Prompt: Do you think you could do one of the Weasley boys x reader? Preferably Ron or one of the twins. There’s like no fics for them lol. Maybe smutty? Thanks ❤❤ P.S. Your writing is so hecking good !!!! (ft. Daddy kink x reader)
A/N: this is good smut, pure smut. You’re welcome. No honestly, my electricity went out while writing this. I AM SWEATING x10 right now.
Warnings: RATED M SMUT. Oral, daddy kink, dirty talk, etc.
The burrow sat empty as Y/N dangled her legs over the side of a fat brown couch. The dishes had stopped washing, the house had stopped breathing, and it seemed almost like the place had been abandoned in a way. The Weasleys had trusted her to house-sit whilst they were shopping for Ron’s and Ginny’s school supplies (as Y/N had already finished hers last week).
But perhaps the girl had gotten too comfortable when she slipped a hand under her skirt, toying with herself as heat flooded through her curvy frame. She welcomed the sensation, rolling her hips against her own hand, quietly pleasing herself. She purred as she moved her hand deftly, working at her sensitive nub
A lifetime of spiritual training under Mondatta himself could not have prepared Genji for this war he’d been waging. The terms were amicable, no physical violence, no underhanded tactics. Each side fought for their greatest love, neither party relenting. The cyborg was determined to conquer and reign supreme. His sworn enemy responded with cool indifference, imagined wrath hidden under a fluffy exterior. Of course it was no surprise Genji was crouched behind your loveseat, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Oh God… What are you up to now?” Genji was vigilant. Not a muscle moved without purpose. “Can’t we just watch the movie without you getting all weird about Mr. Whiskers?” He looked at you, considering the proposal briefly before slithering to the left side of the couch.
“Dearest, nothing about this is weird. Great men have fought greater battles in the name of love.” He peeked over the arm rest. The target was a black cat with emerald green eyes. It looked lazily at the cyborg mask spying from behind a throw pillow. Genji scowled. “Go ahead and start the movie. The end is nigh.” You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the right side cushion. Mr. Whiskers meowed approvingly and stretched his paws, claws extending in the most benign way conceivable. “The fiend reveals his weapons!”
“Yeah. Sure. So am I eating all this popcorn by myself?” Genji made a horrified gasp, “My love please! You know I love popcorn…” God he was adorable when he wanted to be. You watched him affectionately. He sat on the armrest and tried to slide onto the cushion beside you. The cat naturally oblidged and took up his space on your lap. Genji puffed up with pride, charging rapidly towards the fall. “Wonderful. Glad you could make it. Now take the cat while I grab something to drink.”
You put the cat directly in Genji’s lap and the reason for these antics was clear. The ninja cyborg had a fear of cats! He stiffened up, arms tight to his sides, craning his neck as far from your beloved pet as possible. He tried to ask you to hurry but all that came out was a strangled groan. Mr. Whiskers licked at the metallic chestplate absentmindedly. You laughed wickedly from the kitchen. Why not enjoy having control while it lasted? Genji would have his time later on tonight.
“Darlin’ you know I love you, but if that cat doesn’t stop hissin’ we’re gonna have a big problemo.” As if she heard the vulgar cowboy, Cruella snarled in defiance. An aptly named black and white American long hair was primed to attack. Jesse blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. “I ain’t done nothin’ to it! Why’s it hate me so darn much? And why won’t you lock it in the bedroom when I come over?” You frantically tried to soothe both beasts in the room. Words of comfort were cooed to the cat. She looked up at you as if to warn you of what was coming.
“I’m not locking my cat in the bedroom. She was here before you.” McCree chewed angrily on his cigar, obviously hurt by that remark. You placed yourself between the two and wrapped your arms around him. He did not return the favor. “C'mon baby! I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.” You kissed his cheek, neck, collarbone, and back up to those taut lips. He seemed to soften under your touch.
“I’m not tryin’ to make you choose. For all I know you’d pick the damn cat. I just want to spend time with you without worrying about my eyes getting clawed out. Is that too much for a man to ask?” Cruella certainly thought so. She was having none of this canoodling and began to pace back and forth around your feet. You tried to shoo her away to no avail. McCree cursed and pulled away from your embrace. “Listen, why don’t you get this figured out and call me later? I’m heading home.”
The cat sat smugly at your feet and watched him walk through the kitchen door. “Jesse please don’t go! I love you! We haven’t seen each other in a week. Stay with me?” He heaved a great sigh before pulling a chair out from the table and sitting. “Fine. But I will not be caught dead in the same room as that mangy animal.” You frowned, growing tired of all this drama. “If you’re going to pout like that then fine. I’ll put the cat in the bedroom. But you’d better fuck me in every other room of this house I swear to God. I won’t hear another word about it!” The cowboy looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “I’m not one to let a lady down. I just hope you know what you’re gettin’ yourself into.”
Hanzo was never one to complain. Not even when his time with you was being hampered by an emotionally distraught kitten. The little thing had just been adopted from the shelter and couldn’t stand being away from you. Tonight was date night and you’d cooked a delicious meal for your man. Conversation was difficult, however, with incessant mewling from under the table. The nameless kitten pawed at your leg. Hanzo watched with feigned disinterest as you picked up the furball and held it to your chest.
“I’m sorry hun. Maybe he’s hungry too. Let me just fill his bowl.” Hanzo tightened his grip on the fork and took a long swig of wine. Once the kitten was distracted by fresh food, you returned to your seat at the dinner table. “Is there something wrong?” The archer shook his head curtly. “No. Nothing at all. Thank you for this romantic evening.” You could always tell he was lying when he strung more than three words together. “Hanzo,” you inquired, “Are you being honest with me?” Rhetorical, of course. He stared hard into his place, considering how to respond.
