a paper. “And Y/N,” she paused, making sure you were listening. “About tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t let you do if I were there. Just because you have finally decided to burn the bridges doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to adopt the now or never attitude, okay? I can’t believe I’m quoting Dua Lipa’s New Rules here, but if you’re under him, you ain’t getting over him.”

Your eyes flew open at her insinuations, as you sat on your bed, astounded.

“What the hell are you hinting at, Britt?” you spoke, your voice coming out higher than you’d expected.

“You know”, she replied calmly. She then continued after a while:

“I honestly have no idea how you’ve managed to keep your feelings a secret from him all this time. You must really be a good actress”.

You gaped at her words, caught completely off guard. A wave of protest rose in your chest, as you felt your insides freeze.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice as cold as ice.

“Funny,” you could feel her smile at you kindly. “Because everyone else in the world does. Except that idiot, of course”.

After thanking Brittnee and saying your goodbyes, you forced yourself back on your feet. Having taken a cold shower, you crawled into bed, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. 

She was wrong. 

She had to be wrong.

Because you were so much smarter than falling in love with your fake boyfriend after having dumped him. 

You had to be smarter than that.

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x reader #reader insert #x reader #amazing spider-man #ben barnes #imagine