my heart bursts with joy for these two

Protective Or Possessive - Part Three | Jughead x Reader

Originally posted by kulo-ren


Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Sticking with your friend Veronica’s plan, you head to Pop’s to confront Jug and it becomes a whirlwind of emotions between the two of you.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1,763

A/N: the support for this has been incredible and i really hope you enjoy this! so many of you asked for a part three and i hope this lives up to the expectations <3

PART ONE | PART TWO


“He hates me,” you sighed, flopping down onto your bed with your phone pressed to your ear. The moment you’d got home you’d called Veronica since she was the mastermind behind this whole thing. You’d told her his reaction and how horrible you felt that you’d upset him so much. Part of you wanted to go and come clean to Jug but when you’d voiced this to Ronnie, she’d shut it down instantly. The plan was in motion and there was no stopping it.

“He doesn’t hate you, (Y/N). Stop being such a drama queen.” Although you couldn’t see her, you knew that Veronica was rolling her eyes at you right now.

You snorted. “Says the biggest drama queen I know.”

“Shutup. Look, Jughead doesn’t hate you. Our plan kind of worked, right? We got a reaction out of him. Just sit tight for a few hours then show up at Pop’s. I know for a fact he’s not going to be too mad to want to talk to you.”

“I don’t know, V.”

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Space

MEMBER/GROUP: Park Jimin // BTS

GENRE: fluff

SUMMARY: You didn’t listen to them when they told you it wouldn’t work out. Life after high school is hard, and friendships are tested; with not many surviving. You two were inseparable. But was it really possible to maintain a friendship between idol and stylist?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: my last Jimin scenario was angst and full of it, so I made this one fluff :D (the smiley is a lie, I am in pain, so much pain, R.I.P Ido my bby, I’m gonna bring you back to life istg)

also Anon, I’m so sorry this was late! 

Originally posted by bwipsul


“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT,” Yuri squealed, clapping her hands. “We’re graduates!” You grinned, feeling your own excitement match hers. You had two months off to enjoy your freedom, and then you were set to work as Kim Mei’s assistant, which made your heart burst with joy. Mei was an extremely well known stylist, she didn’t work for anyone specifically, rather she had people running after her. Her understanding of physical features and accuracy in accentuating them made her one of the most sought after stylists in the country. 

And she had accepted you as her assistant. 

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hurry home, partner. [part 3]

- Yes, it’s still going because I’ve grown to love it way too much. Here’s another piece of the story and I actually teared up while writing it so my apologies and it totally did not go the route I was anticipating. Enjoy and as always let me know what you think!

“Jay, I swear to God- you know how much I hate surprises,” she muttered, trying to stop a grin from turning up a corner of her mouth and trying to stop the rapid, enthusiastic beating of her heart because to be up and not limping in itself was a win but she had a feeling the day was about to get even better as she felt his body lean into her from behind, leading her on a random path throughout their apartment with his hands placed firmly over her hazel orbs so she couldn’t see a damn thing and if she was fully healed she would’ve put up more of a fight at this point because she really couldn’t take the suspense anymore but he insisted and she melted at the sight of his delighted expression lighting up his perfect blue eyes and the way he nearly bounced over to greet her at the door as Hank had dropped her off after the check up at Med and given a nod of a hello in his direction and she knew her partner was still scared shitless over the fact that Hank stopped by every once and awhile to check up on her because they were living together again and sleeping in the same bed and he would never be quite comfortable or at ease around the father figure in Erin’s life because he hadn’t quite learned how to separate his boss from his girlfriend’s guardian.

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anonymous asked:

I feel like because of Omkara and Gauri, I've become such a lover of Kunal and Shrenu. But then I realise Shrenu and Kunal are the ones who brought out Om-Gauri. But then Om-Gauri are the reasons I'm in love with the two anyway.. Such a circle situation. RIKARA WAS SO BEAUTIFUL TODAY. Oh my heart was bursting with love and sheer joy. This is so absurd, I swear..

AWWWWWWW!! <3 I can totally feel ya though!