“It is difficult for me to leave Overwatch and visit you. I do not appreciate being second best to a cat. If that is how you feel, I will–”
“You are the most important thing in the world to me. I love you more than words can express. I’m sorry the kitten is so needy but… Is it really bothering you so much?” He seemed to recoil in shame. “You will always be my first priority, Hanzo. I need you to know that.” It amazed you that a man so cool and confident in the heat of battle could be shaken by a cute little kitten. A small chuckle broke the tension that had formed. “Why don’t you help me pick a name for him? That way he’s your cat too!”
Hanzo seemed confused but eager. “Tora is a fitting title. He will grow to be your guardian. A mighty tiger for my princess.” And then the impossible happened. Tora, now full of food, pattered over to the stoic man and rubbed up against his leg. Hanzo reached down and cradled the baby in his arms. “Tora indeed.”
A/N: Flood warning. This is long but worth it. Rating: M
The door closed with a click as Spencer turned and pressed it past the latch point. The day had been long and stressful but he was more restless than tired in that moment, hoping for at least some warm affection from the one he loved. As he turned, he looked around the living room of their apartment, wondering just where she was. He’d text her before he set off to let her know he’d be home and she’d said that she had something for him but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Sit down, babe,” came a voice from the bedroom. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
Without questioning it, Spencer moved over to the sofas, dropping his satchel by the door as he went. Stepping in front of his usual seat, he sat facing away from the bedroom, wondering just what it was that she’d had in mind. There were a few things he had in mind but after previous discussions, he feared it would never happen. The sound of the bedroom door almost made him turn around but he resisted, feeling lazy more than he was curious. It wasn’t till he saw her that all of the day’s frustrations slipped from his mind.
Y/N stepped in front of him as he sat in the armchair, wearing nothing but the pendant that he’d bought her for her Birthday. A look of pleasant surprise spread across his face as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him.
“Wh… what are you doing?” he asked as she sat on her heels, looking down away from him.
“Well, after we talked the other day, I thought more about it and… I thought that I should maybe try it before I dismiss it,” she explained
“You mean… you want to?” he asked, to which she nodded, holding her hands together behind her back. “And where did you learn this?”
“I may have looked some things up, and it turns out that there’s a lot more to this than just… kink.”
Spencer sat forward, looking at the gift that had all but landed in his lap as she offered herself to him in such a way. Touching the soft skin of her cheek then letting his fingers slide down under her chin, he tipped her head up so that her eyes slowly met his.
“I promise, if there is anything you don’t like, I will stop. Just say you don’t like it and that’s it, it stops,” he explained, pursing his lips before letting his tongue slip between them to moisten them. When she didn’t respond, he realised just how much she’d been reading. “Do you understand?”
“I do… sir,” she said softly, hesitating on the last word as if she was unsure it was what he wanted but when his smile broadened she knew it was the right thing to do.
“Stand up,” he instructed, sitting back a little to allow her to rise. Y/N did exactly as asked, rising to her feet slowly but keeping her hand together at the base of her spine. It slowly sank in that her naked form in front of him was about to be completely his to control. Spencer stood up with her, holding out his hand so that she would take it.
The moment her hand slipped into his, he stepped to the side and led her back to the bedroom, pausing briefly by the door to pick up his satchel. Pushing through the doorway with his shoulder, he led them through the threshold and toward their bed. Spencer had consciously decided a long time ago that he wanted a four poster bed and as they stepped into their bedroom he realised why. Turning, he placed a gentle hand on her hip, guiding her to stand by the end of the bed.
Y/N looked nervous, even though she’d been looking into what he might want of her, she still didn’t know just where he’d take her. The embarrassment of being stood so naked, so exposed, so vulnerable made her cheeks turn red but at the same time, his demeanour made her feel like even in her nakedness, she was beautiful. Was that the point? To make the person who submitted themselves feel like this rather than just to please the person they were submitting to?
“Give me your hands,” came the next instruction and she obeyed, moving her hands from behind her back and offering them to him but rather than taking them, he leaned down to his satchel. Y/N watched with curiosity but kept her hands where they were till finally his intentions were revealed. Something shiny caught her attention as it slipped from the bag, but it wasn’t till the cold steel met her wrist that she realised what it was. The ratchet of the cuff clicked around as it enclosed the joint till it was small enough to restrain her hand within the gap.
There was a flicker of fear as he raised her hands to the crossbar of the four poster, reaching the chain of the cuffs over the bar before applying the other cuff to her remaining free wrist. Now, she was even more exposed than she had been, even more vulnerable without her arms or hands to cover her body if she needed them. With her arms up high and her shoulders back, her breasts were pushed out with the arch of her back, her sides were bare and open to anything he might have had in mind but her legs remained together as the one piece of protection she had for herself.
As Spencer’s hands trailed back down her arms a hand brushed her cheek before his fingertips moved over her breasts. The feeling sent a shiver through her as her skin was set on edge, both in enjoyment of the sensuality and nerves. His fingers continued down her body, moving down her stomach and to her hipbone before moving across her pubic area. The closeness had started to push the nerves out of her mind as his nails dragged softly.
The feel of her soft, smooth, warm flesh under his fingers set him off, so much so that he could feel his excitement rising within his pants. This was possibly the greatest gift he’d ever been given and though he was outwardly stern, he couldn’t help but feel joyously connected to her in the most intimate way which, to him, was the whole point.
