#really thrilled by how much john looks like he could have been a little shit of a six-year-old

[doom-dreaming]

Blue Team (+ Cortana) Sims

(Places four tiny Spartans and an even tinier Cortana into your hands.)

Our main boy. Gap-toothed and covered in freckles. :) They're all over his shoulders, too. And his chest. And his back. It's great. He also has a secret tattoo on his shoulder.

Kellyyyyyyyyyyy. My silly rabbit. In all her blue-haired glory. Fun fact: Kelly looks different in every single reference photo I used. Thanks, Halo. All I have to go on is "rough, angular beauty" and a bunch of wildly-different renderings from a billion sources.

Linda! Everyone's favorite sniper. Turns out the birthmark options can also look like scars, so that's cool. I just think they should have more battle damage than literally every picture I've ever seen of them. You're telling me these people have been in heavy combat for over four decades and their faces are pristine? I don't buy it, no matter how good they are at keeping their helmets on.

Fred turned out much better after I spent a little more time messing with his face bones. And he doesn't look as much like he's constantly on the verge of tears like the first version. Lmao. Even got the gray (sorry, "silver") hair in there. And idk, I thought the tattoo looked cool. I do have Blue Team tattoo headcanons, but Sims doesn't really have anything close.

She!!!!! I was trying to get her close to the Halo 2 Anniversary facial structure, since it's my favorite look for her and her face is different in literally every game. I think I did a decent job. As decent a job as one can manage in a minimally-modded Sims game.

Good news, the height slider looks great with this group. John and Fred are at max height (Kelly and Linda are close to it) and Cortana's at minimum and. it's just good. It's very good. I'm finally realizing I have a very real thing for size differences, which is technically something I always knew, but. Anyway. There they are, I'm pretty happy with how they turned out! I still haven't finished their house yet.

[irenadel]

brushing johns hair after a long day

(the tiniest bit smutty, beware, unsure if this is what you asked for, but this is what came out)

It had been a weird fight. He'd just wanted to fuck. YOU'D wanted to fuck. He could tell, had in fact been following his nose straight to your panties from the last couple of blocks. You'd kissed him and wrapped your legs around his waist and he'd been so worked up, so ready to just fucking leave behind every goddamn frustration, every single one of the million fucking things that had gone wrong today... but noooo! It just wasn't ever fucking simple with you.

Granted... maybe he had switched positions too often, unable to get that good angle that just made his mind go blank. Maybe he'd ignored a couple of anxious questions about how he was feeling (but was it really his fault when your sweet, anxious voice made him so fucking hard?) ... Maybe he'd asked you to moan filth in his ear one too many times without being able to get you to say exactly what he'd needed to make that tight, broiling knot in his chest go away...

You were usually so good at that. You usually liked it.

I'm not your fucking stress ball, you had hissed angrily, smelling so much of arousal that it made him dizzy. Did you really need to get into it right now? Did you always need to be making mountains out of fucking molehills with him? Besides, you didn't have to get pissy AT HIM, because you'd had a bad day. He knew he'd fucked up the moment the words left his mouth.

You were angry cleaning now. Unpacking and dusting the seemingly endless boxes of books you'd moved into his condo. They'd filled him with a thrill of delight at first: your things in his home. He'd fucked you against the bookshelf he'd bought specially for all those little pieces of yourself you had surrendered to him. But now he just resented the excuse they gave you. The little fortress of private time (away from him) they represented. He hovered outside it, irritably clicking his tongue against his teeth, knowing he might need to apologize, dreading it anyway.

But you rescued him, as you so often did, and he near smiled at the thought.

"You can come help me, if you want."

He did want to, very much, and did not even try to cover his schoolboy eagerness when you handed him a dust rag and a pile of books. He'd asked you often why you didn't just have one of the various assistants always running around Vought do this... but now he thought he understood. There was something about the resinous smell of the new bookshelf, the prickly aroma of old books and the soothing murmur of your voice telling him this one goes here, hand me that other one, that seemed to unclench something inside him. He still felt bone-deep exhaustion, but he no longer wanted to break shit about it.

"You can just tell me when you've had a bad day, you know?"

He didn't let his hands stop, but rather scoffed and looked away, trying to forestall the inevitable. Predictably, you did not let him.

"Oh for crying out loud! Give me that!" You said, a part of you still smarting from the stupid fight, exasperation cut short the moment you reached for the book he held and your hands touched. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop being pathetic for you for a second. Apologies might be buried deep and hard to come by, but this was easier. It was infinitely easier to grab your hands and maneuver himself into your arms. Because you had never denied him this. He didn't know what he would do if you ever did.

He soaked in the warmth of your breasts, the steady beating of your heart, packed it away, secured it against the day it'd all be finally gone. When he felt your hands bury themselves in his hair he almost sobbed in relief. He did hold you closer, squeezed as hard as he dared, mindful always of your fragility, let himself draw in a ragged breath at the scrape of your nails against the back of his neck, pulling apart the strands of his hair along with the strands of himself. If he could have buried his face in your ribcage, crawled inside, he would have.

"I'm sorry," he whispered furtively against your neck. Your sharp intake of breath he hoarded as well, along with the weight of your lips on his hair, your sweet fingers touching his jaw so feather-light that they made him groan.

"I know," you say and he hopes you do. He hopes the day never comes when he cannot make you believe it.

[axemetaphor]

Everybody Loves a Mystery reached 50 hits on ao3 yesterday! I’m fuckin’ thrilled ‘cause I loved it a lot but was worried it’d be too niche for anybody else to give a shit. To celebrate, here’s the fic playlist. [YT] / [S] 

Since I tried to approach this fic like a movie, I decided the theme playlist for it works best as a soundtrack.

Here’s a breakdown of why I picked each song, under the cut.

Overall Theme: Werewolves of London Werewolves of London is everything I wanted this AU to be— fun, jaunty, surprisingly dark. It's cheesy and goofy and also talks about a little old lady getting mutilated by a werewolf with great hair. It just works! It's the perfect cheesy 80s werewolf movie song. I’d want a sample of this over the opening credits, if it were a movie.

First-Arc Theme: Renegade Renegade to me perfectly captures the opening tone: Amy’s journal entries about the dead dogs are a little dark, but once she actually reaches Undisclosed, she’s really kinda viewing it like a vacation. The lyrics themselves remind me of how John might feel—They haven’t actually had someone come in to monster-hunt before, but it’s not like he’s gonna take it seriously. The word is out, the jig is up, they’ve finally found me / The renegade who had it made, retrieved for a bounty is pretty dark, but sung in such a bright cheery tone. Putting it through the lens of perception that is John here, I’d call it mocking, even.

John's Parties: Dead Man's Party, Love Shack, Ballroom Blitz, When the Lights Go Out, Welcome To My Nightmare 

Dead Man's Party Dead Man's Party is the most cheery ominous bop I've ever fucking heard. If Amy weren't so single minded maybe she would've noticed how truly strange John's house parties were. She got a bit of a clue towards the end, with how pushy everyone was, but she never really got a grasp of how … lifeless other people around her really could be. When John didn't want them to act up, that is. 

Love Shack Alright, I'll confess, I'm guilty: this is just a for-fun add. I consider this one to be just the kind of song I'd want playing in the background during a party scene. It’s also a song that, I guess, if you held me at gunpoint, I’d remove from the soundtrack. But I wouldn’t be happy about it.

Ballroom Blitz Okay, I'm guilty again. I just fucking love this song. John's parties aren't violent scenes at all so it doesn't really fit, but it has that energy of being a fun party on the surface, while being very threatening underneath. It's another one I'd just want playing in the background of a party scene. 

When the Lights Go Out I can and will force you to listen to two Oingo Boingo songs on this "soundtrack." You have no choice. Fuck you.  When the Lights Go Out is the most ominous song in this section and that's on purpose. This is how John's parties really are— Kinda fucked up, ethereal, liminal not like the inside of a grocery store but like an acid trip. You don't know how long you've been in this, you don't know when it started, and you can't imagine it ending, let alone anytime soon. Despite that though the speaker, who I consider kind of a John-analogue in this case, seems to utterly love the place. 

Welcome To My Nightmare Welcome to my Nightmare is… equal parts suave and playful. Kind of. To me it feels like a clunky kind of suave but yaknow, maybe I don't know what suave means. Either way the lyrics feel like a pretty direct parallel; Amy’s stepping into John’s world here, and it’s a place that’s pretty fucked up but pretty fun. 

John Songs: Master of Puppets, Everybody Wants to Rule the World, Dude Looks Like A Lady

Master of Puppets Alright, let's get this out of the way first. No, I did not pick this song because of Stranger Things. Yes, Stranger Things reminded me of how much this song fucks. My dad was always more of an Iron Maiden kind of guy, but I grew up listening to a little Metallica too. This song fits John's whole shit— they are the puppet master of Undisclosed. They're running the whole show. This is the kind of thing I’d want as a credits song, as well as maybe a background song in an earlier scene, for foreshadowing purposes. 

Everybody Wants To Rule The World Beyond the fact it's an absolute bop, this is another obvious, on-the-nose pick for John. They do want to rule the world! Preferably with David as their right-hand man. Or lapdog. Whichever he'd prefer. Right now, though, they'll settle for ruling Undisclosed with Dave. 

Dude Looks Like A Lady This is another obvious pick for John here, to me anyway. If this shit were a real movie I'd picture it playing when Amy meets John at the post office. It's just the nonbinary energies John has. Also I think if you read into the lyrics it's about a trans woman who, I don't know, commits some crimes? It sounds to me like she rubs some place at gunpoint and the lead singer thinks she's so hot doing it he wants her to rail him. More power to him, honestly. 

Dave Songs: Hungry Like The Wolf, Werewolf

Hungry Like the Wolf This song honestly is more sexual than I always thought it was as a kid, which is kind of hilarious, but it's also, in a sort of a way, how Amy at first views Dave. He's dangerous and scary and kind of attractive but she's for sure frightened of him. He's absolutely not that scary in reality, but many things get filtered through her perception.

Werewolf If you've seen the poster for this fic then you know this is the song that started it all— It was part of what kicked off the ideation ghost-wannabe had before handing this project to my dumbass. It's not 80's whatsofuckingever, it’s brand-new at the time of posting this, but it does contain references to 80's songs, and it seems to have been written with the same kind of intentions as this AU. My reading of it is a man in love with his werewolf half, which … Dave isn't that self-loving but… well, I'll talk more about his relationship with his werewolf self in later works.

Amy Songs: Under Pressure, Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps), Bad Moon Rising

Under Pressure I have to be honest, this one is the least “thought-through” choice on here. Not like I’ve just slapped it on here, but because I can’t articulate the ways my brain is insisting it fits. It just does. Maybe something about how this AU’s Amy sounds similar to the friends being sung about in the song, maybe just because it’s a really good song, maybe it’s just that this Amy loves Queen. It’s in the second half of the soundtrack because it feels more “thematic” than “accurate to events in the work,” so it could be something like a credits song. “Axel, how long would these credits be?” Well, I can’t decide if this would be animated (so that I have an excuse to try and draw an entire fucking movie myself,) or live-action, so maybe they’d be some damned long credits. 

Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) This one feels almost like a John-and-Amy kind of song, in the sense that John would see her as similar to the woman spoken about in this song— naïvely opening doors she can't close, exposing herself to things that drive her mad. There’s a little pity in them for her, because of that. Also I wanted to put some Bowie on this soundtrack, is that a crime? This is another song I’d think of being played in the background of one of John’s parties

Bad Moon Rising Bad Moon Rising is another one that nearly perfectly captures this AU's whole shit. It's got an upbeat tune and it's a song all about disaster and how shit's about to fall to pieces. There's something great about applying it to this Amy's almost clueless self-confidence— things continue to escalate, but she's still so sure she can fix it, handle it no problem. And to her credit she is very capable! Nobody could possibly have been prepared to handle what was really happening in Undisclosed. Maybe if things had just been a little different…

[allxthingsxglxtter]

Look who just woke up- is that TOM HIDDLESTON? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s NIKOLA TESLA from THE SANCTUARY. I heard he is 155 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, they still give off a GENIUS LEVEL INTELLECT,  ELECTRICITY SPARKING AT HIS FINGERTIPS, LAST OF HIS KIND, MAJOR ABANDONMENT ISSUES, ATTEMPTS TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD WHEN LEFT ALONE impression. In Sydney, they work as a PROFESSOR. They’re known to be quite DETERMINED AND CHARMING but have a tendency to be ARROGANT AND SELFISH on their bad days.

Gender/Pronouns : 

He/Him

How long have they been in Sydney : 

Nikola's been in Sydney little over a year.

Which suburb do they live in? 

He has an apartment in

Personality description (in your own words) : 

Nikola comes across as an arrogant shit most of the time. He always believes he's the smartest person in any room, and is ready with passive-aggressive as well as sometimes direct insults. Most of this behavior is to keep everyone at an arms length, not willing to get close to people as he feels abandoned by the only people he did allow himself to get close to. He desperately needs people to look at him, to appreciate his genius, and when those he cared about ignored that he tended to lash out by scheming to take over the world. Mostly out of the thought he could make it better, but also because he knew it was the easiest way to guarantee he could get attention from his "friends" (it's a loose term for him at this point.). Nikola is very lonely, and anticipates that everyone will abandon him. So why bother letting anyone close enough to hurt him.

Memories of their real life : 

Tesla admittedly doesn't have many memories of his early life, his father a priest and his mother a house wife, though he does know that he got his inventive spirit from her. He had five siblings, and his family helped push him through school, but beyond that it's all faded into his very long memory.

He would say that the most important part of his life began when he was studying at Oxford and finally found like-minded, brilliant people. James Watson, Nigel Griffin, John Druitt, and Helen Magnus. He hadn't ever really had close friends, much less people he could grudgingly admit were nearly as smart as he was, and they were inseparable. It wasn't long before feelings got entangled in things, but Tesla was honestly surprised to find that the less-than-platonic feelings he had for every member of their group was shared, and from there the attachment just got more intimate. He loved these people, in every sense of the word, and couldn't imagine leading a life without any of them in it.

Their research involved supernatural beings, and Helen discovered original vampire blood from a species that had died out centuries ago. They had ruled the world for centuries, enslaving humanity but introducing lasting peace and technological advancements to the world that weren't seen since, and the chance to experiement with their blood was thrilling to Nikola. Over the course of their experiments each of them was injected with the source blood, and it awakened unique abilities in each member of the Five. To his surprise, the blood awakened his own Vampire gene in his blood, making Tesla himself a vampire with the power to channel electricity. He was proud of this development, and honestly thrilled at the prospect of being immortal, but each of them was affected differently, and unbeknownst to them all it affected one of them in more nefarious ways than the rest.

The dynamic of their group started to change when Druitt proposed to Helen, Nikola not understanding why that was necessary at all and felt it complicated their entanglement with the Five. But he still loved all of them, and just tried to ignore it and move forward, occasionally helping Watson as he tried tracking down the infamous Jack the Ripper that had shown up in the streets of London. The tension about the murders only increased with each death, and then the unthinkable came out. John Druitt was Jack the Ripper, the source blood making him bloodthirsty and ruthless in ways he hadn't been before, and he'd kept it a secret form all of them. The betrayal tore them all apart, and despite Tesla's best efforts, the Five separated, the friendship and intimate relationships falling apart. Nikola found himself alone, and that heartbreak turned to bitterness in him. It made him harder, his arrogance becoming a shield against everyone else, and he devoted himself to his own projects.

His devotion to his work was quick to turn to obsession, and the constant loneliness he felt turned him to the idea of trying to resurrect the vampire race. Things hadn't been terrible when they were in charge, and being left on his own so long really did end up making him a little crazy. So Tesla started his own experiments, wanting to take over the world with his own vampire brethren. And when Helen would occasionally show up in his life to stop him and his schemes, that just made it better. He missed her, and all of the others, even if their relationships had broken down horrifically over time and Nikola knew they all barely tolerated him anymore.

However, he did end up helping Helen and her Sanctuary's from time to time. Providing innovations or inventions that would assist in their work to protect abnormals. And when one of his electrical shocks to Druitt happened to make him less bloodthirsty and insane, Tesla was able to see him again, even if it was for the same short moments he was able to see the others of the five who still lived over a century later.

(There is more, and one day I will add the rest...I will avoid potential spoilers. But he remembers more.)

What was their fake life like :

TBD

Location they work in:

He works as a physics professor at the University of Sydney and can also be hired for consulting.

Quote:

"Which part of "I am a genius" aren't you getting?"

[discopig]

That Other Girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 3/3]

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2,244

It had been a week since your argument with Tommy, and you hated admitting it, but you missed him. As much as Tommy was a busy man, and a lot of your time spent with him involved him doing some sort of work while you kept him company, you still spent every day together, and this was the longest you’d ever been without speaking to each other throughout your 6 year relationship, and it was hitting you hard. You found that time moved extremely slow, and seeing as you weren’t on good terms with Tommy, you didn’t really get the chance to hang around the Shelby household, so the loneliness was starting to become overbearing.

You decided to distract yourself by going back in to work at the Garrison, and as much as you would have liked to avoid Grace and Tommy for as long as possible, you still had bills to pay and didn’t like the idea of the customers you’d grown to know over the years, getting used to Grace and you not being there. She had already turned Tommy into an idiot, you weren’t going to let her stop your earnings as well.

You walked into the Garrison to find Harry behind the bar polishing the glasses, Grace nowhere to be seen. 

“Well look who it is” Harry smiled at you, “ready to get back to work eh?”

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your face as you’d missed Harry and work

“You bet I am, my ankle’s not all there yet but I’ll take it easy”

You joined him behind the bar and started sorting out the liquor bottles that were all over the place from the previous night. You had been working for about half an hour when the door to the Garrison opened and Grace walked in, her eyes going solemn as she spotted you.

“You’re back to work I see” she spoke, tying her apron and joining you behind the bar

You wanted to pull her hair out, but you figured it wasn’t her fault Tommy had taken an interest to her, especially as she’s knew to Birmingham and might not have known of your relationship, but you still didn’t like her as you couldn’t shake off your suspicions of her having something to do with that  copper

“Yes I am, slowly trying to get back into it, my ankle really screwed with the balance of things”, you could tell she wasn’t really paying attention to you.

“Thomas talked about you, you know?”, you went rigid at the sound of Tommy’s name, especially coming from her mouth, “He hasn’t been doing good without you, shows up every evening and drinks bottle after bottle. Had to lock him out once, he almost broke the door down” she rolled her eyes at the thought.

You felt worry creep up inside your veins, as angry as you were at Tommy, you still cared for him and couldn’t find it within you to throw away years of your feelings from him because of your argument, but when you looked up from the bottle you were holding, at Grace, the worry seemed to fade away as you realised he had just been spending time with her while you hadn’t heard from him

“He tell you what happened?” You asked, wanting to know just how much he might’ve shared

“No he didn’t tell me anything, just said you two had a fight, lots of rambling about how he was gonna lose you, how he fucked up. I felt sorry for him but then I figured I don’t know what he did, and maybe he deserves whatever’s going through his head”

You nodded slowly at her words

“He came by a lot when you were out with your ankle”

“What did you talk about?” You had assumed that if Tommy refused to tell you, maybe she would

“About life I guess, I’d tell him about my life back in Ireland and he’d tell me about all sorts, ranting about work, his brothers, nightmares” she replied, “he spoke a bit about you, your family” she stated the last part with an edge of disgust, you sat in silence, lost in her words, “I don’t think you’re good for him”, you snapped out of your daze.

“Excuse me?” You asked, astonished

“You and your little posh family, you’re not like him, your roots are different and I can tell he’s getting tired of it.” You almost had to hold your jaw shut  to stop it from dropping to the floor. What was it with people bringing up your family? You had been in Birmingham for years, and most people wouldn’t be able to tell you were any different from those born and raised in the city, if not for your slightly differing accent. 

