#also in my dream wee john was two different people

[kidneys-and-custard]

This morning, I had a dream where I made a list of people in Our Flag Means Death I’d like to see get more screen time. The top people on the list were Osric Chau, Billy Moran, Mike Borja and Stephen Norton. I guess Rob Benedict got a fair amount of screen time. (Not to mention none of them are in that show)

[suffersinfandom]

I love the second season of OFMD. I honestly love it even more than the first season! The emotional highs and lows hit even harder. The first three episodes are, in my opinion, Perfect Television, and episodes four and five are currently my favorite things to rewatch. Even the weaker episodes have moments that are completely brilliant and had me yelling at my laptop at two in the morning the first time I experienced them. 

But the season did have its flaws. The secondary characters really take a backseat to Ed and Stede, and I especially felt this with Jim. Izzy’s character development between seasons one and two and then between episodes four and five felt hurried and, sometimes, unearned. Episodes six, seven, and eight all work for me emotionally, but they all have story/pacing/continuity issues that the rest of the show doesn't.

I don’t blame the team for any of this! Given the shorter season and stringent limits on episode length, I understand why the crew focused on hitting all of the beats of Ed and Stede’s story at the expense of other storylines. It also seems like there was heavy interference in the back half of the season, and yeah, that makes episodes six, seven, and eight make more sense to me. Would’ve loved to see what those episodes might have looked like if season two had been given the same amount of freedom as season one.

Anyway, I’ve been dreaming about fix-its for season two and here are my top suggestions that no one asked for.

The ultimate fix: Add five to ten minutes to each episode (and tell the higher-ups to kick rocks if they want to make changes).

My faith in the writers is so absolute that I think this would fix most things. Jenkins and company are fantastic writers with solid handles on the story they want to tell, and every cut moment that we’ve seen has been so good. Given more time and freedom to tell their story, I honestly think they would’ve given us a season two that exceeded all expectations. But barring that…

Fix 1: Alter Izzy’s storyline.

One of the big stumbling blocks for me was Izzy. I know that some people love his storyline, and that’s okay! This is a fix-it list for me, not for them! I feel like we spent a lot of time with Izzy that might’ve been better spent elsewhere and his development didn’t feel earned. I just didn’t believe that he was a different guy by episode five, you know? So here’re a few ideas:

1A. Kill Izzy offscreen between seasons (the Ivan Treatment, if you will). I know this would never happen, but gosh, it'd save us from some discourse and free up a bunch of time.

1B. Make Izzy’s development more gradual. Make him resistant to helping Stede in episode five and bitchier towards the crew. Have him scowling in the background during Calypso’s birthday party. Don’t have him stroll in on Ed and Stede the morning after. Throw in a few moments where we see him wanting to change and be better. Give him a more subtle moment to show that he's better (and give Wee John the spotlight during the party).

1C. Spread out Izzy’s rehabilitation arc and have him receive the unicorn leg in episode eight. This frees up more time for other stuff and Izzy can live until the next season when his arc concludes -- everyone wins!

Fix 2: Cut Oluwande and Zheng Yi Sao’s romantic subplot.

It hurts me to suggest this because I love these two characters, but if we want to free up more time for character development, I think cutting into their subplot (and giving that time to Jim and Olu) is the way to go. They can still be friends! Maybe friends with an inkling that they’ll be romantically involved in the next season? But I really needed Jim and Olu to have more time together, and I think it would’ve been easy enough to establish an Olu/Jim/Archie polycule with hints that Zheng might be interested in that whole situation.

Fix 3: Give Ed more time with the crew.

I really, really wanted to see Ed and the crew work themselves out. Ed’s time with Fang was fantastic and I’d give anything for similar moments with, say, Jim and Frenchie. I also wanted some kind of resolution with Lucius. The season works for me without this -- I think that we’re meant to infer from Ed’s actions in episode five that he’s putting in the work with the whole crew -- but I want it. I want to see it with my eyeballs.

Fix 4: Add some songs for me personally.

Okay, I don’t think that adding any of the following songs would make the season materially better, but I still want to see:

- Kraken era “When Doves Cry” sequence - Smooching set to “Because the Night” - ABBA! Either “SOS” or “Lay All Your Love On Me”

That’s it, really! I know that cutting down Izzy and Olu/Zheng would’ve made some folks unhappy, so it’s probably just as well that David Jenkins didn’t ask me for a beta read.

And don’t get me wrong -- I’m so happy with the season two that we have. I don’t need it to be different, I just need Samba to release everything that was cut so we can string together our own director’s cut.

[quillyfied]

Okay next batch of episode thoughts that I don’t know that I can expand into real coherent thoughts so heck it we’re doing it live and cramming them together, no chronology just memory vibes, PART TWO:

- “that’s six inches of silver in your scapula” MADAM.

- They’re doing an amazing job of showing Izzy in a pure pathetic state. I still have a lot of conflicted emotions about him but his increased confidence and ease around the ship BECAUSE the crew is taking time to be kind to him is…it’s. I don’t. GOLD UNICORN LEG OKAY. THE CARE THEY ARE SHOWING HIM AND HE DOES NOT DESERVE IT AND HE KNOWS IT AND HE BELIEVES IT BUT IT IS CHANGING HIM FOR THE BETTER ANYWAY.

- once again my expectations are being undercut. Of course Buttons isn’t the rabbit. Silly of me to think that. Of course he isn’t going to screw up turning into a seagull. He’s Buttons.

- …he’s coming back, though, right?? Guys Buttons is coming back at some point, right????

- Hang on have to go giggle about Izzy dragging himself across the floor mumbling existential horrors and shouting at the unicorn and then barking at people knocking on his door.

- Also have to giggle about the two halves of the crew coming at each other trying to help in two different ways and talking it through on their own, without Stede’s direct interference. I’m so proud of them.

- Wee John might just be slowly transforming into a mermaid. And I want his sweater.

- Ed referring to himself and the rabbit as lone wolves but immediately imprinting on the thing—and it not leaving him, either.

- HES SCARED OF SPIDERS

- How instantly Ed is glad to see Mary and Anne though. And the secret handshake with Anne. I cry.

- I also cry over how Anne instantly smells blood in the water with Stede before even knowing his connection to Ed.

- Like I guess Buttons not coming back makes sense bc he gave the most profound advice of the entire show and then flew off as a seagull, thereby completing his life’s dream, but have they considered the fact that I will miss him.

- (And so will the crew)

- I love that Ed and Stede finally have it out and get to a point where they can start to heal. I also find it so interesting to see the difference in what the fandom thought would be important to bring up, and what the show itself seems important to bring up. Stede could have blamed Badminton for his cowardice, but he doesn’t; he owns it and makes a greater stride towards mending things with Ed and being better himself. Ed could have mentioned what Izzy said to him, but instead he’s starting to work at the greater issue of his own self-loathing and how that drove him to harming the crew. It’s entirely possible that those details will come up later, but. I think Izzy has a point when he says it’s better to patch things with fiction (or silence) than never moving on. And maybe the hashing out of this stuff belongs to fanfic, not to canon. Because the events themselves don’t matter so much to canon as does what those events represented and THAT is what is getting fixed and addressed.

- Mary Read’s whole thing about “this is what an adult relationship looks like.” I have so many conflicted personal feelings about it. The summary: never been in a romantic relationship before and now at an age where I’ve witnessed plenty but I’m terrified of how I’ll be if and when that ever happens for me, bc the only experiences I’ve got is watching others and fiction. And I just was listening to both my mom and sister in law talking about how so many women my sil’s age have gotten divorced bc their expectations for what a marriage is were unrealistic, how marriage is more like a business transaction. And I was too scared to ask for clarification at the time. And I really do wonder if Mary has a point, yknow. When the mystery fades and the magic is gone…what’s left? Bc fiction tells us one thing. Real life often tells another. Dying alone doesn’t sound fun but it sounds better than accidentally ruining my and/or someone else’s life based on a false hope, yknow?

- Anyway that’s way too personal time to move on

- TO ANNE SETTING THEIR STIFLING LIFE ABLAZE AND REALLY REKINDLING THAT ROMANCE WITH MARY. HELL YEAH LADIES GET IT.

- I know it’s never gonna be addressed but please can the satanic ship be addressed at some point, even as a throwaway line

- (Also patiently awaiting the literal translation of what the dying priest was saying)

- PUT STEDE BACK IN FINE FABRICS 1717

- The absolute ball you know they were all having with this episode. Rhys Darby your FACE when screaming at Izzy after he reiterates that it’s cursed.

- Just the sheer hope in Ed’s face as he witnesses Buttons(?) fly away, as he submits to the jumpsuit and cat bell, the enthusiasm with which he jumps in to go fishing with Fang. The man is going through it but I love seeing him so earnest

- LUCIUS THO. SO MANY THOUGHTS. First and foremost I want his outfit this season, forget Stede’s cursed suit for a minute let’s talk about how Lucius is SERVING this season (and why it’s making me more hopeful for ABBA on the soundtrack at some point)

- How Pete gets through to him by pointing out that HE LIVED BITCH. TALK ABOUT A PERSPECTIVE CHANGE. Also the various blackbeard doodles I’m dying

- Izzy turning the tables on Lucius. I love a good parallel.

- Pete tho. Marry the F out of that man, Lu, he’s a keeper.

- “Loner artsy types” EXPLAIN CALICO JACK TO ME

- AND ALSO I NEED NAMES AND DESCRIPTIONS OF THESE OTHER ARTSY LONER TYPES

- Fang is such a wonderful character and we are so blessed to have him. I was a little wary that Fang was going to try and off (or offload) Ed just to make the crew feel better, but what we got was so much softer and better. Teaching Ed in such a gentle and honest way to examine himself! To sit with himself and learn to value the company! Telling Ed that he’s been crossing boundaries for a long time and giving Ed space to apologize and process! HIS NAME IS KEVIN AND IT’S A FOUR HUNDRED YEAR OLD TRADITION.

- Listen. Listen. Listen. Shirtless Con O’Niell is. A gift. That shirtlessness belonging to the character of Izzy is a little more of a conflict for me but given that Izzy has entered his “little shit and owning it” phase, I’m inclined to enjoy it.

- Also the SHEER BALLS on Stede Bonnet to manipulate Izzy into teaching him some piracy bits. That little stutter when Izzy tries to act unaffected but still asks what Blackbeard said about him. I’m just. Omg.

- And the way Stede sucks at the practicality but he excels at the instinctive/emotional bits. How he’s so creative and genuine and absolutely won his crew’s respect and loyalty and continues to prove that he’s worth it. I ADORE Stede Bonnet.

- Okay I gotta I gotta I gotta: KISS NUMBER TWOOOOOOO. I’ve only kissed one person in my time so far but I remember the moment after that initial dam break, when it occurred to me that I was allowed to kiss this person again; something about the casual way Ed and Stede both lean in just feels the same way to me. Like this is their new normal and they like it. And ADORE Ed setting a boundary and Stede immediately respecting it. AND. THE FINGERS. THE PLAYING. Comparing their games to what Anne and Mary get up to, it does make me hopeful that a mature relationship can be comfortable and playful and sweet and not just a grind or a business transaction. Idk man.

- Now I fully forgot that the episodes have post credits scenes so my reactions to them are not included here but I’ll be rewatching all five episodes later tonight so maybe a separate little baby post about them later.

[amidst-wonderland]

{random nora + michael (ft. george + rosie) headcanons}

[part one] + [part two]

nora calls her english friends "hen" even if they're a few years older than her. like, esme, ada & gina but she wouldn't dare dream of doing it to her scottish friends who are older than her.

people in a past have assumed that nora was jack's wife when they moved to the us. what didn't help was michael and nora's son being called "jack" (named after john shelby) which resulted in nora wanting to call him ian instead. it didn't catch-on.

nora has a tattoo. it's a small rose at the bottom of her back. it was given to her by one of sabini's bartenders that eilidh swore fancied nora.

nora's got a few different nicknames:

michael calls her nonie the mcleod's call her nory esme calls her red john calls her trouble (alec is also partial to that)

nora calls michael ‘gray’ (she’d started it before they got married) and it seemed to just stick.

not having any cultural traditions really bothered nora now looking back on her wedding day and as someone who has a passion for colours, clothes and patterns she hated how bloody bland her wedding was.

     “never liked these ‘hings.” nora idly gestured picking at the leftover chicken george didn’t want to eat. “didnae even like ma ain.”      esme softly winces at the memory of nora’s rather disastrous wedding day. a pregnant nippy eighteen-year-old, johnny dogs mediating and polly's vulture-like dotting on the scottish girl making sure her future daughter-in-law couldn’t do a runner, did not make for an easy morning of.      “at least am no up the spout at this one but gray’s naewhere to be seen as-fucking-usual.”      “hardly an ideal situation – mine wasn’t any better. john ended it sleeping in the allotment.”      “alec’s wis nice. hid the auld traditional shite ah felt lit ah needed tae hiv – faither ae the bride, ceilidh and haundfasting ‘though didnae shed a tear over nae blackening. jane fucking stunk fir days, apparently.”

gina removed the ruby from nora's lighter (nora assumed it fell out due to its age) and years later gave her it back in a necklace for her birthday.

nora didn't end up selling john's rings to move out of the pub. she just stashed them away for emergencies.

[this] is modern!nora's wedding dress, just a little bit of a more fluffy, whimsical skirt

when they move into a bigger house in glasgow the kids, rosie more-so struggle to sleep in their own beds, let alone their own room as they've been sharing a bed with nora for the past five-years.

when rosie was born, colin bought his granddaughter a copy of 'winnie-the-pooh' and the sequel every subsequent birthday they released.

when the kids were a little older they'd play pretend and preform small plays from their books for a highly amused drunk crowd of their parents. rosie's favourite is always peter pan, and the seven-year-old likes making it clear to her cousins that, "my mum did the play so i get to be tinkerbell and katie has to be mrs. darling because she's ginger, like mum." (it helped that she was the youngest and the easiest to lift, so nobody really objected to their little cousin bossing them around.) the boys were just happy to smack each-other with wooden swords in the 'pirate fights'.

i have literally nowhere else to put this so here's modern!nora and teen rosie after she gets in trouble at school. (george's gone to uni to do an english degree and michael's in the us so she's acting out a bit):

     “oi, ah heard aff mrs morrison in the landin’ you gave that chantelle lassie a right thumpin’ oan yer lunch.” nora pulled her daughter off to the side by the wrist, “why?”      “wrong place, wrong time.”      “y’know i’d believe that pish fae yer uncle, yer faither and mebbe yer brother, but no you; no ma rosie.”      the teen scoffed, “that’s not very forward thinking of you mum, it’s the twenty-first century, lassie-“      “-rosie,” nora laughs, “don’t take this the wrang way hen, but you’re a lazy wee shite at the best ah times. you don’t dae nuthin’ fir nuthin’.”      “i’m a big girl now, puberty changes-”      “-wrap it hen, whit she say?”      “mum, its fine.”      “rosalin.”

polly and rosie are inherently alike and share a lot of similar traits but polly also has quite the soft-spot for george (although esme's convinced it's just unresolved projection).

nora still feels like george's protector in comparison to rosie. he won't take nonsense from the boys in school but he's pretty quiet compared to his peers and prefers his own company and she knows the type of trouble boys in the area get into, especially mcleods.

[ethersierra]

Steeplechase episode 1 thoughts- THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. These are like live posts but all in one okay?

WE GOT CONFIRMED FIRST NAME PC SPELLINGS :D

,, starting out with a non McElroy voice👀 Krystal with a k?

STEEPY WATCH. Like Disney video blogs oh my god ily

"Don't eat the flakes" we are getting some heavy social commentary here about corporations

Dentonic made a one of a kind enamel pin with gold ahaha who would do something like that 👁️

OH MY GOD THE INTRO SONG ❤️❤️❤️❤️ it reminds me of John Cena I'm sorry but it's so good. And we've got all these different elements going on with it oh my god I'm obsessed let me memorize it into my skull

Strong opener Justin mhm

I should have had "Griffin wreaks havoc out of game in his role as a player" and "Travis makes a sex joke" on the bingo card

The woman from the sky yesyeysyes

HER ACCENT I LOVE HER SO MUCH. She's my favorite already I I'm i

THE CHARACTER VOICES- beef's is so fun

Griffin started talking and I thought he was speaking as Montrose and I was about to say "dude that's JUST your voice" .. I am a wee bit foolish

WAIT THERES A LYNDON VOICE AND A BEEF VOICE <3

Montrose has an old timey rich guy voice (carnival barker) aND IT FITS SO WELL WITH WHAT HE DOES I SHOULD JAVE SEEN THIS COMING

Warm bodies? Is uhhh there a lot of cold ones?

GRAVEL<3

Does Montroses voice count as an accent because I think it should. It has a certain cadence to it . Also I want a bingo spot.

A big unveiliiiiiing 👀 they are dropping the pin in cereal. I uhh I missed that connector tbh I did not realize it was related. That's what I get for pausing so much lol

Do you think they're gonna eat the cereal to get to the pin

I love the ominous carnival music in the background

YAY DICE ARE OUT BABY. Mechanics baby

I want a carnitas tostada so bad right now. It's not related to the plot but idk the music reminds me of it

SHEETS?🥺🤞❤️

Of course Justin would combine his two loves of theme parks and cereal

Slipper, matchstick, and trashbag. I love you Justin for opening a random object generator and deciding that these are your NPCs.

Sorry but is that Minecraft sheep in the background right now?

"assault" "a pepper" shoulda put Travis makes a dumb joke on the bingo too

I like that the rule is once you start planning you're already there

I like that they're gonna undercut the other thieves akdnakndak

UESTACE!! AND WE GOT A SPELLING❤️ the bad news is that it's abysmal! I think it's supposed to be futuristic though. Gotta update the wiki.

Hold on. The hard light grandpa calls him papa and also does manual labor. They really are alive huh

I like that though. Very Pinocchio though in a kinda fucked up future way

Emerich wears a jumpsuit coverall 😌💪 win for character design. Also I love him he's the IT guy in an appliances guy kinda way

Also is steeplechase title the sleeping beauty font <3

CLINT ROLLED GOOD!!!!! REAL GOOD!

Oooh Montrose stealth by blending iiiiin I love this character. I think that these characters play well into the player strengths!!

Justin is doing so good by the way I knew he would be great as a GM !!!!<3

I need trav to crit fail this cereal roll so bad that beef takes damage

HAHAHAHA HE GOT TWO ONES ARE YOU KIDDING I HAVE THE FORESIGHT OF A GOD

CRIT AGAIN CRIT AGAIN

Awww. Good enough for me. This is fun

That was a sneaky move to get them away ayeheh

I don't quite get how the dice works

OH HE GOES MASKLESS. A PLAIN FACE. we did think that would be something but, (is now a good time to reference the dream thing...)

Oooh he actually got the guard to leave his post👀

Perception check😏 sorry sorry "survey"

TAKE TWO STRESS👀👀👁️👀👁️👀👁️ I like that mechanic a lot

I expect many more "he beefed it" jokes in the future

Finally. A TAZ campaign with vloggers.

I really like the dynamic here with Montrose and the people it's fun

Also Montrose is doing this whole STEALTH thing toooo a Livestream audience 💀 good job bud

This is gonna go HORRIBLY wrong.

YEAHHHH VACUUM TUBE

how.. how big is the tube...

Justin's Taako voice came out there for a second "okay they're distracted what are you gonna do now?"

Beef is so good at distracting

Montrose. How the hell do you think this will work. You have made no change then like turned on them WITH AUDIENCES OF LITERALLY EVERYONE - I mean idk how far away from them they were they probably didn't hear

Haha yeah roll for it baybeee

HEYYY THEY USED THE HARD LIGHT PEOPLE AS GHOSTS @phennoraptor CALLED ITTTTT

Montrose. C'mon. What is happening sir

HAKSHDLDBKkdh THEY BEAT THEM TO IT

I'm kinda glad they fucked that one up. It's for funsies. They just did it so goddamn bad that I don't know how they'll possibly fix it!

I'm going to start working on their designs this weekend so expect a drawing😌 overall love this ep and super excited for more!

[let-the-dream-begin]

Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Jamie awoke with a fat wee bum nestled right against his hard cock, and he was in Heaven. Eyes still closed, he pulled his angel ever closer, inhaling that otherworldly scent in her hair, arching his hips further into the pliant flesh, feeling his cock twitch as he did so.

And then abrupt footsteps and a door opening jolted him to his senses.

He must have been dreaming, and he was still at Lallybroch with morning wood, being barged in on by his sister.

Only, when he opened his eyes, Claire was really there, naked in his arms, and there really was someone else in the room.

“Christ!” He yanked the sheets over both of them. “What the devil d’ye–?”

“God, I’m so sorry– I’d forgotten…”

“John! You’re back!”

Claire sat up, sheet falling to her waist, exposing her breasts, and Jamie fought the urge to cover them up again.

He also fought the urge to growl at the joy in Claire’s voice.

“Darling…I’m so sorry…” John stammered. “I didn’t think to knock on my own bedroom door…”

“Nor should you,” Claire said dismissively. Jamie would beg to differ. “It’s alright.”

“Mister Fraser– Jamie. Forgive me.”

Jamie’s eyes were narrowed at him, but he couldn’t claim that the man wasn’t mortified. Though he could not blush, Jamie saw evidence of humiliation in his very stature, in the way his eyes settled on everything but the two people in bed.

“I only came to remove my traveling clothes and to greet my wife,” he stammered. “I’d truly forgotten.”

“Aye. So ye’ve said.”

“Jamie…” Claire whispered, rubbing his bicep and kissing his shoulder.

As much as her touch soothed him, it did nothing to stop the discomfort.

And of course, his cock was standing at attention, tenting the sheet.

What the bloody hell had his life come to…letting another man see his cock hard for the man’s wife?

“I’ll…go.”

Jamie grunted his approval.

“Darling…” Claire called out, her voice small and timid. John stopped, turning his body, but still not letting his eye meet either of theirs. Claire’s hand reached for his, and John reluctantly obliged. Claire reverently kissed his knuckles, and Jamie felt himself turn red from head to toe. “It’s good to see you.”

John nodded, smiling tightly. “It’s good to be home.” He chastely kissed her cheek, and then he swiftly left the room, the door shut before Jamie could even blink.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry–”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, and she whimpered in shock, but melted into him. She allowed him to pin her down, and she took his powerful thrust in stride, crying out loudly.

Good.

He pulled out and then thrust deep, exactly the way he knew would make her scream again.

