#am excite for da mats

[mangosmoothiepussyv3]

rambles in the tags

[cowboybarzy]

I think that as much as we would love a mini Mat, In my opinion, he gives major “girl dad” vibes, don’t you think? but I’ll let you decide! (ps: i love that you said parts in PLURAL, i’m beyond excited!!!!!!!)

yes he totally gives girl das vibes and I was hoping you’d say that haha YAY ok now I definitely am super motivated to get this done asap!! I have a few things lined up right now but I may need to shift some things around … YAY

[lovejosephquinn]

Could you write something about Joe x reader making a bet of what their child’s first words will be? Maybe have it where they say “dada” and Joe gets all excited and does a victory lap around the house with their kid in his arms 😩

Stop it, dad!Joe has a special place in my heart 😳 But I'm going to write the damn blurb anyway.

I couldn't come up with a name for baby, so please call him whatever you wish.

Thanks for requesting again @daleyeahson 🥰

Your usual 6am routine consisted of being woken up suddenly by the baby monitor, not always that your 10-month-old son was crying for either of you, but quite simply because he was making loud noises directly into it so get your attention.

Joe went on his morning run whilst you got up and tackled the diaper change, got his bottle of milk ready and laid him down on his play mat next to you so he could entertain himself for 5 minutes, his big brown eyes that he'd inherited from his sweet daddy sparkled as he gazed amongst the dangling stuffed animals above him. When Joe returned, there was never short of nothing but a smile on his face seeing the two loves of his life bonding together.

"Look Y/B/N, daddy's home." Joe came stealthily came jogging over to his son, straight down onto his knees and lifting him up in the air earning the cutest smile back and slowly bringing him down to give him a kiss. "Hello, my beautiful boy."

You all settled on the sofa, taking Y/B/N back into your arms to give him his morning bottle. "What do you think his first word will be?" you questioned, it's something you'd brought up a lot but you both clearly weren't sure of answer.

"Maybe dad." Joe winked, giving you a cheeky smile back. "How charming." You replied.

"Well, the way I see it, is you tell him who I am a lot more than I say who you are, so it makes sense doesn't it."

"Who says our son won't say mummy first." You took the bait and Joe loved how easy it was to capture you with his words.

"Bet me on it."

"I'm not betting you on our baby's first word Joseph, you fiend."

"Too chicken?"

"No, I'm not I-" you shut yourself up before you could bark at him anymore, it was just feeding him with pure pleasure watching you internally scream at the thought that he could be right.

You went to take a shower whilst Joe entertained your little one. Bouncing him a top his knee and singing the most monotone nursery rhymes which clearly made him laugh.

"Can you say daddy?" Joe shot himself a smirk.

"Da-dd-y." The soft dough eyes that mirrored each other was such a picture, instead he got nothing, but a gurgle, a humming sound and a few bubbles spit out his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes."

You came back to find your boys sprawled out on the sofa, watching mind-numbing morning tv, your son laid vertically on Joe's stomach whilst his hands wrapped around Joe's fingers. "Time for a nap?" you diminished the happy silence between the two of them.

Joe leaned a look down at Y/B/N, contently smiling at him, lifting to pick him up, taking him upstairs and putting him down into his cot, enveloping his head with his hand, stroking it soothingly. Joe switched on the baby monitor whilst you watched from the door, every single moment you witnessed between Joe and your son was magical, he was the best and proudest dad there ever was.

You reached out your hand to Joe and he happily obliged, intertwining his fingers with yours and wrapping himself around you. "I love you." Joe whispered.

"I love you." You softly replied.

About an hour later, you'd done some of the boring house chores whilst Joe made you both some breakfast. As you sat down to eat together, a little murmur came from the baby monitor. "Think he's waking up, love."

You took another forkful of your sweet pancakes keeping an ear out for when you'd need to dash upstairs to retrieve him from his bed. Taking a sip from your tea, the next thing you heard was surely your ears playing tricks on you.

"Dada." Joe's eyes shot to the monitor, his mouth falling open. Your eyes swatted between his face and the monitor also. "D-did you h-hear that?" Joe stuttered. "Da-daaa." Your son started to sob, and Joe excused himself rather rapidly, running straight upstairs. You listened to Joe greeting him. "Hello, my boy, are you awake now. Daddy's here." You heard the ruffles of him picking him up out of his cot. Your son chuckled and you pictured clearly Joe holding him close and spinning him round slowly. "Dada." You could sense the smile's forming both of their mouths.

"Oh my god, Y/N, he said it again." Joe just about squealed into the monitor. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but the excitement made you grin somewhat enthusiastically. "Y/B/N, can you say Daddy?"

"Dada." Joe yelped and you could hear the stomping footsteps of him coming downstairs suddenly and stopping at the kitchen doorway, his eyes lit up magically, tears barely clinging. "Y/N, I could cry."

"He loves you, Joey." Joe took a victory lap of the house reaching is son up in the air, swaying him back down and holding him tightly. "And I love him too, I never thought it was possible to feel more love for this kid than I already do."

"I guess you won." You sighed, folding your arms and leaning against the countertop, referring to the bet he wanted to make earlier this morning.

"We won. Look at what we made together, baby. He's perfect."

[dccomicsimagines]

Spontaneous Valentine’s Date - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Requested by Anon -  can you do an imagine when Bruce and the reader go on a date to a Burger king etc and Bruce start eating the burger like in the comic and the reader be just like wat? #-#!!!!!

Requested by Anon - can you write one where Bruce Wayne changes up date night on Valentine’s Day?!! 

***

“Lois and I are taking it easy this year. We’re ordering in and enjoying quiet time together,” Clark said, walking into the meeting room with Barry. He adjusted his cape. Bruce was already seated at the meeting table. He rolled his eyes before focusing back on his paperwork.

Barry chuckled. “That’s nice. I’m planning on taking Iris on a surprise trip to Paris.” He took his seat, spinning in his chair. “I’ll scoop her up and run her there just in time for brunch in front of the Eiffel Tower.” 

“Sounds nice.” Clark sat down next to Bruce. “What about you, Bruce? You and (Y/N) have big plans this year?” 

Bruce grunted. “Plans for what?” His eyes stayed on his paperwork, but his mind raced to figure out what he missed. It had to be something everyone was celebrating? Did he forget your birthday again? Wait, not everyone would be celebrating that.

“Valentine’s day, B.” Barry spun in his chair, laughing in delight. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective. Of course, he didn’t forget.” Clark shook his head, crossing his arms. “I know what you’re planning, Bruce. You’ll take (Y/N) to that five star restaurant and buy them another piece of jewelry.” 

Bruce glared at Clark. “Why does it matter?” He cursed himself for forgetting Valentine’s Day again. Hopefully, Alfred remembered and made the reservations for him. 

“You do the same thing every year.” Clark chuckled, sharing a look with Barry. “Anytime you celebrate something, whether it’s a birthday, holiday, or anniversary, you take (Y/N) to the same restaurant and buy them jewelry.” 

“What is wrong with that?” Bruce tensed, defensive. “That what (Y/N) likes.” 

Barry snorted. “Doubt that.” Bruce turned his glare onto Barry. Barry flinched. “Come on, B. It wouldn’t kill you to change it up once and a while.” 

Bruce pursed his lips into a firm line. “Don’t you two have something better to do instead of being in here distracting me?” He looked back at the paperwork with a grunt. Barry and Clark took the hint, leaving the room and taking their conversation with them. Bruce relaxed only slightly. Was he boring you? Did he really always take you to the same restaurant? Throughout the rest of day, it nagged him in the back of his mind.

***

Bruce eyed Dick from the batcomputer chair as Dick flipped around on the uneven bars in the cave. The fourteen year old swung around with the skill of an Olympian. Bruce glanced at the batcomputer before looking back at Dick. Dick somersaulted off the uneven bar to land perfectly on the mat below. 

“Tat da!” Dick shouted, smiling brightly when he saw Bruce was watching. “What do you think, Bruce?” He picked up a towel and his water bottle.

“Good, but I don’t see why you need to show off. You don’t need to be that flamboyant in the field.” Bruce turned back to the batcomputer. 

Bouncy footsteps echoed throughout the cave as Dick came to Bruce’s side. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun from time to time.” Dick leaned against Bruce’s computer chair. “What’s wrong with you? You realize the computer is off, right?” 

Bruce blushed slightly. “Right.” He turned the computer on. “Dick, can I ask you something? Hero to sidekick confidentiality?”

Dick laughed. “Sure. Fire away.” He smirked down at Bruce, clearly enjoying himself.  

“Do...” He cleared his throat. “Do you think I’m boring (Y/N)?” Silence followed. Bruce bit his lip, glancing at Dick to find him trying to hold back laughter by pressing his hand over his mouth. “I’m being serious.” 

A little snicker escaped Dick. He swallowed it, pulling his hand away from his mouth. “No, I mean you’re just predictable, Bruce, but people like predictability most of the time.” 

“Most of the time.” Bruce frowned. “Do you think (Y/N) is one of those people?” 

Dick smiled. “(Y/N) loves you, Bruce. I think they’d be happy just spending time with you.” He turned to head upstairs to the manor. “But it wouldn’t hurt to surprise them. Do something unexpected.” 

Bruce hummed. He watched Dick go. “Unexpected.” The batcomputer binged with new messages. Bruce frowned, pushing aside his dilemma for work once again.

***

“I’ve made your reservations for tomorrow and Mr. Kato will be coming by your office with a selection of jewelry.” Alfred folded up Bruce’s cape. He wrinkled his nose at the sewer smell that oozed from it. Bruce had just gotten back from patrol. Unfortunately, Bruce had been forced to chase Killer Croc through the sewers all night.

Bruce paused after he peeled off the top of his suit. “Alfred, do you think I’m predictable?” 

Alfred clicked his tongue. “Master Bruce, you are as predictable as they come. How do you think I am always able to see to your needs so easily?” He took the top of Bruce’s suit with a sneer of disgust. “Of course, you do surprise me once and a while. This being a prime example.”

“Sorry, Alfred.” Bruce stepped out of his suit pants and went straight into the shower. “Is (Y/N) already in bed?” 

“Yes, Mx. (Y/N) retired in order to be well rested for the Wayne Enterprises meeting in the morning. They will be taking your place.” Alfred raised his voice to be heard over the shower. “What makes you ask if you are predictable, sir? You don’t often have such concerns about your character.” 

Bruce grunted, washing his hair. “I’ve been told that (Y/N) may not appreciate my predictability.” 

“From who? Mx. (Y/N) themselves?” The sink ran. Bruce assumed Alfred started soaking his suit. 

“Dick, Clark, Barry.” Bruce blushed, cursing himself for feeling self conscious about their comments. He reasoned it was only because he felt he would never be good enough for you. 

Alfred hummed. “Yes, well, Mx. (Y/N) will be happy with whatever you do, Master Bruce. Let me know if you want me to cancel anything.” 

Bruce sighed, peeking out of the shower at Alfred who was leaving the room. “Why can’t you just say I should change our plans?” he mumbled. “I know you want me to.” He put his face straight into the spray, deciding he would get one last opinion before he spent time figuring out what to do. 

***

He crawled into bed next to you. You mumbled in your sleep. He spooned into you, tucking you against him and burying his nose into the back of your neck. 

“How was Gotham?” You turned over to look him in the eye. 

“Better now that Killer Croc is back in Arkham.” Bruce sighed, touching his nose to yours. “Sorry, I woke you up.” 

“It’s okay. I like to know you’re safe and with me.” You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “It’s after midnight, so Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bruce’s face fell slightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He returned your kiss halfheartedly.

“What’s wrong?” You noticed the change, pulling back to look at him. 

“Nothing.” Bruce bit his lip. He studied you, drinking in how accepting and perfect you were. How did you fall in love with him? He’d never figure it out, even if he was the world’s greatest detective. “If we did something different for Valentine’s Day this year, would you mind?”

Your eyes lit up. “Different? What did you have in mind?” 

Bruce’s heart sank. Your reaction proved he was in fact boring you. He was a failure as a husband clearly. “It’s a surprise.” He forced a smile on his face. “You’ll just have to wait and see.” 

You slammed your lips against his passionately. “I’ll be happy with anything, sweetheart.” You pulled him on top of you. Bruce groaned, quickly getting distracted. He’ll have to figure out what to do for you later.

***

Bruce slipped on the leather jacket you had gifted him that morning as he stood in the entry hall of the manor. “Are you seriously wearing jeans?” Dick asked, sliding down the railing of the stairs only to flip off and land in front of Bruce. 

“We’re going casual.” Bruce crossed his arms. 

“What’s the big plan?” Dick copied Bruce by crossing his arms. He smirked, letting his hair fall into his eyes. Bruce was taken back by how Dick had grown. It was like it was yesterday when he was nine years old and swinging off the chandelier. 

“I...I’m making it up as we go.” Bruce glanced up the stairs, looking for you. “So you have Wally West coming here and you two are going to...not go on patrol?” He narrowed his eyes when Dick flashed a charming smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to play video games. Alfred will make sure we don’t burn the manor down. Besides, (Y/N) would kill us.” Dick looked up the stairs when you came around the corner.

“That’s right.” You took Bruce’s breath away. Your clothes were causal, jeans with a nice shirt. “I don’t want you and Wally eating all the Valentines candy I let you buy and staying up all night. In bed by midnight.” You put your hands on Dick’s shoulders, kissing his forehead. “Listen to Alfred.” 

“Yes, (Y/N).” Dick blushed, pulling away. “Have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked and ran off before Bruce could smack him in the back of the head. 

“He’s gotten bad.” Bruce grumbled, turning back to you. 

You played with the collar of his leather jacket. “Only learns from example.” Chuckling, you smirked up at Bruce. “I have to say I have good taste. This looks amazing on you.” 

“You’re stunning as always.” Bruce kissed you passionately, wrapping his arms around your waist. He loved you so much. His heart threatened to burst. 

Alfred cleared his throat from the front doorway. “Mr. and Mx. Wayne, I have the Dodge Charger out front and idling.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Bruce pulled away from you, nodding to Alfred. “We’ll be back some time tonight, Alfred. Don’t wait up.” 

“Of course, Master Bruce.” Alfred left the room with a satisfied smile on his lips.

“So Mr. Wayne, what is this surprise of yours?” You hooked your arm with his. “I have to say, I’m quite excited about it.” 

Bruce forced a smile on his face. “Just wait and see.” He led you out to the car, hoping an idea will come to him on the drive to Gotham.

***

“Ooo, so we’re going to the mall, Bruce?” You looked at him curiously. “Have you even been to a mall?” 

Bruce cleared his throat. “I’m sure I took you once.” He pulled into a parking space. “Didn’t you drag me here to buy something for Dick?” 

“I dragged you?” You laughed, eyes shining. “Bruce, I usually have to drag you everywhere.” You got out once Bruce turned off the car. “But this is a nice change of pace.” 

Bruce stayed in the car, silently sighing in relief. Thank goodness he happened to drive past the mall and decided to take a chance. You peeked back into the car at him. He looked at you with wide eyes. “I’m coming.” He quickly got out of the car, banging his head on the way out. You laughed.

“Now you’re acting like you did on our first date.” You leaned against the car, watching him from over the roof. “We were seventeen. Alfred just dropped us off at...”

“The library. I thought I was being original.” A small smile pulled at his lips. He blinked, flashing an image of you at seventeen when you were the loveliness person he ever saw. You still were. More beautiful if anyone asked him. 

“Very original.” You came around the car and kissed his cheek. “You were such a mess. Sweating, dropping books, tripping all over the place.” 

Bruce laughed. “Only with you. I’ve loved you then, and I love you now.” He took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. “Come on, let’s go.” He pulled you along toward the mall entrance.

***

You sat at one of the mall food court’s grubby tables. Alfred would have a heart attack and honestly you weren’t one hundred percent thrilled by it, but this was fun. Very fun. 

Bruce approached with a tray of burgers and fries. He seemed so out of his element. You enjoyed it. “Did you have trouble, dear?” You asked as he frowned at the table before carefully setting the tray down. 

“No.” He sank down onto the chair across from you. His eyebrow raised when he saw the smirk on your face. “What is that for?” 

“Bruce, did you really plan to bring me here?” You crossed your arms, resting your elbows on the table. 

“Yes.” He took a burger and unwrapped it. “I thought it would surprise you.” 

You glanced around the mall. “It certainly surprised me, but what brought this on?” 

Bruce unfolded a napkin and laid it on the table to make a barrier between his burger and the table. Your eyes widened as he opened a plastic set of silverware and started to cut his burger and eat it with his fork as if it were the finest steak in town. “I just thought we should do something different this year.”

“Seriously?” He looked up at you in surprise. “Come on, Bruce. You don’t have to do that here.” 

“What?” He frowned in confusion. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sweetheart, I know you think you need to do that to make Bruce Wayne a spoiled rich kid, but that is just ridiculous. You don’t eat a burger that way at home or when you and Dick do your late night fast food stops.” Just to show him, you unwrapped your own burger and took a big bite. 

Bruce stared at you. “Fine.” He dropped the silverware and picked up his own burger with his hands. “But if I spill on the leather coat you just gave me, it’s your fault.” 

“Worth it,” you said once you swallowed. “So you never answered my question, Mr. Wayne. What brought on this surprise?” 

Bruce cleared his throat, setting down his burger to take a drink. “It was made apparent to me that I was...boring you.” 

“Boring me?” You blinked at him. A rare blush came to his cheeks. “Bruce, how could you bore me? You’re the most interesting, handsome man I know.” 

“I didn’t realize we always went to the same restaurant and I kept giving you jewelry for every single special occasion.” Bruce shook his head, meeting your eye. “I let you down, (Y/N). You’re more special than just a habit.” 

You smiled. Your heart skipped a beat. Why did he have to be so wonderful? You stood up, leaning over the table to kiss his lips. “I love you, Bruce Wayne.” 

Bruce didn’t respond at first, surprised before he melted into you. Once you felt your skin burn, your body tingling with need, you pulled away. “Maybe we should head home early?” Bruce’s eyes danced eagerly. 

“We’ll have plenty of time when we get home. I want to enjoy your spontaneous Valentine’s Day while I can.” You winked at him before taking another bite of your burger and settling into your seat. “What’s your plan after this?” 

Bruce eyed his burger. “Well...” He glanced around. “We could walk around, see what catches our interests. I don’t know what’s here.” He looked back at you. You met his eye, falling more in love with him by the second. How could you fall more in love with the person you already loved? You guessed you were finding out.

***

“Are you sure Dick will want that?” Bruce asked, watching as you picked up a t-shirt in Dick’s size. 

“Yes, he’s a teen boy, Bruce.” You held up the shirt to show him. It was a Star Wars shirt with Chewbecca on it. “He loves Star Wars and since we’re here, we might as well.” 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. Punk rock music echoed in his ears as he and you stood in the crowded Hot Topic store. He couldn’t believe there could be so much crap in one place. “I would have never wore that as a teenager.” 

“No, but you were raised by Alfred.” You kissed his cheek. Bruce tensed when you got a playful smirk on your lips. “You know it is buy two get one free.”

“No.” Bruce held up a hand. “Don’t think about it.”

A pout crept onto your lips. Bruce’s heart melted at the sight. “Come on, Mr. Wayne.” You smiled innocently at him, but the sparkle in your eye told him you knew how to get him to bend. “This would be quite different from all the beautiful jewelry you have given me. I love it all really, but if you did want to be spontaneous and different this year...”

Bruce rolled his eyes. You were worse than Alfred. Passive aggressive all the way. “You got me, but nothing embarrassing for me if you want me to wear it.” 

