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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: A Silver Promise Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader Rating: T Summary: Arthur knows he's been a fool. A fool to drag you into this mess. A fool to have not told you sooner. A very merry belated cowboy Christmas and early Valentine's to @overratedsun 🎁🎄❤️

GUNSHOTS RING OUT in the night —another mistake that’ll cost them the job and end with more lawmen chasing after the Van der Linde gang. Arthur glances around, eyeing the horses hitched behind the line of storefronts. It’s a straight shot, long as a few bullets miss the mark. “Go!” He shouts, motioning to Bill and Micah. “Get the hell outta here!” Crouching back down behind the line of barrels, he looks to his left and right, at you and John, and nods. Wood from a post on the saloon’s post splinters, and for a moment, there’s a lull. The three of you dash for the horses, blindly firing into the alley behind you for cover.

You slide into the saddle of your speckled mare and snap her reins, setting off between Arthur and John as you flee the town. More shots come, this time whizzing past your heads. Pulling toward the side, you draw one of the six shooters from the holster at your waist and fire back into the cloud of dust as you ride into the woods, needing to lose any pursuers before you all can risk heading back to camp. The bullets keep coming with the pounding of thundering hooves —four riders hot on your trails.

Seven more shots pop off in quick succession, and the acrid smell of cordite fills the air. Two riders fall from their saddles, unmoving, their riderless horses bolting ahead. Arthur and John are quicker than you, reloading their revolvers, but you fire back at the remaining two lawmen too, barely aiming. The last two fall —slumped over in the saddle and thrown from the horse. You’re in the clear for now.

With a relieved sigh, you squeeze the mare’s sides to catch up with Arthur at the lead. The renewed quiet and rhythmic drumming of hooves brings the throbbing in your right shoulder to the forefront of your mind —the pain is white hot and saps the air from your lungs. No, you think, head drooping, finding something wet and dark sliding down the front of your vest —blood. You’d taken a bullet and hadn’t even noticed ‘til now. Fingers trembling, you holster your revolver and pull the neckerchief from ‘round your neck, pressing it against your shoulder. Be fine until we get to camp, you tell yourself, but then you feel warmth trickling down your back too, and know it’s a lie.

Breathing growing more unsteady, you feel your grip on the reins slipping until it becomes too much to hold on and sit upright. John pulls back on the reins of his horse as he watches you fall from the saddle, hitting the ground —hard. “Arthur!” He shouts, sliding out of the saddle and next to you, seeing the blood and new pallor washing over your face. John peels away the neckerchief, surveying the damage. “Shit.” It doesn’t look good.

Arthur Morgan’s heart stops when he looks back —it’s a nightmare he’s had too often, but there’s no waking up from it this time. He slides from the saddle and kneels, pressing the neckerchief back over the wound, knowing they need to act fast. Stomach churning, he glances around, teeth grinding together. “Rope her horse,” he tells John, voice fading into a strained rasp, “get back to camp and tell ‘em get everything ready.” John nods, quickly ponying the speckled mare to Old Boy and climbing back into the saddle —racing ahead in a cloud of dust.

You groan and whimper when Arthur lifts you into his arms, unfocused gaze settling on him and the night sky above —all of it a passing blur. He sets you at the front of his saddle and pulls himself up, one hand taking the reins, the other holding the neckerchief in place to slow the bleeding. “Stay with me,” he breathes at your ear, squeezing the sides of his painted mare. “We’re gonna get you patched up.” This isn’t like what happened to Jenny on the road north or Davey in Colter. There were more supplies and better weather —more hope.

Arthur glances down when your hand covers his —fingers slick with blood but feebly pressing against his. “Promise?” You wince at the jolt of pain when Arthur’s mare takes a hard step back down onto the road.

“Promise, darlin’,” Arthur answers, his throat tight. He isn’t one to make a promise he can’t keep, especially to you. His gaze flits from the road, trusting his mare to stay on the path. Your head rests against his shoulder, eyes drooping shut. “Jus’ keep your eyes open,” he tells you, voice cracking —he’s almost begging, “keep talkin’ to me.” We’re almost there.

“Remember the day we met?” You ask, looking up at him in the edge of your vision —his lips twist upward. Meeting you is a day he isn’t like to forget any time soon. At the time, few people had gotten the better of him and Hosea, but you’d lifted just over ten dollars from them and made Dutch Van der Linde your next target. Being young and foolish certainly helped your resolve, even after he caught you red-handed before hearing his two accomplices shouting down the street about a doe-eyed little thief.

You can feel the rumble of laughter in his chest at the memory. Twenty years hadn’t made you a better pickpocket, but you had gotten better with a rifle and revolver. “Dutch was ready to wring your neck,” he reminds you.

“But you stopped him.” Your lips twitch into a lazy smile. Dutch won’t looking to start a notorious outlaw gang back then, and he sure won’t looking to add a daughter to the small crew he did have, but Arthur stuck out his neck for you when he was eighteen and foolish. Hosea always said he was thinking more with what was below his belt than his head then. In the end, everything worked out —Dutch found another loyal member for a growing band of misfits. You fit in well enough with the likes of Arthur Morgan and John Marston, too, becoming the steadfast daughter Dutch never imagined he’d have.

“How” —your voice fades as you take a shallow, labored breath— “how ‘bout first time we kissed?” Just the thought brings a pained smile —to be that young and foolish again.

Dutch had you and Arthur sneak into a party as eccentric newlyweds. All dolled up and flaunting profits of a company that didn’t even exist to gain investors —one of the few times Dutch’s plans more or less worked out. It’d been over a glass of brandy that Arthur came to fetch you from a discussion with a group of ladies. You remember how your heart seemed to stop when he leaned down, caressing your cheek before settling his lips on yours —a moment you could have happily lived in. “Was just for show then,” he muses, “least that’s what I thought.”

And maybe that first kiss was just for show, but it awakened something in both of you, and in the following months and years, everything fell into place. Dear friends turning to lovers, it was only natural —you loved Arthur Morgan with your whole heart. “Art-” your voice fades into an airy whisper, eyes slipping shut. Hot tears slip from his eyes, burning his cheeks when he presses his face into your neck —pushing his mare harder. Of all the people in the world, he can’t lose you.

Everyone is standing around —waiting as Arthur rides into camp after what John told them. Grimshaw is the first to ask when he lifts you from the saddle and back into his arms, carrying you to his cot. “Not doin’ good,” Arthur admits, knowing it’s better to face the hard truth than hide behind hopeful lies, “lost a lot of blood.” The front of his shirt and vest is streaked red, his hands slick from where blood seeped through the neckerchief.

Strauss and Swanson wade to the tent, peeling back the neckerchief, holding a lantern close. A clean shot through and through —no bone and no slug. The slow trickle of blood is promising too. They share a look. It’d been a wise call, setting the knives in the fire already after Marston arrived. Arthur starts undoing the buttons on your vest and ruined shirt beneath, exposing the puckered and broken skin. Tilly brings a washbasin, setting it on the bedside table. Her shaking hands wring out a rag, but Arthur stops her before she can start cleaning the wound, taking the damp cloth with a nod —his hands are steady even if it feels like his world is crumbling.

“No other way?” Arthur asks, eyeing the throwing knife glowing a dull shade of red. Strauss shakes his head. Stitching would take too long and pose a higher risk of infection —burning the wound is the only way. Arms pinned at your sides by Arthur and John, Strauss presses the flat of the hot steel against the blood-slick skin. The pungent smell of burning flesh jumps into the air, carrying on the wind. A scream is torn from your lungs, eyes wide and darting around in panic. In the haze, you find Arthur looking down on you, and —with the comfort found in his gaze— you slip back into darkness, far, far away from the pain.

He sits bedside, holding your hand, not ready to part and face the others after what happened in town. His stomach is in knots, heart aching, mind racing with how things could have played out differently and pinpoint what went wrong. But he already knows what went wrong —the same goddamn fool who’d caused nothing but problems since Dutch brought him back to camp six odd months ago. And then Micah Bell speaks, and all Arthur’s anger comes rushing to the surface, unrestrained. What went wrong feels like a blur, but Arthur knows. Arthur knows who caused the plan to fail. “This wouldn’t’ve happened if you’d stayed in your goddamn hole and waited for the signal like everyone else!” He shouts, rising from his bedside seat and turning toward the center of camp.

“I saw an openin’,” Micah bites back in defense. “Any one of you would’ve done the same.”

“Oh, you saw an openin’,” Arthur mocks, tone and gaze venomous, “look where that’s got us.” His hand hovers over his revolver. He’s never wanted to shoot somebody more than he does right now. Six months versus nearly twenty years. Ain’t been nothing but trouble and bad luck since Dutch brought him back to camp.

“Stop,” Dutch shouts, stepping from his tent. “Arguin’ ain’t gone help.” Arguing might not but putting a bullet between the bastard’s eyes just might. John grips Arthur’s shoulder, hoping it’ll temper his anger. Dutch looks between Micah and Arthur, glimpsing past them both to where you lie, unmoving save for the slow rise and fall of your chest. “What’s done is done, but we are gonna get some medicine and supplies,” Dutch’s voice cracks as he points back toward Valentine. Didn’t matter whose fault it all was, they’d all do what they could to help one of their own.

SUSAN PRESSES A bowl of Pearson’s venison stew into Arthur’s hands. He’s not bothered with breakfast or even a cup of coffee. “Can’t starve yourself” —she lays her hand on his forearm, seeing how he glimpses down at the gruel with disinterest before lifting his gaze back to where you rest. He always knew this was a possibility —the harsh reality— with the life you lead, but you’d both come out of worse situations than a failed robbery in a livestock town unscathed. “I know you’re worried, but you gotta eat, too,” Grimshaw tells him. Won’t a single soul in camp not worried about you, save for maybe Micah.

“I know,” Arthur answers, looking down. He doesn’t have much else to say —and if he thinks too much about what happened, his stomach starts to twist, and he can feel a lump rising in his throat.

Not long after, John Marston wanders over from the scout fire with Jack on heel. “Jack has something,” John says, nudging the boy forward. Clasped in Jack’s hand is an empty whiskey bottle made into a vase with a small bouquet of white and yellow wildflowers. Some flowers might help, Jack, his mama told him after he cried himself to sleep thinking he was gonna lose someone else already. Abigail tried explaining what happened to the boy without scaring him. John did too, but he’d seen the blood, and he’d seen Arthur crying too. Jack sets the bottle on the bedside table, looking between you, Arthur, and John with his eyes puffy and red.

“That’s mighty sweet of you, Jack,” Arthur says, and the boy lowers his head, sniffling, then retreats to his mother.

John isn’t so quick to leave, though. He pulls up another crate and sits, his hands clasped together and head hanging low. “She’s like a sister to me,” John rasps. He feels sick to his stomach, unable to imagine what Arthur must be feeling as he sits —waiting. By the time Hosea and Dutch took him off the streets, you’d already been riding with them and Arthur for five years. It all feels like a lifetime ago now. He swallows the lump in his throat, thinking about when the wolves almost killed him a few weeks back. You scarcely left John’s side after what happened in Colter —even when Abigail was ready to kick him back out for the wolves to finish off. “I would’ve taken that bullet for her, Arthur, you know that.”

Arthur nods, glancing down at his hands —it’s like he can still see and feel your blood seeping betwixt his fingers. “I do,” he says, “cause I’d do the same.”

Uneasy silence lingers between the estranged brothers, but then John remembers one of the trips he and Arthur made into Blackwater what seems like a lifetime ago, given everything that’s happened since. “Never got the time to ask, did you?” He queries. Arthur shakes his head, reaching into his pocket for a plain silver ring he’d bought from a jewelry store in Blackwater before everything went to shit.

IT TAKES THREE long days, but before the fourth can start, the fever finally breaks, and you stir —rousing with a groan at the stiffness in your joints and the throbbing in your shoulder. You reach up, fingers finding a thick layer of cotton and linen wrapped around your chest and arm. So, wasn’t a dream. Sitting up, you hold onto your injured shoulder —breath hitching at the sudden rush of air and blood. Camp is dark, save for the glowing coals of the night’s fires and the lanterns hanging from the wagons and in tents. He’s leaning against a stack of crates, arms crossed, and hat pulled down over his face —the first time he’s slept for more than a few minutes since it all happened. “Arthur,” you croak, reaching out for him. He’s just out of reach, but you catch the sleeve of his worn blue cotton shirt.

Arthur stirs and moves back to his makeshift chair at your bedside. He lifts his hand, the back of his fingers brushing across your cheek and forehead —checking for fever. There ain’t none, just the feel of the cool damp night air clinging to your skin. “How you feel?” Arthur asks.

“Like I got shot,” you breathe, smiling —an attempt to make light of the situation. If the tired, serious expression Arthur still wears is anything to go by, you’ve failed. Needing to stretch achy joints, you swing your legs over the edge of the cot and lean forward, swaying. Arthur’s hands settle on your hips, and his blue-green gaze is only focused on you, but you can make out the darkening circles around his eyes and the unusual redness in them too. “Sorry I scared you like that.” It’s a strained whisper.

He shakes his head. “Hush” —Arthur reaches for your hands and holds them gently, giving a reassuring squeeze to remind you this wasn’t your fault— “ain’t nothin’ to be apologizin’ for.” A knot rises in your throat at hearing his voice, filled with emotion, break.

You glance over his shoulder and past the overlook, seeing the moon below its zenith in the night sky. “Still a few hours ‘til dawn,” you note. It wouldn’t be difficult to fall asleep again. You can already feel the growing dizziness and fatigue from sitting upright. Arthur looks back at the sky, catching the trail of a falling star. “Room for two,” you muse, and it’s an offer he can’t refuse. Toeing off his boots, he slips behind you on the cot. Arthur’s arms are warm and strong and feel like home when they settle around your waist. Sighing, you lean back into him and turn your head to listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart —the sweetest of lullabies, and when his lips brush against your forehead, it makes the moment all the sweeter.

IT’S AFTER SUPPER when Arthur rides back into camp from his dealings in Emerald Ranch at Strauss’s behest. You’re up and walking ‘round camp again but still can’t do much save for watching the others carry on with their chores and strike up a conversation —doing too much will turn you pale and make it hard to stand upright. A week’s gone by since you first woke, and it’s given Arthur time to think about the silver weight he’s been carrying in his pocket for three months now. He finds you sitting next to Jack, playing with the boy and his wooden horse and soldiers. “You still feelin’ alright?” Arthur asks. He knows it’s getting late, wouldn’t be long before the sunset over the horizon. You nod, and he offers his hand, helping you off the ground. “Let’s take a ride,” he says, tugging you toward the hitching posts.

You both stop south of Flatneck Station, overlooking the lake and Bard’s Crossing as the setting sun tinges the encroaching indigo sky with soft hues of orange and pink. He dismounts his Appaloosa and goes to help you from your saddle, hands lingering on your sides to steady your footing. Overlooking the vista, you breathe in the cool night air —can smell the rain coming on the wind. It’s nice to get away from camp. Won’t in your nature to stay cooped up like that, not after riding with the boys for so long.

Arthur steps up to your side, and you grip his arm, pulling yourself close as you lean your head on his bicep. He’s oddly quiet for it just to be the two of you, and there’s a strangely pensive look about him. You want to ask what he’s thinking about, what’s bothering him, but he shifts and leans toward you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple —the scruff of his beard a rough tickle— before taking a step backward, fumbling for something in the pocket of his jeans. You catch the glint of silver in his hand, and then he sinks to one knee.

Stepping back from him, you shake your head, feeling tears prick your eyes. “Arthur Morgan, you get up!” You tell him, heart racing and stomach twisting. His expression shifts to melancholy and something almost akin to regret. “You’re only doin’ this because you thought I was gonna die.”

He rises and reaches for you, rough hands cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the tears. His eyes shine in the dying light —tears unshed. “I’m not,” Arthur promises. He’s known for a long time he’s wanted to do this, but there never seemed to be a good time or place to ask. “I’ve had this since we first got to Blackwater,” he tells you. “Wanted to ask ‘fore everything went to shit.” You know he’s telling the truth —won’t a reason for him to try to lie about something like this. His hands slip away from your face, and he goes to one knee again, holding out the silver ring. “Ain’t no one else out there for me but you.” He smiles. “It’s always been you,” Arthur says, “always will be.” No one else would have him, but he doesn’t want anyone else, either.

You go to your knees, wrapping your arms around him, face pressed into the crook of his neck. Arthur lets out a shaky breath and holds you tight, almost unwilling to let you go when you shift, pushing back so you can look at him. “Arthur” —you brush your fingers through his close-cropped beard; there’s nothing but love and adoration in his eyes when he smiles at the sound of his name in your sweet voice— “yes.” He catches your left wrist and slides the silver band onto your ring finger. A new and comfortable weight. Smiling, Arthur settles his lips on yours —a good and proper kiss, the way you deserved to be kissed every time. Your fingers slide back into his hair, holding him in place when he parts. “It’s always been you, too,” you echo, and Arthur Morgan knows he’s probably the happiest and the luckiest fool alive.

[Arthur Morgan taglist: @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gallimaufrea / @hc-geralt-23 / @Idkjj04 / @ksziggy / @little-honeypie / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @overratedsun / @qhbr2013 / @xiakahazou ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Arthur taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x Reader #Arthur Morgan Fanfiction #Arthur Morgan Imagine #Red Dead Redemption 2 #RDR2 #Red Dead Redemption 2 Fanfiction #my writing

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renee-writer · 1 year

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Tiny Beautiful Things Chapter 29

AO3

“Frank!” She says. Her new husband hears her. His eyes narrow. Jenny’s moans grow louder and someone says, ‘ Ring 811.’ All this is secondary to Jamie. A part of his mind catalogues that Jenny is in labor. The biggest part though is focused on the unwelcome guest.

“HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE!” He thunders, stepping forward. Lamb is doing the same.

“I came to wish the bride good fortune and to give her a kiss.” He flatly states. It is a mistake.

They are both on him, fists out. It is a life saving thing that Jamie forgets he is armed with a sword.

They work him outside, working him over, with him, only occasionally making contact with one of them.

“Hold up Claire!” Geillis runs after her. “Let them handle it.”

She is in to blind a rage to listen. How bloody dare he show up like this! Intruding on her wedding! She will show him.

The melee enters the area where the reception is set up. She comes up to them just as a fleeing Frank knocks into the cake. It partially topples, landing on him. The next thing to land on him is Claire’s bouquet.

She is landing curses with every swing, the broken flowers landing on the broken cake on the broken man. Her husband’s arms come around her.

“Shh, my darling, be still now. I’ve you. It is alright.” She turns, fallen in his arms.

“He ruined everything!” she is sobbing. Behind them, the police, called out when the medics were, are assisting Lamb with lifting up Frank. They will secure him until the Fraser’s decide whether to press trespassing charges.

“Nothing is ruined. We are married. That is all that matters. That and that our nephew is on the way.”

Her sobs cease and she lifts her head. “Jenny! Oh, we need to check on her.”

“Take him away. My wife,” how proudly he says it, “has a no contact order against him. Press whatever charges are necessary.” He leads her away.

They are just in time to witness the birth of James Ian Brian Murray. The lad is born in the Great Room/ wedding chapel.

“In a hurry, he was.” Jenny holds her son, smiling down on him. They have rescheduled the reception, with all that happened. Now the family gets to know Wee Jamie in peace.

“Aye, his birthday will help me to recall my anniversary.” His uncle says. His new wife laughs.

“You better never forget it.”

“Aye, you best not,” the new father adds, “it is an almost unforgivable sin.”

“What happened to fracking Frank?” Geillis self censors in the presence of the baby.

“He is being charged with trespassing and violation of a protection order. He should go away for awhile.” Claire answers. She can’t take her eyes off her little nephew. He is the sweetest thing.

“Good! The nerve of…” She stops, “No negative talk. This is a happy and blessed time.”

Later, as the new family rests, Claire cuddles against her husband. “I want one.” She tells him.

“I think I can manage that.” He leads her to bed.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #omgbarbiegurl's and i's #tiny beautiful things #chapter 29 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #modern au

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Mean (JJK x Reader) 💜☁️✴️🔞

💸 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

💸 Genre: Mafia!AU, Single Parent AU!, Angst, fluff, Smut

💸 Warnings: bad language aka cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of illegal business, manhandling and not the nice kind, tsundere Jungkook, it’s not like he likes you duh, guns, description of violence, restriction of movement and not in a kinky way, protected sex because dude he’s got one kid okay that’s enough, unconventional romance, choking, near death experience, angst did I mention angst

💸 Summary: Jeon Jungkook was kinda cute, you had to admit that- but he was also a massive douchebag with his head up his ass. And a cute kid.

A/N: First of all, I want to apologize to anyone I might dissapoint with this. I've changed up the story concept numerous times- and the first trailer is in no way a proper teaser anymore, since it has nothing to do with this story anymore. I somehow hope you still enjoy the story however. If not- I hope you'll stick around for future content!

Taglist: @drumsofheaven @yzkyzkuniverse @strwberrybtch @kirbykook @teresaisla @park-hera-gi @justzeera @taestannie @bambuzlee (there were several people I couldn’t tag- I’m sorry about that!)

Jeon Jungkook was facing his worst enemy.

Now, considering his work and all those rumors going on about him, this could be anything really; from an entire army storming his house, to readying himself for waterboarding. But no, this enemy he was currently standing across from was way more vile and difficult to get under control. The situation was slowly growing desperate on his side- this was a life and death situation.

"Mina, come on now." Jungkook pleaded as the toddler vehemently refused to raise her arms properly so he could slip on her dress for the day. He could understand her, to an extend- he wasn't a morning person either, but he had to overcome this in order to be successful- and she had to as well.

Well, success was not really that important at her age, but getting her to daycare definitely was.

"Mina I have a meeting soon and if you continue to be a brat I can't send you off again properly." He tried, knowing how much she hated him leaving in a rush like usually. He'd promised her the day prior as he'd tucked her into bed that he would, this time, at least stay until her friends had arrived, yet he couldn't have known that this situation would occur the next morning.

Sometimes being a single father was way worse than anything he was facing at his actual job.

"There we go!" He cheered as she finally caved in, pouting a bit before she giggled at the silly face her father was making in order to get her to smile. He hated sending her off in a foul mood, knowing that she could be an absolute devil's child if she felt like it. In a way, she was very similar to him, which was to be expected with her mother not being in the picture. He didn't mind it much, however- a cheating spouse was not really what he wanted by his side, if he was being entirely honest with himself. It was enough already knowing that almost all of his 'friends' and 'business partners' were shameless liars. He didn't need to live and raise a child with one as well.

"Tiger!" The young girl cheerfully exclaimed, as the both made their way into the kitchen. It wasn't just a random comment from her side, because her chubby hand already pointed at the cereal box designed with colorful images on the counter, way too high for her but perfectly reachable for her father as he chuckled, balancing her on his hip as he prepared a small bowl for her.

"No funny business though, young lady." He said, as he sat down with her at the table. "We don't have to hurry, but we can't waste time either." He explained, as he watched her eat her breakfast with a concentrated face. He smiled at the picture, sometimes wishing this would be how his days would always start. Sadly, that wasn't the case- most of the times really, her nanny took her to daycare.

Which was another problem.

Her nanny had recently filed in for her termination, her age getting to her as she finally made the decision to settle down for her last years of life, she'd said. He accepted it without much resistance, having build too much respect for the elderly woman over the course of time by now. It left him with a gaping hole however, one that he knew he needed to fill.

But with who?

He couldn't just hire anybody for Mina at this point in his life. People needed to be fully trustworthy to be even given knowledge of his child at all. Most didn't even know she existed- the public unaware of her relation to him. He kept the facade up that she was merely the child of a close friend, just to keep her out of range of any potential enemies he had gathered over time.

His life really wasn't fit for a child at all, but what was he supposed to do?

"Y/N!" A small voice exclaimed behind you, making you look around from where you were cutting apples as the small child appeared.

"Mina!" You answered just as brightly, picking her up as she giggled excitedly. "Did you have breakfast yet?" You asked, as another daycare worker came inside.

"Yeah!" She said, and you looked at her surprised. "Daddy and I had breakfast!" She explained, as you placed her back down onto the ground. "He'ven brought me here today!" She said, and you hummed affirmatively,

"That sounds awesome!" You said, as she beamed up at you. "Why don't you go sit at the table, we're almost having our morning snack. You think you can eat some apples?" You asked, and she proudly nodded, before zooming off, stumbling a bit as she missed the slight gap of the door.

"He didn't come inside." Jenny said, as she watched the little girl sit down next to a boy her age. "I saw that he was sitting in his car, but she got out herself." She explained further, as you continued cutting the apples and making some cuts to have them resemble a bunny. "I swear to god-" She started, as you cut her off.

"We don't know what his life is like, Jenny." You said, as she huffed. "It's not our kid, it's not our life. She isn't unhappy, she's healthy, she's not mistreated. Case closed." You explained further as you discarded the scraps of apple unneeded in the trash, before rinsing the knife you'd used. "I'm not too happy about it either, but we're not her mother." You said, as you dried your hands.

Jenny sighed. "I know, but like-" She said, walking over to you to help you place the banana slices and grapes as well. "She's such a sweet kid. I don't know, but he seems like such a dick honestly. Like, have you heard his phonecall last week?" You snorted. Everyone did at this point.

Mina had had a minor incident, when she'd stumbled and fell. She'd scraped her knee, cried a little, but after a moment everything had been fine again. He however, had been livid upon finding out his daughter had been hurt, even though the scratches didn't even need a bandaid. Even though he'd only been on the phone with your superior, he'd made such a scene out of it that it became like local news around the daycare.

"I still don't know what the fuck that was about." Jenny exclaimed, taking a sip of her coffee as she kept an eye on the kids in the main room. "Like, yeah, she fell, but nothing happened." She said, and you agreed.

Shrugging, you grabbed some plates and napkins, and looked at Jenny. "Again." You reminded her. "As harsh as it sounds, you know me." Jenny sighed.

"I know."

You took back everything you had said this morning.