Let him hear you.

He did this as many times as he could bear, and then he had to let his body take over his mind. Because he wanted her to keep screaming, he threw one of her legs over his shoulder, he roughly pinched her nipple, he rubbed above where they were joined, until they both finished, hard and loud.

Him perhaps a bit louder than he normally would allow.

He panted after his release, then kissed his way down her leg, and then kissed her mouth, licking every inch of it. She hummed in contentment, then pulled away.

“Now, as much as I enjoyed that…” They lay on their sides, facing one another. “That seemed…provoked.”

Jamie felt himself burning with shame. Now that all his blood wasn’t in his cock he could think a bit straighter. Before he’d left for home, they’d had a very clear conversation about how John would be in her life forever.

“Aye. It was. And I ken what we spoke about,” he added before she could cut in, because he could see she was about to. “But I didna agree to him coming in here while we’re bloody naked together.”

“No, you didn’t. And I’m sorry. It really was an honest mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was far too terrible a liar.

“Next time, we should perhaps do this in a guest suite. So we’re not in his bedroom.”

“Aye, and dinna tell him which suite.”

“Jamie!”

“Believe what ye bloody want about his intentions,” Jamie grumbled.

“I will.” Her eyes turned that frightening copper that only appeared when she was incensed, and Jamie immediately regretted his tone.

He sighed, kissing her amendingly. “Apologies. Ye didna agree to my insulting yer husband.”

“No, I did not.” Her tone was still sharp, but her eyes swam amber again.

Terrible liar.

He kissed her again, and he chuckled when she melted against him, breasts pillowing against his chest.

Like putty in my hands.

He jolted a little as her fang gave his bottom lip a tiny puncture, and she giggled erotically, sucking on the lip like a nursing infant.

He wondered if he’d ever get used to that.

He let her drink, and, to his surprise, that’s all it was, just lazy kissing, the occasional sweet moan from his lass as she swallowed his blood.

She finally pulled away, licking his lip for good measure.

“Tell me about your time with your family.”

Jamie smiled fondly, if not a bit sadly. “It was wonderful to see them again.”

“They were happy to see you?”

“Aye. And none too pleased I wanted to leave again so soon.”

She frowned, tracing the lines of his face with her fingerpads. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I made my choice.”

She pecked his nose and ran the backs of her fingers over his stubble.

“They figured out I’d met someone.”

Claire raised her brow. “Oh?”

“My sister…well, I canna verra well describe her. Ye’d have to meet her. She’s…stubborn as an ass, fierce as a lion, a nosy wee busybody…”

“She sounds a bit like you.”

“Och, if ye think that, ye’ll be quite surprised by the…intensity of it in her when ye meet her. If ye meet her, I mean.”

She offered a tiny smile. “I’d like to, Jamie. If it’s possible, I want to.”

He hummed contentedly. “Aye, well…I’d been in the house for all of an hour, when she just blurts out, ‘So, brother, who is it?’”

Claire’s eyes sparkled with mirth, her mouth curving.

“Of course I tried to redirect her, ye ken, tried denying it…but in the end, she said, ‘I ken you better than I ken myself, and I ken when my brother is in love.’”

“Oh my.”

“Aye. Well…I told them ye were a beautiful, otherworldly creature far above my station,” he said. “Which is true, mind.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I also told them ye were betrothed to another.”

“Also rather true.”

“Indeed,” Jamie said wryly, and Claire lightly smacked his upper arm. “And, of course, my sister went on a bloody tirade. She demanded to know if I bedded ye.”

“Jesus Christ! As if that’s any of her business!”

“Aye, well, what did I tell ye?”

“What did you say?”

“I said of course I didna, that I wouldna do such a thing wi’out marriage, and of course I wouldna covet another man’s betrothed…”

“And she saw right through you, didn’t she?”

“Aye, of course…” He sighed, flopping onto his back. Claire wiggled up to his chest, folding her hands atop his pectoral and resting her chin there. “She chewed my ear off for the better part of an hour.”

“Good Lord…”

“She was crying, in the end.”

“Crying?”

He sighed. “She practically raised me, ye see. Though she’s only two years older. The day after our mother died, I found her in the kitchen, standing on a stool, wi’ mother’s apron on. Only ten years old. She loves fiercely, and cares wi’ all her heart. And she’s only ever wanted my happiness.”

Claire smiled sadly.

“And her anger wasn’t shame, no’ at all. It pained her to know I couldna have the one I loved. ‘How could ye be such a damned fool? Giving yer heart to a bloody coquette who’d take ye to bed and toss ye aside?’”

“That is not true,” Claire asserted, copper glowing in her eyes.

“Calm down, mo nighean donn. She doesna ken the whole truth.”

“Of course not; but it doesn’t feel very good that your sister thinks I’m a heartless whore.”

He chuckled. “Dinna fash. If she ever meets ye, she’ll see the truth of who ye are.”

She sighed, turning her head so her cheek rested on his chest. “What did that mean?”

“Hm?”

“What you just called me.”

“Oh. Means ‘my brown-haired lass’.”

Her face melted into the prettiest damned smile he’d ever seen. “That’s lovely.”

He sat up, taking her with him, and kissed her soundly. He threaded his fingers into those beautiful brown curls, wishing he could take root there. Claire pulled away, and then she frowned.

“Your neck needs some salve.”

“Nah, it’ll bide.”

“It will not.” She tossed away the sheets and marched over to the washing station, fully naked. Jamie sat back, watching her apprasisingly, a stupid grin on his face. She walked back toward the bed with a damp rag.

“What are you smirking at?”

“I like watching ye parade around naked. Can ye do it again?”

She smacked the wet rag on one of his pectorals, causing a loud slapping sound. He chuckled, but he allowed her to clean his wounds and apply the salve.

“You know…” she began after a bit of silence. “I was thinking.”

Jamie cocked one brow at her. “Aye?”

“I know it isn’t easy for you to…well, let’s say it like it is. To share me.”

Jamie grunted, frowning.

“But…” She dabbed salve onto his neck, pushing on his forehead to keep his head at the right angle. “I think it might be easier if you got to know John a little better.”

“What’s there to know?”

“What a silly thing to say.” She released his head. “He’s an entire person. There’s plenty of things to know.”

He hmphed again, and Claire giggled.

“You’re a little imp, aren’t you?” She moved to a wound on his shoulder, applying salve. “He enjoys chess. You do too, don’t you?”

He grunted.

“You’re going to be living here, Jamie. Indefinitely. You’re going to have to spend time with him eventually. And I think you’d quite enjoy his company. He’s a good man. You’re more similar than you think you are.”

He sighed. “I ken he’s a good man.”

“At least there’s that.” She set the salve aside. “Will you try, Jamie?” She leaned in and tenderly kissed his cheek, stroking the other with her deft, dainty fingers.

“For me?”

He looked into those honey eyes, and was immediately undone.

He’d do anything for her.

Damn it.

“Aye. I’ll try. For you.”

Her eyes lit up, and she kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Come. Let’s dress.”

“Ye meant right now?”

“I want to work in my garden anyway. I was far too distracted when you were gone to do it, and I’m sure it’s rather neglected. That’s more than enough time for a match or two of chess.”

She hopped out of bed again, and Jamie could swear she let her arse sway back and forth just the slightest bit more than it did naturally.

She was truly something else.

— —

“Your move.”

John looked up from the board, squinting his eyes at Jamie, sapphires that winked at him on their own. It lasted a mere second before he was examining the board again, and then he threw up his hands in defeat. He made a move that both men knew was sacrificial, but there was no way around it.

Jamie was cool as anything, making his next move without a second thought, now only one move away from winning.

He wasn’t cool, though, not at all.

The game had been going for nearly an hour, and they’d managed small talk over the make of the board and the pieces, over the whisky, over the bloody carpets and tapestry. They were in John’s study, surrounded by shelves of books, in darkness, of course, playing by generous candlelight.

Jamie knew his face twitched whenever John said Claire’s name; he couldn’t help it. And he knew John could see it.

Claire was right: he was a good, honorable man, and the longer Jamie spent with him, he could clearly see it.

But all the same, his understanding of how this could all be did not become any clearer.

“I’m sorry again, by the way,” John said, abruptly, ignoring his imminent demise on the chess board. “For this morning.”

Jamie nearly choked on the sip of whisky he’d taken to take his thoughts away from that morning.

“Apologies,” John said, stifling a snicker. “That was not my intention.”

Jamie hummed gruffly, wiping a bit of dripping from his chin with the end of his sleeve.

“Aye, well…it’s your house.”

And your wife, he left unsaid.

“Yes, well, it’s yours now as well.”

He was still getting used to that.

He’d barely gotten used to waking up in Lallybroch instead of his cot in the print shop, let alone this ornate mansion full of finery even his most fortunate, pre-Jacobite ancestors could not afford.

“As is Claire.”

Jamie smiled tightly, not meeting his eye.

“You’re allowed to speak of her to me, you know.”

Jamie flicked his eyes back and forth from the board to John’s face, unable to keep them on either for more than a half second at a time.

“I, of all people, know what it is to love her. To be utterly enchanted by her. Everything about her.”

Damn Jamie if he didn’t need to adjust himself in his trousers.

“Aye.”

“And I remind you that I want this for you both.”

He nodded stiffly. “Aye.”

“Jamie. Look at me, for Christ’s sake.”

He finally did, feeling his face burning hot.

“I bear no jealousy toward you.” His face was so gentle and kind that Jamie didn’t even think to question the truth of his words. “And I understand if you bear some for me.”

“I…”

“Let’s be candid,” he went on, leaning away from the table. “I have hundreds of years with her. Hundreds of years more than you have with her. Legally, she is Lady Grey. That’s bound to make any lover irate.”

Jamie gripped his whisky glass until his knuckles went white.

“My point in saying this, is that I hope you know I understand. And I don’t mind. And I…I pray you’ll be more comfortable here soon.”

“Christ.” Jamie tossed back the rest of his whisky, setting it down a bit harder than he’d intended. “How?”

“How…?”

“How are ye so…?” He gestured stupidly with both hands. He sighed, knowing he was not being very clear at all. “Ye have hundreds of years wi’ her, aye? Well, even if I had that, and hundreds more, I couldna so easily bear sharing her heart. And you…ye havena just shared a heart. Ye’ve shared your own heart.”

John’s face changed imperceptibly, the color of his eyes shifting. “I have.”

“How?” Jamie said again, desperate to understand. “Especially…well…any man I’ve kent wi’ yer…sensibilities…wouldna be caught dead wi’ a lass. To put it plainly.”

John chuckled softly through his nose, the corners of his mouth tugging up, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Not everyone with my sensibilities, as you put it, favors men over women. It is possible to favor both.”

Jamie knew his face was incredulous, and was further convinced when John laughed again.

“It isn’t so complicated. Not really,” John said softly. “It isn’t as if I had any control over it. One day, I didn’t love Claire, and then the next, I did. One day I didn’t love Hector, and then the next, I did.”

Jamie supposed he could understand that at least. One day, he’d been covered in ink, no one but Geordie for company, and the next, there was an ethereal goddess in the apothecary. One day, he had his heart, and the next, he hadn’t.

He nodded. “What…is it like…? To love more than one?”

John’s smile remained, but it turned a bit sad. “You’d think it would feel strange,” he said, his voice a reverent whisper. “But it didn’t. Not at all. It was as natural as sipping from two glasses, and loving the taste of each wine all the same. Of course they’re different flavors, perhaps one is more sweet, one makes one more lightheaded…but you love them all the more for their differences.”

“Ye drank from Hector.”

Jamie knew that John’s metaphor was not meant to have been literal, but his mind went there nonetheless.

“I did.”

“Was he your…mate? In that way? As I am Claire’s?”

“He was.”

“You truly loved him.”

John looked up, his pupils blown wider than they’d ever been, the pain in his face enough to break Jamie’s heart.

“Of course I did.”

Until that moment, Jamie did not believe a man could love another man the way God had made him to love a woman. The thought had never occurred to him.

And then he thought of his bond with Claire snapping, of feeling her being taken from this world, of going on without her, eternally. And he saw his own imagined pain projected right onto John’s face.

And he knew it was possible, of course it was possible.

“I…I’m sorry, John.”

John nodded, rolling one of Jamie’s taken knights in his left hand, as if to soothe himself.

“Truly. It…It must have been a terrible loss.”

John nodded, staring blankly at the squares on the chess board, rolling and rolling the piece in his hand. “It was.”

Something cracked open in Jamie’s chest, something he could not identify. And something took over his body, something else he could not identify.

Or perhaps it was the same thing.

He reached across the chess table and covered John’s hand with his own. It was ice cold, as Claire’s always were. And his hand dwarfed John’s, rather comically. It was odd to think that he was a creature of inhuman strength, capable of dismembering Jamie with little to no effort, and yet, Jamie’s hand could cover his twice over.

It, astoundingly, made Jamie want to laugh, almost giggle.

He didn’t though, just tightened his grip until John stopped fiddling with the knight. He realized, a bit belatedly, that John had been staring at their joined hands since the very second Jamie had made contact. After what seemed like eternity, he looked up, and Jamie fought the urge to jump.

In the way that Claire’s eyes turned a copper-orange when the amber burned with intensity, John’s sapphire-blue was now electric, like when lightning struck an otherwise clear night sky, coloring the entire atmosphere for a split second. Only, in John’s eyes, the color lasted, and it burned.

Christ, how it burned.

“Thank you, Jamie.”

John’s voice sounded tight, though Jamie knew he could not cry.

Jamie suddenly did not care to beat the man, though the win was right there for the taking.

“Thank you.”

[asphalt-cocktail]

Hear me out..kay?

'70s John Lennon with younger female home assistant reader getting into a lil dispute because John thinks he let himself go after the Beatles broke up, but the reader believes otherwise and it ends up in the two of them having passionate/slightly rough sex because he's more or so angry with himself than anything? And the two of them are really close too, like John allows her to watch Julian and Sean when he's at the studio or on business trips?? And the two boys genuinely like her???

(a universe where he isn't married to yoko ((no hate intended)) and is single and happy that way..)

Oh my god, I love this idea! 70s john is so pretty. I love how he looks as he gets older. it’s like fine wine. Some of the ages might not add up but we’ll call this an AU for the sake of consistency!

Warnings: Some smudges of angst, smut, insecurities, language

Also it got WAY longe than I expected so i got a little carried away. 

As John slept, he dreamt he sat perched on a throne made bones. It overlooked a high cliff that faced the ocean where the wind burned his face and he could hear seagulls screaming in the background.

He was alone. For once he wished he had the screaming crowds and bandmates calling his name. But only the shrieking gulls filled his ears.

The dream seemed to go on for two lifetimes and the atmosphere felt staticky as the waves repeatedly crashed against the shores and hit the rocks. At times he could feel the soft kiss of saltwater sprinkling against his face.

He blinked for the first time in what felt like ages and suddenly his throne of bones began to collapse, he grasped at them panicked as he desperately tried to prevent himself from falling. Just as his footing slipped John shot up in his bed breathing heavily. He blinked to clear the bleariness that had settled from sleep and palmed his bedside table for his glasses and crudely wiped them on his sheets to clear the fingerprints before slipping them on. 

Suddenly the room was clear, and the sound of gulls was replaced with Sean’s squealing laughter. It helped John feel grounded in his brief moment of panic. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Christ, what did he have to do today again? John ran his fingers through is knotted hair and slipped out of his bed. Right, he had to do several interviews to promote his new album and single that was just released then he had a dinner party. He grimaced at the thought of having to sit for several hours with a group of yuppies and pretend to enjoy their conversation.

As John walked through is bedroom he slipped on a pair of slippers and his dressing gown before stopping in front of his full length mirror. He gave his belly a firm pat, he’d lost a significant amount of weight in the last five years, mostly from depression, but it was still a small victory in his eyes. Atleast he had that going for him.

The bedroom door open and John found himself lured to the kitchen by the smell of syrup and pancakes. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, “You’re early.” He greeted you.

You shrugged your shoulders, not looking up from the batter as you poured it into the skillet, “I know I thought my exam was going to take much longer than it did.” You said sheepishly. John had been gracious enough to accept you as his assistant and sometimes nanny. He was nice and the job helped you learn a lot about public relations and management, which is what you had hoped to do after you’d graduated from university. 

“Do you want some pancakes? Sean helped with them.” You said waving the ladle towards John.

He shrugged, still groggy from sleep. He really didn’t want any, but the way Sean stared at him with his big black eyes begging changed his mind. He sighed after his idle moment in thought and nodded his head, “I suppose I should see what the little chief has made for us.” He smiled and ruffled the kid’s hair.

After breakfast John rushed to get ready, “And you’re okay with taking Julian to piano lessons? Remember Sean still needs to finish that cough medicine from his cold earlier last week, and they can’t stay up past-” he rushed out his of things that he now only worried about due to having children.

You placed your hand on John’s arm and gave him a look, “John I’ve worked with you for almost three years, I think I can handle a day of babysitting. Julian will get to piano lesson on time and Sean will get his medicine; and don’t worry I won’t give them any sugar past 6pm.” John chose to ignore the little wink you gave Julian and Sean from the other side of the room.

He let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed, “I know, I just” Worry I’m not good enough, his intrusive thoughts echoed in his mind and he shook his head before sharply inhaling, “I just worry about them, you know how it is.” You didn’t, you weren’t a parent. But you understood a little bit with where he was coming from.

You gave John a sympathetic nod and patted his shoulder, “Go on, you’re going to be late for the interview.” You said and turned him, pushing him towards the door.

A small smile settled on John’s face, it didn’t matter if he left for 8 hours or a full week, he still gave you the same reminders and the same list when Yoko or Cynthia couldn’t take the kids. John rushed out the door and you turned towards the boys and grinned at them. They were both nice, Julian had a wee bit of an attitude, but you chocked it up to him being in double digits while Sean was a curious and surprisingly even-tempered boy.

You made sure Julian got to and from piano lessons okay and wrestled with Sean to take the last dose of his medication, bribing him with some cookies. The remainder of the afternoon and evening you watched a movie with them, walked in the park, and drew pictures of the cats.

At lunch time John called to check in on the boys and to let you know it was going to be a late night, after reassuring him everything was fine you resumed your conversation with Sean about some fabulous story he was making up.

John sat at the dinner party, poking at his food and listening to his scientist friend tell them about a fancy new machine they got at work. The autoclave used immense amounts of heat and pressure to sterilize items, nothing survived the autoclave. In that moment John decided he saw some of his own likeness in the machine. As the voices turned to mumbles and John fell deep into thought he found that his own heart was harsh an inhospitable, much like the machine. That was why he was mostly alone in his 17-room apartment in New York City. His two wives couldn’t even make his home their home, and when he received a phone call from Cynthia or Yoko saying they were coming to pick the children up or to send them home on the morrows next fight he couldn’t say it struck him by surprise.

As the evening grew late you put Sean to bed and then an hour later you sent Sean to bed, much to your surprise neither of the boys fought with you tonight over why it was unfair they had different bedtimes or how they should be allowed to stay up later because it was summertime.

Infomercials from the television droned in your ears and lulled you to sleep as you sprawled out on the couch. A hand touching your shoulder caused you to jump and you blinked before John came into focus, “I’m home, you can stay the night in the guest room. It’s too late for you to go home alone.” He said kindly.

You rubbed your eyes and groggily sat up, “How did the meetings go today?” You asked after a deep yawn.

John’s face scrunched up, the way it did when he was frustrated and deep in thought, “It was alright.” He shrugged.

“What do you mean alright? You just released a new single, no one had an opinion on it?” You asked as you made your way through one of the many long hallways that made up his Dakota apartment.

John followed you, hoping for conversation and company, “I don’t know, I must have termites in me brain or something.” He frowned leaning against the door of the bathroom and watching you rummage through the cabinet for your spare toothbrush. Your movements moved on memory and you pushed aside the antacids and ibuprofen to get to the toothbrush you kept in the back of the medicine cabinet. The familiarity in your actions made John feel comforted.

“what do you mean?” You asked before you began brushing your teeth. You watched as John shifted, leaning against the door jam. He felt uncomfortable. You could tell.

He looked away from you, “I’m washed up I suppose.” He dug his shoe into the grout of the bathroom tile, “No one wants to listen to a former Beatle without the other three.” John wanted to open up to you but his body felt like an unstable bag of foam and bones and his ability to speak clearly vanished.

You spat out your toothpaste and wiped the remainder off with the towel that hung on the wall, “Oh come off it,” You scolded him, “You don’t mean that do you?”

Now it was your turn to follow John as he walked through the house, kicking his shoes off and tossing his jacket to the side, “That’s how it seems.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, “Every time I talk to one of these hokey television people, they just rub it in me face how successful Paul or George are doing.” He frowned, “And I’m just sitting here, a one hit wonder. No songs in the last five years.” He tugged open the door to his wardrobe and pulled out sleeping cloths and tossed them onto the bed, “Paul’s got his 87 children, and his new better band. What do I have?” His cheeks started turning red and his thick brows furrowed.

You listened to him complain about his imperfections, he obviously needed to get them off his chest, “John,” You said softly interrupting his monologue, “You don’t mean that.” You bluntly said.

John looked away from you and huffed loudly, “First I get called the fat Beatle, then I get torn to shreds for saying one thing about Christianity and now I can’t even write a damn song anymore.” He angrily pulled his shirt over his head, “If I can’t even write a damn song what use am I?” He continued to mumble to himself and tug the thin and worn sleep shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the hole.

You walked forward and boldly grabbed John’s wrist as he reached for his lounge pants, “Stop it,” You said in the same tone of voice you used to scold one of the children, “I don’t want to hear you say bad things about yourself that aren’t true.” Your brows knit together as John turned to look at you.

His eyes narrowed to little slits as he studied your face. John felt as though the throne of fame he once sat upon was now crumbling, much like in his dream “You’re just an assistant, you don’t know anything.” He said coldly and shrugged you off.

You know he didn’t mean it, but the words stung, “Yeah, I’m just your assistant who watches your kids, and takes them to piano lessons, and does your laundry, and brings you take away when you are too sad to leave your room.” You shot back.

Your words hit John like a 10-ton truck, and he looked at you shocked, none of his assistants had ever been this bold before. They all cowered beneath the mighty John Lennon, but you were different. Your tongue was just as sharp as his, and he hated to admit it; but he liked the way your brows furrowed, and your eyes ignited with fire every time you argued back at him. He wanted to get a rise out of you, so he pushed you, “I pay you for it, don’t go around thinking you’re special. I could post your job in the paper and have hundreds of college kids lining up to work for me.” He hissed stepping towards you.

