i need more pictures of her beautiful face


Fic:
Your Dearest

Author: Billowsandbreeze

Rating: T for flirting

Pairing: Jaal Ama Darav x Sierra Ryder

Summary: Sierra receives an email from Jaal and feelings are laid bare.

Author’s Notes: I wanted to try to capture that gut-clenching, excited, nervous moment right when a flirting relationship is about to take that next step. Jaal’s emails were so good at inducing that feeling. So, hopefully I did it justice.

(Spoilers for Jaal’s emails. I included the full text of one in this.)


“Good morning, Pathfinder.”

Groaning, Sierra throws an arm across her face as the cabin lights brighten too soon against the back of her lids.

She grumbles beneath her breath and rolls into her pillow. “You don’t have to do that as soon as you feel me wake up, SAM. Give me at least five minutes to get my bearings.”

“Noted, Pathfinder.” There’s a momentary pause. “You have unread email at your terminal.”

Taking in a deep breath, Sierra blinks rapidly, trying to erase the fatigue and sleep from her eyes. SAM clearly isn’t going to let her stay in bed any longer, and he’s right to do so. The display on her nightstand tells her they’re almost to Kadara. So, with another groan, she sits up.

“Okay,” she says in a rushing exhale and gets to her feet. She runs a hand through her hair and makes her way to the terminal. Email first, then coffee, and then Kadara Port.

The messages are routine—Tann reminding her of their position on the outlaws, a colonist on Eos asking for help, Lexi sending her diagrams of yoga poses to help with her stress—but one toward the bottom catches her eye.

A communication from your friend Jaal

Keep reading

Polaroids

“Can we do something?” Y/N groans, sprawled across the couch. “I’m bored!”

“It’s snowing outside, love. Do you really want to go outside?” Joe asks, glancing up from his computer.

“We don’t have to go outside to do something,” Tilting her head back, she meets his gaze, “I’m sure there’s something to do inside.”

“Like what?”

“Not editing.”

“I’m nearly done, so no worries there.”

“Fine. You finish editing,” She rolls off the couch and jumps to her feet, “I’ll figure out what it is that we are going to do.”

“Something the requires minimal effort!” He calls after her.


Half an hour later, she appears back in the living room, a smile on her face and her hand behind her back.

“What did you find?” Joe asks hesitantly, closing his computer.

“Something I forgot Zoe gave us for Christmas.”

“She gives us the randomest crap, so that doesn’t help.”

“Smile!” Y/N says, pulling the Polaroid camera from her back, snapping a quick picture of him.

“I wasn’t prepared!”

“Which makes it so much better,” She tells him, shaking the photograph that has slide out from the camera. When she looks at it, she bursts out laughing, handing it over to Joe who rolls his eyes.

“I look like a crazed person.”

“I like it.” She replies, falling onto the couch beside him.

“So we’re doing an impromptu photo shoot then?”

“Mhm,” Lifting the camera above them, she turns to miss Joe’s cheek, clicking the button as he feels him smile. “We need more pictures of us.”

“Or,” He grabs the camera from her as she places their new photo beside the other one on the table, “Just more pictures of you.”

“But I like your face!”

“Yours is so much prettier though.” Joe tells her, snapping a picture as Y/N blushes at his words. “Perfect.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“I don’t need too.”

“Dork.”

“You love it.”


The couple carry on taking pictures of each other, starting with silly ones that turn into cute ones, and then Joe jokingly says he should do shirtless shirts, until Y/N encourages him, and that sets them off into a whole new type of picture taking.

Ones that would only be seen by them.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” He mutters, looking over at her as she walks into their bedroom wearing only one of his shirts.

“Thank you, babe.” Y/N smiles softly as she walks over to Joe, who’s sat on the end of the bed, clad in only his boxers. She bends over to kiss him softly, and he briefly forgets about the camera as he pulls her onto his lap, deepening the kiss.

“Hey,” She giggles as she breaks the kiss, “We’re meant to be taking pictures.”

“Kissing is more fun though.” He mumbles, his lips traveling down to her neck, his hand inching closer up her bare thigh.“

“But think of the pictures we can take,” She replies breathlessly, shifting slightly on his lap.

“Think of the things I could do to you.”

“Joe!”

“Fine,” He sighs, pulling back reluctantly. “Pictures. And then I want you.”

“And you’ll have me.” Y/N tells him, placing a simple kiss on his lips as she picks up the camera once again.


Later that evening, the couple lay together in bed, limbs tangled together as they look through the various photographs they had taken during the day.

“You were right,” Joe holds up one, admiring the look Y/N is giving over her shoulder in it, wearing only his shirt, hair slightly messed up, “Black and white makes it much better looking.”

“Remember, some of these are for our eyes only.”

“Who needs pictures when I have the real thing,” He smirks over at her.

“So cheesy.” She mumbles, rolling her eyes as she looks through the others.

“You love it.” He tells her, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.

“I do. And I love this photo.” She holds up one that is of the two of them, with Joe staring fondly down at Y/N while she’s caught mid laugh.

“You looked beautiful, I had to capture it.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Let Me Warm Your Heart Part 3

Word count: 3041


Summary: Being rescued by a kind woman has loads of benefits. She cleans your wounds, cares for you and you get a glimpse in her life. Is this the beginning of that fleeting feeling called ‘love’?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the FBAWTFT, JKR does. If I did, my boi Credence would have the mushiest happiest ending ever. GIF Credits to the owners. That cute face though!! 😍


Warnings: Mentions of blood, abuse, loads of fluff


It was normally a short walk from the sushi shop till Y/N’s apartment. The upside was the confectionery on the corner. Having a sweet tooth, she was wise enough to keep her candy stash refiller close. It’s windows were usually pristine and the door always open, through which wafted the heavenly smell of freshly baked bread or melting chocolate, which the baker used in abundance in a variety of goods. Later that evening she had been walking on the street, just about to turn the corner of a road filled with closed shops. They looked like dark, empty husks left by their occupants for the day, she thought, especially the eerie mannequins wearing the flapper dresses. Y/N wondered whether one would look good on her when she heard the sounds of a scuffle. 


