#i know shes possessed but claire actually looks so beautiful with red eyes

[kureakinyoubi]

oh dear.. i feel like something's wrong..? i don't quite feel like myself.. maybe it has something to do with halloween? i don't know..

wellll... anyway, it's still KUREA KINYOUBI / CLAIRE FRIDAY !!!

[sparklingchan]

Mischief Managed || Kim Doyoung(NCT)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Doyoung

Word count : 7k+

Warnings : A few cuss words here and there, gets suggestive towards the end, not proof read I’m sorry :(

Genre : Fluff, a hint of angst , romance, Hogwarts au, fake dating au.

Description: You are forced to befriend Kim Doyoung under unexpected circumstances but as two lonely souls meet, you find yourself enjoying his company a little too much.

A/N : I had the idea for this fic while I was travelling but I was too lazy to actually write it until recently. Harry Potter aus just never seem to bore me no matter how many times I write them ( it’s fate at this point XD)

Enjoy!

Doyoung is bad at taking criticism. Not even sulky bad but angry, tantrum throwing bad. He'd rather be slapped than criticized. Metaphorically, of course.

"What do you mean she won't go on a date with me?" Doyoung hisses ,his voice an octave lower than usual. The bedroom consisting of three noisy boys suddenly falls silent at his words. For the first time in forever.

Jaehyun shifts in his place , the soft mattress dipping under his weight. He looks at his friend full of concern. "Look , you're not the only person trying to ask her out. I heard that some Gryffindor boys were trying to shoot their shot this morning. And that's just the beginning."

Doyoung clenches his blanket into his fists, "Claire is mine. They can't have her."

Johnny scoffs from his bed , his eyes never leaving the book he had been reading from the past one week, "Are you sure the sorting hat did a good job by putting you into Ravenclaw? That pride of yours sure does sound like Slytherin to me."

"Oh shut up. That's not even the point right now. I need Claire to go on a date with me. It's not a matter of interest anymore, it's a matter of pride. I will not back down just because there's competition." Doyoung shoots back.

The boys' room erupts with Johnny and Jaehyun's laughter, their beds shaking with vibrations and their voices probably disturbing the people sitting outside in the Ravenclaw common room. But it's been a long time since either of them have cared for what other people say. Ever since the three boys met on the Hogwarts Express six years ago , they've been inseparable, finding a home , a family in each other. And as time passes by, they're only formulating a stronger bond , unbeknown to the rest of the world.

By the time Jaehyun and Johnny come down from their laughter high, Doyoung is already throwing a fit , muttering under his breath , and clutching his blanket like his life depended on it. Typical angry Kim Doyoung.

"Everything else is fine, Dodo, but does Claire even know you?" Jaehyun asks, fanning his red face.

"Of course not , Jae. But in the sea of all the other boys ,she'd obviously notice our Doyoung first!"

Doyoung sucks in a deep,frustrated breath, reaching under his pillow to find his wand - Alder Wood, Dragon heartstrings core (11 inch) - his one true best friend.

"Aguamenti." Doyoung murmurs, ponting his wand at them. With a big splashing sound , a stream of water squirts out from the end of the wand , wetting everything that comes in contact with it - including Jaehyun and Johnny and everything else they possess.

That night , as the two boys try to dry themselves and the rest of their belongings, Doyoung stares up at the wooden ceiling, carved beautifully into swirls and waves and flowers ,he wonders why his friends think he wouldn't be able get Claire to go out with him, why did they make it seem so hard when it really wasn't.

His ego feels hurt, injured even. Maybe Johnny is right - maybe Doyoung is more Slytherin than Ravenclaw, but it didn't matter anymore. Because the Slytherin princess Claire would be his by the time Halloween arrives, no matter what and his ego and pride would be restored.

Or at least that is what he had initially planned.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Everyone has that one subject they truly hate with every fiber of their being. They might not be particularly good or bad at it , but they often wonder the significance of this immeasurably disliked subject in their lives. For Doyoung, it is the potions class.

Brewing potions, remembering the recipes, knowing the job of each ingredient seemed too heavy a job for a divination loving man like Doyoung. Potions is way too practical, way too boring.

"Psst, Jae." The class must have been going on for about barely ten minutes when Doyoung decides he's had enough and that he would rather get in trouble for disturbing his friends.

"Jae, I'm bored. Johnny is in quidditch practice too." Doyoung pokes Jaehyun's back with the end of his wand. The latter squirms in his seat, subtle enough to not disturb anyone in the class, who unlike a certain Kim Doyoung were attentively listening to the professor.

"What?" Jaehyun turns back only enough to meet Doyoung's bored gaze.

"I think I'm going to ask Claire out today. During dinner. What do you think?" Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun shakes his head , putting his quill down on the table, "Are you sure? You guys haven't even talked properly yet."

Doyoung stays silent for a few seconds because yes, Jaehyun is right. He doesn't even know what she likes , where is she from, who her friends are but he is willing to take the risk. For someone as beautiful as Claire, Doyoung would risk the whole world.

"I mean I can try, right?"

There's a sudden scoff escaping from your lips - whose name Doyoung never bothered to ask - sitting next to Jaehyun, the green of your robe hinting at your belongingness to Slytherin. "You're stupid, Kim Doyoung. Claire is not going to go out with you. Especially not when you're being such a creep." You say, your eyes fixed on the professor and your quill writing notes in quick movements.

Creep? Did you just call Doyoung a creep?

"Y/n, it's none of your business." Jaehyun rolls his eyes , "Stay out of it."

"Why? Is Mr.Snowflake here too egoistic to face the truth?" You turn around to look at Doyoung, a smirk finding it's way to your lips.

Doyoung clenches his fists, nibbling at his bottom lip as anger fills him up like water filling up in an empty jar; quick and to the brim.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, " he says, then bitterly adds, "Miss Y/n ,who no one happens to care much about."

The sound of scratching of quills and quiet mutter of spells fills the air for a few seconds before you say something.

"I'm not giving you my opinion, it's just an advice. From first hand experiences. Many men have tried to win Claire over yet only a few of them have ever succeeded. " you say, "And boys like you often tend to seek her only because she's good looking so she actively makes sure to avoid your kind. ,"

Jaehyun looks at you ,stunned, "How do you know all that? Are you guys friends?"

Doyoung is not sure what to say anymore - he's as confused as Jaehyun is, maybe a tad bit more. For someone he'd properly talked to for the first time today, you sure do have a lot to say about his personal choices and ambitions. Big words do not faze him anymore.

"No , we're not friends." You giggle, "I'm her cousin. You almost couldn't tell, right?"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"It's finally Hogsmade weekend again. I thought I was going to suffocate in that stupid common room of ours." Johnny sighs , waddling towards his bed and slumping down like a little boy.

"Yes, I also need a cup of butter beer the first thing we arrive there." Jaehyun says, "What about you, Dodo?"

Dodo ,on the other hand is far too gone in the sea of his thoughts to pay heed to what his friends have to say. His eyes are on the patterns of the ceiling but his mind is with Claire and mostly with you, who he unintentionally might have offended today during potions class. Doyoung didn't have any particular interest in you per se but as Claire's cousin, it is important for Doyoung to be accepted by you first. You might be a know-it-all ,annoying and ghostly but he needs to befriend you again, start everything from scratch. And who knows ,if he got lucky enough, you'd put in a word or two on his behalf to Claire.

"What's he thinking about?" Johnny whispers to Jaehyun, "Did something happen?"

Jaehyun shrugs, "Usually, I'd say he's thinking about Claire but today,I'm not so sure."

The next morning is as noisy as all of their Hogsmade mornings have been. Doyoung only remembers hearing Jaehyun's yells and Johnny's giggles and the Hufflepuff girls singing a beautiful Winter song on the journey to Hogsmade village.

No matter how hectic it is, he has always liked these weekends the best.

"Have they changed their services to self service or what?" Johnny asks ,tapping the marble surface of the table in the Three Broomsticks, "Where's Madam Rosmerta?"

Doyoung shrugs ,his eyes scanning the unusually quiet room. He realises that the only company they have is the empty chairs and tables and the flying bottles of water emptying themselves into small glasses. "Should we just grab our drinks and put the money on the counter?" Jaehyun offers.

Before either of them could answer, the main door of the room slams open, urgent with force and the three boys see you rush inside, panting and huffing and murmuring. Your hair is messy and your clothes are disheveled, yet Doyoung thinks you look...different. Different from what you look like at school at least. Better ,even.

"I'm sorry I'm late. We weren't expecting guests so early. I hope I-" you stop mid sentence when you realize Doyoung and the other two boys were the only ones in the pub, "Oh. It's just you three."

"Yes,y/n, it's just us. Can you get us three butterbeers please?" Jaehyun says.

You sigh with disappointment. A 'hi, y/n, how are you?' would have been nice but then again when has anyone ever bothered to greet you with so much sweetness? Jaehyun and you are study partners , to say in a way. You never bothered to befriend him and he never bothered to do the same so that's just how its been since first year - studying together in the library and pretending the other person doesn't exist under normal circumstances. You liked it that way but sometimes, just sometimes you did wish Jaehyun tried to treat you in a more friendly way.

"What's she doing here?" Doyoung ,who is genuinely taken aback by your presence, asks.

"She works part time here. Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of hers." Jaehyun answers.

If Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of yours then she must be a family friend of Claire too, Doyoung connects in his head, and Claire's name somehow ignites a fire of enthusiasm within him.

He drags his chair across the floor and gets up , walking toward the counter where you're working. A little nervous Doyoung is , but he still manages to start a conversation with you, "Hey, y/n ,right?"

You swiftly twirl your wand around in the air , and ten cups of butterbeer and gillyweed water present themselves on a tray. You turn away from him to clean up the other plates , "What do you need?"

"I um..wanted to apologize for the insensitive comment I made yesterday. We started off on the wrong foot, I'm really sorry." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. Autumn is starting to set in slowly, but Doyoung feels the sweat sticking to his skin as if it were a hot summer morning.

You pause for a second. What was he apologizing for? You honestly couldn't recall and whatever it might have been, you are sure that it wasn't worse than what your other classmate have said before ; which is why you don't remember Doyoung's supposed insensitive comment.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, " You say, "I've had worse, actually."

Doyoung's heart drops - there is no phrase more pain inducing than the one you'd just spewed out so carelessly. And for some god forbidden reason, Claire suddenly slips out of his conscience mind.

"No, no. I want to start anew. Be your friend." Doyoung insists, leaning against the cold wooden counter.

You sigh, "Are you sure that's what your intention is? Because I don't think so. "

Doyoung scowls, "Of course that's my intention. What else would it be, y/n?"

You swing your wand and three glasses of butterbeer arrive directly in front of him. His eyes widen for a split second but he bounces back quickly.

"Just say that you need help with Claire." You sigh.

Oh,right ,Claire. Shit how could I forget? Doyoung feels silly.

"I mean...in a way yes. But that's for the later part. Let's first be friends, yeah?"

You shake your head , "If I help you out with Claire ,will you stop trying to be my friend?"

You absolutely despise yourself at times like these - when you are trying so hard to push people away when they're only trying to befriend you (for whatever reason it might be). You're so lonely yet so afraid of attachments that you always tend to do this. The same repeated routine. You hate it. You sometimes wonder what it would feel like to be in Claire's place, to be loved by everyone, to have people lining up just to take you out on one date . But it would never happen, because Claire is Claire : the Slytherin Princess and you are just you..someone who has barely ever talked to more than one person at school.

Doyoung gulps and then nods, "Okay. I will." Because befriending a Slytherin outcast will never be more important than scoring a date with the Slytherin Princess.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The Hogwarts Library is most empty during noon, something which you've concluded with years of experience and getting shoved out of your seat by your classmates who are way above you on the social ladder.

"So, " Doyoung finds a comfortable seat opposite to you , his hands fiddling with the pages of his diary, " how have you been?"

You give him a tired smile, "Can we get straight to point? I hate casual conversation. "

Doyoung snickers, "Wow, aren't you approachable today."

You lean back into your chair , eyes scanning Doyoung's face for any signs of regret . You'd never been the warm, bright sunshine kind of a person and you have accepted it without much protest. But of course, people take a lot of time to grow used to your sharpness and more often than not, people walk away even before you soften around them. It's a survival mechanism, you always convince yourself.

"What do you want help with? Do you want to know about her interests or past relationships or something else ?"

Doyoung pouts, his mind filling up with all sorts of ideas to impress Claire. It's like he's hit a jackpot by meeting you.

"I want to know what I have to do to gain Claire's interest. Be her friend and then eventually, a boyfriend, if I'm lucky enough." He suggests.

"First of all ,you need to stop gawking at her from afar. You need to start conversations with her ,no matter how short. She likes it when people approach her first." Talk about having a big ass ego.

"Okay, noted." One quick wave of his hand and his quill is immediately noting down sentences in his diary, " You seem to know her quite well. You guys are close, I am assuming."

You and Claire used to be close. Used to. In the past tense. As children you were inseparable, but as you slowly grew up, she realised how boring and uncool you were and that you belong to the shadows while she belongs in the spotlight. She's not tried to talk to you first for a long time now. But you weren't about to explain all of this to Doyoung, who is visibly smitten by your estranged cousin so you just shake your head , "No, not anymore."

Your ears perk up at the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps towards you and before you could ask Doyoung to relocate to a more secluded area, you hear her loud and clear voice.

Claire.

"Oh, hey, Doyoung!" She greets the man in front of you, walking upto his side. Her shiny shoes creating a tip-tap noise against the floor, and the green of your robe almost feels dull as compared to her bright one.

When her eyes fall on you,  her mouths twists as if she had one of those stupid vomit flavored chocolates. "What are you doing here, y/n?" She sneers at you.

If you could ever get a hold of the invisibility cloak, the first thing you'd do is slap this bitch right across her face. She has always had this sense of superiority , even when she's never done anything quite as heroic or deserving of that fame. And it infuriates you even further when you see Doyoung freeze in his seat, eyes glued to Claire's face.

"We were studying. I was about to leave now anyway." You mumble , gathering your books and tucking them under your arm.

When Doyoung hears your chair drag across the floor , he snaps out of his trance.

Why were you leaving? You promised you'd help, why couldn't you put away your past tensions and deal with it?

"Hey, where are you going?" He grabs your arm out of the blue, sending a wave of shock jolting through your body.

You immediately pull your hand back, "I'm hungry. I want to eat something."

Claire glares at the two of you and how suspicious your behavior is , you'd always been weird but she never took Doyoung for the weird kind at all.

You quickly jog away from the scene , cheeks tinted red.

Doyoung suddenly comes with a horrendous idea and he knows you'd hate it but in the heat of the moment, this feels like the only sane idea to make you stay and help him . He looks at Claire directly in the eye ,making sure to keep his voice as loud as possible so you could hear it too,

"Y/n and I are dating."

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The red, orange leaves rustle under your feet , disrupting the otherwise silent walk back to the Slytherin dormitories. A cold wind blows and you tighten the muffler around your neck.

"Y/n, I've been looking everywhere for you. "

And there is that leech again, making sure you don't come to have a single second of peace in your already hectic daily lives. For the past one week, Kim Doyoung has latched himself onto you like a leech latches to it's host. Wherever you go, he goes. It's maddening.

"I told you to stay away from me, Doyoung! Our deal is over. " you yell at him , your feet picking up a faster pace.

Without even looking back, you know that he is groaning under his breath, the look of hopelessness evident in his otherwise sparkling eyes.

"Our deal was that you help me. You're not helping me out at all! You're treating me like I'm invisible." he replies.

Just how I'd been invisible for years to you, you think.

"I didn't agree to be a bait in this stupid love game of yours. You literally pushed me down the cliff to save yourself. " you say. You feel a sudden gush of wind on your face and Doyoung is standing right in front of you - inches away, instead of a few feet behind you.

You gasp, "You apparated! Kim Doyoung, this is against the school rules."

Doyoung bites down on his lower lip, throat growing dry with anxiousness. He couldn't explain why - he'd apparated before within the school grounds and it's been okay then why is he feeling dizzy all of a sudden? But on second thoughts, maybe it wasn't the apparition that caused the dizziness, maybe it was the spooky possibility of you hating him for lying about you two dating that triggered it. And like salt dissolves in water and disappears into the liquid, Claire- who is the original cause of all of Doyoung 's concern, disappears from his thoughts. All that matters to him now is that you speak with him again and forgive him for his impulsive words . He wants to assure you that you aren't a bait , at all.

"Just hear me out, please. I promise. " he says, "if you don't talk to me, I'll try to be your friend. I assume you don't want that."

You sigh , pressing a hand to your face, "Okay, spill. And be quick. I have club work."

Doyoung nods, a small smile forming on his lips. He leads you under a bushy tree nearby, sitting down on the stone bench constructed there. You follow suit. "I'm sorry for telling Claire that we're dating but I was in a critical situation at that time, okay?"

You frown, "That's all you had to say? You aren't here to persuade me into fake dating you so you could make Claire jealous?"

Gosh , Doyoung , why do you keep forgetting your main motive of talking to y/n?

He blinks at you awkwardly, "Primarily, yes. But now that you've said it...it does sound like a good idea. "

You deadpan. Your eyes close as your lips heave out a tired sigh. Just when you thought he was here to actually talk to you and not about Claire.

"Fine ,whatever. Just don't be a creep or I'll bury you alive." You huff.

Doyoung giggles as his eyes curve into cute little cresent moons.He has a pretty smile , you catch yourself thinking.

He scoots over closer to you ,pinching your cheek. "Okay ,madam. I won't creep you out but I cannot guarantee that I won't flirt with you . I have a thing for Slytherin girls, you know.", He winks.

Your cheeks heat up involuntarily.

"Bye. I have work." You get up, walking away hastily.

"Bye! See you tomorrow at The Three Broomsticks," he calls out behind you,"Babe."

You'd never smiled so wide in your life.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Your part time job at The Three Broomsticks has never felt so much like a blessing than right now - when Kim Doyoung casually sits on the floor with you and helps clean the utensils.

"Are guests rare on weekends?" Hs asks as a white cloth floats around in the air, drying up the freshly washed utensils.

"They're less in the morning but it gets very crowded by sun down. Aunt Rosmerta joins me by that time." You reply.

Doyoung nods ,his eyes glaring at the white cloth when it falls at his feet. "Wingardium Leviosa. " he mutters and the cloth goes back to doing its work, while Doyoung carefully guides it using his wand.

"When do you have to go back?" You ask, purely out of curiosity as to why he is so into the role of your boyfriend when no one is even watching. You would rather die than admit it , but you liked this attention. A lot more than you thought you would.

"Whenever you're done. A good boyfriend accompanies his girlfriend ,right?"

Oh, the beating of your heart that suddenly picks up its speed at his words. A combination of words you'd never thought you'd hear in this lifetime, from anyone at all.

"Yeah,whatever. " you whisper under your breath.

Doyoung giggles ,leaning forward toward you , "Why are so shy ,y/n?"

"I'm not shy." You smack his forehead, "You're just being a creep."

Doyoung fake gasps, clutching the left side of his chest and blinks his eyes as if he were tearing up. "Ouch ,y/n,how could you say that to your own boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes but the smile on your lips doesn't disappear.

Before either of you could reply , the door of the pub clicks open and you immediately get up , dusting off your clothes , ready to welcome guests. Doyoung, who is very new to this , tries to mimic your careful, calculated actions.

"Hello, welcome to the Three Broomsticks-" your words are cut off when you see Claire , as glamorous and confident as ever, walking toward the both of you. Your heart sinks. You feel betrayed , annoyed even ; just the way little children feel when their favorite toy is taken away from them and given to someone else and Claire has, in fact, had a history of taking away a lot of your favorite toys when you were kids.

"Good morning, Doyoung," she greets him with the prettiest smile but it fades away as she turns to you, "You too ,y/n."

"What do you want?" You ask her, rather terse in tone.

She tilts her head , her bright red tinted lips sending a flirty smile in Doyoung's direction, "I'm here to see my friend Doyoung and well ,his new girlfriend. "

You scoff - since when has Doyoung become her friend? Last you checked, Doyoung wasn't even sure she knew him.

"Since when have you and Doyoung been friends, Claire? That's some news to me." You say.

Claire glares at you, "Well, I've always liked Doyoung. Too bad a dumb girl like you got to him first. I shouldn't have waited for him to approach me first , right?"

Doyoung - who until a minute ago was genuinely mesmerized by Claire's unexpected visit is now turning to frown at her. "You can take him if you want. I don't mind." You suggest ,turning away from them.

"Yayy, Doyoung ,you heard your girlfriend? Come on , let's go to the candy shop and enjoy there! It'd be so much fun!" Claire pulls at his blue-black muffler. He backs away a little. The image of Claire he had in his head was ..well, different from this arrogant , possessive woman in front of him. He feels disappointed but also relieved?

"Um - actually I'd rather stay here and help y/n, " you snap toward him faster than light , "I dislike candies anyway. Sorry, Claire."

When Claire's mouth gapes with surprise, Doyoung leans backward and pulls you into him , arm wrapped around your shoulder and chin resting on your head. Your heart hammers hard against your chest as all your senses blur away , only the feeling of Doyoung's warm body pressed against yours is what keeps you grounded to reality.

Its fake, y/n , get yourself together.

"Fine. " Claire growls and stomps away, mumbling curses under her breath.

The moment she walks out of the door ,you shove Doyoung away , "What the hell are you doing! She invited you to hang out with her and you let the chance go!"

He blinks at you , puzzled as if he is finally coming back to his senses. "Oh - oh ,its okay. I'll get another chance since she apparently likes me too. Don't worry about it."

I'm not worrying about it , you idiot , I'm happy about it , you want to say to him. But there are some words you'd rather never say out loud.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"Where are we going?" Doyoung huffs , jogging down the lush green hill leading straight to the Forbidden Forest. Fear is evident on his face , and it's rather amusing to see him like this.

"The Forbidden Forest, obviously," you say , pointing at the tall, strong tress that patiently await your arrival into the forest.

"What? Y/n, that's against the school rules. It's way past sun down now!" He hisses but still keeps jogging beside you.

You grin at him, "Says the man who apparates in broad daylight!"

The woods are as cold and spooky as ever , but not unfamiliar. To you atleast. You often come here when you need to get away from everyone else. You would sit at the top of the tallest tree, the soft breeze blowing away all your worries along with it. And the creatures in the forest have never bothered you anyway. You don't know why you are bringing Kim Doyoung - your pretend boyfriend- to a place that holds so much importance to you and is like your escape from the world, but this place was the first and only one to come into your mind the moment Doyoung said you should choose the location for your next 'date'.

"So how do we get up there?" Doyoung and you stand at the roots of the tree. He looks up at the branches in awe and you look at him with admiration - when he's not running his mouth around uselessly everywhere ,he's not that bad to be with , you realize.

"We apparate , you idiot." Wrapping a firm hand around his arm, you apprate to the topmost branch of the tree, the wind suddenly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden shift. You laugh a little.

"Wow, you're breaking rules." He comments. He doesn't bother to remove your hand from his and neither do you - so you end up sitting there , shoulders touching and breaths matching.

"You know when I first met you , I almost took you for a Ravenclaw. If it hadn't been for your robe, that is." He says , looking at the beautifully lit school building that seems to be floating around near the horizon. This is more magical than any magic he's ever been taught , he thinks , he'd never seen Hogwarts this way - so far away yet so close, so peaceful, so breathtaking. The starry sky acts like a beautiful backdrop and your soft hand wrapped around his arm makes him ten times more attentive to every sound and every sight. He wants you to never let go - even if Claire or anyone else somehow appears out of nowhere.

"I get that a lot, actually. " you chuckle , "and ironically ,I almost mistook you for a Slytherin."

Doyoung looks at you in amusement. What a peculiar coincidence!

"But now that I think about it, it doesn't matter what kind of traits you show. The sorting hat doesn't put just traits into consideration- it puts in your will too. You belong where you want to belong. Nowhere else." He replies.

You stare at him, and get embarrassed at how wonderfully close he is to you right now. All your life ,this is what you've craved; this warmth , this closeness and fake or not, you're thankful for it.

"Wow, that's some deep words, Kim Doyoung. I didn't know you had them in you." You comment.

"Hey, why can't you call me something cute?" He whines , "Kim Doyoung is too formal."

You pinch his cheeks, adoration pumping through your veins for the man in front of you. "Okay, I'll call you Dodo then. "

He is left wide eyed again, his face red with embarrassment. He never took you for the observant type at all.

"I heard Jaehyun call you that."

The moon shines at your face , highlighting your features like no make up ever could. He notices your hooded gaze and the happy stretch of your lips and the strands of hair that sway with the wind. He leans in closer , "Hey, now that I look at you up close , you're not that bad to look at."

You're not that bad to look at either, Dodo.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Jaehyun has this annoying habit of tapping his wand against the table when he is studying , and he has never even tried to rectify himself whenever you call him out several times.

"Can you stop that? I'm trying to study. " you groan in a quiet voice.

The library- much to your dislike - is packed with people this afternoon. Yellows and reds and blues and green , all of them seem to have decided to use the library in the afternoon today of all days.

"Yeah. Sorry. " he says and puts his wand down, flipping the pages of his notebook carelessly ,"but um -y/n, can I ask you something?"

Looking up from your Potions book , you nod , "Yes, of course. "

Jaehyun shifts and gulps ,visibly worried and anxious about whatever he is about to ask you. It's not like him to ever be so nervous around anyone. He was usually very uptight and spoke only when spoken to. This is very new.

"How long are you and Doyoung going to continue this fake dating thing on for? It's been half a month already." He asks.

Now it's your turn to be nervous.

"I-I don't really know. It depends on how fast Doyoung is able to get Claire to go out with him. I guess." You reply with an awkward laugh, "I hope the day comes soon."

You'd been so immersed in fake dating Doyoung all along, trying to spend every waking hour with him , taking care of him, laughing at his stupid jokes that you almost forgot everything was just a show to get Claire to go out with him. And as Halloween comes closer , you are sure the end of your supposed relationship is coming closer too. Your heart breaks at the sudden reality check. Like a glass vase thrown on a hard ,wooden floor.

"Okay, don't tell Doyoung I asked you about it - " he pauses when you both hear a woman's voice from behind you , startling the two of you.

"Hello, dear cousin. " Claire says with a big smile. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, robe loosely tied around her body,"What are you doing in this stupid library on your birthday, y/n? Shouldn't you be celebrating with Doyoung ?"

Her words have never slapped you as hard as they do right now. She's been mean to you for almost half your life , but this time it hurts worse. You've always been insecure about your birthday, and Claire knows it. She knows how much you hate bringing attention to yourself and you'd rather get some small gifts from your parents than big gifts from people who you barely know. And she's now using all that against you.

"Or did he not bother to ask you, just like all of your former friends?" She smirks.

You know that feeling when there's a small wound on your body and a single contact to the wounded area hurts unbearably? That's what her words made you feel like. Sick and pathetic.

But you don't let it surface on your face. You muster up all your courage before speaking up, "Claire, are you so jealous of me dating Doyoung that you're bringing up past incidents to make yourself feel good?"

Claire is left astonished by your new found boldness and for the first time in forever, she doesn't comment back at you after you turn on your heels and walk away from the scene.

You are far too weak and slow to actually walk down to the Forbidden Forest, so you settle yourself on the top floor of the astronomy tower. The cold ground under you feels weirdly comfortable and the ticking of the grand clock helps you calm down your nerves.

Claire has never treated you like an equal in your entire life and you've tried so hard to ns like her always . To fit in to her ideas of an interesting person. She was your sister, she is your sister yet you've never despised anyone as much as you do now. And to imagine that Kim Doyoung, your Dodo might end up dating her just makes you feel sick to the stomach. Jealousy is an intense feeling but so is hatred.

You hear quick footsteps walking up the stairs and by impulse, you point your wand in that direction,"Expelli-"

"Hey, hey. Don't 'expelliarmus' me. I'm just here to celebrate my best girl's birthday. "

Kim Doyoung stands in front of you , hands occupied with bags of delicious candies and sweets. He smiles at you sheepishly as you call him over to sit beside you.

"Why didn't you tell me its your birthday today? This is all I could manage in a span of fifteen minutes." He complains ,placing the bag softly in your lap, "Happy birthday, y/n."

You smile , a little embarrassed but thankful still , "Thanks. Jaehyun told you?"

Doyoung nods ,scooting over closer to you. In presence of so much space on the floor, he somehow manages to almost cuddle with you in a small corner of the place. Your heart is no longer sitting in the cage of your chest ; it's escaped and landed onto Doyoung's palms ,giving him full freedom to do whatever he wanted with it.

"Doyoung ,I..um.."

"Yeah?"

Words , oh ! words have never been your forte. The only thing you were good at was actions - to express, to show , to communicate . That's all you've ever known.

So you lean in towards his face and place a chaste kiss on his lips. It lasts for a fraction of a second but your lips are left burning with the desire for more. More of him, more of this.