You were backed into a wall, literally and figuratively, you felt at a loss for words. John was right and you both knew it, what was the worst that could happen if you pushed back a bit? “Do it, I dare you.” You scoffed and moved to push past him, “Surprised anyone would like to work for a washed-up Beatle.” You mumbled under your breath knowing that he would hear you.

John brought his arm up and pushed you back into your spot between the wall and pushed his lips against yours. It was hard and messy; your teeth clicked together, and your noses knocked. It took a moment for you to realize what was happening until John roughly shoved his knee between your legs. You let out a whimper feeling him pull away and start leaving hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and trailing down to your neck. Your chest heaved against him and you swallowed thickly, and you desperately tried to focus as he continued to latch onto your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, “John.” You whined and ground yourself against his thigh.

He loved how you practically purred his name as you spoke. John’s hands pushed down on your hips, helping you as you slid against his thigh with wanton need. Your breathy sighs sent a shiver that crept down his spine and settled in his belly, “We can stop, just say it and I’ll stop.” He said rubbing his nose along your jaw.

You swallowed thickly, “Please don’t,” You didn’t want to go back now.

John pulled away and pulled you by your wrist before pushing you back onto the bed. You bounced back against the plush large mattress and laid against the pillows and watched as John knelt between your legs. He rubbed his hands along your thighs and kissed you’re the skin that had become exposed from your shirt riding up and pushed it up more. He sucked and left kitten licks as he exposed more of you stomach and chest, kissing between your breasts and sucking at the soft skin on the sides.

John peeled your shirt off and in one swift movement your breasts were exposed and your top and underclothes tossed aside. He dove against your neck again, deepening the marks he’d already left prior and adding new ones, nipping at the skin and inhaling your scent. You reached your fingers and laced them in his soft long hair. You’d always wondered how it felt and how it smelt. You found yourself burying your nose into the side of his head and breathing deeply. He smelled like stale smoke, the gum he always chewed as a nervous habit, and like his eucalyptus shampoo. It made your brain feel dizzy.

Your legs wrapped around John’s narrow hips and pulled him flush against you. He groaned feeling your heat against his awakening erection and ground against you. he felt like he was 18 again, sneaking home some blurry faced bird through the back door at Mimi’s after coming home too late. But this felt better, it wasn’t some random company for the night; it was you.

The assistant he hired on a whim because he needed someone to watch Sean while he flew to LA for recording, the same person who folded his laundry, the first person he told of his divorce from Yoko. Even in his dream as he stood alone on the edge of the cliff as his throne collapsed, he knew if he called your name you would come.

Now, here he was; swallowing your moans eagerly in his mouth and listening as you left ragged breathy gasps in his ear as he ground against you. His hands fumbled with the buttons on your pants before he finally gave up and pulled them open, the small button popping off and bouncing to the other side of the room. John kissed your hips and along the lower half of your stomach and it twitched.

You squirmed, looking down and seeing his intently focused face as he yanked down your underwear and jeans and carelessly tossed them aside. You suddenly became aware of your nakedness as you stared down at John, fully clothed in a loose sleep shirt and the pants he wore today. Your eyes trailed his body and you sat up, tugging at his shirt. Your movements were hesitant and less confident than his. John’s hands guided his shirt up and he tugged it off, throwing it to join the rest of your discarded cloths and you ran a hand along his chest. Admiring the freckles and imperfections that made him distinctly human. He pulled back and shrugged his pants off and resumed his spot between your legs, pushing you back down.

John kissed the sides of your knees and made his way up your thighs, “Is this okay?” He murmured.

You shivered feeling his lips moving against your legs and nodded your head, urging him to continue. The pit of nervousness that settled in your belly violently vanished as you felt John’s hot tongue swipe between your folds and lap at you, “Jesus Christ,” You gasped out.

You could feel John smirk as he hooked his arms under your legs and pulled you close. He spread you apart, groaning and rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Has anyone ever done this to you before?” He asked glancing up at you.

You swallowed thickly and shook your head, “N-no,” You choked out.

John hummed acknowledging your answer and licked at your core again, taking his time to trace lazy shapes around the bundle of nerves. It sent a tingle that rang through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to your fingers and you desperately reached for John’s hair to keep him in place.

Your toes curled and you pressed John’s face closer against you and bucked your hips, grinding against his face. He groaned and pressed back, pulling you closer against his face. The plug between your brain and mouth disconnected and your mind felt like it was swimming. The string in your stomach tightened as you continued to grind against John’s tongue as he lapped at you. Your soft breathy sighs climbed in pitch before it snapped and your hips squirmed against him. John firmly held you down and he harshly rubbed your clit. The burning sensation caused your toes to curl, your eyes to blissfully shut, and made your legs shake. Your hips tried to jerk away from his hand, but he held you down, watching you writhe, jaw hanging slightly ajar.

“St-op” You choked out and gripped his wrist, letting out a sob as he pushed you to your peak once again. Your chest heaved and your legs shook as it washed through you. You curled into yourself and your face scrunched up.

John left you no room to breathe as he pulled your face close to his and captured your mouth in an open mouth. His tongue explored your mouth and you could taste yourself. You gripped at his forearms and pulled him back down, thumbing his briefs and tugging them down. John smiled against your mouth as he wiggled out of them, twisting his legs and shifting before he finally gave up and broke your kiss for a moment to tug them the rest of the way down.

You reached to kiss him and frowned as he pulled away, settling between your legs and rubbing his cock teasingly between your wet folds before he pushed in. You gasped, feeling John stretch you as his pelvis pushed against the back of your legs. He sat there for a moment and his face reached up and cupped yours as he hovered just inches away from your face.

You brought your hand up and placed it on John’s, his thumb traced your bottom lip and he slowly moved his hip, pushing deep inside you. Your mouth fell open and you let out a soft moan. John eagerly took the opportunity to slip his thumb into your mouth and pushed harder into you as your lips wrapped around it.

John’s hands gripped your hips as his picked-up speed, pulling them against him and making your skin slap together. He fell over you and you wrapped your arms around him pulling his body close to yours. His head fell next to your shoulder and he messily kissed up your shoulder and up to the side of your mouth before you captured his. Your kiss lacked tact and was only motivated by wanton need for each other. Your teeth clanked harshly together, and you clung to John as though he would vanish from you in an instant.

John broke the kiss and latched onto your neck once again, nipping at the skin and leaving a lingering and dull pain as he continued his trail before settling near your ear. John’s grunts and soft breathy sighs were perhaps the best sound’s you’d ever heard. In that moment you didn’t care that your bodies stuck together with sweat, or that your head kept bumping against the headboard.

You found yourself reaching for John and whimpering as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees and brought them up, leaning onto you and pushing deeper inside you. Your back arched off the mattress as he pulled back and began to slowly rut deep inside you.

John clenched his teeth together and hissed, feeling your walls twitching around him as he continued his languid pace, “Please,” You said softly, your brows knit together and your eyes looking helplessly up at him.

His lips spread into a knowing smirk, “Please what?” His voice sounded ragged and strained as he continued to tease you.

“More please,” You barely recognized the whiny tone of your voice.

“Yeah?” He asked and harshly snapped his hips against yours, “Like that?” He asked snapping them again. The headboard lightly tapped the wall as John’s thrusts grew harder and faster while your staccato moans followed jointly. John watched you, your mouth hanging open and skin shiny from the combination of his and your sweat that coated your body. He felt more human in this moment than he’d felt in a long time.

John’s brows knit together, and his thighs clenched, he didn’t want this to end. You pulled his arms and pulled him close to you, not caring if it seemed like you were being clingy, “Come inside me,” You breathed out next to his ear.

John’s body seized up and he huffed out a shaky haggard breath before he came, holding you close against his body and riding out the high that fogged over his senses.

For a moment he laid on top of you, softening inside you but enjoying the intimate closeness the two of you shared in your post coital haze. John kissed your shoulder before pulling back and kissing your lips. He pulled back and the two of you smiled at each other.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You couldn’t help but turn your head and breath out a small laugh before John rolled over to your side. The two of you laid on top of his wrinkled duvet staring at each other. You pursed your lips and remembered what you said earlier, “I didn’t mean it, what I said.” You said sheepishly looking away.

John’s expression was soft as he looked at you, “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it either.” He said his arm now resting on your shoulder. He pulled you against his bare chest and you pushed your knee between his legs, entangling your bodies together as John held you. 

[ironlime]

60 Years After

So somebody in the tumblrverse posted about their headcannon in which Ned Coats was Sam Vimes' kid having traveled through time. I am a fan of this. It explains a lot. So when I read it back in... April? I then sat down and wrote up this little fanfic thing. And assumed that I could not only get it posted today, but also edit it so that it's not filled with so many of my own headcannons. And is closer to the original material. But L-Space is my job, and it really does do crazy things to time (and space.) On top of that I was really hoping I could post this to that original headcannon post but... I can't find it. So, OP, if you come across this... Well, I'm sorry. I'm more sorry to Sir Terry (GNU), though.

Quick note: my friends and I have found it easier to call Vimes' kid "Wee Sam" than "Young Sam" because "Young Sam" is one of the names (along with Vimesy and Lance Constable Vimes) that Vimes calls his younger self and... yeah. We find it confusing when nerding out about a single series with two different characters called 'Young Sam'. So we Feegle it up. Even though I wouldn't be surprised if 'Wee Sam' is actually a bit taller than his dad.

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

“What happened just then, Sarge? You blurred.” Wee Sam said, while he thought Oh so that’s what that looks like.

“You only get one question, Ned,” The man who would be his father looked a little seasick, and Wee Sam knew exactly how he felt. “Now, let’s show Snapcase where the line’s drawn, shall we? Let’s finish it--”

To the majority of people there that day, Sergeant-At-Arms John Keel stood, turned towards the enemy, and charged. To two people, Commander Sam Vimes ran towards Carcer, ready to drag him kicking and screaming into the past. Or the future. Depending on who you asked.

That was what gave Wee Sam his frame of reference, actually. He remembered hearing stories about Carcer, about how his dad had arrested the bastard the day Wee Sam was born. But was this actually May 25th for his dad? Was this weeks before the arrest? Hours? He couldn’t ask. Not yet.

“Glad to see you’ve joined us and are getting along with the Sarge, Coats.” Fred Colon said, touching him on the shoulder as they ran towards the fight.

“Yeah, Fred.” Oh, Fred. Fred Colon had died a few years ago, happy and surrounded by great-grandchildren. But here and now he was young and actually capable of running. And he was running towards the fray.

Sweeper had told Wee Sam to stay away from the center of the fight, and to try not to actually kill anybody, so he stayed on the edge near the unconscious Lance-Constable Sam Vimes who had been hidden by his older, more cynical self. Three men in a battle with the same name, and two of them were the same person. Good thing Wee Sam was the only one who had to really keep track of which of them was where. He certainly didn’t trust anybody else to.

So he fought, in a very curbed way, knocking his adversaries unconscious when he could and doing his best not to step on Nobby Nobbs, who was doing his best to very slowly inch away from the battle while simultaneously pretending to be a corpse. Over by the Watch House, Reg Shoe was doing a much better impersonation of a corpse, seeing as how he was one, but in a couple of hours he’d discover that it just didn’t work for him.

“You’re nicked, my ol’ chum.” It was probably because he had been listening for it, but his father’s whisper carried. Nobody else seemed to hear it, and nobody but Wee Sam turned in time to see the two men vanish. In the same instant, a single body appeared on the ground near where they had been. So, now that he had seen that through, there was one more…

A dark grey-green shadow passed by his shoulder, and his mind registered Uncle Havelock before adding the word Young.

Havelock Vetinari ran into the fight, cutting down Carcer’s men much more brazenly than the Assassin's Guild would like, a lilac bud between his teeth. Even in Wee Sam’s time, when Vetinari’s wardrobe consisted entirely of black and everything he did was in moderation, the Patrician indulged in a little drama on a regular basis.

He chose to have Commander Sam Vimes in his life, after all.

There was a sound to Wee Sam’s left, which he recognized though his mind didn’t associate any words with it. It was a sound any human would recognize, even those who first approached the Delta where the Ankh River met the Circle sea thousands of years ago. If Wee Sam had to find Morporkain words for it, and as a Vimes he did like to use his vocabulary, they were Confused, followed by Hurt followed by… wait for it… there it was. Anger.

Wee Sam could make that noise, though he rarely did. His father’s upbringing, on the other hand, had been considerably less balanced. The kid who was the source of the sound ran into the center of the fight, and Wee Sam deftly stepped out of his way while pushing an adversary in his way. The boy chopped down the Unmentionable with one graceful movement, and Wee Sam felt that he could safely say that he hadn’t been the one to kill the bastard. And nobody had been so foolish as to tell him to prevent his father from killing anybody.

Vetinari didn’t pause, but he did turn to look at this vengeful newcomer. Vetinari hadn’t been there when young Sam Vimes participated in the first part of the battle, and Wee Sam recognized the young assassin’s look of interest.

Tell me, Uncle Havelock, will you recognize him in 15 years? Or will you need to get him well and truly angry to realize you’ve found him?

Wee Sam knew this wasn’t the first time Havelock Vetinari saw Sam Vimes, but this was probably the first time he saw the potential. That he was more than just That Kid Who Follows Keel Everywhere. I bet you didn’t actually expect him to be so damned smart. His father still didn’t think of himself as intelligent. It was infuriating, especially when he and his father were having a disagreement. A drawn out, decade-long, disagreement.

Young Sam Vimes sent a lot of the Unmentionables running, and Wee Sam cut down any of them which could be seen as ‘coming towards him with a drawn weapon’. Since they were escaping a fight, that was anyone who came within reach not wearing a lilac.

Time travel really can get to a man. He thought, feeling a little cold. There would be no arrests here, just death and fleeing and at the end of the day Sam Vimes, Havelock Vetinari, Fred Colon, Gaskin, and, less literally, Nobby Nobbs and Reg Shoe would all be left standing. That was all that mattered.

He saw Vetinari turn away from young Sam Vimes, who then spun, and for the briefest moment they had their backs to each other, and Wee Sam wished he had his paints. It was a gods awful place to paint, there was a reason battles were always ‘immortalized’ after the fact, but the color and everything was just perfect--

And then the color faded.

“You should have fallen by now.” Sweeper observed from behind him.

“I wanted to see them fight together.” Wee Sam admitted, not turning. He had a notebook on him, and a pencil, but he knew that even with Time paused he didn’t really have it. Not to sit down and do a proper preliminary sketch. He was just going to have to remember.

Vetinari had a stiletto, an assassin’s weapon used to kill up-close. Young Sam Vimes hadn’t learned to dual-wield yet, but he had good instincts for the sword. Wait until you discover the axe.

Sweeper sighed. “Fine, and now you’ve seen it. I’m going to put the time back on and you had better be prepared to drop.”

“Yes yes alright.” Wee Sam shifted slightly, so he could seriously inconvenience the man who he was blocking before he dropped.

“Oh and stop killing people.”

“I’m a Vimes. You knew that when you hired me.”

“Indeed.” Sweeper said, and it took Wee Sam a moment to realize it was an attempt at a Vetinari impression. Before Wee Sam could reply, the color came back, and his adversary frowned in confusion.

“Oi, you blurred!” The man cried.

“This just isn’t your day.” Wee Sam gave the man a wound which might heal, if somebody tended to it within the next 10 minutes, and then fell over in a needlessly complicated way, specifically so he wouldn’t hit Nobby Nobbs.

And when he landed, the boy was looking right at him, frowning. Damn, Nobby was always the brains of Colon & Nobbs.

“You ain’t injured.” The boy hissed at him.

“Try to pick my pockets and you’ll regret it.” Wee Sam whispered back. Of course he wouldn’t dream of hurting Nobby, but the kid didn’t know that. Besides, picking the contents of his pockets back would be a relaxing way to end the day.

Nobby was still frowning at him. “You got eyes like the Sarge...”

“Nobby, get out of here before you get stepped on.” Wee Sam growled in his best imitation of his father, the Sergeant, within the past three days. The kid’s eyes went wide, and he took off running. Wee Sam glanced over to where Vimes and Vetinari were taking care of the last of Carcer’s men, and the color faded once more.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” Sweeper said, which Wee Sam took to mean he could stand up and dust himself off.

“Young Vimes and Vetinari live to grow up and become two of the most powerful men in Ankh-Morpork history, Carcer went back to his time more or less accompanied by my my dad so the one can be arrested by the other, your rogue ‘Time Vigilantes’ have been sorted out, oh and I don’t cease to exist either. My work here is d--” He stopped, and watched as Q and some other Technical Monks lay down a man about the same age, size and coloring as Wee Sam. “Wait, so there really was a Ned Coats?”

Sweeper had walked off without him, and Wee Sam jogged to catch up. The old monk didn’t turn to look at him when they were side-by-side, but he did start talking. “Of course there was. He was also from Psudopolis and knew the real Keel.”

“How’d he die?”

“The Agony Aunts, on his first day here. He was the real reason the real Keel accepted a job in Ankh-Morpork. The real Ned Coats was not a good man.”

“Keel... left his home to track down a criminal…” Wee Sam slowed. “That’s what my dad did! As Keel! Only, it was Carcer he had to catch.”

“Time likes continuity.” Sweeper nodded, and thanked Wee Sam quietly for holding the door open as they entered the monastery. Once in the building, color returned, with motion and sounds and smells. They were back in the Present.

The walk through the building was in relative silence, the rumbling of the procrastinators keeping it from ever becoming truly quiet here. Wee Sam could sleep almost anywhere, but the rumbling reminded him of the steam engines back home and Susan’s offer to help him find a job in Sto Lat ‘if he really couldn’t stay in Ankh-Morpork’.

Not long after his parents first met his dad had gotten fired for a couple of days, and his mom had offered to get him a job working for Susan’s parents. Susan had been young then, and sometimes he wondered what kind of person she would have grown up to be with his dad as part of her household staff.

Of course, with his parents living in two different cities, he would have never been born.

His mother would have never left Ankh-Morpork.

Then again, his father had chosen not to leave. He had stayed on the case. He… sorted it out, more or less. He kept Vetinari from getting killed. Had he done that during the battle? Young Sam and Vetinari had been facing opposite directions, had Vimesy blocked any blows aimed at the future patrician?

There was the crunch of stones under his feet, and Wee Sam consciously acknowledged they had arrived at the Garden of Inner-City Tranquility. His eyes swept the space, falling on and acknowledging the Cigarette Pack of Air, the Cat Doings of Disharmony, the Sonkie of Organic Harmony, the Cabbage Stalks of Dim Comprehension, the Discarded Fish-And-Chip Wrapper of Infinity, the Beer Bottle of Pissing Off Sweeper, and….

“The Cigar of Capriciousness is still here.” Wee Sam said, stopping between the door and the bench Sweeper always went to. He tilted his head slightly. “Or… Another cigar. Same brand, same style, smoked the same amount, probably by the same man, at the same angle... but it’s wrapped just a little differently.”

“Is it? I’ve stopped noticing.”

“You haven’t noticed the cigar that’s been smouldering here for the past month?” Wee Sam turned to Sweeper in disbelief. “I understand not paying attention to the condoms and cat doings, but time passes in here!”

Sweeper shrugged. “There is always a cigar. Even if we get rid of it, a new one shows up. If the new one lands closer to the wall, the garden always pushes it to the center.”

“Always? Since, what, the dawn of time?”

“Oh no. Since the day you were born. Or thirty years before. It’s hard to say.” Sweeper was looking at him evenly, and Wee Sam suddenly realized his reaction was being gauged.

“My dad. But…” Wee Sam looked at the cigar. “He doesn’t smoke them anymore.”

“He does. On special occasions.”

“Like what?”

“Your birthday. And when he pays certain visits.”

“He talked you into not keeping me on?” His gaze moved swiftly from the old man to the cigar, and with purpose he stalked into the middle of the garden and brought his foot back, prepared to give the thing a swift kick.

“You did that just fine without his help.” Sweeper’s voice was quiet, but it froze Wee Sam where he stood. “Corporal, we both know you don’t want to do this.”

“The mission is over. Coats is dead. I’m not a corporal anymore.” His foot fell heavily, not coming into contact with the cigar but still sending a spray of stones ahead of them. He scowled as they came sliding back towards him, settling where they had been around his foot. “This job is the closest I’ve ever gotten to what I was made to do.”

“I realize that. I’m sorry.”

There was some silence as the last of the stones slid into place. The procrastinators here were small, used only for the bathrooms in the far right corner, even though the city’s sewer pipe system now meant that they were just inconveniencing themselves in exchange for saving very little money. Wee Sam had done the math.

“Did you tell Susan?” Wee Sam didn’t want to be the one to tell her, but he also didn’t want anybody else to explain that he had squandered this opportunity.

“No. That is your problem, my boy.”

“Good.” Wee Sam squatted down, getting a closer look at his father’s cigar. The smell brought him back to his childhood, and it was comforting if not at all healthy. His mother had never allowed them in the house, but his father smoked them all the time outside and in his office, so the scent clung to his uniform like… Well like Wee Sam had back then. “Please don’t hold… me... against her. She was just looking out for me. She does that. Wish I knew why.”

“She is aware of your potential.” Sweeper said, and Wee Sam was so surprised he looked over his shoulder at the old man. “You’re good at investigating and putting the pieces together. And, some day, you will once again make a very good cop.”

“Someplace other than Ankh-Morpork.” Wee Sam grunted, but the old man shrugged, and he asked, hopefully “In Ankh-Morpork but in the future?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“No, it’s for my father to say.” He glared at the cigar, and then pushed himself to a standing position.

“You know, I didn’t just take you on because Susan asked and there happened to be another Vimes-shaped opening.” Sweeper said as Wee Sam turned towards the door.

“No?”

“I wanted to get to know the man the Theives Guild deemed ‘too dangerous’ for membership.” Sweeper sounded amused, and Wee Sam turned to look at him.

“I keep killing people. Assassin's school graduate, and all.” Wee Sam reminded him, but Sweeper waved the comment away.

“We both know neither of those things are relevant to today’s theive’s guild.” Sweeper shook his head. “Your father is afraid of you becoming him; and, well, so is everyone else. Vimeses walk in and take control. Especially under Vetinari’s influence.”

