#there are risks to seein the beauty - the more you love the more chance you will hurt when the things you love are hurt

[kidcosmonaut]

No Banners — Poe Dameron x f!Reader — Prologue

Description: Poe Dameron is set to break you, a pirate who is just as much an enemy to the resistance as you are to the First Order, out of prison, not knowing that what follows will test both of your loyalties. Warnings: murder, strong language Words: 1.1k A/N: This is me rewriting a fic that I started on years ago on another blog but never got past the prologue. If it feels familiar, it might be!

Prologue ☆ Chapter One →

Vinis Dallo woke to darkness. Not the kind of darkness he would like, mind — he’d have been happy to awaken to a dark hotel room in the inner rim with a beautiful Twi’lek on each side of him, the way a man like him deserved — but a fake darkness, created by fabric, by some sort of bag thrown over his head. The last thing he remembered was an alarm, a siren alerting him that his ship was being boarded by hostiles. And then this.

He’d kill them. He’d get his hands on those filthy pirates sooner or later and make them pay for every scrap of metal they damaged, for every belonging of his they touched, but most of all for the indignity they forced him to endure.

“He’s stirrin’,” someone said.

Dallo heard the shuffle of feet, and then the bag was ripped from his head.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Cap’n’s protocol. Don’t risk nobody seein’ nothin’ they shouldn’t. Nothin’ to see here, though. Y’alright?”

“Pirate scum,” he croaked. How long had he been out that he couldn’t even talk? What had they done to him?

“Ah. You’re thirsty. I’ll see what I can do ‘bout gettin’ ya some water.”

“I don’t want your damn—”

“It just gets drier from here, I promise ya. Accept it while ya can.”

“No,” said Dallo, more forcefully.

“What���ve I told you?” came a new voice, from off to his left, where he hadn’t ventured to look yet. “All the money in this galaxy cannot buy a person sense. Go, Tonor. I’ll let you know if he changes his mind about your offering.”

Tonor, his name must then have been, widened his already big, black eyes, and nodded. “Yes, Cap’n,” he said, scurrying off like a bug.

From the shadows emerged the woman who had spoken, a human in a long, red coat, fingers covered in shining rings she’d no doubt stolen from previous victims, and enough necklaces to cause aches.

“You,” Dallo spat.

“Me,” you said, gleefully.

“I should have known. We didn’t even see you coming.”

“It’s a fast ship, mine. Scavenged it together myself. Kept a part from yours as well, that I think will be a lovely addition to genetics. That, ah, cloaking device. That is something. Not good enough to sufficiently hide you, it turns out, but technology can only do so much for a crew when their pilot’s an idiot.”

“Fuck you.”

“Succinct. Pity, the rumors had all made you out to be a wonderful conversationalist and I do love to talk.” Your fingers dragged across his chest, faltering just over the pendant that hung from it. “This is pretty.”

He leaned forward. “Pirate whore.” He spat, this time literally, the thick glob hitting you on the cheek.

You blinked slowly, your facial expression even. With the back of your hand, you wiped your cheek and then, before he had a chance to brace himself, slapped him with it so hard his chair fell over.

It stung. Even after the contact pain subsided a bit, he could feel some kid of sharp burning on his skin — the rings, it must have been. You cut his face with them.

“You don’t seem to realize the situation you’re in, warmonger,” you told him, kicking the exposed back of the chair just beside his head until he was on his back, still tied up and defenseless, now staring at the ceiling. One of your boots came to rest upon his collarbone. “See, your ship was blown to shards hours ago with your crew still on it. Everyone who knew of your fate is dead. It’ll be days before anyone’s noticed you haven’t made it to your destination and sounds the alarms over it, and by then, well. And you’re here spitting in the face of the one person in the galaxy with the ability to help you? Not the choice I’d make.”

“Help me? You’re going to kill me!”

“With the way things are going right now? Yes, I’d say that’s likely. But I don’t have to. And since you still have something I want… maybe we can work out a deal.”

“You’ll let me go?”

“Sure. We’re already docked. I can let you off my ship right here, and you can take the first ride back to Canto Bight. How does that sound?”

He shouldn’t have trusted you. You were a pirate. Still, he knew who your family was, and he knew they wouldn’t make deals without meaning it.

And it was his only chance, anyway. He didn’t want to die.

“What do you want from me?”

“The passcode to that little map you had in your deck. The one I reckon has all every coordinate to every munitions factory and warehouse you own. Acquiesce, and I’ll check that the code works, and you can walk right out.”

Dallo swallowed hard. “8-1-2-3.”

You grinned. “Good boy.”

And then you disappeared, leaving him to stare at the ceiling. He was going to get out. He knew he was, he’d played enough games in Canto Bight to know when he was being lied to, and you weren’t lying.

Mercy. At the hands of the galaxy’s most notorious and destructive pirate.

It took just minutes for you to return, looking pleased, with two of your crew mates in tow. Tonor, as you’d called him, the Rodian, and a Togruta female he recognized as your first mate, Syala Tille.

Syala righted his chair with a roll of her eyes — at him or at your dramatics, he wasn’t sure — and Tonor got to work at untying his bonds.

Dallo shook his leg slightly, hoping to feel the weight of the blaster he always kept hidden by his ankle, but came up short. Of course you’d have checked. He was lucky you hadn’t strip-searched him, at least as far as he was aware.

“It worked. But you knew that, of course,” you said with a wave of your hand. “A deal’s a deal. You’re free to go. My bullies will walk you out.”

“You never told me which planet we’re on.”

“No,” you said. “I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. You were flying awfully close to the edge of the mid rim when we caught you, figured we’d take a little detour from there. We always did love exploration.”

His stomach dropped. “We’re in the unknown area.”

“Indeed. This planet has no name. It’s not on any maps. Not a surprise, really, it doesn’t have any water, either. If anyone’s ever visited before, I imagine they didn’t stay for long. Certainly won’t come back.”

You reached out and snagged the pendant right off his neck.

“You’re leaving me here to die,” he said.

“Maybe. Probably.” You grinned. “You should have accepted the water.”

Feel free to reply or send an ask to join my taglist!

[soaringsearingphoenix]

I read On Looking because of this post -- well, okay, I only read half of it because it's so fascinating that I can only read it while confined to a dull space; otherwise I feel compelled to get up and walk around looking each time an expert pointed something out, which was every page or two. (I managed to sit and read a few chapters while on an airplane, but I haven't had cause to fly in some time). It is worth a read.