But when you see his face once you pull away, your blood runs dry. For a moment, you think so you see a flicker of happiness which quickly gets replaced by coldness, frustration, some degree of anger.

"Y/n, you know I like Claire!" He says , separating himself from you. Your body feels bare, "This was all for her. How could you ever think doing this would be a good idea?"

No,it wasn't for Claire. It was barely an excuse to bother you more, to see you roll your eyes at him , to spend time with you, but as Johnny says , his ego is too big to accept his liking towards you and not Claire.

He gets up.

"I-I will be leaving now."

He hasn't completely put a full stop to your fake relationship, he hasn't even said anything much yet but you know that he's left not just the astronomy tower, he's left you. All alone. As they always do.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Only the heavens know how you've barely managed to make it through a whole week avoiding Doyoung. The tear stains on your pillow , the muffled sobs in the washroom, the torn pages of your notebook are the only witnesses of your turmoil. For everyone else, you were still y/n, the girl who barely talks to anyone . And maybe, that's everything you'll ever be no matter how hard you try.

It is Hogsmade Weekend and Halloween which means you'll be packed with guests at the Three Broomsticks. It's a good thing ,you hope, it'll help keep you distracted from any painful thoughts and memories.

The cups and glasses and bottles dance around you as you put the chairs in place, your wand doing most of the work while you quietly murmur spells. It feels rather abnormal not having Doyoung around to help you. It feels too quiet ,even though the quietness is familiar to you.

A faint click sound echoes in the room and you immediately snap to look at the main door.

"Y/n?" Doyoung's head gently pokes in through the small gap in the door, “Happy Halloween.”

Your heart stops beating for a solid second, brain going fuzzy with a mixture of fear, excitement and relief. You want to run towards him and jump into his arms like how people do in those muggle movies but you restrain yourself; since it's not your place to do that. Not after you'd kissed him out of nowhere a week ago.

"Y-yea?" You stutter nervously, dragging a chair away from the table just to make it look like you are busy with work.

"Can we talk?"

Doyoung has always been very persuasive and he knows exactly what to say at a given instance. He's a Ravenclaw, after all. So he finds his way towards the table ,shyly so , and he pulls a chair for you to sit on ,"I won't take long, I swear."

You nod and sit. Better to be done with it than avoid it. "What is it? Shouldn't you be at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop? Enjoying with Claire and the other cool people?" You ask.

Doyoung gulps ,"Yes, I was there a minute ago. But it's too noisy there. I don't like it." And it's too dull without you.

"Okay. What did you want to talk about ?"

He plays with the buttons of his warm looking purple coat, his eyes shifting from the tablecloth to the glasses of gillyweed water to his fingers - anywhere but you.

"I'm sorry about running away that night. It was wrong of me," he begins, "And I regret it. I really do." "When I went back to the dorms, all I could think about was you and how much I loved hanging out with you and how pretty you look even when you're not trying and how desperately I wished you'd kissed me a second longer that night so I could have kissed you back. Because I really wanted to. "

When you start to reply , he shushes you, "No, it's not Claire that I want. Maybe it never had been because I don't even know her! But I know you and I think you're the coolest person in Hogwarts. I cannot love Claire, who I know nothing of but I can love you. I want to love you. If you'd let me."

You stare at him , your tongue suddenly losing all it's sense of functioning. Your eyes bore into his ,and you see it - the sincerity, the adoration, the desire. And you realise it has always been there. Just the two of you were too stupid to see it earlier.

"Okay. I guess." You reply , rubbing the back of your neck shyly. Your cheeks are tinted red but you put no effort in hiding it anymore, " I'm sorry, I don't know how dating works. What am I supposed to do?"

Doyoung giggles , tenderly taking your face in his hands, "Just do whatever you want to. It's just me."

"I really want to kiss you. " you whisper and he immediately tilts his head such that his lips easily captures yours. The kiss is warm and cozy yet fierce. His hands are locked on either side of your face while your lips perfectly mold around his, as if they were meant to be that way since the inception of time.

You don't believe in miracles , given your magical allegiance but you do believe in fate and soulmates. You believe that there's someone for everyone out there - no one knows how or when they'll cross paths with you, but they will surely do it one day. Because no force can stop one from getting the love you deserve. It's just like a string - there's one person at each end and you're so thankful that it is Doyoung that happened to be at the other end of your string.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

*

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

*

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

*

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

Hogmanay Hauntings Chapter 2 -- Present: Sorcha

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Jamie thought he might truly be dead, almost wished it. If he were dead, and this was the sight that were to greet him, he would welcome it, embrace it fully, as he’d tried to do on the day of that bloody battle. If on the other side of eternity was that sweet little face of his bairn, and her…

“Hello, Jamie.”

Something guttural tore through him at the sound of her voice. The effect it had on his body was the same as taking a breath after several minutes of being submerged in water: life-giving, but burning, overwhelming.

His mouth flapped uselessly, the neverending stream of tears funneling in. He remained on his knees as she stood there, as if in worship of her. She was dressed exactly the way she’d been on the battlefield, when she’d appeared to him in that nightgown, that shawl. As she was the night she’d said she loved him.

And then it all stopped, froze.

If he was dead, then thank God for that. But if he wasn’t…

“Ye…” he stammered, struck with horror. “Ye’re dead…?”

“No, Jamie.” She shook her head vehemently.

“But Faith...she came to me...a spirit…” His entire body trembled. “I canna bear it...if ye didna live...I...I canna…”

“I did. I did, Jamie.” Her voice remained calm and level, soft and sure. “I am going to live a long, wonderful life.”

He closed his eyes then, letting the wave of relief that she sent his way crash into him and fill him. He opened his eyes quickly in a panic, terrified that she’d vanish.

“Time doesn’t work the way you’d think,” she explained, seeing the expression on his face asking the question that he could not find the air to voice: Then how?

“I’m alive now, just as you are, in a way that our baby never was.” In her living, mortal life, Claire could not speak of Faith without her voice breaking. But this Claire...she seemed to possess a sense of calm acceptance, of all-knowing.

“And I’m here to show you.”

Jamie blinked dumbly, taking a stuttering breath. “Sh...show me…?”

“Show you the present. Mine, and yours.”

His head was spinning.

“Yours…? Ye’ll...ye’ll show me your time, then…? How…? How is that ye’re here, yet ye live…?”

His temples were throbbing.

“Can ye promise me ye’ll keep yer heart open?”

Claire did not speak, just bore those amber eyes into him, as if she was the one reminding him of the promise he’d made to their daughter.

Yes, he’d made a promise, a promise that he intended to keep.

Then he swallowed, hard.

“If you live, and ye mean to show me yer...present.” Another tear trickled down his cheek. “Then...then our child...lives…? In your present?”

Her glow seemed to amplify, to brighten the room. She nodded silently.

“Oh, Christ…” It was barely above a whisper. “Take me there, mo ghraidh. Take me to our living child.”

Her face changed imperceptibly, and she straightened up. Her eyes grew in depth, looking at him in a way that made his bones chill. “Yes. I will.”

She reached around her neck, taking hold of something that he couldn’t see beneath her shawl and nightgown. She pulled it over her head, allowing her curls to dance as the object rustled past them. Then she was holding it out to him, and it swayed in the space between them, back and forth before his eyes.

The pearls.

“Grab hold of these,” she instructed. “And I will take you to our living child.”

He exhaled reverently, lifting a trembling hand. “Thank you, Sorcha...thank you…”

And then his fingers closed around the pearls, and the room melted away as it had with Faith. Jamie prepared himself, even as his gut roiled with the journey they took, to see the wonders of this future, Claire’s present. He prepared himself to see another child with red hair, or perhaps her shimmering brown. He prepared himself to see the electricity she’d spoken of to him, to see…the man he’d sent her back to.

But the images that formed around them were familiar, too familiar.

They were in Lallybroch again, decorated and jolly as it had been when Faith had shown him. He turned in a circle, taking in the sights, counted all five of Jenny’s bairns, and knew that this was indeed the present and not the past.

“I dinna understand…” Jamie whirled around to look at Claire.

“I said I’d take you to our living child,” she said evenly, too evenly. “He’s right there.”

She pointed her finger somewhere behind Jamie, and he turned. His brows were knitted together, his heart hammering with uncertainty. What could it mean, if their child was here?

Then it hit him, like a blow to the face.

Fergus was sitting in the corner, alone, cupping something in his hands that his head was bowed over. Jamie’s sight of the lad flashed in and out as dancing couples and shrieking children whirred past in front of him.

“I said I would show you my present as well as yours,” Claire said. “Your child, the one you can actually care for, is right there.”

Jamie felt an ice cold hand gripping his heart. Guilt.

“Claire, I…”

“When I left you, I thought you’d die,” she went on. “And leaving you tore me in two as much as it did knowing that I was leaving that boy orphaned. It eats me alive almost every night, thinking of him, abandoned. But you’re here, Jamie.”

Jamie took a hesitant step toward the lad, couples whooshing right through his non-corporeal form.

“You left me with one child,” she said, following him. “And I left you with another.”

The hand on his heart squeezed tighter, and Jamie wanted to wither away into nothing. He’d never seen it that way, not once. Claire thought he was dead, he should be dead. He was, in a way. He was no good to this lad.

“Why’s he no’ dancing, no’ eating…?” Jamie said, inching closer and closer. “The lad’s stomach has no bottom, and I ken he drinks the whisky though Jenny tells him no’ to. He should be having the time of his life.”

He took one final step, standing right above him now, and saw what Fergus was cradling in his hands.

Sawny.

Jamie swallowed thickly against the rush of tears.

“He wishes you were there, Jamie.”

Jamie shook his head. “Why should he…? I...I was cruel to him. He’s better off wi’ Jenny and Ian. They’ve a loving home, enough room in their hearts fer him. I’m…”

“His father,” Claire finished pointedly. “You’re his father, Jamie. I know it, you know it, and he knows it.”

“But I...wi’out you…”

“Yes. You are without me,” she said. “And so is he.”

Before Jamie could will his dry mouth to form a coherent sentence, the fiddler ceased, and the crowd applauded. Jenny appeared from behind them, approaching Fergus.

“I’ve barely seen ye eat a thing all night,” she said, half teasing. “What happened to that bottomless fool? Go and eat yer fill.”

“I am not hungry.” He didn’t look up from his hands.

“That’s no’ like you,” Jenny said, crossing her arms. “It’s also no’ like you to let those lasses dance wi’ the other lads.” She jutted her chin over her shoulder at the swaths of young girls holding hands with other lads around Fergus’s age. “Last year ye had at least three of them on yer heel at any given time.”

Fergus said nothing. Jenny’s cheerful mask faltered, and it tugged on Jamie’s heart. She sighed, giving up on taunting the lad with fun and food. She uncrossed her arms and knelt before him, covering his hands with her own.

“Ye ken ye can talk to me, Fergus,” she said softly. Jamie never ceased to be impressed by his sister’s warmth, by her ability to strike the fear of God in her bairns, and yet mother them with such beautiful softness.

Jamie could tell Fergus tried to squirm away, to avoid this, but that he was powerless to stop the silent tears that trickled down his cheeks.

“Fergus…”

“I miss her,” he said suddenly, his voice croaking.

“Aye,” Jenny said sadly. “I do, too.”

“And I...I hate him.”

Jenny’s face momentarily blanched with pain, but she swallowed and hardened her resolve again. “Who?”

“I hate Milord. I hate him,” he spat through clenched teeth. He still did not look up from their joined hands. “I thought he was different. But he is a liar.”

“Different than what, lad?”

“Than...than all the others who abandoned me since I was born.” His voice finally broke, a heartbreaking little sob escaping his lips. Jamie was suddenly painfully aware how young Fergus still was; he was not the grown man that he’d have everyone believe he was. Jamie felt his heart cleave in two, acutely aware that he was causing those tears.

Jenny’s throat bobbed, her eyes glistening. “Oh, lad...ye ken that he…”

“I thought he was different.” It was almost a growl. Fergus finally picked his head up to look Jenny in the eye, his eyes red. “He is not.”

He stood then, wrenching his hands from Jenny’s grip and tossing the wooden snake aside, sending it clattering across the floor. Jenny called after him in vain, and Fergus stormed up the stairs and out of sight. Defeated, Jenny sighed and reached for the discarded toy. She pressed it to her heart and closed her eyes briefly before getting up to tend to her guests again, cheery mask back in place.

Jamie turned to look at Claire, but she was staring at the stairs after Fergus, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her. But even if he could touch her, he knew he was not worthy of giving her this comfort when he was the reason she needed it.

“Do you see?” Claire said, her voice filled with such sorrow that it almost drowned Jamie’s hollow heart. “You told him you loved him like a son, then abandoned him. You gave him that joy of finding a family, and then took it away. Jenny and Ian’s love can’t replace that hope you gave him of having something of his own. And since you sent me away, the least you can do is uphold that promise you made him.”

Jamie hadn’t realized...hadn’t realized that in saying that he’d been making the lad a promise. How could he have been so unknowingly cruel…?

And God, Claire’s voice was so full of shame. She was so ashamed of him, ashamed of how he treated their son. She lie in agony every night wondering about his fate, fate that he held in his hands. And he was failing her, failing him.

“I…” His voice was dry and cracked. “I dinna ken how...how do I…” He ran his hands over his face. “I’m such a miserable wretch wi’out ye...I canna...find the strength…”

“Do you think you’re the only miserable wretch, Jamie?”

Her voice was not cold, and perhaps that was why Jamie shivered. She held out the pearls to him again, waiting.

“There’s something else you need to see.”

My present as well as yours.

His heart skipped a beat, his stomach flipped. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached out to grasp the pearls, and the melted wax reappeared all around him. He looked deeply into Claire’s eyes, and he could swear that she was brimming with nervousness. Even despite her shame at his treatment of Fergus, she was unable to suppress the emotion of bringing him into this life, bringing him to the baby he’d sent away with her.

The world reformed itself around them, and Jamie immediately knew they were truly in a different place. It was daylight where she’d taken him, yet evidence of that electricity was present on an evergreen in the corner of the room they stood in. A parlor by the looks of it. The tree glowed beautifully, and Jamie could not stop staring at it. There were baubles on the branches that bounced the light around, and a glowing star on the top. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, yet still familiar. There was garland and holly on the fireplace, around the trim, the likes of which even Jenny would be proud of. He noticed, too, odd-looking, oversized red stockings hanging over the fireplace. And then he remembered:

“Be Yuletide by the time we get back to Leoch.”

“Christmas...I don't suppose you hang stockings by the fire.”

“To dry them off, ye mean?”

A small smile, pinkening the tips of her ears and nose. “Never mind.”

This was the image in her mind that night, a picture of domestic bliss. Jamie choked on the memory, blinking away tears. 

“Come on, Mama!”

Jamie’s heart stopped.

“It’s Christmas morning,” Claire explained softly. “That’s when we open gifts in this time.”

She gestured to the small pile of boxes under the evergreen, red and green, shiny and tied off with bows.

“I saw! I saw all the presents Santa brought!”

The little voice filled Jamie’s ears again, and he could have collapsed to his knees.

“Oh, you did?”

A breathy laugh escaped Jamie’s lips.

“Did you count them?”

“There were a hundred!”

The far-away Claire laughed softly. “Are you sure about that?”

“Uh-huh! Come on!”

And then there they were.

He saw the fiery mop of curls first; his eyes went straight to it. The bairn was wearing loose fitting trousers and a button shirt, red and green, matching the boxes under the evergreen. He raked his eyes over the hand that the child clasped and up the length of the delicate arm, eventually landing on Claire’s face.

Jamie bit back a sob.

She’s so sad.

Yes, she was smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkled, but there was something lingering beneath that broke his heart.

And the bairn had no idea.

Claire was wearing a set of trousers and a button shirt that matched what the bairn was wearing, and he realized at once that his assumption that the child was a lad could very well have been incorrect if Claire was wearing trousers as well. Anything was possible in this time, he supposed.

“Christ…” Jamie couldn’t breathe, his chest was tight. Yet, the first thing that came out of his mouth was: “What’ve ye done to yer hair…?”

Spirit-Claire chuckled, running a hand through her long curls. “That’s the style of the time,” she explained, gesturing to her other self’s cropped, loosely styled curls. “Usually it’s neater than that; you’d probably hate it even more.”

Jamie made a Scottish noise in the back of his throat, but moved closer to the pair of them. The child was kneeling before the evergreen now, and Claire sat cross-legged nearby.

“Here, let’s count them,” Claire said. The bairn seemed not to hear, picking up another box and shaking it next to a little ear. “Come on, I know you’ve been working very hard on counting in school, haven’t you?”

“Where’s Daddy? I wanna open them!”

Claire momentarily seemed like she’d received a needle prick between her eyes, blinking and flinching almost imperceptibly. But then it was gone, replaced again by that sweet, motherly smile. “You have no patience at all.”

“Nope!”

Before the child could scramble away, Claire seized her or him around the middle and brought the little body into her lap.

“School…?” Jamie breathed. “Old enough for that already?”

“They start their first year at four years old here,” Spirit-Claire explained. “It’s called kindergarten.”

Jamie repeated the foreign word. “Sounds German.”

“It is.”

Claire was relentlessly tickling the squirming bairn in her lap, eliciting high-pitched squeals and pealing laughter.

“Our child is bright, already counting all the way to twenty,” Spirit-Claire said. “Even though they only go up to ten in school.”

Jamie laughed inaudibly, his chest swelling with pride. He noticed then that Claire was being deliberately careful about how she addressed the child. “Ye dinna plan to tell me if it’s a lass or a lad then? Or a name?”

Claire shook her head. “I can’t.”

Tears of anger burned his eyes, his throat. “I’m never to know, then.”

It wasn’t a question, but a savage growl of acceptance.

Claire smiled, a soft, tiny smile. “Not never.”

Before Jamie could demand that she elaborate on that:

“Daddy!”

“Here I am!”

Jamie really almost fainted.

Claire had been right about the resemblance.

The bairn darted over to the twin of the man that still tormented Jamie’s mind, and he bent down and scooped up the little body like it was nothing. Resemblance there might be, but there was none of that brooding darkness, none of the twisted sadism in his eyes as he held the child — his child, Jamie supposed — on his hip and kissed the curly red head.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” the man crooned softly. It sent a chill down Jamie’s spine, despite the warmth, genuine warmth he heard in his voice.

“He’s good to us,” Spirit-Claire interrupted before he could fully spiral. “I promise, Jamie. He’s nothing like him. He’s a good father.”

He watched the man, Frank, plop a ridiculous red hat trimmed with white wool, a white puff dangling from the end, atop his child’s head, laughing as it fell over the tiny brow, and he knew in his heart that Claire spoke true.

“You left your hat in your room,” Frank said, carrying the child back to the evergreen. “Can’t have that, can we?” “No way!” the child said as Frank put him or her down. The wee thing pushed the too-big hat so that it was no longer blocking any vision, and a wee bottom plopped back down onto the floor in front of the shiny boxes.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Frank said softly, leaning down to grant a peck of a kiss to Claire’s lips.

“Merry Christmas,” Claire answered, allowing the kiss, returning it.

Jamie momentarily saw red, and he had to blink several times to keep his rage at bay.

He could feel Claire’s tension beside him, feel her glowing presence become brighter and hotter. She didn’t say anything, neither did Jamie. He had no right to, having sent her to him himself. This is what he had wanted.

But neither could he deny that something was missing in that small peck.

And she was so sad.

Frank sat down on one of the couches and Claire remained on the floor, seemingly as far away from him as she could get.

“Can I open now?” the child demanded, looking back and forth between the adults.

“Go on, lovie,” Claire crooned.

Without a moment’s hesitation, little hands dove under the evergreen for a red box. “I wanna open one from Daddy first!”

Jamie saw red again as Frank chuckled softly. It was wrong, the rage he felt at this man’s joy and comfort. There was something remarkable about him choosing to raise this child as his own, something comforting about him taking such joy in doing so. He really loved Claire and Jamie’s child; it didn’t seem like an obligation.

But it boiled Jamie’s blood nonetheless, knowing that it should have, could have been him.

The Claire sitting on the floor watched her child tear the paper off the box, a vague, placid smile on her face. Jamie could not see what lay beneath the paper, but the wean gasped dramatically, flinging aside more paper and bits of what appeared to be a box and fished out from the pile two figurines of horses.

Frank was beaming with glee. “Do you like them?”

“I love them!” The wean held them up higher, illuminating them by the strange lights on the evergreen. Jamie’s breath caught in his throat.

It was a pair, a large black horse and a smaller white one.

Our horses.

Spirit-Claire said nothing as she and Jamie watched what happened next. The Clarie by the evergreen abruptly stood up.

“Claire?” Frank called after her as she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to make some coffee,” she blurted. “And hot chocolate.”

The child broke into an even wider grin, clapping his or her hands in excitement.

“Don’t wait for me.”

“Claire, what  — ”

“I won’t open any that say ‘Mama’ without you!”

Claire didn’t answer. The child didn’t skip a beat, setting the horses aside and moving onto one that said “from Santa,” whatever that meant. Frank ran a hand down his face, unnoticed, buried by the sound of paper tearing.

Jamie didn’t hesitate before following Claire out of the room, trailed close behind by Spirit-Claire. They were led by Present-Claire into a room the likes of which Jamie had never seen. The floor was hard and cold, and so were bits of the wall. There was a great metal box topped with coils, bits of metal that vaguely resembled a water pump, a great white box.

Before Jamie could ask spirit-Claire what the devil he was looking at, the Claire they’d been following collapsed to the floor in the middle of the room, hugging herself around the middle. All else fell away but the need to comfort her, to hold her. Jamie fell to his knees before her, reaching for her, and, of course, finding nothing but thin air beneath his fingers.

“Mo nighean donn…” he whispered brokenly, watching as she shook with silent sobs, sputtering into a hand clamped over her mouth to keep herself quiet. “Claire...I’m here...It’s alright…”

Spirit-Claire didn’t need to tell him; he knew that she couldn’t hear him, that he wasn’t really there.

He muttered in Gaelic, his heart splintering, his hands burning with the need to shelter her from this pain. He was also overcome with rage; Frank sat in the next room, content to let Claire fall apart like this alone, without a comfort in the world. If Jamie were there, were this his house, his family, he’d drop everything to follow her, to coax out of her what troubled her, to apologize for unknowingly upsetting her…

Of course the man couldn’t have known. But Claire’s reaction was clear as day.

Yet here she was, alone.

“My poor lass…” Jamie muttered, silent tears trickling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...I wish I could…”

Then she wiped her face with both hands, taking deep heaving breaths before pushing herself off the floor. She wavered for a moment, and Jamie instinctively reached out to steady her before logic could remind him that he couldn’t. She got her bearings and then made her way to the white box, opening a door and retrieving a bottle filled with what could only be milk. She continued crying quietly, sniffling and shuddering as she poured milk into a small pot atop the coils on the metal box. A fire lit beneath the pot, and through his awe, Jamie realized.

She was using that contraption to make the bairn’s hot chocolate, even as she wept through waves of pain.

She put a different sort of pot on a second coil, likely for the coffee. After the fire was lit beneath the coffee pot, Claire backed away, leaning on one of the counters, breathing heavily.

“Buck up, Beauchamp.”

Those three words, uttered through her teeth, a command, a demand of herself...that was what had Jamie fully weeping.

She’s so, so sad.

Several moments passed of Claire leaning on the counter for dear life, sniffling and shuddering silently, and then the pitter-patter of little feet entered the room.

Claire instantly pushed off the counter, wiping her face and donning a brilliant smile. Jamie watched in awe as Claire greeted her child, smiling and cooing even with her face still stained with tears.

“Look, see?” Claire said, lifting the wean onto her hip. “Your milk is heating.”

“Can I put a candy cane in my hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can.” Claire nuzzled the curls that peeked out from the bottom of the silly red hat. “And,” Claire spun them around, bringing them to the white box where the milk had come from, “Christmas cookies for breakfast.” She clung to the child in one arm and reached up for a container atop the white box with the other. The child squealed with glee.

“Do I get to eat them in the living room?”

“On Christmas? Certainly.”

Claire popped a cookie in her mouth, having opened the tin, and the child opened his or her little mouth expectantly, and Claire obliged, causing them both to giggle with mouths full of cookies, things that vaguely resembled biscuits, Jamie decided.

“Go on, bring these to Daddy. I’ll be right in.” Claire set the child back on the floor, placing the tin of cookies in eager hands.

“Okay, but hurry. I really really really wanna open the big one that says ‘from Mama’!”

Claire chuckled softly, then crouched down to kiss the child’s little nose. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

With that, Claire was left alone again, bare feet echoing and disappearing. The mask immediately melted away, and that bone-tired grief, that sadness returned, physically sagging her shoulders, making her look smaller.

“How…?” Jamie breathed, watching as she poured some of the warm milk into a porcelain-looking mug and mixed in a brown powder.

He couldn’t finish his thought through the rush of tears clogging his throat: How can she pretend that well?

“You aren’t the only one who is unhappy, Jamie,” Spirit-Claire spoke for the first time in a long while. Present-Claire reached up into a cabinet and retrieved a curved red and white stick, putting the straight end into the mug and hooking the curve on the edge, allowing a tiny smile as she did.

“But you go on for the ones you love.”

Jamie felt that ice cold hand again, and he simultaneously felt like he would burn alive with shame. Here Claire was, being strong for her child, their child, and Jamie could not manage to do the same for the son she’d left behind with him.

He watched Claire pour coffee into two more mugs, and then Frank appeared.

“Are ehm...are you alright?”

Claire nodded wordlessly, her back still to him. “Coffee’s done. Grab the hot chocolate, would you?”

Frank nodded wordlessly, even though her back was still all he could see. “I’ll just…”

Without another word, he left. Present-Claire sighed heavily, two mugs in hand, and followed after him, her chin held high.

Christ...she’s a brave wee thing.

“Jamie.”

He jolted, having stared after her long after she left the room with the coffee. He turned around to Spirit-Claire, and she was holding the pearls out to him again.

“It’s time to go.”

He swallowed and walked toward her. “Claire...I...I’m sorry...I didna…”

“Did you think I was happy?” The pearls lowered. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, not at all. It was even, gentle. “Did you think it was somehow easier for me?”

“I...ye’re...ye’re stronger than me, mo ghraidh. Ye always have been.”

“Oh, Jamie…” Her face softened, her amber eyes turning liquid.

“Will ye...will ye be gone when I touch these…?”

Claire pursed her lips, nodding.

Jamie exhaled shakily. “Christ...it’s like losing ye again…”

“I’ll be back,” she said softly, but did not elaborate. This was not the first time her spirit had graced his fevered dreams, nor would it be the last, he was sure.

“I love you, Claire.”

“I love you.”

He went to reach for her, to close the distance between them, but she lifted the pearls again, halting him.

“You made our daughter a promise...will you make me a promise?”

Jamie nodded, his chin trembling. “Anything, Claire. Anything.”

“You have to be present for him.”

Jamie blinked dumbly.

“He needs you.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Promise me.”

“I…” Silent tears slipped out again. “I’ll try, Claire. I promise I’ll try.”

She nodded, her lips taut.

“Go on, Jamie. Time is running out.”

He watched the string of pearls dangling, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

“I love you,” he said again, reaching his fingers toward the pearls.

“And I, you.”

His fingers closed around them, and when Jamie fell to his knees in the pitch-black cave, he was met with unfathomable despair. He could still feel the phantom, white-hot touch of his daughter’s little hand, even if he couldn’t hold her himself. But Claire…

She never touched me.

He wept quietly, all while knowing that the trials of this night were far from over.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

stephanie perkins: ‘anna and the french kiss’

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Then again, if you’ve read any YA book, ever, it’s fairly obvious what’s going to happen.

I was going to go easy on this book; I really was. It’s really unfair how media aimed at a female demographic is seen as frivolous and vapid, and more often than not bashed and bullied when it comes to reviews. “People actually enjoy this crap?” ask the powers that be. “It’s worthless! Pulp! Dreamy-eyed nonsense only complete nimrods could ever like!”

And I take offense to that. There’s nothing wrong with liking romance or happy endings or stories about cute European boys. I was ecstatic when I stumbled across Anna and the French Kiss upon a chance trip to the bookstore. The cover was… meh (Century Gothic? Really? There were no other fonts?). But I’d heard nothing but praise about the book, and I was prepared to stay up all night and into the wee hours of the morning to finish it.

Admittedly, I was far from impressed upon the first reading. The characters were unlikable, the plot would’ve worked better for less shitty characters, honestly fuck these characters am I supposed to like them, fuck Anna, fuck Étienne, fuck Bridgette, fuck Toph, fuck Dave and Meredith and Amanda and Seany and every other stupid character in this stupid book.

The second time around, I expected to not hate it as much as I did when I first read it. It’s happened- I hated Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda when I first read it, and when I read it again, all that red-hot anger simmered down into an overall dislike. I thought To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before was trash at first, and then I read it again, and it got promoted to recyclable waste matter.

I found Anna and the French Kiss horrendous the first time I read it, and then I read it again, and… yeah, it’s still pretty awful.