“And how do you know what my father is afraid of?” Wee Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. He was choosing to ignore the comment about Vetinari’s influence because it was true. After 300 years of cops and / or drunks it took Havelock Vetinari telling his father ‘not’ to investigate three deaths to bring his family name back to the list of the city’s gentry.

“You should ask him.” Sweeper did not ignore the narrowed eyes, but he did meet them evenly. “What he’s afraid of.”

Wee Sam turned towards the door, intending to stalk out, then thought better of it and spun so he was completely facing the old man. “You know what? I think I will.”

Then he ran, took a leap to place one foot on the bench beside Sweeper and jumped so his hands easily grasped the top of the wall. His own momentum brought him sideways, and he hurtled over the top. There was an alley on the other side, and he landed lightly. He was exactly where he expected to be, of course, and took off at a run towards the Cemetery of Small Gods.

And slowed to a walk before he reached the gates. It would not do for him to be out of breath when he arrived at the graves.

Twilight was falling, so his dad would be there, but so would Uncle Havelock and maybe Reg Shoe. Wee Sam was less concerned about how Reg saw him, especially now that he had seen Reg alive, but as far as his family was concerned he wanted to take steps towards appearing dignified. Even though they had known him his whole life, and knew better.

Sure enough, he passed Reg first. The Zombie was carrying a long-handled shovel over his left shoulder, and nodded in acknowledgement. Wee Sam managed to nod back before they passed each other.

He had expected Reg to recognize him. Reg had never noticed him behind the barricade, his father never noticed him behind the barricade, but Wee Sam had been playing Ned Coats for a full month before Sam Vimes had shown up as John Keel. Maybe Reg had never noticed that his father was Keel? How did Zombie memories work, anyway? Their brains certainly weren’t making new pathways… Did vampyre brains make new pathways?

This train of thought kept him pretty well occupied, along with the question of how he could politely go about getting some answers, when he noticed Uncle Havelock and his ‘cane’ striding silently towards him. A simple nod wouldn’t do.

“Good evening, Uncle Havelock.” Wee Sam called, since his mother had drummed into his head that you always greeted your superiors first. Admittedly, this sometimes meant that he approached his uncle with a question about what he would call the color of the sunset above a specific building at that exact moment, or if there was a poison which exploded in a particularly satisfactory fashion, but the patrician never complained. Nor did he complain if Wee Sam wandered in his office and started talking about alternative methods for coding clax messages or an unusual bird he had noticed riding the thermals above the University. And, thank gods, Havelock Vetinari knew that a formal greeting from Wee Sam Vimes meant that he didn’t want to talk.

“Happy Birthday, Wee Sam.” His uncle replied, “I trust you’ll be on time for dinner?”

Oh. That was a reminder. And a warning. “Thank you. Yes, we won’t be long.”

“Good. See you then.” The Patrician nodded, and then passed him.

“Yes.” Wee Sam muttered, and then reached for his pocket watch. When he pulled it out, he saw the time was all wrong and swore quietly. Well, from the graves he would be able to see the Tower of Art, and set his watch to the present. The battle of the lilac boys had been in the mid-morning, and it was most definitely not a quarter to noon.

John Keel’s grave marker was wood, and though it had been replaced often it had never been strong enough to support the weight of an average-sized man. Reg’s, on the other hand, was granite, and he apparently didn’t mind that Commander Sam Vimes leaned against it more and more every year.

Wee Sam didn’t make any noise, he never made any noise, but he could never sneak around his father. Commander Sam Vimes turned his head ever so slightly, and Wee Sam tooka good look at him.

Oh gods, he was so old. When had that happened? True, the last time he had seen his father he must have been about 50, but before that Wee Sam had spent three decades watching his father age and yet… It had never struck him so hard. He never could quite reconcile his memories of young Sam Vimes, that kid who had joined The Watch for three square meals a day and a little extra cash for his family. But he hadn’t thought his father had changed so much.

The old man looked him up and down. “How’d the battle go? After I left?”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly, and looked down at his outfit. He had forgotten to change into the clothes he had left at the monastery. This outfit was a uniform the Monks had given him, so he wouldn’t have the problems ‘accidental’ time travelers experienced with their clothes and meals and things staying in the time they came from. He even still had his lilac, somehow, even though that had come from the past.

“Don’t you remember?” You kicked ass.

His father shook his head. “I remember the original timeline, when Keel died at the barricade. I was pretty sure Coats wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he was, either.”

“I guess Vetinari showed up?” His father smirked. “Had a lilac in his teeth and everything?”

“I thought you didn’t remember it.” Wee Sam frowned.

“I don’t, but he tells me about it sometimes. I think he’s waiting for me to remember, or maybe now he’s wondering why I don’t.”

“Because time travel is a mess.” Wee Sam turned away from his father and looked across the city. He could see his family’s house from here.

“So Sweeper explained it to you?” The interest in his voice was practically tactile.

“No, but I had to run around for a month foiling somebody who had been sent to kill Havelock Vetinari. And it gave me time to wonder.”

“Why it was different the first time around?”

Wee Sam shook his head. “Would I have survived being born if you didn’t go back and meet Lawn?”

There was absolute silence between them, until Commander Sam Vimes quietly swore.

“Sweeper told me you have to think of things as one event in front of another, which is fine, except if you hadn’t gone back in time you wouldn’t have known Lawn was competent. You had heard of him, sure, but he would have never crossed your mind.”

“So we owe your existence to the damn time monks?” There was an angry edge to his father’s voice, but Wee Sam already knew his father was protective as hell. That was how he had gotten into this mess. Sort of.

“No. As far as I can tell, we owe it to some modern young idiots who thought they could go back and kill Vetinari. Time tries to fix things, and so you were sent back in time, to meet Lawn and Carcer went with you and killed Keel so there was a place for you to be and when you were done my life got saved and the monks were able to send me back to save Vetinari’s life and… Time is what it should be. Go us.” There was something about owing his life to terrorists that made him feel sarcastic.

“For all we know Vetinari or Rosie Palm might have recommended Lawn.” His father pointed out, which wasn’t a bad alternative. But it wasn’t what had happened, and there wasn’t really anybody they could ask. At least, nobody who they could ask who would give them a meaningful answer. They both knew Vetinari was a capable doctor, but apparently neither of them could imagine Vetinari getting involved in a problematic birth when there were other competent people around to do it.

More silence. Wee Sam noticed the time on the Tower of Art, and pulled his watch back out. If they were going to avoid talking about the massive argument they had that morning, he may as well take the time to re-set his watch.

“There was the sound of dice.” His father said so quietly that it didn’t initially register.

“Hm?” Wee Sam pushed the pin in, and watched with satisfaction as his watch and the tower struck the time at the exact same minute.

“Before the Library got struck by lightning. There was the sound of dice. Were the people who wanted to kill Havelock associated with a specific god?”

“I… Don’t know. They didn’t say anything about one.” He shut the watch, and shoved it in his pocket. ‘Havelock’ meant his dad was worried. “But there was a thunderstorm, right? Was the sound of dice rolling at the exact moment as the thunder?’

“Yes.”

“Io!” They both said it at the same moment, and Wee Sam felt his heart fall to his stomach. The self-proclaimed King of the Gods had been trying to subjugate their family for a long time. The only reason he had eased up lately was because Wee Sam had trained with the witches in Lancre. And so, to a lesser extent, had his father. It made them harder targets. But Io was still The Thunder God because he had murdered all the others. And then there was the question of who he would be forced to answer to. And how. Neither of the Vimes men had an axe sharp enough for that.

“Damn, why didn’t I realize that?” His father asked the night at large.

“The gods are always playing games. And besides, you had no reason to think Io was responsible for… Well he’s probably not responsible for the Dragon Incident, at least. Or the Goblin Incident.”

“Yeah, but we’ve been operating under the assumption that he was involved in that Dam Slam.” He was rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over the inside of his left wrist, where the Mark of the Summoning Dark had been. When Wee Sam was 8 it had changed, to a symbol generally called the Guarding Dark by anyone who cared to reference it. His father never talked about either Mark, but Wee Sam didn’t blame him. The Marks were indicative of 7 year period which did a number on his view of magic, and his identity.

Speaking of.

“I haven’t told Susan yet, but the monks kicked me out.” He tapped his toe against the grass, bringing it down as softly as he could so it wouldn’t damage the grass. Leggy would be so mad if he damaged his precious ‘terf’.

“Do you want to be a Monk?” His father asked quietly.

“No, I want to be a Watchman.” He whispered. Today was his 30th birthday, though technically he was a month older than that. He felt so much older than that. “But you’re apparently so terrified of me getting myself hurt that you’ve been doing Every Damned Thing you can think of to get between me and that and so I went ahead and tried to join almost any guild in the city and quite a few refused me and I’ve been kicked out of Each. And. Every. One. which would take me and now the only thing I can think of is taking Susan up on her offer to put in a good word for me with the Sto Lat Watch unless you’re going to step in and mess that up too and I wish you would knock it the hells off because as much as I love mum and her dragons I cannot spend the rest of my life working at the damn dragon sanctuary so--”

“Corporal.” His father’s voice was conversational, and somebody who had spent less time listening for the Commander’s voice probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I’m not finished! Will you--” Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “Is that why you made me a Corporal? You couldn’t have recognized me. I hadn’t been born yet!”

“I recognized potential. And I was right, though you didn’t have as much control as I originally thought. Was all that sparring really necessary?”

“You’ve been standing between me and what I’ve been made to do!”

“And how would 50 year old me have known that?”

“It was easier to fight… him… than you.” Wee Sam grumbled, then realized he was starting to dig up the sod with his toe. Feeling bad about the grass, he brought his toe down in the other direction, to flatten it back down.

“Easier? I kicked your ass. I’d probably have a harder time of it now.”

“I never wondered if I should hold back.” Wee Sam admitted.

“Ah.” The 80 year old nodded. “I know that feeling. I’ve often wondered what it would be like if Vetinari and I had a proper fight when we were young.”

“You could sell tickets and solve all the city’s financial problems.” Wee Sam shifted his gaze to his father. “Actually you probably still could--”

“No. Your mother would have a conniption.”

“Oh right. Yeah, she would. Shame.”

“Do I want to know who you think would win?”

“No.”

“Your faith in me is staggering.”

“Well I figure either it would be a draw or he’d kick your--”

“Yes I understood your answer to my question, thank you.” But he was smiling ever so slightly.

And then the city’s clocks started chiming 9 in the evening. His father pushed himself slowly to his feet, and Wee Sam offered his arm. Cheery had offered to get his father an axe to use as a cane, but Commander Vimes would not hear of it. He did touch Wee Sam’s arm briefly, but once he was standing straight he let go, and the pair of them headed towards the exit.

They didn’t bother to try talking until the clocks had stopped, about five minutes after Wee Sam’s watch struck the hour.

“Did those people who tried to kill young Vetinari have any friends who stayed in our time?”

“I believe so.” They were walking slowly, and Wee Sam waited a full block before he added. “You want me to turn all my information over to anyone in particular?”

“I’m not afraid of you getting hurt.” It didn’t seem like a related response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. “I mean, of course I am, but that’s not why I’ve been saying no.”

“Really?”

“I don't want people treating you like a target for their hate for me. If you could join the way Carrot or Angua or Cheery did, that would be fine. But it’s gotten so big since they joined up.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I don’t think it would be any better if you joined anywhere else within the Clacks network.”

“Which is pretty much the whole world at this point.”

“And there’s all this scrying now.”

“Which doesn’t need towers.”

His father glared at him, but didn’t tell him to knock it off. “So I suspect your joining a Watch anywhere would ultimately be just as risky.”

“Which is your reasoning for why I shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat.”

“No, my reasoning for why you shouldn’t bother with Sto Lat is that we pay better and have the best medical benefits on the Sto Plains.”

Wee Sam stopped abruptly. “What.”

“You survived the Watch I started out in. As far as I’m concerned, you can handle today’s watch.” The old man stopped and looked back at him. “You’re going to be the oldest cadet though. Because I’m not going to let you jump straight to Corporal. We’re not at war.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s fine.”

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get moving.”

“Right.” Wee Sam managed to keep himself from skipping, so the pent up energy became a jog to his father’s side. They walked in silence, Wee Sam’s mind racing as he wondered if there was some way for him to accidentally mess this up.

“You should give your mother two week’s notice though. It’s only fair.”

“You didn’t run this by her first?” Wee Sam turned to him, shocked.

“Oh we’ve been talking about this for years.” The unspoken word ‘decades’ hung in the air between them. “Her, Vetinari, Carrot, Angua, Cheery--”

“Cheery?”

“She and Igor think you should be in forensics. I mean, it’s your choice of course-- after you pass the tests.”

“Forensics would be great.” He agreed, and thought about how fun it could be to put his Medical and Alchemical and Assassin training to something useful for once. Which reminded him “You know, there is a smouldering cigar in the center of The Garden of Inner City Tranquility at the Monastery.”

“Yeah, it hit me after you left. I had called you ‘sunshine’ during our fight, and Vetinari basically asked how you were handling turning 30, and seeing him standing there with the lilac pinned to his shirt it hit me.” He paused for a moment. “He wore it in the original timeline too, you know. I wish I had asked, but we didn’t get along as well then.”

Wee Sam felt his mouth tug into a half-smile. For his father and the patrician, ‘getting along as well’ involved an increased number of arguments. Also, he remembered ‘Keel’ using that ironic term of endearment during their spar. “You realized I was Ned Coats.”

“So I… walked as fast as I could… to the Monastery and… knocked on the damned door… And threatened to make one hell of a scene if Sweeper didn’t let me in.”

“So of course he did.”

“Of course.”

“And he took you to the garden. And… you told him what you worked out?”

“Actually I just told him that if anything happened to you I was holding him personally responsible. I knew Ned Coats died. I just didn’t know if he died the way John Keel died. I hadn’t stayed long enough to find out.”

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if my holding him responsible was more or less lethal than Susan Sto Helit holding him responsible.”

Wee Sam laughed. “Sweeper hasn’t met mum.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” His father chuckled quietly. “Anyway, Susan will be at dinner so you can tell her all about how the monks kicked you out with an audience. Your mother will find it interesting, I’m sure.”

“Does mum know about you going back...”

“Oh yes. Vetinari can’t keep a secret from her.” And neither could her husband.

“Will there be anybody at the dinner who doesn’t know?”

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. You were the only one who wasn’t in a position to make conversation then, and while Susan wasn’t involved in my adventure as far as I can tell…”

“But with Susan who knows. In any case, I think I’ll wait until we can get some privacy.”

“Suit yourself, but be warned. Everyone knows I told you I was ok with you joining the Watch. They’ll make a big deal about it. You know how they are.”

Wee Sam looked up at the big, brightly-lit, house as they waited for his dad to fully get his breath back. “I’ll try to be strong.”

Commander Sam Vimes snorted. Wee Sam opened the door, held it while his father entered the house, and followed right behind him.

[ghostiewriter]

This is so specific but what kind of wedding rings do you think each of the couples/especially the girls would have?

(In my mind jiara doesn’t get legally married but might wear rings?)

Okay I’m probably the last person to ask cause I feel like I’m so shit at these kinda things but I’ll try and this will probably be very random but HEY HO😂

Jarah B: I can’t explain why they would have these rings but I just think they do. I was originally gonna pick something more traditional for Sarah before remembering that her whole character arc is that she doesn’t fit that traditional view the kook life would pressure her into. She’s a pogue at heart, that’s what attracted her to John B in the first place because he’s so different from the traditional guys she was with beforehand. And I think her ring really mixes those two lifestyles together, because she’s a mix of both. A bit of her kook life and that dream ring she would’ve wanted, and the more subtlety and humbling lifestyle of the pogue life. Also the wee diamonds along the band remind me of stars and that’s just their wee thing, and I totally imagine John B saying some cheesy line about how the diamond in the middle is the North Star because she’s the North Star of his life and because she’s his home or something! Plus John B’s kinda just matches, I don’t think he’s be quite fussy on his ring, but he puts a lot of detail into Sarah’s when he’s choosing it.

Cleope: LOOK I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE THINKING BUT HEAR ME OUT👀I’m still a very firm advocate of Cleo proposing to Pope first because I think it just fits their dynamic better. However, I still believe Pope would put a lot of effort into finding the perfect ring for her. And I know Cleo seems like a more lowkey kinda gal but let me just explain why I chose a more “out there” kinda ring. She clearly has a rough background, even if we don’t know much about it. But I imagine her opening up to Pope about it, saying how she’s always had hand-me-downs or whatever she could get, whether it be clothes or food or just a place to sleep at night. She’s used to just surviving life, but not actually enjoying it. That is why Pope picks this ring because his girl deserves something damn precious in her life that is just hers and only hers. She deserves to have something that other people look at and are envious. She deserves to have that something nice she always dreamed of as a child but never got. And when he says that in his speech after giving her it, when he tells her that he wants to spend the rest of his life giving her the world like she deserves, I truly do imagine her tearing up and kissing him before making some sort of comment that makes them both laugh but it just hits her how perfect this man is for her. And she adores her ring, cherishes it like nothing else in her life because it is her most prized possession!

Jiara: Tbh I really struggled with Jiara because I totally agree with you! Even if they don’t legally get married, I think JJ would still wanna give her a ring as a token of his love. Going in to the ring shopping, I think JJ would be pretty adamant to get her this massive diamond ring because let’s be real—this boy has never had much money in his life and thought he’d never be good enough for Kiara. And now that he has the money and the whole world at his disposal? He wants to give her everything and anything he can, he just wants to spoil her rotten. But then he’s scrolling through his phone and sees a post pop up and it hits him that even if he wants to spoil Kie, it’s not what she would want. That’s how he manages to get in contact with this lady from the mainland that designs and makes engagement rings which are ethical and eco-friendly, because he knows that is what Kiara would truly want. It’s a simple design but it means so much to Kie when she hears why he picked it. It reminds him of the sun, and in his life he didn’t have much light except when it came to her. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the one to remind him that things would get better. He’s the one that made him feel worth something and just like the whole solar system would be useless and nothing without the sun, he too would be without Kiara. And it just means so much more to her that he made sure both of their rings were ethically purchased and made. And yes, I really went out of my way to find ethically made engagement rings so can we just applaud my dedication there for a moment because it took a while to find some nice ones. Also the second, slimmer band in the other photo would be another ring for Kiara, one she could wear when she wants to be more subtle or lowkey and it warms her heart that he gave her options.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader 

Masterlist   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Warnings- Angst (I guess), SMUT/NSFW, choking.

Chapter 5 Remember To Forget

Throughout the day, John had pretended that he really hadn't seen what he did in the wee hours of the morning when he’d innocently crept to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find Y/n a teary mess before slinking back to his room. And for the most part, Y/n had acted like it hadn’t happened, though, John wasn’t sure if it was because he was simply searching for a shift in her demeanor or if there really was one, but she had been significantly quieter. She seemed distant to, far into some day dream, and at some point, when Donavan had requested a private audience with her, he’d fumed out of her office minutes after they’d been left alone, not to be seen again for the rest of the afternoon. That had arguably been John’s favorite part of the day; he didn’t like the other man anyway, for reasons another person might attribute to jealousy while he himself would say that there was simply something about him that didn't sit well.

They’d returned to her penthouse late in the evening, past dark and without words exchanged, Y/n had stalked off in front of John, discarding her stylish charcoal blazer on a tufted ottoman in the hallway before steering into the kitchen. Maintaining their distance as he had through the day, John was intent on his bedroom, not expecting her to stop him just before he began down the hall. “Yeah?” He glanced Y/n’s way after she called.

“Have dinner with me,” if he’d learned anything about her, it was that Y/n didn’t ask for what she wanted, instead, she simply stated it, wholly expecting submission. Most times she got it too, though, she did expect John to be a more worthy opponent and was prepared to snatch his company for the evening. “I don’t usually cook, but if you stay and I can promise you won’t regret it.”

John dwelled on Y/n’s offer for a minute, internally debating it. He wanted to stay, spend time with her, despite his foreboding dream and the edge of danger that accompanied her presence. And finally, when logic preached that it was just dinner, he caved, shrugging his suit coat and draping it over a chair at the kitchen table, “Okay, sounds good.”

Y/n seemed pleasantly surprised, though, she didn’t let it linger on her face for too long. “Good, I’m-” she cleared her throat softly, remembering herself as she went to grab some ingredients from the fridge, “That’s good. Wine?”

“Sure.” After that, she poured them a couple glasses, insisting, or rather demanding that he sit and stay put while she cooked, muttering something about how she worked better without the help as she chopped a carrot aggressively. It wasn’t long before she’d turned on a record player either, one that resided neatly in a corner, largely unseen until Y/n went over to it, putting a record under the pin. The music was soft, and John recognized most of them as tunes from a time before even he’d been dreamt into existence. He hadn’t pegged her for the kind of person who enjoyed fifties music, but as John was quickly realizing, there was more to Y/n that met the eye. 

She’d just put the glass lid on a saucepan, allowing its contents to simmer while she poured them another glass of wine. “What’s this one?” John probed absently, staring at Y/n as she leaned over the counter to refill him, a few wispy locks escaping her loose ponytail and her stature relaxed after she’d long traded in her heels for walking around barefoot. Seeing her like that was nice, it reminded him that she was human; just a young girl, caught in a world that circumstance afforded her. 

“This one?” Y/n hummed, the song had just begun, the first notes wafting and pleasantly intermingling with the aroma of what she was making, “Its called The Twelfth Of Never,” she smiled absently, probably not even realizing she was doing it, “It was my mom’s favorite, my parents played at their wedding,” Y/n took a tentative sip from her glass, deciding on whether or not she should say more, “And she used to sing it to me, before…..before she….”

“I understand,” John reached over from his perch on a barstool, surprising them both when he grabbed her hand, squeezing gently, “That must be a beautiful memory.”

That time, when Y/n smiled, he was almost sure she’d done it on purpose, “It is.” And without another word, she approached the player, making a few adjustments so the song would restart, “Let me show you something,” Y/n set her glass down, walking around to John and offering her hand, “Come on.”

“You want to dance?” He chuckled, discarding his wine glass, skeptically taking her offered hand, gasping quietly at its softness, completely contrasting the calluses on his large palms. 

“Why not?” Y/n didn’t meet his gaze, but John swore he could tell she wanted too, playing along as she arranged his hands on her body. Touching her like that, it was weird to say the least, not just because he still usually considered himself a married man, but also because holding Y/n felt vastly different to the way it had in his dreams. Then, she hadn’t felt so small, so breakable. Not like the invincible woman he knew in wake, but like someone he’d want to protect. “You lead,” she broke his thoughts, “Its not a hard one.”