“What ya boys say we beat some sense inta him?” It was probably the drunkards that frequented the playground she thought. They were usually up to no good. Not wanting to get involved but curious nonetheless, Y/N crept up the pavement and cocked her head to the side, hiding behind the barely there, crumbling excuse of a wall surrounding the derelict playground. The scene made her draw in a sharp intake of breath. Whimpering in the clutches of one of the drunk hooligans was none other Credence. Putting her Auror reflexes to use, she gave out a shrill siren-like whistle and a quick Sonorus charm did the trick. “Shit. Why’s the police here?” one of them muttered before they shoved poor Credence to the ground and made a run for it.


Making sure that the hoodlums were completely out of sight, Y/N approached the shivering boy lying on the ground. She muttered Quietus, stopped whistling and waved her wand once, charming the area to make it seem empty so that no one accidentally stumbled upon them. She stowed her wand in its holster and approached the quivering boy. “Are you alright?” She asked in the gentlest voice she could manage, trying to pull his writhing form upright. But scared to his wits end the boy seemed to have gone into a panic attack. No amount of coaxing and cajoling was making it through to him. Taking his face in her hands, Y/N stared into his chocolate brown eyes for a few seconds making sure that she had his undivided attention. “It’s okay love, they are gone. You are safe now. Nothing will harm you…I won’t let anything harm you!” on hearing this, awareness dawned in his eyes. 


At least that was what she assumed when he gave a muffled sob and threw himself in her arms. Slightly taken aback by the sudden action, Y/N just whispered soothingly until Credence calmed down. Realizing that the people threatening him were long gone, he sagged in relief, his whole body turning limp in her hands. He sniffled quietly in the crook of her shoulder, his tears leaving a wet patch on her cloak. Credence idly thought that the woman smelled wonderful, like freshly mowed grass, coffee grounds, peppermint and a hint of something flowery. His fingers, which had been clutching tightly to the fabric of her cloak loosened their grip and withdrawing from her embrace, he blushed and gave her a small nod. “Thank you….for saving me and…sorry for….” at this point, he merely pointed to her cloak which was streaked with blood from where his fingers had gripped her.


Y/N’s eyes widened and Credence prepared himself to be admonished for ruining her clothes. But instead, she took his hands in hers and gasped audibly. “I am so sorry. If I had realised that they were harming you, I would have done something faster.” He looked at her with a puzzled gaze and she couldn’t help but think that he looked adorable. Puffy eyes which had turned red from the crying, a tear-stained face streaked with patches of blood when he had wiped his face, a pale face and mussed up hair. If you could ignore the obvious signs of being beaten, he almost looked like he had woken up and couldn’t get a bearing on his surroundings. Pulling him up with the tenderness of a mother with her newborn, Y/N spied the abandoned bag of food that she had left at the side walk when she saw the drunkards about to beat him up. She bent down to pick it up and said, “Let’s get your wounds bandaged.”



This was easier said than done. Credence had been reluctant to go to her house. “It’s getting late. My Ma…she will worry.” Detecting the notes of hesitation in his voice at the mention of his mother and not one to accept such feeble excuses, Y/N had said, “It won’t take long. I live just 5 minutes away. Come on, we need to stop that bleeding.” With this they had found themselves tiptoeing up the staircase and entering the apartment silently like fugitives. All this was a necessary precaution against complaining neighbours, she had said. God knew what kind of a fuss Mr Smith would create if he knew she brought ‘roughened up, good for nothing lil’ boys’ to her house (his words not her’s). At this point her visitor had opened his mouth probably to turn down her help again but she had silenced him saying, “I’ll get the medical supplies. Just make yourself comfortable, okay?”, settling Credence onto the sofa. She entered the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit from the nearest cabinet.


She unwrapped the gauze, cotton swabs and bandages, glanced over her shoulder to ensure that he was still in his place and took out her wand. It would do no good to either him or her if it was found out that she was a witch. For her because she would lose her job but majorly for Credence, because he was the eldest son of an anti-witchcraft zealot and it would be ironical if it were found out that he was rescued and helped by a witch. That didn’t stop Y/N from bewitching the medical supplies to heal his wounds faster though. Maybe she could even convince him to take a potion for minor abrations, she had a bottled version ready for times when she was posted on field cases. She filled a bowl with water, took some wash cloths and with the slightly magically modified medi-kit in tow, she entered the room again to find him staring at the photos adorning her wall.


Hearing her enter, Credence whipped his head to look at her and held up his battered hands as if non-verbally praying his innocence. “I am so-sorry. I was just looking. I d-d-didn’t touch anything I s-swear.” She frowned at his sudden frightened demeanour and said, “You don’t need to apologize, I’m not angry. I did say you could be comfortable. You can have a look around if you want.” Approaching him, she set the medi-kit and the bowl on the nearby coffee table and stared at the photograph that he had been staring at before her arrival. He looked at her once again with a confused expression. “If…if you don’t mind me asking, who…who’s that?” he timidly pointed at a picture of a family of three. A pig-tailed girl of no more than 6 years sat on a man’s shoulders, grinning ear to ear with a flower crown atop her head. A woman kissed the man’s cheek and held the girl’s hand while the man, presumably gave a huge belly laugh.