Le Sommaire:

Anna Oliphant is a seventeen-year-old wannabe film critic who is #NotLikeOtherGirls – so she’s exactly like every other female YA lead. To her credit, she never explicitly says she’s special… everyone around her does.

She has a pretty meh life in Atlanta, Georgia with her mum and little bruv Sean- and then her dad decides to ship her off to France for her final year of high school. I’m not judging Anna for bawling her eyes out on her first day; I’m a huge mummy’s girl myself and I’d probably (definitely) do the same.

Meredith is Anna’s next-door neighbor, who does that thing which only happens in YA where she’s like “Oh, newbie? Let’s be friends!” (Or maybe it does happen irl and I tend to make a bad first impression which is why no one has ever approached me.)

Meredith’s friends are: Rashmi and Josh (who are a couple), and Étienne St. Clair. Guess which one is the love interest.

Étienne is cultured in that white person way where he’s half American, one quarter French and one quarter British. A true international.

But- *gasp*- American-British-French boy has a girlfriend, Ellie.

Anna has an absolutely gorgeous punk rocker (yum) boy with sideburns (yikes) back home named Christopher. Also, Christopher’s nickname is ‘Toph’ instead of ‘Chris’ because he too is #NotLikeOtherGirls. Anna tells us that nothing will happen between her and Étienne.

Anna is wrong.

Meredith has a crush on Étienne. So does the Regina George of the school, Amanda.

Étienne and Anna have some moments ™.

♫ Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but Anna ♫

I tear my hair out in frustration.

Several other white boys vie for Anna’s heart. Anna remains blissfully unaware (♫ that’s what makes you beautiful ♫). Étienne (who is still dating Ellie, mind you) is unreasonably agitated by this.

Étienne’s mum has cancer btw, which excuses all the shitty things he does, because he’s just a poor, misunderstood boy.

Ellie dresses up as a, quote unquote, ‘slutty nurse’ for Hallowe’en, though- so it’s perfectly okay to dislike her (even though, in the first interaction she had with Anna, where Ellie meets Anna and Étienne, after Étienne takes Anna to the movies, Ellie is perfectly sweet).

Anna, however, is NOT a slut. Amanda is, though. And Rashmi’s cold. And Meredith’s desperate. And Emily’s a slut, too. And her friend Bridgette from Atlanta is a traitor. Anna has an intense case of internalized misogyny.

Anna’s friend Bridgette from Atlanta is screwing Toph, and Anna throws a fit.

Étienne and Anna have some more moments ™.

A truly chaotic series of events befall Anna. She somehow winds up dating Dave (one from the harem of white boys who likes her) to spite Étienne, she gets into a fight with Amanda, more drama ensues, there’s a hint for a spinoff, Étienne and her kiss, Meredith sees and feels betrayed… several misunderstandings and more bullshit later, Étienne and Anna wind up together, because true love conquers all.

Mes Réflexions:

(If the French is off, blame Google Translate.)

Usually, it takes me half a page of my notebook to scribble down my thoughts about the book I’m reading. This motherfucker took me almost an entire page.

Granted, a solid 30% of those notes are me throwing insults at Étienne, but still. ‘STOP STOP STOP YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND YOU DICK’ counts, right?

(That was #17 in my notes, by the way.)

For the record, I like Stephanie Perkins’s writing. It’s not as over-the-top and unnecessarily introspective as Jenny Han’s in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, and the interactions between Anna and her classmates were natural and not the “How do you do, fellow kids?” style of Becky Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. The pacing is decent- I didn’t feel like it was too rushed; not the insta-love trope most YA romances unfortunately fall prey to.

And yet. AND YET.

Anna: “What’s your problem?” Amanda: “You.”

Same, Amanda, same.

Anna Oliphant is one of my least favorite leads in a book, ever. Étienne’s even shittier. And it’s not like Nick or Amy Dunne from Gone Girl, or any of the main characters from The Secret History, where readers pretty much unanimously hate them. You’re meant to relate to Anna, you’re meant to find Étienne charming and dreamy. I literally had to put the book away and calm myself down several times- especially in the last quarter of the book.

One of my main gripes with Anna is how… dumb she is. I guess Anna’s “Oopsies, silly me, I don’t know French!” is meant to be relatable to the readers. And some parts (like her not knowing how to order food because she can’t speak French) are plausible, but- sis, you didn’t know how to spell oui? And my idea of a cinematic masterpiece is Kung-Fu Panda, but even a dumbass like me knows that France is the film appreciation capital of the world. And yet Anna, a self-professed film freak, doesn’t?

Of course, Anna’s gorgeous, but she has no clue, because of course she doesn’t- even though she has multiple guys falling head over heels for her.

I’m in a short skirt. It’s the first time I’ve worn one here, but my birthday seems like the appropriate occasion. “Woo, Anna!” Rashmi fake-adjusts her glasses. “Why do you hide those things?”

Étienne is staring at my legs. The scales covering them throb under his intense gaze, and the pincers sticking out of my thighs start clicking rapidly in arousal. My hooves shiver in ecstasy.

… sorry, that’s not funny.

Her friends think Anna’s weird for wanting to write film reviews (which is the most contrived thing I’ve ever heard) instead of being the next Margot Robbie or whatever, but of course Étienne doesn’t and he thinks it’s not weird and cool and that Anna is such a special snowflake.

(Man, I sound like Amanda.)

And then we have this spiel by Anna about how she got into film critiquing (?), because we the readers need to know how special and #NotLikeOtherGirls Anna is.

To this, I say, “Piss off, you pretentious fuck.”

Of course, Anna’s a virgin and she’s never gotten drunk before or worn short skirts- she’s not a slut, she shaves below the knees only.

And would YA really be YA without several hearty helpings of internalized misogyny?

First up, we have the bimbo; the Barbie doll archetype whose only goal in life is acquiring the main guy (who is quite obviously uninterested in her), and making life hell for our protagonist. Amanda Whatsername (is she ever given a surname?) has this coveted role in Anna and the French Kiss. She’s blond (because of course she is); the first time we meet her, she’s in a, quote unquote, ‘teeny tank top’, and she also ‘positions herself for maximum cleavage exposure’. She’s always flipping her hair, getting her grubby paws on Étienne, giving Anna the stink-eye, being homophobic and a grade-A bitch.

Meredith goes batshit when Anna and Étienne kiss, and is very pouty and unhappy during prior Anna x Shittiene moments. Honey… he’s just not that into you. Rashmi’s the Ice Queen reincarnate and halfway to bitchdom. Anna doesn’t go as hard on them as she does on literally every other female her age in the book, though.

Rashmi looks at me for the first time, calculating whether or not I might fall in love with her own boyfriend.

Anna, hate to break it to you, but not everyone’s a possessive fucking weirdo.

About Cherrie, her ex-boyfriend Matt’s new girlfriend:

And maybe Cherrie isn’t as bad as I remember. Except she is. She totally is. After only five minutes in her company, I cannot fathom how Bridge stands sitting with her at lunch every day.

Her lifeless laugh is one of her lesser attributes. What does Matt see in her?

Even Bridgette, Anna’s best friend from Atlanta, isn’t immune to Anna’s anti-female propaganda. She’s screwing the guy Anna used to like, and Anna, the hypocrite, throws a huge fit.

For context: Bridgette and Toph are in a band called the Penny Dreadfuls (why is it with YA books and horrible band names? ‘Emoji’ from Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda was bad enough), and Anna + Matt + Cherrie go to a bowling alley to see them perform. After the performance, Toph announces that he’s sleeping with Bridge, and Anna confronts Bridge… onstage.

“… You’re welcome to move in when I leave again, because that’s what you want, right? My life?”

She shakes with fury. “Go to hell.”

“Take my life. You can have it. Just watch out for the part where my BEST FRIEND SCREWS ME OVER!” I knock over a cymbal stand, and the brass hits the stage with an earsplitting crash that reverberates through the bowling alley. Matt calls my name. Has he been calling it this entire time? He grabs my arm and leads me around the electrical cords and plugs and onto the floor and away, away, away.

Everyone in the bowling alley is staring at me.

I duck my head so my hair covers my face. I’m crying. This would have never happened if I hadn’t given Toph her number. All of those late-night practices and… he said they’ve had sex! What if they’ve had it at my house? Does he come over when she’s watching Seany? Do they go in the bedroom?

I’m going to be sick.

Give me a goddamn break.

Anna, about Ellie:

To my amazement, Ellie breaks into an ear-to-ear smile. Oddly enough, it’s this moment I realize that despite her husky voice and Parisian attire, she’s sort of… plain. But friendly-looking.

That still doesn’t mean I like her.

“Anna! From Atlanta, right? Where’d you guys go?”

She knows who I am? St. Clair describes our evening while I contemplate this strange development. Did he tell her about me? Or was it Meredith? I hope it was him, but even if it was, it’s not like he said anything she found threatening. She doesn’t seem alarmed that I’ve spent the last three hours in the company of her very attractive boyfriend. Alone.

[about Ellie’s Hallowe’en costume] Slutty nurse. I don’t believe it. Tiny white button-up dress, red crosses across the nipples. Cleavage city.

If I didn’t like Ellie before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now. It doesn’t matter that I can count how many times we’ve met on one hand.

I fantasize about their break-up. How he could hurt her, and she could hurt him, and all of the ways I could hurt her back. I want to grab her Parisian-styled hair and yank it so hard it rips from her skull. I want to sink my claws into her eyeballs and scrape.

It turns out I am not a nice person.

YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY.

Emily Middlestone bends over to pick up a dropped eraser, and Mike Reynard leers at her breasts. Gross. Too bad for him she’s interested in his best friend, Dave. The eraser drop was deliberate, but Dave is oblivious.

One of the juniors, a girl with dark hair and tight jeans, stretches in a move designed to show off her belly button ring to Paul/Pete. Oh, please.

And I’m meant to like this character? I’m supposed to root for her?

I’m not saying every girl in the book should be perfectly sweet and friendly- that’s just not realistic. But when Anna has something judgmental to say about every other young female character… maybe she’s the problem.

In fact, the only girl I recall getting a pass is Isla Whatsername. And why do you think?

Brilliant.

And now we have the amalgamation of almost every fanfic boyfriend trope from 2014, Étienne St. Clair. Brown-eyed Harry Styles. I can’t fucking wait.

Étienne could’ve discovered the cure for cancer, or abolished poverty, or volunteered at animal shelters in his spare time. He could’ve been the most virtuous guy around (fret not; he decidedly isn’t). And I still wouldn’t’ve thought of him as the man of my dreams because HE HAS A BLOODY GIRLFRIEND.

I mean, which girl doesn’t want her boyfriend to say:

“I cheated on her every day. In my mind, I thought of you in ways I shouldn’t have, again and again.”

Fuckin’ smooth, bro.

“No matter what a terrible boyfriend I was, I wouldn’t actually cheat on her. But I thought you’d know.”

Such a gentleman!

“So you can keep dating Ellie, but I can’t even talk to Dave?”

Étienne looks shamed. He stares at his boots. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what to do with his apology.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. And this time, he’s looking at me. Begging me. “And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need more time. To sort things out.”

And this gem:

“If you liked me so much, why didn’t you break up with her?”

“I’ve been confused. I’ve been so stupid.”

*me, banging pots and pans together* F U C K Y O U

“Ellie’s not like you, Anna; she’s a slut and a whore even though I’m the one who’s been thinking about another girl inappropriately and I’m the one who gets my knickers in a twist when another man glances in your direction because my masculinity is extremely fragile and I’m a total hypocrite and a dickhead.”

I mean, he didn’t actually say that, but that’s the gist.

WHILE DATING ELLIE: he gets Anna a book of sexual love poems, he calls her attractive (“Any bloke with a working prick would be insane not to like you.”) multiple times, he gets jealous whenever another guy so much as breathes in Anna’s direction and constantly interrupts such interactions, he’s been ditching his friends for his girlfriend but suddenly decides he prefers a new girl over said girlfriend, he thinks bread pudding tastes good- in conclusion, he is a Massive Fucking Prick. Though in hindsight, him and Anna deserve each other. They’re awful.

I had loads more notes taken down (Anna using Dave; “The important thing is this: Dave is available. St. Clair is not.”); the implication that cheating is okay because Ellie is bad or whatever, even though the sudden change in her character seems contrived because she was perfectly okay with Étienne and Anna hanging out before; how my blood boils whenever I read an American book and American girls are like “oOoOh AcCenT!!!1!!1!!”; me reading “DAVE SAYS YER A SLUTBAG” in Hagrid’s voice; the sheer atrocity of the name ‘Étienne St. Clair’ (sounds like a caricature of a French person)… but this ‘review’ is already pushing 3k and I can’t be fucked to expand on any of those points.

Verdict (which is apparently the same in French):

Who needs Christopher when Étienne St. Clair is in the world?

Speak for yourself.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The wrong girl, pt.6 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan struggles to keep in control, but some things aren’t his to control.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

The Wrong Girl - Masterlist

She twisted in his hold and flung herself against him. "No!" Her furious whisper made Ethan blink. Her hands gripping his shoulders, she whispered: "You can't!"

Jack laughed at the scene, wanting more than anything to provoke Ethan to turn into a beast instead of the prince his now ex girlfriend had envisioned in her mind.

Ethan saw red, trying to root himself and focus on the feeling of her fingers digging into his skin, nearly growling out loud because he wanted to rip into Jack and not only with his fists.

He frowned at her, then lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear.

“My blood is boiling and I’m scared of what I might do to anyone who tries to stop me when I snap. Please, stay back because if I hurt you I’ll never forgive myself.” He searched her face, hoping for her to budge, even an inch, but her mind was made and she wouldn’t move even if her life depended on it.

“I’m not scared of you.” She managed to speak up, hoping he’d stop being Hulk and just be Ethan again. She didn’t think Jack could get him this worked up just by a few insults directed toward her - words like: slut, bitch and a rather convincing statement on how she has feelings for him and not Ethan, that’s all it took for Ethan’s calm sea to turn into a storm. But her words scared him most of all, knowing he truly will lose control any moment now and her presence had him on edge.

Then his lips thinned. Lifting his head, he looked at his brother first, giving him a silent plea to secure his Snowflake, because he didn’t trust himself with her right now. Snowflakes are by nature brittle as they are beautiful and he refused to be the one who breaks it for he only wanted to melt it - her.

Ethan’s hands began to shake as his control dwindled and Grayson didn’t hesitate in peeling Y/N from Ethan, even as she grabbed fistfuls of his clothes.

“Ethan, please!” He sent her an unreadable, distinctly intimidating Ethan look when she finally let him loose, then took her hand before it was out of his reach - quickly kissing the back of it before breathing in and turning toward Jack.

“You will let us in to take her stuff.” Ethan stepped closer, his entire body tense, the muscles beneath hard and rippling in every attempt not to cause a scene because he didn’t want his Snowflake to worry.

“You will forget her number.” He stepped even closer, his fists now balled up and prepared as Jack smiled smugly, absolutely untouched by what’s happening.

“And you will never” Ethan jabbed his index finger in Jack’s shoulder repeatedly with every word, “ever call her derogatory names or even mention her to anyone, anywhere!”

“Or what?” Jack challenged, straightening up as Deon and a few others already started walking past them and inside the building, having the key Y/N owned.

A gleam marked Ethan's reluctant smile. He waited, grudgingly, until the everyone but Grayson and Y/N disappeared through the door, then stepped back, hands up in mock surrender with a wickedly dangerous smile.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t want to find out. After all, some of us are still very much loved by the public and we CAN and we WILL jump through hoops for Y/N. So try and you’ll find out what it truly means to fuck with me.” Ethan’s threat made a dent in Jack’s smile for he knew that having beef with not only the Dolan twins but with all their friends would end badly for his career. No one can come back twice after falling from public grace.

Snorting, he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not winning much here. She’s going to fuck you over eventually.” With his remark, Jack walked away, sending Y/N a chilling glare that Grayson shielded her from for the most part for she was safely tucked behind him - just in case, as Grayson thought.

Ethan wasted no time, his fire and rage turning into something else once he reached her.

She gasped as she landed against his chest. One arm locked around her, hard fingers lifted her face. His lips were on hers before she drew breath. She tried to hold firm, but beneath the pleasure he lavished upon her with just the touch of his lips against hers, her resistance wilted, then melted away, replaced by something so insidious, so soul-stealingly compulsive, so innately enthralling, she couldn't pull back. He was hungry, she sensed it in the unleashed passion that hardened his lips, that, when she opened to him, made him want to ravage her more than before.

The tension investing his every muscle spoke of rigid control; the turbulence behind it frightened and fascinated her. His tongue tangled with hers, intimately enticing, then settled to a slow, repetitive, probing rhythm. Her mouth was his; his possession set her senses whirling. No man had touched her like this. A warmth rushed through her, a fever unlike anything she'd known. Beyond that and the shocking intimacy of his caress, she knew only one thing. He was starving - hungry for her.

How long they stood locked together in the front yard she had no idea; when he lifted his head, she'd lost touch with the world. He hesitated, then brushed her lips with his.

"Do I scare you now?"

"Yes." In a way he did.

Wide-eyed, heart pounding, Y/N searched his shadowed eyes.

"But it's not you I'm scared of." He was making her feel, making her need him in a way she did back then...back when he tore her heart open for someone else and she didn’t know how to deal with the fear he woke inside.

"I.." Frowning, she stopped, for once lost for words. Ethan smiled crookedly, knowing it’s not the time nor the place.

"Don't worry." He took her mouth in one last, soul - searching kiss before pulling her from himself.

"Go and show them what to pack so they don’t rob the man blind. I’ll be up in a few. I need time to calm down from...all of it." It was a warning, one he wasn't sure she understood.

She blinked up at him, then nodded, allowing him a few minutes of peace because if nothing else, she understood the hardness of his need as it pressed against her moments before.

For once, it seemed as if things were finally going well for them. They packed up all her things, managed to get them over to the Dolan residence, even have a small get together to celebrate before they remained alone, Grayson already asleep.

“You can take my room. I’ll just take a quick shower.” Ethan offered quietly, taking a pair of shorts and spare blanket to carry out to the living room. He didn’t expect Y/N to lock her hand around his nor the light pull of it to make him face her.

“I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here. With me.” She clarified, not wanting to sleep alone. In fact, she never wanted to sleep without Ethan ever again, despite her fear of not being good enough and him changing his mind clawing at her mind like a relentless demon.

“Only if you’re sure.” Softly, Ethan gives her a way out, his eyes so gentle, so full of tender understanding for her situation that she found her heart clenching inside her chest from the painful kind of love she bore for him. Have you ever had your heart ache because you love someone so much? Just hurt because you can’t believe that’s real and you aren’t alone anymore?

“Absolutely sure.” She smiled back at him, her eyes filling with tears as he nodded, returning her smile with one of his own.

“I’ll just grab a quick shower. Make yourself at home.”

While Ethan hummed to himself in the shower, Y/N already changed into her pajamas, going to the kitchen for a glass of water. She didn’t expect her heart to jump as the doorbell rang, nor a doorbell to ring so late at all. She knew it meant it was someone they know because they’d need to know the passcode of their gate to get to the actual front door.

Trudging her way to it, she took a peak only to find a familiar face waiting impatiently. A face she never wanted to see.

“Who is it?” Ethan startled her into a gasp, making her whip around in her fear, her eyes wide and mouth open. But then her eyes narrowed and her lips set into a thin line, her arms folding across her chest as she stepped toward him.

“Your past.” She tried to sound unbothered, to be understanding because it might be something she isn’t aware of yet, but she couldn’t hide her jealousy nor resentment.

Confused, Ethan opened the door, faced with the woman who betrayed him and her fake ass looks...well, her actual fake ass since she was turned around.

But when she fully faced him, Ethan felt his heart caught in his throat because the image of his two faced ex girlfriend rubbing her swollen belly was earth-shattering and already driving him insane.

“Hello, daddy.”

Tags: @accalialionheart @fallinginlove-16 @xalayx @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes  @peacedolantwins @blackpinkdolan @dolandrabbles @softiegrant @inlovewithethandolan @graydolan12 @reblogserpent @dominantdolan 

[fanficparker]

Faking, Falling > Part 2

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~2.3k words 

Warning: Swearing, Angst, Fuckboy attitude

Summary: Harrison has some walls he wants to break but ends up repairing them again & again.

<< PART 1 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 3 >>

Ting

The light sound of clinking wine glasses, followed by soft laughs filled the room, a lot less busy than it was on weekends.

"You are really late Harrison, we were expecting you to flake out!" Claire chuckled, walking towards Harrison, her smooth tanned legs shimmering in the yellow light. Before Harrison could remove the wine glass from his lips and answer, she snatched it from his hand and sipped the liquid. It didn't even take her a minute to throw her legs over Harrison's and sit on his lap.

"Sorry babe, I was thirsty," she simply said, ignoring her old question and Harrison was no more bothered to answer it as her sitting on his lap was more of a headache for him.

"I will get myself a beer then," he tried to move but she pushed him back.

"Please babe take me home..." She whined like a child wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Harrison's friends scrunched their nose giving him the 'no PDA' look. He nodded ignoring the beautiful girl whose presence was mentally strangling him. To be honest, he wasn't interested to go anywhere with her. Claire was already drunk much before Harrison joined them in the pub, he was sure she had already undressed and dressed twice with some other guy or guys. Her dress was creased and her hair looked like sex hair. He didn't want her hands on his body, who knows if she even washed them after whatever she did. The thought of Claire's maybe dirty hands made the bile rise up to his throat. But he didn't want to look disrespectful or create any scene. It isn't like Claire never slept with him before, but he didn't want her anymore.

Slowly and slowly he felt drunker than any of the days he was actually drunk. He hasn't even properly taken a sip of alcohol but his head was already spinning. He could no more tell what his friends were talking about or hear the music. Maybe it was because of the pair of boys standing at the corner, their backs facing him. Both were shorter than him and had brown curls. Just one of them had thicker curls than the other and maybe his shade of brown was much closer to red. Damn, he wanted it to be Tom and Harry. They must be Tom and Harry. He hasn't met any of the Hollands or Tuwaine for a long time. He wished with all his heart that they were them. He waited for them to turn to face him. He felt weird. He felt hopeless yet hopeful. He never shifted his gaze from the boys. Maybe, maybe someone told them of his weird gaze because they shifted and turned, finally.

No.

It wasn't them. They were someone else, just had similar hair. They squinted their eyes making Harrison turn to the other side only to face his new friends.

Friends...

Sometimes he asked himself why he was even considering them friends. They weren't anything like Tom or Tuwaine or the twins. But the latter were now no more his friends. The spinning in his head was no more alone, his throat and chest were burning too. He tapped Claire's shoulder but she still didn't move.

"Get up. Get the fuck up!" He whispered in her ear with gritted teeth, almost threatening her. Claire didn't say anything else and removed herself from him. He ignored the questions his 'friends' were asking and walked out of the pub.

No one followed him, and he didn't expect either.

At least he could breathe air. Instead of getting in his car, he decided to walk along the pavement. He shoved his hands inside his jeans pocket, he felt the chill breeze touching his cheeks but it only made the burning sensation bearable. He kept walking until he saw the café, the café he had spent the most time in. It was small and closed but one of the finest in London.

He peeked through the glass, the lights from the street lamps showed the setup. His head drifted back to memories... The memories... The memories when he and Tuwaine would tease Tom and Harry with the breakfast pouring their least favourite syrup on their waffles or pancakes while Sam was the one shaking his head at the stupidity. No one cared if people watched them, made faces for their nuisances, all that mattered was they were friends, more like brothers enjoying in their typical 'div' manner. Sometimes Harrison's sister Charlotte used to join them, but she had her head inside the phone, Sam's girlfriend joined frequently, sometimes more friends and sometimes Shelly used to join them too...

Shelly...

He puffed air remembering her face making the fog stick to the window panes. He rubbed it off with his palm, but this time instead of looking inside he focused on his own reflection.

He looked different. The mirror could tell he had changed from outside, but what it couldn't tell was how much he had changed from inside.

He thought he hated the old him. But he was wrong. He hated what he has become. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, calming his heart rate. He didn't want to go to his lonely flat. It's been a while he slept in his family house or ate with them. He missed how much he wanted to pat his dog Monty, how much he wanted to play with him or smile at the breakfast table when his mom made him breakfast accompanied with a little smiley she drew using ketchup or honey.

He checked the time. It was already 1:30 am. The new Harrison would never call his family at this time, he hated when they asked too many questions. But he missed the old him. He didn't waste any time and called his mom telling her that he was coming home and that there was nothing to worry about. He didn't care his family home was the complete opposite of where he was right now, he just drove there and it felt comforting.

* * *

You exhaled deeply, sipping your coffee.

"Is that Harrison's car?"

Yes, it was his car. You saw him through the open window. You instantly checked the time on your phone.

8:20 am...

Wasn't he supposed to reach there by six?! That's the only reason you had to stay late yesterday...

The curiosity in you got you up and you found yourself following him behind in your car.

All you remember was searching for the perfect opportunity when he was vulnerable. You were ready to roll your dice. You parked your car just behind him and followed him slowly as he hurriedly rushed inside the building.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

George wasn't yelling but he surely sounded frustrated.

"I just got... stuck in the traffic." Harrison moved his hand through his unruly, uncombed hair, something he did when he knew his excuse was scarily dumb.

He just felt too comfortable and safe sleeping in his family home. He knew he was already an hour late but still waited to eat breakfast with his family and petted his dog. But his mom didn't make that smiley with ketchup on his breakfast this time... Nor his sister talked about any new meme she stumbled across or about her new friends or a crush or something hilarious that happened in a party she attended. They did smile at him and were nice to him. But they weren't them... Maybe... maybe because he wasn't himself.

"It's two and a half hours past six. The photographers were really pissed. It's dangerous for my reputation. How am I supposed to face them again? Should I shut this project?" George slid into the chair, hands on his face. Harrison was always a bit late, but a 'bit' and this time it was literally too much especially when George had invited some prestigious photographers for magazines and advertising.

Harrison could see everything taking a worse turn, his own reputation seemed to be in danger right now. And then he saw you through his peripheral vision. He didn't care whether he considered you stalking but the fact that you were always punctual (and hence trustworthy for George) was something he could use.

"My car first stuck in the traffic and then got punctured, Y/n was right there. You can ask her!" He pointed at your direction as George's head shot up.

Harrison made a pleading expression with his face. Lips shut tight but a bit pouted, eyebrows bent and focused in the middle. He knew you were someone who would literally help anyone in trouble and he was shameless about using you.

But what he didn't know was you were into a game and were ready to help anyone maybe, expect him.

You gave him a smile and he felt assured. He straightened his posture and a proud smile tugged on his lips.

"Is it so Y/n?" George looked at you and you walked to both of them.

"I mean I would really help Harrison with his punctured car if I was there. I got out of the home after 8 myself and found him speeding. I have no idea. And basically, Cath drives via highway and is still on time, I don't know how Harrison got stuck in the traffic. Is it so Harrison?"

All this time Harrison looked at you wide-eyed, jaw slack. He was sure you would say yes, but wow... He had no idea what to say back, he kept shifting his gaze from George to you and you to George.

"Well, I gotta do my work so excuse me." And you moved away from the drama with a smirk on your face. Smirking was no more his thing now.

* * *

You were relaxing at your table when Harrison stormed in.

"Are you possessed or something?" He said with an annoyed expression. "You really could have simply said yes and you said---"

"The truth?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Uh-ah" He was once again devoid of replies, mouth slightly open. Still, he tried his best to defend himself.

"But-but... You could have lied. Now George will think I am a liar." He was unsure of his own words, he threw his hands to look justified, to hide how much your words were able to manipulate him, make him look weak.

"Become a liar myself to save your lying ass. Sounds fair." You pretended as if his presence or absence didn't matter making you read the magazine than looking at him.

"It affected my self-esteem." He said quietly which made you look at him.

"Like you cared for mine at Rick's party. I didn't ask you to lie, to pretend as if... as if you like me. And how did you treat me?"

This time you weren't acting...

"It's old Y/n. No one remembers---"

"I remember! Wished someone did that to you. You would know how it felt." You made your way out, not noticing how your little words completely swept away all the colour from his face.

***

Days went by and you were happy that you were really not at all giving Harrison any of your attention, although after the little conversation he didn't actually bother you much. Maybe your little plan was working. But you weren't satisfied with your work, you wanted all your venom for him. You wanted to hate him utterly and wanted him to know that you hated him.

Maybe you could do something terrible like he did?

But then won't you both be the same?

But what he did, is it worth to be forgiven or for god sake forgotten?

You thought about it all weekend, reaching no conclusion in specific.

There's isn't just any article available on the internet to teach you how to hate someone.

The more you thought about it, the more you asked yourself the question, is your goal is to show him hate or make him realise what he did deserve the hate?

There weren't many days left for the shoot to get over. You won't have to deal with him anymore. Why waste this precious time thinking about him? But you really can't completely get him out of your mind at the same time.