Slowly, as permitted, John led Y/n in a slow waltz, his hand stationed at the center of her back, the satin of her blush colored blouse soft to touch. Her hand at his shoulder was, dare he say, comforting and as they sunk into a new familiarity, Y/n stepped closer, so they were chest to chest, her eyes vacant as they danced. “Have you ever felt like that about someone, John? Like you could love them forever?”

“My wife,” his hand slid lower, to the dip of Y/n’s back, and she seemed to hesitate before leaning her head against his chest. For a moment, John stiffened, he hadn't expected her to do that. Then again, he hadn't expected her to do anything she had that evening. After a moment though, he let himself relax, not wanting to admit, even to himself, that he liked having her that close. "She's…...I miss her," he mused, quelling the impulse to tighten his hold on Y/n. "You?"

"Me?" She huffed a humorless chuckle, “No, never. But maybe that’s a good thing. Love is…...destructive,” Y/n’s last words were so soft that John may not have heard them if she weren’t so close. Suddenly, he realized that like him, even if she’d been raised by a family, Y/n must have had a childhood as jaded as his, especially after mother’s death. He and Y/n might have had more in common that he would have preferred to admit. They were two bent, hardened people, seeking to fend for themselves because trust wasn’t something they could be guaranteed. 

Emboldened by this new realization, and seeing how she was comfortable enough to sink into his arms, John guided their conversation in another direction, “I saw you last night.” He eased the topic in slowly, not wanting Y/n to recede into herself. John ached to know her, help her, if she’d let him. “In the kitchen.”

Knowing exactly what he was talking about, Y/n tensed up, holding her breath as if it would make her disappear, only letting it out when they stopped, still standing in the middle of the kitchen, entangled, “What did you see?” A pair of wide eyes stared up at John with an expression he couldn’t quite read. 

“You know what I saw,” John insisted softly, his arms showing no intention of releasing Y/n, even when one of her hands curiously slid around his neck, inching upwards to tangle his burnt hued mane, “We can talk about it if you want to.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, John” Y/n’s lengthy, half moon nails gently grazed his scalp and she leaned up on her toes so her lips would be a hair away from his, “But you didn’t. So just forget about it,” she urged, tilting her head as she finally laid her lips on John's, moving them against his encouragingly. He took a beat, but eventually responded, curling his fingers behind her back to clutch a fistful of her shirt’s fabric. 

Y/n’s free hand gripped his firm bicep and John let himself run with the moment, his eyes shutting and his tongue evading the barrier of her teeth. She tasted like wine and something he’d never tasted on another woman, something unique and inviting. It felt so good to be like that with someone again, the proximity, the intimacy, the fragility of the moment, it was all so consuming that John let himself forget. But only for a bit. Until a voice, one he could only ever hear in his dreams, caught up with him. How could you, John?

“I can’t,” in an instant, John was pulling his face away, not realizing that he hadn’t relented his grip on Y/n, “This isn’t……” He couldn’t do that to Helen, taint her memory by laying with someone like Y/n. With someone who reminded him of himself. 

“Why?” Searching his features, Y/n cupped John’s cheek, his trimmed, grey speckled scruff ticklish under her soft palm as her thumb grazed the hint of a wrinkle near his eye.

“I’m married…..” John’s hands shifted on her body, slipping so they were stationed at her waist, but even then, he seemed reluctant to remove them altogether, “My wife…..”

“What you do with me won’t change what you had with her,” Y/n’s husky whisper was accompanied by her free hand skimming his torso, her touch electrifying, causing John’s breath to hitch. Hesitantly, his gaze fell to her kiss swollen lips, knowing his resolve was ebbing away. Her fingers stopped at the buckle of his belt, and he was actually surprised that she hadn't taken it further, “I know you want to,” to prove her point, Y/n pressed her front to his, feeling his growing longing against her stomach, “You can’t tell me you don’t.”

She was right, as hard as he was trying, John knew that he couldn’t resist. Maybe he’d been done for it from the moment he met Y/n at the Continental, when her mystery ignited a spark that he hadn't felt since Helen. Besides, it was just sex. A dark glint shifted in his eye, clouding his usual stoicism as John's hand inched down to her hips, giving Y/n's short skirt a series of gentle tugs so the fabric would ride up her thighs. "You're right; I can't," his calloused fingers ghosted her smooth skin, raising goosebumps, "And I do want to."

Offering a glimmer of a wicked smirk, Y/n toyed with the buckle of the belt until it came undone, ignoring the loud clatter that followed when she finally slid the leather out of its loops and dropped it to the floor, "Then what's stopping you, Mr. Wick?" Nimble, petite fingers popped the plastic button of John's slacks. 

"Right now?" One large hand ventured under the hem of her skirt, pushing the crotch of Y/n's panties aside so his rough, stocky digits could tease her folds. Spreading her slickness, John took his time before pressing down on her clit, igniting a new throbbing in her crotch. Loudly, Y/n moaned around his fingers, an indirect plea for more and John cocked a devilish smirk, "Not a damn thing."

Y/n was too lewd to respond verbally, one of her legs simply crooking at John's hip, his undone pants riding a little lower each time they shifted. Simultaneously, as John worked her cunt, his free hand hastily pulled her blouse out from her skirt, reaching under it to grope a lace clad breast. "John….." Y/n huffed, breath contained in her throat. 

"Yeah," he gritted his teeth Y/n reached into his boxers, hissed when her jewelry adorned hand circled his hardened cock, the metal cold against his skin, and finally, when her thumb rubbed his swollen head, spreading around the first beads of precum before pumping slow, John moaned sinfully, "Fuck!" His forehead touched hers briefly, before John hoisted Y/n up in his arms, only to discard her moments later on the dark veined marble counter. 

Leaning past her, he quickly turned off the top burner on the electric stove before returning his attention. Y/n had already started undoing the buttons of her shirt and entranced, John stared as the fabric hung off her shoulders, his mind flashing to the day he'd seen her exposed modesty in the reflection. Seeing her that evening though, it was absolutely incomparable; full breasts nearly spilling out of rich black lace and unblemished skin almost glowing in the cool lighting of the room. Y/n looked like a thing of erotic art, her legs spread wide to accommodate him standing between them as she propped herself on hands planted on the counter. Hair pulled away from her face left John's alluring view unhampered and as he admired, Y/n's words, spoken from matted burgundy lips pierced his thoughts and she reached out, catching the hem of his shirt, "If it makes you feel better," she tugged him closer, bringing her face to his so a searing kiss would punctuate her words, "You can pretend I'm her."

So it really was just sex, John thought, Y/n didn't care much beyond the physical. "No," more hastily that time, John shoved up Y/n's skirt, roughly tugging her legs soon after, and finally peeling off her panties tossing them away, "Cause I'm gonna do things to you," he pushed down his pants and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles and his lips peppering nibbles along her jaw and neck, somehow losing his shirt in the process, "That I'd never do to her." And with that, and no prior warning, John pressed into Y/n, filling her up to the brim. 

In unison, their hallowed sounds bounced off the white walls, Y/n's nails digging into his shoulder blades as he stretched her so wide it burned. Drunk on the feeling of having Y/n's tight, heated, wetness around him, John's hips buckled on instinct. Fueled by carnal desire; any trace of something much more tender vanquished by the heavy air surrounding them, he stirred up a quick, fluid pace, his length dragging out of Y/n's perfectly tight cunt before slamming back in. His onslaught of violent thrusts elicited loud, sinfully erotic sounds from Y/n, who had unintentionally relinquished any control that she, just a while ago, brandished over the situation, resigning to hanging onto John as he had his way with her. 

"John…...fuck…...John!" Her broken, ragged words were few and the feeling of John's throbbing veins generating the best kind of friction as he roughly moved inside her,  jerking her body with his selfish pace. Helpless against his whims, Y/n clawed at his back, accentuating the shine of healed scars and the bold black ink with angry red lines. 

"You feel so fucking good," he growled, one hand skimming Y/n's as the other held a death grip on her hip, "So fucked tight around my cock," John's throaty gnarrs were enough to intensify her need, rousing Y/n to tighten her legs around his waist. By passing her still restrained breasts, John found the graceful column of Y/n's neck, his palm lingering flat at the base of her throat for just a second before his grip closed around her neck. 

Gradually, the pressure he applied on either side of Y/n's neck increased, yet the tighter his hold got, the more she wanted. Surely, he was leaving a large bruise, one that would probably compliment the ones he'd already given her and match with the ones she was giving him. "Open your eyes," John urged, not slowing as consciousness seemed like a struggle. He was good though, always giving Y/n enough to keep her with him while still muting her power.

She didn't think she could like it that much, being at someone else's mercy, but this was John, and what they were doing then would probably mean nothing with the coming hours. It was fun; meant to last for a while, be a sweet escape for whatever troubled her before Y/n would return to her ivory tower. 

It was hard to even try to choke a couple words out, and Y/n was sure that her reddened eyes were leaking with slow, rare tears, as bluish spots skewed her vision, blurring her view of John. "I….I'm…." But even as the coil on Y/n's stomach was about to snap, she couldn't manage the words.

Still though, John understood, "Do it…." He grunted urgently, "Fuck!" He continued rolling his hips incessantly, prolonging the journey to his own release. He craved the feeling of Y/n coming around him, clenching around his cock as she tripped over the edge, "Cum for me," he squeezed her neck.

Just then, the rush of sticky warmth was spilling out, messily coating their thighs and slowly drizzling down their legs. The sound that left her lips could have best been something between a scream and a languid moan as Y/n's eyes rolled back into her head. As the shocks of sheer pleasure coursed through her, sending a spark to every nerve ending in  her petite being, her toes curled and her legs tangled around John's hips stiffened momentarily. 

Ridding out her explosive high, John's movements went rigid at the feeling of Y/n milking him. As she came down, he let go, using all his restraint to not squeeze her neck too tight as he came, sheathed deep inside, ropes of hot, release against her walls, not pulling out until he'd expended himself. 

Leaving her with a distinct hollowness between  her sticky thighs, John detached their spent, sated forms, not touching her, but still boxing Y/n in by steadying himself with his palms planted firmly on the counter. They were breathing erratically and heavily whilst actively avoiding each other's gazes, trying to make the experience as impersonal as it clearly wasn't. 

"So," Y/n swallowed harshly, trying to remedy her hoarseness and shrugging her shirt back up to close up the buttons. When John looked at her, he seemed as equally as cold and unaffected as Y/n did, and they both knew that talking about what had just happened wasn't on the table.

"So?" John prompted, pulling up his pants, deciding that even cleaning up around Y/n was too intimate.

"So, dinner?" Her feet hit the shiny marble floor with the softest thud before Y/n, slipped out from the slim space between his hulking frame and the edge of the counter, padding over to turn on the stove again. 

John didn't answer immediately, both phased and relieved that Y/n had chosen to dismiss their encounter so quickly, less than thirty minutes after it had happened. "Okay," he confirmed, forgoing his shirt.

Blinking quickly, Y/n faltered, though, the moment was fleeting and soon she was nodding stiffly, "Okay."

*****

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @jupiterdawngirl

[desperationandgin]

Where the Love Light Gleams

Rating: Mature

Also Read on: AO3

Summary: After an accident that changes Claire Randall's life, she comes face to face with the man who saved her.

Author’s Note: Welcome to the first fic for the inaugural Winter of Want! Thank you so much to @smashingteacups​ and @missclairebelle​ for being my partners in crime! Also, thank you to them as well as @happytoobserve​ for being betas! And thank you so much to @fierceweebadger​ for the beautiful moodboard she made! I'm so grateful to all of my people ❤ 

On with the story!

The Cellist

The first time he’d ever seen Claire Randall she was a broken woman, close to being consumed by flames, blood matting dark curls to her forehead and neck. She’d been hanging upside down by her seatbelt, and he’d worked to get her out while the rest of his crew battled the fire and pulled the driver from the wreckage.

A husband and wife who’d been heading home, according to the upside-down (but still functioning) GPS. Witnesses explained the husband swerved to miss a deer, sideswiped an oncoming truck, and flipped the car down an embankment. Sparks set the dry grass on fire, and by the time help had arrived, strangers were attempting to use any spare water they could to stop the blaze’s progress.

Jamie’d known the husband died instantly, but when he asked the lass what her name was during a moment of consciousness, she’d looked right at him and he had no doubt she would live. The sheer will in those amber eyes was too intense to go out, too stubborn. It had only been a second, but in that brief moment of awareness, she’d said her name as calmly as if they were on a still sea.

Claire.

She’d lost consciousness again after that, and Jamie had relinquished her to the medics. After his shift, he’d checked with the hospital, discovered she would live, and gone home. He’d thought about visiting her, but he was a stranger and her husband was dead. It didn’t seem like the time to introduce himself, though a part of him, perhaps, hoped that she would reach out to him, want to meet the person who saved her. The call never came, and he prayed the young widow was able to move on with her life, find some sort of happiness again. His dreams reminded him of her periodically, but over the next five years, all that he could remember were those eyes.

Until he walks into the Firefighter’s Charity Ball and there she is, on a stage flanked by seven others. Amid various Christmas decor, the woman he’d last seen bloody and fragile, plays the cello, the symphonic strains of O Come, All Ye Faithful filling the room thanks to the small octet. He stares, unable to look away, lips parting to see her so vibrant. So alive. She looks bonny, better than, with her curls floating like a cloud around her head. She’s in a simple black dress with the barest hint of her calves showing as she plays, and he’s sure he’s never wanted to know another woman this badly in his life.

Taking a sip of whisky as he admires the way she plays, the song fades, and she begins to put aside her bow. Before Jamie can look away, her eyes land directly on him.

She has no idea who he is.

He can see it in the way her gaze drifts immediately, looking out at the crowd before refocusing on her sheet music.

She has no idea that the man who saved her life is standing right in front of her.

It’s an hour before the musicians take a break, and Jamie finds her immediately, trying to decide how to approach her. He can’t very well ask her to recall something so horrible, so he introduces himself as a stranger, eggnog in hand to offer.

“Ye play verra beautifully, if ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he praises, holding out the glass. He’s formally dressed in his uniform and doesn’t miss the way her eyes land first at his chest, then make their way up slowly, taking her time.

At least he knows she’s interested.

“Thank you,” she replies with a soft smile and dip of her head. “I’ve always loved playing this time of year.”

“Does yer wee group make the rounds often around the holidays?” Jamie asks as he takes a sip of his drink, casually slipping a hand into his pocket, trying very hard not to think about wanting her.

Claire lets out a breath of air through her nose, a laugh, and smiles around the rim of her glass, shaking her head. “My wee group and I are part of the Scottish Symphony Orchestra. I’m first chair.” It’s an illumination dropped as casually as if she’d said she majored in English.

His eyes widen, adding her occupation and position with the orchestra to the list of things he knows to be true of her. (The others being her sheer will to survive and her determined gaze.) “That’s quite the achievement; I didna realize ye could ask for parts of the whole at an event.”

“Well, you can when you’re married to the conductor,” she informs him. “The event planner for tonight just happens to be, and this is a good cause, so I’m sure strings were pulled. No pun intended.” Claire meets his gaze with a softened one of her own. “Thank you. For risking your life to save others.”

He thinks she might tell him her story, a perfect segue for him to introduce himself, but instead, she simply tells him her name.

“I’m Claire Randall. It’s nice to meet you.” She extends her hand, and his first thought is that she never remarried, though he mentally admonishes himself immediately.

“Jamie Fraser. And ye dinnae need to thank me, though I appreciate it. Do ye get to enjoy yourself this evening, or is it all business?”

“Oh, I’m strictly the help,” she replies with a dazzling smile that makes his knees weak and his heart pound.

Christ, he feels like an eejit trying to come up with a way to keep her talking, to not go anywhere and leave him without her warmth. “If that’s the case then, how would ye feel about taking down my number?” Something, anything to keep a connection between them.

Watching his face, Claire finishes off her eggnog before checking the time and setting her glass down. “I feel you should wait until after the event is over and walk me home. I’m only a few blocks up. Then we’ll see if your number’s earned a place in my phone.”

The way she smiles at him before turning to go back toward the stage makes him feel as though he might be the only person she’s ever smiled at in exactly that way.

Jamie’s plan, initially, had been to leave after dessert, two hours well-spent mingling. Now, as the third-hour rolls by and people begin saying goodbyes, he watches the mini-orchestra perform one last medley of songs. It’s a good opportunity to study how focused Claire is when she plays her instrument, how her fingers seem to float, moved by something supernatural. He notices now that her arms are solid and toned, idly wondering how many years she’s been playing. He longs to hear her alone, the spotlight only on her.

As the playing concludes, Claire’s eyes move from the sheet music to Jamie, the intensity of their stare causing the air to seemingly crackle around them. Neither of them moves, and so she’s watching as he frowns and looks down, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He isn’t the only one — five others seem to stop what they’re doing and check for something.

It’s immediately clear that he has to leave.

Knowing the party is over anyway, Jamie makes his way to the stage, meeting her halfway down.

“You have to go?”

“Aye,” he breathes out, watching as she reaches into the folds of her dress and pulls out a business card. Taking it from her, Jamie wastes no time, grabbing the pen from his breast pocket, writing his number, and returning the card. “Let this be on your terms, Sassenach,” he assures her, then lightly snags her hand, kissing the top of her knuckles softly.

He’s gone before she can ask him what the hell a Sassenach is.

The next night, armed with wine and her laptop, Claire sits (in the company of her ‘she adopted me’ black cat, Sesh, and a Joni Mitchell playlist) and Googles one Jamie Fraser of the Scottish Fire and Rescue Service. Clicking over to an image search, she takes a sip of wine and hums at the first photo on the page. It’s him, most assuredly, running in a marathon, sweaty, biceps proudly showing, and somehow looking directly into the camera.

“I sincerely hope there was an emergency last night, Sesh,” Claire mutters, feeling a pang of shame for the thought, but not for long; soon enough it’s replaced by sheer want, before even that’s replaced by a guilt different from the first. She’s been reassured, not by one friend or even two ganging together, but four, that she deserves to be happy again or, at the very least, deserves a good roll in the hay with someone.

Those had been Gillian’s words, agreed-upon emphatically by both John — and in the ultimate betrayal — Joe plus his wife. She knew five years was more than enough time, but since the accident, there’d been no reason to seek out something that would only leave her feeling emptier than she had before. No one captivated her attention, no one made her want to get to know them better. She’s been happy to not risk her heart again and live in a quiet bubble alone.

Until last night.

She’d glimpsed him after finishing the first song of the evening, her eyes attracted to that shock of red curls in the audience. When he’d approached her, she found herself unable to keep the flirting from rolling right off of her tongue. He’d undone her somehow in the span of perhaps twenty minutes, all told. She remembers his hasty exit, which reminds her to open a new tab and begin typing into the search bar.

Sass-

“Oh, bloody hell. What was it?” she mutters, trying to recall it, to sound it out phonetically.

Sass-in-ach

Claire goes with it, appreciates the Showing Results For Sassenach correction, and reads aloud, mumbling the words. “‘An English person.’ That’s not very creative, is it?” Though she has to admit, it sounded nice coming from him. It’s different, and she wonders if he calls every English person he meets the same thing.

Going back to her original search, she clicks out of the images, skimming the links until one catches her eye. The date, in particular.

January 24th, 2014.

The day of the accident.

Putting her wine down and sitting up straight, Claire hesitates a fraction of a second before pulling up the story. She’s immediately greeted by an image of her own crumpled and overturned vehicle, and for a moment, she can do nothing but stare at it, trying to remember herself inside. John had taken her to see it two weeks after the funeral, helped her get the things out of the boot (her cello, protected in its case, a suitcase and carry on from her recent trip to the States), and she hasn’t seen it since. When she’s finally able to scroll past the image, she reads about details she can’t remember, and then there’s Jamie, being praised as a hero.

“‘I only knew I had to get the lass out of the vehicle, so I paid no mind to the flames. I had to trust that my colleagues had control of the situation while I managed to cut the passenger free,’ explained Jamie Fraser, one of the first responders on the scene. Thanks to his quick action, the female passenger is said to be making a full recovery. His efforts will be celebrated by Chief Fire Officer Blunden—”

She doesn’t bother to read any further. Every thought she has seems to fall on top of the next until one finally becomes clear: Jamie Fraser saved her life.

“Oh, my God.”

Sesh seems unbothered, slow-blinking up at her as the pieces come together. He’d seen her, sought her out. Did he remember her? Know who she was at the event? It’s only after she’s dialed the number he wrote on her card that she realizes it’s very nearly one in the morning. “Fuck.” She’s moving her thumb to disconnect just as she hears a muffled grunt. Freezing in surprise, the phone goes back to her ear as she speaks quietly.

“Hello?”

“Was that a suggestion, Sassenach?”

His voice is low and thick with sleep, but somehow his humor’s still quick, and she coughs, wetting her lips. “No, no, only that I didn’t mean to call you so late. I lost track of—”

Christ, cut to the chase, Beauchamp.

“Do you remember saving my life?”

The silence on the other end hangs for what feels like hours, but she hears the faint sound of what she assumes is Jamie sitting up in bed, readjusting the grip he has on his phone.

“Aye, I do. Do you remember it, Claire?”

Closing her eyes, she tries, but her memory stops just after Frank picked her up from the airport. “No. You pulled me out of the car?”

“I cut ye free and then got ye clear of the accident.” He pauses, sitting in the dark of his flat, worried about her. “Ye dinnae need to think about it, Claire,” he tells her gently.

“You saved my life, Jamie, that’s what I’m thinking of. They asked me when I was in recovery if I wanted to meet you, but I couldn’t — I’d just lost my husband, I wasn’t thinking about meeting anyone.”

When Jamie speaks again, his voice is soft and even, meant to soothe. “There’s no reason ye need to explain anything. It was five years ago, Sassenach, and yer life was changed forever. I’m no’ going to hold anything against ye.”

For four heartbeats, quiet lingers between them before Claire speaks again. “I realize tomorrow is Christmas Eve, you’ve probably got plans of some sort, but I would like to see you if I can.”

If there’d been a hint of grogginess left in him, he’s fully awake now, squinting in the dark. “Ye dinnae have yer own plans?”

“Well, my husband died.”

Grunting in surprise at her response, Jamie rubs a hand over the top of his head, thinking. “I dinnae have anywhere to be until noon on Christmas Day, so my Eve is all yours, Sassenach, if ye want it.”