This prick had the audacity to keep you waiting for more than two hours now, without reacting to any amount of phonecalls you'd done by now. Mina was almost asleep on your lap, and you were angry to say the least. This was supposed to be your last day of work for a week, you were supposed to be curled up on your couch in nothing but underwear and fluffy socks, hidden by a blanket and eating icecream while watching netflix. You were definitely not supposed to sit here at your daycare until even the janitor was about to go home. "Fuck it." You mumble, carefully balancing the young girl on your hip as you grab your bag and keys.

You wave the janitor and cleaning staff goodbye on their way out, and take out your phone for a bus or subway that could drive close to where Mina's address is- but you notice there is nothing in her jacket written that you could use as one. You instead simply call the number written down for emergencies, and wait as it rings.

once.

twice.

"Hello?"

You are a bit taken aback by the voice on the other line, masculine, but clearly not as old as you'd thought he'd sound. "Uh, yeah, this is Mina's daycare, you mind picking her up these days, or not?" You casually say, Mina moving around a bit as to bring her thumb close to her lips. You internally coo at her.

"Shit! Fuck- I, where are you?" He asks, and you furrow your brows. Where the hell does he think you are, or does he seriously not know where his daughters daycare is? Wait, is that even her father?

"I- listen, am I even talking to her father or who is this?" You ask, and suddenly you feel extremely uncomfortable. This was a bad idea, what if this isnt her dad at all? You could loose your job for this!

"Yeah, yes. Listen I'm gonna send someone to pick her up alright? Should be there in an hour or so." He says as if frustrated, and you scoff, making him question you on the other line as if he was just struck by thunder. "Excuse me?" He says, voice low, but you're not intimitated.

"First of all, I'm not convinced. Second of all, and pardon my french, but are you nuts?! It's already way too late for her to be up, and I've finished my shift hours ago!" You complain, and he clears his throat over the line, clearly unhappy about your lack of understanding.

"Jeon Mina has a small beauty mark underneath her lower lip, she hates strawberries for some reason, and her biggest secret is that she is actually scared of unicorns. There, happy?" He grits out, and you chew on your lip. He was good. "Second of all, Miss." He makes sure to pronounce every word. "You're getting paid to look after my kid. If that's all you want I'm paying you extra for the inconvenience-" Oh boy, there we go.

"If I cared about your stupid money I would've called authorities hours ago, S.I.R." You start, careful to tone your voice down as to not wake her up. "And you know what, thats a great Idea actually! Let me just-" You begin, but he cuts you off with a sound that sounds awfully like a door closing.

"Fuck you, I'm there in 20." He says.

Jeon Jungkook was not too fond of woman.

That much was clear ever since he'd been cheated on and left with a kid, but it had always been like that. It wasn't like he was afraid of them, or didn't like them, it was more like, during his life, woman had been the reason for heartbreak and bad news all along. His mother had been an alcoholic, his dad desperately trying to get her back on track. His sister had been involved into shady business early on, a wild child that would do anything to get on peoples nerves. His aunt, which only ever visited to gain money. Women were bad news.

So his own surprise had been very prominent when he spotted you on the bench with his kid in your arms,her chubby arms clinging onto you like a koala. You seemed to be reading something on your phone, careful not to point the device too close to Mina so she wouldn't be disturbed. You were pretty, he had to admit that, even from far away- and you seemed like a confident person, from what he'd heard over the phone. You suddenly noticed him as he drove a bit closer, car tires crunching the gravel and snow underneath while his headlights shut off, to not blind you both. He stepped out, as you woke Mina up to announce to her that her father had finally arrived.

"Daddy!" She screached sleepily, running towards him with stumbling legs. He picked her up with a smile before he turned around, having every intention to buckle her up in his backseat as you came closer.

"Huh. Mind telling me why I shouldn't inform authorities about this?" You asked, and he huffed out a breath with a roll of his eyes, pulling out his wallet. You simply stood there, arms crossed, not at all fazed by the amount of money he held in front of you- you simply raised your eyebrow. "I mean, if money could talk I'd ask your bills, sure. But that right there isn't an answer." You replied, and he gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. Why were you being so difficult.

"Okay, how much?" He said, and you suddenly moved, shifted, as if absolutely offended by his offer.

"Do I look like a streetworker to you sir?" You said, and he closed his eyes for a moment, until another car seemed to pull up.

"You're getting picked up." He says, ready to step into his car as you look at him with confusion. "You don't know them?" He asks, and you shake your head, having every intention to check as he notices something familiar peeking out of one of the car windows. As if on autopilot, he rips his passenger side open, pushes you in, and runs to get inside the drivers seat.

There are shots fired, Mina is holding her hands over her ears as she simply stares at you, who is absolutely shell-shocked.

What the hell just happened?

So yeah, that's how you got here-

In a room that looked awfully like the interrogation rooms in your late night netflix crime shows. There was someone sitting in front of you- Mina's father, watching you, like you were going to do anything. But you were as quiet as a mouse, not saying anything.

"So you didn't know them? At all?" He questioned for the second time in the past ten minutes, and you shook your head. "Hard to believe. Then again, why would you ever tell me that your Dad's brother was sentenced to two years for escorting drugs- only getting two years because he snitched." He said, and your eyes widened.

"Okay what the hell-" You started, but he cut you off.

"Oh, I hit a nerve-" But you weren't having it.

"Oh an I'm gonna hit your pretty nose if you don't stop cutting me off!" You said, making him smirk. For some reason, this was quite entertaining to him- the only woman he ever had in here were so keen on keeping up that shy and innocent facade, that you were a breath of fresh air. "Listen, I don't know why you decided to dig up things that happened when I was literally a TODDLER- or how you even got that information - I swear to god I will really break your nose!" You ended as he had tried to speak again, making him chuckle.

If you weren't being held captive after getting your night ruined you might as well would've thought that was pretty hot.

"I was five years old- I had nothing to do with it, and my dad had no contact whatsoever with his brother after what had happened." You explained. "If you can find that, you can also find that I haven't had contact with my family in years either." You said, leaning back, as he spoke.

"I did. Which is quite confusing to me." He said.

You suddenly went stone cold on him. "It really isnt that deep." You said.

"Were you avoiding them?" He asked. "Because of what happened? Or because your dad got involved into something?"

"Because they're dead." You said.

Well. This was something that made him actually stop and think for a second. He did dig into that nasty part of your family, but he never looked further- their death was something he had overlooked. And by your reaction as you said it, the way you said it, he knew that you weren't lying. "Alright." He said. "But you do realize that I can't just let you go like that, right?" He said.

"Figured." You said. "So, should I stand facing against the wall or with my back against it so you can aim better?" You said, and he took a deep breath. Technically, yes, that would be a logical outcome.

"Neither." He said, and you raised your eyebrow. "I have an offering." He said, and your entire body went stiff, arms crossing in front of your chest. A pure sign of whatever he was going to say, your first reaction would be no. "I need a nanny for Mina." He said, and your lips parted, confusion clear on your face.

He almost thought it was kind of cute.

"You what?" You said.

"I need a nanny for Mina." He repeated. "It's a win-win situation for both of us if you think about it. You get to- in a way- keep your job and a bonus in terms of payment, and I will have someone to take care of Mina. And I also don't have to put a bullet into your pretty little head." He said, leaning forward with the last words.

"This isn't really a question, isn't it?" You said, and he laughed.

"You're smart- I like you."

„But that’s not how daddy does it..“ she wonders, as you tie her shoes for her, before looking up into her eyes. She really does resemble her father. Well, a more innocent version, that is.

„Well everyone does it differently.“ you say, well aware that there were numerous ways to tie a simple bow. „Your daddy probably has learned it from someone who does it like he does. I learned it from my dad.“ you explained as you went to pick up her backpack, carrying it for her as she took your hand.

„yours looks prettier tho!“ she exclaimed happily, a skip in her step as she kept looking at her shoes with a smile. You grinned, a sense of pride filling you. „Daddy‘s always looks crooked on one side-„ she said, before a voice broke through the sweet moment.

„You hurt me Princess. You always said they look nice.“ he hummed from his spot in the doorway, leaned on the frame, looking at you with something you could only describe as unsatisfied, while shooting his daughter a smile.

What the hell have you done wrong now?

This had been something going on for months now. Ever since you started working for him as a nanny, Mina had been nothing but a ray of sunshine- but he, he was not even a raincloud. He was the angry grinch miltiplied by a hundred, ready to piss everyone off twenty-five-eight. Somehow everything you did wasn't up to his standards; the way you cooked for Mina, the way you dressed her, hell, even right now with the way you tied a fucking bow.

You really hoped next time he washed his hands, his sleeves would roll down.

"There's an emergency gun underneath the back-" He started as Mina was out of listening-reach.

"I won't use it." You said.

Jungkook had tried to get you trained at least in the basics of guns- but you practically had an allergy to it, refusing to so much as touch one. He didn't quite know what your problem was, but after a while, he had given up on it- simply sending one of his guards with you whenever he could. By now, you were an easy target as well if found alone, so you had joined him in his place, occupying one of the larger guest rooms. He had said that it was to keep an eye on you, but internally, he simply didn't want you to get hurt.

And yeah, at first that was because he didn't trust you, at all- but by now, somehow, you had sneaked your way into his heart, in a way. Even though he himself would always grumpily comment on it, he loved how you made Mina smile and the entire mansion light up. Things felt a little brighter, a little less tense, and a little less lonely with you around. It felt as if you were an actual family.

And that scared the shit out of him, because in no way was he going to fall for his daughters nanny.

And, after all; you hated his guts.

If Jungkook knew the situation you and Mina had gotten yourselves into, you don't know if he would be proud of her or kill you.

Turns out that the guard Jungkook had sent you out with wasn't actually following his orders at all, but words from a different person entirely- you imagined they were highly likely the one's out to shoot you back when you first met the tall mafia boss and father. Now, the only thing they definitely did not get right however, was that you were Mina's mother- and someone Jungkook valued enough to give up his safety. This was true for Mina; the young child was his everything, and he'd cut off his limbs just to know her safe and sound- but you? That was just absolutely stupid. Sure, you've been living together for quite some time now, and he stopped trying to mentally push you down the stairs every morning as well. But there was nothing more than a mild case of friend- and partnership. You weren't being emo; Jungkook had, after all, said it again and again that he had crossed out the dating game. He's got enough trouble with Mina and you, he had said.

Well, seemed like one of those issues would solve itself.

"Again, what're you gonna do?" You say, as Mina looks at you from out of the vents above you had helped her into seconds ago.

"Crawl where the nice air is, call daddy- and don't look back." She repeats proudly, but you can see it clearly that she's just as scared as you are.

"Exactly, good job princess." You praise, and she nods with a pout. "Once daddy gets you, you'll be safe." You promise, and she wants to complain- but you don't let her, closing the vent again as you hear her shuffling away. This was fine. Mina would be safe, Jungkook would have one person less to worry about- he could move away, bring her to a different part of the country where no one knew her, and she could simply go to school next year and forget all of this ever happened.

You were just a bit sad that you'd never get to see it.

Of course you weren't her mother- but it was hard not to let her inside your heart, with the way she was. The charms her dad didn't have, she got them times ten. She was just so sweet, and you were around her all the time, it was hard not to somehow grow fond of her. You just hoped she'd be alright.

"Where's the kid, whore?!" A guard yelled after noticing you were the only one left in the room. You simply smiled, not answering, before he grabbed your neck, pulling you up as much as he could as he fumed. "Save that stupid grin for your son of a bitch at home." He barks, and you desperately try to breathe- unsuccessfully so, until he forcefully pushes you back down, the back of your head hiding the concrete floor with a sickening crack. You squealed out in pain, holding onto the spot for dear life as if that would somehow help it- but it didn't. "I knew sluts like you have to be tied up. You're all just trouble." He says, pulling you by your legs as another set of people come in, binding your legs and hands. You can already feel your fingers getting cold from how tight your wrists are tied- but you black out from the kick to your stomach before you can quite dwell on it.

"Fuck!" He yells, before he gets up, hands in his hair to somehow help himself not punch the laptop on his table. He's seen it, seen it all- from the moments you would shield Mina like a fearless lioness, the second you had lifted her up into the vents even though he knew your shoulder had to be in horrible pain, to the very moment you had faced the consequences of your actions. He hated that he had to wait, that he had to simply sit here in his office like a coward just to watch you take the beatings.

Because here was the thing with Jungkook; even though he liked to portray himself as someone who always takes the upper hand in things and troubles, when it came to his own personal life far away from his criminal business he ran, he couldn't seem to ever make up his mind. It was like a repeat of his past love affair- but instead of his ex-wife cheating and leaving him with a child, there was you, in some way fighting like a true lionness in order to keep said child safe and sound, even though you didn't even had to. Technically, this would've been the perfect opportunity for you to finally get your freedom back in a way. Because without Mina, there was no use for you being in his grasp anymore. Without her, there was no agreement between the two of you.

And yet there you were. And yet again, he simply watched, simply did nothing.

The entire mansion was already on high alert by now; his most trusted friends Seokjin and Yoongi already out to your location- he could wait. He could wait. He could wait.

Everything would somehow turn out to be just fine by the end of this day. He would successfully take his daughter into his arms, Yoongi and Seokjin would get you out of there, and after a good nights sleep and some first aid for you, things would just return to normal.

But what was normal at this point?

He didn't want things to continue like they did currently. He wanted change, for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you about his inner thoughts, about his desires concerning you and his future. He wanted to tell you that he didn't just want you to be at his home and with him and his daughter just because of some stupid agreement. He didn't want you to stay with him because he forced you to.

His phone began to chime, your face greeting him as the caller ID as he accepts it. "Daddy-" His heart sinks down to the floor as he hears Mina sniffle on the other side of the line. He has to wait, he thinks, repeats like a mantra. He has to somehow calm her down, tell her everything's alright- "They're hurting mommy!" Mina wails, and somehow, those words make him snap.

Fuck waiting.

In a way, Mina was a smart kid. She had been nothing but understanding when Jungkook and her mother had broken up- divorced, and fought until she eventually left for good. She had been a little sad for a long time, thinking it had somehow been her fault; but he had assured her, and later on, explained, that Mommy simply didn't love Daddy anymore. In Daycare, she was one of the most well behaved kids ever encountered- careful, and calm. Of course she got excited and happy and sometimes made a mess; but she also was very careful who she interacted with, what kinds of friends she made, and how much she talked about home. She never complained, never threw public tantrums.

Jungkook truly was lucky- that the only thing left of his shattered marriage had been her.

He never had relationships after that- never dated, never truly searched for someone. No one, in his eyes, was worth the risk- and even after meeting you, that was his opinion. But as cliche as it sounded, you were quite different from anyone he'd ever met before.

You spoke your mind; always saying what bothered you, never beating around the bush. Yet, you weren't being a bitch about things. No, you actually could be pretty cute if you wanted to be- be it the moments he had caught you and Mina sneak a taste of her birthday cake in the middle of the night, or the one time he had been sick.

You had been such an angel to him.

Helping him towards the bathroom, never even scrunching your nose in distaste whenever he had to throw up. You simply rubbed his back, helping him towards the sink to rinse, just to lead him back into his bedroom. You had aired the room out, made the bed, made sure that he was staying hydrated and at least tried to eat every day- all without any complains.

Maybe that was the moment his perspective of you shifted into dangerous territory.

He had somehow become hyperaware of the things you did. How well you got along with Mina, how easy going you were becoming with him- how confident yet nurturing and sweet you were, gently scolding him sometimes to not overwork himself. You always made sure his kid felt happy and was healthy, never so much as whined about your past friendships lost; you had simply accepted the new situation.

In a way, you were what he silently dreamed of at night.

Because as much as he loved the sight of you holding Mina whenever she had a nightmare and couldn't sleep, he somehow also craved to be held throughout the night by your arms. Just like he held his daughter in that moment after she had climbed out of the vent into his arms. He could make out some of her words as he simply let himself feel her tiny body in his arms for a moment. Just to make sure she was really there, really alright, really out of harms way. She kept on crying out for you, for him to help you, to save you-

So it was only natural for him to jump out of his car and run after Seokjin, Yoongi, and their squad, as they entered the building.

Sometimes at night, when you got aware of all the different sounds of the room, you heard the blood rush inside your brain.

Just like now; but now, it was so loud that you could barely hear anything else. Things seemed hazy, fuzzy, your ears stuffed with cotton wool drowning out any sounds might happening around you. Your eyes stayed closed, light way too bright for your raging headache- and the stale metal taste on your tongue wasn't helping either. Your hands had started to tingle long ago, and your knees were hurting from being in the same position for this long. But the moment someone touched you next, it wasn't forceful. It was so gentle, and almost- scared?

You couldn't hear, but you could feel. How the rope was cut, blood rushing painfully into your hands and legs again, pins and needles making them hypersensitive as you were suddenly held- moved, carried?

It smelled like home, that was something your dizzy mind was able to properly make out. It smelled like Jungkooks mansion, and a bit like his office- a faint vanilla hitting your senses, making you faintly smile as your hand reached out, unknowingly grabbing his shirt, holding the fabric as tight as you could as you moaned out in pain when he placed you down again, warmth surrounding you.

Maybe you were dying?

Or maybe not.

Because after some hazy and confusing dreams, you slowly came back to your senses. Eyes opening slowly, there it was; the curtains you knew so well, the balcony opened, air crisp and fresh around you as the door opened. You wanted to move your head, but the fear of triggering another headache was too big.

"Y/N?" Jungkooks voice asked, warm, and almost hesitant. You hummed, and he snapped his head around, noticing that yes- after days of sleeping and slipping in and out of consciousness you were actually awake again. He walked into your field of vision, looking so casual; his white button up undone at the first two buttons, sleeves rolled up as he sat down close to you, palm on the blanket covering you as he-

smiled?

"W-" You had to cough a bit before clearing your throat. "Who are you and what have you done to Jungkook?" You said, and he chuckled, sighing in relief- you had, after all, not lost your charm.

"I think past Jungkook had a moment of self-reflection." He said, watching you as his hand placed itself onto yours, warmth spreading over your skin. "I'm glad you're okay." He admitted. "And thank you. For keeping.. Mina safe." He ended, and you smiled.

"That's literally my job." You said, and he got more serious.

"No, and you know what I mean." His voice was deep and rough, yet held no authority like usual. "You had chances to tell them who you were. That you had no connection to me other than through her; yet you didn't. And we both know why." He said, and you looked at him.

"There are more reasons than just one." You said, eyes drifting to his now empty ring finger on the hand resting on his thigh.

"Does it matter which one I mean?" He asked, and you wanted to scoff.

"It does to me." You said, and he shifted closer after a second, properly holding your hand now as he looked at yours- still a little scratched, but nothing that wouldn't heal.

"You did it because that's the reason you live here." He said. "You also did it because you adore her just as much as I do. And you.." He began, but grew unsure.

"And I?" You smiled, and he looked at you with his typical seriousness.

"And you somehow got stuck in an emotional mess." He explained. "You somehow, deep down, wanted it to be true." His thumb moved over the back of your hand as he spoke. "You wished that.. maybe there was more to it than just, partnership." He said, and you still smiled gently.

"Did I now?" You teased, but to your surprise, he was still looking straight at you.

"I know I did." He humms out. "I still do."

"You're stupid." You said, and he laughed bitterly, taking your words the wrong way as he slipped his out of yours.

"I know." He said, getting up to leave but stopped as you spoke.

"Good." You said, chuckling before coughing. "What, no kiss for me after all I've been through?" You giggled as his wide eyes stared at you. "Rude." You said, and he suddenly realized that no- you weren't rejecting him. You were accepting.

You felt the same.

Noticing his own awkwardness, he leaned over, hands supporting his body as he leaned down, properly placing his lips onto yours. You had never imagined what kissing Jungkook would feel like, but you certainly would've never guessed how gentle and absolutely loving it would be. One of his hands moved towards your cheek, holding it, as if you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

"Mommy!" Came Mina's excited voice, cries instantly noticable as she jumped onto the bed, burying her head into your chest as you held her, a few tears in your eyes from her jumping.

"Mina baby, be careful okay?" He said. But your words were the reason that he ended up tearing up, at the end.

"Mommy's still hurting baby." You said. "But she'll get better soon."

Not even during the first few magical months of being together with his past ex, had it ever felt like this.

He was euphoric almost; with the way you felt, moved, breathed. It all felt like so much to him, made him feel so.. He couldn't explain it. He had his hands on your hips, fingers careful not to press too hard, but having enough force to move you back and forth over his lap- his length moving in and out of your heat, making you whine, as he watched your breasts in front of him. You fit so perfectly like this, felt so amazing, managed to make him feel needy instead of the other way around.

He turned you over slipping out of you sloppily as he moved positions, now above you as he spread your legs, entering you again easily. He pulled you by your thighs, holding you in place as he began to thrust again, your eyes closing with every movement of his hips.

He loved the sight of it.

Deep down he wanted to take the condom off; he wanted to fill you up, cum inside over and over and over until your cunt would overflow. Not only just to claim you in a weird animalistic sense, but to also make his family complete. He had cut his ties to his illegal activities by now, had settled down with you- and he knew, there was no other person he'd ever have a child with again than with you. "I want to cum inside." He said breathlessly, making you whine in return. "Hm, you'd like that?" He asked teasingly, his thrusts gaining more strength as if to underline his statement. "Stuff you full of my cum, make you leak it and mess up the sheets.." He continues, hand reaching between the two of you to find your clit. "just to make love to you over and over again. I wanna make you cry." He gritted out, suddenly moving you around face down. He pulled up your lower body, entering you again, gliding in easily with the amount of slick you were leaking. "And you'd take it wouldn't you?" He asks, making you nod and groan out as he grows more desperate, faster, harder- throwing you off the edge but never stopping. "You're gonna take it until I cum, don't you dare move away from me." He scolds, holding you tightly, making you gasp out in overstimulation as he continues on, chasing his own high.

He reaches it with a loud groan, burying himself deep inside as he holds you, peppering kisses onto your spine. "I love you, hm.." He whispers out. "So good, so pretty.. all mine.." He huffs, simply falling onto the mattress with you in his arms, cock still buried inside you.

There was a moment of silence, until he spoke again. "I really do mean it though." He said earning only a tired humm from you. He simply chuckled at that, holding you close as he decided to maybe bring that topic up when the timing was a bit better.

For once, he felt like a normal person. Right next to you, in your arms, as you turned around to pull him close, burying your face into his chest.

Right where he belonged.

#jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jk imagine #jungkook x reader #bts imagine #mafia bts #mafia jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

Text

Arcadia, Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who followed along! Things are heating up with this chapter! Most of the referenced triggers from chapter 1 apply in this chapter specifically. Here's the link to chapter 2, if you're just seeing this now :)

Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @remedialpotions, @jamezbot, @jenoramaca, @not-steve42, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey... god, I'm forgetting people, and I'm sorry! But you're all amazing <3

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D A Y + T H R E E

As fate would have it, Ginny wakes before 0-700.

Not that she sleeps.

Nightmares, the likes of which she hasn’t experienced in years, torment her throughout the night. They leave her scared. Miserable. Guilty. Around 3 AM, she finally reaches for her Dreamless Sleep potion with shaking hands. For more reasons than one, she’s pleased that Harry’s slept on the couch.

She knows now just how stupid this entire mission truly was. The longer she analyzes it, the more she accepts that her bloody pride got her here in the first place. A chance for a promotion, however small, gave her false confidence in her ability to disregard a decade of sexual tension, all while trapped in close quarters with the person she wants the most.

She hopes Harry makes himself sparse today, though she knows that sounds cruel. But the longer they spend together, the clearer it becomes they’re on the cusp of something… and not something that would look good on a performance review. He’s been kind and understanding so far, even when she’s fucked things up. She just hopes she can ignore the most human parts of herself until they’ve dealt with this.

So at half-past 8, Ginny — Jenny — emerges from the house in a bright floral sundress and nude pumps. Were it not for the secret weapon clutched in her right fist, she might have fit in quite well... but Jenny has no intention of fitting in. Not anymore. In three confident strides, she marches across the front lawn, bends down, and spears the prongs of a lurid pink flamingo into the grass.

Yes.

She grins and takes in her work. How ghastly against the backdrop of earth tones! How repugnant!

Ginny steals quick glimpses over each shoulder, only to be met with the eerie, blanketed silence that’s defined Arcadia since their arrival. No activity at all. Which means she’ll have no issue with the next bit…

She strides to the mailbox at the end of their driveway and gives it a sharp kick. The post slides out of alignment, leaving it askew. Perfect. She returns to the house with a bounce in her step. Living with the twins taught her a thing or two about how to infuriate complete strangers.

She just hopes it’ll be enough.

___________________________

As luck would have it, it is enough. Her efforts receive reward more quickly than she thought— more quickly than she’s been conditioned to expect.

Scarcely an hour passes before she finds the warning she needs. And to be honest, it could’ve been there sooner; she just figured she’d give it that long before she checked.

Still, it’s not even 10 AM when she opens the door and sees it on their welcome mat: a folded paper with Pee-tri scrolled on the front. She can’t help but admire the sheer cheek as she unfolds it; this is the closest they’ll get to a public call-out for the way Harry insists on correcting everyone’s pronunciation. The message inside doesn’t surprise her, either.

Be like the others before dark. Or else.

Ginny glimpses out at the lawn, just to confirm— and yes. Sure enough. Just as she’d suspected, the flamingo's gone. The mailbox is straight. Everything’s back to normal.

She kicks the door closed with a smirk and wonders if they’re aware of how easily they’ve exposed themselves. How—

“What’ve you got there?” Harry calls from the sofa in the living room. He looks up from his laptop with bleary, dark-rimmed eyes. A wave of guilt washes through her; that sofa clearly didn’t get more comfortable overnight. Not that he would’ve accepted the alternative.

“Erm. A letter.” She waves in front of her and walks into the living room. “I’ve done a great job annoying them!”

He offers a gentle smile. “Any chance you’ll let me know who this ‘them’ is that you’re so worried about?”

Ginny rolls her eyes and settles on the other end of the couch. “You know I can’t—”

“Talk about your work,” Harry finishes, turning back to his computer. “Right.”

“Mm. Not exactly that I can’t… talk about my work,” she ventures, putting her feet up on the white ottoman. “More like I can’t give information until it’s essential knowledge for all parties involved. Based on criteria that I also can’t share.”

