The Arrangement: A Victorian Fraser Christmas Tale. Prologue Two.

Part One: HERE.

Brian sat the timid pair down at the kitchen table, aware that they needed a wee chat away from the bustling household above.

“Ye ken what is required of ye both to keep young Claire from being dragged back to Oxfordshire by the courts, aye?” He began, looking them both carefully in the eye as he placed a marriage license in front of them. “We have until the New Year to deliver the good tidings, so I put this to ye both…we wed ye on Christmas eve, ken?”

Jamie and Claire nodded in time, both looking directly at the jagged edges of the large carving table.

“Claire, lassie, ye will sleep in the spare room for the time being. We have just over a week to plan this which means ye need to appear in church together tomorrow and next week, and bid approval from Father Mcintyre. I have nay doubt ye willna achieve this, then we’ll plan the ceremony.” Gripping a tankard of stale ale between his fingers, Brian paused to allow his son and his bride to take it all on board. “Between now and yer nuptials me and yer mam think, Jamie lad, that ye pair should get to know one another. Show Claire around, take the week off from the farm, aye? But stay in sight. Whatever ye do,” he approached, a warning in his tone, “dinna bring yerselves into disrepute.”

With this he dismissed them both, his bones aching, desperate for his comfortable bed, safe in the arms of his loving wife.

Jamie slept lightly, his mind working like mad to process the task his father had bestowed upon him. It was a lot to take in, this marriage. Claire herself was only a wee bairn herself, a bashful youth with only a privileged English upbringing to her name.

Across the hall, Claire slept fitfully, the recollection of those long nights hidden in the workhouse interrupting her peaceful rest. Curling herself into a ball, the thin bedsheets tangled between her calves as she thrashed, gripped by the nightmare that currently held her captive.

“NO…” she cried out, burying her face in the soft pillows as the vivid images flashed before her sleep-addled brain.

Hands thrust beneath her, pulling her into a comforting bubble as she shook, her whole body living through the horrors of her ordeal.

“…no…” her throat throbbed as the dull ache of her distant screams faded, enclosed as she was in the arms of her unknown saviour.

Jamie held Claire close, his heart racing as he kept her tucked against him with one arm whilst running his free hand through her damp locks.

His sleep, disturbed as it was by his fears, had been broken completely at hearing her cries for assistance.

“Shush, sassenach. Dinna fash, aye? There is no danger here, I’m here. Da brought ye to Lallybroch, to keep ye safe. Do ye remember?” He recounted her story, well aware of her deep state of unconsciousness. “*I* will keep ye safe, my bride…”

Slipping his arm beneath her legs, he pulled Claire from the bed, kicking the door open with his foot and carrying her downstairs into the warm sitting room.

Thankfully the fire was still ablaze, keeping the room nicely toasty.

Slumping in the large chair, Jamie closed his eyes and leant his head towards Claire’s, dipping his voice low as he continued to tell her wee Gaelic tales.

Speckles of light filtered through the large Laird’s room causing Ellen to wake earlier than she’d have liked. Brian being away from her was hard and having him in her bed once more kept her dozing for long after she’d actually woken.

“I have missed ye, Mr Fraser.” she whispered at Brian, kissing his cheek as she, finally, pulled herself from their marital bed.

Leaving her husband to sleep on, she made her way down, wrapping her warm dressing gown around her waist as she descended.

A quiet voice hit her ears as she reached the bottom of the stairs, the dulcet tones of her youngest wafting over the still morning air as he spoke lowly to his guest.

“What has ye up so soon, mo mhac?” Ellen spoke, her voice cutting through the serene atmosphere.

Twisting his head as much as he was able without disturbing Claire as she slept, soundlessly now, in his arms, he turned to face his mother.

“She wa’ having a nightmare, mam,” he explained, his voice hushed as he responded, “the minute I touched her she quieted, so I brought her down here. I hope ye dinna mind. I couldna stay in her room wi’ her, alone….” he finished, trailing off as he brought his lips to Claire’s forehead and kissed her softly.

