alexander_macneil: color grin hat (color grin hat)
Alexander MacNeil cracked up laughing, elbowing his best mate, Eamonn Flannery as they hared it down the corridor and heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. They'd made an earlier run to the cavernous room in the dark of night--after curfew, yeah, but bro...they KNEW how to get past the alarm wards that were set to notify Heads of House if students were out and about, not to mention they had the Prefects and Head Boy and Head Girl's patrolling schedules fucking MEMORISED because there was NO BLOODY WAY that they were going to lose points for something as stupid as breaking curfew. Hell, if you were going to lose points, then make those points COUNT for something.

For example, they both fully expected points to be lost for their latest prank, although they both suspected that the entertainment value of it alone was worth it, not to mention that it was pretty much HARMLESS anyway, and besides...wasn't bringing laughter and joy and amusement a GOOD thing? Of course it was. And, all done in good fun so they reckoned that any points taken by their respective Heads of House would be minimal at best, and likely done with a wink and a nod and probably a lot of chuckling too, considering the subject of the prank.

Oh, how they'd DIED laughing the day that Alexander was doing some research in the library about the similarities between magical animals and regular ones, and had come across those photos of Pallas cats. Beautiful animals, surely, but FUUUUUUUUCK, their expressions! He'd laughed so hard that the librarian had come over and rapped him across the back of the head with her wand, something that Bibby dēļ Grāmata had NEVER done to the prize Ravenclaw student who could almost always make her smile with one of his sassy winks and bright smiles. So, he'd quickly checked out the book and hared it to off to The Super Secret Room that the Wild Bunch had adopted as their (not so secret) meeting place since most of them were in different Houses and this way, they could hang out together there instead of the Common Rooms.

When he'd showed the book to Eamonn, they'd taken one look at each other and both snorted with laughter as they said "PROFESSOR WILL!!!!". Since that moment, they'd surreptitiously taken photos of the quiet History of Magic professor during class and also out of it, especially when he was engaged in conversations with his elder cousin, Professor Ethan McHugh, or whilst talking to ne'er-do-well students (okay, most often it was THEM, but that's BESIDE the point) and gotten together to pair these photos with photos of Pallas cats bearing eerily similar and absolutely hysterical expressions.

Last night, they'd taken the fruits of their labors to the Great Hall and Charmed ALL of the House and school banners to light up with photos of Professor Will alongside photos of Pallas cats wearing the same expression when Professor Will walked into the room for breakfast. He was usually a bit behind most everyone, as he enjoyed his coffee up in his and Professor B's rooms with their pets before making his way to the staff table for breakfast with the rest of the professors.

As they skidded around a corner, they nearly crashed right into Professor Fell.

"Ooooh, Professor, sorry about that! Didn't mean to nearly mow you over!" Alexander laughed, raising his hands and shaking them about, grinning as the affable professor did the same. It was the funniest thing, but brilliant, and it seemed that Professor Fell loved the fact that he was "in tune with the young people these days" and knew this "hip" greeting.

"Are you heading to breakfast, Sir? Don't want to be late, a little bird told me that there just MIGHT be some entertainment this morning!" He grinned brightly as Eamonn cracked up and Professor Aziraphale clapped his hands together in glee, expressing his delight in the idea of morning fun. "Oh, I expect it will be, Sir!"
alexander_macneil: bw head resting sultry gaze (Default)
Saturday morning, a sweet, sunny autumn morning. Ciara stretches against the sheets, golden hair adorably tousled. She reaches for her husband, surprised that he isn't in the bed beside her. Usually she always wakes before Bran, and in fact, it is nigh on impossible for her to wake him. She practically has to drag his lanky,lazy arse from the bed every morning so that he doesn't miss team practice. Not that he needs the practice, but even so, he and Connor are nothing if not team players - quite literally - and they rarely miss a practice session.

She yawns and rises, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She can hear faint music and smells the sweet scent of maple in the air. She slips into a pair of trackies and one of Bran's clean shirts and pulls her hair up into a messy ponytail and makes her way downstairs.



She smiles, shaking her head as she hears that the music her husband is listening to is that of the late, great Muggle musician Elvis Presley. Bran is totally obsessed with the man - his music, his style and charisma, even his low, drawling voice, which, well, Bran has the same sort of voice, albeit with an English accent that is verging on a slight Scottish accent now from years of living in Scotland when they attended Hogwarts, and, of course, being married to a Scottish lass.

She listens to the music a moment and smiles. She knows this song: "That's All Right, Mama." Bran loves the song, but had been hesitant to play it or sing it around Ciara until she recently confronted him, telling him not to be so bloody daft, that the song didn't bother her one jot. She knows where his concern is coming from, and she appreciates the fact that while Bran may come off as a brash, boisterous Quidditch head, the truth is, he's actually quite a sensitive, caring soul. She never would have married him otherwise if he didn't have that sweet side that really only she, Alexander, his mum, Con and Bart are privy to seeing.

Bran didn't notice her standing in the kitchen doorway as he sings along to the lyrics as he makes what seems to be mountains of pancakes. Bran didn't cook, with the notable exception of brekkie. He loved making brekkie. His long blonde hair is tousled on his head, still shower-damp,and he wears plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants and his hips are shaking just slightly to the music.

309080489_506339530938977_5161781615603412622_n.jpg

Smiling, Ciara leans against the wall, watching him with a secret smile on her lips. He really is so handsome, and when he glances up at her with a crooked smile, finally seeing her, she feels her own smile stretch and she laughs, winking sultry and playful at him.

"Damn, baby, you look hot!" Bran drawls, raking his blue gaze down her before winking back at her. The music changes on the orb then to one of Bran's favourites and he immediately points the spatula towards his chin like a microphone as he sings along.

“A very old friend came by today
'Cause he was telling everyone in town
Of the love that he just found,”


Bran smiles, dropping his chin,

“And Ciara’s the name, of his latest flame.”

He points the spatula toward her to sing the next bit, but Ciara arches her eyebrow, waving him off with a soft laugh. Bran pouts his pillowy bottom lip and slinks towards her as he sings the next words with Elvis,

“He talked and talked and I heard him say
That she had the longest, blondest hair
The prettiest eyes anywhere
And Ciara’s the name,”


Bran slides his arms around her, holding her slender waist and pulls her flush against him, making her giggle slightly. He mouths against the softness of her cheek, “...of his forever flame.”

Laughing against him, Ciara wraps her arms around his neck, giggling and smiling as he spins the two them around the kitchen, Bran gazing down adoringly, as he sings with the music, holding his beloved, beautiful wife tightly to him.

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~~

Ciara laughs. There are times when she could quite happily hex her husband, like when he tracks his boots across the house, loud and muddy and wet throughout the kitchen, swinging the refrigerator door wide open, tapping a foot with zero self-awareness. Ultimately, ending up grabbing a handful of grapes straight out of the bag, not bothering to wash his hands or the fruit. Ciara can't even count the times when she has observed him doing so with a look of combined disdain and amusement as Bran shovels the grapes into his mouth, practically slamming the fridge door shut after, chewing too loud for anyone's good. And then, her dear husband would grin and wink at her and was off again, stomping those dirty and atrocious boots across the house, and most likely, up the stairs.

Yes, those moments annoyed the piss out of her, but yet, she loved the wanker

Or times like the other day when she'd heard him bellowing. "Motherfuckin' dumbass vase. Where the hell did you even come from?" She had had to hide the smile on her lips as she stood from the couch where she had been reading. When she entered the foyer, Bran was sitting on the first step of the stairs, where he was apparently examining his right foot, scowling and uttering more vulgar words under his breath.

"Ah, I never quite fancied that vase," Ciara had stated, but had set to work rapidly repairing it regardless. She then sat beside Bran on the stairs, gently prying her husband's hands away from his foot with a soft, teasing cluck of her tongue, carefully holding his injured foot, spreading the skin taut to peer at the glass sticking out.

"Dinnae your mum instruct you tae nay walk barefoot on broken glass, Bran?"

"Well, that fucking vase was on an unstable ledge, darlin," Bran replied with a short sharp bark of laughter, giving into Ciara's touch, safe and sensual.

They traded soft touches - a brush of fingertips, a warm hand on the shoulder, and at the small of the back, and Bran had pulled her, laughing, into his lap, kissing her breathless, not the least concerned with his foot.

~~

She smiles as he serenades her now.

“Though I smiled, the tears inside were burning
I wished him luck and then he said goodbye
He was gone but still his words kept returning
What else was there for me to do but cry?”


He pouts his lips at the last line, kissing the tip of her perfect little nose. His hands on her hips are light and his fingers tap along, sliding under her shirt to caress her warm satiny skin beneath.

“Would you believe that yesterday
This girl was in my arms and swore to me
She'd be mine eternally
And Ciara's the name of his latest flame.”


Bran then spins her out from his arms, then back against him and she laughs, dancing with him. The song was surprisingly upbeat for the sad message but neither Bran nor Ciara cared as they swayed together in the sun-drenched kitchen, Bran smiling and stealing kisses when he could, making his wife laugh softly at each one.

She couldn’t help but laugh, because pure happiness warranted no other reaction. Bran revels in each breathy laugh, each glorious, sexy smile he can evoke on that beautiful face, bending then to kiss her neck sweetly.

As the song comes to a jaunty end, Bran gazes into her lovely eyes, singing softly “...she had the longest, blondest hair. The prettiest eyes anywhere.” Reaching up, he caresses her face, his hands are large but gentle, his thumb brushing her bottom lip as he softly sings, “Ciara’s the name of my forever flame.”

Then he bends to kiss her, a soft, slow, sensual, soulful kiss, claiming her lips with his as he gently bites her bottom lip slightly, pulling it between his as he kisses her, sweet and passionate... before a loud ringing interrupts them, and the two turn to see a column of smoke coming from the pan he had abandoned to dance with his gorgeous wife.

“Shite!” Bran laughs, seeking his wand and aims it at the pan, dousing the flames, rushing to scrap the burnt remains of the pancake. Ciara laughs quietly and walks over to help him, kissing the back of his broad shoulder before wresting the pan from him. Bran laughs, giving over the pan to her, for Cleaning Charms are just one of her many specialties, being a deft hand at all manner of Charms work as she is.

"Aww, Cee... thank you, baby. Damn... well, I guess we'll have enough pancakes without that burned shit."

Ciara laughs, eyeing the pancakes already stacked high on the plate, as she teases him. "You think?"

Bran grins crookedly and shrugs. "Well, Con's still sleeping off a bender, but when he wakes up, these pancakes will be gone faster than a toupee in a hurricane! Believe it!"

Ciara laughs at that, agreeing with him. She levers herself to sit atop the counter beside him and he smiles, putting an arm on either side of her, leaning his weight on them. His arms flexing. "Mmmm... I forgot to tell you good morning, Sexy'" Bran murmurs, leaning in to brush hot, slow kisses down the elegant column of her neck. His hand slides under her shirt, fingers caressing over her breast, teasing over her nipple with a swirling touch, smiling as it peaks beneath his sensual ministrations.

“Oh lord,” he murmurs against her skin, feeling her sleek, small body writhe with arousal beneath him. “I could eat you alive, darlin'.”

“Do it," she breathes.

"Uh... could we maybe eat the pancakes first, or, you know, you two could go have your *breakfast* elsewhere and I could finish off these lovely pancakes for you. Shame to see them go to waste," Connor said, only the slight flush to his cheeks giving away that he had caught them during an intimate moment.

"Fuck, Man," Bran sighs, giving his best mate a LOOK over his shoulder.
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"Hey, Bro, look, if you wanna do your thing in the kitchen, it's your house... I'll just take these bad boys off your hands before they get cold," Connor says with a shit-eating grin and a quick wink at Ciara as he shamelessly scoops up the platter of pancakes.

"Dude, nah! Not the whole bloody platter!"

Ciara laughs, reaching up to cup Bran's face in her hands, bringing it back to hers. "Leave him. I'll whip us up an omelette after."

"After?" Bran grins and Ciara smiles, nodding.

"Well, alright then!"

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