#pair: roger x bree

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Jem has a few doubts after Mandy is born.

Author’s note: Missing scene from A Breath of Snow and Ashes, a little time after Amanda was born. 

Mo gràdh ort, mo ghille (My Love On You, My Son)

by @monisse

June, 1776

Jem Mackenzie sighed again and made the small wood wheels turn faster on the new car his dad had made him. It’s a vroom, Dad had said a few years ago, the first time he ever placed a toy car on his eagerly waiting hands. 

It took a long while after that, but his dad eventually explained what they were, how they worked and that, where he came from, real cars traveled on smooth, black roads all over the world, and much faster than horses. He told him how Mama used to have a blue one she adored. That day, with their heads so close together that long black hair mingled with red, they had talked in whispers, as if possessing a secret that no one else should know. Jem remembered feeling giddy, not only because that new vroom was an improved version of past incarnations lost forever to the woods of the Ridge, but because his dad had made a second car for himself and they had played together for hours, laughing and racing them on the wood floors that Mama had just swept.  

Jem was now by himself with that same car, sitting on the porch floor, the Big House shielding him from the light rain that had started to fall. With the heat of the season fast approaching summer levels, that sort of weak pour seemed to evaporate even before hitting the ground. On any other day he would gladly have been under it, tongue sticking out to savor the warm showers, but today he remained watching life go by from afar, with no will to play. Germain had left, gone to live with his parents in New Bern, and suddenly the days seemed longer than before with one less friend to keep him company.

The wheels kept spinning as his mama and grannie came into view, coming off the main road. Even from a distance, Jem was surprised at how tall they were, taller than many of the women he knew. They always towered above him, sometimes ready to kneel to his level and envelop him in a warm embrace, other times standing straight and looking down in reprimand. He often felt small in comparison to them, even to the rest of his family and the world itself. Inside, he knew it would not always be that way, but time was not passing fast enough for him to grow as tall as his dad and no longer having to feel small and helpless as he felt now.

He observed his mama carrying the small bundle in her arms, made of soft blankets and his sister, delicate and new. Maybe to Mama she really was the most precious, and as quiet and small as his sister was, she was already the center of all attention. He observed in silence how Grannie leaned towards the blankets and made a silly face followed by a wide smile. Jem did not understand what was supposed to be so fun about babies. In his view, they only cried, ate, and slept without even saying a word. Except Mandy did not cry so much, and every time he peered inside the cot, she was asleep in a way that was entirely too quiet. Sometimes the tips of her fingers turned a light shade of blue, so did her lips, and he was often tempted to shake her to see if she was still breathing. Maybe that was why his parents, and even Grannie and Grandda, seemed to surround her all the time.

With all eyes on the baby, and even though there was no shortage of happiness in the family for her arrival, Jem knew something was not right with Mandy the moment she was born. And yet, no one seemed to have spare time to tell him. In the weeks that went by after his sister’s birth, all faces around him had slowly changed to a picture of sadness, gaining permanent wrinkles between their eyes and tremors on their lips. Late at night, when everyone thought he was asleep, he heard the softness of Mama’s cries and Dad’s soothing her in a raspy voice, low in his throat, but filled with love as he held her in his arms. Jem saw his family become quiet as time went by, and with each new day, his mother held the baby just a little bit closer to her chest, as if Mandy was soon to evaporate like a cloud in the wind.

To a certain point he understood why. Soon after Mandy was born, Jem felt a warmness settle in his chest, unexpected and wholly new, dropping into him and spreading like a bead of Mama’s dyes in water, all the way up to his head. It made him wonder how he had lived without it for so long. When he had heard her cry for the first time he knew he was not alone, not really, and would never be again. Not knowing what it was, he at least knew it grew stronger and brighter whenever he was close to Mandy, pulling him towards her even when he did not want to be around. And along with that came the unsettling feeling that her wee heart was damaged, and struggling slowly.

Jem kept near his parents, and even though they still held him close and he adored his sister, he could neither shake the feeling that she was consuming all their attention, nor that uncomfortable poking of loneliness.

Alerted by the sound of steps in the distance, Jem turned to watch his dad walk down the path towards his mother and Grannie in large paces, looking eager to reach them as quickly as possible. He kissed Mama’s forehead first and she smiled immediately. Jem smiled as well without realizing, his small mouth spreading involuntarily as if he was an extension of his mother’s happiness in that moment. Then, his dad kissed her lips and even though it was a common occurrence, Jem felt he was intruding on a private moment by the way her lips lingered on his a little longer than usual in front of others. In the end, his dad leaned in and placed a last kiss on Mandy’s dark hair, which made her spread her arms towards him.      

Mandy already looked a lot more like Dad than he did, despite the blue eyes they both shared. As he passed a hand through his red hair, he wished there was something in him that was more like his dad, and maybe he would not have all these doubts in his mind.   

“There ye are.”

He was startled by the sound of his dad’s voice, a little too rough in his throat, and suddenly Jem was assaulted by the memory that it had not always been so. In the distance, his mama and grannie walked away, disappearing fast into the greens and browns of the tall trees, taking Mandy with them.

“Daddy?” It was only a small question, though there was a little tremble in his voice throughout, and it came out as he stared at the wood car, now motionless in his small hands.  

“Yes, a bhalaich?” His dad said while sitting down on the porch next to him.

Deep inside, there was a part of him that knew it would never be true, but as the circle around his sister became closer and closer, he felt more and more left out. “Are ye going to forget me now?”

“Why would ye think that?” He placed a large hand on Jem’s back, turning his small body towards him. “Jemmy?”

“Because of wee Mandy.”

Again, an uncomfortable feeling moved through him, like a million ants traveling all at once over the surface of his skin. It felt odd to say it out loud, and his cheeks burned red and hot in embarrassment.

He was a big brother now, his dad had said so, speaking in a serious tone just after Mandy was born. It was a concept he could not quite match with the feelings of protection towards her that were just as strong as the wish that she was never born. That way, Jem thought, he would still have his parents all to himself, in a quiet harmony between the three of them. With no tears, no fear.

His dad’s hand moved to one of his shoulders and rested there. “Jem, be assured that my heart is big enough for both you and Mandy. Ye dinna have to worry about that.”

Jem did not reply and, still filled with uncertainty, only stared into the clear green eyes of his dad.

“I know yer mam and I have been a little absent because yer sister is sick and we are very worried about her, but it doesna mean we are forgetting you or love you any less than before.”

Jem nodded quietly, allowing the words to sink in, and while they did help calm his anxiety, another thought came to his mind, uninvited. He averted his eyes, watching the trees move with the wind and feeling the earth become alive with the smell of flowers and wet pine trees. His face turned into a frown and his next words came out before he was able to stop them.

“Germain once said ye were not here when I was born, but ye’re here for her. Were you not worried about me?”

The words hung loose in the air between them until Jem heard a groan deep in his dad’s throat, despite the discomfort it caused. As Jem glanced beside him, he saw pain twist his dad’s face, one which he had not seen before.

“No, I was not, by no choice of mine, but I came for you. I will always come for you.” His dad urged him to look towards him again. “And ye were such a braw lad, big and strong since the day ye were born. I loved ye from the first time I held ye and that will never change. Ye’re my son, alright?”

“But I don’t even look like you, and she does!” Jem exclaimed, matter-of-fact, and a little too loud, startling the otherwise peaceful birds nearby into flight.

“Ye may have yer mam’s hair and eyes, but you and I are more alike than ye think,” his dad said with a little smile, his features entirely relaxed now.

“How?”

“We both like cars, for example,” he said, pointing to the wood car in Jem’s little hands.

“What else?” Jem’s eyes were open wide now with interest and he felt himself smile again, on the verge of excitement to know more.

“We can both run really fast, even faster than yer mam.” His dad leaned closer. “Especially when she’s mad at us, but dinna tell her I said that.”

Jem could only giggle in reply, the laughter rolled freely out of him as it had not happened in a long while. He felt a little more at ease with himself knowing that he was not forgotten and just as much part of his parents as his sister was. Slowly, and further encouraged by the sound of his dad’s own laughter, the doubts that had been on his mind were fading away.

“And we also have the same spot on our head!” Jem shouted with pride, while pointing a finger at his own head, entirely oblivious to the fact that his dad had been constantly aware of their shared mark ever since it was discovered.

He was immediately swept into a strong embrace, the familiar warmth of his dad seeping through him and resetting his heart to a steady beat. 

Jem heard him whisper in his ear, “Aye, we do, mo ghille. And I can never forget you.”

[nekoannie-chan]

Everyone has secrets part I

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 656 words.

Summary: You and Steve had an undercover mission on Wisteria Lane, however, you will discover that it will not be so simple, as well as the neighbours’ secrets.

Warnings: Angst and mystery, death of a character.

A/N: This is my entry to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s Roo’s Dark! Crossover Challenge with prompt #6:

"I told you to get on the bed, don't make me take you outside."

Marvel X Desperate housewives crossover

@saiyanprincessswanie

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You looked at your hands, swallowed with difficulty, that shouldn't have happened, it was a simple mission, how did it end like this?

How were you going to explain to Steve what happened?

How would they explain what happened to your superiors?

Steve…

His words sounded in your mind several times, the same times he had repeated them to you, yet you had ignored them, even though he had not gone after you. Maybe if you had listened to him, they would have made love again and you wouldn't be in trouble, you bit your lip.

"I told you to get on the bed, don't make me take you outside", was what he had told you, maybe something had happened to him, but you would take care of it later.

You tried to clean your hands, you needed to clear your head to be able to think, to devise a plan that would justify what happened. You looked up when you noticed the shadows surrounding you, no, they weren’t shadows, they were the neighbours, you opened your mouth trying to say something, but you closed it when no word came out, you could not think of anything to justify what happened.

“Y/N, my dear, what happened, are you okay?” Bree asked.

“I... I... “ You couldn't think clearly.

"What happened?" Lynette questioned.

"This shouldn't have happened, this is wrong.”

"Y/N, Y/N, we'll help you, but we need to know what happened," Susan said.

Steve showed up, but none of you noticed until he spoke. “Y/N I told you that if you didn't go back to bed, I was going to...” he didn’t finish the sentence because when he lowered his gaze, he noticed that you were about to pass out. “Y/N...what happened?”

You didn't know how to explain it, no one else was supposed to know (apart from your superiors) that you were there, or about the mission, you didn't understand how you had been found, nothing was right.

"We will help them, we know what to do," Gabrielle said, helping you get up.

The next thing that happened was confusing, as you explained to Steve what happened or at least tried. The only thing that made you feel bad was that now those women were innocent and now they were involved.

The first day you arrived, they hadn't even finished getting the boxes off the moving truck when a red-haired woman arrived, she gave the impression of being too straight and correct, she left them a basket with homemade muffins.

"Is that woman human?" She acts like a robot," Steve said in confusion as he loaded a box and stuffed it into the house.

"She's not a robot, but she hides several things,” you replied.

That same afternoon you met Gabrielle, you immediately recognized her, once your mom took you to a fashion show and there you saw her on the catwalk.

The next morning, they were awakened by Lynette's screams, for a moment you thought you had been discovered and were being under attack, but when you looked out the window it was only the woman who was scolding her children.

"Wow, I think that woman must go to an anger control class," you blustered, however, you immediately closed the curtains, you were afraid she had listened to you.

“Did they find us? “Steve questioned.

“No, it's the neighbour who...” You were interrupted by the doorbell, it was Lynette.

You met Susan at noon when she appeared in front of your door with some cookies that she bought at the supermarket fell on you, she immediately apologized, although Steve ended up with a face full of cake.

"It's worse than when there are recruits and you have to train them," you said after she left.

But one thing you were sure of and that was that every one of those women had some or some secrets that they hid deep in their being.

[adrenaline-roulette]

He’ll save every one of us Chapter 7

Brian May x Reader Preview:  “Oh, I bet it’s carollers!” “It’s you.”  You frown, “Yes its me. Don’t look so thrilled.”

Chapter seven: How many keys do we have now?

A heavy dusting of snow clung to your hair as you trudge upstairs towards Brian’s flat, your arms filled with shopping bags and boxes of assorted weights. Had you gone overboard with Christmas shopping? Perhaps. But it wasn’t really your fault, not entirely. Mary had been with you all afternoon, and she kept pointing out little things in every store, and you just had to buy them! And of course then there were the Christmas decorations, five of the bags you now carried were filled to the brim with decorations alone! Mary had offered to help you carry everything home, though had quickly changed her mind the moment you both made it outside, and into the snow. You couldn’t blame her for wanting to rush home, it was freezing cold, and neither of you had dressed appropriately for snow, that and also if she had helped you get everything to Brian’s apartment, she would then have to go all away back across town to get to her own home.

Finally, you make it to the front door, shaking your head like a wet dog to throw the snow off. With your arms full, and straining, you kick the door with the toe of your boot, unable to use your hand to knock, or to retrieve your key from your bag. “Oh, I bet it’s carollers!” You hear Roger squeal from inside the apartment, before the sound of his running feet barrel towards the door. The door swings open and the grin on Roger’s face falls the instant his eyes fall on you. “It’s you.”

You frown at the blonde over the top of your purchases. “Yes its me. Don’t look so thrilled.” You tease, as he steps to the side of the doorway, allowing you entrance to the apartment. Navigating the clutter that lay on the floor, you find a clear space of floor near the sofa where you deposit the bags and boxes, standing up and stretching your arms out above your head. They had begun to cramp from staying in the same position for so long, and the relief you felt from no longer carrying such a heavy load was incredible. Making your way to the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of water, turning around to glare at Roger, who had begun snooping through the bags. “Oi, get away!”

Roger backs away slightly, hands falling to his sides in defeat. “I just wanted to see what you got for Brian is all.”

“Yeah right, you’re looking for something that screams ‘Roger Taylor’ not ‘Brian May’.”

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure you got me something nice! I do deserve it after all, I’ve been nothing but charming to you since the day we met!” Roger grins, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Who says I got you anything at all?”

Roger had crouched back down to search through the bags once again, but your comment however did catch his attention, and he looked up at you with a pout. “You did get me something didn’t you?”

Placing the now empty glass in the sink, you fold your arms across your chest, and lean back against the kitchen counter. “No, I didn’t.” Roger looks about ready to cry as he stands up from the bags, placing his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve still got more shopping to do though. Your present may still be on its way.”

   “I hate you sometimes, you know that right?” Roger grumbles, though it’s obvious he’s teasing. You had spent long enough around him now to pick up on when he was messing around. There was the slight crease between his eyebrows, and the quirk at the corner of his lips, the tell-tale signs that his words held no merit.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Yes yes, I know, I’m the worst, you hate me, yadda yadda yadda… Now tell me, where’s Brian?”

Roger follows you into the kitchen, hoisting himself up onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs so his heels kicked against the cabinets beneath the bench. “I’m not entirely sure, he went out an hour or so ago, said he’d be back before dinner though, so I doubt he’ll be too much longer.”

You nod your head softly, sucking your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay, well I’m gonna go hit the shower, and try and thaw my fingers.  I’m pretty sure they turned blue at one stage walking home.” You chuckle, shuffling your way out of the kitchen, making a pit stop at the shoe rack by the front door and kicking your boots off there.

“If Brian comes home while you’re showering, do you want me to send him in to see you?” Roger calls, and you can hear the cheeky smirk coming through with his words.

“Shut up you kinky little shit.” You grumble, heading further into the apartment, and away from the drummer.

“So is that a yes or no? Shower sex is the best sex!”

“Roger I really need you to stop talking about and thinking about Brain and my sex life!” You practically shriek, a blush forming on your cheeks.  It was hard to tell if Roger was suggesting sending Brian into the shower with you because he was a tease, or because he knew what you and Brian had done in that very shower only last week.

Opening the second bottom drawer of Brian’s chest of drawers, you pull out a pair of shorts, and a sweater, along with a bra and panties. Brian’s bedroom had gone from hosting only a few of your essential items a few months ago, to now housing practically everything you own. All your clothes were either in drawers, or hung up on one side of the closet, with Brian’s on the opposite side. Artwork that you used to have hung up on your bedroom walls in yours and Bree’s apartment, now lined the walls of Brian’s room, alongside his own posters and images. When you had first entered his bedroom, there was only the one, night stand which of coarse sat on his side of the bed, there was however now a second, which sat on your side, with a lamp, alarm clock, a few books, and a scented candle all resting on its surface. The bookshelf, that too was now an entirely different story. Your books from home now lined the shelves alongside Brian’s, and scattered among them were framed photos, some of the two of you, others of Queen, and a few of you and Bree. It was safe to say that you had made yourself at home here with Brian and Roger in their home, all the while still paying weekly rent for the apartment you once shared with Bree. The topic of where you lived was one that rarely came up in conversation, it was either ignored entirely, or tiptoed around.

   Your friends and family all knew where to find you these days, and it wasn’t at your actual address, though no one could blame you for not wanting to stay there, especially not alone. It had become an unspoken rule, that you would spend your all your time here, everyone expected it these days. And you know for a fact, that the moment you walked in carrying decorative cushions for the bed, Brian and Roger knew that you wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. However your living arrangements weren’t exactly official, your name was only on one rental agreement, and it wasn’t for this apartment. Though you know, just as well as anyone, that this was your home now.