Ellen smiled, ignoring the way he spoke about his new wife-to-be.

He was smitten already, she admitted in the back of her mind as she ruffled his hair as if he were still a wean.

“Ye did the right thing, my boy. Good on ye.” she replied, tucking the blanket around their knees as she winked at Jamie, a glow of pride in her eyes. “She’ll need ye now, and it’s good to see her responding so –favourably– to ye so soon.”

“Do ye think?” he broached, a hint of wonder in his tone.

“Aye, Jamie lad. I can see the change in ye both…” she paused, turning away, meaning to speak lowly to herself as she made towards the kitchen to begin breakfast, “…yer a sweet wee pair o’ lovebirds.”

A small, coquettish smile graced his features as he closed his eyes and returned to his stories, his chest alight with joy at his mother’s assessment of them.

Yes, he realised, he did have deep feelings for her. Deeper than he would have thought possible in such a short time.

Immersed in sleep, Claire dreamed on. The glorious feeling that surrounded her grounding every inch of her deprived body. Twitching, she clenched her fists between Jamie’s nightshirt as, unbeknownst to her, he quashed her anguish one Gaelic word at a time.

Church seemed endless as Claire squirmed as she sat, uncomfortably in the hard pews. Having mostly her own freedoms before Lamb’s death, she hadn’t attended a Sunday sermon in some time and had never had the pleasure of being allowed any release from the workhouse.

Jamie, aware of her discomfort, took her hand under his, running small circles over her thin skin. Claire stilled at the contact, the strange feelings it elicited making her sit up straight in the harsh seats.

Fuzzy memories of the night before ran through her head, and she completely missed her cue to stand.

Tugging her to her feet, Jamie chuckled lowly at her incomprehension. They had both parted from their morning position together in the lounge without much conversation about the matter, but Jamie kent that she was nervous. Still adrift in this new life which she had been unceremoniously thrust into. Time was what she required, and he would be there, present and loyal, proving his worth as much as was needed.

As soon as the morning was over and the introductions made, Jamie turned to invite Claire on a tour of Lallybroch. Furrowing his brows, he searched the remaining congregation for her, scouting out her wild curls amongst the dwindling crowd.

“Da,” he whispered to Brian, pulling his father aside and leaving the rest of the Fraser’s to deal with Father Macintyre, “have ye seen Claire, I canna find her?”

“Nay lad,” he returned, turning full circle to try and locate his daughter-in-law-to-be, “I thought she wa’ with ye?”

“She was, but I turned from her, just for a wee moment, and she was gone.” A twinge of nervousness laced his tone as the Fraser men began making their way out of the kirk and into the kirkyard.

“Maybe she just stepped out, son…” Brian soothed, unsure as to where she could have vanished off to in such a short time.

Outside the church, the graves stood still and silent, the winter winds rushing through the battered stones as Jamie and Brian surveyed their surroundings.

“Naybody out here. Where could she have gone?” Jamie muttered, running his hands through his windswept hair.

“She canna have gone far on foot, Jamie. I’ll wait wi’ yer mam, you go back to Lallybroch and have a search. We’ll meet back up in a couple of hours if we’ve had no luck and put our heads together.” Brian suggested, tapping Jamie lightly on the arm. “It’s been a lot for her, aye? I dinna think she’d run from us, she might just need some space.” he finished, eager to calm his worried son.

“Aye, da. I’m sure yer right.” Jamie answered as he nodded towards Brian and then made off in the direction of home, hoping beyond hope that Claire had simply needed the solitary walk.

Gazing out over the Scottish highlands, Claire wrapped her tartan shawl over her shoulders, ignoring the creaking of the branches as she shifted her weight. She didn’t know what had come over her, but the moment Jamie had turned his back she had fled. Unwilling to break the fragile bond she’d begun to forge with the Frasers, she had elected to stay within distance of the big house.