“Sounds like a fun job,” Harry deadpans, still looking at the computer. “But anyway, if I were to suggest something like… I don’t know…” He casually tilts the screen in her direction. “The fact that Oliver Skinner definitely has a criminal record, and maybe that’s worth looking into. You couldn’t confirm or deny that?”

Ginny just shrugs. “That’s correct. I can neither confirm nor deny.”

His theory is wrong, of course. Dead wrong.

They wouldn’t have sent an Unspeakable and an Auror into the country if this were a simple Muggle murderer. Harry would be able to suss this out, she reckons, if he had more sleep. Poor bloke.

He groans and cracks his back. “I’m starting to understand why King’s always so frustrated.”

“Probably because he has to deal with you all the time,” Ginny quips, reaching for a magazine on the floor. Ugh. Of course, it’s only the TV guide, Radio Times. They don’t even have a TV, but it came with the Daily Mail on Sunday.

Harry reaches for a glass of water on the coffee table. “Fine,” he relents, in between sips. “I’ll stay in my lane. But if I get bored, I’ll get tetchy.” He gestures to the computer. “And since they’ve given us this laptop, I’ve had time to do a bit of—”

“They’ve given me a laptop,” Ginny corrects, arching a brow. “As you’re well aware, Auror Potter, that is technically the property of the DoM.” She returns to the guide with a shrug. “I just don’t care if you use it, mostly because I don’t expect you’ll be looking up tits all day.”

He chokes on his water; Ginny just laughs and turns the page. Ooh, lovely! Eurovision looks particularly flamboyant this year…

“You’re absolutely right,” Harry says, once he recovers. “I’d never look up tits on government property!” He looks affronted as he hands over the laptop, but she knows he’s not done... not when he’s set that up so perfectly. Annnnd sure enough…

“You of all people should know I'm an arse-man, Ginny.”

Now it’s her turn for an unattractive snort as he winks over his shoulder and marches upstairs.

When he’s gone, Ginny rolls her eyes and opens her laptop. He’s an incredible liar on the arse-man front, but it was a good joke. A simple joke…. one that didn’t deserve looking into.

It’s just unfortunate that can’t stop these stupid fucking butterflies from erupting in her stomach like she’s ten years old again.

___________________________

He launches into the air again, the gardens of his neighbors spanning out in front of him. Each perfectly manicured. Each disturbing in its performative precision. None of this is real; none of this is life.

He pulled out the trampoline after dinner, when Ginny okayed it. He’s not used to that— checking before he does things. This whole exercise has been a great reminder that his teamwork skills are rusty, especially when he’s in a subordinate role. Ron left after their first year to work in the magic shop instead, which only made sense after… yeah. Harry draws a deep breath and jumps again. Ron and Hermione haven’t been problem-solving in his head for ages. There’s been no one to share the burden of choices or—

“OI!” Oliver’s voice thunders across the garden.

Harry smiles and takes another huge leap into the air. Just in time…

He rips open the fence door and stomps over, hands balled into fists. Harry’s never seen anyone look quite so furious while dressed in cashmere. And standing beside a trampoline.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Oliver hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you trying to make enemies, Henry? Is this entire estate a bloody joke to you?”

“Of course not!” Harry lands on his bum before he jumps up again. “This is very serious!”

“Oliver!” Sharon wails, hurrying over. “Oliver. Please! This really—”

“Keep your nose where it belongs, woman,” Oliver snarls, looking at her like she’s scum on his shoe. “No one wants your opinion!”

Sharon flinches… and this, more than anything else, gets Harry’s back up. “No need to take it out on her!” he snaps, climbing down from the trampoline. “Talk to me if you’ve got a problem, Ollie. Why not—”

But just as Harry’s feet touch the grass, something very weird happens: A dull buzzing fills his ears. Sharon and Oliver hear it too, but unlike Harry, they aren’t looking around in bewildered confusion. In a flash, the rage on Oliver’s face transforms into something much different: fear. And as the pressure grows, Harry can only watch as Oliver grabs Sharon’s hand, yanking her from the garden, when—

An unmistakable sound replaces the buzzing. A large piece of glass from somewhere in the front of the house shatters on the pavement. And with that, the buzzing stops.

Birds chirp again. Someone laughs in the distance. Harry jabs a finger in his ear, trying to clear it, but it seems Oliver’s returned to his furious state. He lunges towards Harry, a vein ticking in his neck, his hands outstretched as if to push him over— but Harry doesn’t have time for this. He’s already running around him, bolting towards the source of the sound, his hand inching for his pocket…

Because whatever they’ve got going on isn’t related to Oliver, is it? No… definitely not. That buzzing was too creepy to be muggle. Harry hadn’t really been convinced of the Oliver theory in the first place, even if the wanker has a criminal record for drunk driving. He mostly suggested it to Ginny to see if she’d give him any information.

Harry spots the broken glass the second he reaches the pavement. The lamppost right outside their house has shattered, light bulb and all. Bits of glass sparkle on the street, but the lamppost is at least 10 feet high. Harry scans around for signs of a ladder, or some form of a projectile… any method someone might’ve used to— oh! A baseball rolls around in one of the open garages across the street. He’s about to march over and collect it when his conscience stops him.

Because that’s the definition of circumstantial evidence, isn’t it? Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead. Snatching the baseball while working alone is one thing, but it’s not worth risking Ginny’s job. Especially because he reckons these thoroughly unmemorable homes are each equipped with monitoring systems. At absolute best, that would be… awkward to explain to the muggle police, especially without an obvious connection between the ball and the shattered lamppost...

Harry’s just about to turn back inside and write it off a freak occurrence when—

Shit.

His breath freezes in his throat.

What the...

He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it, but no...

There’s no weird buzzing this time… but something else is happening instead. The grass on the far side of their yard is bulging and curling, right in front of his eyes. The soil creaks as this… this mass — a huge sphere of some sort — passes through; bits of dirt fly into the air before settling back.

Harry’s veins turn to ice, his stomach churning. Work has introduced him to new, vile varieties of ghouls and nasties. He’s been bitten by a leprechaun. Stalked by a vampire. He’s encountered every disturbing otherworldly menace that one could imagine.

But he’s never seen anything like this.

His only solace is that it’s headed towards Mike’s empty house… this massive, rolling boulder that travels beneath the soil. ‘Boulder’ isn’t exactly the right term, though; he’s never seen a boulder move with a slinking, predatory grace. He’s never gotten gooseflesh from a rock, no matter how large.

And try as he might, he can only stand there, wide-eyed, his heart racing. Because now he knows for sure what Ginny only alluded to before: whatever they’re chasing isn’t human.

And it’s aware of them.

___________________________

The door creaks open less than five minutes after the glass shatters, but Ginny’s prepared.

She’s standing in the alcove just off the entryway, wand in one hand, fire poker in the other. It’s probably not the best strategy she’s ever had— but she reckons that if a Muggle were to catch sight of an altercation, it would be an easy memory supplantation. Wands and fire pokers don’t look that dissimilar, and—

“Ginny?” Harry calls. Directly into her ear.

Shit! She jumps into the air, the poker clattering to the ground.

“When did you learn to move like a cat?” she demands, turning to face him. “You nearly—”

“We need to talk,” he says brusquely. It’s only then that she takes in his wide, haunted eyes. His white pallor. The way he hasn’t even commented on the ridiculousness of her fire poker.

Oh.

He’s scared.

Scared in a way she hasn’t seen him in ages. Maybe ever. Which means he heard…? Shit. She’d might as well ask.

“What do you erm…” She toys with her wand handle. “Want to talk about?”

Harry heaves a tired sigh. “I’m only going to ask you this once,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Then he blinks up at her, his eyes pulsing and stern. “What the fuck was that?”

“The… shattered lamppost?” she hedges. “I’ve no idea. I just—”

Apparently, that was the wrong response.

Harry groans. “You know damn well I don’t mean the bloody lamppost!” he snarls. “I mean that… that thing! First the weird buzzing, then whatever moved through the grass! It was like some creepy worm, or—”

“—not a worm,” she amends, staring at her cuticles.

This, too, was the wrong reply; she’s never seen him go from bewildered to enraged quite so fast.

Harry lets out a furious roar and kicks at an empty box. “This is why Unspeakables are so fucking annoying!” he shouts, tossing his hands in the air. “You never fucking say anything — even if it might help someone!”

Pfft! He can do better than that...

“Not sure what you expected,” she deadpans. “Would it help if I were a Speakable instead?”

Harry rolls his eyes and throws himself on the couch. Ginny just leans against the door… and waits. She can’t say she blames him for being angry. It’s probably made him feel vulnerable in ways he hasn’t in ages.

“The least you can bloody do,” Harry says, cutting into her thoughts, “is to let me know how to kill it.” He glimpses up at her, his chest still heaving. “Because if anything happened to you….” His hand curls around his wand, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “We both know I’d never forgive myself.”

Fuck.

Her heart clenches; as embarrassing as it is, tears sting the backs of her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that… but it makes perfect sense. He’s not angry because he’s vulnerable; he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to protect her.

Because he’s Harry.

Her Harry.

And try as she might, she can’t deny that. He’s hers… even though now he’s broken and angry and scared and alone. Which is probably why she loves the fucking fuck out of him.

No.

She stops herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Mission. Mission. They’re on a mission.

Right. She clears her throat and steps forward, two papers clutched in her hand.

“What’s that?” Harry grumbles as she hands them over. He scans the pages, brow furrowing. “Sugar… engine oil. Red Dye 40. What am I supposed to do with—?”

Ginny smiles and tries to make this easy. “It’s the report from the necklace. The thing that was on Mike’s medallion… it’s rubbish. Not blood, not some ghost slime. It’s just a weird mixture of types of rubbish.”

She should’ve figured he wouldn’t find this significant.

“What a brilliant scientific discovery.” Harry tosses the paper to the side. “Hermione would be thrilled.”

Ginny gnaws at her cheek, choosing her words carefully… but if he’s already seen it, if he’s already heard it, surely there’s no harm...

Harry rises to his feet and takes a step closer until he’s towering over her, all warm and brooding. They aren’t touching… not exactly. He’s just hovering close enough to give her strength, whether he knows it or not. When she finally gets the nerve to look up at him, his green eyes are swirling with more pain than rage. Truth be told, she prefers the rage. “I deserve to know,” he says thickly, like he’s suppressing something in his throat, “what the fuck is going on.”

Ginny breaks their eye contact. Some of this she hasn’t even shared with Attica yet. She’s violating about a million protocols by telling Harry first, but if they’re together on a mission…

“It’s… not what we thought. Not what I thought,” she admits softly, after a moment. “We came out here under the assumption of chasing something from the Thought Chamber. Something that erm… may have escaped. During a routine experiment.”

He’s not impressed, though. “Yeah,” he says, arching a brow. “I gathered all of that from your intro with the camera, thanks. Do you ever plan on telling me anything new?” He jerks his chin towards the window. “Because you’ve sure as hell never mentioned Evil Grass Monster Experiment #6, and that may have been helpful to fucking know before I saw it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

His attitude is more infuriating than his actual words, but she lacks the patience for dealing with either. The bloody nerve, to act all impatient with information that’s kept secret for a reason...

“I don’t have to tell you shit, actually,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “And in case you’re unaware, I can protect myself.”

Harry pulls back with a laugh, but this one is cruel. Dark. The sort she’s never heard from him before. “Makes sense,” he says with a fake grin. Then he taps her on the nose. “Because when that thing outside inevitably kills someone else, we all know how well you’ll manage the guilt.”

Ouch.

She reels back, stung. He’s got to know that’s a low blow. Younger Ginny would have Bat Bogeyed him into oblivion, but she’s better now. She’s changed.

At least that’s what she tells herself as she glares at him, her hands fisted so tightly they turn white. “Say what you mean,” she manages several moments later, when rage isn’t clawing at her chest. “If you’d like to rehash our breakup, Auror Potter, I’m all ears!” She gives her best impression of an icy smirk. “This isn’t exactly professional… but then again, when have you ever been?”

Harry looks like he’s going to respond, but a loud vibration starts in his back pocket. “Fuck!” Now it’s his turn to leap into the air before he realizes it’s just his wand. And really, she’s tempted to laugh— but the look on his face helps her put the pieces together.

Because if his wand’s vibrating, that means it’s an emergency; only department heads can summon their employees like that. They’re the only ones with access to that sort of technology, not that she’s really interested either way.

“It’s King,” he mutters. She’s about to get on him for stating the obvious, but when he peers at her again, his face is filled with such timid yearning that she can only see the 11-year-old boy on the train platform. “Can I…erm. Use your mobile?”

Fine. Ginny nods towards the bedroom, her head still spinning. She’s still a bit angry with him, but he’s so fucking broken. They both are. And besides, they’ve got bigger problems. What could possibly have King so worried that he’d call Harry from a mission? The man is unflappable.

Harry returns a minute later, his face stony, jaw set. In another life, she might’ve seen the bulge in his pocket and asked if that’s just her mobile, or if he’s happy to see her.

Instead, she tucks her hair behind her ears like the seasoned professional she is. “There’s no reception inside,” she points out. “I’ve had luck calling Attica from up the street, right at the corner. Just watch out for…”

Harry smirks. “Grass monsters?”

Ginny draws a breath to consider her options. She could keep him in the dark forever, but isn’t that the whole point of this assignment? To learn? It’s time for the truth, she reckons...

“It’s erm. It’s called a tulpa, actually.”

His eyes light up at this. “A tulpa?”

Ginny shifts her weight and searches for the right words. “It’s a… it’s sort of like an evil imaginary friend, created by a group of people to do their bidding,” she explains, reaching for the discarded papers. “They come from the material of whatever’s underground. I’ve only heard of creatures made from clay or water, but since this village was built on a rubbish tip”— she flicks the papers with her fingers— “that’s our guy!”

She can almost see the gears spinning in Harry’s head as he studies the far wall. “So…” he says slowly, still peering off, “it’s basically an evil dump monster, made of rubbish, that can murder people.”

A laugh slips past her lips. It sounds a bit dumb when he puts it that way. She clears her throat and continues. “I was wrong because it’s not something that’s escaped, more like something that’s—”

“Formed,” Harry finishes quickly. For the first time all week, he sounds intrigued. Like he’s happy to be here. “So… they’ve made it to keep order, then?”

“It would seem so.” She shrugs. “I… honestly don’t know. But between the weird buzzing and the rubbish, it’s the closest match we’ve got. According to the system database, anyway.”

There’s another pause as Harry mulls this over. “So, how do we get rid of it, then?”

How fucked up is it that her heart warms at the way he says ‘we’?

Ginny brushes that aside. “Considering the mask in Gogolak’s house and the way they’ve made a point to tell us he’s in charge, I’d say he’s the one we need to get rid of.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest but doesn’t object.

“Or at least… knock him totally unconscious,” she adds, swallowing; Gogolak’s a wanker, but she’d rather not kill him, either. “Beyond just being asleep. Because he sleeps at night, but the tulpa’s still here, which means he needs to be down for the count. Comatose, even.”

Harry’s wand buzzes again. Ah, shit; in all the hubbub, she’d forgotten about that.

Concern floods Harry’s face. “Give me five minutes.” He blinks. “Ok?”

She waves towards the door. “Duty calls.”

He gives her a weak smile and turns away; she begins the trek upstairs to send Attica an email update.

“Ginny?”

She stops to look down at him. Harry’s paused, halfway out the door. “Thank you,” he says softly, meeting her eyes. “And… I’m sorry. For everything. Ok? I’ll always, erm…”

But she can’t right now. She actually fucking can’t.

“Later,” she whispers, nearly begging. “Please. Let’s do this later.”

Because of course she loves him.

She’s always fucking loved him, even though that’s changed forms. It’s shifted. It’s evolved. He feels the same way… she knows he’s bloody feels the same way. She just doesn’t have the resources to deal with whatever this fuck is reigniting, right in front of her eyes, as the tulpa dances in the back of her head.

Luckily, he understands. Harry just swallows again, nods at her, and heads out into the night.

___________________________

As it would turn out, he was wrong about the identity of the summoner.

“Great news!” Hermione announces on the other end of the mobile. “MLE found Yaxley. He was hiding in a cave in Romania, just like you said.”

Harry snorts; he wishes that gave him more pride. “Well, if you’d listened to me months ago, then—”

“The important part is that we have him,” Hermione says, cutting across. “We need you back ASAP to prep for witness questioning. You’ll take the stand, of course. The trial’s set to start next week!”

He can practically hear her bouncing with excitement. Very little brings her more joy than trials of former Death Eaters.

“Erm… about that.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “We’re actually right on the cusp of something here. I’m gonna need a couple more days to wrap things up.”

“Really?” Hermione sounds surprised. “Kingsley and Robards said you’d be pleased. Said you found this mission as useless as they did.”

Fuck, he was such an arse.

“Well, things… changed,” he offers lamely. “It’s going really well. This mission is so important to her. I’d just hate to leave at the last minute.”

“Ohhh?” Hermione draws out the word in a way that suggests she finds herself quite clever. Even before she asks, he knows what she’s on about. “How’s it going with Ginny, then?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Her coy prodding is obvious, even over the phone.

“As I already said, it’s going well,” he replies flatly. “We’re a great team. Always have been.”

But she can’t let him have that one, can she?

“Well… not always,” Hermione allows. “After Percy—”

Harry groans. For fuck’s sake, what’s her obsession with stating the obvious? “Yeah, well,” he retorts, “I’d like to know who you think did well after that, especially since…”

He trails off with a sigh.

Especially since what, exactly?

He toys with the fraying ends of his hoodie string.

Especially since Ginny was the last to speak with Percy? That she still carries the weight of the guilt for what she said that night? That she’s never admitted it, but that he suspects her choice to become an Unspeakable was influenced by the things she wishes she could un-say?

Harry makes a face. That’s corny as fuck, isn’t it? What a thing to pull from his arse...

Hermione interrupts his thoughts for a bit of bragging. “Well, Ron and I have done just fine.”

He can almost imagine her staring at her engagement ring in dreamy affection. The mental image makes his reply sound more bitter than he intends.

“Well,” Harry snaps, “Ron wasn’t the last person to speak with Percy. So I’m not sure how you could compare the two, really.”

Shit.

The silence on the other end tells him he needs to apologize, even if it’s true. Fortunately, Hermione gives him an easy out. “Anyway.” She clears her throat. “I’ll give you until tomorrow night, but we really need you the following day. If you haven’t settled this, we’re swapping you out. Got it?”

Harry sighs. He’s exhausted, but this couldn’t possibly take much longer. Ginny’s more or less got the proof she needs now. They just need to confront Gogolak, knock him out, and—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Harry cranes his neck towards the source of the noise. Huh… weird. Far up the street, flashing lights tip him off. That’s definitely Oliver’s Audi, the one parked in the driveway directly beside theirs. It’s in utopia blue with a metallic finish, a detail Oliver probably mentioned at least fifty times the other night. Then, while Sharon and Ginny were out walking the dog, Oliver began a mind-numbing lecture on the car’s exact miles per liter. Harry was a bit drunk, which is probably why he interrupted to ask a much more important maths question: How many blow jobs per week is too many, exactly?

Even from a distance, Harry can tell that Oliver’s nearly the same shade of murderous red now; he storms from the house and turns off the alarm with his key fob. But then he pauses, glancing around like something’s spooked him. He must decide it’s not that significant, though, because he huffs back inside soon enough. Fucking wanker...

“....Harry?”

“Sorry!” Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, that works. See you then, Hermione.”

“Can’t wait!” she trills. He doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s smug and grinning.

___________________________

Two minutes after Harry leaves, Ginny feels it again: that same sensation she experienced while walking Captain Bone.

She’s sitting at her laptop when it starts… this deeply unsettling shift. It stands the hair up on the back of her neck. She rushes to the window on instinct, but just like before, everything outside looks the same. There’s no “moving grass monster,” as Harry called it. Not yet, at least.

Still, she can’t deny it’s growing louder. Getting stronger. And now that she’s felt it for a bit longer, she can put more words to it. It’s like she’s plummeting through the absence of sound; like all the wind’s been sucked from the air. It’s a building pressure, a mounting unease, and before she knows it, her whole body starts to shake.

Then two things happen in quick succession: that weird feeling stops, and a car alarm begins to blare in the distance.

Weird.

She shudders. This whole thing is so fucking weird. Weird is her job, and this place is still Very Fucking Weird. Seriously, who enjoys living here? She’s reaching for her wand, just in case, when the front door slams open.

In retrospect, it’s a blessing she knows Harry as well as she does… because she can tell that those heavy, clobbering footsteps don’t belong to him. She knows he’s not the one drawing deep, ragged breaths as he marches up the stairs.

She hides around the corner of the bedroom, her heart racing, and goes through a mental list of spells she might use. Shield charms. Enchantments. The buzzing’s stopped, so this probably isn’t the tulpa… but who else would be here? Gogolak? It sounds more human than—

“Jenny?” a deep, soothing voice asks. “Are you in here?”

Her breath freezes in her throat. She’s only heard that voice once before… but it’s so similar to her former life that she identifies it at once.

“Mike?” A wave of relief washes through her. She shoves her wand into her dress as she comes around the corner. Sure enough, there he is, in the flesh. Mike Snodgrass. A man she presumed dead days ago.

“Hi!” Mike pants. He cracks a smile. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but.” He winces, wiping a palm on his ripped khakis. “Been hiding!” Fuck. His whole outfit (yellow Polo, khakis) is the same he wore days ago to unload their boxes, except now it’s filthy. Stained. Like he’s been living beneath cars and inside drains. He’s just missing his Saint Julian medallion, which she’s sent to the Ministry.

Ginny feels sick. She wrote him off as dead so carelessly...

“I’ve been trying to take it down,” he adds earnestly, peering at her. His cheeks are caked in something red and grimy, the same stuff she stuffed into her bra. He’s been tailing the tulpa, she realizes, her stomach plummeting…

Except he’s got no clue what he’s doing.

“I was about to leave the development, to just run away, but that’s when I figured out it was coming for you two!” He shudders, closing his eyes. It feels like he’s been waiting a long, long time to say this. “And I’ve been aimless without Jess in the first place. So what was the point in leaving, really, if I could save…?”

He trails off, clearing his throat; when he looks up at her again, there’s a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I’ve been leaving clues, though! Why didn’t you listen?”

“Clues?” Ginny sounds like she’s a million miles away.

Mike’s nearly pleading now. “You had to go and kick the mailbox and stick the flamingo in the grass, didn’t you?” He raises his pointer finger. “And even though I left you a note, you had to make it even worse! It only attacks when the sun goes down, see.”

“You… you left the note?” she whispers. She was so certain that it was from Gogolak...

But Mike proceeds in such a rush it’s clear he hasn’t heard her. “It was about to get Henry by the trampoline, so I threw the baseball as a diversion. I broke the lamppost, too— which worked. For a second,” he adds hastily, glancing over his shoulder.

“How did you also set off the car alarm— oh.” Her head’s still spinning. “Buddy system. Right.”

Mike dangles a keyfob. “Covenant rules. Stole the spare off Jane.” He glances into the hall again before whipping back to face her. “It’ll need a sacrifice tonight, though,” he adds grimly. “And every night, until you all have perfect behavior. It was coming for you earlier, see. We aren’t meant to be outdoors after dark without a permit for dog-walking, so.” He shrugs. “If there’s an unapproved disruption like a car alarm, it knows just where to hunt.”

It’s then that the final pieces of this dreadful puzzle slide together in her brain. “Captain Bone,” Ginny breathes; she swears a feather could knock her over. “He was the first since we arrived. Punishment for us sticking out.”

“I couldn’t save him,” Mike laments. “It came up and snatched him. So I threw in my medallion, right after his collar, just to make them think I was already gone.”

“That’s… that was brilliant,” she admits, biting her lip. “Thank you. You didn’t have—”

“Nah,” he says firmly. “I did. For starters, you remind me so much of…” He stops mid-sentence, an odd expression on his face.

For a second, she thinks he’s being sentimental, but then she feels it too.

Shit.

The hairs on her arm stand up. It’s back… that weird way she felt before. Like the air’s sucked from the room. That creeping, clawing silence. This time, though, it only gets louder, louder, louder, until she’s throwing her hands over her ears, all hope of self-defense forgotten.

But Mike knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. She doesn’t have the chance to object or get her wand before he’s ripping open the closet door and throwing her inside. Ginny opens her mouth in a startled cry, but it’s like she’s screaming underwater, the sound distant and distorted. Mike slams the door closed with her inside and stomps to the center of the room— but now the thundering, roaring wind is causing her physical pain… it’s so loud now that it reverberates in her chest, so loud that her hands shake as she reaches for her wand at long last, but fuck fuck fuck, it’s too late…

It’s too fucking late.

Because Mike’s made a choice. One he can’t take back. He just stands in the middle of the room, puffing out his chest, offering himself as the proud sacrifice, even as the noise grows so loud that Ginny screams her throat raw.

She feels it enter the bedroom, this looming, shifting mass— but by then, she’s certain her ears are bleeding, her eardrums bursting. Her whole body rattles and shakes as she peers through the slats in the closet door, but she’s frozen. Stuck. Miserable. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried… even as the tulpa oozes into the room, lunges itself back, and swallows Mike with a sickening squelch.

Even though the slats of the door, Ginny’s sprayed with blood. Covered. And she’s dizzy now… so dizzy. A drop of blood trickles into her eye; she reaches up to wipe it from her face, and it’s only then that she hears her own screams again. They reverberate through the small space, anguished and pleading, so loud that she’s certain someone up the street could hear, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care. She just screams over and over and over, her nails clawing at the walls, until the world slips away into darkness.

___________________________

Blood.

It’s the first thing he smells as he charges up the steps. His chest squeezes, his eyes water, his head pounds over and over again with one word: No.

No. No. No.

Not Ginny. It can’t be.

But almost as soon as he smells the blood, he hears her screaming, and yes! His heart soars. Screaming is good; screaming means she’s alive and breathing and—

Fuck.

His dinner rises in his throat as he steps into the bedroom. He smelled the blood from the steps, he hadn’t expected… this much. It always takes him aback, exactly how much blood is in one human body, and he’s certainly never seen it sprayed, all over the floor… covering the walls. Covering the closet, even, where Ginny’s still screaming.