Fondness washed her features as she looked at the photograph. “They are my parents, that beautiful woman is my mom and the man laughing so raucously, looking like a happy lunatic, is my father”, Credence looked at her face but she had said it more out of warmth than with malice. “And that’s me seated on my father’s shoulders, pretending that I was the Queen and they my humble servants. I remember mother saying something on the lines of, “Well, a Queen needs a crown” and made that for me.“ She pointed at the tiny flower tiara and brushed the black and white picture lightly, as if wiping away non-existent dust.


Y/N seemed to be reliving that day of so many years past and he couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia colouring the room with something akin to love. “They look like nice people”, he said softly, breaking Y/N from her reverie. “They were.” She replied, looking back at him with a smile crinkling her features. But the smile seemed just a touch distant, hinting more of sadness than joy. He noted the past tense but didn’t pry further, it wasn’t his place. “Alright. We have to get your hands healed, take a seat.” Doing as he was told, Credence sat at the edge of the sofa. Y/N opened up the medi-kit and set out a roll of bandages, a bottle of some clear liquid and an ointment, before taking a seat beside him. She took his hands in her’s again and said, “I’m going to clean the dried up blood from your wounds. I’ll try to be careful but it might hurt just a smidge." 


He was thankful that she was being so careful and gentle with him. She drenched the wash cloth in the bowl and painstakingly cleaned his hands. Sitting stock still so as not to impede her, Credence didn’t dare utter a word of discomfort. He was used to beatings much worse than this. Being treated so kindly was what he was unused to. He took in her form, gently tending to him, oblivious to his staring or the effect that she had on him. Her lashes, long as they were, brushed her cheeks everytime she blinked. Her touch was cool and gentle, holding his hands delicately, as if made from the softest of feathers. She absentmindedly brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen out of its place in her braid and he noticed for the first time how shiny her hair was. Being in such close quarters with her made Credence hyper aware of her ethereal beauty.


He couldn’t help but feel the tightness in his chest return, but this restricting feeling was different from the one he felt while in the playground. While that had felt as if he was about to explode like a pressurized cannon, this felt as if a mass of frothy bubbles had filled up his insides and where bursting to be released. "This might sting a bit”, she said again as she took a fresh cloth and dipped some of the liquid in the bottle onto it. It did cause him a bit of discomfort but he remained silent through it. It was the least he could do for her. “I think the wounds are cleaned up, all that remains is…” She trailed off, looking at his hands first and then fixing her sharp gaze on him. Credence looked down at what she had seen and shifted restlessly. The dried up blood had given his hands the illusion of being scar-free. And lost in his observation of her, for a moment, he had felt scarless too, both physically and emotionally.


Brought back to earth and it’s harsh realities, he said, “It’s okay. You ….have done so much… for me. I could bandage them…later.” He looked anywhere and everywhere but her, as if the mere sight of her would break this seemingly dreamlike state that he found himself in. If he met her eyes, she would know. She would know the truth. The truth about him, his Ma, his beatings, his tainted blood and all the things that were wrong with him. She would be repulsed at the mere sight of him and look at him with disgust just like Ma was. And then, she would have nothing to do with him. But Y/N surprised him once again. She took his hands and rubbing some of the cooling ointment on his hands, bandaged them carefully. She seemed angry but at what Credence didn’t understand. Had he said something to upset her?


“You don’t need to hide it. I can see what she has done, I’m assuming it is her by the way you react to her…” she whispered, but her voice carried to him in the stillness of the air. She brushed her hands on his palms, feeling the puckered skin which was marked in shades of red. A dull white in places where the old ones had healed and scarred, a raw red at the places where the fall had torn the skin again. Brownish bruises covered his fingers. Her flawless hands seemed almost otherworldly next to his and Credence was overcome by the urge to withdraw his hands and run away from this unreal sanctuary. “Don’t…don’t feel ashamed!” Her voice quivered and Credence looked at her again. Y/N’s face was flushed from the anger which quaked her voice and he felt touched. Nobody had ever cared for him so much. Not enough to heal him the way she did, not even to get angry over something like old scars and half healed palms. 


“You don’t need to worry. It’s alright…I…I deserved this…” He spoke carefully, trying to calm her anger and assuage her worries. She stared up at him defiantly and said, “Never for a moment should you ever think that you deserve this! You deserve kindness and love! Not beatings and pain and…not this… definitely not this….!” she trailed off, setting aside the bandages and looking at his hands again. She was more upset that he had thought and he couldn’t think of a way to comfort her. Credence berated himself mentally. He caused nothing but harm and problems for those who cared for him. It would have just been better if he had not come here.


He felt his hands being warmed by her touch and the pain seemed to abate a bit. Closing his eyes and dislodging the morose thoughts from his mind he said, “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt…much.” He shrugged as he looked at her again. "It shouldn’t hurt at all.“ She replied firmly, resuming to bandage his hands and tidying up his bruises. After she was done with his hands, Y/N stared up at him and asked. "Are you hurt anywhere else?” Credence shook his head no. He felt an odd lightness in his being. As if he was floating in the air. “I should get going. It’s getting late…” he didn’t want to leave, this place that was the closed thing to an oasis in the desert of his life. “Wait”, she observed his face for a moment and wringed the wash cloth, motioning for him to come closer. He just stared at her, wondering what she meant. “Your face. It has a bit of blood on it. Let me wipe it off.”