If they hadn’t come across her by sunset, she would take herself back home.

Waking in Jamie’s arms had been a shock. The first in a long line of occurrences that had her rattled. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful for the contact, far from it, but her heart and her head were at war with one another.

As he had taken her hand in the close confines of the church, her head had screamed out, a long craw that had shaken her. What was this? And why did she suddenly feel so secure? Nothing made sense.

Losing Lamb hadn’t made sense.

Being made an orphan of the state had made *no* sense.

Now, falling for a complete stranger made no sense, either.

“Yer so alike…” came the voice from below, carried up to her through the brisk mid-afternoon breeze. “E’en wi’out knowing one another that long.”

Slipping soundlessly through the branches, Claire brought herself back down to earth and stood calmly next to a very serene looking Janet Fraser Murray.

The middle Fraser sibling hadn’t long been married herself, but she was already wise to the rush of rapid affection that came with ardor.

“He is alright?” Claire approached, her sullen tone belying her worry at her rash behaviour this morning.

“He’s fair worrit about ye…” Jenny began, nudging Claire’s shoulder gently, “but mam is wi’ him. It’ll be dark soon,” she hinted, nodding her head towards the setting sun on the horizon, “do ye fancy coming home now?”

Twisting her cold hands between one another, Claire nodded, a slight sad smile tugging at her lips, “yes, I think so.”

Making their way back towards Lallybroch, Jenny wrapped her arm around Claire’s shoulder, bringing her close to her side.

“How did you find me?” Claire asked, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Ach, Claire lassie, that was easy.” Jenny laughed, adding a spring to her step as they walked the path home. “That wee tree is where Jamie himself used to run to as a bairn, when da wa’ after him for a hiding. I didna think o’ it at first, but then….I put myself in his shoes. Where would *Jamie* go, if he were you. If he needed a moment to himself. That’s when I kent where ye were.”

Abashed, Claire brushed over the sentiment to her words.

“Claire, I ken yer afraid. I would be too, if it were me. But embrace it, aye? Dinna run from it. Can ye imagine, sister, if it were changed? Can ye imagine having to wed someone ye didna like?”

Swallowing back her fear, Claire listened carefully to Jenny.

“I didn’t ever expect…”

“No, I ken. It was the same for me and Ian,” Jenny interrupted, knowing where Claire’s mind was running off to. “Ye can never anticipate it, Claire. Ye just have to cradle it to yer chest and keep it safe. Do ye know how many never find what you’ve discovered, how many are marrit to bad men?”

She did know. Her thoughts migrated to the six months she’d spent in an Oxford workhouse. Of the men she knew had left their wives there to rot with children they no longer cared about or for. She thought of the master, of his own wife and the bruises that crept along her skin daily.

“Embrace it, Claire. And, by God, dinna let it go.”

Birds chirped, their wings flapping against the current of the air as they darted around the two women as they came back in sight of Lallybroch.

A silhouette, poised on the periphery stood stark in the archway of the big house. It was the tall, black outline of one very apprehensive Jamie Fraser.

Leaving her sister-to-be without another word, Jenny made her way back inside the house, leaving Claire and Jamie by themselves at the top of the drive, just beneath the arch.

“Where did ye find her, Janet?” Brian asked, watching as a pleased look crossed Jenny’s face.

“Where do ye think, da?” She teased, patting her father on the back, “in Jamie’s tree, o’ course!”

Stoking the fire in Claire’s temporary room, Jamie prodded the small flames, teasing the larger wooden kindling until it set alight in a glorious burst of heat and fire.

“There ye go, Claire. Just keep adding to it and it should warm ye through the night.” He spoke quietly, watching as she shifted herself closer to the flames, obviously still tepid from her day in the wilderness. Wanting to reach out and bring her against him, he refrained, conscious of how he’d spooked her before.

