Once upon a time there was a woman. Most know her as Lost, or Nel, or Nellie. She writes fic. She reads. She's in love with Robert Carlyle. She ships a lot of things. She's a foodie, and works in a kitchen store. Chocolate is as necessary as air. Jane Eyre is her favorite book.
She is a Wiccan, a feminist, a dog lover, an Anglophile. A few other favorite things include: Once Upon a Time, Anyelle, Criminal Minds, Doctor Who (Classic and New) Jossverse, Hustle, Disney, Jane Austen, Aaron Sorkin, and too many shows to name.
Posted 1 year ago on 25 February 2013 WITH 11 notes »reblog

I’m stealing a prompt from Agent-jaselin for this because I think it will amuse.


Belle was tempted to believe that Wee Jock could read calendars.  It just so happened, almost without fail, that every Friday he would escape from the constable’s station and make his way to her house.  Once it had been a Sunday, and once in the middle of the night, but for the most part it was Friday afternoons.

A grateful Hamish almost always insisted on repaying her for bringing his dog home with a meal.  It was funny, how a bachelor always seemed to cook enough for two.

“Now then, Jock, no stops along the way this time.  Don’t think I’m not aware of that scottie las you have an eye on.”  Hamish crotched down on the stoop next to the door, a sweater in one hand that he held out for the dog to sniff.

“You know, Hamish, it would be easier to ask me to dinner than it would to send your envoy each time.”  Belle waited until the pup trotted around the corner, catching him and carrying him back.

“I don’t know what you mean.”  For someone so devious he was talented at looking innocent.  She wasn’t fooled by the carefully blank look or the shrug.

“So that’s not the sweater you leaned me last week, that you had Jock sniff to make sure he came to me?”Once she set Jock down she rested her hands on her hips.

“I was trying to explain to hm that he dinna need to go find you, because you’d come visit soon enough.”  When Jock tugged on the sweater Hamish looked down at him, shaking his head.  ”You’re supposed to be helping me out, you miserable git.”

“I would have said yes, you know.  If you’d just asked.”  It was hard to stifle a smile.  It had been some time since someone was so interested in her that they would design something so elaborate.

“I happen to have a fish in the oven, if you care to join me?”  He barely looked to be breathing.  Belle considered saying no, just on principle, but it seemed cruel.

“Only if you give a bit to Wee Jock.  I’d say he’s earned it.”

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