“Would you like pleasure?” he asked with a voice of confidence she’d not heard before.
“Mhmm,” replied Y/N, nodding lightly before letting out a gasp as a single finger slipped between her lips to tease, circling leisurely.
Spencer’s grin was somewhat disturbing as he watched her struggle against the restraint, her hands instinctively wanting to feel him or at least, her own body. What started as a gasp became a steady whimper as he continued to move with increasing pressure and pace. Y/N’s body was just starting to get into the rhythm of the motions when, suddenly, they ceased.
Spencer had stepped away from her, leaving her trapped and alone at the end of the bed as he walked around the side toward the dresser. Craning her head, she tried to see what he was but from her position she just couldn’t, all she could do was listen to the sound of him opening a drawer then closing it again.
The footsteps came back toward her and she let her eyes fall again, not looking to him till he stood right in front of her. In one hand was a bottle of clear fluid and in the other was the toy she usually kept in the drawer of her nightstand. Surprise spread across her face once again as she looked up to him, not fully knowing what he had in mind but the thoughts of what it could be made her weak at the knees.
Taking a step toward her, he placed the items down, freeing his hands to remove his shirt. Two eyes burned into her as she looked back at him, searching his eyes for a clue as to what was next. Once he was free of his shirt, Spencer picked up the toy that he’d brought to her, kneeling in front of her and staring in to the gap between her thighs.
“Open your legs,” he commanded, and she obeyed, shuffling her feet apart as he pressed the toy against her inner thigh. It was a little cold on her hot skin as it traced upward with the most gradual of paces. The anticipation was enough to cause her to breathe in a laboured manner, waiting to feel the bliss once more but he prolonged each moment with complete control, teasing one side then the other before circling her, wetting the tip of the toy with her own moisture.
“Mmmm,” she hummed as he positioned the toy, slowly sliding it upward, letting her take it in a little at a time. The feeling caused her to close her eyes, letting her head roll back as she hung by her wrists. The pinch of the steel reminded her of her restraint while the steady motion of the toy sent gradual waves through her.
It was her bliss he craved, the thing he wanted most was to hear her enjoying his work, to know that it was him that gave her so much pleasure. In the end, it was her pleasure that gave him pleasure. It was her getting off on him that would get him off.
Without warning, she felt his lips press against her stomach as they began to kiss their way down toward her. The closer he got the more she held her breath, waiting for the inevitable feel of his tongue as it slipped between her lips and pressed against her pleasure point.
The intensity caused her to cry out a little but the more she whimpered and moaned the deeper he pushed the toy and the harder and faster he pressed his tongue. But what about him? Surely, this was only serving her? Looking down, she realised that his free hand was wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping along with the motions as he got off on her restrained pleasure.
Y/N’s moaning and groaning and writhing had been too much to watch without touching himself, like living pornography right in front of him. He needed her to feel so much more before he could join her but he was unable to hold onto his internal restraint.
Heat started to build from deep inside her as she felt the first orgasm start to build. The deepening toy and the feel of his mouth were such intense feelings that it rushed forward so fast she was barely able to contain her moaning.
“Come for me,” he demanded in a low and powerful voice, looking up to her before he spoke again. “I want you to come, Y/N”
Spencer didn’t have to ask twice because the moment his lips hit her again the feeling of bliss exploded violently through her, causing her to writhe against him and against her restraints so much that she had to hold onto the crossbar to stop the cuffs from hurting her.
As her body calmed from the powerful orgasm, he released her from his mouth but left the toy inside her, letting her inner muscles tighten and loosen against it. Her world was spinning and her senses were on fire as she came down from bliss, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the sound of a cap snapping shut. Looking down to him again, she realised that he had spread some of the clear fluid onto his hand and was now rubbing it into the length of his hardened shaft.
Spencer stood up in front of her, letting his pants stay down by his ankles and exposing the rest of himself. Y/N wanted to ask what he wanted her to do but he was already preparing whatever it was as his hand moved to her behind and his fingers slipped in between her cheeks. The fluid was cold and slippery as his fingers spread it around her much smaller hole before pushing in just a little.
The feeling of his finger sent yet another shiver through her, realising just what he wanted to do next. It wasn’t something she was a complete stranger to so she had no objections, she’d just never expected him to want it. As the finger deepened, her breath shuddered. Y/N could feel his freshly lubed cock press against her stomach and his breath against her neck as he leaned over her shoulder.
The next finger was a little less comfortable, causing her to wince a little but still, she didn’t object, leaving him to continue. Sliding his fingers in and out gradually, a hand reached up to insert the key into the handcuffs, finally freeing her from her restraint.
It was time. Spencer had become so unbearably hard that it was almost painful not to be inside her. Y/N’s body, her enjoyment of him had teased him to the point of almost desperate need rather than just lustful want.
Y/N didn’t even have time to appreciate the freedom as she was spun around and a hand pressed her back, forcing her over. Spencer had pressed himself in behind her, forcing her to lean against one of the corner posts as his fingers slipped from inside her, leaving just the toy in her. Grabbing hold of one of her hands, guided it to the end of the protruding toy and wordlessly urging her to use it on herself. As she began moving the toy inside herself, he carefully positioned himself behind her, adjusting his footing to gain the correct height.
The tip of his cock felt much bigger against a much smaller hole and for the first push Y/N was glad of the lubricant he’d applied, wincing heavily as the uncomfortable feeling passed through and deep inside her from behind.