For me it was the other way round. Having followed almost all the pre-launch promotional activities for DBO, I had completely warmed up to Shernu-Kunal before I got to see them onscreen. They had hit off from day1 it seemed as their comfort level was soooo apparent with each other. I had pretty much no previous notions about Shrenu before DBO but her offscreen persona really pulled me towards her. She fit well with the sometimes out of control masti nature of Kunal. Now toh they are equal dorks! My point is..I was so excited to see them onscreen after watching them offscreen. And they didn’t disappoint! The screen had legit cackled when they first came face to face in episode 2. Shrenu won me over with that “fire in her eyes” wala look as Gauri and I’ve been so lattoo over Kunal for the past 5 years ke koi sawal hi nahin tha of not liking him. I can and do have issues with Omkara but Kunal just plays him SO well and rarely disappoints. In fact..ShreNal in one frame just don’t disappoint. It’s insane how perfectly they fit with each other!!!

youtube

You’re free to dance
forget about your two left feet
and you’re free to sing
Even joyful noise is music to me
And free to love
Cuz I’ve given you my love
and it’s made you free

I have given you my love 
and it’s made you free

I have set you free.

2

Gintama anime ep 316/manga chaps 550 - 551

Dear Gintama gods and Sorachi-sama,

I thought perhaps it was the lateness of the hour and the weariness of my eyes last night that caused the tears to run down my face right from the first moment of the episode: I lost it as soon as I heard dear sweet Yamazaki’s voice dictating his final report as the member of the Protectors of Edo, the Shinsengumi. Switching up Swimy’s ending song to the opening sequence instead just made me cry harder. When I watched the episode again tonight, though evening had only just fallen, and the same thing happened to me, Niagara Falls all the way, I was relieved to know that my tears hadn’t been due to exhaustion, that in fact the sadness I had felt and was experiencing again, was indeed completely genuine.

This episode means so much to me because it perfectly brought to life the moment that started my letter-writing campaign to you. As silly and most likely futile as my efforts might be, as soon as I started doing this I instantly realized how important it was to me to properly express my gratitude to you for all the joy you have brought and continue to bring to me on an almost weekly basis, whether it’s through the pages of your manga or by the way of the anime. I still regret not writing to you sooner; I should have started as soon as I fell in love with Gintoki right when he was introduced. But much like Gin-chan, I am a lazy person by nature, and therefore as much as I loved him and Gintama, and shipped Gintoki/Hijikata with the fervor of a thousand shippers, I did not do anything proactive about my love and appreciation, even as my affection grew in spades over the years. In fact, somewhere along the line, I actually started shamefully falling behind on both your manga and anime, since even as much as I loved Gintama, I began to take it for granted, figuring that it will always be there waiting for me. The fact that the anime always came back further lulled me into a false sense of security.

But then, towards the beginning of last year or maybe at the end of the year before, I got word that the anime was returning yet again and also, most importantly, that I have been missing out on a pretty epic arc that was taking place in the manga. It finally hit me then just how much I had been grossly neglecting Gintama and how I should really hit the books again to see what I’ve been missing. In doing so, I almost flipped out when the truth of just how much I missed really struck me since I dove in right when you were in the middle of the Shogun Assassination Arc.  It felt a bit like experiencing whiplash, as all of a sudden all these important events were happening. Little did I know that arc would just be the tip of a pretty epic iceberg.  I also quickly realized that I needed to do a lot of back-tracking since I missed just so damn much and had forgotten even more than that. As a result, even though I was probably less than 100 chapters behind at that point (I think I missed out on most of 2014 chapters), I actually started over from around chapter 200 and quickly caught up to chapter 520-something within just a short 2 and a half weeks span of time. If I did not have real life obligations I would have probably finished sooner. Revisiting the old chapters of Gintama felt like returning to a land of endless joy: a place I didn’t want to leave and couldn’t even remember why I would leave it in the first place.

