#was hoping to see the security guy in tesco who is nice but oh well ! my cheesecake recipe is so good

[athina-blaine]

Jon goes on a business trip.

Chapters: 1/1 [Complete]

Words: 1,692

Tags: Established Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Long-Distance

~

Jon threw his backpack onto the hotel bed and slumped into the desk chair. It boggled him how he could even think about sitting after being trapped in an uncomfortable airplane seat for the last 12 hours, but he just didn’t have the energy to stand. 

Weak, grey lighting wormed through the ratty curtains, washing out the already muted yellow walls and doing nothing to lift the temperature of the room. The second hand of the analogue clock twitched in place.

You get what you pay for.

Martin had insisted he would stay up late waiting for Jon's call, but guilt still twisted his stomach as he dialled his number. He wished Martin would have chosen to get some sleep instead, but, then again, the thought of going another day without hearing from him didn’t feel particularly good either.

The call clicked.

“Hello? Jon?”

“Evening.”

“I believe you mean, good morning."

"Shut up."

"Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting around for ages.”

“I told you I wouldn’t be getting in until around 7. If anything, I’m ahead of schedule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I was just kind of hoping you were exaggerating how long it would take. You know, so if you get there a bit early, it’s like a nice little surprise.”

“Martin, if you’re expecting an airport to ever being running ahead of schedule, I’m sorry to say, you’ve already lost.”

Martin’s laugh was staticky in the receiver. “So, what’s it like? Sample any cuisines? Are the locals friendly?”

“Yes, I’ve had a bagel sandwich from a coffee shop at the airport, and the cab driver who escorted me to the hotel shouted at me.”

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“Ah, well, you know, you can be a bit— And it’s not your fault! You’ve just been in a flying metal box for the last day, so it’s totally reasonable to be grumpy. But you can be a bit tetchy at times.”

Jon sighed. “I suppose I was a bit more aggressive expressing my umbrage at the way he handled my bags than was strictly necessary.”

“Jon.”

“My laptop was in there! He threw it.”

“Of course, dear.”

Jon curled up in his chair, wrapping his arm around his knees. “So, what have you been doing?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. Just rewatching old episodes of Emergency Contact. Couldn’t you have at least waited until Monday to fly across the world so we could watch the new one together? Kathy is finally going to find out what happened to her fiancé.”

“I'm sorry, eldritch fear monsters have very little respect for broadcast network scheduling.”

“Pity.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. What’s the point of knowing some big secret if you don’t have anyone to talk to about it? And don’t just try to know it, either!”

“That would be a terrible misuse of my abilities.”

“Since when did you give a toss about that?” Martin yawned, smacking his lips gently. “Well, I guess I should let you go. You must be exhausted.”

“Not really.” Jon didn’t sleep much these days. “But you need to get up early for work, so …”

Martin hummed. The second-hand of the clock continued ticking pointlessly. A film of dust was beginning to settle on the back of Jon's throat. What a terrible hovel this place was.

“Oh, wait, before you go, I wanted to tell you, you won’t believe what Melanie found while digging around for the Davis case.”

“What is it?”

“Okay, so, you know how the guy was acting super weird and it’s, like, yeah, he definitely killed his ex-wife, right?”

“Yeah?” Jon said, pulling the thin blanket off the bed before settling back down.

“Well, guess what Melanie found in the storage closet of his mechanic’s shop?”

“Her dismembered corpse?”

“What? No, his toolbox. What’s the matter with you? You’re so morbid.”

"Oh."

“That’s a joke, I’m joking. Melanie didn’t find anything, was talking my ear off all day yesterday about it. Absolutely exhausting. I mean, I get it, Brighton isn’t exactly close, but remember when I had to go all the way to bloody Plymouth?”

Jon did, but he let Martin remind him anyway, and closed his eyes.

 Snow crunched under Jon’s feet as he limped through the street, a packet of files tucked under his arm. The custodian at the Federova Research Centre had been furious at the hour with which he asked for one of their documents, but she had quickly reconsidered when she helpfully told him about the gambling ring she was running.

He still felt terribly guilty about it, but it got a little easier every time. He didn’t know if that made it worse.

A gust of icy wind sliced through his coat, chilling his bones. His nose burned as he breathed down the arctic air. He had been entirely unprepared for this miserable weather and fantasized about his dry hotel and a cup of hot coffee.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling off his glove with his teeth, he took it out and opened the screen.

>aaahhhh!! im burning up!!! help!!!

Attached was a picture of the sun shining in the middle of a blue sky. Smiling, Jon typed a response, the tips of his fingers already uncomfortably numb.

>Be sure to wear plenty of sunblock

He angled his phone at the night sky, blanketed in thick, dreary clouds, taking a picture and sending it.