You were frustrated she brought up your family as Tommy had yesterday, but then it clicked that she must’ve been the one to feed him all those ideas about you being some posh brat while Tommy was shit-faced drunk, and you were pissed. Not only at her, but at Tommy as well for being stupid enough to even acknowledge anything she said about you

“Listen here you freak”, you glared at her “I don’t know what you’re doing in this city, and why you think you have the right to speak on who I am and my relationship, but you best believe I will find out, and when I do, I’ll have no issue kicking you out myself. First out of my bar, and then out of my fuckin’ city, you hear me? I’d kick you out right now if I could” you spat.

Grace stood there silent, and you returned to sorting out the bottles, trying to control your anger and not knock Grace out with a bottle of very expensive whiskey

You had decided you’d had enough of being lonely, and dragged John out of the house to go to the new museum that had opened a few weeks back. John wasn’t thrilled, museums not being his thing, but he was happy to spend time with you, cracking his highly inappropriate jokes every 2 seconds.

“Tommy’s been doing horrible you know that angel?” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words

“Please no Tommy talk for today, I just want to enjoy the museum.” You tried to brush him off, but you couldn’t help but worry for Tommy.

You were strolling around the museum, John’s arm lazily thrown over your shoulder, looking at different paintings and sculptures, when you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair in front of you, standing next to a man. You quickly pushed John behind the wall next to you, and slightly peaked your head out to spy on her

“Psst, John, who’s that man standing next to Grace?” You had never seen him before, and your first thought was her father, but then you remembered what she told you about him

John peaked his head out above you, and squinted his eyes to get a better look at the man, who as if on queue turned his head back to look around the museum suspiciously, as though he was searching the area, forcing you and John to quickly fall back behind the wall to hide yourselves

“Holy shit” John whispered, taking his hat off and running his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of being deep in thought, and being dumbfounded

“What? What is it John?” You asked, eyes jumping all over his face trying to make sense of the situation

“That’s the copper. Campbell.” 

You were sitting next to John at a family meeting, Tommy’s eyes boring into you as you avoided his gaze. It was the first time you’d seen him since your argument, as he’d seemingly been avoiding the Garrison, and consequentially, you. You were feeling a bit better about the whole situation now that your suspicions had been confirmed, but you weren’t quite ready to confront Tommy about it. 

The meeting went on for a little over an hour, Tommy groggily heading it. Just as everyone was about to leave, seeing as the meeting had come to an end, John spoke up

“Y/N was right” 

Everyone looked between you and John, confused

“Grace is working with Campbell.”

You saw Polly’s smug expression from the corner of your eye. Of course she knew

“What? How do you know?” Arthur asked, Tommy was still silent, a dazed look on his face

“We were at the museum”, you saw a spark of hurt in Tommy’s eyes at the mention of you and John going somewhere together while you had been away from each other, “and we saw her talking to the copper, they were all suspicious and everything Arthur, you had to have seen them, looking around the place like a pair of guilty kids hiding from their ma” John scoffed “I’m regretting giving her all those tips now...” You smacked his arm

Everyone awkwardly stared at Tommy, but his eyes were locked onto yours

It was the middle of the night when you suddenly heard banging on your front door, waking you up from your peaceful slumber. You groggily trudged towards the door, as you rubbed your eyes to try and keep yourself awake, however all the energy seemed to rush back into your body when you opened the door and saw Tommy standing outside, his tired blue eyes piercing into your y/e/c ones.

“Can I come in?” He croaked out

You didn’t know if it was the hour of the night, or the sight of him, tired, at the door, but you didn’t have it in you to send him away, so you stepped to the side to let him in, his eyes roaming over your apartment as though he was there for the first time, even though it was basically his second home.

“Would you like some tea?” You asked, worried he might be cold from standing outside

“Yes please”

You led him to your kitchen where he sat on one of your dining room chairs, you noticed he sat in the same one he always sits in, right opposite the stove, so he could watch you cook. You boiled the tea in silence, before pouring it into the mug he had brought over once and never taken back. It was a simple white mug that Finn had scribbled on with crayon when he was smaller, the crayon never seeming to wash off no matter how many times you scrubbed the mug. The both of you sat in silence, sipping your tea until Tommy spoke up

“I’m sorry Y/N” He looked at you with sorry eyes

“Thomas...” You began

“Please don’t call me that” He pleaded

“But it’s your name. What am I supposed to call you?”

“Tommy. I’m Tommy. You always call me Tommy, don’t change that.”

You stared down into your mug, not being able to meet his eye

“I fucked up Y/N, I was in a bad place and I know it’s no excuse but I was so tired and it just seemed so easy to walk in there and fill my system with as much alcohol as possible”

“You believed what she said about me being some stuck up cunt, you didn’t listen to me when I told you she wasn’t to be trusted” as angry as you were, you were mostly sad. Sad your relationship with Tommy had come to this point

“I know Y/N, and I know I fucked up and I know I made a huge mistake I’ll never forgive myself for, but I love you, I love you so much and I can’t live without you. Just this one week without you has broken me and you don’t know how much it hurt me to see you and not be able to hold you, not have you by my side. To know that I wronged you.”

You were staring into his eyes, trying your hardest not to cry

“You’re only saying this because John confirmed she was working for the copper...” you meekly replied, not believing your own words

“No. I was going to speak to you after the meeting because I’d finally gotten the chance to see you. That other girl hadn’t even crossed my mind once”, his voice was firm and you could tell he was determined to have you forgive him

“Tommy... I don’t-”

“Y/N please, give me another chance, I don’t want to lose you because of something so stupid, because I’m so stupid. Please Y/N I can’t live without you” You noticed a tear run down his cheek and struggled to control your own emotions. You loved him and it broke your heart to see him so upset.

You got up from your seat, panic glossing over Tommy’s eyes before you walked up to him and hugged him, his head resting on your stomach with your arms holding his head close to you

“It’s okay, I forgive you, just don’t cry, please. It doesn’t suit you” You smiled down at him, your hand holding the side of his face as you used your thumb to wipe away the tear on his cheek, Tommy leaning into your touch

“And you really are stupid”, you half cried, half laughed “promise me you’ll never do that again” you held out your pink to him

He smiled up at you and took your pinky with his own 

“I promise.”

AAAAAAH this is the end guys! I decided to give it a happy ending because fuck it why not! This is my first completed series and I really hope you guys enjoyed it. I went a bit crazy with the ending and I hope it’s not too cringe or disappointing, I just couldn’t stop myself. I was thinking about making a version where the reader ends up with John instead (because I love John), so let me know if you would be interested in that

Requested tags: @namelesslosers​

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 1: Adopted

AO3 @maribat-bdbwm

Adopted. Adopted. Adopted. Adopted. The word runs on a loop through Marinette’s head as her world crumbles around her. She was adopted.

“What? Maman, I don’t, I don’t understand.” Marinette says, her voice cracking as she tries to act like this isn’t bothering her. Like she doesn’t feel as though her entire world is changing.

“Marinette, sweetheart, just take a breath. That’s it, breathe in...and out. Very good.” Her maman says, holding her hands as she breathes with her slowly. Marinette swallows thickly, trying hard to ignore the way her hands shake in her maman’s.

“Maman, why didn’t you tell me?” She asks, confusion and self doubt swirling in her mind. Why was she adopted? Did her birth parents not want her? Could they not take care of her? Was she a mistake? Did they hate her? Did her maman hate her now? Is that why she’s telling her? Is she going to be kicked out? Is she going to have to leave Paris? What if-

“Marinette?” Her maman’s soft voice pulls her out of her thoughts. Marinette frowns when she realizes that she has tears running down her face.

“I-I’m sorry.” She says, pulling her hands away to furiously wipe at her tears, trying hard to ignore the sympathetic look her papa keeps giving her.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Marinette. Are you feeling up to an explanation? Or would you rather not talk about this?” She asks, her face covered in worry.

“I wanna talk about it.” Marinette says quickly, before slapping her hands over her mouth. She didn’t mean to say that. What if that’s not right? What if what her maman has to say is just going to hurt more? What if-

“Okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry we waited so long to tell you.” Her maman apologizes, scooting closer to wrap an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. Her papa wraps an arm around both of them, his presence calming Marinette enough so that she can think a little more clearly.

“Why did you wait? Why now?” She asks, still confused why she decided to break the news today of all days.

“We were going to wait until you were sixteen. Let you be at an age where you would understand it a little more, understand that being adopted isn’t wrong. And that you didn’t do anything wrong.” She explains, rubbing her shoulder gently.

“But then, why now?” Marinette asks, frustration starting to build. Why say they were going to wait and then not actually wait? Why would they-

“Mme. Mendeleiev called. You’re starting a unit on genetics and biology, and she knew that you were adopted. She just-” She sighs, frowning. “She didn’t want you to be blind sided or caught off guard in class if things didn’t add up.”

“But why does she know?” Marinette asks with a frown.

“Because we were both friends with your birth mother.”

--- Walking into class, Marinette tries hard to avoid the worried glance from Mme. Mendeleiev. All of the information from yesterday swirling through her head; her maman was friends with Mme. Mendeleiev. They were both friends with her birth mother, Bridgette Le. Her birth mother didn’t just give her up, she did want her, her maman had reassured her repeatedly. But she had died. And Marinette had almost died as well. And her parents? Didn’t hate her now. They didn’t love her any less, they reassured her of that several times before Marinette asked to be excused to go to bed. Tikki had had to watch for akumas most of the night. Breathing shakily, Marinette sits and immediately starts doodling on her notebook, hoping that no one else will put two and two together once their genetics unit starts. Hoping that no one will know or ask her. About adoption. --- It was two weeks after Marinette found out that she was adopted that she decided to talk to her maman about it again. After ranting to Tikki for several nights and spending time thinking about it, she had slowly started to accept it. It didn’t mean her parents loved her any less. It didn’t mean that she was any different or anything. It just meant that she had two more parents. A birth mother who had apparently wanted what was best for her, naming Sabine Cheng as her godmother even before Marinette was born. And a birth father. A man that Marinette was determined to talk to her maman about. Surely the woman would know something about him, given her close friendship with her birth mother.

“Hey Maman.” Marinette says, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the counter. Her maman smiles brightly at her as she continues to fill the dumplings.

“Hello sweetheart. How’s your commission for Jagged going?” She asks, her face filled with pride. Marinette grins and nods.

“It’s amazing. The shape of the suit is much different than anything else I’ve made before, but I think it’s going to look really cool!” Marinette says, a wide smile on her face before she remembers the whole reason she came into the kitchen. She clears her throat. “Maman, could I ask you something?”

“Of course Marinette.” She says, closing and filling dumplings before placing them in the steamer.

“When we talked about my...adoption. You didn’t say anything about my birth father. Did you know him too?” Marinette asks, staring down the counter to avoid looking at her maman.

“I didn’t know him very well, I’ll be honest. Bridgette met him when she went to the US for a year. I’m not sure what happened, but she did write a letter for him. I have it in the lock box though, she didn’t put an address on it and I wasn’t sure where to send it.” She explains and Marinette frowns at the lack of information.

“Does he- did he even know about me?” She asks.

“I’m not sure. Bridgette didn’t talk about him much. All she really said was that the town wasn’t fond of her and she didn’t want you to grow up in that environment, said it was terribly dreary. And that he was obsessed with his work. He worked for some big company, but I’m not sure if he still does. ” Her maman adds and Marinette nods.

“Is that all?” She asks, trying not to show her disappointment.

“Let me grab the letter. I can’t remember his name, but it should be in there.” She says, turning and washing her hands before walking away to get the letter. Marinette lets out a long breath, hoping that she isn’t making a mistake by looking for this information. --- Bruce Wayne. That was apparently the name of her birth father who lived somewhere in the US. Her maman was right about that. The letter didn’t have an address and Bridgette hadn’t put anything specific about the location. Besides her birth father’s name, the letter was a dead end. How generic could a name be? Bruce Wayne. It was like finding out her father’s name was Thomas Williams or John Smith or something. There must be thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US. Walking into Mme. Bustier’s class, Marinette trudges to her desk in the very back and drops down into her seat. Dropping her head onto her desk, she barely notices Adrien walk in.

“You okay, Mari?” He asks, frowning as he takes the seat next to her.

“I got a name.” She mumbles into the desk, knowing the boy would understand. She turns her head so that she can glance at him, frowning at the wide smile that takes over his face.

“Really? That’s great!” He says and she huffs.

“Not really. It was the most generic name ever, and the letter that Bridgette wrote didn’t have a location or anything.”

“Why do you want to talk to him so badly?” Adrien asks and Marinette sits up, frowning.

“I don’t know, I just-” She sighs. “I guess I just want the chance to meet him. Maman’s told me so many stories of Bridgette since I found out, and I’ve loved getting to know little things that we have in common. I just want to know if I have anything in common with him.”

“If you really want to meet him, I’ll do everything I can to help you find him.” Adrien says. Marinette looks at him, relief and gratitude coating her face.

“Really? You’d do that for me?” She asks, hope and faith that this could actually work rushing over her. Adrien nods, gifting her a small smile.

“Of course, Mari.” He says. Marinette opens her mouth to thank him again, when Mme. Bustier barges into the classroom.

“Students! Listen up, I have an amazing announcement!” She cheers, clapping her hands together. Marinette looks at the woman wearily, unsure of what the woman could be so excited about. She’d had a meeting with the woman earlier to talk about the end of year trip. They hadn’t talked about much, just the budget and trips that they could feasibly do. Marinette had also shot down some of the woman’s….less than ideal options. Seriously, who thought a trip to Gotham was a good idea? Even Marinette, with her lack of knowledge about the world’s big names and celebrities, knew that Gotham wasn’t a great place. It was quite literally crawling with villains, and unlike Paris, there was no Miraculous Cure to fix everything. Marinette blinked as the class suddenly erupted with cheers.

“What happened?” She asks Adrien, zoning back into the situation around her.

“We’re apparently going to Gotham for our end of year trip.” Adrien mutters, clearly not thrilled with the turn of events. Marinette nods, then freezes as the words register. Well shit. --- Marinette huffs as she rushes into the empty hotel lobby. Key word: empty. Well, okay it wasn’t completely empty, but it definitely didn’t have the entire class (and teacher!) that it was supposed to have. Instead it just had a tired looking concierge and a bowl of bruised apples. Fantastic. Grumbling under her breath, Marinette pulls out the itinerary that she had been forced to create for this trip she was forced to be on. She wasn’t trying to be dramatic, but between Hawkmoth and all of her responsibilities as Ladybug, going to a city like Gotham was the last thing that she wanted to do. Its villains, or Rogues as they preferred to be called, seemed to have no fear. At least Hawkmoth was smart enough to hide behind his goons. Gotham’s rogues had no such qualm, and instead ran around to personally cause mayhem. Glancing down at the itinerary, Marinette suppresses a groan. The entire class left early. Of course they did. Whatever, she still had plenty of time to get to their scheduled tour time at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art. It had been Alix’ suggestion, as the girl’s father was friends with someone who had helped in its most recent street art exhibit.

“Marinette!” A small voice yells. Marinette glances down at her purse and raises an eyebrow at the concerned look on her kwami’s face.

“What?” She whispers back.

“You’re not really going to walk by yourself in Gotham, are you?” Tikki asks, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’ll be fine, Tikki. And I plan on getting a cab.” Marinette says, giving her purse a reassuring pat before walking out into the dreary mist outside. Hailing a cab with surprising ease, Marinette tells the driver her destination and sits back, watching the gargoyles and architecture stream past. She’d have to sketch something later, because a million ideas for a Gotham inspired line was floating through her head. When the cab stops, Marinette smiles and thanks the man, handing him the fare and a tip.

“No problem, Miss Wayne.” The driver says, tipping his cap before zipping away from the museum. Miss Wayne? As in her father? Marinette shakes that thought away almost as quickly as it appears. What are the odds that she’d be in the same city as her birth father? Must’ve mistaken me with someone else, Marinette thought to herself, almost as if she was reassuring herself that there was no chance of seeing her birth father. No chance of someone seeing her and saying, “oh, are you Bruce’s girl? You sure do have his nose”. No chance of the man himself running into her and seeing a perfect blend of himself and Bridgette and- No. No need to panic about this right now. Pushing the thoughts away, Marinette rushes into the museum and nearly runs over Adrien.

“Mari! Are you okay? Where were you? I didn’t see you in the lobby so I got on the bus to look for you and you weren’t there and then I tried to get off to find you and-” Marinette cuts Adrien’s rambling off with a tight hug to reassure him that she’s there. She’s there and she’s safe.

“I’m okay, I promise. I got a cab surprisingly easily.” Marinette reassures him, mumbling into his chest. He freezes momentarily before returning the tight hug.

“Marinette! Now that you’re here we can start the tour. The tour guide suggested we start in the Comedians Hall of Fame and then loop around and end at the new graffiti display.” Mme. Bustier announces, clapping her hands excitedly. Marinette pulls away from Adrien, blushing slightly as he squeezes her once more before fully letting her go. Wandering through the Comedians Hall of Fame, Marinette’s eyes dance over the exhibits. She wasn’t necessarily passionate or inspired by this section of the museum, but it was still interesting. A big bang made Marinette spin around and frantically look for the exits. The uncontrollable laughter started seconds later. Shit.

“Welcome, welcome to MY hall! Except someone apparently forgot my picture. No worries though, I’m sure we can add one with all of your smiling faces in it as well.” A voice echoes in the hall. Marinette’s blood instantly freezes. The Joker. In a room. With her class. Oh my God, someone is going to die.

“What’re you doing?” Adrien hisses out. Marinette blinks and realizes she had unconciously taken a fighting pose. She was so used to protecting the class as Ladybug against Akumas, she just immediately fell back into the role. She straightens immediately, but it’s too late.

“Ah, a brave little girl. Who do we have here?” Joker asks, and the sickening realization that he’s holding a gun washes over her. There would be no Miraculous Cure. No Lucky Charm. Marinette grits her teeth and stares at the man’s yellow teeth stretched into an unnatural smile.

“Marinette.” She says, leaving out her last name. No need for her parents to panic because her name is trending at the site of a villain attack. Assuming nothing goes wrong and the heroes show up and she doesn’t die by the hands of the Joker. Not that that would be traumatic, or anything.

“What, no last name? Or did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?” Joker asks, pushing her hair out of her face with his gun. Marinette sees Adrien’s fists clench out of the corner of her eye, a wave of determination running through her. She needed to keep Joker distracted so that he wouldn’t notice Adrien and try to hurt Adrien. Since obviously, as an Agreste, he was a much better hostage than the daughter of bakers. Well, and the biological daughter of some random American man who doesn’t even know she exists.

“It’s Cheng.” She retorts, dropping her father’s last name off in a desperate attempt for her full name to stay off the internet.

“Is it? Are you sure? Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re a new Wayne. Much smaller than the others, and a girl is different, but maybe Brucie’s just changing his type.” Joker taunts and Marinette’s head spins. Wayne? It can’t possibly be her birth father...Wayne must be a much more common name in the US than she originally thought and maybe even though she hadn’t even thought about contacting him yet or trying to find him, maybe it would be much harder than she could’ve ever thought because it’s such a common name and he probably has no idea that she wants to even try and find him and there’s probably no chance that he even wants to meet her and-

“Are you even listening to me?” Joker’s annoyed voice cuts off her internal spiral. Marinette quirks up an eyebrow and shakes her head.

“No, not really.” She says, eyes widening and face instantly turning red as she realizes that this was not the kind of villain she could smartmouth like she did Akumas as Ladybug. She’s not even Ladybug right now.

“You’re odd. Maybe you’ll be even more useful than I thought.” Joker says after a moment of tense silence. Marinette glances around the room, noticing how the goons that came in with Joker were more focused on Joker’s weird reaction to Marinette than the other hostages. Making eye contact with Adrien, Marinette has a silent conversation, hoping that he’s suddenly become a mind reader and will start getting people out of the room while the bad guys are distracted.

“I doubt that. I’m failing science.” Marinette says matter-of-factly. It was true, though she wasn’t usually this bad at science. But it was really hard for her to focus on genetics and biology with everything else going on. So her parents didn’t really blame her either, though it did dissapoint Mme. Mendeleiev.

