#now I just clawen post

[dearinglovebot]

claire/owen have the Ultimate right person, wrong time dynamic. because both break-ups fundamentally aren’t about them being incompatible as a couple. it’s just the circumstances aren’t right and they’re deeply dramatic people.

first time it’s like, surface level they don’t mesh. but they easily could if they tried. that’s proven time and time again. they just aren’t at points where they’re willing to let themselves make compromises to any degree. this girl doesn’t drink this specific type of alcohol? RED FLAG! this guy owns shorts? RED FLAG!

they’re not at a point in their lives where they want to try and understand other people (it’s the wrong time). just two people married to their work who don’t need anything else. the entire story comes down to them being forced to try compromise and understanding and surprise surprise it works really well actually.

then there’s that Second Break-up. not because they’re incompatible again. but because they’re just not at a point where they can heal together. they won’t let themselves. it’s like denial user vs obsession user. their ability to communicate hasn’t progressed as fast as it needed to for them to be able to do it together any more. they could’ve worked fine in the aftermath, far removed and far healed. that’s kind of the whole ending in a way.

it’s only when they’re put on that second journey where they’re forced to face the dilemmas head on that they’re able to understand. because by the end of fk, there’s perspective gained and it’s enough to balance the scale. it is… The Right Time. compromise issues? solved and dealt with on individual levels. communication issues? solved and dealt with on individual levels.

it’s not the right time in either movie because they don’t have the correct skills to properly maintain a healthy relationship, and in many ways, the movies are them going on a journey to gain them. like couples therapy where you can be eaten. and it’s vindicated by the end! give them a few wrongs, a few misses, and they can sort themselves out. I would even argue by the time they find maisie, it’s clear that they’ve worked themselves out into the right time no matter how the rest of the night goes (claire sees the error in obsession, owen sees the error of abandoning the past, “I have a cabin to finish” [“I have a solution or our van argument”]).

but maisie ultimately just cements it. they can’t afford not to communicate anymore because they’ve decided they’re parents tonight. and they’ve decided they’re parents because they’ve decided they want each other in a permanent way they couldn’t have managed before. IT IS THE RIGHT TIME!

and all dominion is, is proving they do like each other. they are compatible. they can live in the middle of no where with only each other for company and not cause a news incident (child theft non-applicable). like this has always been “the right person”. sometimes you just need to witness certain death to adjust your priorities, three years, and then a second life changing event to be humbled even further into a functional person capable of maintaining a love life.

they always wanted each other. they’re just really bad at it!

[backtothestart02]

Something New - 1/1 | clawen fanfiction

A/N: Had a super cute clawen dream last night and so felt inspired to write one of my one-shot ideas I came up with a week or so ago. Hope y'all enjoy.

...

Synopsis: Post FK - Owen, Claire and Maisie adjust to their new dynamic.

...

It was a long drive back to Owen’s unfinished cabin. A quiet one mostly, but words didn’t need to be said. Maisie was content to watch the landscape unfold outside her windows, and Owen reached across the console to hold Claire’s hand. It startled her somewhat, given where they’d been before the start of all this, but she didn’t flinch. They had just risked their necks for each other back at the Lockwood mansion. And she had kissed him, after all.

The three of them stepped outside of the truck once they reached the property and stood there looking at the frame of a house. It was dejavu for Claire and Owen, who were finding it somewhat hard to believe how far they’d come since they’d last been here. Maisie spoke first.

“Is this where you live?”

The question as directed at Owen, as it always was. Claire smiled faintly, waiting for him to respond.

“It’s where we’re going to live, all three of us.”

He said it so confidently that it nearly stole Claire’s breath, but she knew there’d been unspoken communication between Owen and herself. They were going to take care of Maisie together. They’d raise her and keep her hidden from anybody trying to find her. That also meant though, they’d be skipping over trying to date each other again. They were just…together, in every sense of the word. And for now, that meant doing everything they could to be everything Maisie needed.

It was about Maisie, not them. Sort of.

Maisie tilted her head to the side.

“But there are no walls…or roof…or doors.”

Owen chuckled.

“Good observation, kid. Can you tell me what that is over there?” He pointed into the distance, his home away from home until his cabin was finished.

“A trailer?”

“Very good.”

“That’s where we’ll be living, Maisie. Until Owen and I can finish his cabin.”

Owen gave her an intriguing look.

“Oh, you’re going to help me build my cabin?” he asked, teasingly.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“It’ll be the end of the year if we let you do it by yourself.” She held out her hand for Maisie to take. “Come on, Maisie. Let’s see if Owen left any food for us in his little trailer.”

“Hey, now, that is a state-of-the-art trailer!” He called after them. “Good condition too!”

“But does it have food?” Claire called back, shaking her head when Owen only muttered something she couldn’t understand.

And so the next week went by with Claire tending to Maisie on and off, as well as doing some shopping – food, building supplies, etc. – and helping Owen build his cabin. They made a great deal of progress working together, but they didn’t talk much unless it was about Maisie. They stayed focused on the task at hand.

It was a few more days before Owen prompted Claire for more than that.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he said between hammering.

“Yeah?” she asked, doing her own share of hammering.

“What are you gonna do with your place back in the city? I mean, are you gonna stay here with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Owen.”

“Well, that’s great and all, Claire, but you must have rent and all your stuff back at your place. You can’t just let it…sit there.”

She sighed and paused.

“You want me to go?”

“Hey, no, I don’t want you to go. Not permanently. But…” He shrugged. “Take care of your business, and then come back to us. You can take the truck, maybe fill up the gas a time or two.” He flashed a subtle smile at her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Okay. Just a couple days, then I’ll be back.” She glanced over her shoulder at Maisie watching them curiously.

“We’ll be fine,” Owen assured her. “She’ll be fine.”

Claire’s smile was a little more forced this time, but she nodded and started descending her ladder. She squatted so she was on Maisie’s level.

“I’m gonna go.”

“Shopping again?” Maisie asked curiously.

Claire shook her head.

“I need to go back to my apartment, get everything packed up and taken care of, and then I’ll be back. It’ll just be a few short days.” She lowered her voice. “Think you can watch over Owen for me?”

Maisie nodded confidently, smiling.

Claire smiled in return.

“That’s my girl.”

She stroked her hair softly and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ll be back.”

True to her word, Claire was back a few days later with some extra money in her pocket after selling the bigger ticket items in her apartment and a truck full of smaller things, things they’d need and mementos of things she didn’t want to forget, a picture frame with her and her sister in it, things of that nature.

Maisie actually ran and hugged her when she got back, which was a pleasant surprise, since Claire had only seen her act so affectionately towards Owen.

“Hey, I said I’d be back.”

“We missed you,” Owen said, walking towards them. His eyes lowered to her lips, but he didn’t do what he wanted to in that moment. Mostly because of Maisie, but also because they hadn’t kissed since that night in the Lockwood mansion, and he was afraid she’d reject him.

“Well, I’m back.” She smiled, letting silence hang after she’d spoken the words. “I thought I could just keep most of my stuff in the truck until there’s space to put it someplace else.”

Owen nodded.

“Sounds like a plan. Food’s inside,” he said.

“Oh?”

“He’s been cooking,” Maisie informed her.

“Well, color me intrigued. Let’s check it out.”

Maisie took her hand and led her into the trailer where food awaited in the little kitchen.

Later that evening when Maisie was asleep, Owen approached Claire digging around in the truck for some of her belongings. Maybe some clothes, he guessed, but there was no harm in asking.

“I thought you were going to keep your stuff in the truck for a while,” he said, his hand practically hovering over her ass sticking out of the open door. If it had been a year ago, he would’ve smacked or grabbed it playfully, but he didn’t know where they stood right now. Not really. So he retracted the thought and his hand.

“Just getting some clothes.”

She jumped out of the truck with a bag in her arms partially unzipped. Owen spotted some lace and reached for it.

“Ooo, what’s this?”

“Owen!” She tried to reach for the garment, but it was out of reach as soon as he’d snatched it from her bag.

“I remember this bra. I remember taking it off of you.”

Her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Yes, well, that was another time.” She managed to reach it and stuff it back in her bag. “It’s not like that anymore. We’re not-”

“We’re not?” he asked, and she thought she heard a sad tone to his voice.

She avoided eye contact.

“The priority now is Maisie, not us.” She tried to move past him, but he caught her arm.

“Uh-uh, not so fast.”

Her eyes fastened to his, and she couldn’t move.

“You feel a responsibility to Maisie, and I understand that. I do too. But this is about more than just protecting and raising a 10-year-old, who just so happens to be a replica of Lockwood’s daughter.”

“It is?”

“You kissed me, Claire. And I know you meant it.”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She had meant it, but it had also been a device to get him to go save Maisie at the time. It had all been for Maisie.

“You still have feelings for me. Admit it.” He sighed when she didn’t respond. “We’re not in a van on the side of the road anymore, and obviously I’m fine with you driving my truck.”

She scoffed. “Owen.”

“I love you, Claire.”

Her eyes went wide.

“I know I didn’t say it when we were together, and neither did you, but you should know that’s how I feel. I want us to be together again – not just raising Maisie as pseudo parents, which is a big job in and of itself. But together. You know?”

Claire hesitated, then dropped her bag, grabbed his face and kissed him.

“I want that too, Owen,” she said when they parted.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, teasingly. “Well now we’re talking that.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Come on. There’s another bag in there you can help me take in.”

She started to walk away, so he smacked her behind before she could get too far, and she yelped.

“Owen!” She yell-whispered.

He shrugged innocently.

“If we’re together…?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Come on.”

Grinning from ear to ear, he grabbed the second bag, locked up the truck and followed her into the trailer. Luckily there was a partition between the bed and the makeshift couch where Maisie was sleeping, and Owen took that opportunity to kiss her some more until finally Claire pushed him away.

“She’ll hear!” she insisted.

“Then be quiet,” he mumbled, yanking her towards him again and kissing her some more. “I like the way you taste.”

Claire whimpered at that remark, going weak in the knees. She would never survive his little remarks and living with a 10-year-old not too far away. Not if they were going to be a real couple again.

But she succumbed for just a few seconds to the giddy feeling threatening to overwhelm her.

“I do taste pretty damn good,” she said.

“Hell yeah you do,” he agreed, with a grunt.

The sound turned her on and made her want to strip herself naked right then. But they heard Maisie rustling in her sleep, and that put a halt to everything.

“We’ll find a solution to this,” Owen said.

Claire smiled slyly and removed his hand from her ass, kissing him once more quickly.

“We better.”

[brycedearings]

Dominion spoilers under the cut. I just needed to say this

Still bawling over Owen kissing Claire and telling her he loves her and will see her again. edit: OH and the whole “you’re her mom” thing yeah i bawled. 

Never did I expect this beautiful (not so) little dino trilogy to portray this ship so well and give us all these beautiful moments across 3 movies. I’m usually grasping as crumbs with my ships in movies. I’ll probably make a full post about all my clawen/maisie feels but for now that scene is on replay in my mind

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

I’m so happy you’re getting back into writing! Of course I completely understand and respect why you took a break but your fanfics are my absolute favorite things to read. I actually just finished rereading Despite the Odds for like the 6th time and can seriously never get enough of it! Thank you for putting so much time and effort into this fandom, it means a lot.

Can you guys believe that with all this free time I gained after stepping away from obsessively writing fic, that I have read thirty-six books? I don’t think I’ve read that many books from start to finish in my entire university life. I’m four books ahead of schedule for my fifty books this year goal. It’s crazy. 

I needed that break and I am by no means back back but when I find a little extra time I’ll write or if something comes to me. I still talk about clawen every day just ask @all--the--dancers. But, it’s me first now and fic second. Thanks to all your anons I’m definitely back on Tumblr much more ... although still mad all the NSFW content is gone.

Thank you for enjoying my fics. It means a lot and it’s so wonderful to know people are still reading them even when I’m not posting constantly. Also, once I get my head wrapped around yet another new version of LNH I’ll be back on that. 