>oh, yikes. you sure im not the one on vacation?

>You know this isn’t a vacation

>yeah, going on vacation would require you taking that stick out of ur arse

> ):<

>im sorry, it’s a nice stick

>Thank you

>also why are you awake??

>Research. Need I remind you that you were the one who texted me?

>i was expecting you to see it tomorrow!! go to bed!!

>Yes, darling

A light snowfall had begun. Wild animals skittered by in the distance, dark shadows in the corner of his eyes. Tucking his phone away, he continued his trudge, the bruises on his left leg throbbing.

He’d go to bed once he got these documents sorted.

 The black ooze caught Jon’s foot and he crashed to the ground, shoulder crunching under his weight. The creature crept up to his knee, squelching as it latched onto his other leg, gelatinous and soggy. Hissing sharply through his teeth, he clawed the dirt, pulling himself forward. His foot had grown numb.

The creature had reached his waist and his fingers sluiced through the wet soil, his body too heavy to move. Pins and needles crawled up his legs before he lost feeling in them entirely. Though it had no mouth, the creature groaned, the sound of satisfaction one might make as it bit down into their meal.

He grabbed his phone before it ate his pocket and made a call. It rang.

It went to voicemail.

The desperate words died on his tongue. He shut his eyes tightly, pressing his face into the ground and breathing in the musty earth.

“Um, hello.”

A slimy tendril crawled along the back of his neck, leaving a damp trail in its wake before creeping into his hair. It would never wash out.

“Just wanted to see if you were awake. Of course, you aren’t, it’s like 4 AM. Not your fault. Nothing new on my end.” The creature squeezed, pressing his ribs against each other. “No, no, that was a lie. I’m currently being attacked by some kind of blob monster. Didn’t want to worry you, sorry. That was stupid of me.”

The scent of sweet organic fumes struck him, and he stiffened, stomach churning.

“I am trying very, very hard not to die right not, but just in case, figured, should give you a call. Seemed like the right thing to do.” He chuckled, which turned into a splutter as the thick sludge began filling his mouth and his nose. “I’m sorry.”

He ended the call, hand falling limp, still cradling his phone. It was swallowed shortly after.

 The airport was fit to burst as Jon worked his way through it, suffering bumped shoulders and crying children the whole way. The lingering smell of floor cleaner and cigarette smoke made his world spin on an axis, but he pressed on.

He was home. He was home, and he’d be in his bed within the hour. He pictured changing into his pyjamas and crawling under his cosy bedsheets, being held, as he was shoved through customs by sour faced security guards who wanted to be there even less than him and wanted him to know it.

When he reached the airport lobby, something barrelled into his chest.

“Finally,” said Martin, squeezing Jon hard enough to make his eyes pop. “You were supposed to be in two hours ago.”

“I told you it was delayed,” Jon said, resting his cheek on Martin’s shoulder. He inhaled the scent of his own lemon detergent and had a vision of Martin cycloning through their flat in a cleaning frenzy. “You said you were going to wait at home.”

“I lied and you knew it.”

“I did not."

Martin looked up, a gentle smile on his lips. It trembled, his eyes growing misty, before it cracked. “So, um, I know this is going to sound really crazy, but …”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could just, you know, never, ever leave again? Ever?”

He looked so small and scared as he said it. Jon had done this to him. Again.

Jon pulled him back into his arms. “I can’t promise that. But it sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” Martin sniffed. “And I don’t mean just these little jaunts to the other side of the flippin’ planet where you try and get yourself killed. If you go to Tesco, I'm gonna be on your arse. Right? Got it?”

“Of course.”

“You can still go to the bathroom by yourself, that’s okay.”

“Perfectly reasonable. You're dizzying me.”

Martin pinched his arm and pressed his mouth against Jon’s, slow and hungry, before dragging them towards the exit gate.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

#the magnus archives #tma #themagnuspod #jonmartin #jonathon sims #martin blackwood #fic #fanfiction

[wafflesetc]

I’ll be there for you- Outlander/New Girl AU

@balfeheughlywed​- This is your fault.

“I just started watching New Girl and now I need a fanfic where Jamie and Claire are roommates, getting over heartbreak and dating other people while secretly pining for each other because they spend all this time together having fun and going out and being THEM but they are afraid to ruin their friendship… and okay, I’m done. Maybe I’ll just make a moodboard.”

@kkruml #BETABESTIE

Claire

I knew I was in trouble when he moved in. I had known somewhere deep inside, that sharing an apartment with Jamie Fraser was going to be a problem. But, I had needed the help to pay the rent and he was the only suitable person who met my obscene standards.