                                                                    **********

The hot water removed the sting of ice which had settled deep within your bones, you hadn’t realised just how cold you were until you stepped under the spray of the shower head, the feeling of water droplets practically melting you. Rinsing off the last few remaining suds of conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower wrapping a towel around your head like a turban, and a second towel around your torso. The steam from the shower had fogged up the mirror above the sink, and you wipe it away with your forearm, reaching for your moisturiser to apply over your face, completely unaware to the conversation that had taken place at the dining table.

                                                                    **********

“Okay, so you need to sign here, I’ll sign here, and Y/N will sign on this line right here.” Brian explains to Roger, pointing to each line respectively while wielding a pen at Roger. The blonde nods, and carefully takes the pen from Brian’s hand, scribbling his signature on the dotted line.

“What took you so long anyways? You met up with the landlord for lunch, I expected you to be home hours ago!”

Brian smirked, as he took the pen back and signed his own name on the second line. “I had to find a gift box, and card. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find something that’s not Christmas themed this time of year? I went to probably ten different stores, just to find a card that didn’t have a Christmas tree on it! I also had to get another key cut for Y/N to put in the gift box.”

“She already has a key though, why get a second?”

Brian shrugged lightly, producing the new key from his coat pocket, and placing it carefully inside the pale yellow gift box, securing the lid with a purple ribbon. “I want this to all feel official, plus I can’t just let her open an empty box.”

“Couldn’t you have just left the box, and gotten the card instead?”

Brian glares across at Roger, quirking an eyebrow at him. “When you ask someone to move in with us, you can do it however you want to. But I’m doing this my way.”

Roger takes a step away from Brian and the table, swinging his arms by his sides. “Okay, but how will the landlord react when we eventually leave this place and we hand over six keys, as opposed to the original two we were issued with?”

“Well, he knows that there will now be a third key, it’s just the extra three that may cause an issue…”

The sound of the shower turning off causes both men to look toward the bathroom, Brian quickly turning back to the table, folding the documents into thirds, and slipping them inside the card, before sealing them in an envelope. “Hey Y/N, do you mind coming out here when you’re finished?” He calls, his voice echoing off the hallway walls.

His answer comes in the form of you creaking the bathroom door open, and shoving your hand out to perform a thumbs up. A waft of steam billowing out of the bathroom.

“Bloody hell, how much hot water did she use?” Roger gasps, eyes growing wide at the mist. “I swear to God, if there’s not hot water left when I go for my shower, I will take my name off those new rental agreements.” He grumbles.

“Don’t be so petty Rog, I’m sure there’s plenty of hot water left for you, princess.” Brian sighs, rolling his eyes at the cranky drummer.

                                                                    **********

The knitted sweater you had selected from the drawer falls to your mid-thigh, the garish combination of pink and green wool was likely the most obnoxious article of clothing you owned, yet also the most comfortable. And seeing as it had been a gift from Roger after one of his and Freddie’s days working at Kensington, you felt obligated to wear it Infront of him at least once.   Tossing your clothes into the laundry hamper in the bedroom, you head into the kitchen, finding Brian and Roger already there, sitting at the table, waiting for you. “Hey Bri.” You grin, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, and pressing a kiss to his temple.  

Brian turned to look at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Hello my love.” He smiles, tilting his chin up as you lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He always felt warm and safe, and the lingering taste of tea on his lips always caused you to grin, this right here, this was home. Roger clears his throat, making no effort to hide what he was doing when you and Brian pull away to look at him.  Roger simply smirks, taking a long sip of tea from his chipped mug.   Brian uses his hands on your waist to turn you, before pulling you down to sit on his lap, reaching into the middle of the table for the envelope and box. “This is for you.”

“Bri, it’s not Christmas, or my birthday for that matter… Is this an apology gift? What did you do that you need to buy me an apology gift for?” You gasp, turning on Brian’s lap to look at him, eyes wild.

Roger can’t help but laugh, shaking his head in mirth. “You’re such a drama queen Y/N, calm down!”

“I know it’s too early for Christmas, which is why this isn’t your Christmas present. Can’t I just give you a gift because I love you?” Brian grins, using the hand still resting on your hip to rub soothing circles through your sweater.

“Well, I suppose so…” You smile softly, taking the items from Brian, placing the box on the table, and working to open the envelope. You drag your nail under the fold, ripping the paper, until you can retrieve the card. the card is packed with stacks of paper, and you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. “What is this Brian?”

“Open it and find out.”

Finding Brian to be not so forthcoming with answers, you do as he suggests, and unfold the stack of papers, your eyes scanning through the tiny text on each page. It’s not until you reach the final page of the rental agreement that you understand what is happening. Right there, beneath Roger and Brian’s signatures is space for a third tenant’s signature, your signature. “Holy fuck… Holy fucking fuck… Is this real? Are you sure, both of you?”

“You practically already live here Y/N! It’s only fair that you start paying rent too!” Roger chuckles, swirling the last of his tea in the bottom of his mug.

“Well yeah, I know that. But, this is a big deal, I mean, I know I haven’t been to my apartment in forever, but if I sign this, I’ll have to end the other rental agreement. If you all get sick of me, I won’t have anywhere else to go, this will be my home…” You trail off, as you feel Brian’s grip on you tighten slightly. He leans forwards and rests his chin over your shoulder, his curls tickling your neck.

“Y/N, I want you to live here, I love waking up with you every morning, and knowing that when I come home at night, I get to end the day with you in my arms. Signing this won’t change anything between us. Roger will continue to bother us and interrupt our alone time as he already does, and I will continue to steal your shampoo, while both of us pretend that I don’t.” The rumble of his laughter emitting from his chest and against your back.

Your bottom lip is clenched between your teeth as you read, then reread the forms in front of you. It was one thing to live here the way you did now, with no official agreements, and no lease keeping you there. Signing this would change all of that, and the idea of more change scared the hell out of you. As if sensing your trepidation Brian rests his palm over the pages, taking special care to conceal the signatures. “You don’t have to sign right away if you don’t want to Y/N. Or you don’t have to sign at all if that’s what you want.” He begins, though stops as you rest your own hand over his, your fingers curling over to clutch at his own.

“Do you have a pen?” Your words a practically a whisper, though you’re close enough for Brian to hear, a smile playing on his lips.

“Course I do.” Reluctantly he moves his hand out from beneath yours, before searching through his pocket for the pen he had used earlier for his own signature. Holding it out for you, his chocolate eyes watch your every move like a hawk.

You’re not sure what you expect when you glide the biro across the dotted line, perhaps a Mariachi band to burst through the door, or a banner to drop for the ceiling, all to congratulate you on moving in with Brian and Roger. “I suppose this makes it a bit easier to explain all of my purchases today then…”

“What do you mean?” Brian smirks, taking the pen back and placing it once again in his pocket, where it will likely stay until he next washes the jeans he was wearing.

Turning slightly on his lap, you look over to the mountain of bags and boxes, all still sitting on the floor, and remarkably untouched by Roger. “I figured you were all lacking in the festive department, so I may or may not have bought as many Christmas decorations as possible.” You shrug, watching Roger grin from the corner of your eye. “It occurred to me on my way home, that it was one thing for me to move my things into your bedroom. But an entirely different thing to completely decorate an apartment which I didn’t actually live in. Now that I’ve signed this however, I can decorate as much as I want!”  You declare triumphantly, pointing at the now signed documents on the table.

Brian just shakes his head, long hair moving to curtain his face as he looks at the floor. “How much did you buy? And where is it all going to go?”

Roger jumps in, pointing an accusing finger at Brian, a glare settling over his blue eyes. “Firstly, who cares how much Y/N bought, there is no such thing as too much Christmas! And secondly, if you don’t stop complaining, I will personally assist Y/N in decorating the Red Special in little Santa Claus stickers.”

Your eyes go wide and mouth dry as you take in what Roger had just said. “Bri, I promise you, I had nothing to do with that outburst. Up until just now, Rog didn’t know what was in those bags!”

Brian sighs, before the sound is overtaken by a low chuckle, lifting his head to look at you once again. “Thank you Rog, I’ll keep that in mind.” Roger seems to accept this, and pushes away from the table, taking his now empty mug into the kitchen. “Well, I suppose the right thing for me to do now, is to offer my assistance in helping you decorate.”

Your eyes sparkle as you grin at Brian, leaping off his lap in a hurry, dancing on the spot as you wait for him to stand. “Oh wait! Shouldn’t I open this first?” You gesture the small box still sat on the table, having gone untouched.

“If you would like to.” Brian smiles, handing the box to you, before standing beside you, resting one large palm over your shoulder.

The ribbon finds a home on your wrist, as the lid of the box is placed back on the table from where it had come. Gazing down at the box, you can’t help the burst of laughter which erupts from within you. “Oh Brian…” You chuckle, the silver key nestled amongst pink tissue paper. “I already have a key.”

“I know, but I thought this would be nice. But now that you have reacted the same way as Roger did when he saw it, I’m thinking I have made a mistake.”

Tilting your head to the side, you regard Brian with a warm smile. “I love it, this is all amazing Bri. And besides, this new key is nice and shiny, my current one looks like it’s been run over by a car a few times!” You place the key back in its box for safe keeping, making a mental note to swap it out for the old one before the night is over.

Making your way to the pile of bags with Brian hot on your heels, you hum quietly, crouching down as you begin to pull out packages upon packages of Christmas decorations. “So I found this darling wreath, which we simply have to put out on the door!” You hold the wreath up to show Brian, who had begun sorting through on of the other bags, pulling out tinsel and baubles. The wreath is no bigger than a dinner plate, covered entirely in fake pine tree fronds. Scattered throughout are tiny red Christmas berries, with little leaves attached. Gold glitter had been dusted over the entire wreath, allowing it to sparkle under the light. Finally, a large red tartan ribbon was tied intricately in a bow in the centre, tying the whole thing together. “What do you think?”

   Brian pauses his unpacking and looks over the wreath, nodding his head in approval. “It’s a far cry better than the hand drawn wreath Roger stuck up on the door last year!” He smirks, before taking out a silver sparkly star, covered in multi coloured fake gemstones. “I see a tree topper, but no tree. Too lazy to buy a tree while you were out?” He teases, ducking out of the way as you throw a balled-up bag at his head.

“Don’t be an ass. I had plans for going tree shopping with you tomorrow, but maybe I’ll take Roger with me instead.” You stick your tongue out at him, a smile threatening to spoil your silly expression.

Carefully Brian replaces the star in the box he had taken it from, moving on to open more. “I know a little farm a bit of a ways out that sells really nice Christmas trees. It’s a bit of a drive to get there, but it’s a family run business, and they always have the most beautiful one’s to pick from.”

“That sounds lovely, let’s do it.”

Brian grins, standing up with a long garland, made of the same fake pine as the wreath, with baubles in a repeating pattern of red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, all tied with gold ribbon. “I suppose I should put my height to good use and hang this up somewhere?”

You gaze up to see what he was talking about, before nodding vigorously. “That would be great, I’ll get started on these lights.” You grin, holding up a bucket full of teardrop shaped colourful lights.

                                                                    **********

An hour later, and the interior of your apartment looks as if a Christmas bomb had exploded, every inch of the small home had been covered in tinsel, baubles, lights, and garlands, and all of this was before the tree! As you hung the final strand of tinsel around the curtain railing, you step back to admire your and Brian’s handiwork, clasping your hands together before you. “This looks amazing! Damn we make a good team!”

Brian walks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I must say, it does look rather spectacular.” He grins, taking your hand, and twirling you in his arms so you stand chest to chest. “Our first Christmas together and you’ve already decorated as if you’d been living here for years. What will happen next year?”

You tilt your chin up, locking eyes with your tree of a boyfriend. “Just you wait, I’ll have a live action nativity scene set up, we’ll have a Christmas tree in every room, and Santa will be set up in the bathroom”

At this very moment, Roger decides to poke his head around the corner from the hallway, looking at you with a great deal of curiosity. “I’m putting my hand up now for being bathroom Santa!”

“I would pay good money to see you dressed as Santa, Rog.” Brian smirks, wrapping his arms tighter around you, feeling you laugh against him.

“Oh, actually wait, quick question. Does Bathroom Santa have to behave appropriately? Or do I get to be naughty?” The blonde asks, a worried look crossing his features.

“Roger Taylor! Stop trying to destroy the joy that is Christmas with yoru sleezy Santa!” You cry out, face red from laughing.

For once, Brian jumps to Roger’s rescue. “To be fair Y/N, you’re the one who came up with the idea of bathroom Santa.”

You groan loudly, flopping your arms to your side in defeat. “Fine, everything else stays the same, but bathroom Santa will now be replaced by kitchen Santa.”

“Oh cool, that means I can be boozy kitchen Santa instead! That’s even better!”

You almost scream at Roger for that comment, but you don’t get the chance, your frustration being put on hold due to someone knocking on the front door, that was newly decorated with your wreath. “I’ll get it.”

Making your way over to the front, you can hear Brian and Roger trying hard to conceal their giggles, though they are doing a terrible job. You unbolt the front door, before swinging the door open, eyeing the person on the other side up and down. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not interested.” You deadpan, before swinging the door shut in their face.

 Reread chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six

My Masterlist

[starrystarrybabe]

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER FIVE (OC x Ben Hardy)

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

Hello, everyone! Sorry this took so long to write. I’ve been bombarded with work and I’m just sort of drowning rn and I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore. I sort of spiralled, but writing this helps me stay grounded. I’m glad that everyone likes the fic so far, and if anyone wants to message me about the story or the characters, that’s totally fine. I love talking with y’all! This is a fun chapter, so please, enjoy!

-- casey

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

TRIGGERS: hint at sexy times and scene in rehab

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

October, 2018

Lily Anne drives to the filming studio after months away from her BoRhap boys, and the excitement she feels is threatening to bubble over. She’s missed them so much, and even though Joe would facetime her or send her pictures almost every day, it still hurt not to be with them in person.

She steps out of the G Wagon and walks across the parking lot to the set, smiling. The sounds of a bustling crew can be heard, and as she approaches the set, she smiles as she sees that it is a perfect recreation of the one from I Want to Break Free, which is one of her favorite music videos of all time. She can’t wait to see the boys dressed up in drag.

Roger and Brian walk in behind Lily Anne, and she almost jumps when she feels a hand clap onto her shoulder.

“How was the tour, love?” Roger asks, grinning at his goddaughter.

Lily Anne smiles and hugs her uncle, closing her eyes. “It was great. I could’ve done with something bigger than a twin bed, though. It was barely big enough for me.”

Roger lets her go after a moment, ruffling her hair. “You’d be surprised how many people can fit on a single bunk when you try hard enough.”

Lily Anne lets out a disgusted noise before hugging her Uncle Brian, smiling. He hugs her back tightly, smacking Roger’s shoulder.

“Ignore him. He’s just being himself,” Brian says, laughing. “We missed you, but you seemed to be having fun from what we could tell.”

Lily Anne smiles up at the man after they break apart, nodding. “It was fun, but I missed my boys and Lucy. How have they been?”

Brian nods after thinking for a moment, satisfied. “They’re doing great! They did miss you, though.”

Roger smirks, looking down to clean his sunglasses. “Especially Ben. You should’ve seen his face the first day you weren’t at set. The boy looked like a hurt puppy.”

Lily Anne scoffs and crosses her arms. “You’re being ridiculous. Quit it.”

Roger shrugs, looking smug. “I’m just saying. I don’t know what you did to that boy, but I’ve never seen anyone look so sad.”

Lily Anne rolls her eyes and looks up at Brian, waving one hand dismissively at Roger. “Whatever. Now, where are they? I need to see them before I do anything.”

Brian points to a red door and smiles. “Right through there, getting their makeup done.”

She smiles and kisses his cheek before turning to leave. “Thank you! I’ll see you both later.”

As she leaves, Brian looks over at Roger and sighs heavily. “What did I say about letting them figure it out for themselves?”

Roger puts on his sunglasses and shakes his head. “If we don’t make it clear to them, they’ll never figure it out.”

Brian looks down, rubbing his temples. “Just be patient, Rog. It’ll happen eventually.”

Roger shakes his head. “I want to see them produce a child and walk her down the aisle before we become senile or croak. If I need to speed up the process, I will.”

Brian shakes his head, and the pair walks off to check with the director what they would be doing that day.

All they want is for Lily Anne to be happy. Ben can make her happy, and he knows it. But it will happen at their own pace, and however long he has to wait, he will.

---

Lily knocks on the door of the large trailer, smiling. She can hear Joe inside, going on about something, and recognizes Rami’s laughter immediately.

The door is opened by Ben, with his makeup on and wig pinned back, and her jaw drops.

She always knew Roger looked pretty in this music video, but Ben is on a whole other level, and she’s just-- wow. He’s already pretty, but in this makeup, with the wig, and the skirt--

Holy fuck.

“Lily! I didn’t know you’d be back today!” Ben exclaims happily, bringing her inside and hugging her. She’s silent, and when he pulls back, she’s just looking over him in awe. “Words, Lil. I need to hear words. What’s going on?” He frowns, concerned.

She blinks and shakes her head furiously, backing up. “This--” she gestures wildly to Ben’s get up, “--should be fucking illegal. Who gave you the right to look this good as a girl, Hardy?”

Ben laughs, shaking his head and heating up. “It’s just the outfit, really.”

Lily Anne scoffs, looking up at Ben with an offended gleam in her eyes. “No, it isn’t. It is absolutely disgusting how fucking well you’re pulling this off and you know it, Ben. Don’t be fucking humble about it, that’s even worse!”

Joe has been recording this, and snorts, prompting Lily Anne to look towards him and his camera.