[gwendolyngreene]

Greetings, humans

I just wanted to chime in because I've gotten a few new followers recently even though I haven't posted a lot of content lately (more on that later). And, I wanted to officially introduce myself.

Hi, I'm 23 years old and living in Canada. I work a full time job, I'm trying to save up enough money to move out on my own, and I do have other interests than writing fan fiction. All of this combines into the fact that I wish I had more time to spend writing, but unfortunately I don't. Office jobs come with a steady paycheck but are exhausting when you're a creative. My brain spends all day at work keeping me entertained with creative ideas, and by the time I get home I don't have enough energy to fulfill them. Also I have to live with the one-two punch combo of Anxiety and Depression so my brain tires itself out on a daily basis. So, no, I don't write as much as I'd like to.

But there's still work being done on the back end. I promise. There's a reason I call myself (and my IRL writer friend does too) the Plot Monster. The fun part for me is planning and scheming and plotting and designing a story. Getting to actually write it is sometimes just a bonus.

I also want to say I've seen a few other Clawen content creators saying they feel the fandom is stagnating, and I'm so glad they said that because I've been feeling it for a while. Fallen Kingdom wasn't the most inspiring masterpiece I think most of us needed and we're feeling the pain of that now. Claire and Owen are still my OTP but it's in times like these that people jump ship. I will forever love the Jurassic fandom for being the one to kick me in the pants and actually make me start posting my written works for others to see, I was never confident enough to do it before. So...to those who have jumped ship, I wish you luck. To those who remain (and have followed me out of...desperation? Wishful thinking?) I want to say I'm still on this ship with you for now. But I need a little more interaction and feedback from you, because I usually get close to none. The fandom only dies when we let it.

I'll be writing whenever I have time and energy, and I am pretty stoked for the things I consider to be "in the works". As of now, this is my official list in relative order:

Aloha

Secret-for-now "Buttercup" project

Owl Ways (Harry Potter AU)

I'm the Alpha

Three's a Crowd

Something involving Maisie?

Little ficlets and bits and bobs as I see fit (including but not limited to that Valentine's day fic I started two Februarys ago 😓)

As of this moment I have 121 followers, which is the highest it's ever been. So, hello. Let's all make this fandom a fun and engaging place to be, and keep this ship alive.

[nezumionice]

im fucking crying these past three months have been too much for me to handle because all my favourite fandoms and ships are waking up like: - the reylo fandom has risen from the ashes of star wars hell because of five seconds in a trailer, eventually leading to all-out reylo tlj marketing and promotion. now the fandom is prospering and flourishing and buried in new reylo content every day. it's like a daily reylo newspaper subscription overflowing with support from the cast and the director himself. i love it. i love it so damn much. - the newtina fandom has also awaken in the midst of the new teaser clip, giving us the first look at our characters and a title for the next fantastic beasts movie. not to mention the little crumbs and snippets of bts shots the official fantastic beasts ig account has been leaving us. i daresay we've all been analysing them like crazy to derive at the conclusion that at least a few of them have to do with newtina. the fandom is now rewatching fbawtft and exploding with newtina theories, speculation, fanart and fanfics. i implore you all not to stop creating / posting these content because it's literally the only thing keeping me alive until the movie is out. JUST A LITTLE LESS THAN A YEAR TO GO CMON GUYS - the buckynat fandom has awaken since the infinity war trailer has FINALLY dropped, after years of waiting. i assume we all exploded in excitement when we saw the very thumbnail of the trailer - literally bucky and natasha running into battle together, side by side. we're probably overthinking / over-analysing this, but who cares, we've been deprived. let us speculate as we wish. a new wave of fanart and fanfiction crashes in and i am more than willing to drown in them. - the jancy fandom is literally WOKE. stranger things season 2 could just be called the jancy road trip au fanfic, only thing is that it's canon. IT'S CANON BITCHES. FINALLY. the bedroom scene. our lord and savior murray bauman. this season everything fell into place. we got everything we ever wanted and more. - the quakerider fandom has risen upon the premiere of aos season 5. it just makes me so happy that the first few words out of daisy's mouth was about robbie, and that the first episode alone held various references to the ghost rider. we are all united by our current dislike towards deke, and we're all wary about him becoming daisy's new love interest. we were all mad about the "sweetheart" thing. and then gabriel luna showed up on chloe bennet's ig story and we all flipped shit. it feels good to have some reassurance once in a while. keep them fanfics / fanart going, guys, and we might just get the quakerider reunion we deserve. don't stop hoping!! - the clawen fandom is freaking out rn because the jurassic world: fallen kingdom trailer is coming this week AND we've already gotten a new clip featuring owen and a baby raptor. plus, all those amazing, beautiful bts pics with owen and a BADASS LOOKING CLAIRE DEARING like holy shit my bbys look so good. i'm so freakin pumped for the next film and to think that we'll be seeing more of them as a couple (maybe even engaged omgomgomg) is just astounding. it's too much to take in. the end of 2017 isnt a bad one. let us hope this will continue into the start of 2018.

[hiraeth-doux]

post proposal cuddling for clawen :)

Thank you :) I’m sorry for taking roughly a million years to respond. Thanks for your patience!

“You know that it’snot going anywhere, right?” Owen asked, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.His arms flexed around Claire, her back leaning against his chest as she raisedher hand to study a one-carat diamond ring, gleaming on her finger in the lateafternoon sunlight.

“It’s just so…shiny,” she murmured.

“If I knew you’d beso into it, I’d’ve done it sooner,” he chuckled.  

“I didn’t think you’ddo it, ever,” she countered.

Owen paused, oneeyebrow arched. “I thought you didn’t want to get married,” he noted, his voiceteasing.

Claire looked up,craning her neck to see past his chin, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.“Is that why you asked? Because you thought I’d say no?”

Owen blinked,surprised, and then let out a hearty guffaw, unable to bite it back, herconfused expression making it so much harder to keep it together. “Are youkidding me? I mean… Come on, Claire.” He shook his head. “You’re stuck with me,that’s a fact. But if you said no, I’d never get that deposit back.”

She huffed andturned away, rolling her eyes, and even elbowed him half-heartedly in whatevershe could reach for good measure, a small smile she hoped he wouldn’t seetugging at the corners of her lips. It hadn’t quite registered with her yet,and it was exhilarating and slightly unnerving all at once. Like her heartmight actually burst once the reality of the proposal settled in. Like sheneeded to hold on to this in-between moment with its soft edges and thetwinkling light caught inside the diamond for just a little while longer.  

Owen was right, ina way. She didn’t want to get married for the sake of being married, didn’twant to do it just to get her sister off her back. But she like the idea ofbeing married to him, the merethought of waking up next to him for the rest of her life filling her withwarm, fuzzy contentment.

“So, you like it?”Owen asked softly, brushing a kiss to the crown of her head, and while Claire’seyes were on the ring, if only because of the novelty of the moment that he’dbeen rehearsing in his head for weeks now, he couldn’t stop looking at her,taking in the slight colour of excitement on her cheeks, a dusting of goldenfreckles on the bridge of her nose, and a delicate bow of her lips that hecould never have enough of.

“I love it,” Claireglanced up again, and he couldn’t help it – couldn’t not dip his head andcapture her mouth with his. “I love you,” she muttered with a giggle betweenthe pecks.  

“Mmm-hm, I think I mightlove you, too.”

[rosegoldjen]

You Are in Love - A Clawen Story

You Are in Love - A Clawen Story 

setting: post JW

 one look, dark room

meant just for you 

Shortly after the boat had dropped them and a few thousand others off on the mainland, Claire and Owen were summoned back to headquarters. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find a hotel room, shower, and go to sleep. But, duty calls. She followed Owen and a group of men out of the marina and towards a car waiting for them. She and Owen were pushed into the backseat and whisked off to the tallest building in the middle of downtown San Diego. Simon Masrani spared no expense.  

She had let her fingers rest limply on the leather seat in between them, not caring anymore about body language. She stared out the window, watching the cars pass by. She started when she felt warm fingers tickle hers gently. She turned to Owen. He too was looking out the window, seemingly unmoving. His hand, however, was moving closer and closer to hers to grab it; and she let him. 

As soon as they pulled up to the main office, they were escorted to what looked like locker rooms. They were given fresh clothes to change into, toiletries to freshen up, and instructions to meet in the board room on the seventeenth floor when they were finished.  

As soon as Claire stepped out of the shower and put on the skirt and blouse Masrani had provided for her, she felt closer to herself again. She blow-dried her hair and styled it into the usual straight bob. She and Owen had no plans to meet before they ascended to the seventeenth floor, so she went on without him.  

The doors opened and Claire prepared to step out and face the company. She was surprised to see that the sun had almost set, yet they hadn’t turned on many lights in the room. Owen was already sitting across from her at the table, typical of large board rooms such as this one. The first thing she noticed was how goddammed good he looked, even after being chased by multiple dinosaurs only hours ago.  

“Claire, thank you for joining us,” Masrani’s CPA interrupted her private gawking. “If you would please take a seat, we can get started.”  

She nodded and walked to the table. She took a seat across from Owen, there was no way she could sit next to him so soon. 

“Let’s review the damage that you two managed to cause in the last forty-eight hours,” the CPA, who had skipped the formalities of introducing himself, brought images up onto a screen on the opposite end of the room, images that were enough to make Claire lose the crackers she had eaten on the boat ride over. 

There was a picture of her, there was a picture of her, Owen, Zach, and Gray standing amongst the damage done to Main Street, there was a video of Owen running from the I-Rex and diving under the truck. 

It was all too much for her. She looked at Owen, hoping he could see the panic in her eyes from across the dark room. With one look across the dark room, he managed to calm her, even if it was just a fraction. 

“Do we really need to be looking at these right now?” Owen objected. “We just got finished fighting the damn thing, the least you could do is let her try to find peace in her sleep before you go reminding her about the losses and the consequences and the price of damages. Jesus.”

Claire was stunned. No one had ever stood up for her as passionately as Owen had. 

“C’mon, Claire, we’re leaving,” he grabbed her arm, pulling her out of her chair and into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, she turned to him. He was still brooding, but only slightly at the edges.

“Oh my God,” Claire breathed. “No one has ever done something like that for me before. 

“Jesus, Claire, I couldn’t believe you were actually going to keep sitting there, looking so helpless and not doing anything,” he was still facing the wall. Claire grabbed his arm and gently turned him towards her.

“Hey,” she whispered, “thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. It was a few moments before he finally wrapped his much larger ones around her shoulders.

time moved too fast

you played it back

A month later

She hadn’t realized how quickly she had let Owen move into her life, how fast he was becoming a second nature, or how soon they would be moving in together. But before Claire realized it, she had gradually, but willingly let Owen move into her apartment. It had started after their first date, well their first date after their horrible first date. He was just coming up to the front door to kiss her goodnight before they found themselves collapsing in between the sheets, either from exhaustion or pure lust, she couldn’t tell which. 

It’s funny how traumatizing events like almost getting eaten by a dinosaur can bring people together, instantly. She was starting to rely on him to keep her grounded and keep her safe. So what if things were moving too fast? Whenever she thought about it and played back the events of the last few months, she realized she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Inevitably, both knew in the back of their minds that they would end up together, but neither of them had anticipated how quickly time moved.

buttons on a coat

light hearted joke

no proof not much

but you saw enough 

It was the little moments like these that she loved when she would catch Owen staring at her for far too long, pretending not to. If you laid on her bed just so, you would have a direct view of her bathroom vanity, all lit up and covered in skincare products. Owen had teased her about the length of her skincare routine before, often taking her more than twenty-five minutes to complete. But, only if she decided to use a face mask.

On this night, they had just gotten home from a day of grueling press meetings. They both had been dealing with Jurassic World this and when will you return to the island that. When they had finally stumbled into her apartment well after eleven pm, they had both collapsed together onto her bed. They laid there in silence until Claire mustered up the strength to stand up and get ready for bed.