Claire, still shamed by her rash disappearance, sat in silence, rubbing the soft fabric of her nightdress where it lay over her arms.

Holding his hands behind his back, Jamie stepped aside, leaning towards the door as he made to bid her farewell for the evening. Bellies full, the night would soon draw in and both of them needed to be alert for a busy week ahead.

“Thank you, Jamie.” Claire whispered, tipping her head slightly in order to speak to him, “and I’m sorry…for leaving you this morning like I did. It was very rude of me.”

“Nay, Claire. Dinna apologise, ye dinna need to…”

“I do,” she broke in, eager to get this off her chest, “you have been so kind to me, and so utterly gracious. You deserve a proper explanation.”

“Shall I fetch us a drink then?” Jamie inquired, keen to have her at ease if she were about to open up to him.

“That would be –most appreciated.” Claire returned, her formal address making Jamie smile as he went off in search of some of his father’s finely aged whisky.

Patiently Claire waited, sitting cross legged on the floor as she fiddled with the stray cotton of the thin dress. All of her clothes had been practically falling apart and Ellen had made it her mission to replace as much as possible so as not to leave Claire looking homeless and threadbare.

‘Naybody, no’ even a puir orphaned lassie should be wandering around in the dead of winter wearing nought but rags. Especially no’ the wife-to-be of a Fraser…’ Ellen had mumbled, rushing from closet to closet as she’d gathered up bits and bobs, here and there, from various sources.

Now Claire, clothed from head to toe, felt at least a little bit more like herself again.

The tinkling of glasses brought her out from her daydream just as Jamie appeared, two tumblers full of whisky between his rather large hands.

Standing, Claire went over to take one from him before ushering him back towards the wee sofa that she’d carefully placed in front of the fire not long after the room had been gifted to her.  

“Shall we sit?” She questioned, feeling bolder after her conversation with Jenny earlier.

“Aye, thank ye, Claire.” Jamie replied, his cheeks blazing red as he took his place next to her. Still keeping his hands to himself, he settled into the comfy sofa, wrapping his fingers around his glass to distract himself from her nearness.

“I know this wasn’t an ideal situation,” Claire began, sloshing the amber liquid around the crystal goblet, “I’m sure you had many eligible ladies knocking at your door, hoping you’d take them as a wife…”

“Och, Claire,” Jamie interrupted, chuckling at her candid assumptions, “ye flatter me, but that wasna the case.” Anxious to dispel any myths she had about the situation, he nudged her knee with his as he spoke, unable to stop himself.

“O-oh, alright then, well, I’m sure you didn’t picture yourself marrying a stray English girl. And I certainly didn’t anticipate ended up where I did.”

Taking a deep breath, Claire licked her dry lips and turned to face Jamie, looking as his eyes flashed to meet hers in the soft firelight.

“When we first became acquainted –well, it seems like years now, rather than the mere hours it has been– I…” stopping, she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to calm her skittish heart.

Jamie waited, allowing the quiet to penetrate his bones as he gave her head the time to catch up with her body and its fast acclimatisation to his presence.

“…I couldn’t help but feel drawn to you, somehow. And it scared me.”

Tilting her head in his direction, she reacted to her words, letting them guide her.

“So ye ran from me, because ye panicked?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her lips within inches of meeting his, “your hand on mine. It just felt…right.”

“But…” he led, not pulling himself away from her alluring magnetism.

“But it was so sudden that it startled me.”

Holding himself steady, Jamie kept his eyes on her, a question hovering in the air between them as he steeled himself to ask.

“Will ye kiss me Claire? Will ye let me *kiss you*?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her shoulders vibrating with a deep seated fervor, “yes, I’ll let you.”

Expelling all of the air from his lungs, Jamie closed the gap, sealing his lips against hers as he, as gently as he was able, poured out all of his pent up affection for her through their joining.