If he had been frozen before, Credence became a statue carved out of stone now. There he was, sitting in the close proximity of this goddess of a being, wondering what good deeds he had done in his past life to have received this blessing. He would get beaten up a thousand times if it meant that she would be the one who took care of him like this. Slapping himself mentally for thinking of such impure thoughts, he continued staring at her as she grasped his chin with one hand and rubbed his cheek with the other. A look of intense concentration was on her face, her tongue poking out slightly as she wiped the stains away. Credence couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheeks and dusted his face. He could feel her breath fanning his face and if he were to die this moment, he would die a peaceful death. 


Too soon the contact was over and he felt a mixture of disappointment and elation wash over him. Disappointment at the loss of the close contact and elation that it had happened in the first place. Y/N continued staring at him though and Credence couldn’t look away, trapped by the intensity of her gaze. He felt something shift in him as her eyes held his attention. It was almost as if the very air around them had changed, charged with an unknown energy. In those seconds of staring in the Y/E/C pools of Y/N’s eyes, he thought that something was about to happen. But she blinked and the moment was lost. She asked in a whisper, “You won’t stay if I ask you to, will you?” He shook his head no. “I can’t. Ma ….and my sisters will be waiting.” The implication of his words was clear. If he did not return home soon, his sister’s would suffer in his stead. 


Huffing an exasperated sigh she retreated back to the kitchen, to keep the supplies back in their place. “And I also had some nice sushi rolls today…” she knew he would still refuse but it was worth trying. Merlin, what had gotten into her?! He gave another shake of his head and said, “I must go….” He got up from the sofa and stared at her as she reentered the room to see him off. “Alright. Are you sure you can go back safely?” He nodded once in acquiescence. He fumbled a bit, unsure of what to do, as if wanting to say something but couldn’t find the words to do. He looked at her again and drawing confidence said, “Credence.” Y/N blinked once. Twice.


“It’s my name. Thank you for…saving me and helping me patch up”, he gave her a small smile. It was the smile that did it she thought. Just as he was about to leave, she spoke up, “Credence?” He halted immediately, looking at her curiously. “Y/N.” He looked at her for a moment before repeating it, “Y-Y/N.” Her name rolled off his tongue in a weirdly comforting manner. The exchange of names made something surge in Credence’s heart, something fluffy and full of warmth. It was as if the earlier bubbles had burst inside him and filled him with a joy so intense that he could hardly breathe. As he softly closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but think, maybe this feeling was what they called ‘love’?


A/N: Holy smokes. 3000+ words. It was a race against time to finish this. Fluff is really not something that I’m used to writing. So I have mixed feelings about this one. Let me know how you felt this one was. Hope you like it! Excuse any typos. Also shout out to the fantastic @imaginingcredence whose Credence head cannons helped me survive a writer’s block. They are amazing!! ~mystical reading nerd

Play Me (Skam - Chris x OC) Part 2

Pairing : Chris x OC (name’s Elin)

Synopsis : Player 1 meets Player 2. The score is tight.

Word count : 3.8k

Part 1 <<< >>> Part 3

MASTERLIST


He did stop bothering her (sort of). At least, directly. His behavior still bothered her though, and Elin was ready – and more than willing – to break his legs next time she saw him go anywhere near Eva. That jerk had to go and fuck around with her friends – the next best option to her and to get on her nerves? - and now Eva had continuous fights with Jonas. All of that because Chris felt like kissing Eva. It was fucked up enough on his part to do this knowing she was in a relationship but now that Elin knew he was too, she felt like snapping his neck. She wasn’t a violent person, but she was very imaginative and was dreaming about various ways to get back at him.

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anonymous asked:

can i have midorima, kise, akashi having a shorter s/o and she gets very worked up when people tease her about her height and the boys defend her?? fluff is highly appreciated!!!

Sure, anon! Fluff isn’t my best specialty but I’ll do my best! Hehe, I hope you enjoy this! 🌸

Happy Holidays! 💋


♥︎ Midorima:

“(Name)-chan!” Takao called from outside of her house. She looked out the window, seeing him waving at her excitedly, her boyfriend waiting patiently beside him.

She pouted, letting go o the curtain and looked at herself in the mirror. It’s been about two odd months of not seeing the two, it made her heart clench a bit, seeing to how much she missed them.

She didn’t even grow an inch. She was so short, and she hated it. It was in their genes. Midorima didn’t seem to mind too much, and she appreciated that, but Takao exactly knows how to press her buttons.

She sighed, before dusting her uniform and grabbing her bag from the couch, swinging it over her shoulder. “Bye, Mom!” her mother smiled at her, waving, and with that, she stepped outside and inhaled the fresh air.

As she walked down the steps, Takao grinned from ear to ear, and from her distance, she could see him elbowing Midorima, who’s face was so red you wouldn’t wonder while Takao was teasing him in the first place.

Once she landed on the pavement where the duo were, she looked up at Takao, who lets out a giggle and raised his hand for a high-five. She clapped hands with him and turned to Midorima.

“Long time no see.” she smiled slightly. A bit hesitant, he returned it. She tilted her head, seeing a water battle in his hand. “I’m guessing that’s your lucky item for today.”

He nodded, and motioned for them to go to school. Eventually, Takao followed behind the couple. “Ah, (Name)-chan, you’re still so small!” Takao skipped in front of them, and started walking backwards.

She glared up at him, Midorima did, too. “Takao, avoid walking like that. It’s improper.” he chided.

“Don’t look at me like that, Kazu.” she warned, her glare hardening. Midorima stayed quiet, but kept flashing Takao deadly glares to try and make him stop teasing her.

“Like what?” he moved his head closer, swinging his bag in his hand.

“Like I’m a child.” she grumbled.

“But you look so much like a child, (Name)-chan!” Takao reasoned, smiling cheekily and patting her head.

Midorima narrowed his eyes. “Oi, Takao, stop with the teasing.” he scolded.