While she was standing at the mirror washing her face, she glanced at Owen for a quick second. It was only one look, she had no proof of it, but she had seen enough. He was staring at her again. He often did this on nights he was most tired. Sometimes she would catch him, but most times, she knew she missed it. After all, she probably stared at him as much as he stared at her, being all sharp jaw and muscle.

“You’re staring again,” she lightheartedly called to him from the bathroom.

“What, no I’m not,” he frowned playfully.

“Yes you are I saw you watching,” she finished drying off her face, switched off the bathroom light, and came to lay on her stomach beside him. Gently, she rested her chin on his stomach. 

“Oh please, a gentleman like me would never gawk at a pretty woman. He would whistle and catcall.”

“Oh? Who said you were a gentleman?”

“Excuse me, who are you and what have you done with Ms. Dearing?” 

She smiled and leaned up to kiss him, her hands on his stomach. “I’m right here, baby.”

small talk, he drives

coffee at midnight

There were some nights where neither of them could sleep. The nightmares were too much, the demons haunting. Claire could count on both hands the number of times she had woken up close to midnight and found Owen still awake, fiddling with his motorcycle in the garage, or reading something online about the damage they had caused.

Those nights were the worst. The nights he had gotten to lost in his head to even think about coming to bed were the nights Claire was glad something had woken her up, whether it be her own nightmares or a gut instinct. Oftentimes, driving would help. Claire would grab the keys from the drawer and set them in front of him. That always brought him out his trance. 

There was a twenty-four-hour diner ten miles from their house. Claire would try to make small talk with him as she sat in the passenger’s seat. Some nights he would be responsive, other nights he would just stare at the road in front of him. She would normally be able to get him out of his head by the time they pulled up to the diner. Other nights, if was well past midnight and three cups of coffee later, he finally would come back to her.

the light reflects

the chain on your neck

“Good morning, babe.”

His voice flutters into her dreams, pulling her peacefully from her sleep.

“Guess what day it is?”

She groaned and rolled over to bury her face in the pillow next to hers. It smelt of him. He had started singing happy birthday quietly to her. This had become a tradition of theirs over the years. They would make each other breakfast in bed and have a lie-in.

“I made your favorites. Crepe’s with fresh crème and blueberries.” She sat up. He knew she was a sucker for fresh crème and blueberries any day. “I also have a present that I want you to open first.”

He pulled out a small white box and handed it to her. Inside was a beautiful diamond necklace on a delicate silver chain.

“I love it,” she smiled at him, lifting it out of its box. “Will you put it on me?” 

He crawled behind her and clasped the chain around her neck. It rested perfectly between her collarbones, accentuating them perfectly.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. They ate her breakfast together, laughing about stories from birthday’s past.

“This one time, Karen thought it would be funny to fill the hallway outside my room with balloons. When I woke up and wanted to go downstairs, the only was to get there was by popping multiple of those balloons. She got so mad.”

The sun was streaming in from the window on the other side of the room. She noticed that while Owen was paying attention to her, he was studying the necklace on her chest.

“Hey, sir, my eyes are up here,” she smirked at him.

“I’m sorry babe. The light just keeps reflecting off the chain on your neck and it’s distracting.”

he says “look up”

and your shoulders brush

a year ago

Every year around the holidays, Masrani pulled out all the stops. Claire had looked once in an account she wasn’t supposed to have access to. On average, they spent over ten million dollars on holiday parties alone. There has yet to be a party that Claire has gone to where everyone wasn’t dressed to the nines.

This New Years, however, was different. She had no one to kiss this time, she didn’t know who to ask to bring along. She didn’t want to force anyone to be her date either. She was close to coming to terms with herself. She and dating did not mix. It was as if she was a jinx and no one could save her. 

She had played the part of Masrani’s operations manager, mingling and meeting the uppers of the company. She had come when he told her to, “Claire, live a little. I need you to have fun tonight.” He had needed a business wing-woman apparently. He had this keen knack of pitching a sale to the richest investor after getting them tipsy on the most expensive bottle of champagne they could find. 

As the hours drew closer to midnight, Claire was getting tired of watching Masrani do the same thing repeatedly. She had wandered up to the top deck of the building, which just so happened to be the tallest hotel in all Jurassic World. She could see the lights of Main Street from here. People filled the streets, she could hear their music. 

“There isn’t anything in the world you could say to me right now that would make me come home,” a gruff voice said in the shadows. “I already told you, I’m fucking done.”

She was never one to be curious or pry into other people’s business. But when the stranger with the rough voice walked out of the shadows with the most handsome face she had ever seen, she decided that she needed to know.

“Well if that wasn’t the most touching conversation I’ve heard all night,” she smirked at the handsome stranger. She was surprising herself. Normally she wasn’t this forward with someone she even she knew well.

“Well, you gotta let them down easy sometimes, adding a few ‘I love you baby’s’ and an ‘I’ll bring home some chocolates’ also doesn’t hurt either.” He returned the smirk with vigor.

“Tough breakup?”

“You got it,” he came to stand against the railing next to her. “Sometimes I think I’m a jinx when it comes to dating. 

Claire almost snorted on her drink.

“So tell me, what’s a pretty lady like you doing standing out here when the parties in there?”

“You know the usual, trying not the be a jinx.”

“Oh?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “There’s no Mr. Pretty Lady in there waiting for you?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” she heard faint counting in the distance. “What would happen if I said yes?” 

“I probably wouldn’t do this.”

He swooped in and pressed his mouth to hers as the fireworks exploded over their heads. For just a moment, Claire let herself forget and live in the moment, happy that she was following Masrani’s advice and “living a little.”

He pulled away slowly from the kiss but kept his arms solid around her waist.

“Look up,” he tells her. She turns her body ever so slightly to get a better view of the fireworks overhead. When she does, their shoulder brush, standing, together on top of the building. After the last spark explodes overhead, he turns to her.

“I guess I should be more of a gentleman, I apologize,” he smiled down at her. “The name’s Owen Grady.”

She smiled back.

“Claire Dearing.”  

no proof, one touch

you felt enough

They had just run into the garage when the ground started to shake. Claire knew that she had to remain calm, under no circumstances was she allowed to panic. Zach and Gray had somehow miraculously started the other Jeep and had safely driven away. Well, she hoped safely, she wasn’t going to allow herself to think anything differently just yet.

They quickly ducked next to the other jeep, leaning up against it for support. If they remained completely still, maybe the Indominous Rex would leave them alone. In their haste to find shelter from the dinosaur, Owen had almost sat down on top of her, his shoulder completely crushing hers. As if it was an instinct, his arm had flung out in front of her body, crossing over her stomach and resting on her opposite hip.

With that one touch, she felt enough. There was something radiating from Owen, something almost protective. It was in that moment that she knew he was not going to let her die. He would give his life first before the dinosaur would get to her.

The ground shook again and she squeezed her eyes closed. She could feel Owens gaze on her and it was as though his arm felt even heavier across her front. He squeezed her hip, trying to reassure her. In his own mind, Owen had hoped this gesture would communicate to her that he wanted to protect her.

It did.

you can hear it in the silence

you can feel it on the way home

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love, true love

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sundays 

They always stayed at Owen’s house on the weekend. During the week, Claire always worried too much about work. They had tried it before, staying at Owen’s during the week, but Claire had almost had a mental breakdown when she realized she had forgotten some papers she needed for work the next day. And so, they started crashing at Owen’s on Saturday nights. 

They always stayed in on Sunday. Owen had a fancy thing about making breakfast for her in the morning, and on this morning, she woke up to the smell of burnt toast. 

“Owen,” she called as she walked slowly from the bedroom. She could hear pots and pans clanging, typical kitchen noises. When she walked into the kitchen, she found a shirtless Owen surrounded by burnt toast and fried eggs.

“Babe,” he groaned. “You weren’t supposed to see this. I was supposed to bring you breakfast in bed.”

you keep his shirt

he keeps his word

He turns around to look at her and gasps. There she stood in the kitchen doorway. She looked so effortless and stunning standing there in only his t-shirt from last night. She hadn’t an ounce of makeup on her face, but the morning sunlight streamed in through the window, hitting her eyes just right and making the green sparkle.

He knew he was beyond lucky to have her. After their disaster of a first date, he never thought that they would end up spending a single night together, much less more than one. He realized right then and there as they were standing half-naked in his kitchen together that she was the one he wanted to be with. He could get used to seeing her messy head every morning, even if it meant burning toast every Sunday.

“Go back to bed babe,” he smiled softly at her. “I must keep my word. Breakfast in bed for the most stunning woman on the planet.”

and for once you let go

of your fears and your ghosts

There were nights like these that were to be expected. Unfortunately for Claire, they had come to be expected. She would wake up in a cold sweat and realize with a start that an irregularly large dinosaur was in fact not trying to eat her alive. However, as bad as these nights were, they had come to be some of her favorites. 

Owen had learned to detect the signs of a nightmare, waking him almost immediately. He could tell almost immediately when Claire’s body became cold and rigid against his. She would try to escape his grasp, mentally trying to fight something that was holding her down. In response, Owen fought back. He held on to her harder, refusing to let such a beautiful woman slip through his arms and into the darkest parts of her thoughts.

Sometimes Claire would have to pin Owen down, which was hard for her to do considering she was a good hundred pounds lighter than she is. Usually, Owen was a still sleeper, never moving in his sleep, but when he began to move around, that was when she clued in to the problem. She could always tell what type of nightmare it was. If he was thrashing and kicking, she knew he was fighting the valiantly for his life. If he whimpered and pulled her closer, he was fighting for her life, fighting for the only thing he had ever loved. 

one step, not much, but it said enough

you kissed on sidewalks

you fight and you talk

“Please try and remember Owen, bread, milk, and cheese,” Claire pleaded as her pointed heels clicked down the sidewalk. “And please make the bread gluten free. And try to keep up, we’ll be walking for forever if you don’t pick up the pace. Now, what are you supposed to remember?” 

Owen, who was indeed walking behind her admiring her behind, did not remember what she had asked him to remember. This was a common occurrence on their weekly jaunts to the local supermarket. Owen much too often picked up chips, salsa, and guacamole instead.

“Owen!” her voice brought him out of his head again. She began lecturing him once more about the power of paying attention, but he wasn’t listening. Go figure. He was watching her lips move as she spoke, thinking about how much he liked it when they were on his. He was watching her hands, the way they moved when she talked and how they felt against his own. 

Suddenly, he was pulling her into a kiss, right there on the sidewalk, perfectly. At first, Claire was reluctant, but then he felt her body slowly giving into his, accepting his warmth and accepting his kiss.

“I always remember everything you tell me,” he said against her lips. 

one night he wakes, strange look on his face

pauses then says you’re my best friend

and you knew what it was, he is in love

Claire was up late that night finishing going over reports for an executive meeting the next day. She was sitting in bed with the files on her lap, her bedside lamp the only source of light. The digital clock on the wall across the room read two-thirty. She should probably be sleeping soon. She had to be up in a little less than four hours if she wanted to be to the meeting on time.

Owen had gone to bed around midnight. At this point, his steady breathing was the only thing that was keeping her sane. He always told her that she worked too much. She knew that she did, but after the Incident, she needed to work overtime to prevent it from happening again. 

A couple of minutes later, she decided that if she were to try and learn anything new now, it would be a lost cause. She set the files on the floor next to her bed and mentally made a note not to step on them when she woke up. When she leaned over to turn her light out, she felt a rustling beside her. Owen stirred beside her.

“Hey Claire,” he propped himself up on his elbows but didn’t open his eyes.

“Hey Owen,” she responded, smiling just a little. 

“Hey Claire, you’re my best friend.” 

She started a little. She had never had anyone speak so fondly of her.

“Hey Claire, I love you and all, but you should really get some sleep.”

She was definitely startled. He had never told her he loved her before.

“You love me?” she asked quietly as if she didn’t believe it herself.

