wall box

amillioncryingporcupines  asked:

viktor's motivational board still makes me wheeze. (also you and keilattes??? incredible. i never knew i needed this in my life. you're both just so ... good ... i )

ahh thank you!!! I’m glad you liked the random collab thing hahah
and I agree??? @keilattes​ is great??? you can put any of kei’s yuuri’s on the motivational board and it’ll be 100/10. look at this masterpiece

August Burns Red

BTS Taehyung / Words: 6,573 / Warnings: language, smut
@taehyungunicorn requested: Could you do a oneshot where the boys (BTS) have recently moved in next door and Taehyung likes reader. Can you make Tae a fuckboy personality? and one day they go out and Taehyung gets horny watching her eat a popsicle and they go to his place and fuck an he’s super gentle and sweet unlike his bad boy looks?
A/N: here babe, im so sorry this took almost 2 months but I hope you like it! 

You let out a short breath of air and straightened your back after setting down a particularly heavy box - probably containing some random kitchen appliances - and you rested your hands on your hips as you gazed around at your living room. Your life was contained in cardboard boxes that covered the floor and were stacked up on the walls, waiting to be opened and have their contents sorted into your new apartment. The cozy furniture set that your parents had bought as a housewarming gift was the only thing visible, and even the couch and chairs had a few packed items scattered on them for the sake of convenience. In hindsight, you probably should’ve enlisted some more help for the move, but you had been too set on doing absolutely everything by yourself when it came to your new place. You were so unashamedly proud of the fact that you had done the entire lease on your own, and you had high hopes for the new semester and internship ahead of you. You promised to yourself that you’d be unbeatable, and nothing would stand in your way. Not even the ten boxes that were still sitting down two flights of stairs, waiting to be hauled up.

Keep reading


Into the Unknown - Over the Garden Wall - Music Box


It was perfect, utterly perfect, and Neil felt at once inspired and horrified by the sight of it. How could he possibly play here? He closed his eyes and breathed in, breathed out, imagining the way bodies sounded as they crashed into each other on the court, the way the announcer’s voice would only come through in muffled, scattered bursts, the roar of sixty-five thousand people reacting to a goal. He knew he didn’t deserve this, knew beyond a doubt he wasn’t good enough to play on this court, but he wanted and needed it so badly he ached all over. 

… He’d made the right decision. The risks didn’t matter; the consequences would be worth it. He had to be here. He had to play on this court at least once. He had to know if the crowd screamed loud enough to blow the roof off. He had to smell the sweat and overpriced stadium food. He needed to hear the buzzer sound as a ball slammed inside the white goal lines and lit the walls up red. 

“Oh,” Nicky said … “No wonder he chose you.”

 - The Foxhole Court [Nora Sakavic]

Into the Unknown (Music Box)
Original: Cartoon Network, Edit: wan4life
Into the Unknown (Music Box)

Into the Unknown from Over the Garden Wall

Led through the mist,
By the milk-light of moon,
All that was lost, is revealed.
Our long bygone burdens, mere echoes of the spring,
But where have we come, and where shall we end?
If dreams can’t come true, then why not pretend?

Oh how the gentle wind,
Beckons through the leaves,
As autumn colors fall…
Dancing in a swirl of golden memories,
The loveliest lies of all.

Warmth in the Winter - Daryl Dixon Smut

gather y’alls holy water because y’all will need it after this.

dedicated to the amazing human bean that requested kinky daryl. ya done got my fucked up.


Pairing: Daryl x Reader


Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: angry daryl, carol, winter, sex, sex, SEX, kinky daryl, restraints, choking, blood, edging/withholding orgasm, dirty talk, i think thats it?

enjoy, my sinners.

Originally posted by fifty-shades-of-mara

Your legs were propped up on the fireplace of your house in Alexandria and your back rested against the sofa chair behind you. The warmth from the fire radiated from the ashes to your feet and you wrapped the blanket draped around your shoulders tighter to your body to trap in the heat. As you took in a breath, you exhaled by wheezing from your scratchy throat. You sniffled and nuzzled your face closer into your book as you heard the front door open and cold air gush in. 

It was an unusually cold day in Alexandria and if there was one thing you hated more than talking to people, it was the cold. It made your lips chapped, made you sick as all get out, and it was so much work to get back warmth. However, the cold gave you an excuse to sit inside and not have to face people. Ever since the group with the leader named Rick joined, things in Alexandria finally began to slightly look up. You had been in Alexandria since the very beginning, so you never really had to fight unless times called for desperate measures. You were very nervous around their group, as they all seemed very placid and standoff-ish. After they had finally settled into their separate houses, you had gone to the couple, you assumed, named Abraham and Rosita, living next to you and offered to have dinner with them. Rosita slammed the door in your face and that was how you had first met her. You took it as a lesson and only spoke to them if you needed. After all, you were practically invisible in this community. You live alone in your house and offer your services to guard the gate. There was one person in the group that had didn’t seem too guarded and her name was Carol. She was the one person you talked to the most. She would come over to your house or you would go to hers and you two would exchange various recipes. After a few times of going to her house, though, you preferred for her to visit yours. The man she lived with, Daryl, would make rude, snide comments every time you were around and you felt extremely uncomfortably under his heavy stare. If you weren’t so timid, you would’ve slapped him by now.

“Hey! Where are you at?” Carol’s voice chimed through your living room. You pushed yourself up and set the book and the blanket down on the chair behind you.

“I’m here,” You responded, coughing up a lung in the process.

“Oh God, it’s this weather that’s made you sick isn’t it,” she sighed, grabbing a pot from under your stove.

“I can’t seem to make out why it all of a sudden has just gotten so cold,” you rubbed your hands over your dry skin.

She looked through your cabinets, looking for whatever recipe she was going to show you today.

“Damn, you don’t have any broth,” she said, shutting the cabinet and putting back the pot.

“What were you going to make?” you asked.

“Well, I was going to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup, but it appears you don’t have the ingredients,” she paused, grabbing your hand and leading you to the door. “I will just have to make it at my house.”

“Carol, no, you know I can’t stand Daryl,” you whined.

“Look,” she said, leading you out the front door into the frigid air. “You need some soup and possibly some medicine. If he says anything I will just slap him or something. He listens to me, I promise.”

You groaned as you walked through the cold air, wind cutting into the skin on your face, wrapping the worn jacket tighter over your body. Carol lead you up the stairs to her house and you entered, warmth engulfing your body again. You shed your jacket, hanging it onto the coatrack, and you headed into her kitchen. You saw Daryl lounging on the sofa, cleaning his arrows. At the sight of you entering and looking at him, he looked into your eyes, and for just one slight moment you thought he wouldn’t say anything. But you were wrong.

“What the hell you lookin’ at?” he asked. You averted your eyes to the ground and he went back to cleaning his arrows. You shook your head and headed the the island that sat in the kitchen. Carol was already preparing the stove when you asked, “Are you gonna show me the recipe?”

“Maybe some other time,” she said as Daryl got up, walking into the kitchen and stood right next to you, as if intentionally winding you up. You stiffened as you felt his eyes land on you, then down your body. “But for now you just need to get well. Daryl,” she addressed and he tore his eyes from you to meet hers. “Can you please get her the medicine from Denise?”

“I ain’t getting nothin’ for her,” he said, starting to walk back to the couch.

“Daryl,” she said more stern, as if reprimanding a child. 

“The hell’s she ever done for me?” he asked. You focused on the bubbling broth on the stove. Daryl sighed and muttered something under his breath before grabbing his crossbow and heading out the door, making sure to slam it.

“What have I ever done to him? You asked, anger bubbling in your chest.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just Daryl,” she said resuming her recipe.

“Shit,” she cursed, slamming the cabinet door. “I should’ve told him to grab me some carrots.”

She walked to the door and threw on her jacket, talking to you in the process.

“Sorry about this, I will be right back. If Daryl returns, just don’t egg him on. Watch over the broth for me.”

You didn’t even have a chance to argue before she shut the door, leaving you in silence. You rose from your seat, looking into the pot where canned chicken broth bubbled. You clutched onto the wooden spoon, stirring it ever so softly.

The front door opens and closes again after a few minutes and you look up to see the dark eyes of Daryl. He carries the bottle of medication in his large hand and gruffly sets it down on the counter next to you. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes locked on the soup. He scoffs in response.

“Yeah, whatever, you should be thankful.”

Something deep inside you snaps and maybe it’s because of the sickness you had or the raging sexual tension you endured when around him, but you don’t hold back as you throw the spoon back into the pot.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You roar.

“Woah, see that? You can fuckin’ talk,” He rolls his eyes. You storm from around to the island to right under his nose.

“What the fuck did i do to you? I’ve barely spoken to you and you are always fucking commenting on me or staring at me! Either stop fucking talking to me all together or tell me what the fuck I’ve done wrong!” you shout. Daryl pauses for a moment, and you see something in his eyes that you’ve seen too many times. But this time he acts on it. He grabs you by your shoulders and shoves you against the nearest wall and boxes you in with his arms.

“Wanna know what the fuck you did wrong?” He mutters, anger dripping from his voice. “I’ll tell you. Ever since I first saw you, I can’t stand it. You’re always parading around with that perfect fuckin’ body of yours and all I want to do when I see you is pin you down to my damn bed and fuck you so hard you can’t see straight and you’re screaming my name and squirting all over my cock. And that’s what I’m gonna do,”

You look up at him, eyes wide, a nervous lust coursing through your body with Daryl’s words. “B- But I’m sick, you’ll get sick.”

“You know what, I wish I gave a damn,” he moans, getting closer to your face.

You take his sentence in and your breath hitches, looking into his eyes. With your newfound, lust-powered confidence, you pull him close to you, almost kissing him and whisper, “Then fucking kiss me already.”

The second the words leave your lips, you pull Daryl’s face to yours, roughly dragging your lips over his. He sloppily kisses you and throws his hands around yours and shoves them against the wall above you, locking your arms above your head. You gasp as his hands tighten over your fragile wrists.

“You’re so damn quiet all the time, who knew you could be so dirty,” he groans. Keeping one of his hands locked around your wrists, he drags his hands down your body and feels for the button of your jeans. His lips harshly suck on the skin of your neck as his hands delve into your pants, coming in contact with your panties. His fingers start to rub your clit and you moan out loudly. He pulls his hand back and you whimper at the loss of contact, but suck in a breath when his fingers dive into your panties. He runs a finger up your already-slick folds, collecting the wetness on his fingers. He pulls his hand back again and holds the finger up to your face.

“Such a fuckin’ dirty slut. Lick my fingers,” he commands and you are far too aroused to argue. You run your tongue up his finger, tasting your salty-sweetness. You wrap your lips around his fingers, as if teasing him. In the midst of your acts, you hear Carol’s voice outside talking to whoever was accompanying her. Daryl whispers in your ear, “To be continued.” 

You button your pants and shakily walk back to the stove, smoothing your hair over your neck where there was undoubtedly love bites. Daryl goes to lounge on the couch, then Carol enters, hanging her coat back up. You reach for the medicine and get a pill out and Carol takes a closer look at your face.

“Your cheeks are flushed,” she points out. You reach for your cheeks. “Do you feel worse?”

“I’m okay, I think it’s just a bit… hot in here,” you shrug, looking at the ground and slipping the pill in your mouth and sitting at the island while she continued to make you soup.

It’s late that same night and you are just getting out of the shower. The towel was wrapped around your body and you turned to look in the mirror at your reflection. You pull your hair back and gaze at the single bruise that stayed planted on your neck. Your eyes were glowing with excitement and you wondered if he was going to show up at your house that night. You don’t know what had happened to you, but you had no problem with it. You dry the rest of your body off and slip a shirt over your bare breasts and slip a pair of pajama pants on on top of some black panties. Like clockwork, your front doorbell rings. You walk out of your room and into the foyer of your house. You reach for the door and open it. Daryl rushes in, almost as if he was going to be late, and slams the door behind him. He grabs your face and connects his lips to yours, not an ounce of gentleness in him.

“Lead me to your room right now,” he gruffly mumbles. You comply, walking quickly to your room with him in tow. You turn to face him, back to the bed and you fall back, arms open and legs sprawled out. He moans slightly, but crawls on top of you, shedding his shirt in the process. He grabs the thin shirt you’re wearing and nearly tears it off of you. He groans again when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. He presses his hands to your breasts, tweaking your nipples as his mouth comes in contact with the left nipple. He licks around it and gently bites it, doing the same to the other. He massages them together and kisses in the valley between, his lips sloppily making wet kisses all the way down to the elastic of your pants. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and panties, dragging them down your legs. 

“God, I’ve been thinking about this cunt ever since our encounter earlier,” he says, his mouth inching closer to your center. However, when your hands tangle themselves in his long hair, he shoots himself up. He turns to your closet, yanking it open. He sees a flannel and yanks it off the hanger, turning back to you. He crawls on top of you.

“Put your hands up,” he commands. You gladly put your hands above your head, smirking at him. He ties your hands together in a tight knot.

“Listen here,” he whispers, his hands reaching up to wrap around your neck, constricting your airways. You moan. “You like this don’t you, you dirty girl. But one thing, you moan, you get punished. Got it?”

You nod, gasping for air when he lets go. He scoots down back to your core and settles his head between your legs. He lightly blows on your core and you’re already biting your lip, fighting moans threatening to tear from your chest. He finally licks a stripe all the way up your core, and your breathe in hard. He continues licking until one of his fingers dives into you suddenly. Your hips jolt at the contact, and you fight the feeling to moan. You feel your climax approaching fast and furiously, and you clench as tight as you can around his fingers. However, when his tongue comes in contact with your clit as his fingers ruthlessly dive into you, you let out a yelp, forgetting the rules. All at once, his actions stop. You pick your head up, gazing at him. He sits back, unbuckling his pants. He slides them down his legs and steps out of them.

“I done told you to not speak a word,” he mutters.

“I… I just…” you whimper as he slowly crawls over you again. 

“Look’s like you need to be taught a fuckin’ lesson,” he shrugs. Suddenly, he flips you onto your stomach and grabs fistfulls of your backside as you rise on all fours. Your arms are twisted against the bedpost, but that was the last thing on your mind. Without any warning at all, he shoves himself inside of you, already setting a pace.

“Speak,” he moans. “Tell me how good it feels.”

You immediately yelp out, “Shit, Daryl, you feel so good!”

He continues to relentlessly thrust into you, making the bed rock violently underneath you. Each time he thrusts, the bed hits the wall and your sure your neighbors can hear you moaning. Daryl reaches down to the flannel shirt and rips it untied, reaching down to wrap his hands around your throat again. He pulls your neck upwards, your body sitting straight up against his chest on your knees. With your new freedom from the restraints, you reach behind you, grasping at his hair and pulling it with the pleasure pulsating through you. He thrusts into you at the same pace and you moan out as his fingers leave bruises on your neck.

“Please, Daryl,” you gasp.

“Please, what? Use that quiet mouth of yours.”

“Fuck me harder,” you say.

A scream tears from your throat as he thrusts up into you even faster now. He finally realizes he hit the spot he’s been looking for when you throw your head back against his shoulder, not holding back moans as his other hand works on your clit on vigorous circles.

“Oh… oh shit,” you curse as you feel yourself approaching the edge, clenching around him.

“You better not cum until I say,” he says through gritted teeth, giving your throat one last squeeze before he throws you back down on all fours. He continues his thrusts and your hands are squeezing the sheets tightly and your teeth have sunk into your bottom lip, droplets of blood seeping into your mouth. When Daryl pulls out, you’re shocked at the sudden loss of contact, but he flips you on your back again and pushes your knees up to where your legs were going over his shoulders. He thrusts into you again, showing no mercy as he pushed your legs farther up. You screamed for him, nails running down his back so hard you’re sure you drew blood. 

“Not yet,” he muttered, voice breaking as his own end was approaching. You screamed again, the pleasure too much for you to handle. You felt like a dam about to burst.

“Okay, baby. Cum for me,” he says. The second the first word left his mouth, you came with a shout, twitching and moaning repetitions of his name, the sound of skin slapping skin, moans, and the bed hitting the wall shaking the house. You kissed him through your climax, the passion and pleasure spreading through your body like a wildfire. You twitch beneath him as you finish your high. He still thrusts into you, but pulls out after a few final sloppy thrusts and starts to finish himself off over you. You move shakily, still surfing the aftershocks of your own high, so that you can help finish him off. You quickly wrap your hand around his slick shaft and pump, tongue teasing his head. He finally moans your name one final time before his load shoots out and coats your hand. His breath evens out and he sits back.

“Didn’t know you was a squirter.”

You chuckle slightly, “Neither did I.”

After you clean yourselves up you convince Daryl to stay the night and sleep with you, and he finally reluctantly agreed, crawling under the sheets with you.

“You’re gonna get sick, you know,” you say, sleep making your voice groggy. He shrugs.

“That’s honestly the least of my worries right now.”

“Why is that?” you inquire.

“Normally, I never woulda done something like… ya know, that. But this whole zombie apocalypse thing has made me think, why not take some risks ‘cause who knows what could happen tomorrow,” he says, thinking hard about his words, as if he was a child trying to put a sentence together.

“I can relate to that wholeheartedly,” you softly smile and pull him in for one last kiss before turning over and letting your heavy lids down and your soul slip into a sleep.

requests are open - i write for twenty one pilots and twd.

some things to consider about the mill;

robert sugden and aaron dingle moving into the mill. they’ll be all Soft and happy, laughing and joking, robert trying to tickle aaron, aaron catching robert by the hip, spinning him around and kissing him against the wall. there’ll be boxes everywhere, the place is a mess, but they’ll tumble into bed at the end of the day and christen their bedroom, in their house, that they’ll be in forever. robert will say i love you, i need you, please stay. aaron will say i promise, i never thought i’d get this with you, i love you.

robert teaching liv to cook. he shows her recipes he found online, digs out some of sarah’s recipes, some of pat’s, and even some annie gave him. he’ll be patient to a degree, and liv tests him because she can’t resist, but they’ll work it out and liv secretly enjoys cooking with him. aaron will watch them sometimes, so in love he thinks his chest might burst with it.

aaron wants a dog; he needles and cajoles and wears roberts down with the help of liv. they go to the rspca centre to adopt at roberts suggestion (because he thinks rescues deserve to be loved and not abandoned :)) and aaron goes soft and kisses him. the three of them pick out a german shepherd cross who’s a little nervous but promises love once she’s acquainted and the three of them fall in love with her instantly. misty settles in, and despite his protestations to the contrary, robert never once regrets adopting her. aaron definitely doesn’t and will tell anyone that will listen he loves her more than robert sometimes

liv loves the stability that comes from having a home that’s lived in, cared for, and promises everything she’s ever craved. robert and aaron aren’t always in synch, their fights are vicious but blessedly short, but liv never regrets living with them. she calls her mum as much as she can, holds the phone tightly to keep herself from crying, and will spend the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa with aaron and robert watching movies she doesn’t really pay attention to, taking comfort from something familiar and wanted

sometimes none of them can figure out how they got so happy, but their little mishmash household with its eclectic decor, huge garden filled with dog barks and cat howls, and love is more than any of them thought they’d get - and they’re not about to let it go

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 14.3

Happy Tuesday everyone! And happy Wednesday @widchadidcha. This is the final part of the massive 14th chapter of Vegas! @outlandishchridhe and I are proud of it, as usual. We’re hard at work on the next chapter, which, if you’ve been keeping track, takes us into the 9th month of the Fraser Bairn Watch. ;) I hope you enjoy this final part of the chapter!

Catch up on the previous part of chapter 14 HERE

Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 8

For once, they actually woke at nearly the same time. Jamie caught her in the middle of a yawn and large stretch, grinning at her straining belly.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing her lips softly.

“Good morning to you too.”

“How’s the bairn?”

She shrugged and began the irritating process of getting out of bed. Finally on her feet, she lurched up and staggered for the bathroom. Jamie was still lounging when she emerged after her shower.

“Are you going to just lie there all day?”

He shrugged and folded his arms behind his head. She didn’t miss the way the morning sun caught on his down hairs, bathing him in gold.

“I might. Dinna have to work today.”

Pulling a dresser drawer open, she started the next process of getting dressed.

“But you can’t stay there all day. I have to get started on dinner preparations for Henry tonight and you need to call him. And, didn’t you promise me the crib would be built before you went back to work?”

His blue eyes narrowed.

“I swear, wi’ this pregnancy, half the time you’d forget yer bloody head if it wasna attached, but ye remember perfectly words I said near three weeks ago.”

“Just don’t say something you don’t want me to remember and we’ll be fine. I can make a quick breakfast before I take over the kitchen.”

With a grunt of mild frustration, he got out of bed and came around to stand near her. Stark naked, he was a mighty sight to behold and she felt a chill run down her back. He must have watched the thought move across her face, because he smiled and leaned in for a long, slow kiss.

“I was given to believe pregnancy made a woman less needy. But wi’ you, it’s like ye canna get enough.”

“That’s probably because I can’t. And we’re getting close to the end of this thing. Our lives are changing.”

“Aye,” he said, kissing her neck. “They are. And I’m verra glad they’re changing wi’ you.”

She giggled and gave a playful smack to his arse as he headed for the shower.

“I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done.”

Claire set the eggs, bacon, and toast down on the table as Jamie came out, running a towel over his head.

“The crib is still where you left it,” she said, nodding to the wall the box leaned against.

“Aye, I ken. I nearly stub my toe on it every night. Can I no’ have my breakfast first?”

A rather loud gurgle filled the apartment and they both laughed. Jamie’s iron stomach could handle just about anything, but it refused to be taken from its routine of being regularly filled.

“Of course you can. And call Henry. Oh! Ask him if he’s any food allergies.”

Jamie pulled out his cell phone as he sat at the small table.

“Henry? It’s Jamie. Aye, I ken it’s early, but you’ve never been one to sleep in late. No, no we’re both good. All three of us, aye… Actually, Claire, the bairn, and I wanted to invite ye over for dinner tonight. Excellent! Claire will be pleased to hear. Have ye developed any food allergies lately?” Jamie nodded and smiled. “Aye, see you tonight. Claire thinks around six thirty?” Jamie raised his brows at her and she nodded. “Good.”

Putting his phone down on the table, Jamie set about eating his breakfast. Claire nibbled on her own while she began running through her mental inventory of their kitchen. With only the three adults, they wouldn’t need a massive amount of food. But Henry was clearly important to Jamie, so she wanted it to be nice.

Reaching around her, Jamie put his dishes in the sink and kissed her cheek, one hand on her waist. She turned to him, not satisfied with the small peck, and accepted his real kiss.

“Do you need help moving the crib?”

He shook his head and patted her bottom.

“Nah. I’m gonna push the couch back a bit and set it up all in the living room here. Gi’ myself some space to get it all together. Is our wee tool bag still in the closet?”

“It is. I haven’t had a need to touch it.”

In short order, he’d demolished the box (“Why the hell did they child-proof a bloody cardboard box? I dinna think God himself could get into this thing!”), set all the pieces and hardware out in neat piles, and gathered the tools he’d need. Claire smiled to herself as she began the dinner. She began mixing together cake batter while the oven warmed.

“Why does it need to be so big? The bairn’s going to be the size of a watermelon, aye?”

“Did you really just ask if your daughter was going to be the size of a watermelon?!”

“No, I asked if my son would be that size. But why does a crib really need to have so many wee parts?”

As she poured the batter into the cake pan, she snorted.

“Because it needs to hold together. Son or daughter, your child is going to be sleeping in that. You want it to be secure, don’t you?”

A few moments of silence passed.

“Aye,” Jamie said grudgingly. “I do.”

“Have you lost the instructions?”

“No, they’re right here.”

Claire eyed the cake pan and the oven, trying to strategize how she’d lean over to open the oven and insert the cake. It took some creative maneuvering, but she got it in without losing anything.

“Alright. That’s going to bake for a few minutes. Then I can let it cool while I get-” she turned to check on Jamie’s progress and stopped.

He sat cross legged on the floor, leaning over and poking through a pile of screws. His red curls, still a little damp, fell in front of his face and he pushed them back habitually. For the first time since she’d known him, Claire saw Jamie in his reading glasses. She’d had no idea he even had glasses. The black, square frames continuously slid down his nose, which he hardly seemed to notice.

Finding what he needed, he sat up and began to assemble something. At one point, he bent his head forward to peer over the top of his glasses and Claire just lost it. Maybe subsequent pregnancies wouldn’t make her quite this needy, but this one certainly did.

She dropped the hand towel on the counter and made straight for him like a heat-seeking missile. Hearing her coming, Jamie turned his head and looked up at her.

“Do ye need me to open something again, a nighean?”

Gracelessly, she plopped herself on the ground and pulled him to her. Her kiss caught him off guard, surprise jolting through him as he leaned awkwardly to reach her.

“I take that as a no, then?”

“You never said you wore glasses,” she said, tugging and pulling at her shirt.

“Ah…” he said, puzzled. “I dinna wear them verra often. Dinna need them unless I’m verra tired or the print is too small. Sassenach, what’s-”

“Shut up,” she said, silencing him with another kiss.

With much more dexterity than Jamie had had with the box, Claire had him on his back and his trousers around his ankles in less than a minute.

“Christ, woman!”

Looking down, over her belly, at him, she winked.

“Claire will do just fine.”

His hands came up to spread over her belly, the baby inside announcing her irritation with being jostled.

“He doesna seem too happy.”

“For this moment in time, I don’t care.”

Struggling with her own trousers, she finally got them off and sat up, preparing to swing a leg over.

“I canna say I mind this neediness of yours, mo chridhe.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone so much,” she said, watching his lips part as she stroked him. “Even when I’ve just had you, I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch you again - to have you again.”

Slowly, his body began churning, trying to create friction with her hand.

“Aye,” he breathed. “I feel it too.”

“So I’ll have you again,” she settled her knees down on the floor. “To feel that tightness release. To feed this addiction I have.” She held them both right on the edge, so near to that soul-deep connection. “And when the need strikes me again, I’ll have you again. And you’ll have me.”

His eyes peeled open just enough to meet hers and he nodded.

“Please, Claire.”

Her head fell back as she took him home once more. Despite her increased size, she had full control of most of her body and used it to torture him sweetly. Grinning down at him, she began rolling her hips in a slow, exaggerated circle. Jamie groaned beneath her. He reached up to remove his glasses, but she caught his wrist.

“I don’t think I said you could take those off.”

“It’s just a pair of glasses, Sassenach.”

“Yes. And they’re rather… different. Don’t take them off yet.”

Giving her a curious glance, he settled his hands on her thighs.

“Different? Like bedding wi’ someone else, then?”

She shrugged and twisted her hips from one side to the other.

“Maybe a little.”

When his hands moved from her thighs around to her backside, she stopped.

“Why’d ye stop?” he asked, voice a little pleading.

“Did I say you could grab my arse?”

His brows shot up.

“I need permission to fondle my own wife’s arse, then?”

“Don’t you remember last night? Struggling will only make it worse for ye,” she said in a sorry attempt at a Scottish accent.

His chuckle quickly faded into a groan as she moved again, slowly. No matter how much he tried to make her go faster, do something else, she refused. After a few minutes, she took his hands and moved them up to her breasts.

“Have I permission then, madam?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’d much rather ye no’ torture me into an early grave.”

She couldn’t help but giggle a little.

“Oh we can’t have that. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Picking her pace up slightly, she enjoyed him for a moment. Until his hands moved. Coming to a full stop, she glared down at him.

“What did I tell you?” she said sharply.

“Christ, Sassenach!”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

Squirming beneath her, he tried to lift his hips and recreate the friction. Her substantial weight, however, kept him pinned. For once, she had all the leverage.

“Damn you, woman!”

“No…” she said slowly. “I definitely didn’t say that either.”

“First ye couldna keep yer hands from me because of my glasses! And now ye wilna move. MAKE UP YER DAMN MIND SASSENACH!”

Reaching down, she grabbed his face in one hand and glared into his eyes.

“The more wrong answers you give me, the longer this is going to take. And not in the fun way.”

He fixed her with a stern look of his own before finally answering her.

“Ye said,” he responded through clenched teeth, “no’ to move my hands.”

“And?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“And I moved my damned hands. For the love of God, Sassenach, do something!”

His hips moved involuntarily again, pushing just slightly against her, making her shiver.

“Good boy,” she purred. “Though if you’d followed the directions like you should have, we’d be nearly done by now.” She wiggled her hips a touch to illustrate her point.

“I swear to God ALMIGHTY Claire if ye dinna do something soon, you’ll be a widow.”

Turning his head, he looked up at her and glared darkly. His blue eyes were magnified through his glasses and she remembered the feelings and naughty thoughts when she’d first seen him. Assembling the crib for their child, glasses on the bridge of his nose as he read the instructions.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“What now!?”

“Something about you in glasses… I just…it makes me want to ravish you. Don’t you move a bloody muscle.”

He muttered something in Gaelic that she didn’t care to ask him to translate. The combination of his glasses and his rough Scottish burr lit something in her on fire and she rolled her hips hard against him, riding him as hard as she dared. Somehow, he still didn’t move his hands from where she’d put them.

With all her teasing and waiting, neither of them lasted very long. Claire leaned forward, breathing heavily but never ceasing in her movements, pulling Jamie with her over the edge. Her whole body shuddered against his as she went limp, planting her face into the crook of his neck.


Claire groaned, not wanting to move ever again from the position she was in.

“I think yer cake’s done, mo chridhe,” Jamie breathed softly, running his hands down her back along the bones of her spine and up, enjoying the gooseflesh that rose up under his fingers.

“Damn the cake,” she mumbled against his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat from their exertions.

“I ken ye dinna really mean that. Besides, we dinna want to burn the building down. Henry would be verra cross with us if we did.”

She laughed softly and groaned as she tried to push herself off of his chest.


“Yes, damn you, I hear you. I’m coming.”

After a moment of maneuvering, Jamie helped her off the floor, bending to get her clothes for her.

“I don’t have time for those right now. You’re right, I don’t want the cake to burn.”


Claire moved, naked as the day she was born, towards the kitchen and the oven, but he stopped her before she could open it.

“Yer going to fall in there, Sassenach, and then ye’ll be burned and it’ll ruin yer day. I’ll get it out for ye. Dinna fash.”

She eyed him, but took her clothes and started to dress herself again. Why had she not just worn a dress? Easier to get into and out of…and easier for other things as well…

“Sassenach? Where are ye right now? Ye’ve the look of a cat that’s had cream for it’s supper on yer face and it’s makin’ me a wee bit nervous.”

He made a silly face at her and she stuck out her tongue back, earning a swat to her still nude bottom.

“Go and put together our baby’s crib so I can finish making this food. Oh, and…can you keep your glasses in our room? Just, um, in case we need them?”

He gave her a sly smile, watching the rosy blush cover her cheeks.

“Aye. If that’s what ye like, mo chridhe, who am I to say I won’t wear them for ye on occasion?”


Claire fidgeted with her hair, which she’d fought down and pinned back. Jamie had said he enjoyed her wild hair, but she didn’t need tendrils taking on a mind of their own.

“Relax, mo chridhe. Ye’ve met Henry before.”

“Well, yes. But I thought he was just a landlord before. This is like… Well it’s like I’m meeting your family for the first time.”

A flash of hurt and regret moved over his face, but was gone when a knock came at their door.

“Come on, a nighean,” he said smiling, hand on the small of her back leading her forward.

Henry smiled on the other side of the door and Claire saw he had his arms full. In one hand was a nice bottle of whiskey and the other was a bouquet of flowers.

“I know you can’t have any of this yet, Claire, but I thought it would be a good thing to celebrate with later, when you can.”

“Oh Henry, that’s so sweet of you. Thank you!”

Claire took the flowers and put them in the vase that usually held her monthly roses. Jamie put the bottle up in one of the cupboards and came back out to the table to help Claire into her seat.

“This looks wonderful, Claire. Thank you for inviting me over.”

“You’re welcome, Henry. Jamie’s told me how much you’ve done for him since he came out here. You’re like family to him - to us.”

Henry blinked quickly and smiled fondly at Jamie.

“Oh! I almost forgot! Claire and I made ye something. I’ll be right back.”

Jamie hopped to his feet and dashed off to the bedroom for a moment.

“You are far too good for him, my dear. He can be a thick headed idiot sometimes. And you are sweet as an angel.” Claire flushed red at his praise.

“I know very well just how stubborn he can be. Unfortunately love doesn’t often follow logic. I couldn’t leave him any easier than I could take out my own heart.”

“I have to say I’ve never see him so happy. I’ve known him a number of years now, but there’s a life to him that… Well, I’m sure you see it as much as I do.”

Claire looked up to see Jamie returning with the card they’d made earlier.

“Yes,” she said, watching him smile back at her. “I do see it.”

Taking his seat again, Jamie handed over the card.

“I ken Christmas was yesterday, but we didn’t get this done until this morning.”

Late morning, Claire thought with a smirk.

Henry opened the card to see one of the ‘family’ photos she and Jamie had taken.

“Happy late Christmas, Henry. Thank ye for all ye’ve done for us. For both of us.”

“It’s been my pleasure. You’re both good kids.”

Jamie took Claire’s hand and squeezed it, grinning between both her and Henry. After that, they served themselves and had a delightful meal. Much to Jamie’s distress, Henry told a few stories about his first few weeks in Las Vegas.

“It wasna that bad!” Jamie protested.

Claire was giggling so hard tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Jamie, my boy… Yes, it was. You always got in the wrong side of the car. Every time.”

“Well it’s all backwards here!”

“For some reason, I can see that happening. I’m a little disappointed I never got to see it.”

Henry chuckled, a deep, soothing sound.

“I only wish I’d taken pictures. Just hearing him curse, early in the morning, in that odd language of his. God I hadn’t laughed that hard in ages.”

Jamie helped clear the table of dishes while Claire sliced the cake. The three of them settled in once more and Claire rubbed at her belly.

“You two…” Henry said quietly, looking between the two of them. “You remind me of me and my late wife.”

Jamie’s hand tightened on hers.

“Ye dinna talk much about her.”

“We married young. She was the prettiest girl on the block and I was in love with her the moment we met. Lucky for me, she had low standards and settled for me. My Julia was…” Henry paused to clear his throat. “Julia was my best friend. I loved her more than anything in the whole world. When I see the way you look at each other, it’s like watching me and Julia over again. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, what you both have. Cherish it.”

“I intend to, Henry. Claire’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I won’t ever forget that.”

“Same here,” Claire said softly.

Henry yawned and Jamie smiled at him.

“It’s getting late,” Henry said. “I should head home. Let the mother-to-be get some rest.”

They all stood and shuffled to the door. Henry paused and turned to hug Claire tight.

“He can be hard headed, like I said,” he whispered in her ear. “But he’s as loyal as they come. You hold onto him.”

“I will, Henry. I promise.” She hugged him back as strongly as she could.

Henry shook Jamie’s hand and headed out of the apartment building. As soon as the door was closed and locked, Jamie pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Thank ye for having him over, Sassenach.”

“Well you said he’s family. I wanted him to feel welcome here. And, well…” she wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I wanted him to like me. He’s basically your father here and I wanted to make a good impression as your wife and…”

Claire leaned heavily on Jamie, crying quietly.

“Hey,” Jamie said gently. “Hey, mo nighean donn, what’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“I don’t know why I’m such a mess! I just… He thinks I’m good for you.”

“Oh, my love,” Jamie chuckled. “You are the very best thing for me.”

Jamie rubbed her back softly, murmuring to her soothingly in Gaelic. She really ought to have him teach her enough to understand what he was saying all the time.

“Jamie, I had an idea while we had dinner.”

“Did ye? Come and tell me about it. Your feet must ache.”

Her feet were beginning to hurt, so she settled herself on the couch, stretching so her feet rested in Jamie’s lap. Pulling her shoes off, he began pressing his thumb into the arch of her foot, where it ached the most.

“So what was your idea, mo chridhe?”

“What if we asked Henry to be the baby’s godfather? Not that I expect anything to happen to either of us, but he’s our only family here. And, well… He’d be a great person to have around, to ask advice and all that. Do you think… Is that a stupid idea?”

It wasn’t until she looked up that she realized Jamie had stopped rubbing her feet. Tears were welling in his eyes and he nodded slowly.

“Claire… I think that’s the best idea. Henry will be so touched. And that ye’d ask it… Just when I think I canna fall more in love wi’ you, I get surprised. Aye. I’d love to ask Henry to be our baby’s godfather.”

“I think he will too. After all, he did a good job getting you acclimated to Vegas life. And he’s a good man,” she said, giggling softly.

“Aye, that he is. Come on, Sassenach. Let’s go to bed.”

“To bed…or to sleep?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“I guess ye’ll have to come and see, won’t ye, my wee vixen.”

She watched him with hungry eyes as she followed him down the hall to their bedroom… definitely not to sleep.

jackbaettillo  asked:

omg do u think gavin has like a million different pairs of sunglasses in all kinds of colors and shapes and style and just never notices all of his are rapidly disappearing over the years only when he happens to stay at ryans place and he finally asks like "have u seen some of my sunglasses? i think im missing a couple" and ryan throws open a huge storage container and goes "A COUPLE? HOW DID U ONLY NOTICE NOW" and gavins like "I HAVE A LOT OF SUNGLASSES RYAN YOU GOTTA COLOR COORDINATE!"

OH GOD YES Ryan just never says ANYTHING and is just quietly storing pair after pair somewhere and eventually he ALMOST WANTS TO SAY SOMETHING CAUSE HE’S NOW AT FOUR BINS AND WHO EVEN NEEDS THAT MANY PAIRS OF SUNGLASSES????? Gavin finally comes over and makes an off comment like ‘lol I think I’m missing a pair of sunglasses’ and Ryan’s eyes light up he’s been SO READY FOR THIS FOR SO LONG and he says absolutely nothing and grabs Gavin’s wrist and pulls him into a room with a wall JUST LINED WITH BOXES AND GAVIN IS SCREAMING AND RYAN IS JUST “LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY HOUSE” AND GAVIN IS LIKE ‘WHY!! DID YOU KEEP THEM ALL!!! RYAN WHAT ON EARTH’