The tightness made him gasp lightly as he slowly pulled out a little before pushing back in gently. The feel of both his cock and the toy sliding into each orifice was very strange at first but once the discomfort had passed for them both and he was able to push into her as normal it stopped feeling strange and just felt good. So good. Feeling the motion of her toy inside her so close to his cock added to the tightness around him, making it so tight that he was sure he’d barely be able to last his entire plan.
Spencer reached around her again, taking over with the toy as he was finally in his rhythm. Y/N had to hold onto the corner post with both hands to steady herself, moaning loudly with each deepening penetration. A hand crept up her back, taking hold of some of her hair and gripping it lightly, giving him a little more leverage so that he could push himself even deeper into her ass. The wrist of the hand that controlled the toy started to purposefully but lightly slap against her, aiding in her pleasure.
“Oh shit…” she exclaimed but the profanity was met with a sharp stinging hand against on of her ass cheeks, causing her to whimper but still without objection. The sting only served to add to her enjoyment, rather than actually hurting. Y/N’s knees began to weaken again as her next orgasm started to build, with all of the intense pleasures occurring from so many directions.
“You do not have permission to come yet,” he threatened as her body began to tense and all she could do was whimper and concentrate hard on pushing the feeling deep down. Her nails dug heavily into the wood of the post in an attempt redirect what she was feeling but the longer he continued to thrust into hard into her with both his length and the length of the toy, the harder it became to hold it back. With each outward breath came a heavy whimper as her whole body shook, trying to hold on till finally he gave permission.
“Come,” he ordered. “Come now and scream for me.”
There was no pause as she released all of the energy letting the extraordinary high buzz through her, causing her to cry out loudly.
“Oh my God, Spencer… oh… Hmmmm…. Hmmmm….” she moaned, unable to do anything about the convulsions that took hold of her but like last time, there was no reprieve. Without any warning, everything was pulled from inside her and she was spun back around. Her second orgasm had been so intense that it had brought him to the very edge, leaving him very little time to maneuver her to where he wanted to finish.
“On your knees,” he demanded, pushing her down with his hand as the other wrapped itself around his cock once more. “Give me your mouth.”
Without question, she opened her mouth and leaned forward to take the tip of him in it, fully aware of where it had just been. Moments later, Spencer released a long, throaty moan, his entire body jerked as her mouth was filled with hot, sticky, salty fluid. Not wanting to disappoint him, she swallowed every drop before wrapping a hand around his shaft to milk it for more, lapping up anything that emerged.
With both of them feeling weakened, Spencer fell to his knees beside her, having used her body for his needs. He took hold of her and pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up in his arms to protect her and care for her. Y/N shivered in his arms, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable yet again but the loving warmth of him spread into her and she curled into him, giving herself up in a much different way.
That was the part that he loved the most.
Tucking his hair behind his ear, he looked down to her shivering, naked form and felt closer to her than he ever had. In that moment, she truly needed him to be gentle, so that’s exactly what he would be. Loving, kind, gentle, a complete contrast to the Spencer that had taken her so roughly only minutes ago.
Carlisle Cullen imagine requested by anon. “I have a request if you’re still taking any. Imagine being Carlisle’s slightly younger human mate and him finding a pros/cons list of becoming a vampire that you wrote and the only pro you’ve written is him.
” Hope you like it!
You held your face in your hands, peering through immobile fingers at the thick parchment paper before you. Inkblots tore words into the untouched, newly fallen snow, casting doubt in deep shadows across the page. Your mind was a moonless night; there was nowhere you could turn that would provide a sufficient amount of guidance. You were entirely on your own in this. A personal decision as well as a necessity. He couldn’t know. If not for him, you would never have considered this. It was a truth he would face with great difficulty if it were to come to light. He mustn’t know of your fear, the gripping terror that clutched at your every heart string, snipping away all sanity when you stared into the void of your future. The slightest doubt would be enough to halt preparations; you weren’t entirely sure how that made you feel. There was a creeping sense of doom lingering in the air, and you couldn’t place it to either extreme you were considering. On the one hand, there lay a promise over the hilltop, the concrete foundation of forever… on the other hand, your life would alter only slightly. You would give nothing, but you would receive nothing. You could offer everything in exchange for one solitary gift in return. Were you content with your odds?
A tear struck the parchment in your hands, collecting the pigment from the ink you’d scratched into the paper, blurring your resolve further. Your mind was not yet old enough to decide on your future, and yet you were young enough to chase a vision of love into the darkness of your unknown fate. You had no doubt that it would be a safe… procedure, so to speak, but would it be worth it? You’d see Rosalie and Emmett, frozen forever at the peak of their physical beauty, and yet they would never find themselves surrounded by their family, their biological family, an outcome you had been raised to consider, at the very least. This could remain a possibility, or you could choose otherwise. It was all too much and yet it was exactly what you wanted out of life. To trade something as flimsy as an if or a maybe for the security of immortality seemed an uneven trade tipped in your favour, but there was still that part of you that fought for your mortal soul. You swiped at your lashes with trembling fingertips, collecting dewy moisture on your skin, blackened by the slick traces of ruined mascara. You stared downward at the list you’d made, the shaky line separating the pros and cons of joining Carlisle in immortal companionship.
