#there's one bit where he IS full on scots and i was like. wait what. bc he doesn't usually sound like that??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juvenillia · 6 months

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~ tangled series ~ part 3

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish

a/n: Welcome back to part 3 of the tangled series. By now I decided that this series will become also a bit longer. Let's see where it'll lead us. Also I am sorry for the lack of updates atm, but I'm trying my best.

worcount: 3.6k

》Masterlist《》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

It seemed like you were the only one relaxed in the whole situation. Simon was tense as a rock, he didn’t dare to move, his eyes still subtle pinned on every movement you made trying to put the pieces together. He didn’t even dare to remove his mask, it stayed stern in place, only tugged up to sip on his drink occasionally. Johnny on the other hand was avoiding eye contact with everyone. His eyes stared down at his still empty plate. Kyle was the one trying to ease the whole vibe while chatting with his captain and getting some comments out of you as well. Humming along the conversation while sipping on your water in peace. John on the other hand was stressed as well. To be honest he was already on edge because of his medical leave, but seeing how his team, his boys behaved around you made him kind of nervous.

A ringing of the timer on your phone broke the vibe a bit. “Kyle? Mind me helpin’?” You stood up from John’s right side and requested man followed you to the kitchen, a genuine smile on his lips. It gave John a second to get a grip on the whole situation.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell. What’s wrong with you boys?” His voice had this authorial tone he used often as their captain. Still there was a worried undertone in. And a glimpse of regret not being able to be the captain they deserved right now.

“Bein’ a bit on edge lately. Sorry cap.” It was Johnny who answered, his voice full of regret. His partner looked at him with a concerned glance. Eyeing him up from toe to head before his hand found his nape. Squeezing it just so slightly. Simon didn’t know why this whole situation affected the Scot so much. Maybe it was seeing a happy couple so at ease. It wasn’t something self-evident for people with their career to have a partner waiting at home for them. Something the Scot wished often for but was now somehow stuck with his comrade and kind-of lover. It made Simon himself feel somehow guilty. But at least it helped him to ease his own mind, knowing that Johnny needed him now. Little did both know.

“Alright. Pull yourself together just for the few hours.” Price scolded them quiet, still an understanding tune in it as the door from the kitchen swung once more open. Revealing Kyle with two plates of baked pasta, holding the door with his body open for you to walk up to table with three plates yourself.

“Thank you.” Johnny mumbled as you handed him a plate, Simon only nodded.

“Anytime.” The sing-song voice that once made him excited and flustered gave him now a nauseous feeling down his guts. He couldn’t look at you, his mind flooding with thoughts of what-ifs and questions he had no answer for. All of you started to eat in silence.

“Lovely as al…” Just as John wanted to praise your cooking, an alarm set off. Not an alarm per se, but it sounded like on. It was the ringtone of your on-call phone. “You said no work, sunny.” Now it was Price’s voice that was filled with a certain sadness.

You pulled the napkin from your lap and placed it on the table. You gave him an apologetic look before walking over the shelf next to the dining table, pulling your phone from it and flicking the green button. “Price,” you answered quick and left the open living room area. John eyes followed your figure.

The room felt with anticipation, mostly because of the behavior of John. It was contagious for the others. It took you about 10 minutes to return to the room. A bag slipped over your shoulder, and a hoodie already thrown over your statue. A soft smile playing on your lips as you walked up to John. “Connor could draft in someone else…” His eyes met yours and you nodded.

“It’s better off in my hands, we both know that.” You assured him, shoving your phone into the pocket.

“How bad is it?” John reached his right hand that wasn’t caught in a cast out to you. It was the first time this evening Johnny dared to look at you again.

You stood closer, his hand placed onto your back, as you leaned over to him. “It’s not Piccadilly.” You laughed and John rolled his eyes at your statement. Kyle’s brows furrowed with confusion.

“He really needs to learn how to sort out priorities…” That made you roll your eyes. It was an inside joke you shared with him since the terror attack at Piccadilly Circus. Your coworker Connor and boss always referred to any incident as ‘not as was worse as piccadilly’, because nothing could be nearly worse than this day. You worked for more than two days straight. Five minutes naps were the only rest you got in between two patients and coffee became your best friend and somehow worst nightmare. “Call me. Alright?”

“Sure, Johnny.” You reassured him with your soft and still teasing voice before turning to your guests. The Scots stomach took some twists about the nickname. The name you cried out while he went down on you months ago. “Was a pleasure.” Did you intend the double meaning? Johnny couldn’t tell. You forced a half-hearted smile onto your lips, while the men around just nodded their goodbyes. And soon you were gone through the front door.

As soon as your car pulled off, Kyle looked at his captain. “Due to all respect. What was she dealing with at Piccadilly?” Kyle did remember that day like the back of his hand. It was the day he and Price met, and his life took a sudden turn.

Price exhaled; his brows furrowed in regret. “She is a trauma surgeon and had to deal with the aftermaths of our mistakes.” His voice was an octave deeper than usual and full of guilt.

Kyle’s eyes widen in shock, and a certain guilty vibe clung over the table. All for different reasons. A vibe nobody of them could really ease. So, they ate in silence, shared some more thoughts about the latest operations and how Price would make sure to get some assistance for the time he couldn’t be at base. Just like that the evening ended and the three men found themselves back in Simon’s car. The trip back to the base was filled with nothing than silence. Everyone caught up in their thoughts. Not daring to speak those out aloud.

Just as they pulled into the garage Johnny couldn’t bare it anymore. He knew that Simon could read him like an open book. Something that came with their work, what made their relationship a bit easier. But therefor he also assumed that his partner already knew that the Scot felt more than uncomfortable this evening. He didn’t even wait for Kyle to leave the car, because he fairly well knew himself as he was Johnny’s wingman back then. “So… I think we need to talk…” Johnny’s voice was full of pity. He didn’t even dare to look at Simon, who only hummed in approval, own eyes pinned onto his fist clenching around the steering wheel. The Brit assumed that Johnny caught something of his weird behavior tonight.

It stayed calm for another minute. One that felt unbearable. “I fucked the Captains wife.” Both said at the same time and immediately looked at each other in completely shock.

“Ye dae what?” It was Johnny whose sorrow turned into completely shock. He knew they agreed on having an open situationship. Especially for times when separated to blow off some steam. But he didn’t know that Simon actually had someone since their agreement.

“Wait, you both had the same bloody bird?” Kyle’s voice was somehow filled with amusement but also with disbelief. He shook his head. “You really need to sort things out mates. Cheers.” He left the car and made up his own mind. As much as he loved to get into the gossip deeper, he respected the boundaries his three teammates now had to take care of.

The when’s and how’s were cleared fast. Stating the facts and sharing it with each other as they found themselves in Simon’s room, sitting on his bed. “I mean… something must be wrong if lass actually cheats on him, eh?” Johnny tried to find a reason to blame your behavior and not theirs. Trying to somehow ease his mind. “And ye said ye met her while she was working in a bar? But Cap said she’s a surgeon? Dinnea make any sense…” His hands found some loose strands at the end of his mohawk as he slightly pulled at them.

Simon’s huge, calloused hands found his. As he pulled them away and interlaced his fingers with his. “Do we know for sure…that they’re married?” The question was only above a whisper. Johnny looked in disbelief at him. “They don’t wear a ring.” Simon went through his mind, all the way back to when he met you. To the dinner, to all the times he saw Price’s hands bare in front of him. Never did he saw a ring on the left hand. Not even something like a tan line was imprinted in his brain.

“Maybe they dinnea wear it because of their jobs… I dinnea ken.” He exhaled deeply. Leaning into the side of his partner for comfort.

“Maybe we should ‘st forget about it all… it happened, it’s in the past and now we should draw our distance from her. Strictly.” Simon’s voice was firm, but somehow gentle as his hand ran up and down of Johnny’s spine. Johnny nodded and both were sure, that it wouldn’t be that hard. They haven’t seen you all the years before, so why should that change now?

Well for the next day’s nothing indeed changed. They were going after their choirs on base and prepared everything for the next deployment. Trying to suppress any feelings turning in their stomachs and minds. In the meantime, it was Alex Keller who took a temporally place in their office, trying to get a grip on everything that was happening around. A familiar and friendly face around the base to help when their Captain was still on medical leave. They were just gathered around a table in a briefing room, discussing over some intel they gathered on the last operation when they could hear a knock on the door. Simon’s head snapped into the direction. “C’mon in.”

The door opened and revealed nothing different than your soft features. Johnny’s stomach instantly twisting as he saw your face. It hurt him to see you, how he still had the urge to be close to you. Dreams of the last nights all circling around you, and the things his partner and you did together. Imaging how pretty you’d have to look beneath Simon’s frame. He had dreams about you before, but now it was worse. He couldn’t shake the hot thoughts away when imagine himself and his partner sharing the same woman. And still he knew how all that was way too inappropriate.

“Hello there. John sends his regards. Said you could need that.” You walked over and handed a file to Simon, which eyes stared down at you. Right now, he wasn’t Simon, he was the Ghost. Not letting his emotions and thoughts getting in the way of his job.

“Sunny.” It was Alex’ voice that was heard before Ghost even could say something. He rounded the table to give you a quick and friendly hug. One that lasted a bit longer than Johnny thought was appropriate.

“Don’t let him hear that.” You laughed. While crossing your arms in front of your chest. You knew Alex from before. He was one of the rare mates of John you ever actual met. Even if it was a coincidence, you rather wanted to forget.

Alex let out a quiet chuckle. “Still the same, hm? And I wanted to ask you out for dinner. What a shame.” He gave you a coquettish smirk. The action confused the other members of the 141 even more. “How’s he doing?”

“You’d wish.” Winking at him with a sweet smile. “Better. Nearly ready to go again. Need to keep his arse taped down though.” You laughed, and that was the first time the vibe relaxed a bit. All of them could easily imagine how Price would try to do anything but rest. The thought of you chasing after him to get him to actual rest.

Your glance switched to the clock on your wrist. “Busy as ever?” Alex’s smile dropped a bit. He was always so tender and flirtatious without any further intentions though.

“You know me too well Keller.” A smile on your lips before you waved them goodbye and went after your business. Even after all those hours after your leaving, Johnny’s thoughts were always pinned to his partners words. And he couldn’t help himself but imagining how you’d feel pressed between both of their sweaty bodies. You were like a drug, and he couldn’t get away, while Simon tried to ditch everything that even had to deal with you. You were a forbidden fruit. Something he didn’t only not deserved but was completely not allowed to even think about. And he managed pretty well. Still, he found himself late at nights, with a naked Scot curled up at his side imagine how you were there with him, with them. How you were pinned on his chest while his mind so hard to chase those thoughts away.

It was four weeks later, when everything changed, and things started to make a bit more sense. The 141 including Alex and John just came back from a mission. It was the first one after Price went back to duty. Everything went well so far, and they found themselves in a nearby pub to celebrate their success and return of their captain. Kyle was the assigned driver for the night while everyone else toasted to their accomplishments. John was already quiet drunk, his medication still wearing on him, mixed with the whiskey rushing through his blood. Alex decided it would be for the best to send him home early. But nobody wanted to leave already. Everyone was into a way to good mood to let the night end already. Especially Johnny, as Simon was found to be a bit more touchy-feely with him. Something that happened very rarely in public, and he was too down for it. Maybe it was because this bar gave him a few memories. Some of them he tried to keep locked in the very last corner of his brain.

That way, Alex tried to be the most reasonable and called you, just as John and Johnny sung along the melody in the pub. Johnny already needed to steady his captain with his own arm while Simon had his hand on the Scots thigh.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice sounded worried as you picked up Alex’ call.

“Why should something be wrong?” Alex tried to calm his voice, trying to sober up just a little bit.

“Alex Keller. You do not just call me in the night when you are on deployment.” You had a scolding tone in your voice. Something he was familiar with. It was the same tone John himself hold all so often.

“We’re already back. It’s just… John…”

“Spit it out.” Your shoulders tensed as you feared the worst.

“He overdid it. I think he needs rest. Maybe you can come get him?” Alex rubbed his neck while his eyes fell onto the statue of Price. He almost clung to Johnny to keep him up. For a soldier that has been through a lot, the mixture of alcohol, pain meds and the last days of operation had grown its toll on him.

“Bloody ‘ell… y’all are drunk, aren’t ya? Stevie’s?” Your accent grew a bit thicker, as you already throw a jacket over your shoulders and took the keys of your car.

“Yeah and thank you.”

It took you about half an hour to arrive at the bar. A bar that belonged to a close friend of John’s. A friend that was a former soldier but retired because of a chronical hearing disability, caused through his job as a demolition expert back then. A bar where Steve now often offered soldiers as a safe space to calm their thoughts. A place you sometimes lend a helping hand when the pain and PTSD got the best of him. This man had risked his own life to save John’s. How could you not help him when he needed a day off? This was only possible when you had your days off of course. Otherwise, you were too occupied to save lives in your own way.

You made your way up to the bar fast, greeting some of the regulars, like Marcus. Bit your greetings to Stevie and get a glass of water. Kyle nearly choked on his drink as he found your figure approaching your table. “Sunshine?” John’s voice was drained as he noticed you, but he tried to stand up. Alex was faster on his feet, pushing him down into his seat again.

“Drink.” Your voice was stern as you pushed the glass into his hand. He followed your order without hesitation. “Things should never have been allowed to come to this pass.” You looked at Alex with a scolding hint in your eyes. The others of the 141 watched the whole scenery with mixed feelings. The grip on the Scots thigh tightened as Simons eyes were pinned onto your figure. The same excitement washing over him as he watched you handling those assholes when he first met you.

Alex stood up and placed his hands on your shoulders. His eyes an unspoken apology, before his mouth accomplished the words. “I am sorry, sunny.”

These words flipped a switch in John’s brain. He was quicker on his feet than anybody could even blink. His statue standing between the both of you and literally ripping Alex’ hands of you. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, soldier.” Alex stepped back a bit, his hands up in defense. He had seen the captain’s fury before.

That when you forcefully turned him around. “John.” He just wanted to turn back to Alex. That’s when your voice became that same demanding tone as John’s. “Jonathan Price.” It somehow snapped him back, his clouded thoughts sobering up a bit. “Get in the car.” Your tone sent shivers down his spine. Bot not only to John’s. The Scot found himself a bit too aroused by the tone in your voice as he shifted a bit further into the male next to him.

“Sunny…” John’s voice was pleading as he tried to reach out to you. His eyes full of regret.

“Weren’t my words clear enough?” You literal hissed at him. And he shook his head no before walking sloppy out of the pub. Kyle was quick to steady him and help him out. Simon saw Price often with regret clinging to his body, but never with this kind of defeat. You punched the bridge of your nose with a deep exhale. “Next time call earlier.” You looked at Alex and nodded. “Sorry for the interruptions. Enjoy the rest of the night.” You apologized and smiled genuine at the remaining members on the table, who looked at you with a certain understanding, while everything in their eyes screamed to take you somewhere else. Somewhere behind closed doors to go after those inappropriate fantasies that were haunting their dreams. But they could do nothing to stare after you while you left. Still eyes pinned on the door you walked through minutes later as Kyle just returned, a wide grin on his lips, that somehow didn’t make any sense to Simon nor Johnny.

“What’s ‘e face about?” Simon’s voice was a low grumble. Trying to process everything that just happened.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Kyle laughed while Alex took the place next to him again.

This revelation came sooner than everyone expected. It was at the next day. The men already gathered for some breakfast as their captain returned to base. His head a bit lower than usual. “I wanted to apologize.” He looked at all his team members, but mostly at Alex who only nodded. But before Alex could answer John continued. “I stepped a line.” Simon looked at him in disbelief. Never did he noticed such an undertone lingering in between his words. It was nearly hurt.

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“Sir, due to all respect, but if my sister would’ve been through the same… I wouldn’t have act any different.” Alex’ hand found the shoulder of the older man. A reassuring smile on his lips as Price only nodded. The rumbling inside John’s heart settling more and more. While this whole situation only established a deep longing in Johnny’s stomach. Sister…you weren’t his wife. You were his little sister. Neither him nor Simon had broken into your relationship. Johnny shoved all the thoughts of the eventual reaction of their captain aside. Maybe there was still hope for the dreams he had. Maybe he could reach them somehow. His eyes found those of his partner, who already stared at back at him and Johnny could’ve sworn to see some of the same kind of desire in those brown orbs.

@cooliofango @ghostslillady @anothersimpsblog

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 2

summary:

The man came back.

The man walks into the café the next morning, smiling cheerily as the bell twinkles merrily above the door, announcing his arrival. He is far too happy for a man whose stolen fiver is still sitting in the tip jar.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,484 words)

The man came back.

Cleo is alone this morning. Pixl’s in some early morning class that he complains about every time he has to go to it. Scott isn't sure why he complains, because he distinctly remembers Pixl choosing that class specifically because it was early in the morning so it would ‘get it out of the way’ for the rest of the day. He’s actually pretty sure Pixl has done this every single year he’s been at university.

Cleo being alone does not mean she is any less of a menace to him. Even worse is that Pearl is here today rather than Jimmy, meaning they're attempting to make his life more of a living hell than it usually is.

“Good morning,” Pearl chirps, leaning against the counter, “what can we get started for you?”

Cleo is staring at him from the bar counter, their eyes attempting to bore into the side of his head with the intensity of their stare. He does his best to ignore them- looking in their direction will only encourage them in the future and he does not want this to turn into a repeating incident.

“Just a latte, please.” The man holds just his card in his hand this time, wallet tucked securely away somewhere else. Pity, Scott had almost been tempted to see if he could steal something else from him.

“That’ll be three-fifty.” The man taps his card against the machine, all three of them waiting in silence before it beeps.

Scott works on the coffee slowly, dragging himself through the familiar motions. He could do this in his sleep at this point, really- and probably a good thing he can because he feels as though he’s going to keel over any moment now. The morning has been slow too, meaning there’s been no adrenaline kick to wake him up properly and he’s left feeling like he’s swimming through molasses to get anything done.

He sets the coffee in front of the man, who has chosen to wait beside the counter rather than sit somewhere else, resting his hip against the counter. He doesn't look at Scott as he sets the drink down, eyes instead focused on Pearl, squinted slightly, as though he’s trying to think of something.

Scott clears his throat, and the man jumps, hand pressed to his chest. “Geez, man, give a guy a little warning, huh?”

“Your drink is ready.” He gestures towards the drink, nudging it a little closer to the man.

“Ah, yeah, thanks.” The man still seems a little distracted. He’s not looking at Scott and when he turns to find where the man’s gaze has wandered, he finds it fixed on Pearl again, watching her as she cleans the coffee machine.

“Hey,” he drags the man’s attention back to him. “Prefer it if you didn't stare at my co-workers like that, hm?” Pearl’s looking now, one hand still resting against the coffee machine as she watches them. Cleo’s watching too, though it seems less so in concern and more because she wants to be able to recount this to Pixl word-for-word.

“Oh, sorry,” the man laughs, finally picking his drink up. “I just, do I know you from somewhere?” He directs the last bit at Pearl, voice lilting up a little at the end. “I just feel like I've seen you before, but I can't put my finger on it.”

“Really? Can't say I recognise you.” Cleo snickers, glancing between Pearl and their mystery man.

“No, no, definitely someone I've met before. Not many people with an Australian accent out here- where did you go to school?”

Pearl pulls a face at his question. “Don't think you should be asking a random barista that.”

“Ugh, yeah, sorry.” The man winces, like, a full-body wince that Scott has only seen from Jimmy before. “That’s kinda weird, lemme rephrase that: did you go to the Evolutionary Belief Primary?”

“Evo?” Pearl cocks her head to the side, “Didn't think anyone still knew about that.”

Scott has heard many stories about Pearl’s primary school- both Jimmy and Pearl’s primary school. Mainly stories about what a hellhole it was, and how odd a lot of the teachers had been. Last time it got mentioned was when Pearl and Jimmy were talking about it being shut down, though neither of them could figure out what it was for, only that it managed to get into the national news.

“You do know it!” Scott is simply glad that there are no other patrons currently in the café because this man is going to scare everyone away at this rate- seriously, has he ever interacted with people before? “Man, I knew I wasn't going mad- I went there too, knew I recognised you.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott nods along. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

“I- yeah, I guess?” The man looks at him as though he’s only just remembered he’s here. He’s tempted to give him a little wave before sending him on his way, but resists. “Oh my god!” Scott winces away from him, fins flattening to the sides of his head at the man’s outburst. “You were the girl that climbed the trees to read her books!”

“That was me.” Pearl looks at him from the corner of her eye before she looks back at the man. “Weren't you the kid that always snitched on me when I did it?”

The man laughs, leaning back on the counter and setting his drink down. He looks a little red. “Yeah, uh, that was me. It was Pearl, right?”

“Yep!” Pearl rocks back and forth on her feet a little. “Don't remember your name, though.”

“Martyn,” the man, Martyn apparently, grins. His drink is going cold, which is his problem rather than Scott’s. He hopes he has to drink cold coffee. Maybe he’ll stick around and let Scott witness him drinking the cold coffee. That would make everything happening right now worth it. “I'm pretty sure you threw a book at me once.”

“Oh, yeah!” Pearl giggles, making her way over to the counter, nudging her way in beside him. He shuffles to the side, making room for her. He leans a little more of his weight on the counter, easing the weight from his leg- the cold weather certainly isn't helping, and neither is the recent insomnia. “It was a hardback, right? I think some of your blood is still on it.”

“That’s weird, Pearl.”

“Aw, Scott, I've seen your apartment. You have some freaky stuff in there.”

“A mannequin is not freaky.” His mannequin is perfectly respectable, even if she hasn't been used in several years. He doesn't have the heart to throw her away- not after they've been through so much together. “You're just weird about her.”

“She’s stitched together.”

“We’ve had a few accidents over the years,” he shrugs, “she’s old, and I didn't want to buy a new one. She still works perfectly fine.”

“No, Scott, I'm on Pearl’s side with this one.” Cleo points at him with her spoon, nodding sagely. “She looks like Frankenstein’s monster.”

“She’s hardly going to come alive.” He sighs, pushing back off of the counter. “You're just overly dramatic about her.” As no one else seems inclined to do any work around here he grabs the anti-bac from beneath the counter, peering around for a cloth before he manages to find one trailing halfway out of a drawer.

“I swear she moved, once.” Pearl whispers to Martyn, leaning against the counter. He can't tell if she meant for him to hear her or not, so chooses to ignore her either way. The mannequin doesn't even have arms, so he’s not sure how Pearl saw her move.

“So, you a fashion student?” Martyn says, and it takes Scott several moments to realise he’s being spoken to.

“Not anymore.” He continues cleaning the table in the furthest corner- they always manage to forget about it during their rush hours, so he may as well clean it now rather than leave it to gather dust. The leather of his gloves creaks as he grips the cloth a little tighter, swiping it back and forth a few more times. It does nothing but make the table shine a little more- it hadn't even been truly dusty, but something about the man - Martyn - makes Scott nervous.

Silence echoes in the shop for several long moments after that and he continues to clean the tables. He doesn't want to turn around and find all three of them looking at him- he’s glad, now, that this man didn't show up while they were busy. Or maybe he should have hoped that the man did show up when they were busy? He probably wouldn't have stuck around for a chat then, and Scott can't exactly kick him out when he’s done nothing wrong, he’s not even asked about the five-pound note he’s definitely realised is missing by now.

“Hey, Martyn,” Pearl breaks the silence. “Weren't you friends with Jimmy?” It’s a very obvious way to break the awkward silence that had settled over them, but it works anyway, Martyn perking up again as Pearl begins to regale him with the story of the Sheriff Incident.

“Pearl,” Jimmy stares at Pearl, aghast. Tango snickers beside him. “No, please, tell me you didn't.”

“He asked.”

“No he didn't,” Scott brushes past Pearl, on his way to deliver two hot chocolates to the table beside the door. “You offered the information freely.”

“Scott!” Pearl protests. “He didn't need to know that!”

“You didn't need to tell him about that,” Jimmy slumps over the counter, head pillowed in his hands. Tango pats him on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s not the worst thing she could have told him,” Tango attempts.

“Oh yeah?” Scott steps back behind the counter, casting Jimmy’s slumped over form an amused look. His voice is slightly muffled. “What else could she have told him? What could have been worse than that?”

“She could have told him about the fallout from that incident, you know, with the toys-”

“Don't.”

Scott wonders, briefly, whether to tell Jimmy that the man they are currently talking about is still here, sitting in the back corner with a thick textbook and a vaguely stressed look on his face. He’s not sure what he’s studying, but he’s heard enough about the upcoming exams that everyone has that he can probably make a guess to why he’s stressed.

The textbook looks thick enough to be a medicine textbook, but the guy also doesn't give off med student vibes. He’s far too cheerful and awake for that- most of their med students ignore whatever medical advice there is on caffeine intake. Scott normally lies to them about how many shots he puts in their drinks (seriously, he’s not looking for a murder charge, alright?) and just hands it over. It’d do med students some good to get some sleep every once in a while.

So, definitely not a med student, even though the textbook looks heavy enough to kill a man.

He takes the ticket Pearl hands to him, eyes still fixed on the man tucked away in the corner of the shop- it’s normally so easy to overlook that table in the back corner, but he’s found his eyes drawn periodically to it throughout today.

“You do know he’s still here, right?” He asks, if only to watch Jimmy’s head shoot up, eyes blown wide.

“Where?” Tango asks, apparently curious to meet Martyn as well. It certainly was interesting to pin the name he’s heard from Jimmy several times over the years to a face. Though he hardly looks like the type to start a club for policing other students.

“Back corner,” he nods over towards the table. “Your drinks will be done in a moment.”

“Fantabulous,” Tango grins, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders and pulling him up- though he’s less upright and more hunched over to allow Tango to continue holding onto his shoulders. “We’ll go have a chat with him then.”

“Pearl,” he doesn't even turn his head away from the machine, fins twitching at the sudden absence of sound from where Pearl should be. “Don't touch the music.”

“But all you play is musical soundtracks.” Pearl complains. He can hear her feet scuffing over the floor, dragging herself back towards the till. “Don't you get bored?”

“Don't you get bored of trying and failing?”

“I’ll succeed one day.”

He scoffs a laugh. “Maybe when I'm dead.”

Pearl huffs a laugh. “Not far off by the looks of it,” she’s leaning closer a moment later, hair slipping over her shoulder as she forces him to look at her. “How much have you been sleeping recently?”

“Not enough.”

He sets Tango’s drink on a saucer, shuddering at the thought of how much caffeine it contains- he doesn't shy away from strong coffee, but Tango scares him. Jimmy’s hot chocolate is far less stressful to think about for prolonged periods of time.

“That’s not an answer, Scott.” Pearl’s eyes are sad as she looks at him, the freckles on her cheeks glinting beneath the light, like tiny stars. “Is it about…” she trails off, but the silence is more meaningful than any words would be.

He fixes her with a glare, picking the drinks up. “I'm taking these to the lovebirds.”

“That’s not-” Pearl cuts herself off with a sigh as he walks away. He does his best to ignore the guilt he feels, settling heavy in his chest, brushing it off as he sets the drinks down in front of Tango and Jimmy.

They've sat down with Martyn, Tango listening excitedly as Martyn tells him some story or another. Jimmy looks like he wants to melt into the floor. Tango thanks him for the drinks, and he gets a muffled sentence from Jimmy that could be a thank you but could also be him pleading for a swift death.

He’s just glad that Cleo’s not here this afternoon, leaving the bar counter empty. It looks almost lonely without Pixl or Cleo occupying it with their rocks and their notes. But he’s still glad she’s not here, because while Pearl will continue to look at him with sad eyes in the hopes that he might crack (which has never worked in the past and will continue to not work), Cleo would strongarm any answers out of him, regardless of who is listening. And he knows who he is more equipped to deal with on two hours sleep.

He checks the clock, praying for the seconds to start ticking faster.

(He thinks the clock starts going slower, just to spite him.)

114 notes · View notes

ladyelissarose · 1 year

Text

‘A Mother’s Revenge’

Chapter 6 ‘I Don’t Know’

Warnings: LONG ASS CHAPTER!!! But it does justice considering how long it takes to be able to write and put something out. Pay attention to details. Lost of guns and rifles mentioned, call of duty stuff. Drugs mentioned a few times. Enjoy :

Melione’s POV

“Alright Boys, Melione.”

I liked how he addressed me separately, such respect for women that work in a field full of men. Anyways, we all walked up to Price as he shifted his hands to hold onto his vest, while gazing at us with a disappointed look. It was 3am as we stood outside, waiting to see the reason why we weren’t on our way yet. He then began to explain,

“Listen… Shepherd wants us to check something out, see which missiles we’re actually finding. The ones that Graves spoke to Melione about. So that’s what we’ll do first as we arrive in Mexico. Copy?”

“”Copy Captain.””

“Then onward we go. Let’s get on board!!!”

Like perfect soldiers we followed our leader into the plane, ready to take off, and head off to the next step. I adjusted myself into my seat trying to get comfortable, maybe rest a bit before we actually arrive, for indeed I still felt exhausted. I sat in front of Ghost and next to Gaz, while Price stayed in the front with our pilot along with Graves, who was directing them to the exact place where the missiles rested. Thudding sounds on the platform of the plane could be heard approaching loudly and closer as Soap’s figure came into view, he was somewhat out of breath as he chattered like a little mouse,

“Sorry, was preparing one of my best teas for the ride and din’t wan’ it to spill as we took off. Want a cup lass- I said LASS not Ghost! Han’s off mate-“

I stood up almost immediately and politely shoved the tea in Soap’s hand towards Ghost as I insisted,

“Hey it’s ok, Ghost is used to you making his teas most of the time, let him have it-“

But surprisingly enough the cup was firmly put in my hand, by Ghost who gravely replied,

“no no... take it Meli. Was just pestering the Scot here.”

I let a soft huff of what could’ve been a laugh,

“oh! well thanks boys.”

After officially taking it I noticed Soap grin triumphantly at Ghost,

‘weirdo... hopefully this keeps me up but well rested.’

Soap’s POV

‘Alright lass... let’s see if this works-‘

“da fuck did ya do McTavish?”

‘O- he called me McTavish. Nice.-‘

“McTav-“

Before Ghost could try and whisper growl at me again I replied calmly,

“Rem’ber tha’ guy back in Tokyo? Da one who I gave tea to in the garage?”

“what-“

“you thought I was insane for not torturing him like you do. But saw him hearin’ fuckin’ colors by the time he went through it... and told us all the information we needed. Same is gonna happen here. Just watch.”

I guess it clicked for Ghost, the vivid memory of what I spoke about, because all that came out of that thick balaclava shite was a pleasant sound of agreement,

“Hmm.”

A few beats of silence followed afterwards, as we watched Melione contentedly chugging the tea, and finishing it as she tilted the cup all the way back, it suite with her head as she desperately tried to reach for the last drop.

“Fuckin’ genius McTavish... though I have to mention it... I thought you tossed it-“

“-You’re kidding me? Shite is effective-“

“-Yes but Price-“

“-Said it was illegal yesss... but... he doesn’t have to know I still use it-“

“-True-“

“-Will you tell-“

“-Absolutely not. Because you remember our promise-“

“-That if I use it on you you’ll know and kill me and blame it on the drug-“

“-Exactfukinly.”

“Hmm hmm.”

He side eyed me with a twinkle in his eye, they even crinkled, telling me that this Brit was freakin’ smirking.

‘Bastard... if only he knew how effective his existence solely has on humanity.’

I only rolled my eyes at him before focusing on Melione, who began to rest her head back and close her eyes, I could already imagine the drink beginning to take effect...

‘Le’s fuckin’ goooo.’

Hours later...

Ghost’s POV

Landing in Mexico at midnight was not on my list, we require more equipment to wear in order to see clearly, and plus... many things hide in the shadows at night. Wearing a balaclava under a skeletal mask was part of my cover for many reasons, but fuck it was sacrificial. I was dying of heat all the time. Most of the time I mentally block the thought of it, but like right now.. I’d kill to take it off for a bit, my skin was sticking to it for how much sweat I had produced in this short amount of time. I hoisted my rifle into good hold when I felt the most soft nudge on my shoulder, I turned thinking it was Gaz, for he usually approached me quietly, but it was Meli, who held the widest puppy lookin’ eyes, like the ones Johnny would give me when he’d beg me to play cards with him on night watch.

“Yeah?”

“i can’t put this on.”

She held up her night-vision goggled helmet right under my chin, looking hopeless.

‘Alright...’

“come ‘er.”

“ok.”

I noticed her seem a little more.. different per say? Her little wide eyes and the holding her hands behind her back, she was bouncing her knee a bit too-

‘Fuck it’s the drug... ok.’

It was effective.. she was vulnerable. I didn’t want to start to rough on the questions, so I asked her a normal one,

“What’s on yer mind Meli?”

I adjusted the large helmet on her head, making sure it was alright as she went on to say in between little hums,

“Mmm.. nothing much Ghost. Oh- ummm... Graves is like.. suspici- well.. yeah it’s nothing-“

‘what about Graves?’

“Ok... so absolutely nothing-“

“-Yes. Is it ready?”

‘Shite she might just get hyper not cooperative... ughh another Johnny to deal with.’

With a last check up I finally let down the goggles, watching her take it in with an awe, as she stepped away slowly,

“It’s ready Meli... just follow me as I follow Price. We’re in Mexico, remember-“

“-Of course she remembers Lieutenant. Why are you talking to her like a child-“

“Gravessss! Awww... I’m not a child he was just helping me out!”

Graves and I gawked at hearing Melione awe in a high pitch. She only sent us a thumbs up and skipped to stand next to Soap, tugging on his arm to walk with her off the plane. I could see Graves turn to look at me as he questioned curiously,

“Is she ok?”

I didn’t spare him a glance as I replied while walking in suite behind them all,

“She’s never been better.”

‘Please don’t do anything stupid Meli.. please.’

Price called me over as a large SUV pulled up, he was quick to inform,

“Keep Laswell and Shepherd on your line, they want to be informed immediately on the count of the missiles.”

“Affirmative sir.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Graves POV

I wanted to talk to Melione alone for a few seconds before driving off, or at least have her in the same ride as I was in, but she ultimately refused to leave Soap’s side for some God-forbidden reason. I had never seen Soap so excited in a while, as he had her clinging on his arm. Honestly she was totally acting pretty off compared to the usual ‘cold shoulder’ type.

‘What did they do to her or is she just out of it? Damnit! It’s gotta be him.. Soap is always up to something and you never know what it is until it’s too late... fuck.’

Soap was famous for his crazy little shenanigans, he impeccably slipped in and out of ways like a damned bar of soap. His ways were smooth and effective, not always according to protocol, but he managed to get away with it. Maybe he pulled a stunt in Melione now. Second bad thing, I was on a private call with Shepherd earlier.. and I didn’t realize she was there who knows how long until I had ended it. I was about to call her out on it but she mindlessly ran to Soap again.

‘You better keep your mouth shut Melione... please.’

Price‘a POV

“Alright boys, Melione, off!! We’ve arrived.”

Melione came up behind me as soon as she got off the truck and stuck to me like glue, a little shadow. I had noticed her being awfully close with a couple of the guys sense earlier.. maybe she was scared, so I made it a point to let her know she’d be alright. I knocked on her rather large helmet as I chided,

“It’s alright lass... keep yer head in the game and you’ll be alright. Understood?”

“Yes Ja- Price.. yes Price.”

‘what?.. was that a name? was she going to say Jack? Jacob? Jake? Jason-‘

“Captain we got a situation.”

My head clicked to Gaz as he approached me with a frown, only rising up my blood pressure and curiosity of everything around me,

“What’s that Gaz?”

“The missiles... come and see.”

‘ohhh nooo.. this doesn’t sound good.’

Melione’s POV

Soap gently pulled my hand off of his arm as he worded kindly,

“Stand here and don’ move. Ok?”

“yeah!”

“Ok!” ‘he’s so kind.’

I had felt incredibly safe with Soap, especially after our car ride to here, I had told him many things, I just don’t remember anything about what it was. But he promised he’d keep it a secret, so I was good about it even if I didn’t remember. I now stood in front of what look like huge crates, all holding something incredibly large on top, but their size wasn’t what had caught my attention, it was the fact that it looked like something was missing.

‘1.. 2.. huh? Where’s the 3rd one?’

“Soooooap? Why am I only counting 2?”

“Hold on Melione they’re still checking on the rest-“

Graves tugged my shoulder wanting me to set my eyes on him while trying to explain but I felt like he was wrong. I knew what I was looking at. I called out for Soap again, amid what Graves has tried to explain.

“Soap!-“

“-Melione wait!!!-“

“Stop fucking yellin’ at her! What is it Meli?”

‘Ghost!!’

I wordlessly pointed towards the missiles as Ghost glared at Graves, making him back off. Ghost then laid his attention on me. Soap returned in that moment as he muttered,

“There’s no other ones here but these.”

Ghost and I in sync then replied,

““then were missing one.””

“no fucking shit Sherlock.”

That was Graves of course, who appeared pissed off now, but someone else expressed their anger when he seethed,

“Who the hell got their hands on this!!”

‘Damn the Scot’s pissed… just as I am.’

I took into account Soap’s anger which had me expressing my growing one as I asked,

“What the hell?? We’re missing a missile? AN AMERICAN MISSILE!?!”

Ghost looked behind me towards Graves as he growled,

“Did ya know ‘bout this? Graves?”

My eyes followed where his rested and I found Graves to be defensive yet nervous as he responded,

“No, I even showed and had proof that this was all accounted for and untouched!! No one should’ve been around here at all.”

I scoffed as Gaz quietly pointed out,

“Well someone certainly was.”

I nodded my head in his direction to show I agreed with him, for I whole heartily did.

Laswell and General Shepherd spoke with Ghost as he addressed to the them about our new predicament, I then walked up to Graves and explained,

“You understand that this is bad right? They are expecting 3 whole missiles! And if I don’t have them-“

“I KNOW! I know. They won’t believe you or it’ll cause a problem. I get it. This is definitely not my fault though.”

‘Who said it was? Why so defensive Graves?’

Doubt now began to settle in once again. But I held up strong when Price suggested,

“Why don’t we see if Alejandro and steer us towards anyone he thinks might know about this?”

I swore I could see Ghost arch a brow while Soap questioned suggestively,

“Ye mean like he knows someone tha’ knows someone tha’ knows ‘bout this goin’ missin’?”

“Hmm hmm… I’m sure he does, he runs this city like he owns it, or doesn’t give a fuck about who does.”

‘Yup… sounds like Alejandro.’

I started to walk away from everything and everyone as I ordered,

“Alright then, let’s head that way.”

Price pat my shoulder and sent me a short nod,

“After you Melione.”

Ghost’s POV

There’s no fucking good explanation for that missile going missing. It’s guarded by high security around the fuckin clock. That means it already got there messed with. Missing that third missile. I noticed that Laswell actually seemed more worried and concerned than Shepherd. Shepherd had a fake tone of concernment in his voice, and he sounded like he already knew about it. Fucker is going to wish he never lived if he’s playing us all onto something nasty. My thoughts must of been loud as Soap suddenly slid next to me, unfortunately bumping into my leg and side as he whispered,

“Ay LT… ye alright? Can see the smoke comin’ out of ya ears.”

I scoffed at his wording, but nonetheless replied honestly and in his tone,

“I don’t know Johnny… something about this is all off.”

“And I thought I was crazy.. I felt the same too.”

“Yeh?”

“Yeh.”

“Hmm… let’s hope our guts are wrong, if not it can become a big mess.”

“I know.”

My eyes then settled on Melione, who sat across from me as she played with her necklace, twiddling the rings on her fingers as she glared at Graves. Soap oddly enough commented on what I was thinking,

“Ye think she has something to do with this and him, Graves?”

“I hope not. But everything in her story is fake, all that we have discovered about her is either off or unaccounted for… so you never know.”

“I’d hope not either… she doesn’t appear tha’ way at least.”

I huffed lowly and side-eyed him,

“Really?”

“Trust me... we talked.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.. but I can’t repeat it here.. too many untrusting ears..”

“m’k.”

‘Hmm… Ya seem confident Soap… better be right Johnny boy.’

About an hour later..

Alejandro’s POV

I stood next to Rudy by our Jeep as I saw the incoming SUV, I heard Rudy let out a broken sigh,

‘What is it Rudy?’

“Ruudyyy... que pasa my friend?”

Rudy shuddered as he spared me a quick look,

“I don’t like-“

“-Alejandro!!”

‘Ay they were quick to get off!’

I couldn’t hear what Rudy said as Soap yelled for her to be careful as she jumped out of the still braking vehicle. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Ayyy mi corazon!! At least someone is happy to see me.”

I watched her hold a bright smile while she jogged to embrace me. I watched how Ghost got off after her and didn’t like her sweet gestures, but it was nice to see someone like this once in a while. After separating she bounced on her heels and asked curiously,

“Sooo Price said you had someone we need too see?”

Yeah, Price has spoken to me a while ago, and I already had who he needed in hand. Anyways, Her being a bit hyper was new, I took that into note for just in case. But I replied,

“Yes cariño… come on muchachos.”

Soon they settled into the jeep, squeezing up pretty tightly as Melione sat between the two large men of steel. Rudy then looked back, smiled at Meli and Soap, and sent Ghost a short nod as he told me,

“Tiengo miedo a los fantasmas.”

‘ohhh that’s right! you’re scared of Ghosts.. can never ‘not be funny.’

Ghost was definitely intimidating, looked like the son of la Santa Muerte and killed like the chupacabra. I was easy around him, but Rudy wasn’t. Melione was the only one who laughed when Rudy had the balls to say,

“With your mask you’ll fit well here Ghost.”

We all glared at him as he began to sweat out his audacity but Melione laughed out loud and leaned her head on Ghost’s shoulder after she stopped, and muttered under her breath,

“I still like you Ghost. And your mask.”

This was all seriously going to be interesting.

Rudy’s POV

The rest of the ride was awfully quiet, especially after what I said. But I could only hear Melione chatter about something incoherently until I heard Ghost say in a little tough tone at one point,

‘Don’t touch. o-ok.. Fine. Jus’ up to there that’s fine. Not passed my elbow.’

Now that we were off the Jeep and standing in front of the crate, I realized that she had been drawing on his tattooed arm, for all the little spaces were colored in. Unfortunately He caught me staring and he roughly pulled his sleeve down. I hurriedly stood next to Alejandro as he started to tell the us,

“Alright hermanos... this is it. Beware.”

Upon walking in we beheld quite the sight.

Valeria Garza... one of the biggest drug dealers of Las Almas, period. She was fearless and cold, evil too.. and madly cursed at whoever crossed paths with her. I made sure Melione stayed behind Soap and I, as she stayed glued next to Ghost for now. Alejandro walked you to Valeria as he immediately jumped onto the point of our meeting, as he began,

“You know about the missile right?”

She let out a breathless laugh,

“You think I know where everything is huh puta?”

‘Ay madre... starting off big i see.’

That only led to the both of them arguing back and forth for a while, with heavy insulting words and lots of tension. It had come to enough when Graves stepped in and questioned,

“You two know each other?”

He sent Alejandro a questioning look as he replied,

“Ha, something like that. So Valeria... where the missile?”

She shrugged and tried to look behind us while sassing,

“I know there’s a woman behind you mensos putas.”

Melione tiptoed as she agreed,

“Yeah why am I hiding-“

“-shut up Meli.”

That was Ghost.

Alejandro then was growing more pissed as he interrupted,

“-where’s the missile?”

“I don’t know cabron!!”

Gaz looked at Price while he asked us,

“What the fuck is going on?”

Price spoke up and questioned,

“So you know about the missing missile? The third one?”

Valeria chuckled,

“Oh I didn’t count them, I have men for that-“

“-she’s lying-“

Ghost then intervened as his thick accent came out gruffly,

“Where’s the missile?”

Everyone kept spewing questions and curses until Melione squeezed through us. I tried to catch her but she only stood in front of Valeria and plainly asked with a soft voice of shock,

“You gave it to Hassan... didn’t you? That’s why he hasn’t called about the deal.. he has it already because of you.”

Valeria smirked at Melione while she openly checked her out, then sputtered,

“Of course-“

“NO!-“

Her hand raised up but Ghost grabbed it rapidly and pulled her back to his side, she struggled a bit but he not had to stare at her to calm her instantly. She looked furious as Alejandro breathed heavily,

“You think you can do anything with anyone huh??!”

Valeria say back in her chair and sasses once again,

“Even the dogs in Las Alma’s know not to bark at me.”

A little scoff was heard behind me so instinctively I turned to see who it was, but that’s when I caught Ghost pinching Melione’s waist, right below her bullet-proof vest. She flinched a little and sent him a glare that he completely ignored. I shook my head at her as her eyes locked on mine, but she only sent me a small smile.

‘Ayyy que niña.’

My focus unfortunately went back to Valeria as she teased with some suppose seduction in her voice,

“Y quien es esta bellesa? I like her.”

I couldn’t hold back my patience with her anymore and especially more sense she was being a little mouthy about Melione, so I seethed,

“Deja la-“

“You like me mama? Huh… let’s see… if you can tell me at least… the place where we need to go to find what we need. I’ll give you a deal.”

‘Ayyyy mi corazon… that’s new.’

I caught everyone and myself gawk at Melione’s words and sassy attitude. It had never been seen before, or even used, she was usually cold and silent, letting everyone do the talking. Plus she had been angry at first. But now this and her coming out first? That’s was definitely new. Ghost was the most intrigued by her words, as his eyes hadn’t left her at all, you could tell he was trying to read her, understand her. My ears then fell upon Valeria’s words as she pointed out,

“Give me 5 minutes with you… and I’ll tell you the place.”

Ghost grunted at the offer and just interrupted,

“Just tell us where the missiles are!-“

Melione then stepped closer to Valeria and replied to her ignoring Ghost’s words,

“-yes. 5 minutes. Then you tell me-“

Ghost yet dared again to growl even deeper and meaner when he saw Melione pushing it,

“-Where’s the missile-“

Graves reached for Melione’s arm while trying to bargain,

“-Melione-“

Soap pulled him back as Melione countered,

“-shut the hell up Graves. Let me handle this, sister to sister… huh?”

And again her eyes found Valeria’s, looking so lusty and shimmering, luring her into her trick. Valeria was a tough bottle to crack, so I wasn’t sure how this would play out, it always took larger measures to get to her. But I was beyond surprised when Valeria suddenly spurted out with a smirk,

“Chicago.”

‘Ay mi vida… she must really want her.’

Melione smiled with triumphant and then ushered us out with a snap of her fingers,

“Unlike you guys I keep to my word, let us have our 5 minutes. Out.”

I eyed Melione hoping she’d read me trying to tell her to be careful, to which she sent me a wink, and patted my back. To say I was comforted a little was an understatement, I was still extremely nervous about this. For Valeria was a cold and good killer, but you wouldn’t know who she really was until you were trapped in her jaw… she was like Satan. So I was the second to last out as Ghost stayed behind, and could only glare at Melione before stepping out and slamming the door shut, leaving the two alone. It was obvious he was utterly pissed off about this, and Soap was the first to ask him if he was ok,

“Ye alright mate?”

Ghost stood in front of him completely still and only shook his head as he replied simply,

“She’s a daring bastard. Think she’s out of cloud 9 now.”

With a sigh he walked away to stand by the door, not to listen in, but to make sure no one came in or out until it was said to do. Gaz walked up to me with his watch in hand as he put forth,

“I got a timer going, don’t want time to slip pass us in case something goes wrong.”

I gave him a grateful nod as Alejandro worded,

“Gracias Gaz.”

Now it was the waiting game… we all held the same expression as we thought,

‘What the hell can be going on in there?’

Valeria’s POV

To say this woman was beautiful would be an insult, she was far more than that, and held something I had never seen before. And it drew my attention sense the minute she walked in through those doors. She stood in front of me with eyes that held so many secrets, and so many lies.

‘Quien eres…. I know you’re not a killer.’

“Venga aqui.”

I called out to her softly, her change in expression at my demeanor told me she was slightly worried but curious at it. But she still walked closer and asked in a low tone,

“What do you want? You only have 5 minutes-“

“Who are you mama? This façade you have going on fits you, but it’s not you.”

Her face dropped a little at my words, but in a second it clicked for her. With some kind of power in her presence she leaned forward towards me and held each hand on the chair beside my head as she sternly said,

“If you want this conversation to go on, you have to stop calling me ‘mama’-“

I huffed out a dry laugh as I pushed on,

“Because that’s what you are? Come on hermana… once you become one you never stop being one-“

She jerked away from the chair and seethed in one breath while holding a frown,

“Unless it’s taken away then yes.”

Her reply kept me silent for a second, as I registered what she meant. It stung a little to realize, but unfortunately life was a bitch and it’ll ruin good people. I heard her sigh heavily as her eyes closed while she pinched her nose and asked,

“What was said you don’t repeat. You are in no position to mess with me because I will personally find you and kill you. Understood?”

I watched her as she tried to subtly wipe away tears with her fingers while still holding onto her nose. My heart never felt bad for anyone, I’ve lived this life long enough where we don’t feel anything anymore, but for some reason, it clenched at the sight of her breaking, because she looked so strong.

‘Que lamento..’

And her threat, well, I wouldn’t take it as a joke either, her rage was enough to take out a whole city if she wanted too. So I leaned back in my chair and replied,

“It’s a deal mi Reyna. I’ll look forward to seeing you soon.”

For the first time a tiny smile made it to her lips as she scoffed,

“That’s if we see tomorrow Valeria. Adios.”

‘People like you and me… always see tomorrow. Because death, is even scared to take us.’

She walked towards the door as I gave a farewell,

“Adios amor.”

Melione then turned back and asked,

“Was that all you wanted?”

I nodded,

“Yes.”

And there she stepped out without another word.

Melione’s POV

‘She’s quite the person… but I think I can trust her with that.’

First person I saw while walking out was of course, Ghost. Though Alejandro was the one who spoke to me first as he asked worriedly,

“She didn’t do anything to you right, corazon?”

With a hand on his shoulder I admitted,

“She’s an interesting woman, but no. She’s alright and ready to go.”

Graves came around as he tried to bark orders,

“We got to get going, if she knows where the missiles are then anyone else she works with does, so we need to get there first.”

‘Always in a damn rush. That Graves.’

Price’s voice went ‘command mode’ as he spoke to Alejandro.

“Alrighty then, Alejandro, Valeria is all yours. Soap initiate our next flight, if the missile is in Chicago-“

Ghost and I then muttered at once,

“Then Hassan is there too.”

At the sync we had it took us a second to glance at one another before following Price’s steps as we began to head onward. For some reason, Ghost and I actually had one thing in common… we really wanted Hassan over everything.

71 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 2 years

Text

What Zabb Man!

quick pitch

What Zabb Man!

(Thailand April-May on YouTube)

8/10

Main Tropes: enemies to lovers, tsundere/tsundere, rich/poor, foodie romance, CEO

It's like Star Hunter has FINALLY grown up with this show.

WZM was better than we have any right to expect with decent pacing and a foodie theme threaded through the narrative as both love language and plot driver - which I have been WAITING for. Basically CEO falls in love with a street vendor’s food, recruits him to work in his hotel, falls in love with him, and that’s the beginning. Class struggles! Kitchen drama! Papaya pounding (not a euphemism)! Chef poaching (not literally)! Spicy scenes (yes literally)! It’s all so delicious.

Star Hunter... did you serve this one up just for little old me? Sure seems like, since no one else consumed it. Well... I do have a high space tolerance.

I think I have finally figured out Star Hunter’s brand: CHEEKY.

Will this review be full of food puns.

Oh yes indeed.

Sure this show gets absurdly over cooked and falling apart messy in tone, it's like Star Hunter just CAN'T help but over egg the plotting (see what I did there). I imagine their workshopping is a hoot, it's a bunch of young actors being ridiculous, and the chaos just leaks onto the screen. But all the acting is on point, and ... FOOD!

(Yes I have eaten my body weight to som tum. Why do you ask?)

The leads are actually pretty good (previous in Hidden Love).

Poon is a great character because he is tsundere WITH good reason. And he’s portrayed with depth and sweetness for all his salty pride.

Also I'm not opposed to a bit of a CEO romance in my BL. Alpha being won over by love and som tum, tasty.

But what I really loved was that Athip loves Poon first for his food. When Poon runs away Athip finds him because of his food. Arthip begs forgiveness by eating Poon’s food.

But it’s PokeTongue (AKA BankBonus who play Teng & Mayom) who once more steal the bacon. Honestly they dominated Gen Y 2 and now they are doing it again. Just give them their own show already!

They absolutely crackle on screen together and it’s such fun to watch, who cares about plot?

Thai language moment: Pronouns

Teng & Mayom’s relationship negotiation scene (see image above) jumped around between pronouns khun/ter for you & pom/rao for I so much I couldn’t follow the nuances at all. But I can say that that pronoun hopping was part of the negotiation of intimacy between them, and changes the whole tenor of the scene.

This is one of those I wish we had translator notes on.

Food moment: Mayom

Star gooseberry (Phyllanthus acidus) is no relation to the gooseberry (Ribes) many of use grew up with in the UK. They tase a little similar in that (like cranberrys for the US folkz) they are sour and astringent, but they grow on a tree (not a bush) and are quite cute.

More on Mayom & Teng

For this particular couple I liked their claiming segment.

First I should say I'm starting to notice faen being translated more as “partner” instead of boyfriend, or VERY rarely “lover.” I’m not sure this is more or less accurate, it’s certainly more precise, but there’s just no direct translation so part of me wants them to leave it faen at this point.

We should all just learn it and adopt the word into English, it’s a better gender neutral term than anything we got. Lover is overly explicit and old fashioned. Significant other is awfully stiff and cumbersome. Partner has multiple non-romantic meanings, especially in a workplace setting.

Faen is a good word, single syllable, easy to say, nice mouth feel, pretty, reminds me of the Scots fain (which has a LOVELY meaning).

Still it’s certainly interesting to see “partner” start happening in BL, adds to the modern feel. Like they’ve been listening to the queers, again.

(I expanded on my faen feels because of comments.)

Secondly, because Teng broke up with his ex due to the closet, this is one instance where Mayom’s possessiveness is justified by the narrative since Teng needs it to feel confident in their relationship. Hence the live broadcast claiming scene.

In the end, this was the foodie romance set in the Thai Restaurant industry I have always wanted. The machinations of being in food service formed not just setting but also plot. Perhaps if Bite Me, Love Area and some of the ones from Korea (My Sweet Dear, Tasty Florida, Ocean Likes Me, To My Star) hadn’t disappointed me in this regard, I wouldn’t be so generous with this show. And to be fair, it probably should get a 7/10 by my normal standards. But What Zabb Man was cooked up exactly to suit my palate (and apparently no one else’s) so it gets a 8/10.

RECOMMENDED, especially if you like Thai food.

(source)

#thai bl #what's zabb man #what zabb man #star hunter #starhunter #thai language #thai linguistics #thai in translation #Star gooseberry #mayom #Phyllanthus acidus #gen y 2 #poketongue #hidden love #thai food #foodie romance

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semi-imaginary-place · 2 months

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playing the unicorn overlord demo. I didnt check and locked the difficulty tactical... Hope i survive. ... This is real time fire emblem. supports? return of the rightful king plot?movement type effectiveness. Is there a weapons triangle too?

Huh so there's no actual combat all the gameplay is in the setup and movement the little animated sequence is just the result playing out. This really does feel like a board game.

How ironic that the ring the queen gave to Alain would have been the thing to win her counteroffensive. Too bad no one knew about the mind control.

Alain should honor his mother and go bare thighed

Oh the gammel choice is much more important than the fame lets on. Personally i'd hand him over to the watch especially since i think he's lying about the conveniently sick sister. But apparently he's recruitable. Maybe he should have found redemption in serving time for the town he terrorized instead of going scot free.

Woops didn't realize evil dude was there so i wasted all my valor on the stronghold. Rescued scarlett and that's the end of the demo. At level 9 and just unlocked rapports.

i liked the gameplay took me a bit to figure out how battle works and i still don't get all of it. But it uses a ai system similar to ffxii's gambit system aka programming for idiots. Much like 13 sentinels i tolerate the rts because most if the time is in the pause menu but combat is clunkier than 13 sentinels like canceling movement is a little annoying i wish there was a do not engage command i killed a lot of characters accidentally entering the enemy hit box at least there isnt permadeath. Then there's a support system like fire emblem but it's location tied like xenoblade chronicles. I did like running around exploring which is why it took me so long to progress the main plot. The story and characters haven't stood out to me in the demo which isnt to say they're bad just that the narrative payoff isn't in the first chapter it could build to something but with what 70 characters I fear it'll end up like the diofield chronicles where they're mostly underdeveloped. In general I'm a pretty hard sell on return of the king stories. Ffxii is the only one i like and that's because ashe keeps making bad decisions and making things worse and xii really delves into the ramifications if politics and what reclaiming a throne really means. I dont buy without reading full game reviews and usually watching a good chunk of the game, the demo was mostly to see if i liked the gameplay which gets a pass from me (still wish it was turned based though like can you imagine a smt devil survivor type battle system or an octopath fire emblem fusion? Would have loved that). So we'll see if i buy the full game.

Speaking of orges battle i did buy tactics orge reborn on black friday and have been waiting to play it i might play that instead

#unicorn overlord

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winderlylandchime · 8 months

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I come to you with 2x09(1/2), this is one of my favorite episodes and i am so happy that my brother didn’t disappoint (without his knowledge. Bc for the sake of the experiment i try to be as quiet as possible while watching) anyway: i came home from work and he was waiting in the driveway with the remote in his hands so he didn’t waste a single second: *the ep starts with Britin and the priest* ‘oh damn. Okay, i guess we are just jumping right in! Is he wearing a CROSS NECKLACE?! How poetic….is that what that means?’ *stares at the babylon scene and then looks at me like a kid on christmas* ‘can we go to a gay club? I feel like itd be fun? This looks fun! Look at them having fun! *mikey mentions britins date night* WAS THAT THEIR VERSION OF A DATE?! You know what? Makes sense’ ‘BRIAN IS TELLING MIKE TO GET BEN BACK? Oh i think this dude might stick around longer than david then, huh? Or are they gonna pull the hollywood gay triangle and kill him off?’ (Narrators note: i have no clue what the triangle is but he seems sure of it as if he learned it in school, i can ask about it if yall want) ‘Did that lil shit just say what I think he said?! Brian, i give you full permission to hit that ugly child even if they are your nephews..*looks at me all honestly* promise ill get rid of my future kids if they say stuff like that..damn i keep forgetting they have sisters’ he is currently not happy about Brians sister saying he got off scot free and is talking about the ep where Jack says he should die instead, i am not ready for him to fully meet Joan.

The scene with the church comes up. ‘Okay brian has no business looking this good at church…how hard do you think he’s resisting to not make a joke about him catching on fire? *looks at me* oh come on! You make that joke all the time!!..the priest is like a what to her now?! Wait, is that? Is that THE DUDE FROM THE CLUB?! OH MY GOD HE FUCKED THE PRIEST! BRIAN FUCKING KINNEY FUCKED THE PRIEST!!! Does this mean he fucked God? HE FUCKED GOD! Now aint that a way to tell religion to go fuck itself. Fucked by the “sinner” himself’ *he then pretended to tip a cowboy hat to Brian while laughing so hard that he has tears in his eyes* ‘of course Justin thinks this is hot. Attaboy. Wait theyre all having breakfast together? And mel is actually nice? And brian is nice? SO THEY CAN GET ALONG IM JUST NOT ALLOWED TO WITNESS IT!’ He is currently losing his shit over that lunch scene where Ted shows up with a boner and once again has tears in his eyes. *in the tune of sitting on the tree song* ‘Brian and Justin hanging in the loft, F-U-K-C-C-I…wait that’s not it, F-K-U-I…no that sounds wrong..F-U-N-K-G..*looks at me worryingly* oh god. The alphabet is all wrong. (I tried to help him bc this man was about to have a meltdown) no no stop, you don’t know how the alphabet goes (me:everyone knows how the alphabet goes) no, i rearranged it yesterday because it didn’t look right on that thing *points to a photo with letters all over the place that spell happy bday*’

Welcome back dear sweet anon and brother anon!

I want you to know that I first read your messages on a bit of break at work and had tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard that I was worried I wouldn't be able to be professional looking in my meetings.

I love how protective your brother is of you - already getting rid of future imaginary bigoted kids.

HAHA yes fucking a priest is Britin's definition of date night!

I am worried about what drugs your brother is on with this alphabet rant. Is he... okay?

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Text

A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x you #not sfw #writing #jjk teacher aid au #jjk posting #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk writing tag

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race-week · 3 years

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Paddocks Power Couple? We’re too Ordinary.

Times article - here in full.

Susie and Toto Wolff are the power couple of motorsport, although mention it to them and Susie will grimace and explain why she hates that label.

“It sounds so corny,” she says. “This idea that we’re a power couple, I don’t see it. We have struggles that normal couples have of managing family logistics, especially with our jobs involving so much travel.

“We support each other massively. Obviously there has been success along the way, which we’re not just proud of but grateful for. So no, I don’t relate to this power couple tag.”

They certainly have achieved success. Toto is in charge of Mercedes, who have won the driver and manufacturer championships in Formula One for the past seven years and are in contention to make it eight this season. The 49-year-old Austrian oversees all Mercedes’ motorsport programmes, including Venturi Racing in Formula E (FE), which Susie, a 38-year-old Scot, is in charge of. A few weeks ago they found themselves at the FE season finale in Berlin, both covered in champagne with reasons to celebrate.

Nyck de Vries had just won the drivers’ championship for Mercedes, while Norman Nato had won the race for Venturi and was joined on the podium by Susie, who took over the reins in 2018 and has turned around the team’s fortunes. It was a double celebration for Venturi as their other driver, Edoardo Mortara, finished second in the championship. There was no big party, however. They had promised their four-year-old son, Jack, that they would be home that night and he had been allowed to stay up late to wait for their arrival. “We’re not really good at celebrations,” Toto says. “For us what we do is just to be there for each other. That evening, flying back to Jack who was waiting in his pyjamas and then we had a late dinner.

“Though, wait, maybe if I tell you about my alcohol consumption the other day,” Toto says as he lets out a big laugh, and who could blame him for allowing himself a day off?

They are speaking while on holiday in Sardinia, where they have managed to find a week to spend together as a family. The final FE race fell in the middle of the F1 summer break and Jack was sent to stay with his grandparents in Scotland while the couple both worked. They have a rule that Jack is not allowed at the track when they are working.

This is because they think that it is unfair on Jack and the staff, who travel so much and cannot bring their own families to races. You get the sense that their style of management is as similar as their sense of humour.

The interview is conducted over video but their camera is turned off, which Susie explains is the result of her pale Scottish skin now being the colour of a lobster. Her husband joins the conversation a minute later and jokingly disagrees with the lobster comparison, saying her skin resembles the Austrian flag, courtesy of the tan lines from her swimsuit. This makes the man from Vienna and his wife laugh a lot.

The pair continue to bounce off each other throughout the interview, something that comes from their ten years of marriage. Toto is also quick to praise his wife’s talent as a team principal and says that he would happily work for her one day.

“I would work for her immediately,” Toto says. “If she comes up with a good project and she pays me well and I can have a share of the business, yeah, I will do it in a heartbeat. And I mean it seriously.”

The feeling, though, is not reciprocated and Susie is adamant that she would maintain her independence. “For me it was a conscious decision not to work for Toto, because as his wife it would have been seen as nepotism; also I had to stand on my own two feet,” Susie says. “I had to find my own project.

“So that’s why I went off to find my own challenge. But when I was discussing it with Toto, this idea of maybe doing something in Formula E or becoming team principal, he said, ‘Go for it, absolutely go for it.’ ”

Jack was only one when she took the job, but starts school next month in Monaco, to where they have recently relocated from Switzerland. They live down the road from Lewis Hamilton. The Mercedes driver has already been over for dinner and plays with Jack, even giving him one of his helmets.

“Jack asked the other day when [the next] race is, as he realised there hadn’t been one for a while,” Susie says. “I told him how many sleeps away it was and he said, ‘OK, because I’m thinking that maybe I’m going to give Lewis my helmet.’ I said no to him and explained Lewis had given him his helmet and you don’t have to give it back.”

Most children are in awe of the best drivers, which explains Jack’s disappointment upon discovering that his dad does not actually drive the cars. “I say I’m going to my race cars, and then he can relate to that, to the race cars,” Toto says. “Until like, one year ago, he thought that I was actually driving the car. So that came a little bit as a disappointment that I wasn’t.”

He is impressed, though, to know that his mum used to race. Susie became the first woman in 20 years to take part in an F1 weekend when she drove during free practice at the 2014 British Grand Prix. She was a development driver for Williams, which is how she met Toto, who was an investor in the team before he moved to Mercedes in 2013.

With F1’s second half of the season packed full of races, the Wolffs are enjoying the last day of their holiday and preparing to go to the beach.

With two parents who are such big names in motorsport, it seems likely that their son will follow them into it. But for now it is time for the one thing that they have made clear they both prioritise over anything else: their family.

#I honestly forgot I have a times subscription so here is the article in full #sorry if it’s formatted weirdly #Toto Wolff #susie wolff #f1 adjacent

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timbertumbr · 2 years

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Sunshine (Kiyotaka Ishimaru X Reader)

A simple oneshot where you're a reserve course student and befriend the hall monitor. :)

Life is a cycle. Some days are repeated, sometimes there's change. But in the end, there is a strict schedule to follow. You followed that cycle even on some of your darker days. This happened to be one of them.

You walked the empty halls to your locker, putting away some things and taking others. When all is said and done, you close the locker and begin to walk. Walk the lonely halls- wait, no someone's running behind you.

And they ran right into you, causing you to fall to your knees, and catch yourself with your hands as they ran by. Great. With a sigh, you begin to collect your fallen items as a shout and swift footsteps chase after the student.

You soon had everything, got up, and continued walking as nothing happened. You just wanted to go home… You leave the reserve course building and pause, seeing the student from earlier along with someone new dragging them toward you?

"NOW APOLOGIZE FOR RUNNING INTO THEM!" Eh? He was loud but not too bad. The student huffed and muttered a half-ass apology.

"GOOD. I SHALL APOLOGIZE AS WELL, I WAS BUSY TRYING TO REPRIMAND THE RULE BREAKER THAT I DID NOT HAVE TIME TO HELP YOU. PLEASE ACCEPT MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES!" He bowed. You blink.

"It's fine, things happen," Besides, you were pretty sure the jackass would get away scot-free if he'd stop to help you. He stood upright and smiled.

"I hope you have an excellent rest of your day!" He gives a little salute before dragging the student back towards the building. You stared after them, unsure of how to feel. You shake your head before continuing your walk, the event was unexpected but it was kind of nice.

The next day, your cycle started once again. Wake up, get ready, go to school and sift through meaningless information for the ones that may be on some pop quiz.

So far, you managed to get through the first half of your day without your brain turning to mush. Hurray. Lunch was a much-needed break from the tiring day.

You decided to eat outside in the shade. As you were getting your lunch out of your bag, a baseball whizzed past you, mere inches from hitting your head.

You blink, shrug, and continue on. It was unexpected but that's to be expected in a place like this. That was until you heard a familiar shouting far away.

"KUWATA, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? THAT WAS EXTREMELY IRRESPONSIBLE AND DANGEROUS! WHAT IF SOMEONE GOT HURT?" You turn to see the fence dividing the reserve course and the main course, a familiar hall monitor scolding a red-headed boy.

He glanced at you, then kuwata, then did a double-take when he saw it was you. Or at least, he thinks it's you? Kind of hard to tell with how far you are. With a sigh, you put up your lunch, collected the ball, and approached the fence.

"Hey," They now had your full attention as you threw the ball over the fence, kuwata catching it with ease. You turned on your heel to leave when the hall monitor stopped you.

"Hold it," What now? You turn back to them.

"Kuwata, apologize."

"Wha- Why do I have to do that?!"

"Because you nearly hit them! That's why!" You watched as they argued, not wanting to be here longer than you had to, you interjected.

"It's fine. Things happen. Not everything can go according to plan," They paused in their arguing before Kuwata rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, guess you're right. Still, sorry about that," You wave your hand dismissively, Kuwata walks off tossing and catching the ball in his hand as the hall monitor smiles at you.

"Well, glad that's been resolved! I'll have to lecture him about safety later…" He muttered that last bit mainly to himself.

"Hey," You grab his attention again.

"I've seen you twice now despite our different courses, are you stalking me?" You joked, trying to break the ice. It failed, miserably. He looked mortified.

"Wha-What?! N-No! I would never do such a thing! I-It's merely a coincidence that we-" You cut him off.

"Relax, I was just joking. Probably should've made that more clearer…" He calmed down significantly.

"A-Ah, I see…" Silence…

"Welp, it was nice meeting you," And with that, you turned on your heel to flee the situation.

"Wait!" Oh boy… You turn to him… again.

"May I know your name? In case we happen to run into each other again," Well, that's new.

"Sure, I'm Y/N, nice to meet you shouty pants," He furrowed his eyes in confusion as he muttered the nickname under his breath.

"I am Kiyotaka Ishimaru! It's nice to make your acquaintance Y/N! I'd shake your hand but…" He gestures to the fence.

"Well, that's an easy fix,"

"Huh?" You poke your pinky through the fence.

"We shake pinkies instead," He stared at your hand before gently wrapping his pinky around yours and shaking it.

"Well, I now can say I've shaken pinkies now," He says amused as you retract your hands, you smirk.

"Weird flex but okay. See ya later then?" He thinks for a moment before shaking his head.

"Perhaps not… What if we had lunch together? Is that acceptable?" You mull over this before shrugging, fuck it.

"Why not?" You sit down as you said that while Ishimaru smiled and asked you to wait while he got his lunch.

You spend the lunch period chatting with him and just generally confusing him with your laid-back attitude. It broke your cycle, he shined his way through your dark days and into your heart. You're proud to say you have a friend like Ishimaru.

#danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa #danganronpa kiyotaka #danganronpa ishimaru #danganronpa kiyotaka ishimaru #Kiyotaka #Ishimaru #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #kiyotaka x reader #ishimaru x reader #kiyotaka ishimaru x reader #danganronpa thh #danganronpa kiyotaka x reader #danganronpa ishimaru x reader #danganronpa kiyotaka ishimaru x reader #danganronpa thh kiyotaka #x reader

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secretlyblue12 · 3 years

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Day 7: Pumpkin picking

The first week done!!! That's so cool, I'm loving seeing everyone's stuff so far and really excited to see the rest of the month. XD This one is an IRL one based the vlog premise, so that's exciting. I kept switching between if I wanted to do this with Tommy or Tubbo, but ended up keeping it on Tubbo so yeah.

It had been an all-day event, but there would be at least two vlogs coming out of it so it was a day well spent for the group of friends. Both Tommy and Jack had done filming, but the day was coming to an end, and Tubbo was feeling all the energy he had put into it sputter out. Somehow Tommy was still going strong, and Wilbur and Jack were struggling to keep the ‘kids’ in order.

Tommy had run off with Jack somewhere, the two filmings each other running around the pumpkin patch, determined to find the perfect one before the other got it. Ranboo followed them from a distance, laughing and joking, holding cameras when needed, and such.

Tubbo sighed heavily, hefting his pumpkin higher against his chest. Wilbur gave him a strange look, bumping shoulders and nearly sending the unsuspecting Tubbo to the ground. He chuckled, making sure Tubbo wasn’t going to fall over, before asking if he was alright. “You just seem to be out of it right now.”

Tubbo nodded, “Just tired. We’ve been out all day, man, I am just ready to head home.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t having fun, just that his social battery had run out about an hour ago, and now he was just barely dragging on and keeping face for the cameras. He wanted to make sure he kept up with all the bits and jokes but found himself zoning out more often than not. “And my feet hurt, how far in do you think we’re going to have to walk in here before they’re all run out?”

Wilbur looked over at the trio who were crowded around a pile of pumpkins laughing at something. “Probably got a while left, do you want to sit down and rest a bit?” He suggested, looking for a clearing.

Tubbo nodded, letting Wilbur guide him over to the side without a word. Tommy’s screams faded away and before he knew it he was sitting in the grass, his pumpkin set off to the side and head between his knees. Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder before giving the teen space.

They sat like that, in mutual silence, till the distant conversations grew louder and closer, making Tubbo lookup with dull eyes and a slight grimace. Wilbur made some quick gestures, and the volume came down to inside voices.

“Are we done then?” Wilbur asked, stretching and leaning against a tree to push himself up.

Tommy and Jack nodded, both of them fiddling with their things to get them where they needed to be. “Yeah, missed you both towards the end. We might do some more filming on the way home, or do the outro real quick while we’re all together real quick.”

Jack and Tommy both finished up, showing off everyone’s pumpkins and zooming in on Tubbo, who was out for the count. Everything was finished quickly, and then there was the final talk of how the videos went, or what bits they would keep in. Everyone was packing up and gathering their things, well, everyone except Tubbo who remained firmly on the ground.

“Come on Tubs,” Tommy whined, reaching down to tug at his hand. “We’re going to bring you home now, sorry we stayed out so late.”

Tubbo whined, letting himself be dragged across the ground. “My leg’s hurt though, don’t make me stand up yet!”

Everyone laughed, making different efforts to get the boy standing. In the end, it took Ranboo jokingly offering Wilbur up for piggyback ride services. “Really? I- okay, is it bad if I’m actually considering it. My legs are killing me, dude.”

Wilbur hesitated, before leaning over. “Fine, but just because I think you might actually die if we made you walk.”

Watching Tubbo get to his feet was funny, after sitting for a while it was as if his legs had shut down. He felt like a newborn gazelle, shaky and unsteady, but Wilbur crouched down for him to get on. It only took another minute, and Ranboo offering to carry Tubbo’s pumpkin as well as his own, for them to be on their way.

“Really,” Wilbur teased, hiking tubbo up higher on his back, “the fact that you’re shorter than the rest of us is a good thing.” Ranboo snorted, and Tommy cackled. They had all heard Tubbo’s rants about how they were all just unnecessarily tall before, though Jack was the closest to his own height. When Tubbo whined into Wilbur’s neck, the older gave his knees a sympathetic squeeze, not expecting him to kick out with a squeak.

“Wihilbur, don’t do that.” Tubbo giggled, clinging on to Wil’s sweater.

Wilbur giggled deviously, “Oh, you’re ticklish then Tubbo? Maybe that will help your mood, get your energy back and all that.” He held on to Tubbo with one hand, reaching back with the other to scribble at his side. He wasn’t expecting much, Tubbo was wearing a rather thick sweatshirt, but Tubbo was tired enough that even the thought of it happening sent butterflies fluttering across his skin.

Tubbo giggled frantically, squirming as much as he could without running the risk of falling off his perch. “It wohon’t! Wihil, I- ihit tihihckles.”

Jack cooed at him off to the side. “Awe, look at him. He’s so sweet like this, can’t believe he was threatening to stab us just a few hours ago.”

Tommy was all but bouncing next to him. “Yeah! Get him Wil, Tubso needs to smile cause he’s been in a right state.” He switched his pumpkin over to one hand, poking at Tubbo’s other side and chuckling evilly when he jerked back and forth between him and Wilbur.

Tubbo kicked his legs and brought one arm down to swat at Tommy’s hand. “Stohop ihit! You’re nohot helpihing.”

Wilbur had to toss Tubbo back up in the air to keep him from slipping down. “You’re a squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Some help here guys? Make sure he doesn’t fall backward or anything.”

Jack followed Tommy’s lead, reaching over with a free hand and wiggling his fingers at the teen’s neck, smiling when Tubbo squealed and shook his head back and forth before hiding in Wil’s neck. He could see pink slowly making its way up Tubbo’s neck and to the tips of his ears through his hair. “Look at that, he’s going all red, isn’t he. Come get in on this Ranboo while you can.”

It was well known that Ranboo ended up being a common victim among everyone, so any chance he had to get he went for it.

Ranboo looked down at his hands, both of which were full of pumpkins, and then back up to Jack with a blank look on his face. “We might have a slight issue with that, I- um. I have pumpkins.”

“Doho it ahand I wihill kihihill you lahater Rahahan- TOHohomy, Naha!”

Jack looked over to where Tommy had snuck his hand between Tubbo and Wilbur, squeezing at his stomach and making Tubbo kick out violently. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle along, “Now that’s just mean, mate.”

Wilbur brought his other hand back to hold onto Tubbo more steadily. “Jeez man, you’re a kicker. ACK- careful, don’t choke me. Tommy not so much.” Wilbur jerked with Tubbo when he flung himself back to get away from Tommy, hands still around Wilbur’s neck.

Jack put his hand on Tubbo’s back, making sure he wouldn’t fall backward. “Switch me Ranboo, I’ll take the pumpkins.”

Tommy scooted over, letting Jack and Ranboo do a transfer and holding Tubbo up with one arm around his waist, still clawing into his tummy. “He’s fine, Wil. See, you’re fine, aren’t you Tubso? I think you were right, he’s getting his energy back now.”

Tubbo didn’t even bother to complain, just sinking back into Tommy’s chest, only to be transferred over to Ranboo.

“H-hi.”

Ranboo smiled down at Tubbo who was leaned back on him, head tilted all the way back to be able to look at him properly. “Hi, Tubbo. How’re you doing?”

Tubbo shook his head, not able to stop his anxious giggles. “You dohon’t have to do this, I’ll get you back ten times worse.”

“Mhm,” Ranboo hummed, “I think I do though. A-and you’ll do that no matter what so, an empty threat.”

Before Tubbo could make any more threats Ranboo had a hand sneaking under his shirt and scribbling on his side. Tubbo ended up releasing his hold on Wilbur entirely besides from where the eldest still had his legs under him and melting entirely into Ranboo’s chest. It was like lightning was coming right from Ranboo's fingertips, zaping every nerve ending until he couldn't even squirm away anymore to get away from the feeling.

He explored while he could, being careful not to wear Tubbo out too much more than he already was. The conversation carried on mostly like normal, with the occasional comment on if Tubbo’s laugh got high pitch or changed suddenly. They got a few odd looks when they got closer to the front of the pumpkin patch, but Ranboo wrapped it up and leaned Tubbo back against Wilbur’s back.

Tubbo just gave a half-hearted grumble, a few threats distinguishable between the mutterings along the lines of “Wait till later… get you back… not over.” which Wilbur would carefully warn Ranboo about later. A Tubbo with a reason for revenge was a Tubbo to fear after all.

He wouldn’t have to worry for now though, because, by the time Tommy opened the door for Wilbur to let Tubbo slide in, the boy was barely awake enough to register himself being moved, and Ranboo had to be careful not to let Tubbo collapse fully onto the ground.

They shuffled him around until he was buckled up, everyone else filing in after and settling into quiet conversations for the ride home.

Even Tubbo would have to admit though, by the end of the whole ordeal he felt a lot more positive than he had before. That didn’t mean the others would get off scot-free though, they’d just have to wait for him to rest up first.

#mcytickletober #tickletober #tickling #tickle fic #day 7 #First week!!!#lee!tubbo #ler!wilbur #ler!tommyinnit #ler!ranboo #ler!jackmanifold #IRL fic

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randombtsprincessa · 4 years

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Be My Teacher

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (She/Her) (2nd person written in third perspective)

Words: 2.2k

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: You ask your best friend turned boyfriend to show you how he likes his blowjobs.

Warning: I am swerving dangerously in the Jungkook lane. Discussion on BJs, explicit smut scene, detailed description of oral (male receiving).

A/N: Happy Birthday to bunny boy Jeon Jungkook! Banner is by yours truly! Let me know how you like it, thanks!

Music Companion - Myth Syzer - Bonbon a la menthe (Stwo Remix)

“So…you…hmm want, what?”

If you thought that you would get off scot free rolling your eyes at this moment, you would have. Granted, maybe it would’ve displayed a good bit of power play, considering you were on your knees but right now, it wasn’t about that.

At least, you were trying hard not to make it so – but it was so difficult when you were so used to doing so with him.

Jungkook was sat slouching in the easy chair in the living room of his ‘bachelor pad’. His legs parted, accommodating you to sit daintily upon your folded legs, already getting numb from the static position. The hem of his sweatshirt rose up just so, resting along his abdomen and giving you a tantalizing glimpse at his toned stomach.

For Jungkook, he would’ve opened his legs and allowed anything to be done to his body, because it was you. He had worked hard for you, and he knew you did the same for him. So when you’d moved in front of him, clad only in a soft cashmere shirt that was two sizes too big on you, it was obvious for him to turn off the game he was watching to give you all his attention

Especially, since you’d given him a smile that made hair rise up on the back of his neck and throat to go dry.

But when you’d sunk down, looking every bit the temptress that you were, innocent and big eyed and said that, well…he had to admit, he was confused and maybe mildly concerned.

“I want you to show me,” You repeated, slower for his benefit, “How you like head.”

Jungkook was already sitting up, elbows leaning against his knees. “Baby, it’s…you don’t have to, I mean, I don’t,” He was stammering, stumbling on his words as if he wasn’t an active young adult but then, he also knew that as your boyfriend, as your best fucking friend; he couldn’t allow you to think your blowing skills were subpar.

Considering that you and he had just recently gotten together after a brief stint of mutual pining and a clichéd confession. Nothing sexual, save a few minor kisses had happened.

“Kook,” He stopped at your sigh of his nickname. “Stop fretting so much; I just,” Your hands reached out, placing very deliberately on his knees, just shy of his elbows. “Want to make you feel good; just show me how you like it.”

The words were whispered, sending a small shiver down Jungkook’s spine. The earlier concerns about your sexual security in the relationship were long gone, replaced by the realization of your actual intentions.

You were teasing and gratifying him at the same time.

Fuck, how did he resist throwing you on to a bed and having his way with you for so long?

Very slowly, keeping his eyes on you as if you were going to pounce and chomp down on him, he returned to his slouching slump, hands bunching the hem of his shirt.

“I’d like anything you do to me.” He said finally.

“That’s nice, babe. I’d like to do what you want me to do.”

Fuck, Jungkook’s blood was racing, pounding through his ear drums. There was nowhere he could go, no where he could avert his eyes and by god…nothing more he wanted to do than fist your hair in his hands as you took his cock in your mouth.

“Okay,” He gritted his teeth, rubbing along the jean clad length of his thighs. “Okay.” He agreed.

Something glittered behind your eyes, something that he had been privy to for years now but was now on the receiving end of. It ignited a slow fire under his skin, flushing him with uncomfortable heat that signaled arousal.

He knew his cock was calling to her now, could almost hear its song, and he was absolutely sure you could.

He had this, he told himself.

You watched him headily, waiting his first instruction when you saw the same fire dancing behind his gaze that had made you approach him. You’d caught sight of him from his bedroom doorway, one hand fiddling with the remote and his leg bouncing.

Not the most alluring sight, you’d admit; but it was Jungkook. Would you be human if you didn’t find him absolutely delectable in any position?

And so, like a moth to his light, you drew closer, shucking off your trousers behind the couch.

“Unzip me, take it out.” He said and you blinked, accepting the first instruction and straightening.

Quick, eager fingers moved to the button of his jeans, deftly pulling the two sides of his pants together to undo the button, hooking your index around the zip to slide it down. Something nudged under your wrist and you couldn’t help but shoot me an impish grin.

Jungkook chuckled, his serious expression breaking like a storm cloud as he relaxed. His hips squirmed, rising up so you could pull the jeans and black briefs he wore down to the top of his thighs. The band constricted his legs, making him huff and tug them down lower till they were being kicked off completely, landing haphazardly somewhere behind you.

He watched your eyes run the length up his now naked legs, the muscles of his thighs flexing under the scrutiny when they paused at the one body part of his that required…no, needed, the attention right now. He wouldn’t be ashamed to confess, this whole thing was pretty damn exciting and it had reflected on his shaft, poking up and saluting you, infused with all his brain cells and then some.

“So,” His voice came out dry, gulping down saliva before trying again. “Um, touch it.”

Your pupils were blowing out, as you with no hesitation wrapped a hand around his base. Your grip was much looser than he was used to and he grunted in dissatisfaction. He looked at you, the twitch of your lips catching his attention.

“Tighter,” he ordered, a soft gasp escaping him when you immediately obeyed.

Minx, he laughed internally, you wanted him to be commanding? He’d give you what you wanted.

“Good girl,” He gave you a wide, all teeth showing grin when your eyes flashed up to him and fuck, he knew he’d hit the nail right on the head. “Now give it a tug.”

Your hand softened around the length, slowly rising up to the head before back down, repeating the action twice, thrice, four times. Jungkook let his head drop back, sighing in the relief of touch, of your touch. “Mm,” he glanced down at the dick, his head glistening with oozing precum and nodded at you. “Use it, make it wet before you use your mouth.”

The feeling of your thumb, rubbing along the softer, more sensitive head, dipping into the opening and collecting the near clear slick had him opening his mouth in a silent groan, feeling the pressure cause the liquid to drip down the shaft along with your hands, coating it in smoothness.

He looked down at you, your eyes fixed on his face, examining and relishing in each minute expression. His own eyes had completely blackened; the dark antelope eyes of his now blazing with restrained lust.

“Y/N,” His voice was hoarse, and he made no effort to appear cool and collected anymore. “Fuck, suck it. Please, take me in your mouth.”

Your gazes suspended for a full second, words no longer necessary. You kept your eyes on his, leaning in as slowly as you could, extending the period of anticipation for him when finally he could feel your hot breath waft across his glans. His eyes fluttered, unable to hold your eyes any further when you opened your mouth and deliberately placed the thick head on the very tip of your tongue.

It was experimental, being your first time sucking your new boyfriend and best friend’s dick. There was almost no taste of the skin itself, save for the near salty-sour combination of his precum. It flooded over your taste buds as you took him in deeper, pacing the inches, the width, finally letting it rest just at the back of your mouth, teasing your throat canal.

Over you, Jungkook had gone stiff. His eyes were closed, scrunched tightly, his big nose twitched, his bottom lip was gripped by his teeth so tightly you worried he’d bite it off.

You pulled his cock out, a ‘pop’ signaling him to grunt at the sudden loss of heat around him. He opened his eyes, looking at you.

“Relax, Kook,” You smiled, rubbing his head around the seal of your lips. “It’s just a blowjob.”

He so did not have this. Jungkook’s brain had short circuited, watching you with zero replies, zero retorts which was completely unlike him.

His eyes remained glazed when he saw you take him in again, deeper this time, your lips moving over the couple inches more that vanished inside the cavern of your hot mouth. He could feel your tongue laving over the vein on the underside of his cock, pressing onto the sensitive skin hard enough to send the jolt up to his diaphragm.

His hand moved, stroking over your head, feeling the smooth strands of your hair filter through his fingertips. The smell of your shampoo was in his nostrils, so familiar, so you and he wrapped a carefully collected bunch around his palm, examining the taut rein that he now held.

He had half a mind to yank, gently of course to not hurt or distract you from where you were still suckling on him but instead he chose to push you further down on him. He still had an eye on your face, taking in your sudden widening of the eyes and the parting of the mouth with satisfaction. He had one on you, he would’ve grinned – had your next move not scored you one more than him.

You dropped down on him with more force now, the tip of his cock brushing past the seam of your throat and straight past, breaching in. The muscles of your esophagus closed on him, further tightening in and Jungkook buckled under your hold, finally erupting in a restraint less moan that reverberated through the walls of the room and back to you. His hold tightened and slackened periodically, unable to make his mind to whether to guide you or just allow himself to be flooded away.

That one moan had you groaning as well, the feel of his copious slick coating your throat now having you close your own eyes and enjoying in just his sounds.

The taste of him, the musk of his skin surrounded you, invaded you and it felt so dirty but so enthralling, you wished for it to last forever. However, judging from the way Jungkook was squirming now, his hips canting and rolling to further get himself into you, mild thrusts accompanied by his grunting and groaning; you knew he was close.

His length throbbed, pulsated, engorging into your mouth itself, stretching your poor lips almost painfully but you’d be damned if you pulled him out now. Your hands catered to the rest of his length, slipping down to press down along his balls, tight and heavy from the building release you wanted deep in your throat.

“Babe – Baby – not going to last, god please,” His voice broke on the last syllable and you gave one final push to yourself, straining as you sunk down on him completely, your face almost burying into his lap.

And you gave one last, hard suck…

Jungkook came in a mess of trashing and choked expletives. His body arced off of the chair, nails digging into the arm rest and his feet bounced off the floor. His head bowed to his chests as he cursed heavily, none of them too coherent and you watched as his sweaty mop of hair flopped into his eyes. Thick streams of his release launched down your mouth, slipping down without even an effort to swallow while the rest painted across your lips and chin, dribbling over his clothes and skin as his violent climax nearly pushed you off of him.

You settled to rubbing your soiled hands over his length, set on milking out every drop of cum he had to offer, marveling when the rest of the clear, whitish liquid oodles out. He moaned at that, loud, swollen lips parting before he slumped back, boneless.

His fried brain didn’t stop him from grabbing onto you however, hold light around your wrist as he hauled you right off the floor and into his chest.

“Fuck; that was the best orgasm I’ve had in all my life and we didn’t even have sex yet.” He whispered; voice croaky from all the near screaming he did.

You laughed, your earlier bravado melting into shyness, your hands tugging at the sticky shirt that had become uncomfortable on your skin. You also needed to wash your hands.

“Kookie, let me up, I need a shower…and brush my teeth.” You tilted your own head against his, feeling him nuzzle against your chest for a moment, considering the request.

“Alright,” He huffed, releasing you so you could skip down the hall and shut yourself into his bathroom, leaving him behind to collect what wits he could find – an evil grin slipping onto his face at the prospect of returning the favor – before, his eyes drooped into a sated slumber.

#smutcentralnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fluff #be my teacher

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7soulstars · 3 years

Note

Is it okay if I request a Thranduil x Reader one shot where the reader is a Selkie? Selkies are from Scottish myth - they have a magical seal fur coat that lets them turn into a seal when they go underwater, but remain human while on land.

Hey babe! Thank you so much for requesting! Of course it’s okay. I had no idea what a selkie was in the beginning but through your explaination and some research I figured it out ! Again, I wanted to make this an angst but poor bby Thranduil has already gone through enough so I made it soft. Anyways, no more spoliers! Enjoy and thank you for being so patient with me !

Vespertine/ The Elf and the Selkie

Pairing: Thranduil x Selkie! Reader

Warnings: Angsty/Sad start, Mentions of death,Use of Scots(language spoken by Selkies), ending might make you go aww

Summary: A father telling his children a story of the legends long forgotten.

.................

Vespertine; Occurring in the evening.

Lands lost, Kingdoms fell, Middle Earth was saved but no one could tell. The pain, people lost and the children snatched could not be reversed. Especially for the elves who left for the undying lands.

One remained.

King Thranduil remained. Protests were made, the lords argued and urged. But he wouldn’t budge.

“There is nothing left of me...My duty is over and my family is not returning back to me...I shall stay here.....in Mirkwood”, he had simply stated to Elrond before he dismissed him. Elrond had sighed saying, “This will not end well for you....”,before leaving the former king.

Alone.

He sat on his throne listlessly. Not a sound to be heard. No chittering crowds, no parties. Just emptiness. 14 years had passed like this and Thranduil had gotten used to it. Today marking the 14th year that is.

Time flew by fast for elves. But not for lonely elves. No matter how beautifully maintained all of Mirkwood still was due to unbroken elven magic the gap kept growing wider in the King’s heart. He was left to his own disposition. He grew and foraged his own food, he drew his own water, he entertained himself with his own hobbies. But he never left Mirkwood. He protected the empty abandoned city.

He got used to it. He got used to being lonely until that one evening.

Thranduil killed spiders at evening. They were weaker by then and it was easier. He walked across the tangled path and froze on hearing whimpers. They were soft and pained coming from the rocks near the forest riverbank. The blone walked stealthily and carefully with sword in his hands and furrowed brows as he neared the rocks. When his eyes fell on the cause of the noise as he stopped dead in his tracks.

An injured seal.

It’s side was deeply cut into as it barely managed to keep it’s eyes open and tried to move away erratically from the said elf as if it was in danger. “Hey! Stop! I’m not going to hurt you!”, the elf yell-whispered as he struggled to keep the creature in place.Almost as if it understood it stopped still whining due to the pain inflicted by moving around before it fainted. Thranduil sighed. He hadn’t used healing for years he wasn’t sure he could do it now either. But leaving the seal injured was not an option. So he had to do it.

He did.

Riding his loyal elk that had stayed with him he returned back to the nearest cave where he had healed and left the seal.

It was empty.

Thranduil had frowned. Thinking it had left he turned only to stop and look back with a sword swinging back as he heard a spash and a soft voice.

“Are ye an elf ?”,voice asked. Thranduil looked down, behind the rock he had seen the seal in, peeped a woman. She was clutching onto a seal coat as she looked visibly scared at the sword drawn at her which the king immediately put back into it’s sheath. At this she came out furthermore as she pointed at the reddish scar on her side. “ye helpit me yesterday ?”, she questioned her eyes gleaming with an undefined innocence.

Oh.

He had heard of a Selkie before but merely as myths. His mother sang him the song of the Mistress and The Selkie every night as a young ellon.It was his favourite. Thranduil looked back at the seal coat she held and then back at her. She gasps and immediately hides it behind her back as she attempts to look mad at the other. Thranduil’s heart felt weird. It fluttered at her action. 14 years without any contact with anyone made him forget the stern way of speaking that he had to maintain.

“I will not take it from you. I am here to see if you are felling better. Did you eat?”, he asked as he kneeled in front of her. She looked at him with intent in her eyes. Reaching forward she placed her wet hands on the king’s cheeks catching him off guard. “Wh-”

“Ye savit ma life from the human sailors”, she smiled softly.

Thranduil frowned in distaste he hadn’t heard the word ‘human’ in Valar knows how many years and it still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He looked at her. Her facial features. Her blown out eyes. Her curiosity.

Her curiosity.

He was cut out of his thoughts of course a shade of pick dusting his face as he stuttered when she had moved to touch his sensitive elf ears. “A like yer ears ye are sae beautiful.” Thranduil had stilled and mentally yelled at himself because he knew she did not know elven customs but he let her do as she pleases.

The sky got darker and he knew he had to leave. But her words replayed in head over and over again

“Will ye come back tomorrow ?”

As if he could hear her speaking right as he sleeps.

Oh. She is alone too....

Thranduil did go back. Again and again and again for 30 years, every day straight. Her name was Y/N and her husband was killed by sailors and their daughter, taken away. She ran into hiding and reached Mirkwood where he saved her. They grew closer. Maybe because Thranduil liked Y/N.

Maybe because she was just like him or maybe he was in love.

He sat by the riverbank with Y/N who wore his spare clothes when she took her human form as they watched the birds and made flower crowns. Thranduil was distracted, constantly looking at the selkie’s expressions as she concentrated on making a flowercrown with water lilies from the river. On finishing she looked at him with the eyes he adored. “Look!”,she exclaimed as she put it on his elks head as it leaned towards her. It was attatched to her just the way it was attatched to Thranduil which was surprising to say the least. A smile plastered onto his face as the words slipped from his mouth. “It’s beautiful. Just like you.” There was a brief silence as Y/N slowly shifted. Her words almost going unnoticed as she stuttered. “Dinnae give me false hope.....” That moment Thranduil realized,

He was absolutely enamored by her.

He didn’t wait for even a minute more of thought before catching Y/N’s lips with his own in a searing kiss. It wasn’t too long or too less. Just right like them. But Y/N drew back and a look of panic spread Thanduil as he saw her eyes full of tears. “Please do not cry! Is it something I did Y/N ?”, he said as he tried wiping her tears frantically.

“A cannot leave the water for a long time A will aye have tae come back thon is a selkie's fate. A cannot stop lovin ye either or A will dee a selkie's fate“ (I cannot leave the sea for a long time i will always have to come back that is a selkie's fate. I cannot stop loving you either or I will die a selkie's fate”

Oh.

Thranduil knew what that meant now. He had felt it before, Y/N did too and so did Tauriel. The fear that he never wanted anyone to feel again.

“Oh darling you do not need to leave the water for us to be together. I will always be here. You could even spend time with me here”,pointed towards the forest path reaching up towards the palace, “Don’t stop loving me....please....”

For the first time ever Elrond’s prediction was wrong.

Thranduil did not end up alone. He got a second chance.In life, in family

“Did they meet like that forever Ada?”

Well, yes,until someone with blonde long hair wearing a green tunic and with strikingly similar features as her lover gave Y/N a seal coat from a late Selkie.

“So did grand adar become like the Maiden from the song and went away with grand naneth?”

Mhmm. And the someone who gave the coat looked over them from far until he got the courage to visit for tea. And they all lived happily ever after. It’s almost Vespertine, your grandparents will be back soon.

“Legolas have you been telling her about us again ?”

Well Ada she did want to know the legend of the Elf and the Selkie who loved at Vespertine.

--The End--

I hope this is good I hope this is good please be good. I really worked so hard on this I created an entire novel worthy plot but I couldn’t put it all in a oneshot so I had to settle with this I really really hope you liked this it was soo hard to not make this sad and then I came across this song and everything just fell into thoughts like these😭. I know Thranduil is a bit ooc but pychologicaly speaking he did live alone for 14 years so I guessed it may change his behaviour especially after the battle of 5 armies. Again I really hope you like it. Please like, share and comment if you like my work to support and encourage me! Please do not plagarize my work I literally sell my soul to it.🥺🥺 Requests are always open and I love ya’ll soo much.

~Love, Hri 🥰🥰

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

Text

Irreverent Pt. 58 - Golden Age

Title: Irreverent Pt. 58 - Golden Age

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~5K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You stare at the closed door to McKinney's office, shifting once again in the seat. You'd been there for what felt like hours, though reasonably speaking it was closer to thirty minutes. Beside you, Aaron sat stoically calm, his shoulders pressed to the chair, back straight. He eyes you when you shift and reaches out, placing a hard on yours that was sat against the armrest. You meet his eyes for a second, knowing he was simply trying to calm the anxiety in your bones. It was no use – your gaze wanders back to the heavy closed oak door once more.

You'd arrived at McKinney's office early that morning, as directed to in the email sent by Gladys. Both Rossi and Aaron had received similar instructions and when you'd arrived, Gladys had waved Rossi into the room, stating that the Director would like to speak to him on his own first, and asked you and Aaron to take a seat.

You knew that McKinney and Rossi went way back. They'd done training together and worked in organized crime for a couple years before going their separate ways. You can only imagine that McKinney wanted Rossi's take on Pierce's take down and to perhaps run his ruling for you by someone whom he trusted and who would be able to comment on you personally. That was your hope, at the very least.

You knew Aaron thought the same as you, because he hadn't seemed put out by being told to wait. He too recognized that McKinney not delivering judgment against you in one fell swoop could only be a good thing. It meant he was thinking it over, getting other opinions. He'd had time to evaluate through the course of events and the idea was that he would see greater value in keeping you – see that everything you'd done had been strategic and purposeful.

Gladys had directed you both towards the coffee in the little waiting area outside the office, which you'd both politely declined. Now she was clattering away against the keyboard and fielding pretty much nonstop phone calls.

You turn your stare from the door, back to Aaron, whose eyes are fixed on you. He prompts you with a slight raise of his eyebrows, his hand still blanketing yours, thumb running back and forth soothingly.

"We should take another vacation," you whisper conspiratorially, speaking as though the idea of you two going on vacation together might scandalize someone listening in.

He bites back a smile but you can see the amusement dance across his eyes. He knows you're trying to distract yourself. Your shoulders are still taut and you've barely glanced away from McKinney's door since the two of you sat down. "Where'd you have in mind?" he asks, leaning down towards you and matching your covert tone. If a distraction was what you needed, then he'd play along.

"Bora Bora is nice this time of year. Hawaii maybe. Somewhere tropical with a childcare center," you joke, easily planting images of you and him on a beach by yourselves into Aaron's head.

"Better yet, an adults only resort," he smirks back, sitting straight once more, his eyes facing straight.

You're the one who has to bite back the smile now. He'd responded with barely a glance at you. Onlookers might've thought he'd commented on the weather. Only you could guess at the thoughts running through his mind right then – waves and sand, you in skimpy bathing suits, the two of you alone without having to worry about waking Jack up...

God it had been forever.

You can feel yourself become heated and have to stop that train of thought short, reminding yourself that you're still seated outside the Director's office, awaiting what is at best a disciplinary hearing and at worst a dismissal notice.

"We'll go," he promises, squeezing your hand gently.

You nod, leaning against his shoulder ever so slightly before straightening back up once more. Aaron had been quiet that morning, which you're chalking up to the solemnity of the occasion. The previous night had been quite a lot and you know that you're both still feeling a bit raw from it all. Better – in many ways. Stronger too. However that didn't mean that you expect everything to be washed away overnight. You imagine there's quite a few more conversations like that in your future. The work needed to help you both feel whole once more.

Already, you feel his eyes on you a lot more than ever before. Trained on you when you leave a room. Searching yours when you enter. Eyes trailing over the length of you. Ensuring that you're alright. Making sure that you're safe. Confirming that you're there.

*------------*

The door to McKinney's office opens and you both watch as Rossi exits. He turns to the both of you, obviously in attempt to speak, but before he can, he's directed by Gladys towards the door taking him outside of McKinney's lobby. Following her instructions, he walks out, nodding at both you and Aaron, his face betraying nothing.

"Agent Hotchner, the Director will see you now."

At Glady's instruction, Aaron stands rebuttoning the bottom button of his jacket, and with a quick, reassuring smile towards you, strides through the doors to McKinney's office, closing the door behind him.

"Agent Hotchner," Director McKinney stands to greet him, motioning towards the chair in front of his desk.

"Director."

Aaron takes a seat, sitting up incredibly straight, shoulders rigidly tense. He knows that McKinney asking to speak to him before he speaks to you has certain implications. Implications which, he fears, don't bode well if McKinney's goal is to prod at you choosing to reach out to him and the team rather than your direct supervisor on the project. If you would go around him once, chances are, you'd do it again.

Try as he might, Aaron hasn't been able to determine what exactly McKinney aims to get from speaking with him first. He hadn't been your superior on the assignment. Your personal relationship with him effectively negated anything Aaron could say in your favor.

"Aaron, I will cut straight to the chase." McKinney speaks authoritatively and plainly, his eyes focused on Aaron, betraying nothing of what he's thinking. Even to an experienced profiler such as himself. "Agent L/N broke numerous rules regarding the chain of command, defied security clearance protocols, and acted alone – entirely against Bureau training and procedure."

Aaron stays silent. McKinney hadn't said anything that wasn't true and they both knew it.

"However," McKinney continues, "I must concede that she drew results and ultimately is the reason why the threat to the Atlantis program was eliminated."

Aaron offers only a short nod in response, choosing to hold everything else close to his chest until required otherwise.

McKinney shuffles, placing his hands on the table and leaning in closer. "If this was one of your agents – and you did not share the personal relationship that you do in this situation – what would you do in my position?"

There it was.

Aaron would like to think that Director McKinney was being sincere in asking him. That asking him wasn't some sort of trick question, aimed towards discrediting you.

With a quiet shift, Aaron meets McKinney's gaze head on, and begins to speak slowly. "Director, I've made the mistake before of not trusting one of my agents. I vowed to never make that mistake again. Agent L/N, she's proven – time and again – that she makes the right decisions, no matter the complicated subject matter or the potential personal nature of the circumstances."

Aaron stops there. Less was more. He wanted to make sure whatever he said to McKinney would be impactful. Display the full breadth of his faith in you.

McKinney has a thoughtful look on his face as he contemplates Aaron's words.

In the silence that follows, Aaron's eye is drawn to the Director's American flag pin on the left jacket collar. He's never seen without it. While Directors in the past have worn the pin for formal events – public speeches, Congressional hearings, White House balls – McKinney is always seen with his. Aaron recalls in the early days, when McKinney had first taken the reins, the pin used to be different. It used to be a pin of the Bureau seal. Sometime after the events of September 11th, it had changed. Replaced by the American flag pin, proudly displayed no matter where he went.

Aaron sees McKinney's shoulders move up and then back down as the man releases a large breath, nodding as he does, seemingly having reached some sort of conclusion. Aaron is at a loss to determine which conclusion that might be.

He doesn't share his thoughts with Aaron.

"I've forwarded the video that Agent Garcia shared, on to the Director of Interpol," McKinney informs him. "They will be conducting an internal investigation. Agent Easter has already been stripped of all privileges and is currently on a suspension until further determinations regarding his negligence on the Atlantis case along with the results of the internal review can be made."

Aaron's glad to hear that Easter wouldn't be getting away entirely scot free. He has a strong feeling that, had things not happened exactly the way that they did, you wouldn't have reported Easter for what he did to you. Aaron – fortunately or unfortunately – knows you well enough to realize that there was a small part of you that considered what Easter had done, to be some sort of favor to you. Making you understand what was at stake. Preparing you for the worst. He doesn't need to hear you admit to it, in order to know that. Anything he said to the contrary would only result in you doubling down and insisting, that without him threatening Jack and Aaron, you might not have realized exactly how grave of a danger your role could pose to them.

You could be quite maddening in what you chose to direct your fury at. Easter lying to you was unforgiveable. Him torturing you – apparently par for the course.

"Thank you." Aaron nods his gratitude to McKinney, knowing that he is also being effectively dismissed as the Director moves to stand.

Standing as well, Aaron meets McKinney's outstretched hand across the table, shaking it quickly, before turning away and exiting the room.

*------------*

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud.

Aaron had nodded you in towards McKinney's office, electing to ignore Gladys's gesture to exit via the lobby and taking your recently vacated seat. He wasn't about to leave. He'd be there, waiting for you.

"Good morning Director." You offer a small smile and nod your greeting to McKinney, taking the seat in front of his desk.

Your shoulders are pulled back straight, you're meeting his unreadable gaze head on. Aaron hadn't been able to provide any insight into McKinney's thoughts before you were ushered in, so there you sat, awaiting the gauntlet.

You're fairly convinced McKinney will fire you. Aaron disagrees but you've had the unshakeable apprehension in your bones, that's grown into a nebula of dread. No matter your brave words to Aaron about saying no to Director Richards' offer and taking a break if you were indeed terminated, the actual thought of being dismissed is terrifying. What on earth would you even do? There were only so many bake sales to host and field trips to chaperone before you went postal.

"How are you doing?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and appraising you.

You feel McKinney's eyes run over you in an inspecting manner, lingering on your face. You know him well enough to recognize this as genuine concern on his behalf. Garcia had mentioned that she'd sent him the video they'd all seen of what Clyde had done to you. You're aware that McKinney would shoulder some of the blame for that on himself.

"Better," you answer cautiously, figuring that was close enough to the truth without being a mere perfunctory response.

He eyes you once more, letting the quiet wash over you both, forcing you to linger in that awkward tension of being examined by him. The seconds go by, marked by the loud click of the seconds hand on the clock mounted to the wall.

Deciding that he'd made you suffer long enough, McKinney leans in again, fingers interlaced on top of the desk carefully, deep set eyes focused on you alone. "So, you have a job offer from Artie?"

Who the hell was Artie?!

At the confused look on your face, he clarifies, "Director Richards – Arthur and I go back. Did you know that?"

You can see the suppressed smirk hidden beneath a veneer of professionalism as McKinney leans back in the chair once more, having left you to silently ponder at the incredulity of anyone referring to Director Richards as Artie and the sheer surprise at McKinney knowing about the job offer. When you'd considered them speaking, you hadn't thought that Richards would mention that. Though, it made sense. Tell your current boss that you have another offer. Make you look bad to McKinney, as though you'd been soliciting an offer from the CIA. Ensure that you'd want to leave for the Agency instead, by souring your relationship with McKinney.

"You call Director Richards…Artie?" It was the only thing you could think of to say, at a loss for much else.

"You think you're the only one he takes to fancy French restaurants?" This time, McKinney's words are accompanied by a real smile, one that you can't help but return.

*------------*

Aaron starts when the door to McKinney's office reopens and you exit. He'd had his gaze locked on the door ever since you disappeared behind it, anxiously awaiting the final decision. Despite his relatively good meeting with the Director, he didn't know what to expect as the outcome.

Your eyes lock with his, your expression entirely unreadable. Silently, you motion towards the exit with your eyes, the message clear. Whatever happened, you two wouldn't be discussing it there.

Aaron quickly stands, nodding towards McKinney's assistant when she looks up at the movement. He's quick to follow you as you make your way down the hallway, deftly moving past anyone in the hallways. He's loathe to ask what happened. The journey from McKinney's office has his heart beating fast, as he reckons with what news could have led to you moving through the hallways at such a pace, him struggling to keep up as you maneuver through a break room full of people, finally arriving at an unused office, into which you slip with him close behind.

You wait for him to enter, before shutting the door while he turns to look towards you. You've turned as well, back pressed against the door when Aaron finally has the chance to assess you properly.

Your eyes dart around the room, not meeting his. Your lips are pressed together.

Aaron feels the pit in his stomach tighten into a lead ball, weighing him down. It would be alright, he reminds himself. He had known you being let go was a possibility. The two of you have planned for this.

He releases a deep breath before he speaks. "What did McKinney say?"

Your tongue peaks out, running over your lips as you tilt your head to meet his eyes finally. Apprehension exuding from you as you nervously fidget with your hands. He sees you force yourself to swallow before you reply.

"He told me that I can hand in my official resignation from the BAU to you."

Aaron closes his eyes. He had thought, after his conversation with McKinney, that the Director had no intention of letting you go. He'd never been quite so off on reading someone.

Opening his eyes, he looks deep into yours. "Alright," he nods, attempting to reassure you as well as himself. "We knew this could happen." Already a thousand different scenarios are playing in his head – telling the team, next steps for you, what you're going to want to do after you grow tired of the break, maybe he needs to take a step back as well…

"We can appeal it, sweetheart," he reminds you. The two of you had discussed that as a possible option as well. He walks towards you, wanting nothing more than to hold you close to him again. "We can appeal – Rossi, Morgan, hell even Strauss would put in a good word for you. McKinney's word isn't final, and – "

Aaron breaks off his mile a minute speech, distracted at the sight of a smile twitching at your lips. Why were you smiling?

"He told me to hand in my letter of resignation to the BAU," you repeat yourself as he falters, trying to understand what you're saying. He asked you to give him the letter of resignation from the BAU…

"I'm getting my own team, Aaron," you whisper, as if you could scarcely believe it yourself.

You were getting your own team. You were getting…your own team.

"You're getting – " His mouth can't seem to quite get the words out as he watches your face split into a grin that his is slow to mirror.

Of all the possibilities that you'd considered, this had hardly been one of them.

"I'm getting my own team," you repeat, eyes focused fully on him. You have the largest smile he's ever seen on your face. He can feel that pit replaced by this bouncy feeling in his chest as he looks at your face –the bubble of the moment broken by the laughter and squeal that follows as he sweeps you into his arms.

This was good.

You were happy.

*------------*

"I think this is the last box," Aaron says, striding into your office, eyeing you cautiously as you're balanced atop your chair, trying to hang up some of the frames with your certificates on the wall.

You mutter a quick thank you, concentrating on hammering the nail in without hurting yourself by falling off of the wheeled chair. Aaron moves to start putting the books he'd brought up into the bookshelves, hovering close to you in case you did end up slipping.

It had been a week since McKinney had offered you your own team as a counter to Richards' offer from the CIA. Turns out, as long as you get results, the government tends to look the other way when you break any number of clearance regulations. Your conversation with McKinney in his office that day had been entirely centered around what he could do to ensure that you stay with the Bureau.

Intelligence and Threat Assessment, or the ITA, was a group within the Bureau that examined any number of domestic and international threats, analyzed changing political spheres, and partnered with the Justice Department, Congress, and external organizations to spearhead the American democratic manifesto. In short, that was the group that determined who was and wasn't an enemy.

McKinney had offered you your own team within that umbrella to tackle special cases that rose to the level of further assessment by or direct involvement of the Bureau. The sight of your name, followed by the words Unit Chief would never get old.

You'd had a busy week, settling back into regular life, catching up with everyone, and ensuring that you were spending time with Jack and Aaron once more. In that time, you'd also put out the word that you were building a new team and connected with the Bureau Human Resources department. Interviews were being set up. Thankfully you had one team member picked out – from your office, you can see the bullpen where your team will sit, Anderson's desk the only one occupied so far.

"So Strauss is retiring," Aaron comments idly, opening yet another box of items for you to decorate your office with.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, as you carefully get off the chair and grab one of the boxes, setting it on your desk. You'd long shed your blazer and the heels had come off ten minutes ago when Aaron had left to grab the last of the boxes. It was late anyways and you two were the last ones left, as you'd insisted on wanting to be all moved in so you could get a head start the following Monday. As soon as the two of you were done moving you into your new office, you couldn't wait to get home and sink into the tub.

"Rossi thinks it'll happen by the end of the month," he continues, handing you the box cutter you'd been searching for.

"Well, your only real competition could be external," you remark, handing him back the box cutter. You know that Aaron wouldn't have commented on Strauss's retirement if he wasn't considering the Section Chief position. With your new role keeping you closer to home a majority of the time, it would make your home life a lot more stable.

He makes a disbelieving sort of noise at your comment that has you smiling and rolling your eyes.

"Oh hush," you chide him, continuing to move things off of the box and into the shelf. "Now, if we have to consider the hiring committee for the position, then it'll be Wilson and Shaw – both of whom already like you – "

Aaron smiles as you start to lay out all the details for a role he's only mentioned in passing, but he knows that you will take entirely seriously. It's what you did. You planned and you executed and you achieved at a rate that was entirely remarkable.

" – Adams is a total pushover, and Rossi can probably help you out there –"

He smiles, nodding along to your strategizing, knowing you'd have Dave over for dinner soon enough and run Aaron's odds for getting the position by him and ensure that Dave would throw his weight around as needed.

"Davidson is the only one on the committee that'll pose any real issue, I suppose. I'm guessing you two haven't made nice yet after the Atlanta case?" You quirk a brow in his direction, asking a question that you already know the answer to. Really, it's your way of making sure he feels like he's part of the process, despite you being full systems ahead from the get go.

Aaron's forehead crinkles as he shakes his head.

"Yeah, I figured. Well, it's nothing to worry about. I heard from Lisa from research that he has a new girlfriend – one that drives his ex-wife entirely insane. Garcia can do some additional digging and get some more dirt."

He makes a face at you, which you elect to ignore, continuing on with your plan for targeted subterfuge.

"We can have them both over for dinner. I just got that new shipment from the Napa winery and we can ask Eric to cook for us again. He can make that dessert, and based on what Garcia manages to find, Davidson shouldn't be terribly difficult to persuade. After all, how could anyone not love you." You throw him a coquettish smile and wink, your arms laden with books that you'd lifted out of the box.

Aaron can feel himself grow warm – you tend to have that effect on him with only the smallest of gestures. The ever faithful butterflies, his constant companions in the early days of the two of you entering into this relationship, have infiltrated his stomach with a vengeance.

"Once you're Section Chief, we can figure out Department Chief next. Carlton won't be around forever," you forge ahead, intent now on your plan to launch his career to the next phase and the next after that. Pretty soon you'd be planning world domination with him by your side. You'd manage to convince him that it was alright because he'd be the one in charge and he makes good decisions so why wouldn't the entire world simply bow to his will. No matter how ridiculous the notion or how bizarre the proposition, your faith in him was unyielding.

Aaron reaches into his pocket, feeling the sharp edges of the box there. It's been on hand this entire week since your return, just waiting for him to find the right time. His heartrate picks up, his hand grasping the box tight.

Your back is still turned to him as you continue to arrange the books on your shelf in order of subject and size, going up on the tip of your toes to reach the top shelf as your voice carries on. Something regarding convincing Carlton that he would be well suited for a jump to the West Coast offices, leaving the pathway wide open for Aaron's surge to the top.

"Do you remember," he interrupts, watching you carefully, "a while back, you said something to me. Something along the lines of, Director Hotchner has a nice ring to it?" He does his best to keep his voice casual, regulate his breath as he speaks.

You pause, the memory of that afternoon flitting into your mind. So early in your relationship, back when you'd thought that maybe, that would be something appealing to a man like Aaron – ambitious and righteous, wanting to protect and serve at the highest of levels. That had been before – before you'd known, that for him, the BAU was the chance to put away monsters. It was a personal mandate that he couldn't disconnect himself from. Contending with the bureaucracy and politics that came with truly running the entire Bureau was not something that he found at all appealing. Despite all of your planning and machinations, you knew already that the best you could hope for with him would be Section Chief. He'd never leave the team further than that, no matter the number of steak dinners you served up.

"Yeah, what about it?" you ask, a bemused smile playing at your lips, wondering why he'd ask you that. He'd shot it down then, and you knew for a fact that it wasn't something he was about to begin entertaining now, despite the Section Chief role being a shift away from the BAU directly.

"I can't help but agree with you."

His voice was closer than it had been before, you can feel him right behind you. There's a prickling at the back of your neck, your brows furrowing in confusion as you attempt to decipher the meaning behind his cryptic words.

You turn, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Bent down on one knee, with the most beautiful ring in his hand. The gold in his eyes warm and sparkling for you. A hopeful smile on his face as he watches yours.

You could scarcely believe it as you struggle to meet his eyes, trying to string together something that sounded vaguely intelligible, while your lungs struggled to pull in enough air to keep you standing.

Your mouth feels dry and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath, licking your lips as you do. You push away the first question that comes to your mind – Are you sure? Of course he was. There was no doubting it. No doubting him.

When your eyes finally do meet his, your breath hitches, overwhelmed by the surrounding quiet, only the sound of your breath and your heart and the wondrous, exuberant buzzing of the sparks surrounding you in anticipation of the inevitable.

"You really think I'm going to be Director one day?" Your question is accompanied by an incredulous sort of laugh, the kind that causes his heart to skip a beat at the mere sound.

"I really do, sweetheart." His words carried with them a promise – he was pledging himself to you and anything you set out to achieve.

You feel yourself bound towards a feeling you haven't felt much as of late. Elation – that euphoric ecstasy that courses through your veins and causes your chest to beat wildly. You can do nothing but smile big and nod hard, for once, words completely failing you.

Aaron needs no further encouragement besides the sparkling note of your laugh, the effervescent joy of your nod as you reach for him and he rises. He's quick to slip the ring on your finger before his mouth meets yours, hands winding around his neck and pulling him as close as possible.

Hearts beating jubilantly in sync at the feel of his lips against yours and his arms around you, yours around him, and that persistent and everlasting feeling of belonging to one another in every manner possible.

When the two of you finally break apart, breathless, matching grins on both your faces, you can't help but ask. "How long has Jack known?"

He smiles, his eyes twinkling. "Since Paris."

You let out a breathless, short laugh. You can scarcely believe he'd been able to keep it from you that long. Though, looking back, a number of instances with Jack made a lot more sense now. The faint memory a shopping trip with him, sometime after Paris, when Jack had been quite taken with the window display of a wedding store.

"We might have to do a reenactment for him," Aaron jokes, keeping you close to him. He weaves his fingers through yours, admiring how the ring sits perfectly on your hand, sparkling just right in the light.

You laugh, tightening your hand in his. "Let's go home then."

Everything else could wait.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #irreverentseries #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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clandonnachaidh · 3 years

Text

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch2)

Read on AO3

Jamie was sat, feeling maudlin and staring into the depths of his pint after a particularly difficult day. If Jenny had been beside him, she’d tell him to wise up and be grateful for the situation he was in. But he still wasn’t used to being so far from home, away from his parents and Lallybroch. He wouldn’t let himself say it out loud but he even found himself missing the tinny aftertaste of a pint of Tennents that he had yet to find on sale south of the border.

He knew his parents were over the moon about his acceptance into Oxford, how could they not be? Jamie had walked around Broch Mordha with his mother and father a few days after he’d received the happy news and found that the standard twenty minute scoot around the shop was considerably stretched out to allow his parents to stop and boast to every person they could about their youngest son’s achievement. Jamie had smiled sheepishly and thanked people for their well wishes but if he was being entirely honest, there was a knot in the pit of his stomach every time someone mentioned him leaving home.

Jamie tried not to let his nerves get the better of him as he settled into his new home those first few days. It wasn’t just that he stuck out like a sore thumb as the 6’ 4 red headed Scot that was almost as broad as he was tall. It was the fact that the people seemed to be looking at him funny. He made the mistake of asking someone for directions and ended up on the receiving end of a joke about his accent, the man making a mean comment about Jamie being asked to join Oxford University as some attempt to reach whatever entry quota of undergraduates hailing from underprivileged backgrounds. It didn’t matter that he was there on the merit of his exam results that he had worked his arse off for, the same as everybody else. Jamie Fraser was a working class lad from the Highlands, not some self-entitled Etonian arsehole whose father knew somebody who knew somebody. He was surrounded by future Lords and Dukes and he knew that if he heard the words ‘titan of business’ again, he was going to have to start cracking some overprivileged skulls.

And so he sat in The College Bar on a Friday night, hidden away in the corner upstairs where he could sit in peace and brood over his very fortunate situation that he didn’t feel so fortunate about. The only thing that he made the whole thing worthwhile was the girl who lived a few doors down from him in Merton College.

The first time he saw Claire Beauchamp she was fighting a losing battle with a cardboard box that looked like it had already taken a few bashings. Jamie had moved into his dorm a few days prior and was out that morning in an attempt to scout a route for his morning runs. He was keeping a close eye on his AppleWatch, making sure that his heart rate was staying in the optimal zone when he encountered one of the more colourful expletives he’d had the pleasure of hearing before.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

His head swivelled on his neck and his eyes landed on her.

Her long arms were wrapped around the box, trying to keep it steady on a propped up knee while the glaring at the taxi driver who was stood fiddling with his phone rather than helping the poor lass. Irritated at the absence of chivalrous manners, Jamie jogged towards the car to offer help.

“Are ye managin’? Here, let me,” he moved to her side and grabbed the next box, lifting it without thought and immediately straining as gravity worked quickly against him. “Christ, lass, what have ye got in here? Rocks?”

“That one contains books, laddie,” she spat back in frustration at him, trying her hand at matching the Scottish brogue and failing miserably. Jamie found it utterly adorable and couldn’t help but smile as he placed the box on the pavement and unloaded the next one which was thankfully much lighter. After wrangling her suitcase from the boot of the car, he tried not to watch the delicate movement of her limbs as she paid the fare.

Trying to pretend that he hadn’t been avidly watching her, he faked a jump of surprise as she thrust her hand towards him, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

He liked her instantly. He found himself thinking, who the hell introduces themselves with their full name anymore? What an interesting wee thing she was.

“James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,” he returned the gesture, shaking her small hand in his large one, damning the tough skin of his calluses for keeping him from feeling the exact texture of the soft skin of her palm.

“That’s too many names.”

“What?” The question burst out of him in an exasperated laugh. “No, it’s no’. ’Tis the number of names my parents gave me and if ye want tae live a good long life, Sassenach, ye winna get intae the bad books of my wee ma.”

“What’s a… sassanatch?” Her head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“Sassenach,” he corrected her pronunciation with a wry smirk. He knew that if he tried to give her anything but the truth, she would see through him in an instant so he decided to answer honestly. “It means ‘outlander’.”

She snorted at him and rolled her leopard eyes into the back of her skull.

“Sorry to break it to you, Toto, but I have a feeling we’re not in Scotland anymore.”

“Now that I am painfully aware of,” he sighed, sending a cursory glance around the quad that they were standing in and almost willing it to magically transfigure itself into the hills of his home.

“Not enjoying it so far?”

“Jus’ takin’ me a while tae get used tae it, naebody spiks tae ye here. Said hullo to the man in the shops and he looked at me like I’d twa heids.”

He was putting it on a bit, thickening his accent to amuse her but he was delighted to see that it was working. She laughed, looking at her feet and then sighing at the boxes that he had stacked into a neat pile on the pavement. She looked wistfully at them and cast a sideways glance at the man in front of her, an idea forming in her mind.

“Rather large, aren’t you, Fraser?”

He grinned wolfishly at her, “That I am.”

“What if I make you a promise to say hello to you every time I see you? In exchange for a small favour?”

“And what would that be?”

“Help me to my room with my things?” She sent him a dazzling smile to try and convince him but he had already resigned to himself that his morning workout had changed from cardio into upper body strength training.

“Wisnae going tae let ye carry these yerself, I’m no’ that cruel,” he smirked as she triumphantly pulled out her phone, bringing the information of her dorm up on her screen.

“You’re a saint. I’m staying in Merton, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?”

He tried not to look too enthusiastic as he felt the universe click things into place, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

And that day was the first day of their story together. With Claire holding open doors, Jamie managed to get her boxes to her dorm in three trips and they bantered the entire time, her quick wit shining from her and almost doubling him over with laughter at one point. Without really making an effort to do so, they seemed to find themselves in each other’s orbit more often than not, walking to lectures together despite chasing completely different degrees and finding that they enjoyed the same very specific spot in the library that offered the most sunlight with the least amount of noise. He surprised her the first time he appeared with the correct number of sugar packets for her to dump into her coffee and he beamed when she peeled the gherkins from her burger and dropped them onto his plate, knowing that he would eat them for her. They came to know each other, slowly showing the parts of themselves that not many people were allowed to see. She banged on his door in the late afternoon after a particularly bad seminar and his hand found the perfect purchase against her shoulder as she laid her head on his and cried, admitting to feeling overwhelmed and burnt out in such a competitive environment. In turn, he let her in on his feelings of inferiority which she quickly shot down, telling him that he was not only the smartest person she knew but the kindest and that was no small thing. Soon enough, they were practically inseparable, both having their own friends but somehow always ending up in each other’s company. Jamie began to relax into his life in Oxford, knowing that as long as he could do it with Claire, well, it might not be so bad.

“Nice to see you didn’t wait for me, Fraser,” she puffed as she sat herself down on the stool across from him at their usual table in the pub, unwinding her long scarf from around her neck as she greedily eyed the pint that was sat waiting for her. Claire took a long drink before setting it down again and sighing heavily as her fingers, stiff and bright red from the cold, attempted to undo the buttons of her coat.

“Ye call me and tell me tae meet ye in the pub in ten minutes and then ye show up half an hour after. What am I meant tae do, just sit and stare at the ‘hing?” Jamie muttered in response, not meeting her gaze as he picked at a piece of dried candle wax that had dripped and solidified on the table. He had been studying in his room when she had called, demanding that he meet her and even though he would rarely say no to her, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t let her stew for a bit. Trying to hide a smirk, he pulled his eyes up to see her face, immediately regretting his teasing. “Sassenach? What’s worst wi’ ye?”

“It’s nothing, it’s-“ she finally managed to pull her arm free of her coat only to thrust it deeply into her pocket, retrieving her phone and staring at it with a furrowed brow. “Bloody bastard, he hasn’t even text me.”

His ears pricked up at the mention of a ‘he’ but Jamie kept his mouth shut, raising his pint glass to his lips to stop himself from blurting out all the questions that were brewing behind them.

“Why are all men total pricks, Jamie?” She took a deep drink from her own glass, her eyelids drooping slightly at the relief the cold liquid brought her before she wiped her lips with the back of her hand which she then waved in his general direction. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Och, I dinna ken, ye’ve called me worse things in our time thegither.”

That earned him a laugh and he watched as her shoulders relaxed slightly, her slight frame melting back into her chair.

“Bad date, was it?”

Claire snorted, the sudden expel of air causing one of her curls to dance around her face, “I don’t suppose it counts as a bad one if the guy doesn’t even show up.”

“He pied ye?” Jamie’s skin felt hot as anger licked at his insides. Her face scrunched up in confusion, as it did sometimes if he used a colloquialism from home that hadn’t quite found its way across the border.

“What?” she asked before deciding that it didn’t matter, carrying on in her irritation. “He didn’t show! No call, no text, nothing.”

“Good riddance then. Where did you find this one?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Part of being her friend was watching from the sidelines as men, and some women, fell at Claire’s feet. Not for the first time, Jamie found himself ruminating on the fact that her name in Gaelic, Sorcha, meant light. She drew people in and without meaning to, they soon found themselves to be in her orbit.

“We quite literally bumped into each other in the library. He’s reading History.”

“And what would a history man be doing in amongst yer medical textbooks, Sassenach? Sounds like a bit of a creep to me. Or mebbe he was lookin’ up some horrible rash he’s got on his-”

“Same again?” She interrupted after downing more than half of her pint in an attempt to catch up.

She was already out of her seat before he had the opportunity to answer. He enjoyed, probably a little too much, watching the sway of her hips and the way her curls bounced as she bounded down the stairs towards the bar and he leant backwards, letting his head rest against the wall and sighing in frustration. She was going to spend the rest of the night sneaking glances at her phone, hoping that this new guy would try to get in touch with her and he would have to suffer in silence. He would tell her that she has nothing to worry about, that whoever this guy was would have to be a fool not to crawl over broken glass to get to her.

Because that’s what Jamie would do. If she ever asked him to.

After a second round and a third and a fourth, they came to be sat on the same side of the table, hidden away in the alcove that their table was situated in. They were both drunk although Jamie would never admit to it, saying that a Scot was never drunk as long as they could stand upright. Their shared laughter was getting louder and Claire’s gestures were getting bigger, sloppier, as the frustration began to pour from her.

“I mean, I’m reading medicine, for Christ’s sake! I have good prospects, I’m only minimally neurotic, I don’t think I’m that terrible to look at. So what’s my problem? Am I just destined to be alone for the rest of my life?” A massive hiccup ripped through her, followed by a laugh as she brought her hand to her chest as though the act would calm them. Jamie’s eyes fell to her hand, trying so hard not to let his eyes focus on the breasts beneath it. Realising that the drink had made his reflexes slower, he pulled his eyes to face forward, staring at the floor and worrying that he’d been caught.

“I dinna think so.”

Her index finger stabbed a little too hard at her phone, the screen lighting up and showing no notifications, “It’s not like there’s a line of men waiting patiently at my door.”

“Then they’re eejits.”

A whirlwind of curls twisted towards him, a slight smile that was playing on her lips admitting to her surprise. The words had left his mouth before he realised it and the moment he did, red creeped insidiously up from the collar of his shirt, seeping into his cheeks.

“Eejits, huh?”

He looked at her then, blue eyes fixing onto their honeyed counterparts, humour dancing across her face mixed in with the light that was cocooning them.

“Every man who doesnae fall at yer feet tae do yer bidding is an eejit,” he conceded.

“Are you including yourself in that list, Fraser?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, not needing to lend even more credence to what they both already knew but were too afraid to speak out loud. That he was completely under her spell and happy to be there.

“I think ye’ll find ye had me cartin’ yer wee boxes tae yer room within minutes of meeting ye, Sassenach.”

Claire bit her lips between her teeth, trying her hardest not to smile, “Your mother raised you to be a gentleman.”

“That she did. Which means I buy the next round and then I’m walking ye home,” Jamie said.

“Not heading to see Annalise tonight?”

Rising to his feet, he fought back the urge to snap at her, irritated at the mention of the girlfriend that he hated being reminded of when he was with Claire and simply replied with, “Not tonight.”

Something playful and dangerous glinted in the amber eyes and she leaned forward on her elbows, as though she was stalking her prey.

“Then I shall delight in having you all to myself.”

By the time Jamie returned with their drinks, the moment of flirtation had passed. Claire was back frowning at her phone and tapping a single bitten fingernail against the wood grain of the table. Determined to distract her from falling down the rabbit hole of despair, their final drink was spent teasing, telling funny stories to each other about the idiotic things that had been said in their seminars, gloating about who got the best marks on their last essay. Before they knew it, Claire’s scarf was being wrapped around her neck once more as the two of them stumbled into the cold night air.

They had stayed a little later than last call, a classmate of Claire’s being the barman on staff and allowing them to finish their drinks while he wiped down the bar and cleaned the lines. It meant that they were alone as they walked, not amongst the mass exodus of warm bodies that had left the bar twenty minutes previous. Jamie watched from the corner of his eye as Claire furiously rubbed her hands together in an attempt to introduce some heat. With the alcohol loosening the usual restraint that he kept firmly in check, he turned to her and grabbed her small hands in his and brought them to his mouth, blowing the hot air from his lungs against her skin. Even through the drunken fog, he felt the flickers of electricity that seemed to pass every time their hands touched. It wasn’t unheard of for their hands to find their way to each other’s in those long study sessions when both of them were tired and stressed and in need of a comfort. A gesture that said ‘It’s okay, I’m here with you’. Things were always easier if they touched.

Slowly, he became aware that she was holding her breath, confirming it by sweeping his eyes from her hands to her face. She was staring at him, like a leopard stalking its prey. No smart remark or witty retort fell from her lips which were parted, allowing her breath to leave her in little bursts that betrayed how fast her heart was beating. The drink making him bold, he began to lace his fingers through hers, the only sound on the street being her sharp intake of breath as he pressed their palms together. Jamie became immediately more aware that their faces were closer than they ever had been before, that her body was pressed lightly against his and he suppressed a groan at how easy it would be to pull her closer and lose himself in her. His eyes caught her her tongue darting out to wet her lips and he wondered if she realised that she had done it. He couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, her pretty pink lips forming shapes that he wanted to know the taste of.

“Jamie…“ her breath was sweet against his mouth. It was an invitation but there was a hesitance there that he recognised and he knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. That if they did this, if they kissed, nothing would be the same again.

“Aye?”

“Can I…?”

An imperceptible nod of his head was all it took for her dart towards him but she stopped himself just shy of his lips. His mouth was hovering above hers, so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. Jamie held himself there, basking in the anticipation of a moment that he had dreamed of so many times. This wouldn’t be another first kiss to regret.

A small whimper escaped Claire’s lips as she softly pressed her mouth against his and it was all it took to undo him, his whole self filling with the need to taste her the moment that their lips met. Jamie raised a shaking hand to her face, to cup her cheek and kiss her slowly, deeply, wanting to drink in every part of her that he could.

He was kissing Claire Beauchamp. And it was everything.

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 29: Butterly

Chapter 28

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The rest of August flew by. The power was restored a little over a week after the storm had initially hit, and getting Faith back into her normal routine (sleeping in her own bed, brushing teeth in the bathroom) was a bit of a struggle. Dismantling the fort had been a feat as well; Faith was not at all happy about it. Claire would absolutely not sleep on the floor, but she couldn’t bring herself to force Faith to sleep alone with no nightlight or option to turn the lights on, so she’d been allowed to sleep with Mummy until the power was restored.

September was upon them, and with it, the terror of a day that Claire had been anticipating with dread and excitement for months.

On September ninth, Faith was going to school.

In the middle of August, Claire had rearranged her work schedule to be able to take her to the orientation, tethered to Angus. They’d been picked up by the bus together so that Faith could practice with a school bus. The orientation leader had been extremely kind and helpful, showing them the whole school before they got to the special education room. It was a different district than the one they lived in, but Mrs. Lickett (and Claire’s research) had told her that this was the best program for Faith’s specific needs. The classroom was smaller than the others, but her class was only eight children altogether. Claire had heard horror stories of special needs children in a classroom that was essentially a glorified closet, no windows, no color in the room. So when the room they entered was nothing short of the most adorable, sunshine-y kindergarten classroom she’d ever seen, Claire could have cried with relief.

Each child’s individual aid was waiting in the classroom, including Carole, Faith’s aid. She’d been told about Angus and what he was specifically meant to help with in terms of Faith’s behavior and education. He’d responded well to a few experimental commands from Carole, and Faith seemed to like her well enough. Miss O’Reilly was the teacher’s name, and she gave a small sample lesson to demonstrate for the parents, and for the children to practice. Claire hung in the back of the room with the other parents, who all looked equally as terrified as she was.

Watching Faith at her little desk, her aid pointing to her pencil and paper, whispering in her ear to encourage her participation, was overwhelming. She was squirming a bit, turning around occasionally to reach for Claire. Angus was dutiful, however, nudging her, applying pressure in her lap with his head to bring her back, to calm her down.

She can do it. They can do it. Together.

Claire took the day off for Faith’s first day; she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing at work, and she didn’t feel like being responsible for people’s lives while her mind was otherwise occupied. Jamie insisted on taking the day off as well, on being there to see her off on the bus, and then staying with Claire like her own emotional support animal. She’d insisted he didn’t need to, though it was a rather weak insistence, because she knew deep down she needed him.

He had arrived promptly at seven o’clock, being that Faith’s bus was to arrive at eight-fifteen. He seemed surprised to find her fully dressed already, full-well knowing by now that his girlfriend was not a morning person. He’d apparently expected her to be in her pajamas.

“I hardly slept last night,” she admitted, standing aside to let him in. “I finally gave up around five, got dressed around six.”

He smiled with sympathy and gently pulled her in for a brief kiss. “I didna sleep much at all either.” He pulled her in for a comforting embrace, and his heartbeat in her ear did wonders for her nerves, if only temporarily. She felt his breath on the top of her head, and he pressed another kiss there.

“She nervous at all?” he asked.

“I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. I’m not sure she realizes that I won’t be going with her this time.” The thought sent her stomach turning again, filled with dread over Faith’s heart-crushing realization that Mummy was sending her away.

“Aye, suppose we’ll find out.” He pulled away to offer her another smile, and she craned her neck to kiss him again. “Here.” He produced a paper bag from behind his back, and Claire started, not even having realized he’d been holding something the whole time. “Picked ye up a wee treat fer breakfast. Ye deserve something better today than those crumbly chunks of oat ye call a meal.”

Her eyes smoldering with affection, she took the bag and peeked inside. “Granola bars are quite good for you. Fiber and protein are important.”

“Perhaps. But so are taste buds.”

She rolled her eyes as she shuffled away, depositing the bag on the kitchen counter. “I’ll eat it later. Could you get her cereal ready while I wake her up?”

“Aye, certainly.”

They brushed past each other in the doorway of the kitchen, and Claire entered Faith’s bedroom, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Angus, come,” she said lightly, and the previously sleeping dog sprang up from his spot beside Faith, trotting next to Claire. She sat down on the edge of Faith’s bed and began stroking her head. “Faith, darling. Time to wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and Claire was greeted with a sweet, absent smile.

“There she is! Good morning, lovie.” Faith sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Do you know what today is? It’s the first day of school! Yay!” She signed applause, and Faith copied lazily, her hands apparently not totally awake yet. “It’s time to get up and get dressed. Do you want to look pretty for school, Faithie?”

Faith nodded excitedly, giving a little hum.

“That’s right. Up we get now, come on.” Claire stood up and went to the dresser, picking up the blue dress she already had lain out. “Look at your pretty dress, baby. You’re going to look so pretty. Yes?”

She gave an excited little hop, and she raised her arms up, indicating she was ready for Claire to pull her pajama shirt off. Claire chuckled and obliged her, talking to her gently as she got her dressed. Claire insisted she give her a twirl when the dress was on, and Faith was more than happy to do so. Dressed and twirled, Claire loosely pulled half of her wild curls up, then clipped the tartan hair bow at the base of the ponytail.

“There. Pretty dress, and Merida bow. You’re all ready.”

Faith hummed loudly, jiggling her hands, and she followed Claire into the living room, trailed closely by Angus.

“Look who’s here, Faith! Special for you on your first day of school!” They entered the kitchen, and Faith practically launched herself at Jamie, throwing her arms around his legs right where he stood at the counter.

“Ah, there she is! Good morning, my braw wee lass!” He cupped the top of her head, and looked up at Claire as his fingers brushed the hair bow. “Ye’re a proper wee Scot today, aye? Wearing the hair bow I gave ye?” He pointed at the bow, and Faith giggled.

“It’s her favorite. Of course she had to wear it for such a big day.”

Brimming with affection, Jamie crossed the room, swinging Faith as she clung to his leg, and pressed a sweet kiss on Claire’s lips. Claire giggled into the kiss, the silly image of him wearing her daughter on his leg impossible to ignore.

“Alright, little monkey. Let Jamie go, please. Time for breakfast. Angus first.”

Faith obeyed, marching over to Angus’s bag of food and dumping the scoopful into his bowl, and Jamie handed her the pre-measured cup of water for her to pour into his water bowl.

“Good girl,” Claire said warmly as Angus already began digging in. “Your turn.”

A bowl of Cheerios was already waiting on the table, and Jamie hurried to pour the milk in. “Didna want it to get soggy while it waited fer her.”

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst for the fifth time that morning. Before Faith had interrupted, Jamie had been cutting up an apple at the counter, and he finished up before putting the plate next to Faith’s cheerios.

Having finished his breakfast in a matter of seconds, as usual, Angus was free for Jamie to pet and coddle while Claire carefully arranged Faith’s lunch and snack in her Frozen lunchbox.

“See, Faith?” Claire said. “Lunch is all ready to go.”

Faith looked up from her cereal to give a thumbs up.

On the way home from orientation, as a reward for being a good girl, Claire had stopped at Target and let Faith choose any lunchbox and backpack she wanted, along with a few folders and fun pencils. They were all Disney, of course, mostly Frozen dominated.

“These are for school, lovie. All of your favorites are going to help you be a big girl in school, yes?” Claire had said while Faith filled the shopping cart. Faith had simply hummed contentedly, smiling dreamily.

Claire checked said backpack about eight times before Faith finished her breakfast, and she heard Jamie coaxing her to drink the milk leftover in her cereal bowl.

“To make yer wee bones grow big and strong, a leannan.”

She re-entered the kitchen to see him popping an apple slice in his mouth, making an absurd face, and Faith squealed, shaking her head.

“If ye dinna want me to steal every slice, ye’d better hurry.” He picked up another slice, and Faith tried to grab it, but he stealthily dodged her and popped it in his mouth. She squealed with laughter again, and then countered by popping a slice in her own mouth.

“Och, I wanted that one.” Jamie leaned back with contrived exasperation, crossing his arms. Faith giggled incessantly, and Claire had to bite her lip.

“Ridiculous human being,” she said, shaking her head.

“Can Mummy have any apples d’ye think?”

Faith squealed and adamantly shook her head, curls flying wildly.

“Oh, I can’t?” Claire challenged, crossing the room to join them at the table. She swiped a slice off the plate and popped it in her mouth, and Faith shrieked. “You heard him. You’d better hurry before we finish them.”

Faith ate another slice, looking back and forth between the adults like a little conspirator. They carried on like this, Jamie and Claire bringing slices to their open mouths, but then depositing them into Faith’s instead.

Eight o’clock came much too soon, and Claire cleaned up in the kitchen while Jamie led Faith into the living room. When Claire joined them, Jamie was giving her a quiet pep-talk while tying her shoes, her pink princess sneakers that didn’t at all match what she was wearing, but that she insisted on wearing no matter what.

Claire picked up her backpack when Jamie finished, not wanting to interrupt. “Alright, lovie. Ready?”

Faith nodded, extending her arms and allowing Claire to put the straps over her shoulders.

“There you go. All ready for school.”

“No’ quite,” Jamie said, reaching behind him into his back pocket. “I’ve got something special, Faith. Since ye’re such a big girl now, going to school and all.” He produced a tiny plush brown horse, attached to a little hook. “It’s a keychain, fer yer princess backpack.” Faith smiled, reaching out to hold it. “It’s a wee Pippi. See? She’s even got the white spot.” Struck by the familiarity, Faith stroked the white snout gently.

“Aye, very good, lass.” Jamie smiled widely. “Since ye canna take yer noble steed to school, or Horsie, I figure this’ll have to do.” He gently pried it from her hands to clip it to a loop on the backpack strap where she could reach it. “I’m very, very proud of you, Faith. When ye miss yer mam, I want ye to give wee Pippi a squeeze. Alright?”

They exchanged a thumbs up, and Claire almost burst into tears.

“I’m very proud of you too, baby.” Claire joined them, kneeling beside Jamie in front of her. “You’re such a big girl now.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Are you a big girl? Big girl, Faith?” Claire signed big girl, and Faith bounced with excitement, signing big.

“Yes, good girl.”

They spent the last few minutes before the bus arrived trying to coax her to uncover her face long enough to get a picture of her first day of school outfit. Claire and Jamie took turns being in the pictures, and Jamie even insisted on getting a selfie so they could all (Angus included) get into one picture.

There was suddenly a honk from outside, and Claire’s stomach lurched. She looked up at Jamie with terror, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

“Angus, come,” Jamie called, and he made quick work of getting him vested, leashed, and tethered to Faith.

Claire stood up and opened the front door, waving to the bus driver. She turned back to see dog and child ready to go, Jamie holding her hand.

He looked just as terrified as she felt.

Together, the four of them made their way down the steps to meet the bus, and they stopped a few feet away from the curb.

“Okay, baby. There’s the bus.” Claire said, kneeling in front of her on the concrete. “Are you ready?”

Are you ready, Beauchamp?

“It’s only for a few hours,” Claire said, perhaps more for herself than for Faith. “And then you’ll be home again with Mummy. Yes?”

“Ye’re gonnae have lots of fun, Faith. Show Angus to all yer new friends, learn sae much,” Jamie chimed in.

She was not humming, but her hand was jiggling at her side, and Jamie grasped it.

“It’s alright, mo chridhe.” He pressed a kiss to her little knuckles. “It’s alright.”

Claire bit down fiercely on her lip. No tears until she’s gone.

“I love you, baby.” Claire held up the sign, forcing a tiny smile. “I love you.”

Faith returned the sign, touching her thumb, finger, and pinky to Claire’s as their foreheads rested together. They held the sign and their embrace for several lingering seconds, until the constant chugging of the bus’s engine reminded Claire that time was still passing.

“Alright. Hugs.” Claire pulled her in for a quick hug, fervently kissing the top of her head.

“A hug fer me too, lass?” Jamie said tentatively, and Faith did not hesitate. He pulled her in and kissed her head as Claire had, offering her a wide grin when they pulled apart.

“Alright. It’s time now, baby.” Claire and Jamie stood up, each taking one of her hands and leading her to the bus. Carole was waiting at the top of the steps, smiling kindly.

“Hi, Faith,” she greeted warmly.

“Hold onto the railing, now,” Jamie said quickly, releasing the hand he was holding so Faith could grasp the metal railing.

Claire had to force herself to let go of Faith’s other hand, her heart stinging as Carole took it instead. She hesitated at the top of the stairs, stopping Carole from pulling her into a seat. Faith turned around, and Claire thought she was going to faint. Jamie seemed to read her mind, and he desperately grasped her hand, squeezing like his life depended on it.

Faith looked like she may cry, and her hand was jiggling in a way that both of them knew was not happy.

Angus pressed the top of his head into Faith’s side, and she laced her fingers in his fur, ceasing her jiggling.

“It’s okay, baby,” Claire choked out. “It’s okay.”

Angus stayed rooted in place, waiting patiently for the panic to pass, and Carole looked back and forth between girl and dog, and the anxious couple.

“Ready, Faith?” Carole gave her a thumbs up, and Faith turned away from Jamie and Claire to look up at her. “Ready?”

Faith returned the thumbs up, removing her hand from Angus.

“Okay. Let’s go sit.”

The doors to the bus closed, and Jamie and Claire staggered back, clinging desperately to one another. The bus lingered for several more seconds, and Faith soon appeared in one of the windows, or rather, her eyes and forehead did. Carole was talking to her, waving through the window, and Faith started waving, too. Claire and Jamie waved wildly with their free hands, and then the bus was pulling away, and Claire felt a piece of her heart leaving with it.

As soon as the bus was out of sight, Jamie crushed her to him, and she finally released the sob she’d been holding back.

“It’s alright, mo nighean donn,” he crooned into the top of her head, rocking her gently. “That was the worst part. Dinna fash, now. She did it.”

Claire wept quietly into his shirt, not caring if any one of her neighbors decided to peek out their window and see them on the curb. She felt his tears in her hair despite his calming words, and she held him tighter.

He was right; the worst part was over. She’d imagined so many different scenarios that ended either with Faith bolting off the bus, or with Claire dragging her down herself. She’d imagined Faith screaming her head off, red in the face with tears, inconsolable even by Angus.

But that hadn’t been the case.

“What if…what if she’s crying now? Just after we couldn’t see her anymore…?”

“She has Angus. He’s quite good at his job, ye ken.”

“I know, but she…” Claire couldn’t put words to her exact fear. “What if she’s not ready? What if I’ve just thrown her to the wolves…?”

“Ye’ve done all ye can to prepare her. Ye got her excited wi’ her supplies, ye trained her dog fer this moment fer months. If she canna handle it after all that, it’s no’ yer fault.” He kissed her head, and she felt its warmth reach her outermost extremities. “If it doesna work out this year, she’ll be all the more prepared next year. Mrs. Lickett said it’s alright if she’s no’ ready ’til next year.”

Claire nodded against his chest, sniffling loudly.

“Carole said she’d call if there was a problem on the bus. So there’s no need to worry, aye?” He pushed her away just enough to look into her eyes, and she nodded. He kissed her gently, brushing away her tears as he did. “Let’s go inside. Ye’ve got quite a tasty muffin waiting fer ye in the kitchen, if ye recall.”

She forced a tiny smile, hiccuping a bit. “I hope I don’t vomit it up.”

“If ye do, I’ll hold yer hair and rub yer back.” He put his arm around her shoulders and led her up the stairs. “Then I’ll get ye some saltines and ginger ale and take care of ye.”

She sighed and leaned into him. “I don’t deserve you.”

He scoffed. “Ye deserve to be taken care of, ye stubborn fool.”

She couldn’t help but smile as they entered the apartment, Jamie shutting the door behind them. “Thank you. For being here today. I think it helped ease her mind. And I…” She swallowed, catching her breath. “I really needed you.”

“Aye. I ken ye did.” He kissed her soundly again. “Come on, now. No more weeping. Breakfast time.”

——

Jamie did his best to distract Claire; it really was a valiant effort. They tried sex, but when he could see that her mind was elsewhere, he stopped, not wanting to force it when she wasn’t fully with him. Admittedly, even Jamie was struggling with that particular activity today. And he’d never had that problem before.

They settled on watching mindless television, but it didn’t do much for either of their nerves. He could feel Claire’s pulse going far too fast against his body, and Jamie’s fingers continued tapping anxiously on his thigh, his leg jiggling.

They were on perhaps their tenth episode of The Office, the sandwiches Jamie had made and tried to force Claire — and himself — to eat sitting untouched when Claire’s phone rang.

He swore Claire might have been having a stroke given the way she completely stiffened in her seat. She scrambled for the phone, resting idly on the coffee table.

“It’s the school,” she stammered, simultaneous with accepting the call. “Hello?”

Jamie’s stomach lurched, and he was grateful Claire put the phone on speaker.

“Hi, is this Miss Beauchamp?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, this is Miss O’Reilly, Faith’s teacher.”

“Yes, hello,” Claire said impatiently. “Is she alright? What’s happened?”

“Everything is okay, don’t worry. I’ve got Faith here with me. She keeps signing ‘mom,’ and she got more and more distressed every time, so we thought we should call you so she could hear your voice.”

Claire flashed a heartbreaking, guilt-ridden look up at Jamie. “Yes, give her the phone. Thank you.”

In a few seconds, the sound of sniffling came through the receiver, and Jamie instinctively grabbed Claire’s hand, squeezing for dear life.

“Faith? Hi, baby, it’s Mummy.”

Claire’s voice was wavering.

“It’s okay, lovie. I’m here. Jamie is here, too.”

“Hello, Faith,” Jamie chimed in. “It’s great to talk to ye.”

“I know you miss us, we miss you too,” Claire said carefully. “Don’t cry anymore, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be home so, so soon. And then you get Oreos, remember? And a sticker.”

Mrs. Lickett and Claire had worked to put together a system where every day she went to and from school without a problem, she got a sticker on the sticker chart. She would earn little prizes for every filled row, and then, once the whole chart was full, she earned a big prize.

“I know you can do it,” Claire continued. “You’re such a big girl.”

“Aye, Faith, we’re verra proud of you.”

“That’s right,” Claire said. “I love you so much, baby. I’m doing the sign. Can you do it?” She paused for a bit. “I love you. Can you please give the phone to Miss O’Reilly?”

“Okay, thank you Faith.”

“How is she? Did that help?”

“I think it did. Now, just so you know, she did wet herself at her desk. And I know you said that she hasn’t really had bathroom issues in a while, so I assume it was just the stress.”

Claire’s grip tightened painfully on Jamie’s hand.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think she’d…”

“It’s okay. It happens to someone on the first day every year. It usually doesn’t happen more than one more time. She’s wearing the clean clothes you packed with her.”

“Ehm, okay,” Claire stammered. “Thank you so much.”

“Okay, I’ll call you again later to let you know how she did with the rest of the day.”

“Great. Thank you.”

“Bye-bye now.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead, and the phone collapsed in Claire’s lap as she buried her face in her hands. Jamie hung up the call to stop the ringing, and he pressed her against his chest.

“It’s alright, mo ghraidh.”

“No, it’s not…” she muttered tearfully against his chest. “I can’t do this, Jamie, I can’t. I’m going to go pick her up.”

“Hey.” Jamie tightened his grip on her, physically restraining her from getting up. “Ye’re no’ gonnae do that.”

“She hasn’t wet herself in nearly a year! Something is wrong! You could hear her crying. I have to go.”

She was nearing hysterics. Jamie pushed her away just enough to look in her eyes.

“Claire.” His voice was firm, tightly holding her shoulders. “Miss O’Reilly said she calmed down. What reason would she have to lie to ye?”

“She could’ve started right back in again once we hung up.”

“If you go get her now, she’ll never learn. She’ll think that if she pitches a fit that Mummy will come get her, and she can get out of school, or anything else. She needs to learn.”

He could tell how badly Claire wanted to look away, but she held his gaze. She welled up with fresh tears, and Jamie watched them trickle down her cheeks. Her chin trembled, and he, like the hypocrite he was, very nearly gave into her just to stop her from crying.

“You’re right,” Claire rasped, swallowing thickly. “I hate it…but you’re right.”

Jamie loosened his grip and moved his hands up to cup her cheeks. “It might be a long learning curve, but she will learn. She’s ready for school, I ken she is. She just doesna ken it herself yet. And ye canna give in before she has the chance to figure that out. She needs ye to give her this chance, Sassenach.”

Claire nodded, inhaling with a shuddering gasp. “I know.”

He tenderly kissed her forehead, letting it linger. “She’s a strong wee thing. And she gets it from her mother,” he said with pointed emphasis. “If she can do it, so can you.”

Claire nodded, swallowing again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sassenach.”

——

A bit after 3:30, the bus pulled up in front of the driveway, and both Jamie and Claire raced down the stairs. The doors to the bus opened, and Faith and Angus descended the stairs, Faith letting go of Carole’s hand to launch herself into Claire’s arms.

“Oh! Hello, darling!”

Jamie untethered her from Angus and commanded him to go upstairs and inside. Faith properly wrapped her legs around Claire’s waist, and she hoisted the girl up higher. Carole smiled sweetly down from the top of the stairs.

“How was she on the bus?” Claire called up.

“Fine, much more excited on the way back.”

The three adults shared a laugh.

“Oh, I bet,” Claire said, more to Faith then Carole. She fervently kissed her temple. “Thank you so much. I’ll be here tomorrow in the morning with her caretaker, and she’ll be getting her off without me.”

“Gotcha,” Carole said. The bus driver nodded as well.

“Okay, thank you, have a good day,” Claire said, waving. “Say bye-bye,” she crooned to Faith.

“Bye, thanks,” Jamie said, waving as well. Claire held Faith’s hand and waved with her, and the bus rolled away.

“Okay, time for Oreos!” Claire said.

“Aye, Oreos fer our big girl.” Jamie took Faith, knowing that Claire would have a hard time walking up the stairs with her. She was getting bigger every day.

They all sat at the kitchen table, Faith with her Oreos on her napkin, scraping the icing off with her teeth, Jamie and Claire watching her like she hung the stars, hands laced together.

Jamie gave her hand a squeeze, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “She did it.”

Claire nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “We did it,” she corrected.

Jamie’s answer was a fervent kiss to the crown of her head.

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