He was clean, respectful, and didn’t mind my coming and going at odd hours.  He was a hard worker, Adso loved him, and all the references on his application had stellar reviews about him.  He was also extremely charming and good-looking. I had started to fall for him the moment he came over for a tour of the apartment, though, I hadn’t wanted to admit it to anyone- let alone myself.

The problem was, I was with Frank, and he had a girlfriend—But Jamie Fraser was my best friend, and that was all.

“Bloody hell.”  I said rather loudly as I stumbled into the apartment—the bag of groceries falling to the floor and my backpack sliding off my shoulder. “Oh… Fuck!”

The few bits of groceries I had gotten at Tesco rolled around the entry way and I shook my jacket off placing my keys on the table, picking up the contents one by one.

I smelled the scent of steak coming from the kitchen as a warm, friendly, Scottish voice bellowed from within. “Och, seems like someone had a long day?”

“Of course I did. My twelve hour shift turned into a nineteen hour rendezvous full of the University’s finest rugby players: stitches, broken fingers and collar bones, and concussions!” Grocery contents in hand, I walked into the kitchen placing them on the counter. “This smells, divine. God you’re like coming home to a personal housekeeper.”

Jamie- my Scottish best friend and roommate- laughed as he rolled his eyes, plating my dinner on the counter. “It is pretty much what I am. Definitely the best roommate you’ve ever had.”

I came up behind him, grabbing a piece of the veggies with my fingers. I almost wrapped my arms around his waist but stopped just sort.

He’s not yours, Beauchamp.

He slapped them out of my hand. “Manners, Sassenach.”

“Come on, Fraser. You know how hungry I am by the end of a day like today.”

“Aye, I do. Which is why I made yer favorite: steak with asparagus- and French bread from the little corner bakery down the road.”

My stomach growled in response as he set the plates down on the table. I reached for my fork and hastily took a bite. My mouth full and food half chewed I spoke utter gratitude towards him, “Oh my god I love you.”

“Dinna be chewin’ while her tryna talk to me!” Jamie said as he diligently cut his steak. “Ye canna be going on dates with the Professor while ye have bad habits like this!”

“Ugh… Frank.” I said, shoving my mouth with another bite.

“What did he do today?” Jamie asked, the small curiosity appearing at the small raise of his brows. I thought he didn’t even know he wasn’t be subtle.

I shrugged my shoulders and chewed for a moment. Truth be told, Frank didn’t really do nothing wrong- he was doing everything right. He was professional, handsome in a scholarly way, well educated, and intellectually on my level. He took me to nice restaurants, held the door open for me, and was rather fond of me.

I however, liked the idea of him- but bared no feelings other than the hope he would fill the small void inside of me.

“It’s not him,” I started as I shook my head and ran my hand over my face. “I think it’s me.”

“What do ye mean, Sassenach?”

“I…. I don’t know.” I stated rather honestly. “It’s just after the other guy- the one from before you moved in. Frank’s doing everything right and I just feel distant.”

Jamie took another bite and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, his blue eyes gazing with his all too familiar, “Tell me more” stare.

“Bastard.” I whispered, but continued. “He’s doing everything right- calling me his girlfriend, opening the doors for me, giving me the space I told him I need. But it’s like when he doesn’t text me good morning I get pissed, when he tells me he has plans with his friend the Reverend but doesn’t invite me I get mad too. I told him we both needed our own lives and we’d figure out how to blend them together but any time he tries- I shut down.”

“Andrew broke yer heart Claire. I didn’t know the man, but I saw ye after… It’s no’ a surprise ye need to find a balance again with yer heart. I ken I am verra biased towards ye…” Jamie said, his accent strong on the tip of his tongue, “But ye are a wonderful woman, Claire. Any man would be lucky to court ye.”

“Court me? God, you sound like an eighteenth century Highlander.” I laughed at his statement- yes he was right, he was always right.

Andrew Macintosh had broken my heart. Jamie had moved in two days after I found out he had been cheating on me- and Jamie, the wonderful human he was, had given me a week’s worth of ice cream and comedy movies to watch. He was there to be my shoulder to cry on—and even let me throw things at the wall in anger, laughing at me telling me we would most definitely not be getting our security deposit back. I had laughed at him. It was from that night with him-after smashing all the plates in my cabinets in anger- I should have known.

“Enough about me. How are things with Mary?” I asked taking my last bite and pushing my plate forward.

“Oh…. The lass is bonny enough.” Jamie responded, standing and gathering the plates and walking over to the sink. “She seems to like me enough, though, she’s no’ so obsessed wi’ me like Laoghaire had been.”