And then it hit like a switch. Simon who is also your assistant had a good fight over something with Harrison. And Simon was also the one who just a week ago asked you on a date. Why don't you date your enemy's enemy? Especially when Simon is nothing like Harrison...

***

All-day during the work you tried your best to be near Simon and when finally, in the lunchtime he looked relaxed you decided it was the best time to talk.

"I really thought about what you said. I mean I really thought about you..."

He gave you a confused look.

"Thought about what exactly?"

"I mean you are really nice and sweet and I think I can manage my time and think about... You know that... date?"

Fuck. This wasn't supposed to be this direct. What if he's no more interested. You sank on your seat, about to die from embarrassment when Simon chuckled... More like happily giggled.

"I am really really happy that you thought about it. I will love to follow up."

There was the biggest smile on his lips which in turn made you smile.

Fuck that time when Harrison made you smile with his fake ones. Fuck him.

"So tonight?" He asked.

"Tonight." You replied almost trying not to smile more.

Now all you have to do is go on this date and also in some way make Harrison know how much his enemy was better than him...

_________________________

I love you & your feedbacks... But idk if you love me...

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Faking, Falling - Haz x Reader Series:

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All Harrison Osterfield x Reader content (Series + One-shots):

@tomhaz // @v-valz-n //

[fandomoneshots-imagines]

To Be Married (Father! Crowley x Reader)

Summary: What if, after not seeing each other for a very long time, the reader meets with her father, the king of hell? What if the reader is informed that a demon prince wants to marry her and her father wants her to accept? What if the reader is already in a relationship?

Warnings: None? (what is wrong with me?), maybe a little fluff?

I sighed, staring at the building before me not wanting to go in. I was getting ready to meet my father for the first time in a very long time. The last time I saw him was before he became the King of Hell. He likes to call himself Crowley but his name is Fergus McLeod. When he helped in my procreation he was already a demon and went on a bender, procreating with a witch. I was able to inherit my mother powers but unfortunately everything that could harm a demon could also harm me, even if I considered myself more with than demon. 

I sighed and pushed myself forward through the gate and walked through the front door not bothering to knock, “Fath- is that a dead body?”

My father whipped around surprised to see me, “Maybe?”

“It is. I can see it right in front of me.” He crossed my arms over my chest. 

“I promise I’ll clean it up before dinner.” He sassed and wiped his hands on a towel and threw it at one of the demons standing to the side of the room. The towel hit the demon in the face. 

“I can’t stay for dinner. I have plans. What did you want to see me for?” 

”How’s your,” he started to say but I immediately stopped him. 

“Nope not going there with you.” I turned, ready to walk out the door. 

“Wait Y/N, it’s very important that I speak with you.” He followed me. 

“Oh! After all these years now you decide to speak with me?!” I yelled, the fire on the torches growing. “You think after 200 years you can come back into my life like nothing ever happened? You’re an asshole Fergus.” I yanked the door open ready to leave. 

“There is a demon who is asking for your hand in marriage.” He spoke softly but still made me freeze. “I want you to accept.” I turned around and he flinched at the ice in my eyes. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, my teeth clenched. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“One of the Demon Princes in fact. Beelzebub. He wants to marry you. I want you to accept.” He placed his hands behind his back. I let the fire on the torches grow more and more until the entire place is lit up in flames and get out of there. I snap my fingers and appear back by my car and pull out my phone, calling one of the few people I know who could help.

“I need your help. I just had my meeting with my father. Can you call them and have them take the warding down?” I asked the person on the other end of the phone. They agreed immediately and I started the long drive to Kansas. 

Said drive took me four hours and I was standing outside a large door banging on it, “Let me in you buffoons!” I yelled. I didn’t stop banging on the door until it was yanked open by the tall Winchester boy, Sam. 

“Y/N,” he greeted, not moving away from the door.

“I’m going to assume you were informed that I was coming?” I asked, “And that it is safe for me to come in?” The bunker that the Winchester’s lived in were warded against demons and had all kinds of precautions. There was a devil's trap on the ceiling almost every 10 feet throughout the entire building. 

“Yeah , come on in.” He gave me a little smile, “We’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Thanks Sam.” I sighed following him through the entrance, “Who all is here?” 

“It’s just me, Dean, Charlie, Claire, and Cas. Claire was on a hunt nearby and Jody asked if she could stay.” I nodded and smiled once we made it to the bottom of the stairs. Sitting at one of the tables in the library was a beautiful red head with her head buried in a book. Dean heard us before she did and he threw his pen at her. 

“Dude,” she gasped, “That was just rude.” Dean rolled his eyes and pointed in my direction. She immediately jumped up and held her arms out for me. I laughed and dropped my bag and ran over to her, jumping in her arms. Her arms wrapped around my waist and I cupped her cheeks, kissing her hard. 

“I missed you so much.” I mumbled against her lips. 

“I missed you too.” She smiled and kissed me once more. The two of us pulled apart and rested our foreheads against each other and out of the corner of my eye I could see Dean watching us with a huge child like grin on his face. 

“Dean if you don’t wipe that grin off your face and advert your eyes, I will make sure you can never any type of pleasure again.” I warned. 

“I’m just gonna, yep,” he stuttered and walked away. Charlie put me down and we sat beside each other. I let out a deep sigh and took her hands. 

“So your meeting with Crowley didn’t go good?” She asked and I shook my head. 

“He told me that one of the demon princes wants to marry me. And that he wants me to accept.” I mumbled, hoping the tears that are just there won’t actually spill over. 

“And he still doesn’t know about us?” She asked and I shook my head. 

“I was going to tell him but he came out and said that and I just couldn’t.” I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “I got so angry and sat his place on fire.” 

I heard a flap of wings and looked up to see Castiel standing above us, “Y/N there is news on angel radio of your marriage to Beelzebub. There have been orders to kill you.” 

“Beelzebub?!” Three shocked voiced yelled out, making me flinch. 

“Did I leave that part out? Oops?” I sunk down in my seat, “Cas is there anyway you can ward me? I don’t want to marry him.”

“But marriage is,” 

“Cas, I’m gay. I’m in a relationship already with Charlie. Even if Beelzebub were to possess a woman I still would not want to marry a demon.” I tried to explain. 

Cas just stared for a second and nodded, “Well turn the warding back on and cut the power to the traps. You should remain protected.” I nodded and looked back at Charlie. 

“Can we go to bed? I’m exhausted.” I laughed dryly. Charlie took my hand and led me to her room and we immediately crashed on the bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

“So don’t want to marry a demon?” Charlie asks, running her fingers through my hair. 

“I don’t want to marry a demon. I don’t want to marry a witch. I wouldn’t mind marrying a beautiful LARPing geek.” I smiled, my eyes closed. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that idea.” She chuckled. I buried my head in her chest and felt myself drifting to sleep. 

It only felt like a few minutes before Charlie’s alarm was going off. I groaned and flicked my hand sending her phone flying, “Sorry I’ve got to help Claire with this case.” She grumbled. 

“ ‘S fine,” I sat up wiping drool off my face. I got out of the bed and changed into some of Charlie’s clothes and put my hair up in a messy bun. “Let’s get coffee and I’ll help.” I grabbed her hand and dragged her out of bed, squinting my eyes and walking us through the library to the kitchen. 

What I had missed however on the way to the kitchen was my father in a devil's trap, talking to Sam and Dean. The three of them watched Charlie and I as we walked through the library and came back with two things of coffee, both of us still getting our eyesight to adjust. 

“Uh, Y/N?” Sam spoke up and I looked up, one eye closed looking at him, one eye squinting. My eyes started to focus and I could now see the familiar shape of my father standing before me. I looked down at Charlie, who was asleep again on my shoulder and me in her clothes.

“It’s not what you -,” I started to say but was cut off.

“You’re dating a -,” 

“Crowley,” Sam and Dean both interrupted.

“A ginger hunter?!” Crowley yelled, finishing his sentence. 

[elizabethemerald]

Dreams of Drowning: Chap 5

Jim’s mom is now safe. But the questions that have been raised need to be answered. 

Please reblog if you like!

AO3 

Jim sat alone in his apartment. His thoughts whirled around his head. So much had changed in just the past couple of weeks. He had gotten a new job, met an amazing girl, helped save his mom’s life. It was almost comical when he thought about it that way. Of course the more accurate way to describe it was he got a new job that required daily backbreaking labor due to being short handed at a research facility that apparently held a goddess captive. That same goddess had entered his dream and tried to drown him. Then she had possessed his mother so she could use her control of water to beat the shit out of some thugs and almost drowned one. Wasn’t quite as funny when he thought it that way. 

Claire had said she would be mostly absent for a while. It was true he hadn’t seen her in his dreams since that night, but he wouldn’t say she was absent. He swore he could feel her presence. Ever since she had grabbed his hand while in his mom’s body, he could feel her at the edge of his mind. Like a familiar song playing the next room over. She was there if he concentrated. If he needed her, he knew he would only have to close his eyes and see her. 

A sharp knock at the door drew him out of his thoughts. He quietly padded over to the door of his apartment. He carefully checked through the peep hole. After what happened to his mom he couldn’t be too cautious. 

At first all he could see was a someone holding a stack of boxes. Then the person shifted the boxes and Jim could see Toby’s face. He smiled to himself and opened the door. Toby unceremoniously shoved a stack of specimen cases into Jim’s arms then turned and grabbed another stack. 

“What’s with all this, dude?” Jim said incredulously. The cases were filled with sorted stones, each with careful labels. “Why did you bring your whole rock collection?”

Toby moved past him and shot him an annoyed look. “We both know this isn’t my whole collection.”

“Ok, then what are they?”

“Well apparently magic exists. You’ve got a psychic lady in your head, and she tried to drown you and I, but didn’t because we aren’t ass holes. She knocks you out to talk to you in your dreams and possessed your mom so she could trash some douchebags. Did I sum it all up pretty well?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well I’ve been working at 49B for a while now. Remember how I told you, when I first was going to get you a job, my whole thing is they slap a rock in front of me and ask me what it is? And sometimes the rock glows?”

Jim nodded while Toby set his stack of boxes on the dining room table. Toby quickly sorted the boxes moving different collections around the table top. Whatever system he was using to sort was completely beyond Jim’s understanding of geology. Eventually his hands stilled. 

“I think the people there think I’m stupid. That I’m naive. They would put all kind of weird rocks on my desk, things that defied all chemical analysis, had properties that I had never seen before. I would tell them as much about the rocks as I could. What properties the minerals could or rather should have. But I knew there was something up about them. So I kept them to see if I could puzzle them out. I just didn’t know magic existed. Now I do. And I want to look over these gems and minerals to see if any are.”

Toby looked at his collection for a second. Then turned back to Jim. 

“But first I have a couple more questions about all this.” When Jim nodded, Toby took a deep breath. “Why did she try to kiss you when she was in your mom’s body?”

“Uhh, ha ha.” Jim hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his head. “I think we might be dating? Or something? I’m definitely in love with her. And she’s blown me kisses a few times, in my dreams. Maybe this was the first time she was actually able to give me a kiss?”

“You have a psychic girlfriend, who you’ve only seen in your dreams.”

“I saw her in person once!” Jim protested both the implication and the tone in Toby’s voice. 

“Honestly if I hadn’t seen it myself I would say you were making her up. Like a girlfriend in Canada.” Toby laughed, then grew serious. “Now my second question. How did your psychic girlfriend know my wife was pregnant before she did?”

“I-what?”

“I came home after checking in with my Nana. And Darci had just purchased a couple of pregnancy tests. She hadn’t used them yet. When she did they tested positive. All of them. Darci’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.” Toby’s voice swelled with pride. 

“Oh congrats! That’s amazing dude!”

“Yes it is. I’m hoping you will cook something amazing for the baby shower. But back to my question. How did your psychic girlfriend know my wife was pregnant? The last thing she said before she disappeared was ‘tell your wife congratulations.’ How did she know?”

“I guess it’s the psychic part of the psychic girlfriend?” Jim said weakly. But then he thought for a moment. “Claire first sensed me when I first made her food. I hadn’t changed the recipe at all yet, so maybe she was able to feel something from the food? And then she must have known about Darci, because of your dream and I dreamed about her too. She was able to sense my mom was in danger after taking me into her dream last week.”

Toby nodded while Jim continued to think. “So psychic network or something like that?”

“Yeah.” Jim shrugged. “That makes as much sense as any of my theories.”

“OK, not the best answer in the world, but better than nothing. Now I think some of the stones and minerals they put on my desk are probably magical. Take a look at these and tell me what you think.”

Jim looked over the rocks. There was green gem cut to show off beautiful facets, a stone that shown like a drop of sunlight. He gasped and grabbed a stone out of one of the boxes. The stone had an orange-red glow. His eyes shown as he looked at the stone. 

“This one is magic.” Jim said with a sudden certainty. Toby looked at the rock for a second. 

“But how do you know?” He asked. 

“Can’t you feel it? It’s warm, I can feel it almost has a heart beat!” Jim said staring at the stone. There was a pulsing warmth to it. He swore he could feel an energy coming off the stone. Toby pulled the label from the spot the stone had been sitting in and scratched out the name and quickly wrote in a new name. 

“Ok, Heartstone it is.” Toby said. “What properties would you guess it has?”

Jim looked closely at the stone, holding it tight. “Probably healing, rejuvenation. Things like that. It just feels good.”

Toby took the stone out of Jim’s hand and put it back in it’s case. Jim couldn’t help but feel disappointed as the stone left his hand. Toby was carefully writing in a notebook, then he pulled out another sample.  

“This one is chemically identical to the Heartstone, but obviously different.” The stone was cold and gray. Jim picked it up and his disappointment grew. It felt much like the other stone, but just a ghost of that feeling. 

“This is the same thing as the Heartstone. Just...dead? Like all the warmth got sucked out of it. It feels uncanny, like it’s not supposed to be that way.”

Toby scribbled in his notes. He also changed the name plate to Dead Heartstone

“That was one of the first things they gave me when I first started working there. They wanted me to identify it. And they also asked if I could reenergize it? I had no idea what that meant. Does it make any sense to you?”

Jim held the Dead Heartstone in his hand as he mulled it over. He wasn’t sure how, but he could feel the difference between the two. He just couldn't think of how to get this one back to how it should be. 

As he pondered, he thought of Claire. The feeling she left him with every time he saw her. The look on her face when she saw him. A warm feeling flowed through him. On impulse he focused on that warm feeling and breathed out onto the gem. 

Toby gasped as an orangish glow breathed out onto the stone. It flashed dully for a second before it faded. Jim turned to face his friend, both their mouths were hanging open. Toby was the first to recover himself. 

"So your psychic girlfriend gave you magic powers?" Toby's voice was high with shock. Jim could only stare, his eyes wide. 

"But it didn't stay?"

Toby took the piece out of his hand. "Keep practicing, maybe you'll get better. Now take a look at this one."

Jim was focusing on what he had done. Had Claire somehow given him magic powers? But that magic wasn't anything like hers. He put out his hand to accept the next sample. 

Toby dropped the stone into his hand and Jim was filled with such extreme revulsion. It was worse than if Toby had dropped a live squid, a massive spider or a dog turd in his hand, worse than all three at once even. The revulsion overpowered his senses and his reasoning. 

Jim dropped the rock like it had burned him and jumped back away from the table. He stumbled almost blind to the kitchen and came up with one of his knives in his hand, held defensively. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Jimbo, buddy, you ok?" Toby was keeping a slight distance from his knife wielding friend. His hands were up placatingly. 

Jim's hands shook as he returned his knife to the knife block. He looked at the hand that had held the strange rock. There was no mark or residue but he couldn't resist the urge to wash his hands. 

He pushed his hands under the steaming water, scrubbing them furiously. He washed his hands mindlessly for several minutes, reapplying soap multiple times, even grabbing the kitchen sponge to scrub them. He was startled out of his hand washing by Toby grabbing him in a side hug. 

"I'm sorry I had you touch that thing."

"Its ok." Jim said shortly. 

"It very obviously is not. I haven't seen you like this since high school. Remember when your mom's clinic had that code black? You couldn't get a hold of her and you skipped right over stress cooking to trying to scrub the skin off your hands?"

"I'm not trying to scr-" Jim looked closer at the growing stain on his hands he was trying to wash off and realized the stain was a raw patch, already red and chapped from the sponge. Without giving it another look Jim tossed the sponge in the trash. "Please don't make me touch that thing again."

"Don't worry, you can keep your distance." Toby was scrabbling under Jim's sink and came out a moment later with a pair of rubber gloves. He put them on and carefully picked up the strange rock. Jim kept his distance, and tried to fight the rising queasiness, as he tried to put the feeling into words. 

"It feels almost like the Heartstone, but like the complete opposite?" Jim noticed he was subconsciously rubbing his hand on his pants. He stopped himself with difficulty. "Like the Dead Heartstone felt exactly like the living one, just less. Like it had been drained away. But that one is the opposite, warmth replaced with cold, comfort replaced with…"

Jim struggled for a second to put into words the extreme feeling that had overcome him. While he talked Toby was packing the crystal away. Even in appearance the stone was the opposite of the Heartstone. It was black with sickly veins running through it. Toby wrapped the stone in several layers of paper, then a foil he pulled out from one of his cases and finally it went into alarge box. 

"Don't worry dude, I got a pretty good idea of the emotion you were trying to describe.” Toby finished packing the stone away and threw away the gloves he had been wearing. Jim breathed out a sigh of relief once it was gone and sat down heavily at this table. He watched as Toby took the placard and scratched out the old name and changed it to Corrupted Heartstone. He looked at the placard for a moment, tapping his pen against his lip. “Odd.”

“What’s odd? Other than magic rocks I guess.”

“You said this is the exact opposite of the Heartstone. Where the Heartstone heals this one hurts.” Toby paused, thinking hard. “But this one is synthetic.”

“What?”

“It’s man made. Presumably in the lab downstairs at 49-B. So that means someone created a compound either on purpose or on accident that harms people. Specifically magical people.”

Jim blanched at the thought. The feeling of revulsion in his mind would be hard to forget. If 49B created the stone to hurt people with magic, what could they be doing to Claire? So many thoughts whirled through his head. He would have to do something to help her. Whatever it took. 

“Toby, how do you feel about doing something illegal?” Jim asked. 

“With my wife pregnant I’m going to have insist that we have some kind of plan. I know that’s not like me, but I’d rather not spend my child’s formative years in prison.”

“Understandable.” Jim thought for a second. “Speaking of which you aren’t going to store the corrupted stone near your kid are you?”

The thought of a child growing up near that stone filled Jim with a sudden terror. 

“Don’t worry. I have some contacts up in Washington, near Hanford. They’ll make sure this thing disappears and is never found again.”

Toby started packing up his rock collection. Jim guessed he didn’t want to trigger another freakout. He couldn’t blame him. As he did so, one of the rocks caught his attention. It was a blue stone wrapped in a silver metal. 

“Wait what is that?” Jim said pointing to it. 

“No idea.” Toby said picking it up and tossing from hand ot hand. “I don’t even know what the metal here is. It has a lot of weird physical properties. But we don’t have to worry about this one. It’s not one of the ones the researchers gave me.”

“Really?��

“Yeah. I actually had this one since we were kids. I found it in a pile of rubble in the canals one day. It’s not related. I’m not even sure it’s magic.”

Jim’s eyes lit up. He stared at the stone wide eyed, holding out his hand for it. Toby hesitated for a moment before handing over the strange rock. As Jim grabbed it he could feel power flowing through him. He held it, turning it this way and that, his eyes shining. 

“It’s kind of cool, if you shine a light through it looks like daylight.” Toby said. 

“Daylight…” Jim breathed deeply as the words seemed to come to him. “Is mine to command.”

It felt like a bomb went off. There was a roar of power but only Toby and Jim reacted, nothing else in the apartment moved. Blue light flowed out of the rock, burning it’s way up and down Jim’s body. When the fire receded he was covered, head to toe in a silvery metallic armor. He looked at his hands and the armor there. He made eye contact with Toby, whose jaw was sitting on the ground. 

“That...that… that is so Cool!!” Toby said jumping up and running around him.   Jim laughed and clenched his hand into a fist. He could feel power coursing through his veins, just like every time he interacted with Claire, he could feel power radiating off of her. He put out his hand and white light blasted out shaking the room. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Toby spun in a little circle. “This like some magical destiny shit right here!”

“Yeah.” Jim said. He looked at the armor that was covering him. And he thought of the woman who was chained up in 49B. Maybe with this he could free her. He could feel the magic singing through his body, creating a chorus with Claire’s magic that had sat at the edge of his mind. In his mind’s eye he could see his blue fire dancing with her purple water. “I think you’re right.”

[harley-quinnn]

Not Afraid Anymore

Jared Leto x Reader

Prompt: Merry Christmas harls! ❤️ Can I request a Jared x reader based on Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey? It doesn’t have to be a song fic but the concept

{A/N} I kind of pictured this as a prelude to Violent Delight halfway into writing it, since I mentioned in that story that the reader had already met him at a show months prior! This was so fun and once I got to writing it, I couldn’t stop! It is not a song fic, but just based on the concept of the song. I hope ya like it, puddin’! xo Harley

Warnings: Sexy sex. Daddy kink, choking, gagging, a slap or two, teasing that probably killed me more to write. (Also a very, very disgruntled best friend.)

“I can’t believe we’re here!” You enthused, your wide eyed friend hopping in place a few times as she waited in line beside you.

You won them on the radio, the VIP tickets to the show. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should even try to call the station, but knowing just how badly you and your friend Claire wanted to attend the meet and greet with Thirty Seconds to Mars, you figured there was nothing to lose.

“God.. If he touches me, I’m going to scream,” Claire said emphatically, her eyes rolling back at the thought before she grabbed onto your shoulders. “What if we get invited to stay behind or something!?”

“Claire, please. It’s us and a million others right now. We should just be lucky we’re here at all,” you gently remind her, your eyes drifting toward the long line ahead of you, and then to the rest of it behind you.

She pouted, her perfectly rosy cheeks puffing out as she blew a few strands of brown hair from her angelic face, reminding you of an upset toddler.

“I can dream, can’t I?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yes! Of course. Just don’t get your hopes up too high,” you said.

Claire was the dreamer, always excited, always hoping for the most unlikely situation. She helped balance out your usual level-headed-ness. It was fun to play pretend, but you didn’t necessarily want to play groupie, you just wanted a chance to meet the man you adored; and adore him in your mind where no one could hear you scream as he stared you in the face and pretended to care that you were there.

It seemed like only seconds passed when the entire room began to shout with joy. Your eyes shut automatically as you lifted your brows, your hand reaching to rub your ear as you looked around the room again. Claire was hanging over the edge of the rope that held the line together, waving her thin, pale arm frantically at the front of the room. You decided it was safe to assume Jared and Shannon had finally arrived.

As much as you wanted to get caught up in the overwhelming wave of excitement, all you desired was to catch a glimpse of Jared up close and in the flesh. Try as you might- no dice. The other members of the crowd were in your way and weren’t willing to give up their spots to look at him so easily. You shrugged to yourself and hung back.

I’ll see him later.

Suddenly, you were being swept up in Claire’s arms, a rough hug capturing your frame as she raved.

“I saw him! I saw him! Oh my.. {Y/N}, he’s even more gorgeous up close!”

You forced a smile. You’d ruined her fun enough, you thought.

“Really? I can’t wait.”

“Well didn’t you see him?”

“No, but that’s okay! I will once we get closer.”

She nodded, her demeanor suddenly changing to something like feeling sorry for you as she pulled out her phone and opened the camera. She tousled her brunette locks from under the barrette she wore and reapplied her lipstick. You immediately knew what she was planning.

A pang of jealousy peaked in your chest as she puckered her pout in the camera. You were pretty, sure, but Claire had a way about her that even models didn’t possess. Should her little daydream come true, you were certain you’d have no part in it. Still, she was your best friend, and you set all those feelings aside to be happy for her. You gave a soft nudge to her side.

“You don’t need to do all that. I’m sure he’ll fall in love the moment he lays eyes on you.”

The color red that painted her cheeks was like none you’d seen before as she quickly put her phone and lipstick back in her pocket. She suddenly gave you a shy smile and an even shyer shrug.

The crowd roared again and the photos began. You could only catch glimpses of the camera flash, and hear his voice laughing and carrying on with fans amidst the chatter of everyone else. The line seemed to move agonizing slow; He seemed to take his time with everyone, and so did Shannon. Butterflies began to kick up in your stomach as you drew near enough to see his handsome face. Before you knew it, there was only one other person ahead of you. You’d both turned away from the scene, not wanting to lose your heads prematurely.

“We’re so close!” Claire squealed, clasping her hands together as she looked at you.

“You’re next!” You heard from behind, the familiar velvety voice that you’d grown so infatuated with over the years musically filling your ears.

Claire lost it, tears of joy welling up in her eyes as she pushed past you and headed right into Jared’s arms, embracing him in an unashamed hug. You quickly felt betrayed. She was hogging him all to herself, not even giving you a chance to say hello. When you finally approached them, he was teasing her; pulling the hat from her head, tracing his fingers over the writing on the sleeves of the bands shirt she had on. You were a ghost next to them as you approached Shannon, who automatically noticed your upset mood despite your forced grin.

“Don’t look so sad!” He said. “I’m not Jared but I’m just as cool. Better yet- cooler.”

“No! Oh my gosh, no. I love you!” You gushed, your emotions doing a complete turn around as he swept you into his arms for a big hug. You had almost forgotten about the scene playing out next to you.

Claire always got what she wanted.

The photographer gathered you, Claire, Jared and Shannon, and counted down for the photo. You smiled, despite feeling like you didn’t even get a chance to smile in Jared’s direction. You adored Shannon, and he was so kind. Though they both had your loyalty, Jared would always be your favorite.

A click of the camera and you were done. Just like that, you were being shuffled off by assistants to make room for the next fan. You gave Shannon another hug before he turned his attention to the person behind you. Your eyes remained on the floor as you passed by Claire giving Jared her last bits of affection in hopes for an invitation back to the tour bus, or wherever he might be staying. You bowed your head just slightly, becoming invisible and blending into the background just as you were used to.

Walking past them, you felt a knot in your stomach that pushed its way to your throat as you tried not to cry out of hurt and just a twinge of anger.

That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked, stopping you dead in your tracks as you came face to face with the Jared Leto.

“I..” You looked at Claire, who might as well have been hooked away from him like an actor in an old fashioned play. “I’m {Y/N}.”

Your eyes met his again, and you swallowed hard, trying to push the feeling of crying and excitement away all at once.

“Jared, we have to get going,” an assistant said, nervously eyeing the people next in line who were chatting with Shannon.

“I didn’t get to talk to {Y/N}, just give me a minute please,” he told her kindly and calmly, turning aside to speak to you.

You couldn’t believe he was stopping the entire order of things just to make sure he said hello to you. Maybe dreams did come true. Still, you felt bad for getting him in trouble and messing with the schedule.

“Thanks for coming. I’m glad to see you here,” he grinned.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” you said meekly, trying desperately to keep your blush at bay as you stood before him. “You don’t have to keep everyone waiting, though, I’ll get out of your way.”

“No, it’s okay! I love meeting you guys. It seems like we just didn’t get enough time together. Please, stay.”

Stay.

Where you had almost turned to leave, you shifted back to your position in front of him, finally allowing your eyes to really drink him in. He was tall and slender, his athletic build hidden under the long sleeved shirt he wore. His long locks were lustrous and his blue eyes reminded you cold pools on a hot summer day. His jawline could cut ice and his hands were masculine, but still held a touch of softness. An image of his hand trailing down your bare waist flashed in your mind, bringing the blush in your countenance forward again.

“Are you sure? I think my friend Claire sucked up enough camera time,” you joked shyly.

Every move he made was smooth as he rested his hand on your upper arm, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully at your statement.

“Oh, actually,” he started as though recalling a distant memory before turning to the photographer and assistant. “We didn’t get a picture together, let’s get one,” he said, waving his finger lightly at the camera before taking his place next to you.

His arm reached around you in a half-embrace, and what he said next, in a low and gentle tone, just loud enough for you to hear, shocked you.

“You’ve got a very beautiful face. The rest of you is just as amazing.”

There was no doubt your expression was full of surprise and bashfulness when the photographer looked at his camera’s screen and suggested taking a new photo.

“Take a few!” Jared enthused before looking down at you.

“Me?” You asked with a grin, suddenly surging with a confidence you knew was only going to last a few more minutes. “Did you tell Claire that, too?”

“Not so shy anymore, are we?” He smirked as the camera shutter sounded, your eyes fixed on his.

“She’s pretty, no doubt. But I prefer you. You weren’t clamoring for my attention like miss Dirty Diana over there,” he quipped, referencing the Michael Jackson song every musician knew like the back of their hand.

“Well, I don’t really need to fawn all over someone to get what I want,” you responded, and the look on his face screamed ‘impressed.’