Takao pouted. “Ah, you’re no good, Shin-chan.”

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3

“Oh, I’m sorry” Isaac said sarcastically as he bumped his shoulder against Matt’s roughly when he saw him snapping pictures of you from just down the hall. Not only was Matt suspected to be the Kanima’s master that was killing people, but he was taking pictures un-permitted of you, Isaac’s princess He had made it known to Matt on many occasions that you were his girlfriend and Isaac’s patience was wearing thin

“I can’t quite grasp what part of ‘don’t take pictures of my girlfriend’ it is that you don’t fucking understand, hm?” He added, falsely enthusiastic as his eyes flashed bright yellow, “and I’ve told you before, beauty like hers needs to be captured on camera” Matt stated simply, angering Isaac even more, he felt himself beginning to shift “I swear to god I’m gonna kick your ass” Isaac growled, knowing he had the upper hand due to his height and werewolf strength, knocking the camera onto the floor and punching Matt right in the face, a knee in the stomach and another punch in the face before you managed to reach them

“Isaac” you hissed, catching his fist in your hand “you can shift here, not in front of all these people, he’s not worth it lets just go” you cooed, dragging your boyfriend away from the crowds and into and empty classroom “look at me Isaac, he’s not worth it, calm down, I’m here and I’m safe, we’re together and I love you and that’s all that matters”

Catfish

Hey guys! Long time no talk. Here’s my first story in months and I’ve actually been writing this for over a year? I’m sorry if its sloppy, still trying to get used to writing again :P 

Read on FF here

Setting: Long Distance AU

Pairings: NaLu; Natsu, Gray, Gajeel and Loke BROTP

Summary: Gray, Gajeel and Loke were determined to help Natsu find out who this ‘Lucy Heartfilia’ truly was.

“Alright boys, time to crack another case today.” Gray announced, rubbing his calloused hands together. He walked over to the desk where his computer full of emails from awaiting fans to get their ‘Catfish’ case solved. His two accomplices, Gajeel and Loke, followed in suit behind the dark haired man.

“Geez, I can’t believe this many people think their being catfished.” Gajeel said, propping an elbow up on the desk. He watched as Gray scrolled through the thousands of emails they had received.

“This one sounds… intriguing.” Loke stated, pointing to the computer screen at an email entitles ‘Princess and the Pauper’.

“Alright let’s see…” Gray drew out his words, clicking on the email. When Gray seen the name of the person who sent the email, his eyes grew wide. “Oh my Mavis.”

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Shifted - Part 2, Chapter 1

Every Tuesday I’ll be posting a chapter from my brand new AU story. The premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…

Author’s note: This is the first chapter of Part 2 of Shifted! Let’s see where Jamie, Claire, and Brianna are now…


Part 2 - The Baptism

Chapter 1

Lallybroch, December 1746


“Remind me what my role will be.”

Jamie watched Claire comb out her hair in front of the vanity. He shifted against the pillows, one hand holding a sleeping Brianna to his chest.

“I should think it’s fairly obvious,” he said to his wife’s back. “Stand afore the priest, hold the bairn, repeat a few words after him, and that’s it.”

He watched her grimace through a particularly knotty tangle.

“I know that,” she said after a moment. “Only, it’s been years since I’ve been to a baptism – and I don’t know whether things are done differently here, or whether you’re expected to do different things from me, or – ” She huffed, shifting the candle on the end table so that she had better light.

“I dinna think so,” he remarked. Absently his finger traced up and down Brianna’s tender back. She was so tiny, but wonderfully solid.

“I suppose we’ll answer the priest together – one voice, ye ken. Ye’ll mind the Latin words?”

“One voice? Since when has that ever been true for us?”

Laying down her comb, Claire turned around on the stool to face him. Her curls had exploded around her head as her hair dried – and now that all the tangles were out, she felt cleaner than she had in months.

And she knew that – lit from behind by the single candle – the volume of her hair, the deep neck of her shift, and the lateness of the hour would be a potent combination for Jamie.

She smiled as the long column of his throat swallowed hard.

“Ye are so lovely, Claire.” His voice rasped, softly.“Ye’ll be the bonniest mother to ever stand for her bairn in front of God and family.”

Motherhood and God – not exactly the reaction she’d hoped for. Still, the reverence in his voice kindled a small, warm glow within her.

“I’m glad you still think me bonnie, then – now that I’m somebody’s mother.”

With a glance down at Brianna, Jamie extended his free hand to Claire. She rose, took it, and settled against him on the bed. Eyes just a few inches from Brianna’s sleeping face, she rested her hand atop Jamie’s, cradling their daughter.

“Do you think she dreams?”

He kissed the crown of her head. “I shouldna know of what – she eats and sleeps, mostly. And smiles, but that’s just for her da.”

“She’s so easy with you, Jamie. Much more so than Ian, or Murtagh even.” Her mind flashed to the first time Murtagh had held Brianna – she couldn’t tell who had been more terrified.

“Ah, weel – I’m the only man in her life who doesna have hair covering most of his face, ken. Maybe that’s it.”

His lips settled on her forehead, and held them there for a long while.

“I was thinking today,” he said at length.

“A dangerous thing, that.”

He hummed, and she felt his smile.

“Perhaps it’s only because we’ll be seeing a priest in the morning – but I was thinking of when we wed.”

Claire smiled and, turning her face, kissed the side of his neck.

“Oh?”

“No, not that part – though God knows it’s always near the top of my mind.  I was thinking about – vows.”

His right hand snaked down her arm, tracing the spot at her wrist where her blood had once mingled with his.

“I ken that at the time, I didna truly understand what I vowed to you. But now, a nighean – now I know they’re no just pretty words. Now it’s actually come to pass.”