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anonymous asked:

Isak and even is such a beautiful couple,my definition of soulmates, can you explain to yourself now what you feel when you see this two? It is actually rare for me to feel like I am seeing and feeling a miracle, If I can feel how much they love each other, their hearts must be bursting with it.

oh god yes!! they are soulmates. and when you see soulmates you really can feel their love and it’s incredible. and it’s hard to explain what i feel when i look at them because words wont describe it fully but i will try! i feel joy and happiness when i look at them, and i don’t want to sound cliché’, but i feel this funny feeling in my stomach, and also in my heart, like when i look at them or think about them it’s full of love. i also low key want to cry all the time, because i can’t believe that these two found each other and now they are more than happy. and probably it’s stupid, but in my mind they are really live in the parallel universe, which makes them really real to me. and also i miss them all the time! ahhh this is too soppy but whatever hah

Flood my Mornings: One Besides

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Touch [this was a very short bonus scene posted outside the Imagine queue, so if you missed it, be sure to check it out!]

One Besides 

“Excellent news, my love!“ I called as I trundled, heavy-laden, through the door and into the sitting room, “You won’t have to walk around in a blanket any longer!”

 “Och, that’s too bad.” Jamie was smiling broadly at me from the sofa, Bree on his lap and a book spread out across hers. “I quite liked wearing a kilt again.” 

The improvised garment, donned once more after bathing (in scorn of his ragged blue jeans), was wrapped firmly about his waist, and for the first time since I forcibly disrobed him in my kitchen last night, he was wearing a shirt. Pity, that.

It was just after one o’clock and I’d returned from the department store with an impressive array of shoes, shirts, trousers, pajamas, neckties, and all manner of other things. Admittedly, it would have made things far simpler in terms of sizing and cut selections if Jamie had simply accompanied me. He had insisted, however, that he wished to stay at home with Brianna rather than have me call for Mrs. Byrd. He’d seemed so eager that I hadn’t pushed the matter. Seeing them sitting together–she snuggled against him, freshly besmocked and rosy-cheeked–I was glad I hadn’t. My loves.

Bree, in her usual fashion, broke the idyllic scene almost at once. “Book,” she barked up at her erstwhile reader, little face screwed up in displeasure.

Jamie gave her a stern look. “’Book,’ what?”

“Book…peas.”

“That’s right, a nighean. I’d be happy to finish the wee book since ye asked nicely. Almost done, Sassenach,” he said with a grin, picking up the picture book.

 “SO,” he read grandly, “the poky little puppy had to go to bed wi’out a single bite of shortcake.…and he felt verra sorry for himself. ”

I burst out laughing, the sheer absurdity of hearing these foolish words in Jamie Fraser’s voice (Praise be to God!) so delightful I couldn’t even contain myself.

Jamie carried on, but there was laughter in his voice, too, and his eyes were crinkled up as he read the last page. “And the next morning, someone had put up a sign that read: no desserts EVER unless puppies NEVER dig holes under this fence again!”

He closed the book, considered for a moment, then craned his neck to look down at his daughter. “If that isna the most pointless story I ever heard, I dinna ken what is.”

I snorted. “It really is! Hardly high art, but for some reason it’s her favorite.”

“Oh, the reason’s obvious enough. ‘Cause she’s the greedy wee pup that eats all the sweets,” he said, tickling Brianna’s round belly. She giggled and squirmed. “I will say, though,” he said, examining the back cover as he bounced her on his knee, “it truly is incredible how they printed it thus, wi’ all the colors and drawings just so. Was it expensive, this wee book?” 

“No,” I said, trying not to show my amusement, “not a bit, in fact. Printing has simply come quite a long way in two hundred years.”  

“Um’ginn!” Brianna pushed the little golden-bound book in Jamie’s hands up toward his face, her own aglow. “‘Um’ginn!” 

He raised his eyebrows.

“…peas.”  

Jamie smiled and obediently opened the book again, but Bree seemed content just to point and babble about the pictures rather than demanding a second reading.

“It’s just as well you didn’t feel equal to venturing out to the department store, darling,” I said genially, beginning to sort through the parcels and lay the articles out on the coffee table. “It was a madhouse! I think I ended up with a good selection for you to try, though.  Will you come take a look?”