“You ever try your luck with the devil, sweetheart?” He asked in a raspy tone, sending your senses atwitter. “When I play, I play to win.”

Claire was absolutely your best friend, but in the moment, she had already cast you aside in an attempt at Jared. You quickly peered over your shoulder as you noticed her still being shuffled back into the crowd that had already had their time with the band. Still hurt over her total disregard for you, you decided to look out for yourself instead of worry about her.

Your heart couldn’t pump fast enough as you continued to absorb his words. You quickly feel as though you’d just gotten yourself into something you’d been dying for, but hadn’t had time to prepare for. What you wanted, desired, was impure, and it seemed like he was just the man for the job.

“Game on, then,” you spoke just loud enough for him to hear, noticing a darker kind of smirk slide across his features shortly there after.

Though Claire had been the hopeful one all night, it seemed like you were getting your (and her) every dream. Lust was a hell of a drug, and it seemed he liked you more than just taking one hit.

The camera shuttered once more as he bent down to kiss your cheek for a photo, your eyes closing instantly with a flirty grin. Before he pulled away, he pressed his lips to your ear.

“Stay after the meet and greet.. Just you. For me?”

You looked back up at him, noticing the gleam in his eye as he pressed his palms together and gave you a pleading smile.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

His face lit up like the crystal ball on New Year’s Eve as he squeezed your shoulder and discreetly instructed the assistant to lead you to the green room of the venue. Her eyes snapped from yours to his, then back again before she sighed and obeyed his order- something you assumed happened quite often to anyone he may have spoken to.

“Come on,” she urged, clearly annoyed before walking past him and toward a large door.

You looked at Jared one last time, and he threw you a wink before turning to meet the people in line behind you with an enthusiastic expression.

Following closely behind the woman leading you past the door and down a hallway, your eyes roamed around the mostly empty space. She stopped at another door before pulling a key from her pocket and swiftly sliding it into the doorknob.

“It’s not everyday he asks this,” she assured you, but something in the back of your head told you otherwise.

“Just take a seat anywhere,” she said again as the door popped open, revealing a large room void of anyone else, clad with couches, snacks and vintage arcade and pinball machines that silently flashed fun colors. “And please don’t talk to anyone else. I could get in so much trouble for this.”

The atmosphere of the room was nothing like you were expecting. It was dimly lit, one would even say completely dark, save for the bright glowing neon signs that hung on the walls paired with lava lamps and faux candles that falsely burned on tables. It was an aesthetic dream as you stepped inside, and it took an immense amount of effort not to lose your head over the room itself.

When you turned to thank her, she had already disappeared, the door cracked open just an inch. You suddenly felt unsure of why you were there. He could’ve had anyone else.. Claire, mostly. Why me? You moved to plop down on one of the couches and pull your phone from your pocket. A sense of dread washed over you at the thought of checking your texts, knowing Claire’s name would be there. Cringing, you unlocked your phone.

Thirty-seven new text messages. Only one of them was from your mom hoping you were having a good time. You replied to her without bothering to glance at Claire’s messages before locking your phone again. She would just have to deal with it.

A bowl of skittles on the table looked awfully appetizing as you soaked in the room, leaning forward from the couch to pick at it. Even the flavors seemed to come alive more than usual as you awaited his appearance in the doorway.

Time passed quickly, too quickly as your heart hammered in your chest harder with every passing moment. Before too long, you stood up, thinking of leaving.

But, what if?

It was a chance you didn’t want to take. Instead, you walked toward the arcade machines, lingering around them slowly as you thought about just what happened tonight. It was even more unnerving to think about what was possibly to come.

You weren’t as experienced as your friend, but you knew enough. Though you’d had the chance to act on your deepest fantasies, something always held you back. It was a strange fear that kept you; maybe of attachment, maybe of simply liking it too much. Because of that you remained vanilla most of your sexual life, save for the places you’d gotten down and dirty.

You’d heard the rumors about him, you’d seen the signs in his music and in his speech. The gifs on Tumblr and the way he like to tease the audience during concerts. Still, there was the slightest pang of worry as you wondered if that was what he was expecting. If he assumed you’d be just as into the darker side as he was.

You wanted it, him and all things that came with him, there was no doubt about it. Who wouldn’t want him? But that faint panic started running through your body as you realized if those rumors were true, you wouldn’t just be on your back on the couch for twenty minutes. You’d be apart of something darker, rougher; something sickeningly beautiful.

Your skin crawled at the thought. You wanted to try it so badly, to finally give up control and act on impulse. The fear almost melted away as another image flashed through you mind; his hand pulling on your hair, his teeth in your neck. There was electricity in the air as you caught yourself breathing just a bit heavier, running your finger along the tops of the arcades and pinball machines one by one as you walked past them as slow as molasses.

He seemed into me- maybe laid on the charm a little thick.. but if he didn’t like me at all, he wouldn’t have. Would he? Sure, he teased Claire, but he didn’t ask her to stay behind. He could have anyone tonight.. he could have anyone ever. Why me?

Your thoughts trailed back to what the woman said as she opened the door in the first place.  

“But why?” You asked yourself quietly in the silence of the room.

“Because you’re different,” the intoxicating voice you’d know anywhere chimed in from the doorway, starling you as you curtly turned to face him.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you coming,” you said, a soft, nervous laugh escaping you.

“You will,” he quipped quickly before continuing on, the joke making your emotions leap. “Sorry, that took a little longer than usual. It was a crazy crowd tonight.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to the same bowl of skittles on the table, picking up a handful and walking towards you.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, attempting with every ounce of might not to lose your mind completely as you watched his every move in awe. He was even more charming and enamoring alone, without having to keep a guard up to defend himself from hundreds of people at once. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip gently, you turned around quickly to hide your face from him, absentmindedly eyeing the flashing pinball machine you’d stopped in front of.

“You like them?” He asked as he stood next to you, gesturing to the glowing machines.

“Oh yeah. They remind me of my childhood, actually. I used to hang out at the arcade and.. do stupid stuff with my friends.”

“I always liked the green room here. Every venue is different, but this one stuck with me.”

His attitude was cool and aloof, but never to the point of completely uncaring. It was immediately disarming as you cracked a smile.

“You must see the inside of so many of these places.”

“I do,” he said. “Everywhere is different. But sometimes, you find that one element that makes a place worth remembering.”

“Just one? What’s the element here?” You asked, curious.

“Tonight, it’s you.”

Your breath remained in your lungs as you stilled beside him, your eyes daring to drift from the pinball machine to meet his heart stopping gaze. Every time you looked at him felt like the first time. Your words weren’t available to you as you held his stare. The tension building couldn’t be cut with a knife, but rather something more of a chainsaw as you tried to gather yourself.

“Don’t be nervous,” he finally said, his tone soft as he stepped back a bit. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s really not the case,” you quickly responded, you eyes closing for just a second. “I’m, so, so far from uncomfortable.”

Where you had no words before, you were suddenly revealing too much. Nervous, yes, uncomfortable, absolutely not. It was bad enough you were completely infatuated with him, it was even worse he was into you, too- even worse in all the good ways, anyway. If only for the night.

You were stuck between going as far as you’d always wanted, to politely declining anything other than a hug and a conversation and being on your way. In that moment, you refused the thought of the latter.

“Are you?” He asked, his tone gruff, yet still soft.

“Yes,” you assured, your voice breathier than you anticipated it to be. “But I am a little intimidated.”

He noticed it too, breathing a soft chuckle as he moved to push some hair from your face, his hand staying on the side of your head tenderly.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t intend that.. Not maliciously, or anything,” he added nonchalantly with a faint, lighthearted grin.

A soft giggle emitted from your lips and you rolled your eyes playfully before his hand slid from your head to the side of your neck. When his eyes traveled from yours to your lips, you could almost hear the blood rushing to your cheeks again.

“Do you always blush so easily?” He smirked. “It’s precious.”

Bringing a hand to your cheek, words spilled past your lips without any way to control it. “You’re just, far more handsome than even I expected,” you gushed and looked away, unable to reel it back as your hand gripped onto the pinball machine behind you. “And I can’t help but want you.”

Your breathing grew staggered as he moved closer. There was something even more alluring about him in person, and you knew you were about to crumble to pieces when he leaned in and gripped onto your chin, turning you to face him in a rougher manner than you were used to.

“How do you want me?” he asked under his breath, leaning over you against the machine as his free hand gripped onto it beside you.

That was all you needed. The darker, submissive side to you would be hidden away no longer. There was something you needed that you felt only he could give you. His grip got just a bit tighter on your chin as you inhaled, holding his dangerous gaze. The masochistic craving you felt in your loins was insatiable as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Hard and fast,” you breathed, your slightly trembling hand moving to grip onto the collar of shirt as he leaned you back just a bit more. “Destructive.. I’m not afraid anymore.”

He didn’t waste any time. He picked you up and threw you onto the pinball machine, his lips meeting yours like there was a magnet attracting him to you. His kiss was suffocatingly deep as he parted your lips, smearing your nude-colored lipstick on your mouth as his hands explored your body. The taste of his lips was sweet as the candy he’d just ingested, sending you into a whirlwind of heaven. Still trembling just slightly, you moved your hand to touch his flesh; to finally get what you’d been dying to have for years. You hardly realized you were digging your fingers into his back when he pulled away for just a moment, ripping his shirt off of his toned body and exposing the tattoo on his chest you’d always dreamt of running your tongue over. You kicked your heels off quickly, wrapping your ankle behind his body as the intensity heightened between you.

He tugged you down closer to the edge of the surface he had you on, ripping your shirt off before pressing his lips back to yours with a force to them you’d never felt from anyone before. Your nether regions burned with a desire that you’d only heard of in movies as you pushed back, kissing him with same fervency he was giving you. A soft groan filled the air, and it was all Jared needed to hear as his hands tugged at your jeans, yanking them down your legs and dropping them to the floor. Without warning, you felt his hand on your barely clothed sex, pressing his fingertips against it roughly.

“Such a sweet girl, and yet so filthy..” he growled as his lips trailed down your neck roughly; a mixture of bites and kisses peppering your skin.

You brought his head against your flesh harder, your eyes falling shut as you moaned under his touch. The emotions and sensations within you bubbled like champagne in a glass with every word he spoke. There was no stopping the immense amount of arousal that he inflicted on you with every coy sentence; with every ounce of affection.

“Harder,” was all you could manage, and he swiftly obeyed.

His teeth sunk further into your skin, his finger rubbing circles over your engorged clit before slapping it a few times. Each slap sent a warm electric shock from your core to every other centimeter of your body, eliciting a new, delicate moan from you every time.

“Already, sweetheart?” He taunted softly. “Damn, such a fucking slut for daddy.. And I haven’t even fucked you, yet.”

His voice was gruff and full of lust as he spoke. He stood up again, shoving you down onto the pinball machine, rattling the pieces inside of it as his hand gripped around your throat. His other hand moved to tear your panties off your body. You gasped, opening your legs for him as he stood between them, rubbing his groin against your core through his pants. You watched as he bit his lower lip, his eyes roaming over your body lecherously as he gave your neck another squeeze. There was no question he was getting harder in his pants as he did so. It was enough to get you going even more, the thought of being the reason he needed you just as and much as you needed him.

“Then fuck me.. I want you to push me completely.. No limits,” you begged.

He lifted a brow with a smirk, his eyes landing on your pussy, glistening under the buzzing neon lights as he drew a breath between his teeth. It all drove you further up the wall with every passing second. He was addicting already, like a sweet kind of venom that you never knew you needed rushing through your bloodstream.

“No limits, huh?” he pondered, his hand moving to pull his length from his pants, still pinning you down with the other.

“None. I want it all. All your wrath..”

“Such dirty words coming from such an innocent face, {Y/N}..” he said, tapping the head of his shaft against your swollen folds a few times, eliciting a whimper from you.

With one, quick thrust, he pushed his large member into your core, your mouth slightly agape as you inhale at the sudden pleasure laced with the slightest twinge of a blissful pain. He was bigger than you were expecting, filling you up with no issue, but as he began to rock back and forth, the sensation quickly melted into nothing but pure, unadulterated euphoria. There was nothing like it, the high he had you running off of as you fit his rigid member like a glove.

“Oh, daddy..” you mewled, not used to such a filthy term coming from your lips, but aroused even more just at the opportunity to use it.

Jared picked up the pace, his hand dragging itself down your breasts before squeezing each of them over your favorite bra. Your leg pushed him even closer to your body as it bounced underneath him. He slid his hand beneath your bra next, pinching and tugging at your taut nipples as you moaned out his name, watching him bite into his lip as you did so.

Your senses tinged right along with his own as your shoulder blades pressed against the hard glass surface he had you on top of. When you moved to prop yourself up on your shoulder, his hand quickly met your cheek with a slap before smearing his thumb over your lip and grabbing your chin again, shoving you back down against the machine as he thrusted into you harder, his fingertips connecting with you cheek again. Your tight walls clenched around his solid cock, only offering the both of you more friction to get off on as he kept it up.

“You don’t move unless I move you,” he rasped, his hand moving to rub your clit again, this time with more pressure.

You were on cloud nine as you took every inch as deeply as he could possibly give it to you, crying out between gasps. His grunting was temperature rising, his moaning almost too hot for you to handle, and when saw his hand move to tear the belt that hung on his pants from its place, a whole new sensation of need appeared.

Your back arched as he ran it over your skin, the material was cold and smooth as he curtly leaned over you, and held it over your mouth, his hands on either side of your head as he fucked into you relentlessly.

It was obvious, plainly obvious, that he was only using you to tease himself as he began to slow down, towering over your helpless frame as one hand gripped onto the back of the pinball machine above you, the other squeezing your own breast with an eagerness to feel everything at once. His skin was just slightly damp as he pulled his thick cock out slowly, then pushing into your sweet spot again at the same pace, over and over.

“That tight little pussy is all mine, isn’t it kitten?” he groaned, his expression intense as he watched you with the belt over your mouth.

You bit into it, whimpering with a nod as your nails clawed at his shoulder, next. Your hips lifted to collide with his groin as you tilted your head back against the machine. He let go for a moment, the material still hanging over your mouth as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. His hand swiftly met your backside, slapping it violently with a firm squeeze before he leaned back over you and held the belt down again. His cock hit your g-spot with such a mouthwatering deliciousness, that you began to feel overwhelmed with pleasure; tears forming in your waterline. All you wanted was more of him, to feel the beautiful release that he was building you up to. Your stomach was in glorious, anticipatory knots as he continued.

“So helpless, trying to play with me like you can handle it..”

He lifted the belt just a bit so you could respond, a glint in his eye as he smirked down at you, still thrusting slowly.

“I can, baby..” you assured, your tone just as helpless as he knew it would be; just as desperate to please him.

With that, he pushed into you all at once again roughly, a cry falling from your lips as your chest heaved. You were close, so close. How he managed to get this far himself was beyond you as he chuckled, low and sensually.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?” he asked, taunting you now as he mercilessly stroked into you harder.

“Oh, fuck.. Yes, daddy! Fuck me!”

Your pussy throbbed around him, leaving you no time to keep your climax at bay as you finally let go. When he noticed you were at the finish line, he threw the belt aside and reached for your neck, squeezing it just right as your body writhed in response. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your veins, sending a warm, sizzling sensation through your core. When he felt your walls squeeze his length repeatedly, he let himself go, too. A carnal groan bolting out of him like a freight train as his thrusts grew harder and animalistic. Riding out his ecstasy only helped you into another release as your overstimulated center sent nerve singing ripples of the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt- alone or with someone else.

“That’s right baby, cum for daddy.. Let me feel that pussy cum just for me,” he groaned into the open air.

Your pulsing clit was sensitive, only growing increasingly more sensitive as he reached to slap it over and over before his hands slid to grip onto your hips violently, thrusting into you with the same urgency as before.

Leaving you breathless and senseless all at once while he spilled inside of you was just the game he wanted to play. His fingers digging into your soft skin was painful, adding to the amazing feeling between your thighs as your swollen pussy swallowed his throbbing shaft with ease.

Jared’s eyes were glued to yours as you shuddered beneath him, watching your every reaction intently. It only got him off even harder on the fact that it was all because of him. The immense wetness that was dripping from your center made him slide in and out of you swiftly, your moaning turning into a soft whining as he slowed down, pushing back into you a few more times before finally pulling out with a sigh of satisfaction.

He set your legs back down and pulled at his pants, fixing himself again as you laid on the pinball machine, heaven in your eyes and mind. Suddenly, you wondered if you were going to be able to walk at all as a soreness replaced the fullness you’d just felt.

Giving into him, getting what you wanted, it all felt surreal as you looked up at the ceiling. The sex was rough and on fire, a total one-eighty from what you were used to. It was exciting, and honestly? Igniting. You wanted more of him, so much more. You wanted the darkness and the rage; the violence and the loss of control. You’d just gotten it all, but you were still hungry for him; still hungry for more. If what you’d just experienced was any indication, you were fast on your way to the sick and twisted desire you shared with him, no longer afraid to give it and receive it. Jared had satisfied you thoroughly, but as you laid on the pinball machine with an aching between your legs, you realized when it came to him, there was no way you’d ever be completely finished

A deep breath was all you allowed yourself before sitting back up, the puddle underneath you coating the back of your thighs as you looked for your clothes on the floor. He moved to pick up your jeans and panties, handing them back over to you with a smirk.

“Do you live around here?” he asked, and you almost couldn’t believe he’d moved into regular conversation so quickly.

You reminded yourself that he was Jared Leto, after all. You were probably just one out of a million when it came to tour flings. You attempted to shake the envy quickly.

“Yeah, just about twenty minutes away,” you breathed, still trying to bring yourself back down as you carefully took your clothes back.

You slid off of the pinball machine and into the articles of clothing he handed back to you.

“I get back home in a few months.. Maybe we can hang out again.”

The snort that escaped you wasn’t meant to be rude, but it was inevitable.

“You want to see me again?”

He mocked the expression on your features playfully with a light chuckle. “Of course I do. Are you kidding?”

You grabbed your shirt off the floor, slipping into it and looking at him meekly.

“Sorry, I just.. You’re.. You know, you can have anyone.” “Oh, I just spent all that time giving you my undivided attention and you still think I’d want to give it to someone else?”

“I know how you sweet talking band guys work,” you retorted, showing him you weren’t just another naive girl, even if you felt like it.

“So you’ve done this before?” he quipped, a sly grin on his features.

“No! I just.. Assume. You’re all a special kind of breed..” You stammered, huffing and regrouping as he stepped closer to you. “ What I meant is, I don’t expect you to all of a sudden be in love with me endlessly and want to give up.. Tour life,” You stated, knowing he knew exactly what you meant.

He chuckled again softly, shaking his head as he wrapped a hand around your waist, looking down into your {E/C} eyes.

“Where’s your phone? I’ll give you my personal line.”

You hesitated, studying his expression as you reached into your back pocket, suddenly glad it didn’t slip out during your rendezvous. When you pulled your phone out, he took it gently from your hand, unlocking it to put his number into your contacts.

“Claire is pissed,” he joked, drawing out his words as he lifts his brows, his thumb scrolling through the thread.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve been mad that he went through your messages with her like that. However, he was different already, and she was showing her ass.

“Oh, yeah… She was hoping it would was going to be her getting railed tonight. Definitely not me.”

He laughed, looking at you and saving his contact.

“Getting railed, huh? Such a lady,” he joked.

You blushed in return as he slipped your phone into your back pocket for you, a soft giggle emitting from your chest as he gave your rear a firm squeeze. A faint pain made itself known under his hand from where he’d spanked you earlier, and you chewed on your lower lip.

“You know there’s more where that came from, right? Pushing your limits.. I’ve barely started.”

His icy stare landed on yours, a silent moment hanging between you as your breath hitched nervously in your chest all over again. Something told you if he did ever call you again, he’d just keep going. He’d keep going harder and harder every time you saw each other, until you were completely devoted to his every need. You were about to respond when-

“{Y/N}! What the fuck! How could you just leave me like that?!” you heard Claire calling out, the door swinging open and slamming into the wall behind it.

“As if on cue..” he said under his breath to you.

You jumped, trying to calm back down as Jared turned to face her.

“You must be Claire,” he grinned, and she automatically melted at his presence.

“Oh, yes.. Hi, again,” she said, pouring the flirt on thick. “Fancy meeting you here, babe.”

He only smiled, turning back to you and pulling you close with one arm before leaning in to plant a passionate kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, he winked and headed for the door. “Text me your address. I’ll call you when I’m back,” he said, grabbing his shirt from the couch he threw it on in the heat of your moment and walking cockily out of the room. “Be good, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your lips as you thought about what just happened. When you turned to Claire, you saw envy, confusion and rage written all over her features as she seethed, practically chomping at the bit to ask what the hell any of that was; but she didn’t need to ask. You simply shrugged, suddenly uncaring of her behavior.

“What can I say? He’s one hell of a guy.”

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thank you for reading this far. I really appreciate it. I still get nervous posting each chapter. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Warning: bit NSFW towards the end

Chapter 8: A Dinner Invitation

“Her cuisine is limited but she has as good an idea of breakfast as a Scotchwoman.” Sherlock Holmes― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Naval Treaty

Jamie hesitated for a minute before he knocked on the door of the flat. He was slightly nervous, which he didn’t really understand. Since their first dinner, they had met twice more - once for a walk and a coffee before Claire had to return to work, and once for a drink. In his eyes, both had gone really well. And presumably in Claire’s eyes too, as she had extended this invitation for Jamie to come to her flat for dinner. Perhaps that was where the nervousness came from. Jamie felt like Claire had built a safety barrier around her, for her own emotional protection and for him to be willingly invited through the barrier into her safe haven was a great honour. Jamie didn’t want to let her down. He took a deep, calming breath and knocked on the door.

The door opened and a rich smell filled Jamie’s nostrils. Claire stood on the threshold, her hair a wild array, wearing a striped butcher’s apron and brandishing a large wooden spoon. She greeted him with a warm kiss, her mouth tasting of garlic and tomato. She nimbly pulled away before Jamie had a chance to extend the kiss.

“Welcome, welcome. Come on in.”

Jamie followed Claire through the hallway and into the main living room.

“I’ve brought ye a bottle,” he said, handing her a bottle bag emblazoned with ‘Happy Birthday’ in silver sparkly lettering. “Sorry about the bag, picked it up in a hurry. Consider it a late birthday gift for yer last birthday, Sassenach.”

Claire lifted the bottle out. “Oh, wow, that’s really special. And possibly the latest or earliest birthday gift I’ve ever received.”

She careful placed the bottle of Broch Tuarach Special Reserve whisky on the coffee table. “Thank you so much. I’ll look forward to some sampling after dinner.”

Gently running her fingers down his forearm, she looked into his eyes and smiled. Returning to her normal brisk manner, she explained, “I can’t cook many things, but my lasagne is not bad at all. Pour yourself a glass of wine. It’s on the dining table; I just need to pop it in the oven. Be back in a minute.”

Jamie poured himself a glass of wine - red, he noticed, the same as they had ordered at the restaurant the week before - and looked around. Although the room itself was decorated in neutral tones, creams and beiges on the walls, natural wood plantation shutters at the large bay window, there was a relaxed and homely feel due to the accessories Claire had chosen. Earth toned plaid throws and cushions adorned the cosy-looking sofa. A yucca plant, standing at least as tall as Jamie himself, graced one corner. Another corner held a floor to ceiling bookcase crammed with an eclectic mix of books: some medical, some on plants and herbs, some murder mysteries, Jane Austen novels, Beatrix Potter tales and Winnie the Pooh. One shelf was dedicated to old history textbooks. Entwined around the bookcase was a set of fairy lights, casting a glow over all the books. Jamie reached over and ran his fingers over the spines.

With the lasagne in the oven and the salad already made, Claire knew that dinner was well in hand. She took a big gulp of her wine. Really, she seemed to be developing quite a taste for red wine. The key thing, she told herself, was not to drink too much tonight. She wasn’t totally sure yet how the evening would end, but she wanted to be sober enough to make conscious decisions, and to enjoy herself no matter what happened. Sex with Jamie had featured heavily in her thoughts over the past week. Claire wasn’t sure it had ever been like this with Frank, or perhaps it had and those memories had just faded away to be replaced by those of criticisms, nit-picking and uncomfortable silences.

Claire took another gulp of wine as she picked up the salad bowl. What will be, will be, she told herself, heading back into the living room.

As she entered, she found Jamie standing, looking at her books. “Quite a wide selection ye have here.” he commented.

Claire felt herself reddening slightly. The books were her treasured possessions, they were what defined her. She didn’t usually explain their importance to people, didn’t usually want to. But she wanted Jamie to know her, to understand her, to deepen the connection she knew was there.

“Those books are so important to me. The medical ones, obviously, for my job, my vocation. Medicinal plants and herbs is a real passion of mine, one I’d like to develop in the future.”  

She moved closer. “As a teenager I fell in love with Jane Austen’s books. Feisty women, strong men… what’s not to love? I even had pictures of Mr. Darcy on my bedroom wall. The history books belonged to Uncle Lamb. I kept them with me after he died. He was a professor at Oxford, specialising in the Crusades. Every holiday, we’d be off, following the steps of those Crusaders.”

“Like Indiana Jones?”

“Not nearly so adventurous, lots of walking, lots of libraries, lots of late night discussions with fellow historians, occasional digging. No spies or nazis. Most danger was being chased by dogs in Antakya. Me running ‘til I thought my chest would burst, Uncle Lamb panting beside me and yelling insults in Turkish to the dogs. I must have been about nine or ten.”

There was a brief silence before Claire started talking again. “The Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh are mine from when I was a child. I don’t have many things from my mum and dad, don’t even have many memories of them. I was only five when they died in a car accident. But what I do remember is lying in my bed, Mum on one side of me, Dad on the other and them reading these to me… Mum doing the narrative bits, dad doing the voices, you know, Eeyore, Tigger, Piglet and so on. I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world, having parents who could read stories so well. And that image, that memory, that’s what I want for my children...” Her voice tailed off, now afraid she had shared too much.

Jamie pulled her close, her head nestling against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, calm, steady, reassuring. One large hand cradled her head, the other spanned her back. He radiated warmth and security.

“Och, lass.” he whispered.

“And the fairy lights,” Claire continued. “I know they’re a bit twee, but after my parents died, when I went to live with Lamb, I had difficulty sleeping, was scared of the dark. Lamb set up fairy lights in my bedroom, told me that mum and dad were now stars in the sky and the fairy lights represented those stars, to remind me that they were watching over me as I slept. So they’re always here with me. Silly, I know.”

“It’s no’ silly at all. It’s beautiful, Sassenach. Yer uncle must have been a rare man.”

“Oh, he was. To take on someone else’s child, full time… I never felt unloved or a burden to him. Even though I must have cramped his style no end!”

A bell rang out from the kitchen. Claire pulled out of Jamie’s embrace. “Time to eat.”

“Just one more question… why the murder mystery books?”

Claire turned as she headed for the kitchen. “Never know when those techniques may come in handy.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows mischievously.

******

Claire was wrong, Jamie thought as he leant back in his dining chair, stuffed with lasagne. Her lasagne was not ‘not bad’, actually it was fantastic.

“That was great.” He complimented enthusiastically.

“Now you know the extent of my culinary skills… lasagne, salad… oh, and I can do a pretty good bacon sandwich. But that’s more a breakfast thing though.” She stopped abruptly, scared of giving him the wrong (or was it the right?) impression. “Would you like a dessert? I have some ice cream, or sorbet. Or would you like a coffee? I can make some proper stuff.”

“Nay, I’m fit tae bursting here. What I would like is fer us to sit on the sofa and I will educate ye in the proper way tae drink that whisky.”

“Suits me fine. I’ll go and get some glasses.”

Claire returned to find Jamie sitting on the sofa, opening the whisky bottle. She placed the heavy crystal tumblers on the table together with an ice bucket. Jamie looked at her and pursed his lips tightly.

“First rule of whisky: no ice. It crushes the flavour, ye ken. And when it melts ye canna control how it dilutes the whisky. If ye like ye can add a wee bit of water tae open up the flavours, but try it w’out first. Glasses are good, though. Heavy base, nice. If ye want tae sniff it first, ye can use tulip-shaped glasses, but these look better.” He poured a generous measure into the glasses and handed one to Claire. “Slainte. Tell me what ye think.”

Claire sipped the whisky, savouring the complex flavours. “That’s wonderful. There’s a sweetness to it, it somehow reminds me of fruit cake, like at Christmas.” She lifted the bottle, studying the label.

“That’s verra good. Ye’ve quite the palate. This is aged in sherry barrels, that’s the sweet fruitiness.”

“Hang on,” Claire read the label again. “The distillery name here, it says ‘Fraser and Sons’. Is that you?”

“Aye, I’m the son... weel, technically I’m the great, great, great however many times grandson. But, aye, my da heads up the distillery. He’s the CEO. He lives up there in the village, Broch Mordha.”

“And that’s what you’ll do when he retires?”