“Richer or poorer? Sickness and health? I’d say,” she smiled.

His thumb twisted her iron ring thoughtfully.

“No, not those ones. Weel, yes, I suppose – but I was thinking of the others.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Tell me?”

He straightened against the pillows. “Blood of my blood – bone of my bone.” He swallowed. “That’s Brianna, Sassenach. Your blood and mine – your bone and mine.”

Claire’s heart stuttered. She pulled back to meet his eyes. “Jamie, I – ”

His eyes swam with unshed tears. “I gave ye my body – and you gave me yours. And now we two are one, in her.”

A long moment passed. Her heart raced – she saw its counterpoint in the rapid pulse on Jamie’s neck. Slowly, gently, she drew his forehead to hers.

“I have never loved you more than at this moment,” she whispered. “It’s – I – Jamie – ”

“Oh, Claire. My love. I know.”

“She willna eat?” Jamie crouched, naked, in front of the fireplace, stoking the flames to wakefulness.

“Poor thing can’t seem to make up her mind,” Claire sighed, wearily swaying back and forth before the window, a fussy Brianna tucked against her shoulder.

“It’s completely frosted over again,” she remarked, tracing one finger along a frost pattern on the windowpane. “I can barely see the dooryard.”

Jamie rose and settled behind Claire, kissing Brianna’s brow. Her small eyes were finally starting to drowse. “It is nearly Hogmanay. But it’s colder than usual, aye.”

He paused, deliberating.

Slowly, slowly, Jamie sank his face into the curve of Claire’s neck, hands settling at her hips. He stepped closer, pressing his back to her front, lightly sucking her shoulder.

She melted against him. “Jamie-”

“Do ye know – it’s the longest we’ve gone wi’out lying together since we came back from France?” He kissed her shoulder languidly, thoughtfully. “I ken well that yer body is still not quite yer own again – but I mind what ye said to me last night, about being someone’s mother now.” Careful of Brianna on Claire’s shoulder, Jamie moved one hand to cup her breast, thumb teasing the tender nipple.

He smiled, feeling Claire’s breath hitch. “I find ye even more beautiful, even more desirable, now that ye’re someone’s mother. You created and bore life, mo nighean donn. Ye did so, and endured such a terrible ordeal, for me. How could I not love you, and desire you, even more?”

He rocked his hips slightly into the small of her back, seeking friction. Her face reflected in the window – eyes closed, mouth open, deep breaths - was the picture of desire.

But as much as he wanted her – and he wanted her badly – he wanted, needed her to give the final yea or nay. “Is it too soon, Claire?” he whispered, nose buried in her hair. “Are you tender inside, still?”

She turned to face him – cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair all curling around her face. Slowly she smiled, took his hand, and led him to the bed, pausing only to quietly lay Brianna in her cradle.

Her skin glowed in the firelight. He cupped her breasts and gently kissed her forehead, clearly wanting to go slow. Greedily she pushed his mouth to hers, finding and sucking on his lower lip.

Gasping, she pulled back after a moment. His eyes were fire – as were hers.

“I can’t wait any longer, Jamie. I can’t. I want you. Just please, please be careful. I don’t know – ”

He swallowed her words, smiling, and eased her back onto the bed.

Ten honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy.

One: I say, “I am fat.” He says, “No, you are beautiful.” I wonder why I cannot be both. He kisses me. Hard.

Two: My college theater professor once told me that, despite my talent, I would never be cast as a romantic lead. We put on shows that involve flying children and singing animals, but apparently no one has enough willing suspension of disbelief to buy anyone loving a fat girl.

Three: On the mornings I do not feel pretty, while he is still asleep, I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive, for a punchline, for other girls’ phone numbers.

Four: When we hold hands in public, I wonder if he notices the stares — like he is handling a parade balloon down a crowded sidewalk. I wonder if he notices how my hands are made of rope.

Five: Dear Cosmo: Fuck you. I will not take your sex tips on how to please a man that you do not think my body will ever be worthy of.

Six: He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

Seven: I can cup his hip bones in palms of my hands, feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all, sip wine from his collarbones. He doesn’t believe me when I tell him he is beautiful. Sometimes I fear the day he does is the day he leaves.

Eight: The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop assumes we are just friends and flirts across the counter. I spend the next two weeks replacing my face with hers in all of our photographs. When I finally admit this, we spend the whole night taking new pictures. He will not let me delete a single one.

Nine: The phrase “Big girls need love, too” can go die in a fire. Fucking me does not require an asterisk. Loving me is not a fetish. Finding me beautiful is not a novelty. I am not a novelty.

Ten: I say, “I am fat.” He says, “No. You are so much more” and kisses me. Hard.

Annabeth Chase Appearance Headcanons
  • long, oval face
  • thin lips
  • really large eyes, usually really bright. they sparkle when she gets happy and get really dull when she’s upset about something. completely and totally gray like there are no bluish or greenish tones at all.
  • she’s not that tall just like taller than average, like 5′7″ ish
  • she’s not that tan either, her skin is just like really healthy looking and it kinda glows. pretty warm skintone for a white person, but not at all orange-y
  • lean, very straight body type. narrow hips and narrow shoulders. muscular, small breasts
  • legs like DAMN SON
  • super light freckles on her nose
  • light brown eyebrows and dark brown eyelashes
  • her hair is natural, so it’s pretty sandy, but it gets golden highlights in the sun
  • her hair is really more wavy than it is curly, like it’s usually wavy but it curls at the tips
  • for some reason i picture her with a ponytail like 99% of the time even when it explicitly says she has it down; she keeps an elastic on her wrist at all times because she needs it out of her face when she’s thinking or working (and also when she’s doing physical stuff because duh)
  • she looks especially stunning with her hair up because some loose curls always fall out, and all she really needs to do to make it look beautiful is run her fingers through it and then throw it in a ponytail
  • small feet and long fingers
  • her hair has a lot of volume so it looks a lot fuller than it actually is, but there really isn’t all that much of it
  • she looks amazing in white. she also looks really good in oranges, greens, and soft yellows, and navy, but mostly white
  • super cute little button nose

anonymous asked: Imagine Jamie reassuring Claire as she becomes insecure about her body whilst pregnant.