I'd been thinking about this even before then, though, because I'd been trying to explain to someone what the connection was between some of my favorite classes and subjects of learning; physics, horticulture, and cartography seem pretty distinct at first glance, among other things in that category.

The answer I came to was that they were each instances of times when I had learned something that changed the way I looked at the world I saw every day. I realized I'd never thought twice about different map projections (why are some wall maps square and some are round!). I hadn't considered how extensively the flpra I see from day to day was someone's decision, or how often those decisions fail to account for the long-term health of the plants. I hadn't realized just how much there is out there to learn about - I can't even distill my physics classes down into one thing that reshaped my reality. The sun, maybe - I looked at the sun with new wonder the more I learned about it.

My dad is always chatting with people, and he has a great memory for faces, and a knack for finding common ground. It seems like he always knows someone anywhere we go - we would joke that he would either find a friend or make one any time we traveled. I don't have a memory for faces - I have a tendency to look down when I walk, and to wander off and find a still, quiet corner with the comfort of something green. He is always amazed when, after I wander back (and we say farewell to his new friend) I show him close-up pictures of bugs on my phone. "How in the world do you find these things? I swear, they're drawn to you," he says. But it's the reverse - I'm drawn to them. The same way he somehow managed to run into a couple from the same little island as his grandfather while we were at a gas station in the middle of the desert. (I found a ladybug.)

There are wonders all around you, and we as a civilization have spent hundreds of years finding and documenting them. I think one of the greatest gifts you can give to yourself is seeking to learn about those things, whether through reading about them, or watching documentaries, or talking to other people. Surround yourself with those who know things you don't about topics you're interested in; most people with an expertise love nothing more than a chance to talk excitedly about their passions to someone who is excited to listen.

People who like rocks see cool rocks everywhere. People who like birds see interesting birds everywhere. The tree on your yard could be an exceptional specimen. The world around you could be amazing and magical, but you aren’t enough of a nerd to see it.

[likefacesaretohearts]

Knocked Up

Pablo and reader grow in their relationship and possibly their family.

Listen to this Kings of Leon song while you readdd

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, some slightly graphic language, mentions of unprotected sex, pregnancy

*******************************************************

The last few weeks you spent in Canada with Pablo and his two boys had been amazing. At first you were apprehensive about going on a trip with just him and his kids because you hadn't spent much time with them. Plus, you didn't want to be the stereotypical younger girlfriend that tags along and makes family trips awkward.

"The boys think you're cool. It'll be fun for all of us to spend time together. Trust me, babydoll," Pablo had told you while you were laying in bed the night before you left California.

Thankfully he was right. You got a chance to be with Pablo without all the distractions that were in LA and a chance to really get to know his kids. When you had first started dating Pablo, neither of you were sure if it was gonna be a lasting relationship or just a brief fling, so you agreed that you wouldn't meet his children until you got serious. Without expecting it, you fell quickly and deeply in love within 10 months of being together.

You were on an early morning hike with Pablo on a beautiful trail in the hills when you both decided to take a break and sit on the grass, looking out at a gorgeous wooded area. He had taken his shirt off and beads of sweat glistened off his back, chest and arms. You found his love of nature and being active so sexy— you laid your head on his damp shoulder and let out a contented sigh. "I'm so glad we came here," you said. "I feel like this is the life I wanna live."

"Me too," he said. "It's weird...I never thought someone could just fit in our family, but you do, y/n."

The sun was getting hotter as it got later in the morning, so the two of you decided to head back to the cabin you were staying in because the kids would be awake soon. You made a beeline for the shower because, well, you were in dire need of one after that hike. Peeling off your leggings and tank top and then feeling the cool water against your skin was an unmatched feeling. After a few minutes you heard a light knock on the bathroom door and Pablo asking "Ok if I come in?"

"Yeah, babe," you shouted so he could hear you. You figured that maybe he had to pee or wanted to brush his teeth or something. Instead, he opened the shower curtain and soon he was in the shower right behind you, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder. He grabbed the bottle of body wash that was nearby and said "Can I get under the water baby?" You switched spots with him so he could rinse himself off too.

"Rose hip oil? What the hell does that do?" He was reading the bottle of body wash in confusion.

"I don't know, but it smells good, right?" You replied.

He stepped closer to you so that his chest was touching yours and said "You smell good" with a very sly smile. "Ah so that's why you came in here," you said with a laugh. "You sneaky bastard." Pablo grabbed you and started kissing you as if he were in need of air and you were the only supply of it. His hand traveled down to your ass, then wandered between your legs. His dick was hard against your thigh and he whispered lustfully on your ear "You're so beautiful, honey. Let me show you how beautiful you are." Between heavy kisses you managed to say "Oh, baby I want to but I can't right now." You and Pablo both had very high sex drives and there was rarely a time when the two of you didn't feel like having sex...except for when you were ovulating. That was a time when the two of you were very careful and refrained from being together during that window of time because you weren't on birth control and you hadn't had a conversation about having children together yet. Hell, you were just now becoming comfortable with the two children that he had.

A look of understanding spread across his face, and he grabbed your face in his hands then kissed your forehead then your lips. "Alright sweetheart. How about I make you breakfast instead? What do you want, we got just about everything in the kitchen..."

"Surprise me," you said with a smile. He jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaving you to relax some more and exfoliate.

Fresh out of the shower and dressed in a pair of shorts and a comfy sweatshirt, you went into the kitchen to see what Pablo was cooking. "Blueberry or pecan?" He asked. Waffles. "Hmm...both!" The boys were at the other end of the house in the living room playing video games, but even though they weren't close by he lowered his voice when he said "So about earlier...would it be so bad?" Pablo did this sometimes, speaking as if you already knew what he was talking about without actually explaining first and you'd have to reel him in. "Babe, did you have the first part of this conversation without me?"

He put some freshly made waffles on a plate and started making more. "Remember in the shower earlier? When you said you couldn't..." he raised his eyebrows at the risk of the kids somehow hearing his say the word 'sex'. "Would it be so bad if we did... had a baby?"

You almost choked on the coffee you had been sipping. Of course you loved him and you wanted kids, you always had, but you had no idea he had even thought about having more. After taking a second to gather you thoughts, you said "You want another baby?"

"I mean, yeah. I never really put a time or intention on it because I haven't been in a serious relationship in a while, but it's something that's always been in the back of my mind. I don't wanna freak you out if it's too soon for you to think about...but I can see that for us. What if we had alittle girl that looks just like you?"

Hearing him talk like that made you emotional for some reason. It was the thing everyone who wants a family wants to hear their partner say. You got up and hugged him from behind as he continued to cook and kissed his shoulder.

"So you're open to it?" He asked sheepishly.

"Mhm," you said, smiling. He turned around and planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Boys, breakfast is ready. Come & get it!"

*************************************************

To put it simply, you felt like shit. You had notoriously bad periods and you could definitely feel it coming on. It was a about a week late but along with being generally awful, your periods were also unpredictable. The strange part was that you didn't have cramps, but we're extremely nauseous and overall weak. You and Pablo were still in Canada and it'd been about two weeks since you had agreed that a baby was in the cards for y'all. He joked that the two of you should start "trying" but you'd been feeling so terrible lately that you barely had the energy to do the day to day activities you guys usually did with the kids, like hiking, riding dirt bikes and watching movies, let alone have the kind of energetic sex you and Pablo usually have.

Pablo and the kids were about to head to the store to stock up on some more food and supplies for the cabin. He came into the room you shared where you'd been laying down and watching 13 Going on 30 on TV to distract you from how gross you felt. He crouched down next to the bed and rubbed your head.

"Is there anything you want me to grab for you at the store? I hate seein you like this, honey."

Somehow in that moment, it all clicked. You felt dumb for not realizing what the cause of your sickness probably was. Without even really thinking it through, you blurted out, "I think I need a pregnancy test...kind of...I think!"

"You think you could be pregnant?" He asked with innocent excitement growing in his voice.

"I mean, I wouldn't quite rule it out."

About an hour later the three of them had returned and after making the boys a quick snack to hold them over before dinner, he brought a plastic bag into your room and sat on the bed. "Alright, my lovely," he said, pulling out a ginger ale, some sour gummy worms for your nausea and...the pregnancy test. Two of them, as a matter of fact. "I have an idea, but let me know if you're not up for it: you take both the tests, leave them in the bathroom, then me and you go for a walk outside and when we come back we can look at it together."

"Let's do it," you said, pulling on some shoes and a hoodie to protect you from the brisk night air.

The sky was a gorgeous orange, yellow and faded purple, the perfect backdrop for a sunset. You and Pablo walked hand in hand through the nearby wooded area, taking about the possibility of you carrying your first child together and how thrilled his boys would be. As you walked and talked, time got away from you and nearly an hour had passed when you decided it would be best to head back. You sent Pablo to the bathroom to go get the tests and bring them to out to the front porch where you'd both decided to sit to look out at the stars.

"You ready?" He asked, reaching out for your hand. You grabbed it and rubbed his hand with your thumb. You turned over one test and he turned over the other at the same time.

Pregnant and pregnant.

Your eyes welled up with tears immediately and you covered your mouth with your hands. He reached over and grabbed you into a bear hug, kissing the top of your head and peppering your face with kisses.

"Baby, how do you feel?" You asked him, your voice muffled by the jacket he was wearing.

"Let's do it, sweetheart."

He grabbed you and lifted you up, carrying you into the house bridal style. The love in both of your eyes was enough to last a lifetime. You couldn't wait to grow your family with him and give the boys a little sibling

[artificialqueens]

This is the moment we've waited for (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: For Holtz. I miss u, binch!!! <3 <3 <3 Thank you to Athena for beta-ing <3 Title from Army of Two from Carole & Tuesday.

Brooke likes her job well enough. She’s been a photographer for ten years, and for all that time, she’s bounced around from gig to gig, freelance to passport photos to a very brief, very migraine-inducing stint in a Sears family portrait studio. But her current job, roaming around Magic Kingdom at Disney World, beats all of them. It’s beyond just the free passes she gets to the park’s rides, the 10% discount on merch and the more-than-occasional Mickey pretzel she grabs from Sal at one of the many Fantasyland snack carts. Brooke loves her job because she gets to entertain millions of people of all ages, make their day brighter with a photo with their favourite Disney characters come to life. She gets to watch people at their best, their most excited, and at times, see them transform from their worst–their most tired, most grumpy, most sunburned–to their happiest for just a split second, that one moment where they have Cinderella’s arm around their shoulder or the scent of the Evil Queen’s apple perfume wafting around them.

Brooke loves those moments, she really does. But the greatest perk of her job isn’t in the enthusiasm of the guests or the orgasmic taste of the Dole whip. In reality, it’s all in the schedule.

Every Tuesday, after Brooke clocks in at nine sharp, she gets to make her way over to where Elena of Avalor is situated to meet her fans, and for a whole day, she gets to photograph someone who, as far as she’s concerned, is the most beautiful woman in the world.

If Brooke could have her assignment of choice, she’d drop every Ariel, every storm trooper, every Schmee or Captain Hook, and follow Elena every day she works. If Brooke could have her way, she’d spend nine to five right by Elena’s side, capturing in pictures exactly what those same photos could never actually convey–the sparkle of Elena’s teeth, shining brightly enough to rival the sunlit sequins and rhinestones sewn onto her gown. The fire in her eyes, warm and friendly and bright, genuine even five hours into her shift, a point after which most actors become tired and robotic, forcing their smile in a way that’s obvious to anyone who looks hard enough. Her scratchy voice, nothing like the one that the real Elena of Avalor has on TV, but somehow just as charming, such that the fans who come to meet her don’t seem to notice because she’s got them laughing and smiling too hard to. Her beautiful hair, shining in the sunlight, locks tumbling in curls from her ponytail and looking soft enough to touch.

Or the way she looks at Brooke and smiles, thanks her at the end of the day, before looking down at the ground shyly and making some excuse for why she has to run.

Brooke doesn’t know what that means, but she knows that no matter what Elena thinks of her, she would probably react the exact same way, so she doesn’t give up hope.

What exactly she’s hoping for, she’s still not sure–for starters, though, she’d love to strike up a real conversation with the actress, or at least, find out her name.

Yeah. A name would be a great place to start.

It’s 10:05 AM on her usual Tuesday when Brooke’s luck finally changes, and it seems like her wish might finally come true.

Usually, the park opens early, so even at 10, there’s already a line of guests bouncing up and down in excitement, chatting and squealing and waiting impatiently to meet their favourite princess. Today, though, it’s raining cats and dogs, which means it’s unusually dead. Apart from a few stragglers, no one is particularly enthusiastic about getting a picture with a princess you can hardly see through sheets of rain and strong gusts of wind, especially dressed in the ugliest (and cheapest) rain ponchos that the park sells. On top of that, at around nine-thirty, flashes of lighting begin to overpower the flash of Brooke’s camera, meaning that any hope of salvaging a picture is completely destroyed.

“You wanna move inside, Mary?” Elena suggests after a solid half an hour of braving the storm without any guests running up to meet her. “If I get any wetter, the park’s gonna have to reimburse me for my delicacies.”

It takes Brooke a moment to realize that Elena means her underwear, and when she does, she can’t resist cracking a smile.

“Sounds good.” Brooke nods, and they head for shelter, Elena holding up her skirt and revealing thick rain boots as she tries to avoid splashing the dress in mud or puddles.

Ariel’s cove is the closest sheltered area they can find, and so despite the risk of ticking off Scarlet, the actress who portrays the popular mermaid princess on Tuesdays, they huddle there, sighing in relief when Scarlet scooches over to make room for them.

“I’m not busy anyway.” Scarlet shrugs. “You’d think more people’d wanna take pictures with a water-princess today, huh?”

Brooke snorts, but she has to admit, Scarlet has a point, so she just sits down next to Elena on Scarlet’s rock-throne, still trying to catch her breath.

“Okay, I’m out.” Scarlet sighs only a moment later, “I have an appointment, so I’m off early today. Have fun, kids!” she winks as she brings out the ‘GONE FOR ROYAL DUTIES’ sign and closes the shutters that hide behind the cove’s entrance, marching out without saying anything else.

But when Brooke looks back at Elena to what Scarlet means, the woman is blushing a fierce red that almost matches the colour of her dress.

“What’s wrong?” Brooke frowns, but the question only makes Elena blush even harder.

“Nothing, Mary.” she mumbles, and that’s when Brooke starts to put two and two together.

Brooke always figured Elena was shy, just like her, but the other princesses know something Brooke doesn’t. Something Brooke really, really hopes is what she thinks it is. What she wants it to be.

“Brooke.” she inches her hand close to where Elena’s rest at her sides. “My name’s not Mary, it’s Brooke.”

Elena looks up at her with an expression that’s unreadable, or rather, so full of meaning that Brooke can’t quite piece together everything she sees in them.

“Vanessa.” the princess breathes.

“It’s nice to meet you, Vanessa.” Brooke smiles, still moving her hand closer, closer, waiting for Vanessa to notice, hoping she won’t pull away–

“Likewise, Brooke.” the distance between their hands closes as Vanessa knots her fingers in Brooke’s, her pulse echoing steadily in the tip of her thumb against the side of Brooke’s palm.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for ages.” Brooke says it before she can convince herself not to, blushing just as hard as Vanessa as the words leave her mouth. But instead of laughing, instead of recoiling, instead of reacting any of the ways Brooke feared she would, Vanessa smiles, that beautiful, shining smile that mesmerizes Brooke every time she sees it.

“Me too.” she admits, “But I was always too nervous.”

It’s hard to believe that someone as charismatic as Vanessa could be nervous, but at the same time, it’s comforting. As if she and Brooke are finally on the same level, because just like Brooke, Vanessa is human, too.

A human who’s holding her hand and leaning forward, leaning closer–

“Wanna know why I’m so perky on Tuesdays?” Vanessa rasps in Brooke’s ear, a sound that Brooke has dreamt of hearing but couldn’t possibly have prepared for.

“Why?” Brooke chews her lip and leans forward herself, until only mere centimetres separate the two women, their grip on each other’s hands becoming ever tighter, ever more secure.

“Because I get to spend the whole day lookin’ at you and bein’ with you.” Vanessa confesses. “I’ve noticed you, Brooke. Your smile and your laugh and your hair and just… everything. And I get so excited seein’ you, but so nervous, because I don’t want to just notice you, I want to know you.”

A clap of thunder, a flash of light, and the pounding of Brooke’s heart in her throat as she continues the conversation, gives Vanessa her answer in the only way she could think to, the only way that could possibly convey how she feels.

Vanessa tastes like lipstick and happiness, her face soft in the hand that cradles it. And when Brooke tries to pull away, Vanessa surges forward to grab her by the shirt, pulling her back in and leaning flush against her, kissing her over and over again.

The rain begins to lighten about fifteen minutes later, and their seclusion ends, their chance to kiss and giggle and rest their heads on each other’s shoulders finally over.

But as they trek back to Vanessa’s place, back to her usual photo-taking spot, their hands are still locked together, and for now, that’s more than enough.

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

Previous

AO3

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy. No t many chapters to go now.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support

Chapter 28: A Waiting Game

The more Susan waited, the more the doorbell didn't ring. Or the phone.― Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

“Hello, Jamie. It’s Isobel. How are you? Just wondered how you and Claire are doing? We haven’t spoken since before Christmas.”

“No’ too bad, Isobel. How’s yerself? Listen, come round fer brunch this Sunday, if ye fancy it. John’s comin’ too.”

“Gosh, thanks. I’d like that. I haven’t seen John for ages… wait… you’re not planning on cooking are you? Can Claire cook?”

“Weel, she can make a bacon sandwich and fry an egg.”

“Without setting the fire alarm off? That’s an improvement on you then, Jamie. Do you remember that time at university when you…”

“Aye, so we’ll be seein’ ye on Sunday then. ‘Bout eleven? Bye Isobel.”

******

“Sassenach…”

Jamie stretched out in bed, impatient for Claire to come and join him. The sounds of her bedtime routine filtered through the closed en suite bathroom door as she applied her various wee creams and potions to her face before cleaning her teeth. She didn’t really need to bother with them but he loved how she would slide into bed next to him, her skin still moist from her ministrations, her neck smelling delicately of rose and almond. And when she lifted her hands to his face, the scent of lavender would fill his nostrils.

“Sassenach…” He called her again. “I’ve asked Isobel fer brunch on Sunday as well. That’ll be ok?”

The door opened and Claire stuck her head out, her hair tied up with a scrunchy and cheeks pink from scrubbing. “Fine with me. Just need to buy a couple more croissants… wait, you’re not trying to match John and Isobel are you? I mean you know them better than I do, but I think that would be a hopeless challenge.”

Jamie snorted with laughter as Claire’s head disappeared back into the bathroom. “Nah, jes’ thought it would be a good catch up fer us all. I’m goin’ tae have tae rely on Isobel more over the next few weeks, ye ken. Now, woman, are ye no’ finished in there wi’ all yer potions and such? Yer man is awfa lonesome in here.”

The ping of his phone distracted Jamie from his solitary status. He quickly opened his message. “Christ!” He exclaimed.

Alarmed, Claire rushed into the bedroom, settling herself beside him. “What’s the matter, love? It’s not the baby, is it? It’s too early.”

Jamie shook his head and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m no’ hidin’ this from ye. Trust me...Geneva’s sent me some photos.”

Noticing the look of alarm on Claire’s face, he quickly added. “They’re of Geneva...jes’ her.”

“Can I see?”

“Do ye really want tae?” Jamie asked before passing the phone to Claire as she nodded.

The image on the screen was a studio portrait proof of Geneva - a very pregnant and very naked Geneva - her modesty only protected by an arm barely covering her nipples and a strategically bent leg. A second image, from behind showed no hint of a baby bump, just her elegant profile and shapely back descending to two perfectly placed dimples above the cleft of her buttocks. Claire’s initial reaction on seeing the pictures was a blend of jealousy and admiration mixed with a tinge of inadequacy.

“I have to say, Jamie, I think they are beautiful. Being able to have that memory of your baby must be very special to treasure. I think I would do that… if it were me…” Claire tailed off.

“Aye, I ken that, but this is Geneva. I think ye’re too generous, Sassenach. She’s no’ sent them to me fer no reason. This is another attempt of hers tae play happy families. I canna be doin’ wi’ it. Jes’ delete them, would ye? I dinna want tae even look at them.”

As requested, Claire pressed delete. Jamie pulled her closer to him, inhaling her scent and slowly unzipping her onesie, his phone discarded on the pillow. His hand snaked inside and underneath her vest, its gentle strokes making her squirm and bring her body even tighter against his.

With his mouth warm against her ear, he whispered, “When it’s ye that’s carryin’ our bairn, I will take as many photos as ye like and will cherish each and every one of them… because it’s ye and me and our love.”

Claire looked into his deep blue eyes. “Oh, Jamie, I do love you.”

********

“Sassenach, are ye sure ye dinna want me tae try ma hand at some drop scones? We have everything we need in the cupboards.”

Claire brushed past Jamie, playfully pushing him out of her way and towards the kitchen door. “Nooo!” She said laughing. “We want a stress free time. I can manage scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and make sourdough toast without burning. We have plenty of croissants and pastries.  Make the coffee, you do it so well… and the washing up!”

Only pausing to fondle her arse, Jamie left the kitchen. Claire could hear him in the living room pottering around. Her guess that he was looking for some background music was proved correct as Biffy Clyro poured through the speakers set up in all the downstairs rooms. The sound of the doorbell interrupted Jamie’s tuneless singalong.

Claire ventured out of the kitchen to greet John and Isobel as Jamie gathered up coats and bottles. After the general exchange of hugs and greetings had died down, Claire excused herself to continue with the (minimal) preparations, while Jamie was left in charge of mixing up the Buck’s Fizz. Isobel followed Claire into the kitchen.

“Can I lend a hand? Anything you want me to do?” Isobel offered.

Claire shook her head. “Not much to do, just need to make the scrambled eggs and some toast. Even I can manage that.”

“Well that’s more than Jamie can do. I remember when he was at university, one evening, he…”

“Och, what’s all this then? Gossiping in here? What are ye doin’ tae me, Isobel?” Jamie handed them both a glass with a smile. “I dinna tell all yer secrets now, do I?”

******

To Claire’s relief, brunch had gone surprisingly well. By no means a natural cook, she had always worried in the kitchen and had often been made to feel inadequate when preparing food for Frank and the occasional guest. But she hadn’t burnt anything, everyone had eaten their fill and now she could relax with a large cup of coffee dutifully prepared by Jamie.

“Thanks to our hostess for this brunch.” John raised his mug in a toast to Claire. “So, is this official? Are you two living together now?”

“No…” Claire and Jamie responded in unison.

“Well,” John continued. “When were you last at your place, Claire?”

“Yesterday.” Claire said emphatically.

“Hmm. For how long?”

Claire suddenly found the contents of her coffee cup remarkably interesting. “Er, about an hour…”

“And before that?”

“I ken what ye’re gettin’ at, John, ever the lawyer. And, aye, we are together most of the time. But it’s no’ ‘official’, as ye call it. We canna rock the boat at the moment. Until Geneva’s had the bairn and ma name is on the birth certificate, we have tae be careful.”

“And you genuinely believe Jamie is the father?” John asked Isobel.

Isobel considered the question. “I really do. Once she saw Jamie again at the wedding, she told me this was her second chance. Even when he told her it wouldn’t work, she still believed he’d come back, that the split was temporary. She wouldn’t have risked that.”

“She’s no’ finished playin’ her games though, has she?” Jamie turned to Isobel.

Isobel thought for a moment before responding. “I’m not sure, Jamie. She doesn’t tell me what she’s about to do. She thinks I’ll disapprove of her ideas, or try to talk her out of them. Not that she listens to me. You saw the photos, I take it?”

John looked quizzically over to Jamie who answered his gaze with an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

“Aye, we saw the photos,” Jamie replied to Isobel. “And then we deleted them…”

“I know. I did try to tell her not to send them to you, but she went ahead anyway. You didn’t respond with a flurry of compliments and she went into a massive sulk. She found a game she can’t win, no matter what tactic she tries. It’s not like when she wanted a pony, or a skiing holiday, or a new car. This is something that Mummy can’t fix for her, though I know she’s tried.”

Jamie nodded at the recollection of Mrs. Dunsany storming into this house demanding that he “do the right thing” by her daughter.

“Aye, I think in days gone by I’d have been marched off tae the kirk wi’ a shotgun at ma back. I ken I’m no’ popular wi’ yer mother, but ye think I’m ‘doin’ the right thing’ by yer sister, do ye no’?”

“I do, Jamie. I think part of it with Geneva now is the challenge of being told no. Everything’s been given so easily to her and she wants to win so badly.”

Jamie reached across the table, covering Isobel’s hand with his own. “Ye’re a real treasure, ye ken, Isobel. Claire and I both would be lost in this situation wi’out ye.”

Smiling, Claire nodded in agreement.

“So, what’s next in this situation?” John asked. “Have you discussed the birth? Not long to go now.”

“Well, for once we’re all in agreement. Geneva doesn’t want Jamie around during the delivery… which is just as well as he doesn’t want to be there either.”

Claire laughed. “She probably doesn’t want him to see her looking less than her usual immaculate self. I’m surprised, though, that she’s not having an elective caesarean.”

“Actually that was the original plan but she wasn’t convinced that the surgeon would do a good enough job with the scar, so it’s a normal delivery if possible. I’ve agreed to be her birthing partner. So I’m going to ring Jamie when Geneva’s in labour, and then when the baby is born and he can come and visit.”

John looked across at Claire, suddenly silent, gazing into the depths of her coffee cup. Her fingers stroked the delicate necklace nestled at the base of her throat.

He knew all too well what she must be feeling - the pang of sadness and envy as someone else was about to share special experiences and memories with Jamie. Experiences that he could not be part of. He wanted to reassure her, explain that she could live with these feelings, accept them, bottle them up even, for years, until they became part of the fabric of everyday life, just like him. He was the master at that. And he also knew he could never share any of this with Claire.

“More coffee, anyone?” Claire pushed her chair back and headed to the kitchen in search of a distraction.

*************

As Geneva’s due date grew closer, Claire found herself becoming more and more anxious and tense. She had to make a conscious effort not to flinch every time she heard Jamie’s phone signal the arrival of a text.

It was a nervous time for Jamie, preparing to meet his son, but to Claire it marked the end of a part of their relationship. The little insular bubble that they had been living in for the past eight months was about to burst and then there would always be other considerations, other demands on Jamie’s time.

To compensate, Claire tried to throw herself wholeheartedly into the plans Jamie was making. She spent a weekend with him carefully decorating a spare bedroom, turning it into a nursery fit for his son. She spent hours looking at cots, changing stations and nursery furniture, helping Jamie decide which to buy. She even helped him select a suitable gift for Geneva. Actually, more than helped, she created the gift, buying a large wicker hamper and filling it with carefully selected goodies for mother and baby - the softest cashmere baby blanket, the cutest teddy, vests, babygros, memory books and a huge selection of Neal’s Yard aromatherapy products for mother and baby. The kind of gift, in fact, that Claire herself would love to receive, if it were her...

Jamie’s heart filled as he saw Claire so involved in the plans for his child. He loved and admired her so much. He recognised that this was a difficult time for her and yet she was there, by his side, supporting and loving him. He tried to take time to reassure her, show her what she meant to him.

His regret was simple. He didn’t wish his son away, not now, he knew that he would love him and cherish him. No, he wished that it was Claire carrying this child, that they were making all the preparations together for their bairn.

It would be their turn, together, in the not too distant future, he hoped.

**********

Jamie watched from the doorway as Claire, seemingly unaware of his presence, opened drawers and cupboards, putting away some of their latest purchases and hand-me-downs from Wee Jamie.  He crept up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“How can ye do this?” he asked.

“Well, this stuff Jenny gave for the baby needed to be put away and so…”

“Nah, I dinna mean that. I mean, being here, supporting me… loving me.”

“Say it was me.” Jamie looked confused as Claire continued. “Say I was the one who had a child when we met, would you have still wanted a relationship?”

“Aye, I get what ye're saying. But Geneva as part of the package? That would be enough tae try the patience of a saint.”

“Well, what about if Frank was part of the package, what would you do?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie admitted. “Mebbe punch him?”

“Well, I’m sure Geneva would love that, if I hit her… she could make me out as the evil homewrecker, charge me with assault, who knows? No, she wants me to react, create a scene… so the nicer I am, the more frustrating for her.”

Claire turned around to face Jamie. “You know, for months I hated Geneva, despised her for what she is doing. But not now.”

“Ye dinna hate her?” Jamie looked surprised.

Claire shook her head. “No. Look at the little games she's playing… getting more and more desperate and obvious. It's just sad, pathetic really. So no, no I don't hate her. I pity her.”

“Ye pity Geneva. God, she'd hate that.”

“I know.” Claire said happily.

********

For Jamie and Claire, Saturday night meant a takeaway curry, samosas, bhajis and a stack of poppadoms, all washed down with a couple of bottles of Indian beer. Perched on the sofa, watching the television, they had just started eating when Jamie’s phone rang.

Nervously, he answered. Claire listened intently to his side of the conversation.

“Hi… hello… Isobel.”

“Ok… everything ok?”

“Aye… like a torrent, ye say?”

“Thanks… keep me posted.”

“Oh, and Isobel, please wish her well from me. I dinna ken what else tae say. Bye…”

Jamie turned to Claire, his food now forgotten. “Ye ken what that was, Sassenach, I take it.”

Claire nodded and took his hands, now slightly trembling, in hers.

“Isobel says her waters broke and she’s started wi’ the pains, so they rang the hospital who said tae go in. She’s only early stages yet, so a long ways tae go. Isobel’ll ring when there’s news.”

Jamie pulled Claire close and kissed her soundly on the lips. Despite his nervousness, she could see the excitement in his eyes.

“Christ, Sassenach, a baby… my son.”

[divine-ruin]

To Know One’s Fears. (Prompt #6: Identification)

Several hours had passed and Iria had begun to come to, she still in her nightgown and resting uncomfortably upon wooden planks. She awoke to her head throbbing and the gentle motion of what she thought to be air currents. Tucking her legs beneath her, she sat up on her knees and immediately took her own head within her hands, trying to calm the dizziness that came with inhaling such a stout amount of chemicals and so quickly. Looking about, Kren and Shirao were standing over her, only for the monster-sized Xaela to approach her and make certain the binds around her hands and her feet were taut, and tying her off to the side of the door where she could at least sit or stand as she needed to. 

“Alright girly,” Kren said with a sinister grin as he leaned in to gag her. “Imma give ya some time ta think, and then I wantcha ta think long and hard about them plans of yer daddy’s. I know you have some of that in-depth shit committed to memory, I know you were out there buildin’ mines for him. They made such a big fuckin’ deal about Nicholaides’ bookworm daughter pickin’ up a wrench as if you’d been better’n any of us. Fuck that nonsense. Imma let you sleep on it a while, Shirao’s gonna make sure you get comfy while you search the bowels of that deep fuckin’ mind you call a brain to make sure you don’t leave out any details.” Before he wrapped her mouth with the cloth, he forced her jaw open and slipped an herbal supplement pill that seemed to glow with a strange aura. As much as she wanted to cough it out, her head and chin were forced shut and it was all she could do to keep from swallowing it, but it dissolved quickly under her tongue. Her mind went dark, but she hadn’t completely faded out until she was gagged and Shirao put the hilt of his blade a little forcefully to the back of her head. She fell into a heap upon the airship’s floor, with nary an idea of whether she’d live this encounter or fade before her newfound life with Sebastian completely began.

She wasn’t aware that she was dreaming as she awoke in a panic in total darkness, a gentle voice causing her to stir from her fitful sleep. Glimpses of a tall silhouette would escape her peripheral vision as soon as she turned her head. She hugged herself about the arms as a lofty draft began to settle into the bones of her tiny frame, her aquamarine eyes adjusting to a small speck of light that had given her at least a small warm sense of comfort. “Iria…you’re safe now…” She couldn’t understand what the voice meant, and she looked about in her panic to try to locate what direction it had been originating from. Walking towards what she deemed the southeast corner of the void in which she was standing, it seemed to grow stronger. “Iria…” The tone of it was like honey upon her ears. “Iria…come to me, beloved.” She looked about, trying to see if her eyes would fall upon the source of the sound. Naught but darkness met her eyes. “Iria…” The familiarity of it immediately gave her joy as she started picking up her pace. “Sebastian? Sebastian where are you? I can’t see you, sweetheart,” she called and called, no acknowledgement whatsoever for all of her replies.

“Iria…”

“Sebastian, where are you?” Her heart began to quicken in pace as she started to become frightened once more. Tears were stinging her eyes as she was so overwhelmed by fear. “Sebastian? Please, sweetheart, where are you?” She vigorously rubbed her hands upon her biceps to ward off the chill. Turning in a few short circles, a figure started to materialize out of the dark space before her. Flaxen locks, gilded eyes, yet his body was entrapped within a cage of black steel, a large black cloak billowing out behind him like clouds amassing for a dark thunderstorm. Beside him he drug a long greatsword that could be heard gouging the floor behind him as the scraping against the steel rung out in a soft pierce against her ears. A rather sinister smirk crossed his handsome features as he lifted a claw-armored hand to push some of his locks away from his face.

“There you are…I was beginning to think I misplaced you, dove.” She canted her head in eerie curiosity at his words. “Wh-Why would you think that? Tell me, you have me most curious now.” Something was wrong, deathly wrong. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach with the way he encircled her as if she were prey to be soon devoured. The greatsword’s blade tip continued to grate irritatingly against the “floor” they stood upon, only for him to lift the blade that was longer than her height and bury it tip first into the ground. He pulled his cloak closer to his person, only to stop behind her. He took her into his metallic embrace, only to turn her to face him. He took a knee to meet her height, his eyes boring into hers as she stood there petrified. Suddenly they changed hue from the gorgeous, comforting horizon sunrise hue she had come to adore to a deep metallic, silverish-gold, almost pewter, hue. His locks grew out into a more gilded blonde.

Her breath was caught in her throat, it pained her to breathe. “Never would I forsake you to such a cruel world, dove. Look about you. Even in darkness, I’ve found you. Surely you cannot doubt my intentions now as I’ve risked life and limb to retrieve that which I love.” Something dark flickered in his eyes, and she couldn’t move as he leaned forward to embrace her. Red. Black. Violet. The metallic hues in his eyes were replaced with colors most sinister as he took her into his arms. His face soon faded into something grotesque and monstrous, skin turning black, eyes glowing red, monstrous canines extending past his lips. The irises of his eyes grew even more crimson in color as the pupils elongated into vertical slits, a bright green lit hue emanating from them. She began to scream as he took her wrist into his clawed metal hand and brought it to his lips. “Now now, there’s no need for such drama, dove. Soon you won’t even remember any of this. Just commit to your mind the lengths I went to in order to ensure your safety.” He bit down into a tiny yielding wrist, only for her to almost faint until she heard another familiar yet comforting sound. Appearing behind them, the visage she had previously seen of Sebastian flooded her lethargic view. Iria’s mind was a torrent of chaos in her still sleep like state. Shallow breathing was the only sound that deafened the silence.

The only thing she could focus on was the sound of his voice in panic as Abel knelt over her wrist. “Iria, hold on! Just a little longer, love…” She couldn’t see him just then, but she could hear his voice and recognize his helm and armor. She was bleeding, but due to the overwhelming mental trauma of everything she was witnessing, she couldn’t figure out what was making her weakest. Just as Abel was slipping his arms beneath her, Sebastian attacked him, causing him to drop her to the floor. The taller knight was quickly subdued for the time being, and Sebastian took that opportune moment to rush to Iria’s side. He scooped her up into his arms and, before he had the chance to turn to run with her, he immediately went limp causing her to drop back the mere inches to the floor with a thud. What got her attention afterward forced a scream to erupt from her lips. As the knight fell to his knees, slipping off of the blade that was run through his back into his gut, he crumpled up into a heap to the floor beside her. Abel stood over them both, his blade soaked as the droplets of Sebastian’s blood ran down the entire length of the blade and pooled upon the floor beneath them. “I told him to leave this matter between the both of us, Iria. It seems you submitted yourself to a deaf man for he didn’t take to heart my warnings.” Abel had appeared from the darkness, once again in his own corrupted armor, only to remove his helm with the expression that she couldn’t discern was a snarl or smirk.

“I told you…you both would suffer consequences, didn’t I? You’re a weak little nothing. Always needing someone to rescue you, don’t you…” He knelt beside her weakened body and lifted her head up. The sword was bloody and glowed blue from dark inscriptions embedded in his blade. “Watch very carefully, love. You’re about to see your Prince Charming turned into the monster you fear.” Abel pulled the knight’s helm from his head, Sebastian lay with his eyes closed. Her screams and panicked cries fell on deaf ears as her knight awoke with a lifeless glow to his eyes, sanguine red to replace beautiful gold. Sebastian staggered to his feet, drawing his sword as he lumbered towards Iria at the dark knight’s behest. Sebastian knelt beside Iria’s body, Abel releasing her head back to the floor slowly. “Kill her.” Sebastian looked to Iria a moment, drawing his blade up and over her heart. “No! Sebastian, don’t —” He brought the blade downward straight into her heart, piercing it. The light died from her eyes, and she could feel her limbs going numb from the pain. Blood began to seep from her lips as Sebastian knelt beside her, bringing her head up in both of his hands towards his face as he covered her lips with his. “Sleep well, Iria my darling.” Iria’s eyes popped open as they met darkness again. It felt like her very soul went cold as the grave.

I’m going to die here.

Her cries and screams brought about Kren’s crew as they all sat in chairs to observe the lady astrologian’s torturous and fitful sleep. “Wonder how long it’s gonna take her to realize none of the shit she’s seein’ is real,” Kren grinned maliciously as he tapped his ale stein to Shirao’s. “Gotta hand it to you friend, watching these Nicholaides fuckers suffer is gonna be a fun time, agreed?” Shirao grunted as he continued to watch Iria writhe upon the ground in agony. While the expressions of the crew were quite mixed, most of them took a few chuckles at her expense as she began to cry and mewl over the nightmares she seemed so deep in. Two of the Miqo’te men sitting behind Kren and Shirao seemed a bit unsure at first, not really realizing what they themselves had gotten into, but kept quiet as they were able to see their destination upon the horizon in the midst of the day. They had finally reached the Black Shroud and into Coerthas would be the major occupation of their day.

There, the one who had orchestrated everything, would be waiting. He rode off ahead on his own and left the lady arcanist to the Roegadyn and Xaela as he needed to make the necessary preparations before her arrival. It was there that Kren would impatiently yet eagerly receive his deserved earnings. He spoke, being careless as he didn’t think Shirao would care. “The one who beckoned for our lady arcanist will be receivin’ ‘er at an abandoned tower that is just outside the guardians’ perimeter near the Stone Vigil. Dunno why he picked such a cold ass place, but maybe it’s because the snow is so thick you’d hafta be stupid to trudge about in it. Hopefully they got fires goin’ in that place because I’m not ready to deal with frostbite.” Shirao grunted as he listened to Kren’s words, keeping an eye on the now tranquilly silent sleeping Iria laying upon the floor of the covered wagon with a host of Kren’s henchmen sitting around her. Little did they count on little Dia to be present for the majority of that trip. The tiny bird caught up with their trail as soon as she was able to pick up the scent of Iria’s favored lavender perfume. She didn’t stop until she was able to hide herself right beneath the ship’s bow. Remaining silently alongside them, she sat upon the top of the covered wagon until they reached the gates leading into Coerthas. 

Knowing she probably wouldn’t survive the cold, she flew straight into the sun to stay hidden, catching rides upon various airships until she was back in the Limsa Lominsa province to save her strength for the strenuous flight. At first she flew home, but upon seeing no one was there, she made a mad dash for Ian and Declan, who were walking into their yard. She settled herself upon the elder Nicholaides’ shoulder, chirping excitedly. “You found ‘er? Alright, Dia. Hopefully Sebastian has a map we can look at to locate her.”  Shida had been standing off to Declan’s side as he had completed giving her the task of visiting Alice.

“Shida, I know this goes without sayin’ darlin’, but if you could just see if you can spot anything out of the ordinary in Iria’s office, I’d be appreciatin’ it greatly.  We gotta fuckin’ narrow down the windows of where they are and where they’re headed and fuckin’ fast,” he grumbled.  The Raen woman bowed gently.  “I won’t let you down, Lord Nicholaides.  We’ll find Iria, I promise.”  With that, Shida began her own trek to the Goblet to find the Scarlet Talons.

@castleoftherose @rjhet @miqoxaela @rhenrockbreaker @shida-starspring @ser-sebastian-pavel @gardanewhiterose @the-hitless-swordsman @nebula1984 @mythrilreflections

[southern-belle-outcasts]

normallyxstrange​:

     “Just what I heard.” He shrugged. There’d been enough of Caroline’s bitching for that point to drive in deep. Then again, she’d lied about so much. Who could really know? Considering Rogue wasn’t what some would call human, ther’d be no way to tell if is would be a factor. It all really hinged on the chance of an actual pregnancy, well, they’d hadn’t gotten that far. It was a non-issue.

     But still, Aaron was in a decent mood and entertained enough by the idea for at least this conversation. It’d take one wrong comment to send it spiraling and he was determined not to say the comment.

     His smirk grew to a grin. “Sarcasm, babe. Thought you were fluent as all hell with it.” She’d conjured up a beautiful imagine though, of a naked Rogue strutting around. An appealing thought–very appealing. Aaron shifted in his seat a little. “Hey, you deal with it however the fuck you want. I’m just saying. If that means having your tits out, I ain’t complaining.”

     He leaned back some in his seat, smile returning–somewhat subdued but still playful. “Yeah, I’m into you despite the hair. Think I’m shallow or some shit? I thought it was obvious. I’d love the kid more for it, if anything.” He knew exactly what he was saying, every single word of it. There could be no mistaking the meaning, not when his eyes stayed fixed on hers. “I’d love him or her like I love you.”

 “Don’t really sound like the kinda thing you make up. Least...not somethin’ most people would make up.” She couldn’t speak for his mother, but that sounded like a stretch even for her mother, as much as Raven liked to manipulate the people close to her.

    She stuck her tongue out at Aaron, rolling her eyes. “Ah am. Ah’m just bein’ mildly realistic. Well, that, and takin’ oppurtunity t’give ya shit,” she shrugged. And admittedly a tease, so if she could take the opportunity to make herself more comfortable while also teasing Aaron, she would gladly take it. Of course, this was only just a hypothetical future, but she already knew if she was hot without remedy she would be ditching clothes at every chance she got. “The day ya complain ‘bout seein’ mah tits, Ah will be at your throat because Ah’ll know Ah ain’t talkin’ t’Aaron Slater no more,” she laughed.

    “Never did Ah claim ya t’be shallow, sugah. Sarcasm, baby, thought ya knew what it was,” she sassed, throwing his comeback right back at him with a smirk. His eye contact made her shift in her seat slightly, the jittery feeling like when they first started tentatively flirting back, stronger than when she first felt it. He was not fucking around, it was evident in his eyes and his tone. The words, as much as she felt them in his actions, still caught her off guard. She had not been expecting him to ever admit that out loud, at least not any time in the near future. The fact she couldn’t recall someone telling her that they loved her, not without it having some intention of control, of getting something from her with the words was mildly overwhelming, she didn’t even know how to react without risking pushing him away. One of her worst fears.

     “Well, seein’ as how they’d be both me’n you, ya might need remindin’ of that love on occasion. They’d be a lil shit, it’s just bound t’happen.” She tilted her head to look him over. “But given it’s easy for me t’love ya despite ya shit, a kid can’t be much diff’rent.” Her throat tightened after, having to swallow hard. It was difficult, dangerous even, admitting it aloud, but it felt right given what he’d just said and how she felt. “But they’d have a long ass middle name. D’ya think ‘fuck around and find out’ even fits on a birth certificate? Cuz gods help the person that messes with mah kid.” The straight face only lasted but for so long before she cracked a smile. Humor would at least prevent there being any awkward quiet if he didn’t want to linger on what had been said.