On the wretched end of the spectrum, you had listed the stereotypical disadvantages of vampirism; the thirst, you’d heard, was the most dominant factor in the extended dawn of immortality. Rosalie had promised a lust for blood more powerful than even her love for Emmett, her love for her siblings, parents, for her memories. Jasper struggled with his thirst even after decades of self control. It was described as a white-hot iron rod scorching the insides of the throat until the smoldering flesh was satiated by the flow of crimson blood. There was, of course, the blood. Would you be able to hold tight to your family’s granite resolve? When would you falter? Because it was a matter of when, not if. When would you be responsible for unimaginable pain and suffering, for a family’s grief? Worse yet, would you enjoy yourself in the process of such devastating destruction? You trembled at the very thought. There was the pain. It was unavoidable. It was unimaginable. You chose not to linger too long on the agonizing transformation awaiting you, should you choose to change. There was the violence so ingrained in the nature of your family’s kind. You’d witnessed Jasper as he trained the rest of the Cullens in the art of severing marble heads from invincible spinal columns, on tearing the arms off of attackers. You’d seen the scars winding over his body like ribbons of puncture wounds, all crescent in shape, all from the teeth of the viscous. Then, there was the thought of your family, your very human family. How fragile they were, how within reach… you would have to leave. When you returned, they would be long dead. Were you ready to abandon them for the sake of love? Were you ready to forsake the warmth of sunlight? Were you able to condemn yourself to an eternity of night? Were you willing to conceal the vibrancy of your eyes, so different from your normal pigmentation? You ducked your head once more, stifling a sob as your teeth bit down on your lower lip. The softness you found there would be marred forever. Was it worth it?
Of course, you hadn’t heard him. He moved like clouds over the moon; always present, never audible. He was by your side in an instant, the frozen marble of his palm cradling your cheek, his thumbs smoothing the tracks of tears as they fell from your eyes. Crying, you would miss. Carlisle’s golden eyes bored into yours, his lips pursed in confused anxiety. Even crouched beside you, worry polluting the purity of his eyes, he was beautiful. Your knees scraped against the hardwood of the house’s flooring; you hadn’t even made it to your bed before collapsing in overwhelmed frustration. Carlisle, kneeling beside you, continued to assess your features. You tore your gaze from his, acid roiling in your stomach both at the thought of joining him in his unmoving beauty and in leaving him. It was not an immediate action you dreaded, of course, but in choosing your mortality, you were essentially choosing death over an eternity by the side of the man you loved so ardently. And yet, for all the love in the world, you still found yourself debating pros and cons. You froze, though not quite for completely as your lover, your hand twitching the list out f the doctor’s view. A silly gesture of self-preservation, you knew, for in moving, you had alerted him of the contents of your hand. His eyes flashes to your side, his head craning slightly, surely catching the corner of the paper. If he hadn’t seen it, he would have smelled the ink, especially as it was now mingling with the bitter saltwater of your tears. His hand inched, slowly, cautiously, towards your incriminating list. He mumbled a tender encouragement, attempting to coax the paper from your hand. You would not budge. When his fingers slid over your own, though, your palm could do nothing but unfurl. He had seen it. There was no use in hiding any longer. Carlisle lifted the parchment, his eyes scanning your columns, first the disadvantages, located on the left, his breath going silent as his eyes fell on the single word listed on the right.
“Y/n…” he began, his sweet tenor voice quieter than usual, as if he had forgotten how your human ears had to strain to hear so low a whisper. His head shook briefly, minutely, before he lifted his eyes to your face. “Is this how you perceive our immortality?” You couldn’t hold his stare, for more reasons than one. You could not bear to face any emotion that might have poked through the impenetrable facade glassing over his eyes. You could not read him in the moment, and you didn’t want to. The guilt ravaging your core was surely no comparison to the injury he must have been feeling. You felt, in that moment, that you had slandered his very being, his very existence, a miracle you were thankful for every waking minute of every day. Carlisle’s hand caressed your cheek, drawing your eye back to his. His face was kind, his features relaxed. “Darling, I would never force you to join me in this way. There is absolutely no rush. You’re in perfect health, you’re young… you’re still a few years younger than I, in a sense. You don’t need to decide now. We can wait,” he paused, his lips hinting at an oncoming smile, his eyes lifting towards the great windows of his home, turning his head to view the forest behind him. “As for you list, if you would allow me to… cast aside some of your fears…” he lifted an eyebrow, searching for permission to continue. You did not object. He stood, standing in his porcelain glory before you, his clothing as light as the interior of the home. He extended a hand towards you, helping you to your feet. He held you to his chest, inhaling the rich aroma clinging to your hair. “The sunlight is… tricky, of course, but not an impossibility.” As he spoke, the clouds, which had been thin throughout the day, allowed a stray ray of light, if dim, to pass through the veil. Carlisle’s hand, interlaced with your own, lifted to catch the beam. His skin sparkled like a faceted diamond, refracting light about the room. “See? Though obvious, we need not submit ourselves to eternal darkness. The sunlight is wonderful.” You closed your eyes, resting your cheek against the chiseled stone of his chest.
“What about the thirst? Rose said…” Carlisle sighed, smoothing over your hair with his unoccupied hand, a warm gesture, despite the bite of his frigid skin.