“You’re kind of a smart ass, aren’t you?” Joker taunts, haphazardly waving the gun around.

“It’s um, one of my better qualities.” Marinette stumbles over her words as the gun stops waving to once again point at her face. Joker smirks, his face suddenly darkening as a crash echoes throughout the room. Marinette pales as she watches Joker turn and shoot through the wall next to the door that Lila was currently walking through. Lila yelps and drops to the ground, and for the first time ever, Marinette is certain her tears are real.

“I see what you were trying to do, Frenchie. You were trying to get my hostages out of here. But why? Why would you play hero like that? What would YOU get out of that?” Joker taunts, moving the gun so that it’s pointed right at Marinette’s face again. This time, Marinette could feel the heat radiating from the end of the gun. From the gun being shot at the wall. Near a classmate. Granted it was Lila, but it was still someone she knew. Someone she couldn’t save with the Miraculous Cure because this would be it. The smoke filling the room pulls Marinette’s attention from the gun in front of her, and instead to the hulking figures that suddenly entered the room. Four people, three of them tall but one of those three towering over everyone else in the room. Marinette blinks as her eyes attempt to adjust and she sucks in a breath in shock. Batman. Batman and Nightwing and Red Hood and Red Robin. Of course she knew the vigilantes here, she had done extensive research on anything to do with the hero scene in Gotham. Mostly to keep herself and the class safe in case of an attack, which now that she thinks about it is actually impossible to plan for. Marinette’s feet seem frozen to the ground as she glances around at the bodies hitting the floor. She couldn’t see clearly, but she was almost certain that they were the goons that had arrived with Joker.

“Oh come on, I was just trying to greet this lovely young lady. Say Batsy, don’t ya think she looks like she could fit with the other Wayne brats?” Joker taunts as Batman closes in on them. Joker had shifted her so that she was pressed up against his chest, the gun now situatated at her temple. Batman stops several feet in front of them, a clear grimace on his face.

“Let the girl go, Joker.” He demands in a gruff voice. Marinette inhales sharply as Joker tightens his hold on her.

“I don’t think so, Bats. See, I need this one to guarantee that I get outta here without taking a trip back to my cell. So how about instead, I’ll take her on a little trip and leave her somewhere you can find her later.” Joker offers.

“I don’t think you’re in any place to attempt negotiations.” Batman replies, his face an unwavering mask.

“And why is that?” Joker asks, and Marinette can hear the wide smile in his voice, though she can’t currently see his face.

“‘Cause you’re the asshole who didn’t bother to focus on the rest of us.” A gruff voice from behind taunts. Joker sputters in shock, but seconds later his arms loosen and Marinette dashes towards Batman, glancing back in time to see the man collapse to the ground.

“Is he?” Marinette asks, unsure how to feel about watching a potential death. Even if the man was horrible, he hadn’t killed her or any of her friends so she couldn’t wish him dead. No matter how much it would help her sleep tonight.

“No.” Batman says. Marinette nods before turning her attention to the head of the Batfamily. A wide smile spreads across her face and she extends her hand for him to shake.

“Well then, thank you for saving me, Monsieur. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Next

[fandomfix13]

Should've Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Should’ve Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Y/N finds herself in a rough situation with Rafe and JJ steps in and makes Y/N realize it should’ve been JJ all along

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Slight violence in relationships, Lots of swearing, underage drinking (pls be safe!), Some pretty cute fluff

FIRST THING I'M POSTING SO GO EASY ON ME! I'M WORKING ON REQUESTS AS WE SPEAK!

XOXO

_____________________________________________________________

You sat in the kitchen with Sarah and John B while you waited for Rafe to finish getting ready. It had been 45 minutes since you had first sat down with them, and Rafe still seemed to be taking his sweet ass time.

“Jesus, I thought I took forever to get ready.” Sarah huffed as she sat back and entangled herself in John B’s arms. You loved how comfortable and cute they were with each other. It had been a long time since you felt that way with Rafe. It’s not that you were necessarily uncomfortable with Rafe, but things didn’t feel the same as they used too. “Guys thanks for waiting with me, but you guys should really get going, I don’t want us to make you late.” you said as you saw the time. “Are you sure? We can wait, I'm sure he’ll be done soon.” Sarah said.

You shot John B a look that said ‘go’ without having to say it. “Yeah, Sarah she's right we really should get going.” he says as he takes her hand to stand up. You mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to John B and he nodded in return as you walked toward the couch. As the two of them walked out the door, John B slipped back in telling Sarah he ‘forgot something’.

“Hey are you gonna be okay?” He said walking over to you on the couch. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” you said in a tone that was too rushed and sounded nervous. “Because I’ve known you since you were six years old and that look that you gave me was your ‘get the hell out’ look” he laughed. “I don’t have a ‘get the hell out’ look!” you mocked him. “Oh you absolutely do and you gave it to me. Is everything okay? With you and Rafe?” He knew you too well, there was no hiding anything from him. “Yeah. He’s just….being Rafe.” you shrugged not feeling the need to go into detail. “Y/n?” he said sitting down next to you. “John B?” you returned not giving him the satisfaction of knowing what's on your mind. “You’re not gonna budge are you?” he said, looking right at you. “Not even a little.You really need to get going. You wouldn’t want to miss you and Sarah’s big entrance would you?” You said walking toward the door with John B following close behind you, you turned around to see John B giving you his ‘tell me what’s going on’ look. You opened the door once again telling him to leave. This time he had accepted his fate and walked out the door. “If you need anything, we’re all gonna be there tonight. Okay?” he quickly added. “Okaaayy.” you sighed, “now go!”

You closed the door and started walking back to the couch when you heard the sound of Rafe’s bedroom door open. As he came down the stairs you noticed something wasn’t right which in the moment you chose to ignore. That was until he came up from behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. You didn’t mind that kind of attention but this wasn’t like him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and as you turned to confront him about it you saw his eyes. They were glossed over and dilated. His hands were shaking on your waist and there was residue of white powder under his nose. “Next time? You might want to look in fucking mirror after you snort coke off your bathroom counter.” You said with the calmest tone you could possibly have at the moment.

He rolled his eyes at you and turned around walking towards the door to leave. “Rafe we talked about this!” you yelled after him “No! YOU talked about this. I just sat there while you ran your mouth as usual!” He stopped in his tracks to turn around and yell right back. “You know how important tonight is! Could you not even have the decency to show up sober and get fucked up later?!” You hated when he got like this. So messed up that he was an asshole to everyone and anyone is his presence including you. “Tonight is important for my DAD! It’s not important to me! He probably doesn’t even want me there! Sarah’s there, that's all he cares about. So sue me for wanting to show up already gone.” part of you felt bad for him in a way. It hurt to see him struggle, but it also hurt to fight him on it. “Rafe we need to go. We are going to miss our entrance which is just going to piss your dad off more.” you tried to be calm. “Oh right, our entrance! Yeah I’m sure that everyone is going to be so thrilled to see me walk in with a fucking pogue!” he said in such a demeaning tone that you hadn’t heard before. You were taken aback by the words that just came out of his mouth. You always had a thought in the back of your mind that Raph didn’t like that you hung around with the pogues, but you never expected him to really say it. “Wow. Okay. Um. I’m not doing this with you right now. We have a party to get to.” You say making your way to walk past him and out the door. He tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm but you quickly pulled away. “Y/n wait.” “Don’t fucking touch me right now. We need to leave.”

-

As you arrived at the event you plastered on the biggest smile you could as you held Rafe’s hand and walked in greeting all the guests that approached the two of you. Old teachers, business owners and their plastic wives, old friends. All people that you truly did not care too see. You looked around the crowded room for any one of your friends to appear to provide you with a sense of normalcy. You spotted Kie standing with her parents also shaking hands with people she clearly had no interest in seeing. JJ was waiting for the guests. Pope was helping his dad with the food. John B and Sarah were outside secluding themselves from the socialite society that was this room, and you were standing hand in hand with Rafe who just 15 minutes ago was throwing insults at you.

You walked outside to John B and Sarah who were talking about how ridiculous some of the guests look in their outfits. “Hey if you two get to hide out here, so do I” You say approaching them from behind. “Trouble in paradise?” John B said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Just needed some air. The overwhelming smell of chanel number five and expensive champagne was starting to give me a headache.” You said only slightly joking. You all shared a laugh and you made your over to stand with your friends. “Drinks?” Sarah asked. You and John B both nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be right back” she said as she walked off the porch. “So.” John B said slowly turning his head towards you. “So.” you replied. “What are you really doing out here?” he said knowing that the excuse you gave was only half true. “Rafe just said some shit to me about being a pogue before we left.” you admitted. “I’m sorry, are you surprised?” he said with an attitude. “John B please don't be an asshole right now.” “Alright, okay I’m sorry. He didn’t... hurt you did he?” he said with concern in his voice. “No. He wouldn’t. He can be a dick I’ll admit, but he wouldn’t hurt me.” As you said this Sarah approached the two of you once again holding three beers. You sit there just the three of you, for a good 15 minutes before you thought you should probably go find Rafe. Not that he wanted to be seen with a pogue, but you should at least pretend like you weren’t beyond pissed at him.

As you walked through the crowded room saying your ‘hello’s’ here and there you realized Rafe was nowhere to be found. Your first thought was maybe he left. But then you realized that he wouldn’t leave a party that had so much alcohol and access to expensive drugs. You walked past JJ who was carrying a tray of champagne. “Hey J, have you seen Rafe?” you said following in his trail of champagne drop offs. “I try to never see him at all, so no I have not.” he said in his usual smart ass tone. “Ok. What about Topper?” he laughed “Considering I put a gun to his head I absolutely make it a point to not see him either.” you opened your mouth to speak again and he cut you off “Don’t ask about Kelce either. I haven’t seen them around anywhere. My guess is that they are in the bathroom making bets on who goes home with the hottest girl tonight.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked to the hallway where the bathrooms were. It was empty. While there was nobody in sight, you could hear the boys in the locker room.

Just as you decided to walk away, Topper stumbled out of the locker room. To say you were surprised to see him obviously fucked up would be a lie. You tried to quickly walk the other way so he wouldn’t see you, but you weren’t fast enough. “Were you stalking us Y/n?” Slurred Topper. God they sucked when they got like this. “Stalking you? Please. I have better things to do than stalk you. I was just looking for Rafe.” you said trying to ignore Topper’s attitude. “Rafe! Your pogue princess is out here lurking in the hallway waiting for you!” he yelled back into the locker room. You rolled your eyes at Topper’s label he put on you and waited for Rafe to come out of the locker room. He appeared almost instantly looking even worse than he did before. He was sweating, from the amount of alcohol in his system, and his eyes were beyond bloodshot.

“Jesus Rafe you look like shit. I left you for 15 fucking minutes! You look like you just went on a 3 day bender.” you spat out at him as he walked towards you. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He said cornering you. “I’m going home.” you said as you brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, harder than he tried to back at the house. “Oh come on Y/n, I’m just having a little fun. Don’t you wanna have fun?” he pulled you close to him whispering in your ear as he talked. “Fun? No. This isn’t fun. YOU aren’t fun when you’re like this.” you said trying to escape the tight grip he had on you. “Let go Rafe.” you said calmly. He started backing you up into the corner again, this time with a look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “You don’t want to have fun with me?” He said as he started to kiss your neck. “Rafe. Stop. We aren’t doing this here.” your voice was shaky. The way Rafe was acting was scary. All you could think about was all the warnings your friends tried to give you that you just ignored. Rafe was still nipping at your neck while running his hands through your hair. “Rafe get off. Im serious.” You said a little louder this time hoping that someone would hear. You could tell where this was going and you weren’t about to let that happen. “Rafe!” you yelled this time attempting to shove him off of you. As you started to shove, Rafe was pulled off of you. JJ.

“She said get off asshole!” JJ yelled as he swung at Rafe’s face. Great just what you needed. A scene at the biggest most formal party of the year. Rafe was not one to be messed with especially in the state he was in. Then again, neither was JJ. “JJ! Don’t!” you yelled really not wanting to see either one of them get hurt. Rafe swung back at JJ, and he swung hard. Fists were flying all over the place. JJ’s nose was bleeding, Rafe’s eye was swollen, but they just kept going. You knew that you should honestly just let them hash it out, but if you let them continue, one of them was really going to hurt. Plus, knowing JJ, he could’ve had the gun with him. “Guys! Stop! Please don’t do this!” as you stepped in in attempts to break up the fight, you felt Rafe’s elbow come in direct contact with your eye. “Holy shit! Y/n I didn’t-” rafe stopped as he was cut off by another punch to the jaw from JJ. “Do you feel like a big boy! Do you feel good now that you just gave her a black eye?! Fuck you bro! Fuck-” “JJ! STOP! I’m fine really. I swear just stop.” you yelled interjecting once again. The rage in JJ’s eyes was something you’d only seen in movies. “Jj look at me.” you tried getting him to look at you so you could break him out of the state of aggression he was in. Rafe stood back in shock that he really just hit you. It may have been an accident, but it wasn’t something that you were going to forget. JJ was right, you were most definitely going to have a black eye. “Jj.” you grabbed his hand and he directed his attention towards you as you pulled him away from Rafe.

“Y/n I really-” Rafe began as you turned around and got in his face cutting him off almost instantly. “No. You don’t get to talk to me anymore. If you would’ve just backed off when I told you too we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. You’re dangerous, and I cant do this anymore. We’re done Rafe. I’m done!” You said almost crying. You were so overwhelmed by what had just happened that your emotions were about to explode. “I’m dangerous? How about your little pogue friend over there? Huh? He put a gun to Topper’s head!” he shot back. JJ looked as if he could’ve thrown another punch at Rafe at any minute. “Well my ‘little pogue friend’ didn’t just punch me in the face did he?! You did. You got so fucked up that you couldn’t even chill out for 1 second! JJ put a gun to Topper’s head because if he didn’t you were going to let Topper drown John B. So yeah, you’re dangerous.” this time you were angry. As all the emotions ran through your body, there was no control over which ones were going to appear.

“Alright, fine! If you wanna be a bitch about this, be a bitch. I should’ve known better than to fuck around with a pogue.” he said is one of the most arrogant tones you had ever heard. You got as close as you could to Rafe so he could see the tears pooling in your eyes. You don’t know where it came from, but you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. JJ instantly came up from behind you and grabbed you by your waist as he pulled you back in fear that Rafe would swing for you on purpose this time. “Don’t you EVER call me a bitch EVER again, or I swear to god next time a gun is pulled on you, the trigger will be too!” you spat at him. You honestly don’t know where those words came from, but the thing that scared you is that you meant it. “Is that a threat?” Rafe said quietly as he stepped toward you. JJ pulled you back and told Rafe to back up while he whispered to you to relax. “You bet your ass it is.” JJ started walking the two of you away from Rafe as Rafe decided to speak up once again. “You’re fucking crazy!” he yelled down the hallway at you. You laughed with tears now streaming down your face. You turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. “And who’s fault do you think that is?” with that you and JJ walked out of the hallway and outside the nearest door you could find. You needed air, and you needed it fast.

-

JJ opened the closest door to outside that he could find and the second the cool outside air hit you, you fell to the ground and broke out into uncontrolled sobs. You always had a feeling that Rafe would end up breaking things off with the two of you but you never thought it would go down like that. JJ just stood there eyes wide. He had seen you upset before, but he had never seen you like this. You were broken. You sat there in the sand sobbing and mumbling a string of ‘oh my gods’ and ‘whys’ and you couldn’t stop. JJ kneeled down and just pulled you to his chest just holding you. He didn’t say a word, he just let you cry. The way he held you calmed you down little by little so you could at least catch your breath again. You looked up at him and gave him a little smile as he grabbed your face and you winced at the feeling of his finger resting underneath your swollen eye. “You need ice on this ASAP. I’m going to go get you some.” he said, sounding concerned as he stood up again. You nodded as he walked off but yelled out before he went inside “JJ. wait!” He stopped in his tracks and looked back at you. “If you see the others in there, please don’t say anything!” you cried. You didn’t need everyone knowing about this right now. If they knew now, they would cause a scene and ruin the night. You were going to tell them you just needed to process what the hell just happened. He nodded and went inside.

As you sat outside by yourself who just tried your hardest to breathe. Your heart was racing and you just needed to slow it down. You laid down in the sand and looked up at the stars and looked for the north star because you remembered Sarah saying “everything revolves around it” and that brought you a sense of comfort. Just as you found it JJ came back outside with ice for your eye. You sat back up and looked out at the water as he sat down next to you. He put his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The tears were still flowing but you weren’t crying anymore. The two of you sat in silence sighing back and forth. “I’m sorry for not stepping in sooner.” he said looking straight ahead. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just thankful you did.” you returned reliving the moment with Rafe in your head. His kisses on your neck were getting more aggressive, he was pulling your hair, his hands were wandering off to places that you didn’t want them to go. You started to cry again. “I was so scared JJ.” you buried your face in his shoulder once again letting small sobs out that you tried to hold back. “Shhh. I know. I know. It’s okay.” he was holding you again, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “He’s such an asshole! I feel like such an idiot! You all warned me about him! You all told me how awful he was and I just thought maybe you were wrong! I didn’t listen and I should’ve!” JJ shook his head and looked you in the eye “Hey stop. We knew he’s an asshole, that's a given, but the way he treated you tonight isn’t okay. It’s not your fault and you need to know that.” your head fell back to his shoulder and he laid his head on yours just before gently kissing your forehead.

You both just sat there in silence once again so you could catch your breath. “You know, you got pretty badass in there. That thing you said about pulling the trigger was intense.” JJ chuckled. You laughed a little at the thought of JJ thinking you were a badass. “The scary thing is, is I think I meant it.” you looked up at him. “Oh I know you meant it.” you both laughed. “You deserve better than him.” You looked up at him and slightly smiled at his comment. “I mean it. You deserve so much better. You have a lot to offer and people who can’t see that don’t deserve you.” something about this moment was different. As much as you loved JJ, you could both admit that he never said things that nice to anybody. “Thank you.” you said, smiling at him. He just nodded and looked back out at the water. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said about you and Rafe when you were with him. I should’ve just let you be happy, and for that I’m sorry.” He said, still looking out at the water. “It’s okay.” you said in awe that JJ maybank was actually apologizing for something. “No it’s not, I should have just supported you, but instead I just ran my mouth because in all honesty I was just jealous.” he rambled. “What?” you questioned. He was now looking away from you off in the distance. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with him. All I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me. Which is ridiculous and not a good reason to make you feel bad.” your heart started beating fast again, but this time in a good way. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you got no response. “JJ please look at me.” he looked at you and you noticed his eyes were pooled with tears. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you shouldn’t be with him because you should be with me?’ I couldn’t say anything because I love you. And if I said that to you I would lose you. And that would hurt much worse than holding it in.” you looked at him in a way that you hadn’t looked at him before. He had never been this open with you about anything. There was a moment of silence before you did something you did not expect to do. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek as you leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and sweet. It was nice. You opened your eyes to see his eyes on yours right as he kissed you back, placing his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. “It always should’ve been you.” You said before you sealed the moment with another kiss.

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Love Is Blind

Masterlist

Summary: The time has come to reveal your and Henry's relationship to your brothers, simple right? Well it would be if your wasn't the baby sister to the infamous Shelby brothers.

Warnings: RPF, Swearing, Slight Angst, Fluff, Confrontation, Implied Violence

A/N: so here is the Peaky Blinders AU that i started a few days ago, Im really happy with this and had a lot of fun with it. But please excuse the typo's

Taglist: in reblogs

You looked around the road eyes wide ,watching the passers by. The peaky blinders were everywhere... this was always a risk, not to mention you wasn't entirely sure where each of your brothers were. Or aunt Polly you only knew that Ava was off with her lover Fred. And you were doing much of the same... Well not Fred but Henry, your own lover. You'd met him when welcoming Tommy home from the war... He was hard to miss tall- taller then Tommy even! and injured he was searching the crowded dock but... It was clear to see that noone was there to greet him off the boat. He looked distraught and shattered. You were a bleeding heart and had approached him as your family had a small get together, you'd given him a hug pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek and welcomed him home giving him one of the flowers in the bouquet you'd brought for tommy. He had appreciated it, more then you'd ever know.