I laughed as I remember the days of Laoghaire- the blonde Scottish lass that Jamie had been casually seeing when he moved in. They had been set up by his sister, Jenny, but Laoghaire- or Leg Hair-as I liked to call her.My pronunciation on Gaelic names was horrid and Jamie never let me live it down- had been obsessive. I had never liked the girl, and hated how much she was obsessed with him. He was my Scot. She left three to four voicemails a day, always calling or texting his cell, and showing up at all hours of the night.

“After Leg Hair… You need a bit a normal in your life.”

“I suppose ye are right.” Jamie turned the faucet on, drowning the silence between us, washing the plates.

“It’s my turn for dishes and you’re still doing them.” I huffed as I walked up and elbowed him in the side.

“Ye are tired, Sassenach. Go soak in the tub with yer little bath bomb things and call it a night, I’ll finish up.” I smiled and shook my head in defeat as I accepted his offer.

“You are the best person ever! I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight, roomie.” I offered my farewell to him- the word roomie, a small reminder to myself, not for him, he wasn’t mine and I wasn’t his.  

There was no us.  

There was Frank. And there was Mary.

We were best friends. We were roommates.

But could there ever be?

“Goodnight, Sassenach.”

The water was warm on my skin and the floral scents from the bath bomb filled my senses.  

I ran my fingers over my face as I saw my phone light up on the edge of the tub.

Call me when you’re home. Let’s make plans for Friday night.

Frank’s message burned in the back of my eyes as I slid myself under the water trying to ignore the fact, I was in love with my best friend.

#outlander #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #ol ff #myfic! #Lauren me hopes ye like it #craigh na queue

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 11

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Chapter 11- Water

~~~

Everyone useful always dies. It’s like the universe keeps changing things in a personal challenge to Sherlock Holmes.

Then we dragged along for the ride.

For once, it would be nice to catch a bad guy, have him confess, clear up any confusion, and move on with our lives.

~~~

“What?”

Amelia gaped at Mycroft, unsure if her exhausted brain had heard him correctly.

“There was a transfer issue,” he repeated, looking none too thrilled about it. “Someone sabotaged the police car. While they tried to resolve the issue, Maxwell Brenner was shot by a sniper across the street.”

“So, he’s dead?” she asked bluntly, her expression dropping as the words left her.

“Very much so,” Mycroft nodded curtly.

Amelia looked to Sherlock, a loss at what to say.

What did this mean for the case?

Did they catch who did it?

“You didn’t catch the shooter,” Sherlock guessed, and when his brother didn’t reply, he sighed. “This certainly complicates things.”

“We still have enough evidence to shut down research and development at Chemco. The Board will be held accountable, but I’m not sure if my colleagues in the States will be able to do much.”

“Probably slap a fee on them,” Amelia sighed.

“Unless, of course, we are able to locate your mother?” he tried and Amelia just shrugged. She hadn’t heard from the woman in over a month now, going on two.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that her mother had beaten Max to the grave.

James Moriarty seemed to be efficient like that.

“We have to presume Lydia Brenner is out of the picture,” Sherlock cut in. “Have you found any leads on Moriarty?”

“Nothing,” Mycroft replied. “He’s disappeared. Though, while I’m not a betting man, I’d put money on the fact he was behind Brenner’s untimely death.”

“Which one?” Amelia scoffed bitterly. “He seems determined to wipe out my lineage.”

“As soon as he makes a sound, we will know,” he assured the pair before his phone started ringing. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get in contact with your cousin.”

“I’m not convinced he has that many eyes,” Amelia murmured to Sherlock once Mycroft was out of earshot.

“He doesn’t,” he agreed quietly. “He doesn’t want you to panic and run away. He’s going to need your testimony for any legal actions against Chemco.”

“Ah yes, because running did so much for me last time,” she mumbled sarcastically, looking over her shoulder into John’s room.

“He knows that as well,” Sherlock replied. “He’s being careful. Clearly, things are not going well in Her Majesty’s Government’s Chemco Pharmaceuticals case.”

Amelia leaned against the hall wall, releasing a long pent up sigh and closing her eyes. Ruthie would probably want to have a funeral and invite the extended family. Do it properly.

They’d need a better story to tell everyone, no point spitting on his grave. He had more than paid for his sins as far as Amelia was concerned.

Peeking at Sherlock, she frowned. John would be in no shape to attend a memorial service this week, besides, it would be bad taste to bring the guy her felon uncle shot.

There was no way she could handle going alone, though Ruthie would definitely need her support as she buried her father. Even with the bad blood, he was family and he’d been a doting parent the vast majority of her life.

Ruthie called Amelia in tears almost immediately after speaking with Mycroft. After calming her down, she asked some basic questions, hoping to assist her cousin in whatever manner she needed.