“That’s what I was saying!” he says, just as insistent as Lily Anne.

She nods, putting down her purse and pointing to Ben. “Look at this shit! Just take it all in, and tell me that this isn’t the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen.”

Rami and Gwil can’t form words, they’re laughing so hard.

Lily Anne puts her hands on her knees, slouching over, and catching her breath. She regains her composure before straightening up and doing a deep cleansing breath. She faces Ben again and smiles.

“I’m sorry. I needed to get that out of my system. You look good.” She smiles and hugs him, before moving to greet the rest of the cast.

She hugs Joe from the back and grins. “I missed you all so much on tour.”

“We missed you too,” Rami says, smiling and squeezing her hand as his makeup is touched up.

Lily walks over to Gwil and gives him a hug, smiling.

“How was the tour?” he asks, smiling up at her.

She stands up straight and smiles, moving out of the makeup artists’ way. “It was great! We sold out almost every stadium, and the fans were super receptive to the new music. I had a great time meeting some of them as well. The only downside was sleeping on a tour bus. It wasn’t exactly easy to sleep with the movement.”

Ben speaks as the hair person begins to finesse the blonde wig he’s wearing. “What was your favorite gig?”

Lily Anne purses her lips, tapping her chin. “That’s a good question. I think… probably Madison Square Garden. Especially since my Papa performed there as well. It meant a lot that I was carrying on his legacy and returning.”

Rami smiles and nods, turning around in the chair as the wig is adjusted. “I loved the song you wrote that you debuted on tour.”

Lily Anne looks down and laughs nervously. “Thanks, Rami.”

Joe looks over at Ben, who’s making it a point not to face Lily.

“It had some really beautiful lyrics,” Gwil says, keeping still as the makeup artist reapplies his eyeliner. “Your performance of it was amazing.”

Lily Anne smiles, rubbing the back of her neck. “I hated it while I was writing it, but I couldn’t sleep until I got it out of my head and onto paper. Thought it sounded bloody pathetic at first.”

Rami frowns. “I didn’t think it sounded weak. If anything, it was brave. You were just putting it all out there, and that’s incredible.”

Ben nods, and speaks quietly. “It takes a lot of balls to perform something like that.”

Lily turns to look at him, and smiles. “I guess it does.”

The trailer falls into a comfortable silence as the makeup artists and hair people finish up, and pretty soon, the boys are escorted to begin the shoot for the day. Lily Anne sits back and watches as they replicate the music video, smiling to herself as she thinks about how Freddie would always take her to his video shoots.

1991

The set of I’m Going Slightly Mad

Freddie bounces a two-year-old Lily Anne on his lap as he gets his makeup done for the video, trying not to smile as she lets out high-pitched giggles and waves her arms around. Eventually, he cracks, and the makeup artist huffs, shaking her head.

“Freddie, we don’t have time to waste! I can’t keep redoing this because you keep smiling!” she exclaims, putting down her supplies. “Let someone else take Lily Anne. She’s very cute, but right now we need to work.”

Freddie sighs, regaining his composure after cooing and hugging his daughter. “Alright. I’m sorry, darling. She’s just too much sometimes.” He kisses her cheek and looks over to see Deaky reading a book in his chair. “John, darling!”

Deaky looks over to his friend, closing the book. “What is it, Fred?”

“Could you take Lily? She’s making me laugh,” he asks, gesturing to the two-year-old with her hair in pigtails.

Deaky grins and walks over, plucking the baby from her father’s lap. “Of course! Hello, Lily Anne! We’re going to have plenty of fun, aren’t we, love?”

Lily Anne giggles, clapping her hands and cuddling into her uncle. “Unca John! Unca John!”

Deaky smiles, kissing the girl’s cheek. “Good girl! What’s that, darling?” He points to the penguins.

“Penguin!” Lily Anne exclaims, clapping.

“What about that thing on Uncle Roger’s head, love?” he points to Roger, who’s wearing his teapot hat.

When Roger sees Lily Anne, he sticks his tongue out at the girl, causing her to giggle.

“Kettle!” Lily Anne responds, sticking her tongue back out at her uncle.

“What’s the best instrument in the world, Lily?” Roger asks, smiling at the girl.

Lily Anne purses her lips before saying, “Guitar!”

Roger pretends to cry, sniffling and wiping away fake tears. “Not the drums?”

Lily Anne reaches for her Uncle Roger, and Deaky hands her over. She immediately begins patting Roger’s face with her tiny hands, pouting.

“No cry. Drums okay, guitar better,” she says, looking at Roger seriously.

He smiles and kisses her cheek, smiling. “I’m just joking, love. I’m not crying.”

Lily Anne huffs, hitting his chest with her little baby fist. “Not funny!”

“What do we call Uncle Rog when he’s being bad, darling?” Freddie calls out, smiling.

Lily Anne pokes Roger’s nose and grins. “Wanker!”

Roger cackles, leaning back and holding the little girl close.

To say that Lily Anne is confused by Gwil asking her to meet him in his trailer is beyond true. She has no fucking idea what he could possibly want from her alone, and he’s shown no attraction towards her, so she doesn’t quite know what all this is about.

Brian 2.0: Hi, Lily. I need to talk to you about something.

Lily Anne: sure thing. what is it, gwil?

Brian 2.0: Can you come to my trailer later? I need to tell you in person.

Lily Anne: of course. should i be concerned?

Brian 2.0: No, not at all! I think you’ll like what I have to say, but I don’t know for sure. Just come over later and everything will be cleared up.

Lily Anne: alright. will do!

Brian 2.0: Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.

After the shoot is over, she does as she’s been told to, and knocks on the door of Gwil’s trailer. He opens the door, looking nervous. She walks inside, frowning.

“Gwil, are you sure you’re alright? I’ve never seen you this nervous before,” Lily asks, looking up at the tall man.

Gwil takes a deep breath and fiddles with his fingers, trying to compose himself. “I’m alright, I swear. Just… sit down, please. On the couch.”

Lily does as she’s told, and when Gwil sits next to her, he turns to face her and clears his throat.

“I know I’ve made a rather… well, a strange request by asking you to come here alone, and it’s even stranger that I did it over text since you’ve been here all day,” Gwil says, fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater sleeves.

“Yes, that’s true. You’ve been off all day, really. I noticed that you were quieter than usual on set, less engaged than I’ve seen you be with the boys,” Lily says, looking back up at him.

Gwil nods, gulping. “I know, I know. I just… how do I say this?” He runs a hand through his hair. “While you were on tour, I couldn’t…” He moves his hands, trying to articulate. “I couldn’t stop thinking--” He huffs and drops his head. “I’m sorry, I’m usually so much better with words. You know that.”

Lily Anne nods, resting one hand on Gwil’s knee. “I know. Take your time.”

After a moment, Gwil lifts his head again, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Ezichi. I missed her so much, and even though we talked almost daily, it was still so hard to be away from her for that long. I never want to feel that way ever again, and I’ve most certainly never felt so strongly about someone as I feel about her.”

Lily Anne’s smile grows as he speaks, spreading across her entire face. “You love her.”

Gwil nods, smiling nervously. “I do. I love her more deeply than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t think this feeling will ever go away or fade, and I have to express it to her.”

Lily Anne laughs, leaning back. “Go ahead and do it, Gwil! This is great! Why did you want to tell me about it first?”

Gwil smiles and holds Lily’s hand. “I wanted your permission. She’s your best friend. You know her better than anyone, and if you didn’t think that I was the best person for her to be with, who could love her fully and make her happy for the rest of her life, I wouldn’t make a move.”

Lily puts her hand over her heart, touched by Gwil’s words. “Gwil, I… I don’t think anyone could love her more than you already do. You should go for it. She loves you just as much.”

Gwil’s face lights up, and he squeezes her hand. “Did she tell you that?”

Lily nods, smiling. “Yep. The entire tour, you were the only man on her mind. You had her listening to Stevie Nicks she missed you so much!”

Gwil pulls his hand away and smiles, nodding. He hugs Lily, and she hugs him right back.

“At the wrap party, I fully expect you to tell her everything you told me,” Lily says, rubbing his back.

“Don’t worry, I absolutely will,” Gwil responds, squeezing Lily.

---

Lucy and Lily are walking through London, enjoying their girl’s day. They had decided to go to brunch and shop, and as they walk by a boutique, Lily grabs Lucy’s arm and points to two outfits in the window.

One of them is a red velvet suit with an embroidered sheer collared top, and the other is a Twiggy-style dress with a scalloped collar and leather accents on the bell sleeves. They look perfect.

“Lucy, if you don’t try on that dress, I will literally kill you,” Lily says, looking over at her friend. “You’ve got legs for miles. They would look fucking fabulous in that dress.”

Lucy points to the suit, grinning. “Your skin against that color red? C’mon, we have to try it.”

The pair walk inside and are tended to by a store employee, who immediately starts changing rooms for them.

“What’s the event?” another employee asks, smiling.

Lily Anne smiles back at the employee. “A party. It’s going to be at the Ritz, and we intend to look just as classy as the ballroom we’re going to be in.”

Lucy smiles at her friend, nodding. “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

The employee seems impressed, raising a brow. “The Ritz. Wow. Well, we can pull some more outfits worthy of the Ritz if you’d like. There are plenty here.”

Lily looks at Lucy, who smiles and nods. She turns back to the employee and nods. “Sounds great, darling. We’d love that.”

The employee walks off, and the girls go in to try on their outfits.

Lily Anne loves the fit of the suit, and walks out to see Lucy looking at herself in the mirror, checking out the different angles of the dress.

“Damn, Lucy! That looks amazing on you!” Lily exclaims, grinning.

Lucy turns to her, nodding. “I really like it. But I’m not sure if it gives off the right vibe.”

Lily frowns, crossing her arms. “The right vibe? What is that supposed to mean? You look hot, is that not what you want?”

Lucy blushes slightly. “Well ideally I would like Rami to ask me to be his girlfriend--”

Lily scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry. He would date you no matter what dress you wear to this party. He’s been in love with you since you started filming!”

Lucy nods, looking back in the mirror. “I know I probably sound ridiculous, but it’s not screaming ‘I’m ready to be your girlfriend!’ to me.”

Lily Anne takes a moment to analyze the dress before nodding. “I get what you mean. Do you think this outfit would be good for the party?”

Lucy looks over Lily Anne and smiles, nodding. “I mean… you look stunning.”

The sales assistant from earlier comes back holding two dresses, and gasps when she sees Lily Anne. “Holy shit! Pardon my language, but that looks amazing on you!”

Lily Anne smiles at the sales assistant. “Thank you, darling.”

The assistant hands off the two dresses to another worker to put in Lucy’s changing room, examining the suit. “It looks very glam rock. I would wear the shirt with a nude lace bra, or just pasties if you’re brave enough. However, it’s a really good look either way.”

Lily Anne smiles as Lucy goes back to change, and examines herself in the mirror. She takes off the blazer, revealing the tattoos on her arms, and the worker gasps.

“Oh my god, you’re Lily Anne Mercury! I didn’t recognize you without all the glam when you walked in.” The worker turns red, shaking her head. “I’m so embarrassed! I listened to your music all the time in 2012, and I love the new album. I’m a huge fan, really.”

Lily Anne smiles, putting a hand over her heart. “Thank you, darling. It’s alright. I can be very lowkey when I want to be, and not many people recognize me on the streets unless I’m wearing something outrageous. I appreciate that you like my music.”

The worker’s smile is so wide and bright, and Lily Anne is touched that she could brighten this retail worker’s day with her presence. “It’s so cool to have such a powerful group of women to look up to. My niece loves you too. Her greatest wish is to go to a Room 301 concert and become a songwriter.”

Lily Anne nods, thinking for a moment. “What’s her name? I can get her a ticket to the next concert we do, and if she wants to go backstage afterward and meet the band, she can do that as well.”

The worker gasps, and covers her mouth. “That’s so sweet of you! Her name is Evelyn Kensie Wells, and I can give you her mom’s name and number.”

Lily Anne nods, and plugs the information into her phone. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Caroline Lewis, miss,” the worker responds, smiling.

Lily Anne grins. “I expect to see you there with Evelyn, alright?”

Caroline hugs her, and she smiles, hugging her back. She loves helping people and giving them nice things, and especially women and children. When Caroline pulls away, she’s slightly shaking.

“Can you ring up this suit, darling? I’m taking it.”

Caroline goes to ring up the suit and Lucy exits the changing room in a silky black gown with a turtleneck and a thigh-high slit. The sleeves hug her arms, and the backless detail just adds another layer of glamour to this look.

Lily Anne is speechless, and Lucy looks at herself in the mirror.

“What do you think, Lily?” Lucy asks, smiling.

“Rami is going to lose it and so will I,” Lily says excitedly. “You look like a goddess, Lucy. I love it. I’m getting it for you because you need this dress.”

Lucy frowns, shaking her head. “Lily, please--”

Lily shakes her head, cutting Lucy off. “Take that off and get into your casual clothes, because we’re getting shoes next.”

Lucy mumbles affirmatively, and the girls leave the store with their outfits for the party.

---

Lily sits back in an armchair, checking her phone as she waits for Lucy to finish getting her makeup done.

“Do you really think Rami will make a move, Lily?” Lucy asks, nervously playing with her rings.

Lucy looks over at the woman looking up at the ceiling as her bottom lashline is smoked out. “Look at yourself in the mirror, Lucy. You’re a five-course meal, darling! I’d marry you on the spot if you weren’t already emotionally involved with someone.”

Lucy smiles, letting the makeup artist do her other eye. “You say that as if you’re not also emotionally involved with a certain man.”

Lily rolls her eyes, and hears a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” she asks.

“Room service,” Bronwyn answers, causing Madi to laugh.

Lily opens the door, smiling. “I don’t remember ordering two raging lesbians.”

Bronwyn shrugs. “Sorry, love. We don’t come with a return policy.”

Lily grins. “Eh. I didn’t pay too much for you two, so I’ll keep you.”

Madigan smiles, and they walk inside, closing the door behind them. Bronwyn looks over at Lucy, raising a brow.

“Damn, Lucy. If I weren’t already married, I’d wife you the fuck up,” she says, smiling.

Madigan looks over and wolf whistles, joining her wife. “If it doesn’t work out with Rami, you can always come to us.”

Lucy blushes. “Thank you. You’re both very sweet.”

Lily smiles, and there is another knock at the door. “Hello?”

“My tit is about to pop out of this dress. Open up before I give someone a show,” Ezichi says, sounding panicked.

Lily Anne opens up the door and lets her friend, whistling at her ensemble. “We’re going easy access tonight, aren’t we?”

Ezichi examines Lily’s sheer top and raises a brow. “You’re basically flashing everyone. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

Lily Anne scoffs and looks in the mirror. “You can’t see that much with the embroidery, really. If it’s actually too much I can just wear the blazer over it.”

Ezichi rolls her eyes, picking up a piece of fashion tape from the box on the table and applying it to her dress. With Lily’s help, they manage to stick the fabric down, and Ezichi jumps for good measure, testing it out. The tape stays, and Ezichi smiles.

Lucy stands up from the chair and walks over to the mirror, and Ezichi’s jaw drops. “Holy crap, Lucy!”

Lucy’s eyes widen in panic and she immediately begins to look over herself for anything off. “What? Is there a stain on the dress?”

Ezichi shakes her head, laughing. “No! Not at all. You just look really good, that’s all. I’ve never seen you in a dress like this! I love it!”

Lucy smiles at Ezichi. “Thank you so much! I love yours too!”

Lily Anne frowns as her phone buzzes, and looks down at the device.

blind bitch: Help

She responds to Roger, sighing.

Lily Anne: what is it?

blind bitch: Can you sign tonite ?

Lily Anne: … sign?

blind bitch: Sing*

Lily Anne: what’s in it for me?

blind bitch: Are you kidding mr?

blind bitch: Me*

Lily Anne: nope.

The text bubble appears, disappears, and appears again over a span of ten minutes.

blind bitch: I’ll buy hte food for the after party.

blind bitch: The*

Lily Anne purses her lips, thinking for a moment before responding.

Lily Anne: sure. what songs are we doing?

blind bitch: Thank u !! Just we are the champions, dont stop me now, we will rock you, and borhap.

Lily Anne: got it. will warm up now.

blind bitch: Love ya, Lily !

Lily Anne: love you too, uncle rog.

Lily takes a sip of water and begins to do vocal exercises, causing Ezichi to frown.

“We’re not performing tonight, why are you warming up?” Madi asks, voicing what the band is thinking.

“Roger just texted me asking if I could perform with him and Brian tonight, and he’s buying us after party snacks if I do,” Lily explains, shrugging.

Bronwyn answers her phone as she gets a call, smiling. “Hello, Brian! What’s up?” She leans back against the bed she’s laying on as he speaks. “Alright. I’m down to perform if you have the bass. Which songs?” She nods as the songs are listed. “Got it. Easy enough. Bring up the bass so I can practice and we’ll be good to go! Thanks! Bye, Brian!” She hangs up and looks over at Lily Anne. “Sarina is bringing up the bass.”

Lily smiles, pausing her singing. “Sounds great.”

Ten minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and Ezichi opens it to reveal Sarina Taylor carrying a bass and wearing a low cut dress that fits her body like a glove.

“Hello, Ezichi! I love the outfit!” she says as she walks inside, kissing Ezichi’s cheek.

“Thanks, Sarina! I love yours as well,” Ezichi responds, smiling.