“The thirst is unavoidable, but easily quenched. Look around you. We are surrounded by forest on all sides. We are far enough from the town to allow even Emmett’s reckless hunting. In all our years in Forks, be it this era or the last, not a single one of us has been close enough to harm a human. Jasper faces great difficulty, you may know, but we remain secluded enough to hunt in peace. You would hardly pose a threat, regardless of our position.” His hand dropped yours, relocating instead to cradle both cheeks, tilting your head backwards, angling himself to you. He brought himself closer, as if to kiss you, but paused, his eyes close enough for you to notice the slow gradient of black to gold. He would need to hunt within the week. When he spoke then, his voice was barely audible, a mere breath upon your face. “If it is the pain you worry about, I can offer you no solace besides my company. I will not leave your side. I can promise you professionalism, I can promise you loyalty. I cannot soothe the venom’s agony, but I will be with you, if it is what you choose.” Your breathing was shallow as you stared into his eyes, his sincerity present in every feature of his glorious face. “And as for family… you’ve seen what Esme and I have done together. As my sister, we have adopted Alice and Jasper, Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, and I assume we will be adopting Bella very soon. Though it is not the traditional route, there is an immense satisfaction in surrounding ourselves with family. These are people we will never lose, never grieve. Children don’t have to come from the mortal body. They are just as much my children as any biological offspring would be. Darling,” he smiled softly, his eyes twinkling with adoration. “I love you. There is not a day that passes where you do not occupy my every thought. I never wish to be separated from you, but if you wish to remain human, I will respect your decision. I only care about you. Vampire or not.” You smiled, craning your neck to press your lips to his, his arms dropping to pull your waist to his body, securing you to him as his lips roamed yours freely. How simple, how achingly sweet this kiss was. Though he claimed he wouldn’t mind your mortality, the thought of losing him was surely tearing at his unbeating heart as wildly as it was at yours. As you kissed him, you were overwhelmed with the impossibility of parting from his side. More than warmth, more than control, more than love for a progressing future, you loved him. He was the deciding factor. He parted from your lips, a smile painting his breathtaking face. “If, however, I am enough to convince you to remain with me for the rest of our eternity, I would love nothing more than to spend that time with you.” You grinned, watching as the sun illuminated the hidden gemstones beneath Carlisle’s skin as his hand reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He was perfect. You would never see enough of him to satisfy your heart. You didn’t have to put a cap on your time together. You pressed your lips to his once more, this time briefly, pulling back before he had a chance to intensify his embrace.
“You’ve always been too good with your words,” at this, he laughed aloud, his teeth gleaming in the light of the bedroom. You reached upwards, tracing his lips with your fingertip, watching him turn his face when you drew too near the razors of his teeth. “I very much like the idea of forever with you.” He beamed, pressing a kiss to your palm before advancing towards your lips, his body cradling yours as the sunlight sparkled around you, wrapping you in warmth to contrast the chill of Carlisle’s skin.
Hey guys! I just finished writing this fic and after many attempts I hope to uplaod this. I hope you like it. It’s for @mel-chan366 because she’s super amazing and as a late Christmas present an @wontchangeforyou as a late birthday present ‘cause she’s v. nice too. Here we go, enjoy!
Title: Of Jumpers and New Years’ Kisses Pairing: Jercy Rating: Teen (I guess) Words: 1,399 Summary: Jason goes over to Percy’s house for Christmas and New Years, and Jason has an ugly jumper and Percy can’t help but comment.
“Oh hi, Jason nice to see you again. Happy Christmas Eve! Would you like to come in, Percy’s just in his room he’ll be out in a minute.” A soft feminine voice pulls Jason out of his thoughts. Jason looks up to see appreciative vivid blue eyes gazing at up at him. It was Percy’s mum - Sally.
“Oh uh, hi Mrs Blofis, happy Christmas Eve and how are you?” Jason says smiling twisting the bag strap on his shoulder.
getting ready for bed, you looked at the clock. It was still only 8:30, and you
didn’t know what to do for the rest of the night. You already went through the
entire process of getting ready for bed; you brushed your teeth, showered, and washed
your face, but all of that took a lot less time
than you expected, so you went to the living room where Junior was
reading a book.
Then strong arms tightened gently around me and I felt warm breath move across my forehead. I cried out and the arms gripped me hard in response. I grappled furiously to find his mouth in the dark. He was grappling for mine, too, and when we found one another, we disappeared into the warm dark; soft, urgent sounds floating up and surrounding us like a cloud of sweet smoke, hiding us, enclosing us.
He shifted and I was crying hard into the warm skin of his neck, my world shrunken to the hands holding me, the familiar scent of him, and the cracking question that forced its way out of my throat.
“It really happened?”
He wasn’t crying, but his voice shook. “Aye, mo chridhe, it wasna a dream. I’m really here.”
Not a dream.
After a time, I nodded hard and released him, trying to catch my breath, croaking, “Light?”
He sounded embarrassed. “I—how?”
“The—the lamp on the table by your elbow. Twist the little switch just under the shade.”
He rolled over and, after some fumbling and vain tries, turned the switch and flooded the room with light. I heard him mutter something wonderingly in Gaelic as he lay on his side craning his neck to peek under the shade, and I wondered for a moment how much (if anything) he had learned of electricity. I didn’t expend a lot of energy on this line of thought. I could see him now in full light for the first time. The scars on his back were clear as day, the graceful curve of his buttocks just peeking out from beneath the coverlet. I reached out a hand to touch him; then, needing more, I shifted myself and lay full against him, spoon-fashion. He made a small, tender sound deep in his throat and turned his head back over his shoulder as far as he could, holding the arm I’d brought around his chest. I pressed my cheek against his back, my tears slipping down and finding the criss-crossed tracks of his scars.
“When did we move to the bed?” I whispered, trying to find some banal topic that might allow me to regain my composure. Fat chance.
“Few hours ago. Ye didna try to fight me on it, thank God.” He rolled over to face me. Jesus bloody Christ, he was beautiful. Sunburned and lined, yes, but still my Jamie in every way. A fresh wave of emotion smote me and I covered my face, shaking violently.
Jamie, by contrast, sounded practically cheery. “Mind, I did try to stay in ye as long as possible, Sassenach. The spirit was willing, but the flesh….well, the flesh was verra cold and contrived a retreat to a warmer spot. Figured you and I might as well follow suit, aye?”