He opened his eyes. “Of course I love you, Claire. I thought that much was obvious.” He smiled softly back at her. She switched off the lap and leaned over to kiss his lips.

“I love you, too.” She kissed him again, and for once she let go of her fears and her ghosts.

you can hear it in the silence 

you can feel it on the way home 

you can see it with the lights out

you are in love, true love

so, it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, round and round

and he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown 

“Man, are you serious?!” Barry laughed.

“What?” Owen acted unaware, unaware that he had just been caught staring at Claire’s picture for much too long.

“You live with the girl, you don’t need to stare at her picture twenty-four-seven.”

“C’mon man, give me a break.”

“So have you told her you love her yet?” Barry teased.

“What?! How do you know that I love her- if I love her?”

“I didn’t know until you just confirmed it for me.”

“I-” Owen was speechless. He had never had anyone who could see straight through him, and yet Barry could always tell what and how he was feeling.

“It’s alright man, I like her. She’s good for you.”

you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

She looked crazy and wild standing there with the gun in her hands, the dirt on her face, and the tear in her skirt. She had been keeping up with him since the very beginning, fighting all the battles alongside him. Owen realized she was someone he was starting to trust with his life, given that she had just saved him from getting his head bitten off by a flying dinosaur.

He respected her so much, for wanting to find her nephew’s when they disappeared, and for wanting to save the whole park from the invasion of the dinosaurs. She was running wild and free alongside him; she was learning to love the dinosaurs and accept them as equals.

Not only that, but she had a better sense of what her park was all about. Owen could see that within the course of a few hours, she had grown to care more about the animals in her park and how they were feeling than customer satisfaction and numbers on a spreadsheet. She was starting to see those number as animals.

In the last few hours she had become a powerful warrior, someone strong and someone who cared enough about another person to kill for them, and that was why Owen Grady lost his mind and kissed Claire Dearing on Main Street right in the middle of a dinosaur invasion.

and why I’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words .

[brycedearings]

okay, a couple of things I have to talk about from JWFK (mainly clawen really) because I can’t contain myself anymore. If you haven’t seen it and want to stay s*poiler free, don’t read below the cut. This is all sporadic and I’ll probably be more coherent after I see it again, but after my initial view....

ASDFGHJKLASFGHJKLASHJKLASDFGHJKL now that that’s out of the way... SO MUCH CLAWEN. SO MUCH CLAIRE BEING BADASS. SO MUCH OWEN GIVING CLAIRE HEART EYES.

Let’s start with the big kahuna... the kISS. So... I was initially pretty bummed that they weren’t starting out together in this film since back in 2015 I hoped they’d be engaged or married with a little baby Charlie Grady. However, I kept telling myself that they were going to get back together in this movie. They had to, right? Still, I was scared- that not only they wouldn’t get back together in this film (since Ellie and Allen didn’t end up together and I thought they were going that route) and that we wouldn’t get a kiss and we had to wait another 3 years for a maybe kiss.

Because fact of the matter is that this has always been a major dino franchise which is great because dinos !!!! but Clawen... so yeah I was filled with anxiety but I kept my hope, and it was building with each moment they had leading up to the kiss. 

quick note: I’m so thankful for the writers we have. For them taking the time to develop the characters and their arcs and clawen’s love story. It’s not just a humor romantic side bit for shit’s and giggles- it’s REAL. There was a lot of emphasis on the first without being overkill (for general audience def not me ever), but they carried on with it so well in this one. I only wish we got more info and details as to what happened between them, but I understood why they can’t fit in everything. 

Another thing- I kept thinking that if they were going to kiss in this movie and get back together, how awesome would it be if Claire was the one to initiate it this time? I mean tbh at the end of the day I didn’t care as long as their lips locked, but THEY FOLLOWED THROUGH WOW WHAT A PARALLEL TO THE FIRST??

When I saw the indoraptor’s claw dig into her leg I felt like crying out because poor Claire!! I hate seeing her in pain!! And then my immediate thought: Owen is going to LOSE HIS SHIT. I loved that instead of him running off right away- he stayed. He couldn’t leave her. How he kept telling her to look at him, the softness and care and concern in his voice... my GOD. And then when she looked at him aND PLANTED ONE ON HIM. I stopped breathing. The audience cheered but I- lost my damn mind.

The look on his face- he just- he loves her so much and the fierce in which she kissed him was just so familiar? It was an “I still love you, you idiot, now go save that little girl and then we’ll come back to each other because we’re inevitable.”

Their first JW kiss was hot and hurried in the middle of chaos again, but it was more of an adrenaline rushed “thanks for saving me god I love you that was so hot” type of kiss. This was just screaming with pure love? That kiss was filled with the deep relationship you know they built. A desperate plea to go and do what is necessary but also a “please don’t die and I’m not letting you go without letting you know I still love you”. I keep quoting what that kiss said just because it said so much?? I have to hand it to Bryce and Chris and their acting. Their genuine care and love and respect for each other as friends really bled into clawen and you could just feeeeel that history and connection between them so well. 

I could talk about that kiss forever but I’ll try to move on to some other things now:

*Real quick and honestly my mind is a mess because this was a jam packed movie with parallels that were so beautiful and I have so much to say, but my fave parallels have to be the kiss, the shot of Claire in the elevator asdfghjkl when I saw the heels and jeans I lost my shit... and her hair up in a pony tail in more casual clothes but still badass af... I lost it. Did I not say that already? Also, Bryce looked gorgeous in this movie. I mean, she always is but... jfc. 

-Another parallel that I loved was when Claire was told she had to speak to Owen and she got that look in her eyes... she didn’t roll them like last time, she looked... scared almost. To go back there. Then when she went to see him and she was fixing her hair (against like the first part) and was so shy and softly said his name “Hey Owen” ahem “why do you call me Mr. Grady?” I love a parallel and progression in one !! Also, I def need to see again but... he was singing “I still love you” right? Anyway, I died.

-Hearing Bryce’s laugh in this movie was everything I never knew I needed so much. At first I thought she was quickly drunk or something... but then hearing them talking and lightly arguing about what happened between them gave me all the feels because YES THEY WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP BEFORE. THEY’VE SLEPT TOGETHER. WERE GOING TO LIVE TOGETHER. I-

When his voice got all soft again and told her her skin looked nice I ???? Like someone on here mentioned, I bet he call(ed)s her beautiful all the time. When they were together and in bed. In the mornings. Cuddling. He would call her beautiful just because asdfghjkl anyway.

-Claire’s look of anguish when Owen couldn’t get into the gyrosphere. When he was in the water and the look they shared. Again, Bryce and Chris’s acting was impeccable. It just screamed how much they were scared of losing one another. 

-Small moment, but when Claire saw that Owen was in the back of the plane asdfghjkl cute af

-There were so many cute little moments. I loved the teamwork. When they were trying to get the blood from the t-rex and Owen was laughing at Claire being on top of it. Also- Claire on top of a t-rex? I can’t wait for all the parallel gifs from the first movie with this one. Claire is one badass babe.

wHEN THEY FELL ASLEEP AND HER HAND WAS I N S I D E HIS SHIRT honestly it couldve been outside- but no they were like lETS HAVE IT INSIDE SINCE THEY USED TO HAVE ALL THE SEX I see you Jay you beautiful director you. AND THEN OWEN’S LIL SMILE WHEN HE SAW HER AND THEN HE SMELLED HER HAIR AND THEN PRETENDED TO BE ASLEEP WHEN SHE STARTED TO STIR R U KIDDING ME THIS IS WHAT FIC DREAMS ARE MADE OF I swear the entire JW crew ships clawen we are hashtag BLESSED.

-I love their trust for one another and how well they knew each other and I love that that was something so prominent yet casual all the same? All the teamwork and Owen telling her to start the truck when they were getting off the island...

-When Owen was going to see Blue and Claire was worried and Owen started to play into her emotions because it’s him and she did that little gasp because this is the part where he tells her he loves her or kisses her (also for audience reasons) and it was just so aslsadjla cute and funny and them and also worked perfectly because when they DID kiss it was 97654321 times more emotional so 10/10 writing. 

-Claire knowing how much Blue means to Owen. Owen telling her it wasn’t her fault. Owen talking to her softly when she was trying to decide to save the dinos. His hand on her shoulder. 

-When they stood like a family next to Maisie and they all but drove into the sunset together?? I guess they’re parents now??????? Did this actually happen?? I do hope Maisie asks for a little sibling and if there’s a time jump in the next one they need to be married with a little Grady baby.

Anyway, this is all over the place and I’m sure I’ll analyze more the next time I go see it because it just has to happen. I loved it so much I got so emotional and overwhelmed bc I missed this movie and these two characters. I can’t believe it’s been 3 years since the first which changed my life and ugh I can’t wait for the next one but also don’t want it yet bc I’m soooo not ready to say goodbye to it. At all. Ever. Can it just be a tv show??

I was very pleased with the clawen we got. Even if they weren’t together in the movie, we got so many scenes with them together and it exceeded my expectations with the love that was felt, the looks we got, the CUDDLING, the KISS. THEY REALLY DID KISS AGAIN MY GOD.

I’ll probably do another post on just Claire on how badass she was because that’s a whole other essay with how amazing her arc and progression is. But real quick:

-she looked so beautiful I will never stop talking about this

-boots or heels it doesn’t matter she will save the day

-she served so many good looks in this movie asdfghjkl Claire in jeans and all nice and corporate and then badass I’m- overwhelmed

-how sweet she was with Maisie WHAT A MOM

-when she gets on the roof with the rifle and it’s raining ummm am I the only one who go seriously turned on? ESP after getting badly injured?? yooooo

-how she went from “the assets” to dino!mom trying to save them all just makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and cry forever

-WHEN SHE BANGED THAT ASSHAT’S HEAD AGAINST THE BARS AND OWEN LOOKED SO PROUD OF HIS GIRL ASDFGHJKL; again: I was turned on

-she loves Owen so much

speaking of Owen he was so mature and loves Claire so much he literally only went because of her you can’t convince me otherwise even tho he wanted to save Blue too. He loves his girls... and he has another one now.

ahhhh ok I know I’m missing a lot of things- I want to talk about the plot and other characters, visuals, etc later in more detail but I had to get all my clawen excitement out because I was bursting. Still am tbh. I can’t wait to see it again and for everyone to post gifs so I can catch the little things I missed. And oh the fics... how I missed them. 

Again, always feel free to fangirl with me over this movie because I’m currently still spiraling. 

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

What motivates you to write these fics? and what is the best way to thank you for everything you've given me? for the world I can escape to whenever I want too, for the constant interaction and ideas? You've given me so much with these stories. Thank you.

I am always driven by a want to read it. I think I’ve said over and over that I live to serve myself first. I’ll do what I feel comfortable with or what I think should happen over suggestions. I started writing fanfiction a long time ago and I let quite a few people push me around as an end result I had written things I wasn’t happy with. Never again. I mean, I’m always unhappy with an end result but that’s because I like my pieces to be perfect and I’m still learning to let that shit go. It’s always a need. I’ve been writing clawen for two years now and often when there’s a story I really want to write it just feels like a desperate need to read it, a tension in my fingers I call an itch. It’s always just something I need to get out of my head and off my chest. I get attached to kid fics easily because their personalities just pop up in my head. It’s weird to explain. Thank me? God. I don’t know. Keep talking. Keep reblogging. I don’t like to say I write and post for attention but it is a big part. I want to share my ideas. I want opinions and discussion. I don’t always want to know that you loved it but rather what you loved. What did I do differently that you liked? What made you laugh? What made your heart rejoice? What could you see in your head? Keep showing appreciation that’s all I can ask for. I want to engage in this fandom with you guys and I honestly love talking discourse (I am obvi trying to stay the f away from JW2 spoilers) but come talk to me about fic! Rec something! Reread your old faves! Reblog them again! It’s all about engaging. 

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Prompt #176 - Charlie and Her Brother’s Memory

No prompt. 