What you hadn't known was that he was moving into a home a few streets away. A few weeks later you saw him and he thanked you politely, you couldn't help think how very handsome he was, perfect blue eyes but for a speck of brown in his right eye, sharp regal features and pale alabaster skin now free from the bruising of his injury. He hadn't been as broad or muscular back then, but had been tall and lean.

Over the next few months chance meetings became dates, dates became full days basking in one another's presence until finally after a few months you'd fallen for the amazing gentle giant. It had been hard falling so hopelessly in love with Henry and having to hide from brothers and gangsters alike. But somehow you'd both made it with minimal near misses. Three years. Three years you'd been having this secret romance with him. But now you wanted more, as selfish as it was you wanted to be free to love him in public. Without worrying who may have seen you or if Aunt Polly will tell Thomas.

Yes she knew alright. There are no secrets from Aunt Polly. She said you done well and had even spoke with Henry a few times, she liked him. He wasn't in the business but could protect you, his shear size would be enough of a deterrent to others. And honestly she thought Tommy would get along with him, henry was clever and had an imposing frame. If Tommy had the chance, you knew Henry would be pulled into the fold, you were just unsure if that's what you both wanted.

Henry hadn't had much luck with work at first when he was here, so he became a boxer for a time learning to fight and defend himself and bulked up. It was terrifying to watch him be so ferocious in the ring and you thanked god each day Henry had avoided gaining a crooked nose. A few times you'd run into Tommy at the fights, your brother had singled you out and had you brought to him to stand and watch. But you were pleased to find out that your brother always placed his money on your man... So that was a good sign wasn't it?

Henry knew you didn't like his fighting but continued, he wanted to offer you everything. A home with kids and garden a cute little dog and the best clothes and food money could buy. So he saved everything! Kept all his winnings and in just over a year he had a nice sum of money in bets from his winnings and managed to earn enough for a small house. Since then he had a job doing the heavy lifting in a local Steel works.

Everything was set! Henry had a home for you, which you had a hand in help decorate. He promised a long and happy future with you! There was just the small problem of your family. They were... Protective to say the least, not only were you a Shelby sister but younger then Ava.

You quickly left the street today you were meeting Henry by the docks where Tommy kept the horse he'd just got. It was close... but not too close, it was worth the risk to be able to see Henry. Today was the day. You both decided! Henry will talk to them, introduce himself to your brothers this afternoon at the pub before they could drink too much.

You rounded the barn casting one final glance over your shoulder out of habit and slipped into the stalls. You could see him already, his flat cap and dark blue suit. Oh god he had dressed up for it, shit tommy would laugh him out of the bar. You chewed your lip and quivered you were anxious, this could be make or break. If Tommy was against it there was no way you could sneak about and keep your relationship going. They would chase henry out of Birmingham. Or kill him.

You stepped around the horse and giggled watching as henry gave himself a little pep talk twisting his signet ring on his pinkie with shaky hands. He was terrified and so were you. He paused and spun around to face you when he heard the small clicks of your heels on the concrete floor.

"W-what do you think?" he said spinning around holding his hands out letting you get a look at him. You stepped closer to him trying to settle your rapid heart. He was immaculate, stunning and handsome, sculpted by the gods... But looked too pretty. And god knows a Shelby girl wont be allowed to date a pretty boy. You smiled at him stopping inches away from him and walked your fingers over his chest slowly unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"You are magnificent... But a little too refined." you hummed motioning for him to shrug out of the loose suit jacket. He hissed out a shaky breath as you took the jacket from him and tucked it over your arm. That was better, the vest and white shirt showed his frame perfectly, and it also showed the slight strain on the buttons of his shirt. Hinting at the powerful man hidden beneath. You wanted them to see he was a strong man and it wasn't all the cut of the suit. You needed them to see you'd chosen a strong man capable of protecting you.

"There perfect" you said stepping back straightening his tie a little and stood back eyeing him carefully. There really was nothing more you could do. He would have to prove himself in what ever test your brother would conjure on the spot. By god you hope he impressed them.

"Yes you are" he quipped quickly eyes locking on to you making you blush and look away tip toeing around the horse in the stall that hid the two of you. Henry drew in a deep breath watching you closely. This was it. Today was the day, and he hadn't a clue what he was going to say to the great Shelby men. He cursed under his breath turning from you for a second. You understood, this wasn't just your future you were risking today, it was his life. Not many impress Tommy and far less managed to get in his good books when they were trying it on with the baby sister.

"You know that you have to just... Go in there and say 'I'm dating your sister' Right? Be firm and tell them like it is! Stand up to them! They would respect that" You cooed grinning at him from across the barn watching as your love eyed you from the other side of the magnificent white horse Tommy had recently got.

"What and have John blind me with his blades?" He scoffed at you before rounding the horse ducking under the stallions huge head and leant forward trapping you with huge hands resting either side of the horse stall you were leaning on.

"Ugh Johnny boy couldn't even reach your eyes Henry... Its just Tommy and Arthur you need to watch..." you rolled your eyes at him trying to act normal and ignore the black cloud hanging over your head. If this was the last time you were to be alone with him you wanted him to remember you as you are, not the nervous terrified woman you were at this moment. You smirked rising on your tip toes and teased his lips with your breath making him groan silently, the deep contracting of his wide barrelled chest the only give away to the effect you had on him.

You pulled back just as he dipped down to meet your lips and giggled at him as he wound his large arms around you hoisting you up by your waist and sat you on the wooden fence on the box stall bringing you eye level with him. You giggled folding your arms in your lap with his jacket knowing he wouldn't let you fall, he never did.

"Ah just Tommy and Arthur... That is cruel, I'm shaking in my shoes love" he teased wetting his lips with the luxurious pink tongue you knew all too well.

"Aww my poor bear, so frightened of my brothers I know, perhaps this will help you find that courage of yours~" you cooed before pressing forward kissing him on the lips. His lips drew up into a beaming grin and he stepped closer forcing your legs to part and dress to rise up to your knees as he devoured you in a heated yet forbidden kiss.

"Well then lets go shall we?" He grumbled eyes alight with a new want, a deep desire he had never shown before. It was thrilling and awe inspiring. Like he had a new lust, a lust for life and not just what was hidden beneath your skirts.

"Oh love like you said Tommy and Arthur?! I'm going to need all my strength for this meeting" he laughed as your face held a look of shock and disbelief then a petulant pout when you realised  there will be no quick romp in the hay this afternoon. With one final wink he spun around heading for the door.

You stood outside the pub. Your brothers were inside, you could feel it. There was a buzz in the air, the destinct feeling that followed 'the boss' hanging around. You had drawn a little attention walking the streets With henry at your side. People watched as the young Shelby woman walked arm in arm with an undisclosed male carrying his jacket no less. It made you cringe hearing the murmurs of 'should we tell the boss' 'does tommy know?' 'should we help her?' but luckily none made any moves towards you as you moved deeper and deeper into the heath. Towards the pub. You slowed as you neared the final destination and henry pulled out his cigarette tin fishing out the small stick deciding to have a quick smoke before entering the proverbial lions den.

"It will be okay... He will... Test you, but remember family is everything and I'm his youngest sister so..." you trailed off, the truth was you didn't know what Tommy would do or say. He was unpredictable and cunning, he liked to test people. You just hoped Henry passed with flying colours... or the only thing flying will be... you closed your eyes trying not to think of what would happen if things went sour. Henry could die, literally die today for loving you. It curdled your stomach you cant loose him. You hoped Tommy would see that.

"I know that... Here twos?" he said offering you the small cigarette he had been dragging on quickly nervously trying to pull some more courage from the small stick. Because once he was inside he couldn't show any weakness. It was daunting unable to show weakness when the love of his life was on the line. Henry was under no illusions Tommy could and would kill him, and there would be little Henry could do.

"Just remember y/n no matter what I love you. I will always love you" henry said as you toom a few drags on the cigarette. You whined and nodded breathing out the smoke trying to exhale all the tension and anxiety with the fumes.

"I love you too Henry, so much more then I thought I could ever love anyone" without a thought Henry pulled you to him and pressed a kiss to your lips. He didn't give a damn he was kissing the forbidden princess right outside her king brothers castle, or that the others around them would see. Be needed this one final pick me up before faceing the firing squad.

You smiled pulling back handing Henry the remainder of the cigarette and nodded to him. You got this. Then entered the pub walking right into the private room where your family sat. Instantly Polly looked at you frowning seeing you were pale, worried. Then her eyes flicked to your hands still folded with Henry's jacket draped over them. She drew a deep breath and sat straighter looking at the three males wearily. Oh god.

"Tommy I need to talk to you" you said seriously. But the blue eyed man rolled his eyes flicking the ash off his cigarette into the crystal ashtray before speaking dismissively trying to wave you off.

"Your not having that cat its final" john and Arthur chuckled at the automatic response Tommy gave but you frowned. You wasn't to sure what to say next, you didn't want to agitate him but you needed him to listen.

"No its not that- I have something to tell you and its important" you said drawing the attention of John and Arthur, but tommy heaved a sigh and moved stubbing out the lit cigarette and flicked his eyes to you letting you know he was listening.

"Mr Shelby could we talk?" You looked up seeing Henry standing there, tall and wide. Firm and unafraid confidently eyeing your brothers in a way oud never seen before. People cowered. Henry wasn't there was no hint of the anxious man outside. Henry was on a mission.

"Not now can't you see I'm speaking with my sister?" He grunted his voice was even. But to others could be seen as irritated. You turned as Henry didn't so much as flinch, you thought he'd run off but Henry let himself into the room standing closely behind you, one hand moving to his head removing his flat cap revealing the neat styled hair. The usually fluffy curls pulled into a slick style that accentuated his angular features. You nodded to him with a smile pleading him to carry on. What you didn't expect was for henrys huge arm to wrap around your waist in front of your sibling's. Fuck. You felt the shift in the room, anger and shock radiating from the men but an overwhelming curiosity. They wanted to watch this, it was rare someone was so god damned stupid as to put hands on you.

"She is the reason I'm here Mr Shelby" Henrys voice carried over the small space in a low determined tone. You tucked yourself into him, pivoting and twisting a hand to his tummy resting there, fingers twisting the button on his vest. You just needed to feel him, you felt like you were shielding him, but it was also self soothing. You needed to reassure yourself he was here for you. No one else. You.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy shifted leaning back eyeing the man who was being so familiar with his baby sister. Tommy was no fool, you hand flinched or pulled away, this male had been around you enough that you were used to him touching you. You gravitated towards him like... like a lover? Tommy's blue eyes bit into the man. As unsettling as it was seeing his sister so close to another man Tommy couldn't help feeling a little relief, a small spark of joy. If this was your beau you'd done well. Tall, muscular wide and imposing. Not many would pick a fight with him, even drunk people would steer clear of him.

"She invited me" Tommy smirked hearing the man speak, he was confident. Unafraid that boded well too. He wasn't a fucking coward... or atleast he was pretending not to be.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you all about...Tommy, Arthur, John... This is Henry... My?" You hesitated and looked between henry and our family. You just froze, clammed up at the calculating look on Tommy's face. It was frightening being scrutinised by him.

"Lover sweetheart we agreed no more secrets" Henry finally broke the silence tipping his face down to yours with a smile. Ignoring your family in favour of snapping you back to reality.

"Oh no you fuckin' aint sonny boy- y/n you get your ass over here now!" Arthur broke the silence with a rough voice shouting, ordering you to round the table and sit next to him. You grit your teeth and shoo, your head at Arthur watching as he turned red in anger. You wasn't like Ava, you never caused trouble or made trouble for your brothers, heel you were a 'goody two shoes' always doing as you were told. But this time you refused to do as you were asked and stayed put.

Tommy ever the eagle eye noticed. He had been ready to rip this man to shreds but, your simple act of defiance caught his attention. You wasn't a girl to play silly games, so to blatantly refuse and tell them no and side with this Henry meant you were serious. This was serious. And Tommy was wracking his brain he recognised this man... But from where? He was sure he wasn't a blinder so who was he?

"Now y/n don't make me come and get ya"

"I said no"  you snapped at your eldest brother, but your eyes were on Tommy. Henry squeezed your waist as you stared down your most threatening of brothers. Eyes locking with his blue gaze as you held your ground. The smallest of smirks tugged at his lip. You were unsure if it was good or bad but he wasn't scowling so you'd take that as a win.

"Your the one that was boxing...pulverised the others" Tommy said pointing slowly at Henry whilst pulling a crystal glass of whisky towards him, his thumb skimming the rim of the glass in thought. He was thinking, scheming... but then again when was Thomas Shelby not scheming?

"Yes, not that it was personal I needed to win" henry spoke clearly not letting the severe glares f your other brothers shake him. He was impenetrable a solid rock- a mass of a man all firm and sharp angles determined and poised.

"Oh? And why is that then?" Tommy purred still keeping his cards close to his chest, no one knew what he really thought of you and henry or the relationship at that moment. But he was speaking, not shooting. And that was all that mattered.

"I needed the money to buy a house for your sister" Henry said plainly placing his hat on the table in front of him. It was a strange gesture but one you understood. He was making himself comfortable but also using it as a metaphor throwing his hat in the ring so to speak, showing your family he had no intentions on hightailing it out of there and leaving you in the dust.

"You did, did you?" Here was something, a twinkle in the cool blues. You tried to dig deeper but as soon as it was there it had vanished. For a second you dare say your brother was impressed with your choice in man.

"I wasn't coming to you without being able to offer your sister something... I wanted to prove I'm capable of providing her a future" Henry shrugged feeling Tommy with a stare. You shivered hearing the iron will, the absolute control Henry had over himself. John scoffed and leant over the table glaring at Henry dragging on his cigarette then spoke up trying to mimic Tommy's own indifferent threatening demeanour, but failed. There was only one Terrifying Tommy.

" and some tiny house on a backstreet in Birmingham is a future?" john scoffed laughing outloud trying to dampen Henry's resolve. But your man was ready and grinned smugly showing off the perfect teeth and stunning looks.

"Medium actually... not huge but its bigger then what she is used to, with front and back garden bought and paid for... Last week I even got her a kitten... Russian blue expensive but y/n wanted one and I wont deny her" he replied without missing a beat. Henry was proud of what he had achieved, and so he should be. The house he had managed to buy was a  nicely sized three bedroom home, and it was indeed larger then where you lived with your family at the moment. Well decorated and furnished with tasteful furniture most of which you picked out together.

"And what you think I'll give my blessing because you got her a bloody cat?" tommy drew the attention back to him. You swallowed dryly. Tommy sounded mad now. You moved shuffling in front of Henry trying to cover him more, yet your hand wandered behind your back and you clasped your lovers hand tightly hoping things wont go from bad to worse.

"No, you don't need to bless anything, I'm not here to ask. I'm telling you that we are together and serious...We've been a couple for almost three years... And its about time I informed you" your breath hitched as Henry's voice resounded in the room. Oh god that was too far! You paled and snapped your head to him on the brink of tears and pressed back into Henry trying to make him pull back, but no. The man was a brick wall- immovable and stubborn... yet cool and unfazed. But what struck you most was the shock on your brothers faces. No one had spoken to any of them like that for a very long time. And for good reason.

"There is a fine line between courage and stupidity Henry" Tommy said recovering from the shock quicker then the others. He didn't even see you now standing on shaking knees trying to shield henry as much as you could with your frame. But it was no use, Henry was to big, you were but a tiny waif of a woman in front of him. But Tommy bore his curious gaze into the huge man. It would appear your love now had his undivided attention.

"I know, but I'm on the right side of it. I love your sister. And I have loved her for three years, since the day I got off the boat" tommy tilted his head to the side surprized once more by your lover. You drew a slow breath in. You knew tommy respected those who fought for their country.

"You served?" came the question as tommy poured himself another glass and then lit up another cigarette. You saw a quick smile light up his face, but again it was gone before anyone could really notice. Henry heaved a deep breath and nodded, he was no fool. He took a chance and it had paid off, or it seemed to have paid off he wasn't staring down the barrel of a gun or had a peaky cap flung at his face.

"Yes, along side you in fact... I was smaller then... Easy to miss. Your sister showed kindness to me when I had no one and nothing. She gave me hope, hope for the possibility of family and a normal life. She managed to ease my terrors and pull me from the memories of the war. And for that I will give her everything" henry spoke, you noticed your brothers each shrunk. They understood, the war left scars on the mind and it was true even henry had suffered, but you were able to sooth him and bring him back from the worst night terrors. Tommy grunted and flicked his gaze from you to your man then back again. There was a warmer hint to the blues, dare you say an acceptance. But even you knew he was still going to pull something out of the bag and throw a curveball at your love. Tommy still needed to test Henry, but atleast you could say so far so good.

"And taken something I assume?" Polly hissed looking away as your brother spoke. You rolled your eyes, did he seriously want to know if you'd fucked? Tommy held Henry captive in his gaze he knew the answer but for some reason he wanted the hear it out loud. You couldn't help this was Tommy's test, he was daring your lover to lie to him. You prayed Henry wasn't that stupid. To your reliefe he proved he wasn't as he replied sincerely.

"I shared something freely given I assure you there was no pressure" the statement wasn't smug, henry didn't make you sound like an achievement, something to conquer. And he made it clear that he hadn't pressed you into anything. It earned him a nod from all three men, you smiled they were coming around to Henry. Thank fuck!

"And you come here and say that to my face? Tell me you've broken in my sister? You certainly have balls" your smile dropped and you shifted on your feet. What just happened? Things were going great, and now they weren't? Luckily Henry was more prepared for this then you and he answered smoothly not fazed by the way things had turned so quickly.

"Yes I'm not going to stand here and lie about our relationship I love her. And I'll not hide it a second more. I will protect her and cherish her she has my upmost respect"

"So you say you respect her? Yet... She's carrying you jacket around like some maid?" tommy tried twisting things pokeing at Henry trying to get a rise out of him. Probably so he had a reason to chase him off. But you wanst having it.

"Tommy, I'm holding it so he cannot run! Stop being an ass" you growled releasing Henry's hand and moved forward seething at your brother who lounged back regarding you carefully.

"That's enough mouth from you y/n you've done enough becoming a fucking little whore when our back is turned?" you paused takeing half a step back as tommy's furious gaze landed on you. You quivered feeling hurt, flushing in anger and embarrassment. Not once had he spoke to you like that, you were always praised by your brother, protected and loved to hear him growl at you so cruely was heart breaking.

"I'd ask you don't speak to her like that-" Henry spoke up growing angry himself with the way Tommy had spoke to you. But henry was ignored as Tommy began to lay into you hissing venomously belittling you in front of your family and lover.

"Tell me sister is this some last mineut attempt to cover up a bastard? If so is it even his? For all we know you could be bed hopping all over the heath" you whined at the assault mouth hanging open trying to form words but it was hard. Your eyes welled with tears. Call you a cry baby but you loved your brothers and tried to do them proud to have one of them be so nasty cut you deep.

"No!- Tommy of course not-"

"So your just becoming the heaths bike then? To think after everything you'd sink so low to ruin yourself- Ava was one thing she's always ran around behind our backs but you? I really expected better then to become a two bit whore" his words were like razors ice picks hitting your chest, he always knew how to slice deep. It came with being a blinder- but you never thought you'd be on the receiving end. You moved back another step bumping into Henry, you wanted to run and hide. For the first time in your life you were scared, you didn't want to feel your brothers fury.

"Do not speak to her like that in my presence ever again" Henry snarled brushing past you hiding your quivering from behind him. He was livid and for a second you thought he was going to swing for your brother.

"She's my sister-" Tommy started looking back at henry who had taken the bait hook line and sinker. But was cut off by henry stepping forward leaning over crowding Tommy thumping the table with more force then necessary. Everything jumped, the glasses ashtray even the bottle leapt from the table. You jerked gasping as the bang echoed  in the room.