Seconds turned into minutes as they separated only to draw breath before closing the gap once more.

Wrapping his hand through her loose curls, Jamie pulled her head away and watched as she panted, eyes half closed, lips stained a deep red where he’d brought a flush a blood to the surface in their passionate embrace.

“I have to go, Claire. Else I will do something I’ll regret, aye?” Jamie whispered, softly running his thumb under the gentle slope of her jaw.

“Y-yes.” Claire stuttered, her brain swimming with the scent of him. “Yes, Jamie. I promise I won’t run from you again.”

Kissing her forehead, Jamie rose from the worn settee, a wistful look crossing his face as he left her to rest.  

As soon as the door shut behind him, Claire’s heart began to race. Slowly she brought her fingers to her swollen lips, dragging the pads of them across her damp skin.

“Goodnight, Jamie.” she whispered into the void, mesmerised by the jumping flames that twisted and turned before her, “sleep well, my love.”

The week passed in a blur. Jamie took Claire under his wing, and did as his parents had bid.

William, unbeknownst to the pair, had been employed to act as a silent guardian, ever watchful of any amorous activity that might bring them under scrutiny.

The eldest Fraser watched as his youngest sibling wooed the young mistress Beauchamp, courting her for all of Broch Tuarach to see.

Jamie was a gentleman, as always, and William glowed with pride whenever he did something romantic for his bride-to-be.

“Ye’re to make a braw pair, the two of ye…” he whispered, shaking his head as Jamie reached over for a quick kiss, thinking them to alone. “Treat him well, Claire. I beg of ye.”

Stars twinkled in the night sky illuminating the soft snowfall below. Claire stood, gazing out of the window as the flurries began anew.

“Yer awake…” Jamie interjected, glad that she’d understood his cryptic note. She still didn’t know much Gaelic, but she was learning.

“Of course, I couldn’t sleep even if I tried.” she whispered, tipping her head coquettishly in his direction.

“Aye, same, sassenach.” Carefully he made his way over to her, running his finger along the length of her arm, from shoulder to elbow and back up again.

“What would your parents say, Jamie Fraser?” Claire teased, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch.

Using his palm, softly against her shoulder, he coerced her to turn and face him, ignoring her question. Anything he said would only allow the guilt to build within him. He shouldn’t be here, they were both well aware of that fact. A groom wasn’t to see his bride on the night before the wedding.

“Ye ken the time we’ve spent together, it has only been a short while, but these last few hours apart have been long, Claire.”

“I know. I didn’t think it would ever be this way. When your father first wrote to me detailing his proposal, I was so grateful to have a way out of that horrid place. But I never thought…” stopping to catch her breath, Jamie took advantage of her silence by stepping closer and nudging her cheek with his nose.

“What are you up to, Jamie?” She questioned, perplexed by his behaviour, but endeared by him nonetheless. Still naive in many ways, Claire wasn’t able to distinguish some of Jamie’s more discrete attempts at seduction.

“I want to kiss ye, Claire, but I ken that I shouldna.”

“Talk to me then,” she murmured, allowing her hand to brush the stray hairs from his brow as she spoke, “tell me about tomorrow. You know, don’t you? What’s going to happen.”

Having no idea about the intimate details between a man and a woman, Claire used the opportunity to have Jamie explain as much as he could. She was growing to love him, but those unknowns about marriage made her nervous and on edge.

“Ye say that as if it’s bad, mo nighean donn…” Jamie whispered, his teeth nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.

“Are you all that sure that it isn’t?” She replied. Her tone was light, but inside her stomach was churning anxiously.

“I promise ye, Claire,” he crooned, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist as he brought her close to his chest, “that I willna hurt ye. Willie gave me some advice, because I asked him, aye?” He continued, eager to soothe her restlessness.

“What did he t-tell you? How do we…” she trailed off, unsure of how to broach such a subject. Having him near to her helped a little, but the topic of their wedding and the pressure for them to consummate it shortly afterwards had her fretting.