I’ve had a bit of writer's block and couldn’t find the words for anything. This was a part of Charlie and Daddy’s Boy but I never wrote it because I didn’t want to tack a massive time jump like this onto the end of that story. But, it was the only words I could find in the past couple weeks and with my 2 year anniversary for clawen coming up on the 9th I felt like I had to post something. 

I’ll be pretty busy all week -- and probably for the next few weeks. I am still trying to find my rhythm from last trimester at Uni. Can’t seem to catch it. 

This prompt is kinda long and set when Charlie is 27. So, I know a lot of you won’t be 100% into reading this but I enjoyed seeing these girls at an older age -- and Ellie’s babies. So, I hope you will too. 

AO3 - Charlie and Elliot Index - Commission 

CHARLIE AND HER BROTHER’S MEMORY

Despite her stance on procreation Charlie Grady couldn’t help but adore the feeling of a baby in her arms. She was too close to her thirties and adamant that her life wasn’t slipping out from under her feet. Too many years passed as her sister graduated college, married the man of her dreams and added another two children to their pre-existing family of three. Elliot progressed in the game of life while Charlie continued to wielded guns in Indonesia. She only came home for family; if it was forced.

At an early age, Charlie’s parents instilled a deep respect for family life that was to be treasured above all else. No matter what was happening, they were there for one another. She broke that cardinal rule by being in another country moving from Indonesia to China and back again when her cause changed.

She was late to a party that happened six-months ago.

Charlie couldn’t put her finger on why she was nervous. Her hands twitched, fingers jumping as she reached into her bag for a cigarette. This was her family home, the place her parents raised her full of heartbreak and joy, memories almost spilling out of the roof. She lingered on the porch, lighting her cigarette and leaning on the banister as she tried to breathe. It had been a year — longer — since she had last come home, running away from responsibility and trying her best to not look back.

She’d missed the birth of her nephew, an event Charlie was happy to avoid until the all clear was granted her father finally insisting that she had to come home before her nieces and nephew were no longer recognisable to her. The last thing Charlie wanted was to be alien to her family members; especially the youngest ones.

Elliot knew she was home without Charlie needing to knock. She hadn’t even moved from the railing, three drags into her cigarette before the front door was pulled open, small blonde stepping through.

‘Hey,’ she always spoke on the same soft register their mother reached at bedtimes weaving in between rooms with books and promises of tomorrow. Little mouse, through and through. Elliot had grown into their mother, minus a few inches on her height, as she remained cool, calm, collected and in control no matter the circumstance. She taught fourth grade, mastering the ability to juggle her own three children and a class of twenty-five nine-year-olds. Charlie held a great respect for her in doing that, just as their mother swallowed her pride on Elliot not teaching High School or mastering quantum physics. It had long since become a reality for Claire Dearing that her daughter’s wouldn’t climb prestigious ladders. Instead, Elliot would do her part to help children learn and Charlie would — well, Charlie played with tigers on her hands and knees forming bonds beyond zoo enclosures, out in the wild to better understand them. She was Jane Goodall and David Attenborough rolled into one dangerous mix Claire struggled to hear about. No doubt, she was proud of her daughters regardless.

Charlie fluttered a smile in her sister’s direction, ignoring the scolding look Elliot passed towards the cigarette. There had been a time where she would have asked for a drag, long before either of them should have known where to get cigarettes, let alone have them in their possession. It was simple rebellion, born when they were young back when Charlie harboured a tattoo no one but Elliot knew about.

There was a baby in Elliot’s arms. Charlie didn’t miss that fact, her eyes drawn to the chubby pink baby clad in a blue striped onesie. She put out her cigarette, dropping it to the deck and stepping on it before kicking it off the side and into the grass. Elliot sighed with disapproval before she handed her son over. ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’

‘Surprise?’ Charlie shrugged, accepting the heavy bundle of her six-month-old nephew. ‘Hey little buddy, I’m your Aunt Charlie.’ She introduced herself to the inquisitive eyed child, smiling down at his face despite feeling a tear pull apart in her heart. He was so much bigger, heavier, rounder in the cheeks but she saw something in her nephew’s eyes Charlie couldn’t deny. He looked like his dad, so much so, but there was a distant memory trying to grow through his features. ‘He looks like Max.’

She saw her sister drop to the chair on the porch, head in her hands as she sighed heavily. ‘Please don’t say that.’ Elliot grimaced, barely looking up at her sister and her son. Charlie shrugged again. He did. Same blond hair threatening to turn red and their mother’s green eyes. Their brother had been small when he died, barely developed his discerning features forever a mystery but Charlie swore she saw Max Grady in Louis Yates’ face.

‘He’d be twenty-one this year.’ She started, eyes lost in her nephew. Charlie should have been home, escorting her brother from one nightclub to the next as he legally got intoxicated. She should have been able to see him graduate from college or come home from travelling the world. He was supposed to be as grown as they were now, still squatting in their parents house because why would the baby boy want to leave the luxuries of home? Their loving mother would be handing him the moon in having his laundry done. Not that Charlie could remember a time her mother did the laundry beyond putting clothes away a paid cleaner had washed.

‘Stop it, Charlie.’ Elliot pleaded. ‘I don’t want to think about it.’

‘You don’t want to think about your brother?’ Charlie questioned, pushing buttons. She should have come earlier; to visit, to see her nephew immediately after he was born. To be honest, Charlie hid herself away as fast as she could when her sister told her she was pregnant with a third. Elliot elected to not find out the gender until the baby was born but the fact that it was a third child to a Grady woman did not bode well with Charlie and past events. Her aversion got worse when Toby sent her a birth announcement introducing Louis to the family. She stayed away as long as she could before her father told her she needed to make young memories with her nephew. He was six months old, well beyond the SIDS mark and that alone tried to comfort her.

Louis was in perfect health, hadn’t even so much as had the hiccups in his short life. It should have been soothing but Charlie was fearing for the worst. She likely wouldn’t rest on the matter until she was in her grave.

‘I don’t want to think about it because I barely remember him. There’s no use wasting my energy worrying about something that happened twenty-years ago.’ She saw Charlie recoil, something akin to disgust slipping across her face. ‘Louis is not Max. Can we please move on.’

Charlie shuffled her weight, holding the baby in one arm as she reached for the wallet in her back pocket. Expertly she flicked it open and shimmied something out of a sleeve before thrusting it in Elliot’s direction. The picture was old, twenty-years had passed it in the recesses of Charlie’s wallet, edges soft and slightly fraying, the colour faded. It had been folded at one point, crease right down the middle but that didn’t deviate from the subject at hand. Elliot’s heart clenched at the thought of her sister carrying this around for years, clinging on to God knew what in it’s memory.

The picture was simple, the memory blurred for Elliot but warm in hushed whispers and tight hugs with her family. She was only three at the time, unable to recall the picture being taken but there it was regardless. The whole Dearing-Grady family of five. It had been taken in the hospital, likely by their grandmother, Elliot tucked into her mother’s left side, Charlie on her right, Owen curled around them, his cheek pressed to the top of his wife’s head over Elliot’s shoulder. Max was in Charlie’s arms, four sets of eyes on him. It baffled Elliot momentarily as to why Charlie had this picture instead of the professional ones their mother had organised — fortunately — a week or two before Max left them. She spotted it without needing reference of the studio photos. It was all on Charlie. Even if she couldn’t remember it, the love in Charlie’s twenty-year-old expression was unmistakable. She would have laid down her life for that boy immediately if it was a matter of choice. She would have done the same for Elliot. Charlie, despite being absent and forcing aloof on her personality, was fiercely loyal. She had shown her sister that time and time again no matter how hard they fought. It had driven their mother crazy with constant bickering and at dire times, physical fighting only for Charlie or Elliot to turn on her when she tried to discipline one of them for causing an issue.

There was no winning with the Grady girls.

‘Charlie, why do you have this?’ Elliot asked, turning sad blue eyes on her sister. She could feel her heart breaking along with Charlie’s, with their parents at their time of tragedy. Elliot had lived her life knowing someone was following her with every milestone. She was near two years older than him at time of conception and yet everything she did felt like her parents were waiting for someone else to catch up. She tried her best to ignore it but at her highest times of achievement she felt it crawl up her spine. Even though she didn’t remember him and didn’t want to think about him at all; Max had never left Elliot.

Charlie shrugged, lifting her nephew closer to her face as she kissed his forehead before handing him back to her sister. ‘I know I’ve not been home for a while but even I know Mom and Dad started pulling out his pictures again.’ She wasn’t wrong, the studio photos they had taken, the family portrait of all five Dearing-Grady’s had taken place on the mantel piece for the first time. Never had that picture been up on a wall or sitting on a side table. They arrived too late to be cherished. Now, it seemed, old wounds were finally healing Owen and Claire ready to outwardly cherish the small time they had with their son. Louis grizzled in his mother’s arms, Elliot tearing her attention from her sister to assist in soothing him. ‘I stole it from Dad actually.’ Charlie was talking about the picture now back in her hands and she stroked the edges. ‘He had in in his wallet since the day it was taken. He almost had it a whole year before I pinched it. Max’s first birthday was hard on all of us, but I could see Dad panicked a little more than the rest. He lost the picture. I had it, he didn’t know, nor did he ask and I certainly wasn’t surrendering it. All of Max’s other pictures were in the garage or with Nana and I couldn’t just ask for one.’ She could have. They all knew it. Charlie would have been given the moon if it meant cracking the code to her baffling actions. She was moody and unpredictable, she was getting kicked out of school and put on the bench in her sports teams. She upped the anti on physical activity. She stopped swimming, started running until she puked, kept on with baseball but prioritised karate until she hit a few too many kids on purpose and called them weak. She begged her parents for ice skates and a place on the hockey team; rink and field. At eight years old she didn’t stop moving; if she did, Charlie thought she would drown. Her parents strategised it as a way to channel her aggression.

Elliot had been none the wiser, caught in her youth and draped in attention. When Max died, all their parents wanted was the baby that left them. Elliot was the next best replacement, still young and willing for a cuddle. Charlie went through the five stages of grief in an unpredictable order, never reaching acceptance and ending on anger but having passed through depression in her original isolation and denial stage. After a while, she didn’t want to be touched or spoken to; Elliot got all the attention as Charlie icily shrugged her parents away.

They had wondered what they did wrong, why Charlie hated them all the while Charlie thew her first into other people, or slammed them against walls because she didn’t know how to relate anymore. She was broken, always had been and always would. They had their good days, years even but it always came back to this bitter little girl who was screaming inside because she lost her brother.

‘I don’t think he knows I have it.’ Charlie continued, waving the picture at Elliot one last time before she slid it back into her wallet. ‘I want it to remain that way.’ She warned softly, replacing her wallet in her pocket and pulling out another cigarette.

Elliot shook her head, trying hard not to judge her sister’s bad habit as she rocked the baby in her arms, legs crossed, reclined in the porch chair. They’d spent too many summers out there, running in the sprinklers, or racing their bikes up and down the driveway and out onto the street when the coast was clear. It was a given, whenever Elliot turned her head that her mother was sitting on the porch, lemonade in hand, reading a book and watching them over the pages or that their father was tinkering in the garage, door wide open so he could race to their aid. It was almost strange sitting there as adults, knowing, for Elliot, that her two eldest children were inside running their grandparents ragged while she stepped out for fresh air. No one even knew Charlie had ascended on the porch just yet.

‘I just don’t get the use of hanging onto the past, Char. He’s gone. He wasn’t even here for that long.’ It didn’t stop them from avoiding their parents bedroom for weeks or skirting around the subject of baby boys for the rest of their lives.

Charlie turned away from her sister, watching the small flowerbed at her feet dance in a faint breeze. ‘C’mon, Ellie. Dad’s allowed to harbour angst but I’m not?’

‘Dad doesn’t harbour angst.’ Charlie cocked a brow, fingers flicking at her cigarette as she challenged her sister. She caught Elliot in a moment, the younger girl pausing as she cocked her head and bit her lip in thought. There was something there, Charlie knew it. ‘Maybe he still worries.’ Elliot knew he did. Thinking back, she saw how closely he hovered when Louis was born, how he barely left her house and Elliot elected to ignore the behaviour instead of putting it in the basket of ‘odd’.