He flings open the door, thinking he’s prepared for what he might see. Somehow, though, none of that measures up. Because he’s dealt with tears in his line of work… but he’s never, ever seen her so broken. His chest clenches when he takes her in. Her perfect suburban dress — the yellow floral one, the one he liked so much— is now red and grimy, caked in blood, as Ginny rocks back and forth on the floor, sobs wracking her body.

Blood’s covering her face, too, and her arms. Dried trails of it have crusted around her eyes, like she’s fallen asleep wiping them away… or perhaps lost consciousness. The thought is too terrible to bear. He kicks the door open completely and brings her into his arms in one fell swoop.

She melts against him, her voice raw and broken. “H-Harry!” she manages. “P-please! I need-I need!” She begins to shake, pressing her face to his chest.

“A shower,” he says firmly, stepping into the en-suite. “You… you just need a shower. Ok? And maybe some calming draught, I’ve got some in my luggage, and—”

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with horror. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t leave me, Harry, please!”

“I… ok,” he allows, carrying her to his luggage to retrieve the bottle. She clings to his neck as he reaches for it, but she weighs next to nothing. Fuck, she’s so thin… he’d just been too busy eyeing her up to realize exactly how thin. What a complete wanker.

It’s not difficult to unzip the suitcase with one hand and pass her the bottle. “Take this,” he urges, thrusting it into her hands. “Please, Ginny. You’ll feel—”

She’s already downed it before he gets to the end of the sentence. She tips her head back, drawing air into her lungs. “Thanks.” Her voice is still hoarse. Ragged.

“Shower, then,” he murmurs, walking her into the bathroom. He feels her start to relax against him, her body growing looser, as he opens the curtain and turns on the tap.

“Thanks,” she whispers again, her head tucked beneath his chin. His fingers itch with restraint; he’d do anything, he thinks, to hold her against him. To press a kiss to her temple. To tell her he loves her and that she’s beautiful and perfect and he’s sorry, so sorry, that any of this happened and—

She peers up at him, her eyes more focused now, less wide-eyed and horror-struck. “Would you stay here?” she asks, biting her lip. “While I shower? Just so I’m not—”

“‘Course.” Harry swallows, putting her on her feet. She lands with unintentional grace, one foot after the next.

“And can you… erm.” She turns her back to him, lifting her hair above her zipper. His hands shake as he reaches for the clasp. He knows the exact shape of her back as he slides it down, over the middle bump of her white bra strap. He nearly unstraps that for her, too, before he catches himself. It reeks of intimacy, doesn’t it? All of this…

His eyes linger on the soft swell of her bum before he turns around, self-disgust hammering in his throat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he adds feebly. He balls his hands into fists as her dress hits the floor… followed by her bra. And her knickers.

“Not your fault,” she croaks, stepping into the shower. He smiles, his glasses fogging up as he moves to sit on the closed toilet seat. Even covered in blood and traumatized, she can't bring herself to blame him.

She finishes several minutes later.

“Erm… towel?” She shuts the water off. “Could you?”

“Sure,” he soothes, thrusting one through the curtain. “D’you want me to leave, or…?”

Ginny manages a weak snort. “Nah. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He chuckles at the door as he turns around again. She’s right, of course; he knows every bloody inch of her… but it’s not quite the same now.

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whips around to face her. Admittedly, she looks… better. The blood’s gone. Her eyes are still red-rimmed from sobbing, but she’s looking a bit less like a woman who witnessed a death. Which reminds him…

“Erm. Give me a second to get it all cleaned up?”

Ginny shudders and settles on the toilet seat; he immediately kicks himself for asking. “Yeah,” she says a moment later. “Just… come get me, ok? When you’re done?”

He nods.

___________________________

It can’t be later than 10 PM when he finally carries her to the bed, still wrapped in a towel.

He’s exhausted from the nights on the sofa, but he knows she’s worse off. He’s cleaned the bedroom fairly well, he thinks, considering. There’s a rust-colored stain above the closet that he reckons won’t go anywhere anytime soon. He just hopes she doesn’t see it.

He rests her on the duvet surface, fully prepared to head downstairs for the night— but the pleading look on her face informs him he’s got other plans, instead. So without sharing a single word, he spreads his palms, lies beside her, and waits.

It comes eventually, as he knew it would. One person can’t deal with all that, see all that, without eventually cracking. And as a fellow fucked-up individual, he would know.

It starts as simple tears, ones that he wipes away. It progresses into sobs… full-body sobs. The sort he heard coming up the stairs. He’s surprised she’s got any left, but Ginny’s always been the sort to keep him on his toes. And just as her water-dark hair starts to dry and sprout red tendrils, he faces the thing he expected least of all: a kiss.

She starts softly. Slowly. Her lips so tender and soft that he forgets everything. She moans against his mouth, her whole body leaning into it; he’s instantly reminded of how much he’s fucking missed her. How lonely he’s been. How could he have forgotten the tiny mewl she makes in the back of her throat as her tongue parts his lips? He must’ve blocked it out, he realizes, as she begins to slide her body against him, panting, as she tips her head back. His lips trail down her neck, nibbling and biting, as she grips his arms and hair and bum. Because if he’d remembered all of these little details, he’d have gone mad long ago.

He’s throbbing hard by the time he gets to the tail end of her towel, which brushes the tip of her thighs. He tries to adjust himself, to—

“You can take it out, you know.”

Oh. He blinks up at her, his breath freezing in his throat. She’s peering down at him, her lips red and swollen.

“I know you’re hard,” she adds, her voice still raw. “So if it’s uncomfortable… take it out.”

He arches a brow from his position at her thigh. He’s about to retort with something snappy. Something that might keep them bantering for ages. But Ginny has no patience.

“Please.” It’s nearly a command. She blinks down with glassy eyes, her lips swollen. “I want you, Harry.”

Fuck. He groans, rubbing his cock against his palm to relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t help for long, not that it matters; he’d rather focus on her, anyway. So with a slip of his fingers, the towel opens. She releases a breathy moan, tipping her head back.

Naked.

She’s finally naked. In front of him. His breathing grows ragged, his eyes scanning the territory somehow both totally familiar and completely new. She is thinner; he was right. Her hip bones jut out now, her stomach more sunken. But most of her is the same. The smattering of freckles on her chest. The way her breasts have puckered and darkened, the way her chest is rising and falling so fast. The thatch of dark red hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Well,” she quips. He blinks up at her as she reclines on her elbow. “Are you going to fuck me, Harry, or just stare all day?”

With that, he removes his glasses and gives her a smirk— her only real warning— before he kisses her one more time, just as his fingers spread her thighs.

She opens beneath him with a breathy sigh. Fuck, she’s so wet… he groans into her mouth as he dips his fingers further and further down. She’s dripping by the time he finds her clit… by the time he begins to swirl in tight circles. Clockwise. The pattern that screams of such intimate familiarity that it’s as if the years never passed.

He’s scarcely done anything, but she’s already writhing against his fingers, arching her back. “Please,” she slurs after a minute, “put them in.”

He’s never been one to deny her, has he?

It’s like muscle memory how quickly he finds his face between her thighs instead. He spares a moment of self-indulgence as he closes his eyes, breathing her in. She smells like home. She always has. It’s comfort… but more than that, it’s proof. Proof she wants him as much as he wants her. It’s why he stuffed his face in her knickers whenever he got a spare moment on the Horcrux hunt: one hand on that black lace, the other pulling at his cock. It’s bloody erotic, seeing proof of how much she wants him… but it’s more than that.

It’s love.

And despite all the things he’s forgotten tonight, he’d never forget this. He presses two fingers inside her, his hands shaking, and lets his body do the rest. Fuck, he’s missed this. She cries out above him, her hands grasping at his hair, tugging him closer. He’s never forgotten this… the way she tastes. The way she smells. The right way to run his tongue against her clit. Exactly how many fingers she needs, pressed against her just there… crooked in a certain position… just as she begins to thrust herself up and down on them, her cries growing louder, more insistent… and yesssss, there it is, she’s right there, right fucking there—

“Harry!” Her hair rubs against the pillow with abandon. “I’m… I’m so close,” she pants, her body starting to shake.

“Come for me,” he commands, his cock fit to burst, his face slippery. “Come for me, Ginny.”

He returns to her clit for a split-second before she says the words that change everything.

Her whole body tenses, a blush spreading up her chest. “I love you!” she cries, her voice strangled… and with that, she’s coming, clenching around him, her body shaking as he rides her through it.

What he doesn’t tell her is that he comes, too. The second those words wash over him. Those fucking words that prove he’s fucked up, fucked up, fucked up… but he can’t exactly help that, can he?

He just shoves his face into the duvet, thrusting his hips once, twice, and with a grunt, he’s off. His cock tightens and bursts, filling his boxers. Soaking through his jeans. He pulls back, dizzy, when the clenching finally stops.

Luckily, she seems too distracted to notice. Ginny’s half-asleep as he rises from between her thighs, pulling the blanket over her. He presses a kiss to her temple and makes quick work of removing his soggy clothes. Fairly embarrassing, this. Like he’s 16 again and rutting on the lawn.

He mutters a quick cleaning charm and changes into basketball shorts before settling down beside her in bed… making sure he’s on top of the duvet.

But as he drifts off, there’s something far less sentimental that hammers through his chest: They need to get their shit sorted.

Before he ever, ever lets that happen again.

#harry/ginny fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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marvelmymarvel · 4 years

Text

Beauty (Part 8)

Jiraiya x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Synopsis: At the age of 14, you begged the 3rd Hokage to let you raise the brand new baby, who just like you lost his parents to the nine-tailed fox. People thought you were crazy, but the strange new man who was training Naruto saw you as something else.

A/n: I have been waiting to write this part for *so* long. Also, Iruka in the gif makes me wanna SOB. Fuck, can he comfort me in a v neck!? It's long btw, so get ready for it :)

Tags: @brithedemonspawn

Also, if you wanna sob while reading this like I did when writing it:

Song: Jenny of Oldstones by Florence + The Machine (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-F7K6UZEVg)

Thunder rumbled overhead as the rain pounded down harder onto the mourners below. You turned your head to look at the children beside you before grasping Naruto’s shoulder tightly in your fingertips. The last funeral you went to was for your parents as well as Naruto’s...

Naruto looked up at you, blank-faced as he tried to read your emotionless face. Were you sad? Were you about to cry? Were you trying to reassure yourself that he was there and alive? He soon got his answer as you faced forward once more, tears glistening in your eyes as you dropped to your knee beside the boy. Raising your hand from his shoulder, you brushed it shakily through his blonde hair that surprisingly was staying up through the rain. Resting your hand on his cheek, you cocked your head and bit your trembling lip, praying that you could stay strong for him.

But you were struggling.

It was a silent exchange, a simple look that told him how you felt. Naruto knew how strong you were for him, and sometimes he wished that you would just allow yourself to feel emotions and cry. He opened his mouth to say something but the sound of Konohamaru broke you from your trance. Dropping your hand from his cheek, you turned and pressed a hand against the younger boy's back, shushing him in the hopes of calming him down.

Your motherly instinct was working, but it was only until Iruka joined in when the noble grandson began to calm down. You knew his pain, knew it more than anything... And so did Iruka. Your e/c eyes flicked up to watch Iruka talk quietly to the young boy. Smiling softly to yourself, you began to remember all of the times you’d talk to the younger Shinobi... Kakashi could only help you so much through the pain, but Iruka truly helped you heal.

And you did the same for him.

Iruka felt your eyes on him, and he hoped that you didn't notice the way his ears and cheeks heated up in response to your heavy gaze. Finally gaining the courage, the younger shinobi brought his gaze up to meet your mournful eyes. A sad smile forming on your lips, hand sliding across the young boy's back and lacing with Iruka’s frigid fingers. His eyes widened a little as your warm fingers caused a jolt to rush through his body, you were always so special to him...

But he wasn’t sure if he was special to you.

‘Thank you’ you mouthed out, thumb caressing his knuckles before pulling away to get back to Naruto who was staring dumbfounded at his old teacher. Iruka blinked back his shock, confused as to why Naruto was suddenly sending him a glare and why your simple touch was causing his tummy to flip. Shaking his head in the hopes of clearing his racing thoughts, Iruka went back to the boy who was now sobbing a bit harder.

You didn’t pay any mind or attention to anything going on around you as you brought Naruto into your side. Naruto was still glaring at his teacher, knowing exactly what he was thinking about. He was in love with you, it was the same way Jiraiya looked at you the first time you two ever met...

The scoff that fell from his lips made your brows furrow in concern, thinking that something was wrong with him. “You okay buddy?” you cooed out before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Naruto let out a groan, pushing away from you in embarrassment. He was secretly okay with you doing that in private but in front of his teammates?!

Naruto looked up at you with a pout, angry that you would embarrass him like that in front of everyone, but your soft gaze reminded him that you were going through a lot right now. Deciding to appease you instead of saving face, Naruto shook his head and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. He hoped the funeral would end soon because you were beginning to shake in his embrace. Naruto turned his glare to the young child who currently had your coat draped across her shoulders. He understood that she was just a child who didn’t know any better, but he was still angry by how selfless you were.

And just how sick you were going to be because of it.

Sniffling, you slapped his shoulder in warning, silently telling him to get over it and pay attention to the procession in front of you. Sighing, he listened to your warning and instead cuddled deeper into your side, wanting to share some of his body heat so he wouldn’t have to take care of your sick self for the next 5 days. “You’re gonna get a cold in this rain” Naruto jumped along with you at the voice as a jacket was draped across your shoulders.

“Thanks” you whispered back as Genma wrapped a dry arm around your waist, locking you in between his hot body and his jacket. Resting his head on your shoulder, Genma felt you physically relax in his embrace. Naruto rolled his eyes at the Shinobi, but his jealousy melted away at the soft smile on your lips. There were no more tears bubbling along the edge of your eyes, no, you were at peace.

Biting his lip, Naruto looked towards Iruka who had his head downcasted. He couldn’t tell if his old teacher was jealous or even noticed, but it certainly caused suspicion to grow in his mind. Turning his head to look around, he tried to scan for Jiraiya in the crowd. He was easy to spot, and Naruto nearly shuddered at the cold glare that was being sent in your direction. If looks could kill, Genma would have been killed at least 50 times by now.

Noticing the young boy was once again distracted caused you to rip him closer to you, “Pay attention and stop staring...” you hissed down at him. It had been a while since you had to use the mom voice, but it snapped him back to attention right away. You let your gaze travel to where he was staring and you felt your blood run cold as you caught the angry gaze being thrown your way. Your body curled back into Genma’s embrace, a sense of safety flowing through you as he instinctively tightened his grip around you.

Telling Jiraiya that you were seeing Genma didn't go well, in fact, it went horribly. It wasn’t as if you had been seeing each other for long and you wouldn’t consider Genma your significant other just yet, but Jiraiya didn’t care. “You alright?” Genma cooed as he pressed a kiss softly against your ear, thumb caressing the part of your body he was gripping onto. You nodded before breaking your gaze from the angry Sannin, you’d be fine, he wouldn’t do anything anyway.

Not to you at least.

“I’m fine...” you stated firmly as you turned your head a bit to lock eyes with him. He smiled softly at you before turning his gaze back to the funeral that was now ending. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed down the sick feeling that was rising in your throat. The warm feeling that Genma was giving you suddenly made you feel cold, like his embrace no longer gave you that sense of safety you craved. Your eyes drifted back to Jiraiya.

Something was wrong, but you didn’t know how to fix it.

“GAH WHERE IS HE?!”

Your head snapped up from your paper, eyes narrowing at the nurses scrambling around the town. You of course knew who they were looking for, but you weren’t going to rat him out. “YOU!” A smirk formed on your lips as the nurse stormed over to you, “Hi, how can I help you-”

“Where is he?!”

You fought back a chuckle as the seething nurse glared down at you, she had grown quite tired of Naruto’s little games, and the fact that you were so ‘blissfully’ unaware made it even worse. To be honest, you were also tired of the young boy running away from the hospital, but at this point, you could care less. Instead of saying anything right away, you reached down to grab your tea. The people in the tea house around you shot looks at the commotion, but you didn’t mind as you sweetly took a sip of the cooling liquid. “I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“Naruto! Where is NARUTO”

An understanding hum vibrated in your chest and you sat down the tea in acknowledgment of her anger. You knew where he was, he was across the street eating ramen, but were you going to tell her?

No.

“I have no idea. Sorry!” your toothy grin caused the nurse's blood to boil, but instead of causing a bigger scene, she took a step back and rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if anything happens to him-”

“Then I’ll be to blame... I’m the one who complains about him anyway, so no one else is going to complain if he gets hurt, now are they?” It was true after all, you were the only person in the village who raised hell when he landed in the hospital, so if you being so calm about the situation said anything, it was that you didn’t care. The nurse sucked in her lip, her body trembling in anger as the other nurse tried to pull her back, reassuring her that it was going to be alright.

You waved at her cheekily before returning to your tea. Only when she left your sight did your eyes drift towards the ramen shop across from you, sighing at how long it was taking him to eat. He was currently wearing your shoes and clothes, helping him blend into the surroundings a little better than when he wore his normal outfit.

“So you’re the reason he’s so cheeky”

A yelp flew from your lips, tea spilling all over your dress as you spun towards the man crouched beside you. “J-Jiraiya! Don’t do that!!” your startled reply caused Naruto to peek his head out of the ramen shop, mouth still chewing the noodles as he took in the display of your flustered self. Jiraiya’s smile grew wide as you hastily dabbed at the tea that covered your entire dress. Gagging at the love-struck look on his Master's face, Naruto turned back to his ramen in disgust.

You were blissfully unaware of both Naruto’s disgusted reaction and Jiraiya’s love eyes as you purely focused on getting the stain out of your one and only dress. “I like that dress on you... Makes you look pretty”

“Oh, so I’m only pretty when I’m wearing a dress”

Jiraiya’s eyes bulged out as he tried to back peddle, “No! No no I mean you’re always beautiful, I’m just, ya know I just... I didn’t mean it like... If I were being honest, I think you’re the hottest when you’re in your Shinobi gear-” your e/c eyes shot a glare his way, cutting his incessant rambling short as you stood swiftly from your seat.

“How you see me doesn’t matter...” you whispered out before taking a step towards the ramen shop. Jiraiya was quick on his feet, hand capturing your wrist in an attempt to stop your retreat. “Wait, can we talk about -”

“Just because I’m no longer seeing Genma, doesn't mean I want to date you. Not after you left me-”

“Please just let me explain!” the tea shop grew silent at his roar, and soon your face was heating up in embarrassment. “Jiraiya” your whisper was soft, a silent warning that he was seconds away from ruining every chance he had with you if he didn’t calm down. His eyes scanned the crowd, provoking them all to go back to their own business. Stepping forward, he slowly raised his hand to cup your cheek sweetly. “I was scared of what he was going to do to you...”

Your watery eyes lifted to his, lip trembling as you searched his face for an answer to a question that you yourself didn’t know. He knew that the people around you were secretly leaning in, waiting for him to continue but he was having none of it. “Can we go somewhere, just you and I for a talk... Please” instead of answering him right away, you let your eyes trail over to where Naruto was still slurping down his ramen. What would he do? Biting your lip, you searched your heart for the answer and tried your best to ignore how his warm touch was making you melt into him. “Fine... But only for a couple of minutes”

The park wasn’t far from the ramen shop, but it was far enough away from others that you two finally had a quiet spot to talk. Your arms were tightly wrapped around your body, encasing you in your own bubble of safety from where you sat under the tree. Jiraiya paced above you, deep in thought as he tried to think of a way to explain everything to you. How he left to find Orochimaru. How he left to find a way to free you from the mark. How he left to keep you safe. He left to protect you...

But how does one say that?

Your eyes trailed over to where Naruto was ordering yet another bowl of soup, and you silently prayed for his bottomless pit of a stomach to fill up so you could leave. “Alright... ALRIGHT. I’ll just have to tell you everything” your attention snapped back to the Sannin as he plopped down onto the ground in front of you. Jiraiya reached forward and grabbed your hands tightly within his. A part of you was tired of this stupid game, but the other part of you saw just how nervous he was; that part of you was the reason you were still sitting here.

“I did it for you” the scoff that few from your lips caused him to hiss out a ‘listen’, he wasn’t playing around anymore and he wasn’t going to go another minute with you thinking he just left you. You shut your mouth immediately, bitting your cheek as a reminder that you didn’t know the whole story just yet. He could surprise you...

It was time to stop being so childish.

“When I saw his mark on you, a lot of feelings rushed through me. Anger, disgust, fear... But the reason I left wasn’t because I hoped he would leave you alone. I left to try and find a cure for his bite, for his mark. I knew that the shinobi holding you-”

“Genma” you muttered out, determined for him to acknowledge the man who was there for you when he wasn’t. “Yes... Genma” A shiver ripped up your spine at the way Jiraiya spit out his name as if it was the most venomous thing to have ever existed. He gripped your hands tighter, calming himself down before resuming. “I knew he would be able to protect you while I was gone. I didn’t want to leave you, but you weren’t safe without a cure. I was only gone a couple of days, but I only wanted to be gone for one. Seeing you fall from that rooftop plays in my mind over and over again. It still scares the absolute shit out of me.”

You averted your eyes from his heavy gaze, panic rising in your chest as you relived the day when it all went to hell. “I knew then that I shouldn't have left you at all... Cure or no cure, you needed me... And I’m sorry” the lump in your throat grew as you fought back the tears forming on your lash line. “I left because I love you”

Your head began to spin as it snapped back to him in utter shock. Your lungs took in a sharp intake of breath, yet it felt like you were drowning under his gaze. His lips were moving, but all your mind could process were those three words that left you dangling on the edge.

‘I love you’

He seemed to notice your distant gaze, yet instead of snapping you out of it, he scooted closer to you and cupped your face lovingly in his hands. “I love you... Don’t you see that?” your eyes seemed to grow wider as he repeated it again as if he was worried you didn't hear it the first time. You did hear it, you both knew that you heard it. So why was it so hard to process it?

‘I love you... Not her’ the tears you were holding back fell violently as you began to relive the memory of the first time your heart was ever broken. He was the reason you were so cold to the Uchiha clan, why you were so cold to love in general. He had lied to you, for he loved Rin more. “I’ve heard those words before” you sputtered out finally to Jiraiya, lips trembling as you lifted your hands to rip his from your face.

“They don’t mean shit”

Jiraiya’s mouth dropped as he watched you stand and storm towards Naruto who was now done and looking for you. The blonde caught sight of you, but his smile instantly fell as he heard your sobs and saw your tears. Moving his eyes to where you were coming from, he caught sight of Jiraiya chasing after you, calling out to you hastily.

Pleading for you to stop.

“What did he do!” Naruto screamed out, but before he could do anything you stopped him short. Kneeling down, you cupped his cheeks and pressed a loving kiss to his temple. “Nothing, he's just going to ask you to go with him on a mission. I’m sad but you’ll be safe, right?”

The boy's face softened as he now thought you were crying over him, but he was still confused as to why Jiraiya was so anxious about catching up with you. Before the man had a chance to grab you, you told Naruto that you’d pack his bag for him to pick up and took off. Leaving a dumbfounded boy and a heartbroken Sannin behind you.

Naruto looked up at his Master, a smile forming on his lips at the prospect of a mission that would help him grow. “So that mission! What are we doing!” Naruto’s cheery tone snapped Jiraiya out of his thoughts. Looking down at the boy, he shot a sheepish smile before leading him towards the ramen shop. Maybe this mission would clear his mind and help him figure out a plan to show that he loved you. Truly, deeply, loved you.

“We have to go find an old friend. Her name is Tsunade... You interested?”

The creaking of the swing filled the night air, mixing with your quiet sobs as you kicked at the dirt below you. You had grown tired from all of the crying, and the fact that you haven’t slept well in days only added to that. You didn’t know why you thought coming here would help you as if it would solve everything. This was the place where he told you he loved you, only for him to go to Rin and say the same thing. It was only weeks before he was killed.

And it was a death that changed you forever.

“He still haunts you... Doesn’t he?” A sad smile formed on your lips, but you didn’t look up as Kakashi entered the schoolyard. He knew of this spot, he knew of the significance he had on you. Hell, he remembered finding you here for years after Obito died, hoping to relive the moment where he told you he loved you.

Even if it was a lie, you wanted to relive it.

Kakashi moved to sit beside you on the ground, eyes cast towards the spot where his old friend once stood in that memory. He was there as well, shocked to hear those words come from his friend knowing that none of it was 100% true. Obito loved Rin too much and any other crush he had meant nothing.

“We were just kids” you whispered out, gripping onto the rope of the swing tighter in the realization of how silly it all was. “Well, we were just kids... Everyone else around us was older” Kakashi chimed in, hoping to ease the pain a bit. You were only 10 then, the same age as Kakashi when it all happened. You would lose your parents 4 years later, but no other pain compared to losing the Uchiha.

“Don’t you hate that we were so young?” your question caught Kakashi off guard, but he didn’t show it and instead looked up at you in confusion. Before he had time to question it, you continued on. “I mean, we were 10-year-olds working with 13-year-olds... That pressure alone is too much for a child. Don't you think?”

Silence fell over you both, it was comfortable but it was also loud. The longer it took for him to gather his words, the more stupid it felt to even ask that question in the first place. “No... Because we were placed in groups where we felt comfortable” his words were soft, and he saw the way your shoulders dropped in relaxation. You always felt so alone at the academy, even though you were on a team with Genma, Gai, and Ebisu. The three boys always had your back but made sure not to make you feel like they were protecting you just because you were young or a girl. They looked up to you, though it didn’t matter.

“I could never have been like you. I hate that”

Kakashi’s hand reached out to you, softly resting on your thigh as you once more began to cry. Once again crying over something as stupid as the past, nothing was going to bring back Obito and nothing was going to make you feel as good as Kakashi. “You know I couldn’t have raised Naruto, I don’t think anyone could have raised him but you” you nodded at the statement, knowing deep down that no one wanted to help the orphaned child.

No one but you.