It was Max’s wishes he is buried next to his wife at the Brenner family estate in Essex; Sirenshore.

The large manor had been in the family for generations, originally having been built for the first Brenner that found success in merchant goods and trading in the early 16th century. Max had been living there since the death of the first Maxwell Brenner, Amelia, and Ruth’s grandfather.

“Mostly contraband,” Sherlock supplied after Amelia explained the circumstances to John with a groan. She was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, with Sherlock in a chair pulled up next to them.

“So you’re rich-rich,” John translated.

“I’m comfortable,” she answered quickly.

“My family is comfortable, your family has a yacht,” Sherlock added.

“Did you rent or own the apartment in Brooklyn?” John asked, sitting up, he is gaze narrowed at Amelia suspiciously.

“I mean, my mom owned the building,” she explained sheepishly, twisting a nervous strand of auburn hair between her fingers. “But I did purchase the penthouse from her.”

“Penthouse,” John repeated. “You live in a basement, but own a penthouse in Brooklyn, New York.”

“I sold it,” she protested. “I gave the money to a handful of after school programs and two large food pantries in Harlem and the Bronx.”

“And how much was that?”

“Do I really need to go over my finances with you, John Hamish Watson? When I told you we can go to Tesco without you arguing over expired clippings, I wasn’t lying.”

“Humour me,” he replied dryly.

“Just under two million,” she mumbled, looking toward the ground. “She initially sold me the property for very cheap. It was well below the market rate. And I got a steal with the present market and the realtor was a family friend…”

“American dollars?” John clarified. “Two million, dollars?”

“Brooklyn is in the United States, John,” she answered.

“Don’t ‘John’ me,” he held up a finger. “How much did your mother make last year?”

“I think you’ve broken him,” Sherlock commented. “John, this has never been a secret.”

“Honestly, why do you think I've been covering your portion of the rent?” she blinked at him, missing over her shoulder Sherlock’s suddenly panicked expression.

“You’ve what?”

“I took over your portion of the rent,” she shrugged. “It made more sense and was far less expensive overall compared to most decent places in London. Besides, you both were doing so much for me. I cover Sherlock’s too.”

“Sherlock?”

“I told you not to tell him,” the detective hissed under his breath.

“What are you talking about? He had to have known, I told you to stop collecting the rent,” she frowned, looking at him quizzically. “Unless you... haven’t... been...? Oh, Sherlock.”

“Where is it then?” John snapped. “That isn’t an inconsiderable amount of money, Sherlock.”

“I invested it in a high yield savings-investment account,” Sherlock confessed. “I was going to give you the information at Christmas.”

“You can’t just do stuff like that without asking people!” he glared between Amelia and Sherlock.

“Why are you glaring at me? I think it was more than fair for the work you’ve done for this case and the friendship you’ve provided,” Amelia huffed. “I wouldn’t let my brother pay rent if I could more than afford it.”

“The accounts nearly doubled,” Sherlock added, throwing on a smile at the irritated doctor. “Happy Christmas.”

“You two-,” he groaned, falling back against his pillows with a groan. “I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

“It was a transactional situation,” Amelia continued, clapping her hands together. “If it bothers you, you’re welcome to go back to paying rent.”

“I have been!”

“That’s between you two,” she stood up, pointing between the men. “I’m the bigger person here, and I’m going to get hot cocoa for myself as a reward for my good deeds. Do either of you need anything?”

“I’ll take some chips,” Sherlock piped up.

“That was more rhetorical, but John? You do look a little pale,” she frowned sympathetically.

“A sandwich or something would be nice,” he admitted quietly.

“Roast beef?”

“If they have it,” he smiled after her as she left.

“Why aren’t you mad at her anymore?”

“Because she wasn’t stealing my money,” John returned his glare to Sherlock. “Four months.”

“Here,” Sherlock handed him his mobile, a large number on the screen.

“What’s this?”

“The account balance,” he answered, arching a brow.

“Oh,” John's eyes widened. “That’s a lot more than four months of rent.”

“Believe it or not, I’m quite proficient at understanding the stock market,” Sherlock took the device back and pocketed it. “I’ve helped Amelia with some financial decisions as well.”

“I still can’t believe you knew about this,” John sighed.

“Wait until you see what she bought you for Christmas,” Sherlock snickered.

“Isn’t it a bit strange? She could have gotten a much nicer place, hired a security detail, but settled with us,” John mused, snorting under his breath. He leaned back in his pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not at all,” Sherlock shook his head. “She trusts us. Haven’t you noticed how jumpy she gets outside of Baker Street? Of course, if one of us is with her, she’s ok, but the further we go...”