"I don't give a fuck. You wont ever talk to her that again. She is mine and brother or not you will treat her with respect or you will pay for it!" everything stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. It wasn't everyday someone threatened A Shelby, least of all Tommy. Henry growled at your blue eyed brother. Tommy tilted his head taking him in.

"H-henry?" you whispered moving forward pressing a hand to the small buckle as the back of his vest tugging him back, making him stand at his full Hight just in time as John shot up from his seat ready to lunge.

"Oi! Don't you talk to him like that I'll have your fucking eyes!" he roared jumping up turning on your lover but Tommy stopped him fisting a hand in his jacket and tugging him to sit back down... He was grinning?

"Tommy?" Arthur asked not following, but then again he always was a few steps behind everyone. You frowned blinking back tears and gasped. That bastard! It was a trick! You slumped  and wrapped yourself around henry before anyone could realise what happened. Henry curled himself around you frowning confused and you tucked yourself into him.

"Any man who a the balls to defend her against me...Will protect her from anyone..." Tommy spoke and tipped his head to the seat across from him offering Henry a seat at the table. You both sat quickly beside one another Polly moved pouring you both a drink, you looked like you needed it.

"So? So you mean we can be together?" Henry asked trying to keep up with how he'd just gone from having a target on his back to having a seat with the family. Tommy smiled nodding whilst bringing his own drink to his lips sipping the amber liquid then spoke.

"Mmm But you've broken her... You'll repay me for ruining her by making her an honest woman"

"The rings in my pocket" Henry said rubbing your back as you shook next to him, the adrenaline and worry now rushing through you. All these years of anxiety washing away with sweet tears of reliefe. Henry tucked you under his arm and held you close on the bench seat hushing you as you crumbled. You didn't really register what was said instead pressed your self into him hands tugging his clothes trying to calm down.

"Then do it- but you ever turn your fists on her I'll kill you" Tommy threatened holding out his cigarette tin offering one to henry, he took it thanking him then popped it between his lips and lit the white stick. His hand only quivered slightly, the rush of what just happened hitting him.

"It will never happen, I couldn't live with myself if I ever made her feel less then perfect let alone harm her" he said squeezing you tighter to his side.

"Then we have a deal?" tommy smiled, a genuine smile as he spied the two of you. He had no doubt, if henry was willing to go toe to toe with him in his pub, in front of his family- probably the most dangerous thing you could do in the heath. Then henry will take care of you and protect you with his life. Plus Henry made you happy and that was all Tommy could ask for, your safety and happiness. Contrary to what people thought he had no issues with anyone dating his sisters. He just didn't want his girls to have weak simpering husbands to protect them should the worst ever happen... And Henry knew how to shoot a gun from his time in the forces, so when handed a weapon Tommy wont have to worry about having a newbie protecting his baby sister. And Henry will be given a gun to protect you with.

"That we do" Henry grinned shaking Tommy's hand and quickly snagged your own placing a thin gold band on your left ring finger before you could even muster a single sound. You blinked wiping your eyes pawing at the salty droplets and gasped seeing the band on your finger, a small diamond in the centre or the dainty ring.

"W-what your not e-ven gonna ask me Henry?" You stuttered at him hiccupping and sniffling trying not to have a full blown breakdown and cry from both relief and happiness. Henry laughed pressing a cheeky kiss to your cheek making you flush and tuck your head back into his chest trying to hide from the onlookers.

"Now why would I give you the chance to say no? Hmm? I may be a tad slow sometimes but I'm not a complete idiot" he purred finishing with a small chuckle, that the others echoed everyone had calmed down accepting the news. You whined at him and slapped his chest lightly pouting as henry laughed.

"Besides your brother and I made a deal" he added as you pulled back eyeing your new ring with a weak smile managing to control yourself bar a few sniffling gasps and the odd rogue tear.

"Oh s-o I'm b-business?~" you tried to tease him but the words lost their bite as you were still tearful from your crying. You were weepy you couldn't help it, today had been stressful- hell this past week had been stressful!

"Business? No... Your my world love" he cooed not caring in the slightest at how soppy he sounded. He wasn't here to put on a show for your brothers. He was here for you.

"I love you" you said peeking up at him with a shy smile.

"Good to know~" he hummed winking at you taking another drag of the cigarette, but you pouted sticking out your bottom lip like you did each time he teased you.

"Yes, yes I love you too" he caved pressing a chaste kiss to your lips drawing a growl from your eldest brother, but nothing was thrown so you summarized you were safe.

"Congratulations Henry I told you they weren't that bad" Polly spoke up quickly ending your sweet kiss before anything could go south.

"Yes Ms Polly you were right, we should have listened to you" henry admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly

"Wait pol you knew?" tommy growled snapping to his aunt but the older woman rolled her eyes. Honestly you think he'd learn by now. No one pulled the wool over Polly's eyes.

"Who to you think has helped keep her from having a kid for three years Tommy! At least that's one thing I don't have to worry about anymore thank god!" she huffed pretending to be annoyed but you knew she was happy for you. She had been routing for henry, and trying to get you to tell the boys for a long time. You were just scared.

"Polly! Stop it" you squeaked flushing, no one needed to know  just what Polly had been helping you with! Least of all your fucking siblings!

"What its true? Now your free to pop them out without any uncomfortable questions from this lot, and i have no doubt it will be soon" she teased with a smirk enjoying tormenting you, she had bit her tongue for too long it was about time she got to poke fun at you. You were such a shy innocent little thing.

"Oh my god stop" you moaned ducking down as everyone chuckled at your expense. Henry then made it worse by ducking down beside you and whispered in your ear.

"...She does have a point love" then nipped at it quickly before turning back to your brothers as your face flamed.

It hadn't been the easiest of days, but in the end all the worry and anxiety had paid off not only had you managed to reveal your relationship to your family with no casualties. But you also became engaged to the man of your dreams. Tommy seemed relived, he was happy for you in his own over protective brotherly way. The freedom that came with todays outcome was worth it and now you and henry were free to start your lives together. Truly start with a marriage kids the whole nine yards! And you'd never been happier.

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 33: Blueprints

Chapter 32

Read on AO3

March 19

Jamie’s car hummed down the highway, one hand on the wheel, the other laced with Claire’s. The Spotify playlist he’d put together for the trip had gone over swimmingly; he’d mixed together all of Claire’s favorites—Barry Manilow, Elton John, Billy Joel to name a few—a few miscellaneous songs he knew she liked, and a few of his own favorites, some country songs that he knew would earn him a scoff and an eye roll.

The trip up, he could hear Claire humming as she gazed out the window.

“Come on, Sassenach. Sing.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why no’? Ye’re embarrassed?”

“Yes! And why shouldn't I be?”

“Because ye’ve, repeatedly, might I add, held my face between yer legs and begged like a depraved—”

“Oh my god! Fine!”

She’d blasted the volume, perhaps because she thought he wouldn’t be able to hear her as clearly, and she begrudgingly began singing along to Manilow’s “I Write the Songs.” After a few minutes, and after Jamie had rolled the windows down all the way, she was singing at full volume, her hair whipping into her open mouth.

She was no professional by any means, but she had a sweet, sultry, velvet sounding tone to her voice. It was different from the way he’d heard her sing with Faith, more wild and unconfined.

Now, on the way back, she was bopping to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” swinging their joined hands between them. He flicked his eyes off the road for just a second to take her in, and he kissed her hand as she continued.

They’d had a wonderful weekend, just the two of them, for the first time. Through Self Direction, Claire was entitled to something she referred to as the special needs parent respite program, a trip paid for by Self Direction, and childcare provided by them as well. Mrs. Lickett, Leina, and Amy had rotated their time with Faith all weekend since Friday afternoon. Claire had been incredibly nervous, especially since Amy and Leina were still relatively new. But with Jamie’s reassurance, she’d managed to let herself believe that January to March was enough time to get accustomed to two new people without Mummy or Jamie being around. Mrs. Lickett was the one doing bedtime and overnights anyway, which was something Faith was already accustomed to with her.

“I haven’t had a weekend away since before she was born.”

Jamie had burned with hatred for the sorry excuse for a husband she’d had before, and he simultaneously vowed that this weekend away would be the best she ever had.

And, not to pat himself on the back, but he was nearly certain it had been.

They’d stayed at a quaint bed and breakfast in Auburn, by the Finger Lakes. They visited a winery, did a beer trail—the Finger Lakes Beer Trail, to be exact, hiked through a state park, went biking, made love in a hot tub, made love in their bed, made love on the balcony of their suite overlooking a garden, made love on the hike through the state park…

Come to think of it, Jamie could not name a place that they hadn’t christened as such on their trip.

As much as he loved Faith, really and truly loved her like she was his own daughter, having Claire to himself was a thrill like no other. He’d underestimated how incredible it would be. He thought that they’d gone on plenty of dates, spent plenty of late nights together with Faith fast asleep…but this trip had been different. Is this what their honeymoon would be like, he wondered…?

Proposal first, then marriage, then honeymoon, Fraser.

“Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” concluded, and Claire sighed lazily, leaning across the gap in the seats to lay her head on his shoulder, resting their joined hands in his lap. “Copacabana” came on next, and he glanced down at her mischievously, expecting the performance of a lifetime. She didn’t budge, just nestled further into his shoulder.

“What’s this, Sassenach? This is a Barry classic.”

She chuckled softly. “I know. I’m just very tired. We didn’t exactly do much sleeping.”

He made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Aye. Something that I refuse to be sorry for.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want you to be.”

Barry carried on about Lola and Tony, and Claire remained silent, even at the climax of the song.

“Ye sure ye’re alright?”

She looked like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. Then, after a moment:

“It just feels like it went so fast.”

“I ken what ye mean.”

“It’s not that I’m dreading parenting again. I mean, that’s a daily existential dread kind of thing. But it’s not like I don’t want to go back home to Faith.”

“Ye’ll miss me that much?” he was teasing, laughing as he said it.

“Yeah.” She was gravely serious.

His brow furrowed, and he brought their hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles again. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m just…I’m tired of saying goodbye.”

The lines on his forehead deepened. “What d’ye mean?”

“I mean I…” She sighed, frustrated. She sat up, keeping their hands clasped. “Could you pull over?”

His heart leapt into his throat, his stomach tumbling. Rationally, he knew this could not have been going in a direction that would shatter his heart. It would make no sense. But logic could not calm the nausea as he took the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot that came up: a Burger King.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Oh God, nothing is wrong,” she said, shaking her head, laughing. She released his hand to unbuckle, then got up on her knees in the passenger seat. She took his hand with both hers, facing him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He unbuckled as well, swiveled a bit in the seat, and closed his free hand over hers.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for a while, because it just makes sense, but I thought I might sound crazy because it seemed too soon.”

His confusion must have been visible, because she laughed again.

“What I’m trying to say, and failing miserably at…is that I…I’m tired of having to say goodbye. I want you here. Well, not here. But home. With us.”

He blinked dumbly “Ye…ye want me to move in…? Wi’ you?”

Claire nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “Is that crazy?”

To answer her, he captured her lips with his, kissing her firmly, sucking in through his nose for air. “Is it crazy that I’ve been wishing fer it fer months?”

She chuckled through her nose and kissed him again. Christ! And to think he was worried! She wanted him to live with her! Her and her child! It was, of course, something that he hadn’t been unable to stop thinking about for a while as well, but he’d never have asked it of her, not before she was ready. He never asked a thing of her before she was ready. And it always worked out in his favor.

She lost her balance, leaning so deeply into the kiss that she tipped off her seat and face first into Jamie’s lap, and they sputtered with laughter.

“Sorry…” She scrambled back onto her side, but not before pecking him on the cheek.

“You’re flushed wi’ joy, mo ghraidh.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, shouldn’t I be? I just snagged the hottest roommate on Long Island.”

He laughed, gently tugging on the strand of hair.

“Well, since we’re here, would you like some deplorable fast food?”

Jamie winced. “Tempting as that sounds…I’d rather we drive around fer something else.”

“Fair enough. Burger King doesn't exactly seem like the best meal to celebrate a couple moving in together.”

Christ! Moving in together!

“I dinna understand it.”

“What? Burger King?”

“No…I dinna understand how every single time I think I couldna possibly be any happier…I’m always proven wrong.”

——

Jamie pulled up in front of Claire’s apartment a little after eleven that night.

Our apartment, he reminded himself.

He reached over and nudged her awake, and she woke with a start.

“Shit…how long have I been out?”

“About two hours.”

“Jamie! You should’ve woken me! I feel awful for making you do all that driving alone.”

“Don’t. Ye’re the busy career woman here.”

“You have a career.”

“No’ one that starts at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

She sighed and then got out of the car, retrieving her duffle bag from the back seat. Jamie followed her up the stairs, and Mrs. Lickett was on the couch, asleep with a book in her lap. Claire gently woke her, thanked her profusely. Jamie looked around the living room, the photographs on the walls and surfaces that now included him in them, and he wanted to weep.

Claire went in to check on Faith, and Jamie wandered into the bathroom, still holding his duffle bag. He opened it and pulled out the pouch containing his toiletries. He pulled out his toothbrush and slowly, reverently, slid it into the cup that contained Claire’s and Faith’s, full of princess logos. He tucked his shaving kit into an empty space in a drawer and slid his deodorant next to Claire’s behind the mirror. The rest of his toiletries were all travel sized, so he kept them away.

He was brought out of this ritualistic unpacking by soft lips on his shoulder, and he turned to take her in his arms.

“Hmm,” she said, looking at the toothbrushes. “How symbolic.”

He hummed in thoughtful amusement, reverently kissing the crown of her head. She pulled away to sweetly kiss him on the lips, then caressed his face in her small, tender hands.

“Welcome home, love.”

——

May 12

Jamie was awake long before Claire, long before even the sun rose. Unable to sit still any longer, he carefully tucked blankets and pillows against Claire’s back, knowing the lack of his warm presence might wake her, and he slipped out of bed. Last night had been rather hectic, and Claire had desperately wanted to pack everything for the zoo the night before, but had been unable. So Jamie took the initiative now, laying out the sunscreen, packing all of Faith’s snacks, unplugging her play-tablet and putting it and her headphones in the electronics bag. He checked the charge on her assistive communication tablet and decided to plug it in anyway just in case, making a note to not let her leave without it. He packed doggy bags and Angus’s portable food and water bowls. He packed a few snacks for himself and Claire, and then he moved onto prepping breakfast.

He wouldn’t actually cook them just yet, given that Faith wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, but he prepared batter, fruit, and chocolate chips for birthday pancakes. He moved to the fridge, checking the cabinet above it where he and Claire had hidden her birthday presents. They each had one to give her today, and one to give her the day of her party next weekend; next weekend since Mother’s Day was that coming weekend. They hadn’t decided if she’d be opening the presents before or after the zoo, so he kept them up there, deciding it best to wait if she asked for them or not. He let himself sit on the couch for a bit before he started heating the pan for the pancakes. He smiled at his tartan blanket, very at home on Claire’s couch.

He’d finished moving over all of his things in the beginning of April, and that night, he and Claire had champagne in their kitchen. He’d put all his own furniture and dishes in storage, to be placed in a house someday, if that was what Claire wanted. He’d brought over his cubed shelving, the kind that you bought with fabric drawers, and between that and the spare closet in the master that Claire hadn’t previously needed, everything fit perfectly. Atop the shelves, he laid out a few picture frames of his family, and what didn’t fit, Claire added to the wall of framed photos of her and Faith—well, her Faith, and Jamie.

Faith had adjusted beautifully, apparently hardly noticing a difference between Jamie being over all the time and just living there. Her favorite change had not, evidently, been Jamie himself, but the tartan blanket. She was constantly wrapping herself up in it, even as the May weather got increasingly warmer, rubbing it on her face, humming contently. It made Jamie unreasonably happy; it felt as if Faith’s love for the blanket extended into a love for his culture that he was so passionate about, an acceptance and celebration of who he was. He knew that was silly; she could not possibly understand the depth of its meaning, but the smile on her face when she became a tartan burrito was joy enough for him. Claire, of course, did not appreciate Faith’s attempts at eating dinner as said burrito…nor Jamie’s encouragement of the habit.

Jamie heaved himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen to start cooking, but then a door burst open, followed by giggling, and the pattering of six little feet. Faith collided with his legs before he could cross the threshold into the kitchen, and Angus sat dutifully behind.

“Well, would ye look who it is.”

Jamie bent down to pry her off his legs and lift her above his head, causing her to squeal.

“The birthday princess herself!”

He settled her on his hip and kissed her cheek, but she reached up again, grunting, apparently wanting to be thrown up again. Jamie just shook his head and continued into the kitchen.

“What day is it, lass? Can ye tell me?” She signed birthday about a dozen times in a row, vibrating with excitement. “Aye, that’s right. Happy birthday.” He signed the words with one hand, then kissed her nose. “Would ye like to help me make yer birthday breakfast, a leannan?”

Faith reached greedy hands toward the pancake mix, and he chuckled. “Aye, we’ll get there. We have to let Angus outside first. Come on.” He carried her to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, where they kept a few of those synthetic grass potty-patches for dogs, occasionally emptied by Jamie or Claire (mostly Jamie, but who was counting). They tried very hard to ingrain in Faith that it was her job to let him out, but it would take a while before she did so without being told. Jamie flipped the lock for her, and she used all her strength to heave open the door, and Angus pattered outside. Jamie then helped her get him fresh water and his breakfast, and then he was back inside, eating and drinking, and Jamie sat Faith on the counter.

Jamie scooped three circles into the pan of perfect proportion for Mickey Mouse, and Faith gasped dramatically. “Who’s that, Faith?”

She answered him with two perfect cups of her hands atop her head, the sign for Mickey Mouse.

“Clever lass! That’s Mickey, alright. Good signing. Good job.”

Jamie gave her a handful of chocolate chips to drop into the pancake, and she plopped them all in one spot. Jamie snorted, laughing. For the next handful, he tried hand over hand in an attempt to get her to spread them more evenly, but then she learned that the more she did it wrong, the more Jamie would try to correct her until she’d be eating chocolate chips with a side of pancake.

“Alright, no more,” Jamie said. “Ye can put some in mine and Mummy’s. How’s that?”

Before Faith could protest, Jamie was flipping the pancake, and she gasped again. “See? Mickey’s almost done cooking.”

Jamie almost laughed at how strange that sentence would sound in any other context. He slid the pancake onto a plate, used whipped cream to make eyes, a mouth, and a nose, and covered the spots with berries.

“There he is, lass.” He put the plate on the table with a flourish, and Faith threw her hands up, demanding to be taken off the counter and put in front of her food. He obliged her, carrying her over with airplane noises, and dropping her in her seat with a little crash sound effect. “There ye go. Special birthday breakfast for the birthday girl.” He kissed her head. “Ye have to eat his face first, ye ken. His eyes, his nose, his mouth.” He pointed to the strawberry eyes and nose and the blueberry mouth. “When ye finish that, then ye get syrup to eat his head. Aye?”

Faith began shoveling berries into her mouth with no regard for the whipped cream, covering her hands and face with it. Jamie started the next batch of pancakes while she ate her berries, and he cut hers up for her and added syrup while the first side was cooking. When it was time, he brought over the pan and let her put some chips in before returning it to the stove. He checked the time, decided he could let Claire sleep for a few more minutes, then started the last batch of pancakes.

When Faith was done eating and the stove was off, he spent a great deal of time de-sticky-fying Faith’s hands and face, and then he led her to his and Claire’s bedroom. (Christ, he still got butterflies thinking of it as theirs.) Faith was bouncing with excitement, but Jamie made her wait for his dramatic count to three before throwing the door open and letting her zoom into the room and onto the bed.

Jamie chuckled at the undignified oomph that Faith forced out of Claire when she pounced on her back. She started grumbling, face still in the pillow, and then it was like a switch was flipped, as if her morning-brain needed a few seconds to remember the day.

“Oh, my sweet girl!”

Her voice was breathy and still drugged with sleep, but the joy was real as she flipped over onto her back and pulled Faith to her chest.