“De ye ken the ways, sassenach?” Jamie asked, keen to discover what she *did* know on the subject. It was moments like these that revealed how young she really was.

Placing her hand over his, she nodded. A very slight movement that he would have missed had her head not been resting against his chest.

“I think so…I saw something, once, but I didn’t stay long.”

“In the work-house, ye mean?” He replied, knowing that she couldn’t possibly have witnessed such a thing under Lambert Beauchamp’s care.

“Yes.” Her voice was deathly quiet, and Jamie had to tilt his head to hear her. “She was screaming, I thought she was hurt so I ran to her aid. But when I got there…”

Leaning her head back, Claire stopped short, unable to continue. The repugnant scene flashed before her eyes as if she were still there, the taste of smog and filth coating her tongue renewed, as she remembered how she’d fled, leaving the poor girl to her fate.

“Ye couldna have done anything, Claire. I ken ye didna wish her pain. But if ye had stepped in…”

“I know.” She spat, feeling the memory of the painful thrash of the belt as it had fallen against her tormented skin …over and over.

“He might have seen fit to offer ye the same *punishment*, if ye’d have tried to intervene.” Jamie baulked as he said the words, not wishing to think of the woman he’d grown to love in such a precarious situation. “But that willna happen between you and I, I will take care of ye.”

“So…” she began again, determined to trust in Jamie, and not the awful men she’d come to know, “…you have to…with…”

“Aye. But, Willie says, a good husband is tender and kind, ken?”

Twisting her to face him once more, Jamie took her face in between his palms and gently brought his lips to hers, “a good husband will kiss ye just so,” using himself as an example he kissed her again, softly inclining her head to the side to allow him a more intimate angle. “A good husband willna make yer cry out in pain.”

Standing back once more, Jamie let his hands fall to hers, running his fingers over the backs of her wrists and down until she’d calmed sufficiently to hear every word he said.

“I, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, am determined to be a good husband to ye, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, have no fear.”

Closing the door gingerly behind him, Jamie snuck from Claire’s bedchamber, creeping lightly along the creaky boards.

“I hope ye didna do anything rash, mo bhràthair.” William whispered, his head poking out from behind the study door, a humorous glint behind his eyes.

Jumping, Jamie faced his eldest sibling, a rose tint to his cheeks. “I just needed to see her, Willie, ye wee fiend,” he quipped, folding his arms and giving Willie his best stern face, “I didna bring disrespect to the lass. She’s abed now, resting up.”

“Aye, Jamie lad,” William continued, a small smile lighting his darkened features, “I hope yer right. I didna gi’ ye those tips for ye to break mam’s instruction and take her afore the wedding, ye ken!?”

“William Fraser! Dinna insinuate such things.”

“Ach, calm yerself,” Willie jibed, tossing an ancient quill from his father’s desk at Jamie, “I did the same the night o’ my wedding.”

“Ye didna!”

“I did,” he went on, a nostalgic grin on his face, “da told me the ways, as I told you. And I went, my body leading the way o’ course. But when I arrived, and saw her there, bonnie as ever, I just kissed her lightly and tucked her up.”

Jamie dipped his head, laughing as quietly as he was able, “it must be a Fraser trait, aye? Sneaking goodnight kisses from yer intended.”

“I meant what I said, Jamie,” William finished, tapping his fingers against the cold wood of the door, “treat her well. She’s braw and bonnie, but still innocent. If ye care for her, she’ll love ye endlessly. I can see she’s falling, but, as all lassie’s do, Claire is holding back. Love her well, Jamie. Make sure she’s ready for ye and dinna let yer overwhelming lust blind ye to her. It’s easy, ken, for that to happen. Just remember her and ye willna hurt her.”

“Thank ye,” Jamie sighed, looking at William directly before bowing his head in respect, “I promise to do my duty by her.”