Mod Gotham’s note: We mods will be taking turns writing our own replies to this prompt, in different AU scenarios (some new, some familiar to you). First up is something from the Modern Glasgow AU…more to come from my lovely fellow mods…

—————————————-

Before (three days after meeting)

“Hush,” he said softly. Gently he ground his pelvis into hers. She gasped against his lips, holding him tight, wanting to give him everything.

“Will you still want me when I’m fat and pregnant?” she whispered into his ear.

He groaned. “Ye canna say those things to me,” he whispered. “I think I’ll want ye even more, when I see ye all swollen wi’ my child.”

He drew back and butted his nose against hers. “So I’ll want to keep ye pregnant as much as I can, aye?”

She stole a kiss and bit his lower lip. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Jamie.”

He rolled off her but kept his arms locked around her side, their legs tangled together, cupping her belly. “I canna wait to feel a bairn move inside ye.”

—–

During (three years after meeting)

Jamie quietly shut the door, slipped off his boots, hung his coat on a peg, and padded across the living room to the open kitchen - mindful of Claire, head bent, four textbooks and three notebooks haphazardly strewn across the dining table. Her feet were propped up on the other chair, clad in the soft tartan socks Jenny had sent for Christmas. Her hands rested on the swell of her belly, flipping through the flashcards he’d made last week.

He pulled the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator, stepped over to kiss Claire’s head, and eased into the chair across from her, gently placing her feet in his lap, caressing the tender arches. “Have ye memorized the names and places of all those tendons and bones yet?”

She lay down the pack of flash cards and sighed in bliss. “The metacarpal is connected to the metatarsal, which -”

“Ach, so ye’ve got it then.” He grinned as her toes curled against his steady hands, seeking more. “And how’s the wee bannock?”

Claire set the flash cards on the table and caressed her sweatshirt-covered bump. The flash of his Mam’s wedding ring caught his eye as he watched how Claire’s hands - spread wide - could no longer cup the entire swell.

“We’re good. A bit active today. And very hungry. I swear I’ve eaten half a loaf of bread and an entire block of cheese.”

“That’s normal, aye?”

She sighed again - not in pleasure this time, but resignation. “Yes. I just hate how much weight I’m gaining. Not to mention all the water I’m retaining. Can’t you feel that?”

Jamie met her gaze squarely. “It’s all for the bairn - so ye shouldna mind. I don’t, one bit. You are so beautiful to me, Claire.”

She shook her head, and shifted her foot in his lap, brushing against his groin, and - oh.

Warmth - emotional and physical - flushed through her body. “Oh,” she remarked with feigned casualness, one eyebrow arched.

Jamie grinned wolfishly and resumed his ministrations. “I did promise ye honesty, aye?”

—–

After (five years after meeting)

“She willna eat?”

“Poor thing can’t seem to make up her mind,” Claire sighed, wearily swaying back and forth before the window, a fussy Brianna tucked against her shoulder.

Jamie rose and settled behind Claire, kissing Brianna’s brow. Her small eyes were finally starting to drowse. He paused, deliberating, and slowly sank his face into the curve of Claire’s neck, hands settling at her hips. He stepped closer, pressing his back to her front, lightly sucking her shoulder.

She melted against him. “Jamie-”

“Do ye know – it’s the longest we’ve gone wi’out lying together since we wed?” He kissed her shoulder languidly, thoughtfully. “I ken well that yer body is still not quite yer own again – but I mind what ye said to me last night, about being someone’s mother now.” Careful of Brianna on Claire’s shoulder, Jamie moved one hand to cup her breast, thumb teasing the tender nipple.

He smiled, feeling Claire’s breath hitch. “I find ye even more beautiful, even more desirable, now that ye’re someone’s mother. You created and bore life, mo nighean donn. Ye did so, and endured such a terrible ordeal, for me. How could I not love you, and desire you, even more?”

He rocked his hips slightly into the small of her back, seeking friction. Her face reflected in the window – eyes closed, mouth open, deep breaths - was the picture of desire.

But as much as he wanted her – and he wanted her badly – he wanted, needed her to give the final yea or nay. “Is it too soon, Claire?” he whispered, nose buried in her hair. “Are you tender inside, still?”

She turned to face him – cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair all curling around her face. Slowly she smiled, took his hand, and led him to the bed, pausing only to quietly lay Brianna in her bassinet.

Her skin glowed in the firelight. He cupped her breasts and gently kissed her forehead, clearly wanting to go slow. Greedily she pullled his mouth to hers, finding and sucking on his lower lip.

Gasping, she pulled back after a moment. His eyes were fire – as were hers.

“I can’t wait any longer, Jamie. I can’t. I want you. Just please, please be careful. I don’t know – ”

He swallowed her words, smiling, and eased her back onto the bed.

I feel like I have so many metas I want to write after that episode (which I absolutely loved btw), but I am currently obsessed with one particular line - so much so that I felt the need to write about it while I really should be doing other things.