“My six year old! Oh my goodness…”

She showered Faith’s curly head with kisses, and Faith hummed contentedly. Jamie sat on the bed by Claire’s legs, feeling a few miles closer to heaven at the sight of his girls tangled up in bed, a mess of wild curls spilling all over the pillows.

“Happy birthday, my little love.”

Faith hummed and began pushing violently away from Claire. Claire sputtered, jerking away and releasing her, and then Faith was scampering away.

“Are those pancakes I smell?” Claire said hopefully, her eyes still only half open.

“That they are.” Jamie leaned over and kissed her, and she moaned sleepily, letting him press her into the pillow, and then—

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Jesus H. Christ, how many times did she press it?”

Jamie sat up, looking over at Faith’s tablet screen. “Quite a bit.”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Well make it stop!”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoo—”

“Yes, Faith, we hear ye.” Jamie pressed the top of the screen to stop the endless stream and quickly cleared it before she could press it again. “Mummy is getting up right now, and then we’ll be getting dressed, then sunscreen, then off to the zoo.”

“She’s doing it again—”

“Come on, lass, let’s get ye dressed.”

Jamie hauled her over his shoulder, causing the iPad to flop onto the mattress. She squealed, letting her limbs fall limp.

“Yer breakfast is on the table. I packed everything we could possibly need. Eat, get ready. Let me see to her.”

“You do know it’s her birthday, not mine. You don’t need to pamper me.”

“Ach, there’s where ye’re wrong.” He sauntered over, six year old still tossed over his shoulder. “Six years ago ye were in labor fer…”

“Twenty-three hours.”

“Twenty-three bloody hours.” He leaned over, eliciting another squeal from Faith, and kissed her. “I say today is a day ye deserve to be celebrated as well. Go eat. Enjoy.”

“You sweet, bloody man.”

“Aye, I am.” He stood up straight again, and Faith let loose another squeal. “Off we go, birthday girl!”

——

It was midday; they’d just eaten lunch and ice cream, so any crabbiness to be found in the little girl was dispelled as they strolled through the gorilla exhibit. As Claire had told him she would, Faith was telling every animal she came across that it was her birthday, using her signs. Faith and Angus were held on by Claire, and Jamie pushed the stroller that was holding their bags, Faith’s communication device, and the two giraffes that she’d gotten last year’s birthday. (They’d in fact gotten ten minutes away from the house before Faith had started wailing, and it had dawned on Claire impressively quickly that Faith likely had meant to take them with her; of course they’d turned around to get them.) He and Claire had a running bet going as to which animals she’d get this year, because they both knew full well that she’d be doing the exact same thing, her desire for repeating matching sets all too permeating in everything she did.

“You know,” Claire said over her shoulder. “I think I might change my bet to gorillas.”

“Ye sure?” Jamie cocked a brow. “After last year’s debacle wi’ the tigers no’ appearing, then she sees them this year…ye were quite certain.”

“Yes, but look!”

Faith practically had her nose pressed into the glass, her eyes locked on a mother gorilla with a baby on her back.

“Aye, she’s quite taken.” Jamie watched the mother and baby.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Claire said softly. “I mean, look at her eyes. How can anyone believe she doesn’t have a soul.”

Jamie glanced at Claire, as enthralled with the creatures as Faith was, and his heart warmed. “Aye. They’re beautiful.” He crossed his arms. “Though my bet will remain wi’ the red pandas. They’re just too damned cute fer a wee lass to no’ want.”

Claire opened her mouth to retort, but it died on her lips, and she stiffened. Jamie’s brow furrowed, confused. Before he could ask what was wrong, a loud, high-pitched voice sounded, apparently for the second time. The child had been talking already; he just hadn’t heard it at first.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying.”

Jamie flicked his eyes down, and sure enough, there was a little girl, standing far too close to Faith for comfort. Faith was humming, her usual, happy stimming sound. She was having fun. Jamie was so used to the noise he hadn’t even registered she was making it. It was white noise to him at this point, to Claire as well, he knew.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying!”

“That’s the third time,” Claire hissed, and her small body began shaking with rage.

“Stop. It’s annoying.”

“You’re going to let her talk to my child like that?” Claire raised her voice above its previous whisper, and Jamie’s stomach flipped.

“What?” An older woman, appearing to be the complainant’s grandmother, turned away from the glass.

“You’re standing right there. I know you can hear her being nasty to my child.”

“Claire.”

“No! I want her to answer me.”

“Hey! Stop it!” In her final, fatal mistake, the blonde girl gently shoved Faith by the shoulder, appearing as if she only wanted to get her attention.

“Makenna, come on, let her be,” the grandmother finally intervened.

“Get her away from her, now.”

“Hey. They’re just being kids. Relax.”

“No. My daughter is being a kid. Your granddaughter is bullying her for being happy!”

Without another word, the grandma seized Makenna by the hand and dragged her away, disappearing into the crowd. Jamie wrapped a firm hand around Claire’s wrist to stop her from running after her.

“It’s no’ worth it. They’re leaving.”

“I feel like I’m about to explode.”

“Aye,” Jamie said softly, indeed feeling her vibrating intensifying. “I can feel. It’s over now. Look at her, she’s fine. She didna hear a word of it.”

Faith was indeed oblivious; her noise-cancelling headphones were secure in place, and she’d likely thought the girl’s small shove to be Angus. She was far too focused on the baby gorilla to have a care in the world.

“She’s fine, Claire,” Jamie repeated, loosening his grip on her wrist now that Makenna and grandma were out of sight. “Her birthday hasna been ruined. She willna remember that at all. If ye made a scene…that she’d remember.”

Claire hastily, angrily, swiped at a few tears. “I know.”

A few other guests were giving them looks over their shoulders or out of the corner of their eye. Whether it was because they, too, found Claire’s daughter annoying, or because they felt sympathy, was anyone’s guess. Nobody came forward to offer support, but neither did anyone else condemn them.

“She’s fine.”

“Yes. She’s okay.”

“Are you?” Jamie tried to meet her eye, and she finally let him. She nodded minutely.

“Just…I need to forget about it…”

Jamie nodded. Claire crouched down next to Faith, tapping her shoulder gently to signify that she was coming close so as to not startle her, being that she couldn’t hear anything. Claire began signing to her, and Faith answered clumsily, pointing to the mother and baby gorilla. After taking a moment to blink away his own tears that he hadn’t let show until Claire couldn’t see, he crouched down on her other side and joined the conversation.

She was fine, she was oblivious. She was happy, blissfully so. Her birthday was still perfect.

But Christ, that had hurt.

At the end of the day, neither Jamie nor Claire had won the bet. Despite Faith’s awe over the baby gorilla, the cuteness of the red pandas, or even, for argument’s sake, the appearance of the tigers, they walked out of the gift shop with a mother and baby elephant. Faith settled into the stroller for the journey back to the car, and by the time they took Angus for a potty break and made it to the exit, she was fast asleep, two giraffes and two elephants piled on her tiny body.

“Hey,” Jamie said. He was pushing the stroller with both hands, and one of Claire’s hands rested on his, her other holding Angus’s leash. “I love you.”

Claire peered up at him through her lashes and pecked him gratefully on the lips. “It was wonderful to have you here this year. It was the perfect sixth birthday.”

“It was. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.”

Her cheeks were slightly pinked with sunburn, her nose darted with new freckles. Her amber eyes were swimming with the colors of the sunset around them, and Jamie sighed in perfect contentment.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

No, now he was perfectly content.

——

May 14

Claire opened her mouth again, waiting patiently for Jamie’s response, and she hummed happily when he popped another grape between her lips. She sighed contentedly, shimmying back into his chest. His arms snaked around her again, and he kissed her temple. They were leaning against a tree, covered by the shade, watching Faith on a playground. It was completely fenced in, the playground and an adjoining field. Angus was laying in the grass napping, off duty until Faith needed him. She was quite independent on playgrounds these days, preferring to stop around, climb up the slide and then slide back down on her stomach, bounce on the see-saw herself, rather than drag her dog along with her. It was a good thing, Jamie had decided. The only time Faith decided to be utterly helpless was when she wanted to be pushed on the swing. She could pump her legs; Jamie had seen her do it. But she would always and forever prefer Jamie to push her. He’d been up and down a few times over the course of the afternoon.

It was a beautiful Sunday, Mother’s Day. They’d had a picnic lunch in the field, then sent Faith off to play. It was the perfect balance for Claire; Faith was close enough, having a grand old time, and yet Claire wasn’t overworked or stressed. They could just be like this, as a family.

Jamie had recently refrained from feeling any guilt when referring to the girls as his family. It was not presumptuous, not overstepping. Not anymore.

Jamie and Faith had presented Claire with breakfast in bed this morning, but not until eleven. Faith was ready to cook and have it delivered at seven, but Jamie managed to keep her happy with Sesame Street, Disney Channel, and a trip to the florist until an acceptable hour for letting Claire sleep in. The pancakes were all, of course, Mickey shaped, at Faith’s insistence. Claire loved them, and told Faith as such over and over. As Jamie had carried in the breakfast, Faith had carried in the flowers. It had been a perfect morning that carried into a perfect afternoon.

“I don’t see her,” Claire said, craning her neck. “Do you?”

“Aye, she’s under that wee rock wall cave.” Jamie gestured with his chin. “That flash o’ pink in the window. See?”

It was a small arch made of rock climbing wall that came just above Jamie’s knees. Faith enjoyed heaving herself up and just standing there, and apparently hiding underneath.

“Oh, yes, I see.” Claire eased back again. “How long has she been in there?”

“A fair bit,” he said.

“Is she just…sitting in there?”

“Aye, but I think she’s been making a nest.”

“What?”

“Ye haven’t noticed that she’s been picking up leaves and bringing them in there wi’ her?”

“No…” Claire said, a bit dazed. “I was trying to look for her on the slides or the ladders. In the groups of kids.”

“When have ye ever kent yer daughter to be among throngs of weans?” He’d meant it as a joke, but she deflated a bit.

“I hear them trying to talk to her,” she said softly. “Asking her her name, how old she is. Will she play tag, or hide and seek.”

In the beginning, Jamie and Claire had switched on and off shouting over to the kids and telling them that Faith wouldn’t answer, but after so many times, they’d given up. Faith wasn’t bothered either way.

“She’s perfectly happy on her own,” Jamie assured her.

“You don’t think she gets lonely? Or feels left out?”

“Nah.” Jamie kissed the crown of her head. “Not every kid, or every adult for that matter, needs conventional companionship. If she was lonely or unhappy she’d be all over us, asking fer snacks or juice.”

“You’re right,” Claire acquiesced. “You’re always bloody right.” She swatted his forearm in mock resentment, and he just kissed her head again.

Less than an hour later, Jamie was folding up the blanket and rousing Angus. They were out of snacks, and by the time they got home, it would be time to start dinner. When Jamie had asked Claire what she’d wanted for her Mother’s Day feast, all she’d requested was something they could all make together. So he’d decided on homemade pizza with all the toppings that Faith could throw on it to her heart’s desire.

“Come on! Five minutes are up!” Claire called, making her way to the playground. Faith was still under the rock wall. When Jamie had given her the five minute warning, she’d been on her knees and elbows, her head practically tucked into the ground.

Faith crawled out of the little tunnel obediently, and Claire reached out her hand, and Faith took it. Jamie made his way over to walk with them to the car, but Faith started tugging back.

“No, Faith. Playground is all done. It’s time to make pizza. Remember? We’ll get your chef apron, and—”

“Sassenach.”

“What?”

Jamie jerked his chin to where Faith was pulling toward. A single brown leaf was stuck in the grass, just outside the perimeter of the spongy playground floor. Claire let go of Faith’s hand, and she scuttled over to the leaf and picked it up. They watched as she crawled back into the tunnel, and she emerged almost immediately, giving Claire her hand right away.

“Good girl. Thank you, lovie.”

Instead of making her way to the car, Claire inched toward the tunnel. “Mummy wants to see what you made.”

Jamie smiled, following closely behind. Claire bent down to look into the little hole in the rock wall that they could see Faith through before.

“Wow, look at that,” Claire said, her voice breathy. “You made a little nest. That’s so sweet, baby.”

Jamie peered in, his grin stretching from ear to ear. She had to have picked up every single leaf in the entire playground, the entire field for that matter. He heard Claire sniffle, and he stole a kiss to her temple, onlooking children be damned.

“Mummy is so lucky, Faith,” she whispered, holding up the I love you sign. Faith copied, pressing the three fingers together, and Claire kissed Faith’s sweaty forehead.

——

At around nine-fifteen in the evening, Faith was fast asleep with Angus’s head trapped under her little arm. They’d all three spent the night making pizza, eating ice cream, and snuggling on the couch to watch The Little Mermaid. Jamie ducked out of Faith’s room, buzzing with excitement at having Claire to himself once more, and he locked the bedroom door behind him to find Claire already stripped down to her underwear and bra.

“Damn,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to come back until I was naked. I’m not wearing cute underwear.”

“Bloody hell, Sassenach,” Jamie half snorted, half growled. “D’ye think I give a bloody fuck about yer underwear?”

He attacked her lips with his, and there was a feverish ripping-off of clothing and underwear until they were both naked and hot and pressed together. Then Jamie slowed things down. He intended to worship her tonight, intended to show her with every kiss, touch, and stroke how much he loved her for the wonderful mother that she was, for the woman that she was. For the woman that she was because she was a mother.

After he made sure she’d found release with whatever method she deemed necessary, twice, Jamie finally perched over her and slammed home, delighting in the arch of her throat as she threw her head back in ecstasy. He could still taste her as he bent to kiss her, and her responding groan told him that she could also taste her.

He refrained from taking her hard and fast, not tonight. He let her feel every inch, let himself feel every inch. How many times had they done this? How many times had they gone to oblivion and back together?

As a lad, he’d been told by every teacher he ever had, all of them Catholic, that this was a sin. Not really the act itself, but doing it out of wedlock. He’d of course grown out of that belief, finding nothing short of holiness whenever he laid with Claire. Though, actually, the act itself could be considered a sin even in wedlock if done for pleasure. Some people believed this act must only be carried out if the intention was to create life.

Claire clenched around him, and he shuddered, groaning into her ear, unable to stop himself from speeding up.

“Yes…yes, love…”

He bit her ear, listening to her commands, listening to her body, and keeping up the faster pace.

Creating life…Christ, if Claire wasn’t on the pill, how many times might they have created life since last July?

She clawed at his back, dug her heels into his arse, mewling into his ear. His wee vixen would meet her end three times tonight, perhaps four if he paced himself.

How many times could he have made a mother of her since last July? Mathematically speaking, only once, really. It had only been ten months since they’d begun. But to think, every time he’d had her, every time she’d held him in place while he found bliss inside of her…

It was almost shameful, almost beastly, the primal urge he felt to mark her as such, to have her carry him inside her like that even long after they’d finished, pill or not.

And without that pill…

God, yes, he could make a mother out of her again. And she’d be beautiful; she’d be a goddess that they’d create together with their own hands, their own mouths, their own joining.

It was that thought that sent him fully out of control, no longer able to spare any ounce of power.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Her words slurred until they were one strangled cry, and then they were falling together, teeth and nails latching onto anything they could.

Afterward, they lie sprawled on the disheveled sheets, catching their breath, comforter and throw pillows hastily tossed aside long ago. When Claire shivered, Jamie chuckled and pulled the top sheet over them. They were facing each other, and Claire looked mischievous, as if she were about to suggest something else to warm her up. She didn’t, though, just kept looking into his eyes like she was keeping a secret.

Then he began feeling like he was the one keeping a secret. He bit his lip, debating opening his mouth to speak or to capture that exposed, beautiful nipple again and distract her, distract himself.

He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask ye a question?” He propped himself up on his hand, and she smiled up at him.

“Of course.” She turned slightly to see him better.

“D’ye ever think about…” His voice trailed off, his throat suddenly filling with sand. Or vomit.

“What?” She mirrored him, propping up on her hand as well. “You can ask me anything, Jamie.”

He smiled nervously and averted his eyes for just a second. “Children. Well, more, that is.”

Claire blinked at him, clearly surprised.

“I’m sorry if that’s out of line…”

“No.” She stopped him before he could fully spiral, sitting up and covering herself with the sheet. “It isn’t at all.”

He sat up as well. “Ye sure?”

“We’re…building a life here, Jamie. Aren’t we?”

Now she seemed nervous.

“Aye.” He sat up and took her hand assuredly. “That we are.”

Her tight face relaxed into a tiny smile, and she squeezed his hand. “Right. So…if you want more children…you’re allowed to share that with me.”

“I didna say I — ”

“Then why are you asking?”

He had nothing to say to that.

“You’d want that?” she asked, her voice suddenly quite small. “You’d want to…have a baby? With me?”

Jamie felt his heart leap into his throat. “Aye,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “No’ right away,” he remedied. “Just…in the future. I…ye ken I love Faith like she’s my own. And together I…we’ll raise her together. As ours.”

Claire nodded, her eyes misting.

“And I could always and forever be happy wi’ just that,” Jamie continued. “It doesna matter to me that she was…sired by someone else. No’ at all. But…to see ye grow round wi’ child…my child…” It was his turn to well up. “D’ye ken I’d give anything to have known Faith fer…even a day longer than I’ve known her…? To have seen her take her first steps, watch her grow from the size of my hand to a full little person…to have watched ye carry her, bring her into the world, hold yer hand through it. To hear her first cry…Christ.” He hastily wiped his eyes. “To…to have been there during her diagnosis, fer both of ye. I wish every day I could have all of it. Because to me…she’s mine. And I canna imagine it any other way. But I wasna there.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

“It’s foolish.”

“No.” She fervently shook her head. “Not at all.”

“I mean it’s…it’s wrong…selfish to want to have a bairn wi’ ye because I didna have all that wi’ Faith. Isn’t it?”

She offered a tiny smile, shaking her head again. “You silly man. You want to be a father, and all that goes with it. That’s not selfish. That’s beautiful.”

“Ye dinna think me a greedy, ungrateful bastard?”

She bit her lip, laughing through her nose, shaking her head. She cupped his face, her grin broadening. “Someday, Jamie…it would be the greatest honor to carry your baby.”

Overwhelmed with relief and joy, Jamie kissed her passionately. He hadn’t lied; he would be happy, more than happy, to raise Faith alone as his daughter. But he feared there would always be a part of him that longed for a baby, that longed to see Claire pregnant, nursing, all of it. The thought of having it someday was enough to send him shooting into the sky.

When their lips parted, Claire did not look as joyful as he felt.

“What is it?” he said immediately.

“Jamie, I…I do want it. I want to have a baby together. Someday. But…” She swallowed. “It’s not…a proven fact, but some studies show that it’s…genetic. Autism, I mean. There’s a high chance for a second-born.”

He nodded, slowly understanding.

“I say this with all the love in my heart for Faith, but…could you…could we handle a second child with needs like hers?”

Jamie’s brow furrowed, but he nodded without hesitation. “Faith is old enough now, we’ve got a system in place fer her. If we had to do it all over again with another, it wouldna be easy, but ye wouldna be going into it blind again.”

Claire nodded. “Okay.”

“Would it be alright wi’ you?” Jamie asked. “I have no judgement, Sassenach. Ye ken that. But you know as well as any that becoming a parent means ye’re to be prepared fer any kind of child. If ye truly think it wouldna be best fer you, or Faith, then she should be our only one.”

Claire waited only a brief moment before shaking her head. “If the doctor had put Faith in my arms for the first time and said, ‘this is your baby, but she’s going to have autism’…I wouldn’t have given a damn. I was already in love. From that first second.” She squeezed his hand. “I want that again, no matter what. I want you to experience that. With me.” She kissed him sweetly, gently. “I want your child, Jamie, no matter what.”

He was happier than he’d been just two minutes ago, happier than he thought possible. As he sealed that oath with another kiss, he knew it was time.

Time to put that ring that he’d bought in August to good use.