“Nothing’s ever certain. Perhaps. We have shareholders, ye ken. Mebbe they’ll no’ want me. But it would be an honour to follow on from my da. He’s a great man.”

“And I’m sure his son will be just as great.”

Jamie shrugged nonchalantly, but Claire could tell he was pleased by the compliment. Claire took another sip as Jamie watched, her lips moistened by the whisky. She looked up at him as he lifted her glass and placed it gently on the table. The room was suddenly filled with tension, like static electricity, sparks shooting between them, emanating from their very cores.

Almost as if in slow motion, Claire raised her hand and placed the palm on Jamie’s chest, feeling the hardness of those muscles and his heartbeat speeding up with each breath. As she moved her fingers, she could feel his wiry chest hairs though the thin fabric of his shirt. He was so strong and big and… and any thoughts of playing it cool rushed right out of her head as she leant forward to touch her lips to his. She felt Jamie’s arms wrap around her tightly and she was lost. She opened her lips under his, letting her tongue slide inside his mouth, feeling his entwine with hers. His hands rubbed against her back as he pulled her onto his lap. His arousal pressed hard against her and she felt her own response deep within.

Jamie was the first to break the kiss. Locking eyes with Claire, he asked hoarsely “Are ye sure about this? I dinna want ye tae do anything ye may regret. Ye’ve no’ had too much tae drink, have ye?”

In response, Claire stood up and pulled Jamie to his feet. With fingers intertwined, she led Jamie out of the room, across the hallway and to her bedroom. He stopped her at the door, keeping her firmly in his grasp.

“Are ye sure?” He asked again, running his hand down the side of her face.

She nodded wordlessly and pulled him into the room, closing the door behind them. The room was dimly lit with one small bedside light. Claire moved to turn it off. Jamie stopped her. “If ye dinna mind, I want tae look at ye.”

Standing beside the bed, Claire ran her hands up under Jamie’s shirt, over his chest, and down his back. She slid her hands under the waistband of his jeans to his firm buttocks.  

Jamie lowered his head to her neck, peppering her skin with a trail of feathery kisses from her earlobe and down her neck. His fingers hurriedly undid the buttons of her shirt creating a path for his kisses to continue their descent into the cleft between her breasts. Claire threw her head back, letting the sensation of his lips wash over her and then gasped as Jamie lifted her up and placed her on the bed in one motion. She smiled up at him as he sat down beside her and pulled her shirt off her shoulders. She raised slightly from the bed and shrugged it off, not caring where it landed, just desperate for the contact of skin on skin.

Turning his attention to her jeans, Jamie quickly unzipped them and tugged them down as Claire lifted her hips to aid this process. Finally free of the jeans, Jamie groaned out loud at the sight of her lying on the bed, clad in her cream lace bra and panties. Jamie could clearly see her nipples outlined through the fabric, already erect demanding his touch. Through the lacy panties, he could see the dark shadow of her pubic hair. He knew, if he touched her, how wet she would be.

Claire pulled at his shirt. “Take it off.” She pleaded.

Jamie rose from the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Claire reached out to pull him down to her but teasingly he stepped away, prolonging the tension. He undid his trousers and bent down to pull them off, fumbling momentarily on the ground.

“Socks,” He explained, grinning. “They’re no’ verra sexy.”  

Claire could clearly see the extent of his arousal through his tight white trunks. Sitting up, she ran her hands up his thighs, cupping his balls before curling her fingers in the waistband and pulling the trunks cleanly down. They joined the rest of their discarded clothes on the floor as he stepped out of them. Without thinking, she ran her fingers along his length, revelling in the contrast of hardness and velvet softness. She could hear his intake of breath at her touch.

Still without touching her, Jamie lay on his side next to her on the bed. His eyes moved back to the cream lace of her bra, staring intently. His tongue moistened his lips. Claire felt desperate for his hands on her body.

“Jamie,” she whispered.  

Finally, he touched her, his hand lazily moving across her abdomen, tracing circles round her navel before coming to rest with the underside of her breast nestling in the palm of his hand. His thumb stroked her lace covered nipple. She looked into his deep blue eyes, filled with lust and could hold back no longer.

Claire pushed him onto his back and stretched one leg over to straddle his hips. Kneeling up, she reached behind and unhooked her bra, letting it fall down her arms. Instinctively, his hips rose up, his erection pressing insistently against her core, sending sparks of excitement through her body. Jamie tugged her forward and she fell against his chest. Cupping her breasts, he moved under her, fitting her against him so he could taste her breasts, each one in turn.

As Jamie alternated from breast to breast, Claire began to grind against him, striving to increase the sensations through her body. She moved against him restlessly and slid down his body, licking and nibbling down his chest then lower and lower until he felt her head resting against his groin. He bucked against her mouth and pulled her back up. “Not now,” he growled against her throat, “I need tae be inside ye.” With one swift move, he lay Claire on her back, hovering above her and slid her panties down. Claire kicked her legs to free herself from them.

“Wait.” Claire reached into a bedside cabinet, producing a small foil packet. “Please.”

She handed it to Jamie. He quickly ripped the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on. Claire opened to him and Jamie slid one large finger down, slowly teasing her.

Finally, he could stand it no longer. Claire stared up into his eyes as she felt him moving within her. Her pleasure built in time with the rhythm of Jamie’s movements back and forth, plunging deeply and withdrawing almost completely, trying to prolong the excitement he felt. He reached his hand between them and quickly found what he was looking for. Rubbing in time with his strokes, he could feel Claire’s muscles tensing round him, her deep moans growing in intensity.

As Claire’s orgasm took hold of her whole body, Jamie withdrew his hand and with a guttural cry, he climaxed. They lay together, still joined, breathing heavily as their heart rates slowly returned to normal. Moving onto his back, Jamie nestled Claire against his chest, kissing the top of her head.

He whispered something against her hair. Claire raised her head.

“What did you say?”  She asked.

“Sorcha - your name in Gaelic. It means light. Like in the French, aye? Clair is light. Ye have yer fairy lights and now I have ye, my Claire, my Sorcha.”

[sparklingchan]

Mischief Managed || Kim Doyoung(NCT 127)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Doyoung

Word count : 7k+

Warnings : A few cuss words here and there, gets suggestive towards the end, not proof read I’m sorry :(

Genre : Fluff, a hint of angst , romance, Hogwarts au, fake dating au.

Description: You are forced to befriend Kim Doyoung under unexpected circumstances but as two lonely souls meet, you find yourself enjoying his company a little too much.

A/N : I had the idea for this fic while I was travelling but I was too lazy to actually write it until recently. Harry Potter aus just never seem to bore me no matter how many times I write them ( it’s fate at this point XD)

Hi, dumblr please don’t EAT MY GODDAMN POSTS. Thank you.

This is for the #neohalloween evented hosted by @nct-writers​ <3

Enjoy!

Doyoung is bad at taking criticism. Not even sulky bad but angry, tantrum throwing bad. He'd rather be slapped than criticized. Metaphorically, of course.

"What do you mean she won't go on a date with me?" Doyoung hisses ,his voice an octave lower than usual. The bedroom consisting of three noisy boys suddenly falls silent at his words. For the first time in forever.

Jaehyun shifts in his place , the soft mattress dipping under his weight. He looks at his friend full of concern. "Look , you're not the only person trying to ask her out. I heard that some Gryffindor boys were trying to shoot their shot this morning. And that's just the beginning."

Doyoung clenches his blanket into his fists, "Claire is mine. They can't have her."

Johnny scoffs from his bed , his eyes never leaving the book he had been reading from the past one week, "Are you sure the sorting hat did a good job by putting you into Ravenclaw? That pride of yours sure does sound like Slytherin to me."

"Oh shut up. That's not even the point right now. I need Claire to go on a date with me. It's not a matter of interest anymore, it's a matter of pride. I will not back down just because there's competition." Doyoung shoots back.

The boys' room erupts with Johnny and Jaehyun's laughter, their beds shaking with vibrations and their voices probably disturbing the people sitting outside in the Ravenclaw common room. But it's been a long time since either of them have cared for what other people say. Ever since the three boys met on the Hogwarts Express six years ago , they've been inseparable, finding a home , a family in each other. And as time passes by, they're only formulating a stronger bond , unbeknown to the rest of the world.

By the time Jaehyun and Johnny come down from their laughter high, Doyoung is already throwing a fit , muttering under his breath , and clutching his blanket like his life depended on it. Typical angry Kim Doyoung.

"Everything else is fine, Dodo, but does Claire even know you?" Jaehyun asks, fanning his red face.

"Of course not , Jae. But in the sea of all the other boys ,she'd obviously notice our Doyoung first!"

Doyoung sucks in a deep,frustrated breath, reaching under his pillow to find his wand - Alder Wood, Dragon heartstrings core (11 inch) - his one true best friend.

"Aguamenti." Doyoung murmurs, ponting his wand at them. With a big splashing sound , a stream of water squirts out from the end of the wand , wetting everything that comes in contact with it - including Jaehyun and Johnny and everything else they possess.

That night , as the two boys try to dry themselves and the rest of their belongings, Doyoung stares up at the wooden ceiling, carved beautifully into swirls and waves and flowers ,he wonders why his friends think he wouldn't be able get Claire to go out with him, why did they make it seem so hard when it really wasn't.

His ego feels hurt, injured even. Maybe Johnny is right - maybe Doyoung is more Slytherin than Ravenclaw, but it didn't matter anymore. Because the Slytherin princess Claire would be his by the time Halloween arrives, no matter what and his ego and pride would be restored.

Or at least that is what he had initially planned.

Everyone has that one subject they truly hate with every fiber of their being. They might not be particularly good or bad at it , but they often wonder the significance of this immeasurably disliked subject in their lives. For Doyoung, it is the potions class.

Brewing potions, remembering the recipes, knowing the job of each ingredient seemed too heavy a job for a divination loving man like Doyoung. Potions is way too practical, way too boring.

"Psst, Jae." The class must have been going on for about barely ten minutes when Doyoung decides he's had enough and that he would rather get in trouble for disturbing his friends.

"Jae, I'm bored. Johnny is in quidditch practice too." Doyoung pokes Jaehyun's back with the end of his wand. The latter squirms in his seat, subtle enough to not disturb anyone in the class, who unlike a certain Kim Doyoung were attentively listening to the professor.

"What?" Jaehyun turns back only enough to meet Doyoung's bored gaze.

"I think I'm going to ask Claire out today. During dinner. What do you think?" Doyoung whispers.

Jaehyun shakes his head , putting his quill down on the table, "Are you sure? You guys haven't even talked properly yet."

Doyoung stays silent for a few seconds because yes, Jaehyun is right. He doesn't even know what she likes , where is she from, who her friends are but he is willing to take the risk. For someone as beautiful as Claire, Doyoung would risk the whole world.

"I mean I can try, right?"

There's a sudden scoff escaping from your lips - whose name Doyoung never bothered to ask - sitting next to Jaehyun, the green of your robe hinting at your belongingness to Slytherin. "You're stupid, Kim Doyoung. Claire is not going to go out with you. Especially not when you're being such a creep." You say, your eyes fixed on the professor and your quill writing notes in quick movements.

Creep? Did you just call Doyoung a creep?

"Y/n, it's none of your business." Jaehyun rolls his eyes , "Stay out of it."

"Why? Is Mr.Snowflake here too egoistic to face the truth?" You turn around to look at Doyoung, a smirk finding it's way to your lips.

Doyoung clenches his fists, nibbling at his bottom lip as anger fills him up like water filling up in an empty jar; quick and to the brim.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, " he says, then bitterly adds, "Miss Y/n ,who no one happens to care much about."

The sound of scratching of quills and quiet mutter of spells fills the air for a few seconds before you say something.

"I'm not giving you my opinion, it's just an advice. From first hand experiences. Many men have tried to win Claire over yet only a few of them have ever succeeded. " you say, "And boys like you often tend to seek her only because she's good looking so she actively makes sure to avoid your kind. ,"

Jaehyun looks at you ,stunned, "How do you know all that? Are you guys friends?"

Doyoung is not sure what to say anymore - he's as confused as Jaehyun is, maybe a tad bit more. For someone he'd properly talked to for the first time today, you sure do have a lot to say about his personal choices and ambitions. Big words do not faze him anymore.

"No , we're not friends." You giggle, "I'm her cousin. You almost couldn't tell, right?"

"It's finally Hogsmade weekend again. I thought I was going to suffocate in that stupid common room of ours." Johnny sighs , waddling towards his bed and slumping down like a little boy.

"Yes, I also need a cup of butter beer the first thing we arrive there." Jaehyun says, "What about you, Dodo?"

Dodo ,on the other hand is far too gone in the sea of his thoughts to pay heed to what his friends have to say. His eyes are on the patterns of the ceiling but his mind is with Claire and mostly with you, who he unintentionally might have offended today during potions class. Doyoung didn't have any particular interest in you per se but as Claire's cousin, it is important for Doyoung to be accepted by you first. You might be a know-it-all ,annoying and ghostly but he needs to befriend you again, start everything from scratch. And who knows ,if he got lucky enough, you'd put in a word or two on his behalf to Claire.

"What's he thinking about?" Johnny whispers to Jaehyun, "Did something happen?"

Jaehyun shrugs, "Usually, I'd say he's thinking about Claire but today,I'm not so sure."

The next morning is as noisy as all of their Hogsmade mornings have been. Doyoung only remembers hearing Jaehyun's yells and Johnny's giggles and the Hufflepuff girls singing a beautiful Winter song on the journey to Hogsmade village.

No matter how hectic it is, he has always liked these weekends the best.

"Have they changed their services to self service or what?" Johnny asks ,tapping the marble surface of the table in the Three Broomsticks, "Where's Madam Rosmerta?"

Doyoung shrugs ,his eyes scanning the unusually quiet room. He realises that the only company they have is the empty chairs and tables and the flying bottles of water emptying themselves into small glasses. "Should we just grab our drinks and put the money on the counter?" Jaehyun offers.

Before either of them could answer, the main door of the room slams open, urgent with force and the three boys see you rush inside, panting and huffing and murmuring. Your hair is messy and your clothes are disheveled, yet Doyoung thinks you look...different. Different from what you look like at school at least. Better ,even.

"I'm sorry I'm late. We weren't expecting guests so early. I hope I-" you stop mid sentence when you realize Doyoung and the other two boys were the only ones in the pub, "Oh. It's just you three."

"Yes,y/n, it's just us. Can you get us three butterbeers please?" Jaehyun says.

You sigh with disappointment. A 'hi, y/n, how are you?' would have been nice but then again when has anyone ever bothered to greet you with so much sweetness? Jaehyun and you are study partners , to say in a way. You never bothered to befriend him and he never bothered to do the same so that's just how its been since first year - studying together in the library and pretending the other person doesn't exist under normal circumstances. You liked it that way but sometimes, just sometimes you did wish Jaehyun tried to treat you in a more friendly way.

"What's she doing here?" Doyoung ,who is genuinely taken aback by your presence, asks.

"She works part time here. Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of hers." Jaehyun answers.

If Madam Rosmerta is a family friend of yours then she must be a family friend of Claire too, Doyoung connects in his head, and Claire's name somehow ignites a fire of enthusiasm within him.

He drags his chair across the floor and gets up , walking toward the counter where you're working. A little nervous Doyoung is , but he still manages to start a conversation with you, "Hey, y/n ,right?"

You swiftly twirl your wand around in the air , and ten cups of butterbeer and gillyweed water present themselves on a tray. You turn away from him to clean up the other plates , "What do you need?"

"I um..wanted to apologize for the insensitive comment I made yesterday. We started off on the wrong foot, I'm really sorry." He says, rubbing the back of his neck. Autumn is starting to set in slowly, but Doyoung feels the sweat sticking to his skin as if it were a hot summer morning.

You pause for a second. What was he apologizing for? You honestly couldn't recall and whatever it might have been, you are sure that it wasn't worse than what your other classmate have said before ; which is why you don't remember Doyoung's supposed insensitive comment.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, " You say, "I've had worse, actually."

Doyoung's heart drops - there is no phrase more pain inducing than the one you'd just spewed out so carelessly. And for some god forbidden reason, Claire suddenly slips out of his conscience mind.

"No, no. I want to start anew. Be your friend." Doyoung insists, leaning against the cold wooden counter.

You sigh, "Are you sure that's what your intention is? Because I don't think so. "

Doyoung scowls, "Of course that's my intention. What else would it be, y/n?"

You swing your wand and three glasses of butterbeer arrive directly in front of him. His eyes widen for a split second but he bounces back quickly.

"Just say that you need help with Claire." You sigh.

Oh,right ,Claire. Shit how could I forget? Doyoung feels silly.

"I mean...in a way yes. But that's for the later part. Let's first be friends, yeah?"

You shake your head , "If I help you out with Claire ,will you stop trying to be my friend?"

You absolutely despise yourself at times like these - when you are trying so hard to push people away when they're only trying to befriend you (for whatever reason it might be). You're so lonely yet so afraid of attachments that you always tend to do this. The same repeated routine. You hate it. You sometimes wonder what it would feel like to be in Claire's place, to be loved by everyone, to have people lining up just to take you out on one date . But it would never happen, because Claire is Claire : the Slytherin Princess and you are just you..someone who has barely ever talked to more than one person at school.

Doyoung gulps and then nods, "Okay. I will." Because befriending a Slytherin outcast will never be more important than scoring a date with the Slytherin Princess.

The Hogwarts Library is most empty during noon, something which you've concluded with years of experience and getting shoved out of your seat by your classmates who are way above you on the social ladder.

"So, " Doyoung finds a comfortable seat opposite to you , his hands fiddling with the pages of his diary, " how have you been?"

You give him a tired smile, "Can we get straight to point? I hate casual conversation. "

Doyoung snickers, "Wow, aren't you approachable today."

You lean back into your chair , eyes scanning Doyoung's face for any signs of regret . You'd never been the warm, bright sunshine kind of a person and you have accepted it without much protest. But of course, people take a lot of time to grow used to your sharpness and more often than not, people walk away even before you soften around them. It's a survival mechanism, you always convince yourself.

"What do you want help with? Do you want to know about her interests or past relationships or something else ?"

Doyoung pouts, his mind filling up with all sorts of ideas to impress Claire. It's like he's hit a jackpot by meeting you.

"I want to know what I have to do to gain Claire's interest. Be her friend and then eventually, a boyfriend, if I'm lucky enough." He suggests.

"First of all ,you need to stop gawking at her from afar. You need to start conversations with her ,no matter how short. She likes it when people approach her first." Talk about having a big ass ego.

"Okay, noted." One quick wave of his hand and his quill is immediately noting down sentences in his diary, " You seem to know her quite well. You guys are close, I am assuming."

You and Claire used to be close. Used to. In the past tense. As children you were inseparable, but as you slowly grew up, she realised how boring and uncool you were and that you belong to the shadows while she belongs in the spotlight. She's not tried to talk to you first for a long time now. But you weren't about to explain all of this to Doyoung, who is visibly smitten by your estranged cousin so you just shake your head , "No, not anymore."

Your ears perk up at the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps towards you and before you could ask Doyoung to relocate to a more secluded area, you hear her loud and clear voice.

Claire.

"Oh, hey, Doyoung!" She greets the man in front of you, walking upto his side. Her shiny shoes creating a tip-tap noise against the floor, and the green of your robe almost feels dull as compared to her bright one.

When her eyes fall on you,  her mouths twists as if she had one of those stupid vomit flavored chocolates. "What are you doing here, y/n?" She sneers at you.

If you could ever get a hold of the invisibility cloak, the first thing you'd do is slap this bitch right across her face. She has always had this sense of superiority , even when she's never done anything quite as heroic or deserving of that fame. And it infuriates you even further when you see Doyoung freeze in his seat, eyes glued to Claire's face.

"We were studying. I was about to leave now anyway." You mumble , gathering your books and tucking them under your arm.

When Doyoung hears your chair drag across the floor , he snaps out of his trance.

Why were you leaving? You promised you'd help, why couldn't you put away your past tensions and deal with it?

"Hey, where are you going?" He grabs your arm out of the blue, sending a wave of shock jolting through your body.

You immediately pull your hand back, "I'm hungry. I want to eat something."

Claire glares at the two of you and how suspicious your behavior is , you'd always been weird but she never took Doyoung for the weird kind at all.

You quickly jog away from the scene , cheeks tinted red.

Doyoung suddenly comes with a horrendous idea and he knows you'd hate it but in the heat of the moment, this feels like the only sane idea to make you stay and help him . He looks at Claire directly in the eye ,making sure to keep his voice as loud as possible so you could hear it too,

"Y/n and I are dating."

The red, orange leaves rustle under your feet , disrupting the otherwise silent walk back to the Slytherin dormitories. A cold wind blows and you tighten the muffler around your neck.

"Y/n, I've been looking everywhere for you. "

And there is that leech again, making sure you don't come to have a single second of peace in your already hectic daily lives. For the past one week, Kim Doyoung has latched himself onto you like a leech latches to it's host. Wherever you go, he goes. It's maddening.

"I told you to stay away from me, Doyoung! Our deal is over. " you yell at him , your feet picking up a faster pace.

Without even looking back, you know that he is groaning under his breath, the look of hopelessness evident in his otherwise sparkling eyes.

"Our deal was that you help me. You're not helping me out at all! You're treating me like I'm invisible." he replies.

Just how I'd been invisible for years to you, you think.

"I didn't agree to be a bait in this stupid love game of yours. You literally pushed me down the cliff to save yourself. " you say. You feel a sudden gush of wind on your face and Doyoung is standing right in front of you - inches away, instead of a few feet behind you.

You gasp, "You apparated! Kim Doyoung, this is against the school rules."

Doyoung bites down on his lower lip, throat growing dry with anxiousness. He couldn't explain why - he'd apparated before within the school grounds and it's been okay then why is he feeling dizzy all of a sudden? But on second thoughts, maybe it wasn't the apparition that caused the dizziness, maybe it was the spooky possibility of you hating him for lying about you two dating that triggered it. And like salt dissolves in water and disappears into the liquid, Claire- who is the original cause of all of Doyoung 's concern, disappears from his thoughts. All that matters to him now is that you speak with him again and forgive him for his impulsive words . He wants to assure you that you aren't a bait , at all.

"Just hear me out, please. I promise. " he says, "if you don't talk to me, I'll try to be your friend. I assume you don't want that."

You sigh , pressing a hand to your face, "Okay, spill. And be quick. I have club work."

Doyoung nods, a small smile forming on his lips. He leads you under a bushy tree nearby, sitting down on the stone bench constructed there. You follow suit. "I'm sorry for telling Claire that we're dating but I was in a critical situation at that time, okay?"

You frown, "That's all you had to say? You aren't here to persuade me into fake dating you so you could make Claire jealous?"

Gosh , Doyoung , why do you keep forgetting your main motive of talking to y/n?

He blinks at you awkwardly, "Primarily, yes. But now that you've said it...it does sound like a good idea. "

You deadpan. Your eyes close as your lips heave out a tired sigh. Just when you thought he was here to actually talk to you and not about Claire.

"Fine ,whatever. Just don't be a creep or I'll bury you alive." You huff.

Doyoung giggles as his eyes curve into cute little cresent moons.He has a pretty smile , you catch yourself thinking.

He scoots over closer to you ,pinching your cheek. "Okay ,madam. I won't creep you out but I cannot guarantee that I won't flirt with you . I have a thing for Slytherin girls, you know.", He winks.

Your cheeks heat up involuntarily.

"Bye. I have work." You get up, walking away hastily.

"Bye! See you tomorrow at The Three Broomsticks," he calls out behind you,"Babe."

You'd never smiled so wide in your life.

Your part time job at The Three Broomsticks has never felt so much like a blessing than right now - when Kim Doyoung casually sits on the floor with you and helps clean the utensils.

"Are guests rare on weekends?" Hs asks as a white cloth floats around in the air, drying up the freshly washed utensils.

"They're less in the morning but it gets very crowded by sun down. Aunt Rosmerta joins me by that time." You reply.

Doyoung nods ,his eyes glaring at the white cloth when it falls at his feet. "Wingardium Leviosa. " he mutters and the cloth goes back to doing its work, while Doyoung carefully guides it using his wand.

"When do you have to go back?" You ask, purely out of curiosity as to why he is so into the role of your boyfriend when no one is even watching. You would rather die than admit it , but you liked this attention. A lot more than you thought you would.

"Whenever you're done. A good boyfriend accompanies his girlfriend ,right?"

Oh, the beating of your heart that suddenly picks up its speed at his words. A combination of words you'd never thought you'd hear in this lifetime, from anyone at all.

"Yeah,whatever. " you whisper under your breath.

Doyoung giggles ,leaning forward toward you , "Why are so shy ,y/n?"

"I'm not shy." You smack his forehead, "You're just being a creep."

Doyoung fake gasps, clutching the left side of his chest and blinks his eyes as if he were tearing up. "Ouch ,y/n,how could you say that to your own boyfriend?"

You roll your eyes but the smile on your lips doesn't disappear.

Before either of you could reply , the door of the pub clicks open and you immediately get up , dusting off your clothes , ready to welcome guests. Doyoung, who is very new to this , tries to mimic your careful, calculated actions.

"Hello, welcome to the Three Broomsticks-" your words are cut off when you see Claire , as glamorous and confident as ever, walking toward the both of you. Your heart sinks. You feel betrayed , annoyed even ; just the way little children feel when their favorite toy is taken away from them and given to someone else and Claire has, in fact, had a history of taking away a lot of your favorite toys when you were kids.

"Good morning, Doyoung," she greets him with the prettiest smile but it fades away as she turns to you, "You too ,y/n."

"What do you want?" You ask her, rather terse in tone.

She tilts her head , her bright red tinted lips sending a flirty smile in Doyoung's direction, "I'm here to see my friend Doyoung and well ,his new girlfriend. "

You scoff - since when has Doyoung become her friend? Last you checked, Doyoung wasn't even sure she knew him.

"Since when have you and Doyoung been friends, Claire? That's some news to me." You say.

Claire glares at you, "Well, I've always liked Doyoung. Too bad a dumb girl like you got to him first. I shouldn't have waited for him to approach me first , right?"

Doyoung - who until a minute ago was genuinely mesmerized by Claire's unexpected visit is now turning to frown at her. "You can take him if you want. I don't mind." You suggest ,turning away from them.

"Yayy, Doyoung ,you heard your girlfriend? Come on , let's go to the candy shop and enjoy there! It'd be so much fun!" Claire pulls at his blue-black muffler. He backs away a little. The image of Claire he had in his head was ..well, different from this arrogant , possessive woman in front of him. He feels disappointed but also relieved?

"Um - actually I'd rather stay here and help y/n, " you snap toward him faster than light , "I dislike candies anyway. Sorry, Claire."

When Claire's mouth gapes with surprise, Doyoung leans backward and pulls you into him , arm wrapped around your shoulder and chin resting on your head. Your heart hammers hard against your chest as all your senses blur away , only the feeling of Doyoung's warm body pressed against yours is what keeps you grounded to reality.

Its fake, y/n , get yourself together.

"Fine. " Claire growls and stomps away, mumbling curses under her breath.

The moment she walks out of the door ,you shove Doyoung away , "What the hell are you doing! She invited you to hang out with her and you let the chance go!"

He blinks at you , puzzled as if he is finally coming back to his senses. "Oh - oh ,its okay. I'll get another chance since she apparently likes me too. Don't worry about it."

I'm not worrying about it , you idiot , I'm happy about it , you want to say to him. But there are some words you'd rather never say out loud.

"Where are we going?" Doyoung huffs , jogging down the lush green hill leading straight to the Forbidden Forest. Fear is evident on his face , and it's rather amusing to see him like this.

"The Forbidden Forest, obviously," you say , pointing at the tall, strong tress that patiently await your arrival into the forest.

"What? Y/n, that's against the school rules. It's way past sun down now!" He hisses but still keeps jogging beside you.

You grin at him, "Says the man who apparates in broad daylight!"

The woods are as cold and spooky as ever , but not unfamiliar. To you atleast. You often come here when you need to get away from everyone else. You would sit at the top of the tallest tree, the soft breeze blowing away all your worries along with it. And the creatures in the forest have never bothered you anyway. You don't know why you are bringing Kim Doyoung - your pretend boyfriend- to a place that holds so much importance to you and is like your escape from the world, but this place was the first and only one to come into your mind the moment Doyoung said you should choose the location for your next 'date'.

"So how do we get up there?" Doyoung and you stand at the roots of the tree. He looks up at the branches in awe and you look at him with admiration - when he's not running his mouth around uselessly everywhere ,he's not that bad to be with , you realize.

"We apparate , you idiot." Wrapping a firm hand around his arm, you apprate to the topmost branch of the tree, the wind suddenly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden shift. You laugh a little.

"Wow, you're breaking rules." He comments. He doesn't bother to remove your hand from his and neither do you - so you end up sitting there , shoulders touching and breaths matching.