Christ, she doesn’t know if he meant to sound alluring or not, so she stays neutral. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Do ye ken where Victoria Park is?”

She’s nodding before she remembers she needs to respond aloud. “The park with the bowling greens?”

“Aye, and the walking paths. There are benches, good for sitting and talking for a while if ye’d like.” He meant it when he told her before that anything between them should be on her terms, and that was before she connected the dots. He doesn’t know what it is to lose a spouse, but he imagines the prospect of speaking about it is daunting.

In the silence that waits for her response, Claire looks down at the gold ring on her finger, thumb lightly stroking the cool metal. She tries to imagine it, her heart being wide open again and susceptible to breaking. Closing her eyes, she remembers that Jamie smelled vaguely of citrus and sage and the specific blue of his eyes was like an afternoon sky on a cloudless day. Comforting and warm.

It’s an easy decision when the memory of his gaze on her causes a flush.

“I would like that, Jamie.”

_______________________________________________________________________

They decide to meet at ten in the morning when the park is between hosting late A.M. joggers and parents with toddlers. She wanders toward the spot they’re meeting, under a grove of trees home to a row of benches. Slowing her pace as she approaches, Claire gives herself a few steps to admire him, the cut of his hips and the way his muscles move even under his coat.

Christ, he’s made an impression.

And then she remembers that this is the man who saved her life, features softening when he looks up and spots her.

“Ye made it. I was worried the directions were too vague,” he admits, standing to greet her.

“In the summer there’s a beautiful patch of wild yellow flowers just across the sidewalk. It’s gorgeous, I used to come often when I first moved here.”

They walk back to the bench together and sit, though neither one of them knows exactly how to begin the conversation. Eventually, it’s Claire who breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry. For not trying to find you after the accident.”

Jamie’s shaking his head before she’s done speaking. “Ye dinnae have to apologize for it, as I told ye last night.” He stops short of saying he was doing his job, but it was more than that. He knew it the moment she looked at him. “I did check in on ye, just to be sure ye’d be alright. But I kent there was no’ much I could do or say to make anything better for ye.” And he hadn’t wanted to drop in unannounced only to make things worse for her in some way.

Studying her hands, she drags her thumb along the lifeline, closing her eyes. She remembers getting into the car at the airport. Begging Frank to turn off talk radio so they could have a conversation. She remembers him laughing at something she said, and then, nothing. “I woke up in the hospital and couldn’t remember what happened. They told me there’d been an accident, and I think I knew my husband was dead before they said it.”

He moves his hand to cover one of hers without thinking, so when she squeezes his fingers he holds on tightly, aware now of the weight of her palm and the delicate skin of her wrist under his thumb.

“I didn’t touch my cello for a year afterward. I’d somehow convinced myself it was my fault, that if I hadn’t traveled to play, he wouldn’t have picked me up from the airport, there wouldn’t have been an accident.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I don’t believe that now, but it felt better to blame myself for a little while.”

She’s kept her grip on him, squeezing again as she takes a breath and lets it out slowly.

“When I finally got to ye,” he begins quietly, looking down at their hands, “ye were unconscious. I went to cut off the seatbelt and yer eyes opened, ye looked directly at me. I asked your name, and ye said it, so…” Jamie trails off, unable to find the right words for it. “As though ye’d been waiting for me to ask. Then ye were out again and that was the last I saw of ye.”

Her eyes fall to their hands as well, and she turns hers over so that their fingertips are touching.

“But I kent ye would live. I could see it in yer eyes, that ye’re a lass wi’ spirit,” he tells her with a soft smile. “And I ken ye know it now, but it wasna yer fault, Claire.”

She does know, but hearing it feels like balm on an aching wound. “Thank you for saving my life, Jamie.” Lifting her gaze, she studies his face and admires the sharp angle of his jaw, the tawny scruff there.

There’s something between them, he can feel it as if a living, pulsing thing. He’s aware of each breath she takes, the rise and fall of her chest; he feels it as surely as his own body moving, both of them separate pieces of a complete being.

“I’m glad that it was me, Sassenach. I cannae explain it, but—”

“But it was supposed to be you,” Claire finishes. Jamie was meant to save her, no one else could have.

Raising her hand to his lips, Jamie frowns lightly upon pulling back. “Your hands are like ice, Sassenach. Let me buy ye something warm,” he offers. “There’s a wee cafe nearby.”

In truth, if it were a way to spend more time with him, it didn’t matter what they did or where they went.

Claire smiles, charmed the moment he said wee.

_______________________________________________________________________

It was inevitable, really, that they fall into bed with one another. Under the pretense of dinner (which they did eat; an easy meal of pasta in lemon sauce and good crusty bread for soaking up the remnants), she’d agreed to go back to his flat. They’d both known it wasn’t going to be about the food for long.

She sleeps now with her head resting on his outstretched arm, facing him. His hand has been numb for hours, but he wouldn’t dream of moving her, not now. Not when he has the pleasure of seeing up close the light dusting of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. He can see the way her eyelashes curl upward slightly, and he revels in the feel of her breath falling against his skin. Reaching out, Jamie’s fingers lightly brush a stray curl from her cheek, his touch as gentle as possible so as not to wake her. Her skin is so delicate, like fine porcelain, and he slowly drags the tips of his fingers down her side. There’s a scar that begins on her hip, and he follows the feel of it down as far as he can reach. From the accident, she’d said, just before he’d leaned down to kiss the mark right in the center.

When Claire shifts, Jamie freezes, hand hovering as she finally moves off of his arm and tucks herself onto her side, with her back to him now. When she seems settled, he slowly moves onto his side behind her, curving his body into the hollow of hers. Tucking his legs behind her knees, he rests his hand on her hip, the other arm stretched protectively over her. Taking a chance, he ducks his head and kisses the beauty mark on her shoulder, his touch as light as he can make it. Then he finds he can’t stop himself from continuing his tender assault across her skin. She moves again, and his hand rests against her stomach, lightly holding on as he goes still.

“I’m not likely to go anywhere,” she whispers in the dark, hint of a smile in her voice.

Discovered, Jamie presses firmer kisses to her skin, giving up any pretense of being careful. “Good. I didna plan to let ye up from this bed soon,” he warns.

Smiling, Claire rolls herself under him, both of them shifting until he’s comfortably above her. Glancing toward the window, she raises an eyebrow, only able to see him in the dark because of a faintly glowing streetlamp. “From the looks of it, we still have plenty of sleeping to do.”

“Aye. Plenty of late night left. Which means plenty of time to sleep. In a bit.” He has no plans of letting her get back to it right away as his head ducks and lips press to the middle of her chest.

“You don’t seem very tired.” Already, she’s flushing, trying to anticipate where his mouth might go next.

“I’ve found my second wind, though I have a verra distinct feeling that it won’t be hard to want ye all the time.” He drops a kiss to the curve of her breast, marveling in the way her flesh softly yields.

“Does that mean you’d like to see me again?” she queries, voice soft, not wanting to assume.

Immediately, Jamie raises his head, eyes meeting hers so that she can see the truth of his words.

“I’d like to see ye every day for the rest of my life, Sassenach. If it suits ye.”

She’s so shocked by his words that she laughs; not at him but at the idea that she can laugh again, in the company of a man who wants her. “I’m sure we could work out some sort of arrangement, though I realize this time you have right now is a luxury.”

“It is,” he murmurs, resuming the self-imposed task of kissing her skin, dipping low to begin a slow descent. “But the consecutive days off are verra worth it, ye ken? If I have you to look forward to, I reckon I could get through anything.”

She sighs in contentment as her legs part to make a home for him. “You look forward to me?” She smiles softly, just as her breath catches at a well-placed kiss to her pelvis.

“Only someone wi’ out all five senses wouldna look forward to ye, mo nigheann donn.”

Claire stops him with a soft tug of his curls, and when he raises his head she arches an eyebrow, curiosity in her eyes.

“‘My brown-haired lass,’” he answers, knowing her question and bringing one of her legs over his shoulder, parting her with his fingers.

“I very much enjoy it when you speak to me in Gaelic,” she manages, getting it out while she can, knowing she won’t have the capability of thought soon.

Once more, Jamie raises his head, giving her a cheeky grin. “Laigh air ais fhad 's a tha mi agad.” (Lie back while I have ye.)

She has no idea what he said, but the timbre of his voice, the way his eyes darken — she knows it was filthy, but her amusement gives way to a soft gasp once his mouth finds the slick, heated center of her. A hand immediately moves to the top of his head, lips pressing together as she holds her breath for half a heartbeat and then cries out, back arching. Unable to help herself, she presses her thighs to the sides of his head, only easing up when one of his hands grips her hip tightly. His other rests on her belly, holding her down, keeping her grounded.

His head attempts to move with her body, following each spasm of her hips. He tastes her first climax; she coats his tongue and chin but he doesn’t stop, and when she comes again it’s around two curved fingers, the feel of her going straight to his cock. There’s a third, smaller shockwave, given while tucked against his chest, his hand between them.

Panting against his neck, Claire takes her time coming back to herself, basking in the feel of stretching when thoroughly satisfied. “You are very, very good at that,” she finally manages, very nearly purring in relaxation.

“Weel, I do aim to please, but admittedly, it’s no’ hard to want to make ye writhe like that all the time. Christ, the sounds ye make, and the way yer entire body grips me just so.” He’s hard and wanting, aching just a bit at the minutes-old memory. “Ye have no idea the gift ye are.”

His words strike her, and she pulls back, gaze soft as she reaches out, fingertips lightly pressing to his cheek.

“I’m only here because of you.”

Jamie wants to refute it, to insist that she did all the fighting to stay alive. But the truth of it is, she had needed him. She couldn’t have gotten out of that vehicle herself.

“Still. Ye lived, and I ken it was no’ easy for ye.” Lightly, he reaches out to drag his thumb across the apple of her cheek. “Ye needn’t ever worry that ye cannae still grieve him. If this was too soon, too much—”

Claire stops him with the tip of a finger pressed to his lips. For a moment’s pause, she simply looks at him, holds his gaze and makes it clear that she would like to speak. When his lips press softly to her finger, her hand drops and she pushes him lightly onto his back, straddling his hips. That’s all she does, reaching for his hands and holding onto both of them, lacing their fingers together.

“I don’t recall saying anything was too much or too soon. What I can tell you is that for five years, I haven’t let myself feel a thing. Loneliness is a choice, or so they say. And I chose it because it’s a hell of a lot better than losing so much all the time.” She looks down, the hint of more loss than she’s willing to share playing across her features. “I thought it would stay like that, always.”

She’d convinced herself she was fine with it, that the less she risked, the fewer heartbreaks she would need to endure.

“That plan was working out very well for me until I met you,” she informs him, eyes creasing in the corners as she smiles before speaking seriously again. “I thought I’d lost the ability to feel anything close to this, after a while.” Want and lust and need for another person; all of those things had felt like lost causes.

“What is it about you, Jamie?” As she asks, her hips begin a slow rock against his. “How did you find me?”

He’s captivated by her words and movement, groaning at the feel of her gliding easily along the length of him. “I didna find ye at all,” he manages, raising his head a bit to watch himself disappear into her, finally, inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. Neither of them moves, her eyes closed while his are focused firmly on her face while he fights the urge to move right away.

“Ye came into my life, Claire, and ye never truly left.” A part of him has held onto her, even if it was only a single feature that haunted his dreams. Her soul imprinted on his, and he knows now that he’s complete with her, that it never could have been another way for him.

When she opens her eyes, they’re blown wide with pleasure, pupils dark and lids heavy. He’s staring right at her, and one of her hands reaches for his, bringing it over her chest. She rides him, slowly at first, while her heart pounds against his palm. The pulsing tempo increases beneath his touch as leisurely pleasure begins to turn into something more focused, more urgent. She leans forward, letting go of him only to brace her hands on his chest. He’s holding back, she can feel it, his belly tense beneath her.

When she speaks his name, it’s on a panting breath, and when his eyes open, he knows what she wants, can see it. Reaching out, his hands rest on her hips, and he looks at her one more time to be sure. When she nods, he shores up his grip and then slams into her once, hard, losing his breath at the cry of sheer pleasure it tears from her. He does it again, then again, pistoning his hips upward forcefully, quickly, driving noises from her so beautiful he’s not sure he’ll ever hear anything that could compare. He’s causing her to make those sounds, and he’ll be a damned man if he doesn’t strive to hear her as often as possible.

Jamie slows and Claire takes over, straightening her spine and beginning a pace that means she’s close; she has to be, because there’s no way in Christ’s name he’ll ever make it if not. His hands move up her body and cup around her breasts, squeezing enough to make her tighten around him involuntarily. His groan mingles with her cry of pleasure, and he wills his eyes open, needing to see her. When he does, he’s sure there’s not a better sight in all the world.

Her head is back, exposing the length of her neck, skin begging to know the imprint of his lips over and over again. Her hair sways back and forth, mussed curls seeming to tumble in all directions, and when her head falls forward, Jamie can see that she’s chasing her pleasure, forehead knit right in the center. She’s there, she’s close, and he sneaks one hand between them to touch, rolling that small bud of nerves beneath his thumb.

That’s all it takes for her to shatter, body pitching forward and nearly curling around his. Her breasts sway right before him and he doesn’t fight the urge to lean in, burying his face there. As her body tightens around his, pulling him in, his name becomes a choked cry, unable to get it out without whimpering in the middle.

She drops her hips one more time and Jamie tenses, arms wrapping around her frame. Her name is nothing more than a strangled sob as he spills into her, teeth lightly scraping her shoulder. He can feel her shaking against him but can do nothing about it; he’s not entirely sure if he’s able to move his arms and legs.

Eventually, there’s enough of a chill on cooling skin that Jamie reaches for the blankets, covering them up again. The silence between them is comfortable, and she stays right on top of him, unmoving as he begins to doze.

“You know, I’ve realized something,” she whispers, voice sleepy sounding and far away.

He hums, low in the back of his throat. “What’s that, Sassenach?”

As his fingers drag up and down her spine, she turns her head to press a soft kiss to his chest. “It’s clearly after midnight. Which means it’s technically Christmas Day.”

Opening his eyes, Jamie finds himself looking right at her, and his smile is easy, eyes alight with it.

“Well then, a nighean.” He leans in close, whispering the words across her lips, thankful for her, an unexpected gift. “Happy Christmas to ye.” He nuzzles her cheek, reaching down to playfully pinch her arse.

Her laughter fills the room, eventually carrying them to sleep.

[blushdressshop]