This is the line that haunts me: “You always were a sucker for a breakfast nook”. Umm…show? I’m going to need more information about this. How often did Daisy listen to Jemma chatting about breakfast nooks?? How many hours did Jemma spend on the Bus describing her perfect home to Daisy in minute detail? Is Daisy now intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of the Perthshire cottage as it is in Jemma’s head? Did she smirk to herself when she realised that Fitz was an inherent part of this idyllic fantasy as well, and that it hadn’t occurred to Jemma that it’s not usual to picture yourself settling down for life with your best friend instead of some vaguely imagined future spouse?? Did she chuckle at the notiong of the double vanity sinks because let’s face it, Fitz is messy, and love of Jemma’s life he might be, but a girl needs space for her morning beauty routine, so a sink is the one thing she’s not willing to share. Listen show, I know you’ve got a lot going on right now, with ghosts and robots and possessed guys with flaming heads, but it is absolutely imperative that I get some more scenes of Jemma discussing her decor plans with Daisy, and Daisy not really caring one way or the other about breakfast nooks and bay windows because she has a world to save, but happy to listen anyway, because it’s wonderful to see her friend so happy.

I just love the juxtaposition of these two women and the paths that they are on, and how they intersect with each other. On the one hand you have Daisy who spent her whole life looking for her family and her purpose and her destiny, and is still lost because she thought she found it and then everything went to hell, but she’s out there saving the world anyway, because she might not know who she is anymore, but that’s what she does. And then Jemma, who has always known who her family was and what her purpose and her destiny was - she always wanted to be a scientist, and she wanted to work for Shield and use science to save the world, and she always wanted to settle down in Perthshire with Fitz. And she always wanted a breakfast nook. And here she is achieving all those goals, working away diligently at them all - with her big bag and designer workwear and serious ponytail, and her subordinates she can order around - even after having lost everything and clawing her way back and fighting for her dreams.

What Daisy and Jemma have in common is a desire to help, a desire to protect, a desire to keep people safe, and that, I think, is what they understand about each other, what they connect to in each other. Jemma has big dreams concerning her own future and her personal life, and Daisy knows all about those dreams, she’s obviously listened to them. I don’t know if Daisy has dreams of her own, I don’t think she’s ever let herself dream too much. She’s experienced too much loss and disappointment to dream, but she gets fulfilment out of focusing on the task at hand - fighting evil in all its forms and making the world a better place. It’s in Daisy’s nature to take on the world, it’s not in Jemma’s. She prefers order and diplomacy to the way of the warrior - she’ll only indulge in bad girl shenanigans when someone needs her help. Daisy takes the path of the hero, she was born to it, but Jemma seeks a quieter life, where she can help (that’s her purpose, that’s all she’s ever wanted to do - ‘I’m just trying to help”/ “I just want to help our friends”) but still have things for herself - Fitz and science and the perfect home and a life together. And a breakfast nook of course. And Daisy listened and Daisy needed Jemma’s help in taking on the world and so Daisy got Jemma her breakfast nook, even though she has nothing left herself. And I’m just feeling a lot of things about that.

It’s been 84 years...

But finally I got my RinHaru Mook!

And maybe I’m a little late to the party but I really want to share how perfect this mook is:

I’d never bought an official item like this one before, and I wish everyone could have gotten hold of one, because now that I have it in my hands I can say that IT’S NOT THE SAME just seeing scans here on tumblr, it’s just… not the same.

There’re a lot of details I haven’t noticed like the little scales Harus has in his face and shoulder (maybe I was just blind):

Or that the frames, the dolphin, the shark, and other details on the cover and the back are made with metallic tape (or smth similar) which makes it look more elegant:

And Haru’s face in the bite scene is more lewd now that I see it closely lol (I still can’t get over it not sorry):

And of course I can’t forget the beautiful bracelet, it’s so well made, delicate and detailed, like the dolphin and shark have stars for eyes:

So basically I’m just really happy to have it and I need to thank fencer-x for giving us the chance to buy it through her, and her hard work at ordering and shipping so many xD

I’ll let more pictures under the cut because it’s never enough:

Keep reading

Hide Away Part I: Abbie

For one week, Abbie and Crane have to pretend they are married and madly in love… oh, we all know what happens next. A completely AU Ichabbie fic using the wonderful and ridiculous trope of having to go undercover as a married couple. A very wealthy married couple. 

Written as a late birthday present for @sleepymr who didn’t bother to tell me it was her birthday until after the fact. Happy Belated Birthday! I hope I finish this before your next birthday!


Part I: Abbie

“Seriously, sir?”

“Seriously, Mills.”

“No, listen… Danny… you have got to be kidding me,” she said with a nervous chuckle, but there wasn’t that drop in the pitch of his voice as he had told her what her next assignment was going to be. He wasn’t lying. “Undercover? And with Crane? You know he’s just a civilian, right?”

Keep reading

Damnit! S/C smutty, smut-filled, smut-fic

I was going to write a short one. Why can I not write a short one? Sigh. It’s 1am and I’ve been up since 5 am and I’ve written my longest SC fic to date. Screw you Sam and Cait and your beautiful love and beautiful bodies. Screw you for not releasing a sex tape worthy of the Kama Sutra. 

I also blame @thatwetwomaybeoneagain

While Sam and Cait are busy getting it on in hot, sweaty bed sheets this morning….Sam is going to have no energy for the marathon…I leave you with this… G’night.



Inspired by….

…..and also completely inspired by my real life perviness….Although a trip to Big Sur is better than the Montreal trip I was actually on….


Audi - Model SCSEX


Sam’s POV

Sleek. Sexy. Fast. And with curves in all the right places. My hands travelled over her beautiful body, so hard under my palm. I could feel the heat radiating off her.

Keep reading