I’d unpacked the last of it before realizing that he hadn’t responded. I looked over and saw him staring down at Bree’s book, brows furrowed, not blinking.

“Jamie?”

He looked up blankly for a moment, then came to and gave me quick smile. “Oh…oh, aye. Thank you, Sassenach.” He set Bree down and walked over to look at my wares.

“Do try them on so we can see what your best sizes are, won’t you? I’ll put Bree down for a nap and then we can look together and see–”

Noooo-nap,” Bree said definitely.

“Oh, yes, NAP,” I said right back, scooping her up off the floor. “Off we go, lovie.” I cast a smile back at Jamie on my way out of the room. His back was turned, though, head bent down over the coffee table, and he didn’t see. “Won’t be but a few minutes, Jamie.”

When I came back into the room, he was naked, the pair of brown trousers in hand as if he were about to try them on, but not making any move to do so. He just stood, still as a stone, faced away from me.

“Jamie?” I said tentatively. “Is everything alri–”

I had just enough time to perceive the trousers dropping from his hand as he turned and the deep, blue burning in his eyes before his hands and mouth were on me. I moaned, all my senses rushing in response and bringing me hard against him with the intensity of my longing. 

He was hiking up my skirt, and–my God!–even as underweight as he was, he was still unbelievably strong. He had me on the ground in a moment, one hand grabbing my arse and rooting me to him, with a groan of need from both of us. Our coupling last night had been far from gentle–but this was fearsome; in no way brutal or unwanted, but alarming in its intensity. The fury of it roused me more strongly than I could ever remember and it seemed mere seconds–though certainly it was longer–before I was quivering and clenching around him and he growling into my ear as he found his own release.

When conscious thought returned, I was gasping heavily, laughing a bit, loving the feeling of his bare chest above me, hot and slick with sweat. “Much as I’ve–been enjoying all the passionate lovemaking on the floor–” I panted happily, “think we might–take advantage of our nice, soft bed for round three?”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He just stared down at me, eyes full of….

Jamie?” I reached up to lay my hand on his neck and jaw above me, frightened. “Jamie, love, what on earth is the matter?”

He kept looking down unblinking into my face, brows furrowed hard. When he spoke, his voice was deep and cracked. “I want…to be a man for ye, Claire.”

Well… that was quite a statement…and one for which I seemed to have absolutely no response.

He seemed to find confirmation of something terrible in my muteness and shook his head, looking distinctly ashamed. “I dinna feel like a man...wi’ you and the bairn.”

I sat up abruptly, such that we slipped apart and he rolled off of me with a grunt. “Jesus H–-Of all the terrible things to say!” 

He had shot my heart right down to my feet, the bubble of joy that had been growing steadily at seeing Bree in her father’s arms bursting with that single statement. He’d looked so joyful to be with Brianna, so contented and at peace…and yet somehow two hours alone minding a baby had made him less of a man?

Before I could reason it away, my hurt was barreling out of me like missiles, hot and angry. “Jamie, you were the one that wanted to stay home with Bree! I told you we could have called Mrs. Byrd, and if you’d just bloody told me that I was –emasculating you by–”

“Christ, no!” he said at once, kneeling before me and looking into my face in deepest alarm. “Sassenach, that isna what I meant at all.” He put a reassuring hand on my knee. “Taking care of my child doesna make me less of a man–it’s my joy.” His face burned with the truth of this, and then darkened. “….but being a coward does.” He gestured to the bags and parcels, teeth gritting. “I should have gone along wi’ ye today. ”

I stared at him. “The–the bloody clothes?” Relief and exasperation joined the hurt and anger already collectively in complete control of my tongue. “You’re–not a man because you didn’t–go shopping with me?” 

“It isna about the damned–” he snarled in frustration, gesturing wildly and practically shouting, “I havena been a man since you left before Culloden!”