Bronwyn walks over and gets the bass from Sarina’s hands. “Thanks, mum,” she says jokingly.

“You’re welcome, love. You look dashing,” Sarina says, pinching Bron’s cheek.

Lily Anne smiles and hugs Sarina, grinning. “You look stunning, mum,” she says, smiling.

2013

Rehab

Lily Anne reclines in her bed, writing down the lyrics to one of her new songs when she hears a knock on the door. She looks up tiredly. “Who is it?”

A nurse responds to her. “You have a visitor, Miss Mercury.”

Lily Anne puts aside her paper, frowning. Nobody has come to visit her since she got here two months ago. “Who is it?”

“Sarina Taylor. She says that she’s your aunt. Do you want to meet her at the front desk?” the nurse asks.

Lily Anne blinks in confusion, biting her lip. Roger took it particularly harshly when she overdosed for the second time, but as a small gift, she received sequin slippers from the Taylor clan as a collective whole. She didn’t anticipate Sarina or any of the Taylors actually wanting to see her.

“Miss? Do you want to meet her? It’s up to you,” the nurse prompts.

“Y-yeah. Sure, just let me put on some shoes and a sweater,” she responds, clearing piles of paper off her bed.

“Take your time, Miss. I’ll tell the front desk that you’ll be down soon,” the nurse says before leaving.

When Lily Anne heads down to the front desk with a messy bun, gray sweats, and her slippers on, Sarina spots her and perks up, sitting up in her seat. Lily Anne walks over to her and the woman puts aside the bouquet she has in her lap to stand up and tightly hug Lily Anne.

There are no words that come out of Sarina’s mouth, but the love and relief she feels radiates from the warm hug Lily Anne recieves. When Sarina pulls away, she hands her the bouquet, smiling. “They’re from your garden. Mary helped me collect them.”

Lily Anne nods, smiling weakly at the flowers. “Thank you, Sarina. They’re gorgeous.”

Sarina picks up her purse and smiles at the girl. “Do you want to put them in your room and then go for lunch?”

Lily Anne raises a brow at the word lunch. “Lunch where? I can’t leave the facilities.”

Sarina nods. “I know. Jer and Kashmira made you some food, and I have it in my bag. We can eat it near the pond and have a little picnic of sorts.”

Lily Anne gulps back emotion and nods, smiling. “Sure thing. Let’s go to my room first.”

---

When Sarina sees the papers all over, she frowns. “Love? What’s all this?”

Lily Anne places the flowers in a plastic pitcher and puts them near her window. “The papers? They’re song lyrics.”

Sarina nods and leans down to pick some up off the floor. “Can I look at them, or are they not done yet?”

Lily Anne hesitates before nodding, helping her to pick up the papers. “I’m most likely gonna produce them, so I guess it really doesn’t make a difference, does it?”

Sarina smiles and nods, and as they leave the room and walk over to the elevator, she looks down at Lily’s feet. “I’m glad you like the slippers. Lola picked them out for you.”

Lily smiles, looking at her aunt. “Tell her that they’re a very good gift.”

Sarina nods, satisfied. “I will.”

---

Lily Anne smells the Indian food when Sarina pulls it out of her bag and nearly begins to cry. She can taste the love when it reaches her mouth and closes her eyes. A single tear falls because she can barely handle all this emotion she feels. Sarina squeezes her hand, and she squeezes it back, looking over to see the woman barely holding back tears.

“We all just want you to be okay, Lily. We’re here for you always, no matter what,” Sarina says.

Lily nods. “I know. I appreciate it.”

“They why don’t you take it?” Sarina asks.

Lily Anne takes a deep breath. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve it. I’ve hurt so many--” She wipes away a tear. “So many people, so badly. I know that I’ve wounded Brian and Anita more times than I can count. My bandmates are so loyal, and I just don’t understand why. But the worst hurt has always fallen on Roger.”

Sarina nods, looking down. “He loves you so much. We all do.”

Lily takes another bite of her food. “I know that. He’s like a third father to me, which is why he can’t stand to see me destroy myself.”

Sarina takes a deep breath. “He’s hurting so badly. We all are. I offered for him to come, but--”

Lily Anne furiously shakes her head. “I don’t want to see the hurt in his eyes.”

“That’s why I’m here. He wants to know that you’re doing better.”

Lily passes Sarina a song she’s written. “Bring this to him.”

Sarina nods. “Can I read it?”

Lily looks over at her and nods. “Yeah. I want him to write this one with me.”

Sarina looks down and begins to read it, smiling. “Lily, you’ve never written anything this… this vulnerable.”

Lily takes another bite of her food and nods. “It’s my own form of therapy. I tried the group stuff, the meditation, the art therapy, but this is the only thing that really works for me.” Sarina nods, looking at the scrawled out lyrics. ���Does it make you feel better?”

Lily nods, smiling. “Yeah. It helps me out a lot. I think I finally found a good coping mechanism.”

Sarina’s smile only grows as she reads further. “Oh, Lily… he’s going to love this. He’ll be so happy that you’ve found something that works for you!”

Lily smiles as her aunt kisses her forehead, closing her eyes.

Lily Anne leads the group of ladies downstairs, walking into the lavish ballroom and smiling as she sees the BoRhap boys together. As soon as she walks inside, Ben is the first to notice her, and smiles when he sees her, beginning to walk over. Gwil and Rami follow, and Joe tags along behind them.

Lily Anne looks over Ben’s suit, nodding in approval. “Black velvet with a red cufflink. I approve.”

Ben smiles at her and nods. “I see we both got the memo.”

She nods, laughing before looking over his cufflinks. “Are these real rubies?”

He nods, and Lily Anne’s jaw drops. “Wow. How boujee of you, Benjamin.”

He grins down at her. “What can I say? You’ve influenced my style.”

Her lips quirk up into a smile, and as he offers her his elbow to walk to their table, she takes it, walking away with him.

Joe looks like he wants to kill both of them. “How are they so blind? How? They even dressed the same fucking way without consulting each other!”

Gwil sighs, patting Joe’s back. “Just be patient, Joe. You’ll be his best man someday.”

Ezichi nods, agreeing with Gwil. “It will be a long time before she puts me in a bridesmaid’s dress.” She looks at Gwil, smiling. “I love the suit.”

Gwil smiles back at her, nodding. “I think that’s a gorgeous dress. You look amazing.”

She smiles as Gwil offers her his arm, and she takes it, walking off with him.

Bron looks over at Joe and sighs, offering her own arm. He takes it with a smile, and she grins.

---

Brian taps the microphone and the room quiets down, everyone turning to look at the man.

“Hello, everyone! Do I have your attention? Good.” Brian pulls out a piece of paper from his suit jacket. “First of all, I would like to say thank you to everyone who worked on this project, which is so important to Queen, to Lily, and to everyone who knew and loved Freddie.” He smiles at the audience fondly. “This project has been in development for so long, because we knew that it had to be absolutely perfect for Freddie. Everything, from the script, to the cast, to the set, to the timing. Everything just had to be perfect. I’m very pleased to say that Roger and I found that it was the best it could possibly be, and our goal of making sure the world knows Freddie and the band as more than just another rock band was met.” Brian wipes his eyes, smiling. “Queen is a family for me, and it has been since 1970, when we first got together. Just like a family, some people have decided to be less directly involved, but that doesn’t change that we love them unconditionally, and hold our arms open for them if they choose to return to the forefront. Also, just like a family, we take care of one another, no matter what.” Brian looks down at Lily, who blinks away a happy tear. “Everyone in this room is now part of the Queen family, and I’m so glad that we could extend our love to all of you talented, dedicated, wonderful people.”

The audience claps, and Brian nods, waiting for them to calm down.

“As a thank you, we’d like to perform a few songs for you all. On the bass, we’ll have the talented Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes, and in place of Adam and Freddie, the lovely Lily Anne Mercury.”

As the crowd roars, Lily Anne sheds her blazer, putting it on her chair before stepping on stage. She walks over to Brian and gives him a tight hug, smiling. He reciprocates, and when he pulls away, walks over to his Red Special. Roger gives Lily and Bron thumbs up, and the girls nod, heading over to their instruments.

Lily Anne takes her spot at the baby grand piano, angling down the microphone with a smile.

“I must admit, I was informed of this just thirty minutes ago, so I have no idea what the order of the set list is,” Lily Anne laughs, waving dismissively. “But I think it’s only right to start off with a song that truly encapsulates the legacy of this amazing band.” She begins playing We Are the Champions, and as the room claps, she lets the music take her, infusing all the heart and soul she can into the lyrics of the song.

She imagines that Jim and Freddie are watching her from the back of the room, smiling and holding hands as their baby girl sings, knowing that they raised a strong, independent, confident woman. In a way, she thinks they are watching her, and she could swear that she feels her Papa behind her, performing alongside her. As the song closes, she takes a bow before returning to the piano.

Don’t Stop Me Now gets her moving around the stage, at one point headbanging to Brian’s guitar solo. She owns the song, and as she begins the stomp stomp clap of We Will Rock You, she prompts everyone to stand up, causing the whole floor to shake. The power of the song causes the air around her to buzz with energy, and she sighs deeply, taking a sip of water and sitting down to catch her breath before the last song.

“You’re an amazing audience, truly.” She says, smiling at the people in the room. “I can’t help but feel like Freddie is watching this all from above. I’m sure he’s forcing Jim to sing along to all of it, and playing with the cats.” She lets out a laugh. “How about we close with a little Bohemian Rhapsody?”

The audience yells, and Lily Anne stands up to finish off the set. The song goes perfectly, and everyone screams once the song is over. Lily Anne feels a spark on her forehead and a hand on her shoulder, and knows that it’s Freddie, and he’s proud of her. She takes a bow with Bron, and hugs Brian and Roger, smiling.

---

Ezichi smiles and hugs Lily Anne as she sits down, grinning. “You were perfect, Lily! That was amazing.”

Lily Anne smiles at Ezichi and returns the hug, leaning against her friend. “Thank you, Ezichi. I appreciate it.”

Bron sits down and Madi kisses her cheek, grinning. “You looked so happy up there, B! I loved it!”

Bron wraps an arm around her wife, kissing her on the lips. “Thanks, Mads. I must admit, your dancing did encourage me to continue on. It was adorable.”

Madi blushes and shakes her head. “I dance like a chicken without a head, Bron. I’m so bad at it.”

Lily Anne frowns. “Madi, you’re a great dancer!”

Madi looks over and scoffs. “Not when it’s anything but Irish dance.”

Joe smiles, looking over at her. “You did Irish dance?”

Madi nods, smiling. “Yep. I’ve done it since I was five.”

Bron ruffles her wife’s hair. “She dances and I play Welsh fiddle.”

Gwil perks up. “How Welsh were your parents?”

Bron looks over and raises her brows. “My father had the flag tattooed across his back and my mother was a Welsh clog dancing champion. I grew up only speaking Welsh in the house.”

Gwil leans back, nodding. “I did clog dancing as well. I was pretty good at it, actually.”

Ezichi grins at Gwil. “No way. I have to see that.”

Gwil smiles at her. “I’m sure I can find my clogs somewhere in my closet.”

Just then, a slower acoustic cover of You’re My Best Friend begins playing, and people start to go to the dance floor in the center of the room as couples.

“Speaking of dancing,” Gwil begins, standing up and offering Ezichi his hand, “would you like to join me out there?”

Ezichi’s smile grows, and she stands, nodding. “Of course.”

Bron soon sweeps Madi to the floor, and Lily Anne, Ben, and Joe are left sitting there. The tension is thick, and Lily Anne sighs, sipping her virgin margarita. She clearly expects Ben to ask her to dance, but that’s not going to happen, so Joe steps in, standing up and offering her his hand.

“M’lady, could I have this dance?” he asks in a silly accent.

Lily snorts, putting down her drink. “I suppose so, my good sir. Please, sweep me away with your dance moves!”

Joe smiles and takes her hand, and as they walk to the dance floor and begin dancing, his hand on her back and hers on his shoulder, she sighs.

“Listen,” he says, becoming serious. “I know you were expecting Ben to ask you to dance. I get that I’m not him and this is a bit of a disappointment, but I will get that man to dance with you by the end of the night.”

Lily looks down, shaking her head. “It’s alright. I get it.” She looks up at Joe, concerned, and whispers. “Did I come on too strong with that song I wrote? I know it wasn’t subtle, but it wasn’t meant to scare him away.”

Joe sighs, looking down at her. “No, you didn’t. It was a good thing that you wrote that, because he called me up after he watched the video of it and asked me if you loved him.”

Her eyes go wide and she squeezes Joe’s hand. “What did you say?”

Joe smiles. “I asked him if he loved you.”

She squeezes his hand more tightly. “What did he say?”

Joe winces. “Lily, could you--”

She lightens her grip. “Sorry. I’m just really nervous.”

Joe shrugs, smiling. “It’s alright. To be honest, it’s pretty damn cute. Instead of saying yes or no, he said maybe, and before you say anything-- listen to me. I asked him to talk about you.”

Lily raises a brow and nods. “And?”

Joe smiles. “He praised you for almost ten minutes straight.”

Lily nods, pursing her lips. “Okay. But that’s not a yes or no answer.”

Joe nods, twirling her. “I then asked him that if you asked him to give you the world, would he do it?”

Lily looks up at Joe and presses her lips together nervously.

Joe leans in and whispers, “He said ‘Of course.’”

Lily smiles and sighs in relief, hugging Joe tightly. “Oh, thank God.”

Joe pulls away after a moment, looking down at her. “He’s scared. You’re scared. But I think if you asked him to dance, he would be less scared.”

Lily nods, smiling. “Alright. Thank you, Joe. You’ve been a great dance partner.”

Joe salutes her playfully. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Lily Anne walks off, going over to Ben, and the smile that lights up his face makes Joe want to squeal. Maybe, just maybe, he’s sped up this long and grueling waiting process.

---

Gwil is by far one of the best dance partners Ezichi has ever had. The height helps, but the firm hand on the small of her back and confident steps he takes are truly a wonderful combination. She lets Gwil guide her around the floor, smiling.

“You look really amazing, Zichi,” he says, looking into her eyes. “Truly gorgeous. I didn’t want the boys to tease me about it there, but I needed to get it off my chest.”

Ezichi smiles, letting out a little laugh. “I was going to say that your suit looks incredibly good on you, but I know Lily and Madi would have a field day going on about that. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Gwil smiles, but looks slightly confused. “I would think that Lily and Bron would be the ones making a big deal about it, not Madi.”

Ezichi nods, grinning. “I get that. Nowadays, Madi tries to contain her chaotic, nosy tendencies. She knows that Bron will immediately say something that gives away what she thinks, and she has to act like an adult to prevent that. But she’s a drummer. Drummers are inherently chaotic.”

Gwil lets out a laugh, and spins Ezichi. “All the chaotic energy is taken out on her drums?”

Ezichi nods, snorting. “Basically. She tries to be calm and collected and make sure Bron isn’t making a mess of things, but the one area where she’s still a teenager at heart is when it comes to gossip. She loves it.”

Gwil smiles and lets out a puff of laughter, shaking his head. “As a band, you all just work so well.”

Ezichi tilts her head to the side, shrugging with a fond smile on her face. “We have our fights, but we love each other. I couldn’t imagine life without them by my side. It would be so lonely.”

Gwil takes a deep breath, and looks down at Ezichi. “I understand the feeling. This project has been truly amazing, but I’m not sure how I’m going to get on once it’s all over. I’ll miss them all so much.”

Ezichi squeezes his hand, smiling. “Ben and Lucy will still be in London, and Rami and Joe both live in New York. It won’t be that hard to visit.”

Gwil shakes his head slightly. “I’ll also miss seeing you, Ezichi.”

Ezichi smiles fondly at Gwil, her stomach full of butterflies. “I’m in London. Lily’s in London. Bron and Madi are in London. We won’t be far at all.”

Gwil tilts her chin up so she’s looking in his eyes. “I know that, but I think I’ve become far too attached to you in particular, Ezichi.”

Ezichi’s eyes widen, and she begins to blush. “I-I… I’ve enjoyed your company as well, Gwil.”

Gwil smiles nervously. “If I’m being fully honest with myself, I’ve never felt so close to anyone before in my life. While you were on tour, I was so lonely. Every picture I saw of you just made me want to be with you, and I’ve never felt that kind of loneliness before, Ezichi. When you came back, I was just so indescribably happy. It was like a hole had been filled, but instead of making me simply content, it made me…”

Ezichi responds for him. “Happier than I’d ever been before.”

Gwil’s eyes light up. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Did you--” he turns red. “Did you feel the same way?”

His voice is so hopeful, and Ezichi is glad that she can make his hopes come true.

Ezichi nods, smiling. “I felt the same exact way, Gwil.”

Gwil nods, and as the song ends, he dips her, their faces mere inches apart. “I was so confused as to why it hurt so much, but I figured it out.” A new song starts up, and he lifts her out of the dip, his hand on her back beginning to shake. “I need you, Ezichi. You complete me in a way that nobody else can, and you make me want to be the best person I can be, because you’re my better half, and you deserve the best I can give you.”

Ezichi smiles widely as she’s twirled, and lets one hand rest on Gwil’s cheek, thumb stroking his stubble slowly. “I would’ve taken a simple ‘I love you,’ but I do love your monologues.”

Gwil smiles and kisses her gently, to which she reciprocates immediately. When they pull away Ezichi is flushed, and smiles as she move to wipe her lip gloss off of his face. After she does, he dips her again, holding her flush as his lips are at her ear.

