Sherlock was the first to wake the next morning. He yawned
and sat up, taking a moment to survey his surroundings. Then a smile came to
his lips as he remembered. He was with his John, he felt a hand rest on his and
turned to find John still fast asleep, snoring lightly and grasping Sherlock’s
hand as if his life depended on it. Sherlock had half a mind to lay back down
and just watch him sleep but Rosie chose to ruin the peaceful moment by crying.
Sherlock watched carefully as John stirred but didn’t wake up. He must have
been exhausted to not even be bothered by the baby’s cries. Sherlock left the
bed in the slightest of movements and tiptoed to Rosie’s room. He entered the
bright room and honed in on the infant who was sitting up and crying as loud as
Sherlock frowned and walked over to the crib. “What’s the
matter, Rosie?” He picked her up and felt her diaper. It didn’t feel full.
There was also no foul stench emanating from her, for which he was grateful. He
rubbed her back and bounced gently hoping that it would do the trick. She
quieted down a little, but she was still upset.
“You’re just hungry, aren’t you?” Her sniffle only confirmed
it. He took her to the kitchen to look for the formula. When he found it, he
set her down in her highchair to fix her bottle. Rosie didn’t find her new
placement agreeable and screamed even louder than before. Sherlock sighed and
put the bottle down to get her back in his arms. He kissed her head and tried
to shush her before she woke John up. He thought he succeeded, but he heard
John’s feet and him saying, “I’m here Rosie…I’m…Rosie?”
Sherlock chuckled and moved back over to her bottle. “We’re
John walked into the kitchen still rubbing the sleep out of
his eyes. He stopped in the doorway and stared at Sherlock holding Rosie with
one hand and holding the bottle with the other.
“Don’t just stand there, help me test her bottle.”
John blinked, but followed Sherlock’s command. Sherlock
shook the milk onto John’s wrist, and then slipped the bottle into Rosie’s
mouth when John gave the okay. They moved to sit on the sofa and no one spoke.
Sherlock was whispering something to Rosie as she drank from the bottle, her
eyes fixated on his own, and John fixated on him.
“How long have you been up with her?” Sherlock turned to
“We haven’t been up very long. I wanted to stop her crying
before you woke up. I failed at that, it seems.”
John smiled down at his daughter and rested a hand on her
“I thought you left, you know.”
Sherlock’s brows furrowed at John. “Left?”
“When I woke up and you weren’t in the bed I thought that…maybe
I just dreamed everything…or you left.”
John felt a jolt of electricity course through him as he
felt Sherlock’s soft hand clasp his own. The soft rumbling of his laugh excited
him and caused him to laugh too.
“Where would I go, John? Have you forgotten why I’m here in
the first place?” There was humor in Sherlock’s tone. It made John feel stupid
for thinking such things.
“Heh, I don’t know. I was scared, I suppose.”
John forced himself to look into those iridescent eyes and
listen to what he had to say. He was caught off-guard by a kiss to his
forehead. His mouth hung open trying to form words, but nothing came out.
Sherlock then moved to stroke his cheek with his free hand and said, “Don’t worry,
John. There’s no Holmes without Watson, wherever you are, I am.”
John closed his eyes and exhaled. “I’m a git aren’t I?”
Sherlock pondered the question before answering. He shrugged
and said, “Yeah but you’re my git so it’s all fine. I don’t mind.”
Watching Sherlock’s lips curve into a smile, the brightest
and widest he’s ever seen, he couldn’t help but fall even harder for the
detective. He leant forward and placed a delicate kiss to his lips and nearly
had trouble breaking the contact. Sherlock was beaming now and he held Rosie a little
closer to himself.
“Yeah, I don’t mind either.”
Voila! I’m trying to do this stuff in increments. Like them kissing and being full on in a relationship, so slow-burnish? It’s still chock full of fluff.
Okay so just a quick preface the inspiration for this came completely from @charminglyantiquated amazing post Elsewhere University. I hope this lives up to the incredible standard of work I’ve already seen.
When she first arrives at Elsewhere Univeristy, no one is particularly sure of what to make of her. She introduces herself as Mara, the gaelic word for the sea, and she seems all too familiar with the rules of the school almost as if they’re second nature. The crows grow fond of her quicker than anyone has seen before cawing greetings at her as she passes and swooping on mass to sit around her feet as she reads them poetry. Woven into the long tresses of her auburn hair are various beads of silver and emerald green glass that jingle and clink together with the rhythm of her movements as she wanders the campus, she’s a vet student with an uncanny ability to charm almost any animal into her favor. The other students aren’t sure if she’s one of the people who Know Things that they’ve heard whispers about that have some sort of agreement with the Gentry or have earned enough favor to be left well enough alone, or if she’s one of those that was taken and came back knowing just a little too much to be allowed to leave. More often than not if you’re looking to find the girl named after the sea the first place you’ll be told to look is the pool. On many a day she’ll be found there sitting with her legs dangling into the deepest end where if you look down the bottom cannot be seen only a deep descent into inky blackness and the odd flashes of strange eyes peering up from the depths. There she will sit singing songs so old they’ve been thought lost to the passages of time in languages that shouldn’t really be known the strange acoustics of the pool causing her voice to echo in eerie harmonies with itself. If you’re lucky or unlucky, I suppose it depends on your opinion of things, you’ll see the head of a creature that looks just enough like a horse despite it’s odd iridescent eyes peering out from the water towards her as it bobs along in an unseen current. It’s not uncommon for her to disappear for days on end only to return with a little more wisdom in her grey eyes and another token of favor adorning her person. The first time it happened she returned with beads woven into her hair that looked like stars had been plucked from the sky and deposited amidst her auburn curls. Now she walks the ground with fingers laiden with rings in odd shapes and sizes, stones no one has ever seen before nestled within them and necklaces of various objects ranging from flowers to delicate jewels strewn around her neck. There is a constant entourage of creatures following her that if caught at certain angles or in certain lights don’t look quite like the black cat that was there a moment ago and something hulking that wanders the shadows at her back. No one is truly surprised when inevitably she disappears and doesn’t return, packets of creamer and money is exchanged hands for several bets were placed on when she would be taken. That was many a moon ago, though no one is quite sure exactly when she did disappear anymore. On nights when the Wild Hunt runs rampant through the grounds it’s said if you listen closely you can hear her haunting voice singing old songs of battle amidst the baying of the hounds and wailing of the horns. She is the Keeper of the Beasts of the Court and though she is fully aware that she herself is kept, she’s never felt so free.