‘He’s never going to stop. Dad’ll always worry about you, me, Nora, Grace, Louis, Mom and Max, especially Max. He’ll always be concerned that he’ll lose us when it’s his job to keep us safe.’

Elliot kissed her son’s head. ‘It’s not fair that he projects that worry onto us though. From the second I found out I was pregnant with Louis, I felt like all eyes were on me. I not only had to carry to term but I had to make sure he lived.’ Her eyes were on her son, not her sister as she stroked the baby’s chubby cheeks. She felt the weight of her whole family on her shoulders the second she missed her period. It was enough that Elliot agonised over telling her family and when her doctor confirmed it was a boy, Elliot was sick with worry and guilt. She didn’t remember the minute detail’s of Max’s face like Charlie did or the colour of his eyes. Their parents had put his baby pictures up along side hers, Charlie’s and that of their grandbabies but his face seemed foreign beside familiar faces. It didn’t mean that she wasn’t worried their genetic history would make a repeat event.

Charlie called it the Dearing-Grady family curse. Aside from Heather, everyone on both the Dearing side of the family and the Grady’s only had two children; typically of the same gender. Their aunt Karen had boys, so did their Uncle Travis. Their parents had two girls, so did Elliot. When a third baby was tried for it either didn’t happen or once conceived was miscarried. Elliot hated that Charlie would whisper like that, joining the dots at family events and pointing it out to whoever would listen. Elliot caught her one year, Charlie home for the holidays leaning into the shoulder of a friend she brought along, pointing to all the children and asking why each set of adults only settled on two. She was convinced it was the cosmos for some inexplicable reason. Elliot wished she would shut up.

She knew when she confirmed a third pregnancy that everyone would be wishing nothing went wrong. Elliot knew, too, that her father was practically praying for a grandson while simultaneously asking for a third granddaughter. They all knew he wanted someone to fill the Max shaped hole in his life but had grown so accustomed to having it there he didn’t want it to go away. Elliot lived nine months terrified that her body would betray her as her mother hovered close and her father dropped everything for the smallest of things. Her husband didn’t know. She wanted it that way, Elliot couldn’t bear having another person breathing down her neck or reaching out to her with shaking hands. It was Charlie who scared her the most. They had never been close but they were always there for each other. Charlie stopped answering her phone.

Louis was born a week past his due date, happy with his delayed entry into the world. His height and weight were a little over average, his fingers and toes in place. He came home immediately to a house commandeered by her parents who took shifts spending the night and checking on him during the day like Toby or Elliot couldn’t manage. She liked the distraction of having them there, watching her dad play with her daughters like she remembered him playing with her. Their presence was suffocating with the reminder that a baby once died on their watch and they desperately didn’t want it to happen again.

Their visits dropped down and dwindled once he hit the safe mark of three-months-old. They were still around, still required Elliot to come over once a week for dinner, and all round offered to help whenever she needed it. She knew they wouldn’t rest, no matter how old Louis got. There was always going to be a threat on his young life because the cosmos hated them.

‘He’s beautiful, Ellie.’ Charlie offered. ‘He’s gonna be fine.’ She lent back against the porch railing, forearms braced. ‘All your babies are perfectly safe.’ She grinned, foot kicking her bag. There was no doubt that her sister had great kids, funny, kind, smart and loving. Charlie was itching to head inside and see them but Max kept her outside with Elliot.

The front door creaked the same familiar sound their father refused to oil. It was homely, remained as a reminder for their daughters sneaking out. ‘Charlie?’ Their mother’s voice was one of those sounds ingrained into their thoughts, never to be forgotten and distinctly something both girls felt they owned. Heads turned, wide eyes looking at their mother with a silent promise that they weren’t fighting. ‘I didn’t know you were coming home.’ Claire breathed, pulling the front door behind her as she moved for her eldest.

Charlie tried to hide her cigarette just short of dropping it when Claire plucked it from her hands without a word dropping it immediately to the porch and stepping on it. She hugged her daughter with a tight grip, squeezing Charlie’s arms before she stepped back to take her in.

‘Thought a visit was overdue.’ She shrugged, playing nonchalantly despite the warmth that filled her at the sight of her mother. Claire, so far as her daughters were concerned, was never changing. Her hairdresser kept most of the greys out of her red hair and her smile remained genuine in their direction. It had almost become disgusting how close their parents still were, Charlie and Elliot convinced they would never stop cringing when they kissed. ‘Hadn’t met Louis yet … and, um, I can’t quite get a braid right.’ She shrugged, arms rising behind her head to prove her arms were clumsy. Charlie’s smile grew, proper, wide, Charlie's-happy-smile.

Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Just know the assembly line you’re about to start the second you walk in there.’

‘The girls are here?’ She asked, unsure if it was just Elliot and Louis or if her nieces actually were inside occupying their parents with pleas for food and games. Claire nodded. Charlie’s grin widened. She knew exactly what kind of hell her father would be in for. Owen would have chosen a different word.

‘You’re a child.’ Elliot told her, chuckling with a gentle smile, telling her sister that her words weren’t malicious.

‘Ew,’ Charlie turned back to Elliot, ‘You’re a grown up’. She poked out her tongue.

She kissed her mother’s cheek, not missing the way Claire still smelled of vanilla, soaking Charlie in memories of tearful hugs and joyful Eskimo kisses. She moved inside like she was coming home from school, reclaiming the space that had missed her in a six hour period, or the weeks she would spend away at college, rolling into months between visits.

‘Aunt Charlie!’ Two little voices screeched, jumping up from the very place on the carpet she had played as a kid. They barrelled into her legs, five-year-old Nora with her Dearing green eyes and the dark hair they all denied knowing where it came from. It was Markus, through and through, but that name wasn’t to be uttered under any roof in relation to Nora, Elliot or Toby. Grace followed her sister, two-years-old with trademark Elliot blonde hair curling on her head as she looked at Charlie with curious brown eyes. She had no doubt the littlest girl didn’t remember her but was following her sister’s excitement for the thrill of it.

Instead of scooping them into her arms, she dropped into a crouch, letting Nora throw her arms around her neck while Grace touched tentative fingers to Charlie’s knee.

‘Hey Gracie, do you remember me?’ She asked, making sure to not touch without permission as Nora squeezed her fiercely, loudly exclaiming that her sister had to remember Aunt Charlie.

‘Charlie’s home!’ Owen boomed from around the corner, practically running into the room with a grin on his face wider than the rising sun. Grace moved for her grandfather, instantly hiding behind his legs as he bent in half, twisting his torso to pick her up. ‘It’s just Char —‘ He promised Grace, bouncing the girl on his hip. ‘— back from her Jane Goodall endeavours.’

‘Back?’ Claire scoffed behind Charlie, Louis on her hip, greedily slobbering on the Mother’s Day necklace Charlie and Elliot picked out when they were little girls. ‘Pretty sure you encouraged her love of the jungle and there’s no way Charlie’s leaving that.’ The eldest winked at her mother, chuckling as she shrugged an apology in her father’s direction. He had been the one to beg her to come home for just a little. ‘She just needs you to braid her hair then she’s on the next flight out.’ Claire teased, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder as Owen deflated with a playful pout.

Nora, at her aunt’s hip, piped up, eyes wide at the mention of braids. Five sets of female eyes were on Owen, three of them hopeful while the others looked on in amusement. ‘What do you say, Grace? Do we braid their hair?’ Owen asked the toddler, jostling the girl as Charlie and Nora looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Grace reminded her aunt too much of Elliot as a girl, quiet and reserved but capable of great destruction. At least it was nice to see a blonde haired child cling to their father for support rather than heading straight for Claire’s skirts. They watched Grace’s face, eyes trying to will her to move as the girl pressed her fist to her mouth in contemplation. It felt like years before she gave a gentle nod.

Nora rushed to the couch, throwing her hands against Charlie’s shoulder to gain momentum before she jumped, letting the cushions bounce around her. ‘I get to go first, don’t I, granddad?’ She turned her grandmother’s eyes on their weak father as Charlie clambered across the room to plop herself in front of the couch.

Charlie tilted her head back until it met the couch cushion beside her niece’s hip. ‘If I tell you where Nan hides all the good chocolate, can I go first?’ Charlie tried to bargain as Claire and Elliot scolded from their place in the doorway and with Louis on the play mat.

‘I don’t hide chocolate.’ Claire tried to defend herself with a pout. It had been years since both girls lived under the same roof, the older woman needing to hide her stash or else hormonal teenagers would get into it.

Owen hummed, putting Grace on her feet as he watched the girl wobble for a second before he looked to his wife. ‘I don’t know, babe. What about that spot —’  She cut him off with a glare. Maybe she was, just a block or two because her gluttonous husband had to watch his weight and also managed to tear through her favourites as if two teenagers were still there to scavenge for sweet things.

Nora easily took the trade, grinning mischievously in her grandmother’s direction as Charlie pinkie promised to deliver the goods. Owen clicked his tongue as he stepped around them, squishing himself beside Nora on the couch and behind Charlie, still sitting on the floor. ‘You don’t happen to have a brush and hair-tie in your back pocket?’ He asked Charlie, hands heavy on her shoulders as Nora volunteered to go find one in her sleepover kit.

For Charlie, it had not felt like she was home until her father leant down and wrapped his arms around her, cheek pressed to her head as he squeezed tight. Charlie wrapped her arms around his refusing to let go. ‘Hey, Charlie Bear.’ Owen kissed her temple, his grey stubble scratching her cheek with all the memories of bed time kisses and late night movies on the couch. His stubble reminded Charlie of listening to her mother shriek with suppressed laughter as their father rubbed his five-o’clock shadow on her face, or the time that Elliot screamed blue murder because he shaved, young mind unable to recognise him.

‘Hey, Daddy Bear.’ She didn’t realise how childish she would feel until the words left her mouth, vulnerable eyes searching the faces in the room for judgement but none came.

‘I have all my girls back.’ Owen grinned past Charlie’s ear, smiling at his wife who was sitting on the floor opposite, playing with their grandson in her lap. She watched him with a quirk on her lips, like they were still new parents, marvelling at their young girls growing up.

Claire grinned, the same sparkle in her eye that was always present when Owen spoke about Charlie or Elliot. ‘You know, I’m surprised she’s in one piece.’ Claire commented and Charlie forced a smile. Her mother didn’t approve of the whole co-living with tigers, Jane Goodall to the big cats thing Charlie had going on. She supported her but didn’t like knowing her daughter was likely to be killed on a feline whim. Charlie didn’t have the energy to fight about it, every time she looked at her mother holding the baby she saw Max over and over, mixed with the depression her parents wore for months. Charlie leant back into her father’s embrace, head turned slightly.

‘He looks like Max.’ She whispered quietly only for Owen to hear as she waited for his face to fall. It didn’t. Owen nodded as a small smile twitched at his lips. He admitted for Charlie’s ears only that he liked that. She knew they would talk later, over a shared beer when Toby showed up for dinner and had the small family started to shuffle out the door. Her mother would head upstairs to have a shower or change her clothes and Charlie would be able to talk.

He let her go when Nora returned, whole toiletries bag in her hand and two apricots, one of which she dropped on Charlie’s lap. Her heart strings pulled, warm and cold as she realised the little girls in that room had no idea when or how these came about. Nora was obsessed with the fruit tree in the backyard, Claire’s garden her favourite place to be when the weather was nice and she had no idea it’s true story. She thanked her niece with a small smile, watching as the girl bit into the fruit while Charlie held her tongue.

