[muffled expletives]

Week Six: All Through The Night

The premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie?

You can find previous chapters here.


July 16th, 1743; Jamie and Claire’s Room at Leoch

My stomach woke me sometime after midnight, making its intentions quite clear. I rolled onto my side and curled my legs up to my chest.

You were doing so well, Beauchamp.

I hadn’t been sick at all the day before, and only once the day before that. Somehow, the timing had always been such that I was able to slip away to be sick or I was alone when the nausea hit me.

Until now.

While Jamie wasn’t what I’d call a light sleeper, he would sleep thru my frequent trips to the chamber pot if I was careful, but the moment I said something, he was alert and ready to pounce. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to vomit in the complete silence without waking him.

What would I say? How should I tell him?

We were alone and would be for some time. It would be hours yet til dawn, giving him time to process the news before he had to leave for the stables.

“I’m pregnant” was simple enough.

“I’ve known I was carrying your child for over a week, but haven’t told you” would be the truth.

I gagged and rolled off the bed, blindly reaching for my bucket and finding it just in time.

Muffled Gaelic expletives erupted from behind me as Jamie sprang into action. He tumbled over the bed and onto the floor beside me. His arm came around me, supporting me from behind as he held back my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed.

For not telling you, for withholding my heart, for waking you up, and everything in between.

“Shh, mo chridhe,” he crooned, rubbing my back. “‘Twill be better soon.”

I set down the bucket and turning around to bury my face in his chest. His arms came around me, his head bending to place a kiss atop my head. I felt him tremble beneath me and realized with a start that he was crying too.

He knew.

The feeling of dismay surged thru me. My limbs went numb, my womb clenched around the babe I held within me, my chest heaved with the effort it took to take a shallow breath.

He knew and he was disappointed.

In all of my fears of the future, in every change I knew this baby would bring, I never once expected Jamie to react this way. I had assumed he’d take the news positively.

But the news hadn’t come from you.

I had promised him honesty, yet kept the very existence of his son from him. I had told someone else the news before him and left him to hear it second hand from the castle’s housekeeper. Or who knows how many people Mrs Fitz had told, he could have heard it from anyone.

How could he be anything but disappointed?

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” I whispered. “I should have told you the moment I knew.”

“I kenned ye would, in your own time,” his voice gentle as stood, placing me back on the bed and laying down beside me, holding me close as he spoke again, “‘Tis verra bad then? Is there no cure? No herbs ye can try?”

“I have and they don’t work,” I answered dismally, thinking of the peppermint tea I had been drinking almost religiously.

“What if we sent for Collum’s physician from Edinburgh? He’s a learned man, maybe he kens a cure.”

My heart warmed at his adamant insistence to find relief from my morning sickness. “Jamie, there is no cure, we just have to wait it out. It won’t last forever.”

“Nae, mo nighean donn,” he cried out. The desperation in his voice sent shivers down my spine and he all but strangled me in his tight embrace. “I willna let ye die.”

Let me die?

I tried to pull away, to see his face, but Jamie was having none of it.

“For heaven’s sake, Jamie, I’m not going to die!” I huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

His arms suddenly loosened and I stared up at him in confusion. Even in the dark, I could tell he was completely pale, his blue eyes wide with panic. “What are ye saying, Claire?”

“Morning sickness is a completely normal part of pregnancy. It’ll go away as the baby grows,” I explained slowly, wondering how on earth he went from being disappointed over the news to fearing for my life.

Jamie’s mouth opened and shut wordlessly before swallowing hard and asking in hushed amazement, “You’re with child?”

Jamie had thought I was ill and dying and hadn’t told him. He hadn’t heard my news from someone else, he didn’t know.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I took his face in my hands, whispering back, “Yes.”

His shoulders sagged with relief and I wrapped my arms about his neck as he held me close. “A dhia, Sassenach, ye scared me so.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, feeling him chuckle against me. The low, resonating sound calmed me to my very core. “You’re happy, then?”

Jamie rolled me onto my back, his hand traveling down my body and resting just above my hips. His fingers traced smooth circles over the place where our unborn child grew within me.

“Aye, mo chridhe, verra happy, indeed.”

“Sassenach!”

I had drifted asleep in Jamie’s arms but now woke with a jolt to find his face in mine, dawn’s first light illuminating it in shades of yellow and red.

“Ah!” I screeched, followed by a more subdued, “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ.”