“Obito loved you, but he loved Rin more. The thing is, he’s gone. You shouldn’t let that false statement of love judge any future romances you stumble upon... And yes, I do know about you and Jiraiya, he came to me asking for advice” your mouth opened to interject but he silenced you with a loud ‘shush’. “Now, I’m not one for romance, other than my books of course. But that man loves you, and I mean loves you. Goodness, I don't think I’ve ever seen a grown man cry harder... Anyway, you have to let Obito go.” Noticing your silence, Kakashi continued on. “And you have to stop comparing yourself to those around you when you’re the one raising a child with a demon inside of him. No one but you could have done that, and I’m sorry that I’ve been neglecting him. Truth is, I cant look at him and not see Obito”

More tears seemed to slip down your cheeks at his confession, for you saw the similarities as well. Naruto acted just like the late Uchiha, and sometimes it made it hard to breathe. Kakashi stood finally from his spot on the ground, before taking your hands in his and hauling you up from the swing. “We’re gonna get through this, but you gotta promise me something.”

Kakashi’s fingers wiped away your tears as he tried to formulate his next words carefully. In all honesty, the only time he’s seen you truly happy is when you’re around Jiraiya. He hates that, he really does consider he was the source of your happiness for so long, but he can’t watch you self destruct anymore. Not over something as stupid as a love confession that was a lie.

“Give him a chance... You deserve to feel real love, again.”

Your eyes shifted from his gaze and settled on your feet, one would have thought that you were panicking or afraid. But you were really hiding the fact that your heart rate picked up at the thought of giving him one more chance. “You think he loves me?” you whispered out sheepishly, eliciting a chuckle from your best friend in front of you. A smile formed on your lips as you looked up at him, stomach flipping at the way his eyes crinkled from sincerity.

“I bet my life on it”

#jiraiya imagine #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya fanfiction #jiraiya imagines #Jiraiya #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto #genma imagine #iruka imagine

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ethereal-bang · 4 years

Text

Stormy Night

Authors Note: Hey guys!! It’s finally here, my first fic to post! AANNND ITS SEUNGMIN SMUT YOU’RE WELCOME this probably seems very rough and rushed and I’m sorry lol it’s my first time writing smut and my first time in a few years writing a fic, but I’m really happy with it!

Characters: Seungmin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k (oops lol)

Type: Friends to Lovers, An equal amount of fluff as there is smut “There’s enough room on the bed for both of us”, somewhat of a buildup

This piece of fiction is intended for adult audiences, 18+ ONLY

Watching the rain as it hits the windshield, a mild feeling of panic starts to wash over you. The storm was getting bad, and it would be getting dark pretty soon. Looking back on it, maybe taking the 18 hour road trip home with Seungmin wasn’t the smartest idea you’d had. You were nearly half way there, so close but so far to your hometown, where you insisted--no, begged for Seungmin to come with you due to a family wedding that you wanted no part in, but were obligated to be at. Not to mention, your cousins had been pestering you about when you were finally going to bring a plus one to such important family gatherings.

“So Y/N,” your cousin started, and you immediately feel a little panic set in, knowing where this was going. “Is your boyfriend coming with you to Jennie’s wedding? I mean..you do have a boyfriend, right?” You can hear the smirk in her voice over the phone, asking about the wedding that you would be attending this weekend. Every time one of these events take place, she’s always there to make fun of your relationship-- or lack thereof. Searching around the room as you try to think of an excuse, your eyes land on your best friend, Seungmin, who is sitting on the couch watching some drama he had turned on when your cousin called. An idea forming, you slowly smile. “Actually..yes. I am bringing my boyfriend with me.” At your words, Seungmin’s ears perk up and he turns to look at you. Eyes going wide, he immediately catches onto your plan, mouthing words of protest at you as you try to wave him off. “Yes. We will make sure to be there by noon. Okay, I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later bye!” You tell your cousin, quickly getting her off the phone as Seungmin has now stood up and was making his way towards you.

Hanging up the phone, Seungmin looks at you like you're crazy. “No.” He says quickly, not letting you get a word in edgewise. “No. I am NOT going to play boyfriend at this wedding. Please don’t make me do it,” he pleads, eyes going wide. “Seungmiiiinnnn,” you whine, “it’ll only be for a weekend, please just hear me out!” you beg. He shakes his head in resistance and you groan, throwing yourself onto the couch. “Pleeease. I’ll do anything!” At this, he stops. “Anything?” You nod at him, looking hopeful. “Do my biology homework for a week and you’ve got yourself a deal.” You smile at him, surprise taking over your features. “Done.” you beam, and he groans, not thinking you would actually agree.

And that was how you got here, Seungmin volunteering to drive the first half of the way. However, you weren’t expecting the rain to hit as hard as it was. Sensing you were a tad bit anxious at the growing storm, Seungmin takes a hand off the steering wheel and places it on your thigh. You really wish he wouldn’t do that.

It’s no secret that your best friend is attractive. Seungmin is a traditionally handsome kinda guy-- brown, soft hair, big chocolate eyes that scrunch at the corners when he smiles and a laugh that can brighten anyone’s day. You take a second to appreciate said features, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the blush making its way to your cheeks and focusing on the road instead.

Yeah...so maybe you have a thing for your best friend. No big deal.

A loud crack of thunder pulls you out of your trance, and it starts to rain even harder, if that was even possible. “Seungmin..” you start, voice small, “maybe we should stop somewhere, just until the rain calms down a little.” Your eyes are drawn to a road marker: “LODGING: EXIT 15 (1.5 miles)” Pointing it out to Seungmin, he nods and keeps an eye out for the next exit, which should be quickly approaching. “You’re right, man who would’ve thought it would rain this bad..” he says, trying to keep the car on the road despite the rain making it hard to see.

Soon enough, you see the neon lights of a hotel come into view. Seungmin, sighing with relief now that he won’t be driving in the dangerous weather, pulls into the parking lot. “You stay here, I’ll head inside and get us a room,” He says, undoing his seatbelt and pulling the hood on his jacket tight. You nod in response, watching him jog through the parking lot and into the lobby. You focus on the sounds of the rain, now oddly calming as you know you’re not going to be in it. Really, you were just worried about this wedding, wanting it to go well and hope that no one will see through the little act you’re about to put on with your best friend.

A few minutes later, Seungmin runs back out to the car. Brandishing a key on a little feather chain, he smiles at you. “Got the room, let’s go on up.” You grab your backpacks that were sitting in the back seat, and follow Seungmin to the room. Upon opening the door, you take a look around at the place you’ll call home for the night. A patterned rug, wall lights soft but warm which make the room feel oddly cozy, and dark red curtains make you laugh, feeling comfort in the very stereotypical decor. That is, until your eyes fall on the bed.

That’s right, the bed. One bed. For the two of you.

Now, you’ve had sleepovers with Seungmin plenty of times, memories of all nighters before finals and drunken celebrations crossing your mind. However, when he stayed over you almost always ended up falling asleep on the couch; TV playing a movie that eventually neither of you could keep your minds focused on, too occupied with the idea of sweet sweet sleep. Your back might have hated you for not sleeping in your own bed, but waking up on the couch with Seungmin’s head resting atop yours was something you’ll always find comfort in; his hair tickling your forehead as you take in your surroundings.

“Only one bed?” You ask him, feeling a little nervous. “Yeah, it was all they had left..I can sleep on the floor if you want me to, it’s no big deal.” He shrugs as he sets his bag down on the table near the front door. The idea of him sleeping on a hotel carpet does not sit well with you, thinking of how many people have been through this room and questioning just what has went down here. “No no it’s okay. I don’t want you sleeping on the floor. There’s enough room on the bed for the both of us “ You say, trying to hide the nervous tint in your voice. “Are you sure?” He asks and you nod your head, not wanting your voice to betray you. Shrugging his shoulders, Seungmin announces that he’s going to take a shower, feeling gross after being in the car since the early hours of the morning and being caught in the rain.

You get comfortable in the hotel room, setting your things down and getting ready to let sleep take you over. While laying in the bed, as close to one side as you possibly can, you scroll through your social media as Seungmin finally makes his way out of the bathroom. Glancing up at him from your screen, you hold back a gasp as you take in the way he looks: Hair still a little wet, a fresh tshirt that fits his arms just right and his grey sweatpants sitting a little low on his hips making you want to lift his shirt and kiss the exposed skin. Your mind goes absolutely insane as you try to push the thoughts away, wanting to get some sleep.

Picking up the covers, Seungmin slides in next to you and chuckles about how apprehensive you seem. “You know, Y/N, you’re almost falling off the bed. You don’t have to be so far away.” he says, getting under the covers and making himself comfy. “No, really, I’m alright,” you lie to him, wanting to maintain your distance otherwise your sanity will slowly chip away. Even with the small distance in between you, you can smell the cinnamon of his body wash, one that you’ve definitely used on the occasional chance that you’ve stayed at his apartment. The scent is almost intoxicating, because it’s just purely..Seungmin. “Okay, suit yourself. Try and get some sleep, I set an alarm for the morning so we’ll be fine,” he says, punctuating his sentence with a yawn. You set your phone down on the side table and turn off the lamp, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep, willing away dreams of the boy who is snoring peacefully next to you. (Seriously? How did he fall asleep so fast?)

You almost had a peaceful sleep. Almost.

You’re unsure how much time has passed, but your slumber was rudely interrupted by a very bright strike of lightning, loud thunder following not too close behind. The sound made you wake in a panic, heart racing and sitting straight up in bed. Once you realized what was happening you lay back down, trying to relax yourself back to sleep.

It wasn’t working. The lightning and thunder continued, and for some reason you just cannot bring your brain to calm down enough. Tossing and turning, you’re thankful that the darkness can hide the blush on your cheeks as you take in Seungmin’s sleeping form. His mouth is partially open, soft snores emitting from it and making you smile. His hair has dried, fluffy and falling into his eyes where his lashes cast a delicate shadow onto his cheeks.

Another crack of thunder makes you jump, and this time it was loud enough to make Seungmin stir too. Afraid he would wake up and catch you staring at him, you quickly shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep and praying that your best friend wouldn’t be able to hear your heart pounding in your chest.

You hear Seungmin take in a deep breath, and he scoots a little closer to you. “I know you’re awake,” you hear him say, and the gentle yet sleepy tone makes you open your eyes, even though you were desperately trying to get yourself to fall asleep. Taking a look at him, you try to hide the fact that you’re a little flustered, but that isn’t easy as Seungmin reaches across the space in between you and pulls you into his chest. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating before, he should be able to feel it by now, but sure enough you relaxed in his hold, as if you were made for his arms to be wrapped around you. Seungmin runs his fingers through your hair in a slightly comforting gesture. “Thunderstorm keeping you up?” He asks quietly, and you nod your head. “It’s gotten worse. I hope it lets up before we have to leave…” you trail off, and Seungmin just shushes you, the patterns he’s drawing on his scalp slowing to a stop as he holds you.

Taking a chance, you look up at your best friend, nose touching his chin as he lays there with his eyes closed. Sensing your stare, he pulls away a little and looks at you, and that’s when you see it. Something is there, but you’re not quite able to make it out.

That is, until suddenly Seungmin is leaning down towards you, face coming closer slowly as if to gauge your reaction. Taking the plunge, you meet him halfway in a searing kiss, one that you did not expect to come from him right now, or ever.

You were always positive that your feelings for Seungmin were unrequited, looking for signs that he may have even the littlest bit of feelings for you over the years. Maybe you’re just oblivious, but all of those thoughts fly out the window at the feeling of his lips on yours, the hand that was once on your waist now on your cheek, his other hand still in your hair.

You stay like that for a few minutes, just kissing, enjoying the fact that you’re both finally getting what you wanted. You’re the first one to pull away, out of breath and absolutely smitten.

“You,” Seungmin starts, a shy smile on his lips as he looks at your pink cheeks, “have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” he confesses, and it makes you smile. “Well, why’d you stop?” you tease and pull him back down for another kiss.

The first kiss was gentle, loving, sweet. Everything you ever expected of Kim Seungmin. The second kiss, however, turned into something deeper, more sensual and passionate as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip, him granting you access but immediately fighting you for dominance. You let him win, giving into the feelings that were slowly forming in the pit of your stomach. His hold on you tightens, and he pushes you into the mattress, hovering over you while still driving you absolutely insane. His hands move under your shirt, the brunette tracing circles on your hip bones that automatically start a fire inside of you. His kisses move down to your neck, biting on a spot between your neck and your collarbone which elicits a small groan of his name from your mouth.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, the noise you made clearly affecting him. He pushes his hands farther up your shirt and looks at you for permission. “Can I?” he asks, and you simply nod your head, raising your arms to help him get you out of your shirt.

Being in front of Seungmin in this way was totally new-- the most he’s ever seen of you is in a bikini, and even then you wore a tshirt over it more often than not. You go to cover yourself but Seungmin moves your arms away and his lips immediately attach to your chest, making eye contact with you as his tongue runs across your nipple. Seungmin seems to be spurred on by the noises you’re making, running his hands up and down your sides, going lower each time but refusing to put his hands where you really want them. He pulls away for a quick moment, and you whine at the loss of contact. Seungmin sits up, a chuckle falling from his lips as he takes off his own tshirt, and you can’t help but stare at the lithe body that’s presented before you. You’ve always known he was in shape, but watching his muscles flex with each movement he makes suddenly makes you very impatient.

Suddenly he’s back on you, lips traveling farther down to your core and the knot in your stomach tightens a little bit more with each kiss he leaves on your body. “You,” he begins, “are the most. Beautiful. Woman. I. have. Ever. seen.” he accentuates each word with a kiss, starting at your ribcage and ending on your inner thighs. His lips are ghosting your core, opting to continue the sweet kisses on your inner thighs. “Seungmin..please,” you whine out, a hand moving down to grip his hair. “What do you want, baby? I need you to use your words,” he says with a smirk on his face.

“Seungmin please. I need your tongue, your fingers, fuck anything just...touch me. Please,” you beg him. Happy to hear your breathy moans, he finally slips off your sleep shorts and your underwear at once, running a finger through your folds. “So, so pretty,” he says in amazement, reveling in the fact that you’re soaked, and it’s all for him.

Seungmin begins placing soft kitten licks to your clit, the feeling making you want to roll your eyes into the back of your head. Instead you opt to watch him, his eyes completely blown with lust as he adds a finger to the mix. Looking up at you to gauge your reaction, Seungmin is more than happy with what he sees. Your eyes have gone dark, trying not to throw your head back in pleasure because you want to watch as he slowly has you falling apart around him.

The feeling of his finger inside you makes you whimper. It’s nice, but it’s nowhere near enough. “Seungmin..please stop teasing,” you beg him. He looks up at you questioningly. “Nu uh baby, I have to get you ready for me,” “I am ready for you, Seungmin, God please-- just fuck me,”

Hearing the absolute desperation in your voice, he decides to grant you mercy, removing his fingers and pulling your legs up a little higher. “You sure?” he asks once more, looking for your consent before you cross a boundary that the two of you will never be able to come back from. You pull him down to you for a kiss, hoping that he can feel all of the emotions you’re pouring into it. “Seungmin, I want you. In every sense of the word. I have never been so sure about something,” you say. With a gentle smile on his lips, he leans back to pull down his sweatpants, cock springing up against his stomach. You feel your heart begin to beat even faster-- as if that was possible-- knowing what was coming.

Seungmin runs the head of his cock in between your folds, something that has you keening with pleasure and excitement. Leaning close to you, he takes your hand in his, and uses his free hand to guide his cock into your entrance. Seungmin lets out a deep groan that mirrors your own, getting lost in the feeling of how tight you feel around him. The stretch stings for just a moment, but is soon replaced with a feeling of absolute euphoria. It’s like Seungmin was made for you; feeling absolutely full once he bottoms out. He stays like that for a moment or two, letting you get adjusted to the feeling as he peppers kisses on your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You wiggle your hips just a bit, and Seungmin gets the hint. Slowly pulling out, you moan at the feeling of him inside you. He picks up a steady pace, not too fast but not agonizingly slow.

The only sounds that can be heard in the room are skin slapping, and your moans mixed with Seungmin’s quieter noises as well. “F-fuck,” he stutters, hips starting to move faster, hitting you harder and looking for your gspot. “S-seungmin dont..d-dont stop,” you say, the knot in your stomach turning white hot as he continued.

Seungmin leans in closer to you, your legs pushed up against your chest and the position has you seeing stars. Feeling your wall clench around him, one of Seungmin’s hands travels down to your clit, rubbing fast circles. His high was approaching too, but he wanted to make sure that you came before he did. “Oh my god,” you breathe out as the knot in your stomach finally snaps, vision going white and the only thing coming from your mouth is Seungmin’s name, repeated like a mantra that you would live by your entire life. Not even seconds later Seungmin’s orgasm comes, triggered by your wall tightening around him. You feel him fill you completely, a soft moan let out as you both finally come down from your highs.

Pulling out and laying back down beside you, Seungmin pulls you close to him once again. “I meant what I said, you know. About wanting you. I do. All of the time,” you quietly say, still a little out of breath and your cheeks flushing pink. Throwing his arm over your waist, he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I know. I want you too, always. Y/N, would you do me the honors and be my actual girlfriend?” He asks, looking you in the eyes. You smile softly, leaning into kiss him once more.

“Absolutely,” you say, right before sleep takes you, the thunderstorm completely forgotten.

_______________________________________________________________

A/N: Hey! If you’ve made it this far, make sure you like/reblog/give me any kind of feedback! I really hope you guys like it!!

Also my requests ARE OPEN so if you have anything you wanna send in, feel free to do so!!!

#seungmin #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #kim seungmin #kpop scenarios #ryn writes #ryn's work: seungmin #ryn's work: stray kids

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 4 years

Text

hello~ if it’s not too much of a bother could o request a cake? physically 5’1/2ish, w more east asian features and i have short a little over the shoulder length hair i can barely even tie TT. i like wear the whole skirts thigh highs shebang but i also really like going for the grunge/skater girl w baggy jeans and shirts type of thing too. interest wise i really like to draw!! and i’m a good singer of i do say so myself 👉👈 i’m also self diagnosed neurodivergent (possibly on the adhd spectrum) which gives me a lot of hyperfixations:(( recently it’s been animal crossing!! i don’t even have a switch to play it w but my favorite is raymond he’s so cool~ i also got into volleyball bc of my friends and ofc haikyuu and i kinda wanna be libero heh 🤸‍♀️ personality is a lil tricky for me but according to 16p (it’s not a reliable source i knOw) i’m an intp but w my friends i become indeed only chaotic <33 they always say i’m perverted and corrupting them 💔. i wouldn’t say i’m emotional but logically and psychologically wise i think i have a good depth of emotions. SCIENCE AND MAYH IS MY WEAKNESS i utterly hate science 💔 but language arts is the place where i shine ✨🧚‍♀️. sorry i’ve gone on for too long 😔👍 but i hope it’s okay~

Omgggg sorry this took so long! I took a blog beak today but now it’s late and I can’t sleep so I’m working on requestsssss. Enjoy though ❤️

🍰 for @kozuken-ma

Romantic Matchup

Nishinoya Yu

How yall met

Ya boy needed help with Literature :p

He was this 🤏 close from passing that class

But he still needed some extra help

Or else he was gonna get benched

So the teacher had recommended you along with some others as potential tutors

He had seen you around school before

And he's ngl you were one of the cuter girls at karasuno

But he's only ever talked to you like once

But compared to all of the other people the teacher suggested

You were the most familiar

So he chose you

He quickly realized that you were much more than just a pretty face

You were super smart!

And funny

And you seemed to know how to teach the subject in a way he could understand

He honestly thought he would never love another girl besides Kiyoko

But you were growing on him

So after he had raised his grade up

He continued to go to you for some extra tutoring

Half of the time he wasn't paying attention to the subject

But more to how pretty you looked today

Soon enough you caught on to how he felt

So one day when you caught him staring you said

“You know if you wanna take me out you should just ask”

Mans turned BRIGHT red

But in the end he was able to ask you out

What they love about you

This man LIVES for your style

Like one day you'll show up in your usual skirt and thigh highs

(which he loves ofc)

But then some days you'll switch it up and show up in a classic skater girl outfit

Something like this :)))))

And his jaw just goes to the FLOOR

Like wtf how did you just get even more perfect

Im convinced he has the classic skater boy style so he really loves those outfits

He loves how chaotic you are

Alright this is NISHINOYA were talking about

If your gonna date him you gotta be a little more on the wild side

He loves the havoc you guys create

And the adventures you two have together

Have the cops been called on these adventures?

Yes

Have you ran from said cops before?

Also yes

HAS NOYA EVER HAD TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT THE POLICE STATION?

Yes but we don't talk about that

He loves ALL of your drawings

Keeps every single one you give him

And he loves your singing voice

Always tells you you need to go onto the voice or some shit

“Ok Miss Arianna i see you ;))))”

“Noya i am trying to SHOWER >:(“

What you love about them

You love how he can match your energy

As stated before

And just with basic haikyuu knowledge

This is a chaotic boy were talking about

So what do you think happens when you put two chaotic people together

You guessed it. CHAOS

But it's always fun for you two

Not so much fun for anyone around tho

You love how he supports all of your interests and hobbies

I swear you could draw a triangle and this mans would be like

“Wow”

“I've never seen such a perfect triangle in my life”

“These lines? Straighter than a heterosexual relationship”

I'm dating the next davinci people”

You get the gist

But honestly you really enjoy these compliments

You like how passionate he can get about things

Perfect example would be when he and asahi got into their fight

Like our boy was MAD

But that kind of passion can also be seen in a more positive atmosphere as well

Like he gets HYPED when he get asked about an of his interests

And will talk about them for HOURS

It makes for fun conversations tho

So your not complaining

Favorite things to do together

Crackhead tings 💅

But seriously

He loves just going out and doing the most random shit with you

Late night gas station trips

Pouring instants mashed potatoes on people's yards

Blasting music while driving around

Starting a cult with the kids at your local playground

Yeah we don't talk about the last one…

Parents were not happy to see their kids chanting around a Mcdonald's sprite

Basically he just loves having fun with you

Random Hc

His grade improved a lot since he started dating you

Once you convinced him to try on one of your skirts

And lemme just say

This man SLAYED

Like wtf

When he found out you wanted to be a libero

Oh boy

He was so eager to teach youtube rolling thunder

Yeah you almost broke your neck that day…

Overall Aesthetic

Chaotic Skaterssss 🛹

Songs-

Gimmie Love (joji)

Maniac (conan gray)

White Iverson (taylor swift)

Blinding lights (the weekend)

jenny (studio killers)

#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu matchups #haikyuu crack #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya headcanons #nishinoya yuu #hq nishinoya #submission

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definitelyseven · 4 years

Text

it was always you

summary: in a twisted turn of events, you find yourself naked in the bed of your best friend, Mark Tuan

It’s been two weeks since you left the house. It’s also been two weeks since you’ve last spoken to Mark. You tried calling and texting but he never responded. By the third day, you’ve given up. He knew where you were and still he didn’t come find you. Was one text all your friendship was worth? Your heart ached every time you thought about him. How did it become like this?

It was a hot summer day. You and Mark had just came back from the grocery store and was devouring a tub of ice cream on the couch.

“It’s so hot,” you complained, scooping another mouthful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in your mouth.

“I’m melting...” Mark said spreading his whole body on the couch, lying on top of you.

“Mark...” you whined at the contact of his skin, it was too hot to be next to anyone. “Get off me, it’s hot!” Mark dips his finger in the tub of ice cream and wipes it on your cheek. You glared at him, automatically returning the gesture by rubbing ice cream back on him. The both of you wrestle on the couch, continuing to attack each other with ice cream until you both fell off the couch with him landing on top of you. You groaned in pain.

“You alright?” Mark asked breathing heavily.

“That hurt!” you complained rubbing your head. Mark reaches for the back of your head, slightly lifting it off the ground, rubbing it.

“You got a little ice cream there,” he said pointing at his lips.

“Where?” you said licking your lips, completely missing it. He rubs the ice cream off the corner of your lips; his eyes never leaves yours. You gulped. His thumb brushes past your bottom lip again.

You feel your heart race by his touch. You bit your lip.

“Don’t do that. You don’t know what that does to me,” he whispered taking his gaze off you briefly to look at your lips. Mark moves your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear, stroking your cheek. You could feel him lean in and you instinctively did too. The both of you were inches away before you were rudely interrupted by his cellphone. You pushed Mark off you.

You and Mark never talked about that day.

You tossed and turned in bed thinking about that day. It seemed like every moment you shared with Mark was becoming more and more painful to think of. The pain didn’t just hurt your heart, but every fiber in your body. You couldn’t sit still. It felt like someone was constantly punching you in the gut.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts your thought. Part of you was thankful for that, the other part hated it; not wanting to get up. You dragged your feet and treaded towards the door.

It was JB.

“He chose her, didn’t he?”

Your eyes widen and turned to him, tears falling from your eyes. How did he know? More importantly, did Sana know?

You stared at him blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“She doesn’t know yet.”

That snapped you back into reality. “Please don’t tell her,” you begged, your vision still blurry from the tears.

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to tell her, but I think Mark should.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He chose her. We’re over,” you choked out, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“She still has the right to know. She’s getting married to him.”

“How did you know?”

“You told me,” he said nonchalantly. “That night, you told Sana she was wearing your robe.” Your heart stopped. “Now, why was your robe in Mark’s room? Plus his reaction to seeing me on your bed; he’s not just your best friend.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“No, she doesn’t. Sana chooses to believe the good in people. She would never think that of her fiancé or friend.”

"I know. I know I’m a bad friend, and I have no right to hide this from her nor do I have a right to want Mark to choose me,” you turn to him, your eyes clouding with tears again. “Please don’t tell her,” you begged again.

“I won’t.”

“God you look horrible,” JB commented, making you roll your eyes.

“Thanks, that’s just what I need,” you retorted leaning your head on the door frame. “Why are you here?”

“Get changed, we’re leaving.” You looked at him confused. “Don’t tell me you forgot,” you really did forget. “Sana’s trying on wedding dresses today. She asked all the bridesmaid and groomsmen to be there. You are one of her bridesmaid, aren’t you?”