Owen started wordlessly, pulling on familiar red hair as he manipulated it between his fingers. He had only started when he stopped, hands still holding her hair in strands as he watched Claire pick up the fussing baby, sick of his sister pulling on his limbs. ‘Give me, Louis.’ Owen offered, Charlie practically hearing her father’s smirk as her mother looked at him in confusion. He was busy. ‘Never too early for a boy to learn how to braid.’ Claire gave in, settling the boy in her husband’s lap as Owen twisted his arms to keep the boy upright whilst still managing to do Charlie’s hair. He had practised at this and even though he hadn’t done it in a while everyone in the room trusted him. ‘And who knows, maybe he’ll drool in Charlie’s hair.’ He chuckled, holding on tight as Charlie tried to yank herself away. His daughter, the girl who lived with tigers, was scared of getting baby drool in her hair and if that wasn’t nearly the best thing Owen had learned about her then he was at a loss.

The group laughed, giggles pulled from Nora as Grace echoed the sound, Elliot grinning at her sister and father in the same motherly expression their mother maintained for two decades. She avoided this like it would give her the plague, scared to come home and face the empty holes of her family but every time she returned, Charlie felt the love bloom from them, filling her with warmth and contentment. She would sleep soundly in a bed for the first time since her nephew was born seeing that he was happy and noisy and full of life, helping her father pull her hair or wiggling in her mother’s lap. She would hold him again later, after dinner when he was sleepy and try to make amends with Max’s memory.

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

Prompt #168 - Of Scares, Lessons and Love

ANON: Please write Owen singing to Baby Grady inspired from this post (because it’s hella long)

This is a 4k fic people. I cannot. What the hell. Still struggling with Uni shiz - got my board proposal on Thursday (eeek) but should be free after that for a WHOLE MONTH to submit to your mercy. Think up some prompts, some HCs, idk come chat to me anything clawen I wanna be lapping it up and sharing it around (also hopefully getting to 200 prompts before the beginning of August!!)

This title is lame but eh

AO3 - Charlie and Elliot Index

OF SCARES, LESSONS AND LOVE

The garage was Owen’s space. His dignified man cave fit with everything he needed to last him a whole weekend of boredom. It had been his intention, music on the stereo, tools in his hands. Claire had no plans for them, only quietly mentioned something about taking a lazy weekend for themselves. He wasn’t going to complain, this his motorcycle back in his presence Owen was willing to spend as much time as he could tinkering with it. If he was being honest with himself, Owen didn’t know how to act around Claire half the time. They were cracking at the edges and breaking under undue pressure. She was pregnant and apprehensive on the subject, Owen unsure of where he could tread. She only told him seven weeks ago and yet their floorboards felt like egg shells. He stayed away from the topic unless she invited him to comment. They had good days and bad, ones where she curled up and wanted to talk nursery furniture and others where she pushed herself too hard he had to remind her she was growing another life.

When Claire offered that they did their own thing for the weekend, organising a causal run for the both of them when he felt up for it, Owen was pleased. He didn’t want to force anything between them but it was hard to tell her moods and frankly, he was happy if she was willing to come to him when ready to discuss it further.

He buried himself in the garage, set with tinkering and mechanical improvements to last him days let alone the weekend, the stereo was on, his bar fridge filled, a time set in his mind where he could take a break and slowly jog the neighbourhood with Claire. She was content with whatever it was she was doing, likely reading, or huffing at the veggie garden she was desperately trying to nurture. He would check in, stretch his legs in a few hours, they would run, decide on dinner, go back to their individual tasks and possibly settle with a movie before climbing into bed.

The weekend had other plans, not letting it hit ten o’clock before Claire was in the doorway separating the garage from the front entry of their home.  

There was something written across her face that worried him immediately, first glance and he felt his stomach drop. She didn’t speak, just looked at him with wide wet eyes, both arms wrapped around her middle with a hand flat on the small curve of her stomach. Owen held his breath, eyes scanning her for physical signs of harm. He rose, dropping the wrench in his hand to stand, hands wiping with a rag. ‘Claire?’ He asked softly, approaching her with slow steps. She was a flighty animal, Owen sure she would break off into a run if he rushed her.

‘I think I need to go to the hospital.’ She shifted her weight as her bottom lip wobbled. His heart leapt into his throat at her quiet announcement. ’I fell.’ Her voice cracked, face crumbling as her arms tightened their hold. Owen didn’t hesitate in filling the space between them, pulling her under his arm as he tucked her against his chest, one of his large hands engulfing hers on her abdomen.

‘Are you hurt?’ She was shaking like a leaf, whole body trembling as she buried her face against his shoulder. Her hand slipped free to touch at her hip, complaining of a potential bruise.

‘I don’t feel too good.’ Claire was white as a sheet, eyes pressed closed, teeth in her bottom lip. He didn’t know if it was just because of the way she was shaking or the fright she had given herself, but Owen wasn’t willing to take any chances with her health.

‘Is the baby okay?’ He felt her body shudder, Claire’s cheek moving against his shoulder. Her sob broke him, the cry splitting from her throat.

‘I don’t know.’ She turned into him, arm sliding around his back her fingers grasping his shirt. ‘Owen, I’m scared.’ He felt her brow tighten, the woman refusing to look up at him as Owen tried to usher her out of the doorway and towards the living room. ‘What if I’ve done serious damage?’ She lifted her face, scared blue eyes bleeding into his, begging him for some kind of reassurance.

Owen kissed her forehead, his hand never leaving the grove of her stomach. She slipped, missing the bottom step on the stairs to fall straight onto her ass. She was sure her hip was going to bruise from hitting the wall. He didn’t know anything about pregnancy to rightly reassure her. ‘You’re not bleeding or cramping though, right?’ He asked, throat thick as he felt his heart try to hammer its way right through his chest. She shook her head. It was possibly too early to tell.

‘I really want to go to the hospital.’ She insisted, voice smaller than her usual commanding tone. Owen could count on one one hand the number of times he had seen her like this; each time related to her pregnancy. Even after Jurassic World fell apart Claire held it together, her voice never wavering and her face calm.

Owen nodded, kissing her cheek twice before he managed to reign in control of his actions. ‘Yeah, yeah. Good idea. Let’s go.’ He helped her to the car like she was porcelain, one hand on the small of her back holding her cardigan while the other remained glued to her stomach. It was like he thought the presence of his hand alone could will their unborn child into staying put. He kissed her cheek again once he buckled her into the car, Claire letting Owen take control despite being completely capable of putting her seatbelt on herself. He needed it, she left, more than she did; to be the nurturer in something she said she didn’t want to keep. His hand lingered on her stomach, eyes meeting it as he tore himself away. Once in the driver's side, Owen collected Claire’s hand in his, squeezing her small fingers within his larger ones.

She tried to focus herself, collect her breathing and thus settle her erratic heartbeat. Claire wouldn’t be doing herself any good if she was panicking on top of the stress she threw her body in. She could still feel where her pelvis collided with the bottom step and the white cold chill that speckled across her skin. She had felt sick to her stomach immediately, pain setting off every nerve ending in her lower half while the alarms started to ring in her head. She remained still for a minute before pulling herself up on shaking legs, barely shuffling across the house to find Owen; hoping that he was still in the garage and hadn’t gone for an unannounced hardware trip. There was an instant relief when she spotted him, quickly followed by a new wave a grief when the worry started to slide across his face.

‘I don’t want anything to happen to this baby, Owen.’ She told him, her eyes on the road, cautiously watching him through her peripheral vision. Owen turned his head, taking his attention from the empty road to stare at her for a split second before returning to keeping them safe. ‘I know I said, I didn’t want it but I do — I really do — I’m just scared.’ She was holding her breath, not looking at him as she squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. ‘I don’t want you to think that I wished this would happen.’ They had already talked about it. He didn’t quite grasp her reasoning, but Claire promised she wouldn’t abort the baby she was carrying despite the shake in her hands and the look of absolute terror in her eyes. She committed to him, to a child, to a life together no matter what happened down the line.

He sighed, the sound mournful. ‘Oh, Claire —‘, his hand squeezed hers, ‘— I could never think that’. He could see she was far more frightened than he was. Owen was trying to be the rational one, putting logic in their place and sheer hope that things would be okay. Something in the back of his head said there was a reason to be alarmed when a pregnant woman fell, but he couldn’t remember hearing the last time something serious happened because of it. ‘He’s going to be fine, Claire, it’s okay.’

‘He?’ She echoed back, tears blurring her eyes as a smile nipped at the corners of her mouth.

His thumb rubbed circles across her palm, eyes tearing away from the road to look at her again. ‘Yeah; he. It would be nice to have a boy, don’t you think. Softer colours, easier going, I can take him fishing to give you the night off. That’d be the life, aye, Claire?’ He kept saying her name over and over, every time he spoke it left his mouth with a tight squeeze of her hand.

She nodded, grin on her face despite the tears and wobbling cry that wouldn’t stop. The hand he wasn’t holding, cupped her belly, rubbing soothing circles around her small bump. ‘You’d be good with a boy.’ Claire had already seen Owen with her nephews enough to know that he knew how to relate; although awkwardly, after a significant trauma.

Without discussion, Owen decided to take Claire to her OB/GYN’s clinic rather than dealing with the busy emergency room at the hospital. He was sure she was fine, despite the panic he couldn’t swallow and didn’t want to sit in the E.R. if he didn’t have to.

The staff weren’t taking chances, giving Claire soft smiles as they sent her straight through, promising Dr Carson would be with her any minute. ‘I heard you took a fall.’ She appeared as promised, Claire sitting on the bed, hands in her lap, worry still burrowing itself in every crease on her face. Carson smiled, her hand squeezing Claire’s arm. ‘Now, I’m going to tell you not to worry and I need you to believe me, Claire. Your baby is very well padded in there. It would take something very serious happening externally to get to them at this stage.’ She looked to Owen, adding that he would have taken Claire straight to the hospital instead of her clinic if that were the case, Claire injured too. ‘You didn’t fall on your stomach, did you?’ Claire shook her head. ‘I’m confident in saying you’re okay, the baby is okay and that nothing will happen other than a bruise. Would you like me to do an ultrasound just in case?’ Claire nodded before Carson could even finish asking.

‘I’m not leaving until I see that the baby is okay.’ Claire insisted, reaching for Owen’s hand and continuing her death grip.

Carson smiled, promising Claire that she wouldn’t have sent her home without doing a proper check up. She would not have it held over her head if her assumptions were wrong. As a medical professional and Claire’s friend, she owed it to her to make sure her baby was safe.

‘Alright, Baby Grady, let’s show your momma you’re fine.’ Carson went about her business prepping the doppler and setting up the screen for Owen and Claire to see. She tried to warm the jelly between her hands before she squeezed some on Claire’s bare belly, the woman holding her shirt under her breasts as she started at the blank screen intensely. ‘Claire?’ Carson started, waiting for her patient to tear her eyes away. ‘I need you to relax, okay?’ She forced her to take three deep breaths before she began, watching Claire’s shoulders relax before she brought the doppler to her stomach. It took a minute before she found it, a distinctive curve of a head and slope of a spine before the image settled, Carson finding the right spot to give Owen and Claire a full view of their baby. ‘There’s the little bean, safe and sound!’

Claire broke, sob bubbling past her lips as she rolled her head to Owen’s shoulder, the man half perched on the bed. The screen showed them a full body profile of their baby, at sixteen weeks Baby Grady had full arms and legs, the smallest details in fingers with a thumb stuck in their mouth.

‘He looks so relaxed.’ Owen sighed with relief, feeling the emotion claw up his throat as Claire squeezed his hand desperately. Their child, who was completely fine, was reclined with legs crossed, foot tapping, more than comfortable in his living quarters for the foreseeable six months. Owen pressed a fat kiss to Claire’s cheek, letting his touch linger for comfort as she cried tears of joy instead of fear. Her free hand covered her mouth as Carson leant over to squeeze her arm.