He leans in to whisper in her ear as they keep dancing. “Now, as gentlemanly as I would like to be, and as much as I would like to treat you like the goddess you are, I am a mere man, and this dress is absolutely begging to be ripped off of your body.”

Ezichi smirks, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Gwil, let’s get a few things cleared up.” She’s twirled again. “I appreciate the gentleman, but right now I want an animal.” They sweep across the floor, and she smiles as they turn. “I am your goddess. My body is your temple, and your temple only.” Finally, she’s pulled in again, and looks up at him with a wicked grin. “I want people to know that you worshipped me.”

Gwil looks down at her, pupils dilated. “Get your purse. We’re going to my room now.”

---

Roger watches as Ben and Lily dance, and Sarina sits down beside him, smiling and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He turns to face her and smiles. “Hello, love. Enjoying the party?”

Sarina nods. “Very much. You sounded great up there, love. Everything was amazing.”

Roger smiles, sipping a glass of whiskey before kissing her hand and looking back at the dance floor.

Sarina watches with him, grinning into her glass of wine. “Lily and Ben aren’t going to admit their feelings for each other tonight, Rog.”

Roger looks over at Sarina, frowning. “Why not? They’re dancing. Lucy and Rami left earlier, and so did Ezichi and Gwil. How is it not going to happen?”

Sarina shrugs and holds his tattooed hand. “The timing isn’t right. They’re almost there, though. Be patient.”

Roger huffs and leans back, and Anita and Brian sit down next to them.

Brian smiles, sipping his water. “I know. I wanted it to happen too, but it won’t tonight.”

Roger shakes his head. “They’re so blind. It’s ridiculous that it’s taking this long for them to tell each other how they feel.”

Anita shakes her head. “They know how they feel for each other.”

Roger scoffs. “Then what’s taking so long?”

Brian smiles fondly. “They’re scared and cautious. They want it to work so badly that they’ll wait it out until it is fully clear that they won’t be rejected.”

Anita smiles and squeezes Roger’s hand. “When it happens, it will happen fast.”

Sarina nods, looking over at her husband. “Stop stewing, love. You’ll walk her down the aisle someday.”

Roger finishes his drink, sitting up. “I better.”

TAGLIST: @andtheytoldustotellyouhello @plethora-of-things @borhap-socials @everybodyplaythegame @i-the-fangirl @deakydeakydeaky @shisterfackisback @samanthadegaro @lv7867 @fatbottomedcurls @redspecialty @haisimsim @peterparkeroos @teenwolflover28 @ixchel-9275 @alessandra-elle @onexlittlespark @queenficarchive @leah-halliwell92 @rrrogah-tayluhh @maddistudiess @queen-fam @evrsncnewyork 

[thelallybrochlibrary]

Hey guys! Librarian Kat reporting for duty!

As the resident rarepair Librarian, I’ve got a treasure trove of non-JC fics for you this week! If you come across something that you like, make sure to leave the author some love! Hope you enjoy!

I Feel A Sin Coming On by @wunderlichkind

Roger x Bree, Modern AU, Multi-chapter

We don’t have many modern AUs for Roger and Bree, and definitely none that are original as IFASCO. I never knew I needed a cowboy!Roger AU until @wunderlichkind wrote this wonderful story. Brought together by chance, Roger and Bree are instantly drawn to each other and share some adorably touching moments as their relationship develops. Bonus point for this story because who doesn’t love a man in tight jeans that hug all the right places? Chapter 3 just dropped and we were left with a pretty frustrating cliffhanger, so jump on this story and go along with the ride!

chunnacas na mairbh beò by romans

Bree POV, Canon Divergence, One shot

I read this story a long time ago when I first joined the Outlander fandom. Recently, I came across it again and let me tell you . . . I cried my eyes out. In this absolutely gut wrenching story, Bree has to go back through the stones alone due to a terminal illness, leaving behind her parents, Roger, and Jemmy. I don’t want to spoil it, but Bree’s thoughts and feelings are conveyed beautifully by the author. If you have 10 minutes, grab some tissues and give this a read, I promise it’s worth it.

In Silence by lielabell

Roger x Bree, Canon Compliant, One Shot

In Silence is an amazing Roger and Bree intimate moment one shot. It highlights the playful side that these two have in their relationship that we often see in canon. It’s all from Roger’s POV, his need and desire for Bree is palpable and sexy as hell. And we don’t get just one “moment” but several. It’s sexy, it’s exciting, it’s worth checking out! 

Hunting Wi’ A Quaker by @takemeawaytocamelot​

Ian x Rachel, Canon Compliant, One Shot

If you’ve made it through the books, you know how sexy Young Ian is, and especially so when it comes to his relationship with Rachel.  @takemeawaytocamelot takes this wonderful canon pair and gives us wonderful moments between the two of them that could be plucked from the next book. This story can stand on it’s own, but there are a few other Iand and Rachel stories she has written that can go along with this one. 

[theministerskat]

12 & 15!

12. Favorite OL fan fiction rarepair?

I’m definitely a sucker for some JoJamAire; which is why I am dying for an update on Never Doubt I Love by @owlish-peacock36. 

And at the moment, @abbydebeaupreposts‘ Master Me has me rolling along on the Jamie x Geneva train if you can believe it.

I find anything that isn’t Jamie x Claire to be rather rare, so of course I have to go with any Roger x Bree fic that I find.

15. Describe your ideal OL fan fiction?

My ideal OL fan fiction would be anything with a heavy amount of angst, stories that tear at my insides. The Rivers Between Us is amazing for that. And also I love friends to lovers, see Beauchamp Riots by @kalendraashtar, so throw in some of that too. Now if all of those above things revolved around a Roger x Bree pairing, that would be my ideal, perfectly tailored to Kat, OL fan fiction.

[goldnsyren]

all the halloween ship q's, any ship of your choice ;D

Steve Rogers x Bree Dahlby

Choses the pumpkin: Bree and Steve kinda go back and forth arguing over silly things and Steve teases her for needing the pumkin (it has to be just round enough and wide enough for her design)  but when Bree finds ‘the one’ all she has to do it point and Steve is there (after some last teasing of ‘you’re sure?’) carrying the hulking mass around like it’s nothing trailing behind her.

Carves the pumpkin: Bree since Steve makes a weird face when he’s forced to scoop out the ‘guts’ in it and hates the smell.

Gets scared and clings the other in a haunted house: Neither, but Steve does tend to blush a little when he brushes against the scantily clad costumes and averts his eyes to his girlfriend in embarrassment.

Matching costume idea: Bree, since Steve’s missing a few crucial decades for prime pair costume ideas.

Makes a cozy bed-fort to cuddle in: Steve’s never been one for running around for the sake of it (not like starting a fight) so he’s much more content to stay in. He makes a cozy fort, plumped with the best of pillows and bowls of snacks, and pulled her in where they cuddle and watch spoopy / classic Halloween movies into the early morning where they’re curled up asleep to the gentle tune of the Blu-ray menu music.

Steal’s the other’s candy: Steve has such a sweet tooth he shamelessly steals her gummy candy and chocolates when she turns around.

Accidentally gets lost in a corn maze: Bree gets sidetracked or zones out and finds herself lost until Steve follows her came of Marco-Polo and finds her. When she gets huffy it shouldn’t have taken so long unless he’s getting old, he reminds her its against the rules to go through the corn that’s not cleared (how she got lost in the first place). Bree is not amused.

Tells spooky stories to scare the other: Bree tells the best Scary stories because they lead to Steve pretending to be riveted as she leans in closer, crawling into his lap in their pillow fort, pretending to be none the wiser when her lips finally meet his, distracting him as she steals the candy back from his hands. Its fine. He finds her kiss much sweeter than any chocolate bar.

Collects cool-looking leaves: Steve and Bree enjoy walking around arm in arm as they enjoy the changing leaves and brisk fall air. But every now and then Bree will detach and run to pick up the perfect leaf that blows past or a cool shaped one that Steve will pretend to see the shape of as well. (He still doesn’t see the dragon she does.)

-:Send me an OTP and I’ll tell you…:-

@kingsman-alpha enjoy boyfriend-Steve feels.

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: What was it like, in Voyager, for Brianna to decide to travel through the stones if Claire didn’t do it?

Part 1

Our Farewell - Part  2 / 2

by @monisse​

Roger froze at the door, quite involuntarily. Her question fell upon him like a rush of cold water, immobilizing his muscles and making it difficult to breathe, let alone for his heart to keep beating.

“To the stones, I mean.” Brianna elaborated further.

Even with his back turned to her, he could detect the faint pang of regret in her voice, and he wondered briefly if she had meant to ask if he would go through the stones with her. Blood started to flow in his body again, encouraged by the quickening of his heart.

Throughout the whole ordeal, from discovering the stones had otherworldly, time traveling properties, to learning Claire’s story, finding Jamie alive, and then realizing he too had the ability to go back in time, Roger had thought of the possibilities. He entertained the idea of running as fast as he could towards the tallest stone on Craigh na Dun, hoping not to slam against the hard surface, but to be transported to a reality he only knew from his studies. And in the first second after her question had floated unanswered in the space between them, he contemplated again leaving his life behind, the stuffy rooms and old books, and seeing history with his own eyes. There was a part of him that resisted the passive life of a professor. Being an observer of events instead of an active player had been the path of least resistance. There was nothing holding him here, in this time, and this life. He had no living kin and only a handful of friends to miss him. Besides, how could a historian deny the chance to see the past when it was only a touch on a stone away?

He turned around finally, and his eyes landed on her, sitting on the bed. Her face was stripped of the layers she always crafted so masterfully to conceal her thoughts. Her features were now soft, giving her a childlike air. Her vulnerability lay bare with no pretense whatsoever, trusting him wholeheartedly, and fear floated on the bottomless pool of her blue eyes, inviting him to dive in.

She looked small in her dark blue pajamas, despite the imposing six feet of height. Strands of red hair were loose from the long braid she wore over her shoulder, and he wanted nothing more than to brush them aside and allow the tips of his fingers to linger on the skin of her cheek.

“Will you see me off, at least?” she pressed, the gentle tone of her voice summoning him back to reality.

“Ye really are going through with it, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “It wouldn’t be forever. I just have to find Jamie, and then I’ll come back.”

If only it were that simple. But life had taught him, quite early and unexpectedly, that the most carefully laid plans had a way of going astray very fast, and often with severe consequences. Perhaps it was a byproduct of her young age, but naïveté was shining through the cracks of what she clearly thought was a reasonable plan.  

“It’s not like going on a vacation to the other side of the Atlantic, Bree.” Again, he felt the irresistible gravitation towards her, an invisible energy that seemed to magnetically control his body, and he moved to sit on the bed in front of her again.

“No, it’s not. But I’m a very capable woman, Roger. If Mama doesn’t go, I have to.”

He smiled at her confidence and strength, incredibly vivid in each word.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you can, but we’re talking about a time that was not kind to women, particularly those that travel alone. And God knows what those stones can do to a person.”

A single ruddy eyebrow suddenly lifted. “Has any time been kind to women?”

She said the words in jest, but they held a truth known, and shared, by every woman, one he could not deny. “Ach, no. But still, I can’t let ye go…”

“Roger,” she said, with finality in her voice that gave no space for further argument.

He could sit there all night, list all the possible dangers she might face, and even then, he knew Brianna would not budge; her decision had been made. To an extent, he admired that side of her, impulsive and stubborn to a fault, but determined nonetheless. Roger already knew she would always carry out her will, one way or another, and that it would, more often than not, be useless to oppose her. With an aching heart, he silenced all his arguments, and resigned himself to her choice.

His hand covered hers on top of the blanket, and he gently laced their fingers together. “I’ll take ye to the stones, if that’s what ye decide to do. The least I can do is to be there beside ye if you go.”

“Thank you.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, brief and sweet, catching him by surprise.

“Claire will leave early in the morning,” he said as an afterthought.

Her eyes opened wide, and a sudden flash of hurt crossed through dark blue, as she realized that her mother would leave earlier than expected, to avoid the hurtful goodbye that neither mother, nor daughter, were truly ready for.

Brianna pulled her hand away from his, crossed the bed on hands and knees to the other side, and leaned over to retrieve something from under the bed. Her arse was suddenly pointing slightly upwards, round and incredibly tempting.  He clutched his fingers together in his lap, least an errant hand took on a life of its own and he made a fool of himself.

Once she came back up again, her hands were holding what appeared to be a dress in 18th century fashion, of the most horrific green lime color he had ever seen. It even had stones, shining disturbingly all over the front, and far too unnatural for today’s standards, let alone for Georgian era fashion.

She had a guilty look on her face, and he immediately realized she had been planning it for a while, without telling either him or her mother. Her premeditation disconcerted him slightly. Roger stared at the dress, briefly imagining Brianna, too tall even for today’s standards, and attracting both curious and unwanted attention in the past.

As selfish as it was, he hoped he could count on Claire going through the stones herself so Brianna would not have to. Roger did not feel ashamed by the thought, for it was only a natural yearning, growing stronger by the day, to want to protect her, to take care of her.

He sighed and rose from the bed. At a loss for words, he simply leaned down, and this time, it was he who placed a lingering kiss upon her forehead. “We better be ready before sunrise. If anything, at least ye’ll have a proper farewell.”

–”–

Brianna felt a sort of nervous energy coursing through her veins as her feet moved, quite reluctantly, up the hill. The laces on the bodice she wore were pulled tightly, noticing it too late, and her breaths became increasingly shallow, while her heart beat strongly to be free of such a tight cage. Roger was beside her, a constant reassuring presence ever since they had met, and her hand found his easily, as if he were already expecting it. They reached the circle of stones together, and were immediately hit by the echoes of the past, present, and future, blending together in an incomprehensible, haunting call from within.  

She took one step forward, and then another, Roger following her stride, until they reached the central stone and stopped. The buzzing was overwhelming, and even with the nauseating feeling rising in her stomach, she still had the presence of mind to hold onto both his hands with a strength that forced him to stand his ground. His face had gone pale, and she knew he was fighting the same impulse. Brianna stood there for a brief moment, wondering if she just moved forward and crossed the cleft in the middle of the stone, would she be able to let go of his hand, or would she pull him to the past with her?

Footsteps caught her attention and she turned towards the sound. Her mother was coming up the hill, already speechless and astonished to see her there. And Brianna knew with certainty that before the sun completely rose above the horizon, one of two things would happen: either she’d lose her mother to the past forever, or she’d make the leap herself. Roger suddenly tightened his grip, sensing her on the cusp of a decision. Their eyes locked and she nodded. Not yet, she thought. There was still a little time.  

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: What was it like, in Voyager, for Brianna to decide to travel through the stones if Claire didn’t do it?

Author’s note: I took a liberty with an early appearance of Uncle Angus, the Scottie.

Our Farewell - Part 1 / 2

by @monisse​

October, 1968

Inverness

Rain lashed violently at the bedroom window and Brianna observed each drop on the glass racing downwards against each other, leaving crystal clear tracks behind. In the distance, lightning illuminated the mountain peaks, and thunder galloped fast towards Inverness, though she barely noticed.

Having given up on sleep for now, she sat cross legged in the middle of the bed in one of the guestrooms of the late minister’s house. The sheets and covers were spread far and wide around her, telling a crumpled tale of the tossing and turning she had done to escape the rampant thoughts inside her mind. On her lap was a stuffed Aberdeen Scottie, once well-loved by Roger, and she absently stroked its worn-out black fur.

Tomorrow, her mother’s story would conclude in this time. A story that disrupted Brianna’s preconceived notions of logic, and forced her to adapt to a reality that existed outside the boundaries of reason. In a few hours, her mother would leave, would travel back centuries. Though Brianna made a genuine effort to support that decision, she had not yet made peace with it.

Her thoughts remained somewhat self-centered, driven by a sense of abandonment that sat heavy on her chest. And amidst the selfishness that corroded her heart, reason was almost completely shoved aside by jealousy, though she did have the decency to feel ashamed enough to not mention it, not even to Roger. The truth was, Brianna felt jealous of a man she did not know, her father, her real father, because in a few hours he would have her mother all to himself.

Not even Roger’s words from earlier, filled with both sense and empathy, had been enough to completely settle the imminent collision between reason and heart. There were still far too many doubts in her mind.

“Bree?”

His voice filled the silence of the room, and it was as if her mind had materialized him. His voice sliced through the privacy of her thoughts with that Scottish brogue, warm and smooth, and for a split-second, Brianna wondered how she could go back home, go on without hearing that melodious lilt calling her name every day.

Roger was leaning against the doorframe, staring through the partly open door. There was a look of concern across his face. His eyes, clear and alert even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, seemed to ask a myriad of questions, to which she had no clear answers. Are you alright? Certainly not. Will you ever be? No guarantees.

“Come in,” she said, “I can’t sleep anyway.”

Roger was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn all day, not having bothered to go to bed yet despite the late hour. She wondered if he, too, was having trouble digesting the choices made by her mother and all they encompassed.

He sat at the foot of the bed, the wooden bed frame creaking under his weight.

“Anything else on your mind?” he asked.

Brianna was immediately glad he asked, not sure how she would be able to tell him otherwise.

“Mama is about to leave. I think she still has doubts. Maybe because of me. It’s visible all over her face.”

Brianna had learned over the years to read the emotions on her mother’s face, fleeting glimpses of feelings she rarely voiced. Her mother’s face amplified all her thoughts, and ever since they discovered that Jamie had survived, it reflected a conflict far too great to deal with without pain. She had been confronted with the horrible truth that whatever, and whoever, she chose, she would be giving up on the other, and losing one part of her heart in the process.

“That makes sense.” Roger said, calmly. “No matter how much she wants to see Jamie again, she’s leaving her daughter behind. I canna imagine how torn she must feel.”

Brianna sighed, feeling limp and resigned. “You were right earlier. I need her, I always will, but I’m not a child anymore.” Her hand reached for his, seeking the comfort she had not allowed herself to enjoy earlier. “And I’m not alone either.”

He did not speak, but instead held her hand firmly, squeezing it back in reassurance.

“But what if she doesn’t go?” Brianna asked, her voice a whisper, finally letting out the one question that had been circling her brain for a long while, a record spinning endlessly.

“If she does not go, it will be because she wants to be here for ye. And that’ll be her choice.”

“She has to go-- it can’t just be over for them, not now, after we’ve found him. She needs to be with him and I can’t be the reason they remain apart. I can’t be that selfish,” she hissed under her breath, looking down at her lap while she picked at Uncle Angus’ ratty plaid bonnet.

The bed creaked again as Roger slid toward her, pulling her into an embrace. His arm circled her shoulders, and she leaned on him willingly. Warmth radiated from his body and steadied her. Maybe it should bother her how easily he reached for her these days, but the truth was that she craved his touch just as much, despite the multiple warnings her mind produced. Too much. Too fast. Too soon.

“You know, I could never figure out how much I was like Daddy. It was never the mannerisms, and certainly not the hair.” She chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in her voice. “Now I know I could never be exactly like him, no matter how much I loved him, not even if I followed in his footsteps.”

He turned to look at her, but she averted her eyes. She spoke again, this time with only a slight tremble to her words.

“That man, Jamie, my father,” her voice caught on the word, “has spent his life wondering if his wife and child made it safely through the stones. He deserves to know, Roger. And if Mama can’t make that decision, I will make it for her. I owe it to myself to know where I came from, too.” Her voice had become stronger as she spoke, though it was not the longing for a father that moved her. No, she had known a father’s love all her life and was glad for it. She was moved instead by the curiosity to know the man who captured her mother’s heart completely, and a strange sense of duty to tell him they were alive.

“What d’ye mean by that?” he asked. And as close as they were, she felt his heartbeat quicken under his woolen sweater.

She went on after a moment of silence, her tone close to a whisper, determined. “I’ll go through the stones myself to find him.”

His reaction was immediate. He stood up from the bed quickly and looked down at her, green eyes wide open in shock and anger. Maybe fear. “No Bree, ye canna do that.”

“Why not? We both know that I could do it.”

“We also know it’s dangerous!” he nearly shouted.

“It’s dangerous for me, but not for my mother? What kind of double standard is that, Roger?” Her voice rose to match his, defiant and aflame with irritation. She had been prepared to be met with resistance, but had not anticipated the strength of his reaction, how it would feel.

“That’s not what I meant.” His hands came up in the air in frustration as he started pacing the room.

Brianna swung her long legs from the bed in an elegant move for someone so tall, and her bare feet landed on the floor with a soft thud. She crossed the distance between them in a single stride and pulled him to face her. Her face glowed with barely contained anger, turning into a brilliant red that masked the freckles across her cheeks.

“Then what?” she roared.

His hands closed around her upper arms with such desperation that she had to bite her lower lip not to yelp from both pain and surprise. She was rooted in place by his firm grip, forced to look at the fire that burned freely in his eyes, and she observed, completely fascinated, how that desperation had transformed his usually soft expression. His jaw was clenched, and even his olive skin, not usually prone to flushes, had acquired a faint red hue.     

“Yer mother has done it before! She is going back to find the love of her life and I canna-“

Lose mine, her mind completed. The thought caught her off guard. It seemed too soon for such an assumption, even though she could not deny the tenderness growing between them, beyond mere friendship, an attraction that kept pulling them slowly towards each other.   

“You can’t what?” she demanded through gritted teeth, daring him. There was a side of her that wanted to probe his veiled words and touches, to truly know what feelings lay underneath. Her question echoed on the walls and came back to her ears sounding desperate for confirmation.

His mouth opened, though no sound came out, and for the first time since they met, she saw him at a loss for words. Roger attempted several times over, failing each time. Eventually, he sighed and gave up, his feelings not yet ready to be acknowledged.

Perhaps he sensed that she wasn’t ready, either.

They breathed together for a moment, his grip on her arms loosening as they both became aware of how close they stood. How, with a slight shift of their heads, they just might…

“Look, Bree,” he said, his voice quiet as he started to let her go, “this is not a decision ye can make on impulse. Ye should get some rest, and we’ll talk about it in the morning, aye?”

Her eyes flashed. “This isn’t just a whim, Roger. If my mother doesn’t go, I will go to Edinburgh to find my father, whether you want me to or not. He deserves to know.”

Brianna loosened her arms from him and moved across the floor to the bed again. She took a moment to arrange the sheet and blankets around her neatly, though she watched him from the corner of her eye. He walked towards the door, shaking his head as he went.

“Will you come with me?”

It was her unfiltered, irrational side that spoke as she decided to test his limits, to understand how far he was willing to go for her.

Roger froze at the door, his stillness betraying the energy from the charged question, and for a moment, the room remained silent. But the answer was there, while thunder roared in the sky above their heads.

[otheroutlandertales]

Catch up on previous installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

En Même Temps - Part 6

by @theministerskat

Outer Banks, North Carolina, January 29, 1971

Brianna gazed out the passenger window of her Mustang, the Outer Banks a green and blue blur of ocean and grass as the car sped down Highway 12.

The events of the last eleven days were a jumble, blending together with all the possibilities she envisioned for them beyond the stones. An obscure reel of thoughts with no clear focus.  

Trying to calm the racing in her head, she stroked her thumb along the underside of her left finger, slowly twirling the ring that sat there in a circle. It was a new habit she had picked up, touching it, reminding herself it was still real, finding comfort in the small action in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It anchored her, more than anything, representing one thing - the only thing - certain in her life.

Turning away from the coastal scenery, she peered over at Roger. Softly, he sang along to a Stone’s song on the radio, his fingertips tapping the beat on the steering wheel. She smiled, recalling the image of him unconsciously twirling his fingers about in the pocket of his trousers, playing with the ring for all those weeks, and wondered if it had brought him the same kind of solace it now brought her.

She leaned her head back against the window, glancing out it again. The emerald stone was warm when she ran her finger over it, and tilting her hand slightly, she noticed how it lit from within when the sun struck it. Its dark green color transformed to a brilliant sparkling shade, reminding her of summer in the Highlands.

A small part of her ached to be back there now; driving along the tight country roads with Roger, him prattling on about local history and landmarks, both of them laughing together without a care in the world. Had things been different, perhaps they would have honeymooned in Scotland just as her parents had. The thought suddenly occurred to her: both of her mother's honeymoons had been there; and with that came a nervous anticipation of what might await her and Roger.

Trying to ignore the complicated feelings that surfaced whenever she thought on the subject, she reached for Roger’s restless hand. He noticed her movement and took his eyes off the road for just a moment to smile at her. His hand enveloped hers, and he lifted it to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath as he brushed his lips over the knuckles of her fingers. He planted a second kiss where her ring sat, and a flush radiated up her arm and through her body at his touch.

He had made that same gesture of love countless times since the night he proposed, but now she was reminded of how he had done it once they’d exchanged their vows.

The wedding had been perfect, despite how quickly it had been put together. Obtaining a marriage license on short notice had been easy, though Roger had insisted on at least trying to find a priest or minister who would be able to wed them. They eventually found a small Presbyterian church with a reverend who was free that very Saturday.

Upon their first meeting, she had noticed the older man eyeing her stomach every few minutes, as if trying to discern the slightest hint of a baby bump, an explanation for their haste. Brianna had shot daggers at him every time she caught him doing so, and Roger shook, trying to stifle his laughter at her indignation, breaking into a fit of coughs several times to cover himself.

She had worn a simple cream pantsuit, unable to find a dress that fit her properly on such short notice. Roger had donned himself in full Highland regalia - a questionable packing choice when they had left Oxford, Bree not seeing the necessity in bringing his MacKenzie tartan all the way to Boston only to be packed up in a box for storage.

But she had laughed with pure joy when he had tried it on the night before the ceremony, his face beaming with Scottish pride. Brianna had teased him over the fact that he would be the one wearing the dress at their wedding instead of her, which she quickly learned was a mistake. That comment had earned her a fifteen minute lecture on the benefits of wearing a kilt over trousers, which culminated in one of those benefits being demonstrated for her, much to her delight and pleasure.

Brianna had asked Joe to walk her down the aisle and stand in witness for them. The amount of joy and love that had exuded from him as he kissed her cheek at the altar made her heart swell for her mother’s oldest friend.

Their vows had been simple, traditional, the words hardly altered over hundreds of years. The speaking of them was like pulling a thread tenuously binding the past and present. They held that fragile thread between them now as they embarked on their journey. When the reverend had pronounced them husband and wife, Roger pulled her close, kissing her just a moment too long to be considered decent, and her head devoid of any thought beyond her new husband.

Joe and Gail had taken them out to dinner to celebrate. Joe regaled the small party with stories of Brianna as a child, drawing from the reservoir of tales Claire had shared with him over the years. It was an evening spent not with plans and preparations for the future, or past, but in the moment.

Her heart constricted as she remembered her last conversation with Joe before they parted that night.

Pulling her aside as they left the small restaurant, he wrapped her in a hug that made her feel small even as she stood two inches taller than him.

“You’re going after her, aren’t you?” Joe’s lowered voice permeated the fog of happiness Brianna was floating in, and it took her a second to process his words.

“She told you?” Brianna knew her mother had revealed the truth about Jamie Fraser to him, but she was breathless at being able to talk about it at last.

“She did.” He pulled back from her to look into her eyes, his brow creased in concern, and she didn’t try to hide the confirmation he would surely find there. “Are you sure it’s safe, Bree?”

She opened her mouth to assure him, but found no words of comfort, could not tell him the truth, even as she knew he sensed it.

“I understand why she had to do it.” A sad smile appeared on Joe’s face. “But you, you don’t have to. You know she’s happy, and you have a life here.”

“Joe.” Bree’s voice sounded desperate even to her own ears, willing him to understand. “Roger - he found something. I don’t want to worry you with the details, but I have to go.”

“And he’s going with you?”

She glanced over Joe’s shoulder and saw Roger standing beside Gail. She was chatting cheerily away in a congratulatory fashion, and he was nodding at every other word, though his eyes were focused on Brianna.

Confidence surged through her, and she realized that though they had made all these arrangements and planned for all of the situations they may face, she was still holding a sliver of doubt over what they were doing. But Roger had promised to make sure she had everything she needed to go back, and had fulfilled that promise. She felt a love for him beyond anything she had known before.

She nodded in response to Roger’s look, and Joe took it as an affirmative to his question.

“Would you have done this,” he gestured his hand about, and she understood his meaning, “If you weren’t facing a life or death decision?”

“Yes,” she said without any hesitation. “Yes.”

“Well, that makes me feel better. He looks at you like he’d be willing to take on anything to protect you. And where you’re going, you may need that.”

Brianna pulled him back into a tight embrace.

“Tell her I love her and miss her dearly.”

“I will.” Her voice cracked just a little as she unsuccessfully forced tears back. “Thank you, Joe.”

They’d left the next morning, her Mustang packed with only the things they needed for their journey. Roger made a few comments about proper weddings and decent honeymoons, but Brianna insisted that road trips made perfectly acceptable honeymoon vacations.

They drove down the Atlantic coast, taking their time, stopping in Edenton and New Bern - two possible ports they would reach after traveling through the stones. Then they made their way south to Wilmington, spending a couple of nights there to acquaint themselves with the area as much as they could, though they knew things would be different in the past. Those few days were spent in a relaxed state of mind, enjoying small touristy moments with Roger, and she was feeling more rested and at ease than she had expected as Imbolc approached.

But now they were on their way to Hatteras Island, the final stop before the stones. Roger squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him.

“Not much further. What do ye think about just finding a place to stay and turning in early? Enough time to sort matters tomorrow.”

The sun was already starting to dip in the western sky though it was only mid-afternoon, and Bree realized how tired the car ride had made her.

“That sounds nice. I don’t think I’d be of much use to do anything else.”

He nodded, his fingers brushing over her knuckles once again. And a sudden realization swept over her.

“Roger! My ring!” Her voice was loud and panicked, causing him to snap his head down to look at her ring and then up to her face in confusion.

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t take it with me! It’ll be lost going through the stones.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks before she even knew she was crying. The simple ring that had given her strength would be lost the moment she touched the stone.

Brianna tried to stop herself, but every worry and fear she had been trying to stamp down came flooding to the surface. She was terrified of all the things that could go wrong: not making it through, ending up in the wrong time, never being able to make it back . . . Weeks’ worth of worry released itself in a gush of emotion.

Roger let go of her hand, and she wiped furiously at the tears. He pulled the car off the road and shifted into park, and then extended his arms to pull her close to him. She let her body melt into his, thankful for the solid feel of him against her. He uttered soft Gaelic words into her hair until her cheeks were dry.

“Bree, Bree. I meant for this,” he held up her hand, indicating the ring. “I meant for this stone to be the one to see the safe through those stones.”

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it?” Her voice was calmer than she expected it to be, though she felt a slight sense of betrayal on his part. “But Roger, it was your mother’s ring!”

“I know, but we need the gem to get through safely.”

“And what about you then?” It was the one she had forgotten to double check in their preparations, and she was upset but thankful that Roger had handled it.

“I have her locket for me.”

“So you’re fine with them being turned to dust?” she accused, perhaps more bitingly than she intended.

“I think she would be happy to know they were being used to see her son and his wife safe.” His mouth turned up into a sly smile when he said wife. “So, it’s fine, aye?”

She began to relax, her pulse slowing to its normal rate, and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, okay.”

“So, let’s get to town and turn in for the night, sound good?”

“Okay.”

She stayed curled into his side the last mile of the trip, then fell into the lumpy mattress of their motel room, and finally let sleep carry her away from her worries.

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Bree confides in John her fear of Jem’s paternity in Drums. Imagine she writes a letter to him after they discover Roger is Jem’s biological father.

Of Lice And Love

by @wunderlichkind

Fraser’s Ridge, January 1775

John –

I trust this letter finds you well and happy, as it leaves me. We have celebrated a wonderful Hogmanay and start the new year hopeful, although there are difficulties on the horizon that I believe you’ll hear about soon enough.

This is not a letter of worries, though. Last month, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. It was a weight I’ve been carrying for so long, it had become a part of me. You helped bear that weight as best as you could, so I shall lift it off your shoulders too.

Jem – my son, as you will remember – caught lice about a month ago. It was such a bad case that we ended up shaving all the hair off his head, and that was when we found it – a curious, big brown splotch right behind Jemmy’s ear. Of course I was worried at first, discussing its possible implications with Mama, when Roger reassured me that he’d had one just like it for all his life, and it hadn’t been of any concern. This was as close to a confirmation of Jem’s paternity as anyone could offer, and a vindication of the certainty I have always felt.

We have been a family for almost five years now, and Roger has never treated Jem as anything other than his own flesh and blood. But I know he carried his own part of this weight on his shoulders and I am beyond grateful it has lifted for all of us. I may not be able to completely rid myself of the memory of Stephen Bonnet, but Roger deserves to live without that shadow hanging over his head.

He has gone through so much these last five years – he has uprooted his entire life for me, he has been abducted, beaten and enslaved, and then came back from that only to find me pregnant. He had to find his place in a family that had done terribly wrong by him, with a wife that had been violated and a son he neither expected, nor had certainty shared his blood. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he was wrongfully hanged. The miracle of his survival does not negate the part of himself he did lose, his voice. He had to fight tirelessly to build himself up again, to become a new version of himself, one he still recognized.

And he did it. He stood by me through all of it, he built a relationship with my father despite their differences, he became a father himself despite what his own internal struggles might have been. He did it all for me. For our family.

I’ve been rambling, and you’ll forgive me for it. What I’m really writing for is not to gush about my husband, but to thank you, John.

Thank you, with all my heart. Thank you for not marrying me when I demanded you do. Thank you for standing by me regardless, through the tumultuous phase of life you encountered me in. Thank you for being a true friend and bearing with me the burden I shared with you many years ago. I hope you’ll find some of the joy and love I’ve felt this past month enclosed in this letter, and I hope I’ll hear from you soon.

Yours affectionately,

Brianna Mackenzie  

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Roger is lost. Literally.

Lost and Found - Part 1

by @theministerskat

Roger sensed the irritation radiating from Brianna in the passenger seat. He felt it permeating his own demeanor and gripped the steering wheel tighter. She hadn’t said a word to him since they passed the small rural gas station an hour before, though every few miles a small sigh would pass over her lips.

She had protested only slightly when he had pulled off the 85 in Sailsbury. Tired of the mundane scenery of the highway, he had announced that his directional instincts would get them where they meant to go via backroads. Head southwest, into the mountains, he had thought to himself, simple enough. Many travelers had found their way without modern maps, he himself had done it and still could. But now his current predicament was turning into a bad man-versus-map joke.