Damnit, you cursed to yourself. Sana has been calling and texting you nonstop these past few days about trying on dresses today. You had meant to text her back letting her know you don’t want to be a bridesmaid anymore.

“I’m not going. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be there.”

“If you don’t go, she’ll get even more suspicious,” JB pointed out. “How is Mark going to explain why his best friend isn’t at the wedding?” He was right. You groaned and let JB in the house.

You took a quick shower, got changed into something presentable and left with JB to go to the wedding dress shop.

“Pretend like nothing happened if you don’t want her to know,” JB reminded. You nodded and walked inside the shop with him.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N! You’re here!” Sana said walking towards you to give you a big hug. “I was worried sick! You didn’t call or text back.”

“You know where I live,” you smarted in a low whisper but JB elbows you to shut you up.

“And you’re with JB,” she smirks. You gave her a half smile as she gestured you to join the rest of the bridesmaid. It felt good being out and near other people. It helped you take your mind off Mark briefly and Sana was too busy to speak to you again.

It was time for the bridesmaid to try on the dresses Sana picked out while the groomsmen crowded together in front of the mirror, checking out the outfit Mark had chosen. It took every fiber in your body to get changed into the bridesmaid dress, but it fit perfectly and it was beautiful. Sana always had good taste.

“Sana! You look beautiful,” you hear another bridesmaid say from outside the dressing room. “I can’t even tell you’re pregnant!” You quickly ran out.

“You’re pregnant?” you asked, not comprehending what was just said. Sana nods happily and makes her way towards you.

“I wanted to tell you in person. I’m almost two months!” Sana said with the biggest smile on her face. She holds grabs your hand, almost jumping in excitement.

“Does Mark know?” She nodded.

“I told him a couple of weeks ago. We wanted to have the wedding earlier, before I started to really show.” Sana said instinctively rubbing her belly.

“Congratulations,” you said with the best smile you could give. Sana thanked you before making her way towards the mirror, her bridesmaids crowding her, complimenting how beautiful she looked. She truly looked gorgeous.

Was this the reason he chose her?

You made your way to the back of the dressing room to pick out the jewelry Sana coordinated with your dress.

“You look beautiful,” you turned around and there he was. Mark was standing in front of you, face to face. He looked more handsome than ever especially in the tuxedo.

“Thanks,” you mumbled turning away from him.

“Sorry, I haven’t called or texted. I thought you might need some time.”

“It’s not for you to decide, Mark. I called and texted you,” you said reaching for the diamond necklace.

“Here, let me help you,” Mark said making his way towards you.

“No need. I can take care of it,” JB interrupts, walking past Mark and grabbing the necklace off your hand. He puts the necklace on you and then whispers, “Beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled before touching the necklace on your neck. “Could you give us a moment?” you asked JB.

“You’ll be alright?” you nodded assuring him that it would be alright. He gives the nape of your neck a small squeeze and then the temple of your head a peck before looking at Mark. “I’ll be close by, call me if you need anything.” You nodded again.

“What was that?” Mark asked slightly irritated.

“What do you mean?”

“He kissed your forehead, he touched you,” Mark said walking towards you.

“And?”

“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N!” Mark said through his teeth, controlling the volume of his voice. “Are you seeing him?”

“So what if I am?”

He sighs grabbing your hand, “Look, I know you’re mad at me, but we had a deal. No random guys.”

“He’s not some random guy! He was there when you weren’t!” you sighed pulling your hand away from him. “Mark, she’s pregnant.”

“You know?”

“Yes, and you could’ve told me,” you looked up at him. “I would’ve understood. She’s my friend too,” you reminded him.

“I have to be responsible.”

“I never said you couldn’t be! Did you think that low of me? That I’d asked you to leave your pregnant fiancé for me?” you shake your head in disbelief.

“No, I never thought that about you. I guess saying it to you was me reminding myself that I had to chose her,” he paused, looking at you with a small smile. “I’ll always love you,” he whispered grabbing your hand again.

“I know and I’ll always love you too,” you assured him, giving his hand a squeeze. “Even if we can’t be together in the way we want, you’re still my best friend.”

Before he could respond, JB comes running to the back of the room. He pulls you away from Mark and into his arms, hugging you. You were surprised at his action and stood there frozen. You could hear voices from behind him grow louder and louder, heading your direction.

“Oh my gosh,” Sana squealed seeing you in JB’s arms. “Please tell me you’re dating!”

“No”

“Yes”

You and JB answer at the same time. You pulled away from him, giving him a slight glare.

“Yes, we are!” JB clarified, grabbing your hand and leaving a gentle peck on your fingers. “She didn’t want to say anything so soon. She didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Don’t be silly! I’m so happy. We can go on double dates now, right Mark?” Sana said turning to her fiancé. You bit your lip, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah...”

a note from jennie: let me know how you see this story ending. does Mark end up with you or Sana? i just posted my masterlist, please check it out if you haven’t already!

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 31: Patchwork

Chapter 30

Read on AO3

January 27, 1750

Moonlight and the fire were the only things illuminating Brianna’s sleeping face as Claire rocked her gently in their usual nighttime chair in their bedroom. She had just finished tucking her in when there was a little knock on the door. She pulled a shawl over her shoulders and tiptoed to the door, expecting a hungry little Maggie to greet her. Instead, wee Jamie was looking up at her with those big doe eyes, his cheeks stained with tears.

“Jamie?” Claire said. “What’s the matter, darling?” She crouched down before him, feeling his head. “Do you feel ill? Is it your tummy?”

He sniffled, shaking his head. “My heart hurts, Auntie.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” She held onto his shoulder and pushed back some of his hair.

Fresh tears trickled down his ruddy cheeks, and he sniffled loudly.

“Did I kill the bairn, Auntie?”

Realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and her eyes immediately swam with tears.

“Jamie…Come here…” Claire wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. He quietly blubbered into her shawl, and she rocked him gently in the doorway.

“It’s alright, darling…I’m here…” She swallowed thickly and blinked back her own tears. “Come on, let’s sit down. It’s alright.” She released him to take his hand, and shut the door behind them. She led him to the hearth and pulled him into her lap in the armchair, as she’d done every night with Brianna. He curled into her reflexively, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

“You didn’t hurt the baby, Jamie,” Claire said softly, stroking his head and rubbing his back.

“But I made the Redcoat angry. And Mam had the bairn because the Redcoat hit me.”

“Your mother had the baby because she was ready to come out,” Claire said, deciding to not explain stress-induced labor to an eight year old boy. “Little Caitlin was very, very sick, even before she came out. And that has nothing to do with what happened with the Redcoats. Do you understand?”

He hesitated a bit before he nodded against her.

“Da and Mam hate me.”

“What?” Claire adjusted him in her lap so she could look into his eyes. “Your parents do not hate you, Jamie. They could never, ever hate you.”

“But Da doesna play wi’ me anymore, and Ma doesna sing anymore. They’re mad because I hurt the bairn.”

“No, no, darling. You’ve got it all wrong.” Claire used the edge of her shawl to wipe his face clean of tears. “It’s like I said, you did not hurt the baby, and your mother and father know that. They don’t blame you, not at all. They’re just…” Her voice broke, and she swallowed and wet her lips. “They’re just very sad, sweetheart. Because they miss little Caitlin so much. When people are sad, it…it takes a long time for them to…to do the things they used to do before they were sad.” She sniffled quickly, wiping her own eyes.

She knew too damn well what she was talking about.

“Your Da wants to play with you, and your Ma wants to sing to you. But it’s just…very hard for them. Because their…their hearts hurt, Jamie. Like yours.” I poked gently at his chest, and then placed a hand over her own heart. “My heart hurts too, love. For Caitlin, for your Uncle Jamie. When I lost your Uncle, I thought my heart would hurt forever, and I thought I’d never want to sing again.” She knew there were tears falling out of her eyes in earnest now, but she was powerless to stop it.

“But slowly, with time, the pain became easier to bear, and all of a sudden, I wanted to sing again.” She stroked his hair again, running her hand down his face to caress his cheek. “Your Da and Ma will be better again, someday. But even now, they still love you. So, very much. Do you understand?”

He nodded, sniffling again.

“Good lad.” She kissed his forehead. “You’re very, very brave, Jamie. Did you know that?”

He shrugged and averted his gaze.

“D’ye…d’ye want to sing now, Auntie Claire?”

Claire’s heart constricted in her chest. “Do you want me to sing to you, darling?”

He nodded, and then curled himself back into her, not at all different from the way his baby cousin did. Claire decided on a lilting French lullaby, rocking him gently as she sang. She waited for his breathing to become heavy and even before she allowed herself to weep quietly, stifling her tears in her shawl.

This poor, dear boy.

How long had he carried this guilt? How long had he felt like he couldn’t share it with anyone?

God, how she loved him. How she loved them all.

Claire debated not getting up at all, but eventually decided to try her hand at maneuvering her grip on him to get him into her bed. He only stirred a bit as she moved him, and he was out cold again by the time she pulled the blankets up to his chin. She nestled herself in between the two little ones and kissed both of their heads before falling asleep herself.

The next morning after breakfast, Claire pulled Ian aside and told him what had transpired the night before. The pain in his eyes upon hearing what Jamie had said to Claire was indescribable. He pulled her into his arms, hugging her perhaps tighter than he ever had.

“Thank ye fer giving him comfort, Claire. When I couldna.”

Ian brought his son outside to talk to him shortly after, presumably for a heart-to-heart that was a long time coming. Jenny was none the wiser, and Claire kept it that way. She was burdened with enough guilt; she didn’t need Jamie’s anguish added to the list.

And slowly, so very slowly, the family rebuilt, stitching together the fraying pieces of each other’s grief like a patchwork of hearts.

Gradually, they healed.

——

March 1750

A loud clap of thunder tore through the air, sudden and startling enough to cause Claire to drop her knitting needles. All three little girls on the rug gave shriek, and little Michael and Janet stiffened with shock, quickly bursting into tears, their red faces screwed up comically.

“Och, dinna fash, Michael,” Maggie crooned, gathering her baby brother into her lap as expertly as a mother of three. Claire could tell she was still nervous at the loud noise, but she was channeling that energy into comforting her little brother.

“Kitty,” Maggie chided as she rocked Michael. “Hold Janet, like I’m holdin’ Michael.”

Michael was still weeping, but had considerably calmed, while Janet was still openly wailing.

“Dinna want tae!” Kitty blurted directly into Maggie’s face, causing Michael to cry out again, and Janet to wail all the harder. Brianna tossed her head back in a ruthless giggle.

“Och, that’s enough ye wee devils,” Jenny tutted, setting aside her knitting to join them on the rug and gather Janet up herself. “When are ye going tae learn to be a good sister, Katherine? If ye keep makin’ the weans jump, they’ll grow to hate ye someday.”

Kitty just laughed again, echoed by Brianna.

“I want them to hate me!” she exclaimed, standing up and pulling Brianna off the floor as well.

“What a thing to say!” Jenny exclaimed, aghast at her daughter’s tongue.

“I’m bored, Mam,” Kitty ignored her, going on. “I dinna want tae sit in the house like a bairn.” She gestured emphatically at the whimpering toddlers in Jenny’s and Maggie’s arms. Apparently four years old was no longer a bairn in Katherine’s eyes, and recently having turned four was getting to her head.

“Well it’s storming something fierce outside. If ye’d like the wind tae carry ye away into the sky, ne’er to be seen again, be my guest,” Jenny quipped, kissing Janet’s head and stroking her cheek.

“Really, Mam?” Kitty’s eyes lit up, and Claire had to bite her lip to stifle laughter. She made eye contact with Ian, who was sitting at the hearth, showing wee Jamie how to carve wood. Ian, too, was desperately trying to hide his amusement at the absurdity that was his daughter.

“Come on, Banna! Let’s fly on the wind like faeries!” Kitty seized Brianna’s hand and dragged her roughly behind her, causing her to shriek with giggles.

“Faeries!” Brianna repeated enthusiastically.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Claire interjected, quickly throwing her knitting aside to stop the little heathens from marching right out the door. “You’ll catch your death from the cold, wet rain.” Claire caught both of their little arms in the hallway.

“Ye’ll heal me, Auntie. Dinna fash.” Kitty tugged against her grip, and Brianna copied, even repeating: “Dinna fash, Mummy.”

Soon, they were both grunting with the effort of breaking free of Claire, clearly not getting very far.

Claire opened her mouth to chastise them, but another loud thunder clap suddenly sounded, causing them both to squeal and stop pulling away, burying their little bodies in her skirt. Claire laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Still want to go outside?”

“Aye, Mummy,” Brianna said dubiously, her resolve having weakened considerably.

“Fergus and Rabbie are outside,” Kitty said stubbornly, despite the obvious fear still lingering in her blue eyes.

“They’re in the barn, silly girl,” Claire corrected.

“We’ll go in the barn. Right, Banna?” Brianna nodded.

“And get underfoot of the lads? I don’t think so.” Claire started ushering them back into the parlor, and they did not much attempt to fight her.

“Why do they get tae go outside when it storms?” Kitty complained.

“Because they’re big lads now, Kitty.”

“Da’s a big lad,” Kitty quipped. “Da’s inside wi’ the bairns.”

“That’s ’cause yer auld Da will lose his footing in the mud,” Ian interjected, patting his pegleg knowingly. “Come here to me, ye wild wee heathen.”

Kitty bounded over to him and scrambled into his lap, and Ian handed his block of wood and carving knife over to wee Jamie.

“Can ye teach me, Da?” Kitty said, pointedly staring at Jamie and the carving tools. Claire settled onto the rug with Brianna in her lap, joining the circle that Jenny and Maggie had started with the little ones.

“No, he canna," Jenny interjected quickly. "I'll no' have ye losing any fingers."

"Auntie will heal me!" Kitty said for the second time that day, sounding exasperated that nobody seemed to agree with her that it was as simple as that.

"Ye're too wee, Caitríona," Ian crooned.

"Because I'm a lass?" she challenged, jutting her chin up. A wide grin spread over Claire's face. Her own little voice echoed in her memory, an ingrained response for when she was advised against — or strictly forbidden from — doing something she felt she should be allowed to do.

"Because I'm a girl, Uncle?”

“Och, ’course no’,” Ian said. “I’ll no’ be coddlin’ ye because ye’re a lass, Kitty.” Jenny fired a look at him, and he just winked in return. “Ye can carve as much wood as any lad, but no’ today. Yer wee fingers need to grow a bit first, aye?”

Kitty pouted dramatically, crossing her arms with a loud huff. Janet and Michael began squirming; it was about time for their feeding and their nap, but there wasn’t any chance of them sleeping with the howling wind and the clapping thunder.

“I have an idea,” Claire suddenly piped up. “Why don’t we play a game?”

“A game, Auntie?” Maggie said, her soft voice pitched higher with excitement.

“Yes, a game we can play inside the house. No need to get all wet or carried away by the wind.” Claire tickled Brianna’s side, and she giggled, nuzzling into her breast affectionately.

Jenny threw Claire a look that could only be described as: God bless you. She departed shortly after with Janet, then returned with Mrs. Crook, who took Michael from Maggie. They disappeared upstairs together, presumably to get them fed and put down for at least an attempt at a nap.

“Alright, if you want to play, you must join me on the rug in a circle, and listen to the rules,” Claire commanded, gently pushing Brianna out of her lap. Claire got up on her knees, sitting back on her heels. Jamie looked to his father for approval, and he nodded, and the little boy scrambled to the rug, nestling between Maggie and Brianna. Claire made a big show about starting to talk, but then stopped, letting her eyes fall on Kitty.

“Kitty! Don’t you want to play?” Claire said, aghast.

She shook her head. “Games are for bairns, Auntie.”

“Ye are a bairn!” Jamie shot back, an edge of blatant annoyance to his voice.

“Am no’, clotheid!” Kitty shouted.

“Oi!” Ian cut in, clamping a hand on Kitty’s shoulder. “Ye’ll no’ speak to yer brother that way. Like it or no’, ye’re still a wee lass. And ye can either sit here and be a grump wi’ yer auld man, or ye can have fun wi’ yer Auntie and yer sister and yer cousin. And yer brother, clotheid that he is.” He whispered that final bit into her temple, coaxing the tiniest of smiles from her stubborn little face.

“C’mon, Kitty,” Brianna said, her diamond eyes wide with pleading, her little lips downturned in a begging pout. “Wan’ you play.”

Kitty looked at Brianna, then back at Ian. Ian whispered something softly in Gaelic, and another grin broke out over her face before she slid off his lap and plopped to her knees next to Brianna.

“Alright!” Claire said, pitching her voice higher for the children’s sakes. “This game is called hide-and-seek.”

“How d’ye play?” Jamie blurted.

“If you’ll be patient,” she playfully poked his nose. “I’ll tell you.”

Claire proceeded to enlighten them on the rules of this coveted childhood game, their eyes wide with wonder. She was occasionally interrupted by another clap of thunder, or a particularly loud gust of wind, but the children didn’t seem all that bothered, too engrossed in the new game.

“We can hide anywhere we want?” Jamie said.

“Anywhere inside,” Claire said emphatically, looking directly at Kitty, then Brianna. “If you leave the house, you lose the game. And your mother will punish you.”

They all stiffened, nodding in understanding. Apparently one of those statements was far more weighty than the other.

“Alright. I will count first, all the way to twenty.” Claire stood up and tapped the empty chair by the hearth. “This is where we’ll go to count. Home base. Alright?”

Ian’s eyes were sparkling with affection from the other chair, a calm, peaceful smile having settled over his features.

“You have to close your eyes too, Ian,” Claire said, hands on her hips. “Can’t have you cheating and telling me where the children hid.”

“Aye, Da! Close yer eyes!”

“No cheating, Da!”

“Alright, alright,” Ian acquiesced, folding his hands and closing his eyes.

“Good! Now, are we ready?”

“Aye, Auntie!”

“Yes, Mummy!”

Her ears were assaulted with a cacophony of excitement, and Claire could not help but laugh.

“Alright! I’m closing my eyes…” She dramatically brought her hands to her eyes, and the four children squealed. “One…two…three…”

“Come on, Banna!” Claire heard Kitty hiss, and there was a great bustling of little feet.

They each giggled like mad when Claire found them, hiding in trunks, wardrobes, under beds, behind curtains or tapestry. Kitty and Brianna were always found stuffed in the same hiding places, hands clasped together and eyes squeezed shut. They played several rounds for almost an hour, the house full with pitter-pattering, squealing laughter, and not-so-quiet whispers. Ian helped the smaller ones count, Brianna especially never having counted so high. There was even a point where Ian gave up his carving and joined in, much to the excitement of all the children.

It hit Claire halfway through Ian’s second round: This was the first time he was playing with the children again, the way he did before Caitlin.

It’ll be alright, little darlings. Da is playing again, and maybe your mother will sing again soon.

——

April 16, 1750

Claire, Fergus, and Brianna were sitting on a blanket for their second annual picnic with Jamie. This year, Brianna’s vocabulary had vastly expanded, and she babbled on and on to the gravestone, most of it hardly understood by either Claire or Fergus. She proudly showed off her lamb again, describing all of the games they liked to play together, all of the things she did with Kitty and her other cousins. She eventually became restless, and Fergus took the cue.

“Alright, ma petit, time to go,” he said, putting a hand on the stone. “Say goodbye.”

“Bye, Da.” She blew a kiss at the stone as she had last time. Fergus stooped to kiss Claire’s cheek before erupting with a ridiculous growl to chase Brianna with. She squealed and scampered out of the graveyard, laughing her little head off. Claire turned around and watched them go, her heart warming as she watched her boy, not at all so little anymore, chase after his baby sister.

When they disappeared from view, their laughter still echoing through the fields, Claire turned back to the stone.

“Hello, love,” she said softly, resting a hand on the stone. “Somehow, I…” She sighed with a shudder, quickly swiping at her tears. “I feel weaker today than I did last year.”

“Christ, I don’t have any right to be so shaken by this, do I? I didn’t carry her for months and hold her as she lay dying…” Her voice broke. “But I suppose I know what that’s like.” She was crying in earnest now, her body trembling. “It’s so fucking unfair, Jamie. Hasn’t this family suffered enough…? It feels like…God, it feels like I’m the only one that can’t move past this. Your sister…she’s so strong, Jamie. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be. She’s…handling this all so much better than I could have hoped she would. So it makes no fucking sense that I’m so…”

She stopped herself in frustration.

Broken.

She wept quietly for a few minutes, unable to muster any more words, her hands aching to fist his shirt in her hands, her body pulsing with the need to be held by him.

“I just…I feel like I was holding it together, you know? Before I…I saw another baby buried.” She wiped her eyes again, finally catching her breath. “Now everything hurts again as terribly as it did after I lost you, after I lost Faith. I finally learned to live without her, without you…and then I had to hold my dying goddaughter in my arms.”

“Most of the time, I already know what you’d say. I can hear it in my head. But right now…I don’t know what you’d say, Jamie. I don’t know how you’d handle watching your family starve, watching your sister lose her child. I just…I don’t know.”

As she often found herself doing, Claire took hold of the rosary, squeezing it into her palm as if trying to permanently imprint God’s grace into her skin.

“But,” she said, lightly stroking the top of the stone with her free hand. “I do know a few things. I know that our daughter loves me, and needs me. I know that our son loves me, though he doesn’t need me as much as he used to.” She smiled a tiny bit for the first time in several minutes. “I know that all of our nieces and nephews love me, and they need me in a different way than they need their mother and father. And I know that Jenny and Ian love me and need me, too. Especially now.”

“I pretended long enough to believe it last time, so I can do it again, I suppose. As always, I’ll carry on, Jamie. Even though people starve and beautiful children pass away…there’s nothing else to do.”

She bent and pressed a kiss to the stone, gently returning the rosary to its proper place.

“Keep them close, my love,” she whispered. “Both of those little angels.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #jamie fraser #brianna randall #brianna fraser #ian murray #jenny murray

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capaldifiction · 4 years

Text

Masked Singer - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

Didn’t expect to get this out so quickly after my last post, but it just sort of happened :P lol I haven’t watched a whole lot of this show, so hopefully I did it justice! Had a lot of fun with this one 😊

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Celebrity Reader

Word Count: 1,492

Description: Based on the request: “Lewis x reader where he goes on the masked singer and the reader is one of the judges and she doesn’t guess him immediately and the judges keep teasing her about it?” Hope you like it 💙

Requested by: @mytinybaguette

Warnings: None, swearing is bleeped for tv show purposes :P

“And the winner of this season’s Golden Mask is…” Nick Cannon begins as the lights go down and the dramatic music begins. “The Duck! Congratulations, you’ve won! Make your way to the throne!”

The Duck’s hands fly to his face in shock, before accepting the trophy and holding it high as he makes his way back to his throne as the judges cheer.

After their runner-up is unveiled as Robert Downey Jr, he sings his final song and exits the stage to thunderous applause and a thumbs up to the Duck back on his throne.

Robin nods approvingly as the Duck comes back to the stage, and faces them, “Knew you’d be in the finals, such a strong voice.”

“Jenny, who do you think our champion is?”

“I’ve changed my mind every week on you,” Jenny starts and points at him. “And I’m still not sure I’m right. But from your clues… you mentioned Hollywood at one point. You had a background of New York behind you. You brought up having an older brother and starting to work toward your career at a young age. Everyone thinks you’re a singer, but I think you’re an actor and that’s why you brought up Hollywood! You’re Zac Efron! An actor that can sing, has an older brother, started out young on Disney, and you had that movie with Michael B. Jordan based in New York, I’ve got you Zac!”

The Duck shrugs as Ken jumps in, “Great guess Jenny, but you’re wrong. Because I know exactly who this is! I saw that flag in the background of one of your videos, and plenty of singers come to Hollywood. You’re from the U.K., welcome to The Masked Singer Ed Sheeran!”

“One final guess Y/N,” Nick Cannon asks, both he and the Duck turning to look at her. “Who do you think the Duck is?”

“I think you’re right about the U.K. Ken,” Y/N nods approvingly. “But that’s not Ed. I feel like I really know this voice, and it’s been irking me for months. And I think I finally know why. Going off of him saying he has an older brother, the Union Jack in the background, talking about how his career took off in the span of one year, and his voice, this is singer and X-Factor winner James Arthur,” she states confidently as the Duck slicks back his hair. “I’ve worked with him, and that’s his voice, I’m confident.”

“I agree with Y/N,” Robin states. “Duck you’ve got an incredible voice and range, and killed it out here every week. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re a professional singer. And I think that singer is James Arthur.”

“Alright Nicole, who do you think our champion is?”

“I still have no clue Nick,” she says, slamming her palms down on the desk. “I thought he was a professional singer from his singing, but he’s brought up Hollywood and that made me think actor, then he’s just continuously hilarious every week in his packages so I thought he was a comedian. I think I’m just going to agree… with Ken. It’s Ed Sheeran.”

“You’re agreeing with me?” Ken asks, a fake shocked look on his face.

“I know, I’m uncomfortable too,” she says with the roll of her eyes as the audience laughs.

“Alright now that our panel has locked in their final guesses, it’s time to unveil our winner!” Nick announces as he puts his microphone on the table next to him and grips the edge of the Duck’s mask trying to find the best place to pull it up.

All the judges get to their feet, trying to get the first glimpse of him as the audience chants, “Take it off,” wildly.

As the mask comes off, the audience goes silent before Y/N’s voice breaks it, “Oh *bleep*,” slamming a hand over her mouth quickly.

“It’s Grammy Nominated Singer Song-writer Lewis Capaldi!” Nick shouts as Lewis holds up his mask and Y/N slowly lowers herself down to hide behind the desk.

 “Wait, Y/N isn’t he your boyfriend?” Robin asks as the crowd laughs.

Coming back up from behind the desk, she hangs her head and nods, her cheeks bright red.

“James Arthur, Y/N?” Lewis teases, “James Arthur, really?”

“You didn’t recognize your own boyfriend’s voice? Don’t you hear him like every day?” Nicole asks surprised.

“And didn’t you noticed your boyfriend working all the exact hours as you?” Ken laughs as her cheeks grow even brighter red.

“Well I wasn’t there! I was here!” she defends with a huff. “And he locks himself in the studio writing all the time, I didn’t check to see what he was singing up there, it’s soundproof!”