“That explains Canterbury,” John hummed, nodding to himself. “Of course.”

“She knows Mycroft and his men are swarming the halls, so she offers to get food,” Sherlock added. “And the cafeteria is only one floor down.”

“She doesn’t think she needs to buy our affection, does she?” John voiced, looking to Sherlock in concern.

“No,” he crossed his arms, leaning back. “That generosity and affection just happen naturally, I think. She’d be knitting us scarves and making biscuits otherwise.”

“Shame so many people want to kill her,” John joked dryly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone kind was killed by petty vengeance.”

“Well, not on our watch,” John cleared his throat determinedly.

~~~

“The funeral is this Sunday,” Amelia looked to the calendar on her cell phone. “That means I’ve got to get to Canterbury by tomorrow night, help organize things on Saturday, and Sunday is the big day.”

She plopped backward on the sofa, pulling her blankets over her head.

Despite the excellent job Mycroft’s men had done in cleaning up her apartment, she still felt uneasy sleeping alone in the distant space. She barely slept as it was since John’s accident, but over the last few days she’d set up a small spot on the worn sofa.

Usually, if she was asleep, Sherlock was up tinkering around, and vice versa.

It was oddly comforting knowing that if someone were to burst through the front door of Baker Street, he would be right there.

“Are we staying the night after the funeral?”

“We?” Amelia pulled the blanket off her face, looking up at him curiously. “I cannot ask you to attend the funeral of the man who nearly killed your best friend.”

“I would have gone anyway,” he shrugged casually. “Which tie should I wear? I have a tasteful burgundy one that Mrs. Hudson gave me for Christmas last year that I haven’t an opportunity to wear.”

Amelia ducked under the blanket again, smiling to herself like an idiot.

“You look best in the short-sleeved black dress,” he continued musing. “If you wear a charcoal sweater with that, perhaps the gunmetal grey tie instead.”

As miserable as this event was bound to be, perhaps it wasn’t going to be that terrible.

Chapter 12

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock/OFC #sherlock/oc #sherlock/reader #reader #original female character #sherlock original female character #john watson #watson #fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #OFC #OC

[niall-is-my-dream]

The Bucket List - Chapter Four

You were in the kitchen getting your morning coffee when your phone bleeped. It was Katie.

"Annie Louise Hammond it is already 9:45am and you have not text me any gossip yet!!! Get talking!"

You smirked! 

"Wow, full named, shit I am in trouble!" You replied.

"So?" She asked. 

You could imagine her sitting at her desk, swirling around on her chair fidgeting impatiently. The thought made you chuckle. Should you tell her that he kissed you? Probably best not to lie but make it sound like it was just a quick kiss and not the passionate heated kiss it was. 

God you could still feel his taste on your tongue. You stood for a second just thinking about how good it was and how you hoped it would happen again. You knew he wasn't up for a relationship but you didn't want to be his fuck friend. Would you maybe date? You had a sort of date tonight.

"We ate pizza, drank beer and watched tv." You message back.

"And? Did you kiss, are you seeing him again? Did you do the dirty? Is he still there?!"

"Katie! Jesus woman! No we did not fuck! We did have a little kiss and he's taking me to see The Lumineers tonight. But it's not a date!"

"A little kiss?! What the fuck is a little kiss?! Did you cop a feel while you were kissing?!"

"No I didn't cop a feel! Fucking hell! It was just a kiss, it was nice."

"You kissed NIall Horan and describe it as nice?!"

"Ok, it was fucking great! Happy now! Aren't you suppose to be working?!"

"I am working, I'm multitasking by texting you to! Have fun on your not a date date tonight."

"Thanks I will. You coming to the pub tomorrow? I'm working the bar for my Mam."

"Yes, I think I'll need a drink after this week, work is shit!"

"Ok hun, stay positive and I will see you tomorrow x"

You drank your coffee whilst making a shopping list of groceries you needed. You'd planned a very exciting day of domestic chores to, hoping it would keep you busy and not thinking about tonight. You were nervous about going out with him. Worrying to yourself that someone might take a picture of you and slate you even though you were just friends. He had spoken about people assuming he was dating someone just because he happened to be talking to someone of the opposite sex. His cousin had even received abuse for a picture of them and she'd had to explain that no she wasn't dating her cousin and was actually engaged to someone. Seemed crazy to me how much people invaded someone's privacy like that. Niall was fiercely private you knew that, he didn't like talking about his love life in the press and you didn't know who he'd dated in the past. 

The need to Google him was overwhelming but you felt that you would be snooping. You decided to get dressed and go out to Tesco for the shopping. Try and take your mind off that beautiful man.