He pulled his eyes away from the road before him and looked down, noticing his knuckles had turned white from his firm grip on the wheel. With a sigh that matched one of his wife’s, Roger loosened his hold and glanced at the rearview mirror. Jem and Mandy were fast asleep, her head on his shoulder, their contrasting curls mixing together. The sight sent a small pang of loss through his heart. He recalled the way Jamie and Claire’s hair would weave together as they sat on the porch step of the big house, her head on his shoulder in the same way as their grandchildren were now, completely at peace.

It was no surprise to him that his mind would wander back to memories of his in-laws. To be here again, in North Carolina, driving - not riding - through the same mountains he had called home for so long and where he had found the true meaning of family. And whenever he thought of that time the hole within him seemed to grow a bit more.

Bree had objected to the idea of visiting Fraser’s Ridge when he had first proposed it. She thought it was too soon - too soon to know if anything, or nothing, of their old life had survived the test of time. Roger knew there was more to her objections, though she never voiced them. The thought of the Ridge, and how it was when they had left, was still clear in both their minds. The possibility of seeing that same mountain wilderness with no evidence of the life they once lived would be like severing the last thread in an already fraying rope.

He snuck a sideways look at her. Arms crossed over her chest, and he could have sworn her hair was a shade darker, reflecting the inner frustration he was sure she was feeling with him.

Sending a small prayer up for the salvation of his soul, he finally decided to breach the matter.

“Just say it, aye?”

She pulled her gaze from the blurred view of the passenger side window and settled it on him.

“Say what?” He didn’t hear the anger in her tone he had prepared himself for, but Brianna was like her father in that way, she could easily suppress her true feelings.

“I know ye’re upset. Ye have been since I pulled off the highway. I’ve traveled these mountains when there were no roads or directionals, I thought I’d have no trouble finding it.”

“Oh …” Her response tapered off and he felt her staring at him.

“Oh?” Roger’s own frustration piqued, not wanting to drag on the tension, but to get it all out. His foot went to the brake pedal and he pulled the car over onto the side of the road. He shifted into park and turned to look at her full on.

He was taken aback by what he saw in her face then. It was a soft expression, not frustration like he had expected. A look of contemplation mixed with remorse, one that he had seen when a fleeting memory would overtake her and she talked with Jem about his grandparents.

“Are ye not upset because I seem to have gotten us lost in these God-forsaken mountains?”

“Lost?” Her face was blank for an instant and then she laughed. He knew she was amused at his expense, but the way her face lightened and the feeling of her frustration lifting assuaged his own.

Brianna undid her seatbelt then and scooted herself across the bench seat. He felt himself calm completely as she took his face in her hands, fingertips brushing the several days worth of stubble on his cheeks, and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, and he felt her smile against his own lips as she pulled away.

“Roger, you- we aren’t lost. We’re here.” She gestured out the windshield as if there were a “Welcome to the Ridge” sign before them.

“This is Mount Helicon. We passed a historical marker a few miles back. I think the road is following the old path that came up from the stream. Just a bit further and it should flatten out.” Her voice held a sense of longing as she continued, “That’ll be where the big house would have been … and our cabin.”

He peered out the windows then, squinting through the glare of the sun shining through. The trees had thinned out along this stretch of road and he was finally able to take in their surroundings.

For a moment he was back in the 18th century, looking out over the familiar curves and slopes of the mountains across the valley from their home on the Ridge. This had been one of Jamie’s favorite spots, or as close to it as he could get now. Roger longed to jump out of the car, close his eyes, breathe in the scents of pine and fallen leaves, and pretend he was standing there with Jamie like he had a hundred times. He reigned in his own desire and turned back to Bree, knowing she needed his comfort more than he needed to try and escape his current time.

“I’m sorry, I was so focused on finding or seeing something definitive I didn’t realize.” He knew he had been a fool for misreading her emotions over the last hour, but still felt as though something was wrong. “Are ye upset that we’re here though? That I made us come?”

“No, not upset in the way you’re thinking. It’s just …” She let out a long breath and made to move back across the front seat then. He caught her hand in his before she could slide away in an act of support, willing her to continue.

“What is it, hen?” he pressed.

“I know it’s unlikely we’d come upon it, but I don’t know if I’d be able to stand it, possibly seeing the old burying ground. And finding them there.” She didn’t falter while speaking the words, but he could tell it was difficult for her to finally admit why she hadn’t been keen to come out all this way.

Roger closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He hadn’t thought about it, the fact that in finding Fraser’s Ridge again that they may also find Jamie and Claire’s final resting spot. He’d been so focused on just seeing it, wanting to see firsthand how the decades changed a place, to connect his past life with the one he was living now, that he hadn’t considered the darker possibilities that may arise with their expedition.

“We don’t have to go looking for them. They aren’t lost to us, Bree.”

“I know. But I remember what it was like for Mama seeing that headstone in the kirkyard of St. Kilda’s all those years ago. She was completely devastated before she knew the whole story, and I would rather not know unless we know it all.”

He knew exactly what she meant. He would never shake the image of Claire bent over the grave marker bearing hers and Jamie’s names, nor the feeling of relief when he found Frank Randall’s letter to the Reverend.

“Do ye want to turn around?” He was willing to give up his own need for closure and not look back for her sake. But she shook her head at his question.

“No, I’d like to see it, or at least where it was, and for Mandy to see it too.”

“Aye, me too. Just a little further up then?” he asked. Brianna nodded and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as he shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the road.

[otheroutlandertales]

@scotsmanandsassenach sent us the following picture prompt: Someone finds the photo Roger keeps in his wallet.

He balled up the sheet again and threw it at the dresser. It bounced off the edge of the silver picture frame and fell to the carpet.

“You could have told me straight,” he said aloud. “So you did find someone else; you were right then, weren’t you? You were wise, and me the fool. But could you not be honest, ye lying wee bitch?”

He was trying to work up a good rage; anything to fill the emptiness in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t helping.

He took the picture in its silver frame, wanting to break it to bits, wanting to clutch it to his heart. In the end, he only stood looking at it for a long time, then put it down gently, on its face.

“So sorry,” he said. “Yeah, so am I.”

- Drums of Autumn, Chapter 30

Bree

by @theministerskat

He sat down hard on his small bed, the springs of the mattress groaning under his weight. He wanted to be angry with her, wanted to blame her for the anguish that was coursing through him.  

But she had warned him of this - the chance of someone else fitting into her life more seamlessly than he. His mind conjured an image of her in the arms of a faceless man. He felt his heart constrict at the notion of someone else discovering the freckle hidden behind her ear, eliciting the small giggle that transformed into a sigh of contentment as he kissed it.

She had said she loved him. It was written in the dozens of letters she had sent him, emanated from her every time they were together. And that night in Inverness, the way she had pulled him into her and kissed him as the fog rolled over the river.

She had expressed her wariness of fully committing to him then, but he thought they had moved beyond any doubt since that moment. It had been over a year ago. All this time he had studied her, every little action, the things she said, culminating in the belief that she was finally sure of her feelings for him, of the two of them together. He had never truly considered the possibility that it might not be forever for her. But once again it was only he who had been certain.

He ran a hand through his hair, a small habit he had developed as of late. It was slightly too long, but she had always liked it that way. A memory of her running her fingers through his hair overtook him and he felt his stomach clench. She had laughed at the way the waves would stick out around his ears at this length. Her fingers brushing along his jaw and lingering, igniting his skin beneath them. She had pulled him down to her for a kiss, and he had felt her smiling the entire time his lips were on hers.

He shook off the ghost of her touch. He couldn’t stand to stay in his small flat alone with memories of her in every corner. Taking a deep, settling breath, he made to leave. He grabbed his coat from the hook, threw it on, and slammed the door behind him.

He gave Martin a small nod of acknowledgment as he walked through the vestibule, not wanting to stop and have the porter ask him about his American lass . She hadn’t only charmed himself with her smile and warm demeanor, but everyone in his life that he had introduced her to. He would have to extricate her from his life, explain to everyone why the fiery redhead wouldn’t be visiting again. But he couldn’t do it just yet, not so soon.

He headed out to the street. It was still cold in Oxford for late April, and the dampness in the air had him pulling his mac tight around him. He paused on the pavement, trying to decide where he could go to avoid the memories of her lurking in all the familiar places, ready to take him unawares again.

Settling on the King’s Arms, he turned to head up Broad Street. They had frequented many of the bars near Balliol during her visits - sitting close together in corner booths, the whisky not the only thing warming their insides - but they had never ventured into the KA together. It was well enough with him now, having someplace he could go that held no connection to her.

The old bar was crowded for a Thursday night, filled with students and professors alike, looking for a reprieve from exams and their end of term assignments. He quickly glanced around but didn’t recognize anyone from his department. It was a relief, in all honesty. He wasn’t feeling up for small talk, and being asked what he planned to do over the summer holiday would only sting knowing he wouldn’t be seeing her.

After sidling his way through a gang of Wadham students, he was able to snag a spot at the bar. He tossed his coat over the back of the raised seat and leaned forward trying to catch the barman’s eye. Once he had it, he answered the questioning lift of an eyebrow with a simple, “Whisky, neat.”

He absentmindedly scanned the pub as he waited for his drink. There was a disconnect between his brain and eyes, not picking up on anything in particular - until he suddenly did. She was looking straight at him, her head slightly tilted to one side, appraising him. She was beautiful in a simple way, long blonde waves flowing over her shoulders, her dark eyes warm and inviting. When they met his, she gave him a sly smile that sent a jolt of heat careening through him. Disturbed by the unexpected feelings her look was eliciting in him, he turned back towards the bar to find his drink awaiting him.

The first tumbler went down easy, but not as easily as the second and third. The whisky began having its desired effect on him. The hurt and loss that he had felt earlier morphing into the indignation that he had longed for back in his flat. To have given her so much, to have put himself completely at her mercy, only to have it all discarded so quickly, ripped from him so easily, was unlike anything he had felt before. He finally allowed himself to be angry about it, and her desertion cut through him like a knife.

He had thought some of the relationships he had had over the years were serious, but nothing had compared to the way he had felt with her. To start over now with someone else felt a betrayal of what he'd had with her and he wished the very thought of it away, though he knew it was something he had to face. It wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone else; he often caught the giggles of his female students as he passed them in the hallway between lectures, or the way the demeanor of the women in his department changed when he would mention a trip to visit his girl across the Atlantic. But to find someone else that would challenge him in all the ways she had, spark the emotions he felt with her, seemed an unearthly task.

He finally looked up, taking in the bar patrons around him once again. The fact that he was scanning the room for the woman he had seen earlier didn’t escape him, but it wasn’t something he wanted to admit to himself. The crowd had begun to thin, and he noticed she was no longer at the table she had been at when he had first arrived.

He didn’t know if it was disappointment or relief that he was feeling when a hand on his arm made him start. He looked up, his eyes connecting with dark brown. Her hand didn’t move as she lowered herself into the seat next to him and casually asked, “Buy me a drink?” Without overthinking it, he nodded and signaled for the barman to bring another round.

Conversation flowed easily between them; they kept it light, perfunctory. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way she was smiling at him, but he felt his insides burning. He could give himself this, the comfort of someone else, someone new, with no history weighing them down. Her body language was encouraging. The way her hand lingered on his thigh to steady herself as she leaned forward, overcome with laughter at a bad joke he had made. The way she leaned into him, her cheek brushing against his, as she spoke into his ear, making sure he heard her over the crowd around them.

He lost count of how many drinks they shared, but he felt free, invigorated. He turned to look at her again, and as if it were happening in slow motion, he watched her shift in her seat, leaning closer than before, and with a whirl of blonde hair, he felt her lips on his. He felt the whisky in his blood mix with adrenaline and the momentary shock quickly subsided as he found himself pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss between them.

After several long moments, she pulled back from him. “Want to get out of here?” It was hard to hear her over the ringing in his ears, but her question immediately snapped him out of his haze. His voice was unexpectedly hoarse when he finally said yes, and instantaneously he felt his stomach knot. “I’ll be back,” she said and he nodded, watching her walk back over to the table where he had first seen her sitting earlier in the night.

He signaled to the barman for his tab and he reached into his back pocket for his wallet, his hands shaking slightly as he fumbled through the notes. He was counting out the appropriate sum when he suddenly felt his fingers brush over thick, glossy paper. He sobered drastically as he pulled the photo out and looked down at it.

It was a casual shot, taken during one of their day trips out in the countryside of the Highlands. He had snapped it as she had turned away from him, and it captured every essence of her perfectly. Every emotion he thought he had buried over the last several hours came rushing back to him. His willingness to completely abandon her, abandon them, made him feel like a fool. She hadn’t said it was over; she was always straightforward with him, with everyone. Why had he been stupid enough to think she’d call off things between them in any other way?

“Bree .” He said only her name, but he knew it was meant to be a plea for forgiveness.

Without a second thought, he threw several large notes onto the bar top, grabbed his jacket, and hurried out into the night, Brianna’s photo clutched tightly in his hand.

[otheroutlandertales]

A canon divergent story in which Bree and Roger go through the stones together.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

En Même Temps - Part 4

by @theministerskat

Boston, January 1971

Brianna read the passage in front of her for the fourth time, fingers gliding along with her eyes to ensure she processed every word and their meaning. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, she thought, then smiled at the appropriateness of using her mother’s favorite exclamation. Her mind began racing with the possibility of it all. Could it really be the same?

She shifted her position on the couch, moving her long legs out from beneath her and stretching them out over the edge of the cushion. Her feet made contact with a pile of papers instead on the hardwood as she set her feet down. Scattered around the floor were sheets of notes with important historical dates, photocopies of 18th century maps, large tomes lying open to pages that may be pertinent to their trip into the past. It was all evidence of how much planning and thought they had put into the journey.

Bree was satisfied with the amount of research they had completed. There wasn’t much more for them to find, but feelings of uncertainty still plagued her. She pushed those thoughts from her mind, knowing all the what ifs would drive her mad if she dwelled on them, and instead she found something else to focus on. Usually, that something else was Roger.

She looked up from the mess at her feet, eyes darting around the room, searching for him. Bree hoped he would interpret it in the same way she did, confirm what she had been suspecting for the last few minutes.

She looked to the right, and her gaze finally fixed on him. He was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, book in one hand, the other in his trouser pocket, completely focused on what he was reading. She opened her mouth to call him over, but stopped before getting the words out. His hand moved from his pants pocket to turn a page, then returned to its resting place. She had noticed this small quirk he’d developed as of late, his fingers making small indistinct movements within.

Bree studied him for another moment, enjoying the view. Roger’s dark hair had grown out a bit, hanging just below his ears, and a week’s worth of beard growth spread across his face, it had just crossed the point from being prickly to feeling soft, especially against her own cheek. He had ditched the layered academia look for more casual attire; she hadn’t even known he owned blue jeans until their second day back in Boston when he had exited the bathroom, hair still wet from his shower, in a pair of jeans and an old faded tee.

Today he wore khakis that hugged his hips in all the right places and a grey Inverness Royal Academy tee that stretched across his broad shoulders. A warm sensation crept up her body and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

Bree squinted then, trying to see which book he was reading. She instantly recognized the worn cover and the rounded corners of the journal Fiona had sent from Scotland, The Grimoire. In it were the musings of Gillian Edgars, the self-proclaimed witch’s thoughts and theories on time travel, all laid out within its pages. Brianna wanted nothing to do with it for the most part, believing much of what was in it to be unwarranted speculation, but Roger had been fascinated, if not also a little horrified, by its contents, and would amble through it, time and time again.

The days were passing quickly, and she was thankful they had been able to find some time to focus on one another between packing and research. Bree had taken him on a tour of her own history in Boston, showing him the Harvard history department where she spent many afternoons after school with her father and the old brownstone the Randall’s had called home for more than 20 years. They had seen The Wizard of Oz in all of its Technicolor glory at a local theatre that prided itself on showing old movies. She had laughed until her cheeks hurt as Roger sat next to her in the empty theatre singing along to all of the songs; it was a favorite from his childhood, he had told her.

Then there were the quiet nights spent in her apartment. Just the two of them, eating food from take-out containers and laughing at some odd thing or another, their minds focusing only on the moment. They would perch on opposite ends of the couch, watching reruns of Dark Shadows and I Love Lucy, only to end up in each other’s arms late into the night. Hands would roam over clothed skin, then dip below hems of shirts and waistbands of pants to feel the warmth of bare flesh, lips connecting in passion and urgency, the television forgotten in the background.

Roger, with a heavy sigh, would always stop them before anything went further than they intended. He would slowly pull away from Brianna, brushing stray strands of hair from her face, and suggest they turn in for the night. She would kiss him one last time and head for her own room, leaving him behind to settle into the sofa bed. Sometimes, under the covers of her achingly empty bed, Brianna fought to steady her breathing, the lingering feeling of Roger’s touch still electrifying every inch of her skin.

Looking at him now, calm, cool, collected, Brianna felt the need in her rise again. It wasn’t just a physical need -- it was emotional, too. He told her multiple times he would be there for her, and with him she felt supported, protected. And here he was, turning his entire life upside down to follow her on a journey that might actually kill them both. She wasn’t even certain if she’d shown him just how much everything he had done, everything he was planning to do, meant to her.

He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up from the small black journal. The green eyes that she could lose herself in looked at her, a slight question there, but mingled with love, always with love. It was a kind of loving look she had never experienced before Roger; not one of a parent or friend, or even a romantic fling. It held an air of pure and utter devotion, full of possibility.

Roger quirked an eyebrow at her and it snapped her back in to the moment, finally remembering why she had looked for him in the first place.

“Rog-” his name caught in her throat and she cleared it before starting again. “Roger, I think I found something.”

“What is it?” He set his book down on the counter behind him and crossed the space between them in a few long strides. He leaned over the back of the couch, his face close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“It’s a book on the Native American tribes of North Carolina,” she told him. “You said mama and Jamie were in the backwoods of the region. They must have some dealings with them. I thought it best to know, right?”

“Aye . . . are they in there?” he asked, pointing to the book in her hand.

“Well, no. But there’s a section on the myths and legends of the region, and, well . . . here, see for yourself.”

He took the book from her and began to read aloud from the section she had pointed to.

“The island of Ocracoke, called Wokokkon by the native people of the region, was primarily used as a hunting and fishing ground. It was not permanently settled until Europeans arrived in the new world, but evidence suggests that temporary camps were established for occasional use throughout the year.” Roger looked up, an unsure look on his face.

“Keep going,” Brianna said to him with a nod.

“Oral history suggests it was also used as a ceremonial site for many of the tribes. A circle of standing stones is located on the island and it is believed to have been used to celebrate the quarterly equinoxes and solstices.”

He didn’t say anything as he finished reading aloud, but Brianna saw his eyes moving up and down the page once more, just as she had done. She watched as he took one long deep breath, his chest rising, then he let it out slowly.

“The notebook Fiona sent,” she nodded towards the journal that lay on the counter, forgotten for only a moment. “Geillis’ journal,” speaking the witch’s name sent an involuntary shiver ran down her spine, but she continued, “She- she speculated that it’s possible other circles of standing stones may have the same kind of . . . properties, as Craigh Na Dun.”

“She did,” Roger agreed, flipping the pages of the book on Native American tribes back and forth. “She listed out all the sites across Britain where there are standing stones, and the mysterious deaths or disappearances associated with them.”

“So, maybe the standing stones on Ocracoke would work the same way?” She could hear the  small inflection of pleading in her own voice.

“Possibly . . .” He handed the book back to her and straightened up, his brows furrowed.

“Roger, don’t you see? We could go through sooner. And here, in America.”

“Aye, it may be the same type of thing.” He ran of his hands through his hair, letting them come to rest atop his head as though to keep all the information in.

“We wouldn’t have to risk an ocean crossing. And we wouldn’t have to travel very far over land. It would put us right there, in North Carolina!” Her thoughts were pouring out of her, she finally allowed herself to feel excitement at the prospect of not having to wait another two months.

Roger paced between the kitchen and living room, hands stuffed deep into his pockets once again.

“When’s the next fire feast?” Brianna asked him, impatient, setting the book down next to her, and rose from the couch to move towards the kitchen where a calendar hung on the refrigerator.

Roger answered her without having to think about it. “February 1st . . .Imbolc. But Bree, that’s just two weeks from now. Ye think we’ll be ready?”

The apprehension in his voice stopped her and she turned to him. His face was a mix of emotions, but worry dominated all others. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close to her.

“I don’t see why not,” she said in a reassuring voice as their eyes met. “We’ve already been through the majority of Daddy’s collection of books on life in the colonies, and the ones his colleagues recommended. And we won’t be there for long, shouldn’t have to know everything.”

She felt his body relax in her arms, releasing tension. She relaxed herself, thankful that she could give him the same type of comfort that he gave her. Bringing his own arms around her, he smiled.

“Aye, yer right.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “Alright then. We’ll try it.”

She smiled in response to his words. Moving her hands up to cradle his face in reassurance, she slowly lifted her chin and brought his face down to hers. His lips felt hot on her own, all the excitement and worry of the last few moments released in the connection between them.

Roger’s hands ran along her back as he pressed her tighter against him, the usual passion and urgency building between them. Her eyes were closed, allowing herself to be completely consumed by the feeling of him, of the two of them. When he pulled his lips from hers, she instinctually sought them out again with her own mouth.

“Bree . . . Brianna . . .” The way he said her name sent a warm wave rolling over her body and she opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “There’s one more thing I think we need to do before we go.”

“Oh?” She pressed her lower half into him in a suggestive way. “And what would that be?” She was teasing him and could feel the effect it was having on him.

“I want you, Brianna. All of you.” He took a breath to fortify himself and continued, “Will ye marry me before we go? I don’t want to risk this without making ye mine, before God.”

She felt her heart pounding in her chest, or perhaps his heart, pounding against her own. She didn’t need to think about it this time, it was exactly what she wanted, her way of comforting him, showing him how much he and everything he had done meant to her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, of cour-”

His mouth was back on hers because she could finish. She moaned softly into it and let her entire body melt into his. They weren’t urgent or hurried kisses, but long and slow, worshipping each other with their mouths.

After a few moments, she felt the loss of warmth as he removed his hand from the small of her back, felt him fumbling in his pocket against her own hip. Bringing his hand back up, he took her left hand in his and slid a silver band onto her ring finger. A simple emerald was set in the middle of it, a color that was a perfect match to his eyes. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the ring there. Her chest felt heavy with emotion, filling her so that all she could do was stand there and look at him.

“Come on,” Roger said, and before she knew what was happening, he grasped the back of her thighs and lifted her into the air. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, as he set off down the small hallway, to her bedroom.

Continue to Part 5.

[otheroutlandertales]

A continuation of the canon divergent story in which Bree and Roger will eventually go through the stones together.

Part 1, Part 2

En Même Temps - Part 3

by @theministerskat

Boston, January 1971

Roger folded the sides down on the box he had just finished filling. Securing it with a strip of tape, he slid it across the dark hardwood floor towards Brianna. She finished labelling the box in front of her and pushed it aside. Turning to him, she pulled the box he had just packed in front her and raised a single ruddy brow in inquiry.  

“Books,” he said, answering her silent question. She cocked her head, raising both eyebrows this time, and her mouth forming a sarcastic smile. It was a look that reminded Roger of Claire - a look that had been directed at him once or twice during their search for Jamie Fraser.

“Medical books,” he clarified and watched as she labeled the box in her tidy, angular hand.

He relaxed into the couch, done with his portion of the work, and watched her. Dressed in well worn jeans and an old Harvard sweatshirt, sitting on the floor, long, elegant, legs crossed beneath her, copper hair falling loose around her shoulders. Even in the most mundane circumstances she was beautiful.

Glancing up he took in the rest of the apartment. The only items that hadn’t been put away were the history books and notes they had been working through on the kitchen table. The room around them was empty, everything packed away in boxes stacked by the door, waiting for the movers to take them to storage. Roger imagined for an instant that they were packing her things away to be shipped to Oxford, to a small flat they would share, to the start of a life together. If only it were that simple, mate, he thought.

The last few weeks since Christmas had been a blur. They packed up his small quarters in the porter’s lodge, sending everything he owned on to Inverness. His paperwork to take a sabbatical from the university was submitted; two years of travelling in the States to research the impact of Scottish immigrants on Colonial America. Brianna had dissolved into a fit of laughter when he told her about his meeting with the dean of the history department.

“Didn’t think to mention to him that it would be first hand experience you’d be using for your research, did you?” she asked him as they left the administration office and headed for the taxi stand.

“Of course not. I’d rather it be officially recorded as a voluntary break than a ‘forced resignation for psychiatric reasons’.” He emphasized the words by exaggerating the rolling of his R’s, hoping to elicit even more laughter from her.

But she had stopped in the middle of the walkway, pulling him to her by the hand that was intertwined with her own. Stumbling back, his arms came up and reflexively wrapped around her waist, shielding her from the late December wind.

“Are you sure about this Roger? I could go alone- I wouldn’t be gone long.” She searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt on his part. He felt his heart constrict at the insecurity in her expression.

“Brianna, ye ken I’d do anything for ye. Even if ye didna ask it of me.” He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I’d follow ye to hell and back, just to see ye safe. Ye’ll no ask me again, aye?” She laid her cheek against him, just below his shoulder and he felt her nod into his chest. He held her tight to him and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you,” she said, her confident resolve returning.

“Aye, and I you, Bree. Let’s go.”

Taking his hand again, she walked a step ahead of him. He followed her, his free hand diving into the depths of his trouser pocket, fingers searching for his mother’s wedding ring. The cold metal warmed as he turned it over and over between his fingers, his heart more sure with each revolution. It was different this time. She had asked him to go with her, a sign that she was absolutely sure of her heart.

Brianna had been very matter of fact about everything since that last reassurance. Her demeanor reflected no hint of what they were truly preparing for. No insecurities, no fears. She was a woman on a mission, just as her mother had been.

They discussed the logistics of their trip as they went about completing the tasks that essentially put their lives on hold in 1971. They decided to attempt the journey on the sun feast of Ostara, the vernal equinox in March. This gave them enough time to settle their own affairs in the present, and to prepare for and research life in pre-Revolutionary America.

Once everything was done in Boston, they would head back to Scotland and make their final preparations to travel through the stones. Brianna suggested going to Lallybroch first once they were through, but knowing her parents were already in North Carolina in 1769, Roger made the case that it would add unnecessary risk to their journey. Ships would begin to cross the Atlantic again in early April after the winter months, and they hoped to reach the colonies by June.

Going through all the details once more made Roger realize that everything actually had been quite simple for them. They worked perfectly as a team, each allowing the other to take the lead on aspects of preparation that best fit their strengths. Supporting one another came easily for them. Roger’s hand moved to the inside of his trouser pocket, searching out his mother’s ring. He kept it on him all the time now, waiting for that perfect moment to give it to her. Lately, he had been using it as a source of encouragement, the feel of it brushing his fingertips grounded him to the moment and reminding him of his goal.

He was not worried about how Brianna would react when he gave it to her, but it helped to keep his other worries at bay. What truly concerned Roger were the forces that were out of his control. The standing stones were a risk in and of themselves, but it was the little things that they may encounter that kept him up at night. The 18th century was a precarious time to live, people fell ill and died of simple diseases and injuries that were were easy to fix in the 20th century. There were the people, some so desperate that they would harm innocents for their own survival. Would he be able to protect them both well enough that they could make it back in one piece?

“I think that’s the last of it for now.” Brianna said, stretching her legs out in front of her and looking up at him. He tried to shake his previous thoughts from his mind and hide his thoughts from her, but she caught the expression of deep thought on his face and smiled at him.

“You’re overthinking it again.”

Looking closer at Brianna, Roger noticed a slight wrinkle between her eyebrows, one that had not been there when she visited him in Scotland the previous summer. Perhaps she was feeling a small amount of the stress he himself was experiencing, though she could hide it much better than him.

“Och, am I now? And how would ye know that?”

“Your nose twitches when you’re deep in thought and worried.”

“No it doesna!” His voice was mockingly abashed, but he received yet another of Claire’s looks from her. Sighing, he gave up any pretense on the matter.

“How can I not worry, Bree? What if something happens? There are so many things that could go wrong.”

She came to him then, settling next to him on the couch. He lifted his arm for her to come closer and she rested herself in the crook of his broad shoulder. Roger held Bree for what seemed like a long time, the fingertips of one hand brushing up and down the length of her neck while the other absentmindedly fiddled with the ring in his pocket.

“We’ll be okay,” she said in a low voice. “And I promise to protect you.” He knew she was trying to play it off as simple teasing, but he knew there was sincerity to her words. They would protect each other, at any cost.

Before he could respond to her promise, his stomach made a guttural noise of protest.

“Hungry, Roger? How does pizza sound?” she asked. “Better enjoy it while we still can, Lord knows there won’t be pizza ovens in colonial America.”

“And beer?” he responded hopefully. “I ken there’s beer in the 18th century but it willna be the same.”

“It’s decided, then. I’ve never met a better pair than pizza and beer.”

Continue to Part 4.

[otheroutlandertales]

The second part from the prompt “Roger and Bree go through the stones together.”

Part 1

En Même Temps - Part 2

by @theministerskat

Oxford, December 1970

It was a damp night in Oxford, and just cold enough that snowflakes began to fall as they walked along the River Cherwell. Brianna watched as the heavy, wet snow came down around them in large crystals, floating to the earth as if in slow motion. Her arm was looped tightly through Roger’s, the slight chill of the wind imploring her to lean closer into him for warmth. Just like Boston, she thought to herself.

A particularly cold gust had her trying to burrow herself into him even more, and she glanced up at him. One flake after another landed on the top of his head, their bright white color sitting in stark contrast to his dark hair, before melting away into nothingness. She smiled to herself; he was so beautiful - tender, yet rugged - and a part of her wondered why she ever had reservations about her own feelings for him.

With the snow blurring and distorting everything around her but Roger, Brianna couldn’t stop her thoughts from straying back to the memory of their foggy walk along the River Ness the year before. “I’ll wait.” His assertion made with such sincerity and understanding, that she nearly forgot her own excuses for why they couldn’t be together just then.

She returned to Boston though, and Roger went back to Oxford. Frequent calls were placed; him catching her just before she started her day, and she ringing just before he went to bed. Their letters across the Atlantic held the passionate declarations that never found their way into their conversations over the phone. He made the journey to see her in April. With no obligations, they spent the week perusing museums, exploring old bookshops, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Brianna became sure of it then; knew that this was the man she wanted to spend her life with. But there was still a full year before they could be together, before she finished school. She didn’t feel rushed to tell him, assured by his words - and actions - that he was waiting for her.

You should have told him, she admonished herself as she loosened her grip on his arm.

In the last three months, his letters had become less passionate, and more a direct,  straightforward synopsis of his days. Their phone calls occurred less often and were short. Roger always having to ring off, excusing himself with research for a new project, or so he told her. She’d felt the strain in his voice and written words, as though he had carefully chosen each word.

He’d been distant since she’d arrived. No - not distant, she thought. Reserved. He was guarded, like he was building a wall between them. His actions confirmed what his letters only hinted at; he was drifting away from her.

You made him wait too long, Brianna cursed herself. You told him no then, and now he’s found someone else.

In her desire to be completely dedicated to him, to know her own heart fully, she had also given him the opportunity to reconsider his own. She never questioned Roger’s devotion to her, realizing now that she had taken it for granted. How could you be so stupid? She felt the doubt that had been accumulating in her heart grow.

Maybe it’s for the best, to end it now. Brianna had come to Oxford to ask so much more of him than he, and even herself, ever imagined she would. Yes, it was better this way. But she had to hear the truth from him.

Pulling herself out of her own mind, Brianna noticed him staring out across the river, deep in thought himself, absent from the moment once again. She wouldn’t stand by and let the space between them grow anymore.

“Roger?” The quiver in her voice was hard to mask, but she pushed back the doubt she was feeling and continued, “Is something the matter?”

“Hmm?” He pulled himself back to reality. “What’s that?”

She came to a stop, but he continued a few more steps until their arms fell apart. The sudden loss of her warmth jarred him, and he turned back to her, head cocked to the side in question, not quite meeting her eyes.

“I said, ‘Is something wrong?’ I’ve been here for three days, but I feel like you haven’t been here at all.” She sighed, knowing full well he’d be able to hear the sullenness in her voice. “You’ve hardly looked at me... hardly touched me.”

He met her eyes this time. There was warmth there, and love too she thought, but not the depths of emotion she had seen before.

“Just tell me.” Her pleading tone couldn’t be helped now. “Tell me if there’s someone else. I’ll understand.” She would, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t break her at the same time.

“What? Someone else? Oh god, Bree, no.” He stepped towards her, but she took a step back. He froze, and brought his hands up, running them through his wet hair.

He was thinking hard, she could see his mind working all across his face, confused, but working out what to say to her. Her stomach dropped at the possibilities of his words, and she took a deep breath, bracing herself.

“Have ye ever thought about what ye’d do if we find ‘em?” His gaze traveled down to the path beneath his feet, and his hands found their way into the pockets of his Mac.

“Find them? Find wh-” She stopped, the meaning of his words finally registering with her. “My par- my mother and Jamie?”

“Aye, if we do find them, would ye try to go back, Bree?”

Brianna stared at him, mouth slightly open, but she was unable to form an answer. Roger moved towards her, a bit more tentative this time. She didn’t pull back, and his hands came up to rest on the curve of her hips, his touch snapping her out of her own shock.

Suddenly, it all made sense, and her body relaxed in relief. He found it. He had found the notice and he was preparing himself to lose her. Brianna felt an inappropriate need to laugh. She thought he wanted to call things off with her, but he believed the same of her.

“Roger, did you find the- the newspaper article?” She had stopped herself from calling it what it truly was: a death notice.

It was his turn to be flabbergasted. He blinked several times, very slowly. Then, his lips curved up in the faintest hint of a smile.

“Ye found it too, then?” He paused for the briefest of moments, but continued before she could answer him, “Aye, I knew ye would.” She thought there was a hint of pride in his voice and in the look he gave her.

“Yes, just a couple of weeks ago.” Her voice trailed off, the reality of the entire thing finally settling in her. Finding the notice had been shocking. She had been looking for something, anything, of her parents; using all of her freetime to comb through collections of newspapers more than 200 years old. And there it was. Thinking about it, she felt the tears begin to well in her eyes, and the first one fell down her cold cheeks.

Roger pulled her closer to him, one arm wrapping around her, while the other came up to brush the tear away.

“Ye’ll be able to see them. Ye’ll go back, hen.” It was a statement, no doubt in his words. He would help her, even if it meant losing her. “I promise I’ll make sure you have everything ye need.”

She composed herself as best she could, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Yes, he would see her safe, he just didn’t realize how far his promise might take them both.

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.

“Roger, I do want to go back. But I want you to go with me.”

Continue to Part 3.