“I also sang her to sleep last night,” Lewis shrugs setting down his mask. “The last thing you heard before you slipped into your sweet sweet dreams was me singing to you, then you come and call me James Arthur today with complete confidence. I feel like I should be concerned.”

“To be fair I assumed my boyfriend was home working on his album like he said he was, it never even occurred to me I’m leaving to head to the studio and you’re sneaking out right after me!” she shouts back.

“You didn’t even get him after the hints though,” Robin comments with a chuckle. “That should have given it away for you.”

“But a lot of people could have got into singing because of their brother, I don’t know everyone’s back story! And the duck thing... ok the duck thing I probably should have. He said he wanted to be an eggplant but couldn’t so he went with something that rhymes with a word he say all the time. And the sunglasses. And the clip in the bathroom. And the plunger. Yeah that’s my bad,” she admits with a sigh.

“What about the New York background and Hollywood reference though?” Nicole asks looking to Lewis.

“He had New York wallpaper for most of his life and has a song called Hollywood,” Y/N answers sheepishly.

“And my own girlfriend of three years didn’t get any of this,” Lewis laughs and shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I am wounded darlin’.”

“Even if your own girlfriend couldn’t recognize your voice, you came out here and put on a great performance every week, congrats to our champ!” Ken celebrates, thumbs up to Lewis who smiles in response and pushes his hair out of his face.

“Slayed it every week!” Jenny agrees.

“So why did you come do this crazy show?” Nick asks as he puts his arm behind Lewis.

“Well,” he starts as he scratches his chin. “It seemed like it would be fun, from when I’ve been here just watching because of Y/N. And I love my fans and how I interact with them online, but sometimes it starts to feel like my music takes a backseat to all the stupid shi- stuff I say,” he corrects himself quickly. “I’ve also had a lot more success in the U.K. than over here, and I just sorta wanted to see how I would do without any of that to detract from how people like or don’t like my voice.”

“Now how about we get one last song from our champion?”

“Gladly,” Lewis grins as the music for “Set Fire To The Rain,” begins. Near the end of the song, the screen starts to fade as Lewis holds an arm out toward Y/N, who joins him on stage as he pulls her into an embrace for his last note.

Fading to black, the image of a clapperboard suddenly appears on screen then gives way to unmasked Lewis and Y/N standing in front of a white wall.

“Lewis did you think you’d win?” a voice behind the camera calls out.

“Of course I did! No I really didn’t expect that, it’s fantastic but didn’t expect this. I did expect my girlfriend to recognize my *bleep* voice though,” he says with the raise of an eyebrow, glancing over to Y/N.

“My mind completely cancelled you out of the list of people it could be, because I thought there was no way you were able to hide all this from me!” she insists.

“I’m just sad, here I was thinking you liked my music,” he responds with a pout.

“Hey I probably listen to your album more than you!”

“And what’s the name of it?”

“Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent, sold near you wherever records are sold. It’s been out a year, if you haven’t listened to it yet where the *bleep* have you been,” Y/N laughs as they both flash peace signs at camera.

“Will you ever let me live this down?” she asks.

Looking toward the camera with a serious expression that quickly breaks into a smile, Lewis responds, “Absolutely not.”

-----

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#lewis capaldi #lewiscapaldi #lewis capaldi x reader #lewis capaldi imagines #fanfiction #celebrity imagines #Divinely Uninspired to a Hellish Extent #the masked singer

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter 10

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language

Summary: Back on set, Chris struggles to take his mind of things...

Chapter Ten

It had rained non-stop since Chris arrived back in Georgia which was rather befitting for his mood. The unexpected thunder and lightning had delayed some planned outdoor shots from that morning, with weather reports suggesting more was to come over the weekend. Chris was starting to wonder if he’d ever see Boston again.

“I could come and visit if you want? Keep you company?” Scott offered, downing the last of his glass containing whatever he managed to find in Chris’ liquor cabinet. He would have grabbed the next flight to Atlanta if Chris had asked him to. It was just the habit of him now to offer to do so wherever he was filming in the world.

“Nah, it’s OK. I told my Agent to tell them I had a family thing coming up so they know I can’t stay here for long.”

They had been on a video call for the past couple of hours, though not constantly talking. Scott had taken another call from a friend and Chris had been treated to a star-struck pizza delivery guy on his doorstop, but this was a nice comfort for them both. Chris was lounging around his cosy apartment in sweats and toyed with the idea of visiting the building’s gym to relieve come tension; tension that had built up in him since he inadvertently found himself face to face to Jenny 24 hours previous. Among the small production crowd that had gathered on location yesterday evening, they’d exchange brief pleasantries with him successfully dodging a hug she had initiated. Matt kept a keen eye on the media and thankfully nothing of note was registering online other than typical minor fan gossip but he could live with that. He resolved to keep his head down, get the shots in the can, and get out of there as fast as he could.

“Do you think we should look at getting that place booked again?” Scott asked, absent-mindedly scrolling through something on his phone.

“Huh? What place?”

“That cabin we stayed at in Vermont last year. That one looking over the lake? I literally just mentioned it to you. Have you not been listening to me? Mom wants to go again for her birthday.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something else. Yeh, sure. I think I have the email of the owner somewhere. I’ll dig it out and we can take a look. Why that place?”

“It was nice and she liked having that separate guest house for Carly and the kids. It had that huge veranda with the barbecue pit. Wasn’t that where Shan thought she saw a snake?” Scott laugh at the sudden memory that had come rushing back to his mind, and Chris nearly spat out his drink.

“Oh yeh, now I remember. She freaked and wouldn’t come outside again!” he was laughing louder now and fell back on to his couch. “Jeez. We definitely have to go back now if only for that. She’ll have it.”

“We should probably not say that to Mom, though. Maybe stick to the script on this one.” Scott laughed again. “So, you coping OK?”

Chris shrugged indifferently as if he didn’t know what Scott was hinting at. It was uncomfortably humid and he was fighting off a carb come from his pizza; he really didn’t want to to get into anything too deep at this point in the day.

“Come on, don’t give me that. You’ve been a bag of anxiety for the past few weeks. I take it she’s texting you still?”

“Not really, just the usual stuff. I can handle it.”

“Just make sure you’re careful while you’re there, alright? That divorce looks nasty and you don’t wanna get wrapped up in it any more than you already are. Don’t give her any more rope to tie you with.”

“Have you been talking to Matt about me?!” Chris asked, suddenly feeling affronted. “Cos I know what I’m doing, OK? I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Only in passing. we buy the same gym clothes. And I’m not saying you’re an idiot. You just have a habit lately of thinking with something else outside of your brain.” Scott pushed back. He was leaning into his iPad a little more as if to ensure his words were getting through to Chris, now sitting a thousand miles away.

“Not all of my decisions are bad ones.” Chris shook his head in objection and he may well have believed it had he not also been keenly aware that, deep down, he’d been feeling like he was veering away from the straight and narrow of late and if Scott was picking up on it, then it was definitely a cause for concern. But there was a time and a place to assess his life choices and this was not it.

“You’ve been really, really distracted lately. Mom’s noticed it as well. Is it just this film or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine! I’ve got, what, four more days here and then I’m back home for the rest of the year. You can life coach me then. Honestly, I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”

Scott returned the frown and continued scrolling through his phone. Things were a bit messed up these days, Chris couldn’t exactly deny it. He didn’t know whether he was coming or going, with filming, his career, and wanting to leave LA. behind on a more permanent basis. He wasn’t getting any younger. Work aside, Jenny hadn’t particularly factored into his thoughts as much as his brother and others had assumed she had but he couldn’t very well admit to that given the alternative. In some ways, what had been happening with Sarah had very much been an indicator of what was missing from his life and what he desperately wanted to focus on. As much as they have both promised they would keep things civil and normal, there was something of a distance growing between them now, an ability to talk openly and honestly. If it hadn’t been for him lazing around their apartment the last few days before he flew out of town, he probably wouldn’t have talked to her or even seen her again. She hadn’t responded to a group WhatsApp joke he sent the other day, and she hadn’t responded again after he forwarded a cute picture of a labrador wearing medical scrubs. If there was one thing that always guaranteed you a response, it was dogs dressed as humans. He tried to put her in the back of his mind and focus on getting the film finished.

“We should put you and Sarah in a room together. Might get you both back to normal.” Scott may have intended his comment to be offhanded as he looked down at his phone again but Chris found himself keen to explore what he meant.

“What’s going on? Has she said something?”

“I was hoping you;’d know more to be honest. You practically live with them now.” Scott insinuated. “Mom says she’s been working loads and when she’s not working, she’s sleeping. That stuff with Charlotte’s really messed her up, I guess.”

He felt guilty hearing this. He hovered over her name and contemplated sending her a casual text but what could he say that didn’t sound as fraught as he was feeling? He could be funny and check Shanna hadn’t killed her. Maybe he could fake some emergency? OK, now you’re just being ridiculous, Chris thought to himself. And desperate. But sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures...

Chris 18.02pm: This feels weird

He chucked his phone to his side hoping he would stop thinking about it if he paid it no attention. He got up to get another beer from his fridge and spied the pre-made protein shakes that had been waiting for him upon his arrival. He knew he should be in the gym. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten a full pizza when he was supposed to be maintaining his training plan so he would feasibly look the same as before production wrapped the first time. As he rubbed his hand over his softer stomach he found it increasingly hard to care. He could figure that out another time.

As he stared into the abyss, he heard his phone vibrate on his couch. Against his better judgement he could feel a fluttering start in his stomach and he prayed to whomever was listening that he could just, for once, catch a fucking break.

Sarah 18.14pm: I know. I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on right now

He could picture her typing and deleting messages over and over again like she always did, chronically unsure of herself, and figured he should probably give her a break also.

Chris 18.17pm: I understand. Just miss talking to you. Scott’s not as friendly and he doesn’t laugh at my jokes

Sarah 18.18pm: :)

OK, an emoji. That’s a good start, he would take that.

Chris 18.21pm: how’s work?

Sarah 18.24pm: Busy but good. Today I removed a dice from a kids nose

Chris burst out laughing, leaning back onto his couch. They enjoyed listening to Sarah recount her days and the fairly bizarre stuff she ended up being witness to. He enjoyed himself even more watching his mother recoil in horror and fleeing the room when she was being particularly graphic.

“Woah! What is it? What’s going on?” Scott shouted through the screen, first in shock and then confusion. He’d forgotten Scott was even there. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh it’s...nothing. Shouldn’t you be heading to dinner?”

“Oh fuck, yeh. Don’t wanna give him another reason to be pissed off with me. I’ll catch you later, yeh?”

“Don’t worry about it. If I don’t hear from you again, I’ll assume you lovebirds have kissed and made up.”

Scott huffed. “Fat chance.”

A quick click and he was gone leaving Chris smiling at his phone like an idiot. He wondered if she could tell her was happy to finally hear from her, that they were joking, that a smiling emoji had been enough to lift the funk he was currently in.

Chris 18.33pm: I’m so jealous of you right now...

Sarah 18.36pm: Ha! Georgia can’t be that bad

Chris 18.37pm: I’d much rather be there

That wasn’t even half the story.

Four Days Earlier

He shouldn’t have been looking at her curled up on the couch. He shouldn’t have been focussing on the subtle way her throat moved when she swallowed a spoonful of mint choc chip from the bowl placed precariously in her lap, or the way her eyes crinkled when she chuckled at something funny in the film. Or her toes curling and then uncurling from inside her stripy red socks. What even were they watching again? Oh, The Other Guys. Shanna had chosen it and he’d been stuck ever since he’d arrived at theirs, beer in hand, hopeful for some last-minute fun before he had to return to Savannah.

Sarah leaned down the side of the couch to grab her bottle from off the floor and he blinked away as she took a long drink. He excused himself and got up from the couch. The kitchen windows were wide open and he breathed the fresh air in. This was getting ridiculous. His sister was a mere three feet away from him for fuck’s sake.

“What’s up with you?” Shan asked. She had followed him in without him realising, grabbing some more ice cream from their freezer. “If you’re bored, go out. I’m sure there’s people who’d love to entertain you for the night.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh fuck off, I’m not bored. I’m just stretching my legs is all. It’s not against the law, is it?” he practically spat back at her. He regretted it when he saw her stunned expression. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know what has gotten into you lately but can you please sort it out before you’re back? I really don’t need Mom bothering me every hour asking me what you’re up to while you’re here. It’s getting ridiculous.” She turned and left the kitchen, the full tub in hand, unwilling to allow the mood he was clearly in to mess up her evening of doing nothing.

Maybe it was a bad idea to come here tonight. Shanna was probably right. He should have tried distracting himself with something, or someone, else only now he didn’t much feel like going out. He wasn’t dressed right, his phone only had 5% battery, and he was bored of the local bars which surprised even himself.

“Are you OK?” Sarah asked quietly, unsure of whether he’d heard her at first until he looked up from where he was sat at the table. She placed her bowl on the side of the sink and he allowed himself a brief moment of respite in thinking he decided so come just so she could check up on him.

“Yeh. Sorry for disturbing your evening.” He gave her his best sheepish smile.

Sarah brushed him off, “Don’t worry about it but if you want any ice cream, you should get some fast before Shan finished it off.”

“I think she might stab me with her spoon if I tried that.” He wasn’t kidding.

“I keep forgetting to mention this to you but I still have that dress, um, if you need to give it back to Matt or someone? Shan said she was going to keep hers but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.”

She was nervously playing with her hands and for a split second, he saw her with softly curly hair and the jewellery she wore with it on the night. That night. That night that had fucked him up in more ways than one. He could pinpoint his recent mood shift back to that night at the party, dealing with his drunken friends and the photographs that kept cropping up on the internet even now, so long afterwards, with people carefully dissecting every inch of his place that was on show, trying to work out if he was with someone. It wasn’t Jenny or the thought of being back on that set that was concerning to him but rather that the only time he’d felt happy and alive in recent weeks was when he was existing in the same room as his sister’s best friend. Sarah was somewhat calming to him. She had shit to deal with and so did he but he didn’t have to hide it in the same way he did with his family. And now, as she stood in front of him in her two-sizes-too-big hoodie and sweatpants, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her and let her hold him for a minute.

“You should keep it.” He nodded gently at her after what was undoubtedly too long a pause. “It looks good on you.”

“Oooh you should wear it on your date with Greg!” Shanna announced, making her presence known as she reached up for the chocolate sauce from the top of the fridge.

“It’s not a date!” Sarah denied as quickly as Shanna had opened her mouth. If Chris had been trying to hide the flash of unease that just moved across his face, he’d failed entirely. She turned back to the Chris. “It’s just a work thing.”

Shanna’s eyebrows looked like they were about to leave her forehead in surprise. “It is definitely a date and if you wear that dress, he’ll be all over you.”

Present day...

Shanna had a knack for creating awkward moments. If Chris had focussed hard enough, he could have grabbed the sauce bottle out of her hand and thrown it at the back of her head with unnerving accuracy. Except it wouldn’t have made him feel any better from the needling feeling he was getting in his stomach, it wouldn’t have served any purpose whatsoever. It certainly wouldn’t have stopped Sarah from practically blanking him for the rest of the evening.

He knew it wasn’t a date no matter how hard Shanna had been insinuating it was. According to Lisa, the UAPD was throwing a networking event of sorts to introduce doctors in the North East to medical Reps and unionists from across the country. The website he’d looked at made it seem akin to some kind of political rally that he used to attend alongside his Uncle, filled with men and women in smart but unremarkable suits holding clipboards and throwing their contact details around like candy. It appeared, by many accounts, to be a relatively full affair. He was surprised she had agreed to go. He’d never much figured her for a “company-man”.

Chris 19.35pm: Enjoy your night. Don’t speak to any strange men.

She was probably being bored to death by one as he spoke. He hoped she’d see his message and smile and be relieved that she had the option of someone else to entertain her during the long speeches if she had wanted but after a few hours of nothing he gave up hoping and resigned himself to a long night’s rest. This was probably for the best. He was tired and had a long day ahead of him if they had any chance of catching up on the missed scenes from today, and he’d be damned if he was staying here beyond Monday night.

He enjoyed a long, long shower and brushed his teeth before climbing into bed with his iPad to read over the new sides for tomorrow’s shoot in the park.

Sarah 11.38pm: Nope starange men. Just me lol

Chris 11.44pm: Wow....are you drunk??!!

Bless her. He could imagine her and Audrey giving up the speeches and making the most of the free bar. He’ll have to make sure to invite Audrey to his next gathering.

Sarah 11.48pm: On a school night. Sssssshhhhh

Chris 11.49pm: Shame behaviour, Ms Bernette

Sarah 11.54pm: As if your’e not doing the same

Chris 11.56pm: I’ll have you know I am tucked up in bed like a good boy

Sarah 11.58pm: Thats disappppointing Christopher

He couldn’t explain the thrill he got from her using his full name. He couldn’t recall her ever using it in the years she’s known him.

Chris 12.03am: I’ll have to make up for it when I’m home ;)

Sarah 12.08am: Can’t wait to seee that. I like drunk Christopher

Drunk Christopher was a fucking idiot, he thought, and she was one of a few people who knew that better than anyone. Drunk Christopher was someone who made risky decisions and initiated impromptu dance competitions against people who would wipe the floor with him. He was someone who pulled out his cap shield without anyone having to ask, and enjoyed drinks he could set fire to. What was his excuse for being an idiot here and now? He certainly wasn’t drunk, not even remotely so, but he’d be lying if he didn’t feel slightly light-headed at the thought of Sarah wanting his attention.

Chris 12.12am: Are you wearing the dress?

Three dots quickly appeared then disappeared. A few minutes passed and he saw them again, transfixed by what might have been going through her mind, what was she wanting to say to him then thinking better of?

Sarah 12.21am: Not anymore

Fuck. He knew what he wanted to say back; he’d been at this rodeo many times before. He’d even typed out and stared at his screen before deciding against sending it. She was drunk and clearly not thinking straight, and he didn’t want her to see messages she would come to regret in the morning and push her further away from him. It wasn’t right of him to corner her, not like this. If this was something they were going to explore, they’d need to be face to face and not three sheets to the wind.

It was going to be a long week.

#chris evans #chris fic #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #fan fiction #sarah bernette

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renee-writer · 4 years

Text

An Invisible Thread Chapter 19 A Child Arrives

“Okay, your bags are packed right?” Ellen asks.

“Aye they have been.” Mary says.

“They are in the boot. We knew it could be anytime.” Willy adds.

“Willy, call the midwife. I will help Mary change into something dry.” She looks at her family, about to grow by one. “Sorry your thunder was stolen.” Directed to Jamie and Claire.

“No better reason.” Jamie replies with a huge smile.

“Agree. This is so wonderful.” Claire adds. “Mum and dad, I am going to stay, if that is okay?” the last directed to Willy and Mary.

“Aye, you are and will be family.” Willy answers as Ellen leads Mary away to change.

“Let us know.” Julia says, hugging her before turning to the others. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. To us all. A new baby and a marriage.” Brian says. They slip out and Willy rings the midwife.

They are soon piled in a couple cars and on their way to the hospital. As they leave Lallybroch, Mary has her first real contraction. Claire and Jenny sit in the back seat with her as Willy drives and Jamie rides shotgun. Her eyes get huge and she reaches out, grabbing Jenny and Claire’s hands. “Ohhhh, owe!” cried out as she squeezes tight.

“Mary honey, try to breath. Deep breath and let it slowly out. Good. Now another.” Claire coaches as Willy speeds up. “Almost over. There, it is fading. Another to let the tension out. Excellent.”

“Thank you Claire.”

“You’re welcome.”

*Where did you learn to do that?” Jenny asks as she rubs her hand.

“I read a lot. Studying about what I wish to do.”

“So, you want to be a midwife or obstetrician?” Jenny asks.

“Maybe. I haven’t fully decided. It is good experience to have, either way.”

“As she showed today.” Mary adds.

“I will time them. Isn’t that what one does?” Jamie nervously asks. His left hand beats a tempo on his leg. Claire reaches across the seat and places her hand on his shoulder.

“It is.” She tells him. “That would be very helpful.” His hand covers hers for a moment. Still nervous, he is soothed by her presence and touch. Enough to focus on the task at hand.

The next time cries out, searching for support, he starts the timer and writes the time on a napkin he found in the dashboard. As Claire and Jenny sooth and encourage, he watches the time and Willy, out if the corner of his eye. His poor brother is bone white as he grips the steering wheel. “Breath Willy.” He tells him.

“She is in pain and I caused it.” He whispers over her breaths and cries.

“Aye but,” he looks back at his sister-in-law, his sister, Claire. They all could and probably would, experience the same. Lord women were strong. “The baby will be worth it, eh?”

“Aye. I just wish she didn’t have to hurt so bad.”

“As do I brother.”

“Agree.” Mary pants out.

Her contractions are six minutes apart and lasting forty-five seconds when they pull up to hospital. Jamie runs in to get a wheelchair as the lasses help her through another contraction. Willy gets the bags out of the boot as the rest of their family pulls up.

“How is she?” Ian asks as he jumps out.

“Pains every six minutes. Jamie went after a wheelchair.” He runs nervous hands through his hair.

Ellen hurries over and helps Jenny and Claire get her into the wheelchair Jamie arrives with. Brian whispers something to his son as they lead her in. He nods before hurrying to catch up with his wife. The couple are soon in the back leaving their family to pace the waiting room..

“I didn’t realizes how painful labor is.” Jenny comments as she sits down in the plastic chair.

“Oh aye. And she is in early labor. It gets worse.” Ellen replies. She pours coffee into the paper cup, takes a sip and pours it out in the sink. “Brian we are going to need real coffee. Please go get us some.”

“Aye.” He walks out.

“Worse?” Jenny questions. Claire takes a seat beside her.

“Aye. The last few centimeters are pure hell.”

*Christ!” she turns pale as the white tile underneath them.

“Are you alright Jenny?” Her mam asks. “Because Mary will be fine. She is a braw lass. Your brother may pass out. But..”

“We are pregnant. I know we were going to wait a bit but…”

“Oh Jenny, Ian, this is wonderful!” Ellen hugs them both.

“I thought so too before seeing Mary in such pain.”

“You will be fine. Us Fraser’s are strong. We can make it through bearing children. I had three, after all.” At her doubtful look, she adds, “and there is always drugs.”

“Right. Well that helps.”

“I love your siblings Jamie, but they really have stolen our thunder today.” She whispers to him. It is a few hours later. Coffee had been delivered, Brian told of his coming grandchild, and now they sit and discuss names. Claire has read ever poster on the wall, from how to protect against the flu, to where to find help with breastfeeding. She now watches the fish swim around in the aquarium. Jamie has joined her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Aye, but bairns will make their own schedule without asking uncle’s.” he teases.

“True. Well I wanted a big family.” He laughs.

“That you will have.”

“Do Willy and Mary know what they are having?”

“No, they wanted to be surprised. Claire, I understand how Willy is feeling. To see you in such pain..”

“It freaks me out a bit too, honestly. But I want children, at least two maybe three. I don’t our child to be an only. Besides, I know I can get through anything with you by my side.”

“I will never be any place else.” He kisses her until his da clears his throat. They go back to waiting.

Hours and hours later

They are all dozing when Willy’s excited voice wakes them. “Hi guys. Hey!” Eyes slowly open. Arms stretch and mouths yawn until they realize that Willy has news.

“Willy what?” Brian asks. They others all focus on him, wide awake now.

“We have a son! He is perfect and Mary is wonderful. He has her red hair and our blue eyes. Seven pounds. So beautiful. His name is William Brian James Fraser.”

A cheer goes up and Brian and Jamie look proud and overwhelmed at being so honored. Everyone hugs and they all head out after being invited to see him.

“I want one.” Claire confesses as she gets a turn to hold the newest Fraser.

“Let’s get you married first.” Ellen says as she looks at them with affection. She is a grandma and all is right with the world.

“I agree.” Brian adds.

They head back to Lallybroch soon after. As it is so late, Claire sleeps over.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #an invisible thread #a child arrives #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #modern au #outlander fandom

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mymelodyheart · 4 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 12 ~The Reckoning~

Jamie quashed his growing irritation as his brothers happily hijacked Claire's attention at the table. After they've gatecrashed their date earlier, somehow, amidst the mayhem of surprise, introductions and small talks, he and Claire ended up joining them. How the hell did this happen?

He resisted the urge to slam his whisky glass down on the table as he thought of how close he had gotten to kissing Claire. What exactly had he done to warrant this particular brand of torment? He paid his taxes, he'd brought joy to his thousands of fans over the years by playing top of his game in rugby, recycled like nobody's business, donated to worthy causes, and yet the universe chose to fuck with him big time.

Although he loved his brothers, right now, he was very close to disowning them. Not quite, but close. Resigned, he watched Claire chat animatedly with Willie, Rabbie and Ian, looking delighted and in her element as banters and stories were exchanged.

"So tell me, while growing up, did you all get along? Or are there a lot of sibling horror stories?" Claire asked, her twinkling amber eyes momentarily landing on him.

Groaning, Jamie buried his face in his hands. "Christ, I knew this was coming."

"Och plenty of stories, I can assure ye," Willie replied, leaning forward to draw her in. "Once, my sister and I convinced Jamie that he was adopted. It wasnae difficult considering he's ginger, and the rest of us all have dark hair."

"And then Willie told him that his real last name was McTavish ..." Rabbie added.

Jamie cut him off. "Aye, and I got back at ye lot when I said I wasnae coming back after I was sent to uncle Dougal and aunt Maura in Leoch to train for the under twelves rugby." He turned to Claire. "I told them I was glad I wasnae their brother and wee Rabbie here, and Jenny threw a fit. Eventually, Willie sent a message and admitted it was a bad joke. I didn't reply for days. In the end, he was grovellin' for me to come back like a wee daftie."

Her laughter nipped at his heart. "Too bad, I don't have many family stories. My life revolved mostly around museums, archaeological sites and lecture halls. and we're constantly on the move."

"Sounds pretty exciting to me," Rabbie grinned. "Say, have ye thought of where ye want to continue yer residency?"

