#already saw maybe 10 in Scotland

[yridenergyridenergy]

"I have always been very interested in buildings and people torn up to pieces. The beautiful world that we originally see is full of lies. There is nothing false about something that is about to fall apart at any moment, and its history is engraved in it. That's why people who live desperately look so bright.

Kyo"

[mismatched-sockss]

You're my future, past and present

» Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader » Word count: 6,4k » Warnings: spoiler mentioned for 9x23 Angels / 9x24 Demons, Spencer's POV, exes to lovers, set after s15, anxious!Spencer, reader feels guilty at one point, language? (one 'bitch' from reader to reader), mentions of past fights, minor misunderstandings, random old lady plays cupid <3, fluff, kissing, how many phrases for being in love can one pack in two paragraphs? me: yes., » A/N: my brain is on strike for finishing bingo fics for some reason, it instead gave us this so yay!, i'm still working on those of course but i can't tell when i will get the next one done (in the words of one Penelope Garcia: Why do the last 10% always take the longest?), hopefully by the end of the week; it's lightly implied that reader can get pregnant in the beginning but it's not explicitly said (only mentions of kids), which is the reason i tagged it as fem but no mentions of anything body related or any pronouns (i think so, please let me know if i missed pronouns), so it might as well can be read as gn; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

He should have asked Penelope for a favour to look you up, before he came here. He had no idea how your life had changed in all these years he hadn't seen you or if you even wanted to see him again. It didn't particularly sound like it the last time he saw you.

You could be happily married with kids for all he knew. The thought alone almost made him turn around without even knocking on your door. He didn't know what he would do if this was the case. Or maybe you didn't even live here any more, you could have moved; to the other side of the city, to another state. Another country. You had toyed with the idea to move to Scotland back then, it very well could be that you had acted on it.

Too much time had past, five whole years – five years, three months, twenty-one days and eleven hours, forty-two minutes to be exact; but who was counting, right? – and there was too much history, too much heartbreak. Too many reasons why it hadn't worked out.

The main – and kind of only – ones being his job at the BAU and everything that came with it. The travelling and never being home, not even a free day or annual leave really meant not getting called in, the late nights, the worries that he could get hurt and may not be coming back home, the worries when he got hurt.

You had your reasons to break it off and he still thought that you were right to do so. He never held it against you, never resented you for leaving. Because he understood. If the roles would have been reversed, he may would have made the same decisions.

This whole idea was stupid. Why was he even here. He should just leave.

What did he think would happen when you saw him? That showing up out of nowhere – with no contact since the break up, not even a single text message – and having a 'new' job would change everything and would make you jump back into his arms in an instant like nothing happened? Yeah... Sure...

Maybe, deep down and in the tiniest crack of his heart, he didn't even want you to open the door; didn't want to see your reaction to him just showing up and the inevitable rejection that would surely come. He was sabotaging himself, really. And if he would be more honest to himself, he'd knew that. Maybe he did, but just didn't want to see it.

Spencer had been pacing back and forth in front of your door for an eternity by now; walking closer to it and already lifting his hand to knock, but changing his mind before his fingers even came close and he was walking a few feet away to leave, only to change his mind again and repeat the whole ordeal. Over. And over. And over.

He just couldn't make his mind up, he didn't know what to do. It shouldn't be this hard to knock on a door. Especially yours. But maybe it was this hard for him because it was yours.

At one point, he, a man of science, even asked the universe to give him a sign, to show him what he should do; if he should do it or if he should go.

That's when it happened.

Right after, as he was walking closer to the door again, he tripped over his own damn feet and he ended up kicking the door with his shoe; not hard, but audible enough.

Shit. Not the sign he was looking for. A pedestrian screaming something outside that he could twist into an answer, a car honking when he either was close to the door or walking away; hell, even a spam mail popping up on his phone that had a certain word in the subject line... No, it had to be this way.

Now he had to knock.

Taking a shaky breath, he hit his knuckles against the wood a couple of times and started fidgeting with his fingers as soon as he had lowered his hands. His heart was in his throat as he waited anxiously. His mind in a constant battle of 'please be home' and 'please don't be home'.

A moment later – both too short and too long at the same time – the door opened just a crack and it was really you standing there. Not some random person that would tell him you moved. You.

You didn't turn your head just yet, looking back over your shoulder instead, you held out your arm behind you and said “Stay there” in a soft voice to someone behind you. When you turned you blocked the entrance with your body and kept your left hand on the door.

Your eyes grew wide when you saw him. Spencer probably was about the last person you would have expected to see when you opened the door. He couldn't bring himself to break the silence first, didn't dare to speak.

“Oh, hey... Uh-”, you stammered looking for words, blinking in confusion. For a moment you opened and closed your mouth, and he knew you were hating that you looked like a fish out of the water, before you gave up and just settled for another “Hi.”

“Hi.” He hated how shaky his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands and the floor before he met your gaze again.

“Wow, it- it's been a while.”

“Yeah...”

“How long 's it been? Five years?”

“Five years, three months and twenty-one days.” Spencer pressed his lips together before he could blurt out the hours and minutes as well.

You laughed – not mean, but endearing – and the sound combined with the smile that spread on your lips made his heart leap. “Right.”

God, how much he had missed your laugh; how much he had missed you. Now that you stood before him, it became evident, that all the longing and yearning he had felt in the past years had been nothing more than a fraction of what he was really feeling; repressed by throwing himself into work and keeping his mind off you as much as he could.

His love for you never went away, never dulled even the slightest bit, and seeing you now was almost too overwhelming for him, his feelings for you crashing over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Uhm, I was just about to go to the park with Cleo”, you started, shooting a look over your shoulder and Spencer's heart dropped. He could have sworn it stopped beating for a few seconds as well. The Stay there hadn't rung any alarms in his mind, it could have been said to any person really. Going to the park with Cleo however...

He really should have asked Penelope to look you up before he came. You had a kid.

And since he could only see the heel of your left hand and not your fingers, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but there was a high chance there was a ring on your finger.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hold you up. I'll just, uhm-”, he stammered choked up and pointed his thumbs over his shoulder, taking a step back, about to turn away and leave.

“No”, you exclaimed, maybe a bit too quickly and panicked, as you held out your right hand like you wanted to reach for his arm; even making a small step out of the door. “You don't have to leave. You could- uh, you could come with us? If you want to.” If he wouldn't know better, he'd say there was a pleading look in your eyes, begging him to say yes and stay.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

'Yes sure, let's go to the park with your daughter and rip my heart into pieces seeing and hearing about you living the life I dreamt of having with you, with another man'.

A plain 'No.' would be too rude, wouldn't it? Even if he would add a 'thank you' at the end, it didn't feel right.

“She uh- she likes meeting new people, she's really open; sometimes I'm afraid she'll walk off with anyone. Come here, girl.” You looked over your shoulder again and tapped your flat hand against your thigh a couple of times, then some clicking and scratching could be heard behind you on the parquet floor.

The speckled snout of an Australian Shepherd pushed in the space between your knee and the door, then tried to push through further after seeing Spencer. With a laugh you took a hold of the collar and held the dog back from running out.

“Cleo, stay.” You squatted down next to her, petting her head and scratched behind her ear. ”I have to warn you, she can be a bit rough when she gets excited.” A wide smile was on your face as you looked up at Spencer. “I've been trying to teach her to not jump up on everyone she meets, but it doesn't stick.”

Just like that, he felt like he could breathe again. Cleo wasn't your daughter but your dog and the ring you were indeed wearing on your left hand was one he recognized from your jewellery box.

A relieved chuckle left his lips and he mirrored your position. He held out his hand for Cleo to smell before he touched her. She really was excited; she was pulling against your hold and tried to get closer, her tail was waggling so hard her whole body moved in the rhythm and she nudged her nose against his palm hard after a short sniff, so he would pet her.

You did your best to hold her back, but after Spencer verbally said hi to her and was petting her on both sides of her head she surged forward; your hand slipped from the collar and Cleo threw her whole weight against him, making him loose balance and topple over.

With an outstretched arm he held himself up, laughing, as your dog rubbed her head against his torso and hand and was spinning around a couple of times between his legs, repeatedly leaning herself into him with every turn.

“Cleo!” Your voice had a warning tone to it that hadn't fully replaced your laugh though, not until she let out a small bark and started to lick over his face. “No! Stop!” You pulled her away and moved her back into the apartment; Cleo only reluctantly complied.

Before he could react, you shuffled closer on your knees until you kneeled right before him and in between his legs. You reached out and started to wipe the side of his face clean; the sleeve of your sweater pulled over your fingers. “I'm so sorry, she's usually not that excited. I have never seen her do this to someone that isn't me.”

He froze when you got close and he felt your touch, every soft stroke leaving behind a trail of fire, even with the thin fabric barrier between you. One would think his heart couldn't pound any faster in his chest than it already had since he had laid eyes on you again, but it did.

“It's- hu, it's okay”, he stammered as he was watching you intensely, with wide eyes.

“No, it's not”, you said softly and took his chin between your thumb and index finger, slightly tilting his head to the side as you tried to get everything off. “Do you want a wet wipe or something? You can come in and wash your face if you'd prefer that.”

Spencer couldn't help the smile stretching on his lips, his heart warming over the fact that you were still looking out for him, after all these years; after everything that had happened and all the things that had been said the day you broke up with him. His hand moved on its own accord and he wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Really, it's okay.”

You met his gaze, heat rising in your cheeks and it was like you only now realized how close the both of you were sitting and that you were touching him. For a second you froze, your eyes wide. Then, after a deep breath, you pulled back to bring some distance between you and cleared your throat, looking away.

He could tell there was an apology forming on your tongue, but you swallowed it down. You began to nervously fidget with the hem of your sleeve and cleared your throat. “So, uh, do you want to come with us? There is this coffee shop on the way that opened about six months ago and they're really good, we- we could grab a coffee and catch up...?”

“I'd really like that.”

It was easy, talking to you. The initial awkwardness and anxiety he had been feeling had quickly faded and the both of you were talking as freely and open as before, like no time had passed; and he was incredibly grateful for it. Neither of you had been going to personal topics for now though – the closest thing to personal in a deeper sense was when you asked about his mom –, the both of you had been talking more about everything and anything.

[..] Did you end up getting that book collection you had your eyes on? - When did you get Cleo? - Oh, do you remember my coworker Grace? All the rumours really were true! - Is your neighbour still vacuuming solely in the middle of the night? [..]

About halfway to the park you stopped at the café you had mentioned and while you were waiting in line, you told him about the different coffee varieties they offered; the flavours, how strong they were, how sweet, the seasonal ones. You had drunk your way through the list three times and until you decided on your Top 5.

He crinkled his nose in adoration as he was listening to you rambling about the coffee – what you liked about each one and why you didn't like another – totally engrossed by you; you had done this in the past as well and it made Spencer happy that you still were. It was adorable. He wondered, if you still wrote down your Top 5's in that little notebook you had always kept in your purse.

The one you recommended to him was really good, you had met his taste precisely; the perfect amount of sweetness just how he liked it, and with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

There were many occasions he was about to reach for your hand, it was almost instinctually when you were this close to him. He didn't know if you would let him, if you would want it. So Spencer didn't. Instead he buried his hand deep into the pocket of his coat to keep himself from reaching for you, holding a tight grip on an old pack of gum he forgot was even in there.

Throughout the whole way from your apartment to the park, Cleo was happily dancing around you, just shy of making one of you trip over her. That she didn't circle around the both of you to wrap the leash around your legs – all '101-Dalmatians'-like – was all.

After you arrived at the park you walked a bit further in until you came to a fenced area that seemed to be reserved for dogs for them to freely run around without having to be leashed. As soon as you unhooked the leash from Cleo's collar she dashed forward, joining a group of dogs playing.

Spencer and you sat down on a bench and just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching her. His hands got clammy as he got nervous because of the proximity, and he tried to wipe them on his pants as discreetly as he could. You were sitting so close to him, your thighs and shoulders were almost touching; he could feel the warmth radiating from your body and with every soft breeze the smell of your shampoo got carried over.

“So, uh... How have you been?”, you asked after a few minutes.

He huffed out a small laugh and licked over his lips. Where should he even begin. “Long story short? Not good then somewhat okay, bad, worse, better, okay.”

"Sounds like one hell of a roller coaster."

Oh you had no idea how much. And 'hell' sounded about right to be honest. "You could say that... How about you?"

"Wasn't much going on for me to be honest. I've been... okay? After some time at least...”, you admitted nervously, following Cleo with your eyes. “Everything alright at the BAU? How is everyone?”

“Good, they're good.” Spencer started telling you about all the changes within the team, but he left out all the bad stuff for now – he told you about Alex leaving, about Tara joining after practically a 36 hour long job interview for the open position, JJ and Will having a second child, that Morgan left and had married Savanah and that they had a son as well, Garcia vehemently trying – but ultimately failing – to hate the newbie Luke.

“Rossi got married last year.”

“Really? Again?” You let out a soft laugh.

“He re-married his third wife actually. They got back together after-” He had to stop for a second and swallowed hard as the spark of hope was reigniting in his chest. If Dave and Krystall had found their way back to each other after thirty years and made it work, five years didn't sound all that bad in retrospective. He tried to play it off like he was trying to remember the exact number of years. “Around three decades, I think.”

“Wow... That's a lot of time..”

“It is.” For a short moment Spencer didn't say anything more, trying to muster up the courage to tell you he left the team as well.

“And I- uh” He huffed out a small laugh, nervous, and let his gaze wander over the meadow. There he goes... “I'm not- I'm not with the BAU any more, actually.”

“...Oh”

For a moment you didn't say anything else and his heart beat faster. He couldn't a hundred percent gauge what your silence meant. What the oh meant. Did you care? Were you relieved or maybe even sad for him? Could – would – it change anything between you, even after all this time? Would you give the both of you a second chance? Him?

Hope started to rise up again in his chest and he tried to stop it and keep it at bay, so it wouldn't take over him; it would only crush him even more to lose you a second time if he'd let it happen. Spencer's breathing became more shallow and slightly faster as he waited for you to say more.

He could just turn his head to look at your face of course, study your expressions to get his answer without you saying another word. He didn't. Something held him back; maybe it was only because he was respecting your wishes from years ago not to profile you. Maybe it was fear of what he would see.

He heard you clear your throat and when you spoke, your voice was shaking, almost undetectable however. If you wouldn't sit so close to him – and if it wouldn't be you and he wouldn't be him – one probably wouldn't have noticed. “Why not?”

“Re-assignment due to budget-cuts or something like that. There were a couple of people higher up the food chain than Emily that had it out for us for a couple of years now.” His eyes followed Cleo sprinting over the grass, chasing and playing with the other dogs.

“Emily is back?”, you asked. The last thing you knew was that she had left for London not long after she came back from the dead.

“Yeah, she took over from Hotch after-” He stopped himself.

Telling you about Hotch and Scratch and why Emily fully became Unit Chief of the BAU, meant he had to tell you about everything else; everything that had happened to him. He just wasn't ready for this yet. This would have to be a story for another day; for both your and his sake.

“Anyway, I uh- I'm teaching now. Full-time. Mostly at the academy and some colleges here and there. But all in all-” Spencer took a deep breath. “Fixed work hours and no travelling for longer than a day.”

Only when he felt you tense up did he bring himself to look at you. You were sitting up with a straight back, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed. Your eyes were darting around and he watched a muscle twitch on your jaw.

He quickly looked away again, concentrating on Cleo again, before he could read you more. He couldn't help it, it was hard not to and turn it off. By now profiling was in his blood, it was a subconscious habit he couldn't always control, it just happened. You didn't want to get profiled, so he did what he could do to not use his profession on you. If it meant turning away and not look at you, even if he was only looking just to see you, he'd do it.

Also, he knew that he was biased; another reason why he shouldn't. What he would see and read would not be accurate. Usually, this was not a problem, he could read body language and micro-expressions with a 99,42% accuracy, since he'd do it with a neutral stand. But right now it was personal.

What ever Spencer would see in your non-verbal communication, he was too involved to not let his judgement get clouded by his feelings for you, his hopes and his fears. He would only see what he wanted to see, or what he not wanted to see, depending on which part of his heart was winning at the moment; the confident and hopeful part, or the insecure and anxious part.

“That's... That's nice. Do you like it?” He wished, he knew what you were thinking right now. Your tone didn't give much away on how you were feeling, but you seemed a bit more relaxed to him.

“Yeah, it's fun. There are some key topics on the curriculum I have to cover of course, but other than that I have pretty much full reign over the subject matters. Learning is more fun when it is about something you're really interested in, so I take suggestions from my students for a lot of the lectures. It's been paying off already.” He smiled proudly. “They contribute more and most grades have gone up.”

Slowly, the longer you talked as the evening proceeded and the sun slowly began to set, he let himself go, allowed his heart to open up and he welcomed the prospect of having you back in his life – to what ever extent it may be, even if only as a friend if that was what you wanted.

His heart had leaped when you shared you weren't seeing anyone and it hadn't slowed down it's pace ever since. Both of you had been talking and asking about it in the most complicated and conspicuously inconspicuous ways one can ask 'are you dating someone?'.

Not only this, but you wanted to spent more time with him. Spencer couldn't believe his luck. It was almost too good to be true and he feared he might wake up from this wonderful dream any minute.

He could tell how nervous you were when you asked him; hands and voice shaking, fingers fidgeting with Cleos leash in your lap, your eyes not daring to meet his.

"Tonight is this big bonfire at the Benson's farm, you know, the one with the apple orchard? I was thinking of going and.. maybe if you- I mean, if you are free tonight and want, uh- Would you like to go with me?"

There was nothing he'd rather do, nowhere he'd rather be.

After a short stop at your apartment to bring Cleo home and for the both of you to freshen up, you made your way to the farm. It was a fairly short drive and the roads were mostly empty as it got later, a bright full moon illuminating the way now.

When you arrived, there weren't too many people present. It felt more like a large family gathering than a big event. At a decent distance were benches placed around the huge bonfire, there was a tent where various beverages and a few food options were served. Next to it stood a truck from the fire department and an ambulance; a precaution if the fire got out of control or someone got hurt.

The air smelled of smoke and burning wood, french fries, beer and Mrs. Benson's home made apple pie.

Sorry, Mr. Benson's apple pie as Spencer learned some time after you arrived. You introduced him to the hosts and you started to talk about a new recipe for the pie filling you had tried to make and Mr. Benson explained what he would have done different than the recipe you found had stated.

The Benson's were nice people – he had met them once when he had accompanied you to the farm to get apples and honey. You had gotten closer to them since then, dropping by to help them out from time to time, especially when it was time for the harvest.

He had to catch his breath as his heart fluttered, his eyes glued to your face as he watched you talk with old man Benson. The way your eyes wrinkled at the corners when you smiled and the excited glint in your eyes, how the fire painted beautiful orange patterns on your face as the flames danced high, fuelled by the soft breeze; combined with the silvery light of the full moon shining bright. You looked ethereal.

Spencer became increasingly aware of said man's wife and her three friends, who stood a little farther away. The women were whispering to each other and kept looking over, one of them not so subtlety pointing at the both of you. They weren't talking badly, not at all; they were smiling and giggling as they were talking, nodding at what the other ones were saying, swooning with their hands over their hearts from time to time.

It could only mean one thing – and he wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed about it, or not: that he all too obviously for everyone around looked as love struck as he felt; utterly bewitched by your beauty, completely head over heels, truly madly and deeply in love with you in every way, a total goner who was worshipping the ground you were walking on.

Thank god for the warm shine of the fire, or they would be able to see the blush rising up his neck in this moment as well... He just was glad that he had finished his piece of pie before this, otherwise he'd probably stand here with an open mouth and the fork frozen in mid air as he was looking at you. Now, that would have been a good picture.

What he didn't know though, was that they weren't just talking about the smitten look on his face, but yours as well. The longing glances you shot his way whenever he wasn't looking, how you were orbiting around him like the earth around the sun, a magnetic pull to each other that not even the both of you seemed to realise you had as you unconsciously stepped closer to the other when you stood too far apart. They talked about the fact, that you looked at Spencer with such a happy and beaming smile they hadn't seen on your face in a long time.

And that they could tell how hesitant and shy the both of you were about getting closer.

It's not like he didn't want to, believe me. The urge to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you – to kiss you – was still burning in every fibre of his body and it got more and more challenging to hold back, the longer he was around you. Leaving out the tiny part in him that was still afraid of getting rejected, he didn't want to impose on you by acting on it. He didn't want to possibly make you uncomfortable, so he left it to you to initiate any physical contact.

Admittedly, this was very much a bad plan if you were doing the same and were waiting for him to make the first move. However, the universe seemed to take matters in its own hands again.

Spencer had to remove himself from of the situation for a moment to restore some of his composure and not ogle you non-stop; especially not in front of all these people. He let you know that he would get the both of you something to drink and asked what he should get for you; when he came back, Mr. Benson had left.

For some time you stayed close to the fire, until he saw you lift your hand to fan yourself some air. “Too warm?”

You let out a small laugh and smiled at him. “Yeah, it starts getting a bit too much.”

He took the now empty cup from you and with a tilt of his head he signalled you to follow him. He gave the cups back to the person behind the make-shift bar counter and you walked a little farther away, putting some distance between you and both the tent and the fire. And the people too actually, the majority had gathered close around the flames in small groups.

