the connoisseur of kisses

anonymous asked:

Can you please do a story where Claire does a house exchange with perhaps Jenny and Ian and Jamie lands drunk on the front porch and meets Claire

Baby; It’s 3am I Must Be Lonely:

A heavy knock at the door pulled Claire from a deep sleep. As she rolled over, the clock blinked 3am, it’s bright red digits almost blinding her as she squinted and hid herself under her quilt.

The banging continued, the sound of it echoing through the hall and up the stairs. Closing her eyes, Claire buried her head under the pillow, gripping it tight around her ears as she forced herself to try and ignore the racket coming from downstairs.

Nobody knew she was here, so it couldn’t possibly be for her.

“Jenny!!” came the dim voice, as her early morning gentleman caller slid her letterbox open and called into the empty hall. “Jenny, Ian…please, let me in. It’s cold as balls out here!!”

Slapping her palm against the soft, warm duvet, Claire dragged herself out of bed and into the corridor, taking her dressing gown and wrapping it tightly around her shoulders as she perched on the top step, looking down into the dark at the back of the closed front door.

Jenny was another trainee doctor. She and Claire had been asked to swap homes and hospitals for the last part of their course so that they were both able to witness another side to life in the Highlands. Jenny had taken Claire’s busy A&E in central Inverness, and Claire had taken Jenny’s quiet, tiny, offshoot hospital internship in the quiet of Beauly on the edge of the village, close to Glen Affrick.

“She left me, Jenny. I’m sae s-” he paused, hiccuping in the middle of his sentence as he choked out the words, “sorry t’ bother ye…but she left me…”

Pulling herself from the floor, Claire sighed, a heavy gust of air leaving her lungs as her heart ached for the poor, heartbroken drunk on her doorstep.

Obviously, he didn’t know of Jenny’s move. That, or his inebriated state had rendered the memory of that particular conversation null and void.

Either way, she couldn’t leave him out there, sobbing on her stoop, especially as the winter storms ripped through the highlands.

Dinna be mad, Jenny. I ken it’s late…and I amne–” another hiccup, intertwined with a coughing and spluttering fit, had the poor man stumbling over his words once more as he let the letterbox slide shut, the clicking sound reverberating through the tiny entranceway as Claire silently crept down the stairs.

Opening the door, Claire found herself tentatively looking through the slit between the wood and the small chain that connected the door to the frame.

No longer facing the door, the strange man was sitting with his back to the house, his legs dangling onto the pavement of the wee drive as he gazed, solemnly, at the stars.

“I’m sorry…” she broached, a cautious lilt to her tone, as if she thought he might turn violent at any moment, “ for…your break up, but do you not remember?”

Turning, she saw his face for the first time. Large blue eyes sat high on very prominent cheek bones, his beautiful red hair curling at the tips as the light sleet dampened it. The sight of him almost caused Claire to choke on her words as she continued.

“J-Jenny and Ian moved to Inverness for six months, only a couple of weeks back.”

“Ach,” he began, his lips twitching into a sad smile as he pushed himself up from the stoop, his knees wobbling as he did. “So she did. I’m even more sorry, then.” Brushing a stray lock from his eye, he tipped his head forwards before meeting Claire’s eyes once more. “I didna mean to wake ye. I’m Jamie, by the way, Jenny’s younger brother.”

Taking one large step backwards, he began to sober up, a look of sheer embarrassment covering his face. “But ye dinna need to ken that…I’ll just go. Sorry, again.”

Turning on his heel, he walked away, his head dipped forwards as he inched towards the end of the drive, meandering shakily as he weaved this way and that nearly taking out Jenny’s well maintained pot plants.

Pulling the dressing gown more firmly around her chest, Claire opened her mouth to speak, her brain not considering –even for a moment– that this could be a bad idea. “No!” she started, her words coming out louder than intended, causing Jamie to swivel back to face her, a shocked look on his face. “Don’t go, it’s cold out. Come in, please.”