"You know when I first met you , I almost took you for a Ravenclaw. If it hadn't been for your robe, that is." He says , looking at the beautifully lit school building that seems to be floating around near the horizon. This is more magical than any magic he's ever been taught , he thinks , he'd never seen Hogwarts this way - so far away yet so close, so peaceful, so breathtaking. The starry sky acts like a beautiful backdrop and your soft hand wrapped around his arm makes him ten times more attentive to every sound and every sight. He wants you to never let go - even if Claire or anyone else somehow appears out of nowhere.

"I get that a lot, actually. " you chuckle , "and ironically ,I almost mistook you for a Slytherin."

Doyoung looks at you in amusement. What a peculiar coincidence!

"But now that I think about it, it doesn't matter what kind of traits you show. The sorting hat doesn't put just traits into consideration- it puts in your will too. You belong where you want to belong. Nowhere else." He replies.

You stare at him, and get embarrassed at how wonderfully close he is to you right now. All your life ,this is what you've craved; this warmth , this closeness and fake or not, you're thankful for it.

"Wow, that's some deep words, Kim Doyoung. I didn't know you had them in you." You comment.

"Hey, why can't you call me something cute?" He whines , "Kim Doyoung is too formal."

You pinch his cheeks, adoration pumping through your veins for the man in front of you. "Okay, I'll call you Dodo then. "

He is left wide eyed again, his face red with embarrassment. He never took you for the observant type at all.

"I heard Jaehyun call you that."

The moon shines at your face , highlighting your features like no make up ever could. He notices your hooded gaze and the happy stretch of your lips and the strands of hair that sway with the wind. He leans in closer , "Hey, now that I look at you up close , you're not that bad to look at."

You're not that bad to look at either, Dodo.

Jaehyun has this annoying habit of tapping his wand against the table when he is studying , and he has never even tried to rectify himself whenever you call him out several times.

"Can you stop that? I'm trying to study. " you groan in a quiet voice.

The library- much to your dislike - is packed with people this afternoon. Yellows and reds and blues and green , all of them seem to have decided to use the library in the afternoon today of all days.

"Yeah. Sorry. " he says and puts his wand down, flipping the pages of his notebook carelessly ,"but um -y/n, can I ask you something?"

Looking up from your Potions book , you nod , "Yes, of course. "

Jaehyun shifts and gulps ,visibly worried and anxious about whatever he is about to ask you. It's not like him to ever be so nervous around anyone. He was usually very uptight and spoke only when spoken to. This is very new.

"How long are you and Doyoung going to continue this fake dating thing on for? It's been half a month already." He asks.

Now it's your turn to be nervous.

"I-I don't really know. It depends on how fast Doyoung is able to get Claire to go out with him. I guess." You reply with an awkward laugh, "I hope the day comes soon."

You'd been so immersed in fake dating Doyoung all along, trying to spend every waking hour with him , taking care of him, laughing at his stupid jokes that you almost forgot everything was just a show to get Claire to go out with him. And as Halloween comes closer , you are sure the end of your supposed relationship is coming closer too. Your heart breaks at the sudden reality check. Like a glass vase thrown on a hard ,wooden floor.

"Okay, don't tell Doyoung I asked you about it - " he pauses when you both hear a woman's voice from behind you , startling the two of you.

"Hello, dear cousin. " Claire says with a big smile. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, robe loosely tied around her body,"What are you doing in this stupid library on your birthday, y/n? Shouldn't you be celebrating with Doyoung ?"

Her words have never slapped you as hard as they do right now. She's been mean to you for almost half your life , but this time it hurts worse. You've always been insecure about your birthday, and Claire knows it. She knows how much you hate bringing attention to yourself and you'd rather get some small gifts from your parents than big gifts from people who you barely know. And she's now using all that against you.

"Or did he not bother to ask you, just like all of your former friends?" She smirks.

You know that feeling when there's a small wound on your body and a single contact to the wounded area hurts unbearably? That's what her words made you feel like. Sick and pathetic.

But you don't let it surface on your face. You muster up all your courage before speaking up, "Claire, are you so jealous of me dating Doyoung that you're bringing up past incidents to make yourself feel good?"

Claire is left astonished by your new found boldness and for the first time in forever, she doesn't comment back at you after you turn on your heels and walk away from the scene.

You are far too weak and slow to actually walk down to the Forbidden Forest, so you settle yourself on the top floor of the astronomy tower. The cold ground under you feels weirdly comfortable and the ticking of the grand clock helps you calm down your nerves.

Claire has never treated you like an equal in your entire life and you've tried so hard to ns like her always . To fit in to her ideas of an interesting person. She was your sister, she is your sister yet you've never despised anyone as much as you do now. And to imagine that Kim Doyoung, your Dodo might end up dating her just makes you feel sick to the stomach. Jealousy is an intense feeling but so is hatred.

You hear quick footsteps walking up the stairs and by impulse, you point your wand in that direction,"Expelli-"

"Hey, hey. Don't 'expelliarmus' me. I'm just here to celebrate my best girl's birthday. "

Kim Doyoung stands in front of you , hands occupied with bags of delicious candies and sweets. He smiles at you sheepishly as you call him over to sit beside you.

"Why didn't you tell me its your birthday today? This is all I could manage in a span of fifteen minutes." He complains ,placing the bag softly in your lap, "Happy birthday, y/n."

You smile , a little embarrassed but thankful still , "Thanks. Jaehyun told you?"

Doyoung nods ,scooting over closer to you. In presence of so much space on the floor, he somehow manages to almost cuddle with you in a small corner of the place. Your heart is no longer sitting in the cage of your chest ; it's escaped and landed onto Doyoung's palms ,giving him full freedom to do whatever he wanted with it.

"Doyoung ,I..um.."

"Yeah?"

Words , oh ! words have never been your forte. The only thing you were good at was actions - to express, to show , to communicate . That's all you've ever known.

So you lean in towards his face and place a chaste kiss on his lips. It lasts for a fraction of a second but your lips are left burning with the desire for more. More of him, more of this.

But when you see his face once you pull away, your blood runs dry. For a moment, you think so you see a flicker of happiness which quickly gets replaced by coldness, frustration, some degree of anger.

"Y/n, you know I like Claire!" He says , separating himself from you. Your body feels bare, "This was all for her. How could you ever think doing this would be a good idea?"

No,it wasn't for Claire. It was barely an excuse to bother you more, to see you roll your eyes at him , to spend time with you, but as Johnny says , his ego is too big to accept his liking towards you and not Claire.

He gets up.

"I-I will be leaving now."

He hasn't completely put a full stop to your fake relationship, he hasn't even said anything much yet but you know that he's left not just the astronomy tower, he's left you. All alone. As they always do.

Only the heavens know how you've barely managed to make it through a whole week avoiding Doyoung. The tear stains on your pillow , the muffled sobs in the washroom, the torn pages of your notebook are the only witnesses of your turmoil. For everyone else, you were still y/n, the girl who barely talks to anyone . And maybe, that's everything you'll ever be no matter how hard you try.

It is Hogsmade Weekend and Halloween which means you'll be packed with guests at the Three Broomsticks. It's a good thing ,you hope, it'll help keep you distracted from any painful thoughts and memories.

The cups and glasses and bottles dance around you as you put the chairs in place, your wand doing most of the work while you quietly murmur spells. It feels rather abnormal not having Doyoung around to help you. It feels too quiet ,even though the quietness is familiar to you.

A faint click sound echoes in the room and you immediately snap to look at the main door.

"Y/n?" Doyoung's head gently pokes in through the small gap in the door, “Happy Halloween.”

Your heart stops beating for a solid second, brain going fuzzy with a mixture of fear, excitement and relief. You want to run towards him and jump into his arms like how people do in those muggle movies but you restrain yourself; since it's not your place to do that. Not after you'd kissed him out of nowhere a week ago.

"Y-yea?" You stutter nervously, dragging a chair away from the table just to make it look like you are busy with work.

"Can we talk?"

Doyoung has always been very persuasive and he knows exactly what to say at a given instance. He's a Ravenclaw, after all. So he finds his way towards the table ,shyly so , and he pulls a chair for you to sit on ,"I won't take long, I swear."

You nod and sit. Better to be done with it than avoid it. "What is it? Shouldn't you be at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop? Enjoying with Claire and the other cool people?" You ask.

Doyoung gulps ,"Yes, I was there a minute ago. But it's too noisy there. I don't like it." And it's too dull without you.

"Okay. What did you want to talk about ?"

He plays with the buttons of his warm looking purple coat, his eyes shifting from the tablecloth to the glasses of gillyweed water to his fingers - anywhere but you.

"I'm sorry about running away that night. It was wrong of me," he begins, "And I regret it. I really do." "When I went back to the dorms, all I could think about was you and how much I loved hanging out with you and how pretty you look even when you're not trying and how desperately I wished you'd kissed me a second longer that night so I could have kissed you back. Because I really wanted to. "

When you start to reply , he shushes you, "No, it's not Claire that I want. Maybe it never had been because I don't even know her! But I know you and I think you're the coolest person in Hogwarts. I cannot love Claire, who I know nothing of but I can love you. I want to love you. If you'd let me."

You stare at him , your tongue suddenly losing all it's sense of functioning. Your eyes bore into his ,and you see it - the sincerity, the adoration, the desire. And you realise it has always been there. Just the two of you were too stupid to see it earlier.

"Okay. I guess." You reply , rubbing the back of your neck shyly. Your cheeks are tinted red but you put no effort in hiding it anymore, " I'm sorry, I don't know how dating works. What am I supposed to do?"

Doyoung giggles , tenderly taking your face in his hands, "Just do whatever you want to. It's just me."

"I really want to kiss you. " you whisper and he immediately tilts his head such that his lips easily captures yours. The kiss is warm and cozy yet fierce. His hands are locked on either side of your face while your lips perfectly mold around his, as if they were meant to be that way since the inception of time.

You don't believe in miracles , given your magical allegiance but you do believe in fate and soulmates. You believe that there's someone for everyone out there - no one knows how or when they'll cross paths with you, but they will surely do it one day. Because no force can stop one from getting the love you deserve. It's just like a string - there's one person at each end and you're so thankful that it is Doyoung that happened to be at the other end of your string.

[crimsonxserpent]

( Katie McGrath, 34, cisfemale, she/her ) Was that DIANA SINCLAIR ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? they can be a bit VINDICTIVE  &  HEDONISTIC, but I also heard they can be CARING & PRAGMATIC. you’ll usually find them at SKYFALL in their spare time, when they’re not being a GENERAL. you may want to keep an eye on that one !

hi it is i, claire again (she/her, GMT+2) i present to you the second of my bbies, the myth, the legend, a bitch by the name Diana Sinclair (shh that’s not her real name). anyway she’s an old kid of mine that I’ve had for 5 years so i have a lot of thoughts on her, and if you want me to throw her at you leave a  ❤ (i love her so much but i promise i’ll contain myself) 

pinterest page STATS: ➤  NAME: Diana Odette Sinclair ➤  REAL NAME: Anastasiya Spasskaya ➤  AGE: 34 ➤  DOB: 3rd of January ➤  BORN: Sankt Petersburg, Russia Paris, France ➤  HEIGHT: 5′5′’ ➤  SIBLINGS: a twin brother (Evgeny Spassky)  ➤  MBTI: ENTJ ➤  ORIENTATION: bisexual ➤  OCCUPATION: art thief/forger, general for the O’Shea ➤  EDUCATION: bachelor’s degree in fine arts, finance  ➤  TATTOOS: yes, a rose with thorns medially from her hip  ➤  SCARS: yes, various ➤  AESTHETICS: chanel and dior and agent provocateur, goes nowhere without her jimmy choos, blood-red lipstick and nails to match, diamonds are a girl’s best friend, classic aston martin DB5, a gun strapped to her thigh, and knives in various places, sly words and a sharp smile, ‘mon cheri and darling’ thrown in when she’s talking, black sobranie and an old silver lighter ➤  VICES: tobacco, alcohol, sex ➤  PETS: yes, an akhal-teke mare named Duchess and a border collie named Nyx

HISTORY: 

➤  They were called the golden twins, as children so alike each other you could barely tell them apart, and always together, two of them against the world. Born two minutes prior to her brother, Anastasiya Spasskaya was the eldest child, and perhaps it was fated from the moment of her birth, that her life would never be normal. Spoiled to the excess, as the daughter of a Russian mobster masquerading as an oligarch in oil trade, the world Anastasiya was raised in alongside her twin was as far from ‘real’ as one could get. It was all opulence, luxury and extravagance, and yet in its core it was as limiting as a prison cell. Born in this world of violence, from the moment they were conceived, the twins had a target painted squarely on their backs. Two innocents born into the life of savagery, Anastasiya and Evgeny never knew the world outside the violence and opulence that surrounded them, and this was perhaps exactly what eventually made them more savage than the world they were born into.  ➤  Fearful that their enemies might find their children and use them as leverage, the moment a threat was uttered against the twins’ life when they were still infants, Alina and Alexander Spassky bought a deed to an estate near Sochi and rarely allowed them to leave it. A gated mansion only Alexander held keys to, the 97 acre estate held everything imaginable required for human happiness. A place large enough for the twins to get lost in, by accident or by resolve, and daunting enough for them to never want to leave it, it was the only place they ever called home. ➤  Besides, the two were given everything they needed, and more – caretakers, toys, private tutors, chefs, horses and abundance of clothes, everything except motherly love. Cold and distant, Alina was as rotten on the inside as she was fair on the outside – a former Bolshoi ballerina, she never harbored much maternal instinct. But what their mother lacked in fondness, their father made up for every chance he got, spoiling his little angels to no end, especially Anastasiya in whose fire he saw his true heir. Their parents were rarely home however, spending weeks – sometimes months – away in Moscow and Sankt-Petersburg. Devoid of love and in absence of their parents, the twins learned to always rely on each other, and the love they shared was the only love they ever knew.  ➤  Anastasiya was seven when she first witnessed a man being killed. Though such appalling scene might have scarred anyone, by the time Anastasiya was ten, she was completely desensitized to the violence and treachery of her father’s mob that it became simply another aspect of everyday life. Her father had killed, had tortured, had maimed and yet this fact never quite phased her, she would just whisper about it to Evgeny as if it excited her to see their usual routine interrupted by something, even if that something was painted red with blood. They were honed and perfect the way one would prepare a weapon, to one day become the heirs, and it felt like the world was theirs to conquer. ➤  Little did they know than in a matter of a years this illusion would be shattered into a million pieces, and that their inevitable fall from grace was fast approaching. And what a fall it was. It was their mother - their seemingly disinterested mother - who took away the one parent they cared for, committing the betrayal none of them saw coming, and one she would pay for just like Anastasiya promised. It was then that Anastasiya realised she was capable of committing monstrous crimes just to keep her brother safe, to keep them both safe. But would it be enough?  ➤  The answer came soon enough in a form of her brother’s blood, drenching her hands as she knelt beside his lifeless body. While Anastasiya managed to overthrow the apparatus her mother instated after her husband’s untimely death, partly with her own two hands and partly through a loyal apparatus of her own - dangers still lurked in the shadows, too many to keep track of for a 19 year old girl, too many to stop when they decided to kill her brother.  ➤  She left Moscow then - and she hasn’t looked back ever since. There was nothing left there that she cared for, their legacy was nothing without her father and brother. She followed the instructions her father had left her in case the empire fell apart and the two of them had to escape, and she followed them all the way to Paris, a beautiful white house in Trocadéro. A man awaited her there – somehow he knew she was coming long before even she did – a man, she would learn, whose name was a thing of shadows, deep depraved corners of the criminal world. She’d expected him to be a force to be reckoned with in his own right, but she’d never expected him to be so young and handsome and charming. He was barely 26, pulling the strings from the shadows, his presence a perilous, alluring thing - how could she resist, she was enthralled.  ➤  He taught her how you could trade names and secrets instead of weapons and oil, how art was where the money was at, how one could kill for the pleasure of it. She became his protege, his assassin, and finally his wife. It was a turbulent relationship, one could not call it love per se, but a mutual obsession. She was young and fascinated, and he was brilliant and unpredictable. And so was his death.  ➤  She never saw it coming - although in retrospective, she should have. He was unstable, a price one had to pay for the genius he possessed. He’d decided he’d won the game, conquered what he wanted, that a gun to his head was one final, ultimate check mate to his opponents. He never cared about how shattered it would leave her, how empty she would feel without him, how she was losing yet another man she loved. And as she held his body and blood painted the snow red, she decided she had to go - where? She had no idea. What was there left for her to do, but do the one thing she was good at - murder and theft.  ➤  And so she picked Chicago - a city large enough to offer her anonymity, and depraved enough to take her for what she was - a murderess. She had connections there, people both her father and her husband had been involved in - the O’Sheas. They offered her a cornerstone, something to hold on to, something to be loyal to, a purpose - and she would forever be grateful for that. Whatever life she’d once lead was behind her now, lost in the wind of time - there was nothing else to do but look ahead. 

PERSONALITY: 

+  caring, loyal, pragmatic, charming, intelligent -   vindictive, hedonistic, quick-tempered, dramatic, violent

HEADCANONS: 

➤  She drives an Aston Martin DB5 and is absolutely obsessed with it, she loves that car. It was a gift from her father back in the day and she’s kept it in pristine condition all these years. Her fierce attachment comes from the fact it’s one of those rare things that keeps her connected to her father.  ➤  The akhal-teke mare, Duchess, was an anniversary gift from her husband - she got her a few months before he killed himself, and she loves that horse dearly, making sure to visit her whenever she has time.  ➤   She has a fondness for sniper rifles - it’s a clean job and requires peace of mind and precision, something she’d learned back in Paris. It’s sort of a legacy from another time, and her preferred way of killing someone when it’s possible. Her signature shot is a bullet through the carotid artery.  ➤   She was once a girl of faith, but it’s a topic she has mixed feelings on these days - how can she believe in something when her hands are stained red with blood? Still, she likes the peace and quiet of churches, regardless which faith they belong to, and they offer her shelter and solace when she needs it.  ➤  She’s not as bad as she might appear. Though she can be cruel and heartless and her words seem sharp and aloof - she’s a deeply human creature. There’s a sense of morality about her that she abides by, it’s a way to make peace with everything she’s done in her life. She’s capable of love and fiercely loyal to those she cares about.  ➤  She actually always wanted to be a mom, to do a better job than her mother did, but she realizes it’s not a possibility considering her line of work and the life she lives. One of the more heartbreaking moments in her life was realizing her husband wanted nothing to do with children, and it was absolutely out of question.  ➤   She has an addictive personality and seems to gravitate to all things bad for her, it explains a lot about her marriage and generally life.  ➤   She actually fell in love with another assassin that worked for her husband back in Paris, probably because he was more like her than her husband was, more human and real. But unbeknownst to her, her husband had him killed and covered up so to this day she blames herself for his death, thinking she should’ve been there to have his back because they were partners in the field. Little does she know there’s nothing she could’ve done if her husband wanted him gone.  ➤  She likes dealing art in the black market when she’s not out there killing people. It’s an appreciation her father had instilled in her when she was a child, and later on something her husband showed her could be a job. She’s been involved in both art theft and forgery of paintings since painting is something she’s been skilled at since she was a kid.  ➤  She keeps her true identity a secret, partly because she doesn’t want anyone coming after her, but mostly because it’s a painful chapter of her life that she prefers to forget. She considers her pain and humanity a great weakness and is very careful about who she lets in on it.  ➤   She’s fiercely protective of people in her gang, even if she doesn’t get along with them - doesn’t matter, they’re a family and you have to have have family’s back. But if she’s on really good terms with you, you’ll see a softer side to her, there’s a lot of maternal instinct in there and she tends to care a lot (if and when she allows herself that)  ➤   She speaks Russian, French and English fluently but for the sake of appearing genuine she dons a faint French accent and throws in a ‘mon cheri’ here and there for good measure. She speaks English just fine though, bitch’s just acting and being extraTM.  ➤   Also very flirty and can be domineering, I mean what did you expect hahaha

Also connections! i’m going to post a wanted connections page soon but feel free to contact me anyway, like she needs it all from proteges, to friends, to enemies, to fwb just ALL of it, she’s a wild woman 

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 22: Blessings

Chapter 21

Read on AO3

It was a quiet and frigid January afternoon. Fergus, Ian, and even wee Jamie (due to his own insistence) were tending to livestock and other such things outside. Jenny and Claire remained in the parlor around the fire, watching Maggie and Kitty play on the rug. Maggie was quite taken with her Hogmanay gift, a darling little rag doll that she hadn’t put down since the moment it had been given to her on New Year’s Day. Brianna was nestled in Claire’s arms, waving around a wee rattle that Kitty had recently outgrown. Her bright blue eyes kept alternating between narrowed suspicion and popping-wide awe at the noises coming from the rattle. Every time she jolted in surprise, it sent Claire into another fit of giggles.

“Alright. There ye are,” Jenny said suddenly.

“Hm?” Claire absently looked up from adoring her baby to see Jenny holding something out to her. She’d been vaguely aware of Jenny stitching something white beside her, but had quite honestly been far too engrossed with Brianna to pay any mind to what it was.

Jenny unfurled the fabric and held it up, and Claire could now make out that it was a little white gown.

“Had to fix a couple of wee tears from ma own wee she-devil, but it’s good as new now fer Brianna.”

A Christening gown.

“Oh! Jenny…!” Claire shifted Brianna to her other arm so that she could reach out and run her fingers over the delicate fabric. “Oh, how darling. It’s beautiful…”

“Oh, and the wee bonnet.” Jenny reached behind her and produced the lacy little cap.

“Oh!” Claire took it in her hands and bit her lip with excitement. She haphazardly placed it on Brianna’s head, eliciting delighted gasps and squeals from both mother and auntie.

“Oh, what a sweet wee thing!” Jenny exclaimed, reaching over to straighten the bonnet and cup her little cheek. “She’ll be so bonny in the gown, Claire.”

“Oh, she will, won’t she?” Claire bounced her in her lap. “With everything going on I hadn’t even thought of a baptism. How soon can we have the ceremony?”

“Oh, it’s next week.”

Claire blinked incredulously. “Is it, now?”

“Aye,” Jenny said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Ian spoke to Father Gregor last week and everything is settled for next Sunday.”

Claire exhaled in disbelief. “And when were you planning on telling me this?”

“Right now, o’ course,” Jenny said simply. “Didna want to trouble yer heid wi’ any of the details. So now, the day is set, the gown is ready, and the meat is ready to be butchered.”

“Didn’t we butcher everything for Hogmanay?”

“No’ everything. Had to keep something fer Brianna Ellen’s baptism.” She smiled brightly. “Roast pig. Only the finest fer ma wee niece.”

“Should the mother not have any say in these decisions?” Claire was being playfully difficult, but she was actually quite grateful to Jenny for seeing to all of this. The thought of having to deal with it herself made her head swim.

“It’s no’ like ye’ve much of a menu to choose from.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Would ye like to pick which pig Ian slaughters?”

Claire shook her head, laughing. “No, I think I’ll leave that to him.”

“That’s what I thought. Here, gi’ me the bonnet. I’ll put these away fer safekeeping ’til next Sunday.”

Claire pulled the bonnet off of Brianna’s wee head and handed it to Jenny. She kissed the top of her baby’s head, copper wisps tickling her chin. She shook the rattle and began cooing, a sound that made Claire dizzy with love.

“Jenny?”

“Mm?” Jenny was putting the gown and bonnet back into the box from which they came.

“Would you do me the honor of being Brianna’s Godmother?”

Jenny’s smile broadened as she fastened the lid of the box, straightening herself out proudly. “I’d be honored, sister.”

“And Ian? To be her Godfather?” 

“ ’Course he will. And proud to do it.” Jenny gave her knee a squeeze. “D’ye ken every Fraser ye ken has worn that gown? My father, then Willie, then me, then Jamie. Then every one of my bairns o’ course.”

Claire couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Jamie of all people ever being small enough to fit into that gown.

“She looks like he did as a bairn,” Jenny said wistfully, as if reading Claire’s mind. “Jamie. Willie, too. Seeing her in that cap is almost like looking right at ma wee brother at his own baptism.”

Claire’s chest ached, but rather than give into the tears she felt rising, she wove her arms tighter around her precious girl and kissed her again, this time right on her pudgy cheek. “What was he like? As a baby?”

“He was sweet before he started talking,” Jenny said wryly, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Claire. “I used to cart him around like he was a wee doll. ’Course I was only a bairn myself and Mother didna exactly approve of my manhandling him.” She rolled her eyes upward in admonishment of herself. “I loved him, fiercely, right from the start. Willie was always there, born before me. He watched out fer me, and of course I loved him. But Jamie…he was ma very own. It’s…hard to explain if ye’ve never had a brother or sister…it’s no’ too unlike holding yer own bairn, watching ‘em grow. It’s very, very similar. Except the bairn grows up to be yer closest friend as well.”

Claire put a comforting hand on her knee, able to tell she was struggling. Brianna cooed gently and her rattle shook in the background, in addition to Maggie and Kitty’s babbling on the rug.

“I ordered him about like it was my job.” She laughed breathily at that. “And he loved to defy me, the very moment his wee mind figured out how to do it. I think he quite enjoyed seeing me red in the face. Even before he was a year old. I was always jealous of his bond wi’ Willie, brothers, ye ken. I had to force myself to be included, as ye well know.” Jenny looked at her knowingly, and Claire chuckled softly, remembering Jenny’s tale in the woods of putting bugs in her brothers’ supper.

“Then when we lost Willie…I thought it was my fault, ye ken.” She forced a strained smile, her eyes glistening. “I’d always wished that I could have my own special bond wi’ Jamie or wi’ Willie wi’out the other spoiling it. And I thought I’d wished him gone.”

“Jenny…you were a child.”

“Oh, I ken that now.” She nodded firmly, sniffling again. “But back then I was beside myself. I didna dare tell Mother or Father. I was so ashamed. But I told Jamie. He told me…he said ‘Dinna fash, Janet. I’ll love ye enough fer two brothers, now.’”

Claire bit down fiercely on her lip, unable to stop the few tears that spilled over at that.

“Six years old he was when he said that to me. Aye, he was a wee devil, a right bastard, but when he wasna all that…he was the greatest joy in my life.”

Claire rubbed Jenny's back, bouncing Brianna all the while, swallowing thickly to avoid sobbing. "He loved you too, Jenny. Your bond was special. Still is."

"I ken." She hastily wiped her eyes and sniffled. "Och, look at us. Went from talking about baptisms to weepin' like women."

"Hate to break it to you, Jenny, but we are women," Claire said, wiping her own eyes.

"Oh, aye, ye ken what I mean." She waved her off with contrived annoyance.

Claire smiled despite the pain still clenching her heart. She sighed. "Have I mentioned recently how grateful I am for you, Jenny?"

"Dinna ken."

"Well I am. I truly can think of no one I'd rather raise my child with."

"Good, because I'd no' let anyone else do it," she said, rather possessively.

Claire sat thoughtfully for a moment, her brow furrowed. "Do you...do you mean...Frank?"

"Aye," she said simply. "I'd be burlin' in my grave two hundred years from now to hear ma niece, my brother's daughter callin' someone else her Da." She nodded curtly and stood with the christening gown.

"Or callin' anyone else her Godmother." Jenny paused and stooped to kiss Brianna's cheek before stealing away to set the christening gown aside for next week.

——

Claire stood on the altar of the little church in Broch Mordha, her cheeks sore from smiling. Brianna had slept like a rock through the entire mass, and was only just now starting to wake. Jenny was holding her now in front of the priest, Ian’s hand on her shoulder, as it was time for the Godparents to present her to be blessed with the Holy Water.

“Brianna Ellen Fraser,” Father Gregor said, pouring water over her head. “Ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

Brianna gave a little indignant huff at having water poured over her head, and she waved her little fists around to vainly stop the onslaught. Jenny bounced her gently and took hold of one of her fists, and Brianna quickly latched onto her finger. Not for the first time, Claire wished that she had a camera to capture this moment: her beautiful baby and her Auntie, two of the most precious people in the world to her, completely enamored with one another.

“Deus omnipotens, Pater Domini nostri Iesu Christi, qui te regeneravit ex aqua et Spiritu Sancto, quique dedit tibi remissionem omnium peccatorum, ipse te liniat Chrismate Salutis in eodem Christo Iesu Domino nostro in vitam aeternam.”

“Amen,” Jenny, Ian, and Claire echoed together.

“Pax tibi,” Father Gregor said.

“Et cum spiritu tuo.”

Brianna looked up at her Auntie with those beautiful blue eyes, wide with astonishment. Jenny looked back at her with an exaggerated, goofy grin, and Claire could not stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest.

“Vade in pace et Dominus sit tecum. Amen.”

“Amen.”

Mass concluded, Latin formalities dropped, and Father Gregor placed his hand atop Brianna’s head. “God bless ye, wean.”

Jenny turned to Claire, beaming. Claire reached out and sighed with blissful contentment as her baby was placed in her arms.

“There she is, Miss Brianna Ellen.” Claire kissed her cheek.