“That's much better”, you sighed. “I like a nice fire as much as the next pers- oh.”

Before you could finish, you lost your balance when a body collided with yours from behind. You stumbled forward and Spencer instinctively reached out to catch you – he got a hold of your arms with a firm grip on them right above your elbows as you fell into him, bringing up your own hands to hold onto his shoulders.

“Oh, dear, I am so sorry, I must have tripped over something. Are you okay?”, the voice of a woman came from behind you.

Neither of you let go of the other as you turned to face her. Spencer recognized her as one of the women that had talked with Mrs. Benson earlier and the look on her face told a whole different story than her words; that she wasn't sorry at all and that it had been deliberately planned to bump into you.

“I'm okay, no worries. Are you?”, you asked her and quickly scanned her for injuries.

“Ooh, I'm good. I'm good...”, she replied, almost in a sing-sang kind of tone and a wide smile on her lips. She snickered softly and walked away, her hand raised with a lazy kind of flick in her wrist as a wave good-bye.

The both of you watched her walk away, baffled.

“Okayyy”, you let out as you kept your eyes on her for a moment longer. “As long as she didn't twist her ankle or something.”

You turned your head, and just like earlier in front of your apartment, it seemed like you only just now realised the position you were in when your eyes met his. How close you were and that you were still holding on to each other.

Only this time, you didn't pull away.

The world around him seemed to fade away, time standing still, as he held your gaze. Your breath hitched and when his eyes flickered down to your lips, Spencer felt your grip on him tighten, subconsciously pulling him closer to you. His heart was in his throat and it beat so loud that he was sure you were able to hear it. He let his eyes wander back up and when he saw that you were looking at his lips as well, he threw all caution in the wind and just... did it.

He let go of your elbows, took your face in his hands and leaned in, hovering his lips over yours for a short moment to give you an out, to give you time to pull away, but you didn't; instead you closed the small space that was left between you.

A long and deep sigh rumbled in the back of his throat when your lips met and he pulled you closer; as you leaned into him, your hands moved higher until your fingers were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it.

When you pulled back – more than reluctantly, but the both of you were still in public – , you were panting, your breaths mingling as your faces were still so close to each other. Spencer kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, not quiet ready to open them yet, afraid that when he did, he would wake up from an incredibly vivid dream.

“I'm sorry”, you suddenly choked out, which made him open his eyes in an instant. Tears were streaming down your face and you took a step back, keeping him at arms length. “I am so sorry, Spencer.”

“Hey, what's wrong? Talk to me, please.” Your emotions had changed so suddenly, he didn't know what happened, what made you cry. He wasn't sure what he should do, how he could help you calm down.

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, shaking your head.

“What for?” Did you regret letting him get close to you again; kissing him? Did you regret, that you hadn't just closed the door right in his face as soon as you had seen him this afternoon?

“Everything!” you choked out. “For how I acted all the time and for leaving like that, for leaving when I did. That I didn't contact you even once. For saying all those things, it wasn't fair. It never was. You didn't deserve it. I was so mean for no reason...” You sniffled and wiped the back of your hand under your nose. “I regretted every word the moment I said it, I didn't mean any of it. I couldn't stop talking and it was like I was losing control over myself and it all just came out and-....”

“Hey, I know...” Spencer took a small step closer to you. “In that moment it hurt, yes. And it took a lot of time until it stopped hurting; sometimes it still does. But I get it. You were scared. Some people get angry and lash out at the people around them when they are scared, especially directed at the person they are scared for; everyone reacts different. It's a totally normal reaction, I don't blame you.“

A sob came over your lips, your face twisting in pain. “Please don't be like that...”

His brows furrowed, a short and sharp pain in his chest. “Like what?”, he breathed out.

“So understanding... I acted like a total bitch to you! You should hate me... Why don't you hate me?” Your voice broke and got smaller with every word.

The corners of his mouth slightly raised to the whisper of a smile and Spencer closed the distance between you, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. He wholeheartedly meant what he said next; there was not one thing he could think of that would change anything about it.

“I could never hate you.”

“You were shot. You needed me and left you alone and-”

“I've had worse. Before that day in Texas and certainly after”, he trailed off and softly shook his head when your brows furrowed even more, pain and fear so evidently in your eyes; he could tell that you knew he wasn't talking about anything related to the break-up.

“It's okay, I'm okay.” Spencer brushed your tears away, holding your face so gently in his hands as if you'd break into a million pieces if he wasn't careful enough. By the looks of it, you may very well would. Not a risk he was willing to take.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he stopped you from asking what had happened after, by placing his thumb over your lips. “Not tonight.” Gently, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip to the corner of your mouth. “We'll talk about it all and I will tell you everything, I promise. Just.. not tonight, okay?”

He wanted to stay in that little bubble you had created a little longer and ignore everything else but the feeling of having you back in his arms, being able to kiss and hug and touch you again, he just wanted to revel in your presence and your love. Everything else could wait; the guilt, the talking it out, the pain and especially all the bad stuff he had held back.

You pulled him closer by the collar of his jacket until there was no room left between you. For a second you fought with yourself, your eyes darting back and forth between his like you were looking for something in his gaze before you acted on what you wanted to do. Then-

“I love you.”

Before he could say, think or do anything else, Spencer dove down and pressed his lips against yours, smiling widely into the kiss. His heart was racing and he felt like a huge burden had fallen from his shoulders that he didn't even know he had been carrying. When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I love you.”

He couldn't hold back his own soft laugh when he heard you giggle happily before you said: “I can't believe you still want me...”

“It's you. It's always been you and it always will be you.”

[builtyouahousefromabrokenhome]

Tag game: Answer these questions and tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Thank you so much for tagging me @hl-obsessed !!! ♥♥♥

.🌼🍃🌼

Last song? Manic Street Preachers - Rewind The Film (I saw they released a new single recently, then I went back to listen to some faves, and the music video for this one, about a dying mining town in Wales, is heartbreaking)

Last book? I'm not currently reading any book just for fun, apart from fanfiction ^^ But the last book I read several chapters of for research is Queer Voices in Post-War Scotland by Jeffrey Meek :3

Last movie? Alien: Romulus (it was okay for an Alien movie, I liked the setting with the mining colony with horrendous working conditions)

Last TV show? Some episodes of What We Do In The Shadows

sweet / spicy / savory: spicy :3

Last thing googled: variations of "the ship inn sheffield interior" hehe (I couldn't find any pictures of its ~1960s interior in my research, but it will feature briefly in my Sheffield 60s AU fic ♥)

Current obsession: I guess in general One Direction T^T ♥, and maybe in particular right now the above mentioned fic that I'm writing, Blue Eyes Look My Way (I'm maybe halfway or two thirds through at ~40k? I don't want it to end T^T)

Looking forward to: My dog's birthday ♥ And Zayn's tour (I hope so much that he's okay and that everything will go the way he wants it to)

.🌼🍃🌼

Bonus question since Shay brought it up:

Last fic? Remember Me Before You by kingsofeverything (it's almost 300k but now I'm on the last chapter?!) And the last fic I saved in my folder with my most favourite fics, that I haven't recced before, was No Surprises by louislittletomlintum ♥♥♥

No pressure, only do it if you want to, if you have fun doing it, and if you haven't already :D I will tag: @savebylou @piccolotiranno @adrenalinepearls @statementlou @srldesigns6277 and everyone else who sees this and wants to do it too :3

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

For the dbda ask game! 🩷

4. BROTP

8. headcanon for Edwin!

10. a city or country you'd love to see a season set in

heyy there, thanks! c:

BROTP: probably Edwin and Niko, their friendship was something I didn't know I needed but it helps me so much to see them together. They compliment each other so well and I can't imagine them not being friends

headcanon for Edwin: I have so many, ranging from really sad (right after leaving Hell, Edwin would always look over his shoulder and the feeling of being chased wouldn't leave him for a long time) or delightful (Edwin was absolutely mesmerised when he watched a film with sound for the first time) but I'll choose a different one: Edwin is really talented at fibre art. Back when he was alive, he saw his neighbour knitting in the backyard and in his afterlife he started learning between cases. He can knit, crochet and embroider. He makes blankets for the office and sweater, scarves and socks for the girls and Charles (he smiles his proud little smile when he shows Niko and Charles and leaves the presents for Jenny and Crystal where they can find them. He tries to hide his smile when they show up wearing his presents but he doesn't quite manage it. Every piece of clothing Charles and the others own is embroidered with their names respectively and the name of the agency. He makes little patches for Charles' jacket and his bag.

city/country for a season: that's tough, cause I'd love to see them in Scotland but I'd also love to see a season set in a non-english speaking country so Edwin can try picking up the language or already speaking it or Charles telling them he can speak it cause he talked with a few people from abroad at concerts back in the day. Ohhh maybe Niko coming back and them going to visit her mum in Japan? I'd love that

[severalowls]

Scotland Loves Anime 2024 thoughts:

Promare - It's alright, mostly just absurdly over the top on purpose and a fairly standard exploitation metaphor and way too many characters who don't serve much of a purpose. Pretty gay, I guess? 6/10

Lupin the Third: The Castle of Cagliostro - Somehow I'd never seen any of these, was a lot of fun in terms of humours and animation, and improved by seeing with an audience too. 8/10

Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture (all 4 parts) - Eh. First half had me cautiously optimistic, hooked, had never seen the anime but it was some compelling melodrama. And then the second half paid it all off way too quickly and in really boring ways. 5/10

The Birth of Kitato: The Mystery of GeGeGe - Again I've never interacted with the source material this is a prequel to but it was a pretty solid horror story and honestly the end cap where they tie it in with the characters from the original who were tonally way sillier was the only bit that threw me off. Echos of Umineko in there, but a little more direct? Was not expecting it to be so gorey! 7/10

Suzume - Really loved this. My small brain saw the boat perched on the house near the beginning and thought "damn, was that inspired by the 2011 tsunami" - no, genius, the whole film is an exploration of the damn tsunami and its impact on the survivors. Loved the symbolism in this. 8/10

The Scent of Love - Just a music video but pretty pleasant and was interesting to hear from the director about it + her experience on Suzume afterwards. Not a huge amount to say. 6/10

A Few Moments of Cheers - Didn't really hit with me, it felt semi-autobiographical but the films own point about the protagonist being naiive seemed, unfortunately, to apply to the film itself. Recorded Q&A from Popriq afterwards was excellent though, the interviewer was too old to really "get it" but some of the stuff he spoke about his process really resonated. More than the film, which was about art resonating with people? Wild! 6/10

KuruYukaba - Unfortunately the world's tallest man was sat in front of me for this one. There was a short by the same director (set in the same world I think) before it but it was already fairly dreamlike and the man's head was fully obscuring the very low subtitles so I didn't really follow that. The film itself was some very interesting worldbuilding and animation but too short to really do anything with it in the end. What felt like the mid-point of the film was about 10 minutes from the end. 6/10.

The Colors Within - Girl with synesthesia starts a band with a girl she finds beautiful at catholic school. Incredibly sweet! Loved the characters here, and it was also such an autistic romance story, but then it's also about catholic school so they never explicitly get into a relationship. Let them kiss. Still. 9/10.

Look Back - Oh this seems like a fun story of childhood rivalry... Oh now it's a romance this is such a beautiful story! (Emotionally devastating). Go and watch this immediately please. 10/10

Sand Land - Basically Mad Max: Fury Road as told by the writer of Dragon Ball Z. Good fun, humorous, power-up fights in the desert as you'd expect. Liked it but didn't really compare tonally to the previous two! 7/10

Totto-Chan: The Little Girl At The Window - You know those heart wrenching historical dramas about small children experiencing the outbreak of war? Yeah it's one of those, obviously. Also broke my heart with the addition of knowing I was crying for (fictionalised versions of) real people who actually died what with it being based on an autobiography. 9/10

Kuramerukagari - Somehow the other world's tallest man sat in front of me for this other film in the same world, KuruYukaba, so this was also hard to follow except had even more factional "intrigue" going on. Many of the same comments as before, it seems like a really interesting world but that maybe the director is more interested in worldbuilding and cool designs than a compelling story, which I can respect. Did tie in to a flash animation he made 20 years ago (Usigaeru) which was fun! 6/10

Ghost Cat Anzu - Strong first half, I liked the cat who grew to become a middle aged man-cat-spirit, that was a fun concept. Without spoiling anything because I think that made it worse for me, the second half felt a bit hurried and unmotivated, including the ending. 6/10

Trapezium - A pretty strong drama about teenage girls experiencing the stresses of idol culture at the behest of an impressively manipulative band leader, but then is ultimately more of a gentle bonk on the head because ultimately it's still trying to be a wholesome film about idols. 7/10

So top three were probably Look Back, Totto-chan and The Colors Within, in that order. That's a lot of anime in one week.

[merakiui]

OMG Hetalia!!! I used to be obsessed with the Show! I moved on but it still brings me joy when I see it from time to time (Also the fandom doesn't seem to die?? like even after almost 10+ years the fandom is somehow still alive?? 😭), even though hetalia had its Good and bad sides (the bad side the ship wars)

I also used to be obsessed with with England, the 2p's or the Nordics (AHEM Norway ♡)

Hima also added a few new characters! Indonesia, Singapore and Philippines!! AND FINALLY HE ADDED ENGLAND'S BROTHERS!!! I saw the tweet and like I said I'm not in the fandom anymore but the joy I felt when I saw Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland ♡♡ I was so Excited!!!

but what frustrated me was the lack of female characters! 😭😤 we have like idk 10-12 female characters and the rest bunch of guys! I was so sad to find out that Portugal could have been a girl!!! 😭

Which leaves me wondering do you have favourite Female characters in hetalia or maybe Nyotalia?? If you like England and 2p England what about Nyo England ? or 2p Nyo England??

Are there any other shows/Games you like besides Hetalia, Genshin impact or twst ??

if you like Otome games I would recommend you playing (if you don’t know them already!) Mystic messenger and Obey me! they're really Good 👍

🌸Anon

The fandom truly is unable to die. I think it's something where you can break away from and return to eventually much later in your life, whether for nostalgia's sake or to get back into the fandom again. Either way, the fandom really is always alive no matter how many years pass. ^^;;;; it's actually quite admirable lol!!

Omg I was so obsessed with England. Like how Azul is my twst muse, England was my Hetalia muse. I would pen so many thoughts regarding him in my Google docs (and they still remain there even today. ;;;). >_< and the 2ps aaaaaa!!! I loved them, especially 2p FACE family. They were all so unhinged hehe. <3 AND NORWAY AAAAAA YES YES!!!! You have wonderful taste, 🌸 anon!!! Norway was another one of my favorites. :D

AND THE NEW CHARACTERS!!!! It was so nice to see. England's brothers are just as fine as England himself... orz I remember back in 2021 (??? was it 2021??) there was word of a new season! I remember I became excited, yet I am here now and I haven't watched it yet LOL. Perhaps I should do so now that the Hetalia worms have crawled back into my brain.

Omg yes!!! The lack of female characters is disheartening. T_T I wish there were more!!! Aaaa it would have been so cool if Portugal was a girl!!! I would have liked to see it!! But as for favorite female characters, I absolutely adore Hungary and Ukraine!! They are both so lovely and sweethearts and they deserve much love!!! Nyo England and nyo 2p England are both very adorable, but I think my favorite nyotalia lady would have to be France! Elegant lady!!!!! So very charming! I love her outfit as well!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

There are other games and shows I like outside of twst, Genshin, and Hetalia! I really like Little Nightmares. It's my favorite horror-adventure game. I love the art style and the storyline. I also want to play Omori when I have enough free time! The premise looks so interesting and I've listened to some of the osts from the game (world's end valentine is such a banger!!!). I also like Danganronpa. As for anime I have really enjoyed, Saiki K, Great Pretender, Devilman Crybaby, Soul Eater, Summertime Rendering, and ODDTAXI are among my favorites!!!

And I have played Obey Me! and Mystic Messenger before! Both are very fun! My favorites from both games are Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor and 707 and Saeran hehe!!! I was never a Jumin fan, but that one bad end... 🫣 so maybe I can consider liking a certain filthy-rich businessman... and something about yandere!Yoosung hits different. >:) in conclusion, unhinged characters are so *chef's kiss* !!!!!

[cxmembert]

1: Ai-Lin

2: erm… Jim Carrey age*65280

3: May 7th!!

4: Taurus

5: lilac

6: 32

7: two dogs!

8: 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

9: 5’3 | 162cm

10: no clue tbh

11: 3

12: idk but something about swimming pools and @b4nd1tm1ss1ng

13: music (i can play piano + kazoo) n art (i think?)

14: nope

15: Decent Cancer by Ashbury Heights

16: tie between Dead Poets Society (1989), Lord of the Flies (1960) and Nineteen Eighty Four (1984)

17: @b4nd1tm1ss1ng 💗💗

18: adopted, maybe

19: nope, Pittsie and I already thought of a funnier way to get married

20: I believe in the fundamentals of Satanism if that counts?

21: mhm!

22: technically no

23: not really met, but i once saw Simon Cowell in a restaurant when i was younger

24: showers all the way

25: 🏳️‍🌈

26: no

27: no

28: screamo/punk/rock! I’m also a massive Cosmo Sheldrake fan though, so like, folktronica?

29: no

30: none (pillows make me feel weird)

31: on my side

32: no clue but i live in a 1-story

33: usually i skip breakfast but i’d snag some butteries if i ever feel like it

34: no because australia and scotland has laws preventing minors having easy access to guns es em etch..

35: during school camps!

36: flabbergasted

37: twatwaffle

38: 2 days

39: i have: ‘gills’ on my arms and waist, scar on my leg and scarred tissue on both arms

40: James from my old school who was insanely homophobic and had no clue i was trans

41: depends

42: probably not

43: my accent is already a weird blend, but i can put on a much heavier british/scottish accent

44: Pittsie thought so when we first met, so i guess?

45: australian (Pittsie’s accent basically)

46: ISFP-T

47: my cardigan

48: mhm

49: innie

50: left handed

51: yes

52: laksa!

53: fairybread?? idk

54: clean (neat freak)

55: ‘youre a bloody wanker!’

56: fuck (it’s my default word when i begin stuttering, i just abruptly shout it and i can get back to talking as normal)

57: 5 minutes

58: ??

59: bite

60: yea

61: naturally

62: 110% no but it’s fun when my friends and i get together to do karaoke!

63: abandonment or betrayal

64: i only engage in gossip if other people start talking about it first, but i usually just remain by the sidelines for the most of it

65: Dead Poets Society?

66: short! long is a PAIN to maintain

67: without google, no 😅

68: english!

69: introvert

70: mhm! the jellyfish had a good time stinging my face though

71: needing to talk in front of people and confronting others

72: no

73: depends on what kind of mistake

74: very 😭

75: nope

76: like, once in 6th grade for 20 minutes

77: no

78: no

79: girl from my class back in early middle school

80: 2

81: mhm

82: honestly, pretty fast when i want to

83: no clue (im asthmatic so i just kinda instantly stop breathing the moment i start running)

84: dark brown

85: hazel

86: pineapple, pollen, bandaids, fake blood, hay, bug bites

87: i do! i just forget to write in it most days

88: my mums a GP and my dad is a mechanical engineer

89: what

90: the phrase ‘is that okay?‘ and ‘are you okay?’ for some reason (only when said by specific people though)

91: mhm! i picked it myself 😊

92: haven’t thought of baby names yet

93: haven’t thought of a kid

94: i know karate + sharp teeth

95: all my allergies + asthma

96: i chose it!

97: idk

98: already answered this

99: white

100: white/blue

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[hotchkiss-and-tell]

Dates or Time of Year for Each Nancy Drew Game

whatamagicalplace made one of these charts last year. Those efforts gave me a starting point but I wanted to tweak it after doing my own research. I decided to share my final result since my version differs from hers in several ways. My reasoning for each game is discussed below; but if you have any evidence to add, feel free.

SCK: Nancy says in the opening letter she took a semester off school to visit Eloise in Florida. The banners for Senior Prom are still prominent throughout the school and the event is scheduled for May 23. Game takes place in a single day but that day could be any time in late spring semester prior to May 23.

SCK2: Homecoming banners are prominent and the event is scheduled for Sept 23. A flyer with Jake’s secret messages has a date of Sept 05, so let’s assume Jake was still alive then. The game says Nancy is there to investigate after Jake was murdered “last week.” That could mean three to seven days after the murder since it happened on a Thurs. Thus Remastered takes place in a single day but that day could be anywhere from Sept 08 to 22.

STFD: Nov 13 (confirmed with calendar). Game takes place for as many days and nights as player needs.

MHM: “Winter Festival” and Charlie studying for finals indicates late Nov to early Dec. Newspaper about the lost gold at the end is dated Mar 03; it could’ve been published after money settlement and the renovations completed though. Game takes place for as many days and nights as player needs.

TRT: December. The Spanish letter from Lisa’s friend is dated Nov 30 and acknowledges that Lisa is already in Wisconsin. By now, time should be well into Dec. 

FIN: Possibly Nov (game’s release) but there are no confirmed dates on anything. It’s likely during the school year since Maya is doing the interview for the student newspaper. Game takes place over three days.

SSH: Calendar on Henrik’s desk is for the month of April. The book version takes place during the DC Cherry Blossom parade which usually occurs last week of March or early April. Game takes place for as many days as player needs. (Early April timeline would match with end of game trailer and dates for DOG.)

DOG: Jeff’s calendar is open to April. Culprit’s log book says Sally is due to move in to the cabin on April 19. Sally says she spent four weeks at Moon Lake, implying the game starts May 18. But I really don’t see Jeff’s character forgetting to change the calendar, so either Sally moved in early or she means four weeks total including seeing the property, bidding, and the final sale plus moving in. And let’s remember there’s no safe water source, so it’s unlikely Sally could live there for four weeks straight. Sally says the dogs howled a full week before they attacked the house and then they appeared every night since; maybe Sally lasted 9-14 days with the ghost dogs. The game could likely begin anywhere between Apr 28 and May 18. Then continue for as many days and nights as the player needs.

CAR: Culprit’s emails with black market dealer date from May 23 through June 04. Harlan’s appt book opens to June 09-13 with the significant clue on June 10. Game is a single day, likely on June 10, but could be as early as June 05.

DDI: June 17 (confirmed with calendar). Single day of gameplay.

SHA: Sept 15 to 17. Nancy’s airline ticket confirms arrival date in AZ. Timeline of the game takes place in three days. (Tex’s b-day is Sept 16!)

CUR: This is anybody’s guess. Hugh and Linda were married Aug 22. The lawyer’s letter to Mrs. Drake states Linda must live at the manor for another three months to fulfill the “six-month-habitation-clause” and those six months must be consecutive in the first year of marriage. Game could be late Nov at the earliest. However, frogs are chirping when Nancy arrives at the manor which is a spring thing and Bess and George say they are attending sailing camp. The fact that no one is suggesting that Linda can leave due to health reasons and start the six months over when she’s well again makes me think the year is half gone already. So the game could also be taking place in April or May at the latest.

CLK: May 07 (confirmed with calendar). Single day of gameplay.

TRN: We see snow in Copper Gorge, but it’s in Colorado and snow can be any time of year there. Frank and Lori are wearing the puffy vests and everyone else has jackets and sweaters. Fatima says it’s the off-season now and summer is the busy season. Makes me think winter is my best guess.

DAN: Game takes place for as many days as player needs. The newspaper on Day 1 is dated Aug 28. Newspapers continue to appear through Sept 06, which publishes that the journalists are negotiating for raises and the sounds of the impending strike are occurring outside JJ’s apartment. Day 11 (Sept 07) and onward have no more newspapers appear on the kitchen table. Let’s say Aug 28 to Sept 07 for simplicity.

CRE: Mike’s calendar is set to March. Quigley’s tape recorder log updates as of Mar 28. Craven’s shipping records say his latest sample was sent to Aikens Biotech on Apr 09. Game takes place in a single day, probably Apr 09 or 10. (Mike just hasn’t turned over the calendar yet)

ICE: Newspaper in the lodge is dated Jan 13. Elsa’s resignation letter is dated Jan 15. Lodge computer says Lupe checked in on Jan 15 and she noticed the lack of maid services for days. Game likely takes place that same week, starting maybe Jan 18 at the earliest, and lasts over several days and nights.

CRY: May 31 (confirmed with calendar). Single day of gameplay.

VEN: Newspaper in the Ca’ terrace says chalice was stolen “this morning” and the police records say the theft happened Jan 25. When Nancy nabs Nico on the stakeout, the next day’s newspaper is dated Feb 03. Since game takes place over several days, it likely plays from Jan 25 to Feb 03.

HAU: Night of May 28. The wedding is set for June 01. The end dialogue says Kyler and Matt couldn’t stop saying “I love you” from when the rocket launched to four days later, which was their wedding day.

RAN: The float plane pilot says resorts like Dread Isle shut down in the summer for “hurricane season” in the Bahamas. And the game was released in July. Since we see the map that charts all of Nancy’s past cases (including HAU) so the game is after the wedding on Jun 01. But there is no reference to the current date aside from “summer.” Single day of gameplay.

WAC: The essay Mel receives from her teacher with the plagiarist comments is dated Nov 21. Since two more nights of sleep are required to trigger events in the game, we can figure that the game takes place from Nov 21 to 23.

TOT: Scott’s calendar is open to May and filled in with code until the 19th. The log book of precipitation is filled out until May 24. Game likely takes place from May 20 to 25.

SAW: The TE-Japan brochure in Nancy’s teacher tote says her exchange program runs from Jun 01 to Sept 15 with different durations of 2 weeks, 3-4 weeks, and 5-8 weeks. With no specific date in the game and the player taking as many days and nights as needed to solve the mystery, we have to settle for saying it takes place in “summer.”

CAP: Karl’s daily calendar is on page March 12. When Nancy finds the final forged email from “Markus” she remarks that it has tomorrow’s date, which is Mar 13. Game is a single night of play on Mar 12.

ASH: Newspaper and police report of Nancy’s arrest say the game is done in a single day of August 18. The fire took place on Aug 17.

TMB: It’s the desert and there are no dates on any clue in the game. Since Lily is a student and Abdullah and Jon are professors, perhaps the game takes place in summer between any busy semester/class schedules.

DED: Ellie’s notepad in the control booth says she gave the coil demo to Nancy on Oct 29. Nancy arrived in daylight hours but since Ellie is on the night shift, the demo could have taken place on either side of midnight which means the game could start on either Oct 28 or 29. (Nancy arrived 10/28, night fell and midnight passed, then Ellie gives demo 10/29 OR Nancy arrives 10/29, night fell and it’s not midnight yet, then Ellie gives the demo still on 10/29.) Game continues for as many days and nights as the player needs.

GTH: Jessalyn’s phone recorded her bachelorette party antics from the night of Oct 27 to early morning of Oct 28. Addison says Jess had vanished for the second time after sun-up. It is unclear how many days Jessalyn has been missing before Nancy arrives on the island. Nancy was deep asleep when Savannah calls her for help, which means Jess has been gone at least a full day. Then Nancy arrives on the island at night which either means it’s evening on the same day of Savannah’s call or another day has passed by the time Nancy gets there. Oct 29 is the earliest possibility. Game takes place over three nights. Likely set between Oct 29 and Nov 01.

SPY: The newspaper reports that July 14 is near and it will be the eighth anniversary of Revenant’s first attack. Alec’s letter documents that his sister was kidnapped on the first of the month and has not been seen since. Game takes place between Jul 02 and 14. While Nancy cannot sleep or change the time of day, it is hard to believe that traveling back and forth throughout Scotland’s towns and the different phases of the spy operation all take place in a single day.

MED: Summer in the southern hemisphere, so datewise it’s set between Dec and Feb. Again there’s no sleep or time of day transitions but the elimination rounds likely take place over several days.

LIE: Employee timecards are recorded through July 05, the artifact exchange log is filled out through July 06, and the packing slip on the open crate says received July 06. Game is a single day of play, likely on July 06 or 07.

SEA: Soren’s winter guest log says Nancy is visiting in January. Game takes place for as many days and nights as player needs.

MID: Minion’s plane ticket TO Austria where the game begins is dated Oct 26 and the game goes into Halloween.

[only-one-brain-cell]

Treacherous, A Bridgerton story Chapter 8

Summery: Anthony and Aurora meet with the Queen

Words: 2.8k

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

"Anthony? Anthony? Anthony!" I woke up to Auroras voice and her shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see her standing over me.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, now hurry up and get ready for the Queen, the carriage will be here in 20 minutes. Your mother sent me, she said you would be here."  I brought my head up from my desk and saw what Aurora was wearing. Her dress was a turquoise colour that clung to her waist and flowed at the bottom, making everything at her top half rather... tight.

"I see your ready."

"Do you like it?" I do, I would like it better on the floor. I can see Aurora is talking and moving her hands around, a sign that she seems to be nervous.

"Do you think the Queen will like me?" I herd her ask.

"The Queen would be a fool not to."

"Anthony!"

"Aren't you the one that's always challenging society standards? Let me have a turn."

"Society is one thing, not all of Great Britain and Scotland!"  I smirked and reached for her. She gladly walked closer to me, having her at arms length and wrapping my arms around her waist.

"You look wonderful and I'm sure the Queen will love you." She smiled and brought her lips down to mine. I reluctantly pulled back, she raised her eyebrow at me.

"Not here, my fathers watching." She laughed but looked up at his portrait anyways.

"So he is." She stepped back and walked towards the door, my eyes watching her hips sway.

"It's probably for the best, you still have to get ready for the Queen." She said before leaving the room. I sighed she has grown into a little vixen as of late. Or

maybe she's always been one and I've just now been privileged to it.

Aurora

"He's awake." I said to Liz who was standing outside the door.

"Excellent news, the carriage should arrive shortly."

"Would you like to wait in the drawing room with me?"

"I would."

Colin was there already when we walked in I smiled not getting one on one time with him or Benedict yet.

"Colin!" Colin turned to me at the mention of his name.

"Aurora, come sit." I turned to Liz

"Colin this is Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too Mr. Bridgerton."

"So glad I ran into you I fear I have been ignoring you and Benedict. Anthony has been keeping me to himself it seems."

"Yes Anthony was never one for sharing, food or friends."

"While we have only a moment to catch up I must ask you: what was that nonsense about you getting married last year?" Colin chuckled.

"I swear I had my bags all packed ready to come back early when Dapple writes to me that the wedding is off.

"Yes that was a grave mistake on my part."

"What happened?"

"I thought I was in love." I put a hand on his shoulder. "Colin you still have plenty of time to lean about love."

"I just feel so out of place sometimes, everyone has their duties or their roles. Anthony is head of the house, Benedict has his art and me." He shrugged

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Colin we all feel like that sometimes but these things take time, you can't force it." He nodded

"Discover new interests see where that takes you."

"Thank you Aurora."

"Your welcome." I turned to the pianoforte and smiled, it's been some time since I played it.

"Speaking of interests." Colin gestured to it "please play something, you were always amazing at it." I smiled "did you know I only started to spend time with Daphne? Then  I challenged myself to become better then her?" Colin laughed

"That doesn't surprise me, are you going to draw a better portrait then Benedict tomorrow?"

"Heavens no, I do not have the patience. I'd rather be out riding, basking in the sun." I sat at the pianoforte and my fingers danced across the keys. Colin seemed to be in awe of my perforce.

"I'm a bit rusty" I said at the end.

"Not at all." Colin said, Liz gave me a round of applause.

"That was beautiful." I turned to Anthony who was standing in the doorway. I raised my eyebrow when he walked in, his suit colour today was dark purple a colour I never pictured Anthony in but it suits him very well.

"How do I look?" I smiled

"Wonderful." I'll give him my real answer when we are alone. 

"I think you look like a eggplant." Colin said.

"Thank you Colin." Anthony said glaring at his younger brother.

"Nonsense." I stood up and walked over to them.

"You look perfect, at this rate Lady Whisledown will have a article published about us first thing tomorrow morning.

"Speaking of Aurora did Eloise tell you she's on a case to find out who Lady Whisledown is?" Colin said. I nodded "it sounds rather exciting to me, do either of you know if she has any suspects? I must talk to her about it when we return."

"Exciting is one way to put it." Anthony said.

"Indeed I would say it's a waste of time." Colin added.

"Also reckless."

"Dangerous."

"Stupid."

"Ok! I see your points, but do you honestly expect anything less from Eloise?" Both men looked at each other for a moment then back at me.

"No" they replied simultaneously.

"That's what I thought." Just then a servant came in

"Lord Bridgerton, Lady Hathaway, a carriage has arrived for you from Her Majesty. I took a deep breath then looked over at Anthony.

"You ready?" He asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Liz followed us outside and into the beautiful carriage parked out front.

"Good luck!" Violet shouted from one of the windows. Hyacinth and Gregory poked their heads out as well, we waved to them all before stepping foot into the carriage.

Benedict

As soon as I watched Anthony and Aurora leave from the top of the stairs I ran to the drawing room hoping to find Colin there alone.

"Colin!" I shouted when I found him alone.

"What? Also why are you shouting?" I sat down next to him.

"I just found out something, and it's killing me not to tell you."

"Well go on."

"Ok but you can't tell anyone else. Not Penelope, not Eloise, not mother, ESPECIALLY MOTHER."

"Ok I promise now tell me already."

"Last night I couldn't sleep so I went outside for some fresh air-

"Is that your big secret? Your lack of sleep?"

"Shut up and let me finish, ok so I'm on my way back to my room and I walked past the kitchen when I herd... moaning."

"Moaning? Who was moaning?"

"Anthony."

"EW! Why did you have to tell me that?"

"And he's wasn't alone."

"I sure hope not." Colin stoped for a second hopefully to put the pieces together.

"Wait a minute are you saying Anthony and Aurora are-

"Yep."

"I can only assume you herd her as well?"

"Yep, trying to block that part out but you know what this means Colin?"

"That we can one up Anthony for the first time in our lives?"

"Not only that: we were right and Anthony was wrong." Colin's eyes widened.

"We have to tell them that we know!"

"No we can't! At least not right now."

"But-

"Colin you are not to tell anyone anything you promised."

"But I have so many questions!"

"Oh and I don't? I do know one thing though."

"What?"

"Never eat in the dining room again."

"Why not?"

"Just trust me on this, I herd things I don't particularly want to think about ever again."

"I trust you. So what does this mean? Are they getting married?" I shrugged my shoulders.

"They seem to me acting as if nothings changed."

"But everything has changed!"

"Shhh do you want someone to hear?"

"No but." Colin sighed "you know for someone who pretends to know everything Anthony can be a dumb ass at times."

"At times?" I smirked "trust me you don't even know the half of it, Aurora is only a year older then me. I've seen it all."

"Tell me then."

"That might take a while I will however tell you one story. It was her first ball and men were eager to dance with her, not a surprise."

"Look how they look at her. It's utterly disgusting." Anthony said walking up to me without so much as a hello.

"As opposed to how you look at her?"

"I haven't the faintest idea as to what your talking about."  I scoffed,

"I'm not blind Anthony, and you aren't either. Aurora isn't a little girl anymore and you noticed it's ok."

"We're just friends." He said glaring at the next man who asked Aurora to dance.

"Uh huh, sure." I said walking away.

"So he's always been so stubborn."

"It got worse after Fathers passing but Aurora helped out a lot, she kept him grounded." There was a moment of silence then Colin asked

"So what do we do now?" I smiled

"Easy, make Anthony jealous enough to reach his boiling point he's sure to spill his affections to someone wether it be one of us or even better Aurora."

"Brilliant, did you just come up with this?"

"Since I first woke up." I herd the sound of footsteps barging into the room.

"Benedict. Colin, Lady Whisledown has written about Aurora again look!" She shoved the parchment in my face.

Dearest reader

The Queen is hosting her annual ball tonight and this author is eagerly waiting for another scand for things have gotten a bit dry. All eyes are on Lady Hathaway this season who is mysteriously still unwed. Surly this is the season she will find herself a husband maybe someone will catch her eye  tonight. Best of luck Lady Hathaway although a beauty like her shouldn't need much luck, wouldn't you agree Lord Bridgerton?

Lady Whisledown

Aurora

The carriage pulled up to the palace I looked out the window and saw a delivery boy hand one of the guards a piece of parchment, the guard handed the boy a few coins then immediately ran inside.

"Looks like Lady Whisledowm has written something new." Anthony groaned

"Not a fan?" Liz asked

"Not at all." I responded with a smile.

"He doesn't take pleasure in gossip."

"Men." Liz said shaking her head before realizing who she was talking about. Her face turned red from

embarrassment. "I only ment- I burst out laughing.

"No it's ok Liz your right after all, men don't understand some the pleasures we enjoy such as simple gossip," Anthony rolled his eyes.

"Are we having tea with the queen or not?" He got our of the carriage I laughed again the minute the door closed.

"I'm glad you find this amusing." Anthony said opening the door.

"Very." Despite my comments and laughter Anthony still reached his hand out waiting for me to exist the carriage. I rolled my eyes but took it anyways. The second my feet touched the ground Anthony whispered in my ear "drawing room, same time as last night." I smiled knowing what was to come.

I nervously walked into the palace trying to take in every second while also trying to keep my breakfast at bay. I saw Anthony's fingers twitch as if he is refraining from holding mine, I smiled at the thought.

When we reached the door to the throne room two servants opened the door for us. As we made our way to the throne a servant announced our presence

"Lord Bridgerton and Lady Hathaway Your Majesty." Both of us stopped at the throne and bowed at Her Majesty. Anthony was the first one of us to speak "Your Majesty thank you for inviting us."

"Yes your palace is beautiful." I said

"Enough of this small talk." She stood up "follow me to the dining room." Her dining room had a table big enough to fit a army. Me and Anthony sat a few seats away from the Queen while the servants were busy making the tea.

"Lady Whisledown has released a new article." I could see Anthony rolling his eyes.

"How exciting." I responded

"Lord Bridgerton do you read Lady Whisledown?"  Anthony opened his mouth but I spoke before he could speak.

"Oh god no, he finds the whole thing droll but when doesn't a man find something droll that doesn't involve shooting or drinking something." Before I could process what I just said in front of the Queen no less she burst out into laughter. I whispered to Anthony "what did I just do?"

"Not only did you insult me but I think every man and you also made the Queen of England laugh."

"So your hearing this too? Good."

"Your quite right my dear." Servants placed cups of

tea down for us along with trays of biscuits. Anthony was the first to reach for one offering one to me.

"At least he has manners." The Queen said "that's important Lady Hathaway, especially this season."

"I'm sorry Your Majesty but I do not know to what it is your referring to."

"Why you finally finding yourself a husband this season." I nearly cloaked on my biscuit.

"I- I cleared my throat "I do not have any wishes to take part in the marital season this year."

"Why not? It's all in Lady Whisledown she writes that she wishes you well finding a husband. I too think it's time for you, your not getting any younger."

"Your Majesty with all due respect I do not wish to marry this year, or any year for that matter." The room went silent I swear the only sound I herd was Anthony chewing.

"I see, I hope you change your mind. Tonight I am hosting a ball and I would like you to attend Lord Bridgerton and his family are already invited." I nodded.

"I'll be there."

"Good." The rest of the day went along as well as I could have hoped for, thankfully Her Majesty didn't pry any further into my decision.

"Why is it that when the Duke of Hastings says he doesn't want to marry noone bats their eye but when I do it everyone looks at me like I just escaped from

the loony bin. Is it because I'm a women and all women must only have their heads full of ideas for marriage, doing their duties as a wife and children?" Anthony didn't speak smart man.

"I mean I don't see you eager to get married."

"Our situations are completely different."

"Really? How so?"

"You refuse to marry for reasons I still do not know and I... we'll I'm..."

"Content with living up to your rakish reputation?"

"How did you-

"The servants know everything." I turned to Liz

"It's true... especially the maids." Both of us giggled.

The second I walked back into the Bridgerton house everyone was waiting at the doors.

"So?" Colin asked

"What did the Queen ask?" Hyacinth asked

"I was there too." Anthony said

"Yes good job brother." Benedict said

"I at one point.... Made her laugh." I said

"That doesn't surprise me." Colin said

"What did you say?" Francesca asked

"She somehow managed to insult the entire species of men." Anthony said taking off his jacket then walking over to me. "Your jacket Aurora?"

"Oh" I said surprised at Anthony's gentlemanly notion not that Anthony isn't a gentleman he has his moments, sliding out chairs before I sit down, assisting me when I'm stepping out of a carriage but there was something different about this. Not only was it in front of his entire family but it was also new. He has never assisted in having my jacket put away I either do it myself or a maid in this case Liz

does it. Liz also seems surprised when Anthony hands her my jacket but doesn't say a word and walks off with it.

"What was that?" I asked

"What?" He asked

"My jacket you-

"What? I can't do something nice or are you surprised they I'm doing something that doesn't involve shooting or drinking something?" Eloise burst out laughing.

"Is that the joke? Oh I must tell Penelope, please Aurora may I?"

"Of corse, since when do I keep my quips a secret?" Everyone seemed to disburse but I spoke up before anyone could leave the room.

"I'd like to have a word with you all in the drawing room, your mother as well." Everyone seemed surprised I never called a meeting before. No one asked any questions they all walked towards the direction of the drawing room.

"Whats this about?" Anthony asked

"Your family should know I have no intention to marry, especially your mother."

"I'll look for her, I'll meet you in the drawing room."

"Thank you, I'm gonna need it."

[katherinewilliams221b]

Just saw you reblogged the otp ask so let me shoot those questions at you, specifically in light of the angsty fragments that you've published: 1, 5, 7 (can you say fishing for spoilers...xdd) and 10. Bc there's not enough angst for me apparently 🥲🍄🖤🍃

lmao straight to the important questions eh?

From this ask

1. What's the biggest wish the members of your otp have for the other? Is it a wish that could come true? Do they actively work towards it?

I feel like Kate wants a passionate life for Charlie, maybe its with dragons or maybe not, but she doesnt want him to lose that enthusiasm and that excitement he gets when discovering new things. I kind of sense that he's always a little bit mocked for being so into dragons that Kate sometimes fears he could lose that spark just because of peer pressure. And of course it comes true! He will always have that fire inside him.

Charlie wishes Kate can get out of that guilt wheel she's been in during the war years. He wants her to have soem peace of mind and for her to find a job she is passionate about. The topic of her not knowing where to work or what to do is getting recurrent in my fics because I just happen to be writing about the War, the time where Kate felt the most confused about her life. But after that is over and they finally talk, she can start working towards that. The in-progress fic is the starting point of that healing process she needs.

5. What's your otp's ideal vision of the future? What would they want to happen? Where would they want to live?

Despite being both troublemakers, or more like trouble finds them, they both want a stable future. Create a home where they can feel safe, where Charlie can hop around with dragons and whatnot, and Kate can calmly dedicate to her research and her herbs and her weird things knowing that bubble they created for themselves is their refuge. They want to be solid and strong and for that to be a constant.

I don't really think they mind where to live. Romania is the easiest choice for now but I've always had this thought in the back of my head that at some point they go to another place because of her work (or his). I don't know, I feel like Charlie would follow her if the circumstances make them make a decision, feeling she deserves chosing a place to live after she left her life in London to go to Romania with him. (I'm giving too much info already). I kinda thought Scotland, Highlands, just bc of the idea of Charlie in a kilt but then it gets a little bit strange (and too close to the Outlander concept), like it doesnt feel right in a way. Anyway, it needs to have lots of nature and dragons and being a little bit far away from their families but not completely isolated.

7. Your otp has to spend some time apart for whatever reason. How would they bridge that time? How would they react upon seeing each other again? Would anything change?

okay. OKAY. I should have seen this one coming because I tend to keep them always apart more time than they are together. But that just happens until the end of the War!

Something that weighs on me is the For A Greater Good reunion. Because its really anti-climatic. I know why I did it but I realised that I didnt write it very well. I plant to fix that on this fic.

However I need to point out that nothing really changes when they are apart. Some people don't really understand this or don't like it, but that's just how I live separations with loved ones, time passes yes, and they will be talking about it for hours but it doesnt change how they feel about each other.

10. If your otp had met at a different point in time/their lives, what would change? Would they still end up together?

I do like the idea of them knowing each other later in life. In fact that was my plan before writing my very first fic about them, but I so fixated in the World Cup (I was reading HP4 at the time) that everything else just...happened.

But yea, I kinda like the idea of them meeting each other in adulthood, with that game of starting to know each other, an aura of mystery around them idk as opposed to the concept of knowing each other perfectly well since forever, which I love as well. Its not likely that Kate would go to Romania just because, so the meeting point should be somewhere they have in common like Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or somewhere near there. They would like each other pretty fast, just like in my current universe, but for sure the kissing would start way earlier lmao. I wouldnt do the enemies to lovers type of thing because it doesnt suit them.

[evilbeanghost]

Snapetober

Here is my participation #5: Day 10 “You’re bleeding”.

You can also find it on AO3.

This is an AU for my current WIP "That Awful Snape Boy" (TASB for us friends) - also on AO3 if you're interested. This can be read separately.

This is what could have happened if Severus's home life hadn't been discovered at the start of his 3rd year at Hogwarts; what his life could have been like if Minerva never adopted him…*sad face*

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Severus was looking through the window of the Hogwarts Express absentmindedly, trying to breathe deeply enough to quench the light-headedness he was feeling but shallowly enough not to hurt too much. It was an exercise in precision.

At least, Lily had only stayed thirty minutes or so in their compartment, having gone to meet with some other friends some time ago; trying to act as normal as possible had been so draining for Severus, he couldn't have kept it up for longer. Small mercies and all that. 

Why was it that Tobias always chose to do the more damage just before Severus had to go back to school? 

It was the beginning of his Fourth year and Severus was feeling hopeless. He still remembered how he had felt at eleven, brightly-eyed, hoping then that Hogwarts was going to be his liberation, that it was his way to escape everything: Tobias, the pain, the humiliation, the dirt he had been breathing every day since his inconvenient birth, the same dirt he lived in, absorbing it into himself to grow more and more into his disgusting self; even his mother – wherever she was now – who he now saw for what she was, not happy at all about that last disillusion. He couldn't help but feel that now familiar painful twist in his chest at the thought… why did she abandon him? She knew better than anyone what Tobias was capable of… Severus felt tears collecting in his eyes, trying hard to keep then from falling: even his own mother couldn't bear the sight of him. Even his own mother didn't care. Why should he then?

Severus was fourteen and he felt like an old man already, had been for some time. 

No tears fell. 

He knew he needed to do better than last year, it has been too close back then. He remembered it vividly still, Tobias had again done his worst one last time before sending Severus back up to Scotland. (He had wondered about that, why his father was letting him go back to his "freaky school"? He finally came to the conclusion that his father enjoyed him gone even more than he enjoyed him as a punching ball. Severus didn't know how to feel about that; it was how things were, that's all.)

 Anyway, a few days after his third welcome feast, Black had pushed him against a wall, jarring his sore ribs, and Severus had fainted like the weakling he had always been. It had been so close, his secret nearly exposed, his shitty life put under unwanted scrutiny. In the end, his stubborn silence had ended all enquiries and soon enough everyone had moved on, focusing on some other gossips. Lily had nearly made everything crumble back then, her silence deeply shaken by the staff's questions; she knew too much already and he had sweared to distance himself a little from her since the incident. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop her from talking a second time… He was really alone now.

His thoughts as painful as his side, Severus closed his eyes, tired of it all. Why was it always this difficult? He really needed a rest, damn it.

As if the universe had heard him and thought his life was a joke, the compartment's door banged open suddenly making him jump. Pain was blurring his vision still when he heard the hated voice:

"Hey James! Look what I found, if it isn't Snivellus himself, in all his greasy glory!"

Of course it had to be Black. Severus wondered briefly if he had summoned him somehow with his thoughts alone. Maybe he did have a fever after all.

"Go away Black.", Severus heard himself say, his tone so flat it was a little freaky.

"Oh oh, did you miss me, Snively? Were you crying alone, imagining what it would be like to have friends?"

Not now, please.

Black seemed to deflate a little at Severus's lack of repartee. He looked briefly in the corridor again – no doubt searching for his jerk of a friend Potter – before shrugging and finally entering the compartment, closing the door behind him. 

This situation was not going Severus' way at all.

Defeated and too exhausted to really think of some way out of this alarming situation, Severus hunched a little more onto himself, unconsciously protecting his injured side, closing his eyes. Maybe Black was going to kill him already and everything would finally stop, just stop. Nothing would be better than anything else right now.

"Really Snape, no insult, no disturbing hex? Are you really gonna give me nothing today, not even a greasy mark on my impeccable robe?"

Severus felt himself flush violently, his hatred for the smiling boy in front of him burning his veins like fucking lava. 

"Why does it even matter, you fucking git? You're the one always going on on how disgusting I am and here you are, alone with me by your own volition. If I didn't know better I would think that I'm reminding you of your mummy Black, do you miss her too much? Is this what it is?"

Black's eyes narrowed at once, taking on this steely glow that Severus knew now to associate with danger. Strangely, the absence of Potter didn't feel like a mercy here. The two of them together were skilled enough to overpower Severus from time to time but Potter, despite all his shortcomings, could also act as Black's conscience when things tended to turn a little too dark. Black could well enough try to fool the world, he wasn't that better than Severus in the end. Nobody could be all that innocent with that last name anyway. 

"Fuck your filthy mouth, greaseball!"

"Make me", Severus couldn't help but taunt in reply.

Black jumped on him at once, the taller boy crushing Severus painfully against the window. They struggled for some time, punching, grabbing, pinching as they went. Severus was trying to get to his wand – he had foolishly let it on the little train-table in front of him – when Black unexpectedly drew back, looking shakily at his left hand for some reason. This was… weird. Severus felt unsettled by the whole thing, what the hell was happening here?

Straightening up on the booth seat, he grabbed his wand in his shaking hand, trying not to groan from the worsened pain he was feeling. Fucking Black, always making everything worse. He took a moment to calm his breathing.

The silence grew heavy and Severus stared at Black again, trying to understand what was going on. Strangely, the other boy still had his hand in front of his face, moving his fingers slightly. That's when Severus saw it too: the unnatural dark red covering Black's digits. Fuck. 

Black stopped looking stupidly at his fingers then and looked Severus in the eyes with a puzzled expression Severus had never seen on his face.

"You're bleeding."

It wasn't a question.

"Go back to your shitty mates, Black, and leave me alone."

"Why are you bleeding?", Black repeated, a lost look on his handsome face.

"Why do you care?", spat Severus, unsettled by this weird-acting Sirius Black.

"But… –"

"– just go away Black,", repeated Severus, desperate now to be left alone, "please."

And how he hated the pleading undertone in his voice… Closing his eyes in shame, Severus felt a little warm drop hit his hand, slowly wetting a little track down his skin before falling on the leathery surface of the bench, followed by another one. 

This couldn't be happening, this was so much worse than the pain of Tobias's fists. He was nothing, he was so pathetic. He was crying in front of Sirius's Black.

He jumped out of his spiraling despair when the sound of the compartment's door closing gently registered in his mind. Severus opened his eyes then, confused. 

Black had left. How could he have left when Severus was such an easy target? When he was offering him so much ammunition? It didn't make any sense.

On reflex, Severus got up quickly and turned the lock on the little door: it wouldn't do to just wait here and wait for Black to come back with Potter in tow…

He stayed silent for a while, listening intently, half-expecting the little door to blew up in his face to reveal all four of the Gryffindor buffoons. He stayed like that for most of the ride, tense and in pain, his breathing distraught and his head in shambles. 

In the end, nobody came.

Nobody ever did.

[aspiestvmusings]

My wildest WandaVision Theory

SPOILERS for WandaVision..thoughout season 1 + several MCU films

This is the wildes theory I have had, I think. And I am 99% ertain this cannot be correct. But then again, I expect some surprise twists, so...

In this theory I focus on some things/details/facts from the MCU (and coming films) & some comics details & ignore others. And even though they like to use the comics as the building blocks for their films & shows, they do also change things up, so I do not expect them to follow the “comics canon” hence I’m prepared for surprises:

What we know of the MCU:

Infinity War events takes place in 2018. Wanda & Vision have had a secret relationship for two years by this time. And though many are wondering “when did he/they buy the property & how does that fit into all of their story”, I personally found that those “flashback” memory scenes filled the missing pieces from the puzzle grom past films. And it fits perfectly. With the “what if I don’t go back” scene, etc. I suspect that Vision bought that plot before the events of Infinity War. And Wanda was given the envelope along with other of his belongings after she returned from the Blip. The “love persevering” scene showed us how they connected & fell in love...while watching TV (he learned to be human also through the sitcoms & though her & she learned to not be so afraid of her “weirdness” thanks to him).

Wanda had to kill Vision in 2018, then see Thanos reverse time & bring back Vision only to kill him again...”for good”. Then she got Snapped (dusted).

When she returned “10 seconds later” she learned that 5 years had passed, and it was 2023. She didn’t find Vision next to her. But she had no time to process the Snap, Blip & losing Vision, because she was immediately thrown into the Endgame fight. (where she almost killed Thanos...until Tony used the ultimate “misdirection” trick and helped them defeat Thanos & his army for good.) Then shortly after she went to Tony’s funeral, where she had that lakeside talk with Hawkeye about those they lost (I still say that they were talking about Nat & Vision, because those are the losses that affected them the deepest personally, cause they were the closest to them)

Then a few days/weeks after that (just a few weeks after the Blip/she returned), and after she had been caught up on the 5 years she missed, and she was given his belongings, she went to SWORD to get him back/so that she could bury him (give him a goodbye ceremony). Then she created the hex out of her grief, when she was denied a proper goodbye to her soulmate (that whole things was, no doubt, a show put on by Hayward...that was made obvious in ep 8: and I’m still unsure about the colours: The “just died” Vision in IW turned basically gray, the “taken into parts” Vision on the disply tables was almost normal tone purple”, & the “brought back online” White Vision a week later was all white...with a “Tony’s triangle-shaped arc reactor element” instead of the Mind Stone in his head. The colours & small timeframe confuse me a bit).

Then she has been living in this “fantasy reality” for the past week or so...in real-world-time. Everything we’ve seen in WV has happened during a week or so in real world time. And for her everything from Scotland to WestView has happened in less than a month.

While creating the hex (from her red magic), she also created a Vision 2.0 (we have now been explained that she can create things “out of nothing”, not just transform them as Jimmy-Darcy-Monica suspected) from  her “yellow magic” I might be wrong, but I think the IW blast (and possibly the Sokovia experiment blast) not only awakened & heightened the superpowers in her, but that she was also blasted with the energy of the Mind Stone...the same one that gave vision life originally. So that mindstone energy has been “inside her” ever since & she “transformed it” into the new Vision. The Vision from her memories. and I think that just like her kids, Vision is “real” (how else can Hayward track the vibranium decay signature)...aka she created both Vibranium, and possibly a new Mind Stone even (though it is possibly he is powered by her magic alone & the stone is just accessory), but this Vision in this form cannot survive outside the hex.

We know that they brought up (via Darcy & Visions talk) that Vision is a mixture of many things. Part Jarvis. Part Ultron. Part Mind Stone. Part Tony & Bruce, and not only... We know that Vision has evolved thoughout his existance. And he wants to be/do good, and wants to be more human. But this Vision does not remember anything prior the hex because he was “rebooted”, so he does not have real memories of their time prior this really. And while he acts like her Vision, the hex Vision is not her old Vision either, really. Just one part of what made him him, and that made them connect.

We know that Shuri was able to download some of Vision’s conciousness/memories & would have been able to remove the Time Stone and still have had him live..if she’d had more time.

We know that Hayward has had Vision’s body (physical form) for a while, and he’s been trying to bring him back to life...for the purpose of using him as  weapon against “threats”. We saw that thanks to getting access to Wanda’s magic powers he was able to bring his re-assambled White Vision (colourless, soulless, empty shell...without a soul) back online...to life. What I want to know from finale is how did SWORD got  hold of The Visions body & what is that “iron man” arch reactor (triangle) in his forehead? Cause they have changed the design, a bit. 

Why wasn’t he still in Wakanda (the vibranium he's made of belongs to them), or with Avengers (Tony was gone when he died, but he returned 3 months later & though the team has been busy lately, why was it not with them? I guess V. was transported there sometime during first two years after Snap, when Maria was still running SWORD, cause Tony/Avengers kinda trusted her. And he stayed there even after... Tony was one of the few who saw Vision as “human”, he was kind of one of his “kids”, so I think this is one of the reasons he didn’t want to hold onto the body himself. But he also understood that Vision had evolved, and that Wanda was the his “next of kin”, not him, so he was holding onto the body until she returned, cause I think he was sure/had hope they’d undo the snap. And I guess he trusted Sword/Maria, because he “trusted” Fury, hence he probably decided to let them hold onto the body. Unless Hayward used tricks to get a hold of it once he took over, since Avengers/others were probably focused on “Thanos”, so no time to deal with government baddies. Also, maybe based on the Sokovia accords the vibranium in Vision’s body belongs to the government, not Tony, hence he let them keep the shell? Cause based in Haywards comments they've had the body longer than past weeks... after Tony died. )

And we can be 100% certain that in the Finale the two Visions will fight each other. [sidenote: Paul Bettany is the best! I love his “inside joke” of getting to act with an actor he’s always wanted to have a scene with...himself...as Two different versions of Vision. It’s the best!] The questions remain: will both die...from Wanda’s hands and/or due to the hex collapsing? Will one die (hex-vision) leaving us with just the empty body without the soul (until in some future film they are able to unite the two). Or will they both kinda surive aka will they merge into one, and we will get our old Vision kinda back already?

I am also almost certain that White Vision in WV finale will be voiced by the same man, who voiced Ultron...that would be such a “shock” to hear. (only RDJ being the voice would be as worthy of an inside joke...cause originaly Paul voiced his/Tony’s AI, Jarvis & now he’d voice Paul’s/Vision’s AI...so opposite, but not as “shocking”)

I do not think both the Twins & Vision will survive. I doubt they’ll give Wanda a happy ending... like the sircoms she watched as a kid. So one has to “die”. Since they made it a big deal to show the twins manifest their powers...at age 10 (10 = X), just like their mom, Wanda did first...at age 10 (X = X gene), and there will definitely be X-men & mutants in the future of MCU, I don’t think they'd get rid of the kids after laying the groundwork (Billy & Tommy will definitely get access to their powers & help mom & dad fight the bad guys), so I’m leaning towards the kids surviving. Because she did not just create them, she gave birth to them, so I’d say they can/will survive outside the hex. As Monica put it: Wanda’s kids are real. And even if the sitcom reality looks fake, everything there is real (as real as possible...she actually created the materials & all)

One possible happy, but sad ending would be that both survive: Twins, who stay with her & Vision, who will not be her Vision anymore, but the empty shell. And since she “can’t feel him” in the new form anymore, that’s the sad part. That even though he, too, survives, he’s not hers anymore.

But there is another possibility...that the Twins won’t make it (and they’ll be reborn somehere later... or Wanda doesn’t know they survived, and re-united with their parents...just like in Parent Trap...). But Vision will survive..either as his old self or as just a shell. And that’s the unhappy ending... she gets Vision back, but not her Vision, not The Vision. And she has to help him evolve... it’ll take time for him to “have emotions”. But the twist will be that Wanda was and is pregnant IRL actually.

I am basing this on the timeline we have.

Because the events of WandaVision take place in 2023 (sometime in summer-autumn) & Spiderman 2: Far From Home takes place 8 months after the Blip & 7-8 months after WandaVision. Now...since it’s literally been just a few weeks since Infinity War for Wanda....what if she is actually pregnant? What if she was prior to the Snap? That would make her story here even more heartbreaking - sad, but also happy. Cause based on FFH we know the world is slowly healing from the events, but it’s not in full chaos, so there has to be a “pause” between now & then. Otherwise...Peter/SpiderMan would probably have been more sure about multiverse & there would be more chaos or something than we see in FFH?

And... the events of Spiderman 3 & Dr. Strange 2 will most likely take place right after FFH, so about 8 months from now, and we saw how everything “glitched” when she was giving birth inside the hex. So what if all hell breaks free when she does that in real reality then? And that’s what sets the multiverse events rolling in the upcoming films? Cause why is it happening 8+ months from the Blip/WV/now, not right away. It seems that she won’t be ripping open the multiverse just yet. If she were, wouldn’t Peter/Spiderman have had inside info of it being certain [he seems to not be in FFH, when he talks to the Fake Mysterio] Why will it happen only about 8 months from now? What’s the delay?

I know...crazy wild theory. But I’m just trying to look at the timeline here. Cause either she’ll just spend the next months recovering and/or practicing her new-found skills (her mom did not teach Agatha, but Dr. Strange will guide Wanda on her journey to learn to understand & use & control her powerful abilities) and hence the “calm before the storm” time. Or there’s another reason. And the timeline would fit. Though it could be 8 months simply because the FFH events had to take place during summr vacation... But the kinda calm state of the universe & the specific 8 months “timejump” in FFH makes me suspicious.

FFH also tells us that to the knowledge of general public the fallen Avengers include Tony, Nat, and Vision. But also Cap. So... either Old Cap dies soon of old age/somehow OR the informtion released to the public is not completely accurate. If it’s the first, then Vision cannot make it alive from WV (but could be resurrected at some future time, cause Wanda can create the soul, SWORD has the original body, and Shuri has some of his old database, so...) If it’s the latter then either it’s not the same Vision anymore, but a different one or they’ll just keep him a secret so that other Hayward’s won’t come after him to use him as a weapon. Until the show started I presumed that Vision is gone, for certain.

 But...he’s not a regualar human, he’s part machine, so he is one of those characters they can bring back...even if in a different form. (question is: will they & would they.. would Wanda/Avengers do that...if it goes against The Visions living will? They could & would, I think..if the fate of the universe depended on it..if they needed him on their team)

Because...as they said in WV...it’s all for/because of the children... 

And I know... he is a synthezoid (essentially a robot/machine). But... that’s the thing. In this magical universe the laws of our regular world don’t seem to appy (or rather: tech is so advanced it seems like magic?) at times. The thing is...he is not juyst a robot, an android. He is part machine, part human. And weve seen he’s evolved...beound what “parents” (Tony & co) thought was possible & what Vision himself thought was possible. He got distracted during a missio, because he developed feelings (at age 2 years or so). He’s been shown to be able to feel, cry (produce tears). So..who knows... maybe he can also procreate... with the help of Wandas magic (who can make anything she wants happen...). Even though logic tells me it’s not possible, and his tears etc are synthetic, and he’s kind of a  different species...then I’ve decided that the laws of the world as I know don’t have to apply exactly...in this world. 

I mean...the MCU has a character whose mother is a human woman & father is a planet (in human form). Hence I’ve accepted that what I know to be impossible could be possible in this MCU fantasy universe. Hence I don’t question how or why could Wanda & Vision have offspring...for real. 

THE END

PS. Once again...this does not fit the comics. This is not the simplest route. But it’s one of the wild theories I’ve had. And I wanted to share it. Even if I don’t think that it could become canon. If it were based on comics, then Billy & Tommy would be reclaimed by Agatha’s master & we’d know how & why all this...

[feminaexlux]

Branded

It’s the @lukanette-exchange fic! After a long while it’s here!! @kingsglaivian I hope you enjoy! Also thanks to LBSC and @quickspinner in particular for finding the cool soulmark prompt lol

I am super, super excited to share this with you!

Original prompts: “childhood friends AU, soulmate AU, and an AU of the exchangee's choice.”

∴

It’d been just a few minutes after they first met when she first wrote her name on him.

She had come closer and stared over his shoulder when she saw he’d been drawing something. Was it a drawing? It looked like he had been drawing circles on a bunch of lines. Oh, Maman had showed her how music was written, it was music! “Hi! Are you drawing music?” She had asked cheerfully.

The boy had startled, apparently not having seen Marinette earlier. His pencil had marked across the entire page. “Aah!”

“Oh no!” Marinette whined. “You messed up!”

“Y-you made me do that,” he frowned. “You scared me.”

“Are you drawing music?” Marinette continued asking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah I am,” he said, turning the pencil around and erasing the errant mark. “I think about music all the time.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked, poking at his paper.

“That’s uh… that's…” he thought a bit. “I think that’s D and the next one is F and another D but this one’s higher. It’s a song from a video game.”

“You play video games?! Papa and I play games too!”

They talked back and forth about a bunch of different little things and he completely forgot what he’d been doing. Then it got to the point where Marinette had pulled out one of her markers and started writing her name on his arm. “– and if stays tomorrow it means you found your true love!” Marinette smiled up at the boy she’d been talking to. He looked like he was a few years older. Maybe he was even 10? Maybe he was younger, he looked really kinda small to be 10.

She was at the playground next to her family’s bakery. She’d been running around and playing with a few other kids there, but she saw this one boy sitting by a tree in the shade. He looked like he was alone and Marinette wondered if he’d been bullied. She knew what that was like, even at the tender age of 5. But it was easy to talk to this boy, he was much less Crazy Mean Boy than Kim was. He was more like Nino! And Nino was nice.

“Is that your name?” the boy asked, staring at her neatly written letters. “Marinette?”

“Yeah!”

“So if it stays tomorrow you’re my true love?” He asked, confused. “Mom told me that writing names on other people is bad… But why?”

“Maman and Papa have their names on each other’s arms,” Marinette said. “It’s not bad! Oh but you have to draw over it ‘cause it’s important that you do it,” Marinette added.

“Why?”

“It’s important,” she clarified. It looked like he was going to keep asking why until his mom called out.

“Ay laddie, it’s time to go,” a lady with a long braid said in their general direction. She had a girl on her hip and was walking over to the boy. “Why hello there lass, are ye makin’ friends with me boy?”

“I’m Marinette,” she said up to the lady. She wasn’t Lass, she wanted to say.

Marinette saw the boy quickly pull down his sleeves from his hoodie to hide her name. “Itwasnicetomeetyoubye,” he said quickly, before Marinette could whine about him hiding her name. He ran away to hold onto his mom’s hand. “Let’s go mom,” he continued, pulling his mom away in a slightly embarrassed fashion.

“Don’t ye want to say farewell? We won’t be ashore fer a while son.” Well, she didn’t know at the time he had wanted to run away and hide so the nice new girl wouldn’t be weirded out by his mom like most people were.

“See you tomorrow!” Marinette yelled after him.

She didn’t.

∴

It’d been just a few days after they first met.

Luka scrubbed and scrubbed at the M on his wrist but it wasn’t coming out. He’d scrubbed himself raw at the sink, his flesh feeling tender and his skin close to bleeding. He’d written over the girl’s marker with a pen a few days ago, idly curious if the mark would stay. At least he’d written over just the M, thinking about the nice girl who’d been curious about him.

“Luka?” He heard his mom call out. No, no, no. It wasn’t coming out and his mom would see it and she’d freak out and he’d have to make an excuse or find some of her makeup or something. He’d been told to take off his hoodie by… that man and so he ran back to the bathroom to try to do something about the M on his wrist.

Anarka opened the door. “Luka, my boy what are ye–” Oh no oh no she saw the mark. He put his hands back in the sink and kept scrubbing, starting to cry. “Luka what…” His mom started, initially alarmed and then… and then she came over to hug him.

“Mom what do I do?” He cried. “It’s not coming out!”

“Who'd… no, it doesn’t matter. Luka stop doing that, it’s not going to come out. It doesn’t, lad.” His mom took his hands from the sink and started to dry them. “It stays no matter how hard ye try to get rid o’ it.” She spoke to him with the rare moment of solemnity. “Ye'e been Branded, and there’s nothin we can do about it.”

“I don’t wanna be Branded!” he wailed.

In a quiet, heated hiss Anarka whispered “This is why I told ye to never write names on yerself!” She looked at her son crying and sighed, shaking her head. Luka would realize later she’d been more disappointed in herself that she’d let him get Branded like he did. She thought she warned him, but how could she blame him for something no one ever thought would happen at 7 years old?

Who finds their soulmate at 7?

But it’d be a shackle for the rest of his life. Luka would grow up wondering if this M would ever be part of his life again, whether M would even want to be his partner. If he did find someone else to be his partner, they’d wonder if they’d ever be loved like whoever this M was. “Here,” Anarka sighed. “Ye can’t get rid of that Luka. But ye can cover it. Forget about it now, lad,” she said gently, taking off the wide leather cuff she had on that had covered her own Brand. “This 'ere’s yers now. I’ll get ye all freshened up. Granpa’s waitin for us,” Anarka said, pasting on a fake smile.

Luka hated that man. He was angry and hateful and mean, but Anarka had wanted to see her own Ma again, to have her Ma help guide Anarka in the raising of two children Anarka never originally planned to have. Granma was nice. But Granpa? No. Luka swore to himself he’d never be like Granpa.

His mom put the cuff around Luka’s Brand, looping twice to fit the small wrist better. “All covered up now. Is that fitting, Luka?” He nodded, staring at the “S” on his mom’s wrist.

“Was… that dad?” Luka asked, pointing at the Brand.

Anarka laughed. “It stands for Scotland,” she said lightly. “It stands for the Sea. It’s not yer da, no,” Anarka lied.

∴

It’d been a few weeks since Marinette met Adrien Agreste.

She’d been convinced Adrien was her True Love, and was continually disappointed every morning when his name disappeared off of her arm. “Tikki, it disappeared again,” Marinette sighed.

Tikki shrugged. “Maybe he’s not ready?” The Kwami had seen this before. The Brands were a form of magic that humans had that linked two souls together, signaling that they’d found their soul’s mate. A person would have to write another’s True Name on themselves somewhere, and it would disappear at sunrise if it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes, though, it depended on if the other person was even capable of loving back. A Brand that had disappeared earlier might “take” later, when the soulmate was ready.

Tikki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing for Marinette that Adrien wasn’t capable of loving Marinette back yet. Maybe Adrien had a different name? The kwami wasn’t going to put forth the suggestion that it might not be Adrien at all. Marinette seemed convinced, and Tikki knew better than to doubt her bearers.

Marinette’s parents proudly wore the names they had on their arms, a very simple “Tom” on Sabine’s wrist and a beautifully formed script of “Sabine” scrawled across Tom’s massive forearm. Of course it simply encouraged Marinette into writing several names on her own arms throughout the years, even if most people found writing names on themselves taboo.

Recently, though, it’d just been Adrien’s.

None of the attempts ever stuck.

“It’ll happen one day!” Tikki said cheerfully. “I believe that you’ll find your soulmate one day. But right now you should get ready for school!”

∴

It’d been a few months after Juleka showed him that the picture curse was broken that he met the girl that’d been able to break it.

“I’m Ma-ma-ma-Marinette!”

He’d laughed a little and it hurt her feelings. Good job, Luka, that was a great first impression. Luckily he was able to apologize and smooth it over.

It tickled him, just a little bit, that he’d met another “M” in his life that he actually ended up liking. He ended up liking her a whole lot, which… ultimately kinda sucked because she’d been interested in someone else. Well, that was alright. He’d been used to the idea that he’d never find “the one” since he technically already had and lost them so many years ago.

But this one? This “M”? She was pretty cool and he found himself more interested than he’d ever been in anyone before.

There’d been one other “M” in his life a couple of years ago before his mom decided to move them all back to France, and Paris in particular. Her name had been Meryl and she was a pretty awesome girl, but she’d been several years older and already in University. She’d still given Luka some attention though, apparently finding it cute that she had a boy doting on her like he did. She was nice and she said he’d look good with some blue in his hair, and it’d been the last thing she said to him before she found herself her own soulmate. It hadn’t been Luka, of course.

He’d gotten into a fight with Granpa over his hair after Luka had dyed it. Juleka joined him by dying her hair purple. Anarka had finally had enough of her and her kids being put down and said she was going to go back “home”. It’d been a hard conversation with Granpa, but after Granma had passed Anarka and her kids had little reason to stick around in their Scottish family house. Anarka’s little wildlings were less little, and Juleka and Luka were both in their tweens to teens, largely old enough to handle themselves now.

Anarka had found some nearly-derelict fishing barge and spent a few weeks with her kids fixing up the ship, making it their new house, and they left Scotland as soon as they could. She sailed the newly christened Liberty back into Parisian waters, claiming the Seine as her new home. She gave a little wink to Luka, a nod to the new “S” in Anarka’s life that her Brand now represented.

It’d been good to see his mom coming back into her old self, the wild, chaotic, free spirit that she’d always been. He was no longer embarrassed of her like he’d been so many years ago. And he had to be honest to himself, the boat wasn’t the first choice he’d make in having a place to come home to, but something about Paris just felt right.

Juleka had been feeling better too. The younger Couffaines had been under their Granpa’s oppressive shadow for too long. And now they were slowly discovering more of themselves over time.

Rose was one of the first friends Juleka had made after coming back to Paris a few years ago, and they were “best friends” since. Today, Juleka showed him a neatly written “Rose” in a flourishing script on the back of her right hand. Juleka apparently hadn’t minded getting the Brand at all. “Marinette did this too,” Juleka smiled. “She’s been drawing names for people who ask. It’s so cool,” Juleka mumbled.

“She’s amazing,” Luka said out loud. Jules gave him a look and even he couldn’t figure out what it meant. “What?”

“She’s got eyes on Adrien, you know.”

“I’ve heard your schemes, I know.”

“I’m on team Adrienette.”

“Alright.”

“She deserves to be happy.”

“Sounds good.”

“It’d be weird if you two dated, anyway.”

“But we’re not dating. She doesn’t seem to notice me.”

Jules frowned at that and grumbled something that sounded to Luka like “she notices and it’s weird.”

He thought to himself, Not where it matters.

∴

It’d been a year since Adrien lost his mother, and Marinette finally said the words “I love you” to him.

Yes, it was a video recording and yes, Felix had apparently gone through and deleted it before Adrien ever got to see it, but she’d done it! She’d done the thing! She could do it again! It had to be easier the second time, right? The second… time.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It’d been nearly a full year of her attempting Adrien’s name on her arm, and nothing changed. She’d stayed up and watched it fade out when the sunlight hit it during a few fitful mornings. She wrote his name so often it stopped looking like a word and more like a familiar pattern. Just shapes and no meaning.

Marinette had tried out a few different names over the year as well, just so she’d be certain… in a slightly unsettling way. She kept it discreet, writing on her ankle or in another place easy to cover up in case it was… taking. She’d written “Nathaniel”, once. It disappeared. She’d written “Chat Noir” and nearly sighed in relief (and maybe deep down in slight surprise) when it disappeared. Not that it was his real name anyway.

She’d secretly tried “Nino” once, even though he and Alya had gotten together. It hadn’t stuck. Nino and Alya hadn’t asked for Marinette to write each other’s names down, and maybe… maybe that was actually healthy? Like they didn’t need any external validation in order to really enjoy time spent with each other.

There might have been a lesson in that.

She tried “Kim” and “Wayhem” and “Theo”, even though the last one kinda creeped her out a bit. She tried “Kagami.” Nothing stuck.

There was still one name she hadn’t tried but… but she’d been absolutely terrified of it. Luka had more or less admitted to the world at large that he loved her after he’d gotten akumatized. There’d been genuine affection that was unfiltered, unbiased, uninfluenced by whatever the magic was that made names stay on people. He didn’t seem to mind that she was so, so into Adrien. Even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d love her.

S-So she’d be able to do that for Adrien! Yes, that made sense. Yes, that soulmate stuff was all kid fantasy anyway. Even if it was demonstratively real.

But if Adrien found his soulmate and it wasn’t Marinette… what was she supposed to do? Just step out of the way?

∴

It’d been a decade since Marinette and Luka first met except neither remembered that first time when they were young children, even if they’d been in the same place: the park nearby the bakery.

He’d held onto her as she broke down crying about the heartbreak and how tired she was. Luka told her he’d listen and be there and hadn’t lied about any of it. It was why she chose to sit next to him after letting her infatuation go and stepping out of the way for Kagami, watching Adrien and Kagami have their Sweetheart’s ice cream together like it was always meant to be Adrien and Kagami instead of Adrien and Marinette.

Marinette chose to sit next to Luka instead of going home.

She went to bed that night deciding that the whole names and soulmates and True Love thing was just a big huge distraction from what she really needed to focus on, which was getting through school, defeating Hawkmoth, and getting her name out there as an up and coming Fashion Designer!

It lasted all of 3 days until she finally gave into her curiosity and wrote an L in the crook of her left arm before going to bed. She really had meant to write out the rest of his name, but then her phone buzzed and there’d been an akuma alert. She sighed and rolled into action.

Her Lucky Charm gave her a guitar pick. That was a little too on-the-nose, Tikki? Ladybug zipped over to the Liberty, somehow not surprised that Luka was still up and leaning against the Liberty to overlook the Seine, looking cool and thoughtful. Actually, scratch that. He looked a little haggard and worried, and he’d been expecting to see Ladybug. Well, at least it meant she didn’t have to go in and wake him up.

“… you must return the Miraculous after…” Ladybug trailed off, noticing as Luka reached out to take the bracelet that he hadn’t been wearing any of the normal… accessories he chose to wear most of the time, most notably the leather cuff he usually had on. Something bothered her and she caught his hand before he touched the bracelet. She turned his right hand over and looked at the pen mark on his wrist. “Is that an M or an E?”

Luka pulled back his hand immediately, embarrassed. “An… M,” he said reluctantly.

Then Ladybug remembered it’d been incredibly rude of her to ask. “Oh, I’m so sorry I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It's… been 10 years since I got that, I don’t even remember much about it,” he shrugged.

Ladybug smiled, biting back a sudden urge to scream, and offered Luka the snake Miraculous again. “If you agree… I’d like your help, Luka.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Viperion were able to save the night and have everyone able to go to bed on time. She picked the Miraculous back up from Viperion, who seemed to be confused the akuma victim wasn’t who he’d expected it to be. “Anything wrong, Luka?”

“No… no, I’m glad I was able to help. I’m okay,” he said, clearly still a bit frazzled. Ladybug furrowed her eyebrows at him and he eventually sighed. “I guess I’m worried about a… friend. She’d been going through a lot so I’d been… I’d been waiting to see if she’d either call me or… or God, I don’t know,” he laughed, a little bit in disbelief. “I almost thought she’d been akumatized tonight. I’m so glad it wasn’t her. But it kinda makes me feel like crap for even thinking that.”

“It’s kind to be worried about your friend. W-Which friend by the way?” Ladybug asked. “I could pay her a visit if you’d like?”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate that, actually,” he sighed. “She can kill me later if she wants, but yeah it’d be great if you’d check up on her. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Instead of being worried that Luka was worried over her, she asked “Is she your M?” Ladybug got blindsided by her own question, but she only felt the impact and implication after she asked it. “Oh no, no, I’m so sorry I’ve been so rude.”

He blew out a breath. “I wish,” he mumbled. “I don’t know,” he said, his tiredness making him slightly more obvious about being miserable. “I guess I could know for sure by writing out her name.” That was said like he had been convinced it’d disappear…

“I’m pretty good at writing out names. If you want I could write… the rest of her name out on your arm?” Ladybug offered impulsively.

“… Sure,” he agreed. He watched her as she grabbed a nearby marker and wrote out Marinette on his arm. “Wow, that… looks pretty dead on to her signature.”

“Pfft,” Ladybug laughed. “That’d be the worst identity reveal ever. Marinette’s signed a few things for me too, I’ll have you know.”

“You might have a future in crime with your forging skills if you ever decide to stop being a hero,” Luka chuckled.

“I’ll stick to saving Paris, don’t worry,” Ladybug giggled. “You do have to write over it yourself if you want it to stay. I mean… if she is… you know…”

Luka nodded. “I know. Probably a long shot. Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll check up on her. Thank you for caring, Luka,” Ladybug smiled. “And you know, I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” she said quietly, biting her lip while tapping his arm. “I’ll be off. Have a good night, 'Bug out!”

Ladybug landed in her bed and detransformed. Tikki floated back to her little nesting spot while the kwami watched Marinette pull out her phone.

hey luka just got a visit from LB! thanks for thinking of me

Marinette looked down into the crook of her arm, grabbing a marker and filling out the rest of Luka’s name. She’d recognized that M on his arm.

Had it really been 10 years when she first met him? It was kind of funny that she didn’t remember until now. He hadn’t given his name back then but she remembered the disappointment the next day when her new friend didn’t show.

Had it really been a whole year of writing… the wrong name on herself?

It’d been months since Luka told her she’d been the melody in his head. Months.

And she had spent a week in heartbreak over the wrong boy.

It’d just been a few days since she decided she was going to let Adrien go. And she found her soulmate after that? How lucky was she? Marinette looked up at the sleeping Tikki and squinted suspiciously. Maybe she was Lucky™, except that she had apparently met Luka when she was 5.

Marinette stared at her phone, watching the minutes go by. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.

The sun rose after an agonizingly boring time of rolling back and forth in her bed, too excited to go to sleep but too tired to do anything productive. She kept checking the name on her arm and it’d still been there all throughout the night, but now at first light… she was… scared. She closed her eyes and covered her head with her pillow, half dreading what she’d see if she looked down at her left arm where she wrote his name.

“It’ll be there,” she said to herself, feeling more certain of that than anything. The warmth of sunlight hit her left arm. She lifted the pillow off of her face but kept her eyes closed. Slowly she opened one eye.

His name was still there. “It’s you,” she whispered, feeling the tears fall from her eyes.

She launched herself out of bed, turning into a little hurricane of activity. She threw her jacket on and ran downstairs, kissing her Maman and Papa on the cheek and telling them she’d be out for a while. They’d been too surprised to see her up at the crack of dawn to complain much, just insisting that she take her phone with her and that she wear proper shoes.

She ran down to the subway entrance and guessed the nearest station where Liberty would be moored, taking the subway train there. She emerged from an entrance about 10 minutes later, ignoring the confused looks the other commuters shot her since she’d been a mess of pigtails and pajamas. She ran toward the Liberty, climbed up and leapt over the railing onto the ship when she saw that the gangplank wasn’t extended.

“Marinette!” she heard Luka’s alarmed shout. She knew he’d be up. She knew it! He ran over to her. “What the heck–” He’d been wearing a different hoodie, a long sleeved one that covered up both his arms. She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“S-So are you! And you’re-you’re here? What’s wrong?” His voice had dropped from a high pitched panic to his deeper, concerned tone in the span of two words.

She took off her jacket and extended her left arm. She saw him flush but start pulling up his hoodie from the hem, taking it off and tossing it aside. He turned his right palm up to show her the name written across his forearm.

Their names had stayed. He breathed out. “Did Ladyb–” She cut him off, her hands on either side of his face to pull him down, planting a kiss on his lips. They pulled back a second after, looking at one another in surprise.

“It’s you,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder. To be honest she’d been embarrassed that she’d just kissed him in the disheveled state she was in, having left to see him as soon as she got out of bed, but she felt giddy and… right.

He pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her to hug her tight. “And… it’s you.”

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 20: Jon Prime

Jon had been worried, before they had come back in time, about how well he would adjust to being in the past, pre-Apocalypse. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the lessened level of terror, or the need to eat and sleep completely again, or being, essentially, less than he’d been, or for that matter the urge to storm the Institute and throttle Jonah Magnus in his office. He’d fretted about a lot of things.

As it turned out, none of them were things he needed to fret about.

His body reacclimated to human needs quickly enough, and it actually felt kind of good to feel the rumble of hunger or the drag of exhaustion again. It was definitely good to get back to cooking, which he’d sorely missed doing even if it felt odd to be cooking for more than himself and Martin. Martin had been right about his statement fueling Jon for a while, and his younger counterpart had taken to bringing home any real statements he came across; it was enough. And with Martin there, he didn’t feel less.

As for storming the Institute, that urge had been surprisingly easy to resist. Tim had managed to convince them to stay at his house longer by asking them to keep an eye on Past Martin while he healed. His excuse had been that Jon knew what Past Martin was going through and Martin knew what his past self was like, so they could keep him from doing anything stupid. Jon guessed there was more to it than that, but he didn’t want to pry into anyone’s minds, so he just let it go and agreed. It seemed simpler.

Martin had adapted well, too. Granted, he’d still been human—as far as Jon knew—before they came back, and he’d had two weeks to adjust to being blind before they were reunited, but he’d picked up on the cane Tim bought him fairly quickly. He didn’t seem to need it around the house, though, and when Jon questioned him about that, Martin said that he had a pretty good sense of direction when the world makes sense, Jon. And, honestly, Jon couldn’t argue with that. Tim spent a Sunday afternoon reorganizing his cupboards, then showed Martin where everything was so he could feel more independent in the kitchen while Jon watched from the doorway with a grin.

Past Martin got stronger by the day. At first, he mostly slept, which was fine with Jon, since it meant he could spend time with Martin and not feel guilty. He’d accidentally fallen asleep with his head on Martin’s lap one afternoon and woken to soft laughter, which is how he found out that Past Martin and Past Jon had apparently discussed things and Sasha was the only member of what Tim insisted on referring to as Team Archives who didn’t know they were together. After that, they’d dropped the pretense and just been themselves. It had been a huge relief to Jon. It had also been a relief—and a surprise—that Tim didn’t tease them mercilessly, but when he mentioned that to Martin, Martin just laughed and shook his head.

They’d all fallen into an easy domesticity. It was honestly the most surreal thing Jon had experienced in probably his entire life. Sasha and Past Jon were still staying with Tim—Jon had no idea what argument Tim had used on them, but it seemed to be working—and Jon delighted in watching the three of them, together with Past Martin, draw closer together into a cohesive unit that would be harder for Jonah to manipulate. Often, he would come out of the spare room from recording a statement, tape recorder in hand, to find them sharing stories or playing games and laughing. Some nights he joined in on the games, too, but mostly he just sat back with Martin and watched, grinning.

There were arguments. Of course there were arguments. They were all human beings with their own personalities and quirks. Nothing was going to be perfect harmony. Thankfully, they were usually made up fairly quickly. It felt like home, in a way, something Jon hadn’t experienced in he didn’t know how long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Several weeks passed like that. Jon could see the signs that Past Martin was getting restless and impatient to be back at work—he listened hungrily to the team’s tales of what they’d been up to, ventured tentative suggestions on avenues of research or possible connections they might have missed—but he was, ultimately, a far better patient than Jon had been. Not that that was difficult.

As Past Martin’s recovery progressed, the three of them began taking walks in the afternoon, Jon letting the two Martins go ahead of him and following just behind. Partly it was that there really wasn’t room for them to walk three abreast, but mostly it was him giving them the opportunity to see what they were capable of on their own while he watched their backs, literally. At first they were slow circuits of a single block, and then Past Martin needed to sit down for quite a while, but within a couple of weeks he was walking easily and seemed almost back to normal. The scars healed better than they had for Jon, partly because Martin’s skin was fairer than Jon’s but mostly because Past Martin was better about both following doctor’s orders and not picking at the healing wounds. Tim’s had healed about the same, Jon remembered, a thought which still sent a lance of melancholy through him. And finally, the day came when he returned triumphantly from a check-up with the news that he’d been cleared to return to work that Monday.

“We’ll be glad to have you back,” Past Jon said sincerely, actually smiling in a way Jon couldn’t remember smiling until the too-brief time he and Martin had had in Scotland. “It’s all kind of…I won’t lie, it’s odd to sit around and keep working like nothing has changed. Like we don’t know what’s going on. But we’ve managed. There’s a lot more than can be easily done with three, though.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Past Martin promised. “God, it’ll feel good to get back into things.”

“Kind of surprised you didn’t try to get us to let you come back earlier, actually,” Tim teased him. “Don’t think none of us saw you chomping at the bit.”

Past Martin gestured to Jon and Martin. “They wouldn’t let me bring it up.”

“How long did you wait before going back?” Past Jon asked.

Jon grimaced. “A month. I should have stayed out longer, to be honest, and I ended up needing substantial physical therapy. But I was already obsessing over who killed Gertrude Robinson, and I didn’t handle being alone with my thoughts very well. Tim was out longer.”

“How long?” Tim asked curiously.

“Eight weeks, give or take.”

“So we can be away from the Institute? I thought you said…” Tim trailed off.

Jon paused, knife suspended over the cutting board. “I—I never thought of that. God, how did I not think of that? Our Tim seemed fine when he first came back, and he never said anything, but…”

“You can be away from the Institute, just not for good,” Martin said. “When you’re out…convalescing, that’s one thing. Even if you’re on an extended vacation, that should be okay. It’s if you try to leave, if you just up and walk away with the idea that you won’t be back, that you’ll have problems. As long as you really intend to come back at some point, it’s fine.”

Jon turned around and stared at Martin. “How long have you known that?”

“Since Elias told us we were trapped there?”

“My God, that was…” Jon rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Why didn’t you say anything? And please don’t say ‘it never really came up.’”

Martin actually smiled at that. “Honestly, Jon, I assumed you knew. I mean, you were away for ages, and I know Basira kept going off on…excursions. She might not have been gone long, but I just…I thought you’d figured it out. Especially when nothing really happened to us in Scotland.”

Jon hadn’t thought about that, either. But yes, at the time they had meant to go back to the Institute eventually, hadn’t they? Or maybe the Eye had let them go because it knew what Jonah was plotting. Either way, Martin was right, he really ought to have figured that out sooner.

He sighed, turning back to his meal prep. “I can, as we have established, be a bit oblivious at times.”

Sasha gave an overly-dramatic gasp. “You? Never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Past Jon grumbled.

Tim snickered. “Hey, does that mean you two have to come back to the Institute, too?”

“That’s…more complicated.” Jon scraped the contents of the cutting board into the pot. “I’m bound closely enough to the Eye that I’m not…dependent on the Institute, I don’t think? As long as I’m taking statements, feeding the Eye, I’m fine. I believe. And Martin is cut off from the Eye entirely. But it’s a rather moot point, as we intend to move into the tunnels beneath the Institute anyway.”

“You can’t seriously be planning to do that,” Tim protested. “Come on, they can’t be comfortable—”

“They aren’t. But that’s not the point, Tim.” Jon sighed and reached for the spices he’d selected. “We are putting you in very real danger by being here. Besides, we’re not in a position to assist like we would be if we were closer to the Institute. I don’t particularly like them, but it’s the best option for everyone.”

Tim reached past Jon to get plates out of the cupboard, his expression mulish. Jon braced himself for whatever arguments Tim might throw his way and resolutely shut his mind against prying for it, but before he could say anything, Past Martin came up and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“You can’t fix everything, Tim,” he said quietly. “And I know that’s rich, coming from me, but…we have to trust them. It’s not like we won’t ever see them again if they’re not living under your roof.”

Tim’s shoulders slumped. Jon caught his eye and offered him a smile. “It’s certainly no reflection on you, Tim. It’s just…we need to do this. I desperately need you to trust us.”

“I can give you that.” Tim managed a smile in reply, then turned to set the table. “You’re not planning to move in tonight, though, right?”

Jon was about to answer, then froze as a rumble of thunder sounded from outside. It was low and gentle, but the sound sent a shudder of horror running down his spine that he couldn’t explain. He had to stand, perfectly still, until the sound stopped.

“No,” he said as soon as he felt able. “Not tonight.”

He went back to what he was doing, or tried to, but there was obviously a storm building, and the next peal of thunder brought his breath up short. The spoon slipped out of his hand and into the pot.

“Are you okay?” Sasha’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

“Fine,” Jon lied automatically. Really, this was ridiculous. There was no reason for this. Thunderstorms had never bothered him before; why were they suddenly an issue now? He retrieved the spoon and returned to cooking.

The others shifted the discussion to the logistics of smuggling Jon and Martin into the Institute and the tunnels beneath them without being spotted. Since Martin was already explaining about the other entrances, Jon didn’t feel the need to jump in. They would still need to figure out which entrance to use, or find one in the first place, and how to get there surreptitiously, but at least there were options beyond “hope to avoid the cameras mounted around the Institute when sneaking into the Archives and subsequently into the tunnels”. That would be the fastest way to tip Jonah off that something was going on.

Another roll of thunder sounded from almost directly overhead—not a sharp crack, but a long, rumbling bass growl. Jon felt it to his core, and he gasped, leaning over to catch himself against the counter. Suddenly he was in the spare room in the cabin in Scotland, the words being torn from his throat against his will: I…OPEN…THE DOOR!

“Whoa!” someone shouted.

“Shit, that’s—how is he—” someone else stammered.

“Get his hand off the burner!”

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”

Something brushed against him, and he jerked away, but then a hand wrapped around his arm and tugged him away from the counter, and then someone was wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. There was a confused babble of voices around him, but Jon couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything but the thunder and the static filling his mind and the fact that for some reason his hand hurt, why did his hand hurt…

“Jon,” the voice said again in his ear, and it was Martin’s voice, he sounded upset, he sounded scared, and Jon couldn’t let him be scared but didn’t know how to fix it, so he looked up desperately and saw Martin’s face close to his. “Come on, let’s go in the other room, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Jon couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. He just let Martin lead him out of the room they were in and into another, keeping his eyes fixed on Martin the whole time, and then they were sitting on something and Martin pulled Jon into his arms, onto his lap, and wrapped him up securely. One hand came up to cup the back of his head, the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice low and gentle despite crackling with emotion. “You’re here. We’re both here and we’re safe. We’re in London. The world isn’t ending, Jon. You didn’t end the world. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

How, the small part of Jon that wasn’t numb with terror thought, did Martin always seem to know the right thing to say? It was a ridiculous thought, of course; Martin didn’t always know the right thing to say, any more than Jon did, and they’d had more than a few arguments over one of them saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But when it was a situation like this, when Jon panicked or got lost in his own head or was hurting, Martin always seemed to come up with the right words. Jon fisted his hands into Martin’s shirt and buried his face in his chest, focusing on the heartbeat that always soothed him when things got too bad. One of his hands, in a distant way, hurt, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

Of course the world wasn’t ending. It couldn’t be. How could the world end with Martin there? That was just ridiculous. If the world ended, he’d be all alone.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said, and shit, had he said that out loud? “I’m here. I will always be here. I won’t ever leave you. I promise. I’m here. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” Jon whispered. The words felt raw in his throat, but it felt good to say them. He whispered them again and again, and Martin whispered them back to him. They passed the words back and forth, you’re here, I’m here, you’re here, and slowly, slowly, Jon felt the terror recede.

The storm didn’t lessen. If anything, it got worse, but oddly, that helped, too. The sharper the thunder got, the calmer Jon grew. A mighty thunderclap rattled the windows, and the power went out, making someone yelp from the other room, but Jon was able to take his first full breath. He slowly eased his grip on Martin’s shirt and sagged against him with a heavy sigh.

“Better?” Martin asked, rubbing his back.

“A little.” Jon tilted his head back and rested his chin on Martin’s chest, looking up at him. There was only the barest amount of light in the room, but it was enough to see the outline of his boyfriend’s face by. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Martin pressed a light kiss to Jon’s forehead. “How’s your hand?”

“Hmm?” Jon became aware that his hand still hurt a lot. He eased it away from Martin and stared at it. It was red, almost raw, and he could see a couple of blisters on the palm that had miraculously remained intact, despite the grip he’d had on Martin’s shirt. “Oh. I—did I put it on the stove?”

“Apparently. Let me see.”

Jon managed a smile. He turned his hand over, palm up, and laid it in Martin’s. Martin hovered his thumb just over the top of Jon’s palm. “It’s still warm. Hold on, let me go find out what Tim’s got in that medicine cabinet of his.”

“Plenty,” a voice said from the doorway. Jon started, then relaxed when he realized it was his own voice, and that was still weird to hear. He looked up to see Past Jon coming in, a torch in one hand and a small handful of supplies in the other. “I was going to just leave it on the table for you, but…”

“Thank you,” Jon said sincerely. He didn’t leave the comfort of Martin’s embrace, though. The panic had left him a bit shaky and he wasn’t sure he could really sit up on his own, but more than that, he honestly didn’t give a damn if it made him look weak to lean on Martin. That was part of what love was, right?

Past Jon set the things in his hands on the table, then lined them up. “Cool compress, lotion, gauze, bandages. Paracetamol on the end if you need it for the pain. I—do you need a spare hand?”

“We’ve got it, but thank you,” Martin said. He picked up the compress, then pressed it gently to Jon’s hand. It was obvious he’d done this before, in some capacity.

Past Jon nodded and straightened, then hesitated before leaving the room. Awkwardly, he asked, “Can I…are you sure you’re okay? That looked a lot like, well, a panic attack.”

“It was,” Jon said softly. He hesitated, looking up into Martin’s eyes. Even though he knew Martin wasn’t really looking back at him per se, that he couldn’t actually see him, he could feel his attention, and they’d learned in the last few weeks that they knew each other well enough that they could still communicate wordlessly, to an extent. Turning back to his past self, he explained, “It was—the last thunderstorm I remember came up while I was reading…Jonah’s monologue.”

Past Jon flinched. “Ah. Well, I’ll, erm…I’ll leave you to that, then.” He gestured at the supplies and retreated back to the kitchen.

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a long moment. Martin kept applying pressure to the compress on Jon’s hand, his other hand securely supporting it, keeping it elevated. At last, Jon said, “I—I never asked if it was actually storming. That day. If it was…real thunder I heard or if it was just…the impending end of the world.”

“It was. I was on my way back. At first I thought I’d grab an umbrella, but then I thought…I thought I’d just stay downstairs until you finished your statement, then bring you a cup of tea or something. And then…” Martin trailed off and shook his head.

Jon bit his lip. “At least you made it back before…the Door Opened.”

“No, Jon,” Martin said softly. “I didn’t. I was still a good five minutes’ walk from the safe house when it happened.” He tried to laugh. “Ordinarily, anyway. I ran, as soon as I realized…I don’t know that I realized what exactly was going on, but I knew it was bad, and I knew that it was probably coming after you.”

“My God, Martin.” Horror ran through Jon’s body, and he reached out with his free hand to grip Martin’s shirt again.

“Hey, careful, I need room to work.”

“You were outside when—you c-could have been killed. God, I could have lost you and—”

“But you didn’t,” Martin reminded him. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Jon’s for a moment. “I’m here, Jon. You’re here. We’re both here. We survived the end of the world. We made it. Together.”

Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe one day it won’t be so hard to remember that.”

“Well, I’ll always be here to remind you.” Martin straightened up and lifted the compress, then checked the heat of his palm and set the compress aside.

Jon glanced at the next item on the table and grimaced. “Of course the next step is lotion.”

“Do you want to do it yourself?” Martin asked. “You’ve got to keep things from drying out, but…I understand if someone else rubbing it in might be a bit much.”

At least that was something Jon had known he had an issue with before. Just not something he’d thought he would ever have to think about. He started to say yes, then shook his head, despite knowing Martin couldn’t see him. “No. No, will—will you do it? Please? I trust you.”

Martin’s face softened. They both knew what Jon was asking for. “Of course, Jon.”

He poured a little bit of the lotion into Jon’s hand. Jon tried hard not to flinch at the feel of it pooling into his cupped palm. Martin replaced the cap and set the bottle back on the table, nearly missing it, then took Jon’s hand and began gently massaging the lotion into it. Jon focused on Martin’s face and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Tell me something,” Martin requested abruptly.

Jon cocked his head, slightly off-balance. “What?”

“Anything. Your favorite play, your earliest childhood memory, your most embarrassing uni story. Anything.”

“O-oh, okay,” Jon said, surprised. He tried to think for a moment. “Ah—I’ve always been fond of The Duchess of Padua.”

Martin smiled encouragingly. “Yeah? I don’t know that one. Tell me about it.”

Jon launched into an explanation of the plot. The more into it he got, the more wildly he gesticulated with the hand Martin wasn’t attending to. Martin listened to Jon ramble the way he always did, with a smile and a look of genuine interest as Jon went on about a topic he knew nothing about and honestly didn’t care all that much about. He’d even told Jon, simultaneously not long ago and an eternity ago, that he’d always hated the theater, yet here he was letting Jon describe in technical detail the plot of a play he’d had no good reason to fall in love with.

“—staged very often, or studied for that matter, but I always thought it was fascinating,” he concluded with a sigh. “I actually rose a bit in a professor’s esteem because I used that one as the basis for our term paper on one of Wilde’s works rather than The Importance of Being Ernest or The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes. Best grade I ever got in school was on a paper I wrote on The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” Martin set something on the coffee table. “How’s that?”

“I—” Jon looked down at his hand. The lights were still out, but his eyes had adjusted, and he could see the stark white bandage looped neatly around his hand, securing the gauze without being too tight. “Oh. You’re done.” He gave his boyfriend a slightly accusing look. “You were distracting me.”

“You were panicking,” Martin told him. He wrapped both arms around Jon again. “I really was listening, though. I love listening to you talk about something you know a lot about. Or even something you’re just pretending you know a lot about.”

“Hey,” Jon protested, but without any real heat. He tucked his head into the crook of Martin’s neck and sighed, curling into him. “Thank you. For taking care of me. For knowing me so well. For being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Martin kissed the crown of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

How many times had they passed those words back and forth, Jon wondered? He could probably Know the exact number, with a little effort, but it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. They could say it with every breath they had left from now until the end of time, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Jon had made a vow, kneeling in the remains of what had once been his boss’s office and pressing futilely against the gaping wounds in Martin’s chest, that he would never leave an opportunity to say them unsaid. They didn’t need to say it for each other to know, but it was important to Jon that they did. And while Martin never said as much, Jon knew it reassured him to hear confirmation every once in a while.

They sat in silence for a while, Jon letting Martin’s presence and the secure feel of his embrace soothe away the last of his lingering terror, or at least his lingering immediate terror. The fear would never go away completely. He’d grown to accept that. But at least now it was just the usual hum of background terror that was his everyday life, rather than the sharp, immediate panic of a flashback. Here with Martin, he was as safe as he ever could be.

At last, he sighed. “We should probably go back into the other room before the others eat everything.”

“I’m sure they saved us some,” Martin said. “But sure. You’ll have to get up first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re sitting on my lap, Jon.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that.” Jon managed to get to his feet. Martin chuckled as he stood, too.

Tim had lit several candles and was apparently mid-debate with Sasha over whether or not he should add another one to the mix. Past Jon rolled his eyes in Jon and Martin’s direction when they came in. “Please make them shut up.”

“Impossible, I’m afraid. They’re both breathing,” Jon said dryly. Tim snorted and Sasha stuck her tongue out at him. “It smells good in here. Have you been baking?”

“Electric oven. Jon barely finished cooking dinner before the power went out. It’s the candles,” Tim admitted. “One of the kids in the neighborhood keeps selling them to raise money for school trips and the like, and I’m apparently one of his best customers.”

“Well, if you add any more, the smell might be overpowering. Or you might set off your smoke detector.”

“Point. Okay, then, sit down and eat. We saved you a couple plates.”

Jon didn’t have to look at Martin to see the I-told-you-so look on his face.

As they ate, Sasha slid a piece of paper towards him, covered in neat, still-unfamiliar handwriting that Jon presumed to be hers. “Can you think of anything on here we missed?”

The lighting wasn’t really adequate to read the paper clearly, and Jon was tired, despite Martin’s presence and support; the panic attack had drained him a bit more than he’d expected. He was going to need something stronger than a couple of old statements to recover,  but he had no idea how to go out and get it. It all combined to make him forget himself a little. He reached out with the Eye rather than his own eyes to skim the paper. Sleeping mats, camp stoved, tinned food (ANYTHING but peaches)…

“What’s all this?” he asked, picking it up to see a bit better.

“Supplies,” Past Jon said brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d make you stay in those tunnels without some way of being comfortable, did you?”

Actually, Jon hadn’t thought about it. He picked up the list and studied it more closely, with his actual vision this time. It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list. There were a few things on it that he recognized as bearing his boyfriend’s hallmark, unexpected items that nevertheless might, in certain circumstances, make a huge difference. He angled the paper towards Martin. “Anything you have to add?”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Unless that’s written in Braille, I don’t think I’m going to be of much use there.”

“Oh. Right.” Jon was thankful that the combination of his complexion and the low light in the room would probably hide his blush from anyone whose eyes still functioned.

Tim looked back and forth between the two Martins. “Wait, you know Braille?”

Past Martin ducked his head, looking mortified. Martin, however, simply nodded slowly. “Mum had one of those pill keepers, you know the ones. I taught myself Braille so I could know which pills to get ready for her without turning on the light before she was ready to be awake.”

The look on both Tim and Past Jon’s faces made Jon slightly glad, and also slightly disappointed, that Martin’s mother was dead. Then he remembered that she’d died while he was in his coma, so she was currently still alive in a nursing home in Devon refusing her son’s visits but accepting, even demanding, his money, and it was very difficult for him to swallow his own anger and uncharitable thoughts. He wasn’t a monster and couldn’t act like one, no matter how good his motives seemed.

Instead, he covered the moment by reading the list aloud to Martin. Martin listened and nodded and smiled when Jon hit the last item on the list. “I don’t think you need to worry about a tape recorder, honestly. They turn up on their own.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Tim said dryly. “But you said the tunnels blocked stuff at times. I figured, just in case…”

“Might be a comfort,” Past Martin suggested softly. It was the first thing he’d said since Jon and Martin had come into the kitchen.

“The tunnels don’t stop the recorders,” Jon said. “But…thank you. It’s thoughtful of you.”

Sasha nodded and took the list. “We’ll get everything together tomorrow, then, and you can find another entrance to the tunnels.”

“Will you be able to find the Archives?” Tim asked. “Through those tunnels, I mean? They’re a mess, honestly.”

“We’ll manage.” Jon actually wasn’t a hundred percent sure how easy it would be. He’d had a map made at one point, but that was after Leitner had manipulated things for him, and the tunnels were shielded from the Eye, somehow. He’d be lucky not to have to live with the ever-present…fuzziness he’d dealt with when they’d been staying with Georgie and Melanie and their inadvertent cult. But they really and truly didn’t have a choice.

“I suppose if we have to, we could put a—a beacon or something at the foot of the stairs under the trapdoor,” Past Jon said uncertainly.

Tim grinned. It looked slightly diabolical in the flickering candlelight. “Ooh, or one of those electronic gizmos they use in hunting to attract prey.”

“I’m very sure random deer calls would have the opposite effect than luring us to where you want us to go,” Martin said with a smirk. “Have you ever heard those things? They’re terrifying.”

The conversation devolved into a slightly silly discussion of the weirdest animal cries they’d ever heard, and Jon was able to breathe and eat his dinner without too much trouble.

That night, though, curled into bed with Martin, he said quietly, “What if it’s a bad idea? What if being down there…what if I fall apart again? What if it’s like at Salesa’s, but worse?”

“It won’t be,” Martin said. The confidence and assurance in his voice was almost a physical force.

“How can you know that, though?”

Martin ran a hand through Jon’s hair, gently untangling a knot that had probably got there during his panic attack in the living room. “Did you know that if you lose sight in one eye, you only lose something like twenty percent of your overall vision but all of your depth perception?”

“No?” Jon could have known that, if he’d wanted to, obviously, but it wasn’t something he’d ever consciously set out to learn. He also didn’t see how it was relevant.

“I mean, you can sort of train yourself to compensate for the depth perception, but yeah, twenty percent of your vision. Mostly peripheral. It makes it harder to see people coming from that side of things.” Martin’s fingers caught in another knot. “The Beholder really had two eyes overlooking the Apocalypse, Jon. Jonah and you. He saw from the heights and you saw from ground level. He oversaw, and you…experienced. I’d even go so far as to say you were the dominant eye, so to speak. Of course you were weak when you were cut off from it. It’s like a phantom pain. That won’t be an issue now. The Eye isn’t as…strong. You said yourself, you’re still…you, just not quite as…all-powerful?”

“Hopefully I’ve still got enough power to do what needs to be done,” Jon sighed, but Martin’s words were a comfort.

After a pause, Martin added, “And you have me.”

“And I have you,” Jon agreed. “And we can probably get fairly close to the Archives. All right, I know I’m probably worrying unnecessarily. It’s just…” He trailed off, tracing his fingers over the three puckered holes clustered just above Martin’s heart. Jonah had known what he was doing, far too well. “I can’t lose you again, Martin. I can’t. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens because I wasn’t strong enough.”

Martin covered Jon’s hand with his own. “It won’t. You’re strong enough, Jon. I trust you. And you know I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

“I know.” Jon snuggled into Martin’s chest, then leaned up to kiss him. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you try.”

Jon yawned and adjusted the covers over the both of them. Martin rolled onto his side and buried his face in Jon’s hair, and Jon sighed with almost-forgotten contentment as he drifted off to sleep, Martin’s heartbeat thudding steadily in his ear.

[fanficshiddles]

Butterfly Into Chains, Chapter 10

Esme woke up to the light jostling of the car. She sat up straight and wiped her eyes, she wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep for. But when she looked out the window it was a beautiful sunny day and they were driving along a motorway.

‘Hey sleepyhead. You doing alright?’ David asked, turning around to look at her.

She just nodded.

‘We’re going to stop soon for some food at services and for a toilet break.’ Ben said, looking in the mirror at her.

‘Where are we?’ She asked quietly, her anxiousness returning about being away from her home.

‘We have just passed through the borders into Scotland. We’re heading further up into the highlands, where we live.’ David smiled.

‘You live in Scotland?’ She screeched, eyes wide in shock. She didn’t think she would be going that far away from East Meadowridge….

David chuckled at her reaction. ‘Yes. It’s a beautiful place, you’ll love it. We are stopping off in Glasgow on the way.’

Esme swallowed hard. The thought of being in a busy city didn’t exactly fill her with much excitement.

It was ten minutes later when they stopped at services. Esme was glad to get out of the car to stretch her legs, even though she had slept most of the way she was still feeling tired from travelling.

And she hadn’t exactly recovered from last night.

There were a lot of people mingling about, her senses were already overflowed with different smells from various other Alphas and omegas, betas too.

Ben and David knew she was feeling worried and a bit scared.

‘Don’t worry, you’re safe with us.’ Ben assured her, slipping his arm around her. ‘If anyone dares try anything, I will give him a wedgie.’

That made her laugh a little, which they were glad to see and hear.

Esme did notice a lot of other omegas with their Alphas. But she noticed she was the only one with more than one, which she knew wasn’t exactly the norm in the first place.

The two Alphas she was with took her into the building, they waited outside the toilets while she went into the ladies. Then they joined the queue at Burger King to get some lunch. They were almost at the front when Tom, Michael and Chris finally joined them, they’d been held up in some traffic.

After ordering, Ben, Chris and Tom took Esme to find a seat outside on a picnic bench while the other two waited inside for the food.

‘How does it feel to be away from Meadowridge?’ Chris asked Esme as he sat next to her.

‘Uhm… I don’t know really. It’s… different so far.’ She said quietly.

Tom reached across the table and put his hand over hers, her skin tingled under his touch. Even if she was feeling a bit on edge with him. ‘We truly want you to enjoy life, we want what is best for you.’ He said softly, stroking her hand.

Esme didn’t think he was lying, why would he? When she thought about it, she couldn’t understand a reason as to why they wouldn’t treat her right. As far as Alphas go, they were all good looking and fun to be around, she had learnt. Maybe she was thinking too much into it all, that they had tricked her into this. But perhaps they genuinely just fell for her and Tom couldn’t contain himself. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there?

‘I know… thank you.’ She said quietly with a smile.

She decided to try and keep an open mind. Despite the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

Michael and David joined them with all the food and they had a bit of a feast. The Alphas all ate like bears, while Esme felt stuffed after one burger and some chips.

‘Lightweight.’ Michael said playfully, grinning at her across the table when she gave up.

‘More for you guys.’ She groaned, rubbing her stomach.

After lunch, Esme felt a little better and more relaxed with the Alpha pack. When they returned to the cars, David offered her the front seat, which she accepted. Chris also joined their car instead.

‘Tom and Michael are heading straight home while we stop off in Glasgow.’ Ben explained as they set off once more.

‘Why are we stopping there?’

‘It’s for you, we are getting you a wardrobe full of new clothes.’ David said, reaching forward to give her shoulder a squeeze.

‘Really?’ She asked, surprised.

‘Of course. We can’t have you just living in that one dress forever.’ Chris chuckled.

‘I uhm… I don’t have any money with me though.’ Esme wasn’t sure how that was going to work from now on. Of course she had a bank account, but she hadn’t taken her card with her. It was still at home. She had never expected to be whisked away like she was.

‘Don’t worry, we’re going to be providing for you from now on. You don’t need to worry about that.’ David assured her.

‘What, so… I won’t be finding work?’ She was slightly panicked as she looked to Ben then over her shoulder at the other two.

‘You will not be. There’s no need. You’re our omega and we will provide for you. Tom will explain everything later once we get home. Don’t fret.’ Chris said calmly.

Esme nodded and sat back round, she kept her eyes on the road ahead of her. It started raining, but didn’t last long at all and then the sun was back out again.

‘Typical Scottish weather.’ Ben chuckled.

‘Does it get as cold as they say it does in winter?’ Esme asked.

‘It can do. We either get really bad winters or quite good ones. There’s never an in-between really. Everything doesn’t just stop when we do get snow though, unlike down in England.’ David said, reaching over to offer Esme a sweet.

‘Thanks.’ She said after picking out a red one. ‘Yeah, everyone used to go nuts when there was even a tiny bit of snow at home. It was unbelievable.’

‘Do you like the snow?’ Chris asked.

‘I do, yeah. I enjoy sledging, we had a really good hill that everyone would flock to.’ She smiled, then felt a little down thinking she wouldn’t ever go there again.

‘Wait till you see the hills around our home. Plenty of them, just waiting for the snow.’ Chris smiled.

Esme tried to think of the positives. She was going to try and think how this was going to be a new chapter of her life. New places, new people, new adventures… With five Alphas who claimed to care for her. She was getting hopeful about her future, and she was going to try and continue with that frame of mind.

When they arrived in Glasgow, she felt her nerves returning very quickly. The further into the centre they got the worse she felt. It was so busy. Cars and pedestrians everywhere.

‘It’s so busy.’ She said when they stopped at traffic lights. ‘And the buildings are so tall.’ She peeked out and up at the one next to them.

‘Don’t worry, where we live isn’t like this. We live in the countryside, on the cliffside. There’s a village a few miles away. We’ve just come here because it’s the best place to shop for clothes and anything else you shall need.’ Ben assured her, reaching over he gave her knee a squeeze.

They parked up in one of the shopping centres car parks. When they got out, Esme automatically took hold of David’s hand as he was nearest to her. He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re alright, poppet, don’t worry. You’re safe with us.’

Surprisingly, Esme did feel safe with the three Alphas as they walked through the busy shopping centre. They made sure to keep close to her, giving her hand a squeeze whenever she gave off scared or uncertain pheromones.

They managed to distract her when they entered some clothes shops. They told her the sky was the limit, not to worry about price. She was a little unsure at first, only picking out one or two dresses.

But Chris reminded her that she needed a full wardrobe. So she soon ended up with loads of bags full of clothes, that the Alphas all carried for her. The Alphas tempted her mainly towards dresses, especially light and some baggy, flowy kind of ones. But she didn’t think anything of it really.

She got some toiletries that were necessary and then before heading back to the car they got some Krispie Kreme doughnuts.

‘Oh wow. These are amazing!’ Esme said as she quickly devoured one.

‘They don’t have them in East Meadowridge?’ Chris asked, shocked.

‘Nope. Nothing exciting like this there, not really.’ Esme shrugged.

‘You’ve got some jam on your face.’ Chris grinned at her and moved in, wiping said jam from the side of her lips. He then sucked his thumb and winked at her, making her blush.

Esme had kind of enjoyed her little shopping spree in Glasgow, even if they hadn’t left the shopping centre. But at the same time, she was relieved to get back to the safety of the car. She went in the backseat for the last part of the journey, with David. Chris drove, to give Ben a break.

It was a couple of hours away from Glasgow, but Esme enjoyed the drive as the scenery was beautiful. It certainly lived up to the expectations she’d heard about Scotland.

They drove through a small village, that Esme was told is their local. There was a pub, restaurant and a small shop for the basics. It was a nice and quiet village, typical kind of one you’d find on postcards. It was cute.

Chris drove them up a steep road and then off onto a dirt track, up the cliffs. They then came to the driveway and they stopped as they got to the gates. Esme felt her stomach churn again, all she could see was a huge, at least twelve-foot-tall, concrete wall that went as far as the eye could see. The gate opened and Chris drove them through, that’s when her eyes widened when she saw what was to be her new home.

It overlooked the sea, but wasn’t right at the edge of the cliff. Though the sea was viewable, as the large boundary wall was downhill from the house. There was quite a large garden, as well as a small parking gravel area. The house itself looked pretty big, it was very open and bright, with roof to floor glass windows covering most of it.

When they came to a stop and Esme got out of the car, Tom and Michael came out to greet them.

‘Welcome to your new home, love.’ Tom grinned, opening his arms to her.

She felt a bit nervous again upon seeing him for some reason, but she accepted his embrace. She felt slightly better when she took in his scent, it was starting to become a comfort. Her omega knew that was the smell of her Alpha.

‘Did you get everything you needed in Glasgow?’ Tom asked as he leaned back to look at her, cupping the back of her head.

‘I think so… Thank you.’ She smiled.

‘Good, come on in. Let me show you around your new home.’ Tom slipped his hand to her lower back and guided her inside, while the others unpacked the car.

Esme was in shock at how large and amazing the house was. Very modern. But what caught her eye the most was the last room Tom showed her, it was going to be her room. Or more… Their room.

‘The bed is huge!’ She gasped. It was twice the size of a King-sized bed. More than enough room for… six people… she realised.

‘Exactly.’ Tom grinned, leaning down closer to her so she could feel his warm breath against her ear. ‘Plenty of room for all of us.’ He slid his hand up her back, to the back of her neck. He stroked her softly, feeling her tremble under his touch.

‘All… All of us?’ She gulped.

‘Of course. We all sleep here. However, we all have our own private rooms too if we want some alone time. But there will always be at least one of us in here with you, love. There’s a walk-in wardrobe over there, you can unpack your clothes.’ He guided her over to the wardrobe and when he slid the door open, she gasped again.

It was huuuuuge!

‘This side is mine, Michael and Ben’s clothes.’ He pointed to the right. Then he pointed to the left at the end of the wardrobe. ‘Down there is Chris and David’s space, which means you have all this for yourself.’ He said as he motioned to the closest area next to them.

‘Oh wow… Thank you.’

‘There’s one last thing, before I leave you to get unpacked and settled in.’ Tom motioned for her to follow him out into the bedroom.

The other four Alphas had all appeared, Michael and Ben sat on the end of the bed while Chris and David hovered by the dresser. There was a box sitting on said dresser that Tom picked up. He turned around and smiled widely at Esme.

‘This is a gift for you, from us. It’s something that you are to wear at all times, unless otherwise instructed.’ Tom flipped the lid open and held it out towards her.

Esme felt the colour drain from her face as she gazed into the box. She felt slightly light headed when she looked up at Tom in shock. With a shaky hand, she reached into the box and pulled it out.

It was a collar. A leather collar. But it had really soft velvet on the inside for comfort. It was just under an inch deep and it had a small silver O-ring at the front for attaching a lead. Or it could just be there to look pretty.

‘Turn around, love. I’ll put it on.’ Tom spun his finger around as he took the collar from her.

Esme turned, now faced with Michael and Ben on the bed. She smiled nervously at them then directed her gaze down.

She closed her eyes and gasped when she felt Tom’s fingers brush against her, slipping the collar around her neck. The velvet felt nice on her skin, she was glad it wasn’t leather on the inside.

Tom slid the collar through the buckle and tightened it, but not too tight to choke her. He made sure there was still a little wiggle room so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable, since she was going to be wearing it all the time.

‘There we go. How does our girl look then guys?’ Tom smiled proudly and slid his hands down her arms as he turned her around, displaying her for the others.

‘Beautiful.’ ‘Stunning.’ ‘Divine.’ Was purred between the Alphas, all eyeing her up hungrily.

Tom turned her around to face him again, he looked pleased as punch as he looked her up and down. He cupped her cheek and smiled.

‘And you’re all ours.’

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 10

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held The best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

A very special thank you to Michaela for providing a perfect moodboard!

Chapter 10

“Mama?” 

Her eyes drifted open from sleep by the sound of Faith’s voice, soft and baby-like. Claire grunted tiredly, but nevertheless drank in the sight of the baby girl sitting up in bed by her pillow. “What are you doing here?” She asked. A smile bloomed on Claire’s face as she took in the sleep-tousled curls and Faith’s flushed cheeks, one marked with a deep red line from where she’d slept on it.   

Faith didn’t answer her question ‒ Claire didn’t expect her to ‒ but she did respond with a soft smile of her own, slow and languid. Claire rolled from her side to her back as Faith leaned forward and gathered the girl up on top of her chest. Her head rested just above Claire’s nightgown, her cheek pillowed against her mother’s skin. She yawned then and seemed to melt into her on the exhale, her eyes drifting shut. 

“This is your spot, isn’t it?” Claire turned to kiss the girl’s forehead. “Since the day you were born.” How many times had they laid like this, and felt all was right with the world in that moment? Too numerous to count. 

Faith’s fingers curled around the edge of Claire’s nightgown and she looked up to catch Claire’s gaze. “Hello, lovey,” she murmured. Her fingers gently teased Faith’s wild curls away from her face. 

“‘llo, Mama,” Faith echoed and then hummed as Claire continued to play with her hair, never breaking eye contact, though her eyes crinkled with joy. 

My whole heart. 

“Faith, I lov‒”      

Her breath came in a stuttering gasp, eyes flying open in the dark. She reached over and found only the edge of her hospital bed. 

She was alone.  

Her body curled in on itself while she clutched a pillow to her chest and smothered her sobs there. 

The weight of her grief settled in around her as the last vestiges of her dream fell away, and her new reality became starkly clear. 

She was alone in 1948 ‒ a time in which everyone she loved was undoubtedly dead. And without Jamie, Faith, and Fergus… without Murtagh and the Murrays… with only dreams and memories to haunt her, she wished she could curl up and die right there in that bed. 

She wanted it ‒ wanted death to come swift and easy, to bring her at once to whatever came next, where Jamie promised he would be waiting for her. Where he would find her.

But there was no impulse to act on this wish and in some rational corner of her mind still functioning, she knew there was only one thing standing in her way, keeping her tethered to this world. 

The baby. 

Part of all that would be left of Jamie. Of their life together.  

But even while she would live for the baby, she couldn’t think of it growing inside her without the sharp twist of a knife in her gut. 

Her arm muscles ached from the hour she had carried Faith. Had that only just happened that morning? Her mind felt foggy from the drug-induced sleep but her body wouldn’t let her forget. One hour after eight months apart and then… 

She clutched the pillow tighter, and the howl that tore from her throat didn’t even sound human.

One hour after eight months apart and then never again would she hold Faith in her arms.

Only in her dreams…   

On her second day in the hospital, Frank arrived. Seeing his face again was jarring, both in how it grounded her in this time, and made her blood run cold at its uncanny resemblance to another face that still haunted her. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Frank said in a tight whisper. He reached for her hand and eased himself carefully into the seat at her bedside. She was dumbstruck at seeing him and could hardly manage to look him in the eye, but when she did, there was no anger or hurt staring back at her. Only his love, his broken heart over the missing years, and his widespread relief to find her once more ‒ though these feelings were likely to change when she told him the truth.

“I’m pregnant.” The words slipped out into the space between them and Claire studied his face, watching for any hint of the quiet anger she knew he could possess. Better to rip the bandaid off than try to hide her condition. 

“I know,” he said softly. “I spoke with your doctors.” His gaze dropped to where he still held her hand and he squeezed it gently, collecting himself. He was rattled by the news, she could see, even as he tried to present a calm front. “Darling, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’m here now. We’ll get through this.” 

His meaning snapped into place with stunning clarity and Claire’s breath left her in a rush. “I‒ I wasn’t attacked or… or held captive.” Her hand withdrew from his grasp and settled protectively over her still-flat stomach. “This baby isn’t‒” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he cut in quickly to quiet her and gave her a stiff smile. But she saw the flash of doubt in his eyes all the same. He didn’t believe her. “We don’t have to talk about the particulars just now. None of that matters, anyhow. I won’t leave you.”

She recognized the old habit in him of skirting around the uncomfortable ‒ and this was certainly uncomfortable ‒ but his assumption sat like molten hot lead in her stomach and her face suddenly felt flushed. 

“Really, I’m sorry to have upset you, Claire,” he said quickly before she could broach any sort of explanation. “God, I’m just so relieved to see you.” He cleared his throat, glassy-eyed. “I’ve been in contact with Reverend Wakefield. He was thrilled to hear about you and he’s prepared some rooms for us to stay there while you convalesce.”

She let the matter of her pregnancy go for now. It would take hours to tell him the truth of it, and even then he might find her to be insane by the end. And the mention of Reverend Wakefield lit a spark in her ‒ he had a library’s worth of resources and also‒ 

“Is Mrs. Graham still in his employ?” 

“Mrs. Graham?” Frank looked mildly perplexed. “I didn’t ask, but I would assume so...” 

  He could see the change in her right away ‒ like a light had gone out from within. She kept to herself that first week, spoke only in an exchange of pleasantries. Even though she was there ‒ she was actually physically there with him after three years  ‒  she seemed a different person entirely. 

At first, Frank thought it must be the shock of returning, but as the days passed at the Wakefield residence and Claire remained distant, it seemed whatever she experienced while she was gone had altered her forever. 

Beyond the mention of her pregnancy, he had no notion of where she’d been or what had happened to her, but a picture was beginning to build in his mind’s eye. She hadn’t been physically harmed, according to her doctors, but she had been malnourished, perhaps from neglect. And someone had gotten his wife with child. Frank breathed in sharply. He thought that bit of news would sink in, but a knot was still in his stomach. With signs pointing towards her mistreatment, he couldn’t imagine that Claire had run off with someone, that she would’ve chosen to leave him, but… 

But there had been that moment when he told her he knew about the baby. Something in her eyes had flashed before him and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had encountered the very edges of a mother’s protective fury for her child. It had stunned him and truthfully unnerved him a little. Not that she would already care for the little thing ‒ they had both longed for a child for years ‒ but that he should be the one on the outside. If she’d been attacked… what would cause her to want to shield the baby from him? He’d already assured her that he would stand by her, but somehow that statement felt like it had done more damage with Claire.   

Frank turned toward the windows in Reverend Wakefield’s study and watched for a moment as Claire sat out in the garden, her head bent over a book. 

The Battle of Culloden. Somehow that had become an obsession of hers since her return and he couldn’t make sense of it if he tried. 

…What the hell had happened to her?    

Claire registered Mrs. Graham’s presence as the afternoon tea was brought out to her, but she didn’t look up from the pages of her book to greet her. As the kindly housekeeper set a cup of tea on the table, Mrs. Graham suddenly broke the silence. 

“Och, lass, you’ll only create nightmares for yourself poring over those accounts.” 

Claire finally met her gaze and swallowed thickly. “There might be clues in here, or even an account of the two of them if I’m lucky. I’d rather know what happened to them. It’s not knowing that keeps me up at night.” 

Mrs. Graham smiled pityingly at her. “Aye…”

“There were wanted posters for him put up all over England and Scotland during the rising, you know. Not just for him ‒ all famous traitors to the crown who were involved in the rising ‒ but… he’s the only one I can’t seem to find any mention of after Culloden. If the British cared enough to make him a traitor, to… to vilify him as they did, you’d think they would’ve looked for him. You’d think someone would’ve bothered to write that down. It’s not like ‘Butcher Cumberland’ to let grievances go.” 

Mrs. Graham took a seat next to Claire. “Ye told me that ye didn’t think Faith traveled at all‒” 

“I mean, I don’t know for sure and I’ve never traveled with someone before, but… I can’t describe it, but there was a moment in the in-between and I was alone. I don’t think she traveled at all, but I can’t even know that for sure.” 

“Still,” Mrs. Graham patted her hand. “Ye would ken better than I. And if she didn’t travel, then she was with Jamie. Maybe the two of them got away safely.” 

“I want that to be what happened,” she rasped, her eyes burning with tears. “God, I want them to have survived it. But I begged him to run with us and he wouldn’t. He said he was doomed to die one way or another and he wouldn’t risk us. I know he would give his life to protect her. I know he would do everything to keep her safe. But these men?” She waved the book in her hands ‒ an account of Cumberland and his troops in The Rising and immediately afterwards. “Pages and pages of how they slaughtered the Jacobites and destroyed the Highland way of life. I don’t need to read every account to know what little disregard they would have for my daughter’s life if she and Jamie encountered them.” 

Hot tears were spilling down her face, and when Mrs. Graham sniffled softly beside her, she found the older woman softly crying as well. “I canna imagine what it’s like for ye. But I worry that this is consuming ye, my dear. And what’ll that do to the bairn ye’re carrying?”  

Claire swallowed roughly and her tear-clouded vision dropped to the book in her lap. How could she not be consumed by this?        

“You have children, don’t you, Mrs. Graham?” Her voice wobbled as she asked the question. 

“Och, aye,” Mrs. Graham replied awkwardly. “My husband and I had three bairns together.” 

“And if you lost one… if you were separated from one and you had no idea what became of them, could you just put that to bed? Would it be enough for you to love the next child as though you’d never known the first?” 

Her words were spoken softly but they had a scalding effect and Mrs. Graham drew in a deep breath. “No,” she said at last. “No, I dinna think I could let it go.” 

“I know they’re both long dead by now. I know. But I need to know if they were killed that day or shortly after or if… if Faith was able to grow up… if Jamie lived and was able to raise her.” Claire’s arm folded tightly across her chest, holding herself together. “I didn’t… didn’t tell her goodbye,” she admitted in a hoarse whisper and Mrs. Graham made a soft sound at that. Her hand suddenly brushed back Claire’s curls in the first display of motherly tenderness Claire could recall receiving from someone in a long time. “I… I only told her it would be alright. Those were my last words to her. Even when we left her at Lallybroch, I… Jamie said his goodbye to her but I never thought I’d lose her forever. I heard him promise her that he would make sure we were reunited someday and…” She shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “It was Jamie so I believed him. I told her…” Her chin quivered before her face disappeared behind her hands. “I told her it was only goodbye for now, not forever. I lied to her. I left her.” 

Since she’d arrived here, she’d kept her crying confined to her room at night, but here with Mrs. Graham, her resolve crumbled and a sob broke free. 

“Oh, my dear.” Claire was pulled rather gently by the shoulders and gathered against Mrs. Graham, who stroked her hair and murmured softly. 

“I’m her mother and I never said goodbye or told her again how much I loved her,” she cried. “The least I can do is find out what happened to her and‒ and make sure she isn’t forgotten. Maybe in some way, she’ll know. That I looked for her and that I loved her.”

“My poor dear,” Mrs. Graham murmured above her, seemingly at a loss for what else to say. Claire held her arms tight about her, the only physical comfort she’d known in days. 

“I know it’s hard now and I don’t pretend to know what ye’ve been through.” She gave Claire a small, fortifying squeeze. “But in time… I’m glad ye’ll have this bairn. It doesn’t mean ye won’t miss them, but ye won’t be alone. And ye’ll have a piece of them with ye. This new bairn won’t be exactly like yer Faith, nor will he or she replace her in yer heart, but ye’ll notice things about yer second born ‒ how she’s different from Faith, how she’s alike ‒ and that will keep Faith alive, too. Hold onto that, aye? When the days are hard, hold onto that.”   

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted in a choked whisper, and felt Mrs. Graham stiffen. 

“What do ye mean, dear?” 

She pulled away slightly, still sniffling, and Mrs. Graham held her hand, as if knowing she still needed a soothing touch. “I can’t‒” Claire shook her head slightly. “I can’t move on from them. I can’t stop looking until I know. But…” she breathed in deep and exhaled shakily. “I‒ I haven’t figured out what comes after that. I can’t think about the baby just yet. I wish…God, I wish everything else would just hold until I knew. That time would just hold for me.” 

Mrs. Graham smiled sadly and patted her hand, seeming to digest her words. “Ye don’t have to figure anything out just yet,” she said at last. 

“Thank you,” Claire murmured. “For everything.”      

  “Reverend?” 

Reggie Wakefield looked up from his letter to find Claire Randall before him with a small stack of his own books clutched to her chest. He made a sound of startled joy at the sight of her and motioned for her to join him at the table. “I haven’t seen anyone so interested in my collection in such a long time, Mrs. Randall. Does my heart good to see ye enjoying them.” 

In truth, he had spoken with Frank at length about her curious obsession, but as odd as it was, he wouldn’t dream of voicing any of those concerns to such a kindly and elusive woman as Claire Randall.  

“Have ye found everything ye needed, then?” 

“Actually, I…” She stopped herself suddenly and smiled politely at him, hesitant. “Well, first, thank you for being so kind to allow me to go through your collection. I did wonder if you had any other books that perhaps I hadn’t looked at yet.”

“Well…” He scratched at his jaw absentmindedly as he thought about it. “I believe I gave ye every book on the subject of the Battle of Culloden and its aftermath. The rest would focus on the earlier risings and what preceded the ‘45, ye ken.”  

“I see,” she said softly, sounding very sad to him. 

“But I’ll have another look, just to be sure. Perhaps I missed one or two books that could be of use to ye.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, full of relief, and a stunning smile followed shortly. She was an odd sort since she’d returned, but it was plain to see that she was hurting and even if he didn’t understand it, Reggie felt inclined to help the poor young woman however he could. There were rumors ‒ nasty rumors ‒ flying about town since she turned up last week, including scandalous speculation around her condition. He’d done what he could to put those to bed, to address his opinion on the matter by opening his home to the Randalls. And while he hadn’t a single clue as to her whereabouts for three years, the more time he spent with Mrs. Randall, the more indignant he grew over the gossip that swirled around her. It was all so uncalled for. 

He was so caught up in this reflection that he didn’t register what Mrs. Randall had said to him. “Sorry, my dear. What did you say?” 

Oddly, her face flushed and she looked as though she might not repeat it. But she surprised him by blurting out, “Did the British kill any children after Culloden?”

His brows reached his hairline and he struggled to answer.

“I know they showed little mercy to those who fought on the Jacobite side,” she added quickly. “But I’m wondering if there’s anything about how they would’ve treated family members of known Jacobites… like perhaps their children?” 

He drew in a slow breath and prepared his answer, but his gaze caught hers at the last moment, and he saw something there that stopped him in his tracks: a deep pain and desperate hope mingled together. “Why don’t I help you look into this, hmm? We can work on this together.”

She seemed taken aback by this offer at first, but smiled again. “Thank you, Reverend. That’s very kind of you.” She looked down, her fingers tracing the corner of one of the books. “Can I… can I actually ask for your help in trying to find someone who lived during that time?” 

“Oh, of course, of course,” he chuckled. That was something he could do for her. 

“I’ve been trying to find some record of her. Her name is‒ was…” She hesitated for a moment, needing to collect herself. Something about her reaction had his hairs standing on end. “Her name was Faith Fraser. She may have been called Faith Murray, if... well, I don’t know for sure if they would’ve raised her. Or…” She straightened suddenly. “Or if she married… I wouldn’t know her name at all.” She seemed to sink under the weight of this realization and Reggie took pity on her. 

“We’ll start with what you know,” he added kindly, patting her hand. “Even a marriage record should have her maiden name.” 

“Yes,” Claire said rather distantly. “Yes, good.” 

“Do you know whenabouts she would’ve been born?” He prodded gently, trying to engage her as a distant look had crossed her face since the mention of marriage. She drew in a deep breath and began to answer him.  

“May 12, 1744. She was born in Paris but her family moved back to Scotland before the end of the year. She lived on the family’s estate called Broch Turach for a time, though it was sometimes referred to as Lallybroch.”

“Yes, I know the one‒”

“Ownership of Lallybroch was changed over to her cousin, James Murray, dated in 1745, but his parents would’ve managed it until he came of age. That’s Ian and Janet Murray,” she rattled off easily. “The Murrays also‒” She swallowed roughly, struggling to get the rest of it out. “If her father died or was taken away, I believe the Murrays would’ve raised Faith. Her father was James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser and he was a known Jacobite...” She glanced out the window suddenly, focusing on the trio of birds flitting about a nearby tree. “He didn’t fight in Culloden, but he would’ve been near there at the time of the battle and I’d… well, I’d like to find out about both of them, you see, but James Fraser is quite a common name then and I’ve been struggling in my research to find him. I’m hoping if we can find Faith… we can find Jamie, too.” Mrs. Randall looked back suddenly to catch his curious gaze. “Is that enough to start?” 

“Oh. Oh, yes, my dear. That should do,” he said swiftly. “Tell me,” he began cautiously, measuring his next words. “Why are we looking into Faith Fraser? Who is she to you?” 

A strange expression crossed her face, making the well-intentioned Reverend regret his mere curiosity. 

“Who is she to me?” She echoed his question in a hoarse whisper. “She’s everything.” Her eyes were glistening with tears and he couldn’t begin to explain how odd this whole conversation was. “So I need everything that you can find about her and Jamie. Please.”

“Aye, Mrs. Randall. I’ll do my best.” He smiled weakly to ease the tension but she never caught his eye.  

Frank thought that with time, the Claire he once knew would return to him, even in just small glimmers. But days passed and she remained committed to the routine she’d developed here early on; she kept to herself, taking breakfast in her own room, and when she did appear in the sitting room or garden or the study, it was always still with those damn books. 

She pored over them constantly and prowled the bookshelves for titles she may have missed. She avoided conversations at meals, her eyes downcast at her plate, though the Reverend carried on cheerfully with him at every supper as if none of this was strange. 

Claire had taken Mrs. Graham into her confidence early on, sequestering the housekeeper into Claire’s room for hours that first day they arrived. Since then, she was the only person Claire really talked to. 

Until recently, at least. 

Somehow, Frank was on the outside from his own wife while Reverend Wakefield and Mrs. Graham ‒ two people who had been strangers to Claire a few years ago ‒ were brought into her circle of trust. 

Worst of all, the Reverend wouldn’t discuss with him what it was that he was working on with Claire, skirting his questions and assuring him it was only a little history project, not unlike their own when Frank had first visited him. 

 She wouldn’t even talk to him outside of pleasantries when they saw each other, and he was torn between wanting to wait for her to initiate, and wanting to look beyond this time at the Wakefield house and live their lives again.

Because whatever the hell was happening here, it wasn’t really living. 

“Claire?” He rapped lightly on her door and waited for a response. “It’s Frank.” 

After supper, he’d had a dram with Reggie, which had turned into two drams and then three, and now his head swirled a little even as he rested his forehead against the door jam. 

This was the antithesis of Reggie’s advice ‒ give her time, man, it hasn’t even been two weeks ‒ but his feet seemed to lead him to her door of their own volition. 

When he heard Claire’s soft “come in?”, his heart leapt to his throat and he hesitated. He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say to her; he only knew he wanted her to tell him something.  

He pushed in and found her in one of the two chairs by the fireplace in her room, and she was tucking loose sheets of paper into a book and setting it aside. For some reason, the fact that she was still studying up on Culloden into the night made him inexplicably annoyed. 

She looked up at him curiously, no doubt wondering why he was here.

Why was he here? 

He had composed this conversation so many times in his head over the last several days, wanting to initiate it more with each passing day… needing to know but also wanting to be delicate with this new Claire, as everyone had been telling him. And then there was some small part of him that didn’t want to know at all. 

But the whisky had loosened his tongue and he found himself blurting out the words without much tact to them at all. “Where the hell have you been, Claire?”

She felt her stomach drop at his question ‒ though really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. At some point, she would need to tell him, but the very thought of telling him the truth sent her heart rate skyrocketing. Mrs. Graham had been someone Claire could trust, but to almost anyone else, she knew her story sounded insane. If she hadn’t lived it herself, she might not have believed it to be true. 

“I’m sorry,” Frank said quickly when she froze, waving his arm a little too wildly. So he was tipsy, then… “I‒ I don’t want to pressure you to talk if you’re not ready. I‒”

“Have a seat, Frank.” 

He shuffled over to the chair opposite her and sat with folded hands in front of his face, elbows propped on his knees. “I really didn’t mean to… the truth is, Claire, I don’t care where you were or what happened. I’m just so relieved to have you back. But… I feel like there’s this wall between us now and I just want you back. I want our life back.” 

She breathed in slowly and dropped her gaze, a little ashamed that her own desire didn’t echo his. Maybe it would be better if he knew, even if he judged her. Even if he didn’t believe her. At least then there would be nothing to hide and she could accept whatever his feelings were once the truth was out in the open

“I’ll tell you,” she said softly. “I’ll tell you everything but please let me tell it all at once and have it over with before you ask any questions.” 

She slid her gaze back to his and found his expression to be unreadable, but he swallowed roughly and agreed. 

  She talked for hours, pausing every now and then to drink so her throat wouldn’t dry out, and when she finished, the sky outside her room was streaked with the first soft pink lines of daybreak. 

She had stuttered over the last moments of her time in 1746… of her goodbye with Jamie and waking up alone without Faith. 

While she talked, Frank kept his promise and only listened, sometimes in the chair with his gaze on the fire, which he tended to all through the night, and other times he paced the short length of her bedroom. He was pacing at the time that she finished her story and a heavy silence fell between them like the drop of a curtain. 

 Having said the words out loud again for the second time, Claire suddenly wished she could be alone, feeling the grief tsunami on the periphery, about to sweep through her again. God, she ached for them in a way she didn’t know was possible. 

But Frank was still in the room with her, quiet in a way that meant he was still sifting through his thoughts. At last, he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

“So that’s what you’ve been doing with your history books and Reverend Wakefield… You’ve been looking for him.” 

“And for Faith. For both of them, yes.” 

“What happens if you find a record of them?” 

“Then I’ll… I’ll know what happened to them.” 

“That’s it?” 

“Yes,” she said hotly. “I just want to know what happened to them.” 

“You won’t try to go back?” 

Oh. 

She breathed in sharply. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she lied, feeling the color rise to her cheeks. The whole point of this had been to tell him the truth. “I don’t know if I can travel again,” she added, which was the honest truth. “It’s… it’s hard to describe. But it feels like it takes something from you each time and the screaming‒” 

“Screaming?” Frank looked curious now, his interest in this unknown finally piqued. 

But the remembrance of it had a shiver running through Claire. “I can hear the voices of those who haven’t made it through and were lost to the stones.” Even with all that they’d talked about overnight, that statement might have been the strangest thing she’d uttered yet. 

His expression turned equal parts horrified and fascinated and then faded all together with a short nod of his head. “Hmm,” was all he had to say to that. He strode over to his chair and seated himself across from her. She got the distinct impression that he was entertained by the idea but wouldn’t put any stock in what she had just described. 

“And what if… you don’t find any record of them?” He asked carefully. 

“Are you asking that because you don’t believe any of this or because‒”

“Claire, I’m asking…” He cut her off and then took a deep breath, choosing his next words. “I’m asking because someone needs to. You spend every waking moment with your head bent over one of these books or writing your notes or discussing with the Reverend where to look next. How long will you keep going if nothing turns up? How long will you make me wait before we can actually start our life together again?” He had started off cool and collected, but had turned frantic with his pleading by the end. “I just got you back,” he added. “Have you any idea what it’s been like for me, Claire? Having you ripped away without a trace and never knowing what happened to you? And all the while, everyone was telling me that you’d up and run off with another man!” 

Stunned by his outburst, it took her a moment to speak. “I’m sorry, Frank. Truly. I didn’t intend for it to happen and I wish there was some way I could’ve told you I was alright while I was gone. That I was safe.”

“But you didn’t wish to come back to me,” he said bitterly. It was petty, even for Frank, but neither of them had slept yet, she reminded herself. 

“I had a child.” She was patient but unapologetic in pointing that out. Frank wouldn’t meet her eye. “I had a whole family with Jamie. And Jamie was‒”

The love of my life.

She swallowed back those words. There were other ways to phrase it, especially considering her audience. “I loved him very much. I didn’t plan for it and I’m sorry for the ways this has hurt you, Frank, but I can’t change what happened.” 

“But you are here now, Claire, and you’re with me.” He finally met her gaze again. “And I’m grateful for that. For a second chance. I only worry for you with how… how consumed you are with this.”

“Well, at what point did you stop looking for me, Frank? What’s the magical number of days before it’s acceptable to move on?” 

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him in the face, and she felt a small pang of regret for those words. Somehow, he still possessed the ability to provoke something juvenile in the way she responded to him, and she hated that. “I never‒ Claire, that was different, and I never stopped hoping you would return! But I did have to go back to work at some point, and in your case… Christ, you never talk about the baby but it will be here in a matter of months so perhaps we should start.”

The mention of the baby struck a nerve that lately everyone had been poking and prodding ‒ as if this baby existed on its own. As if it wasn’t made by her and Jamie on a cold February night, seeking warmth and solace in each other. And for Claire, any thought of the baby came with thoughts of her first baby. They couldn’t exist separately in her mind. “Until you know what it’s like to bring a child into this world and have her quite literally ripped from your arms, you don’t get to tell me when to stop looking. Faith is this baby’s sister and that doesn’t go away when the baby is born.”

To his credit, Frank looked properly chastised by her words. “Claire,” he began softly and then took her hand gently between his own. “I only mean to say that you might never find them, and I worry what that will do to you if you keep at this pace of searching. And what will you do when the baby is here? Drag him along to the library with you?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your concern,” she snapped.

His hold on her hand tightened. “Not any of my concern,” he scoffed quietly. “No, why would that concern me? You’re only my wife.” 

She leaned back from him, pulling her hand free with her, but was startled to see tears in his eyes accompanying the bite of his voice. 

“Do you even believe me about any of this?” 

“Does it matter if I do?” He countered. “You’re back with me now and‒” 

“Yes, and pregnant with Jamie’s child.”

“I know. But he isn’t here with you, is he?” If he was intending to hurt her, his words hit their mark. “And besides, I… Look, I know this child isn’t mine, but I want to raise it with you.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes.” He was more adamant than she expected. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since you’ve come back and that’s all I want for us now ‒ to raise a family together.”  

She tried to picture it, this life he was so insistent that he wanted with her. How would Frank handle a baby? How would he handle teething and sleepless nights and‒ 

Instead, what flooded her mind were the images and memories of her life before: Jamie taking turns with her on the rough nights with Faith. Carrying her in the crook of one elbow as he strolled about the grounds of Lallybroch with Ian. Telling her stories at night, during the long winter months and well before she could even comprehend what he was saying. She was enraptured with his voice, though. Claire remembered that so clearly, how Faith would stare up at him while he talked, studying his face with keen interest and cooing softly every now and then. Jamie would pause at every sound she made and smile, making up some interpretation of her noises to add Faith’s opinion of the story. Och, aye, ye’re right. Wasna verra nice, was it? 

She fell more in love with Jamie, seeing him as a father ‒ a role he was born for and something so integral to who he was at his core. 

Could she… have that with Frank? Could she just raise a child with him, all the while being haunted by the memories of Jamie and Faith at every turn? Would Frank even love a child that wasn’t his, after years of insisting he couldn’t? 

To her horror, tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped at them furiously. “I think it’s too soon to have this conversation. I’m‒ I’m sorry.”

He let out a resigned sigh, as if he expected this, and stood. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more about this another time.” He made for the door and paused, giving her one more look back. “And Claire?” She met his gaze, hoping the fresh wave of grief wasn’t too plainly obvious on her face. “At some point ‒ and soon ‒ you have to start living again.” 

The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed hollowly through the room, and his last words to her hung in the stale air. 

Her hand found its way to her belly, which felt slightly curved now under her palm. For weeks, she’d been living with the knowledge of this baby’s existence but hadn’t allowed herself to think beyond what would happen when it was born ‒ not in the way that she had when she carried Faith and couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to hold her child.

She hadn’t had a thought like that once yet with this baby and the guilt wormed its way in amongst the myriad of emotions she was drowning in. 

“I do love you,” she found herself whispering. “And I promise I will take care of you.” She felt a little silly, talking to the baby… but who else could she share her thoughts with? “It feels like my heart is missing, and I just need a little more time to get used to that. And we have that, don’t we? Despite what everyone wants to tell me, I understand time better than most. When you arrive, I’ll be ready for you. And I’ll love you enough for me and Jamie both.”