Niall had text to tell you he'd pick you up at 5:30 so you guys could get across London and get food before the gig started. By the time you'd finished the chores it was 4pm. Plenty of time for a shower and to get dressed. You'd already decided on jeans, a cream floaty top and blue casual blazer with Brown boots. He arrived on time looking absolutely fucking gorgeous wearing dark denim jeans, a white tee and a khaki jacket.

"Hey, wow you look beautiful!" He said as he walked in. His hands reaching out to yours which he held and entwined your fingers together. You gazed at him, his piercing blue eyes just sparkling. 

"You scrub up pretty nice to Horan!" You said with a chuckle, trying to ease the heat between you both. 

"I try!" He said chuckling back. "You ready to go?" 

"Yes, let me just grab my bag." You answered, letting go of his hands and heading back towards the kitchen where your bag laid.

You grabbed your stuff and headed out the door, a Range Rover waiting out the front of your building with two men in the front. Niall introduced them as Basil and Martin some people from his security. You jumped in the back and fastened your seat belt. You chatted in the back of the car during the 25 minute drive to the restaurant, Niall telling you he'd booked a Japanese place. Something was bothering him though, he looked on edge and you felt uneasy.

When you arrived and had been seated you knew you had to find out what was bothering him.

"You ok? Is something bothering you?" You asked.

"I'm ok, just feeling a bit nervous." He replied.

"What about?"

"Just don't want to see any press, that's all."

"Oh well, we could've met at the gig instead if you didn't want to be seen with me." You felt your throat close up, your heart beating fast in your chest.

"Oh no, it's not that." He replied, realising that he might have offended you. "I just know you're a private person like me and you don't really want your picture printed everywhere. I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, you didn't offend me. And no, I don't really want to have my picture in the paper, my Step Mum, Step Sister and ex know I'm in London but not where and definitely not that I have money now."

"What happened with them?"

You realised that you'd been vague with him about your past. Katie knew everything but hadn't told anyone.

"Well my Dad remarried when I was 13 and I gained a Step Sister Megan who is a year younger than me. She was spoilt by my Step Mum and we never got along. I moved out at 20 as I could afford a flat by myself by then. Or more pushed out as she sold my family home not long after. My Dad by then had already died and I got all my childhood possessions and stuff of my Mum's, plus a few bits of my Dad's that my Step Mum wanted to throw out."

"That's a bit harsh, she sounds like an awful person." 

"She is. Although I never lived with my ex Nick I had a key to his flat. He had cheated on me numerous times and was sometimes verbally abusive but I stayed with him, I'm ashamed to say that I was glad to be loved by someone again."

You saw Niall look sad at your confession. 

 "Anyway about 15 months ago I was at work one Friday when I got an email from the lottery people asking me to call them. I did, and they told me I'd won shit loads of money. I was so excited and I went to Nicks on my lunch break to tell him and found him fucking Megan."

"Holy shit!" He said his mouth open in shock. "What did you do next?"

"Said a few choice words and left. It was a total wake up call for me. I went back to work finished my shift but gave in my notice the following Monday, once my win was confirmed in person. I wrote my bucket list that weekend to. My mum died when she was 29, the same age I am now. I'm not wasting another minute. I want to enjoy my life, I want to travel, meet people, enjoy my hobbies, laugh and have fun."

"Jesus Annie!"

"I know, its like something off of Jeremy Kyle isn't it?! Katie, my Mam, Pops and Michael know about everything, but not how much I won. They've not asked for anything from me. That's why I treat my Mam and Pops to golf and lunch every week. Katie doesn't give a shit about the money, she's so easy going its refreshing. She's made me who I want to be again. She so honest."

"She is great, her and Willie are brilliant together. They never ask anything from me either. People always want to know what I'm worth but the money doesn't really mean anything to me. I know I'm lucky I live in a nice place, I have a place in LA to and I can treat my friends to stuff but they keep me grounded."

It felt good to have been opened and honest with Niall, he seemed to relax a bit and I felt him stretch his legs out under the table locking them around mine. Fucking hell I wanted to kiss him. 

The waiter bringing us the bill brought me back to reality. "Hey I'll get this." You said. "You got the pizza last night."

"I'm not letting you pay for dinner on a date with me!"

"A date?!"

"Yeah a date, that ok with you?" He said with a cheeky smirk.

"Maybe." You smiled back.