When he didn’t make a move to venture forwards, Claire unhooked the latch, using her finger to beckon him forwards.

“Honestly, Jamie, please. I have tea…and whisky.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jamie’s eyes clouded for a moment and he swayed where he stood, contemplating her –very kind– offer.

“Whisky, ye say? The good stuff?”

“Single Malt, fifteen years old. I’d say it’ll hit the spot,” Claire replied, flashing her teeth as she smiled at her visitor.

“That’s verra kind of ye, *Sassenach*,” he returned, quirking a brow, a lazy move that saw his shoulders rise with it in his half-cocked state. “I c-canna say I know any English lassies that ken their whisky as weel as ye seem to, miss….”

“Claire,” she finished for him, the door fully open now as he sauntered in out of the cold. “Claire Beauchamp; Sassenach and whisky connoisseur…at your service –apparently.”

Chuckling, Jamie took Claire’s hand and kissed it softly, a hazy smile lighting up his face. “Putting the ‘sass’ in sassenach, I see, Claire,” he joked, toeing off his shoes as he made himself comfortable on the small sofa in the lounge.

Closing the door behind him, Claire shook her head and turned towards Jamie, a light pink tint to her cheeks as she laid her back against the cool painted wood. “You’ll watch your tongue, mister,” she quipped as she replaced the chain on the door, “or I shall consume the whisky all by myself.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide as Claire reached for a new bottle, a softness behind her eyes as she swirled the amber liquid around the glass, causing a wee whirlpool to form in the centre.

“Now that,” he returned, a sense of awe in his voice, “I would pay to see…”

BTW

If anyone was ever curious as to how I judge what stories of mine are considered “good” and “bad”, I use Tampermonkey’s AO3 Kudos/Hits ratio. I look there for fics that underperformed and I usually try to see what went wrong with those fics. Typically it gives a pretty good indicator of what fics just were not considered popular, though I can’t tell whether it is quality or some other reason why it didn’t do as well. 

Things that were considered not “good” (or at least not well-received) were things like:

Connoisseur 
Maiden’s Kiss
leave him for me
Halo of Lace
Riding the Regalia
Gold Star Service
Heaven of Cut Stars universe (Defy the Stars/Sacramentum/etc.) 

The one thing is that a few of these are multi-chapter fics (the last three) so the main thing I’ve picked up on is the humorous sex is definitely not well-liked, as well as anything involving FFXV women. Also, panties. lololol

Is this a perfect indicator? Nah. But it does give me a bit of a chance to see how people feel since so rarely do people give concrit. (And concrit is different from hate. All the crap I seem to get is just hate. At least tell me why I suck lolol) I tend to use this kind of information to avoid certain kink meme prompts try to edit the content to see if I can made it somehow better.

But yeah, that is my process.

a first kiss of sorts

from the last best option universe (masterpost)

h and l’s first kiss at sixteen and eighteen (before harry becomes famous) <1k

Louis flicks a piece of hair out of his eyes. He’s cool. He’s so cool.

Harry blinks back at him. A baby owl. Nothing to be intimidated by. A baby owl with stupid green eyes who laughs too loud and has probably never kissed another human being before in his whole life.

Not with tongue anyway.

Like, he’s only sixteen and he likes boys. When Louis was sixteen he’d never kissed anyone outside his family. Surely Harry can’t be more experienced than he was.

Louis at 18 definitely has the upper hand. His palms should not be so sweaty. He’s got this in the bag. On lock. Harry is his.

Harry’s the one to step closer, though, and their noses bump. More evidence of his inexperience.

Harry’s laugh echoes down the hallway, bouncing off lockers and linoleum.

“You were amazing. Stole the show. Best performer out there,” Harry tells him.

Louis shakes his head. “You did.”

Harry presses their foreheads together and his eyes cross as he tries to hold Louis’ gaze.

“You should have tried out for the X Factor with me.” Before Louis can protest that he had tried out, the year before, Harry adds, “Again, I mean. You’re so good. So charismatic.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Ha.”

Harry bites his lip. Then, he draws a shaky breath. “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

“No, you’re not,” Louis replies, voice soft.

A stricken look crosses Harry’s face so Louis closes the distance between their lips. He’s in charge here; he’ll be the one to do the kissing, thank you very much.

That strategy lasts him all of five seconds. The five seconds it takes for Harry’s hands to find his ass and pull the two of them flush against each other.

Boy moves quickly. Maybe not quite so inexperienced after all.

Louis pulls back, gasping for air.

“Oh my god.” Harry’s eyes are wider than ever. HIs fingers flex on Louis’ bum and Louis wills himself not to get hard.

(Yeah, right.)

“Name’s Louis, not God,” Louis says. It’s stupid. He’s sure it’s from some dumb movie, but Harry laughs all the same.

Harry licks his lips and shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since auditions. You were wearing that jumper and I just wanted to touch you so badly.”

“Touch away,” Louis chokes out the invitation. Because who is he to stop a boy from living his dreams.

Harry leans in and this time there’s not even a question. Harry is doing the kissing. His hands are roaming all over Louis’ body and his mouth is biting and tugging at Louis’ own.

When they pull apart, Louis says, “Aggressive.”

Harry’s eyes, which are now more black than green, widen once more. “Too much? Is it bad?”

Louis shakes his head. “I like it rough.” He sounds confident. Like he’s had it rough and not so rough. Like he’s some sort of aggressive kissing connoisseur.

The truth is that he’s never really been kissed before- he’s always done the kissing, and he’s never been anything but gentle and tender.

That’s how he thought people liked it, like from what he’s seen in romantic comedies and soaps.

Rough kissers always seemed a bit dickish to Louis.

Harry does not seem dickish, though, not at all. And Louis wants another kiss or maybe a hundred more kisses.

So he leans in again and Harry doesn’t hold back, walks Louis straight back to the wall, so that the back of his heels and then his bum and shoulders and head meet concrete. Harry kisses him hard, fingers and teeth and chest digging into it, into Louis.

He pulls back and lips shiny with spit, murmurs, “Rough like that?”

Louis sinks his nails into Harry’s back and scratches the length of it. Harry shudders.

“Yeah,” he says. He thinks he could feel the outline of Harry’s hard cock against his hip. He wants Harry to move in again, closer, so he can know.

Harry remains inches away, their only point of contact his hands on the underside of Louis’ ass.

“I’ve not really done this before,” Harry admits, voice nearly a whisper. “Not with someone I really liked. Definitely not, um, rough.”

Louis swallows. Be bold. Be confident. Stay in control. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Understatement of the century.

“Good,” Harry replies.

Someone’s phone vibrates.

“We’re late to the cast party,” Louis tells him.

Before Harry’d interrupted, Louis’d been trying to fix his hair into something softer, less styled than his stage do, using his locker mirror.

“You’re the star,” Harry replies. “The party doesn’t start till you arrive.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re going to give me a big head.” He can already feel his ego inflating to about ten times the size it should rightly be.

“Good,” Harry retorts. “Then it’ll match your–” He squeezes Louis’ ass.

Louis leans in for another kiss. He keeps it lighter, sweeter, than their earlier exchange and breaks away when Harry’s hands slip into his back pockets.

Harry’s wrong.

Louis can already tell.

Harry is going to be the real star.

I’ve been wanting to do a follow forever for a while and as a celebration of reaching 2k, I’ve finally got my act together and done one. I follow A LOT of blogs, and there are many I can’t bear to part with, and people who’ve stuck with me for a long time. I’m so sorry if I’ve left somebody out, but I really love you all <3

#

221bmycroft

a-c 

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d-f

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k-m

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n-s

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t-w

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y-z

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Oh man this took forever, I just have too many lovelies that I want to follow, so enjoy!!