“Ye love her, brother.” He stated. Not a question. Fact. “Hard and fast like mam and da. She kens it well, and she canna help but bend the same way. That is all the pair of ye need, aye? Now, sleep, else ye’ll be no use to anyone come the morning.”

Nodding, Jamie yawned widely as if to illustrate his brother’s point. “Good night, William. See ye on the morrow.”

“Good night, Jamie,” William muttered to the now empty hall as Jamie disappeared around the corner and off to his own room, “sleep well, mo bhràthair naomh.”




Mod Note: Merry Christmas Eve from us all at Imagine. Wishing you all a beautiful festive period.

Over the next few days, to celebrate good tidings, we’ve put together some wee Christmas fics for you all. So slàinte and Nollaig chridheil agus bliadhna mhath ur (nollyk chree-ell blee-un-u va oor).

Check back here, sat bat-time, same bat-place tomorrow and beyond <3 

Always by your side

TITLE: Always by your side


AUTHOR: sigridlaufeyson

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s wife. He is the king of Asgard and you are the queen. It was an arranged marriage and you barely spoke to each other before the wedding. A few months pass and you feel yourself growing closer to him. Talking for hours on end, playing jokes on each other. But you fear he’ll always see you as a friend. About a year after you two were married, you get kidnapped. You’re held hostage for what feels like years and all you can think about is how much you want to see Loki, about how much you love him. Loki finds you after 3 days and he takes you back to the palace and doesn’t leave your side until you recover. When you finally do recover, Loki admits how scared he was at the thought of losing you. He then looks deep into your eyes and utters the three words you longed to hear…

“I love you.”


NOTES/WARNINGS: I’m so sorry that I haven’t updated for so long! I feel so bad about it. First, I had a writer’s block and then school started again and I was so busy. To make up for this, this chapter’s word count is 5000 instead of the usual ~3000. I hope you enjoy!
English is not my first language, so I apologize for the mistakes I have made.

Tags: @rudyrobin29

In the previous chapter:

Loki started tickling her, making her squirm underneath him. Her hands were tied with magic above her head. She laughed madly as Loki’s fingers moved quickly up and down her sides.

“Stop, please, stop!” she pleaded through laughter.
“What’s the magic word?”
“All right! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please stop!” Loki stopped tickling her and released her hands. They looked into each other’s eyes for a short moment before Loki climbed off of her.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.
“No, you didn’t,” Britta replied, a huge grin still on her face. Loki smiled back at her.

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Please fire me. A costumer came in today and demanded that we refunded her week old flowers.

Arrangement (5/5)

Obi escaped the breakfast room just as Shirayuki entered it the next morning, his face set with purpose. When he rode off a few minutes later, armed to the teeth and grinning, Shirayuki didn’t know whether to be more concerned for Obi or the bandits who shot at him. It probably suited her purposes for him to stay away, though. She needed as little of his gaze on her and Megumi as possible, because he was terribly perceptive, and he knew her far too well. She was never any good at keeping secrets from him.

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Leaving you behind

I don’t know what this is honestly. I’m just kinda sad over my boyfriend so this is the outcome. I’ll update my series, intentions, soon. much love, admin 143

  • Group: Got7 
  • Member : Mark 
  • Pairing : You and Mark
  • Genre : angst///?
  • Warnings : none 

Summary : You and Mark are engaged, but he barely has any time for your relationship. (if you want another part to it, please request/let me know)

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  • <p> <b>me:</b> *meets someone*<p/><b>brain:</b> time to idolize them<p/><b>me:</b> just met them...stop that<p/><b>brain:</b> too late now you got a folder of all their selfies and a novel length text about how much you care about them written out and the wedding arrangements have already been made<p/><b>me:</b> okay fine at least theyre pretty cool<p/><b>brain:</b> sIKE YOU HATE THEM NEVER RESPOND TO THEM AGAIN<p/><b>me:</b> o<p/></p>