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

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Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

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~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[femmeharringrove]

see, it's not like steve's ever been good at coping.

it's bad after starcourt, but instead of dealing with it then steve just puts everything into healing others. he comforts eleven, stays on the phone all night with lucas or dustin, helps will learn not to fear the cold, gives billy a shoulder to cry on and a place to live.

and so billy gets a front-row seat to steve's self-destruction.

he doesn't think it's his place to speak, initially, but he does worry when steve leaves early in the afternoon and comes back wasted, bruises on his throat and traces of powder on his clothes. some weekends he doesn't come home, he goes to indianapolis and shows up late sunday evening with a massive hangover and billy just gets him to eat and drink a little before getting him in bed. steve's not eating enough, he's losing weight and billy worries because this is his best friend, not even heather matches their level. and steve's done so much good for him but he doesn't know how to return the favor - not until steve barrels out of the bathroom one night shaking like a leaf, tears streaming down his face. billy takes one look inside, catches sight of two life-changing sticks, and rushes out after him.

and it's then, when he finds steve out by the quarry in a panic, that he knows how to help.

"i didn't mean to get pregnant," steve sniffles, and the moment billy crouches next to him the brunette is shuffling closer, scared and in need of comfort. and billy's still working on the physical thing, learning it's okay to be affectionate, but he doesn't hesitate to hold steve as close as he can.

"i know," he murmurs. "it's okay. we'll figure it out. you aren't doing this alone, you hear me?" and initially billy thinks he's fucked up because steve starts crying again, but when this round of sobs passes the other boy gives him a shaky smile.

"you promise?"

"cross my heart and all that shit." and that's just it. whatever steve needs, billy's got him.

steve initially doesn't want to go through with it, but decides ultimately it could be a good thing. he's thought about parenthood before, always wondered if he could be a better father than his own. this is a chance to prove it. and billy gives him all the support in the world. nobody messes with the only child of the harrington family, they can't afford the fallout, but he's always gotten dirty looks after coming out and they get worse now that he's pregnant. but billy follows him everywhere now amd anyone who gives him a look has to face the blonde's anger. and sure, he's not where he once was. he's still putting on muscle and learning to use his hands again, but half of what makes billy hargrove scary is the way he presents himself, the glare that suggests he knows people won't mess with him. and they don't, amd they don't mess with steve either for the same reason.

and when billy isn't around to do the protecting, steve's got others. joyce has kicked people out of melvad's before, for harassing a fifteen year-old steve. and five years later she still does it, voice calm and eyes steely. claudia is at every appointment he has, making sure the other nurses and doctors call him by the right name and pronouns. she's there when steve sees the baby's hand for the first time and has a breakdown because he's growing a whole person and doesn't know if he'll really be able to take care of them.

and claudia, she remembers being confused and a little judgemental when steve came out as steve, but that was before she caught him shuffling down the aisles of the library one day, small and clearly anxious about everyone he came across. thirteen year-old steve had lacked the easy confidence he sported now, and it was when she saw him that it sort of clicked. she didn't understand how someone could be a gender other than the one they were born as, but she made a point to greet him as steve any time she saw him and made an effort to accept him. now he's like the older son she never had, dustin's big brother, and when he weeps frantically over the daunting trial of parenthood she takes him by the shoulders and gives him the most serious look she can muster.

"nobody is ever ready for parenthood," she tells him, and one hand comes to wipe his tears away. "but you have exactly the heart for this job. you're going to be the best father in this whole town."

which steve doesn't agree with. the best dad in town is hopper.

hopper, who's been harassing people for harassing steve for years, but is more aggressive about it now because steve really means something to him now. sometimes, eleven calls him her brother, and hop figures, yeah, the kid could use a dad. so he makes a habit of checking up on him, and it gets more frequent now because he's also checking on billy, and with a baby on the way hopper's protectiveness is at an all-time high. nobody wants to fuck with the chief, so no one fucks with steve.

when the harringtons find out, steve's dad is livid, but it's steve's mother who keeps him from lashing out. the couple can't stand the blow to their social life and so it's off to lansing for them, a fresh start or whatever. the house stays under their name, though, and steve and billy make it theirs. the cosy master bedroom becomes steve's, billy finally decorates the guest room downstairs as his own. his mother calls sort of regularly, she's not thrilled about the situation but she's eager for a grandbaby to spoil, and steve counts that as a blessing.

of course, the party freaks out when steve announces his pregnancy. it's not like they didn't know steve could get pregnant, but they've never considered the idea that he would. eleven, max, and will are immediately thrilled, discussing baby names and wanting to pat his belly - especially el, who's never really experienced a pregnancy. mike and lucas are a little weirded out, but mike brings steve a bunch of baby books left over from holly and lucas donates his own old toys, declaring that baby harrington was going to be the coolest baby ever if he got to help look out for the little one. dustin doesn't know how to feel initially, which stresses steve out, but when someone throws a slur at steve three weeks after that dustin flips out, yells himself hoarse at the fucker, and declares himself steve and the baby's most ardent protector. the whole group has already discussed babysitting schedules and, yeah, maybe steve did cry about it, but he's pregnant and it was probably the hormones and not anything else, thank you.

robin gently berates him about sleeping with strangers out of town when she finds out, but after that she takes her position as aunt very seriously. within four weeks she buys three outfits, five stuffed animals, and a french record to help the baby learn the language.

"no such thing as too early," she says as she drops it on the dresser in steve's old room. the new nursery.

it's a labor of love, mostly by billy. woodworking is a big help with his hands so he was all too happy to make a crib himself. again, steve cried, but this time he feels it's justified. billy's put a rocking chair in too, and a record player too - "your taste in music is shit," he'd deadpanned as he brought the thing in. "someone's gotta culture the little snot." amd billy does that all the time, he's called the baby a snot, a turd, a little shit, all that jazz. but his face is softer than it's ever been and that makes steve smile every single time.

steve's labor of love starts five weeks early, much to his horror, and it hurts like a bitch. he gives birth early in the morning after a rainy night. she's a little replica of steve, down to the moles on her cheek, and he doesn't think he's ever known love until he looks at his daughter and feels the almost painful swell in his chest. he cries as he hugs her against his chest and swears on his life he'll do right by this wondrous little girl. her name is nikita - no, not after the elton john song, though later when she asks that's what he tells her, just so she can throw her head back and groan, "daaad!"

no, she's named after his grandmother. and she gets rosaline for a middle name after billy's mother. because, even if they didn't say it, it's clear billy intends to co-parent. he doesn't call it that, he just says he's helping a friend, but he's the one who changes her diaper at night and bounces her to sleep listening to metallica and teaches her to eat spaghetti.

and originally, he's the one she calls dad.

first it's baba, which steve thinks is in reference to the fact that billy bottlefeeds her, and billy thinks it's similar enough to "billy" to not be anything more than that. but she gets older and learns to say billy and steve, and still calls him baba. baba and papa. and to the outside world it makes sense, they're a little family, steve and billy ooze a chemistry anyone else can't deny. but it takes them three extra years to get with the program and become a couple.

to this day, niki claims there aren't more clueless people out than her dads when it comes to love.

[thunderon]

O knowledgeable one, as someone who isn't Christian and is not at all interested in God and has zero understanding of biblical references why is the name Wake significant?

*looks around* who, ME??? i don't know about "knowledgeable" but i do have fifteen years of bible school under my belt and dated a catholic girl for like 3 years so i'll give it a go. im hardly the first person to do analysis on wake's name, but i have yet to see someone specifically talk about “wake” and “the sleeper” and all the biblical implications behind it so i guess i'll do it. i personally made a few extraneous connections that i haven’t seen examined anywhere so im going to hit on those right now. this isn’t so much a theory post as it is filling you in on some background of specifically the biblical significance of wake’s name.

buckle up anon because you are about to see the result of what happens when you ask a lesbian who was put through 15 years of church about the Bible.

  first things first. 

as it’s been previously pointed out: Awake These Valiant Dead is a Shakespeare reference from Henry V, but that’s only one line. i think people are missing the biblical reference from Henry V.you can read the full page here if you are so inclined (x)

but before line 138, where Wake's name is from, we get this excerpt starting on line 121:

“For in the Book of Numbers is it writ:

“When the man dies, let the inheritance

Descend unto the daughter.” 

Gracious lord,

Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag,

Look back into your mighty ancestors.

Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb”

this has some major implications, so let's unpack it.

as a non-christian, you are probably asking: what is up with the Book of Numbers and why do you think it's important?

basically, the Israelites were held as slaves in Egypt and were liberated by this guy named Moses.  Moses is tasked with taking the Israelites to the Promised Land (which is basically a paradise where God said the Israelites can go and live). the book of numbers is recounting this journey to the Promise Land. in the bible, the Israelites find the Promised Land, which is called Canaan (hmmm where have we heard that name before?).  the Israelites send 12 spies to scout the land and the spies come back and report that it’s “overflowing with milk and honey” (i bet you’ve probably heard that phrase) but there’s also these giants living there. the Israelites get too scared to take the land, which pisses off God and he goes “fine. y’all can die in the wilderness then. this land will be for your next generation since u guys wanna pussy out”. okay that’s not verbatim but it’s the gist. the book of numbers eventually ends with the Israelites needing the cross the Jordan River and the Promised Land is left for the next generation to inherit. obviously muir draws on these aspects from canaan house and the river in her books. now back to the quote  i pulled from Henry V and Wake's name:

“For in the Book of Numbers is it writ:

“When the man dies, let the inheritance Descend unto the daughter.”

this i think the daughter is referencing gideon (the daughter of both God and Wake). as to what exactly her “inheritance” is... i think we’ll have to see. but the closing line:

“Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb”

well, all im saying is that tombs have kinda been a bit of a big deal with these books.

side detour (im going somewhere with this so bear with me)the book of Numbers immediately followed by the book of Deuteronomy. now why is that relevant? Deuteronomy and my gal, Judith Deuteros.

The book of Deuteronomy is basically a shit ton of laws for Christians. which Judith is the exact personification of. she literally spends all of her appearances in gideon the ninth arguing for order, the following of Imperial Law, etc etc. now in the book of Dueteronomy, an interesting order is given. starting in Deuteronomy 12:29, the worship of Canaanite gods is forbidden and the order is given to destroy their altars and to execute the Canaanites living in Canaan. this parallels Judith in Canaan House killing teacher and wrecking the place. i think Muir foreshadows that Judith will play a pivotal role in AtN. in the bible, there is actually a woman named judith, who i think is the namesake of our judith. the actual Biblical Judith  kills an invading commander via beheading him. originally i assumed this was meant to be Teacher, but from Judith’s defiance of BoE in AtN, im not so sure. and at the end of AtN, Marta says “she’ll give them hell” which i think really means something. but i could go on about that but i’ll stop here.

now back to your original question about wake. an interesting additional name for wake that i think carries additional implications is when ortus dubs her “the sleeper”. biblically, the relevant quote is Ephesians 5:14:

“Awake, sleeper,

And arise from the dead.”

this is just so in your face ya know? commander awake, the sleeper, rising from the dead. im sure you get where im going with that. now. with that being said i’ll talk a little about the non-biblical stuff. i was a massive Edgar Allen Poe fan growing up and so i immediately picked up on Muir's references to Annabel Lee, The Sleeper, etc in HtN. the closing lines from The Sleeper are as follows:

“Some sepulchre, remote, alone,

 Against whose portals she hath thrown, 

In childhood, many an idle stone— 

Some tomb from out whose sounding door 

She ne’er shall force an echo more, 

Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!

 It was the dead who groaned within.”

now. that is the second quote about wake that references a tomb and now we have the mention of a sepulchre. THAT has some motherfucking implications. especially because in the poem “Annabel Lee” she's famously said of having a “sepulchre by the sea”. John refers to Alecto as Annabel Lee and harrow describes the tomb on the ninth as follows

“Beyond the doors there’s just the rock,” she said. “The rock and the tomb surrounded by water...The water’s salt, and it’s deep, and it moves with a tide that shouldn’t exist. The sepulchre itself is small, and the tomb...”

again. IMPLICATIONS. i know there’s also the argument that this is all a decoy and Anastasia is the body on the first etc etc. i still don’t know what to think. these are just all pieces of a puzzle ive been holding onto and think are neat so im sharing them with you. i know this is just a hot mess of everything but that’s how i operate sorry. feel free to ask more questions and i would LOVE to answer anything for you :)

[imaginesbymonika]

“Until they discover what a mess I truly am.”

Pairing: Pete Davidson x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression, fluff at the end

As a writer for SNL Y/N knew a bunch of famous people, she worked with almost everyone since she had started in 2013. The young woman began writing at the age of 17, being the youngest female writer in Saturday Night Live history. On the one hand, it was super fun, the thrill of working among people such as Seth Meyers or Lorne Michaels filled her with pride. At the same time, it was intimidating and occasionally mentally exhausting. It felt like she frequently had to prove herself to everyone, prove that she was worthy of being a writer for SNL at such a young age. She constantly had to work twice as hard.

The first person that looked at Y/N as an equal writer was John Mulaney. John treated her like an adult and whenever she happened to be in the writers' room with him, he always wanted to hear her ideas and opinions on scripts and previous shows.

He explained that he saw a piece of himself in her, and he knew exactly how tough the first year could be without having at least one friend.

To this day still, Y/N was incredibly grateful for him.

Over the years she had met a lot of writers, some of them grabbing her attention more than others. But at the end of the day, none of them seemed to be 'dateable'. John always wanted to set her up with one of his friends, but she always declined saying he was her friend, not her dating service. Until Y/N met Pete Davidson.

„Sorry, I’m late.“, he announced after entering the writers' room. He sat down on the opposite side of Y/N and flashed her a quick smile, before leaning back in his chair.

„I saw how you stared at Pete this morning.“, John later said as the two left the SNL building. She simply rolled her eyes and turned her head away from her friend, humiliated that her cheeks were burning up.

The very first-time Y/N realized she had developed quite the crush on Pete was after his proposal announcement.

He held up Ariana’s hand, while a huge smile played on his lips: “WE‘RE GETTING MARRIED!“. She could see the little tattoo behind his ear and sighed.

She could feel her heart breaking, but when his eyes met hers, Y/N smiled softly and nodded her head at him. Forming the word „Congrats“ with her lips.

From that moment on, she tried her best to get over him. Dating guys and having one night stands- Y/N did everything to keep Pete of her mind. She hardly saw him, during the time of his engagement, which was a miracle. But after the engagement was canceled, he was around more often. They sometimes made eye contact in the writers' room or at an after-show party. But Y/N kept her distance, knowing that once they would start talking again- her old feelings would resurface.

„Pete asked about you again.“, John explains while handing her a cup of coffee. „Thank you.“. Making her snap out of her thoughts: “Are you alright?“.

She simply nods: “Yeah, I’m fine.“.

„Did you hear what I said? Pete-.“.

„Yeah, I heard you.“, Y/N interrupts him, a bit more cold than she intended. She takes a sip before looking at her old friend apologetic: “John, you know how I feel about Pete- I don’t want to get my hopes up. He’s out there dating these supermodels, I just don’t-“, she pauses for a second: “I just don’t fit into that picture.“.

John, confused and a bit overwhelmed by her words swallows thickly: “Okay, wow. I never expected you to think that little of yourself-.“.

„Pete’s too good for me. Hell, he’s too good for anyone, really.“, she explains: “Let’s not talk about him. Please.”.

„That’s exactly what he said about her.“, Anna, John's wife, exclaims after Y/N left their apartment: “We need to do something about this mess.“.

„I don’t know.“, Pete says, holding a cigarette in his hand: “I mean, it’s not like I don’t find Y/N attractive... she’s really pretty, but I feel like she deserves more- better than this.“. He makes a hand gesture, pointing at himself.

„But Pete-.“.

„Look, I appreciate your concerns but - it’s always the same. I like a girl, we date then she gets to know the real me- like the real me. You know how fucked up I am. She breaks up with me.“, Pete explains: “And I don’t know, I can get it when they’re famous- like Ariana or Kaia...but a normal girl like Y/N? That would probably break my heart.“.

Anna and John exchange a look.

Y/N who walks into her office turns on the lights. One hour earlier she received a weird text message from John saying:

Sorry to text you this late, there’s some trouble at the office considering the sketch for tomorrow. Would be great if you could go there, rehearse it and look it over. Anna and I have our date night, so it would be you with another writer. Thanks. Love you.

„Hello-?“, a voice asks and Y/N lets out a high-pitched scream. She quickly turns around and sees Pete Davidson standing in the door frame.

„Oh my god, Pete.“, she says and runs a hand down her face. She can hear how he chuckles slightly. “You scared the living shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again!“.

„What? Say hello?“, he smiles and Y/N just rolls her eyes in response.

„I guess, it’s just you and me.“, Y/N points out and hopes that John was mentally preparing himself for what’s going to happen the next time they see each other again: “John said there’s some sort of Sketch, waiting here...but I can’t find one.“

„John texted you too?“, Y/N asks and her eyes widen: “Maybe he made a mistake?“.

„Nah, I don’t think so.“.

An awkward silence falls upon the two and after a few seconds Y/N walks over to her computer: “Maybe he sent me the script via E-Mail, let me check.“. Meanwhile, Pete sits down on the little couch and watches her.

„You should get a bigger couch.“, he exclaims and when Y/N looks up from the screen, he smiles at her. It makes her cheek blush and she quickly hides her face beneath the computer.

„Now... how’s life treating you?“, Pete asks and lays down, he stares at the ceiling.

Y/N sighs: “It’s okay, I guess. What about you? I heard you’re currently dating this actress. Kate. How’s that working out?”.

„No.“, he replies: “I’m not, we- well, she broke up with me a month later. I feel like they all think I’m a great guy until they date me and discover what a mess I truly am. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ariana said my dick is huge so- they want to check that out themselves. I don’t know.”.

The young woman stops typing and looks at Pete again, she leans back in her chair: “I hope you know, that’s not true.”.

“How do you know? I never showed you my dick. Or did I? If I-.”.

“Pete, you’re not a mess, you just have some mental health issues. If these women can’t 'handle' you that’s not your problem but theirs. You are a great guy and every girl would be lucky to have you by their side... I can’t seem to find an email, I’ll call John.“.She gets up from her chair and leaves the room: “I’ll get myself a cup of coffee afterward, you want some?.“.

Pete, speechless by her words slowly sits up straight on the couch. He never expected someone to say something so kind about him. He gets up and leaves the room. At the end of the hallway stands Y/N, slightly slapping the coffee machine.

„I can’t reach John, and this stupid machine isn’t working-.“, she says, frustration audible in her voice.

„Did you mean what you just said?“,he asks and Y/N looks up.

She stares at him for a few seconds: “Yeah, why-?“.

„This might sound ridiculous.”, he starts, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall:” But... did John talked to you about asking me out for a date?”.

As soon as the words leave his mouth the color on Y/N’s face disappears. She can feel how her mouth runs dry and her hands start to sweat.

“Because he talked to me about asking you out. And-.”.

“What did you say to him?”.

He wrinkles his forehead:” Of course, I said no.”.

“Oh.”.

Y/N can feel it. She can feel how her heart is breaking in ways she didn’t know were possible. If dying of a broken heart was a real thing, maybe now it would happen to her.

“Of course.”, she repeats his words and scratches her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean- you wouldn’t date me either. That’s probably what you told John.”, Pete chuckles but stops when he sees Y/N’s facial expression. His eyes widen:” Shit, no.”, he says, almost like a whisper.

Y/N rushes past him into her office before the tears are falling. She didn’t care. Not now.

“Y/N- I...”, he starts but the girl shakes her head.

“Go Home, Pete. I’ll call John and tell him I didn’t find the script.”.

“I just assumed we were on the same page.”, he says, ignoring what she just said:” Like, look at you and look at me- I’m too much of a jerk for someone like you!”.

“Excuse me?“, she replies, her voice growing louder with every second passing: “Since when do you decide what’s best for me?“.

„I don’t want you to get hurt, I’m difficult. Fuck, Y/N, you know that. We’ve been working together for such a long time now. If we would get together, I don’t know if I could survive you thinking the same way these girls think about me now.“.

Y/N sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if she was trying to protect the last bit of her heart: “You’re right, we shouldn’t get together.“.