‘This feeling, Claire. It’s overwhelming, but it’s a good thing. You care. You were more than concerned about the wellbeing of your child despite being unsure about your pregnancy. I think this can settle your worries. That instinct to protect is there.’ She gave her a broad smile, knowing the last time the two had been in her office was less than pleasant for all involved. Carson tapped at the keyboard, one hand holding steady to the doppler as a thumping filled the room, fast like a marching band but a little less organised. ‘Mostly, this is Claire’s heart because she’s worked up but if you can take a few deep breaths and let it even out I’ll be able to show you the difference between yours and the baby’s.’

[…]

The ordeal exhausted her. Exhausted them both. Owen and Claire shuffling through the front door to embrace the serenity of their home and the comfort that the baby was okay. He didn’t want to leave her side but knew if he hovered that Claire would snap and tell him to go away. She slipped off her shoes with a heavy sigh, shoulders shifting as a hand graced her bump protectively and as a small reminder that the life beneath it was still there. He watched her soften, the tension in her back slipping away as Claire wordlessly moved for the stairs and the master bedroom.

‘Want me to make lunch?’ He offered, hoping she would ask him to follow her. Claire stopped, looking at him over her shoulder with a thankful smile and soft words that if he brought her a sandwich he was a life saver. Owen was sure, after everything, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Claire. He let her climb the stairs, knowing that she would be fine without his eyes on her at all times.

It took him twenty-two minutes and sixteen seconds to make them each a roast chicken sandwich, made up of the leftovers from the night before’s dinner, and pour a glass of orange juice. Cut into two triangles and stacked on top of each other on one plate, a bottle of water under his arm so his hand was free to hold her juice, Owen eliminated the second trip he was destined to make in order to take his food to the second floor.

There was something about the silence in their home recently that made him giddy. The oncoming sound of little feet still months away but all too tempting to daydream about. Owen was sure he was ready for it, waiting to hear cries and gurgles and small baby giggles. He was ready to bring Claire sandwiches and fruit salad, whatever lunch she desired while she fed their baby in the comfort of their bed or the rocking chair he was desperate to buy. It was hard to not get overwhelmed, expecting the future that was nearly ripped from him that morning. For now, it was silence, the soft sound of his feet sticking to the floorboards as he moved from the landing to the open bedroom door. He rapped his fingers against the wood to alert her of his presence before he looked up to find the red head with her eyes closed.

‘Claire,’ He called to her softly, the same singsong voice to raise someone from slumber. She didn’t respond, breathing softly like she was deep in sleep, not ready to wake. ‘Claire?’ He called again, voice a little louder as he deposited their plates and drinks on her bedside table. She had curled into his spot, tucked on the left side of the bed, his pillow curled under her head, throw blanket across her knees. ‘Babe, I brought lunch.’ He tried for a third time, knees on the bed as his hand tentatively touched her arm. She was out, near snoring her sleep was so deep. Owen didn’t blame her, Claire had rattled herself so much she was bound to crash and burn without warning.

Owen lowered himself to the mattress, mirroring her position as he lay on his side. Claire liked to lie to herself, but she was showing more than the woman was ready to admit. At sixteen weeks, her bump was pronounced enough to tell she was pregnant. He knew her bosses didn’t know, nor did his mother. He and Karen were the only ones privy to the information while she wouldn’t have been able to hide it from him for much longer, Karen lived in another state, unable to look at her sister’s body shape and pick the smooth curve that added to her silhouette. He didn’t know what she was thinking in trying to hide it in the middle of summer when all her form fitting clothes outlined the perfect shape their baby had added to her body. It was perfect, the easy curve from her hips to her breasts, widest at the bottom before sloping out. He could cup it in his hands, perfectly. Owen couldn’t help reaching out to touch her, his fingers gracing her bump easily, mindful of her protective hand resting bellow the weight. He knew if he wanted to wake her, all he needed to do was move her hand, or make his touch heavy enough her sleeping mind detected it. Claire was worried, up some nights, petrified that she couldn’t be a mother. She admitted to feeling no maternal instinct but he saw it written all over her. In fact, her own worry that she had no instinct was sign enough that Claire didn’t want to screw this up. Her doctor had said it herself that morning, the panic Claire put herself in fear that she had harmed the baby was enough proof that she cared.

He watched his fingers spread across the fabric of her shirt, stretching over the swell of her skin; the marvel that was shifting every day to accommodate the growth of his child. Owen couldn’t thank her enough for doing this. The stretch marks had already started to appear, Claire weakly asking him to rub her skin in oils in an attempt to return it all to normal. He didn’t know much but was starting to doubt it was going to go back to the way it was. Not that he was complaining, but Claire was bound to be unimpressed.

‘Hey little bug —‘ He spoke unsure of where the will to speak came from but going for it anyway. His eyes jumped to Claire’s face, careful that he hadn’t woken her as his hand on her stomach stopped, waiting for the smallest of movement he knew he wouldn’t feel yet. ‘—You don’t know this yet, but I love you more than anything in the world, well, maybe besides your mom.’ Had even told her he loved her? Owen and Claire had been together a year and he was uncertain those words had ever crossed his lips. The fact that he was questioning it was enough to know it was possible he hadn’t ever said it. Love was a tricky thing so far as Owen was concerned, but Claire earned it, so did this baby, his heart still doing summersaults at the thought. ‘I promise, I’m going to tell her that.’ He tapped her belly like he would tap the nose of their child whenever he made a playful promise. ‘I thought we were going to lose you for a second there today.’ He hadn’t said it aloud, same scared feeling returning to swallow him whole for a second before Owen managed to recenter himself. The baby was perfectly fine, they saw him, heard his heartbeat, he moved, sucking his thumb and tapping his foot. ‘I love you both so much.’ Owen hummed, emotion caught in his throat as he watched his hand stroke the side of Claire’s bump, hopeful that his touch had some effect on the child within.

Bob Dylan swirled in his mind, lyrics from an old song he could recall being played from some point in his youth. The lyrics were muddled in his head, the guitar tune itching to be plucked from his fingers, Owen internally promising himself to sit down with the sheet music and play it out in an afternoon. He didn’t need it to be perfect, sound hummed against his lips with an intense need to share it with the being inside Claire’s womb. The words were rolling off his tongue without thought, recalled from years of hearing it, loving it, wishing to live by the lyrics and impart them to someone else.

‘May you grow up to be righteous

May you grow up to be true

May you always know the truth

And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

And may you stay

Forever you’

‘I forgot you could sing.’ Claire’s voice drifted over his head, loud and clear, somewhat humoured and rasped with disuse. Owen jumped, embarrassment flushing red hot across his cheeks as he let out an involuntary sound.

Her hand on her stomach reached for his, locking their fingers together as she squeezed. ’Shit, Claire!’ He half yelped at her, pulling his head towards her bump as his other hand joined, Owen pressing his lips to the evidence of their child. He kissed her stomach twice before moving up the bed, his laughter meeting her cheeks as he kissed her, his hands squeezing hers. ‘I hate you.’ He hummed, eyes squeezed close, trying to will the heat off his face.

Claire hummed, ‘No, I’m pretty sure you said you loved me’. He cracked his eyes open just for her smile, knowing the look would be glorious on her skin. Sixteen weeks pregnant and he could swear she had already gained a glow, her cheeks plumper, face seeming more ground as her stomach began to expand. Seven weeks ago he had no clue she was pregnant, now it was undeniable. Her smile was wide but shy, her blue eyes glimmering in the light as she bit her lip unsure of his reaction as she aired his secrets out loud.

‘You’re right’, Owen nodded, ‘I love you’. He kissed her softly, barely touching her lips. She whispered the words back, barely uttering them as her mouth moved around them, eyes unsure. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to say it, but something told him she was sincere just scared like she was with everything else that was happening in their lives. ‘Are you okay?’ He asked, eyes dropping to her bump. He wasn’t just concerned about that moment in particular, but the day in general, Owen worried that Claire mightn’t have moved on with reassurance. She nodded softly, promising everything was fine, she was just tired and her head ached a little. ‘Hey, why don’t I move the spare TV up here and we can call it a bed day?’ Owen offered, grin wide as he sat up, handing Claire the sandwich he made and insisting she eat it. ‘You can show me that nursery set you were looking at?’

If Owen was being perfectly honest, he was scared of what would happen if she got out of bed. It was the stairs that made Claire slip in the first place, he would relax into his Saturday afternoon with much more ease if he knew Claire wasn’t willing to get up and move around — at least until he managed to find a slip-proof mat to put down on the stairs.

Claire looked unsure, teeth nibbling on her lip as she eyed her glasses on the bedside table. ‘You can work.’ He promised her. ‘I’ll go get your laptop too.’ She nodded, giving in to his ploy and convenience as she sat up, a hand smoothing over her bump before she accepted the sandwich. Owen bowed his head to press another kiss to her bump. ‘I’m glad he’s okay, Claire.’

She smiled, hand doing another circle. ‘Me too.’

[hiraeth-doux]

birdmacklin replied to your post: That moment when you get cured of fandom…

Not clawen, hopefully? You’re not allowed to leave, we all had a meeting about it and that’s final :p

No, even though I was asked to get the hell out quite a few times :P Just trying to get all others in order now, just for the sake of my sanity. 

[hiraeth-doux]

OTP QUESTIONS :D scarletstreakoflight(.)tumblr(.)com/post/116587680493/send-me-a-ship

I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume it’s for Clawen :)) 

Who worries about how they will look when they’re older

Claire. Owen cares about his appearance enough not to look like he just fell out of a haystack when he leaves the house, but that’s just it. Claire is way more concerned about aging, although now that they’re together and Owen tells her time and time again that she’s always beautiful to him and always will be, she dialed it down a notch. 

Who makes the mix tapes/cd’s

Owen, and he loves it! It doesn’t happen often but he is the one more likely to compile playlists for their work-out sessions and dinner dates, or something to listen to in the car because there’re too many commercials on the radio. 

Clings to the other during scary movies

Claire! She’s had her fair share of terrifying moments on the island, so normally she prefers to watch something less stressful on the TV. However, if Owen manages to succeed in talking her into watching something scary, she spends most of the time with her eyes closed and her body half-wrapped around his ‘to stay safe’.

Gets into the shower with the other randomly

Both. I mean, come on! Owen does it nearly every morning because it’s too tempting and why would he pass up the opportunity to see her naked? Claire does it to mess with him, especially when he is running late - and yeah, it never saves them any time 😏 If anything, it only makes it worse. 

Flashes the other when they walk by after taking a shower alone

Owen. The man has the maturity of a 13-year old, so… 😎

Initiates hand holding while the other is driving

Both. Maybe not on the highway, but if one doesn’t do it, the other would simply reach over and grab their hand, lacing their fingers together. It’s one of those things that don’t need to have any reason behind them. 

Secretly tries to touch the other in naughty places during public/family events

Mostly Owen because he delights in watching Claire’s cheeks turn pink and hearing her breath catch in her throat while he easily manages to keep a straight face and go on talking about the weather or something else mild with someone. However, Claire would just as easily do it, too, if only to catch him off-guard because it’s always priceless. ‘What is it, honey? Please don’t choke on your drink.’  

Asks weird questions in the middle of the night

Owen. He’s a light sleeper to begin with, and sometimes he’s prone to insomnia, so don’t put it past him to wake Claire up in the middle of the night and ask her why is broccoli called ‘broccoli’, or if she thinks the aliens are watching them right now. The answer is almost always, ‘Go back to sleep, baby.’ 😴

Asks “what are you thinking about?”

Mostly Claire but also both. Owen is very attuned to any shifts in her mood, so while Claire would ask that question more often, he would most definitely ask it at the most poignant times - like when she’s really upset but doesn’t know how to bring it up. (Also when he really wants her attention 😋)

Always has to be touching the other, (if either of them do)

Both. If it was an option, they’d simply attach themselves to one another for the first year or two after the incident. Later, their co-dependency and anxiety lessened, making the separation easier and less stressful. However, it also made their need  for physical contact when they are, in fact, together more amplified, so there’s that. Throughout the day, Claire would brush her hand against his on occasion or run her palm over the small of his back, and Owen would drop a kiss in her hair now and then, mostly without even knowing they are doing it.