A sob burst into a laugh and I choked, hacking and sputtering. I placed a steadying hand on his chest and blinked up at him through running eyes. “Are you really—really—making penile jo—jokes—at a time like this?”
He smiled widely. “Aye, I am. I shall jest about floppy cocks or whatever else makes ye laugh.” The impish grin softened into a beautiful thing of immense tenderness. “We are together now, mo nighean donn, forever…and I dinna mean to spend the rest of our lives crying.”
“I’m not sure I’ll—ever be able—to stop.”
He leaned forward and held my face in both hands, wiping the moisture away with his thumbs and murmuring gentle hey noises.
“Will it really be the rest of our lives?” I blurted.
He pulled back and looked as though I’d punched him in the stomach. “And why should it not be?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sniffing, “It’s all just…we were together and happy before, weren’t we? And then the war came and..and..damn you, Jamie, you died.” It was stupidly said, but I was shaking from the true horror implicit in it; the memory.
“I know, mo chridhe…and even death couldna stop us, could it?” He took my hand and kissed it. “I like our chances just fine.”
I breathed deeply, finally feeling my heart begin to resume its normal pace; the whirling melee of my emotions stilling enough for the demands of logic to reassert themselves once more. “How?”
“How in the world did you do it? Survive Culloden? Come through the stones?”
He was silent for a moment. “Would ye understand if I asked not to talk of those things?” I hesitated, the lump in my throat at the pain in his eyes too heavy, and he hastily added, “Not now, I mean! I’ll tell ye all, I swear. I’ve naught to hide from ye, it’s only—”
“Of course, Jamie,” I said softly, touching his face. “Not tonight.”
Plenty of time for that.
He exhaled heavily and laid his hand over mine.
My curiosity was too strong to simply be ignored altogether, though. “Can I just ask…” He raised his eyebrows in silent permission. “Once you were through, how on earth did you find me?”
He gave a kind of weak smile. “Went to every hospital in Boston asking after Nurse Randall. Walked until my shoes fairly wore out. T’was naught but by chance that I saw ye at the OmniBus. Aye, that was me,” he said, seeing my shock. "Even though ye slipped away, I nearly died on the spot from happiness at seeing ye there in front of me, Claire.” He pulled me tighter against him, his voice hoarse. “To ken that ye hadna moved to another part o’ the country, or some such. I’d been so afraid that I’d never find ye, mo ghraidh. So verra afraid.”
I kissed his shoulder, lips trembling. “And I was trying—so hard—to forget,” I said haltingly. “To keep you from my mind. When I heard your voice—so clearly—God, it just brought it all falling down. Could barely make it through the day on my feet. Just needed to get home. To the whiskey,” I whispered, ashamed. Another thought struck and I pulled back to look at him. “How—how did you know I was in Boston, though, Jamie?
It was no more than a whisper, but he said the word with the unmistakable air of one utterly thunderstruck. “Frank.”
I couldn’t have spoken if I’d tried. As it was, there were simply no words.
“Sought him out at Oxford, ken. He wasna o’er pleased to see me…but in the end…he took pity on me. Gave me all he was able to in order to get me to ye…and to Brianna.”
Reeling from rampant speculation about what exactly had occurred during the meeting of Frank W. Randall and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser (Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST!!!), it took me a moment to register what he’d said.
I looked up into his face and was bowled over by the sweet, hungry light in his eyes; by hearing the name of our child (however novel in pronunciation) leave his lips.
The baby that he had tried to give his life for. That he had never seen or held.
“Wait here,” I whispered, beginning to rise, smiling, but with a lump in my throat.
He blanched and caught my arm. “No! Ye dinna—ye shouldna wake her!” Joy and eagerness in his expression were now joined by a distinct strain of anxiety.
My God…he was afraid to meet her.
I put a hand on his arm. “Jamie…”
He stilled. Took a breath. Nodded.
Rising, I slipped on my dressing gown and walked down the hall to Bree’s room, my heart pounding. It had been an unusually warm day, even for July, and I saw that Mrs. Byrd had opted not to put Brianna to bed in her customary suit, but instead only a light cotton diaper cover. Even so, her skin was blazing to the touch as I scooped her up and brought her to my shoulder. She automatically tucked her face against my neck, snuggling close. Sweet thing. Or…sweet to me...
Suddenly, I was terrified as Jamie and prayed a silent prayer against disaster. Bree was old enough to put up a fuss about anyone she didn’t take a shine to—and did. Good gracious, she even wailed when I turned her over to Mrs Byrd—to whom Bree was devoted—almost daily.
What if Brianna wouldn’t let Jamie hold her?
What if she was afraid of him?
My stomach clenched in dread….but there was nothing for it.
Coming down the hall, I could see that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, expectant, braced. He’d found a light blanket and improvised a kilt, but his chest was bare. I could see it heaving, even as he tried hard to maintain his composure.
My arms tightened around her as I stepped through the doorway. My voice cracked as I spoke, breaking along with my heart as I whispered the words that had twice been ripped away from me by shattering tragedy.
“You’re a father, Jamie.”
He made a small, heart-rending sound, then another as I walked toward him and the lamplight caught his daughter’s hair. His hair.
“Bree?” I said softly, tickling the pudgy cheek that rested under my chin. Bree gave a sleepy ma ma ma against my shoulder and, as I had hoped, turned her head to face the other direction. Toward Jamie.