“Of course, dear.” You kissed his cheek and turned back to the wall of t-shirts. Bruce’s mouth twitched, almost into a smile. He wished he would have noticed earlier, realized sooner that you would love to do something like this. A woman with several piercings came up to talk to you and you pointed at shirt on the top rack. Bruce shook his head at the sight, knowing he would love whatever you picked for him

***

“Honey, it’s okay if you can’t do it,” you whispered into Bruce’s ear as he lined up his shot. “I’ll be happy as long as you’re happy.”

“Well, I won’t be happy until I win you that bear.” Bruce narrowed his eyes before rolling the skee-ball down the lane. It bounced up and landed in the bull’s eye effortlessly. 

You laughed in delight, spurring Bruce on to roll his next three balls into the bull’s eye. The machine beeped, lights flashing and about thirty tickets popped out of it. “I was worried that you broke it.” You took the tickets, winking over at Bruce.

“It’s quite easy really. Once you calculate the amount of force and the speed the ball must go to reach the correct height, it’s simple.” Bruce unzipped his jacket, warm. He smiled when his eye caught caught the red of the AC/DC logo on his t-shirt. You had forced him to put on the t-shirt you bought right away. He had to admit that he liked it. 

You headed over to a racing game. “Race me?” You winked at him. Bruce nodded, eyes dropping to the shirt you brought for yourself. It pictured an old cartoon show you watched as a child. Bruce had no idea what it was, but loved how it looked on you.

He took the seat in the neighboring cabinet. A demo game played on the screen. “The physics in this game is concerning.” 

“It’s a video game, Bruce. It’s supposed to be exciting.” You scanned your player card into both machines. It turned on the car selection screen. “Ooo, look at this.” Bruce frowned, glancing over at your screen to see you were selecting the strangest version of the batmobile he had ever seen. 

“The car has never looked like that.” He blushed, glancing around. “Are those little batears sticking out the back?”

“Yep.” You selected it as your car. Bruce quickly turned back to his screen to chose a red corvette before the timer ended. 

The race started immediately. You laughed as you stepped on the gas. Bruce frowned when he saw the hideous batmobile zoom ahead of him. “No, you don’t.” He cut you off on the next turn.

You gasped. “That’s it, Mr. Wayne. Eat my dust.” You somehow activated thrusters on the horrid batmobile, crashing into Bruce to sent him flying through the air with ridiculous speed and height. His jaw dropped as his screen went black, resetting him on the track with you far ahead of him. 

“Stupid.” He shook his head, finding the button for his own thrusters. 

It was a dead heat, but you crossed the finish line seconds before him. “Yes!” You jumped up from your seat, hopping around in the circle. Bruce sighed, smirking as he watched you. You went to him, sitting in his lap. “Wasn’t that exciting? Maybe you should take some design ideas from this?” You kissed his lips sweetly. 

He snorted. “Maybe. Dick would get a kick out of it, that’s for sure.” He kissed you back before you hopped out of his lap to collect the tickets you earned for coming in first place. A rare laugh escaped from him as you grabbed his hand to drag him over to another game. 

***

Bruce held the bear under his arm along with a few shopping bags as he went around to open your car door. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” You got out of the car, kissing his cheek. “I had a wonderful time.” 

“Good. Maybe we’ll have to do this again sometime?” Bruce teased, acting like you both just went on your first date. You played along.

“Oh yes. Call me.” You pursed your lips with a glint in your eye. “Actually, would you mind carry my bags inside? I can maybe open a bottle of wine and slip into something more...comfortable.” You whispered the last word in his ear. You literally watched the shiver go up his spine.

“Yes, love.” He kissed your lips, leading you inside the manor. 

Alfred hurried out of the kitchen to meet the two of you in the entry. “Master Bruce, the signal is up.” 

Bruce’s shoulders sank. “Of course.” You smiled to hide your disappointment. “I have to go.” 

“I know.” You kissed his cheek. “Just know I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.” You took the bags and the bear from him. 

Bruce smiled. “Good. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He sealed a passionate kiss to your lips, dipping you slightly. You buried your fingers in his hair before he righted you and left the room.

You panted, shaking your head with a smile. Alfred just eyed the bear you held. “Are Dick and Wally still awake?”

“Yes, the boys just finished their fourth pizza an hour ago.” Alfred rolled his eyes. “Mr. West certainly eats quite a bit.” 

“Well, he has to keep up with his metabolism.” You sighed and dug into one of your bags. “We got you some of the tea you like. There was a tea store at the mall.” You held out the box to him. Alfred’s eyes widened.

“Master Bruce took you to the mall?” He wrinkled his nose. “That was his plan?”

You laughed, delighted by the shock on Alfred’s face. “No, he was being spontaneous and we happened to drive by.” You adjusted the bags and the bear in your arms. “Are the boys still in the den? I think I’ll hang out with them for a bit, keep them from following Bruce into the city.”

“Of course, Mx. (Y/N).” Alfred smiled at the box of tea before following you into the den where you were met with Dick and Wally’s noisy chatter.

***

Bruce felt sick to his stomach as he climbed the stairs. He held back a yawn. The grandfather clock dinged loudly from the study. Four in the morning. Bruce sighed. You were probably asleep already. He hated that he missed the something comfortable you changed into.

The bedroom door was shut. Bruce paused outside, closing his eyes for a moment. He hoped you wouldn’t be upset with him. What was he supposed to do when Gordon told him about bodies disappearing from funeral homes only to reappear with missing limbs? In fact, he still hadn’t solved the case, but he had set up a trap for the body snatcher and it had to wait until tomorrow night.

Opening the door silently, his stomach dropped when he saw lit candles around the room. You were asleep on the bed in a beautiful, skimpy outfit. Your phone laid on your stomach and the blanket that was usually across the foot of the bed covered your waist. 

A groan came from deep in Bruce’s gut as he locked the door behind him. He crawled onto the bed, not bothering to undress. Pulling you against his chest, he worship your neck with kisses. 

“Bruce?” Your eyes fluttered as you yawned. A hand came around to rest on Bruce’s cheek. “You’re home.” 

“Finally, yes.” He moaned against your collarbone as his kisses moved downward. The taste of your skin drove him wild. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” 

“Yeah, it’s no longer Valentine’s Day.” You buried a hand in his hair, opening your eyes enough to watch him shower your body with kisses. “But who’s says we can’t let this be Valentine’s Eve?” 

Bruce chuckled against your skin. “That would have been the day before yesterday.” 

“Same thing.” You wrapped your legs around him when he crawled on top of you. “I love you, Bruce Wayne.” You looked him straight into the eye. Bruce felt the love and passion in your eyes shoot straight down to his abdomen. 

“I love you, (Y/N) Wayne.” He kissed your lips and the two of you finished one of the best Valentine’s Days either of you had ever had.

[7wanderingpaws]

Always, Yours (1)

(gif not mine) - fluff Baek ㅠ

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

AU: professor Baekhyun, domestic AU, family AU, triplet craze AU

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: none

This is a sequel to Simply, Yours! You do not need to read it first, but it will give you better understanding of the situation in the story.

Enjoy!

Masterlist / story masterlist

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<3 <3 <3

“Ta-da!” Sukyeong held out two coupons in front of your face, her excited smile not dazzling enough for you to mimic it. “Let's start working out!”

You were unsure right away for many reasons. First one was the squirming infants on you and on her. Juna was the eldest triplet but she had nothing on the middle one, Junhee, who was currently tapping away on the play mat made out of pastel coloured puzzles in front of the big couch in the spacious living room. Jun was the only boy triplet and the youngest. He was peacefully sitting on your lap, your palms flat on his cute baby tummy while he was looking up at Sukyeong with huge eyes that, the more he grew, the more they resembled his father's. The issue was, where would you put your munchkins while you'd be working out?

Second one was more personal and one that you felt guilty for thinking about, but you couldn't help it. Would you have enough energy to go through sixty minutes of work-out? You were still breastfeeding and pumping, by now completely accustomed to it. It made up a huge part of your day; if you didn't have the infants pressed to your breast, it was the pump attached to you, hidden under your shirt while you were running around the house, trying to get chores done while the babies would nap. Being exhausted was a given, but squeezing in more exhaustion? Doubtful.

Third one was the one that always gave you a slight headache. Travelling through busy Seoul was difficult to do by yourself with triplets. Despite living in a very good apartment at the moment, which was a kind present from the government as a thank you gift for bringing triplets to the aging society, it didn't mean your financial issues disappeared with it. Keeping up the apartment was a huge responsibility; the energies, the water, the common fees, lots of management with the apartments' committee that your husband became part of - it all required money and the lottery ticket you received and made you a billionaire quickly dispersed in your bank account. Another issue were the triplets themselves. Keeping up with them, buying diapers, clothes that they seemed to outgrow in a speed of light - it all required lots of income but there was only one source - Baekhyun, your husband.

As much as you always told him you would find a job to keep the financial stability, you could hardly find a time to sit down and go through job offers, let alone actually prepare for an interview. You knew many companies would refuse you if you as much as mentioned you were a mother.

“Oh, no, I can practically see the turning gears in your brain, mumma friend,” groaned Sukyeong and leaned in to press a loud kiss to Jun's face which in turn made him surprised. That surprise quickly morphed into a huge, toothless grin and you were fast to follow him, too. Jun was the weakest of the triplets and was prone to get more sick. He had a terrible season of harsh refluxes which made you and Baekhyun extremely worried and unhappy. Jun wouldn't be able to accept your milk, vomiting it out right after swallowing. His smiling face meant more to you than anything else in that moment.

“Auntie Sukyeong is being silly, hmm,” you cooed lovingly and you also leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He had dark baby hair growing, and it always made you realize just how fragile these babies were. “I don't know Sukyeong,” you finally answered her. “I would love to work on my body and gain back my old one but I just can't see it happening.”

She quickly held up her hand. “Before you get into all the details - they have a little baby corner where you can leave the munchkins while we work out! And-and I would come with you! We have a car with Chen, so I'd pick you up and then we don't have to worry about travelling in an over-packed bus.”

You pursed your lips, thinking. “What time is the training?”

“I think it starts at seven in the evening!” she exclaimed and quickly took out her phone to search. “It's lots of cardio and core strengthening so it's very beneficial for you!”

“Hmm, I would have to discuss with Baekhyun,” you murmured. “He comes home late these days but I just want to know his opinion.”

“Make sure you don't get squeezed down by your hubby,” Sukyeong noted and leaned down again to look at Jun. “I know you guys are basically inseparable but he's been working so much since he became a professor. Make sure you don't become second to him over his work.”

“Well, he is the youngest ever, so I understand he wants to try his best.” You wanted to question her words - Baekhyun never prioritized his work over you or your children. He was just about to be thirty and you were just in the middle of your twenties, you didn't think you would reach that kind of crisis in your relationship yet.

“Yeah, but he doesn't have to do the hapkido training in the evening, yet he decided to do it,” she reminded gently, and touched Jun's cheek, “so you can do just the same, right? You are always with the babies and spend lots of time by yourself. You deserve to have a little time dedicated to you and, of course, me!”

You smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. Sukyeong wasn't wrong but you knew Baekhyun was only trying to start off his professor career as good as he could. He upped his game as a cool professor by always wearing outstanding suits - dark red, striped, the list went on. He looked very, very handsome and it sometimes even pained you to let him go to school like that. He told you it was to make sure people remembered him in the department and for his students to think he was cool; a trust-worthy professor to whom they could always turn to; a cool professor with whom they could have a good workout session in the evening and try to defeat him in hapkido. It was all great, but his work brought you back a tired husband.

“Maybe you're right. I will talk to him tonight. When do the classes start?”

“Next week! Tuesday and Thursday! I think it's the perfect timing!”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. Your best friend could always make you giggle when you needed it. “I'll talk to him and let you know, hm?” Just as you finished the sentence, you jumped to your feet, trying to prevent Junhee from climbing over the small coffee table. “Aren't you a little wild girl? You must be after your father,” you breathed and Sukyeong laughed.

<3

Baekhyun returned to a quiet apartment that evening. It was past eight and it meant triplets must have been asleep by then. He felt guilty right away, because he missed their bedtime. It wasn't like it was set - they woke up enough times during the night for Baekhyun to be by their side, but he still wanted to be part of the evening routine like bathing them, being next to you when you fed them, changing their nappies and their clothes. It was all the little things, but he was missing out on them.

You were lying on the couch, your eyes closed, your arm over your eyes to block the light out.

He crouched next to you, taking your hand in his. “Honey, I'm home,” he murmured gently, watching you remove your arm and smiling down at him tiredly.

“Hey, baby. Let me heat up the dinner,” you said, sitting up right away, but Baekhyun stopped you from standing up.

“Sorry I came home late again,” he said guiltitly. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it a few times while looking intently into your eyes.

“It's fine,” you sighed and cradled his cheek. He leaned into the touch and eventually pulled on your hand to move closer to him, which you did. He met you half-way, pressing his lips to yours. He prolonged the kiss by puckering his lips several times, making little kissy noises that made you pull away and smile widely. Baekhyun immediately grinned.

“How was your day, princess? You look very tired,” he noted, slight worry etched in his features.

You shook your head and pressed another kiss to his lips. “The usual, you know it. Sukyeong was over and we talked,” you told him, and you wanted to bring up the topic of you attending workout classes when he said:

“Good, good, I’m glad she kept you company. I am in charge of some doctoral students now, so I need to lecture them over the summer break, but otherwise I made it clear that I want a full summer holiday so I can be with you more,” he informed you and nuzzled your nose.

You sighed in content. “Do whatever you think is the best, Baekhyun,” you whispered, your breath hitting his lips. Your hand reached out and tucked on his tie. “I just want you to enjoy your work.”

“I know you do but you and the babies always come first. Always,” he emphasized and this time brought both of his hands up to your cheeks and kissed you again, more eagerly. “I missed you,” he murmured and dived back in, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Humming in pleasure, you shimmied yourself closer to the edge of the sofa so that Baekhyun was crouching between your legs, your hand untying his tie. “I always miss you,” you murmured between the kisses.

He kissed you one last time and smiled. “I don’t want dinner. Let’s just cuddle, hm?” He flickered his eyes up to yours, his thumb running over your cheek. “I had a light dinner in school anyway.”

You nodded. You felt like your body weighed another twenty kilograms so you didn’t take much to convince.

After all, finishing the day a little earlier with Baekhyun by your side in the bed was always the best way to wind off. You found yourself in his embrace under the sheets, his black shirt hiked up as your arm rested around his middle.

He smooched your temple. “Was Jun okay today?” he asked quietly into the darkness of the room.

Baekhyun had texted you many times during the day to double check on his son but he still had to ask to make sure nothing happened in the short time he wasn't in touch with you.

You looked up at him. “He was okay, thank god. I hope that reflux is finally over.”

“I hope so too,” he sighed and kissed you again. “It’s so heartbreaking to know he is struggling to receive food.”

Hiding your face in his neck, you pouted against it. Everything about babies was scary. Both of you got used to them and to the crazy lifestyle but anything that would go wrong would throw you off the boat. Jun always needed special attention. “It will be all fine, right?” you murmured against his skin and as a reply, he tightened his embrace around you.

“It must be. Jun is a healthy and sturdy boy just like me, hm?” he joked.

You breathed a small laugh. “Yes, you're absolutely right.” Pushing yourself up, Baekhyun's arm loosened and he looked at you with questioning eyes when you faced him. “Actually, I wanted to ask you - Sukyeong has a coupon for these workout classes. They start next week at 7pm. I'd be away on Tuesday and Thursday for a couple of hours. Would you mind if I go for it with her?”

Baekhyun's eyes kept flickering to your lips as you spoke and you felt your heart swell whenever he looked at you like that. He finally met your eyes and brought his hand up to brush your hair out of your face. “You should totally do it if you feel like it, sweetheart. It's your body and I know you don't get to move around much when you're at home a lot. What kind of workout is it?”

You pulled a thinking face. “She mentioned core strengthening and cardio.”

“That's very good. You should definitely work on those to keep your body strong,” he advised in a gentle tone. “But just know that if it will be too hard, you don't have to keep doing it, alright? Your body is perfect and as long as you're healthy, nothing else matters.”

Baekhyun always made sure to provide reassurance even when you didn't ask for it. You smiled widely and leaned in, hugging him. You were literally splattered all over him and he brought his leg over yours to accomodate you better. “Thank you.”

He hummed and kept playing with your hair that managed to grow quite a lot in the meantime. Even though it was falling out like crazy after giving birth and your hair brush gave you a heart attack whenever you made a single swipe with it, you didn't pay it much attention. Being so busy with the kids, you hardly took notice of how you actually looked.

“What about the munchkins? I'll try to make sure I'll be home early but if I can't make it where will you put them?” he asked again.

“Sukyeong said there is a baby corner where mothers can put their kids for the time being.”

“Is it three-month-old-baby safe though?”

“I will try to contact them to double-check, alright?”

He hummed again in reply.

“You trust me with them, right?”

His hand stopped brushing your hair. “What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you with them, baby,” he replied quickly. “You're their mother. If there is anyone who knows them well, it's you.” He paused and you snuggled yourself even closer, making Baekhyun chuckle. “But you know what?” He leaned into your ear. “You'll always be my baby. My little lady.”

His breath tickled you on the ear and you laughed, even his words tickling your heart. He laughed along and he rolled you over so that he was on top. He started dropping sweet butterfly kisses all over your face and you scrunched your eyes close, emotions of love, joy, contentment making you feel like a millionaire thanks to your husband.

“You don't have anything to reply to oppa?” teased Baekhyun and smooched you under your ear. “Tell oppa you love him.” Another kiss on your neck. “Tell oppa he is the best.”

You kept giggling. “Baekhyun c'mon! Stop!”

“Not until you say what I want to hear,” he refused with a cheeky smile, kissing your lips loudly.

You gasped when you felt his hand under your shirt, tickling you on your side. You squirmed under him, trying to suppress the laughter that was making your muscles hurt. He was being a big tease and you knew he wouldn't stop until he had it his way.

“Oppa, I love you,” you told him through laughter and he stopped tickling you right away, suddenly very attentive to your words, “oppa, you are the best,” you said breathlessly, reciprocating the eye contact. “I'm oppa's baby,” you added and felt your cheeks heat up.

Baekhyun observed you with a smile. “That's right,” he murmured eventually and leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “You're oppa's baby girl,” he said in a low tone, his lips moving against yours. He captured your lower lip in a slow, sensual manner that had your insides ignite with passion. You closed your eyes and followed his lead, his kiss purely there for the sake of showing you love rather than leading to something more.

It was only nine in the evening, but it was by far the nicest time you had in a while; your triplets sleeping, your husband home and only yours until work would steal him away from you, and he did his best to make you feel loved, appreciated, beautiful and wanted.

<3

Morning came much earlier for you. Junhee was up at three which you found quite good since they slept ever since you put them to sleep the night before and therefore enabling you and Baekyhun to have some alone time. 

Quickly grabbing the intercom so that Baekhyun wouldn't wake, you went to their room, the three baby cribs and a small dimmed light welcoming you. Junhee was crying, rolling in her place which was her new favourite pastime to do since she learned how to keep her back up and straight.

“Shh, shh, sweetie, don't cry.” You took her in your hands and rocked her in your arms while you checked the remaining two infants. Jun was wide awake, his eyes looking back at you with interest which you found funny, because he didn't make a single peep, while Juna was about to follow her younger sister, her small face already scrunching up at the sight of you.

Just when you were about to reach for her while you were balancing Junhee in your other arm, you felt a pair of familiar ones on your waist, stopping you. “Let me,” Baekhyun rasped into your ear, sleepily kissing your cheek. He walked up to Juna and brought her out of her crib, the baby looking tiny on his broad chest. She started to wail just in time, and you and Baekhyun exchanged looks that spoke volumes - you would be up for a while.

There was a small corner in their room with two rocking chairs that Baekhyun insisted on buying for feeding time. While you sat down in one, Baekhyun went out to heat up some breast milk you pumped earlier, so that Juna could feed.

You adjusted your shirt and within seconds Junhee attached her tiny mouth to your breast, her eyes closing in delight as she sucked on your milk. Smiling, you made yourself comfortable and closed your eyes too, sleep quickly chasing you down.

Baekhyun appeared next to you with a bottle that contained the heated up milk and had Juna eat. Just like Junhee, Juna closed her eyes as she diligently drank, making Baekhyun's features soften with affection. He had her lying on his thighs, her tiny feet resting against his stomach while he held up the bottle for her. Occasionally, her small hand would tap against Baekhyun's long fingers which you found endearing. His index finger was bigger than her whole hand. “Jun doesn't seem to be hungry,” he commented quietly as he looked at Junhee in your arms. “Did he eat last night?”

“Yeah, he ate well,” you replied in a low voice. “I think he just isn't a crybaby,” you said with a chuckle. “These two sisters keep pushing him aside all the time.”

Baekhyun looked down at Juna. “Well, they better not. You will have to take care of your younger siblings, miss Byun Juna,” he told his daughter in a cooing voice. “So you better be a good older sister.”

You shook your head at his words and he laughed, sending you a wink. “You should go and rest, babe,” you told him after a while, “you have to get up early.”

“I'm not leaving all the work to you. We are in this together, right?” he said just as he always did. That was his iconic sentence that always made you effectively shut up. He was right, and you shouldn't have been taking away his father duties, but you knew he had a lot of work. Eventually, he would be nearing his limit and you didn't want that.

“That's more like it,” Baekhyun commented when you didn't reply.

You only managed to smile, closing your eyes again. Despite getting used to this lifestyle, it still made you feel uncomfortable how the babies would bite down on your nipple or the small cramps you'd get in your abdomen while feeding. Also-

Wetness was what made you open your eyes to look at the unoccupied breast. Before you could say something, Baekhyun spoke up: “Should I bring Jun? Or the pump?” His worried eyes were looking at the leaking milk, your shirt quickly becoming drenched.

You sighed, feeling helpless. If some mothers weren't able to produce milk, you were the exact opposite. There were times where you had to let out milk even though you already fed, even though you already had enough milk in storage for later. It kept pouring out of you and you didn't have other choice but to release it. The entire family could easily feed off of you at that rate. 

It would have been okay, but the pain of dried up milk in your breasts was something you were scared of, so making sure you could let the milk flow was important.

“Can you please bring me the pump?” you told your husband absent-mindedly and Baekhyun was fast to cooperate while keeping Juna in his arms so she wouldn't be disturbed.

And just like that, you stayed up till early morning until the triplets fell back asleep - you waited for Jun to be hungry, and finally lied down when Baekhyun was getting ready for work. He even made sure the babies' nappies were fresh.

With swollen eyes, you watched as he dressed into one of his striped suits, looking like a Burberry model. He turned to look at you as he buttoned up his white shirt, his hair smoothed back, revealing his forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked you gently, walking over to your side.

You smiled. “I'm good, don't worry, babe. Your lunch box is in the fridge, don't forget it.”

“You didn't have to prepare it,” he clicked his tongue, “just make sure you eat your food, alright, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you sighed and Baekhyun turned to put on his cardigan. “I'll be off. I'll try to come home early, hm?”

“Okay,” you mumbled, bewitched at the sight of him. “Kiss me before you go, handsome professor Byun.”

He gave a half-smile and walked over to you, leaning down so his face was hovering above yours. “Of course I would kiss you before I go. I can't leave my precious princess without a kiss,” he whispered, making you smile amorously. He pressed a sweet kiss to your puckered lips, making sure to prolong it. “Rest, okay?”

You nodded. “Another one,” you demanded and Baekhyun laughed, though complied. “Mm, I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too,” he sighed and pecked your forehead as a final kiss. “Text me, hm? I'll go say bye to the munchkins, too. Gotta go now,” he straightened up and gave you a smile before turning and leaving the bedroom.

You heard him shuffle around the apartment before he left for his long day at work.

Deciding to sleep until the babies would need you, you turned around and nuzzled your face into Baekhyun’s pillow, his gentle scent mixed with faint baby detergent pulling you into a fluffy cloud of dreams. That was Baekhyun to you.

<3

A/N: Hi, welcome back to the first chapter. It will slowly all start to roll, but if you read Simply Yours, it is anything but drama after drama. Expect a similar concept too, hope you enjoyed the FAMILY in this chapter!

Thanks for reading!

Please try to comment! I appreacite likes, but a word or two never hurt! ^^

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Six: Training Day

AN: Happy Black History Month! What better way to start this month than updating a black fanfic, which reminds me to say go support other black fanfic writers on Tumblr. And do yourself a favor and read up on figures other than MLK Jr. and Rosa Parks.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.0k

Taglist: @azayamari​

Chapter Seven: Specialty

We were in the library, it was a huge room with an open interior, lined with walls of books and several nooks to sit and read in. Charles and Erik wanted to explore my empathic abilities further. I picked at the loose strand of my shirt remembering the disgust on my face about the plain attire I'm wearing. I lifted my head, my eyes meeting Erik's and we began to play a game, pointing out the ostentatious items in the room with our eyes. A bronze lion head. Awards from Charles' ancestors. Ridiculous looking portraits. An antique cigar box.

"Do you know the extent of your empathic abilities Claudia?" Charles asked curiously, sitting across from me in a sofa chair, ending our game.

I turned my attention to him, "No Charles, people do not volunteer to see the extent of my powers. Being able to manipulate emotions tends to unnerves people," I quipped, smiling.

"I'm surprised, I thought that's what you do regardless of how people feel," Erik stated, peering out the library window.

"Erik," I gasped mockingly, and put my hand on my chest as if I was offended. "Your lack of faith in me, wounds me," I finished jokingly.

Erik snickered before turning around and walking to where Charles and I were sitting, "What do you know that you can do?" he questioned, as he lowered himself into the chair next to Charles'.

"Sense, feel and understand emotions, feelings, hopes, dreams, desires, and fears of others," I listed simply, shrugging my shoulders. "I can create illusions also. So, as you can tell manipulation is my specialty," I answered, spreading my hands out in front of me.

"Do you mind if you show me?" Charles asked curiously.

"You're joking right?" I chuckled in disbelief, arching my brow at him. "When I get inside people's head like that, the illusion can seem so...vivid," I warned, sitting comfortably in my seat.

"I can take it," Charles assured, adjusting himself in his seat.

"Well, it's your funeral, Charles," I joked, as I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax and shortly after he does the same.

I reopened my eyes and looked at Charles, as soon as his grip tightens on the armrest I knew the illusion was in full effect. I watched my illusion through Charles' mind. He had to blink a couple of times before realizing that his sister, Raven, was lying deadly still on the floor. A puddle of wine red blood was forming around her and all he could do was stare. He could even smell the metallic stench of her blood as the life left her body. He tried yelling, moving, even using his mind to call out to her, but it didn't work.

"Charles," I called, trying to rouse him from my illusion. "Are you alright?"

"Charles," Erik called, and firmly put his hand on Charles' shoulder which seemed to break him of the trance.

"Pardon me?" he asked confused as he shook off his daze, realizing he was back in his seat.

"Claudia was asking how do you feel?" Erik repeated what I had just asked.

I was intently staring at Charles to see if he was paralyzed in shock or fear. Or maybe both.

"Oh...well that was quite the...skill. It's both incredible and terrifying that the images were so-" Charles began.

"Real? Vivid? Seems impossible to have been fake," I offered softly.

Charles met my eyes and nodded softly as I began to pick apart his emotions. He had never felt so vulnerable and useless until my illusion and he hoped he never had to feel that again.

"Well now my curiosity piqued," Erik stated, smirking a little. "Your illusions, they're that powerful?" he  questioned, looking at me intently.

A proud smirk appeared on my face and I leaned forward, "I could have the strongest man on Earth cowering in terror in a matter of seconds once I discover his greatest fear," I confessed, grinning widely. My eyes moved over to Charles, and found that he was already staring at me and looked to be in deep thought. He had a slight frown on his face and had been strangely quiet. "Charles, are you sure your alright?" I asked, concern lining my face.

"I'm fine really, I was just thinking, that's all," Charles explained, flashing a quick smile. "We've seen your capabilities with your empathic powers, how about your telekinesis?" Charles asked, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up from the chair.

A smiled beamed from my face once again, "Well, I'm glad you asked," I began, standing up from my own seat and clapping my hands together. "I'm going to need two mannequins for this demonstration," I instructed, before walking out of the library. "And come outside, it's too beautiful of a day to be stuffed up in the mansion," I called over my shoulder, as I left.

I opened the front door to the mansion and it was a lot warmer than it was this morning and I relished in the feeling of sunlight on my skin, small joys and all of that. The land around Charles's family home was even bigger than I thought. No matter which way I looked it seemed endless. I spotted a stone bench and I made my towards it, hearing the gravel crunch under my feet.

I sat down on the warm bench and closed my eyes basking in the warmth of the sun. The sound of footsteps behind me cause me to look over my shoulder to see Erik and Charles both carrying a mannequin. They both set them down from about twenty feet away from me and I stood up from the bench, shaking my arms out as I did to prepare them for what I was going to do.

Erik and Charles took their places beside me, I closed my eyes and concentrated until I felt a familiar sensation in my hands. I opened my eyes, my hands were surrounded by purple energy.

"And now boys," I began, lifting my hand up and one of the mannequin's floated off the ground, enveloped in a purple energy. "For my next trick," I continued, my eyes never leaving my target, with a pulse of telekinetic energy I crushed it my grip and it fell to the ground in a heap. I turned my sights on the second mannequin, this time lifting both my hands as the same purple energy encasing the limbs. I push my hands away from each other, ripping the mannequin apart and the limbs dropping to lawn. "Ta da," I sang, dropping my hands and glancing between Erik and Charles.

"That's incredible! Claudia, your control is amazing!" Charles commented happily.

"That all I can do for now, I'm a bit tired. But as you can see, I'm pretty adept with my telekinesis, and with your help..." I trailed off, looking between Charles and Erik.

"There's no telling how powerful you will become," Erik finishing my statement, with an excited grin.

"Why do you sound more excited than I am, Erik?" I questioned, with a smile.

Erik let out a short laugh before turning to face me, "Because with your abilities the possibilities are endless," he answered, a smirk on his lips.

~~~x~~~

"What are we doing in here?" I asked surveying my surroundings. The small, personal gym had the typical equipment you expected to find. At the front, were some weight benches with the bar resting above it. Behind the benches at the far end of the room held two punching bags, some sparring gear, and some free weights. "I've already did my fair share of lifting weights today," I complained, looking back at Erik.

After my awkward encounter with Raven and Hank I finally forced myself to work out. It hurt. A lot. To say my upper body strength needed improvement was an understatement.

Erik smirked, "We may have powers, but it's still very useful to know the art of hand to hand combat," he explained, as he placed a safety mat on the floor beckoning me over.

I nodded understanding why this was needed, attempting to improve my general hand to hand combat without the use of my powers would always be useful. There would be times when I possibly wouldn't be able rely on my abilities immediately and I would need to stall before being able to use my powers against an enemy.

"First thing you're going to learn is a basic punch," Erik began, grabbing my hand and balling it into a fist. "You not only need to know how to punch, but where to punch," he continued, lifting my fist to his forehead. "You aim too high, you'll hit their forehead which is the equivalent of hitting a brick wall," Erik explained, lowering my fist too his jaw. "Hit too low, you'll get their chin, also not recommended," he said, moving my fist to a higher place on his face. "The best place to punch is there nose or eyes that's where they'll be most vulnerable," Erik finished, releasing my fist.

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked curiously, letting my hand fall to my side.

"I was forced to teach myself how to fight, it was the only way I could survive..." he trailed off, with a faraway look before he suddenly lunged for me, tackling me to the ground being careful enough not to actually injure me.

"Hey! What the hell Erik!" I exclaimed, sitting up on my arms. "I wasn't ready!" I complained, before blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"Rule number one, always be ready," Erik responded neutrally, but I could have sworn that the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly into the hint of a smirk. "Did I mention places like the neck or the shin are also sensitive to impact. You should try it," he added cockily.

I glared at him, "You're such an asshole," I commented, as I got up and took a boxers stance.

Erik put his forearms up in front of his face and got into a defensive stance. I threw my first punch and I thought it was solid. I had a good arm on myself, apparently Erik felt otherwise.

"Come on Claudia, I've seen a sack of potato's hit harder!" he taunted obnoxiously. "Aren't you the same woman, who threatened to break a man's hand in seven different places," Erik reminded with mischievous eyes.

I quickly struck out at his neck hitting his jugular causing him to choke on his saliva, he lifted his hand to his throat, coughing hard as he rubbed it soothingly. I felt satisfied when he looked momentarily surprised at the force I'd used.

"Is that better?" I questioned mockingly, my lips curling upwards.

"That'll teach him for insulting and underestimating me," I thought.

Erik rubbed his throat one last time, "Claudia, that was not very ladylike," he finally commented, taking a while longer to reply.

"Lucky I'm a mutant then," I retorted, a smirk still on my face.

Immediately, I swung out my left hand attempting strike harder. I went to punch his abdomen, but he caught my hand and I drew back my foot kicking him in the shin. Erik caught a hold of both of my upper arms. My leg flew out to deliver another kick but he released my right arm just in time to catch my foot.

He tugged at my foot causing me to topple over onto the mat, he followed, dropping onto the mat into a position where he trapped my body with his own. I laid flat on my back on the mat staring up at Erik who had me pinned down with his legs that were on both sides of my thighs and his arms planted on the mat, level with my head. Staring up at him, I felt heat crawling up my neck and spreading to my cheeks as I became extremely self-aware of the position we were in.

And now being this close to Erik it made me realize that his mesmerizing irises actually had a bit of gray in them. Those stormy blue gray eyes stared down at me with such an intensity that a shiver ran up my spine. But yet I couldn't look away; his captivating gaze was somewhat beautiful, in a terrifying way. His eyes held mine much like the eyes of cat held those of a mouse. And like a mouse, I didn't move.

I felt the most peculiar sensation run through me, it felt as if my whole body was aflame. We stayed like that for half a second longer than necessary, stuck in our own world until the sound of Moira and Charles talking from afar brought us back into reality causing Erik to jump up and away from me before quickly pulling himself to his feet.

"Not bad for your first day," Erik began, clearing his throat as a way to clear the awkward tension that fell between us. Erik offered me his hand, I accepted his hand allowing him to help me upright. "But there's definitely numerous areas to improve on," Erik continued, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and momentarily avoided my eye contact. "You are nowhere near intimidating or threatening as you think you are," Erik jested, facing me again with a shit eating grin on his face.

"You're insufferable, Lehnsherr,"

~~~x~~~

I stood in the doorway, half in the library and half in the hall outside watching him. Charles was sitting before the fireplace, an old novel resting in his lap as he read. The sunset sunlight brightened the room from the window behind his chair, and the sound of the other mutants' conversation from the dining room could be heard from somewhere down the hall. It didn't look like he wasn't really paying attention to the words on the page in front of him, but rather skimmed the familiar text absentmindedly while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

I rapped quietly on the door frame and Charles glanced up, closing the book at the same time. He gave me a small smile and I made my way into the room and sat next to him on the sofa, offering a smile in return.

"I must thank you for your help today Claudia," Charles stated, placing his book down next to him. "Not a good first day, the results we had got today have been less than spectacular, but your help was greatly appreciated,"

"Is that so?" I questioned, lifting my feet from the floor and onto Charles' lap. "I really didn't do much," I reminded, with my arm resting on the back of the sofa.

Charles looked down at my feet and then back up to look at me, a smile on his face from my action and I merely shrugged returning his grin. What can I say, those shoes made my feet hurt. Charles slowly removed my flats one at a time and placed them on the wooden floor with a light thud, his hands slowly massaging my feet and I flexed my toes out.

"Nonsense. You being there for moral support was a big help today. Especially with Alex," Charles explained, moving his thumbs up and the soles of my foot, which felt heavenly and I let my eyes flutter close. "And me," Charles added quietly.

My eyes widened slightly, "Really?" I began, tilting my head. "I would've never guess that from you Charles. You always seem so cool, calm, collected. Not to mention perfect," I stated smiling, just as Charles pressed circles above my heel and I tried not to let out the moan that was threatening to come out.

"Well, no one's perfect Claudia," Charles commented, massaging my left foot now. "My confidence was a bit shaken after Alex's training, but after hearing and listening to your reassuring words...you took away the fear that I have about failing these kids," Charles explained looking up at me, his face illuminated by his million dollar smile.

His hands moved upwards slowly running both thumbs over the center of the sole of my foot.

"Speaking of fear..." I trailed off and Charles brought his eyes back to mine. "I make you uncomfortable," It is not a question, it is a statement. It's ironic that I should make a telepath uncomfortable, since our powers are uncannily similar.

Charles' hands faltered over my foot, "That's absurd, Claudia," he lied, but I can feel it in him, the roiling discomfort, the wish to get away from someone who can take and see and judge his worst memories with just a glance in his eyes. "I merely wish to help you hone your empathy," he reasoned.

"Did I forget to mention I can tell when a person is lying," I mused, causing Charles' hands to falter again. "It wasn't my place, but I wanted to know how you were doing after my illusion," I disclosed, and his hands stopped moving. "I left you feeling vulnerable, and I feel awful about it. I feel awful that I make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry," I apologized, gazing at Charles momentarily before looking away and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Charles pulled my legs, dragging me closer to him and I let out a yelp at the sudden movement. Turning my head to him I noticed our proximity to each other, we were intimately close.

"I will admit that your illusion earlier today unnerved me, but I'm not uncomfortable around you, just the opposite actually," Charles clarified, as he cupped my face. "I am the most comfortable when I am in your presence, Claudia," he confessed, before leaning down and pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

Chapter Eight: Fun & Games

[brooklynislandgirl]

💗 What advice would they give a potential partner about making their relationship last if they could with no judgment?

It Came From The Lost Meme Lagoon || -

She's just coming off the high of her jog along the shoreline, sneakers left on their little mat by the door so as not to track sand all through the apartment. And she notes that this must be a sort of reverse situation; she the one up at ungodly hours to do basically a four-mile PT run, while he enjoys a quiet morning with coffee, the paper, breakfast. Fortunately, it was something shed' bought premade so he doesn't have to suffer the wrath of food poorly made. The first thing she grabs is water and drinks down a full glass. And this morning, she's quick. Catches every word in its own clarity, as it fell fully formed from his lips. And the way her eyes cut toward the window? The look that throws colour into her cheeks and purses her lips? She doesn't really need to speak, does she? Except she does, even if she doesn't meet Luka's eyes. "I dunno, mebbe...don't fall so in love wi' my braddah dat ya forget I even exist?" That has happened her whole life, competing just to be seen whenever Andy was around. And she doesn't blame anyone for it. He is the more exciting, the more brave, the more beautiful, the more everything between the two of them. She's lived in fascination with Andy for as long as she can remember, so how can she actually blame anyone else for becoming enamoured and enchanted by him? But she doubts Luka knows what it's like to have that constant uphill struggle of actually meeting people, making friends of them, so very rarely developing feelings only to become an afterthought. To know that you no longer matter because something bigger and shinier and more-well adjusted has come along. "Follow by understandin' dat I'm not... neurotypical. Nevah will be. Dat I'm gonna be sick all my life an' I do my best. Dat I nevah can control when I'm gonna go coco puffs, or die inside, or for how long. Dat half'a time I don't even know what's goin' on cause I no can undahstand what people are sayin' or dat it takes too long for me to work it out, it's all an exercise in frustration. Dat I am nevah gonna have children. Dat I struggle wi' relationships. Dat I'm..." That she's a mess, and suddenly she can understand why Andy is so much better.

"...I'm a mess an' probably not wort' da time an' da effort, really. An' dat I really should grab a shower. Which boils down to: No Andy, a lotta patience, deciding if a traditional family is what ya want den ya probably ought not come knock on my door, an' know dat I'm sorry."

[crystalirises]

Clouds

Hi guys! So, this is the second prompt for this week (which means I have to spin the wheel of angst again). So... this was inspired by @thesmpisonfire‘s post about possessive!Ghostbur. (I am so sorry if I butchered your idea ;-;)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724511

I also added the story below in case you don’t want to read it in ao3. Also, please take note of the trigger warnings as this isn’t exactly... just angst.

TW: Major Character Death and Poisoning (just... bad times...)

Fundy paced back and forth in front of the castle, his head downcast as he waited for his da— Ghostbur to arrive. When Phil had signed those papers, he felt a twinge of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. In his excitement, he had flung himself across the room, right into Eret’s arms. It felt nice. Eret had embraced him just as tightly, running a hand through his hair as they happily proclaimed him as their son. Fundy didn’t ever want to let go.

Still, he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the way Ghostbur watched from behind a corner. The dead man looked paler than usual, blood seeping from the wound on his chest as tears cascaded down his cheeks. Ghostbur had approached him after, throwing himself to the ground as he begged Fundy to spend at least one last day with him. Fundy had agreed out of guilt. The man was trying so hard to be the father he always wanted. One day. That’s all Wilbur wanted, and Fundy chose to give it to him.

“So— Fundy!” Fundy shivered, a chill running down his spine as Wilbur appeared from behind him. There was a picnic basket in his arms, though why Ghostbur chose for them to have a picnic together is beyond Fundy’s understanding. There was an excited grin on the ghost’s face, one Fundy swore he’s seen before. “I’ve packed us… well… you some lunch. Remember, the picnics we had together when you were younger? It… It seems like yesterday…”

Fundy winced, a memory of happier times flashing before his mind. “Oh. That’s great, Ghostbur… But, you’re not… You’re not going to just watch me eat, right?”

“Well, I thought we could spend the day catching up, you know? A-and you might get hungry at some point so I… You like salads, don’t you?” Fundy did not like salads, but… Ghostbur looked so nervous about this.

“Yeah. Yeah I like salads.”

They made their way to a far-off river, Ghostbur happily floating around Fundy as they got farther from New L’Manburg. Fundy could barely understand what his da— Ghostbur was saying. It felt as if the conversation would flicker into a new topic with every second they took to get to their destination. As Ghostbur appeared and disappeared from within his view, Fundy wondered if this one day would be enough for Ghostbur to move on.

“So… uh… Eret, huh?” Ghostbur’s voice was gravelly low, yet… it felt curious, not a single trace of malice or hurt in his tone.

“Yeah. Yeah. Eret. They’re great, you know?” Fundy looked over but Ghostbur was staring off into the sky. “Da— are you okay?”

“H-huh? O-of course, Fundy!” Ghostbur almost dropped the basket, raising his hands in a placating manner. “I just want what’s best for you, Fundy.”

Fundy smiled, “Thanks.”

They reached the edge of the river, Ghostbur insisting for Fundy to wait as he set up the picnic blanket. As he watched the ghost hurriedly unpack in a frenzied manner, Fundy drifted off into a memory. He recalled the sun on his face, his small hand tucked into a warm hold as his mother’s laughter floated down the field. His father would have finished setting up by the time they reached him, an immaculate smile on Wilbur’s face as he reached out his arms towards Fundy.

“Fundy? Fundy?” He jumped back into the present, a mockery of his father’s memory floating before him. A hint of concern flashed across the ghost’s face, his hand on Fundy’s cheek—

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking about… stuff.” He walked past him, his cheek cold from the touch. Ghostbur nodded, floating ahead of him as Fundy looked at the food Ghostbur had prepared.

“Sorry, I tried really hard to remember what you’re favorite food was but…” Fundy understood, Ghostbur could barely recall much ever since he died. He wasn’t surprised to know that he wasn’t as memorable as he wanted to be (despite being his son—)

No. Fundy was okay. He had Eret now, anyway.

The salad looked great, Fundy could hardly count the amount of berries Ghostbur must have use. The picnic mat was soft, the smell of sunshine and dirt pervading his senses as he half-heartedly listened to Ghostbur’s words. He looked at the salad, his stomach growling with hunger. He took a bite.

He choked, the taste bitter against his tongue. It was horrible. Well, that’s one thing Ghostbur didn’t have, Wilbur’s actual cooking skills. He wanted to stop at the first bite… but he didn’t want to make Ghostbur upset. He sighed, taking another spoonful of that horrid salad.

A few minutes passed, his head was beginning to pound. His whole body was shaking… the salad falling to the ground as a searing pain forced him to the ground. His stomach felt as if it was on fire— his vision blurring until all he could see was…

“I’m sorry, my son.”

Ghostbur’s hand was rubbing his back in a calming caress, as if placating him to peace.

“I tried. I really did. I want you to be happy, Fundy.”

Then why… Why was he suffering?

“When I found out, I was devastated.”

But he said it was fine—

“And really… Eret of all people… You chose the traitor over m— I’m not mad at you, Fundy.”

THEN WHY WAS HE IN PAIN?

“I love you. You’re my son, my boy! I couldn’t handle it, Fundy! I just can’t lose you!”

You lost me the day you chose Tommy and Tubbo over—

“I couldn’t have you calling them your father, you know? Eret… Eret doesn’t deserve it.”

As if you do?

“You’re my son, and I refuse to let them take you away from me! That’s why I— Shhhhh. Fundy, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He didn’t want to die like this.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay? It’ll be over soon. Shush now.”

The last thing he feels is his father’s hand in his hair.

.

.

.

.

.

The clouds were splashed with a kaleidoscope of color, their outlines moving slowly across the sky. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, watching as the clouds disappeared into the darkness. And as the sun sets, he looks around until his gaze spots a lone figure nearby. A familiar lullaby gliding through the air, he knew this lullaby. He knew this man beside him. A smile formed on his face, his throat burning as he spoke.

“Dad?”

Ghostbur turned around, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Hello, son.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Look, if I have to suffer nightmares from this I’m posting it.

So... yeah. Sorry if it sucks (I wrote this at like 10 cause I didn’t want this to haunt me in my sleep) or if it’s too dark. Not my usual style but I just really wanted to right it rn. So sorry if it’s too dark though ;-;

[betweensceneswriter]

Island Hopper-Chapter 28: Just Add Water

Certain things are instant.  Not usually sons.

Previously Chapter 27: So Long, Farewell Surprising things await back on Majuro.

ISLAND FEVER (Jimjeran Book 1) 

ISLAND HOPPER (Jimjeran Book 2) 

FanFic Master List

     Perkaj looked so small sitting next to Jamie on the Jolok boat.  The breeze whipped his fine black hair around his ears.  Before he was discharged that morning, Dr. Langenbelik had coached us on our goals.  Perkaj, as young as he was, needed to be able to maintain his correct blood sugar level for at the least a full week by himself before we were to allow him to move back in with his family.  

     After that we were to spot check--stop in and have him test his blood sugars at a variety of times of day to make sure he was being consistent.  The goal was for him to re-enter his family and be independent of us, but not at the cost of his health.  We could also work with the family to help support him, hopefully getting their cooperation to speed the process of moving back home again.  

     Jamie and I had bundled up Perkaj with the few possessions he had brought along and the medical paraphernalia that he had gained during his hospitalization, along with a coterie of stuffed animals and toy cars, gifts from the nurses who had felt such pity for the unparented wee waif. We had boarded the Jolok boat just in time for departure.

     Perkaj’s dark eyes sparkled with delight as he glanced back at me.  He crouched to come close to me and exclaimed above the roar of the engine and surf.  “We go to your house now!”

     “We will also see your mama and baba,” I said.

     At that, he looked giddy.  “I miss them,” he admitted, then with a smile at me went back to sit with Jamie.

     He was equally excited during the bumpy ride in the back of the pickup truck from Arno Arno to Ine.  I realized from his enthusiastic reactions to everything we saw that he must have had no memory of his own truck ride to the air strip and plane ride to Majuro, and that this could be his first adventure outside the confines of the island.

     “Let’s stop at Perkaj’s house first,” Jamie suggested as we neared Ine.  I watched Perkaj’s face as we got closer, sharing in his joy as we pulled up to park on his property.  Our call to the Iroij had the desired effect, as the boy’s family members came spilling out of the house to greet him.  His mama was in tears, holding him by the cheeks and gazing into his face, clucking at how much weight he had lost but obviously pleased to see him looking healthy again.  His father smiled gravely as he shook Jamie’s hand.

     They invited us to come in, and we entered their house, nodding at the relatives we found already inside.  Perkaj’s mother and father ushered us to a pandanus mat and tried to urge food on us.  Jamie gestured to his stomach and explained that he was full and couldn’t eat anything.  I had a feeling that his stomach was still churning from the boat ride despite motion sickness pills.

     I could pick out the occasional word as Jamie explained everything to them.  At his invitation, Perkaj joined us on the mat and pulled out his zippered kit with lancets, tester, and insulin.  At Jamie’s nod, he took a testing strip and inserted it into the tester.  The room was silent as he twisted the plastic tip off the lancet, but there was a chorus of gasps as he poked his own finger and then touched the droplet of blood to the testing strip. Quiet murmurs followed, but when the tester beeped with the results, Perkaj held it up not to show his parents, but Jamie so he could see the LCD readout.

     “Emmon, good,” said Jamie. “120. Show Baba and Mama.” 

     Perkaj scrambled over to them, squatted between them, and pointed and explained as he looked at the monitor.

     I noticed that Maria was hanging back at the side of the room, so as the attention of the crowd was on Perkaj, I motioned to her to come outside.  She hung her head shamefacedly, not meeting my eyes.

     “I am not good aunt,” she muttered.

     “Yes you are,” I said.  “You came with Perkaj to Majuro.  It is very hard to take care of someone with diabetes.  You remember I am a nurse, so I can help Perkaj until he can manage it himself, but you can be a helper to him when he comes back home.”

     Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced quickly up at me.  “Jolok bod,” she said.  “Is bad he live in your house? You and Meester Shamie are just married.  Is not time for nin-nins yet.”

     “Ejjelok bod.  It’s okay,” I said, trying as hard as I could to mean it.

      Before long, Jamie had made our excuses, Maria helped me grab a few more pairs of clothing for Perkaj, and we had our driver take us the rest of the way to the clinic. Coming around the side of the truck, I felt a hand on my arm. It was Jamie, concern on his face. “Are you all right, hen?” he asked. Perkaj was pulling his backpack out of the truck, his focus elsewhere.

     “Honestly? A little terrified,” I answered, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “Wondering how we’re going to manage all of this along with the rest of our lives.”

     “Just do the next right thing,” Jamie said. “That’s what my da used to say when Jenny, Willie or I were overwhelmed by a task.”

     I took a deep breath, grabbed my suitcase and swung it out of the bed of the truck.

     “Well,” I said, with a hesitant smile at Jamie, “let’s get inside and make a spot for Perkaj.”

     After dropping my luggage by the kitchen table, I went around the apartment opening up the louvered windows and curtains which had been closed for more than a week. Without a breeze to move the air it made little difference.  It was still stuffy and hot. 

     Perkaj wandered around the apartment, stopping in front of the pantry with its rows of cans and tubs of dry goods.  “Ebol mona,” he marveled, opening his arms to show how much food we seemed to have.

     “Eh bowl?” I asked Jamie. “I know mona is food.”

     “It means full… a lot.”

     After pulling our bed closer to the west wall of the apartment, Jamie moved the couch to create a barrier between the table and the back wall to give Perkaj a spot of his own.

     Glancing at me occasionally, Jamie set up the space.  He pulled a quilt from our storage tub, folded it several times and laid it on the floor, topping it with the pandanus mat Perkaj’s mom had carefully rolled up for her son. I pulled one of the extra pillows from our bed and put on a fresh pillowcase, handing a sheet to Jamie to put on top of the mat.

      Looking through the back window, I caught sight of my raised beds. Having seen the dry yellow grass along the sides of the road , the drooping palm fronds and wilting jungle plants on the way from Arno Arno, I’d had a sinking feeling. I still saw green peeking up above the wooden walls of the beds, so I invited Perkaj out to see my plants.

     Though most of the plants looked a little limp, as I dug down into the soil surrounding them I discovered that just an inch under the surface of the ground there was moisture.  It was only a minute later that Anni wandered over.

     “Meester Shamie asked me to water the plants,” she said, smiling. Perkaj stood up on tiptoes to peek into the box, then grabbed the bucket to go to the well.  He lugged it back having to use both hands to carry it, water sloshing out on his feet.  But he was fascinated and helpful as we dipped cups of water and gently poured them at the base of each plant.

     By the time we went back inside, Jamie had stretched wire from one rafter to the other and was hanging up a sheet to separate Perkaj's little room from ours.

     “Let’s do coconut rice and fish,” Jamie suggested, nodding towards our little visitor. He had reached into the dresser, grabbed swim trunks, and was about to drop his pants when he thought again.  

     “Do you want to see how yer bed feels?” He asked Perkaj, rattling off the translation in Majol afterwards. Once Perkaj had rounded the curtain, Jamie whipped off his clothing and pulled on the trunks, his back to the room.  After a pleasant eyeful, and having never seen the man sheepish about being naked, I couldn’t help but chuckle.  Perkaj was still happily sitting on his bed, setting his zoo of stuffed animals around the perimeter when Jamie joined me in the kitchen.

     “Obviously, I need to rethink the space,” he whispered. “No’ enough privacy yet,”

     “You think he’s never seen a naked man before?” I asked in an undertone.

     “Aye, I’m sure the lad has, but he doesna need to be subjected to the vision of a large, naked white Scotsman.”

     “That would be a traumatizing nightmare,” I joked.  Jamie smirked, kissed me, and headed out the door with his fish spear.

     “Itok, Perkaj,” I called out. “Can you help me find a coconut for the rice?”

      Prepping dinner took a good hour, followed by testing his blood sugar, giving Perkaj short-acting insulin, measuring portions, eating, and cleaning up after the meal. By 7:45 I couldn’t tell who was more exhausted--us or Perkaj. Jamie meticulously wrote down everything in the blood sugar/insulin log, and then we met each other’s eyes, an identical question on our faces.  “What now?”

     We were used to freedom in the evenings, our time being our own to read or write letters, to flirt and joke and laugh, to kiss and cuddle, to freely shed our clothing and make as much noise as we wanted.  But now there was an unfamiliar guest in our sacred space. 

     For the first time, I thought I saw it register on Jamie’s face-the sense of anxiety and discomfort I was feeling. But then he frowned determinedly and turned to Perkaj.

     “Ej awa in kiki,” he said.  “It’s time to sleep.  What do mama and baba do to help you rest?”

     “Erro bwebwenato,” Perkaj replied. His voice held a tinge of sadness.

     “They tell you a story?” Jamie repeated, translating. “Well, come & lie down in your bed, and I’ll tell ye a story.  I have one that’s called Jock & his Mother.”

     We turned on a lamp by our bed and turned off the main lights.  While the boys were on one side of the sheet I put on my pajamas, choosing a longer pair of shorts in case Perkaj saw me in the morning. 

     The story was a little like one I’d heard before, where a simple-minded boy keeps following his mother’s advice a bit too late.  Jock brings home a needle in a bundle of hay, and his mother tells him he should have put it in his hat.  The next day he brings home a plough, and following his mother’s advice, puts it on his hat.  Of course, it’s so heavy it falls into the river. 

     “She said to him, ‘You silly boy!  Ye should have tied a rope to it and pulled it behind you!’” Jamie said, giving the mother the voice of an old crone.  Perkaj giggled.

     “The next day,” Jamie said, “The boy earned a leg o’ mutton... well, they dinna have those on Arno, so maybe it was a… roasted chicken. What do you think he did with it?”

     “Tie it with rope?” Perkaj offered.

     “And pulled it all the way home!” Jamie answered. The answering peal of laughter made me smile.  I sat on the bed, arms hugged around my knees.  All this time I hadn’t realized this talent of Jamie’s.  My only bedtime story from him had been the boring recitation of Scottish history.

     Poor Jock tried to carry a horse on his shoulder and then rode a cow, which of course helped a sad princess to laugh and so they got married.  Jamie slowed his sentences and lowered his voice as the story continued, and just before I heard the floor creak with the movement of Jamie pushing himself up off the floor, I heard a little voice murmur something in Marshallese.

     Jamie crept around the curtain, smiling when he saw me.  He joined me on the bed and was reaching for a book when I whispered, “What did he say?  I didn’t hear him well enough.”

     I could have sworn there was a little mist in Jamie’s eyes as he answered.  “He said ‘Ainikiom ekakiiki ao.’” He paused, the effort of translating wrinkling his forehead.  “It means,” he blushed and met my eyes. “The sound of your voice lulls my soul to sleep.”

     I felt a lump in my throat, the sting of tears in my own eyes as I leaned my head on Jamie’s shoulder. He pressed a kiss onto my forehead and wrapped an arm around me.

     “Tired?” he asked.

     “Exhausted,” I answered.

     “I don’t even think I can read tonight,” he said, reaching over me to turn off the lamp.

     “I won’t argue with that,” I responded, getting up to turn the covers down and pull up the single top sheet. It was still hot and windless.

     Jamie cuddled me for a moment when he got under the covers, but then pulled away.

     “It’s so hot,” he groaned. “I’m missing air conditioning already.”

      It was pitch black inside and out when I startled awake.

     “I want to go home,” a small voice quavered.  “Ikonaan mama im baba.  In my house, my brother sleeps next to me,” Perkaj cried.  “I am alone here.”

     “Jab jan”, Jamie said reassuringly.  “Don’t cry.  Here.  You can sleep next to me.”

     He flipped on the lamp, pushed the sheet out of the way, pulled the mat over until it was touching the side of our bed and tucked Perkaj in again.  Jamie then got into bed, kindly turning toward the little boy and scooting closer to the edge that faced him.

     For the next few minutes, I could hear Marshallese as Jamie murmured reassurances to Perkaj.  The low rumble of foreign speech patterns soothed me as well, and soon I fell back asleep.

      In the predawn hours, I was awakened by large, warm hands that gently stroked my back.  They found their way to the tight muscles of my neck and shoulders, then ran fingers through my hair to massage my scalp.

     I shivered at a kiss on my shoulder blade, at which Jamie scooted closer to me and put his arm over me.

     “Cold, hen?” he asked.

     “Actually, no,” I said, smiling to myself.

     “Me neither,” he whispered, a hand meandering down my side, lazily tracing the waistband of my shorts before slipping fingers under the elastic.

     “Whatcha doing?” I whispered playfully, rolling toward him and being rewarded by an enthusiastic caress of my breast and a thorough kiss.

     “Dying,” was Jamie’s response. “A busy week at your parents’ house, then sleeping apart from ye at the hospital, and now we have an instant son? God, I'm starving for ye.”

     No words were needed to tell him I felt the same.  I’d been trying not to be selfish and resentful, but it was challenging to not feel deprived and disconnected.

     I helped him finish what he had started, wriggling out of my shorts and kicking them onto the floor, then climbing atop Jamie, who made quick work of pulling off my tank top over my head, throwing it to the side to join its companion on the floor.

     “Ifrinn,” he gasped as I used a hand to guide him in, lowering myself onto him.

     Perkaj won’t wake up, I assured myself, confident the darkness would hide us.  He was turned away from us anyway, his breath coming out in a low, even snore. I leaned toward him just to make sure he wasn’t looking in our direction.

     Jamie must have noticed my movement because he hissed under his breath, “It won’t be the first time he’s heard these noi…  Oh, God… oh, Christ...”

     I put my hand over his mouth, increasing my pace. I was close, he was close, and then, a plaintive voice interrupted the process.  “Meester Shamie?”

     I froze. Jamie desperately tried to hold my hips to keep me in place, but I was instantly out of the mood, melting down next to Jamie like an ice cube on a hot car.

     “No no no no no no no…” Jamie pleaded. I pulled the sheet up, panting.  “Bollocks,” he swore, then modulated his voice after a deep sigh.  “Ijin,” he said calmly, rolling away from me toward Perkaj.  “I’m right here.”

Next up on Island Hopper:

Chapter 28b: Just Add Water, part 2 Shots & the “Shungle” 

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Wip Snippet Game

@avi17 tagged in this and I cannot help myself The game is simple: post a snippet of one of your WIPs, if you feel comfortable doing so.

I couldn’t pick just one so have a few snippets across my current open wip documents

under a cut because LONG

Who wants to go? Tagging... @funkingrunkles and @fallen-gravity and @pinesbrosfalls Have you got the goods? OWO

-----

[From my current Original Work]

“UNCLE BILL, DAN, COME QUICK. UNCLE BILL! DAN! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

You don’t see Hunter and your blood runs cold. Minna came from the direction of the cove, anything could have happened… you shove back your chair, nearly knocking over your empty coffee mug in your haste to get out to the yard. You slam through the front door and fall to your knees in front of the child, checking her over for injury.

“Are you hurt? What happened? Where’s your brother?” You can’t help the rapidfire string of questions falling from your lips. She seems fine on a cursory once-over, maybe a little out of breath and smeared with dirt… but she’s a child who’s been playing in the woods. You just wish you could tell general grime from potential indication of something gone horribly wrong.

She shrugs off your hands, but continues near vibrating in place. It dawns on you that what you took for fear is barely contained excitement. “We found something down there, Dan. Hunter sent me back up to get you, I’m the faster runner after all!” Minna puffs out her chest proudly and relief douses over you, as warm as the fear had been cold.

-----

[from an AU where Caryn leaves Filbrick]

Caryn could do nothing, nothing, as she watched her baby, her youngest, her pride and joy, drive away. Nothing but sit in the shadow of the window, dandling her grandchild on her knee while she tried not to scream. She could hear stomping and crashing coming from the twin’s room – Ford’s room – and her eyes flicked over to where Filbrick had gone back to reading the newspaper.

How could he act like nothing had happened? Like he hadn’t just tossed their son out into the cold dark night. Like he hadn’t just ripped apart their family.

She knew better than to open her mouth and challenge him, but something in her was close to snapping.

-----

[from an AU where Ford actually shoots Stan]

Fiddleford frowns at Ford’s stiff back. “Lemme get this straight. For some gosh-darn reason your twin showed the fuck up after a fucking decade and you what… shot them? With a bow of some kind?”

“Crossbow,” says Ford, almost distantly. “I almost didn’t recognize them, Fidds. I… I don’t know what I’m gonna do if they die.” They’ve reached the front door and Ford pushes it open to find his twin right where he left them. “Oh, thank Tesla. They’re still breathing.”

Ford kneels down beside the figure on the floor and even from the open doorway Fiddleford can see his hands shaking as he reaches out to push matted hair out of his twin’s eyes. Despite barely matching any description Fidds has ever been given of Lee, he can see the resemblance in the stubborn set of their jaw and the subtle curl of their hair. This is undoubtedly Stanford’s twin.

“Alright,” Fiddleford hangs his coat on the hook by the door and rolls up his sleeves. “Lets get them someplace more comfortable than the floor.”

-----

[From an arranged marriage Gigolas AU :3]

If the wizard walked like a dwarrow of 300, he looked like a wraith from beyond the grave. His face was drawn, as if deep in unpleasant thought, and his eyes were sunken and bruised. When he saw Gimli, his expression grew even more grave, if such a thing were possible, before he let his lips twitch into a fond smile.

It did not reach his eyes.

“Ah, young Gimli. I was hoping I would run into someone familiar.” He leaned heavily on his staff, reins held loosely in one hand. “Would you mind telling a tired old man where I could find Princess Dis?”

Gimli spared a second to peer around to the road behind Gandalf, hoping perhaps to see his da’s familiar figure in the distance, favorite walking axe swinging jauntily along, or perhaps Fili and Kili’s more energetic pace…

But the road was empty, save for the wizard’s dutiful and laden-down horse, and when Gimli looked back at Gandalf he dared not meet the wizard’s eyes for fear of what he might see.

-----

[and last but not least... a Gloin/Bombur one-shot because I am garbage]

“I miss them,” Bombur said at last, staring at the dying embers of the fire. His words were quiet in the deepening night. “I miss the laughter and bustle of our house full of children. I miss turning to Hepti in the kitchen, the dance around the flour barrels. I miss rubbing salve into Abarâl's sore fingers after that last archery tournament.” A cool breeze washed over the camp and Glóin slipped closer, laying down and slipping one arm across Bombur’s barrel chest. “I miss… I miss their comfort and their warmth as they bracket us in the winter.”

“Aye, I miss them, too. Our family. Our many bright children… The forge-warmth of our wives in our marriage-bed.” Glóin tucked his chin into Bombur’s shoulder, curling around him in their shared bedroll, only to whisper into his husband’s ear. “But do you know what else I miss, kurduê?”

Bombur shivered as Glóin’s hand slid down to curl around his hip, dipping forward just enough to tease. Well. This was one way to banish homesickness. “What else do ya miss?” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, the words syrupy.

[pinkykitten]

Live ur Life

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington x latina plus size! female reader

Warning: cursing 

Specifics: plus size reader, mexican reader, latin reader, one-shot, romance, fluff, comedy, angst

People: steve, joyce, jonathan, nancy, will, el 

Words: 2,318

Requested: By @glimmercrest​ I can’t live my life without requesting a masterpiece from you. Steve Harrington x Latina plus size reader? reader is a chola but minus the bad makeup. A badass reader who isn’t insecure but is still aware that they aren’t what guys look for. Reader is grunge rebel mechanic biker type also childhood friends with the Byers family and friends with Nancy. Reader begins 2 like Steve after the chaos.They don’t pursue their feelings even tho their friends know. Maybe Steve starts to notice them too?

Authors Note: so this is after season 3. i know anything about cars, mechanics nothing, nada so forgive me if i sound like a total dumb a*s. also i really got the feels with this one and got a bit philosophical.

“Papa, can you hand me that wrench over there?” You asked, your arm waiting patiently stretched out from under the car of the old lady that worked at a laundry mat across the street named Alondra. You worked for your father at his mechanic shop.

Your father quickly got the wrench for you. “Mira, y/n.”

You smile as you got to work on your passion. You were taught at a young age how to fix cars, motorcycles, anything with an engine and you loved that greasy life style. Your father always wanted boys but instead he got you. Lets just say when it came to cars, you were better than sons. 

“Okay mi amor. Your car looks good and you’ve kept it in great shape. She’s a beauty.” You wiped your hands getting the grease off as you unraveled your hair from the bun it was in.

“Bueno, adios Alondra,” you smiled to the old lady, giving her a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Gracias mija, say, my grandson is visiting us for the weekend, how about you two go out for the night and spend time together? You are very beautiful and he is so sweet, and strong.”

You laugh as you kiss her cheek again, “goodbye Ms. Alondra.” You knew she was trying to play matchmaker.

“Y/n, someone in the front of the store is waiting for you.” Your father played with his toothpick between his mouth.

You waved to Alondra and walked to the mystery person.

The front door opened making a chiming sound as you saw that it was Nancy. 

“Hey girl, how’s everything?”

Nancy turned around with tears falling from her eyes. It looked like she was crying a lot. “I can’t believe he’s going to leave.” She ran to you with opened arms and cried into your shoulder. “Why does it have to be him?”

You were so caught up in work and making sure your friends and yourself were okay mentally from all the chaos that happened, especially with Max losing her brother that you forgot about the Byers family moving away and El. It was a shock to all and you were devastated as well. Jonathan was like a brother to you. He was your best friend even before all this and the Byers family was like your second home. 

You comforted Nancy saying, “I know baby, I know. Listen, things are going to be hard and they are going to be sh*t but you are strong, you are a strong woman you hear me. You are going to get through this because you have me. I’m here for you girl.” You rubbed her hair with your acrylic nails, feeling so sorry for your best friend. You know Jonathan meant so much to her. They were so cute together and they belonged to one another. 

After you comforted her and soothed her to relax she sat beside you on a crate as you brought coke for you both to enjoy and talk. 

“Its going to be hard for me to say goodbye. I don’t know if I can do it.” Nancy looked at the oncoming traffic, trying to take her mind off of the sadness.

“Yeah I feel ya,” you took a swig. “They meant a lot to me. Life ain’t gonna be the same without them, you know. They made me feel welcomed in a town where nobody really looked like me. Not only am I fat but I am Mexican, they ain’t nobody like me here. I felt like an outsider and they took me and my family in without a second thought.”

“You’re pretty bad a*s and beautiful.” Nancy chuckled. 

You giggled, “yeah, unfortunately Joyce gotta work some things out. After Hopper’s death she needs time. Time has a way of healing wounds but this just shows me that life is precious and its short and you gotta make the best of it.”

“By making the best of it do you mean with Steve?” Nancy wiggled her eyebrows. 

Nancy knew you’ve had a crush Steve. You were always friends with him and never really liked him but it was after all the chaos that you saw his true colors and how happy he made you feel. You slapped Nancy’s leg, “da*n girl you too much!” You were silent. “You never know though where life can take you.”

Later that day was the moving day. Nancy had told you to come even though you rather had said your goodbyes on the phone so no one could see you cry, but you knew you would have regretted it. You drove over to the Byers house in your motorcycle and everyone was there. They were already crying, holding hands, hugging. It all was too much for you. You stormed quickly in their empty house. Shocked by how vacant it was. You remembered all the memories here. All the good times you all shared. It seemed like yesterday. You stood in the bathroom looking at yourself in the mirror. You tried to not cry so your makeup wouldn’t get ruined but it was tough. You finally let it all out but somebody wrapped you up in their arms. 

“C’mon you can’t be crying. I’ve never seen you cry.” Jonathan held your face in his hands, smirking. 

“I hate you sometimes Byers,” you giggled but then cried again. “Why do you have to go?” You hugged him tightly not wanting him to go.

“I have to breathe you know.” he laughed but as you looked up at his face you could tell he wanted to cry as well.

“Dude, you know I got you. You grown, he*l if you want to stay I got an extra room at my house, he*l you could sleep in my bed if you want just please don’t leave me.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jonathan wiped your tears away. “I’m not leaving you. I might be a ways away but I’m still going to call you everyday to make sure you didn’t beat someones a*s. Besides, my mom needs me. Especially right now, she really needs me.”

You nodded, “I know. There’s just so much I want to say but there is such little time.”

Jonathan hugs you, “we got time. This is not a goodbye, this is a see you later.”

“You better visit dam*it! And you better call everyday cause if you don’t I swear your a*s is grass.” You pointed your long nailed fingers at him. 

Jonathan laughed but then tears came out of his eyes as he embraced you hard.

“Man, why do I gotta love you so much. I’m really gonna miss you. Tú sabes qué, you, you are my family right? You know life ain’t gonna be the same without you guys.”

“Jonathan we gotta go,” Joyce called. 

You walked Jonathan out and everyone was saying their goodbyes. You embraced Joyce and Will. 

“What do you want for Christmas, son?” You shook Will’s hair. 

“That new bike that just came out. It looks really cool,” Will’s eyes lit up.

“You got it kid.” You hugged him as you helped him in the truck.

“You spoil him too much,” Joyce kissed your cheek as you two said goodbye to each other. 

“Hey, since you’re the strong one of the family, you think you can keep an eye on those two stinkers?” You knelt down to El. 

El cried as she nodded.

“Aye mi linda, I’m gonna miss you. You are so important to all of us and we all love you no matter what.”

They all went in the truck and were driving out of the drive way until Jonathan put his window down and called you over. “This frickin boy, ay dios mio.” You ran to him. “What?”

“Life is waiting for you okay. Gratitude, okay. We all should be gracious for the time we have. You are going to achieve so many great things y/n. You just gotta go live.”

A tear fell down as you kissed his cheek. “See you later mi hermano.”

In a haste you rode your motorcycle. You thought about what Jonathan told you. “You just gotta go live.” It kept echoing in your head. You stopped your bike abruptly and hopped off to bang on the door. 

“Hello?” Steve came out in his pjs after going through many interviews with Robin. “Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Okay, just shut up for a minute and let me speak. Life is short okay. Its really short and sometimes we have regrets and those eat us inside and potentially kill us-”

“Alright what does that have to do with-”

“Shut up. The thing is, I don’t want to have regrets. I don’t want to live my life thinking what if, what if. I want to live. I want my life to mean something and to spend time with the people I care about. Things could change. Life is full of unexpected events. But I don’t want regrets. I don’t want to regret not taking you out. So Steve Harrington, would you do me the pleasure of going out on a date with this thick, fat, churro of a girl? Cause if you don’t go out with me, I might lose my mind, just saying.” 

Steve was hella excited he thought he might explode. He showed off a huge grin and said, “wait here.” He closed to door leaving you waiting for him on your motorcycle. 

Steve never really was that interested in you. He thought you were gorgeous but he assumed you would never fall for him that’s why you two were always friends but in the past couple of weeks he couldn’t take his mind off of you. All he thought about was you. 

“Ready,” Steve brushed his hair with his fingers as he wore his denim jacket, ready for the date. “How do I look?”

You paused, teasing him as you tilted your head to the side. You were leaning against your motorcycle. Your nail tapped your chin lightly as you made believe to think of an answer. “I think you look delicioso,” you combed through his hair with your nails. 

“God talk Spanish to me,” he bit his lips and humped the air jokingly. “What did you say though?”

You hopped on your bike and raised your thin eyebrows, “pero you don’t know?  A woman my dear Steve doesn’t ever share her secrets.” You winked. “Now hop on.” You hit his butt. 

He climbed behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I think I could get used to it.”

“Here, wear this” You gave him your helmet. “Lets ride!”

You stopped at a comfy Mexican food truck. “My cousin owns this bad boy.” You slapped the truck. “Hey papo, what do I got to do to get some good food up in here?”

Your cousin’s head popped out with a smile and he ushered you to sit stating the food was on the house and saying he was going to get the best of the best for you two. He grinned seeing you with Steve, he left mumbling, “finally ella tiene un novio.”

“Wow this place is really cool.” Steve looked around. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you opened up a soda taking a huge chug. 

“I heard Jonathan moved today. I know you guys were close. How was it?”

You bit your nails as you tried to stay cool. 

Steve grabbed your hands, “its okay not to be okay.”

You faked smiled. “It was tough. He’s been there for me through a lot. He’s a good person.”

“Sorry about how I acted when I was young. I was a huge-”

“D*ck?”

He chuckled, “yeah thanks for that but honestly I was. I was really mean and acted super selfish and like I was entitled and sh*t but I’m so glad I’ve changed. I’m done with that Steve. Do you think I’ve changed?”

“Definitely. 100 percent. I remember you used to make fun of my weight and just make fun of me but now you’re pretty rad.”

“Sh*t I’m sorry. God I hate myself sometimes.” His head fell into his hands. 

“Stop. Sometimes we do things we’re not proud of. We’re not perfect, the important thing is if we change. I’ve changed. I remember I was this insecure little b*tch when I was young. I hated how I let people walk all over me and that I thought I didn’t deserve love or happiness. I changed and I’m never going to think like that again.”

Suddenly, these group of guys started to point and laugh at you. They made fun of your outfit and your weight. You rolled your eyes. “Excuse me.”

“No excuse me,” Steve stood up to those guys. “Why don’t you guys just leave her alone? You think you’re way better than anyone else but you all just need to get the h*ll out of here. Why don’t you go to the mirror and make fun of yourself? That would be super entertaining.”

The guys shut up as Steve smirked at you. “Needed to teach those guys a lesson.”

“Not bad Harrington, not bad.”

You two ate your dinner while your cousin blasted the news to all your family members and they are setting up the wedding date and everything. 

“I’m stuffed,” you hopped on your motorcycle. “Where to now Steve?”

Steve went behind you and rested his hands near your butt. “Why don’t we be like those cheesy movies and ride to a cliff or to a part where it looks over the town. Maybe make out there or talk who knows, wherever the wind takes us and we can just chill.”

You bit your lip as you grinned, “eh, its only 10:15. I got time to spare.” You revved up your bike and set off to your destination, ready to start this new journey called life. 

Tag list: @harrington-lover​​, @angelgl16​​, @perfectlybeautifulsuit​​, @hyehoney​​, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly​​​, @totally-alexa21​​, @creamy-pasta-boi​​, @multireese​​, @fanfictionrecommendations-com​​, @prentisskelley​​, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97​​, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople​​, @collectiveyou​​, @wtfisalltherandoms​​, @dirbel​​, @eastcoasthaven​​, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories​​​​, @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag)

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[sabineelectricheart]

Letters to a Flower Bud

Summary: Sylvain, fearing for his poor communication skills, writes letters to his daughter, from birth to marriage.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 4600

Notes: I’m fluffy these days. I’m planning an angst to end all angst, though, so do not get complacent.

It was a mild evening of Summer in Gautier. The date was the 22nd of Blue Sea Moon, day of the Goddess’ Rite of Rebirth of Imperial Year 1190. A blessed day, not only because it was the holiest festival of their religion, one his wife is the chief officer of, but also because it was the day his first daughter would be born.

Babies that arrived on this world on the same day the Goddess star was once again seen in the sky were favoured by fates, they were granted assured lifelong happiness, and he came to find out that his happiness is now conditional on hers.

“How you feeling, Sylvain?” Ingrid asks, quietly.

The ostentatious margravial chambers was quiet, as the nursing mother was fast asleep from exhaustion on the cleaned bed just next to them and neither one would want to wake her. After all, Byleth had just given birth to the Gautier scion.

Sylvain sits by her side in a stuffed armchair. His legs feel weak and he feels hunger settling on his stomach, but he could care less about how uncomfortable he feels. Not when he has his little girl in his arms. This tiny little bundle is his. His girl, his child.

Isolde Gautier.

“I… I don’t know how I feel.” He breathed out against his conjoined hands in an unspoken prayer.

For once in his life, Sylvain did not have anything to say. No smart comeback or a funny joke. His little girl has only been in this world for a few hours and she has rendered him completely speechless.

“She’s going to be the death of me. I just know it.” He mumbles softly as his daughter leans into his chest.

Sylvain is not the best with his emotions. Despite his so-called silver tongue, he had found little success whenever he tried to articulate his feelings into intelligible sentences. Sometimes, he says things he does not mean and other times he says things the wrong way. A part of him is terrified that there will be so much he does not say to his girl, or that he will, though words or actions, screw things up somehow.

“You are thinking too much, Sylvain.” Ingrid chuckles softly as she watches the cogwheels turn in her old friend’s head.

The redhead sighed once more. “I can’t really seem to help it. This baby got me wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

Ingrid pulls up another chair from their sitting area and sits beside Sylvain.

“It reminds me of when you two first started courting, in a weird way. You were completely whipped, you know that?” The blonde woman teases as she gestures to his wife’s sleeping body. “Clinging to her all the time and all those disgustingly sweet letters you wrote her when she had to return to Garreg Mach.”

Sylvain smiles fondly as he thinks of the love letters he used to leave his then-intended. Averting her minty eyes, Byleth had quietly admitted how much she appreciated them, how much she depended on them to spend her days alone at the monastery. As for himself, he loved imagining the smile on her face as she opened a new one.

Then, a wide smile passes through his face.

“Ingrid, dearest, you have given me a wonderful idea.” The redhead jumps to his feet. “Here, do you want to hold her?”

Ingrid’s vivid green eyes widen as Sylvain carefully hands him Isolde.

“Hi there, love, I am your auntie Ingrid.” The knight coos as she cuddles the new-born to her bosom.

Sylvain walks to his desk, lights a candle with a flick, dips his quill on ink and starts writing with a flourish on the paper.

Hello, my darling Isolde,

It is your father here. I am writing this because I cannot talk to you right now because you will not remember. You have only been in this world for a few hours but you are already my whole world. You and your mum have stolen my heart. When you get older, I will tell you all about your old man and how cool he is but I want you to know that you have made the great Sylvain Gautier speechless. I admit, I even cried when you were born. You are so small and after you were born you cried for me and your mother and it shattered my heart in the best possible way. When I held you, I could feel everything melt away. You grabbed my finger with your tiny little hand and fell asleep in my arms. I am so excited to see what this world will bring you and what you will do in this world. I will always be here to protect you. I love you so much my darling flower bud.

Your dad,

Sylvain.

*_*_*_*_*

“Come on, flower bud, say dada.” Sylvain coos as he shakes a stuffed bunny in front of Isolde. “Dada. Da-da.”

Their holy monarch, Dimitri, watches in amusement as his friend tries to bribe his goddaughter with a stuffed bunny so she would talk. Isolde has been on the verge of saying her first words for weeks now and Sylvain is eager to hear them. The Blue Lions are even running a betting pool to guess what word it will be.

“Sylvain, honey, do stop pressuring our child into speaking.” Byleth calls from the armchair on the far end of the room. “The more you annoy her, the less she will be willing to talk.”

“Di-di!” She holds her hands out to Sylvain reaching for the toy.

“Not Didi, love, Dada.” The man insisted. “Come on Isolde, you can say it. Say dada.”

Setting down her book, the Archbishop walks over to Sylvain and leans down to kiss his daughter cheek.

“She will talk when she is ready, Sylvain. Not when you offer her a meagre stuffed animal.” The woman said, pointedly, at her husband.

Sylvain sighs and sets down the bunny making Isolde very unhappy. “It’s not meagre. I bought Sweetbun from an Adrestian merchant. He said all the children in Enbarr loved it.”

Byleth looks unimpressed with her husband. “Sweetbun, Sylvain? Really?”

Dimitri watches as Isolde’s lip forms a small pout.

“Do not be sad, dearest Isolde.” Dimitri coos as he picks up the bunny.

He begins to shake it around and lightly taps her button nose with the bunny’s nose. His goddaughter lets out a loud laugh and makes grabby hands towards the King and the bunny.

“Dima!” She cries happily making everyone stop.

“Dima?” Dimitri asks confused as he sets the bunny down.

Isolde reaches towards her godfather once again. “Dima!”

She is clearly talking to Dimitri, who looks at Sylvain with a grin on his face. “That’s right, Isolde! I’m Dima!”

“No, no, I cannot accept this! Dima is not a real word.” Sylvain whines as he grabs the bunny from Dimitri’s hand and coos to Isolde.

Her attention shifts to Sylvain and she begins to smile. “Dada!”

Sylvain grins and hands her the bunny. He turns to his wife with a cocky smirk.

“Ha! See, I’m her first word!” The margrave jumps up in excitement and then leans down to peck Isolde’s cheek.

Rolling her eyes, Byleth gives her daughter a rare big smile and pick her up from the matted floor, presenting her to her gushing father.

“Say it again, my flower bud.” The redhead coos happily.

Hugging the bunny close to her chest she laughs loudly. “Dada!”

The excitement of her first words is too much for Sylvain to handle. Excusing himself for a moment, he heads to his study and pulls out blank parchment.

My darling flower bud,

You said your first word today! While, technically, you were calling for Dimitri, which, I admit, I am a bit annoyed at you called him Dima, and, to me, that is not a word, you said dada just after that. So, if anyone asks, I will always say that dada was your first word. You looked so happy and so cute, I nearly exploded. I love you so much my flower and I just know you are going to be a daddy’s girl. Don’t tell your mum, she will have my head. I cannot wait to keep watching you grow, my baby.

Love you lots,

Your dada

*_*_*_*_*

“Sylvain, get in here!” Byleth yells from the nursery room.

Isolde had started to stand recently and she is getting closer to taking her first step. The margravial couple had been watching her like a hawk hoping to be there when it finally happens.

Prompted to run, the nobleman rushes in with soaking wet hair.

“I just got out of the bath. Is she going to do it?” He crouches down next to his wife and holds out his arms to Isolde, who was currently trying to stand on her wobbly legs.

“Come to mamma and dada, Isolde!” The Archbishop stimulates, holding out her arms so the baby could come nearer. “Come here, my strong baby!”

Sylvain watches as she looks at the two of them and cries out wanting her parents.

“Don’t cry baby, just a few steps and we’ll pick you up.” The redhead encourages, even though seeing her cry makes him want to pick her up right this instant.

Byleth holds out a hand to keep him from it, and it is a good thing he did not, because a few seconds later she takes a few steps towards her two parents before falling on her butt.

“She did it, Sylvain!” The margravine cry happily as you run and scoop her up, peppering her face with kisses. “My little daughter can walk now! Walk!”

Sylvain grins and kisses the baby’s cheek, and then kisses his wife’s.

“Look at my little princess. Growing up so fast.” He says sweetly.

Inside, his heart aches a bit. It feels like just yesterday he was holding her in his arms as a new-born and here she was now, walking and babbling.

“My sweet girl,” He says softly as he kisses her tiny hand. “And my other sweet girl.”

The man turns to his wife, grabbing her chin lightly to kiss her lips. Then, he snakes his arm around the woman, hugging her from behind while cooing towards the baby.

“My perfect family.” He finishes, with a chocked voice.

It was later in the day when Sylvain found the time to sit down and write. Byleth was reading Isolde a story while the husband finished up some quick paperwork.

My darling little girl,

You took your first steps today! Goddess, you’re growing up so fast! I can barely keep up. Soon you will be walking and talking and I will be able to show you off to the world. You are growing up a little too fast for my liking, though. I wish you could stay my tiny darling flower bud forever. Be as it may, when you start walking, I already have a list of places to take you. We can see the jousting matches in Fhirdiad, see the boats in Derdriu and walk the greenhouses at your mother’s place. You are going to love it, my dear, I promise. I can hear your mother reading stories to you in the other room and my heart is just bursting. Please stay like this forever.

Love you,

Your dad

*_*_*_*_*

“Do you have everything?” Byleth asks as she ushers her daughter to the carriage tasked to take her away.

The margrave and his wife woke up early this morning to send their daughter away to school. Since Isolde had shown much promise, and did not have to take up arms to defend the northern border as soon as fourteen, the margravial couple had decided to send her to the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery. The redhead girl was much excited to leave, but her parents not as much.

Both Byleth and Sylvain were used to Moons away from their children, as they would spend their days either in Gautier with the margrave or at Garreg Mach with the archbishop, but never have they ever let one of theirs leave home alone, and so the anxiety was great.

The margravial couple came to Fhirdiad with Isolde, as to delay her parting as much as possible. Lucky for them, the prince of Fódlan would be attending this semester, too, and so they could spend a week together at Castle Blaiddyd before the first day of classes.

“Wait, mum!” Isolde cries as her red velvet scarf falls off her head. “It came undone! Help me.”

It was only polite for the women to cover their heads in formal occasions, and the school had been adamant about it in their acceptance letter.

Sylvain, who was falling behind, bends down and picks up her scarf. Kneeling down, he places the precious garment in the Gautier House colours on top of her head, while her mother pinned it once more.

“Careful, love, you would not want to lose anything here.” He smiles at his daughter. “Your mother and I will not be able to help you if you misplace your things, so be mindful, yes?”

She grins up at her father and grabs his hand. “Sure will, dad!”

Prince Lambert crosses the courtyard after a cool goodbye to his parents, climbing the carriage and looking haughtily at the margrave, as if hurrying him.

Before the nobleman could comment on the situation, his wife placed a hand on his shoulder. “You best not let the coachman waiting, honey.”

“Yeah, sure, the coachman. Now, are you sure you have everything? Clothes, supplies? Do you need anything else?” Sylvain bombards her with questions as he pulls her into a hug.

“Sylvain, let the girl breathe!” Byleth says as Isolde pulls away, coughing softly.

“Do not hate me for doing what you want to do.” The man smirks, standing up.

“Sure, that is the reason for my comment. Now, Isolde, always remember your father and I love you very much and we are beyond proud of you.” The archbishop says softly as she kisses her forehead.

“I know, mum. I love you, too.” She hugs her mother tightly before facing her father.

“I’m so proud of my flower bud, make sure you show those stuck-up nobles what you got, alright?” He says with a wink.

“I love you, dad.” Wrapping her arms around Sylvain, she hugs him tightly. He can feel his heart melting right there. “I love you too mum.”

The fourteen-year-old holds out her hand for her mother to join the big group hug.

“I love you, my flower bud.” Sylvain whispers as he holds onto her tightly.

“I love you too, dear, now go make your mark.” Byleth smiles softly, kissing her daughter’s hair.

Wiping a few tears from her face, Isolde takes her trunk and hurries on the coach.

“I do not know how we are going to do this five more times.” Sylvain says as he pulls his wife into a hug, his eyes following Isolde through the window.

“We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” The woman teases as she leans back into his chest. “Is it too soon for me to harp Dimitri into letting me visit her?”

Sylvain laughs but inside he is missing Isolde already, too. For the past fourteen years, he has looked after her. Through every tantrum and injury to every pancake breakfast and bedtime story. Letting her go was so hard because he knows what aristocratic society is like and he was so scared for her. He knows she can handle herself, but it still hurts to see her gone for so long.

“She’s going to be just fine, By.” He says, kissing his wife’s forehead. “We’re going to be fine, too.”

My darling flower bud,

You are not so little anymore, as today you went off to school for the first time. I already miss you, but I know you will do wonderfully there. I know you will make lots of friends. You have your mother’s smarts, so I know you will get excellent grades and dazzle every instructor. Yet, you should know that none of that matters to me. I want you to be happy and to enjoy your youth. You are my little girl and I just know you will make me and your mother proud. You have already made me so proud. I love you lots, my darling.

Love, dad

*_*_*_*_*

Sylvain knows that maybe he is being unfair, but he is not thinking rationally right now. Not after the shouting match between him and Isolde. He has let her go out every day this week with her friends, and even agreed to winter in Deirdriu with the Royal Family, so she could have more to do while in vacation.

Preparing to leave for the Officers’ Academy, his lovely daughter is heading full speed towards the dreaded teenage years. She is no longer his sweet innocent little girl. She is growing up and it kills him.

One afternoon is all he demanded, as in to spend quality family time before his wife had to return to Garreg Mach, but the conversation turned into a massive argument, with Isolde claiming that he was too overbearing and Sylvain saying that she does not care about her family. He regrets saying what he said but the hurt in his heart caused him to lash out.

Byleth knocks softly on the bedroom door. “Sylvain? Do you want to talk?”

This was their first major argument and the archbishop knows both sides are hurting. After consoling their crying daughter, she decides to check up on her brooding husband. He is currently working at the desk but, with anger clouding his mind, he is not getting much done.

The margravine sits down in the bed and taps the spot next to her invitingly, to which he does not respond.

“Are you okay?” She asks softly.

Sylvain still has his back to his wife as he slams down his hand on the table.

“She hates me.” He mumbles sadly.

The anger fades into hurt as he collapses his head into his arms.

“She doesn’t hate you, Sylvain, dear.” Byleth said, walking over to her husband and kneeling down next to him. She takes his hand, kissing it softly.

“You heard her.” He says, grimacing at the memory.

The image of Isolde, tears streaming down her face, stomps her foot and yells “I hate you!”, before storming away to her private chambers elsewhere in the castle.

“She does not mean it, Sylvain. She loves you.” Byleth rests her head on his knees.

Opening the drawer of his desk, she searches for the letters he wrote before and took with him everywhere.

The woman hands them to Sylvain, who just stares at them. “I think you should write another one.”

Getting out a paper and a quill, she hands them to him. Sylvain only wanted to capture the happy moments, but raising a child came with the good and the bad.

My flower bud,

We had our first big argument today. I said so many things I did not mean and I am sure you did too. I know how exciting it is to have friends and spend time with them, and the truth is I am terrified of you growing up and leaving us behind. I hate that you are getting older. Soon, you are not going to need your old man anymore and it hurts me to think about that. You have grown into such a wonderful young lady and I am sorry for how I reacted. I doubt this will be our last disagreement, but I hope it is the last big one. My heart breaks to think that I made you cry like that. No matter what I say to you, and I will probably say something stupid again, as your mother tells me, I will never stop loving you. No matter how big you get, you will always be my baby girl.

Love,

Your very sorry dad

*_*_*_*_*

“Sylvain, you cannot challenge a seventeen-year-old teen to a duel.” Byleth shouts through the archbishop’s chambers in Garreg Mach.

Their daughter has gotten her heart broken for the first time and Sylvain is absolutely furious. He warped over from Gautier to the monastery, carrying with him the Lance of Ruin and all sorts of nasty spells to cast on the Gloucester scion.

“Like hell I can!” He growls angrily as he looks over her shoulder to see his baby crying on the couch.

“Sylvain, dear. As the archbishop, I cannot let you use a Relic on a teen, and as your wife, I have to stop you from declaring a blood feud over usual happenstances of teenage years.” The woman said harshly, and then relaxed her expression, caressing her husband’s face. “I understand you are mad, and I am, too, but this is normal. This is a pedagogical opportunity for our daughter. From now on, she will make better choices.”

“But he hurt my flower bud…” His heart aches when he catches a glimpse of her tear-stained cheeks.

Sighing, the woman takes his hand and lead him to the bed. “Sylvain, I know you have feelings and opinions, but what she needs now is her mum, her dad and a lot of comfort.”

Kissing his wrist to calm him down, he melts into her touch.

The man sighs. “I will be right back okay?”

Byleth nods and let Sylvain slip off to her office as she goes back to the couch and wraps her arms around Isolde.

My Isolde,

You got your heartbroken today by that Gloucester pansy. Seeing you so upset breaks my heart. When you sent that letter telling me you got a boyfriend, I flipped out. Your mother had to fly with the mail and calm me down, but I was already scared for you and your heart. When you came to your mother crying because he broke your heart, I was ready to beat him up for you. I am writing this because I want you to know that you deserve the world and no good-for-nothing noble boy should make you feel worse. You are my baby girl and no guy deserves you. I am off to get some snacks for you now, but please remember that you deserve everything, my flower bud.

I love you,

Dad

*_*_*_*_*

“Are you ready for this?” Byleth asks lightly as she wraps her arm around Sylvain’s.

“Never.” He says with a small smile.

It was Isolde’s wedding day to the Crown Prince of Fódlan and Sylvain was filled with so many emotions. He was so happy for his flower bud, who, for reasons that escaped his comprehension, actually loved the twerp, who was still as sullen as ever, but letting her go is one of the hardest things he has to do.

“You look beautiful, Your Grace.” Sylvain kisses his wife’s forehead, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.

“I will meet you at the ceremony. You have a very important job to do, mister, and you better hope I do not hear any complaints about it.” She lightly taps his nose and hurry off to prepare to officiate the ceremony.

Sylvain makes his way over to the bride’s door.

“Flower bud? Are you ready?” He asks nervously.

The door opens to reveal Isolde in her wedding gown, all dressed up holding a bouquet of beautiful lilies. Once again, the margrave is speechless. Tears well up in his eyes as his daughter looks up at him with her big beautiful amber eyes, the same ones that stared at him when he first held her in his arms, over two decades ago. The same ones that would look up at him for comfort when she got hurt and for excitement when she felt bored.

“You look beautiful, flower bud.” Sylvain whispers out.

Plucking a lily from her bouquet he tucks it behind her ear.

“Thank you, dad.” She says as she looks up at the aging man.

“You’re growing up too fast, love.” The nobleman says softly. “But I’m so proud of you.”

He can barely hold back his tears as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“Oh dad, cut it out. Else I will cry and then aunt Mercedes will be mad.” Isolde hugs back tightly.

“Let her. I know it is a little early for gifts, but I wanted to give this to you.” The margrave pulls out a stack of envelopes. Some of them look new while some look many years old.

“I have been writing these letters since the day you were born, and now is time to deliver them.” He dried his eyes with his sleeve. “I know I have never been the best at expressing how I feel, but I think these do it for me.”

Isolde carefully takes them into her hand and flips through them. Years of memories, of words from her father. She begins to fan herself in order to stop the tears but they come anyway.

“I love you so much, dad.” She cries as hugs the letters to her chest.

“Here, I will hold onto them for now.” Sylvain takes them back and slips them into his pocket. “I love you too my darling flower bud.”

Sylvain leans forward and kisses his daughter’s forehead as she beings to wipe away her tears. Holding out his arm, Isolde links hers and leans against his shoulder.

“You know, if you want to back out now and go back home, I will have your mother smooth things over with Dimitri. He always tripped over himself to do whatever she says.” The father of the bride jokes lightly as the two of them wait for the music to start playing.

Rolling her eyes, Isolde smiles. “This is not a goodbye forever, dad. I will still come around for the free food.”

The man chuckles as the music begins to play.

“Are you ready, flower bud?” The margrave asks as the doors start to open.

“I am.” She said, confidently. “Are you ready dad?”

Looking down at his lovely daughter, Sylvain flashes back to everything. From the moment he held her in his arms to right now, giving her away at this damn wedding. All the good days and the bad days. He knows he would never truly be ready to let go but seeing how happy she looks, how much she has grown, he knows he will do it anyways. It fills him with pride.

“Yeah, I think I am, my flower bud.”

My wonderful, lovely flower,

It is your wedding day tomorrow and I do not know how to feel. I am so happy you have found someone who loves you, regardless of my personal opinions on the matter. I am happy for you, but knowing how big you are makes me feel so old. It feels like just yesterday I held you in my arms for the first time. I watched you grow and learn. Not all of it was happy, mind you, and some days were particularly difficult, but I am still glad. You have taken everything you have learned from me and your mother and you have become such a wonderful lady. I know whatever you do, you are going to be amazing. I love you so much my flower bud. Never forget that. I will always be here for you and, no matter how big you get, you are my flower bud.

I love you with all my heart,

Your dad,

Sylvain Gautier

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 6

Bucky <3. My boy.

Once we’d got into the elevator, Tony turned to me and asked where I wanted to go. I found the idea of choice complicated, but I remembered that Bruce had wanted to evaluate me, and that felt close to a command – someone else’s wish, not mine. “I have to go to Bruce’s lab. He wants to test me.” I could see Steve frowning at that; I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t like the idea of testing me, or didn’t like that I was doing what someone else wanted but he kept silent.

“You heard the Moley, Jarvis – to the lab!”. The elevator moved so smoothly I was barely aware we’d changed floors until the doors opened and we stepped into a vast lab. The windows darkened as I stepped in, causing Bruce to look up and say ‘Hey, Jarvis, what are you…’ then stop when he saw us. Tony quickly spoke, “long story, explain later, I’ve brought you a treat, ta da!” and he gestured at me dramatically. I rolled my eyes, something I’d never have dared a few weeks ago, but somehow Tony seemed to bring it out in anyone who was around him long enough.

Bruce jumped out of his seat, nearly spilling his coffee in his excitement. He stumbled over his words, “hey, ok, so are you here, so, I mean, can I evaluate, I guess, if you are OK with that, I mean…”. He trailed off, embarrassed and quickly took off his glasses and started polishing them on his shirt. Tony and Steve both looked at me, waiting for a response.

“You said I had to be evaluated, so I am here for that” I said, and watched Bruce’s face light up. He grinned at Tony, who grinned back, and they started talking over each other and at each other, about tests and measures and all sorts, completely ignoring me in their excitement. Steve smiled and said “we may as well sit down, they’ll be conspiring for a while before they remember to actually do anything”.

I sat down on a nearby chair and took the opportunity to examine the lab. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. A huge space, full of computers, equipment and goodness-only-knows what, the space had vast windows (now blacked out) and behind a glass screen, what looked like a training room. Much of the equipment looked almost like instruments of torture and yet I didn’t get the tense feeling in my chest here that I’d used to have at Hydra’s base. I was starting to believe that nobody here wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t decide how I felt about that yet.

Tony and Bruce came bustling back over, talking a mile a minute, until eventually Steve held up a hand and laughed “one at a time gents?!”. Tony and Bruce looked at each other, then Tony turned to me. “OK, we know you’ve been serum-enhanced. Do you know anything about what abilities have been enhanced? We know you’re fast, and you heal fast, and you’re strong, and you have mind powers… ok so we know basically you’re unstoppable, Moley. Anything else we should know about?”

I shrugged. “I was made to be the ultimate weapon. I’m fast, strong, agile. I fight, I run, I kill. I have enhanced mind powers and brain functions. There’s nothing I can’t do. I’m a weapon”. Saying it out loud hurt. I could feel their fear, feel them looking at me differently. Maybe they didn’t even believe me, but once they’d evaluated me they’d see that I was a threat. An inhuman danger. Then maybe they would want to hurt me after all.

Steve put his hand on my shoulder, and I tried (unsuccessfully) not to flinch. “I understand. It’s hard to be different, right? You, me, and Bucky, we’re all enhanced. You and Bucky have a lot in common, you know; how you were made, how you were treated. I hope you can find some comfort in knowing you’re not alone”. Internally, I tried to imagine ‘Bucky’ and ‘comfort’ in the same sentence and failed. Bucky might have a lot in common with me, but that just made him distrust me more.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, then Bruce coughed, obviously desperate to get on, and said “so, let’s get some baseline measures, OK? See what you can do?” I nodded, and within seconds he was wiring me up – heart monitors, oxygen monitors, muscle measures, goodness only knows what else – and trying to politely urge me towards the screened off gym area. Walking through the glass doors, Bruce led me to a treadmill, and said “we’ll start easy, see how far and how fast you can run”. Behind me I heard Tony say “Jarvis, you’re recording right? And can you tell the team they might want to watch this?”, and I started to run.

And I ran. And ran. And ran some more. I’d have been bored except I was so used to following orders that I just zoned out and did what I was told. I was vaguely aware of other people coming into the room behind me but I didn’t turn to see. I’d been told to run so I did. What I didn’t realise was that I was sprinting, and had been for 40 minutes, flat out, before Bruce said ‘OK, so I guess we know you can run then…’ and slowed down the treadmill. I stepped off, my breathing only slightly heavier than normal, and turned to see the whole team watching. They’d pulled some exercise mats down and were lying on them, leaning up against each other and against the walls. There were two new members I’d only met once before – Wanda and Sam – Nat, Steve, Pepper, and even Bucky was watching me.

“Heart rate only elevated by 3% Tony. You owe me $10” Bruce said, much to Tony’s disgust. “You’ve cost me, Moley. Next time I’m betting on you, not against you”, he said with a smile.

I stood and waited for my next order. “Ok…” I could see Bruce pondering “OK, you say you’re strong? Let’s go with weights”. Tony crowed with glee, “oh I know how to make this more fun! Cap, you ready to be tested? You two compete! Oh I genuinely don’t know who to cheer for – Jarvis, do we have any pompoms?”

Steve looked awkward, as awkward as I felt. “Hey, this isn’t a competition Tony, c’mon…” but the team started egging him on with taunts of “you scared Cap?” and “he’s feeling his age” until, red-faced, he gave me a half-smile and stepped forward to the weights.

Within twenty minutes the half-smile had gone, replaced with a look of determination. We took it in turns to lift heavier and heavier weights. He was strong. Very strong, serum-enhanced strong. I knew (I’d been reading up on the internet) that he’d been injected and then exposed to Vita-Rays. At the time, that was the best option for activating the serum. In the years since, Hydra had perfected a new technique. The serum was created to make a super-soldier, a weapon. And weapons needed to be forged, not bathed in sunshine. Experimenting on a number of different people over the years, including Bucky it seemed, gradually Hydra had worked out the winning combination. Repeated doses of serum, coupled with severe pain, was the way to create an unstoppable force. Mental and physical pain released adrenaline, stress hormones; fear wiped memories; broke will; and coupled with the serum, was the most effective way to create the most effective soldier. Me. Most of their test subjects hadn’t survived but for reasons I didn’t yet understand, I did. I wasn’t sure if that made me really lucky, or really unlucky.

I didn’t think I’d beat him, I knew I was at the top of my game for a lot of things, but I was still smaller than Steve. Eventually, we both quit, breathing heavily. I knew he could have gone on to lift more, but at 900lbs, I’d had enough. My power didn’t just lie in strength or speed, but in everything, combined. I had fighting ability, telekinetic powers, agility, speed, strength. I looked over at the team, who’d stopped cheering and giggling a while back and started taking this seriously. At that point, I wished I didn’t have any of these abilities. I didn’t like being different.

The atmosphere in the lab had changed over the last test, and now people wanted to see what I could do. Bruce and Tony were talking quietly in a corner, pouring over a computer screen as they analysed results. Steve patted me on the back and went to get some water. I simply stood. I didn’t belong and the more tests they did, the more they’d see that and regret inviting me in. But since I couldn’t leave the Tower, and I found it impossible to resist commands, I still just stood there.

“You OK for another test?” Bruce asked and I nodded. At that point, Nat stood up. “Agility and fighting? Well that’d be me then” she smiled. I could feel the tension rise. Up until now, I’d been merely testing myself against equipment. Nobody trusted me enough to let me test myself against one of the team. But Natasha was, well, Natasha, and she made her own rules.

Steve passed me a bottle of water and I took a gulp as Bruce removed all the monitoring wires from me, and the team moved back around the walls, leaving a padded space in the centre of the room. I set down my bottle, and walked into the middle of the mat, watching Nat carefully. From what I’d read, she was one of the best – no, THE best. An assassin, a gymnast, enhanced with a Russian serum, martial artist. She’d had a hell of a lot more years training than me too. I wasn’t worried. I knew I could hold my own, even if I couldn’t win. I could destroy anyone ‘normal’ but the Avengers were anything but.

Nat attacked quickly, no pacing around here, and we fought, long and hard. We were both gymnastic, able to flip and roll and kick. Neither of us pulled our punches and we both dodged as often as we got hit. We were pretty evenly matched although I suspected if we carried on, she’d win eventually. I had the feeling she knew that too, but I’m not sure if it was obvious to everyone else. Suddenly, I was aware of movement behind me. A voice – Bucky’s voice – said “well let’s make this interesting then” and I sensed him about to attack. I could hear the rest of the team shouting at him that this wasn’t fair and to stop, but I could sense his animosity, his distrust of me, and also an interest to see how far I could be pushed.

I couldn’t consciously read minds, but I could pick up on emotions and sensations, which gave me the warning that he was about to attack. As I felt him behind me, I flipped over backwards, landing on his shoulders, then continuing over, pulling him down as I went. He fought back, and Nat stepped back, relinquishing the floor. I could feel the adrenaline rush through my muscles and hooked my foot behind her knee, pulling her back in and ducking so that Bucky lunged over my head. “Both of you” I grinned.

We fought like that for another ten minutes, me against the two of them. In some ways it was easier for me, I didn’t have to watch out to make sure I didn’t hit the wrong person, but they had obviously trained together for some time, and worked in synchrony to pen me in and attack. My blood was rushing and my training had taken over, I was finding it harder to think of them as ‘Nat and Bucky’ and was seeing them as ‘missions’. We were evenly matched, but after a few more minutes, Nat managed to twist me over as Bucky hit me from the side and I fell, with both of them crashing on top of me and pinning me down. I could still feel my heart racing with some kind of blood lust and knew I couldn’t let them win. Although I knew this was training, my Hydra training had been brutal and bloody and to the death, and I was finding it hard to override my instincts to win at any cost. Both giving in to, and fighting my instincts, I used my mind powers to lift them both off me, fling them at the wall, and pin them there, as I stood up. My training was saying ‘finish them’ while I fought it off with the part of me saying ‘friends’, a word I’d need to consider.

I stood on the mat, muscles throbbing, and stared at the two of them struggling ineffectually on the wall, when suddenly my concentration was disturbed by the sound of clapping. “Oh bravo Moley!” Tony said, and the irritation of the name along with the sound of his voice fought through the instincts and brought me back to reality. I let Nat and Bucky slide to the floor where they sat, both out of breath and glaring at me.

“So I think we can assume that you’re fast, strong and a damn good fighter then Little Mole. Maybe not as strong as Cap or as deadly as Nat but in combination, adding in those mind tricks of yours, and you’re going to be pretty near unstoppable then!” Tony seemed to see this as exciting, but to me it was just a confirmation of my difference. I’d forgotten though, that everyone here was different, and while I stood and let Bruce draw some blood from my arm, and have me breathe into tubes and monitor me again, I was surprised by Bucky approaching me. We’d barely spoken since I arrived and I knew he didn’t trust me, but he quietly spoke. “You’re good. I know what you’ve endured to get that good. I can see it in your eyes. I thought you were going to kill us – you could have done – but you held it back. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you before. These are my friends, and I’ve had to fight hard to be able to say that.” He paused, then spoke again. “If you need to talk, about Hydra, or… anything, I’ll listen”

[beedalee-art]

Hi! I noticed on your FAQ on dA you mentioned that the pen that came with your tablet, the pen pressure doesn't work in photoshop but it "doesn't matter bc you don't use it for drawing". Could I ask what pen you DO use for drawing? I'm thinking of getting that tablet too since it's super affordable but idk anything about tablets or tablet pens.

oooh, let me clarify! i do use the pen that came with my tablet, it was the program/photoshop 7 that wasn’t sensing my pen pressure properly. which actually seems to have more or less corrected itself some time ago actually! but i don’t prefer photoshop for linework because it’s not nearly as sensitive as dedicated painting programs like sai. it’s not a deal-breaker though, it’s totally preference! photoshop left, sai right:

that aside, i have had the monoprice 10x6.25 tablet, this one:

i’ve had this one for several years now and it’s still going strong (even despite warping the drawing mat with a hotter-than-i-expected-bowl...) it’s an incredible trooper and i highly recommend it! very unfussy, at least on windows 7 but it should be ok on 10 too? (i have no experience with macs though im afraid) the pen is battery operated (two AAAs) but I HARDLY have to change them out. it’s honestly quite enjoyable compared to my old wacom.

since this model is relatively old, i recently got a updated model of the above one for xmas here -- but i have yet to install it because my cd drive hardly works anymore and i haven’t put the driver disc on a usb yet. BUT I would assume it works just as well and am very excited to use it. monoprice is pretty great from my experience and a 4th of the price of a wacom

[lady-o-ren]

Underneath The Elder Tree

Chapter One /  Chapter Two                   

And for easy reading here’s the Ao3 ( X ) But I still haven’t fixed up the last two chapters so those are gonna be messy and maybe not make much sense because of some changes I’ve made in the earlier parts of the story (I mean this chapter is probably trash too but here we go).

Chapter Three

Claire dreamt she lay in a cove of trees. 

She could feel pine needles pricking the soft skin of her cheeks and tree sap matting her curls with sticky sweet gold and crushed oak leaves that twined around her fingertips. Yet the air around her was warm. Warmer than a woodfire. More enveloping than sunshine. It seemed to sink deep into her weary bones and hollowed heart, branding her like a tender kiss.

And for a moment she forgot who she was. Hoped she'd never have to wander from the haven beneath the trees as she breathed in the earthy musk that filled her lungs, knowing true peace.

But then a noise ripped Claire from her sun-dipped oasis, awakening her with an upright start, and for a span of three heartbeats she knew not where she was. Couldn't remember who had shuttered the windows that rattled from the wind or lit the fire burning slowly to embers before her. 

Nor did she remember who’d given her their bed that was big enough to fit a bear, with a quilt that wrapped around her, smelling like the sun, the earth . . .

Of kindness.

Her memory returned to her then. Of the bitter cold and her shaky breath, curled underneath that crooked old tree. And of her confrontation with that stubborn man. Jamie Fraser.

After Claire agreed that she would wait out the storm, she took his hand to stand (embarrassed that she was too weak to do so herself) and nearly toppled onto his chest.

“Sorry,” she began to say, a flustered tint to her cheeks, but Jamie shook his head and bent to pick up the quilt that had fallen, placing it back around her shoulders. Smiling a little when she sighed, grateful for it's warmth.

“There’s no need for ye to be, Sassenach,” he said, taking a tentative hold of her arm, his touch light as moth wings, lest she sway again. “Come, sit yerself back to the chair and I'll fetch ye a bit of bread and broth or maybe -”

He politely looked away, adding - " Would ye like to wash?"

The offer of food and a bath was mighty appealing but another wave of fatigue washed over her. As well as a desperate need to be alone to gather her thoughts. 

“I think I'll fall asleep mid-bite and dip if I do.”

She could see him wanting to protest, his eyes passing over the thinness of her face. But he must've felt her limbs growing heavier and seen the extra flutter of her lashes that she hoped conveyed her tiredness, for he sighed and gave his grip on her a light squeeze.

“A'right then, this way, lass.”

Inside his room, she leaned against the wall while watching Jamie light her a fire, bright as morning light. He then pulled from his drawers a clean woolen sark for her to wear but dared not meet her eye as he shyly placed it at the foot of the bed and pointed with his chin at the basin of water beside the window.

No, he was definitely not a wretch, she thought with some amusement.

Before he closed the door, Claire stopped him and very simply and gratefully said, “Thank you.” 

Jamie answered with a sweet crooked grin that crinkled his eyes and shrugged.

“Ye needn't thank me, Sassenach. Not ever. Now get yerself to bed.”

Then he wished her goodnight.

Alone now, she moved closer to the fire, shivering again, and felt a mad impulse to throw herself to the flames if only to keep her bones from clattering.

If only to keep herself from thinking about the rain.

Of where exactly she was and how far away she had been carried from where she'd lain. 

Feeling a whimper rise unbidden in her throat, Claire carefully pulled her ruined dress up over her head with a sharp intake of breath as her bare mottled flesh met the air. She took stock of her scrapes and bruises, nothing serious she could see. Though when she ran her fingers across her ribs, she found she could play a hollow tune that echoed the one carved in what was left of her heart.

Rubbing her hand across the tears fallen to her cheeks, she quickly dressed and burrowed into bed, tucking her dress beneath the pillow. Except for a sheer embroidered corner that she traced and traced until her eyes drooped.

Her last dimming thought hoped and prayed to have a dreamless night.

She hadn't of course. But it wasn't the nightmare that the rain always plagued her with. This one had been peaceful. 

Almost . . . loving. . .

Claire shook her head then left the bed to open the shutters, the light making her squint. She smoothed her hand over the foggy windowpane and saw it was still a miserable gale of wind and rain just as Jamie predicted, and weak as she was, she wouldn't have been able to withstand the weather either.

Stubborn man was right.

She would have gone on berating herself if it weren't for the sweet and eager whisper behind her.

"Claire?"

She turned around and was startled to find Willie at the door and gazing at her from a pair of sparkling dew drop eyes, caught between excitement and wonder, brimming with uncertainty.

"D'ye feel any better?" He loudly whispered, face frowned with concern as he looked her over. She blushed and tightened the neckline of her sark, a loose fit that threatened to slide off her shoulders and pool at her feet.

“I do, thanks to you, sweet lad,” said Claire in the same hushed tone as Willie (blushing at being called sweet) and sat back in bed, a blanket pulled around her. “But why must we whisper?”

Willie plopped down beside her on his knees. Hair unruly as the wind. Honey smudged on his chin.

"Da said no' tae bother ye, that ye'd come out when ye'd wake. So I came tae see if ye had and ye did, so I'm no' a bother. . . Am I?"

Claire couldn't help but smile, feeling a sudden bubble of laughter in her belly at his blather. “A bother you are not, just a surprise you were with such a tender foot even to my hearing."

Willie grinned, big and wide.

"That's what da says. He thinks I'd make a good hunter like him if only I'd quit being sae sweet tae our supper." 

And speaking of supper. . . "But there's nay worry for us feedin’ ye,” he assured. “There's food like I promised ye and I can bring ye as much as ye like, whatever ye like. Even if it's greens or the funny drink da likes."

Claire's mouth twitched, guessing what that "funny drink" was.

“You really are gallant as a knight, Willie, and a most thoughtful one too.” 

A second wave of heat crept to the tip of Willie's nose and ears as a bashful smile tugged at his mouth.

"Does that mean I have yer favor?"

Claire raised a teasing brow.

"What do you think I am, Sir Knight, a jinn?”

The wee lad shook his head with an awed expression on his face and told her exactly what he'd been imagining that made her fidget where she sat.

He thought her a faerie, maybe born in a flower's bloom.

Or was it a raindrop from heaven come down to earth?

Did she have wings like a flutterby hidden on her back? 

Or could she talk to the wee things that lived in the wood like frogs and squirrels and birds? And what of the big beasts, like the bears and wolves? 

Willie went on and on without sparing breath and would have carried on but another's voice interrupted the two curly tops.

"I seem to recall ordering a wee gomeral to leave our guest be or he'd be hung by his ankles down the privy hole where my razor currently resides."

At being reminded of the foul stenched threat due to his theft and clumsy fingers (He'd wanted his father's dirk but didn't think he'd miss the razor), Willie jolted to attention, facing his father standing at the doorway.

"Claire was awake, Da! I didna poke her or pinch her any. I just wanted tae see her and I have, and speak to her like I am. D’ye ken she maybe talks to birds?"

Jamie looked at his lad with the most baffled expression and could only nod along.

"Be that as it may, ye still dinna barge into a lasses room - for it's hers until it's not - especially when -" Jamie glanced at Claire , wrapped in the bedding, then quickly away. "did ye even think to let her dress, laddie?"

Willie looked to Claire then back at his father with a quizzical expression.

“But she is dressed, Da.”

Jamie rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“A’right. Out wi’ ye.”

Willie groaned and hopped off the bed but not before telling Claire to hurry as he skipped out the room, leaving his father behind.

"Shouldn't you follow him? This lass isn't properly dressed." Claire gave Jamie a sharp look seeing his lingering stance.

"I shall,” he said, ears pinking like Willie's. “ Only - I have something for ye to help wi’ that."

It was then she noticed Jamie had something tucked under his arm, a bundle of fabric that he handed to her. She unraveled the folds and held out a simple shirt with sleeves that didn't reach her ankles, some knits and an arisaid that carried the comforting scent of woodsmoke and musk. 

"I did a quick stitch to that auld shirt of mine while ye slept. It might still fit ye troublesome but ye'll no' be swallowed by it. And though it's seen better days the arisaid will keep ye warm, better than yer dress, ripped as it is. "

She looked up at him with a touched expression as he stood shyly, hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"My modesty thanks you," she said earnestly. "I never could do much with a needle and thread. My hands are better suited to catching fish  - and don't give me that look that begs to differ or I'll regret ever thanking you." 

Jamie couldn't help but chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Then I'm happy to have pleased ye so. And that ye’re looking fair better than the night had me believe,” he added, with a gentle touch to his voice.

Claire knew what he spoke of, how she may have been as good as dead without him, but instead passed a nervous hand through her curls shooting every which way and said -

“You're far too kind and maybe a little blind. I'm sure I look a great deal worse than you say.”

Then her belly protested that had his mouth turning upward and hers a thin line of warning.

"Och, I'll see to it that we fatten ye to rival any sow this side of the mountain." He winked absurdly like an owl and she would have loved to laugh if he hadn't vexed her.

"On any other day I would take insult to being compared to a pig but I find the idea at the moment to be more than appealing. But just this once."

Jamie grinned wide.

"I shall keep it in mind, Sassenach. Now I'll fetch ye some hot water so ye can fancy yerself up and just maybe Willie will have left something from his lunch for ye.”

That took her aback. “Is it not morning?”

He cocked his head to the window. “We're a few hours shy of evening, lass.”

After Jamie filled the bedside basin with hot steaming water and left, Claire cleaned herself up and dressed, the clothes caressing her in warmth that was so like her dreams. Making a sudden flush bloomed across her face , from hunger Claire was sure, and left the room to reluctantly meet the day.

//

Just as Claire had been promised, the Fraser men had a banquet waiting for her as if they had welcomed into their home a queen. 

There was steaming rabbit stew with turnips and onions, a big loaf of bread for dipping, fat oatcakes drizzled generously with honey (by Willie of course) and bits of this and that to fill her belly for days to come.

“You weren't joking about fattening me up were you?” Marveled Claire, as she was ushered wide-eyed into a chair by Willie, who plopped down beside her, raised on his knees.

“Ye’d be growing a wee tail too it were up to the laddie,” chuckled Jamie, as he poured Claire a glass of water from the tables pitcher. “He was asking me if I could find a bear for ye to eat.”

“A bear?” Claire repeated.

”Aye,” said Willie, who took it upon himself to load her plate with food. “But da said what we had would do ye jest fine but not 'cause he's scarrit 'cause da’s not scarrit of anything. Except mebbe a skunk, aye Da?”

Jamie tore a piece of bread in his hands, giving one half to Claire and the other to Willie who's cheeks puffed like a chipmunk with each happy bite.

“I'd rather tussle with a skunk and stink for a year than come face to face wi’ a bear,” he said, and pushed a plate of butter towards Claire, looking a wee bit intimidated at the mountain of food before her. “Now let's leave the lass be so she can eat in peace lest her bread go stale and her stew go cold .”

Willie swallowed the last bit of his bread and frowned, slumping onto his bottom.

“A’right,” he mumbled.

But Claire nudged his arm, offering him a smile.

" I don't mind the company. Better than hearing the rain pelt the roof."

Willie looked up at her with a great bright smile but Jamie shook his head. “Ye asked for it, Sassenach.”

That she did. 

In the days that followed where the days were dark as night, Willie's chatter was there to distract Claire from the gloom.

The first day, after she'd eaten, Willie had taken her hand (warm and slightly sticky) and proudly showed off every corner of the cabin to his guest in a way only a little boy would.

He showed off the black spot on the floor, scorched from a fallen candlestick, when he saw a rat above his head crawling along the rafters. He then pointed at the dented copper pot hanging above the hearth that his father threw at said rat and the other battered two beside it when one lone vermin became a brood. 

(Jamie had been stricken red, adamant that there were no rats to be seen in over a year and had given his son a gaelic hush.)

Then Willie brought Claire to the cupboard he wasn't allowed to touch that kept his fathers ale and whisky. But in a secretive whisper (and with revulsion contorting his face), he told her he had in fact sipped from one of the bottles and warned against her doing the very same. 

(She would another night with Jamie. . .)

Through the window as they watched the flashes of thunder, he tried to point out where their small garden was, the bitty hen house and shed for the two goats they had. 

“The goats I like but they nibble m’hair and their shit stinks worse than hell and -”

“Willie!”

“But ye said so yerself, Da!”

But most importantly, Willie showed her the pantry where their food was stored. His favorites were the dried apples and jars of jam and had picked the fruits himself.

“Weel, the strawberries and blueberries and the raspberries I did. I had tae wait for the apples tae fall and I made sure there weren't any worms in them this time,” Willie grinned, as he proudly shared with Claire a jar, who declared she'd never tasted anything so delightful. 

(While telling herself a worm wasn't the worst thing a person could eat)

And during all this she'd catch Jamie's eye. Kind-hearted always but glinting with questions as he watched her. That had her excusing herself, feigning tiredness, much to Willie's dismay.

The second day she had slept in again, her dreams untroubled once more. As always Willie was there to pounce on her the moment he saw her face to tell of the day he had planned for them over a breakfast that had been set aside for her.

But Claire couldn't help but notice who was missing.

"Where's your father?"

Willie, munching on one of Claire's bannocks she had given to him from her plate (filled to the brim again), mumbled from a full mouth that he was outside.

"In that!" Claire moved to the window trying to see through the blur.

"In the shed I think. There's always chores tae do but he said it's his job and mine's tae keep tae ye and for God's sake to keep out of the rain and the mud or he'd tan us both and -"

"Tan us both?" Claire looked over shoulder and quirked a brow.

Willie took a sip of goat's milk that left a milky streak above his lip. "Dinna fash. Da's never done so. He just likes tae say so 'cause he's scarrit for me and now you too." 

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Are ye done eatin'?"

With a hand at her full belly she gave him a nod, and Claire was dragged into his room with the excitement of a lad who'd been given a puppy to play with. He showed off his collections of rocks and brambles, jars filled with acorns and snail shells, bits and bobs of twine and fishhooks and picture books that had bird feathers and flowers and leaves pressed between the pages, and -

"Did your father carve these?"

Claire twirled a skillfully carved wooden fox between her fingers that she picked up from the windowsill. It was one among many woodland figurines that could fit in her palm, each one a breath away from life.

"Aye. For games and such and so I dinna bring home another critter like a she-coon again."

"Again?" Claire half chuckled, wondering how many animals the wee lad had sweet talked into his keeping and if she counted as one.

Willie nodded. "Da didn't like her. Said she'd pluck my eyes out with her wee claws but I told him she wouldna and had tae hide her in my room but then she crept intae da's room when I slept and tried tae eat his face - at least that's what he tells me but I think she just tried tae clean him cause da's got hair all over just like her kin."

Laughing now at the scene so bluntly described, and how Willie pulled his face into funny faces with his hands mimicking it all, Claire encouraged him to tell her more about these animal encounters (and how his poor father had apparently suffered from every single one).

During the tale of the blue backed lizard who'd escaped up his father's trouser leg, the rain had softened to a light drizzle but the wind had bellowed loud and a crack of wood splintered outside. Willie leapt to his feet off his wee bed and nearly made it through the front door before Claire pulled him back by the shoulders.

She didn't know anything really about the care of children but she was sure you didn't let one out with tree branches falling around. So Claire told him to stay put and without waiting for him to argue back had crossed the threshold outside.

It was cold. 

And without a coat her bones instantly began to clatter with each step she took that sunk into the mud. But she pushed forward with her arms braced around herself as she blinked away the misty rain from her dark lashes and hollered for Jamie. He was behind the cabin and lifting a very large and heavy looking branch off the side of the goat shed, the wee animals whinging inside at being disturbed, when he turned around hearing his name, eyes blaring wide.

"Are ye mad woman!" Yelled Jamie seeing Claire. He heaved the fallen branch as if it weighed nothing at all off onto the ground, and stomped towards her with mud splashing up to his knees.

Claire rather felt like running back inside remembering what Willie had said and could see that impulse burn in the icy blue of his eyes that froze her on the spot.

"Willie and I heard a noise and he was worried about you so I came to check to see if you were alright."

If he heard her he didn't acknowledge it. Just threw an arm over her shoulder and began to pull her back towards the cabin. She opened her mouth to protest when the wind slammed against her, right into Jamie's side. Sturdy as a mountain he didn't even sway, only held to her tighter, practically picking her up from the mud’s slick grasp.

Inside, Claire untangled herself from Jamie, shivering from the damp now seeping into her clothes. While he moved his gleaming gaze to Willie, who'd been watching the whole scene from the windowsill.

“You,” he said firmly. “I told ye to keep an eye on yer lass -”

“Excuse me?” exclaimed Claire, wiping a hand against her dewed face. “ I don't belong to anyone and I certainly don't need a child to look after me.”

"Ye damn well need someone to, Sassenach. Just look at how we found ye before ye did something irrevocable.”

Jamie regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, she looked as if he'd punched her in the gut.

“Say it,” she dared him, glaring viciously. “Before I did what. . .”

Jamie drew a long breath and raked a hand through this disheveled hair, looking downward, ashamed at himself, and listened as Claire walked away to his bedroom, locking the door he was sure.

"I'm sorry, Da. I ken ye told me tae look after her. I shoulda done better."

Jamie kneeled down in front of Willie and held a hand to his cheek.

“Hush, mo chridhe. Forget what I said. I was cross is all and took it out on ye like a bastard. Forgive me?”

Willie nodded, laughing a little at his father calling himself a bastard.

"Good. There's no one I trust more than you, ye ken that right?"

"Aye, Da," said Willie, and smiled sweetly when his father kissed his mop of curls.

"Ye should tell Claire too."

Jamie tightened his jaw, glancing to the side where she disappeared to. "I dinna ken much about women but I ken when to leave them be." 

"I dinna ken much either but I think Claire will like ye more if ye say ye're sorry for being a bastard mebbe on yer knees like in the books ye read me wi' mebbe some flowers too cause girls always like them ye say -"

"Willie," Jamie squeezed him softly by the shoulders. "Never call yer father a bastard to his face even when he is one."

"What should I call ye then?"

A Dhia, he thought.

"Just say I was in the wrong and leave it at that."

Willie shrugged. "A'right. But I still think Claire will like it more if ye say ye were what ye said."

Jamie let out a heavy sigh and was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "Aye, I think so too."

Nearing the dark hours, Jamie finally heard the click of the door open and jumped to his feet, meeting Claire at the doorway of the bedroom. Before she could speak or slam the door in his face he followed Willie's advice.

"I'm sorry, Sassenach," he began, earnestly. "What I said was unforgivable. It's just when I saw ye there pale as bone and shivering so it reminded me of how you were a heartbeat away from taking yer last breath when I held you in my arms looking the verra same. It frightened me in a way I haven't felt for a long time. To have the care of someone only to lose them. But it doesna give me the right to be a bastard to ye."

"No, it doesn't, '' she agreed, wondering about the losses in this man's life that left such a scar on him to make him overreact. But knew one must be of the unspoken wife and mother missing from this home. And she felt a lurching stab of kinship with him while wishing wholeheartedly she didn't. 

"But I am sorry for giving you such a fright. Twice over." 

 "Three," said Jamie, holding up three fingers. "Ye've given me three near heart attacks since I've met you. Starting with when I first laid eyes on ye. And ye ken well why, wee swordsman."

Claire laughed, hand to her chest, feeling it swell.

"Then I forgive you if you forgive me."

His shoulders sagged with relief and smiled.

"Och, ye did it wrong, Da," said Willie, from the corner. "Ye were supposed tae get on one knee."

Claire's face went the color of her heart now bolting beneath her hand.

"On your knee for what?!"

. . .

By the third day, Willie had taken to Claire with such affection (and she, an undeniable fondness for him), he began speaking of springs and summers she would never see. Going as far as trying to teach her the different ways to mimic bird calls with his fingers fluttering like wings.

It was then Claire felt the need to remind him of her departure and how soon that would be.

They were seated by the hearth with Willie on his little stool and Claire at his knee. He'd been showing her his favorite book all about animals, with colors painted in lovely detail of creatures beautiful and strange. His chubby fingers had landed on the slicked skin of a seal, when she placed her hand over his atop the page.

"You know I'll have to leave when the storm passes Willie, don't you?"

He gripped the edges of the book that was larger than his lap, brow scrunched as he reluctantly nodded. "That's what da says, but he hopes ye stay longer."

"Your father said that to you?"

"No, I just ken so. He just wants ye safe and happy like me," 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Before she could catch herself, Claire reached a hand to brush a lock behind the boy's ear, where memory of a loving touch doing just the same to her whispered at the shell of her own. 

 "Cause you were hurt and lonesome when I found ye and I dinna ken why ye want tae be so when ye leave, " croaked Willie, eyes glossing over. 

A creak in the floor boards saved Claire from speaking a lie of a family waiting for her return, a home all her own. She looked up to see Jamie who nudged her shoulder with the back of his hand to kneel at Willie's hunched over form, where he spoke to his son soothing words that sounded of a gentle salve to more than one breaking heart.

That night, Jamie tried to cheer Claire up after putting Willie to bed (for once he did so without protest), by enticing her with a game of chess and a dram. She never played before nor had she ever taken a drink of spirits to her lips but she agreed wanting distraction.

Quickly though, Claire found she didn't care for the game.

Nor his cocky grin when he toppled her worthless rooks and knights, leaving her queen unguarded. Poor thing never had a chance to rule triumphant. Yet it kept her mind off the small lad and she found the taste of whiskey to be more than quite enjoyable.

Birdsong greeted Claire the next morning. 

And when she opened the shutters the soft glare of dawn was there to caress her face. But a smile did not touch her lips.

With a quiet step, she approached Jamie, already awake and staring out the opened door, tapping a rhythm against its frame. He looked over his shoulder, his cat-eye blues keenly taking in her solemn face, the hesitation to speak as her bottom lip was trapped between teeth. 

So he did so for her.

"Would ye care to walk wi' me, Sassenach? Tis a bonny day of sun we have for ourselves and yer wee shadow I see scowling behind ye." 

Claire followed his gaze to see Willie peeking from behind his bedroom door that quickly closed.

"And," Jamie spoke again, voice sounding softer. "We must set ye on yer path wherever that is."

//

A/N: So yeah. . . .Made some changes . . . . . .

I expanded a bit of their  time together during the storm where as before I compressed the shit out of it because I had it in my head that the story really begins after Claire stays so I shouldn’t linger in those three days . . . and I also didn’t know how to write the inbetween stuff without getting too heavy (I suckity suck at writing you guys). Like Claire’s still a guest so no ones going to reveal their deep dark secrets yet. Except Willie. Who I wish I never put in this fic!

[softestziam]

Part three of my Daddy!Deledier series. I may put this up on Ao3 today or sometime soon. Enjoy!

“Da-da. Da-da. Come on little one, say it.”

“You’re cheating,” Dele accused him with a laugh. “You purposely filling her head so she’d say daddy first.”

Eric looked up from where he was sitting on the floor with Fay. She was lying on her back on her play mat playing with all the toys that surrounded her. “I am not!”

“Lies,” he repeated, sitting down next to Eric. “Okay Fay, if you say Poppa first I’d buy you a Ferrari.”

Eric gawked at his husband, dumbfounded. “Now you’re bribing her!”

“She doesn’t even know what a Ferrari is, Dier,” Dele laughed.

“Semantics,” Eric waved his comment off with a scoff. “Fairy Fay, say da-da.”

Fay kicked her legs about, making one of her toys go off and play a song that made both Eric and Dele groan. That sound seeping into their subconscious during the past month. They watched her cautiously as she turned onto her belly and slowly raised her head to get a better view of everything around her.

“She can’t be bothered,” Dele noted with a sigh. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“Most babies don’t utter their first word until ten months,” Eric spat the fact out. “She’s nine months and maybe we’re just pushing her, yeah?”

“She hit all her milestones on time or early so there’s no need to panic,” he assured Eric, scratching his head. He loves that Eric decided to shave his head regularly now that Fay was around. He didn’t want his longer hair becoming a chew toy especially once she started teething two months prior. She was fearless, she’s put anything in her mouth to numb the pain.

A few days later Eric was cleaning up in the kitchen, Fay crawling around at his feet, pushing around a toy football that Uncle Winksy got her for her birth. She oddly loved that damn thing. Most kids had a stuffed animal as their first toy, not Fay. She never went anywhere without that toy. The home was quiet, Dele at training for the preseason. Poch let him miss traveling to Africa with the team as long as he showed up to every preseason training session he had planned, no matter the time. Perks of being captain. Eric hung up his boots a year before, basically from the second he found out Fay was going to be born. He had accomplished all he wanted with club and country, now it was time to have a personal life.

Eric loved his alone time with Fay. He would just look at her for hours, doing nothing. He was afraid he’d miss something if he looked away so his eyes were glued on that little girl at all times. His mum told him to rest when she rested, but he couldn’t. He’d lay on the couch, or in the chair in her bedroom so he was always close by just in case she needed him. She was an excellent baby, always got compliments from family when they’d watch her while both Eric and Dele were working. Eric would stop by the Sky Sports studio and work their pre and post match commentary after big, important England and Spurs matches. It wasn’t much but it was Eric’s ongoing connection to the game and the people who he cared most about. Now he was solely focused on Fay, Dele, and their family.

“You hungry little bub?” Eric asked a still crawling and playing Fay at his feet as his put away the last dish in the dishwasher.

Fay stopped in her tracks, disregarding the toy football to sit up and looked up at Eric. Her eyes were wide at the question. She may look like Eric and spend a majority of the day with Eric but her personality was definitely Dele’s, there was no denying that and that warmed Eric’s heart each and every time.

“Say da-da first and you can have some good oatmeal,” Eric told her. He was desperate, if Dele could bribe her with a car, he could bribe her with food. No one was around to judge him anyway. He crouched down so he was at her eye level, smiling wide. “Come on bub, day da-da.”

Fay opened her mouth, Eric’s eyes going wide with excitement. This was it, she was going to say her first coherent word. Nope, all that came out was a bunch of baby gargle. That was fine, there wasn’t any rush or hurry for her to speak. Eric just wanted her first words to be his name over Dele’s, just a little friendly competition is all. Eric scooped her up and placed Fay in her highchair as he heated up her oatmeal. He was overjoyed that she had moved on to solid foods because those baby food jars were collecting and taking up a ton of room in the pantry and frankly the food smelt.

Fay at excitingly, she too happy to be eating solids. The oatmeal got mostly on her face and shirt but she looked over joyed about the mess so Eric couldn’t be fussed by it. She was able to hold her own bottle now so Eric had more time to clean up the mess as she drank happily. He loved little moments like this, moments where everything was quiet around them and it was just them and a simple task like feeding. Eric would tease her with the spoon, her little feet kicking in excitement as the excitement of it. He’d giggle at her and she’s kick even harder and faster, basking in the attention from her father.

“Nana.”

Eric dropped the spoon as Fay spoke. She actually spoke! He wasn’t even concerned over the slight mess he made with the dropped spoon. His little girl actually said her first words!

“Nana, nana, nana.”

“Oh my god,” he gasped as she kept speaking over and over again. It took Eric a second to realize what she was actually saying and when he did his face fell. “Nana?”

“Nana,” She repeated excitingly.

Eric grabbed his phone off the table behind him and immediately phoned his husband. “Come on, pick up.”

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Dele answers breathlessly.

“She said her first words!” Eric exclaimed.

“Oh my god!” Dele shouted, Eric could hear the echo of his words, more than likely he was in the changing room. “She say Poppa or Daddy? Tell me Dier!”

“Nana,” he said flatly. He was over the moon that she spoke, just wished she had uttered a different word.

“Nana?” He asked, a little shocked. “What the-? Nana?”

“It’s your mums fault,” Eric accused him. “She’s been brainwashing this poor child to say her name first.”

“Sally Hickford is a saint,” Dele laughed. “But a clever woman, I’ll tell you that much.”

“She spoke Del,” Eric finally realized, breaking out into a wide smile. “She’s growing up and speaking and before you know it she’ll be speaking in full sentences and having a conversation with us.”

“Slow down, Dier,” he laughed at his husbands optimism. “One word at a time. Her next word better be Poppa or I swear I’ll hunt down my mother.”

“Sally Hickford is a saint!” Eric echoed his earlier words. “She got our baby to talk Del.”

“Now I’m the bad guy,” Dele scoffed. “Babe, I gotta go. I’ll be home soon. Give kisses to Fay. Love you.”

“Love you Delboy. Get home safe.”