You arrived at the gig and went straight backstage to a VIP area. Niall got you both a Guinness and you stood scanning the room. You didn't recognise anyone but Niall did as he was nodding hello to a few people. You felt Niall glide his hand to the small of your back tucking his thumb in the waistband of your jeans. You looked up at him and smiled. He gave you that cocky grin of his and started rubbing at your back. You felt your stomach tighten and your cheeks blush, God this boy had such an effect on you. But you couldn't let it get you. He wasn't after anything serious and he was going to be globe trotting for the next 6 months. This thought didn't stop you from leaning in and placing your free hand on his arse, tucking your thumb into his jeans pocket. He raised his eyebrows to you and leaned in to whisper in your ear. "God I want to kiss you so much." 

"Maybe later Horan"

Chapter Five

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/167636371748/the-bucket-list-chapter-five

#niall horan #one direction #niall smut #niall imagine #niall fic #the bucket list #chapter four

[targetwetales]

"Ma'am, let me insert the cheese code"

Buckle the HECK down, because my time in Tescos is one hell of an experience. I’m one of those people who stand by the little cheap 10p bags in the self-service aisle and have the fancy little headset and coat. I was never told of the horrors with the CHEESE BARCODE NOT SCANNING.

When this happened, I think it was my first three months working there, so I barely had any of the ‘non-scanning’ items memorized. I had not been prepared for THE CHEESE NOT SCANNING. I also remember the incident of the day so well. The lunch break I spent asking all the cashiers, “what’s the cheese code??”

Imagine it, 8AM. The schools haven’t started, so all kids are getting stuff for their lunch. Kitkats, cola, the odd cake for the odd birthday, socks.. But three kids in the space of half an hour were getting cheese. Not grated cheese in a bag and some bread, no. A block of cheese. The cheese in the broken cooler that we had to move twenty minutes earlier, so the bottom of it (where the barcode was), had been soaked, and stuck together slightly. So, I was very unaware of this. Why would I ever care about the cheese that never sells until 10AM? It had to be dry by then. Anyways, this kid comes in, cheese in hand, tomato in the other. The poor boy was probably cooking in school. Scans his tomatoes easily. Tries to scan the cheese. Cheese doesn’t scan. Alright yeah, whoops, scan it proper kid. Tries to scan the cheese again. Cheese doesn’t scan. And again. And again. I eventually see the kid looking at me with hope, so I go in and enter the cheese code from the bottom of the pack. I give the kid his cheese, and he’s on his way. No more than five minutes later, the odd Harry comes up with a pizza base and cheese, not to mention squeezy tomato. He scans his base and squeezy tomato easily, but not the cheese, oh no. That doesn’t scan. I just think they got one of the few ones we moved last, so they were messed about a bit. I enter the kids code, he’s on his way. Same with the other kid that came in. I just thought it was unlucky.

But no, Lord behold, the 'let me speak to the manager cut’ woman comes in with a BASKET. Love, why must you do this. It’s 10AM, just order online. I had already entered 10 cheese codes that day, and I’m thinking maybe the cheese has to refrost or whatever; I don’t work in stocking. So, I put myself on standby for this woman, watch her scan the little milk cartons (semi-skimmed, good choice) and the rest of her good eating looking basket. Then the cheese comes up. Oh god. I walk over to her, say the cheese won’t scan for the others, so it’s easier for me to put in the code. But no, no, she can make it scan. “My boy works in retail you see, one of those fancy shops in the big places? Yeah, those. Real good, told me how to scan.” OK love, whatever you say. I go back to my corner and mess around with the bags. Two minutes later, the lady still can’t get her cheese to scan. I go back over to help, but no, no. She has this. I tactically retreat to my bag corner. Another two minutes, and I put away the 'something in the bagging area’ thing for her. I watch her good, healthy veg as she goes to get two different blocks of cheese. She comes back. Her cheese is not scanning, so I offer yet again to code her cheese.

“Ma'am, let me put in the code. It’ll count as being scanned then.” No. She will not yield to my cheese scanning. I ask her once more. She will regret not accepting my offer. I tell her OK, I retreat to my corner. I begin talking to the cashier. His name was Matt, got sacked for being a twit of a driver. Nice guy, bought me stickers once. No more than five minutes later, the woman’s red light on the scanner goes off. She had tried to enter the cheese code and failed. She had entered the tomato code. Feel my wrath, Helen. I go over, and I enter the cheese code. I am free from her, she has left. But, she had brought MORE cheese buyers. Five more people fell to my idiotic cheese entering, I did not know the cheese code. I entered what I had. My lunchbreak had finally come up, and the first thing I said when leaving was good luck to the security man. If an item doesn’t scan, it’s usually taken out and people claim that “It’s free.”

The cheese saga ends here, but to this day, I continue to watch people fail at scanning the legendary cheese. I am the cheese slayer, I get people their dairy goodness. I do not like any of it, but I enjoy watching kids do my job for me.

I am the Tesco cheese slayer. I know non of the cheese codes, but I will slay them anyways.

#submission