“My hearty congratulations to ye, Mistress Fraser,” Father Gregor said. “She’s a bonny lass. God has smiled down on ye.”

Brianna chose that exact moment to launch her hands into Claire’s curls, tearing at the fragile updo that Jenny had carefully constructed. Claire laughed heartily as Jenny tutted and worked to untangle the baby’s fingers.

“He has,” Claire confirmed, beaming at the priest.

The three of them, Ian, Jenny, and Claire holding Brianna, made their way down from the altar to where the children were sitting in a pew, watched carefully by Fergus. Maggie leapt out of her seat and threw her full weight onto Claire’s legs, smiling up at her. Ian quickly scooped her up, causing her to squeal as Jenny reached down for Kitty. When Maggie was settled on Ian’s hip, she reached over for Brianna and gently grasped one of her little hands.

“Brianna Ellen,” Maggie crooned softly.

“Banna!” Kitty yelled, and Jenny hushed her.

As they bundled up and left the church, making their way toward the wagon, Claire had the clearest vision in her mind of her and her family standing on the front steps, posing for a photographer. Brianna would be so good about it; she’d either stare straight ahead, docile as a lamb, or she’d fall asleep again. Kitty would likely cry in Jenny’s arms, and every picture would feature her screaming face. Fergus would stand beside his mother, hand on her shoulder. Wee Jamie and Maggie would stand in front of their parents, wearing wide, toothy grins.

And Jamie would be there, too.

In the world that existed in Claire���s mind where photographs and the Murrays existed on the same timeline, so, too, did Jamie still exist. He would stand on the other side of Claire, arm wound around her, chin held high. He’d be so proud. Claire would hold the picture frame in her hands for years after and smile to see how beautiful he looked on this, the day of his precious daughter’s baptism.

Claire found herself pausing on the steps, closing her eyes, not ready to let go of the picture just yet.

“Maman?” Fergus called. “Are you coming?”

Claire opened her eyes to see him turned around, looking up at her, and the rest of the clan settled in the wagon, looking at her expectantly. They were waiting for her, the nieces and nephew that adored her, her daughter’s Godparents. She looked down at Brianna, quiet and content to chew on her fist, then back up at Fergus and the others.

She smiled warmly.

Click.

“Yes, I’m coming,” she said. “Just…capturing the moment.”

It was truly a mental photograph she woud never forget.

— —

As Jenny had promised, the meal awaiting them back at home was exquisite. The tenants of Lallybroch were all warmth and smiles, and Claire lost count of how many women and girls had held Brianna. There was plenty of drink to be had, so much so that Ian had to swipe a glass away from his five year old son before Jenny realized that he’d snuck some.

The celebration had gone on for hours, and Claire was almost as giddy and drunk as she’d been at Hogmanay. At some point, Jenny and Ian had gathered everyone in the parlor and silenced them.

“Alright, alright,” Ian’s voice rose above the hushing crowd. “I’ll let ye get back to yer drink soon enough.” A few chuckles and rowdy shouts followed this before Ian continued. “I just wanted — we wanted,” Ian said, following an elbow to his rib from Jenny. “To say a few words, fer our wee Goddaughter, and fer Claire.”

Claire’s heart swelled as she listened from the sofa, and she tightened her grip on Brianna, resting her chin on her head.

“Claire Fraser is a rare woman,” Ian said. “She’s a fine Auntie to our bairns, and a fine mother to hers.”

“Brianna is a blessing,” Jenny said. “A blessing from my brother to you, to me, to all of us. A blessing equaled only by Claire herself.” Jenny caught Claire’s eye, her doe eyes sparkling with love. “ ’Twas a blest day my brother brought ye home, Claire. Though I didna see it so at the time.” A few scattered chuckles echoed through the room. “I didna ken that I’d gained a sister, and that I’d one day gain a niece, bonny and rare as her mother.”

Claire bit her lip to swallow back tears.

“To home, to family,” Ian called, raising his glass. “To Claire, and to Brianna, Frasers both.”

“To Frasers!” Jenny cried.

“To Frasers!” the room echoed, dissolving into hearty cries and applause.

It took Claire a moment to realize through her blurred vision and swimming head that the tenants were urging her to speak. Fergus reached for Brianna, and Claire numbly obliged, handing her over and standing from the sofa. The room whooped and cheered for a moment before falling silent again, Claire staring at their eager faces like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, hello,” she said awkwardly, feeling her cheeks redden. “Funny how I can bark orders during surgery, but when it comes to normal conversation I’m a wreck.” A few scattered chuckles. “Uh…well…Thank you all for coming today to celebrate my daughter’s life. To celebrate Jamie’s daughter.” She paused for a moment, gathering herself. “I’m not going to cry, don’t worry.” A few more scattered chuckles, tuts of sympathy. “He’d, uh…he’d be very happy to see you all here. Every single day I am grateful that this is where I belong. Jamie gave me this family, gave me all of you, a community. And he gave me this daughter. So many…blessings. From Jamie.” She blinked rapidly and swallowed. “So…thank you. For being part of that.” She gave a tiny smile. “See? No tears.” She raised her glass. “To…to blessings.”

“To blessings!”

As the room fell into uproar again and the feasting and mingling continued, Fergus rose up and planted a kiss on Claire’s cheek. 

“Beau discours, Maman,” he said, handing Brianna back to her.

“Merci, mon fils,” she kissed his cheek in return, ruffling his hair.

“Papa is quite proud, no?” Fergus said, his eyes wide.

“Yes, darling, he is.” Claire bounced Brianna and kissed her cheek. “Your father loves you so much, lovie. Do you hear?” she whispered into Brianna’s hair, as Fergus stroked her chubby little cheek. “You are so, very loved. Always.”

[whiskynottea]

We’ll rise up - Chapter 10 - We’ll find a way.

Previously Chapter 9

This story starts here and you can find the master list with all chapters here!

Jamie heard the church bells spread their sweet heavy chimes thrice.

One more hour.

There would probably be no chimes in the air in the years to come. The corruption of the church and the higher clergy wealth were more than obvious and most obnoxious to the people. Jamie didn’t mind about the Catholicism in France. He was raised a Catholic but the ministry of the church in France was now far from being holy. The clergy were becoming the First Estate of the realm and this had nothing to do with the word of God. The church was the largest landowner of the country and making a tremendous income from the outrageous taxes given from its tenants -- tenants that didn’t have enough to feed themselves and their families. Jamie had heard that it was a plan of the Revolution to abolish the privileges of the First and Second Estate. When done, the church would finally lose its power on people’s lives. They would be free of its rein and maybe the clergy found their way back to God.

But the pealing of the bells was a thing on its own. Jamie liked the bells. They provided stability and normality, a reference point during the day. Their sound filled the air as if it was solid, filling each and every empty space in the atmosphere with purity and hope. Hearing them was a gift of peace and he always had that strange feeling that they were ringing just for him. Following him around during the day, they were always there, invisible but strong and filled his heart with an inexplicable optimism.

That sound would soon to be no more and even though it would be a pity to lose their beautiful chimes, the joy of losing their master’s effect in human lives was making him anticipate that day with all his heart.

For now, the bells were aiding his counting of the hours passing; the hours separating him from Claire.

He’d been eager to leave the wineshop since morning and he’d already asked Murtagh – as nonchalantly as possible – if he knew where Master Raymond’s apothecary was. The man gave him one of his usual frowns but answered nonetheless. Before he could make inquiries of his own, Jamie engaged a client in conversation all the while planning his escape. If Murtagh was right, he would need less than fifteen minutes to reach the apothecary from the wineshop. He would start earlier than this, though. He didn’t want to be late and have Claire wait for him.

A little after half-past three he made to collect his coat and leave.

“Where d’ ye think ye go lad?” Murtagh asked, seeing Jamie from the corner of his eye. So much for avoiding him all day.

“I thought I could take a break, a goistidh. I’m working since dawn, aye?” Jamie replied with an innocent look.

“Ye’re working since two hours past down, lad. If ye recall I couldna wake ye up this morning. And from the moment ye’re on yer feet ye didna stop smiling and whistling, ye wee gomerel.”

“Aye, ‘tis that a crime then?” Jamie asked, grinning even now.

“’Tis no crime but I canna say ‘tis good and well either. Jamie lad. What d’ye have in mind?”

“Nothing.” Jamie shrugged and attempted to change the subject “Are we expecting another batch of red wine today?”

Murtagh replied with a nebulous “Mmmphmm”, totally ignoring Jamie’s attempt for a fresh conversation. “Ye met wi’ Annalise yesterday? Is she the reason for yer...” Murtagh gestured at his face with a frown.

“Annalise?” Jamie couldn’t hide his surprise. When he realized that he had actually seen Annalise the day before, he nodded. “Aye, we met.”.

“Ye’re in love wi’ the lass then?” Murtagh was frowning, his black eyebrows almost connected.

Jamie couldn’t but only laugh at that. “I dinna give a fig about the lass Murtagh – in a personal manner that is.” He looked Murtagh in the eye and continued somberly. “She’s alright, I s’pose. But ye know that I am seeing her as… a matter of business.”

“Aye, business ye say and business is what I knew. Till yesterday, that is. But now wi’ ye smiling like the cheetie that got the cream…”

“Well, her skin is like cream,” Jamie whispered too low for Murtagh to hear. “I have to go man, dinna fash, aye?” he said louder, facing a worried Murtagh. He was still grinning when he headed to the door.

“We’ll talk when ye come back, d’ ye hear me lad?” he heard Murtagh’s determined voice from the back of the shop.

“Aye, we’ll do!” he answered with a huge smile in his face.

Jamie ascended the numerous stairs leading to Master Raymond’s apothecary by two or even three at a time. His pulse was pounding in his temples and he had to stop and compose himself before entering the shop. He didn’t know who this Master Raymond was, but it seemed that Claire trusted him and Jamie wanted to make a good impression on the man.

The little bell above the carved wooden door rang and Jamie stopped in his tracks, trying to adjust in the apothecary’s darkness. Little bottles labeled with nice calligraphic letters were sitting on shelves all around him, clean and orderly, and a life-size crocodile was hanging from the ceiling.

Well, that was eccentric, at least.

A huge wooden counter divided the shop into two parts and Jamie saw a young woman behind it, watching him.

“Puis-je vous aider??” she asked with a kind voice.

“I’m looking for…” Jamie trailed off. Whom should he ask for? Claire? Raymond?

A small door opened at the back of the shop and a short, stout man walked towards him. He was well dressed and wore a wig, and smiled with friendly eyes while approaching. Jamie thought that he was as close to a frog as any human could ever look like, but tried to diminish such reflections from his mind.

“Bonjour monsieur,” the frog – no, not frog – the man greeted with a small nod of his head.

“Bonjour. Ye must be Master Raymond?” Jamie smiled back at him.

“Indeed I am. And judging from your accent you must be James, no?”

Jamie nodded grinning. Claire had talked to this man about him!

“So how may I help you James? Is there something specific that you need?”

Quite specific, Jamie thought. And what an exceptional choice of a verb. Need. That was true enough; he needed to see Claire as much as he needed water to sustain him alive.

A light cough brought his thoughts back to the apothecary. Master Raymond was smiling at him with a knowing look in his eyes that made Jamie blush. Shaking his head he whispered, “ah, l’amour,” and with a slight move of his eyebrows, he asked Jamie to follow him to the back of the shop.

Master Raymond opened the same door he’d used to enter the main apothecary space and a second room was revealed to Jamie. The door frame was a bit small and he had to duck as he came through it. The moment he entered the room his eyebrows shot so high, they almost touched his hairline. And Jamie had a big brow, to be sure.

Skulls and bones were all around him, placed in immaculate clean dark wooden shelves, looking at him with black holes instead of eyes. He instantly remembered the crocodile in the other room and decided that the amicable frog-like apothecary had a macabre side as well; or a queer sense of humour. The fossils belonged to various animals and the fact that -- at least -- none of them seemed human made Jamie feel a bit better. Tiny similar skulls were standing one next to the other while huge skulls from animals Jamie had only seen as pictures in books were in spots reserved to highlight their superiority. Everything was placed with such care, giving the sense that the owner valued each of the exhibits as a treasure. Absentmindedly, Jamie stood by the door and stared around the room.

A light touch on his palm made him turn his eyes, only to be captured from the most alluring panther-like eyes looking back at him. His heart missed a bit and then he sighed with relief.

Claire, safe, with him and her amber eyes looking into his.

Jamie smiled and instinctively raised his free hand to tuck a stray curl behind Claire’s ear.

“Hello,” he whispered and his fingers lingered a bit on her jawline, feeling her smooth creamy skin. How right Murtagh was, even without knowing a thing!

With her lips in a smile, she responded with the most beautiful “hello” he’d ever heard.

“I’m leaving you two now, but please behave!” Master Raymond said with a laugh while heading to the door.

Claire gave him a look and his smile grew bigger. “Just remember, mon chéri, you don’t have much time.”

“I know, Raymond.” Claire nodded gravely. “I know.”

With her hand still engulfed in Jamie’s she led him to a bench at the far side of the room.

“Interesting meeting point, Sassenach,” Jamie stated, looking around.

Claire laughed. “Master Raymond is not your common apothecary, to be sure.”

“What are all these, Claire? How come he possesses such things?”

“Oh, these are his pride and joy, or so he says. He will be delighted if you ask him about any of these fossils but he never talks about where and how he found them.”

“He’s a strange fellow. D’ ye know him well, lass?”

“Yes Jamie, he might be different but I can reassure you that he is never going to hurt us,”

Us. She couldn’t give him a greater gift. Every time Claire talked about them as one, the blood in his veins started dancing. With both his hands enveloping hers he accepted her reassurance. “How are you, Claire? Fergus? How are things in Saint Antoine?” he asked in one breath.

Claire laughed and squeezed his hand. “As you left them, yesternight.” Taking a stern look, she continued. “You shouldn’t come, Jamie. You should never come again.”

“I couldna but come, Claire, ye dinna understand? How could I sleep knowing ye might be in danger?”

“Coming in Saint Antoine puts yourself in danger Jamie,” she scolded.

“Not at night!”

“What if someone saw you αnd asked me about you today? What could I possibly say to explain things?”

“Ye could say I was sick,” he retorted with a smirk.

“Jamie! You surely understand this isn’t the point!” Claire said, rolling her eyes.

“Aye, I do. I had to see ye and I came and I don’t regret it a bit.” He stopped, feeling all his confidence leaving him in an instant. “Did ye regret it, Claire?”

Maybe that’s why she didn’t want him back again.

Claire ran her fingers on his cheekbones lightly before closing the distance between them. When her hand reached the nape of his neck she pulled him to her lips and kissed him, softly and tenderly,  to persuade him of her opinion.

Their kiss was long, but not enough. It seemed it was never enough.

With lips parted, hands tightly intertwined and chests heaving, they stared each other for some minutes without saying anything. Between them, it seemed that words weren’t enough either.

But they had to talk. To finish what they’d started in the park and find out what their next step was going to be.

“Who was the man in the park, Claire?” Jamie asked in a low voice.

“What did he tell you after I left?” Claire asked troubled.

“Nothing. He just looked at me, as if he sorted me in a category in his head, nodded and left with an ‘Excusez moi, monsieur’. Who is he?” Jamie insisted.

Claire took a breath and replied with tight lips while gazing at the floor. “Randall. Frank Randall. He’s a historian. He was a colleague of my uncle”.

“And?” Jamie encouraged her to continue.

“And he wanted to marry me,” she said, raising her head not to miss his reaction.

Jamie swallowed hard, trying to speak calmly and not show the pain that ran through his chest. “Are ye promised to him Sassenach?”

To his relief, her eyes became big as saucers. “No! Of course not! I’d never accepted him and he has no right on me!”

“Maybe ye didn’t, but yer uncle… Ye said they were colleagues.”

“Lamb would never do that. He told him to ask me and when he did, I refused. But he insisted. He couldn’t let it go. He would come again and again, trying to convince me of my grave mistake. I think he took it personally. It wasn’t about me anymore, it was about rejecting him. I had to leave everything behind and move to Saint Antoine for him to lose track of me completely. And it’d been nine years since I last saw him.”

Jamie said nothing but kept nodding, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Jamie, I thought he wouldn’t recognize me yesterday. We had to leave and he lingered there… I didn’t have a choice.”

“I ken that, Sassenach. We were unlucky yesterday. D’ ye think that he’ll search for ye, now that he knows ye’re in Paris, still?”

“I don’t know, Jamie. But he surely can’t come at Saint Antoine!”

“No, he canna. But he could send someone, no?”

“I guess so,” Claire said and Jamie felt the urge to take her in his arms and never let her be a step away from him. But that was still impossible.

Thinking how he could keep her safe, he came to his last resort, the least preferable but the only plausible option. “Ye have to be careful from now on, Sassenach. Be alert. If someone follows ye, ye have to stay close at home and always keep a company there around ye.”

Claire, with a sorrowful expression in her face, sighed. “Hiding again,” she murmured.  

“There is no other way,” Jamie replied stroking her hand reassuringly. “I wish I could just take ye with me, mo mighean donn,” he resumed with a rueful smile. “But this will make everything more complicated and maybe it’ll be easier for him to find ye that way.”

She nodded without a word.

“I’ll keep ye safe, Claire. I promise. We’ll find a way out of this.” With two fingers under her chin, Jamie tilting her face to bring her lips closer and kissed her, burying his desperation and putting all his encouragement in his kiss.

“And who will keep you safe?” she asked after the kiss, in higher spirits now.

“Your kiss, Sassenach.”

“Oh, a warrior and a poet! What am I to do with you, James Fraser?” Claire was smiling, lightening all the dark space around her.

Marry me.

He’d almost said it. There, amidst the skulls and the bones of long-dead animals, he’d almost asked her to marry him.

Not now ye clotheid. It’s not the time yet.

Instead, he opened his arms and engulfed her in a hug, with her cheek touching his chest and their hearts beating as one.

“Jamie?” she asked and raised her head to look at him again. “What have you done with the Comte? Did you manage to learn anything?”

“Nothing yet. I hope I’ll learn something in the promenade the day after tomorrow.”

“I was just thinking that if I remember correctly he had a châteaux in Maine. Maybe you could check if he went there.”

“Aye, that’s great information Sassenach. Thank ye, I’ll see to it. I dinna ken how long he’s going to last in Maine, though. People there took arms and support the revolution, ye ken,” he smiled, satisfied with the spreading of the revolution.

Claire smiled. “Glad I could help, Jamie.” She then added, with concern in her eyes, ”Are you going to the promenade alone?”

Now how d’ye answer this one?

“No,” Jamie replied feeling uncomfortable. “I will accompany Annalise, Claire, but –”

“It’s alright, Jamie, I know. I just wanted to know”. Her reply was firm and her lips pressed tightly together.

“I wish I didna have to do this,” he confessed, with slumped shoulders.

“I know,” Claire repeated, with a sad smile. With a sigh, she brushed her hair from her face. “We have to go. You stayed much too long in here for a wine salesman.”

Jamie snorted. “Are we meeting again tomorrow, here?”

“I don’t know Jamie. Maybe not tomorrow – if someone saw us today we’ll be making it way too easy for him. Maybe wait for a while?”

She’d better told him that he’d had to carry all the wine barrels from the warehouse to the shop for the rest of the year by himself. But she was right.

“Where is the wineshop?” she asked with a flash in her eyes.

Jamie looked at her, bewildered. “Claire, ye canna come to the wineshop, ye surely know that.”

“I can’t. But I know someone who can!” she winked at him and when his frown didn’t leave his brow, she explained. “Cl-“ she shook her head. “Fergus!”

Jamie smiled and took her in his arms again, telling her the location of the shop. “Tell him to ask for me or Murtagh, aye?”

“Aye,” she mocked him.

“Making fun of me, lass?” Jamie asked and with a hand on her waist pulled her closer to him.

“I most certainly am!”

“Well then, ye’ll have to pay for that!” He kissed her fiercely, first with mirth and then with passion, until they had no more breath.

“I’ll wait for Fergus, Sassenach. And I’ll think of ye.” Jamie took two steps backwards and bowed to her before turning to leave. 

He kept his eyes on her as long as possible, to commit her in his memory -- with red lips and rosy cheeks, smiling at him.

Chapter 11

[laythornmuse]

Where We Begin: Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Claire arrived at Lallybroch late Friday evening.   Jamie met her on the long dark driveway,  leading her vehicle past the main house to a small cottage set back from the main road.

Exiting the car, she barely took two steps before his arms enveloped her into his coat, and his mouth dropped to possess hers.

“How was the drive?” He spoke against her lips.  “Are you never coming up here again?”

“It was only two hours, Jamie,” she muttered back, a smile forming as she leaned in for another kiss.  “I’ve driven far worse roads with less attractive men at the end of them.”

“Och, a prize, am I?” He teased, taking her bag from her as he pulled her along the path to the house.

“Motivation, I’d say. That and a warm bed,” she squeezed his hand as she looked up at the house with its rich smelling, log fire hearth. He grinned as he opened the door for her,  his eyes moving over her lithe form before his hands found their way back to her hips. 

“I know I was just with you this morning,” he spoke softly to her, his hands  holding her in the dark foyer of the cottage, “but I feel like I’ve longed for you to be here, with me, for an age.” 

“I love it already.  Being here with you…” she smiled into the dark, and found his lips again. 

She peeled away her coat and his until they stood in their clothes, limbs twined around one another, their mouths gently claiming one another in a sweet and tender dance. They would have continued on, had a yawn not rattled her body and given her away.

“Tired, aye?” 

“Well, it's certainly not your kisses putting me to sleep.”

Jamie chuckled and kissed her once more before leading her up the stairs to their bedroom, where a fire was well tended in the hearth and the sheets were already turned down. The room was decorated in a primitive style, harkening back to the estate's 18th-century roots. Across the chair by the window was a beautiful red tartan,  the Fraser colors from what she knew, that completed the room’s charm. 

“Would you like to shower…”

“No, I showered before I drove up, just in case ‘rustic’ meant camping bathrooms.” She said with a chuckle as he kissed her forehead.

“Well, good. I’m about ready to fall over and I don’t plan on sleeping without ye,” Jamie said, patting her gently on her rump. “I’ll show ye the grounds and gardens in the morning, and then you can meet Donas and Losgann.”

“Is Donas the biter?”

Jamie smiled as he pulled his sweater off. “Aye. That’s him.”

“Mmhmm.” Claire muttered, peeling off her layers just as quickly to slip under the sheets.  They were cool against her naked skin and the sensation made her shiver.

“Cold?” Jamie murmured, as he slid under the sheets as well. They both wordlessly moved towards the center of the bed, where they pressed against one another, transferring heat, touches, and kisses.

“Not anymore,” Claire murmured against his chest.  Curled into one another, and tucked in the fire-warmed feather down, their soft words quieted as they drifted off in each other's arms.

The slamming door felt like it shook the entire cottage, yet it was the pounding steps on the stairs that launched Jamie out of bed and into his clothes.

“JAMES. FRASER.”

Claire’s head popped up, eying Jamie’s half-naked form as he scrambled into his jeans. His pants buttoned, he opened the door and met Jenny Murray before she had a chance to storm into their room.

“Yes, Jenny?” Claire heard his muffled greeting as he closed the door behind him.

A silence followed, and Claire’s eyebrow crept up her face as Jenny’s voice punctuated the morning air. She decided promptness was the best solution and dressed in a pair of leggings and a long sweater.

“Breakfast is getting cold, and I don’t plan on eating without you both,” Jenny stated softly as Claire appeared on the landing.

“That sounds lovely.  Thank you for having me, Jenny.”

“Of course, Claire,” Jenny said and then turned back to her brother, frowning. “Well, put on a shirt you clot-heid.” Jenny tsked and started down the stairs.

Claire bit her bottom lip to keep a grin from splitting her face in half.

“Mmhmm.” Jamie muttered but returned in under a minute fully dressed. He wrapped his arm around her waist as they took the stairs.

“Did you sleep well?” He murmured in her ear.

“I always sleep well next to you,” she answered, kissing his cheek.

He smiled and hummed pulling her closer to his side and they walked out of their cottage towards the main house.  The crisp fall air carried the smell of bacon, yeasty rolls, and eggs. Claire’s mouth watered immediately, but even the heavenly scent of breakfast couldn’t distract her from the rolling hills and the nearby fields of lilac and heather.

“Oh Jamie, it’s so lovely here,” she whispered to him, squeezing his hand.

“It gets better if you can imagine,” he spoke to her curls. Ten feet from the house two small children stumbled down the front steps, both climbing over the other as they scrambled to their feet.

“Uncle Jamie!” The small boy called as he ran straight into Jamie’s arms.  Jamie tucked him under his arm while he leaned down to his three-year-old niece and circled his free arm around her, lifting her to his hip.

“I told ye to be more gentle with your sister, ye gomeral,” Jamie jostled the boy gently before putting him back on his feet.  

“This troublemaker is young Jamie, my nephew. Jamie, this is Claire, a special friend of mine.”

The young boy blushed and smiled widely,  his uncle’s smile, Claire noted. “Hi. I can show you the horses later. I know all their names.”

“Aye, that’d be verra helpful lad,” Jamie added with a smile.

“Nunkie,” Maggie said softly, her small hands gently folding into Jamie’s hair.

Jamie kissed Maggie’s cheek. “And this is Maggie.”

“Hello Maggie,” Claire cooed, and Maggie’s hands instantly gravitated to Claire’s hair.

“Pretty.” She said in awe, and Jamie chuckled.  

“Aye, Maggie. I couldn’t agree more.” 

Claire blushed but before she could reply, Jenny appeared at the door, taking in her brother and children.  She rolled her eyes and huffed. “You’ll all be the death of me.  In the house for some food, now, all of ye.”

John sat at the long dining table, his fork shoving eggs into his mouth as Ian read him a story from the newspaper. Upon seeing Claire, John stood, and hastily stepped around the table, avoiding the dog and young Jamie running into his shins. 

“You must be Claire,” John declared, a grin dancing across his face as he took in her windswept look and her easy smile.

“Yes! And who are you then?” She said, taking his hand as he guided her to a seat.

“I, good woman, am the adopted brother, that you’ve no doubt heard nothing about because…”

“John then,” Claire replied, grinning. “I trust you're friendlier than your niece?”

John’s face morphed through several expressions before he chuckled, and to Claire’s delight, blushed. “I’m humbled if you find me so, Claire.”

“She already disarmed you, John?” Jamie asked through the bannock in his mouth. He took a seat on Claire’s other side and reached for the plate of sausage. “Honestly, I expected more from you.”

“I’m only on my first cup of…”

“Oh, coffee!” Claire exalted as Jamie poured her a cup. “I can’t fault you there. I’m not allowed near my scalpels until cup two.”

“Jamie mentioned you were in your residency. A surgeon then?”

“If all goes well, ” Claire smiled, sipping from her cup. “I should finish my certifications by January.”

“A hell of an accomplishment that’s for sure,” John replied, raising his brows at Jamie. “Much more prestigious than an MBA.”

“Be nice, now,” Jamie muttered to his forkful of sausage.  “We can’t all have law degrees, John.”

Claire smiled. “And Jenny the artist.  She must have hated listening to you all.”

“Actually, I didn’t mind it much.” Jenny chimed in, as she slid into her chair. “I can block out most of their prattle when it suits me.” She cast a grin at Ian who leaned in for a kiss.

“What do you make of our humble home then, Claire?” Jenny asked, eying her over her mug.

“I’d hardly call it humble,” Claire chuckled.  “It’s quite grand in fact, even in the dark. I can’t wait to see more of it.”

“You’ll be tired of the hills and horses by noon,” John muttered and Ian laughed.

“Because you’re tired of it, aye?” Jamie replied quirking a brow at him. “And that’s why you're here today as well?”

“I’m here to watch you make an ass of yourself on that horse.  I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Donas did wonderful yesterday,” Jamie said evenly.

“By wonderful, you mean he only threw you once,” Ian piped in,  looking at Jamie over his paper. “Or did you forget about that?”

John winked at Claire.  “Has he told you about the demonic beast yet?”

Claire's eyes flicked to Jamie who stared intently into his mug. She looked back to John and took a long sip.

“I saw the bite mark.  Is there more to that story?”

“Just Jamie shouting at a crazed horse and praying to God the thing didn’t run him over like…”

“That’s quite enough coffee for you,” Jamie muttered, pulling the carafe away from John. “And he wasna crazed.  Just scared.”

“Same different when it's a 500-kilo animal,” John growled,  his eye flickering to Jenny who just rolled hers heavenward. 

“I gave up this argument years ago, John.  Maybe Claire can talk some sense into him,” Jenny snickered, passing rolls to Claire.

“She’s no’ God, Janet,” Jamie grumbled,  his hand slipping to Claire’s thigh under the table. 

Claire furrowed her brows at him. “It’d take God to keep you away from a dangerous horse?”

“Nah,” Jamie grinned, giving her thigh a squeeze. “But it’d take God’s intervention for me to give up on one.”

Master List