“Oh, Christ,” he breathed, in a voice tight and strangled with tears. “Oh….Claire…” He was standing now, just a foot or two from us, looking down transfixed at the small face, his eyes red and flowing. “Claire…she’s…”
He reached out a shaking hand toward her; then faltered and lowered it again.
It had to be done.
“Bree,” I murmured, joy and anxiety battling within me.
She gave a tiny grunt.
“This is Daddy. The one we pray for, remember? Daddy.“
The little eyes snapped open and fixed on Jamie.
He froze, his face a perfect blank of terror as though he were looking at a hand about to slap him.
I held my breath.
Please…please, Bree, don’t shy away from him.
Then, in a glorious outburst of that wholehearted vigor of toddlerhood, she lurched her top half toward him—very nearly making me drop her—and declared, “DA.”
He caught her with a sob. “Aye, that’s right, mo chridhe…” She looked so small in his arms as he gathered her against his chest, his arm covering her back and head as he wept brokenly. “Aye, it’s your Da, sweetheart…”
The shock of that sent a sob through me, cleaving me in two. What had been to Bree and me simply her best attempt to parrot my own word had been to Jamie a perfect and complete name.
Not Dad. Not Daddy.
Da. What Jamie would have called his own father.
Why, you bloody little charmer, I thought, but I was too moved to be wry. Too thankful. Too overjoyed. She was snuggled against him just as she had been cuddled against me, her tiny curls tickling his neck. I stood silent, covering my mouth and feeling the tears slipping down over my fingers.
He had been speaking to her soft in Gaelic, kissing her, crying freely and cupping her head tight against him. With a force that surprised him, though, she suddenly pushed back hard to look at his face, screwing up her features as if puzzling him out.
He stared back, eyes wide.
Then, apparently deciding that he had passed her second test as well, she sang out a happy, “Da da da-da daaaaaa,” and grabbed at his lower lip with both hands.
Jamie laughed and kissed them, which made her giggle, bounce up and down in his arms, and smush her palms even harder against his mouth.
Jamie played right along, but held out a hand for me. I came at once, wrapping my arms around them both. I leaned my head against his chest, so perfectly happy I didn’t think I could bear it.
Brianna snuggled down again against his other shoulder, cooing a contented, “Daaaaaaa.”
“Was it a hard birth, mo chridhe? Another hard one?”
“Yes. Very hard.”
The faintest hints of morning light were beginning to touch the room, but I could feel the pull of sleep on its way, about to bring us back under. We were leaned back against the pillows, Bree sound asleep on Jamie’s chest. The pair of them were skin to skin, peaceful and intimate as a dream.
I swallowed, shifting against Jamie’s shoulder and rubbing Bree’s back softly. “They thought at one point that she…she wasn’t going to make it, and she had to be delivered by emergency cesarean section.” Very quietly, I added, “We’d both have died for certain, if I had stayed.”
Jamie murmured a prayer. “Was there anyone to be there wi’ ye?” he asked quietly. “To look after ye? Be of a comfort?”
Did he mean Frank?
I tried to keep the hardness out of my voice, but failed. “No one I wanted there.”
Jamie heard it, and keeping one steadying hand on Bree, turned to look me in the eye. “I ken Frank wasna there, Claire. He told me.”
I still felt annoyed, somehow; on guard.“I thought…maybe you were making an oblique statement about how he should have been there…would have been, if I’d done as you asked.”
He shook his head. “No, that wasna in my mind.” He shuddered. “God kens I wouldna be here if ye had stayed marrit to Frank.”
“No.” He swallowed and sounded choked. “If I’d discovered ye had a happy life wi’ him…if you and he and the bairn had real love between ye…I’d no’ have interfered.”
I opened my mouth to castigate him for this outrageous hypothetical choice, but he smiled and put a hand on my hip. “It’s of no concern, now, mo chridhe. Ye did leave him, and we’re all together, now. When I asked ye to go back to him, it was in hopes that you and Brianna would have as safe and happy a life as possible. And I thought that ye would have had a better chance of it wi’ … wi’ someone who loved ye already.”
“I might have been happy…if I’d wanted to be,” I admitted, irrational guilt buzzing through my insides and making me feel as if I wanted to flee or cry. Face it head-on, Beauchamp. “But are you cross with me, Jamie? For choosing to raise Bree alone?”
He thought about that for a long minute.
The anxiety writhed in my gut like a ball of worms. I knew I’d made the right choice…but then again, I’d made it never thinking I’d have to answer to Jamie Fraser for it.
“It’s a verra different thing, 1950,” he said quietly at last. “I’ve seen enough to ken that, and enough to ken how much the place terrifies me.”
“And all I can say is…Christ, Claire….ye’ve done well.”
I raised my head. He took my hand and I could see the fervor in his eyes. “Ye’ve made a home. Earned your way. Ye’ve raised our child and put up wi’ everyone who’s judged ye even though they’ve not a damn clue who ye are or what you’ve been through. Jesus, just—everything.”
I felt tears prickle in my eyes again, Jesus Christ would the crying never stop?
“I ken it hasna been easy, Sassenach…and I canna say that it’s the path I’d have chosen for ye….but I couldna be more proud.”
No one, not a single person since I’d returned–not even Mrs Byrd, kind as she was–had ever truly acknowledged me with approval. I’d been ignored, whispered about, tolerated, well-meaningly pitied, avoided, and even openly scorned; all of which I could handle, but yes, it all hurt, and made me feel more alone than I could have dreamed.
I felt a wave of shame for how much simple praise meant to me, but then quelled it. I didn’t need it…but God, to have it….and from Jamie…
No, it seemed clear that my happiness’s state of matter would be liquid for quite a long time to come.