Claire sighed, swirling her glass. "Just loosely. Nothing definite. I've thought of Glasgow and Inverness. Or maybe Boston."

Jamie nearly choked. "Boston? Ye better mean Boston in Lincolnshire and not Massachusetts." His voice sounded the furthest thing from normal to his ears.

"Oh, nothing is planned yet," Claire dismissed his question with a flutter of delicate fingers. "To be perfectly honest, they're just rough ideas."

"Weel, whatever ye decide, don't go too far, Claire. I dinna think our lad here would be tae happy to see ye go so early in yer relationship," Ian teased, winking at Jamie.

Ignoring the jest and the uncomfortable shift in his chest, he looked into her amber eyes. "Plenty of time to think things over, aye?"

She gives him a slow nod. "Of course."

"Claire?"

His head jerked up to find Frank Randall standing next to their table. A trickle of sweat beaded and slid down his spine as silent fury gripped his guts. A sudden realisation hit him then as he looked at the man that Claire nearly married and he was shocked to the core. Amid this blurring between real and fake, there's always a constant—which was his jealousy for Claire's ex. It was something he never experienced before. To know that Claire was once his, made him sick and want to throw up. But the unexpected gentle squeeze of her hand under the table immediately stopped the unwanted bout of paranoia in its tracks, taking him by surprise.

His brothers and Ian leaned back on their chairs, waiting for something to unfold as they eyed the doctor with caution. They knew Claire's story, and he could see they were prepared for whatever was to come, their bodies tensed and their faces impassive.

"What is it, Frank?" Claire asked, glancing nervously around the table.

His first instinct was to drag Claire's ex-fiance out of the bar and give him a sound beating. Too bad there's a restraining order on him. Despite wanting to tell him to fuck off, he kept his mouth shut, afraid of attracting attention from those who might recognise them. The thought of all three of them being photographed and their picture passed around on social media was enough for him to restrain himself. He knew it would devastate Claire if ever that happened.

"Sorry to disturb your meal, but can we talk? It won't take a minute."

"Ye don't have to do this, Sassenach," he murmured for her ears only.

"I know, but I must. It won't take long."

Helpless to do anything, he could only watch as she stiffly stood up and followed Frank.

..........

Claire peered over her shoulder and saw Jamie and his family looking at them with the intensity of wild cats ready to pounce. Not wanting to cause a scene, she refocused her attention on Frank and took calming breaths, reminding herself she was in control.

"What do you want, Frank?"

He shifted on his feet. "Claire, I want to apologise for ..."

She raised a hand and stopped him midsentence. "If we're going to rehash everything that happened between us, I'm not interested in hearing it. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I've said what I had to say to you, and nothing has changed." She made a move to go, but Frank's hand shot out and grabbed her elbow, making her jump. The sudden harsh sound of a chair scraping on the wooden floor told her someone stood up abruptly. She turned to look and found it was Jamie, his face looking like thunder. Even from where she was stood, she could see his jaw bunched and his massive chest rising and falling beneath his shirt. She could almost hear the cranks turning in his head. With a stern look in her eyes, she warned him to back off and faced Frank. "Let me go," she hissed in a whisper. "You've lost your right to touch me."

Frank flinched and let go, swallowing audibly when he looked beyond her. "I'm not here to talk about us. I understand it's over. I get it now. I only want to apologise for the things I've said the other night and to tell you that I want to return your belongings."

She looked into his eyes to judge his sincerity but witnessed only honest resignation in his steady gaze. Something had changed in him, but she didn't want to over analyse, still too fraught about what transpired at the hospital less than twenty-four hours ago. "Very well then, I'll get someone to collect it from your apartment."

"No need. I can drop it off at your place." When she eyed him suspiciously, he sighed. "Look, Claire, I said things the other night that I shouldn't have. I was so desperate to get you back no matter what. After you walked out of the A&E, I realised I went too far. I don't want to drag this on any more than you do. The sooner I have your things out of the apartment, the better it is for both of us. I'll have your stuff boxed, and I'll bring them to your place ...Friday at six?"

She wanted to think it over, but that would mean prolonging things between them. Frank was right. The sooner their connection was severed, the better for both of them. "Fine, Friday at six. You drop off my things, and then you're out again. I don't intend to serve you drinks, nor exchange pleasantries with you."

His expression turned grim; nevertheless, he nodded in agreement. "I'll see you at six this coming Friday. Enjoy the rest of your evening." And then he turned and left the bar.

She watched his retreating back as sadness settled over her. It was hard to imagine that she used to love him and that they had been happy once. Where had it all gone wrong? Had she been so blind to all the warning signs? How long have they been together before they started to lose their way? What made him turn so cold and vicious? She remembered the many hours they'd spent making love in the beginning. He'd worshipped her and told her over and over again how much he desired her. And then as time went on, his needs became a priority, and she was just a vessel to relieve his needs. He became more critical of their lovemaking, continually telling her that she lacked techniques to satisfy him until she began to doubt herself.

And then she thought of Jamie and almost laughed. She was drawn to a commitment-phobe and a sexually experienced man. So what were her chances in inspiring the type of lust and attraction to make someone like Jamie wholly want her? Only in your dreams lass.

A hand grasped her wrist. "Sassenach, are ye alright?"

Claire spun around, and her eyes shot to Jamie's, startled by the intense emotions swirling from them. He looked on edge, the combined effects of worry and something else she couldn't put her finger to etched on his face. His grip on her wrist was like steel, and his shoulder muscles looked tight with strain as if his control could snap at any moment. The instinct to reassure him rose within her, and she lifted a free hand and touched his face. "I'm fine, Jamie. I think I'd like to go home now."

When he spoke, his tone sounded like it could cut glass. "Good. Stay here. I'll tell the lads and sort out the bill."

She wondered what was wrong as she waited for him. Did his brothers say anything about him dating a runaway bride? Did they disapprove? Was it Frank? Unlikely . Most of the evening, he'd protectively slung his arms around her shoulders or had a hand on her knee, play-acting his claim on her, even though they were sat in the hidden corner away from prying eyes. If his family had been surprised to see that they were together, they showed no indication—only warmth and friendliness.

Scenes from earlier played in her mind, beginning with Jamie's parcel that morning and ending with the way he'd looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her. And in between, a whole lot of touching and holding. Reminding herself constantly that this was just a stunt to help Jamie get his job at the network, would be the smartest course to take. She couldn't mistake sexual attraction, albeit a powerful one, for anything beyond a bodily need. With her mind made up, Claire swore to keep it together, thinking her friendship with Jamie was more valuable than a passing fascination for her crush.

Seeing Jamie walked towards her, she smiled at him, but his face remained expressionless, as he took her hand and led her out of the bar without a word. When he hailed a taxi instead of taking his car, she surmised he'd had a bit to drink.

They rode in silence, but the quiet got too disconcerting. Claire opened her mouth to initiate a conversation and ask if anything was wrong, but she held back midway. His rigid posture told her now was not the time to talk. The air around them thickened and the longer Jamie remained silent, the more agitation gnawed at her. Something was definitely off. What the hell is wrong with him? Finally, when the taxi finally pulled up outside her cottage, she was about to thank him for the dinner when he took out his wallet and handed the driver a few pound notes.

"It's late Jamie. Aren't you going home?"

"We need to talk."

"Can we leave it for another day?"

"No."

She didn't like his short, clipped tone. "If you're planning to argue, maybe you ought to leave," she said, as she got out of the car.

She fished for her keys in her handbag, aware he was following close behind. "We need to talk." Oh, such bloody arrogance!

Once inside the house, she threw her bag on a nearby table and faced him. "Fine! Stay. But only if you tell me why the bloody hell you're acting weird all of a sudden."

"Boston. Ye never told me ye were thinking of going to Boston."

"Wot? Boston?" This time she was confused. "It's just an option among many. I've thought of going there years ago before I started at the Royal Infirmary. Joe has friends there and knows people who can get me into a residency program."

"Ye belong here, Sassenach. Yer friends are here, and ye have yer uncle to think about."

How dare he question her choice when he would go to London in a heartbeat once their fake relationship was over! Inwardly she bristled but forced a sunny smile. "Well, I can say the same thing about you. All of your family and friends are here, and you have obligations that are expected of you. And yet, that wouldn't stop you from going to London once you get the job, now would it?"

"Your circumstance is different. There are plenty of hospitals here in the UK where ye can continue yer residency."

"I know that. But have you considered that maybe I need a change of scenery to find myself again? It's no different to you trying to find your identity and purpose in a new career. I'm supportive of your life choices, so why can't you be supportive of mine?

He pulled back at her words and scrutinised her. The idea of him moving to London made her think of a parade of women eager to get their paws on him. She didn't like the idea at all. But she'd rather die before admitting it. She turned away and sat down on the sofa, fiddling with the straps of her shoes, cursing her inability to remain indifferent. A moment passed before he finally spoke. "What did Frank say?" he asked.

Irritation coasted down her back. Jamie was avoiding her question, and if he thought he would get away with that tactic easily, he was sorely mistaken. "Not much." She slipped off her shoes and massaged the back of her leg. "Same old. Apologies and whatnots.

She sensed his frown but refused to look at him in the eyes. "Is he still trying to get ye back?"

"No."

"Did he want ye to go back to the hospital then?"

She scooped up her shoes and placed them in a shoe cupboard in the hallway. "No. He wanted to apologise. And since you mentioned Boston, I'm beginning to think it's a brilliant idea. No one will know me there - at least not as the runaway bride. It will be a perfect place to start over again."

His eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened into a thin line. Did he look disappointed? Refusing to decipher the meaning in his expression, she made her way to the kitchen. He followed shortly after.

"If the tabloid stories about ye bother ye so much, why are ye doing this fake relationship with me then?"

She opened the fridge and got a bottle of white wine. "I told you my reasons already. I'm helping you get the job at the network which I'm quite sure you'll get. And meanwhile, while we're a fake couple, I can start planning what I want to do with my life." After grabbing two glasses from the cupboard, she finally glanced at him. "Wine?"

In the kitchen lighting, Jamie's blue eyes were shadowed and the scruff on his face more pronounced. He nodded at her offer, his gaze moving like a rough palm over her skin. Uh-oh, not good. Despite dampening her emotions with cold logic, her traitorous body was not having any of it, as her face heated at his perusal. Damn him! She hated not being in control. Quickly turning away, she poured the wine in the glasses.

"There's no need for ye to go so far to dodge the tabloid stories. In a year, it will all be forgotten."

"You have a point." She handed him the glass of wine and took a sip from hers.

"Or ye can come to London if ye want to get away from Scotland. London is far enough," he said, looking directly into her eyes.

"Wot? London?" she gasped. "London is a crazy place, and rents cost a premium."

He placed his glass on the countertop with a clack. "Ye were confident earlier that I'll get the job in the network. Well, so am I. We can share a flat in London."

She nearly laughed out loud. "Share a flat? With you?" All sort of thoughts and images leapt at the back of her mind. But the one that stood out the most is the ridiculousness of his suggestion. It could never work. "What if you want to bring a girl home? What then?"

His face flushed, but his gaze didn't waver. "Not once have I ever brought a lass to my apartment nor to Lallybroch."

"Oh ..." If he'd never brought a girl to his home, it could only mean he took them to fancy hotels. That thought brought a stab of pain into her heart. Life was already complicated as it was, and the last thing she needed was to hear stories of his escapades with his dates. Better scrap London off her list of options. "Well, London is certainly an alternative. So is Manchester and Liverpool. But I'm kind of warming to the idea of Boston," she said casually as she could muster.

"Ye can't just up sticks and move to a country ye've never been to before. Don't ye want to visit the place first?"

"I don't have to. I'm flexible, and I adapt quickly. My uncle and I have lived in many countries while I was growing up. I never had trouble adjusting."

"Sounds to me ye're running away."

"I'm not running away," she shot back. "I'm done with Frank. As I said, I need a change of scenery. I've looked up Boston on the internet in the past, and it seems like a fascinating place. Who knows, I might meet a cute American guy and end up staying there for good." Who am I kidding?

Darkness clouded his face. "Ye are running away."

"I'm not!"

"Ye are. Ye are putting an ocean between ye and whatever ye're running away from."

Claire snapped. Somehow the thread holding her composure had been stretched so thin by recent events, there was almost nothing left. Red fogged her vision as she put her glass down to face him full-on and gave him her truth.

"Bollocks! You ... of all people have the gall to point out to me that I am running away from my problems. Ha! You can't even commit to anything or anyone that doesn't involve rugby." She shook her head at him. "I've never judged you on how you lead your life, so I would appreciate it if you do the same for me. And even if I'm running away, what business is it of yours? It's my life, and I decide what I want to do with it."

"Sassenach, I'm..."

"NO! I'm not done yet." She tilted her chin in anger. "In as much as I love Edinburgh, it is a reminder to me how I allowed Frank to break me to the point that I don't feel worthy. It's a bloody sad state of affairs, but hey, I am trying my utmost best to do what's right for me even if it seems like I'm stumbling in the dark." She let out a hysterical laugh and shoved her curls back, beyond caring what sprouted out of her mouth. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to feel undesirable and less of a woman? Frank used to criticise how I look, how I touched him when we made love. And, oh, how he would mock me endlessly when I gagged at the things he made me do, making me feel like I'm not enough to tempt a man to lose his mind and heart to her. So I remained with him thinking I'll never be good for anyone else. But you wouldn't understand, would you? Because women come easily to you."

He muttered a string of profanity as he took a step forward, but she pushed him with full force on his chest, making him stagger a step backwards.

"How do you do it, Jamie?" she taunted. "Do you have a small talk beforehand, letting a girl know it's just a bit of fun and you don't do relationships? At least you can make yourself feel better by saying you were honest and then walk away with a clear conscience and satisfaction on your face. How many orgasms does it take to assuage your guilt?"

Jamie remained silent, his gaze ensnaring her and refusing to let go. How dare he remains so unaffected and calm?

And then she lost it. "Get out!" she screamed.

"No."

"I said, get the fuck out!"

"I'm not leaving ye." Determination etched out the lines of his face.

"You won't go until you hear it, don't you?" she hissed in crazed vehemence. "Fine. I'm running away! There you have it! Are you happy now that you've finally figured me out, huh? I ran away from my own wedding, and I ran away from my job. Appears cowardly, doesn't it? But I'm too broken to fight, but one day I will get up, and I will heal. And I will find someone who will love me and my flaws."

He made a move towards her, but she stopped him. The last thing she needed was his pity and for him to see her tears that were threatening to spill. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me, James Fraser! I need you to leave now and let me be." Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. "I'm begging you. If you're a true friend, you'll do as I ask."

Exhausted and nothing left to say, she turned and faced the window. Jamie didn't move nor speak, and the only sound that permeated the room was the ticking of the wall clock. She waited and mentally prayed for him to go so she could cry in privacy. Tomorrow was a new day, and everything would be alright. But tonight she felt precariously out of control, on the peak of something so intense, she didn't know how to handle it.

The floorboards creaked, and she held her breath and waited for the blessed silence, but instead of walking out, Jamie stopped right behind her. His body heat enclosed, wrapping her in a protective blanket. She held the edge of the countertop in a deathlike grip, sensing him move closer inch by inch until his rock-solid chest pressed against her back.

"Sassenach, look at me," he said in a low gravelly voice. Although she wanted to remain still, she was helpless to resist his command. With no more fight left in her and feeling spent, she faced him but avoided his gaze. Then he tilted her chin up.

To her surprise, raw lust shot out from his eyes, and his grip tightened, refusing to give her room to retreat. He crowded her space by leaning in so close, the edge of the countertop dug into her lower back. His scent of citrus and cotton steeped her senses, drowning out the voices in her head and their surrounding.

"I'm going to tell ye something, and I need ye to listen very carefully because I'm only going to say this once. Am I making myself clear?"

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. She could only summon a shaky nod, too mesmerised and unable to form words.

"I'm done with pretending, rationalising and civility. That wanker Frank has messed up yer mind that ye have nae idea the power ye have to grip me in a hold so tight I can scarcely breathe. I'm so bloody over analysing why I feel the way I do right now even though I still don't understand anything. I'm tired of walking around with a cock that won't go down and sleepless nights every time I think of ye. Are ye with me, Claire?"

A swirling combination of heat, dread and anticipation diffused inside of her, turning it into a fierce ache coursing between her thighs and tightening her muscles. The way he easily made her body respond left her intoxicated, seizing her with a need she'd never felt before. "Y-yes," she whispered.

Then he spoke slow and deliberate. "Good, because tonight I'm going to make love to ye. If I were a true friend and gentleman, I'd do as ye asked and walk out of that door to give ye the space to rebuild your damn walls. Ye deserve that and much more. But I'm a selfish prick who wants ye so bad I'll trade my soul to the devil for a night with ye. Still listening?"

"Y-y-yes."

"I'll give ye three seconds to get away from me and lock yersel' in the bedroom. That would be the wisest thing to dae. And if ye choose to walk away, I'll take it like a man, and we'll never mention this again. We'll go back to being mates, forget this whole incident, and go on pretending. But if ye're still here after that, ye're mine. Every inch of yer beautiful body. And I promise ye, ye'll never doubt your ability to cast a spell on a man so powerful and encompassing he'll spend the rest of his life comparing ye to every woman he meets and touches."

Her head began to spin, as her brain scrambled to catch up with the meaning of his words. "Jamie this is ..."

"We're done talking, Sassenach. One."

Her heart lurched, and her stomach dropped to the ground as he moved closer.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!"

"Two."

She gulped, her body poised for escape, knowing it could destroy their friendship, change their relationship forever, opening a door that could never be close again.

"Christ, Jamie, I'm..."

"Three. Too late, Sassenach."

"But ..."

"Nae buts." And then he kissed her.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years

Text

Ghosts from the rainforest

Summary: A simple rescue mission will bring him back to a place full of nightmares, and maybe this time he could find redemption. Situated in 1975, 2 years after the events of Skull Island.

Warnings: Violence, blood, wounds, mentions of war, cursing, implied smut, smoking, angst.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 6: Family

The piercing blue eyes search for you in the dim light that came from the sunrise outside the shack, he found you and attempt to stand up getting down immediately from the pain.

"Don't even try" You said to him, sad to look at his face covered in dry blood and a still fresh cut on his cheekbone. Two days after arriving Walker had decided to inspire moral in his troops by beating him and putting you to treat their wounds "I suspect they broke one of your ribs when you call them bastards, also even if you could move there is also this" you pointed to the fetter around his ankle and he looked at yours too, your shorts were stained from the truck and the dirt floor of the shack, and the clear sign of a lash on the naked skin that you cover with a blanket when he looked at it.

"How is your head?" He asked finally trying to sit still "How long have we been here?"

"It has been better, it will take more than that to take me down, don't worry" You said taking a piece of cloth and wetting it on a small bowl "Well after you passed out I kept fixing a couple wounds here an there in the camp, so he won't kill you, that was three days ago, at least they left me this to fix you up, hold still" You approach as much as you could to him and start cleaning up his wounds.

"I have nowhere else to be love... hey!!" He pull apart when the alcohol touch the open skin, and gave you a panicked look when you show him the suture you will use to close the cut

"Oh Captain don't be a baby" You hold his face on your hand while continuing to clean the cut "You must be used to deal with vicious animals like that by now, because that frien of yours can call himself a man"

"You are right, Walker is a poisonous snake who will kill anyone on his way, the only reason we are alive is because he believes he may get something valuable out of you, which reminds me, what did he ment by next time he'll go for the throat?" He had his hand was clenched and his eyes firmly shut down when you passed the needle trough the skin.

"I have met Walker before, Shukri used to help him pass his weapons and stuff through the border so he send me as a symbol of friendship, but the man he wanted me to help die, wich of course he will because he had severe sepsis and many bullet holes, and I'm far from being an actual medical doctor"

"You really have a way to reassure people" He joke and you rolled your eyes at him.

"Anyway he went crazy and kill the men Shukri send to guard me and stab me in the stomach, and leave me for dead in the jungle, thankfully it wasn't a cut deep enough and I managed to walk to the next village". You finish and he looked at you surprised by how casually you talk about those horrible memories. "What does he meant by your taste still being constant?" His face darkened and the guilt and remorse appear again in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant..." You tried to stand up but he grab your wrist and you sit next to him.

"As I told you Jenny's mom was the lover of a British ambassador, and we actually met before we were send to find her, one night Sargent Walker was drunk and tried to force himself on her, and I stop her" He said with a sad smile on his face.

"You were together? You and her mother I mean" You tried to hide a hint of jealousy in your voice, it was funny that in this threatening situation you could still be thinking about you two.

"Of course not" He said and a grin of satisfaction show on his face when you sigh in relief "Although I had feelings for her, and maybe she had them too, but I knew I had a mission, then Walker betrayed us and Jenny die... well I guess she blamed me for it" you didn't say anything and just let him lay his head on your lap, the fetter was biting in your skin and your ankle was about to start bleeding but you feel the need of comforting him.

"How could you look this handsome aan peaceful cover in bruises, and cuts?" You ask yourself outloud after a couple minutes once you thought he was asleep.

"I could ask you the same Y/N" He responded opening his blue eyes, and you almost pushed him down but remember his bad shape. "Don't worry, the guys are looking for us, they will get help in Borneo and come back"

"That's what I'm afraid of, I heard them talking about asking for ransom money to the US Embassy in Borneo, what if they get too late, he is gonna kill me when he realizes I lie to him".

"I will like to him try" He said trying to stand hurting himself again.

"Easy there prince charming" You said holding him still and locking your hands together in the process, neither of you trying to pull apart. "I do know what I will do if we actually get out of here".

"And what is that?" Conrad asked trying to ignore how helpless your if was.

"I'm writing a strong worded letter to Houston Brooks about the terrible job of his tracker, since he keeps trying to charm the women he works for" You said and he smiled at you.

"Is it working?" He asked, trying to incorporate.

"Maybe" you said but before you could follow your instinct, some loud steps approach to the shack and you gently put him on the floor to curl in your corner pretending to be asleep.

"Ibu? Cepat! Kita perlu pergi" Mother? Quick! We have to go A young boy enter the shack carrying a big shotgun, and he open the fetter setting you free.

"Dia akan datang bersama kami" He is coming with us You said and he went to set a surprised James free.

"What is going on? Ibu?" He asked once you help him stand up, he was not as hurt as you thought since he could walk without help, but he was definitely not in his prime.

"You have your family Captain, I have mine" And since that explanation was not enough you had to continue "One of the men guarding me years ago was Shukri's nephew, he hates Wlker ever since, and has many of his children inside his little army so he can eventually sell them to the authorities"

"He is a layered man isn't he?" He said while you and the boy help him walk outside the camp, another infiltrator was already waiting next to a truck ready for you to flee, waving in the distance, and then the sound of a thunder brake the morning air, and he made a funny surprise face, and a blood stain start growing in his chest and he just fall on his back, and then all hell broke loose.

Walker men were following you, and since James was hurt it was so little that your young hero could do for you.

You run into the jungle just to be stopped in an open area where a tree had fallen an then four men were surrounding you, ready to kill.

"Drop it big guy!" Reles voice said, making your hear stop and race with happiness. The man in front of you turned around to meet Reels surprised by how calm he was.

"Didn't you listen? Drop it!" Slivko said coming out of the jungle with another six guys that you were sure were part of Shukri's village.

"I got you doc" Glenn said passing between the men who were already unarmed.

"I'm fine, help the Captain" you said and without thinking you took one of the weapons that had been dropped in the ground.

"I thought you didn't like those" Slivko said while Reels help the boy tie Walkers men.

"Desperate times Reg" You said, and hug him. "How did you find us so quickly?"

"Oh wow, sorry Captain" He said looking embarrassed "The guy, the weird guy that says he is your husband he meet us half way when we came after you guys, apparently one of the guys here told him what happened and he came with us and many men along to help"

"I knew it! Wait a minute Shukri is here?" You hold your breath because the feeling that something was wrong was strongly hurting your chest, and Conrad's words about Walker resonated in your ears.

You run back to the campsite, the ambush had worked out, the rest of Walker's men were dead or prisoners and unarmed, only their Sargent was too stubborn to surrender and both him and Shukri were aiming at each other in the middle of the camp. Shukri with a shotgun and Walker with two pistols.

Again without thinking and with the adrenaline running through your veins you pointed your gun at him and order him to drop it. As all response he aimed one of his pistols at you.

"You can't win this" You said to him not backing off and looking James concerned face approaching, but he was not looking at you, all his attention seemed to be focus on Shukri.

"Oh I know that doctor, but I have a question for you, who will be faster? Me or this little idiot here who came to rescue his princess??"

Things happened in the fraction of a second and by the time you understand what have happened both men where in the ground.

In the moment Shukri nod to James and he jump to take you out of the line of fire, Walker shoot his guns missing you, but not Shukri, but he didn't miss either.

"Hey, hey Shukri man, come on" Mills said approaching pressuring the wound, you stood up and walk away from James who was breathing difficulty from the jump, but overall okay.

"Shukri, you win, he is dead, please don't give up now" You said now no longer holding on the tears.

"Tears? Isteri if I had known that this is what I needed to do I would have let someone shoot me long ago." He said holding your hand with almost no strength. "Captain Prince charming?" He called for James and he kneeled by his side respectfully "Anda menjaga isteri saya" You take care of my wife

"I will" James said solemnly, and Shukri nod, then he hold your hand tightly and then after one last breath he and a quiet smile to you he was gone.

After a couple minutes people dispersed and you could hear his men arranging how will they move him, but it was wrong and you couldn't yet set what had happened in your brain, after one hour you felt like if you keep looking long enough he will smile again and wake up to tease you and life will be normal again.

"It's time" James said but he didn't force you to stand, he only gave you his hand, and stood there waiting, after a minute that felt like an eternity you took his hand stand up, and then you let all your unspoken feelings to come out, about Randa, about Shukri, about watching him almost be beaten to death two days ago, you cried and cried and he simply hold you, even when his rib was probably killing him, even when you were nothing to him but a job, he keep holding you.

#kong skull island fanfiction #kong skull island #captain james conrad x reader #james conrad x reader #captain james conrad x you #james conrad imagine #captain james conrad #james conrad #reg slivko #glenn mills #joe reles #tom hiddleston

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