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sure on Tony’s also there but he’s a little preoccupied with the relationship problems he’s now having with pepper which leads to them taking a break while in space status is getting real sick of everyone failing to get his stones so he decides he’s gonna do it himselfand by that I mean he’s going to wait three years to do it but he start planning now which most in getting a bigger glove called the infinity gauntlet that would let them hold the stones once he finds them unearthed the shield team gets to the human campand shield was to register all been humans on a big list so they’re all accounted for something like a human’s version of the Scobee Accords which will get you over the humans at the camp predictably don’t like this also people start realizing that Daisy’s mom is kind of evil so a big fight ensues in the war which is really more of a battle between shielding humans he follows his nonskilled anklesand loses his arm also those chargingand human crystalsand up in the oceanand spend the pillsand also to stuff so now in human start popping up moreand more around the world also Mays ex husband Garner egrets in humidified enter into this horrible monster called flash also grant one was to try to start by Dragon even though the avengers just fishing that Daisy also says about her dad who wasn’t such a bad guy after all he gets his memory erasedand start a new life may decides to take a break from shieldand Fitzsimmons finally start dating however risingand going Simmons is in the same room as the monolith which shield has occasional memory that’s the portal through which you go to this terrible ugly planet with an original inhuman monster hive lives she was the inspiration for Hydra away quick positive video here I really hope it doesn’t feel like I’m talking down you guys by saying in case your memberand that’s her stuff a lot I genuinely does make this as easy to followand not confusing as possible is especially for people who are defense of the stuff that haven’t washed all this already of this information is slightly hard to keep track of you a second thatand gets into that placeand he said last night was abandoned there a long time ago they become friendsand survive together after many years of service Frank S returns home to his family from his militaryand shady servers daysand it’s super niceand emotional however around this timeand Cerberus leaks with Cerberus was actually about including the video that it is a guiding shot to this guy called David whose nickname micro will be back in a sec agent orange transfer for doing this because he’s not a big fan of Frank’sand so with the help of the Cerberus squad including Frank supposed best friend Billy Russo he sets up a three way gunfight between three gangs in a park to kill Frankand his family Frank’s wifeand children are brutally murderedand Frankish on the head but survives after this Frank is enragedand devastated answer decides take matters into his own hands he uses his military trainingand pure anger to hunt downand kill everyone in the gangs involved with his family’s death he does this under the vigilante guys of the punisher first just make a plan though so that takes a little time now micro is a hackerand NSA analyst these to help a Daisy when she was working as a hacker’s analysis info that Cerberus doing legal stuffand he starts leaking it so agent orange triesand killed his men shoot microand think they killand really the bullet his phoneand so survived because phones are bulletproof in this world Michael doesn’t hidingand pretends to be dead even from his wifeand kids who he watches from security cameras Scott Lange has finally finished serving his time in prison for his crime that really was not badand is released going to stay with his old cellmateand pal Luis he wants to see his daughter but his life is moved on to another guyand so that’s difficult in its with Luis his new friends Kurtand Daveand try to get a job at Baskin Robbins but Baskin Robbins always finds out tech is having run by Darren cross hang pencil protégé along with Hank’s daughter hope while Hank is on the world they some old tales of Hank’sand process about his own version of the suit called the yellowjacket only this one is way deadlierand fliesand shoots lasers cross also plans to sell this tech to Hydraand the 10 ringsand just the worst people thanks not too happy about thisand try to think of a plan to stopand even where Scott Lange ever since the very public Vista quick job I think Scott could be a good choice to take on the object stuff before gets into the wrong hands through a series of people think it’s got a tip about as mentioned Rob Casillas to see how good Scott really is what Scott eventually does only to find the entrance to he takes it tries it onand is terrified by the experience Hank is impressed with the skill cc but when Scott tries to return the suit he’s caught by the policeand cost breakdown in jailand tells of his pregnant with cross help is not awfully happy with how things are developing as she was to wear the MS student takedown cross but Hank does a letter because of how her mother died all those years ago so they trained Scott until he becomes great at the shrink tricky stuff even to friendsand called Anthony very good Scott also starts to get romantically involved with hopeand Hank reveals to help our mom diedand she is all well I totally understandand forgive you know dad even though you really could is only sooner I’m an adult you know they’re good now Scott needs advice from an old avenger space to steal the yellowjacket suit is there only to discover that it’s been renovatedand it’s now the new venture space is not by falcon who fights in man is defeated but also impressed by Scott’s abilitiesand less just called Scott’s good fortune that it wasn’t patient who was on patrol that day also by the way crosses going crazy because pen particles mess with the brain after all this Scott goes in to steal the yellowjacket suit but gets caught so him across FIFO while in a helicopterand then a briefcaseand in Scott’s daughter’s room to save his daughterand kill cross Scott go subatomicand saves the day but is temporarily trapped in the quantum realm where Hank’s wife Janet was left however he manages to get outand it’s all good after all this Hank believes that hope is finally ready to become a heroand so gives her the lost barber Scott is back his familyand his daughter Anna’s dosing hopeand never once happy now go back to the moon real quick a place we haven’t been for a while where the go inhumanand potentially the most unlikable character in this entire universeand human arguing about this American flag I am only mentioning this to see him forget that there’s an entire inhuman civilization just living on the moon while all this is happening back on earth the tomb salvaging company shows up in the area were scurvy’s to beand picks up small font Exceland some of this ends up in the hands of Hydra uses it to build a giant robot called ultimo but the manager show up at least those are leftand defeated now were getting into the Netflix world for a while first off Jessica Jones gets new job from Joy Meacham the sister of one Meacham was running red Enterprises will be manipulate it by’s dad was being controlled by the hand I give it a second to sink in again anyway she is Jessica to investigate the people around so she can blackmail them later if need be also Wilson Fisk is stilland by his he I mean jail because he such a big crime boss he start making connections there that Frank Castle has finally gotten all the resources he needs to kill the gangs he thinks were solely responsible for his family’s murder so starts going around doing that in the most brutal way possible starting with the Irish Mafiaand a gang called the dogs of hell is all happening in or near Hells kitchenand that Murdoch starts noticing the stuff so he starts investigating eventually as daredevil in a newand improved suit by the way he comes face to face of the punisher which ends with a bullet to the face that is seriously injured but survives fighting keep fighting that the vigilante stuff while Cassidy is going around the city killing pedophiles in such an entry castle manages to kidnap daredevil Jenny into a chimney where they learn about each other’s pastsand ideologies Castle takes a gun to daredevil’s hand pulse of the criminaland hasn’t had to shoot the criminal or he’s can do it because castle things killing your enemies is the way to go hello I thought a lot of the people daredevil Scott daredevil to try to kill anyway daredevil breaks outand has to fight through some angry bikers Castle unleashes on them later on Frank it’s kidnap by the Irish who brutally tortured him but eventually he gets out with their troubles help explain the situationand himand daredevil cool now but that is arrested that the craziness is now over but nope just now Electra shows up his old girlfriend then ninjaand potentially secret weapon for the handand she’s like a let’s find together because I see her doing that nowand so they do if I think he was a mainly with franking space to Karen what happened to his familyand the bondand become best is so daredeviland Electra are going around fighting the accuserand ultimately come across this giant pit the hand is digging in order to get Dragon bonesand to become immortal that still going on their tax by handand just until state shows up to save the day meanwhile on the lower side of things the punisher trial happensand during that Frank saw like an Angus into jail where he meets Wilson Fisk Fisk is like Frank nothings working everything but my biggest rival this person helped kill your family soand Frank Sykes say no more so he takes a that guy that this double crossesand try seven killed by Frank is just too good for that so Fisk lets them goand Frank tells Fisk to kill him when if he sees them again Frank it’s a geland mean wild animals like snow but again then ninja he thought he go before was brought back by the hand also their little kids being drained of their blood also for resurrection purposes through similar shenanigans the punisher keeps going around killing guys involved with his family’s murderand I will still have conflicting ideologiesand punish ends up killing an old Marine buddy of his Electra stick have a falling outand cystic trust tablets are killedand she didn’t like that so she tries to kill him will saves the dayand sticks kidnapped by the hand so Matt goesand save steak but while he’s doing that nobody reveals that Electra is a black skyand should be leading the hand she almost does but ends up joining their double insteadand the five images together real lasted I’m on right there after a hostage situationand Electra go up against like an infinite supply of hingesand Electra ends up sacrificing yourself for daredevil the punisher also shows up at the last minute to get daredeviland assist which is a pretty awesome moment not to lie no booze killed for real this time by stickand the good guys win except the hand takes Electra’s bodyand uses their Dragon magic to bring her back to life so she can work for them one of the five leaders of the hand the main one Alexandra comes to oversee her resurrection fog equatesand hours for Hogarth from Jessica Jones reveals he’s daredevil to Karenand the punisher goes off to kill everyone was involved with his family’s murder micro also wants answers about the whole Cerberus thing as a goes into Frank’s houseand puts the disk there with the video on it Castle’s unit in Afghanistan tortureand killing that innocent guy which Frank findsand takes with them tiny little break from the granite stuff here a witch just straight up which shows up in Londonand steals a magical artifact called the dark scepter however long case aliasand more masters of the Mystic arts show upand stop her a reminder that there’s magic in this world back to the streets now the gauge is now working at Pops barbershopand I know people disagree on what years these Netflix shows in particular take placeand they are confusing but based on the research I did this seems to check out anyway Luke also works of the barand one evening because he such a player he starts floating with detective Misty Knight the club Lucas working is also my cottonmouth now is a big shot crime boss’s cousin Mariah is a City Councilmanand is also pretty shady just more low key than enough strike is a hammer check from Justin Hammer for some good money but the operation goes wrong look secret half brother Willa striker is also involved here at the highest level is a big criminal now is now called diamondbackand is cottonmouth’s boss basicallyand so he sends in his body shades to make sure everything is running smoothly godmother still cool because these be friends back in the day but because the guy because the deal to go wrong is involved with pop one of cotton’s goons goes against disordersand shoots at the barbershop killing pop through this link in contrast to fightingand looks all like I really care for but not my radar so stop doing illegal stuffand calmness like know so we can start messing up his operation Luke also teams up with Claire Temple daredevil hotel buffet crimeand start a romance energy gets his hands on some bullets I can actually penetrate Luke’s impenetrable scan forand use them thoughand up having an argumentand so she murders him with a mic standand because the new big crime boss with shades help diamondback decides to team up with their setting out a plan to run the crime will do Harlem well Mariah does all the boring political stuff diamondback also shoots a cage twice with those magic bulletsand reveals that he’s actually his brother Claire takes her to the doctor who originated the experiment on themand they send an asset or boiling water something painfuland basically he’s restored to full strength while diamondbackand Mariah are running like a spear campaign against the cage to turn the people filed against them they do this through politicsand super shock loves Lucas backand FaceTime back in the police eventually diamondback shows up in a terrible super suitand even the punch each other for a bit is the end against diamondback partly with helping New York Spiderman style despite all his heroicsand proving himself a good guide to the policeand the people Harlem Lucasand back to prison because been discovered as Carl Lucas back in the day with your call despite being innocent broke out of prisonand so still needs to service time however one of Luke’s barbershop friends is a file that proves his innocence so he’s getting out soon also diamondback is taking them but I doctor who did this experienceand Luke so he’ll probably have some modifications the next time we see them there is a little bummed out that Luke is in jailand that they can’t get a cup of coffee for a while but she keeps itself occupied by starting martial arts training with help from Colleen way that martial artist to statically buy land but doesn’t really know that the hand is evil a bunch of little stuff happens here now firstly that kid who Iron Man said a while back Peter Parker is bitten by a radioactive spider which gives in special abilities like superstrength the ability to climb the wallsand having a dead uncle because he’s a genius kid he also designs web shooters that shoot superstrong webs also because he’s a good kid he realizes if you help people using his new powers he’s responsible for one bad stuff happens so he designs a pajama looking costume takes a living Spidermanand starts fighting little crimes in Queens now over with the Masters of the Mystic arts page 1and Margot find a group called the Dragon Raiders just FYI also falcon is still pretty impressed by thatand I guys a while back I think she could be a valuable asset to the team so he finds a way to contact with them through Luis about potentially joining the avengers Scots like well I cannot stay with my daughter right now but if you really need me yes give me a call we had about the shield team in a while but they’re still doing stuff around these husband Andrew turned into an inhuman call mile he did that is now a giant monster whose sole purpose really is to hunt other humans with humans popping up around the world now shields main mission objective is protecting in humansand training them is made harder because the government treats a group called the ATC you which is designed to track down superpowered people like humansand take them then basically they’re designed to replace yield now that shield has had to go underground in the ATC you is this guy called Malik once again is a big secret Hydra guy said he thought we were done with Hydra you were sorely mistaken the reason this ATC you exists is so Hydra can get a hold of all these in humansand use them you guessed it to make a super soldier army is not getting that seriously 99 of Hydra’s plans so shield in the ATC are fighting for to try to get Simmons off at alien planet which eventually doesand what is still working on rebuilding Hydra I guess Marilyn Stucker’s weightless cool son Werner to join him in a nutshell the main thing is shield us to start up a team of humans the inhuman hunting monster is out there going after them thing of lash is like a less strong or cool version of the book he changes in this monster at different times Olson is asking pretty close to one of the higher ups at the ATC you who isn’t actually evil but then worksheets are in the throat cycles is like I just have to crush discussed just Hydra also wants to get to the matter because they want to bring Benjamin back because they think will be a big secret weapon for them so word fits in Colson end up on an alien planetand cousins like mandatory wordand he crushes Ward’s chest with his robot handand then goes back to think that’s the end of Ward but then the superpowerful clinical human eye possesses corpseand then makes its way back to earth I was now leading Hydra through Ward’s bodyand he’s observing people for strengthand you know typical evil villain stuff so that any rent is still in and now going to basket CCI festand that’s what the iron fist does ever he starts missing homeand gets bored because he’s kind of a spoiled brat so just ramp runs away when the pass is open his eyes to go back to New York to take packs company because that’s I think it works because he’s also kind of a thundering dumbass doesn’t work focuses old friends join Ward Meacham if it were just go with it think is a crazy homeless person understandably wards think that that Harold is still kind of running the company while being controlled by the hand which he started to get kinda sick of becomes friends with Colleen at the dojo he also meets Claire Temple bananas put in a mental hospital he breaks out there with the power of the iron fist stocking 30 with Colleenand Bruce’s friends that it actually is an is coming back with the help of Jerry Hogarth he kinda sucks a business though because he’s been living among city in another dimension for the past decade ends of meeting Harold whose IK we should work together can sometimes take a controlling me so you can go kill themand I like gathers the main purpose in life I had to hand them gal the hand is still selling heroinand Denny’s unhappy about that science of beating herand agreeing to a series of challenges the loser has to pack upand get out of the city anyways but Manga breaks the promise but she’s got ancient society superpowers so there’s not much you can do about it Danny keeps consistently sucking a ring’s company so he’s married now by the board along with the Meacham’s words also super pissed at is that Harold is he took all of his money so he tells Harold bio comes back thanks to the hand Danny Colleenand Claire go to Chinaand take them gal realizes that Ward killed him so he frames them for drug possessionand so Ward gets locked up in the asylum Harold of its joy to be his new number two Danny also made potato Colleen so teacher was also secretly when the 5 m of the handand find out about thisand is in the fan now this guy called divers who isn’t that Dallas is days old friend from and he shows up to help Dannyand Colleen Joyce into saying that the hand probably his neck in the end after helping Dallas is like take the path to come on is open right nowand you’re supposed regarding it what the hell manand I was like well you know is boringand decides to team up with Haroldand joy to take on handand the Kudo but the kudos now working with wordand long story short is defeated but runs away Dallas is not a Danny but they work it out kind of data gets frame for drug stuffand goes in the runand Harold is the bag on the endand tries to take over the company Danny Lord in the big final battle team up kill Haroldand burn his corpse so he will come back to life now Ward is running the companyand Dallas teams of joyand maybe not out to kill Danny down the lineand then sends a team led by lecture to come on which again has no iron fist protecting it they kill a bunch of the monks there it’s pretty brutal the entrance is then close for safety so no one knows when it’ll open up again because back to check out the passand find the city is goneand some abilityand he realizes he probably should state to protect it also Luke Cage sends Claire letter from prison because there still thing overand cover Taj at this point Casillas is starting to get kinda pissed with Angel on it if you like his training isn’t getting him what he wants to start having some friction with most the Masters there also finds out that the angel on his drawing power from the dark dimension which he thinks is pretty have a critical because he must use the dark dimension to see his dead family againand to gain immortality but the angeland told him no because a bunch of people that the ancient one is withholding informationand they should bring tomato from the dark dimension to earth to golf it in eternity forms to rise up against the ancient one they break into the libraryand cover tiesand steal some pages from the ageless book about the dark dimension one tries to stop them but they get away in the end one point Rogers well the shielding goes to Mexicoand meets the human called yo yo who has superspeed who eventually joins the ranksand eventually becomes next girlfriend also Bobby Hunter leave the team because they were so staff spent off but that didn’t happen somewhere venturesand Sue Shield has an inhuman team but highest the inhuman Hydra God takes control of Daisy’s mind because he can do thatand turns against the team just as a vision of the future where one of them diesand other important detail there’s this group called the watchdogs which is basically inhuman racist who are going around killing humans as they plan by the way is to make every human in the worldand in human goes against Dr Ratcliff a scientist who he thinks can help them re create the original Cree experiment that native humans in the first place he realizes he needs actual Cree blood to do it so he sends a signal to the Creed to get some to come downand they do in a fight ensues they’re both taken out but also rendered useless however some Cree blood from daisies used from when she was saved without original Cree corpse long story doesn’t really matter experience go half rate asand it turns peopleand these gross disfigured mindless things meanwhile Scott laying after successfully cross job is still training is at man with Hankand hope that at some point here he upgrade to suitand test out new tech that allows him to become giant he tries it onceand passes out but hey it works Peter is continuing to Spiderman around the city at one point stopping a car crashand getting caught on camera the footage is uploaded to YouTubeand catches the eye of Tony Stark who keeps it in his watch later until he really needs it he’s got bigger stuff to think about right now is right around this point people are starting to take more notice of how much damage the superheroes have actually caused in their superheroand the guy who’s all over this is unsurprisingly general Ross from the days he needs of the presidentand his appointed Secretary of Stateand start talking about how they can keep the stuff moreand check the start of on the ideas for the Segovia cords basically a way of regulating superheroes with more oversight by forcing them to register with the government while this is happening Frank Castle continues his killing spree of people who were involved in this family’s murder going from truck murder to sniper murder to the bathroom murder is getting what he thinks is all them in a decides to move all of his life is the whole point the punisher was to avenge his family so that’s done now or so he thinks also after lectures not has stopping daredevil for a few months now because he’s just too sad things are not bad though foggy Nelson get some helpand I got in the barbershopand clears the cages nameand Lucas at a prison loop is up with Claireand they get that coffee they’d wanted Jessica Jones comes across lecture during one of her cases is still doing whatever the hand once rememberand objective Dragon bones under New York immortality the only problem is those Dragon bones are essential foundations for the city so the removal of them is causing serious earthquakesand could eventually to the whole city collapsing is also hiring a bunch of Harlem kids to help them kill and or clean up the mess is left behind by their enemies cages about this news like I got to protect the people of Harlemand Danny Randy is about this is like I gotta take a hand saw this lease to them crossing pathsand having a bit of a fight every day become friends because of their mutual friend Claire through fortuitous circumstances Jessica’s tracking guy connected to the handand that Murdoch ends up being her lawyerand also gets interested in the case so all four of them end up at the hands buildingand start fighting their ninjas electro sent into daredevil surprise but doesn’t remember him remind you of anyone but they all managed to get out of thereand go hide out in a Chinese restaurant where the become more acquainted state gets kidnapped by the hand but gets out of there by cutting off his own hand get itand goes to talk to the team Alexandraand had followed to see Alexandraand the hand is a whole knee iron fist alive because his iron fist is the key to open the gate to the sweet sweet Dragon bones if I happens electro starts remember who she isand that offenders get their hands on one of the hands main leaders also have their superhero team name is the defenders this guy is not of much help thoughand so stick to set off is not happy about this because they’re running out of there immortality juice the defender starting though because they’re like if the hand need you Danny we should probably had your wayand then he does what he does bestand is a whiny baby so they’ll punch him for a whileand then time however stickand typical stick fashion thinks that he might in the world so I’m getting kill him but lecture shows upand kill stickand tasty on fist to the hand she also kills Alexandra as she wants to be in charge I guess Jessica Jones find out more about that whole get it will found a while back with hands digging for Dragon bones after Lilith over the police that offenders minus Danny fight the hand plus the got Colleen to help Danny accidentally opens the gates of the Dragon bones because of course he doesand other defenders are fighting to hand in a lecture while also trying to block building so the hand can destroy New York the kudos guild Misty Knight loses an armand the offenders whenand get out of there butback to talk to Bucky I mean Electra yesterday heard the building collapses on the master kissingand that he saved by some nuns think look that they savedand that doesn’t actually die thank God it’s time to introduce another very important character very late in the game a Stephen strange is an amazing surgeon but he’s also super arrogantand kind of addict’s ex girlfriend also works with him called Rachel McAdams one day he’s drivingand textingand he crashes his car crushing his amazing surgeon hands in his life because he can’t be an awesome surgeon anymoreand he somehow even more awful to sex than usual really his life is just falling apart he starts to find ways to heal himself however ridiculous eventually he comes across Jonathan born the guy who trained with the ancient oneand was cured so strange has two Taj is there more to one of the masters takes into the ancient one because of all the crazy ultra dimensions there are at least the trip used ones he’s like help me learnand she’s like no your grossand sad in a terrible person but he pleadsand stays her door so she reluctantly changes her mind so strange that’s learning how to control the Mystic artsand other dimensionsand make hologram shieldsand whatnot with the help of Moto the ancient oneand the bookkeeper Wong who he befriends is about the different symptomsand how they protect worldand trains for several months along the way he also stumbles upon the times done sitting in a handy necklace the INI tomato figures out how to been time with it more unwanted like you don’t do that you could get stuck in a time loop anyway at one point you stuck to Mount Everest restraining just while all this other stuff is happening remember Stephen strange is getting great a magic this whole time so U ventures all trained upand going on missions also still looking for Bucky the next hydrogen in Lagosand think it might finally be Bucky but as they get there they realize it’s actually Brock Romo crossbones who understoodand is planning on suicide lineup himselfand Capt. From the capital nation to be only the abandoned government found wanting to you is down for lack of probably racial stories are for slavery would like we enjoyed helping our countries pushed the right from overcorrection Levi Roberts reports be noticeable degree for nearly a century was to story one of America’s years and will grow as he never heard her needs needs degree beating my hair as See Other related products: God Made Scots A Wee Bit Better T-Shirt

[icaruspendragon]

— Get to know me! 

The last time I filled this out was in July of 2017 and I just wanted to see how my answers changed, the new answers are in parentheses. 

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? A boy named Igor (My husband John Paul)  2. Are you outgoing or shy? Shy (Shy)  3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? My mom today! (JP when he gets home from work lolol)  4. Are you easy to get along with? I would say yes, I don’t really fight with anyone. (same)  5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? He already has haha. (same answer, different person) 6. What kind of people are you attracted to? Kind people. (same, also boys with long hair)  7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Yes (I sure hope so)  8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? Igor (Zuko lmao)  9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Nope (same)  10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Patrick (JP)  11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? “You can be anything you want. I’ll support you.” ( “I was just training.” ) 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? The most recent Bastille album lol. ( Waves by Bastille, Rosie by John Mayer, Swimming In The Moonlight by Bad Suns, Thank Me Later by Anna of the North, and Jackie and Wilson by Hozier)  13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? YES ( same)  14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Yes (kinda)  15. What good thing happened this summer? Going to Gay Pride in Nashville (I got married)   16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? HELL YEAH (ye)  17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Yes (same)  18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No (same)  19. Do you like bubble baths? Yes (same)  20. Do you like your neighbors? I don’t really talk to my neighbors (no i do not like them)  21. What are you bad habits? I doubt myself a lot. (I used to do a shit ton of cocaine and still want to do a lot of cocaine haha)  22. Where would you like to travel? YES (same)  23. Do you have trust issues? YES (same)  24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Cuddling with my cats after I wake up. (going to bed lol)   25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? I love myself totally. (All I want in this world is a fat ass)  26. What do you do when you wake up? Check my phone. (crawl over my still slumbering husband to quietly get ready for work)  27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither. I am fine just the way that I am. (yeah same)  28. Who are you most comfortable around? Mackenzie. (JP)  29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Yes. (same)  30. Do you ever want to get married? I think so. (I am married)  31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes. (same)  32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? None. (same)  33. Spell your name with your chin.  bdfdfmkljde (ber5klkier) 34. Do you play sports? What sports? No, I’m in band. (no, but I was in band for 11 years)  35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV (same)  36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Yes. (same)  37. What do you say during awkward silences? Nothing. That’s what makes them awkward. (lol, yeah) 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? Tall, dark, English major. (same)  39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Amazon lmao. (i’m a slut for etsy and i greatly enjoy candy stores)  40. What do you want to do after high school? I’m already done with high school thank God. ( i dunno)  41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? It depends. (No)  42. If you’re being extremely quiet what does it mean? Nothing. (probably thinking about zutara tbh)  43. Do you smile at strangers? Yes, I’m from the South. I think it’s ingrained in my DNA to. (yeah)  44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Space boi (same)  45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? That morning wee (work and wee)  46. What are you paranoid about? That none of friends like me and that they’re all just pretending. (same)  47. Have you ever been high? Yes. (same)  48. Have you ever been drunk? Yes. (same)  49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Oh honey. (nope)  50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Black. (yellow)  51. Ever wished you were someone else? Nope. (ye)  52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? Nothing.(i. want. a. fat. ass.)   53. Favourite makeup brand? Probably Tarte. (NYX)  54. Favourite store? Ulta (I don’t really have one)  55. Favourite blog? I don’t have one. (I have so many now, omg @babytreehugger @hugs4zuko @pineapple-frenzy @bluelady-atla @aprilmayship and @firelxdykatara are a few of them!)  56. Favourite colour? Light green. (same) 57. Favourite food? Pasta (same)  58. Last thing you ate? Pasta lmao. (does espresso count? if not, then pizza for dinner last night)  59. First thing you ate this morning? I haven’t yet. (espresso, lol, i have yet to have food today)  60. Ever won a competition? For what? Nope. (do band competitions count? if so, yes)  61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? Nope. (same)  62. Been arrested? For what? Nope. (same)  63. Ever been in love? Yes. (yeah boiiii)  64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? I was in seventh grade. It wasn’t great. (that’s pretty much it)  65. Are you hungry right now? No. (also no)   66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? No. (no, but more gently this time)  67. Facebook or Twitter? Facebook. (neither tbh)  68. Twitter or Tumblr? Tumblr (same)  69. Are you watching tv right now? No. (same)  70. Names of your bestfriends? Carleigh, Karlee, Maria, Mackenzie, Emily, Josh,  and Allen!! (same, but now i have JP, another Maria, Scott, Corbin, and pretty much all of my sbux coworkers)  71. Craving something? What? Not really haha. (same)  72. What colour are your towels? Different colors. (same)  72. How many pillows do you sleep with? Three. (five lmao)  73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Yes. (yes)   74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? I only have two with me at my apartment, but more at home. (five)  75. Favourite animal? Dragon. (same)  76. What colour is your underwear? Pink. (blue)  77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla (depends on what is being offered)  78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Vanilla (birthday cake)  79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Gray (red plaid)  80. What colour pants? Blue nike shorts. (red plaid. yes it’s 1:59 pm. yes i’m wearing pajamas)  81. Favourite tv show? Avatar: the Last Airbender.  (same)  82. Favourite movie? The Way He Looks (same)  83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Mean Girls (ye)  84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? 21 Jump Street (ye)  85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? I don’t have one. (ye)  86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? I don’t have one. (ye)   87. First person you talked to today? Sage (John Paul)  88. Last person you talked to today? Jaimy (John Paul)  89. Name a person you hate? I don’t hate anyone. (da president)  90. Name a person you love? Mackenzie. He’s kind of my hero. (Same, but also my husband I reckon)   91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? No one really haha. (same)   92. In a fight with someone? No. (currently, no. in the past? yes. this question is weird)  93. How many sweatpants do you have? One. (still just one)  94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Four or five. (so many)  95. Last movie you watched? Logan (I have no idea about the last movie i watched and also no idea what movie “Logan” is)  96. Favourite actress? I don’t think that I have one. (same)  97. Favourite actor? Avan Jogia. (same i reckon)  98. Do you tan a lot? No. (same)  99. Have any pets? Yes, three cats! (same three cats and now a dog) 100. How are you feeling? Tired. But that’s nothing new. (lmao yeah same)  101. Do you type fast? Yes. (ye)  102. Do you regret anything from your past? Oh honey (ahaha :’) )  103. Can you spell well? Yes. (i am okay)  104. Do you miss anyone from your past? OH BUDDY (ye)  105. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes. (same) 106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Yes. (same)  107. Have you ever been on a horse? Yes. (same, and never again)  108. What should you be doing? Sleeping. (writing or cleaning)  109. Is something irritating you right now? No. (no)  110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes. (ye)  111. Do you have trust issues? Oh yeah. (ye) 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My mom. (JP)  113. What was your childhood nickname? Gertie. (that one and also ‘berkel’)  114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yes. (ye)  115. Do you play the Wii? No. (still no)  116. Are you listening to music right now? Yes, the Danish String Quartet. (no)  117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? It’s okay. (it is still just an okay soup)  118. Do you like Chinese food? Hell yeah. (HELL YEAH)  119. Favourite book? Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. (same)  120. Are you afraid of the dark? I used to be, but not anymore. (yes)  121. Are you mean? No, being mean gets you nowhere in life. (no)  122. Is cheating ever okay? No. (also no)  123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Hell nope. (still nope)  124. Do you believe in love at first sight? No. (sorta kinda)  125. Do you believe in true love? Yes. (yeah)  126. Are you currently bored? A little. (no)  127. What makes you happy? A good book, a cup of coffee, and a cold rainy day. (same)  128. Would you change your name? I used to want to change it to something “normal” but not anymore. (I need to because it’s been six months since i got married and i have yet to legally change my last name)  129. What your zodiac sign? Gemini. I was supposed to be a cancer though, my mom just couldn’t chill lol. (same)  130. Do you like subway? It’s okay. (same)  131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?Probably just hope that it goes away. I don’t like change. (still same, except I’d probably tell JP about it)  132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? I answered this earlier, and it’s still Patrick. (Still JP)  133. Favourite lyrics right now? The song Blackbird by the Beatles in its entirety. (WAP, in its entirety) 134. Can you count to one million? Yes. ( probably? yes. will i? no.)  135. Dumbest lie you ever told? There is no telling. (that one time i faked my death when I was like, 14.)  136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed. (cracked open)  137. How tall are you? 5′4. (still 5′4)  138. Curly or Straight hair? I have curly hair. (same)  139. Brunette or Blonde? I have blonde hair.  (same)  140. Summer or Winter? Winter. (same)  141. Night or Day? Night. (same)  142. Favourite month? December. (same)  143. Are you a vegetarian? No, but I have been in the past. (no)  144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Milk. (sameO  145. Tea or Coffee? COFFEE (BOTH)  146. Was today a good day? Yes. (it was alright I reckon)  147. Mars or Snickers? Neither. (same)  148. What’s your favourite quote? “fire cannot kill a dragon.” (anything uncle iron says ever)   149. Do you believe in ghosts? Hell yeah. (ye)  150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “He was so snug in there that he was able to pretend that he was safe at home, having survived the war, and that he was telling his parents and sister a true war story–whereas the true war story was still going on.” From Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. ( “‘They plant when they’re hot. It doesn’t mean they’re angry or hungry.’ I hesitated, watching her. ‘You’ve never seen one before, have you?’” From “Parable of the Sower” by Octavia E. Butler) 

[gracie-p8-officialblog]

Defending Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny

Ah oxymorons, one of my favourite literary devices... If you don't know what an oxymoron is, let me enlighten you: it's a phrase that contradicts itself (kinda like verbal irony), like "jumbo shrimp", "chilled hot chocolate," "clearly confused" or "defending Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny".