“Ye jumped out of a window! An’ we’ve… I’ve lain with ye! More than lain with ye, I’ve–”

“I remember,” I interrupted him, sleepily smiling as I rubbed my hand across my eyes.

“But the bairn!”

I was having trouble following his change in topics and asked, “What about him?”

Jamie let out a Scottish noise of exasperation.

“Is he harmed? Christ, Claire, if I’ve done something to–”

“No,” I assured him, now fully awake as I realized what he was about. “The baby is alright.”

His brows were drawn tightly together in worry, “Are ye sure?”

Stretching luxuriously, I pressed myself against the length of him, my toes brushing the tops of his feet as my fingers played with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Very,” I murmured.

He kissed me long and hard before breaking away to study my face. His blue eyes were intense in their concerned scrutiny. I felt completely bare as he saw deep into my soul, asking, “And ye, Sassenach? Are ye happy?”

I couldn’t look away as I answered honestly, “I’m scared, Jamie.”

He knew this without me having to tell him, I knew he did, but it was so freeing to speak the words aloud. Tears began to form unbidden and threatened to spill onto my cheeks as he pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes closing as he whispered, “So am I, mo chridhe.”

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2238 (Act I)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. It was originally going to be three acts, then I got invested because Cas is adorable. Now it’s outlined for five acts. I’m not sorry.

(not my GIF)

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

“Sam? Dean?” Your voice reverberated off the tiled walls of the sprawling bunker, announcing your arrival, tone becoming tinny when they failed to respond, “The door was unlocked. I let myself in.” Feet clanging on the metal staircase, you endeavored to make your presence known - the last thing you wanted to do was catch experienced well-equipped potentially trigger-happy hunters off guard in their own home. You made your way over to the map table, tossing your bag on a chair, eyes roaming the spacious room for any signs of life, “Guys?” Silence greeted your ears. Grumbling a muffled expletive, you dug the phone out of your pocket, scanning for any new messages, scrolling back to confirm that Sam’s text yesterday did indeed ask you to meet them here, in Lebanon, in the bunker, to ride back up on a big case. You owed them more than you generally cared to acknowledge in their presence, and dropped everything to show, no questions asked - and they had the audacity to be somewhere else when you arrived. Breath puffing out your cheeks, you noted with amused annoyance that you’d never been stood up by two men at the same time, let alone brothers. You hastily typed a where-the-hell-are-you-it-better-not-be-buying-beer text to Sam, muttering under your breath, “Freaking Winchesters.” Your finger hesitated over the send button, soft footfalls heralding the approach of someone in the hall. Shoving the phone back into your pocket, trembling adrenaline-fueled fingers instinctively brushed the cool metal of the pistol tucked under your arm. Releasing the safety, you withdrew the weapon, backing up to the stairs, steadying your aim at the doorway, “Who’s there?”

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anonymous asked:

I read your trimberly fics, awesome!! Say, what about a smut one? Top!Kim and Bottom!Trini decide to study at Trini's place but they get horny, no one must hear them, but Kim wants to make her moan even though that means they can be caught? 7u7 If they get caught or not, it's up to you!

First of all, thank you for actually liking my fics. Second of all, I’m really, really sorry that it’s taken me so long to get back to writing.

Also posted on AO3

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t,” Trini said, her eyes never leaving the textbook in her lap.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kim said from her spot on the bed right next to her.

“I can literally feel you staring at me like you wanna eat me.”

Kim smirked. “Well maybe I do.” Her hand crept beneath the book that Trini was reading and she gently trailed her fingers over the exposed smooth skin, silently thanking whatever gods might exist that her girlfriend had such an affinity for wearing such short shorts whenever she was relaxing at home.

“Kim,” Trini warned, glancing sideways at her. “We’re supposed to be studying. At least that’s what you told my parents, who, by the way, are right downstairs with my little brothers.” She grabbed Kim’s hand and placed it on the bed. “So this can’t happen right now.”

“Oh come on, Tri—”

“No.”

Kim made a disgruntled noise and sighed. “Fine. It’s not like you’d be able to keep quiet enough anyway.”

Trini immediately looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me? I can be quiet!”

Kim scoffed. “No offense, babe, but you really can’t. How do you think the guys keep catching us all the time?”

“Maybe because you have no self-control and always jump me after we’re done training.”

Kim pretended to think about that before shaking her head. “Nope, it’s definitely because you’re too loud.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“You know what? Fine.” Trini slammed her book shut and threw it on the ground. She swung a leg over Kim’s side, effectively straddling her, and placed her hands on either side of Kim’s head. “Let me prove it. Right here, right now. I won’t make a single sound.”

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How to Be a Good Catholic, Pt. II (Sonny Carisi x Reader)

A/N: Part 2 of my self-drag piece aka The Reason I’m Going to Hell! I’m sure I had more to say here but it is literally about to be 6AM~

@ohbelieveyoume and @xemopeachx (to the latter: Lower your expectations. Like, lower them so deep Satan’s demanding to know why you’re in his house and threatening to call the police on you.)

PART 1 HERE


5.     Remember not to eat meat on Fridays during Lent

It was amazing how cravings worked: You could be perfectly fine, not want to eat anything in particular and just eat whatever simply because you needed nourishment to keep getting through the day. But the moment you’re told you can’t eat a certain something, no matter how often you may or may not eat it, it suddenly becomes all you can think about. That was what made Lent maddening for you as a child. It was as though the season held special powers beyond serving as a countdown for your lord and savior basically becoming a zombie: It could make you crave cafeteria nuggets like a junkie craved a fix. But considering that said zombie-savior got beaten, nailed to a cross, and was forced to wear a crown of thorns for you, abstaining from meat a couple of Fridays for 40 days was the least you could do besides doing nothing at all.  

… But Zombie Jesus, it was so hard. In your youth, it was a bit easier because your packed lunches would always be checked over by your mom or dad to assure that it was up to Lenten approval. Sure, there was the occasional slip where you’d stop by the convenience store after school for a quick snack and all too eagerly buy a Slim Jim (was that even meat?). But for the most part, you did your due diligence as a good Catholic girl. Unfortunately, you were now a Catholic woman whose mommy and daddy’s involvement, at most, would maybe occasionally happen to call on Friday just to chat and then happen to mention what that day’s meatless meal had been. This, without fail, would always cause you to grit your teeth on the strip of bacon you’d been eating or lead you to utter an expletive muffled by the pepperoni Hot Pocket you’d microwaved to avoid cooking.

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Show Me

Summary: You’re a police officer who catches a mysterious man speeding in his car- you should really give him a speeding ticket, but he has something to offer you instead.

Pairings: Dean x Cop!Reader

Word Count: 1853

Warnings: language, smut, oral [reader receiving]  

A/N: So, I wanted to write something Dean x Cop!Reader themed and this is what I came up with, this is only my second time writing smut-hopefully you like it! Massive thanks to @fvckinpayno for being my Beta for this fic😍

also tagging: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki  @spnfanficpond  @readingissupernatural @mrswhozeewhatsis @but-deans-back-tho

You were looking forward to nothing more than the end of your shift. You were just heading back to the station, doing the speed limit down one of the country roads–when a black vehicle sped right past you, doing way over the limit. Cursing under your breath, you switched on the siren and the flashing lights, tailing quickly after whoever was driving like a complete maniac.

Thankfully, after a few yards, the car pulled up a deserted side road. You got out of your patrol car and walked to the driver’s side, where the window was already rolled down.

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Muffled Expletives - An Everlark Drabble

I love a lazy Saturday morning, especially when said morning finds me in my current state. This morning Peeta and I spent our entire morning in bed completely wrapped up in each other, crawling out from under the covers only to work each other up into a passionate frenzy as we brushed our teeth and wash each other off in the bathtub.  

“Weren’t we supposed to be putting the crib together today?” Peeta’s hands creep up my side brushing the side of my breast before moving further on to cup my face.  Soon a tender kiss has lighted upon my forehead.

I can’t help but stretch under his caresses.  “Yes”, I say. “And you’re painting the nursery today too.”

“Well, the morning is pretty much over so if you still want to have the room finished today, I need to get  started.” Peeta moves to get out of the bed and I immediately miss the warmth of his skin pressed up against mine, but he’s right, we can’t spend all day in bed.  

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Perfect Fit

Just some totally useless fluff to soothe the inevitable pain of tonight

By the time he arrives to pick her up, she’s spent the last 2 and a half hours trying on clothes. They’d opted for a lunch date to avoid conflicts with work, but she wants to look nice seeing as he’d only ever seen her in tight, slinky dresses with dirty sneakers under them in order to attract and catch equally dirty scumbags. She’s just determined that the black heels and satin dress are entirely too formal for lunch at a cafe when the doorbell rings for the second time and she’s forced to face him, party attire and all. 

He’s wearing a suit. A goddamn suit and tie in the middle of the day, under his scruffy beard and sheepish expression. He should’ve worn a nice flannel or even a button down and jeans. Really anything other than the navy tux he’d smuggled from the back of Liam’s closet and painstakingly pressed the wrinkles out of. However the clock had struck 20 to 12:00 and he was too worried about her coming to her senses and canceling their lunch date to risk wasting any more time. So he showed up at Storybrooke apartments, looking like bloody James Bond with one sleeve slightly larger than the other. (A result of Liam’s unfortunate penchant for fidgeting). 

He’s wearing a suit and she’s wearing a dress and his sea blue eyes light up like the freaking Fourth of July when he sees her. He wrestles the single flattened rose from his pocket that he’d bought on an urge in the park, and painfully argued with himself over whether to give to her. She knocks over a pile of dirty plates trying to find a vase and he scratches behind his ear while trying to hide a smile at her nervous rambling. (”Where is that damn bowl for keeping flowers, what is it called again? I swear this is not like me, I’m usually much more organized”-She’s not, he’s seen her desk many many times at work). 

They never make it to the restaurant. She leans against him on the lilting subway ride, trying to hide the fact that she can only reach the handle on tiptoes. The moment their feet touch the park pathway, he spins her out and around to the tune of some far off park musician. Her heels catch on the gravel and his tie is flung backward over his shoulder and a good many people are making u-turns to avoid passing the entirely inappropriate for this time of day behavior of the couple. But neither care when he bends closer to muffle an expletive about her bloody death shoes stomping on him again and she answers with a giggle. Her laughter and his resulting smile brighter and warmer than the sun on their faces. 

And by the time they begin making their way home, the sky is oozing darkness and only a few question the attractive couple with their hands twined together and slow, leisurely stride. And when the boy with the black stud in his ear races to hold open the apartment door for the girl with the golden ponytail, not a single person wonders at their entering together. And when he brushes pretty, accented words across her bare shoulder, suit jacket hanging from a corner of the bed and her heels digging into his back, clothing is the last thing on either of their minds. 

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry to disturb. I'm really slow. But may I ask what 'ammo' did Dean gave to Sam when he said "accidents don't happen accidentally."?? I'm a little confused and again...I'm slow

Oh, well you see in scenarios where there is inter-sibling communication… and you say something stupid, [especially if you are the OLDER/Eldest Sibling], then they tend to take it on-board and use it against you in future.

E.g. When Dean realised he’d said, ‘Accidents don’t happen accidentally’ (an oxymoron; negating sentence/statement), he’d just given Sam future argument/taunting ammunition.

Siblings have this way of just… bringing up every stupid thing you’ve ever said or done, in conversation or casual taunt, for the rest of eternity.

You NEVER hear the end of a verbal, situational or behavioural fuck-up, I SWEAR…

—————-

To give an example:

>Years from now, Dean could be walking from one room to another with a plate of bacon in his hands; he trips over a beer can that has carelessly rolled across the floor…

He goes down, limbs flailing gracelessly, the plate shatters; slow-motion expression of horror crosses the face of the eldest Winchester as bacon momentarily levitates all around him… like a breakfast-y Matrix scene.

Dean, you okay in there?” Sam calls, his footsteps trumping into the room like an oncoming horde.

Dean rolls over with a groan, swiping at the greasy mess of bacon bits all over his person, carefully avoiding slicing his hands on shards of dinnerplate that went down with the breakfast-ship, all hands on deck.

His younger, though taller, brother appears in the doorway, eyes wide at the chaos and mouth gaping as he tries to work out what to ask first.

With a muffled expletive, Dean pushes himself up on his elbows, adopting the serious-older-sibling tone of voice as he rasps, 
S'okay Sammy… just a little involuntary ninja-attacking of the floor, apparently someone out there thinks I shouldn’t have bacon for breakfast or something and arranged this happy little accident…

His expression sours into a scowl as he stands up, instantly freezing his every muscle in horrified recognition of the malicious gleam that has settled in Sammy’s eyes. Dean raises a finger in warning, “Sammy, Sammy NO…”

The other’s expression, and subsequent shit-eating grin, practically demonic as Sam walks over to Dean and whispers, “Accidents don’t happen accidentally, Dean…” and walks off, leaving the eldest Winchester absolutely fuming at the fact his brother had not only seen the opportunity, but taken it too.

——————————–

DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?

-My Sibling does that to me all the damn time, I tell you what…