„W-what?“.

„Pete.“, she slowly takes his hand, her voice breaking: “You need to work on your mental health, you can’t just jump from one relationship into the next. That’s unhealthy. But... I will help you. I will be there for you until you’re truly ready to date again.“.

A soft smile spreads on his lips: “That sounds good.“, he leans down: “One kiss, though?“.

„Sure.“, she replies:” You can get more than one..”.And when their lips meet, it feels better than she could have ever imagined.

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - chapter ix

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: Okay so, my bad. One more chapter after this one!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I had a hard time sleeping since that night in the laundry room. Well, it was hard to go to bed alone, knowing only one wall separated me from John, knowing the only thing missing for him to claim me was time. He needed time to get over the image of me as a child, accept that I was another person, a woman now - and his mate. And I needed to find some sort of patience to hold onto while he got there.

That didn’t mean I was a saint, though. My desire was still there, even stronger, I dared to say. Now that he had recognized that he truly wanted me, it felt too easy, it felt simple and I just wanted to reach out and have him touch me - really, anywhere.

But I wanted to give him the space he needed to come to terms with this. So I resorted to long nights of touching myself to the thought of him, wondering what he was doing on his bed, if he thought of me when the bunker’s silence grew almost deadly and the sky became darker than a demon’s eye.

And then one night, I heard it.

It was a woman’s moan, coming from the room next door, and instinctively every nerve in my omega body stood in attention, ready to pounce. Who the fuck was with John? Why would he do this? But then his groan reached my ear, sounding much closer, much clearer, and by the time I heard another male’s voice panting, I knew what was happening.

John was watching porn.

The thought thrilled me to no end, even though I couldn’t really explain just why. Maybe it was the fact that he was doing something that intimate, right next to me, not knowing I could hear…

Or maybe he did, and that’s exactly why he was doing it. That had me drenching my panties, quickly getting rid of my clothes before laying back on the bed, a hand between my legs as I tried to listen to his every sound.

Only a few grunts and pants seemed to come from him, the rest mainly from the movie he was watching, but I could distinctly identify the wet, rhythmic slap of his hand meeting his navel along the sounds of the television, and that was the tempo I followed as I started to touch myself.

I got lost in the memories of when it was his fingers inside of me, his scent drowning mine, yet my attention never wavered from the room next door, trying to memorize every little thing about his search for pleasure while I did the same. I just knew it wouldn’t be enough to get me off until his pace quickened, a growl escaping the depths of his chest as he reached his release, and the thought of his cum covering his naked body had me mewling as my cunt clenched around my own digits.

Suddenly, it was all too quiet. All too very quiet. 

“Are you touching yourself, little one?” His voice came closer than I expected it to - not that I expected it at all - and it had me gasping in surprise, imagining him on the other side of the wall against which my bed rested, trying to hear me do the exact same thing he’d been doing seconds before. “Are you touching yourself to the sounds of me getting myself off?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How the fuck was I supposed to resist him?

“Are you soaking wet?” The questions just kept coming, prompting my movements to grow quicker, more desperate at the clear desire dripping in his tone. “Because of me?” A simple chuckle shouldn’t sound this hot. “No James here to prepare you this time, huh?”

And that was all it took for me to reach my high, cumming around my fingers with a strangled moan as John’s low laugh resonated from my left. “Atta girl. Bet you’ll sleep real good tonight.” And just when I thought he was done and I could finally breathe again, “I know I will.”

Oh, shit. I was trying to be patient and give him his time, but if he thought I’d let this sort of teasing just go by, he was in for a treat. Better get ready for war, Winchester.

John’s P.O.V.

I knew I was playing with fire, but no one could have prepared me for the special type of hell I was forced to live in during the next few weeks.

It was like she was doing anything she could to make my resolve break. She wanted me to lose control, take her again just like I did that time when I thought another Alpha would try to lay claim on her.

And I had to give it to her - the memories of when she was young were nothing but distant flashbacks I could only remember if I tried to think back on why I was trying to resist her.

Even then, it was like that little girl was someone else entirely, someone I didn’t know anymore - certainly not the young woman who was currently caressing the inside of my thighs and slowly getting closer and closer to my crotch in the middle of this fucking diner.

I took advantage of the fact that Dean had left the table to hit on one of the waitresses and Sam had left to ring someone to finally hold her wrists, stop her quest for control over my dick and my nerves.

“You keep trying to test my patience, you little brat. You wouldn’t like what I’d do if I actually lost it, right here, right now.” Her sharp inhale was music to my ears, a smirk taking over my face as I looked down on her by my side.

But of course, she couldn’t just let it go.

“What would you do, old man?” My chest inflated as I took in her defiance, glancing at the door and Dean to make sure no one would come back soon before turning my body fully towards her, caging her against the wall in the booth.

“I’d put you over my knee, rip those pretty jeans and spank the shit out of you, omega. I’d let everyone watch me bruise your skin, I don’t even care that all these alphas are staring at you. I’d let them see, so maybe they’d know they ain’t got no chance with you.” The sweet smell of her arousal was easy to catch, so I knew she was soaked by now - and my smirk warned her of just how much I was aware of my effect on her body.

A few seconds of silence followed my words, both of us breathing heavily as we stared at each other, trying to hold back. Until she broke the spell, simply by being her.

“God, can you get any kinkier?” I wanted to be mad, I really did, but it was just impossible. My whole body shook under the power of my laughter, and I knew Dean was looking back at us now, just like some of the other patrons.

“Try me,” I provoked, raising my eyebrows at her as I reached for my mug of coffee again. She just kept staring at me, lips pursed in a pout, arms crossed in front of her body, the perfect picture of annoyance.

“You’re hot, but you’re very mean. Did you know that?” I choked on the hot liquid, almost spilling it all over myself, not having expected to be so casually called hot by someone as attractive as her in a million years.

“But you know what?” She pressed on, not giving me any time to recover. “I can be meaner.” That sentence, whispered in my ear as she pressed her body against mine, sent shivers down my spine. “Game’s on, Winchester.”

… What had I gotten myself into?

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The fact that we had managed to get John Winchester to go to a club was mind-blowing and hilarious to me. He looked so out of place - much older than most around, and underdressed in comparison to the guys his age, who were all displaying the same type of clothes as the fuck boys who were so desperately trying to get with anything that moved.

“You have something in your hair,” I commented, using this as an excuse to press my body tightly against his when I reached out to fix his locks, and even though he was quick to push me away, keeping me at a distance, there was a smile on his face.

“You need to stop doing that.” I bit my lip as I looked up at him with the most innocent expression I could muster. It was honestly hard not to laugh.

“Doing what?” John scoffed, letting me go to turn back to his whiskey, but once the liquid was in his lips again, his eyes traveled up and down my body, almost undressing me.

“You like my dress?” I asked, twirling so he could get the full view, even though I already knew how he felt about it. There was an entire discussion about the piece of clothing before we managed to leave the bunker, and I still believed it was the entire reason why he decided to tag along to my night out with the boys.

“I think we’ve established this is barely even a dress, little girl.” Giggling, I stepped closer to him again, using the excuse some drunk dude gave me when he lost his balance and wobbled in my direction, my hand falling precisely over John’s crotch as I pressed our bodies together once more.

“You know there’s other people around us, right?” He whispered right by my ear, raising goosebumps all over my skin when the hand that wasn’t holding his drink settled over my ass. “This little skirt of yours is giving me all types of thoughts…”

I was just about to ask him to elaborate on that when his head suddenly snapped up, meeting my eyes instead of looking at my breasts. “Why on Earth aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

I giggled when I understood that he could feel the absence of other fabrics underneath the thin material of my dress since he was now rubbing and squeezing my butt. I was suddenly shy, more because I didn’t expect him to call me out on it than anything else, so I buried my face in his chest as he kept teasing me, “Do you have something against it? Is that it? Are you allergic to panties?”

He swayed us somewhat to the beat of the song that had taken everyone to the dance floor, and I just relished in his embrace before finally coming up with something to say. “You liked it so much the last time…” I reminded him, not expecting what he’d counter.

“Last time was a mistake.” Immediately, I pushed away from him, meeting his eyes in shock and hurt as his words pained me in a way I never expected him to do - not again. His eyebrows were furrowed as he stared back at me, obviously confused by my sudden reaction until he understood what he had said.

“No, no,” he called out, easily pulling me close again despite me trying to escape. I hated that I cherished that night so badly, desired him so ardently ever since, just for him to go ahead and write it off as a mistake.

“That’s not what I meant, ‘mega,” he tried to calm me down, nose rubbing over my scent gland in an effort to lower my heartbeat and suppress my anger. It worked perfectly, as much as I didn’t want it to.

“I just mean, I didn’t want the first time I touch you to be because of anger and jealousy.” His explanation drained all irritation from my body, leaving me slumping against his hard chest.

“I didn’t want it to happen like that,” he continued. “You deserved more than that.” My heartbeat was pounding to the rhythm of the music, not quite believing this turn of events.

“I mean… I didn’t even kiss you, for fuck’s sake.” The sound of his despair against his own actions had me mewling against him, absentmindedly rutting my ass against his crotch, not even realizing I was doing it until his fingers pressed tightly on my hips - not stopping me, just… holding me there.

“I want- I want our first time to be meaningful.” And that, right then, stole my breath away. Because I understood the implicit message. I understood that this was him, saying he was ready. “Hopefully, in a bed,” he continued, and I smiled to myself at his sweet plans for us.

“But if you keep teasing me so much, I’ll bury my fingers inside of you right here, I swear.” This last part was uttered against the shell of my ear, making me go perfectly still, at last stopping my movements against the bulge that had become more than evident in his old jeans.

“And Lord knows where that would take us,” he commented, hands holding me just under the curve of my breasts, making me shiver as he nuzzled against my neck from behind. “By now, you know how easily I can get carried away.”

And I did. Just the memory of it made me shiver, but maybe it was the man behind me, whose hands were now openly exploring my body as if we weren’t surrounded by people in a smelly club.

“Yeah, I know…” I panted, body sensuously moving against his without even intending to, just needing to feel the weight of his hands all over me, forever. “You’ve done it before.”

And that was the last thing I spoke for the next few hours because right then John turned me in his arms and took my lips on his, devouring me in the dark corner of the dance floor, while the rest of the club danced without a care in the world, not taking notice on two mates finally giving in to one another.

The only thing that mattered right then was him and I.

[whatgaviiformes]

Hey! I wondered if I could be cheeky and ask for a combination of 2 Olympic prompts? I'd really like a combo of victory for one brother (maybe Scott?) and loss for another (maybe Gordon) on the same day (if not in the same event). To be honest, any pair of brothers would be fine. And I know this is kind of detailed and complicated, so I am more than happy for you to refuse, or only take part of this to work with. Thanks!

Only if I can be equally as cheeky and combine events 😊 And it's funny you ask, I had just been talking to @the-original-sineater about a similar concept a few days before this prompt came in, and so I hope you don't mind, but I asked her if she didn't mind joining me as a co-writer on this one. The result has been a true passion project for the two of us - we've had a hell of a lot of fun working together. I sincerely hope it shows, and that you enjoy this story. Thanks to you both for the continued inspiration. 

@katblu42 I also know you are having a rough go of things at the moment, so this story comes to you also with sincere Thunderfam hugs and well wishes.

The full story is up on Ao3 here: Faster, Stronger - Together

Or you can continue to part 1 below, and I will link to her post of part 2 at the end.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Faster, Stronger - Together (Part 1)

Scott braced on the edge of the pier. Toes curled around the lip, knees bent. The death throes of the typhoon that had passed through two days earlier made the water grey and choppy.  It wasn’t the best conditions to race in, but it was the Olympics. You took what the gods gave you.  But that made him want to hit the water even more.

“Hey Scooter! On your left!”

Scott glared to his left. There was only one person in the group of 50 that dared to call him that  and with that goad. “Watch it FISH, I know where you sleep.”

His younger brother Gordon just laughed at him.

“Frigging fish.” He turned his gaze back to the water and waited for the starter’s pistol. Olympians tended to run in families. But having two brothers in the same event? In the same games? Uncommon, if not actually rare.

There was a chuckle to his right. “Little brothers are the bane of our existence, yes?” Denis Vallee of France was Scott’s primary competition, after Gordon. They had both had younger brothers in the games, but Denis’s had the good taste to be a fencer.

The pistol sounded before he could answer, and Scott dove into the water. The shock between the warm, nearly chewable air and the cold, storm churned water was enough to make him gasp. He shook it off and swam 1500 meters of the crawl.

Unless you were a little shit named Gordon Tracy. In which case you used the god damn butterfly . Used it, led with it, and was smug as hell about it. Anyone else saying anything like that about Gordon, in Scott’s presence, found out in a big hurry not too. Scott was the only one allowed to badmouth Gordon, his privilege as a big brother.

Still, this water was utter crap. He let a swell throw him forward. You had to pace in the  Triathlon. 1500 meters of swimming, 40 clicks of a bike race, and 10 more clicks of running. It was a hard race to begin with. But in these conditions? It was brutal.

The first buoy and boat were in sight, marking the first turn. He kept as tight as he could to it. Anything to shave precious tenths off his time.

He could feel the lactic acid build up in his legs as they made for the second buoy.  That was the turn that would take them to the headland and the bikes. God, his arms were burning. The chop made an already hard swim tougher. He had to post a good swim time. It wouldn’t be a great time, but as long as it was good, it would be okay.

The water was changing, calmer, a little warmer. They were in the headland's lee now. He could see the curve of the beach when he turned to breathe. It was only a dozen or so more strokes before his fingers hit sand. He got a leg under him, pushed upright and started to run for his bike.

He could see Gordon ahead of him. Denis was to his right, pushing through the water.

17 :23:41 That was Scott’s time. He could build on that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eight laps.

The irony was not lost on him that it was Scott who taught him how to ride a bike in the first place. They’d raced back then too, converting the acres of land on their family’s wheat farm into an obstacle course, even as Gordon found his balance on two wheels and his muscles filled out to challenge the length of Scott’s legs.

Being the eldest, Scott had the advantage then.

He was still a force, and Gordon knew not to underestimate his brother’s stamina at his age, the old man (and only Gordon was allowed to say that; privilege of being a younger brother). Scott may certainly start in the chase group after the swim, but he’d make his way forward into the leaders by the end of the cycling race.

If he had any chance at winning, Gordon had to work smarter.

Triathlon was about endurance across the three events. His disadvantage was that he was strongest in the swim, and the swim being the portion of the event that took place first allowed his competition plenty of opportunity to catch up to his scores.

Gordon knew his best chance to stay in the race was to give himself the head start, and while he could dominate the event with the crawl, every time he pushed his hardest through the swim using the standard stroke, he always burned out in later events.

The butterfly had been his secret weapon.

He’d been perfecting his approach to the triathlon event for months. The butterfly worked almost every muscle group, all pecs, and core, and deltoids, and trapezius, leaving his legs less drained and better reserved for the cycling and the run.

He knew what people would be saying about his change in swim strokes, how arrogant it might make him look. But Gordon knew his body.

And he knew Scott.

He was not going to let Scott beat him; he was going to win the hell out of this race and the butterfly was going to be what helped him do it. He was one of the fastest swimmers in the world, and it still gave him a hell of a solid lead with his time coming in at 16:59:12 for the full 1.5 kilometers.

And then he had no time to think, removing his cap and replacing it with a helmet for the biking portion.

Just practicing cycling alone and on flatland he could complete the 25 miles in 55 minutes on average. The 40 kilometers of the Olympic standard was just shy of that length, and with one lap almost complete, he knew those few uphill slopes could slow him down.

He stood on the pedals and leaned into the last curve of the track.

Seven laps.

As wide a lead as he had, he knew the competition would catch up eventually, but hell if he was going to make it easy on them. His guess was they’d catch up three laps in, and then the goal from there would be to stay in the group of leaders, even if he slid a bit further back. He could regain the ground he needed at the run.

Six laps.

The air was stifling and muggy, and it didn’t help the heat he felt in his lungs as he pressed his feet faster into the circular rhythm.

Gordon felt heavy, but controlled breathing against his neck.

That was the other reason he tried to get ahead. On the swim team he competed with lanes cleanly defined, and victory was about speed and skill alone. In the triathlon, the athletes were basically on top of each other, so close, too close.

Aw shit.

Vallee was on his tail.

Five laps.

The breakaway group was a pack of nine from what Gordon could feel around him. There were two right behind him, and six leading at the front, with Scott and Vallee fighting each other to push into first, other names like Tvedt and Balazs and Ricci weaving in and out behind them.

He was maybe milliseconds behind, but those milliseconds mattered.

Just keep with the group, Gordo.

Four laps.

Around him were chants of “USA!” They weren’t for him; they were chants for Scott, who’d taken a solid lead. It made him proud. From the back of the group, he still felt the thrill of the chase and the support of his countrymen invigorate his tired muscles, as they pushed through the fire and pressed forward.

Three laps.

The two competitors behind him fell back towards the peloton. He didn’t know how far behind they were, but it left him last in the breakaway. It made him feel like he was losing.

But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t losing.

He was okay, this was okay.

Breathe.

Two laps left.

Honestly, he was falling a bit behind too.

The back of Scott’s shoulders were red and flushed. Gordon should definitely have been focusing on himself and his own frantic pedaling, but he wasn’t able to stop thinking that Scott was pushing too hard.

Hell, they all were.

And, shit, everyone was still cheering .

Final Lap.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Virgil moved Kayo’s hand from his hand to his forearm. He didn’t want it broken. Which is what would happen if she kept squeezing.

Alan’s leg was bouncing so hard the chair he was sitting was dancing in place. John only looked calm. He was leaning forward, elbows on thighs, hands locked together. The white of the knuckles betraying his emotions.

Virgil had a stress ball in his other hand. One that might not survive this race if things kept up at this pace.

As much as he appreciated the support of their community in donating the high school’s gymnasium to livestream the event, the cheerful laughter of the townsfolk around them grated against Virgil’s skull. While it was a celebration for their town, it was incredibly nerve-racking for the Tracy family and their closest friends.

Supporting one brother in an event? Easy. Having two competing in the same event? Well, that was the hell of Solomon’s choice, wasn’t it? Scott had always dreamed of winning gold in the Olympics and had dedicated his life to training for the triathlon. But then, even though Gordon had already had his go on the swim team four years prior, he’d put so much of himself into training for the triathlon since - living and breathing cycling, running, and building up his endurance.

And there could only be one gold. No matter how they sliced it, they’d be celebrating with one brother...and mourning with the other.

Gordon’s old high-school swim team had gone wild when the second youngest pulled out the butterfly, darting immediately into the front of the pack, even with the more difficult stroke. Water was his element, and apparently he wanted everyone to know it.

The bike club had started yelling the minute Scott hit his bike. This course was where Scott could shine. Like Kansas, it wasn’t flat either. Scott was the master of the short hill and his friends knew it.

All Virgil could focus on was the flush on both his brothers’ faces. There wasn’t much one could do about a typhoon. Nature set her own schedules, but running a race in the remains of one? With humidity in the 70 percent range and no sun to help dry it out even a little? It worried him. It worried him a lot.

They watched as Scott powered through the last turn, and slammed into the transition area so fast he was running when he left the bike. The racers had a precious two minutes to change and start the running section. The last section.

Scott’s elapsed time was a solid one hour thirteen. Vallee’s was one hour thirteen and fifteen seconds. Gordon was at one hour fourteen and twenty seconds. Striking distance for the top three. Which would be the best outcome possible as far as Virgil was concerned. Each brother getting a medal. It would lead to some trash talk over the family dinner table, but they could live with that. Scott and Vallee burst out of the transition area at the same time. They were running side by side. A shot that the broadcaster seemed to take great delight in showing. They were so well matched they seemed like one runner.

Gordon was a bare heartbeat after his big brother. Ten kilometers, five out, and five back. This just might be the longest forty minutes of Virgil’s life.

He clenched the stress ball tighter in his hand. And watched with bated breath.

END OF PART 1 - Continue on SinEater's blog here.