Shiro holding a shallura baby and getting emotional
THIS IS A GOOD PROMPT AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GOOD, ANON, I THINK ABOUT THIS SCENARIO A LOT
“Do you want to hold her, Prince Shiro?”
The doctor – some kind of alien with six arms and four eyes
and a voice like the thick mud of a swamp but apparently centuries of experience with births – held a cloth-wrapped bundle
in their arms. It – she – squirmed, made
noises. A tiny fist stuck up. Dumbly Shiro thought there’s a baby in there but he held out his arms and the doctor
transferred the bundle to him, all while the other four arms were checking
readouts around the bed, asking Allura questions. But all that noise faded away into the
background when he pulled the cloth back a little to better look at his
She already had markings like Allura’s, except hers seemed
to be a deep purple. It reminded him of
the lighting in his lion and he wondered vaguely if that had some influence on
her or if it was just coincidence. He
touched them with a fingertip, very gently, and his daughter (his daughter what the quiznak) opened
her eyes, and he was lost.
He thought he’d been lost before. Really
lost, sitting in a cell on a Galra ship, or hopelessly lost while he watched
Allura from afar with his heart aching in his chest, or happily lost when they’d
danced together at their wedding and the lights were in Allura’s iridescent
eyes. But this was different from all
those, and Shiro bent his head to press his lips to his daughter’s forehead.
“Hi,” he told her.
She blinked. It was the cutest
thing he’d ever seen.
Ten years ago, he’d been kneeling on the deck of a Galra
ship, terrified out of his mind. He’d
spent the next six years fighting for his life under various circumstances,
either in a gladiator ring or with Voltron, and part of Shiro had thought that
he wouldn’t make it out alive, that he’d die a soldier’s death and that would
be okay, that would be what he’d earned in his life. But here he was, listening to Allura come
back to her usual bullheaded self as people kept asking if she was all right,
holding their daughter in his arms, and he was alive. He’d won, and Zarkon
and all the rest had lost, and all the things working against him in his own
head hadn’t stopped him from being so happy.
He looked over, sitting on the bed next to Allura so she
could slide their daughter into her arms, looking at him curiously.
“Are you all right?” she asked. Shiro nodded, smiling as he kissed his wife’s
sweaty temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
Once, when they were teenagers, Isabelle saw a handsome man holding a tiny puppy.
She grabbed Alec’s arm and squealed, “oh my god, it’s like my ovaries are exploding.”
Alec at the time had rolled his eyes and shook her off of him, largely because they were supposed to be tracking a demon but also because he didn’t get it. Sure, the man was handsome- but Alec isn’t really a dog person.
Flash forward eight years and Alec thinks he finally understands what Isabelle was trying to say. The Shadowhunters needed something from Magnus so Alec took the mission (mostly because Magnus would probably say no if it was anyone else). Alec didn’t really text Magnus that he was coming over because he knew that the Warlock would be home today. Magnus mentioned something about needing to be at home for a few hours in the afternoon because he was doing a favor for a friend.
So Alec was unprepared for the sight on the other side of the door. Magnus was shirtless (already too stunning for Alec to comprehend) and he had a one-year-old slung casually on his hip. She was beautiful, with dark rich skin and surprisingly (unnaturally) iridescent eyes- warlock child. She was gurgling happily in the older Warlock’s arms.
“Alexander,” Magnus said happy and surprised, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I… I…. The institute….” Alec tried to get out, but his mind was entirely focused on shirtless Magnus holding a baby.
Yeah- he definitely got what Isabelle was trying to say now.
“Who… baby?” Alec tried helplessly again.
“Oh! This is Saanvi, a friend of mine asked me to watch her for a few hours today,” Magnus said before turning to the child in his arms, “and how could I say no to such a pretty face? Huh?”
He said the last sentence in a silly baby voice and Saanvi squealed with delight and clumsily clapped her chubby hands together.
Alec felt the honest to god temptation to put a hand on his chest and sigh. Then Magnus turned to Alec expectantly and he realizes he still hasn’t managed to tell the other man why he’s there. Instead of trying to form words again he steps close to Magnus and grabs him by the arm that isn’t holding the baby and kisses him gently. He tries his best not to imagine kissing Magnus like this with a child of their own in his arms. Tries not to imagine them as parents together, and coming home after a long day at the institute to a sight this beautiful.
Magnus sighs happily as they break apart, his eyes flutter open, “well, darling?”
Alec shook his head to clear it of beautiful, hazy daydreams and opens his mouth to tell his boyfriend what he came for.
But he couldn’t stop thinking of that beautiful sight the entire way back.