Because, you know, Raoul doesn't need much defending. Seriously. If there's going to be any defending going on here, Raoul's the one who does the defending for most of the play (up until Final Lair where the roles are reversed and Christine is now the one who does the defending but more on that later.) Are we clear on that? Good.

And it has come to my attention that Raoul has got a lot of flak from phans for various reasons. And in this post, I'm going to refute the stupidest Raoul bashing arguments.

Also, we're not counting Love Never Dies because I think it's just an alternate universe and that it ruined Raoul's character for the sake of that fanfiction.

It is a truth universally acknowledged (or at least in the wee Raoul Defense Squad Circle) that Raoul is one of the greatest and most underrated boyfriends to ever exist in musical theatre. There seem to be two kinds of people in this world: those who appreciate Phantom of the Opera, and those who don't know what they're missing. The ones who appreciate Raoul as the hero, prince charming and cinnamon roll he is, and then there's the other camp. The ones who villainize Raoul and think he is nothing but a stupid, wimpy, abusive fop who crushed the Phantom (aka. Erik's) dreams and never truly loved Christine. They seem to be laboured under the mistaken delusion that Raoul is a cowardly pretty boy who is pretty much Gaston 2.0. (Technically, there's a third group: those who know nothing about Phantom of the Opera (POTO) but we can only hope that they will come out from under their rocks as soon as possible)

In case if you couldn't tell, I'm Team Raoul. And the bashing he recieves is unfair tbh. This is where I will appreciate and explain why I love him.

First of all, I'd like to combat the theory that he is boring. Ladies, puh-leeze. He's much more relatable than you admit and that we all have a little bit of Raoul in us. Failure to see things staring us in the face, saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, having a 'see it to believe it' attitude when we have little-to-no evidence on something... yeah, don't pretend you don't see a trend. Raoul is relatable whether we want him to be or not.

And just because Raoul has boy-band hair and dresses well, that doesn't make someone a fop. He's a navy man and a nobleman so he is expected to look nice. But Erik is the one who takes it to the extreme. I mean, c'mon, a fedora?

I also noticed that when he asked Christine out for dinner after reuniting with her ruffled the feathers of many phans. What right has Raoul to fall in love with Christine? What does he need from her? He only fell in love with her for her voice and beauty! And he only noticed her when she was in Hannibal! Can't he just go get someone else?

News flash people. It's been YEARS since Raoul last saw Christine. And they were kids when they last saw each other, along with the fact that he travelled in order to train as a navy man! So it's understandable on why he got excited to see Christine again after so long. Plus, his love for her is more than just her voice and beauty. Sure, they have mutual memories and he likes the way she sings, and he likes how beautiful she is. But there's nothing wrong with thinking of how beautiful a girl is AND how beautiful is her voice (within reason).

I admit, Raoul and Christine's relationship at first struck me as being sappy and overdone. You must know that I was only nine or ten when I first discovered POTO, and so excuses must be made. By the time I listened to it again at fourteen, I was completely won over. Raoul fell in love with her because she was a nice, beautiful person (both on the inside and out) and they knew each other since they were kids! His love is genuine AND stable for Christine. He represents everything she needs- stability, protection, a guiding hand and affirmed affection. She represents everything he needs, in turn, someone to show affection to and the woman he has loved since childhood. Plus, he was brave enough to ask Christine to marry him despite their class differences, risking that his family might disown him for being married to someone inferior to his rank. It just shows how strong his love for her is.

And now, let's get this point clear, I believe the claim that he was gaslighting Christine is bogus. He's been raised as someone who doesn't believe in the supernatural and 'phantom' literally means 'ghost'. But here’s the kicker. He doesn’t leave. Like, no matter how much he doubts her love of what she says, he still loves her and stays with her. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him thinking Christine is a little delusional with all the Phantom stuff. None of it added up to him, and it all seemed illogical. Its natural for any human being to not believe those kinds of things, so stop using that to make him look bad. Plus, if he said something like "Oh Christine, you're SO stupid!" and laughed at her about it, phans could definitely have a valid reason to hate him. But he doesn't do that! Instead, he tries to find the Phantom's voice calling out to her and when he saw nothing, he began to comfort her and was like" There, there, shh... Don't worry... Everything's gonna be alright. I'll help you make all the bad things go away." And due to dramatic irony, he has little-to-no evidence to prove the Phantom's existence compared to the audience who saw it all!

If you still aren't convinced, then listen very closely to what I'm about to say: Here's some 'Raoul's I highly recommend to look up before y'all hate on him.

I highly recommend John Cudia, Michael Shawn Lewis, Jordan Donica and Patrick Wilson who play VERY princely and adorable Raouls. Trust me, their Raouls are IMPOSSIBLE to hate!

One last point before I wrap this up: The only reason Raoul asked her to agree to be the lead is because he realized that if Christine does that, the Phantom would be there. And he knows it's their chance to get rid of this elusive Opera Ghost. And the only reason Christine doesn't want to is because she is afraid of what the Phantom will do. Now this annoys many Raoul-haters and call me a broken cassette tape but... Even though I agree it was a teensy bit callous of him to persuade Christine into performing her stalker's opera, Raoul hoped it would catch the Phantom, and he was willing to do it to get protect Christine from the Phantom in the future. Was his plan risky? Probably. Did he honestly think Christine would be in danger? No! He was going to get all the cops to come and protect her. How was he supposed to know the Phantom had other plans? Plus, running away is a big no-no for Raoul. Because as shown in "Why Have You Brought Me Here/Raoul, I've Been There" and "Wandering Child", whenever and wherever they run to, the Phantom ALWAYS finds them! Therefore, to his naive, young mind, he believed that doing Don Juan Triumphant would stop the Phantom from doing more harm to Christine and the opera house. So stop using this to vilify him!

I should like to also take this time, while I still have your attention (you are paying attention, right? Right? Hey! Wake up!) to point out some other important events that showed Raoul's character and bravery; namely, him fighting his way through the French sewer system (aka. The yuckiest parts of France) to save Christine, he didn't keep his hand to the level of his eyes to comfort a terrified Christine, he dodged some fireballs thrown at him in the graveyard just so he could protect Christine AND last but not least, he nearly died for Christine in order to save her from Stockholm syndrome/an abusive relationship!

In short: Raoul de Chagny is a knight in shining armour who loves Christine more than his own life. He stands by her, fights for her, comforts her AND was willing to sacrifice everything for her! And how the audience writes him off as an one-dimensional bad guy who does not love Christine, I will never know why. Are you convinced yet? If not... *hands list of what are the differences between a healthy and unhealty relationship* Yours, I believe.

[autumngracy]

“Little people” (ie: The Borrowers, The Littles, Lilliputians, etc.) as a concept is such a cool and unique worldbuilding and character study opportunity and it surprises me that there are so few works about it, especially that there are none that aren’t considered children’s books or middle-reader/early YA.

I would really like to write, at some point, a book of this genre aimed more towards older YA, New Adult fiction, or even Gen fic, just to see what that would look like.

Part of why I’m drawn to this genre, and why I feel its underuse is a travesty, is:

A) it takes the familiar and defamiliarizes the reader with it. Not only are you forced to consider a different literal perspective of the world, but the functionality, prospective uses, and danger of everything—from a tree to a thimble, is completely overhauled. What is a safe and natural environment for us (regular sized people) can be “the outside”, the unsafe and unpredictable. All is recontexualized, and that provides a fantastic setting for

B) creative worldbuilding! Not only will the living and working spaces, the food and drink, the daily routine of these little characters be totally different and unique to our own, but as a result their society and self-perceptions will be too! You can play the concept of such characters so many ways and it’s great fun figuring out the ins and outs of how they survive day to day, as well as what the “lore” and mythos of their species might be. What archetypal stories do their people tell? What do their hopes and dreams look like? What are their biggest fears? Where did they come from, or where do they believe they come from? How do they view their place in the world?

The worldbuilding opportunity with this genre is so extensive that you can create something infinitely interesting before you even come up with a plot, let alone individual characters! It’s a very “rich” genre in that regard. There’s just something very appealing about taking the real world we know and recontextualizing it in this specific way.

When I said there are not enough works in this genre I wasn’t kidding; I could list them all on two hands!

Literary Works:

The Borrowers Series by Mary Norton - pretty much the poster child for this genre and definitely most aligned with what I mean when I say “little people” - miniature humans living in secret within the regular human world, relying on cunning, stealth, and ingenuity to survive in an environment not suited for them.

The Littles series by John Peterson ~ the Littles are humanoids that have mouselike features (tails, ears, to some extent teeth), so they’re not quite what I go in for conceptually, but are nevertheless the second-most well known series of this genre.

The Lilliputians (featured at the beginning of Gulliver’s Travels) by Jonathan Swift ~ The Lilliputians are not the main feature of this work but are probably the most memorable of it ~ the Lilliputians are of interesting note to this genre because it’s one of the few stories where the little people are completely isolated from the “regular-sized” world and thus are not only (literally) a miniature caricature/satire of normal human society/countries/politics but also the Lilliputians are to themselves average size and thus react with shock, fear, and distrust to a “regular” (read: giant) human, reversing the discovery trope of the genre back upon the POV character.

The Wee Free Men (featured in various Discworld stories) by Terry Pratchett ~ part of a small selection of Discworld stories that was aimed more towards children than the main part of the series, alas. They are technically fae, so not 100% what I mean when I say “little people”, but they are a very notable work to include, since, I mean, it’s Terry Pratchett.

Little (Grrl) Lost by Charles de Lint - part of de Lint’s “Newford” series (storyverse, rather), and, surprisingly, a stand-alone book, despite his penchant for recurring cameos throughout the series. Honestly ripe for a sequel imo what with the way it ends.

The Secret of the Blue Glass by Tomiko Inui

Mistress Masham’s Repose by T.H. White

The Indian in the Cupboard series by Lynne Reid Banks ~ technically none of these “little people” are naturally “little”; rather they’re regular humans ripped through space and time via magic to temporarily inhabit a miniature effigy of themselves (even if it is merely a toy figurine that bears coincidental resemblance to them) - the setup for this gimmick is fascinating but technically this isn’t what I mean by the “little people” genre either, though it certainly explores some shared themes; however it does always come up in searches for “little people books”, so I’ve included it anyway.

Screen adaptations:

The Littles series - animated cartoon and movie series (circa 1980’s)

The Borrowers (1997)

The Borrowers (2011)

The Borrower Arrietty (OR The Secret World of Arrietty) - a Studio Ghibli adaptation of The Borrowers set in Japan (2010) ~ the animation and sound design/soundtrack for this is just gorgeous (as is par for the course with Ghibli)

If you know of any other works in this genre, drop by my inbox and tell me about them!

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go

AO3

Previous

Thank you all for reading.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge - she’s a great beta.

Thanks also to @happytoobservenolongerdistant

Chapter 4: Walk On By

If you see me walking down the street And I start to cry each time we meet Walk on by, walk on by

Burt Bacharach/ Hal David

Claire sipped her coffee and looked contentedly around the living room. She couldn't quite believe she had moved in only ten days ago. It felt like she had lived here for ages. Having furniture from the house probably helped, she reasoned, although she wasn’t sure what would happen when Lamb returned there in two years time. Would he expect the furniture to be returned? And would he expect her to be ‘returned’ too? Now that she had finally made the move, she doubted she would ever return to live there.

She had definitely fallen lucky with this flat… and with her neighbours. Mrs. Crook was as sweet and kind as Anna and Mary had said. Ten days in and Claire had already been the recipient of an apple turnover, a steak and kidney pie and half a dozen scones.

And, even in this short time, she had grown fond of Anna and Mary. Anna worked in marketing at the King’s Theatre whilst Mary was an accountant in the local tax office. They seemed very different; Anna was very outgoing and vivacious with a wide circle of friends, always heading out to parties or social functions whilst Mary was quieter and more reserved. And yet, they lived together very amicably -- their characters complementing each other’s.

Then last night, Claire had finally met John, who worked as a book editor for a publishing house. Their exchange had been brief. Claire was just coming in the front door after a long day at the hospital, whilst John was on his way out for some evening's entertainment, elegantly dressed and smelling divine. He kissed her warmly on both cheeks before continuing out of the door, calling assurances that they would indeed meet very soon for a ‘proper welcome to the building’.

Claire glanced at her watch and, suddenly realising the time, rushed into her kitchen, pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge and made her way across the landing to Mary and Anna’s flat.

The door to their flat was already ajar. Claire knocked and walked in. Mary and Anna were sitting in the living room, full wine glasses in hand.

“Hi, Claire. You want a drink before we go out?” Mary made to stand up.

Claire motioned her to sit. “Yes, great. Don’t get up, I’ll get it myself. And I’ll pop this one in your fridge.”

From the kitchen, Claire heard the front door open again, followed by John’s voice greeting the girls.

“Mary... lovely, my dear. Anna… as glamorous as ever. I hope you don’t mind if an old friend joins us for dinner, do you? I hadn’t seen him since uni, twelve years ago and we reconnected at a reunion-type thing this week.”

Claire took a sip from her glass as she wandered back into the living room.

“So, this is Jamie…”

The thump of Claire’s wine glass as it hit the carpet interrupted John’s introductions. She immediately bent down to retrieve it before rushing to the kitchen for a cloth. Her cheeks burning, she leant against a countertop and stood still for a minute, trying to calm her breathing.

From her initial glance, he hadn’t changed that much in eight years. His hair was shorter. No longer touching his shoulders, it was barely long enough to curl. His shoulders were a bit broader too, clad in one of those flannel checked shirts he was always so fond of. She hadn’t dared to focus on his face… or his left hand.

She could hear John’s introductions continuing. And then he spoke. That soft Highland burr seemingly unaltered by the years in America. He spoke a low tone, too low for Claire to hear, his utterances drawing laughter from Anna and Mary.

“I’ll just see if Claire needs a hand.” Mary’s voice rose above the laughter, causing Claire to abruptly grab a dishcloth and hurry back into the living room.

“I’m so sorry, Mary, Anna. The glass just slipped from my hand… must be my hand cream… not rubbed in properly…” Claire’s nervous rambling finally ground to a halt.

“Don’t worry, this carpet’s seen far worse than a drop of wine.” Mary took the cloth and dabbed at the small patch of damp next to her. “You just sit down Claire.”

Claire perched on the edge of the sofa obediently.

“And here we have the newest inmate in our building… Claire Beauchamp… Jamie Fraser.” John was determined to finish. “Claire’s another damn Sasse…”

“Hello.” Claire broke into John’s introductions, finally glancing up at Jamie.

With a curt ‘hi’, Jamie nodded his head in response.

“So, Jamie, you joining us for dinner, then? We’ve got a table at the ‘Star of India’. You like Indian food?” Anna turned her full attention to Jamie.

“Aye, I’ll be happy tae join ye if ye dinna mind. Indian’s one of ma favourites.”

******

Nine years ago

“Ye ken, Sassenach, when ye said ye were takin’ me out fer a meal, I dinna imagine this… er… place.”

“Oh, what did you imagine?”

“Och, I dinna ken… somewhere with wee flowers, candles, soft music, tablecloths and a glass or two of wine. No’ these bench tables, beer from the bottle…”

“I love the food here. It’s my favourite. What are you going to order?”

“Chicken Korma, or do they do an omelette?”

“Jamie, do you not like Indian food?”

“Honesty, is it? I canna say I do.”

“Let me order for you. I’m sure you’ll love it. But if you don’t like it I promise we don’t have to come here again. I’ll get my curry fix when you’re not around.”

“Is that a threat there, Sassenach? Because, let me tell ye, I plan tae always be around, ye ken.”

******

“Are we all ready to go then?” John looked around the room. “I’m sure the restaurant won’t mind another one joining our party. Might just have to squeeze together a bit more but I’m sure that’s not a problem, eh, Jamie?”

Anna and Mary led the way out of the flat, followed by Claire, with John and Jamie bringing up the rear. Jamie’s eyes drifted to the brown curls three steps below him.

Once he had got over the initial shock of seeing her, a neighbour of his friend no less, he tried to study her appearance through surreptitious half glances whilst maintaining his air of indifference. Not that it was an act. He knew himself to be indifferent to her. The past eight years had proved that.

At first sight, she seemed pretty much the same. From the introductions, it was clear that she wasn’t married. Her curls were as untamed as ever; perhaps she had lost a bit of weight. But the way her hands fluttered around her face in agitation hadn't changed. Neither, apparently, had her obsession with hand cream.

******

Nine years ago

“Come to bed, Sassenach. I want that round arse of yers here next tae me right now.”

“In a second. Just finishing.”

“How many times do ye have tae put that cream on yer hands?”

“But they get so dry with constant washing and using the hand sanitiser all day. I have to keep putting it on. You don’t want my hands all rough, do you?”

“Och, no, Sassenach. When ye put yer soft hands there… oh… like that… and hold me… aye… and stroke… oh god… yer touch…”

******

Downstairs, the door to Mrs. Crook’s flat was slightly open.

“Mrs. Crook...” Anna peered around the door. “Hello, Mrs. Crook, are you ok? Your door’s open.”

“Come in dear. I must have forgotten tae close it.”

Mary turned to Claire and Anna. “That’s not like her. Mind if we just check?”

As they stepped into the hallway of Mrs. Crook’s flat, it quickly became apparent that things weren’t right. The small Persian rug on the floor lay crumpled and askew. The side table had obviously been knocked, the Royal Doulton figurine laying  on its side. They made their way into the living room to find Mrs. Crook sitting with one leg propped up on a stool. There was a cut just below the old woman’s hairline, the blood still fresh on her skin.

“Oh, Mrs. Crook, what happened?” Mary rushed to her side.

“Och, Dinna fash. I jes’ tripped up in the hall and banged ma head on the table. I’m fine, dinna bother about me.”

Claire’s professional instincts took over. “Can I see?”

Gently she touched the raised leg, her hands moving instinctively over the limb, pressing and prodding, looking for signs of pain or discomfort on Mrs. Crook’s face. Once satisfied, Claire sat back. “I think you’re very fortunate. You’ve only sprained your knee. We can put an ice pack on that to help with the swelling. I’m more concerned about the knock on your head. Do you feel sick, or sleepy?”

“Nae more than usual.”

“I think we need to take you to A&E, get you checked out there.”

“Oh, no, Dinna fash. I am no’ goin’ tae the hospital. I’ll be fine here. I can see ye’re all on yer way out. Dinna let me stop ye. Go, have fun.”

Claire looked sternly at the old woman. “No, I’m not leaving you here. You may have a concussion. If you won’t go to the hospital, then you’re going to have to put up with me staying to keep an eye on you.”

Mrs. Crook opened her mouth to protest, but Claire halted any protestation. “I’m not actually asking you, I’m telling you. That’s my plan. I’m going to go and get my medical bag and we’re going to spend the evening together watching the telly and drinking tea. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once outside in the main entrance hall, Claire explained the situation to John. Jamie stood next to Anna, listening.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” John said sympathetically. “Are you sure you couldn’t maybe join us later?”

“No best not. But you all go and have a good night.”

Claire stood and watched as, laughing and joking together, the four of them headed out into the street.

******

Nine years ago

“So, have ye always wanted tae be a doctor, then?”

“Yes, ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to heal people, make people better. I think maybe it’s because… no, sorry…”

“What were ye goin’ tae say?”

“Er… maybe it’s because my parents died when I was a small child. Maybe I want to try to protect families from having to go through that. I don’t really know. I only know it’s always been my big dream.”

“I ken ye’ll be a grand doctor. I can tell. Ye’re a true healer.”

********

With Mrs.Crook comfortably settled, an ice pack on her knee and the cut on her head cleaned and washed, Claire sat down for an evening of watching television. As the opening credits for ‘X Factor’ appeared on the screen, she finally let her mind begin to wander over the evening’s events.

Like an unaccustomed hole in a tooth that the tongue is repeatedly drawn towards, even with the knowledge of pain to follow, so Claire’s mind kept being drawn towards Jamie, analysing every aspect of his sudden and very unexpected debut.

His physical appearance (still as muscular as ever, perhaps even more so, ageing well); his voice (no trace of the past eight years in his accent); his attire (still the same casual clothing, but worn so well. No wedding ring but then he never would wear any jewellery anyway so…); his demeanour (open and friendly… except to her).

And then, Claire realised, came the pain -- We have met. Now we are strangers, worse than strangers for we may never become acquainted.

NOTE: The last line is a direct quote from ‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen.