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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Mysticus Chapter 6

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: None - Fluff

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Masterlist

If you thought he was touchy before, you were sorely mistaken. It was as though you were tethered together, some invisible string connecting you to one another. His hand always found yours and your body always seemed to carry you right to him.

He would absentmindedly draw little circles in your palm as he drove, and reached over to play with the hair at the base of your neck while you drove. He seemed to do it without even realizing and you found yourself doing the same. Your hand always drifted to his knee, always itching to touch his hair, absentmindedly fingering the little blonde patch. He always leaned into it; you had the sense that both of you had gone without human contact for a long time and were trying desperately to make up for lost time.

After that night -and next day- in the motel, you never slept apart. If either of you left the bed, the other woke up soon after. You vaguely wondered how the hell you had ever slept without him.

“We’re running low on funds, we should stop at the next town and figure something out.” You spoke as you counted through your pooled money. He kept his eyes on the road as read the highway signs, switching lanes to make sure he’d be able to take the next exit.

“Understood Birdie, I suspect we will do well here.” He spoke so confidently - he was good at charming people into hiring him for quick jobs. Manual labour, setting up events, he was a jack of all trades and didn’t ask any questions. Sometimes if he was sure the job was safe and easy he would manage to get you both hired. Whether it be for a few hours or a few days. Unless there was a fair or carnival in town, then you could do your palm readings.

On your way into town you noticed some signs advertising a drive-in and it sent a shiver down your spine. That was another place that made your skin crawl. Being inside the car and watching the movie was okay, it was everything else that gave you the creeps. There was a sense that nothing ever changed, a creeping nostalgia.

“Birdie, would you do me the great honour of accompanying me to the drive in? I’d very much enjoy taking my girls out on a real date.” The dog lifted her head sensing he was speaking about her, she sniffed his ear and settled back in the backseat.

His smile faltered slightly upon seeing the look of wild panic on your face.

“Don’t laugh, but the drive in kind of freaks me out.” You admitted almost shyly. He smiled at you but it wasn’t malicious, he grabbed your hand as he pulled into the nearest motel and pressed soft kisses to your knuckles.

“I would never laugh at you Birdie, if you are decidedly opposed then I will of course find somewhere else to woo you as you deserve. However, I’m sure I can find a way to give you a positively lovely experience.” He gave you the secret smile as he playfully nipped at your fingers. You shuddered as you tried to imagine what he was imagining and agreed. Who were you kidding? You would have agreed to anything he said in order to have him looking at you like that.

“Okay, fine.” You couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Splendid. I’ll get us checked in while you make sure our girl here attends to her business.” He patted the dog warmly as he made his way over to the front desk. Within 20 minutes you were getting settled into your meagre accommodations, the dog sniffing around the room like she usually did. Satisfied the room was up to her standards she plopped down in the floor with a huff. Ezra then clapped his hands together excitedly turning to you and giving you a devastating smile.

“Alright Birdie, I inquired at the front desk and the first showing just started, I am partial to the late show myself and with your consent we’ll leave here in an hour. Now, if you’ll be so kind, I would humbly implore you to wear that lovely sundress I adore so much.”

* * * * *

You were torn as you pulled in, Ezra’s hand on your thigh was reassuring - a grounding force that communicated pure safety. You were safe when you were with him - no doubt about that - your mind however didn’t care. The drive-in was creepy and you couldn’t help but feel it. Like always - he sensed it.

“Birdie, would you like to leave? You are not obligated to be here if you are truly frightened. I am content with your company and your company alone. Everything else is immaterial.” He was looking at you intensely - wanting your complete honesty.

“I’m a little nervous - but I’ll be okay once the movie starts.” You leaned into him unconsciously - his touch made you feel better.

“If at any point you find you’ve reached your limit - simply say the word and we will depart.” He winked as he found a good spot for you to park. Knowing that you could leave at any moment made it marginally better, you could focus on having a good time.

He pulled a bag of goodies out from the back and handed them to you with a smile on his face, all of your favourites.

All in all it was actually fun, the two of you talking throughout the film, making bets on how it would turn out. You both leaned into one another over the little console, always connected in one way or another.

You watching him during one of your quiet moments, you knew you loved him - that was obvious, but there was something more. Something massive prickling at your brain, something that itched in your hand whenever you touched him. He gave you the secret smile when he caught you looking at him and the prickling grew more intense. Everything had to do with that smile - you knew it. There was something bigger that for one reason or another you refused to confront. What were you afraid of?

“Why do you smile at me like that?” You asked it playfully, in low tones and his grin widened. He knew - he always knew.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to Birdie.” He kissed your palm and you narrowed your eyes at him - he was teasing you.

“Yes you do - it’s like you know something that I don’t.” You were skirting around it now, getting perilously closer, were you really ready for this? He sensed your sudden panic and the smile faltered.

“What scares you so? Is it me?” His hand held yours and he drew those little circles into your palm, you had to be honest.

“No - never you.” you saw him let go of a deep breath then - “I don’t know - I get the feeling you know something and you’re not telling me. Am I crazy?” You looked into his eyes, trying hard to see if you could glean any insight into your suspicions.

“I am convinced you know more than you think, you may not be ready to face it though.” He drew your attention to your palm. To the mark you shared and you stared at them, you felt him willing you to see what he saw. “When I was a boy, my grandmother told me stories to calm me. I was a hellion, always moving. She was somewhat of a romantic, she would say this mark on my palm was special. That if I was lucky enough to find it’s twin on another person, that it would mean something.” he didn’t look up at you. This was it. This was what you’d been skirting around. You already knew you loved him, that he was essential to you, that you were glad you’d found each other but thinking it was preordained or destiny was almost inconceivable to you.

“What did you say when she told you?” You were imagining him as a little boy, the shock of blonde and those wild eyes. It made you a little sad to not have been a part of his life back then.

“I was disgusted!” He laughed then, and you couldn’t help but smile at the image. His little arms crossed stomping away as his grandmother laughed. “I told her she was crazy and that I was too wild, that I did not desire anyone. She laughed at me and informed me - quite correctly - that my mind would change as I got older.”

“Have you? Do you still think she was crazy?” you knew the answer, you knew then finally, what was so infuriatingly obvious. The smile dropped from his face completely, being replaced with a fierce intensity, his eyes almost burning into you.

“I have Birdie, she knew even then, what I know now.” He seemed to be guiding you - the hope that you would finally understand shining at you in the darkness of the car. The movie, long forgotten, the dog sleeping in the backseat.

“Us.. You and I…” You trailed off as the smile returned, only this time you were in on the secret.

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years

Note

How do the boys take the ‘I think I’m pregnant’ scare? And how do they react and feel if it’s true versus just that-a scare.

[How would the bois treat their pregnant significant other?]

This is the behemoth I mentioned before! It’s so big that I kept having issues trying to save it while I was working on mobile. Included is first reaction, if it’s a scare, if it’s not a scare, through the pregnancy, and as a bonus, during labor (you can thank my hubby for that one)!

Classic- He's freaking out. that's- that's not how babies work- that's not how- He's hyperventilating. He's going to pass out... When he gets ahold of himself and realizes that he doesn't know about how having kids between monsters and humans works... It... might be possible...

If it's a scare- he's pretty relieved. Not because he didn't want kids- it's just that it was so sudden! He didn't even think it was possible! You can bet he's doing more research into this so they can take precautions. Next time, if there's a question about pregnancy, it'll be when they're ready.

Not a scare- he- he'll be ok- really he will- just... in a minute... After he gets over the shock, he takes another moment to himself before he goes to his S/o and a bit awkwardly apologizes for the freak out. He asks how she's doing and what she wants to do.

Through pregnancy- He tries to make sure that his S/o is comfortable, that she has everything that she needs, and at the beginning, he is super frazzled. He’s keeping it together- but just barely! Look just a little closely and you’ll see that he’s about to start falling apart at the seams. His brother helps the best he can, but the best part of it, as far as he’s concerned is when they’re in bed, arms wrapped around each other, nothing to worry about but letting the peacefulness wash over them and sleep. When he finally relaxes back into the fact that they’re going to have a baby, he manages to be much more chill. Even the worst day at work doesn’t stand a chance to keep him upset when he gets home and his S/o is there, waiting for him, her round belly ready to be stroked as he grins goofily at it, their little soulling starting to make movements inside... This really is the life.

During labor- Oh- oh stars- he has to do something! What?! What is he supposed to do?! He has to get her to the hospital- has to- now! How does he- Oh- duh! Wait- can he take her through a shortcut while she’s in labor?! Is it safe?! She ends up leading the boys both to Creampuff’s car, and Creampuff drives them, showing off his driving skills and how quickly he can get them there, while Classic is in the back yelling for him to slow down, observe the speed limit- for the love of everything nice and happy, please show him mercy!

Creampuff- Uh... He understands that people often see him as child like, but he does know how babies are made... And he didn't do anything physical, or take his soul out...

If it's a scare or not- Not likely to happen with him; it would have to be on purpose.

Through pregnancy- Since this was planned, he is very prepared! It’s adorable just how ready he thinks he is, and how all of his plans fail. “YOU MEAN... WE WON’T EVEN NEED THIS FOR THE FIRST TWO YEARS...?” But his big watery sockets make his S/o pull him close, comforting him, and he’s happy again- as long as he has them, everything is all right. He mother hens his S/o quite a bit, only letting her do things that are “safe for the baby”, as dictated by “authorities” on websites. And he takes it upon himself to premake her meals for when he’s gone, so that he can make sure she’s getting everything she needs, also banning his brother from taking her to Grillby’s... but, when the cravings hit, he caves ridiculously easily to her. But, his S/o's life isn’t all laying around and premade heath snacks! He makes sure that she does her baby yoga and prenatal exercises, too. Have to stay healthy for the baby!

During labor- He’s running around trying to find the go bag and everything the websites said they need- he knows it was here just the other day...! His S/o is either going to have to get him to calm down (a tall order) or call for an ambulance to get them to the hospital.

Red- Uh- uh- wait- but- how...?! He- he- ...he feels like he should be panicking more... Outwardly, he's tense, snapping at everyone else, keeping everyone away from his S/o, sweating and watching her a lot... Inside? He's nervous; it's her decision what happens... He knows he's got the whole dad thing down; how awesome his brother turned out shows that! But... He's not worthy of his S/o, and those are his genetics... How does his S/o feel about that? What if this is the thing that makes her figure out that she deserves better?! He won't say anything, though, his S/o will have to ask him what's going on with all the almost touches and switching from holding her close to distancing himself.

If it's a scare- He's a bit... disappointed... he'd just started thinking that his S/o would accept, and maybe even like, the forever of being bound to him with a child...

Not a scare- He's still a bit tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop; he knows that humans don't always want to have kids, and they can do something about it... When his S/o tells him that, of course they want to keep the baby, he's so relieved- it feels like the suitcase of anxiety he'd been lugging around all this time has disappeared.

Through pregnancy- Red is the ultimate provider and protector. He makes a nest the softest his S/o has ever felt, he puts all sorts of barriers and traps and gizmos all over the place! His S/o has never felt safer- as long as she doesn’t try to go outside alone... There’s nothing that she wants for more than a few moments- usually. Even on the days he’s knock down, drag out tired, he sees her cravings and pregnant moods as his little hellion influencing her, and... he wants to feed and spoil them more... It’s rare that he’s ever actually pissy with her, but when he is, he leaves to get what she wants, bitches and gripes the whole way there and back, and feels better by the time he gets back- and makes her bribe him with affection. He’s rigged it so that anyone who tries to get in that doesn’t have an approved magical signature... well, they won’t be getting in. ... possibly anywhere- ever. He may have held back in the Underground, hating what his world had become, but this is his mate and his child. He’s not holding back. He doesn’t know anything about gardening, but he can rig a setup so that a plot of garden can be perfectly watered at all times, and his brother takes care of the rest, so they’ll never run out of resources. He has threatened to maul others if they look like they’ve got aggressive plans for his S/o, but he waits until she’s gone; he doesn’t want to upset her. Somehow, while he’s done all of this, he always seems to be there when it’s nap time, or when it’s being lazy around the house time, cuddling, nuzzling, and letting it be known how happy he is. Edge gives him shit for purring so much, but he’s actually very proud of how active and motivated he is. Red does get anxious whenever she wants to leave the perfectly protected den he’s made her, though...

During labor- He freezes. What the hell- what is happening?! It’s such strange behavior that it takes him a few moments to figure out what was going on. When he does, He has his brother get his car, getting his S/o in the back and being on hyper alert for danger- that is, if he doesn’t manage to convince her of a home birth. it’s jus’ so much safer! in here- where no one he doesn’t want to get in can get in! Edge guards the door while Red glares at the midwife and birthing team to make sure nothing hinky is going on.

Edge- That... can't happen... He knows how baby bones are made! Oh- but his S/o is a human... Maybe that is how it works for his S/o...? The whole time he's not outwardly reacting, standing stiff, looking like he's waiting for orders or something. His S/o will have trouble telling for certain if he's angry, or it's just his normal emotionless mask.

If it's a scare- He's relieved! That was something he didn't think could happen, and too many questions leading to too much information were piling up in his mind at one time. He's also a bit... let down. While it was too much info and overwhelming to try to think about it all in that one moment, it could have been nice...

Not a scare- He leaves. Not to abandon his S/o! He tells Red to stay there and that he needs to run an errand- the errand is trying to wrap his skull around his new reality. He just needs a bit to process this! It's so many things he thought were impossible all happening at once! Once he gets his skull together, he comes back and immediately holds his S/o close against him. He knows that the two of them are smart enough to get through this, and despite all the shit he gives his brother, Red is also very smart, and he knows he'd do anything for him.

Through pregnancy- He’s hot and cold more than usual. He- has- some... feelings for her that... may be love like... And he’s going to keep both his S/o and their child safe. No matter if he has to intimidate everyone from here to the moon! He’s not used to being able to show emotions other than anger and toughness... Good thing his S/o is so fiery! He regularly engages in verbal battles with her to help her get rid of some of her stress and irritation from all the things that are going on with her body. It does backfire a bit, though, sometimes... When they’re both making their points and she’s yelling at him, her rage twisting her features- uh... well... He can’t stop thinking of taking her right there, or putting her to her knees and twisting his phalanges in her hair and feeling her throat around him- He... he’s never been so sexually driven before... and it’s not like it’s going to change soon; neither of them can help it- Pregnancy looks so fucking sexy on her... it makes her seem like a goddess of fertility and war. His soul beats for her with every breath.

During labor- Once he gets his S/o to the hospital and set, his internal mini panic ends. Now he's yelling at her, reminding her about the proper breathing technique and working her through the contractions. The staff feels like maybe they should worry about abuse, but then... His S/o is ruling the room- she's glowing, ordering everyone around, looking like she's about ready to punch anyone who gets too close, shouting and demanding the nurses give her the DAMN DRUGS! He's so in love, so- turned on... Is it wrong that he's thinking about putting another one in her right that moment...?

Blue- He's silent. The words "I think I'm pregnant" echo around in his skull, which looks devoid of emotion. Is his S/o teasing him because she thinks he doesn't know how babies are made? But... she doesn't look like she's joking... A sudden look of shock hits his face as he realizes that- he was with her during his heat! Oh! Oh... Well... That could explain it! He smiles and pulls his S/o close, nuzzling against her and scenting the heck out of her.

If it's a scare- Oh... Well! Maybe there is a chance that can happen, but... not yet! This will give them time to figure out how it can happen and what to do about it so they can decide on a better time when they’re more ready for this!

Not a scare- His S/o is going to have his baby... He’s the proudest skeleton around! He walks around with his skull held high, chest puffed out, huge grin, and nothing short of a strut. All of his coworkers wonder what’s going on with him, but they don’t have to for long, because he’s so happy he’s not even trying to keep it a secret.

Through pregnancy- You know those over the top cutesy couples where one insists on getting the one carrying the baby anything they want? That’s Blue. His S/o is going to have to be careful, because he will over indulge her cravings and with anything it even looks like she’s interested in. His S/o will protest that he’s doting on her too much, but he’s convinced that he’s the happiest damn man ever in existence, and she’s giving him this, so she deserves to have anything that he can give her- and he can give her a lot. They now have the nicest and best feeling nest that’s probably ever existed. She has more of anything than she could ever hope to use or need, but he’s always happy to give her more and make sure she’s taken care of in every way possible. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind who the father of the baby is when they walk around; he’s so full of pride that he’d dislocate a rib if his chest puffed out any more, and his skull barely has room on it for how big his grin is.

During labor- He's running around, yelling for his brother and trying to find the go bag and everything they had ready- he swears it was right there just that morning! Until Stretch wanders over, twirling the keys on a phalange, ushering the two of them to the car. When Blue sees the stuff in the back seat, he remembers that he'd moved it there to be even more ready... He'll be happy when this part is over and he can just hold his S/o and child safely in his arms! He's not a fan of them being in pain, so he's going to be asking the staff to have every kind of pain meds on hand, just in case...

Stretch- Stretch.exe has crashed and needs to be reboot to make any changes. He- didn't just hear what he thought he did... did he? See, there's no way that- except, unless there was... He slowly regains feeling in his extremities, and stares at the empty space in front of his sockets a bit longer before fully coming to. that's... *he can't decide whether he's supposed to be happy or horrified, his S/o's expression isn't telling him* wow... that's something, huh? science. *shakes skull in amazement*

If it's a scare- He needs to be more careful. Maybe someday, in the future, he'll want kids- but right now- he messes around too much; he's not serious enough to take this on. He spent so long raising Blue, his whole childhood and teen years, really, he wants some time to just have fun. He doesn't want to ruin life for everyone involved by getting in that situation and blaming them.

Not a scare- Oh shit- oh shit! Oh, god of motherfuck! He's zoned out staring off at nothing. Panicking internally. After trying to get his attention for long enough, his S/o just slaps him, yelling at him in frustration and leaves. The slap brought him back to the real world, but it's Blue yelling at him that makes him realize just how bad that had been. "HOW CAN YOU JUST STAND THERE LIKE A SAND SCULPTURE?! THEY'RE AFRAID, TOO! IF YOU WEREN'T SO BUSY THINKING OF ONLY YOURSELF, YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN THAT! AT LEAST YOU HAVE SOME EXPERIENCE RAISING A BABY BONES! THEY HAVE NONE! THEY NEED YOU NOW MORE THAN EVER! ... AND IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR LAZY COXXYS AFTER THEM RIGHT NOW, I'LL INFORM MUFFET OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND CELEBRATE WHEN YOU'RE BANNED!"

Through pregnancy- It’s... it’s not as bad as he made it out to be in his mind. He’d felt like someone had been about to hand them a baby any second, and then their lives would have been over. Instead they had nine and a half months to figure their shit out and get ready for what was coming. With many times set aside to talk everything out, and Blue there to mediate (make sure that Stretch was actually saying what he thought and wanted instead of trying to please by going with the flow) they managed to to work it out so that by they time it reached the third trimester, he’s pretty happy with the warm little life they’ve gotten all set up for themselves, and is a very cuddly skeleton. Also, a little secret he’s found out about pregnancy is that it makes his S/o’s pussy taste so much more delicious.

During labor- Stretch freezes, then his brother's loud voice pulls him back, and he puts the fluctuating panic to the back of his skull and shortcuts away. They think he's running off, but by the time Blue, who's very pissed at him, gets Stretch's S/o to the car, they see him stuffing the bags of supplies in the back.

Black- Oh- stars- he- he didn’t actually mean that- goddamn it! Ok... maybe he had... but-! He’s worried; worried about keeping them all safe, and worried that if he reacts in a way to keep them safe, his S/o will be angry with him and leave him forever! He- he can’t live with that!!! He growls and takes his S/o home, somewhere safe where he can hold them close against him. “Tell Me Again?” He asks softly. “I think I’m pregnant.” It’s said more levelly than it was before, more believing that he’s going to say something stupid. “Oh, Love... I’m The Happiest Monster In The World...” He pulls back to meet her gaze. “I’m Going To Make Sure That You Are The Most Well Taken Care Of Mate In All The Land.”

If it’s a scare- Oh... Well... That’s too bad... But... Now they can see how they’d react to the real news. And... now that it’s gotten them thinking about it... he kind of wants to actually try... hopefully his S/o will want to soon, too.

Not a scare- He’s so happy. Others speculate why he’s so happy, but they can never get him to reveal the truth, though they’ve all heard outlandish, crazy things by now, all said with a straight face, as though they were the truth. He never lets his S/o be without him or his brother- protection precautions. They will be a happy little family... and even though this little one was on accident- the next little one will be completely on purpose... and not too long after.

Through pregnancy- He is great at noticing things, and what he notices, is anything his S/o wants. Anything their eyes stay on for longer than a moment, anything they mention wanting or wondering about in passing. And, the strange thing about his observations is- they seem to just manifest out of nowhere! Right when they really wanted them the most! Those cookies from Muffet’s- somehow ended up on the kitchen counter... The soft fuzzy blanket they’d forced themselves to put back, draped over the couch. The relief they need that just hovers around the edges, tormenting them with an unscratchable itch they just can’t scratch- Black is there, holding them close, finding just the right angle, and sliding against it at just the right speed, and just the right strength to make his S/o's mind melt, their body doing the same in his arms. They are spoiled rotten by the end, and that’s just how he likes it; no one can do for them what he can, and they’ll never leave. Also hidden under the surface that is his joy of giving his S/o everything they could ever want, is his happiness and pride of the show of their bonding. Let no one doubt who his S/o belongs with.

During labor- The sudden cry of pain makes his skull snap to his S/o and search the area. What happened?! Who hurt them?! Who does he need to kill?! When he realizes that it's time, he yells for his brother to get the car, (softly and lovingly) telling his S/o to sit back and relax while he runs around and gathers everything, then stops where she is and helps her to the car. He only allows staff that he has personally vetted into the room, and only after he or Mutt have checked every form of ID available. No one will hurt his mate, or his heir. The moment he feels like any of the staff has messed up, he'll yell at them and push them out of the way- He'll Do It His Damn Self, Thank You!

Mutt- uuuuuuhhh... huh... um... hm. that’s... um... a thing, now, isn’t it... crazy how... humans reproduce... all run by chemicals, you know... Oh, damn it, look, he’s really... not sure how to behave! Is his S/o excited or pissed?! What is he supposed to do?! Does she want him to- no. No, he doesn’t think he wants to do that... He’s going to say no. If she asks, his answer is that he can’t do that. He realizes that she’s panicking, too, and is glad that his stony exterior made it so that none of his thoughts came through. He pulls her close and stands there, holding her, until she calms down. Even though he’s silent, he gives her what comfort he can, even if it’s just from his presence of being there. He’s not sure what else he could do... Except what he’s always done; take control of the situation. Their relationship is based on them both getting what they want from each other, and that what they want is the same thing... but... if he can’t convince her... if he tries to force her... she’ll just dig her heels in harder.

If it’s a scare- Oh, well... ok, then. He supposes... that it was just a mistake... something confusing... but... It brought up his memories of raising Black, and... he kinda liked remembering the way Black used to look up at him like he was the most amazing monster to ever have lived... made him think that... he probably... wouldn’t say no if there was the chance to do that again...

Not a scare- This situation sucks. The way that it happened sucks. He hopes that his S/o doesn’t end up hating him over this. He really loves them, and... that’s his kid. He’s not going anywhere. God and stars help the person who looks at his S/o the wrong way... and they’d have to help her if she ever tried to leave him, now...

Through pregnancy- His inner yandere shows itself very obviously. He’s always there, no matter where she goes. At the store? He’s lurking in the aisles. Taking a walk around? He’s silently shadowing her, keeping a socket out for anyone looking even remotely like they’d start something. Riding a bus to work? He’s somewhere... though you’d have to have a really good eye to pick him out. If they weren’t dating, he would probably get hit with stalking charges. Instead, he gets hit with, “why don’t you just ask to come with me instead of creeping the shadows like a freaking weirdo?”

During labor- Mutt internally freaks out for a moment, but gets ahold of himself while his brother guides his S/o to the car. Everyone around him is going to be glad for Black in this time. Mutt is looking like a murderous, protective bodyguard, standing just on the edge of the shadows, growling at anyone who even gets too close. No one except previously approved staff are allowed in the room. Everyone who is human thinks this is bizarre, but all the monsters there take it in stride as the norm. Black orders everyone around, which saves them all from having Mutt growling at them and seeming to stand over them, about to attack, even if he does sound like he's micromanaging.

Axe- He... uh... oops... He feels kinda guilty; there had to be intent involved, and... well, his S/o is pregnant, isn’t she? So... obviously he meant it... He’s half excited for a baby, and half really nervous because his brain keeps going back to; more mouths to feed, need more food- food! He hopes his S/o isn’t mad at him...

If it’s a scare- He’s a bit relieved, since he was worried about his S/o finding out and being mad at him... but, maybe they could open the conversation about it...?

Not a scare- He breaks down and admits that he caused this, asking his S/o to stay with him and love him even though he was so reckless- but he fully intends to stay with them, even if they say no, it will just be from the shadows... but he can’t just let her take their baby and go! It’s dangerous out there! It’s not- ... oh... they were trying for a baby...? oh yeah... wait- no they weren’t! But he appreciates her telling him that they were to make him feel better...

Through pregnancy- He’s not leaving their side. He’s going to protect them through everything- like being around other people, or not having space to sit on a bench at the park... He gets a bit underfoot, honestly... But, he’s doing it for the most thoughtful reasons! He loves his S/o, and isn’t going to let anything happen to her, or their baby.

During labor- He's panicking hardcore! What's he supposed to do? What's he supposed to do?! Did he ever know what to do? He'd ask his S/o, but they're too busy screaming! Wait- Paps! Paps'll know what to do! He's good at remembering the stuff his mind shuts out! They all get to the hospital, and his S/o is in a room. All of the noise and commotion is messing with his mind, making that problem that makes him block access to his memories act up... He's kicked out of the hospital in approximately six minutes. He's also not allowed back until the baby is born.

Crooks/Bun- He’s not likely to start up these activities on his own, so it would either be a huge surprise, with him being pretty quiet and just blinking for a few moments. Axe will probably come over and see if someone needs to get smacked, honestly, or, he'd expect it and be excited!

If it’s a scare or not- Yeah, this would 8/10 have to be on purpose. Those other 2/10, would be 1 oh wow, so it can happen after only one time... and 1 oh... wow...

Through pregnancy- He’s so happy, going everywhere with his S/o, talking about everything they plan to do, going on many parenting websites and doing research in his spare time, and babyproofing everything. He’s delighted to find out that the baby proofing helps with Axe, too, since he can’t trip and injure himself on everything when he’s not paying attention, now.

During labor- Oh- Ohh- Oh My! What To Do! Oh, Yes, To The Hospital! At the hospital, he's there as the amazing birthing coach he is, encouraging and rooting for his S/o!

Dusty- uhhhhhhhhhhh... um... what the fuck did his S/o just say? She thinks she’s what? ...! He’s freaking out, not only because he apparently was so reckless, but also because now he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. There’s going to be a kid- it’s going to be his kid- what if- what if there’s a reset- what if that demonic hellspawn comes back- oh fuck- what if it tries to take over his kid?!

If it’s a scare- He’s still severely rattled, and needs lots of time alone. Why isn’t Papyrus talking to him? Is he mad at him? It’s so quiet in his head now... at least, thank the stars, there’s not a chance of that stuff happening...

Not a scare- panic- panic- no disco, lots of panic! Where’s Papyrus?! He’d know what to do! Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- he’s going to be a dad- fuckfuckfuck!

Through pregnancy- He’s very nervous. He needs a support animal or something. He’s so sorry that his S/o has to go through this with him dragging her down- he- he has feelings for her, though, and he’s sorry, but- if anyone else tried to step in and take her off his hands, they wouldn’t be a problem very long. A puddle of blood? Yes. A problem? No. And no one better fucking touch her! Ok, he’s calm, he promises- backthefuckupbuddy! His S/o will have to be patient with him as he adjusts and fights his way through the clouds of LV and psychological torture induced madness...

During labor- He blanks. He panics. He freaks out. His service dog nudges his hand and positions the handle of the vest under his hand, and he holds on out of habit. The dog leads him to a spot away from the noise as his S/o calls an ambulance. She gives the dog the command that tells them there's going to be a loud noise, because they probably won't remember to turn the sirens off when they get closer. She drops the note for Dusty in the spot they'd trained the dog to bring him notes from, and is on the porch, leaning against the wall, waiting for the ambulance. When Dust comes back to himself, his dog brings him a note that says "I'm at the hospital, I went into labor. Call me, love you! S/o." He's so glad to hear her voice when he calls.

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 39: The Man and the Myth

Chapter 38

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They sat silently for a few more moments, before Claire felt Jamie inhale. She lifted her head off of his chest to look up at him, the sight of him taking her breath away again.

“Her name...what did ye name her?”

Claire’s heart strained, and she smiled tearily. “Brianna.”

His eyes closed, and he exhaled with a shudder. “Brianna,” he repeated, savoring each syllable as it rolled off his tongue. Her name…his daughter’s name. “Brianna.”

“For your father, Brian. Remember?” Claire caressed his jaw, eight years of separation not enough to suppress an instinct etched so deeply in the marrow of her bone.

“Aye...aye, I do.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. Claire stretched up to reach him better, pressing their foreheads together.

“Can ye...can ye tell me about her?”

She chuckled through her nose, the breath tickling Jamie’s skin.

“She’s...a hellion, for starters.”

Jamie laughed now, his lips trembling against her chin.

“She’s very smart, and she loves horses, and she’s empathetic, and stubborn and bold and brave…” Claire lost her voice for a moment, blinking away tears. She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “She’s yours, Jamie. In every way.”

Every line of his face was hard, his eyes red, stagnant tears on his cheeks. “Mine.”

Claire nodded wordlessly, brushing her lips on each of his cheeks, kissing away his tears.

“She’s...she’s beautiful, is she no’...?” he said. “I could hardly see fer lack of air...but she’s...she’s beautiful, Claire.”

Claire nodded, tears slipping out of her own eyes now, and Jamie brushed them away with gentle caresses of his thumbs.

“She is.”

She was unable to resist closing the small distance between them and kissing him soundly, and she almost whimpered in disbelief. How many times had she tried to picture this, and yet his lips had vanished beneath hers every time...?

They stayed there, moved beyond words again, until Claire’s stomach lurched, remembering.

“There’s…there’s one more thing you should know.” Claire broke the silence.

“Her twin?” Jamie said.

“God, no…” Claire chuckled. “No…there’s…been a lasting effect of the difficult birth. It isn’t serious,” she said quickly. “We’ve become fairly good at managing it, all of us. Jenny and Fergus and Ian. And Brianna knows what to do now when she feels it coming on. She’s old enough to understand.”

Jamie nodded silently, urging her to continue.

“Yes…now she…she has something called epilepsy. From a lack of oxygen during her birth. She has seizures occasionally. They’re usually not very bad.”

“Seizures?” Jamie repeated the foreign word. “What does that mean?”

“She…she becomes rigid, stiff. Her eyes roll to the side, like this.” Claire demonstrated briefly. “Her left arm and leg twitch, uh…like this.” She bent her arm at the elbow to show him. “She loses consciousness during it. It isn’t serious,” Claire reassured again, sensing his growing panic. “It was far more dangerous when she was a baby. Could have caused permanent damage back then.”

“So it willnae cause damage any longer?” Jamie said.

“It shouldn’t, unless it’s a very, very long one. So it’s not terribly serious. I just thought you should know. It’s…quite frightening if you’ve never seen one before, especially in a child.” Claire shuddered at the memory. “She was just a month old when she had her first one. It was horrible. But I’m quite used to them now. You just…have to be prepared.”

Jamie nodded, though his brow was still furrowed with concern. “Ye’ll…ye’ll show me how to be prepared?”

“Of course.” Claire cupped his cheeks, resting their foreheads together. “I still can’t believe you’re really alive…”

Jamie wrapped his arms around her. “Sometimes I canna believe it myself either.” He kissed her head. “Can ye…can ye take me inside so I can properly meet my daughter?”

Claire stood up and reached down to help him up. “You’ll have to be…patient. She doesn’t know you at all.”

Jamie nodded sadly. “I ken that.”

“I’m going to have to explain where you’ve been all this time. We told her you died for Scotland. She thinks you’ve been in Heaven all this while.” Jamie nodded. “I thought of telling her that soldiers made a mistake when they brought news of your death. But how do I explain where you’ve been? I…I don’t even know where you’ve been...I haven’t even asked you yet.”

“Ardsmuir prison,” he said flatly.

Claire cringed, squeezing his hands in comfort. “We can talk about it later.” He nodded solemnly. “Perhaps I can tell her that…you were hiding from the bad men, or — ”

“Ye can tell her I was in prison.”

“Jamie, I don’t think — ”

“I committed treason. It’s a fact. I dinna wish to raise her on lies, ye ken,” Jamie said, and Claire frowned. “She canna keep thinking I’m some sort of God. I’m a man, a man wi’ faults, a man who’s committed sin and crime. It’s time she came to know her father as a mortal man rather than this mythical being that ye’ve created for her imagination.”

“Jamie, I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t true…”

“I ken. But she’s likely been embellishing it in her head wi’out realizing, whether ye intended fer her to do it or no’.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his clasped hands on the small of her back. “After yer parents died, did ye no’ dream of them, even wi’out remembering what they looked like? Did yer wee head create the perfect memories of them since ye had nothing else to hold on to?” Claire’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I ken I did that wi’ my mother. I was a bairn when she passed. To hear everyone speak of her ye’d think she was an angel. And to me she was. No one was telling me anything that wasnae true. But hearing it, over and over, she became an intangible spirit rather than a concrete memory. I think even if she’d magically come back to us I’d never stop seeing her that way.”

Claire nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean,” she said. “I suppose for a while I had an idealized picture of my parents. Though in my case, no one ever talked about them. So it seems a little different.”

“So do ye understand why I want her to know the truth? I canna father a child who thinks I’m a Godly spirit-man.” He paused for a moment. “Now I…I willnae tell ye what to do. She’s yer daughter — ”

“Jamie…she’s your daughter, too.”

“I ken. But ye said yerself. She doesna know me.” Claire’s heart was breaking. “You were there for her…seizures, ye ken how to help her. Ye ken the name of her horse, her favorite color, how to make her laugh, what sorts of sweets she likes…”

“Jamie.” Claire cupped his face in her hands. “You will know those things, too. I know you can’t replace the years you lost with her…there’s no way to get that back. But you will know her just as completely as I do, and eventually in ways that I don’t. It will take time. But you will. I promise.”

Jamie sighed. “Do ye think…do ye think she can learn to love the man more than the myth?”

“Yes. I do.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Ye’ve spent…eight years creating images of me in yer mind. I’m not the same man I was before. Can ye learn to love the man I’ve become?”

Claire kissed him. “Can you learn to love the woman I’ve become?”

He kissed her back. “‘Till our life shall be done,’ Sassenach.”

She sighed contentedly. “I do love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Come on now.” Claire began tugging him toward the house. “Someone is waiting to meet the giant from the faery hill.”

Jamie laughed out loud. “I ken if I hadnae been scared stiff I’d’ve had a good laugh at that.”

“Me too.”

They entered the house and wandered through the parlor, then to the kitchen. Jenny was there, helping Mrs. Crook with supper.

“Are you two quite finished howling at each other?” Jenny said, only briefly glancing up from the chopping.

“You heard that,” Claire said sheepishly.

“All of Lallybroch heard that,” Jenny scoffed. “I almost came out there and clopped yer heads together myself. Lucky ye finally quit just in time.”

“Aye, lucky fer us.” Jamie smirked.

“If yer looking fer Brianna,” Jenny said, rushing a handful of vegetables to the pot over the fireplace. “She’s in her bedroom. Crying to Fergus last I heard.” Claire and Jamie exchanged a guilty look. “She thinks her ‘mummy’ hates her fer riding her horse at a trot.”

Claire smiled despite the guilt bubbling in her chest. “We’ll be going to her, then. We’ll see you at supper, Jenny.”

“Aye.” She didn’t look up from the pot. Claire and Jamie started to leave, but then:

“Brother.” They stopped and turned around expectantly. “Good luck wi’ the bairn. She’ll love ye. I ken it.”

Jamie smiled. “Thank you, Jenny.”

Claire laced her fingers with Jamie’s as she led him up the stairs in the parlor.

“Feels strange to be led around in my own home,” Jamie said wistfully. “I dinna ken where anything is. I dinna even ken who those bairns are.” He indicated Maggie, Kitty, and Janet running about the hall, squealing their wee heads off.

“You’ll catch up,” Claire assured him. Claire paused on the stairs. “See the golden haired one?” Kitty was currently trying to pry wee Janet off of her leg. Jamie nodded. “That’s Katherine.”

Jamie looked gobsmacked at Claire, then quickly back at Kitty, who soon disappeared into the hall with her sisters. “That bonny lass is little Caitríona…?” Claire nodded. “Last I saw her, her wee head fit in the palm of my hand…”

Claire rubbed his shoulder. “That’s how I feel every time I look at Brianna.” She tugged again on his arm. “Come on, she’s waiting.” They continued up the stairs, and Claire gestured to her room. “The guest room is my room now. Well…ours, I suppose.” She smiled sheepishly. “The children are up the next flight.” She led him up and to the door she knew Brianna was behind. “She shares the room with Kitty. Poor Maggie has to share with the youngest daughter, but Kitty and Brianna are inseparable. Maggie had her own room before Janet was out of her cot, and when the time came we tried to have Maggie and Kitty share, and then Brianna with Janet. But the two of them refused to sleep for even a moment, every night, until they were sharing a room.” Claire smiled at the memory, and Jamie softly chuckled in response.

“Ah…Janet?”

“Oh, that was the dark haired one hanging onto Kitty’s leg.” Claire smiled. Jamie nodded, and Claire could tell that he was already overwhelmed. She placed steadying hands on his shoulders. “Your nieces and nephews will love you just fine, Jenny and Ian will catch you up. But right now, you have a daughter that needs you.”

“I…have a daughter,” Jamie whispered reverently, still hardly believing it. Claire kissed him, smiled encouragingly, then turned to knock on the door.

“Hello?” Claire slowly cracked the door open “May I come in?”

She poked her head in to find Fergus and Brianna sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. Claire almost laughed; they were each holding a doll.

“Come in, Maman,” Fergus said. Brianna did not look up from her doll. “Miss Nettie and Miss Winnie were getting acquainted, right ma petit?” Brianna did not respond; she kept her attention on smoothing Miss Nettie’s dress.

“That’s lovely,” Claire said, leaving the door open a crack and crossing to the fireplace. “Isn’t it kind of Fergus to play dolls with you, Brianna? Even though he’s a big boy now?” Claire sat on the rug beside Brianna. “Would you mind if I took over for him so he can go do whatever it is that big boys do?” Brianna shrugged wordlessly.

“Ah, big boy things are not as fun as Miss Winnie.” Fergus stood up, and Claire noticed how Brianna was fighting the urge to smile. Fergus kissed the top of her head. “See you at supper, ma petit.”

Fergus crossed to the door, and he jumped, not expecting Jamie to be right outside the door.

“Sorry, lad,” Jamie said.

Fergus gaped for a moment. “No, I am sorry, Milord. I did not see you.” Fergus bowed uncomfortably before disappearing down the hall. Though Jamie tried not to dwell on it, he couldn’t help but feel the sting, knowing that Claire was “Maman” and he was still “Milord.” Pushing down that disappointment, Jamie peeked into the room, seeing Claire and Brianna’s backs.

“Brianna,” Claire said, taking Miss Winnie into her arms. “I’m not angry at you.”

Brianna kept her gaze on the doll. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not.” Brianna finally looked up at her. “Could you tell me where you got such an idea from?”

“You don’t like when I do things like Kitty and Maggie,” she said sheepishly.

“Brianna…” Claire outstretched her arms, and she crawled into her embrace. “You’ve got that entirely backwards. I love when you can do things like the other children. It makes me so happy when you get to feel like a normal little girl. But I can’t help that I worry about you. Because — ”

“Because I’m special. I know, Mummy,” Brianna said. “I don’t want to be special anymore.”

Claire sighed, rocking her back and forth. “Unfortunately, only God can decide things like that. He made you special for a reason. You know that.”

“I know.”

Claire kissed the top of her head. “I love you very much.”

“I love you, Mummy.”

“Is there anything else bothering you?”

“The giant was cross wi’ me, too.” Brianna fiddled with Miss Nettie’s skirts. “He was so mad that he broke Auntie Jenny’s pitcher. Then he was yelling at you. I heard. Before Fergus took me away.”

Claire repositioned Brianna so they were sitting on the rug facing each other. “That wasn’t a giant, Miss Brianna.” She playfully poked her nose with her pointer finger. “He’s just a very tall, mortal man.” Claire held Miss Winnie up straight in front of her, as if she were standing on the floor and talking to Brianna.

“You know, there’s someone that I would really love for Mistresses Nettie and Winnie to meet,” Claire said. “They’re looking quite bonny tonight, don't you think?”

Brianna gave a tiny giggle. “Yes.”

“Then would it be alright if someone joined us?” Brianna nodded. “Such a good girl.” Claire briefly cupped her cheek. “Alright. You have permission to join us now,” Claire said in her faux-regal voice, causing Brianna to giggle again. They both turned their heads as the door creaked open and the six foot, three inch tall “giant” entered the room.

“Good evening, lasses.” Jamie gave a deep bow, and Brianna smiled despite her nervousness at seeing him again.

“Good evening, sir.” Claire gave a small bow with her head. “Care to join us beside the fire?”

“Aye, that would be fine.” Jamie crossed the room to the fireplace and sat down. Despite the warm smile on his face, Claire could tell he was nervous.

“Allow me to introduce Miss Nettie.” Claire extended the doll’s cotton stub of a hand to Jamie, who took the hint, taking it between his thumb and pointer figure and giving it a kiss. Brianna giggled again, even louder than before. “And this is…” Claire turned to Brianna.

“Miss Winnie,” Brianna said, extending the doll’s hand, giggling again when Jamie kissed it.

“Madame Claire Fraser.” Claire held her hand out to Jamie, who took her hand with all the care and reverence in the world, and pressed a tender kiss to it.

“And you are?” Jamie said.

“Mistress Brianna Fraser.” She extended her hand, copying her mother’s elegant manner the best she could.

Jamie blanched, not having expected her to give him her hand. His eyes flashed to Claire for help, and she made a gesture with her eyebrows that told him to go on. Desperately trying to hide their trembling, he took Brianna’s wee hand in both of his enormous ones, closing his eyes as he kissed it. He rubbed the spot over with his thumb before returning her hand to her.

“He hasn’t introduced himself yet,” Brianna said pointedly.

“Brianna…”

“No, no, the lass is right, Where are my manners?” Jamie said, looking into Claire’s eyes for approval. She nodded. “My name is James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser.”

“James…Fraser,” Brianna said thoughtfully. “Mummy, that’s Da’s name.”

Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. Da. She calls me Da.

“That’s right darling. Actually, I…we have to tell you something.” Brianna looked back and forth between the two of them silently. “Do you remember what I told you about your Da?”

“He died fighting for Scotland and Clan Fraser because he was a hero,” Brianna said proudly. “You said I have his hair and his eyes and his thick skull.” Jamie swiped at his nose to conceal the grin he broke into. “You said that he lives in Heaven with my sister Faith, and they watch over us together.”

“That’s right, I did say that. And most of it is true, darling,” Claire said, and Brianna began to look confused. “Your father did fight for Scotland and Clan Fraser, and he was a hero. You do have his hair, and his eyes, and his thick skull.” She ruffled her hair. “And you do have a big sister watching over you. But Brianna, your father isn’t in Heaven with Faith.”

“Why not?” There was a twinge of panic to her voice.

“Because he didn’t die when he fought for Scotland and Clan Fraser. There was a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“The British Army thought your father was dead, so that’s what they told us, me, your Auntie and Uncle. So I told you that as well. But it wasn’t true, because the British Army made a mistake.”

“So Da isn’t in Heaven.”

“That’s right.”

“And he’s a great big Scottish warrior. With my hair and my eyes.” Brianna very deliberately looked at Jamie. “Just like you.” Jamie smiled. “You’re my Da, aren't you? You’re Jamie Fraser?”

“Aye, lass, it’s me,” Jamie whispered. “I’m yer Da.”

Brianna looked at Claire, then back at Jamie, then back at Claire. “It’s him, Mummy…the love of your life.”

Claire couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over. “Yes, darling. The man I’ve told you all about all these years, the man I love, and your father. He’s come back home to us.” Claire instinctually reached for Jamie’s hand, and he expertly laced their fingers together without having to look at her.

“Why did God let you out of Heaven, Da?”

“Da was never in Heaven, Brianna,” Claire said gently. “Remember? He never died. It was a mistake.”

“Then he wasn’t protecting us.”

“Aye, I was,” Jamie spoke up before Claire could answer her. “I prayed fer ye both every single day and night. I prayed to God and to the Saints to keep ye safe. And it worked, did it no’?” Brianna nodded. “So ye had protection from Heaven even wi’out me there myself.”

“What about Faith?” Brianna was becoming visibly upset. “She doesna have a Da in Heaven. Who is taking care of her?”

“Brianna, it’s alright…” Claire said, blinking back her tears. “She’s…she’s with Mother Mary. Where all the orphan angels wait for their parents to join them in Heaven. Mother Mary was a wonderful mother to Jesus, right?” Brianna nodded. “So she is a wonderful mother to Faith, too.”

Brianna’s face had visibly darkened, and she no longer seemed receptive to what they’d been saying. “Brianna, I’m sorry I told you things that weren’t true. I honestly believed them to be true when I told them to you. Do you understand?” Brianna didn’t respond. “If I knew your father was alive all along I never would have told you those things. But I didn’t know, Auntie Jenny didn’t know, Uncle Ian didn’t know. We all thought Da was in Heaven, darling. Nobody knew the truth. Do you understand?”

Brianna kept her eyes downcast, thinking silently for a moment.

“Kitty, and Maggie, and Janet, and Ian, and Jamie, and Michael’s Da is Uncle Ian. Right?”

“That’s right,” Claire answered.

“Uncle Ian lives wi’ his bairns,” Brianna said. “He was never in Heaven or anywhere else.”

Jamie and Claire exchanged a look, silently agreeing Jamie would take this one. “Brianna, I wanted to come home and live wi’ yer mam, and you, my bairn. I wanted to so, verra badly. My heart…” He put his hand over his chest. “My heart was broken every day I was no’ wi’ ye. I wanted to be at Lallybroch. Do…do ye believe me?” She shrugged. “I couldna be, because the British Army captured me. They put me in prison, so I couldnae escape and run home to my lasses.”

“Are you a thief?” Brianna asked. “The boys play jailer and thief.”

“No, I’m no’ a thief. Ye ken how yer mam said I fought fer Scotland and Clan Fraser?” She nodded. “The King of England didnae like that. So he had everyone who fought for Scotland and their clans put in prison.”

“Mummy said you’re a good man.”

“Sometimes good men go to prison.”

“Why?”

“I…I dinna ken.”

Jamie was out of answers. Claire gave his hand a squeeze.

“Brianna, do you trust me?” Claire asked. Brianna nodded. “Do you understand what it means to trust someone?” She nodded, a bit more hesitantly. “Trusting someone is…is when you believe that they are good, and you know that no matter what they would do anything to help you.”

“Of course I trust you, Mummy. When I have seizures you do anything to help me.”

“Yes, that’s right. Very good, darling.” Claire cupped her cheek, resting her hand there. “Now I…I trust this man. I believe that he is good, and I know that he would do anything for me. And he would do anything for you, too. You don’t have to trust him if you don’t want to, Brianna.” Claire squeezed Jamie’s hand as she said it, assuring him that she didn’t mean she wanted it to be that way. “I just want you to know that I trust him.”

“Okay, Mummy.” Brianna said. Claire removed her hand from her cheek.

“Right now,” Jamie began hesitantly. “I’ll settle fer being yer friend. If that’s alright wi’ ye.”

“You’re not my friend.” Claire felt her heart sink into her stomach, and she could feel Jamie’s grip on her hand tighten, almost painful. “You’re my Da.”

Both Jamie and Claire sighed in relief. “Aye, I am.”

“Kitty’s Da taught her about horses. Does that mean Fergus can’t ride with me anymore?”

“No, lass,” Jamie assured her. “Fergus is still yer brother, and ye can do whatever ye please wi’ him. I dinna wish to interfere. I can…I can watch ye ride. Does…does Kitty’s Da watch her ride?”

“Yes.”

“Then I should watch you, too. Right?”

Brianna gave a tiny smile. “Yes.”

“Good.” Jamie beamed, and Claire’s heart was fit to burst. She had never imagined a situation where she could ever be so full of love.

“Kitty gets to ride out all over Lallybroch, and she goes very fast,” Brianna said, her smile disappearing. “Mummy says I have to stay in the corral, and I can only go slow, and Fergus can’t let go.”

“You’ve ridden all over Lallybroch before,” Claire said. “With me.”

“But no’ by myself,” Brianna insisted. “Kitty gets her own horse when she rides wi’ her Da.”

“Yer mam told me you were…special,” Jamie said carefully, using the word that they had used when he was listening from the hall. “I ken it’s hard. Do ye…do ye have fun wi’ Fergus in the corral?”

She hesitated. “Yes. But I’d have more fun out of it.”

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that. The horses feel quite safe in the corral. It’s like they’re sharing their home wi’ ye. They only let verra special people in the corral, ye ken. Have ye ever seen a man thrown from his horse in the corral?” Brianna nodded. “Ah, that’s because they didna trust him. They must trust ye quite a bit, lass.” He playfully poked her nose, and she giggled. “I’d love to watch ye ride.”

She smiled. “Do the horses trust you?”

“Aye, I’d wager they do enough.”

“Then you could come in, too. With Fergus and me.”

Jamie let out a breathy laugh, and Claire could see his eyes glistening. “Only if ye want me to, lass.”

“Well I do.” She nodded curtly, as if agreeing on a business transaction. Claire chuckled. “Da?”

“What is it, lass?”

“Kitty’s Da hugs her and picks her up and kisses her,” Brianna said nervously. “Like Mummy does to me.”

“Brianna, you don’t have to do those things until you’re ready,” Claire said. “He understands that you’ve only just met.” Jamie nodded assuringly, trying to hide his disappointment.

“I am ready, Mummy.” Jamie and Claire looked at each other, realizing they had misunderstood her nervousness. She wasn’t afraid he would do those things; she was afraid that he wouldn’t.

“Do ye…” He cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly. “Do ye want me to hug you, Brianna?”

“Only if you want to.”

Claire thought briefly that she’d never heard Brianna use that particular phrase, and then quickly realized she’d picked it up just now, from Jamie.

He looked at Claire, with an indescribable expression that she’d only seen once before: the first time he’d felt Faith kicking. Claire nodded. “Go on.”

Jamie released her hand and outstretched his arms. Brianna scooted over to him on her knees and hugged him around the chest. Jamie felt like all the air from his lungs had been emptied. His hands hovered over her for a moment before he regained his senses enough to return the embrace. Lord, she was so tiny. He was reminded of how overwhelmed he’d been by Claire’s smallness the first time he’d truly held her close. But Claire was a grown woman. Brianna, his daughter, was nay but a tiny lass.

My daughter.

One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head. Through the thick layer of wild curls, her head, too, was impossibly small. He remembered holding Katherine’s head in his palm all those years ago, then seeing how big she’d become. Then he remembered what Claire had said:

“That’s how I feel every time I look at Brianna.”

He was suddenly struck with the thought of this girl ever being as tiny as baby Katherine had been, and he was overcome at the idea of never having held her when she was that small, never watching Claire nurse her, never seeing her learn to form words in her wee mouth, never watching her swing around her wee fists, learning to take her first steps…

He could not stop himself from weeping.

Claire watched him silently crying, overcome with emotion herself. She covered her mouth to stifle a sob. She reached out to stroke Jamie’s cheek, wiping away the tears that lingered there.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Jamie released Brianna. He knew he could have held her there for hours, rocked her back and forth, kissed her wee head, whispered Gaelic lullabies, but an energy-filled eight year old would not likely welcome that.

“Thank you,” he said, cupping her cheek. “Brianna.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, chipper as ever, blissfully unaware of the emotional affect she’d had on both her parents. “Can I play now, Mummy?”

“Yes, of course. Why don’t you go find Kitty? And bring Miss Nettie and Miss Winnie.” Claire handed her the dolls.

“Alright.” She scampered for the door.

“I love you,” Claire called after her.

“Love you!” She yelled back from the hallway.

Claire turned back to Jamie, and there were fresh tears on his cheeks. “Jamie…”

“She is…” He breathed shakily. “A gift.”

“She is,” Claire agreed, taking his face in her hands.

“Thank you, fer…” He was overcome, unable to continue. Claire wrapped his arms around him, and he returned the embrace. They both wept on each other for a while, unable to express in any other way how much that had meant to both of them.

After a while, they simply held each other, silently.

“I spent eight years,” Claire began, breaking the silence. “Thanking God for her, for you to father her. I prayed…so fervently, to you. Thanking you for…for leaving a piece of you behind for me. In her.” Jamie kissed the top of her head. “She smiles in her sleep. Like you do.”

Jamie chuckled. “She speaks words of a Scot with the tongue of an Englishwoman,” he said.

“Yes. She learned to speak by listening to me, but also everyone else in your family.” Claire laughed. “It was inevitable that her speech would become somewhat of a hybrid.”

“She speaks French?” He said, remembering how she’d addressed Fergus in the parlor.

“Yes, Fergus helped me teach her.”

“Gaelic?”

“Of course. Jenny wouldn’t raise a child under this roof that didn’t know Gaelic. And certainly not a child of yours that didn’t know Gaelic.”

“She’s bright, then,” Jamie said proudly.

“Oh, yes. Brighter than I was at that age.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Ye ken she gets it from you, after all.”

“I wasn’t reading Spenser at her age,” Claire said. “I told her that there was a character in The Faerie Queene that shared her name, and she insisted on reading it. She snuck into the Laird’s library herself to get it.”

Jamie laughed. “She’s resourceful.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” Claire said dryly. “That she gets from you.”

The door opened, and they sat up straight to see who it was.

“Pardon me,” Jenny said, and Claire didn’t miss the sarcasm. “Supper is ready.”

“We’ll be down shortly,” Jamie said.

Jenny smiled. “Ye ought to hear the lass. She’s going on and on to Kitty about her Da, how he’s gonnae ride horses wi’ her like Ian does wi’ Kitty.” Claire and Jamie exchanged a look. “I dinna ken how or why, what ye did to her wee noggin to make it so,” Jenny said, but they could both see the glint in her eye. “But she’s already crazy about ye.”

Jenny left, and Jamie and Claire beamed at each other. He stood up and stretched his hand down to her.

“Might I request the pleasure of your company for dinner, Madam?”

She beamed, taking his hand and allowing him to help her up. “You may.”

Once she was standing, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Their lips parted, and arm in arm, they made their way to the dining room to eat with their family.

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lihikainanea · 4 years

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i’m really into the idea of tiger being super small for bill and she’s eating a popsicle. he gets her on her knees between his legs and grabs the stick, guiding it between her lips. even letting her gag a few times, wiping below her lip if it got messy

oh man it’s been a little tick since we’ve talked about small tiger and her glorious oral fixation, hasn’t it?

But like bubs I have a question--why is she settling for a popsicle, instead of Bill?

Wait, I have ideas.

Maybe it’s because she’s being punished, right? Because think about it. Under any other circumstances, if tiger was fussy and wanted her mouth full, then she’d just use Bill as her own personal popsicle. But maybe she’s been really fussy that day and Bill is patient, he always has the patience of a saint when she’s like this, but even that has its limit. He’ll be patient with her and try to fix it, but tiger also knows that she needs to let him fix it for her. There’s a big different between being fussy and looking for some comfort and letting him step in, and being fussy but bratty and content to just stay miserable despite his best efforts to help.

He knows that sometimes she can’t ask for what she wants--it’s part of it, you know? If she’s feeling small then the last thing she wants is to decide or to ask for what she needs, because that’s control that she doesn’t want. It’s reins that she doesn’t want to steer. She wants to give him the control and wants him to fix it, to decide what she needs, to help and give it to her--but it also means she can’t fight him on it. She shouldn’t fight him on it. If she doesn’t want to decide what she needs, then she doesn’t get to be a brat when he steps in and provides it to her. That’s not how this works.

So maybe she’s fussy in a real bad way. And sometimes it takes Bill a few tries to get it right, to give her what she needs--sometimes she needs something real soft, she needs to be taken care of and held and give his thumb until she’s soothed. Sometimes she needs something rough, needs a bit of correction, a spanking to get her head back right and snap her out of it. He has different ways of trying each to test the waters and see what she responds to. And Bill has that patience. He has that patience in droves, because he understands that she’s uncomfortable and fussy and he understands that she’s looking to him for comfort. He’ll try anything and he’ll keep trying until he gets it right, if she’s also working with him.

But maybe this time, he’s tried it all. And tiger is just getting fussier. But at this point, if she’s still fussy it’s because she wants to be. She just wants to be a petulant brat. And that--that is not tolerated, so she’s punished. Maybe it’s a fairly harsh spanking, just to at least get her into a small mindset where she’s not fussy. It helps work out some of her restlessness, her general malaise, and he goes hard enough because she seems to need it. She cries after, which he never likes, but he also recognizes that she needs that sometimes. Crying is a way of getting whatever pent up emotions out, which is what should happen, instead of keeping them all balled up inside.

And it worked for the most part. She settled some. She’s still pretty fussy for the night, and though he didn’t pour on the affection or the aftercare, he made sure that he stayed close so that if she reached for him, she’d know it was okay. That she was allowed. And over the course of the night, he catches her trying to self-soothe even though she probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. She’s chewing on the tip of the pen as she’s writing her grocery list, sucking on it. When she’s on the couch with him, she’s chewing on her thumbnail--then on the sleeve of her sweater, then she’s sucking on a candy she found in her pocket. She wants something in her mouth--it always comforted her, especially when she was feeling small.

And had she not been a brat, then Bill would have gladly helped her out with it. He would have put her on her knees, caged her in with his legs int he way that makes her feel safe, and he would have let her have her fill. Wrap her mouth around him and just stay like that until she was feeling better.

But instead--she’s being punished. He still won’t let her go without because he’s still a little concerned for her mental state, she still seems to be struggling.

“Tiger,” he reaches over, grabbing onto her hand when she goes to chew on her thumb again, “Get on your knees for me, kid.”

He pulls her up gently, puts a cushion on the floor for her and helps her kneel between his knees.

“Stay like this for me,” he runs a finger down the bridge of her nose, “I’ll be right back.”

Despite him telling her, she still whines loudly when he stands. He snaps his fingers and points at her in warning, and her gaze settles back on her lap. He heads to the freezer, grabbing a popsicle and goes back to the living room. He sits, leaning forward and caging her in with his legs as he unwraps the frozen treat.

“Look at me tiger,” he instructs gently, “You’re still fussy on me, aren’t you sweet girl?”

She doesn’t answer, just bites her lip and looks up at him with big eyes. A flick to her nose, though, a warning look from him, and she stammers.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly.

“Do you want something in your mouth?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she stutters again, but he knows she’s being honest.

“I think you do kid,” he says, and he unwraps the rest of the popsicle and holds it to her lips. Like a good girl, she waits for him to give his command.

“You’re still being punished so you don’t get me in your mouth tiger,” he tells her, “If you had been good today, you’d get to wrap your mouth around me.”

She looks broken at that, and he strokes her cheek as she whines.

“None of that. You know the rules. You broke them. So now you only get this. Open,” he taps the popsicle on her lips and she opens for it. And the little hellion--it works. It’s freezing cold so he doesn’t leave it in one spot for too long, but he just slowly moves it in and out of her mouth. After a few seconds she starts to actually suck at it, leaning her cheek against his thigh as she sighs. He weaves a few fingers into her hair, scritching softly and her eyes close. It’s having an effect on her that’s pretty immediate, settling her right down until she’s practically purring on the floor in front of him. He sighs, removing it completely from her mouth. She knows better than to whine now, but she looks broken at her suddenly empty mouth and he wipes some of the spilled juices from her chin. He wants to keep up with the punishment, but I mean--come on. He’s not made of stone. She’s feeling better, she already got spanked, and Bill has been watching her deep throat a popsicle for the past few minutes and now HE wants to be in her mouth.

He swipes his thumb across her chin, pushing it into her mouth and she sucks the juices off.

“Tiger, if you know what you want, what are you supposed to do?” he asks. He’s keeping hold of her chin in his hand, forcing her gaze up at him.

“Ask you,” she mumbles softly.

“Otherwise what happens?”

“I get punished,” she mumbles.

“Did this make you feel a little better?” he holds the popsicle stick up, “Having your mouth full?” It takes a beat, but she nods slightly. He flicks her nose and she winces.

“Yes,” she says.

“You feel better now?” he asks. And he asks because if she’s still fussy--then he’ll keep up with the punishment. He’ll help her find correction. But if she’s feeling better--then he’ll cave.

“Yes,” she says immediately.

“Good,” he leans forward and gives her a firm kiss, her mouth cold against his, “Do you want me instead?”

She paws lightly at his knees, raising up a bit but he gently pushes down on her shoulder.

“Yes,” she says, “Please Bill, yes.”

He tosses the popsicle and the wrapper onto the coffee table. Leaning back, he stretches his arms across the back of the sofa and props a foot up on the table.

“Go on kid,” he motions to his zipper, “Get your fill.”

She dives for him. He sucks a breath in through his teeth when she first takes him into her mouth because Jesus her tongue is freezing. She’ll probably also want more contact, pulling him forward a bit so he can kind of hover over her, play with her hair a bit as she just leans on his lap and closes her eyes, with him snug in her mouth.

I’ll bet she even falls asleep like that.

Magnifique, nani.

#bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard drabble #sub tiger

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years

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How about that AU where single parents Steggy meet because their kids meet each other in Pre-school and seem to recognize each other, and you get Steggy dismantling some horrible institution realizing their adopted from overseas toddlers were twins intentionally split up for 'reasons' and obviously you just gotta live together now man, twins can't be split again, guess we're together. Cause Maximoffs in New York, and Steve vs the hellion that is 4 year old Pietro.

Something tells me that if I apologize for this being long, no one will complain, but anyway: I’m sorry for what I’m about to do and how I butcher this. OP, I love these prompts so much.

“You’re serious?”

Steve is fully aware that he doesn’t even know Peggy and he’s never seen her look more serious. She’s staring at him over the rim of her steaming coffee mug with an expression that says, you’re an idiot. Laid before them are a few folders, binders, and files, the contents spread out. This marked their life together.

The start of their life together.

It was late at night, Wanda was asleep with Pietro, curled up in his bed. The kid insisted she slept in the same bed and wouldn’t be told no and fuck, Steve couldn’t tell Wanda no. Not when she made that cute, little face that knew she’d get whatever she wanted. Besides, they couldn’t tear them apart again. They were toddlers who barely understood the situation. It’s not like the adults were doing much better.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Steve let out a loud sigh and tensed. He waited to hear Wanda’s whimpers or Pietro’s groans, but none came. His eyes fell to the stranger before him, wondering how did they miss each other.

“You do understand that this isn’t our fault?” Peggy asks him in a soft tone as if she’s trying to convince herself. She lays her hand on his wrist, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the inside of Steve’s wrist. “We had no way of knowing. None. Even though background checks, I didn’t find anything that said this.”

“Doesn’t mean I feel any less guilty here.” He downed the rest of his coffee like it was a shot and made a face at the coffee grounds sliding down his throat. Ugh. That’s what he gets for a shitty coffee maker. “We didn’t do this but now we have the consequences. How do we repair…four years of that?!”

“Steven.” The way she said his name made him frown at her. He looked like one more surprise news away from a breakdown. Poor guy. He really has been working himself to the ground. “I adopted Pietro when he was three months old. You adopted Wanda when she was two. They were separated for whatever goddamn reason. We both took the kids to give them a better life. How the hell we wounded up meeting is-is fate, is all it is. It’s fate.”

“Reverse Parent Trap.” He muttered under his breath and Peggy snorted, looking utterly embarrassed that she snorted. He deserved that slap to his shoulder. It was odd, how close they felt and barely knew one another. All he knew that she was from England, she now lived in America, and she adopted the twin brother of his daughter. “So what do we do now? We can’t keep them away from one another, that’s fucking torture! We’re lucky they remembered each other. Or had some weird twin connection, hell if I know.”

The man was clearly frustrated and Peggy wanted to soothe him, but she had to keep her head on here. She looked back at the paperwork. The second they’d realized something was odd when she picked up Pietro from pre-K, Steve had rushed home to go get every document he ever had of Wanda and brought it back to her place.

The twins had to have some connection, didn’t they? They recognized one another, had some draw to it. When Steve saw them together, she gasped out loud because they looked so similar and not in the manner little kids do when they’re young. It took a DNA swab test designed by Stark Industries to work in under an hour to confirm their suspicions.

Explaining that the kids were not so much easier. There were endless questions and Wanda’s assumptions they split them up before Peggy had to prove that no they didn’t. It was the people in the hospital. Then Pietro’s declaration that all hospital people were bad and Steve tried to gently explain no they weren’t because sometimes bad, bad mistakes happen. So far, that’s all they could do was chuck this up to mistakes. They weren’t exactly sure. Besides, his ma was a nurse and she wasn’t bad.

“What do we do now?” Peggy mused, taking their coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. She started to clean the table with Steve’s help, carefully organizing everything together. She stared at the photo of Wanda on Steve’s shoulders in front of some museum, then of hers with Pietro on a goddamn child leash because he loved to try to run off. “I think you know. We can be civil about it.”

“Or…” Steve stood up and gently took the binder from her arms. There was a glint in his eyes as he took her hands and gently pressed a few kisses along her fingertips. It’s the boldest he’s been since he arrived at her apartment. “We don’t go about it civil. The first thing you did when you saw me was check out my ass.” Peggy’s ears turning pink told Steve he was right. “We can go about this the right way or…our way.”

If Peggy had anything to say, Steve didn’t hear it. Her lips were on his, his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

“So when is their birthday?” Howard asked, frowning as he watched the toddlers play with the water guns in the kid’s play area of Stark Industries.

Steve hated this. It felt like an interrogation room with the mirrored glass. They weren’t criminals. They were kids. Confused kids. “We don’t know,” he replied, turning to look at Peggy where she was bending over to study some flight plans charted on the table. That was Peggy, alright, newly appointed aviator of Stark Industries, Steve’s girlfriend [God that made him giddy], and an old-fashion soul. She loved computers but loved everything else handheld and on paper, so the charts were easier. “Pegs? Peggy.”

Peggy jumped and turned around, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I was double checking my courses. I swear, I didn’t lose that shipment,” she mumbled, still hung up on the situation. “Anyway, yes? What is it?”

“Birthday, Pegs,” Howard rolled his eyes and slid in the rolling chair to the table she was at. He rolled up the chart much to her pouting. “When are their birthdays? If you want me to get their paperwork right and set up properly, I need to know.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he liked Howard Stark. The man was eccentric, a ball of energy. He didn’t know when to sit still and bounced from one side of the room to the next. He was balls to the wall when hyped up about something. But he was Peggy’s friend and boss, so he set his opinions aside to focus on the matter at hand. They couldn’t trust many people with this information, Peggy had asked Howard to design the twins paperwork to reflect that they were twins and family and Steve and Peggy both were their parents.

“We’re unsure. Steve’s paperwork for Wanda says April 19th. Mine says September 12th.” She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes on Steve. A silent conversation passed through them, leaving Howard confused. Her head just ever so slightly nodded. “October 1st.”

If Howard had a complaint, he said nothing. Or at least Steve didn’t hear him because at that point Pietro had cornered Wanda with the water gun. Howard turned back to Peggy with a fond smile. “The guy must really like you. He’s quiet. Thoughtful.” She rolled her eyes at him, causing the genius to smirk. “And no, you didn’t lose the shipment. It was stolen. I got guys working on it.”

“Peggy!” Steve’s voice betrayed the emergency of the situation, causing Peggy to abandon Howard and run straight to the playroom.

She gasped at the sight of Steve held in the air, a screaming Wanda in his arms, surrounded by red energy. The second she got close, Steve fell to the floor on his backside but held a terrified Wanda tightly to him.

“We have a situation,” he groaned to her.

As if their already situation wasn’t tricky enough.

So that’s it.

Steve was married to the wonderful Peggy Carter, aviator for Stark Industries. He was a stay at home father with a pair of twins. Twins separated shortly after their birth and now reunited. Twins with powers. Confusing powers that not even they understood.

Their relationship had changed in a matter of weeks. With the secrecy of everything that happened, they agreed it was best to get married ASAP. Bucky wasn’t too happy about them skipping a wedding and getting to embarrass Steve with a speech but even he agreed.

So that was it then, huh?

Not quite.

Wanda’s powers were difficult to understand and anytime Steve thought he could understand how she manipulated things or levitated them, or controlled minds, he was reminded he barely had control of the situation.

Pietro was almost just as worse with his speed.

They were kids, toddlers at that. Confusing toddlers were bad enough, but toddlers with superpowers? Now that was just a daily headache. They couldn’t control them. Once Pietro sneezed and jolted back all the way through the house and into his bed. He just thought it was fun and showed his mama as soon as she got home.

So what were they supposed to do? The only thing they could.

Move to a bigger home in the countryside. Steve took up being a comic artist, but more focused on stay at homework. Peggy continued her job at Stark Industries because part of her didn’t trust Stark. He knew about the powers but they worried through every test and blood sample that he might betray them. Now that Howard seemed to be that guy but Peggy couldn’t take her chances.

Thankfully Howard’s contacts had come through and they found a teacher, someone named Xavier who could help with the twin's powers. The only problem was, the guy was somewhere overseas and it would be after the new year before he could come to assess the problems. For now, Steve would send him daily updates and Xavier had started to couch Steve through working the twins through some testing or obstacle or stuff.

Their improvement showed and the father couldn’t have been more proud.

All Steve could say was, yes this situation was certainly an odd one. He never thought he’d adopt a child, much less a better half of a twin, a powered twin at that. Never did he thought he’d be with someone the likes of Peggy. A beautiful woman that took no shit and had no problem dishing it back out or putting Steve in his place when he needed it.

He never thought he’d have a successful career as a comic artist or even be a stay at home dad, but here he was.

Here he was in a loving, beautiful home that was chaotic at the best times, with two loving kids who just always wanted a family to belong to. And really, Steve and Peggy had done their both to give it to them.

Life was chaotic but it was good.

It was their life.

One Peggy and Steve had decided they’d carve it out together.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Modern Steggy #Avaitor Peggy #wanda maximov #peitro maximoff #They're hell beasts but love their parents #Parent Trap Reverse #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #I hope this is what you wanted #It's 2k

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kawaiijellymonster · 3 years

Text

So I’ve got a note in my notes app called “Fanfic lines that should be in a hall of fame” and it’s gotten pretty long so I figure I’ll toss it on here so yall can enjoy it, most of them are: mha, zukka, miraculous ladybug, harry potter, and I think one is from a comment on a hannibal amv, But here you go:

Stain sold papers because he just had an aura about him that drew people in, like people who slow down to look at car crashes.

“The Rumor Come Out: Does Todoroki Shoto is Gay?”

Izuku spent the next week going to his normal martial arts classes, studying, and drinking gallons of coffee. Not healthy but he could deal with it. His body was never meant to be permanent.

So no one was watching when Mei placed her forehead against his, breath fanning across his face as she spoke. "Wake up Loki… the world needs you."

“No probs ‘lil listener!” Hizashi said, striking a dramatic pose. “I’ll be your DJ all through the night, bringin’ you such rockin’ hits as safety, security and sweet dreams!”

“This is stupid! Screw the waiting and screw these stupid butterflies. They're not paying rent, the little shits--”

Experimenting with unstable genetic mutant abominations is more of an art than a science, really."

Several looks pass across both their faces. “No flying for a month,” Sirius declares. That sucks, actually. But he’s also a hundred percent certain he can get them to cave on that in two weeks tops. “Okay. Is that for the breaking into the Ministry, destroying the Department of Mysteries, making a bargain with Voldemort, or bringing all my friends with me?” “It’s for recklessly endangering your own life again,” Remus says, “and while the punishment very much doesn’t fit the crime, we’re a bit at a loss for what else to do.” “It wasn’t reckless!” he protests. “We had a plan and everything, and we even brought an adult! An adult Order member! Also what else were we supposed to do, let Snape die?” Sirius takes a deep breath, but Remus steps on his foot before he can put it in his mouth. “Which is why you’re only getting flying privileges taken away and not thrown in a cell in Azkaban for our sanity and your safety.” As if any cell could hold him. “I accept your terms.”

“Who’s Theophania?” Sirius asks. Harry hesitates. Perhaps bringing her up was his smartest decision, strategically speaking. “If I tell you you’re not allowed to throw me in Azkaban. Or ground me.” “This isn’t a negotiation,” Sirius repeats. If Blaise has taught him anything, it’s that everything is a negotiation. “She’s a friend.” “And?” Sirius repeats. Remus suddenly grabs onto Sirius’s shoulder, “Wait. Petrifying - during your second year - is Theophania - she’s not the basilisk.” “No, they killed it,” Sirius says automatically. Harry remains silent. “Harry!” He rubs his nose. “It turns out I’m not that good at killing things. Unkilling things, however? My specialty.”

“It’s okay,” Nanaia says, “you don’t know. What do you do when you don’t know something?” “Try something you do know and hope it doesn’t make everything worse?” For some reason, Horace looks sad at that answer, and Dumbledore shifts from one foot to the other. “No,” she says, “you ask for help.” Oh.

“It’ll piss off your son,” he answers bluntly. “Fuck that kid,” Riddle Sr. says

“You played me!” “Like a cheap kazoo”

Batman sighed, before speaking in a voice that was so unlike his usual growl that most of the other League members almost fell out of their chairs. Diana and Clark seemed to be used to it. “Damian,” he started. His voice was still deep, but a regular-deep, instead of I-just-swallowed-six-buckets-of-gravel deep.

“She loved James too,” she assures, and the confidence she says that with allows him to breathe, like someone has let go of his lungs. “It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. She loved your father with the type of love that’s – that was like a shooting star, burning and bright and touching everyone around them. Her love for Severus was different, and in the end it wasn’t the type of love either of them could handle.”

You’re better at it now then many people are after leaving a full apprenticeship, and you’ve only had a year of lessons a couple of times a week instead of years of intensive study. Do you know why that is?” “Luck?” he offers weakly. For some reason, he doesn’t like the direction this is going in. “No,” she says. “To be good at healing, the way you are, the way I am, you need a certain combination of things. Intelligence, power, control, but more than that. Stubbornness, a tricky balance of flexibility and inflexibility, and a constant, brutal assessment over your own skills. And something else.” “A propensity towards poor life choices?” he suggests. Poppy shakes her head, not taking the bait. “No. You have to care. You have to care about everyone, even people you dislike, and you have to care so much that if feels like it’s killing you, you have to care and that care has to hurt, until the only thing that hurts worse than caring is not caring. To be good at this, you have to let it hurt you.”

“You two shouldn’t have bothered dressing formally for Albus, he’s a bitch.” Harry doesn’t have any idea what’s going on, but he’s loving it.

“It was on the syllabus,” Zuko whispered conspiratorially to his mother. Sokka gasped. “You know I don’t read those!” “This is your own fault then.” “I like to be surprised. The procrastination keeps me humble.”

sometimes you remind me of the stars youre gorgeous and happy and can always brighten me on the darkest days and even when youre dampened you can guide me home

“imagine you are the only person who loves to play chess more than anything but nobody else in the world has ever heard about chess. and then you see a person holding a chessboard. it’s like your whole world was reborn”

"I wanted to be a stripper in middle school," Izuku said. Yup, that's a good cover.

What you’re asking for isn’t fair or right. You can’t ask a person for more than they’re willing to give

In Mei’s words, “You have about five minutes of ‘fuck that one thing in particular.’ Make them count.”

“Mei, let me introduce your new best friend. This is Momo. She has a Quirk that lets her make anything as long as she knows its composition inside and out. All you have to do is buy her dinner,“ Izuku said,

The cameras were looped. The bots were hacked. It was a good day to be a villain.

“None. The alarm never left the building.” “Really? Why is that?” “Mei finished first and decided to do you a favor. However, you've got the fire alarm just starting to go off and that's on a different circuit. Take a fast way down.” “Understood,” Hitoshi drawled. A moment later he was looking back at the crew. “Ladies and Frenchman. We take the express.”

Quinn is talking like that actually answers his question when it really, really doesn’t. “If you don’t start making sense, I’ll cry.”

“You’re one of my best students,” ze says. “You should understand the importance of timing. Speaking of, you’re late for your next class.”

Fuck, he totally is. “Thank you for that very confusing answer. I’ll think of you while crying myself to sleep.”

He’d wondered if that was what bravery was, to be quiet even when you were hurting so much you wanted to scream.

maybe bravery was also running screaming at the thing that nearly killed you, to keep it from killing someone else.

“Apologies are not difficult. Good apologies revolve around three basic points. One, I acknowledge what I did was wrong. Two, I regret that you were harmed. Three, this is how I plan to make sure it does not happen again. That’s all. Apologies are easy.” Then she’d glanced at them all again, evaluating. “And if you become very, very good at your job... they will be the absolute hardest thing you ever do.”

“Even though we’re a bunch of migraine-inducing hellions who are smart enough to know when something is a bad idea and stupid enough to still do it?”

“You’re like the nice china that Al only brings out for Christmas. Except Bruce just realised that I stole it, and chipped it. Maybe it’s time I give it back before I shatter all the pieces.”

she won’t co-parent my perfectly reasonable and well-behaved children.” Clark snorts. “Damian’s trying to stab Tim, right now.”

"Oh, my knight in shining armour. What would I do without you?" the teen droned, placing a dramatic hand on her head.

"I think you mean 'knight in shining leather', M'Lady. And without me, you would be left alone in this kingdom of lies.”

"It's a kingdom, alright. It'll topple sooner or later." "That's the spirit!" Adrien laughed.

Here’s something that a harbinger of tragedy would never find the courage to admit: there are moments in between the bitter self-hatred and the visceral, tangible consequences of your sins in which you almost think you’re worthy of forgiveness; of second chances; of a life beyond your greatest regrets. It’s a unique brand of pain,

“Go directly to horny jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.”

“You can’t wait around for him to be sorry,” Izuku says. He’s quiet now. This isn’t something that’s meant to be shouted. “Maybe he’ll never be sorry. Maybe he doesn’t know he did anything wrong, or he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter.” Cautiously he takes a step forward. “You can’t depend on the people who hurt you to be the ones to make it better, or it’s never going to get better. They’ll only disappoint you, or hurt you even worse, and then they’ll be gone and you’ll be waiting forever.”

Midoriya may be strong as hell, but that just means looking out for him has to be a team effort.

How would his new adoring fans react if they knew he raised a villain? He's no All-Might. His pillar's made of toothpicks, and it's not gonna take much to crack it.”

Tensei approaches Rei, “Okay, this plan is childish, unprofessional, and a discourtesy to this school's reputation. That being said, when do we nail the little twat?

Hinata is dead. Deceased. Passed away, laid to rest with a headstone that reads Here Lies Hinata Shouyou, Killed By A Wink And A Blown Kiss.

It’s dangerous to be a bad father when you have life insurance

#long post #fanfic lines that deserve to be in a hall of fame #fanfic #rambles #lol

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mygalfriday · 5 years

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the one who’s looking out for you

For Kaz, who needed cheering up.

They’re stumbling over the threshold of their flat on Darillium, still breathless with laughter and holding hands, before the Doctor sees the blood. He’d been so distracted before — racing back to the TARDIS with River just behind him; piloting away with River dancing around him, shamelessly adjusting his driving; bickering and talking over each other as they recount their newest adventure together. He hadn’t even seen the jagged cut just beneath her hairline, fuzzy curls matted with blood plastered to her forehead and nearly hiding it from view.

He freezes, his grip around River’s hand tightening just enough to catch her attention as he steps closer. She stops laughing, going entirely still as he crowds into her space and carefully touches his fingertips to the blood matting her hair. Red slicks down her cheek, the curve of her jaw, the gentle slope of her neck. It stains her collar. When he breathes in, the air smells metallic. His stomach curdles.

“You’re bleeding.”

River blinks, lifting a hand to prod at her forehead. She barely winces when her fingertips brush the gash in her skin. “Oh,” she says, as though it doesn’t matter. Like her very life blood dripping down her face and onto the floor is nothing to be concerned about. “And I liked this dress.”

The Doctor barely hears her, staring at the smudge of blood at her delicate jaw.

River sighs, still looking far less concerned than he thinks the situation warrants. “You get us a drink, darling, and I’ll clean up.” She tugs at her hand still in his grasp, frowning when he doesn’t let go. “Doctor?”

He doesn’t answer — at least not with words. Instead, with an inexplicable lump in his throat, he bends and scoops her up into his arms. River yelps, clutching her arms around his neck like he might drop her.

“Doctor, what are you doing?”

Gruffly, he replies, “What does it look like?”

“Well,” she says, with the faint drawl that tells him she’s about to be sassy with him. “It looks like a very old man is trying to throw his back out.”

“Oi, my back is in fantastic shape and you know it.” He arches an eyebrow at her, forcing a smirk when she glares. “Otherwise some of those positions you’re so fond of-”

“Oh, shut up.” She huffs, kicking uselessly as he carries her away from the foyer and further into their flat. “You ridiculous man, put me down right now!”

“Make me,” he mutters, more out of habit than anything else. He grimaces. “Actually, don’t. I’m still not entirely confident this body is made for carrying.”

“All the more reason to put me down!” River growls when he ignores her, maneuvering down the corridor with her still cradled against his chest. He knows perfectly well she could escape if she really wanted to, so he doesn’t even think of putting her back on her feet. “Doctor, it’s just a little cut. It hasn’t affected my ability to walk.”

He steps into their bedroom, stalks across the room into their ensuite bathroom, and finally settles her carefully on the bathroom counter. “Don’t move.”

Just to be the contrary hellion he knows her to be, River kicks off her heels and swings her legs as he turns from her to rummage through the closet for first aid supplies. Flippant as ever when it comes to looking after herself.

The Doctor struggles to unclench his jaw. “You should have told me you were hurt.”

He can hear the frown in her voice when she says, “I didn’t realize I was, sweetie.”

“No excuse,” he grumbles, knowing he’s being absolutely ridiculous but unable to help himself. There’s something about the sight of her blood that has completely unraveled him. River is usually so strong, so utterly unbreakable. His very own heroine. The reminder that she’s just as mortal as anyone else is startling and unwelcome. He doesn’t remember being quite so affected before but now it makes him all fluttery with panic. It gnaws at him, this helpless feeling squirming in his gut. A protective, ferocious animal that can only see that his wife is hurt and he has to fix it. Immediately.

“Honey, it’s just a little cut,” she sighs, watching him turn back with a kit of supplies tucked under his arm. “We’ve both had far worse, Doctor.”

He grunts in reply, glowering at the supplies until he finds the antiseptic wipes. “Hold still.”

River sighs again but does as he asks, parting her legs to let him stand between them without even a hint of innuendo. Her silence makes his stomach tighten unpleasantly. He prods carefully at her wound, cleaning and disinfecting the area with tender fingers. He can feel her eyes on him. Bright green and focused, seeing far more of him than he’d like. That’s the sort of vulnerability and intimacy that comes with having a wife, he supposes. She might not be immune to his charms but his faults and foibles are just as clear to her as the gray in his hair.

“I can do this myself, you know,” she finally says, quietly. “I’ve done it before.”

His jaw clenches. “I remember.” He can vividly recall his younger days, when he frequently left River to clean herself up while he piloted the TARDIS somewhere else exciting. He’d bounce on his toes, waiting impatiently for her to appear again in the console room so he could drag her on to the next dazzling adventure. He’d craved her smile then. Sometimes he thinks he wanted it more than he wanted her safe. Insensitive prick.

“Sorry?”

He starts, drawn from his self-loathing, and stares at a blood-stained wipe clenched in his fist while River peers at him cautiously. He clears his throat, disposing of the wipe and reaching into the kit for a roll of bandages. “Not you,” he says. “Me. Younger me, I mean.”

“Careful,” she murmurs, her warm hands smoothing over his rumpled jacket. He brushes her curls carefully out of the way as he applies the bandage to the cut on her forehead, holding his breath so the scent of her shampoo mingled with blood doesn’t overwhelm him. “That’s my dear husband you’re talking about, sir.”

He snorts under his breath, pressing gently to make sure the bandage stays. Glaring at it for good measure just in case. River doesn’t take her eyes off him as he begins packing away all the supplies and he bristles under her gaze, certain he’s about to hear some lecture about how his younger self had done the best he could and he needn’t compete with himself —

“You know, Doctor,” she says, slow and thoughtful. “I think I like this new protective streak of yours”

Startled, the Doctor lifts his head and stares at her. A slow, smug grin curls his mouth. “Oh?”

River hums, eyes twinkling. “You were very dashing back there.” She clears her throat and imitates his Scottish burr with surprising accuracy. “Get your hands off my wife.” She shivers, doing a sexy little shimmy while she’s at it. His stomach somersaults again, this time for all the right reasons. “Could make a lesser girl a bit weak-kneed.”

“Well.” He snaps the first aid kit shut, smirking. “You’re made of stronger stuff than that.”

“Of course.” River licks her lips, still studying him intently. “Thank you. For bandaging me up, Doctor.”

The tension in his shoulders finally eases completely at the playful tone in her words, his body finally believing what his mind already knows. Despite all the blood still behind his eyes every time he blinks, she’s just fine. His River is far stronger than even he realizes. But he’s finally come to understand she’s also far more vulnerable than she wants him to see. Thankfully, she lets him see more and more of that with every day they’re here on Darillium. Every day that he stays.

He moves to stand between her legs again, one hand dropping to squeeze her thigh even as the other lifts to tuck her curls behind her ear. She leans into the touch like she craves it, lashes fluttering. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “Better?”

She shakes her head and for a moment, his hearts seize in his chest. He must have missed something. Fuck. Before he can begin to scan her frantically for other injuries, River says teasingly, “Not yet.” She tilts her head, her curls brushing her shoulder invitingly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Oh.

Stifling a relieved grin, the Doctor leans in. He takes her face reverently between his hands and brushes his lips tenderly over the bandage. Hearts in his throat, he asks, “How’s that?”

River leans into his chest, warm and trusting and safe. “All better.”

#river song #twelfth doctor #drfic #twelve x river #river x twelve #my fic

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imaginingsoftly · 5 years

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It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time Pt 4 - Morgan Rielly

Type: roommates to lovers, Y/N insert shorts

Requested: No

Warnings: none

(Y/N = Your name, no POV change this chapter. It’s all in Morgan’s POV)

A/N: this is mostly just fluff, but very happy stuff, a lot lighter than the last chapter.

More than anything, Morgan regretted falling asleep on the ride home. That first week living with Y/N had left him with more questions than answers about his new roommate, and the guys were never any help. It was a constant stream of “that’s just Y/N” or “yeah she does that sometimes”, without any real explanation as to why. She was always working, even when she was at home. The three bags that she lugged to and from the school with her every day had appeared to weigh her down significantly, but now he was wondering if it was just the stress of worrying about the kids.

He was ashamed to admit that he had never really thought of teaching as a stressful profession; going to school 5 days a week from 7-3 didn’t seem that hard until he saw just how much Y/N was doing when she wasn’t at the school. Every night she sat on the floor of the living room for hours, baseball turned on in the background as she created things for her classroom or weeded through forms and papers he didn’t think could understand even if she tried to explain them. He had asked once what she was doing, but she’d used so many acronyms in the span of one sentence that he was afraid to ask her to explain what they meant.

Those few hours on the beach really gave him an opportunity to understand where Y/N was coming from, and why it looked like she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. In some ways, he guessed that she kind of did. So yeah, he regretted falling asleep and not getting the chance to ask her for more information.

It was almost noon by the time he managed to get himself out of bed, and he’d only moved because he heard voices from outside, one of which potentially belonged to Hamilton. “It’s been good, Doug,” Y/N was saying as he walked to his bedroom door, “he’s a sweet guy.” He couldn’t hear Hamilton’s quiet response, but he heard Y/N’s next sentence clearly. “I’ve actually been thinking about telling him he could stay for the season if he wants. That way he doesn’t have to worry about moving once you guys really get into the season.” Morgan stopped short of the door. Did she really mean that? It would make his life so much easier, and he hadn’t really been looking very hard for a place either. Hamilton and Y/N turned as Morgan came out of his room, and the first thing that he noticed was how Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes brightened when she saw him. She really did have beautiful eyes.

“Heya, sleepyhead,” she joked with a laugh. “We were just taking bets on if you were gonna sleep all day.” Y/N was sitting on the counter, a large mug of coffee in her hands and her hair loose around her. Doug was leaning on the opposite counter, holding one of the muffins Y/N had made a few days prior in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Sup, Mo. I was just telling Y/N that we’re having a little cookout tonight at Svechy’s place as a ‘happy hockey season’ party. You’re both coming, attendance mandatory.” Y/N looked like she was about to protest, but Hamilton held up a hand to stop her. “Kat said you’re coming, no excuses. She also said to make your chili.” Hamilton looked back at Morgan and smiled. “Y/N here apparently makes phenomenal chili, and Kat’s decided that we all need to experience it.”

Y/N jumped off the counter with a sigh. “Well if I’m making chili I need to go grocery shopping. It needs to sit as long as possible, since that asshole didn’t give me enough warning to make it last night.” She stomped into her bedroom, throwing the door shut a little bit dramatically. Both Morgan and Hamilton looked at the door and then each other before bursting into laughter. Hamilton stepped forward, clapping Morgan on the shoulder. “Alright man, I’ll leave you with that mess. See you tonight. 6 o’clock. Y/N knows where to go.” Morgan nodded and fist-bumped his captain. Hamilton let himself out of the apartment, and Morgan went back into his room to get dressed.

By the time he came back out, Y/N was gathering reusable bags and still muttering under her breath. “Can I come with you?” Morgan asked, stepping back into the living room. Y/N turned, and Morgan was pretty sure his jaw dropped. She was wearing a simple little navy dress and her Red Sox hat, a pair of white Converse on her feet, and she looked absolutely incredible. He had never realized how tan she really was, probably from all of her time at the beach, but the tank of the dress really showed it off. “Yeah, sure.” Y/N’s answer snapped him back into reality, and he shook his head as he threw on a pair of sneakers.

Their walk to the farmers market was full of a pointless argument about the best junk food, and Morgan had a feeling he was never going to win this argument. “Chips are nowhere near the best kind of junk food, Morgan, what the fuck?” Y/N looked at him incredulously as they reached a crosswalk, and Morgan stared back at her stubbornly. “Oh, and shitty Dominos pizza is?” he threw back sarcastically. “Yes! Yes shitty pizza is better than chips. Nothing tastes better than shitty pizza when you’ve been eating really healthy.” Y/N gestured with her hands as she spoke, something Morgan was beginning to notice she did a lot. They turned onto the street the farmers market was on, and Morgan forgot his response. The street was bustling, filled with people selling everything from produce to breads to candles and flowers. Y/N headed straight for a vegetable truck with purpose, and Morgan followed close behind her.

“Ms. Y/N!” The owner shouted as they walked up, “How are you, honey?” The man was old, his hands tan and spotted from years in the sun, and his accent was thick. Morgan liked him immediately. “Hello, Mr. Mason. I’m good, how are you today?” Mason grinned at Y/N and grabbed her hands, squeezing them gently. “I’m great now that my favorite customer is back. What can I get for you today?” Y/N reached into her bag and pulled out a mesh produce bag. “I need a whole bunch of peppers today. What have you got for me?” Morgan followed behind the pair as they began surveying his produce, smiling back at the older man when he looked back at Morgan. “I have some bell peppers, jalapenos, anaheims, and poblanos. Would those work?” Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Those are perfect, actually! I’m making chili, and those are all the peppers I would normally use.” She gathered up a few of each pepper, and walked with Mason to check out. Morgan continued to follow, and jumped when Mason addressed him suddenly.

“I hope you’re treating my girl right, son. She’s a good one.” Y/N’s face was priceless when she registered what the older man had said, and she jumped in before Morgan could respond. “Oh, no, Morgan and I are just friends. He’s a teammate of Kat’s boyfriend. Do you remember Kat? My old roommate?” Mason nodded, clearly remembering the feisty girl that used to be by Y/N’s side every weekend. “Yes, I remember her. Tell her I’m upset she hasn’t come by for my strawberries lately, will you honey?” Y/N grinned at the man, and Morgan caught himself staring at her again. It was becoming a problem, but he couldn’t help it. When she smiled, it seemed like the whole world brightened for a little while. It was one of those smiles that was totally infectious. He was brought back to earth when Mason was waving at him, telling the pair to come again soon. Morgan managed some kind of goodbye, and then they were walking again.

They didn’t turn back in the direction of the apartment, and they didn’t speak again until Y/N stopped outside Raleigh Provisions. “So I need to run inside the grocery store and buy some crushed tomatoes and other ingredients I couldn’t get at the market. Would you mind waiting outside with the peppers while I run in?” Morgan nodded, and Y/N was heading inside the store before his next breath. She was back outside quickly, carrying another one of her reusable bags. “Thanks,” she said, taking her peppers back, “I wouldn’t normally stop in there, because it’s a lot more expensive than going to Target or even Harris Teeter, but I needed to get this stuff quickly. Part of the tastiness of chili is having it sit for a long time, and 4 hours is not nearly enough time.” They began walking in the direction of the apartment again, and Morgan took a second to appreciate the pleasantness of the day.

“So what should I expect of the cookout tonight?” he asked Y/N. She shrugged. “They’re pretty chill, generally. The guys with kids will usually bring them, and babies will be passed around until they get fussy. Svechy will get the younger kids really riled up, and someone will inevitably get pranked by him and his small army of hellions. Kat will probably get the fire pit in the backyard going, so we’ll have a fire to roast marshmallows in and stuff, someone will probably break out a guitar when everyone gets drunk enough, one of the guys will throw somebody into the pool and then everyone will be jumping in. The usual kind of stuff.” Morgan had to admit that it sounded really nice. Family-like even. “Yeah, it is kinda a family type of atmosphere.” Oops. “Did I say that out loud?” Y/N laughed. “Yeah, you did.” She touched his arm gently. “It’ll be nice. I’m sure it’s been stressful to start with a new team so close to the season, but these guys are great. Don’t be a dickhead, and you’ll fit in fine.” Morgan barked out a laugh at the last sentence, and Y/N joined him pretty quickly.

He threw an arm around her shoulders as they continued walking, squeezing lightly. “Thanks for being an impromptu hype man, Red Sox.” Y/N elbowed his side gently. “Red Sox?” He nodded. “I haven’t seen you without that hat for more than like 5 minutes since we met. It’s a fitting nickname.” She laughed, nodding. “I’m not questioning the nickname, I was just curious about where it came from.”

They reached their building as she spoke, and even Morgan’s athletic legs had trouble keeping up with Y/N’s shorter ones as she practically sprinted up the seven flights of stairs to the apartment. He was practically doubled over as she unlocked the door, and he almost collapsed onto the couch as she made her way into the kitchen almost unbothered. “How?” he wheezed at her. “I skate and exercise for a living and I’m dying.” Y/N turned to face him, and he noticed that she was indeed breathing a little heavier than usual. “I’m just wicked out of shape. I’m used to being out of breath. It doesn’t really bother me that much anymore.” Morgan groaned, laying his head back on the cushions. Y/N’s cat Bogey hopped onto his chest, purring loudly and nuzzling his chest.

“So I have to ask, Red Sox, why Bogey? It’s a strange name for a cat.” Y/N laughed as she continued to pull out everything she needed to cook. “His name is actually Bogaerts. He’s named after Xander Bogaerts, the Red Sox’ shortstop.” She began washing the peppers, throwing them all into a colander before pulling out a knife and cutting board. “He’s one of my favorite Red Sox players. Just a good dude. Also,” she gestured with her knife, “it’s a great name for a cat.” Morgan stared at Y/N as she cooked. She had turned on some music, some kind of old shit his grandparents would probably listen to, and she was dancing around the kitchen as she prepped. Bogey settled onto his chest, shoving his head into the crook of Morgan’s neck with another round of purrs.

Morgan woke up to Y/N shaking his shoulder. “Hey bud, you might wanna wake up and get ready to go. We’ve gotta leave in ten.” Bogey was no longer settled on his chest, and the chili Y/N had apparently finished while he was sleeping made the entire apartment smell fantastic. “Sorry I passed out on you. I don’t know what happened.” Y/N backed away when she noticed that he was awake, smiling gently. “It probably has something to do with me keeping you up all night, dude. Most people aren’t built to stay up all night.” Morgan stood with a groan, and felt his joints pop as he stretched. That was gonna feel awesome tomorrow. He took a second to look at Y/N, and realized that she had already changed, though it appeared all she had done was put on a bathing suit underneath her dress and exchanged her sneakers for flip flops. “Wear a bathing suit. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Y/N turned, heading into the kitchen presumably to prepare the chili for transport.

Once Morgan was changed and Y/N deemed the chili ready for the drive they headed down to Y/N’s car. Morgan was put in charge of holding the chili, a responsibility he didn’t take lightly. Y/N would probably kill him if he spilled any of it. The trip to Svech and Kat’s house took almost half an hour. They lived outside the city, in a neighborhood full of very cookie-cutter houses. Y/N noticed Morgan looking, and spoke up before he could ask. “Most neighborhoods down here are like this. I don’t know why, but the whole same-house-different-colors aesthetic is very popular for neighborhoods down here. I grew up in one.” So that answered that question, then. “I prefer the older neighborhoods. Most of the houses are fixer-uppers now, but I’d rather fix up an old house than live in one of these. They aren’t built very well.”

They pulled up to Svech and Kat’s house as Y/N spoke, and it unsurprisingly looked just like the others. It was slate gray, with white trimming and a lawn that was way too well-manicured for them to be the ones taking care of it. There was a lot of noise coming from the backyard, and Y/N made a beeline for a door in the fence on the side of the house. She had taken the chili from Morgan, so he hurried forward to open the door for her. They were met with kids yelling and adults calling hello, and several very wet noses being shoved into his thighs. Morgan looked down to see three dogs staring up at him, two labs and a german shepard. Their tails were smacking into each other and the fence, and Y/N laughed as she shoved past them. “Jax! Kip! Mel! No!” A small blonde came hurrying over, yanking them back to help Y/N get the chili clear of death by puppies. Kat smiled up at Morgan, nodding her head in the direction of the guys. “They’ve been waiting for you. I think Doug has a beer with your name on it.” Morgan thanked her, heading over the where Hamilton and Svech were arguing about something.

“No, you idiot, dodgeball was definitely our best.” Hamilton snorted at the younger boy as he spoke, shaking his head vehemently. “The basketball one was the best for sure. I mean seriously buddy, we’re in the college basketball capital of America. Nowhere loves college basketball like Raleigh.” The other guys were shaking their heads at the two, though some were definitely egging them on with other suggestions. Morgan was sucked into the conversation effortlessly, giving his own input without another thought. “I’m gonna have to side with the kid here, captain. The dodgeball one was pretty ingenious.” Hamilton groaned, punching him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “I thought D-partners were supposed to stick together, Mo?” He clutched his chest jokingly. “I’m gonna have to ask Rod to separate us if I can’t trust you.” The other guys laughed, and it felt good to be sucked into the ebb and flow of the conversation so easily. He didn’t feel new; it honestly felt like he was sitting around with Brownie and Fred and the other guys that he’d known for years.

They talked for hours, and everything that Y/N had said would happen did. People began filtering out around ten, especially those with younger kids or kids who were at home with sitters. By the time the night ended, him and Y/N were the only ones left besides Kat and Svech. Y/N was sitting on Morgan’s shoulders while they battled with Kat and Svech in a game of chicken in the pool, a game in which him and Y/N were dominating. “You know,” Y/N said as she climbed onto his shoulders for another round, “if you pull something holding my ass up I’m not taking the fall for you when Rod goes postal.” Morgan pinched her calf. “Sweetheart you aren’t heavy enough for me to pull anything.” He jumped a few times for proof, and she threw her hands onto his chest in a panic. “Don’t do that!” Morgan laughed, throwing his head back to rest against her stomach. “Told you you weren’t too heavy.”

“Are you two gonna keep flirting all night, or are we gonna play?” Kat was smirking from her perch on Svech’s shoulders, and Morgan wasn’t sure who started stumbling through their words faster, him or Y/N. Kat just lifted an eyebrow and gestured Morgan forward wordlessly. Him and Y/N won that round, and the round after that, and then the last one as well before Kat finally announced that the boys had to travel the next day and they should all really get to sleep. She refused Y/N’s multiple offers to help clean up, and him and Y/N were quickly in her car to drive home, the now-empty pot of chili sitting on the floor at Morgan’s feet. Y/N turned on some kind of musical, blasting the sound way too loud as they began to drive. It took Morgan a second, but then the music sounded familiar. “Is this that Disney movie?” he yelled over the music. “The one with the troll or whatever?” Y/N turned down the song to look at him incredulously. “This is the Hunchback of Notre Dame! He is most definitely not a troll.” She gave Morgan another look before turning her eyes back to the road.

“They made this album when they wanted to take it to broadway. They had the cast recording done and everything, when Disney told them they weren’t going to give them enough of a budget to have a full choir. You can’t have music with Catholic choir influences like Hunchback does and not have a full choir, so they nixed the plans, but we still have the cast recording. It’s incredible.”

Morgan had to admit that it really was beautiful music, especially with the car stereo Y/N had. They listened to several of the songs as they drove, and Y/N pointed out the different parts that she particularly enjoyed. She sang along badly to every song, and nightly unforgettable car rides were quickly becoming a staple of Morgan’s life in Raleigh.

If the entire season was like this, then maybe everything would be okay.

#NHL Imagine #good idea ml #nhl imagines #morgan rielly imagine

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shadowedoracle · 5 years

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A Moment’s Peace and Quiet

Happy Fluffapalooza all! I meant to have this ready and queued last night because I knew I’d have no time today but didn’t quite manage to finish so it is at the last possible minute has technically become tomorrow while I’ve been creating this post. Anyway, enjoy some pure unadulterated fluff.

Summary: Belle and Rumplestiltskin relax after a long day and discuss their family.

Rating: T

[AO3] Belle Gold took a large gulp of wine and let her head fall back against the back of the couch with a soft whump. “Oh, I needed that,” she sighed. Her husband, Rumplestiltskin, turned his head and quirked an eyebrow up at her. Even though they had been married for over three years, the gesture still sent a tingling sensation through her. Or perhaps that’s just the wine? She mused. “Long day?” She nodded, putting her glass down on the coffee table before resting her head on his shoulder. He slipped his left arm around her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She snuggled deeper into his embrace, curling her body around him with a contented sigh which quickly turned into a yawn. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m tired.” She could sense Rumple smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. “I do.” “Hmm?” “You’ve spent all day looking after our little hellion.” Belle giggled and kicked his leg lightly. “Rumple! Don’t call your son a ‘little hellion’.” “Even if it’s accurate?”

“Even if it’s accurate,” she said firmly. She wriggled slightly to get more comfortable. “Though I’ll admit he was on a bit of a roll today.” “How so?” “Oh you know the usual: running naked through the house at 100 mph brandishing a stick he found in the garden and breaking or knocking over anything in his path. What else? Oh, pouring cereal all over the kitchen floor and scribbling in his library books before I could rescue them. Then there were all the questions: ‘Do clouds taste like cotton candy?’, ‘why is water wet?’ You know, that kind of thing.” Rumple squeezed her shoulder and softly kissed her hair again. “If you need a break I can take him tomorrow.” She shook her head, “It’s your week to work. Besides the last time I left you in change this room looked like a bomb had gone off inside all his toy chests and there was more mud inside the house than there was in the garden.” Rumple huffed indignantly, “You came back early. I was going to clean it up.” “Uh-huh.” “Well I was.” She grinned up at him, “Of course you were. Like you swore you were going to clean that section of the dinning room wallpaper he decorated last month.” “In my defence that’s a very accomplished piece of work for a toddler. Anyway you like that car chase scene just as much as I do.” She laughed into his shoulder. “You’re such a softie Rumple. Who would ever have believed the big bad formidable Dark One was such a soft touch.” “Humph. I can still be big and scary when I want to.” She ran a reassuring hand along his arm. “I know, I know,” she said, in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe him in the slightest. They lapsed into silence, content to bask in the peace and quiet and each other’s company. Belle yawned again into Rumple’s shoulder. “This is nice. Peaceful. It’s so pleasant to have conversation that isn’t about cars and half-vehicle chase sound effects or else deep existential questions.” Rumple laughed, “He’ll grow out of it.” “I know and I’m sure I will miss it, as Snow helpfully told me last week. It’s just nice to have adult conversations too.” “Well I can understand that. I sometimes think we should think up some sweet revenge against Prince Charming for introducing him to car races.” She snorted, “Like what?” “I don’t know. Introduce Baby Neal to dinosaurs or maybe robots?” “Really, Rumple that’s the best you could come up with?” She laughed. He grimaced. “Probably not. But we don’t want to lose their babysitting service.” “That’s true.” She yawned again and closed her eyes, cuddling even closer to her husband. “Still...” When Rumple didn’t continue she opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly. “Still?” He ran his hand through her hair and shifted away enough to comfortably look into her eyes. “Still?” She prompted again. “Still… Do you ever think about having another?” She blinked and Rumplestiltskin felt his heart race. He opened his mouth to tell her to forget about it. They could discuss it another time. Besides she and Gideon would always be more than enough for him, more than he deserved. She smiled. “You’d like another -- what was the word you used to describe your son just now? -- ‘little hellion’?” “Well... We might get lucky next time and get a peaceable one.” She snorted, “Well know I know you’re crazy.” “I didn’t mean now, necessarily,” he paused trying to find the right words. “I just hoped maybe… hoped maybe you’d think about it? Take however long you need to. I we’ve talked about it vaguely, a long time ago. But it’s a big decision, and, and...” He trailed off as she shook her head, her lips curving into a fond smile. She leaned up to kiss him gently, her hand stroking through his hair. “You’re such a silly man sometimes. Of course, I’d still like to expand our family as we always dreamed of.” “You… you really mean it?” He asked, not quite daring to believe her. She rolled her eyes and sat up fully. She slid one hand around the back of his head playing with the longer strands of his hair at his nape as she pulled him to her. “I mean it,” she breathed against his mouth, before kissing him firmly. His heart beat rapidly and he wondered idly if your heart could explode with joy. That sounded like it ought to be painful, but if that was what was happening to him then it felt glorious. She pulled away from him brushing his cheek softly and he nuzzled into the touch. “Why would you think I didn’t mean it? It’s not like we’ve never discussed it before.” He pressed soft, brief kisses into her hand. “I know. But you might have changed your mind. Especially dealing with the handful Gideon’s been lately.” She shrugged. “He’s three and a half. It’ll get better eventually. And who knows perhaps being a big brother will calm him down.” “Or we’ll have two little rascals running around and destroying the place,” he said, not quite able to contain his grin. She returned his smile and kissed him again. “And we’ll love it,” she said as she pulled away. “Well most of the time.” He gathered her back to him, his hands sliding around her back as he kissed her deeply. He leaned his forehead against hers, “You’re too good for me. You know that Belle.” She shook her head, “After all this time I’d hoped you’d finally realized that I’m exactly as good as you deserve. In fact,” she said lowering her voice into a sultry whisper and running a hand along his thigh, “If you want to start trying to expand our family, I might have to show you just how bad I can be.” “Oh really, Mrs. Gold?” He grinned, kissing his way along her jaw to her ear, pausing to lick the lobe.

“Really,” she gasped as he kissed his way back to reclaim her lips. She pressed herself into him and running her hands over his shoulders and chest, fully intending to drive him mad with desire, but was thwarted as she yawned into his mouth instead. She pulled away huffing a laugh, which quickly turned into another yawn. She buried her head back into her husband’s shoulder again.

“Just maybe not tonight,” she said around another yawn. Rumple kissed the top of her head and she felt the familiar warmth of his magic surround her as he moved them up to their bedroom. Another puff of magic and her clothes had been swapped for her coziest pair of pyjamas. A few minutes later she was already drifting off to sleep, secure in Rumple’s arms, when she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready.”

#Fluffapalooza #Rumbelle Fic #Rumplestiltskin #Belle Gold #Rumbelle #My Fic #My Ficlets #Fic: A Moment's Peace and Quiet

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awyeahitssam · 5 years

Text

(The Nogitsune stole something precious from Stiles, but it left knowledge in its wake.

Stiles swears she will never use it.

Stiles is a liar.)

“I don’t want kids,” Peter tells her early on.

I don’t want anything more to lose, Stiles hears, and agrees.

(Stiles has always wanted children. At least three - enough that the child wouldn’t be alone, wouldn’t have only its fallible parents to rely on.)

(Stiles probably won’t live long enough for kids to be viable, and she wants Peter more.)

Ana glows with happiness. Peter trails behind her, fond and amused, a tiny dress in hand. “Something more like this, sweetheart,” he says, holding up the outfit with a flourish. Ana rolls her eyes but laughs, and Stiles aches.

They’re in love, she realizes.

It’s somehow worse than the fact that Peter was married at all.

Peter calls his wife sweetheart, and once he called Stiles that too, and she wants to scream and break apart the world.

It wasn’t fair, none of it was fair, but that wasn’t anything new.

Mate was nothing when you had wife and child. Stiles was just a last resort, as always. Something that allowed Peter to cling to his sanity.

And if he was gentle with her, if he kissed and worshiped and acted like he loved her, that was down to instinct.

The Hale’s would all live - Stiles had already guaranteed that.

At the time, she hadn’t realized she would be damning herself.

And worse yet, she would have done it regardless.

(Malia is dead, and Stiles watches Peter break over the daughter he’s never known. Over the woman she’ll never have the chance to become.

“Talia stole her from me,” he whispers into her neck, later, curled together in the darkness. Seeking solace in one another.

“I must have wanted her.” He murmurs, half crazed. “Why else would she have taken my memories?”)

Malia is running around the woods as a coyote, the Hale’s are alive, and Talia is doing nothing.

(Stiles has never been one to get angry on her own behalf, but for others she tore apart realities.)

She cradled the eight year old on her hip and bangs on the Hale house door, a snarl curling her lips.

David answers, smile faltering as he takes in the visitors.

“I need to speak with your wife privately.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then his nostrils flare. His eyes widen in surprise, and he breathes deeply again, searching for confirmation as his eyes bore into the side of Malia’s head.

Scent is largely environmental, but wolves can still identify each other by it if they’ve met before. Talia wasn’t alone in secreting away Peter’s child, it seemed. Stiles bared her teeth. “Now.”

David hardly hesitates, just meets her unfaltering gaze and frowns. He nods sharply, turns on his heel and leads her upstairs. He raps on the open door of Talia’s home office even as Stiles is already striding past him, and Talia is rising to her feet to meet her.

“What were you thinking?” Stiles hisses, fingers curling into ineffective claws. “They weren’t equipped to take care of her. Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done?! You turned a little girl into a killer!”

Stiles wants children. She’s always wanted children.

She can’t have them, though.

The Nogitsune took many things.

It takes that, too.

“Don’t forget me,” Malia begged.

They were parked in front of Peter’s cottage, and Stiles had just been helping Malia out of the jeep when the girl jumped up and wrapped around her like a barnacle. She clung tight, cold nose nuzzling into her neck, legs wrapped around her waist.

“Of course not, lionheart,” Stiles cooed, putting one arm under Malia to support her and scenting her back with the other. “I care about you. Whatever your father decides, I’m here for you always.”

“You have Mischief, though,” Malia whispered.

“You can love more than one person at a time, Lia.”

The girl huffed against her neck. Stiles waited, knowing there was more. Something Malia had been holding back for days, ever since Stiles told her who they were visiting.

“What if they don’t want me?”

“They want you,” Stiles said firmly. “If they didn’t, your father wouldn’t have fought so hard for this meeting. Take a breath baby girl. You are my pack. Mieczyslaw adores you, and I will always want you.”

Malia took a big breath and exhaled against her neck. Stiles ran a hand through her hair a few more times, before kneeling down to set Malia on her feet. “Are you ready?”

Malia nodded, curls bouncing. Stiles smiled, touching their foreheads together. “You’re an extraordinary girl, Lia. Very smart and brave. They would have to be brain dead not to like you.”

Malia bit her bottom lip against a smile. Nodded again.

“Hold my hand?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not letting go of Stiles’ hand,” Malia said matter-of-factly. “That way she can’t leave me with you.”

Peter blinked down at his daughter, looking torn between amusement and sadness. Ana smiled.

“Well she’s certainly yours, Peter. Kid doesn’t pull any punches.”

Stiles ran a hand through honey curls, tightening her grip obligingly.

“I encouraged her to be clear with what she wants,” Stiles admitted. “Kids don’t get much of a say, but she should in this. It’s her life. She doesn’t deserve to be railroaded by adults that think they know best.”

(She says she doesn’t want to be around Mommy and they say ‘you might not have much time left.’ What they mean is ‘too bad,’ and ‘suck it up,’ and Stiles will carry the mental and physical scars of that for years to come.)

(Children didn’t magically gain the right to say ‘no,’ and be listened to at a certain age, but the world seemed to think that’s when you have to start paying attention.)

“I believe that’s a good course of action,” Peter allowed, eyeing Stiles keenly before dismissing her for his daughter. “Hopefully you can grow to like us as much as you do Stiles, sweetheart.”

Malia looked dubious, but shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What do you like to do, Malia?”

“I used to braid my sisters hair a lot,” she says. “I know fishtail braids, and French braids, and normal braids. But Kiley is dead and Stiles has short hair, so I don’t do that anymore.”

Ana doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and even Peter is faltering, unsure how to deal with grief in such a young and blunt package.

Stiles doesn’t have that struggle. She knows how different a child’s grief is, how their minds aren’t yet adult and don’t conform to certain expectations.

“I only know how to braid normally,” Stiles tells her. “Though Mischief is growing out his hair, and I’m sure it will be long enough to braid in another year or so, if he doesn’t get tired of it by then. You can teach me your special ways then.”

Malia tilts her head, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’m not a good teacher like you, though.”

“I’m probably not the best student,” Stiles says in turn. “What about you guys? Any braiding knowledge?”

“I only know the French braid and standard,” Ana admitted.

“Standard here, too, though I do make a mean bun.”

“How is it mean?”

“Mean as in ‘oh sweet, awesome!’ not rude.”

“Oh! That’s cool, I guess.”

Stiles grins at the girl, brushing a hand through her hair. “English is very cool. But it’s not your favorite, yeah?”

“No, geography ‘s better! ‘Cause different places have different climates and cultures and surroundings, and mom could speak three languages, and I wanna grow up to be just like her!”

“An admirable goal,” Peter says, and Stiles is glad neither of the Hale’s look stricken. “It’ll be hard work.”

Malia shrugs and nods in the same motion. “Stiles and Mischief are helping me learn Polish, and then Stiles says once I can speak pretty fluidly—”

“Fluently,” Stiles corrects absently.

“We can start learning Spanish!”

“You’re trilingual as well?” Ana asks. She looks impressed.

“More or less.”

Stiles is fine - comfortable, even - keeping the conversation engaging when it’s on Malia. Her, however… well, she hardly wants to become close to Peter and his pregnant wife.

“I’m rather assuming more?” Peter prompts, one eyebrow cocked. A familiar sting of irritation stirs in Stiles as the shadow of haughtiness, old and familiar.

This isn’t her Peter, who trusts in her abilities absolutely, whose mind matches and challenges her own. She measures her voice, careful to keep it even.

“I only speak English, Polish and Spanish fluently, though I can read most slavic languages along with a few others.”

“Impressive,” he says softly, eyes flitting back to Malia. He doesn’t push, and she doesn’t let herself resent it. He’s not hers at all. “Who’s Mischief?”

“He’s kinda my friend,” Malia offers. “He’s pretty moody, sometimes, but nice too.”

Stiles snorts. Mourning is more accurate than moody, but of course Malia calls anything remotely grumpy ‘moody,’ so it’s true enough. “She means Mieczyslaw Stilinski, my nephew.”

Ana blinks. “Isn’t that the new sheriff’s kid?”

“Yes.”

“His mom’s dead too,” Malia says casually. It’s callous enough that Stiles can’t suppress her flinch, because alternate reality or not Claudia is still Stiles’ mother and she loved her.

“Yes, there’s that, though I believe you both bond over being pests more than anything.”

Malia frowns. “Pests? I thought we were hellions?”

“Well, that all depends on the crime Jellybean,” Stiles smirks back, wiggling her eyebrows. Malia snorts and rolls her eyes, even as her scent blooms with delight. They eye rolling she’s either picked up from Stiles or Mieczyslaw.

“It was only one can.”

“The whip cream was for dessert. Consuming it directly from the can would be understandable - natural, even - but wasting it on my fresh sheets--”

“We wanted to see what you’d look like with long hair!” Malia protested, not for the first time.

“Yes, long, white, squishy hair.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause some went up your nose,” Malia grumbled.

“No, I was irritated because Strawberry Shortcake isn’t complete without whipped cream, and that’s what you said you wanted for dessert.” Stiles huffed. “Plus I showered before I laid down.”

Ana’s laughter was light and soft, like a wind chime. Stiles snorted and chuckled and giggled, completely unladylike.

Stiles wondered if Peter had looked at her, seen the exact opposite of the woman he once loved, and chose.

She wants to break something.

Instead she takes a deep breath and keeps her focus on Malia.

#steter #time travel #kid fic #infertility #magic Stiles #married Peter #to be continued?#disjointed snippets #this is how I write #my process isn't a process #Insanely-Yours96 #buckets of angst #rage #spiraling #and pulling yourself together because too many people depend on you #ain't that just the way

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heath-ur · 4 years

Text

00Q Kinktober - Day 8

Prompt List ; Ao3 Pairing: Alec x Q Prompt: Lingerie Warnings: Smut, No Beta

Alec’s POV this time, so that’s fun!

Q is wearing lingerie. It’s emerald green and shines oh-so-temptingly as Alec helps Q take off his shirt.

They’re in Q’s apartment again- and they’ve actually made it to the bed this time. Q’s wearing panties. The little hellions, Gambit and Zug, have been herded out into the living room and Q is covered in satin. Alec might find himself a little distracted.

“Oh, kitten. What brought this on?” Alec asks as he slips his hand from the bare skin of Q’s diaphragm to the satin on his chest, testing the difference of texture with his palm. Q is almost just as smooth as the fabric he’s covered in. It’s delicious.

Q shrugs nonchalantly. “A little birdy told me you might be appreciative.”

Alec hums and brings Q closer to straddle his thighs, struggling to make eye-contact and follow the conversation while he keeps moving his hands back and forth - first across the thick straps at Q’s back, then to the back panel of Q’s panties and across his thighs. “A little birdy, huh? Obviously, it must be someone I know.”

Q nods and throws his hands over Alec’s shoulders to spin a shaggy lock in his fingers. “This particular birdy is 5’10” with blond hair and blue eyes. And you both may have been expounding my very numerous virtues to each other for oh…. About 2 months now.” He drops more fully onto Alec’s thighs as he lets him think about it.

Alec understands who Q is talking about immediately. He just doesn’t understand why he’s only being told now. He reaches up and tilts Q’s chin just so to look him in the eyes and measure the beat of his heart at the same time - testing responses to detect lies. It’s always a little harder if the subject is aroused, but he’s not a Double-Oh for nothing. Why hadn’t the silly little thing told him before. Was this some sort of extended honeypot? What would he gain by this?

Q rolls his eyes in exasperation, no doubt understanding what Alec is doing, but following along. That calms some of Alec’s initial unrest enough to respond. “You and James, huh? No wonder he’s walking around like a cat that got the canary.”

Q faux-pouts. “And here I thought I was your only kitten.”

Alec chuckles and shakes Q’s chin in a scolding manner, fingers tightening on Q’s chin just so. “Yet you’ve been catting around, haven’t you?” His voice may be rougher than a tease.

Q just shrugs. “Pot. Kettle. The only reason I think it’s pertinent to tell you now is because this thing between us has been happening for longer than I initially projected. And because Bond found out when you spanked my arse raw the day before he came back wanting a booty call.”

Alec holds back a chuckle. That does sound plausible. But it doesn’t explain why he’s so unsettled. He hums in thought instead as his hands continue to roam between skin and satin and back in distracting patterns along Q’s body. He’s watching as Q’s cock twitches and grows under his green panties. “And do you have any other partners I should know about?”

Q doesn’t respond so Alec looks up to make eye-contact. Q cocks his head. “Why would it matter if I did? You have your own partners; sometimes you even have them while I’m still on coms with you. I realize now that I didn’t have the same conversation that I had with Bond, but I thought it would be obvious. None of us are looking for exclusivity. And if you wanted that, then you should have been forthright about it.”

Alec frowns thoughtfully. The little boffin did have a point. Q sighs and runs his fingertips down Alec’s face. “But if you must know; I simply haven’t the time between managing two bloody Double-Oh’s and an entire spy branch to have yet another partner on the side.” He flings himself to the side, sitting against the headboard with one leg tucked under his thigh and the other propping up his elbow. His pretty satin and chub are forgotten as he gives Alec his space. “Bond seemed fine with this arrangement. He explained that it wouldn’t be the first time you shared. Do you feel differently?”

Alec thinks about it for a second longer before deciding ‘fuck it’. He crawls up the bed to hover over Q’s form. “No, you’re right. Sharing with Bond doesn’t bother me… Others,” He makes a face. “I’ve always been a little possessive. And hypocritical.”

Q buries his hands back in Alec’s hair and twists gently - Alec didn’t like the pulling as rough as he did, but did enjoy the scritching. “I’m finding myself partial to the first. The second will require negotiation.” He shrugs. “But that can wait until the morning” He presses his hips up to meet Alec’s, gasping - probably at the feeling of the satin slipping against his frenulum.

Alec grins and drops down further to take Q’s lips in a kiss, sloppy and wet, before he drifts down to Q’s neck, leaving little red suckmarks as he goes until he gets to that spot on Q’s collarbone, lavishing it with a bite that makes Q arch up and hiss. God, the noises this little kitten could make.

Alec chuckles, “That’s it, kitten. Let me hear you.” He goes further, sucking in Q’s little nipples between his lips, then working them with his teeth through the bralette. Q makes little noises but nothing exciting. Alec mentally pouts but soon moves on when he doesn’t elicit a bigger response, alternatively licking and sucking and nibbling as he follows the enticing curve of Q’s ribs into his unprotected side.

He takes a big bite and Q squeaks before slapping the palm of his hand against one of Alec’s arms in reprimand. Alec chuckles good-naturedly at the kitten's little claws, making sure to nibbe hard on the arch of Q’s hip and then suck a mark at the natural ‘v’ right above Q’s trapped cock.

Q whines and squirms as Alec slips his hands under each of his arse cheeks and into the fabric of Q’s panties, stretching them taunt across Q’s leaking member, better framing the little darling and highlighting where the tip peaks out the top.

He starts at the base, nuzzling into Q’s barely-held sack before licking up the fabric, dampening it until he reaches Q’s frenulum, making sure to lick the exposed tip - the first time he’d been given the opportunity to do so latex-free.

Q hooks one of his legs across his shoulders and rolls his hips, making the cutest little fuss noise that Alec has learned to interpret as ‘more’. Too bad for Q, but things would be going at his pace this time. “How attached are you to these panties?”

Q raises a hand to make a see-saw motion. “I’ve 5 more pairs.” As if he feels Alec’s incredulous look, he raises his head to look down at Alec and defend himself. “They were on sale and the sales associate was very compelling.”

Alec drowns a chortling laugh into Q’s hip. “That settles it, then. Turn over and hand me the lube.”

Q sighs as if it’s a big imposition, but he moves quickly, making sure to wiggle his arse and the swell of his bollocks in Alec’s face. The lube is fished out of the drawer quickly and gently tossed on the bed besides Alec’s hand.

Alec pops the cap and coats two fingers of one hand. The other holds the panties to the side as his fingers press and slide across Q’s pink little hole, slipping a little further inside each pass. The contrast between the pink of Q’s opening and the green of his satin panties actually made a compelling image. Alec leans forward to bite the cheek without the fabric in the way. “I should take a picture of this.”

Q swears and thrusts his cock into the empty air in front of him. Alic licks the space he just nibbled. “Is that a yes?”

Q shakes his head, forehead rubbing harshly against the pillow his arms had gathered under him. “Bond said you’d told him the same thing about your spank-marks.”

Alec starts thrusting his fingers where they’ve made their home, twisting and curling before suddenly adding a third. “My spank-marks on my kitten, and I didn’t even get to take a picture of it. It was a shame.” He thrusts a little harder, smiling at the choked little noise Q let out. “Oh well, maybe my kitten will agree to it next time, hmm?”

Alec takes the hint when a condom is tossed in his general direction and wraps himself. “When can I fuck my kitten bare, do you think?” He kisses up Q’s back, teeth snapping at the band of his bralette as Alec pulls Q up to his knees by a grip to his hair and neck.

Q trusts again into the empty air before settling against Alec’s front. “Maybe…” he gasps as Alec twists and tugs his hair one last time before he takes the hand to pump and aim himself. If he has to squeeze the base of his cock a little longer than intended, Q won’t know. Q tries again, “Maybe we can negotiate.”

Alec growls and presses himself in that tight, wet heat. The satin of Q’s panties are stretched to their limits, Q’s sack spilling out one side even as it keeps the majority of his cock trapped. Q makes that fussy sound again and twists his hips in evaluation. Alec gives him a moment, then pushes him back down to the bed, full weight pressing against the slighter man (only partially held up by his own arm) as he fucks up and up again.

Q had barely caught himself on his elbows and he cries out. “Yes. Oh yes, please?” He impales himself and starts a dirty rhythm that has the bed squeaking. Alec scraps the fingers of his free hand down Q’s side and plucks at the tight elastic of Q’s panties, plucks harder a second time just to hear the sound Q makes.

When the thrusts get erratic, Alec slips his palm across Q’s cock, trapping it against Q’s taut little tummy and making sure that the satin can still be felt up and down. Q gives a startled cry and cums. The pulses of Q’s orgasm in his arse actually have Alec cumming with him, biting a groan into Q’s bralette strap.

As he pulls out, Q slowly flops over, panties stretched out beyond saving and spunk droplets ruining his bralette. Q looks down to see the damage and winces but otherwise doesn’t move again. “Oh well; it doesn’t match the others anyways. What would I do with a bralette that doesn't have matching panties?”

Alec chuckles and just sits back on his heels to admire the ruin before him.What did he do right to catch this pretty little stray? And what did he need to do to keep it?

#00q #00q fic #00q fanfiction #quartermaster #alec trevelyan #kinktober

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Text

Her

Summary: Four years after a car accident takes Chloe's life, Lucifer is left to raise their young daughter alone. One afternoon, he decides to pay Dr. Linda Martin a visit where he finally finds the strength to open up and reflect on life. *Major Character Death*

Relationship: Chloe/Lucifer

Rating: T

Read on AO3 and FFN

Loosely based off this gif set

Her

Jane. That's the name they chose for her. Well, the name Chloe had picked out. He'd found it a little plain, somewhat unfitting for someone whose father was literally the king of the underworld himself. But it seemed right. Even though she was far more precious than any four letter word could describe. Perfect. Fragile. His daughter. Jane.

Everything was fine until the accident happened. Jane was only a few months old when Chloe, sleep deprived, went out one night in search of diapers. He'd forgotten to pick up a pack on the way home from Lux. They fought. Argued. It was such a trivial matter. When he got the call about the crash, everything around him seemed to shatter. The phone fell, cracking on the floor, and the baby cried from her crib. But he didn't seem to notice.

Lucifer hated funerals. Pitying the dead. Either they'd done well and would go to heaven, or slip into the fiery depths he once called home. No need to remember. But he stood there anyway, Jane bundled up tight, as he numbly nodded thanks to those who shared their condolences. He hated them. Hated himself. Jane cooed, but he didn't have the energy to look at her either.

Months went by. Years. The pain still ran deep within him, like raw cuts from animal claws, but he learned how to work around it. Jane had grown, now four years old. She was talking, smiling, playing like any normal child. But she looked like her. Her hair. Smile. Eyes. In her, he saw Chloe, and it burned. Lucifer fought it as best he could. For her. For Jane. For Chloe.

"Daddy?"

Lucifer eyes opened. Jane had crawled on top of his bed, peering down at him with a smile. He exhaled, sitting up. Most days, he tended to wake up on time. When he didn't, his daughter made sure that their day wasn't delayed.

"Morning," he yawned, offering a small smile. "I suppose you didn't make me a cup of coffee?"

She giggled at his joke and shook her head. "Nope," she exclaimed.

"Pity," he exclaimed, running his fingers through her messy bed hair. "Well, at least there is always breakfast. Cereal and cartoons? I do hope we haven't missed Tom and Jerry."

"Not yet," she assured him. "But we have to hurry! Come on, Daddy!"

Perhaps not the best breakfast of champions, but he didn't think Chloe would mind too much about giving their child a little extra sugar. She was a good girl, after all. Didn't cause any trouble-which came as quite a relief, seeing that she was his child.

After Chloe's death, Lucifer's involvement with the LAPD began to slip. At first he didn't realize it, but he'd begun to distance himself from anything that reminded him of Chloe. Of course he had to suffer through visits with Dan, Jane was Trixie's half sister after all. The older girl always put on a brave face. She was like her mother in that way. It was nice to know Jane had someone to look up to.

"Hurry alone, Jane, it's nearly time for preschool," Lucifer called out, peering down at his watch. An anniversary gift from Chloe. Something he didn't have the heart to part with. "Aunt Maze will be picking you up today. I have some matters to attend to at Lux."

Maze had been a constant companion after the accident. She had forced herself on him-and not in a sexual sense. When he was at his lowest, it had been her who'd figuratively kick him in the ass to sober up and be there for Jane. He was lucky to have her and she loved Jane, a feeling that was reciprocated. The demon had a knack when it came to Chloe's kids. He'd never understand it.

"Backpack?" He inquired, adjusting his jacket. "Lunch?"

"Uhuh!" Jane chimed in cheerfully, whipping around to show him the pink bag with a skull patch ironed on in the middle. An accessory done by Maze. "Ready!"

He hadn't a clue about kids. The idea made his stomach crawl. When Chloe announced she was pregnant, for the first time in his life, Lucifer Morningstar felt absolutely terrified. The pregnancy itself went well, the detective's occasional hormonal outbursts a rather unpleasant side effect. When she went into labor, the overwhelming pressure of it all almost brought the Devil to his knees. But the moment he held her, gazed down upon the tiny newborn, he'd never experienced such happiness, such fear in his life. From that moment forward, he swore to protect her. His little hellion. Jane.

"Let me out," the little girl protested, struggling against her car seat restraints. "I'm stuck!"

"Hang on, hang on," Lucifer exhaled, rolling his eyes. "What's the bloody rush for?"

"I wanna sit on the bean bag," she explained hastily, nearly falling out when Lucifer unclipped her. "Before Jaime Dunn does."

Jaime Dunn. Of course. Father a wealthy banker. Mother a trophy wife. Their son would surely grow up into a prick. Not someone he wanted his child around. But Chloe had picked this school. Even before Jane was born the detective insisted on preparing ahead. Who was he to deny her of her wish? He owed her plenty.

"Hug and kiss," he said, bending down to wrap his arms around Jane. "And perhaps, if you are so inclined, maybe slide a worm down Jaime's shirt?" Lucifer winked, his daughter's smile broadening. "But don't get caught."

"Be stealthy," she declared. "Like Aunt Maze!"

"Exactly," he smirked. "Clever girl."

"Bye, Daddy," Jane waved, heading towards the school's entrance. "I love you!"

"I love you too," his smile began to falter, eyes watching as the doors closed. "More than you know."

Dr. Linda Martin had tried from the moment she learned of Chloe's death to help Lucifer. Try to get through the thick, muddy waters that was his depression. He had been low, but after losing her, he'd sunken to the deepest parts of Hell. It was a dark place. His mind. And the thought of carrying on seemed so difficult. But then there was Jane. This tiny piece of his beloved he still clung onto. The only hope in an empty existence.

"It's good to see you, Lucifer," the doctor smiled as he took his regular seat on the couch. "It's been awhile."

"I suppose it has," he admitted.

"How's Jane?" She inquired, leaning forward. "Amenadiel was just talking about her the other day. Dan had shown him some pictures on his phone of Trixie and her playing?"

"So my brother has sunken to the level of finding companionship with Detective Douche," Lucifer scoffed. "Not a surprise."

"We miss you, you know," Linda said, her expression sympathetic. "We all do. Lucifer, it's been quite a long time. I know things are still hard…"

"Don't," he shook his head. "Don't start. All of you keep thinking that you know. You don't."

The therapist was silent for a moment. "How's your relationship with Jane?"

Lucifer's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? She's my child. I do fatherly things with her. With lack of experience and coming from the family that I did, I'm assuming things are rather bloody peachy."

On the offense. That's how he always got when the subject was broached. He didn't mean it usually. Even after four years it was still sensitive. Lucifer was doing his best. At least he tried to. What would Chloe think if she saw him now? Would her love still stand?

"Fine," he said quietly. "We eat breakfast together, watch cartoons. She likes to finger paint, gets the stuff bloody everywhere. I read to her each night, well, I try to. Jane likes the park, the swings. The other day she saw a toad. Even picked it up."

Linda nodded thoughtfully. "And how are you doing, Lucifer?"

He stiffened visible, fingers digging into his palms. Yet another subject he didn't wish to discuss. His feelings. Thoughts. He preferred to push everything back. Far into the depths of his mind. But they'd reappear in his dreams. Sometimes haunting him. Nightmares. He'd wake up in a cold sweat and look over half expecting Chloe to be there lying fast asleep by his side. She never was.

"Fine," he lied. "Actually, I think I need to go, I…"

"Lucifer," Linda's voice was firmer, making the man stop in his tracks. "How are you?"

"I see her," he mumbled.

"Who?" Linda asked softly. "Who do you see?"

"Chloe," he finally answered. "In Jane. Whenever I look at her, I see Chloe. Her eyes. Her face. Her hair. The way she smiles at me. Sometimes I can't even bear it, I have to force myself to look at her. My own child. It's like someone is squeezing my bloody heart."

"But you love her," Linda ventured.

"Of course I bloody do," he nearly snapped. "More than anything. She's all I have of Chloe. She's my daughter. I'd do anything for her." Lucifer sighed, fighting back tears. "But I don't deserve her. It should've been me that night, not Chloe."

"It wasn't your fault-"

"But it was," Lucifer countered, sucking in a sharp breath. "I forgot the diapers and we got into some silly, bloody argument and I let her go out. I didn't offer to do it. It should be Chloe raising Jane, not me."

"But you are raising her," the therapist said gently, reaching forward to rest a hand on Lucifer's knee. "And if Chloe was here, she'd be so proud."

"I miss her," he swallowed hard, eyes watering. "And the more I try to stop, the more I do. I just want the pain to go away." He paused, recollecting himself. "But I look at Jane and realize that I have to be here for her. It's what Chloe would want. I'd do anything for Chloe. For Jane."

"I know," Linda smiled. "Jane couldn't ask for a better father."

Sometimes he pulled late nights at Lux-either he had things to do, or needed to clear his mind. When he arrived home, greeting Maze who sat drinking a cocktail in the kitchen, he slipped his shoes off and entered Jane's room. Through the mess of stuffed animals, he could just make out a small, sleeping figure huddled under the covers. He smiled softly, quietly making his way over. Fast asleep, he gently moved back a lock of her hair.

"I'm sorry I got home so late," he whispered. "I'll make it up to you. Ice cream for breakfast." He chuckled softly at the thought of Chloe's reaction to that. "Goodnight," Lucifer murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you."

Forever and always.

#Lucifer #Lucifer on Netflix #Deckerstar #Chloe Decker #Lucifer Morningstar #Jane Morningstar #Her

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

A Place to Belong Chapter 37: Secure

Chapter 36

Read on AO3

In the months that followed, the situation between Claire and Fergus remained precarious, moving slowly toward something less fragile. He began kissing her on the cheek again after about a month and a half, when leaving the breakfast table before setting off to do his work, or while saying goodnight at the hearth in the parlor, or after telling her where he was running off to instead of just disappearing. Each and every peck left Claire warmed from head to toe, feeling more grateful than she ever had. In the beginning, she told herself that he’d stop eventually, that they were just lasting effects of their reconnecting, and he’d stop coddling her. But he didn’t.

In the end, Claire was glad they’d blown up on one another. It was painful and difficult, but they were all the closer now for it. They’d been able to bare their souls to one another in ways that they’d both been hiding, protecting each other from for years. And now that those things were out in the open, they no longer had to dance around one another; they could just be.

Fergus seemed hell-bent on reminding Claire that he loved her, without saying it of course. Hence the kisses, the reminders of his whereabouts, the little ways he helped around the house and the barn where she did her healing. He was not reverting to the little boy he’d been before, devoid of his own life; rather he was creating a healthy balance of devotion to his family and the establishment of his own life as a young man.

Brianna was none the wiser to anything that had happened; Fergus had never behaved any differently toward her, or any of the children for that matter. He was still their beloved big brother or cousin, the big boy that played the monster in all their games when they needed it. He still swept them off their feet and dangled them upside-down or over his shoulders like sacks of grain, still made them shriek and howl their heads off with laughter. He still called Maggie ‘Little Faery,’ still called his sister ‘Little Rabbit, Petit Lapin,” still ruffled wee Jamie’s and Michael’s hair and carried Janet on his shoulders when she asked.

Claire had approached Fergus one day about perhaps sending him to university in France as Jamie had done, or even Edinburgh if he didn’t want to leave Scotland. But Fergus would not hear any of it.

“Don’t you remember? I belong with you,” he’d said simply. “And petit. I will not leave. Besides, I am a farmer now; what do I need with book learning?”

“Do you want to be a farmer forever, Fergus?” Claire had asked gently. “University can open so many doors for you. Or even just learning a trade. You don’t have to be stuck here. You’re a young man, I understand that.”

“I am not stuck here, Maman,” he said. “I belong here. That is different.”

Claire would never say it, in case he changed his mind, but she was relieved to her core that he did not want to leave. She wanted more for him, of course; she wanted the world for him. But only if he wanted it. And if he was content to work the fields until he found a wife to settle with, then Claire was more than happy to allow it. Not to mention Brianna would be heartbroken if her brother left her.

Brianna was growing, too; it seemed every day she gained an inch in height. She and Kitty had reached full hellion form by the time Brianna was seven and Kitty was nine. If Brianna was Kitty’s shadow before, they were one being now, morphed together, sharing footsteps rather than one following in the other’s. Terrorizing the goats and chickens seemed to be their favorite activity, though it was likely a tie between that and visiting the horses in the stable. They knew better than to rile up creatures that could trample them, thank Heaven. They were shockingly gentle with the beasts, and Brianna loved them.

She’d taken to drawing them lately, the horses. Maggie started sketching at a young age, preferring this quiet activity to the rowdy games the other children played, and by ten years old she’d developed quite a beautiful talent. Brianna took notice and started trying her hand, and, if Claire did say so herself, she was really quite talented. The horses were eerily lifelike for a sketch done by a seven year old. Kitty could not be bothered with such things; while Maggie and Brianna drew or painted side by side, Kitty was busy outside teaching the twins how to get up to all sorts of mischief.

Claire was grateful for this new side of her daughter. Not that she didn’t love her as she was before; of course she did. She could remain wild and untamable for the rest of her life and Claire would be proud as ever. But there was something beautiful about watching her focus on her page, the way she held her charcoal, the way she glanced back and forth between Maggie’s work and her own to see how it held up. Claire never would have guessed that Brianna possessed the patience in her to sit still or to have the attention to detail needed for such a task. It was almost like she was growing up in this way, maturing and blooming in something that nobody had seen coming.

It was beautiful.

Claire loved to sit in the parlor while Jenny instructed Maggie and Brianna, listening to their questions, to their grunts of frustration. Much more in character for Brianna than the patience she’d been exhibiting, she was known to tear at her pages if she was unhappy and throw the pieces in the fire, then stamp away and leave Claire to trail after her.

“I’ll never be as good as Maggie! Or Auntie!”

“Maggie is older than you, lovie. And so is Auntie, much older. That isn’t fair to yourself at all.”

Brianna would then kick the dirt or throw a rock into the stream with a grunt of frustration, then refuse to continue the conversation. Claire waited for this to be the last time, waited for Brianna to give it up every time she had a little tantrum, but she never did. And Claire was more proud than she could ever say.

Now, when Claire looked at the portraits Jenny had done of the children, she could hear her calm and lilting voice instructing the girls on proportions and shading. She kept a miniature that Jenny had done of Brianna as a baby on the mantel in her bedroom. Jenny had done miniatures of all of the children as babies. All except Caitlin, of course. Jenny kept the blanket she’d been swaddled in on the mantle in the Laird’s room, folded neatly in the space between Michael’s portrait and Ian’s portrait.

Claire liked to take the portrait down and sit with Brianna in her lap and tell her all about what she was like as a baby.

“And these squishy cheeks that used to be so easy to pinch and kiss,” Claire would say, pointing to them. “Turned into these.” She’d pinch Brianna’s cheeks and kiss them incessantly until she was squirming away and begging her to stop.

“Apparently they’re still easy to pinch and kiss, Mummy.”

“Listen to her! Apparently she says! This little thing would never give her mother such attitude.”

“This little thing couldn’t talk, Mummy.”

“Not right away. You were eight months old here. But do you remember what I said your very first word was?”

“Dog!”

Jehu always picked his head up at that.

“That’s right. And your second?”

“No!”

“That’s right, stubborn little thing.” Claire tickled her neck. “I suppose you were giving me such attitude from the moment you could speak, hm?”

“Oh, Mummy…”

The children would be due for updated portraits soon. The last ones had been done when Jamie still had baby fat on his cheeks. They hung proudly in the hall with the portraits that Claire had seen the very first time she’d come to Lallybroch, and so did hers.

Jenny had insisted on adding Claire’s portrait to the ranks about a year ago, before wee Ian was born.

“It really isn’t necessary, Jenny — ”

“Dinna be daft, sister. Ye were once Lady Broch Tuarach. There ought to be an elegant portrait of ye in the home. Yer bairn’s on the wall. Ye ought to be as well.”

She’d pointed to the foot-long portrait of Brianna at four years old, Jenny having perfectly captured the mischievous, almost devious grin that Brianna was known to sport at any given time.

So Claire had obliged her and posed for the portrait, and despite her initial reluctance, she was extremely proud to see herself hanging there beside her sister, brother, all their children, even portraits of Ellen and Brian and their children in their youth. Claire already knew she belonged, had known for years. But this final stepping stone made it all feel so generational, almost spiritual. She looked back and forth between Jenny’s work and Ellen’s and could hardly tell the difference. It was almost like Ellen was guiding her daughter’s hand in creation, to fully welcome Claire and her child to the wall of family portraits.

Apart from drawing, Maggie was blooming beautifully into a wonderful gardener and assistant healer. She was now regularly assisting Claire in the barn both with herbs and patients. The ten year old had now seen her Auntie lance boils, tend to styes, set dislocated shoulders and broken bones, and put in stitches enough for several of her small lifetimes. She’d even watched Claire deliver four babies now. She handed her tools and watched intently, never once fainting or becoming ill, despite how close she came sometimes.

She was delicate and sensitive, but not fragile. There could not be a Fraser-Murray child with an ounce of fragility in their soul no matter how sweet they were, and Maggie was living proof. Claire and Jenny had had a fair amount of disagreements over just how much Maggie should be seeing, especially after they’d had a patient die for the first time as a pair, a head injury that Claire was powerless to do anything about. Maggie was beyond distraught, and she wouldn’t come out of her room for days.

Claire knocked on the door and let herself in, sitting on the bed beside her.

“I understand if you don’t want to help anymore, Maggie,” she said gently. “It’s not easy to lose a patient. And your mother is right, you’re too young for such pain. I’m struggling with this one, and I’m a grown woman.”

Maggie sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’ll happen again, aye Auntie?”

Claire sighed. “Unfortunately it will. If I’d have known how bad it was going to get, I would have sent you away. I’m sorry you had to be a part of it.”

She shook her head. “I just...have to get used to it, then.”

Claire blinked at her in shock.

“Jamie says you’ve seen hundreds of men die in war.”

“That’s true. I have.”

“But ye’re a braw healer, Auntie. Ye didna quit when ye got sad about death.”

“That’s right, I didn’t.”

Maggie picked up her head, wiping her cheeks and setting her eyes on her aunt’s, and Claire felt a chill down her spine, almost certain she was looking into the eyes of someone much older than ten.

“Then neither will I, Auntie Claire.”

Since that day, Claire did take better care in terms of what she exposed the girl to, but she took her training much more seriously. Her first death hadn’t scared her away; she was serious about this.

The other girls admired Claire and Maggie and the work they did, but they showed no interest in the healing side of things. Kitty and Brianna enjoyed helping in the garden, but Claire wasn’t convinced it was for any reason other than that it was permission to get themselves filthy in the dirt. They also enjoyed roaming the grounds for herbs and plants to move into the garden, but Claire had a feeling it had more to do with being allowed to romp and roam freely away from Jenny’s watchful eye. They did pay the smallest bit of attention when Claire gave little lessons about each plant they found, Brianna more so than Kitty.

Brianna’s seizures remained a small fear in the back of Claire’s mind, but it was evident by now that they hadn’t affected her cognitively in the slightest. She was bright and energetic as any child her age should be, her shimmering light only dulling when she was overcome with an episode and the following days of recovery.

She was old enough now to be able to tell an adult when she was feeling off, old enough to know her own symptoms. And Jehu was a wonderful help; the mangy little thing was practically a Godsend. He’d roused the entire house with his yapping during more than one nighttime seizure, possibly saving Brianna’s life by doing so. Claire, and more importantly, Brianna herself, felt secure. And it meant all the world.

Claire, Fergus, and Brianna were also keeping with their annual visits to Jamie’s grave. Brianna still slept with Lamb every night, even if it was no longer part of her line up of regular toys she played with, and she brought it to visit her father every year. It was beautiful for Claire to see Brianna really talk to him the older she got, as opposed to the babbling she used to offer when she was younger.

She spoke to Da about her drawings, how she was trying very hard not to compare herself to Maggie.

“Mummy says I’m my own person with my own...ehm...achievements. So I mustn't compare and I must focus on my own progress.”

She spoke to him about her horse, Alastair.

“He’s copper and gentle and just beautiful, Da. Someday, when I’m big, I’m going to ride him all over Lallybroch and feel the wind in my hair.”

She told him all about the mischief she and Kitty got up to, about Mummy’s garden, and about how she was good at helping Auntie Jenny with the baby.

“Sometimes, wee Ian doesna stop crying unless I hold him, Da. Not even Maggie can get him to stop sometimes. And Maggie is the Mother Hen. Auntie Jenny says Maggie has the touch wi’ bairns, but that Ian must have taken a liking to me.”

Claire and Fergus sat back, hand in hand, watching and listening. And despite the tears lingering on her cheeks, Claire felt at peace.

“Hello, love,” Claire said, kneeling before the stone as Fergus and Brianna disappeared from the graveyard hand in hand in reverent silence. “They’ve both grown so much, haven’t they? God, you’d be so proud of them. Fergus is coming into his own so beautifully and Brianna...she’s just remarkable, love. But sometimes…” She sighed heavily, bracing herself on the stone, fisting the rosary. “When she turns and the light catches her red hair, or I see her smile in her sleep...it takes my breath away. Because I see you. Every day, the older she gets, the more her baby face fades away...the more I see it. And it...it equal parts kills me and gives me life.”

“I wish she could meet you. God, that’s the greatest wish I have. I know you can see her, wherever you are, I know you know how wonderful she is. But for her to meet you, to feel what it’s like to be held by you, to hear your voice…” She stopped for a moment, swallowing thickly. “She knows you love her, Jamie. I tell her almost every day. But to really...feel her father’s love. That is the only impossible wish I have.”

She kissed the rosary and put it back in its place, then fingered the lettering on his name, a practiced, ingrained habit by now.

“Tell our baby I miss her,” she whispered. “I love you, Soldier.”

——

March 1754

“Mummy! Look at me!” Brianna cried gleefully. “Alastair loves me!”

“I see, darling! You’re doing beautifully!”

“Tres bien, ma petit,” Fergus encouraged.

“Merci, mon frère,” Brianna said, the French rolling expertly off her tongue. Eight years old, and she understood and spoke three languages, she was reading The Faerie Queen, she was drawing sketches, and now she was riding horses. Claire leaned on the fence, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand so she could more clearly see the joy on her little girl’s face.

Brianna had been harassing Claire about riding horses since she was four years old. Back then it was simple enough to say: “You’re much too young, darling. Wait until you grow up.”

When Kitty was six and Brianna was five, it was: “Why does Kitty get to ride? She’s little, too!” And Claire could easily say: “You’re five, and Kitty is six. You are still too young.”

But then Brianna turned six. The day after they celebrated her birthday, when she’d finished her breakfast, she’d put down her utensils and quite matter-of-factly stated: “I’d like to ride horses now.”

It wasn’t so simple anymore. Claire was still hesitant to let her do anything physically strenuous, unsure how it would affect her seizures. Claire hadn’t had a single clue how to tell her six year old daughter that she couldn’t ride horses but Kitty could because she had seizures and Kitty didn’t. There’d been quite the tantrum when she tried, lots of rotten things said. Jenny had insisted that Claire let her give the girl a spanking, but Claire had very firmly insisted against it.

“It isn’t her fault she’s too young to understand.”

Now she watched her, grinning ear to ear, her wild copper hair shimmering in flecks of gold in the sunlight. And Fergus; he was truly a man now. He'd been the one to teach Brianna everything there was to know about horses, while Claire had sat in the grass behind the fence and observed.

“Faster, Fergus!” Brianna giggled.

“Don’t you dare!” Claire called.

“I know, Maman, I know!” he answered, laughing at her excessive concern.

“You won’t be laughing when you have your own children, Fergus!” Claire retorted, though she couldn't help but smile in spite of herself.

“Remember what I told you, ma petit, you may not go very fast until you are ten,” Fergus said.

“Twelve!” Claire corrected.

“Mummy! Must ye be such a bore?”

Fergus whispered something to Brianna, and she squealed with delight.

“Fergus! Don’t be putting any ideas in her head!”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Maman!” Claire swore she saw him wink up at Brianna, and she heard Brianna giggle.

Claire smiled, but she was never one to let up on the rules she set for Brianna. “Fergus — ”

“Claire!”

She whipped around to see Jenny sprinting toward her. “Claire!”

“Jenny?” Claire called back.

“Come to the front of the house, now!” Jenny cried.

Claire turned fretfully back to the corral, where Fergus had stopped Alastair, his hand still on the bridle. “Keep Brianna back here,” Claire said.

“Yes, Maman.” There was no joking in his tone this time. He clicked his tongue to start the horse again. “Mummy has a patient, that is all.”

Fergus’s voice disappeared as Claire ran to catch up to Jenny. The closer she got, the more clearly she could see that Jenny was distraught. She was red in the face, tears in her eyes.

“What is it?” Claire asked, breathless. “The children? Ian?”

Jenny stammered incoherently and took Claire’s hand, dragging her the rest of the way to the front of the house.

“Jenny, you’re scaring me…” Claire said. “Is somebody hurt?”

Jenny once again did not answer, just kept dragging her behind her.

“Jenny, for God’s sake — ”

And then the world stopped turning.

Brianna’s hair, Brianna’s eyes, standing right in front of her on a six-foot, three-inch man.

It can’t be. It can’t be.

Claire’s breathing became shallow, her vision became narrow. She could see nothing, no shape, no color, no light, but him.

Every night for eight years she envisioned his form. Eight years.

It can’t be.

“Will ye no’ say anything?” Jenny shoved her, but she neither heard nor felt it.

“It’s me, Claire.”

God…God…his voice…It was so real…but it couldn’t be.

“I’ve come home to ye.”

She let out a pathetic, strangled sound, and all at once the feeling was gone from each of her limbs.

She hit the ground with an unceremonious thud.

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