I felt exactly like I was veering off a cliff, screaming as I watched the catastrophe unfold, my insides shredding with terror, but unable to stop, fear and instinct propelling me even further and faster downward. I grabbed at my racing thoughts wildly, lashing out with, “So you’re not a man unless you bed your wife and show her who’s in charge, is that what you’re bloody saying to me?”

“NO, God, Claire, that’s NO’–” His words choked off in what was clearly–Jesus H. Christ–a sob. He sat down hard, leaning against the coffee table and putting his face in his hands. “Christ,” he whispered, sounding as terrified as I felt.

This isn’t how I remembered us.

I took a deep, shaking breath and closed my eyes, drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, hiding in the momentary haven of dark.

Just listen to him, Beauchamp.

It’s going to take some time to be accustomed to one another’s moods again. 

This is Jamie. Your Jamie.

He isn’t trying to say anything awful, so stop trying to paint him into a corner out of your own fears. 

I blew out the breath. When I spoke, my voice was quiet, but calm. “I’m listening, darling. Tell me what you were wanting to say.”

He took a breath himself and raised his head with a grateful nod, though he kept his eyes closed. He paused. Then…

“After Culloden, I lived in a cave for two years.”

“Oh… Jamie…” I breathed.

His voice was heavy and lifeless. “There was a price on my head, ken. If the Redcoats had caught me at Lallybroch and the family been found to have harbored me…” he shuddered, “they’d all have been punished. Or killed. It was as bad as ye said it would be, Claire. Still is, for them…”

He looked up and saw the tears running down my cheeks, his expression softening somewhat. “Dinna fash, mo nighean donn. I left them better taken care of than when I was there, I promise.”

A momentary qualm of dread rippled through me at that. From his tone, I thought that perhaps it had not yet occurred to him that while in one sense, his family was alive and well, every single one–Ian…Jenny…the children…God, our Fergus—was dead and had lain beneath the earth for centuries, now. When might the finality of those losses hit him, I wondered? For they had certainly hit me, many…many times. 

…but that wasn’t why I was crying now.

“A cave?” I croaked, the pain squeezing my heart like a vice.

He nodded. “Tiny wee thing. No bigger than the front hall, there.”

Nine feet long. Maybe not even that. My Jamie had lived like an animal in a hole for two years. 

I saw his gauntness differently, now.  Not just a man who had been tired and hungry for six weeks…a man who had been living in earthly hell since our parting.

I wanted to touch him, hold him…but I forced myself to be still. 

Listen, Beauchamp.

“Every second I spent out of that cave, I put my family in jeopardy.” He was crying still, but his expression was hard and fierce, wild. “Every single person I loved…all the ones left to me…were in danger because of me.” He gritted his teeth, almost spitting the words. “And so, I hid. Didna remove myself from the country so that they might truly be safe from me. Hid…because I was too afraid to be completely alone in the world.” 

He looked directly at me, then, his eyes full of pain and a deep, palpable shame. “That’s the man I’ve been since I sent you away, Claire… a coward. A man that hides and risks those he loves.” He shook his head with a look of disgust. “I dinna want to be that man anymore, for you or the bairn.”

“Jamie…” I said, equally bewildered and heartbroken for him. I did touch him now, laying both hands on his chest. “Surely you don’t truly believe you could ever bring us harm?”

“Maybe no…and maybe it’s naught but my pride…” He looked away, and I heard the fresh wave of tears he was gritting back. “…but I dinna want to be an embarrassment to ye either, Claire….someone ye must constantly apologize for.”

I took his face hard in both hands, trying to get him to look at me. “Never. You never will.”

He made a sound of frustration. “Won’t I? When I dinna understand how a–a Frigidaire works, or canna drive a Van, or dinna ken what happened in the year 1870–”

I released him. “Jamie, for Christ’s sake, those things don’t bloody–”

I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, closing his eyes and shaking his head, gesturing to quell me. His voice was quiet and calm. “Truly, I am sorry, mo chridhe. I’ve gotten fashed when I didna mean to.” He laughed weakly, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “Christ, I didna mean to say any of this.” 

He reached forward and ran his fingers back through my hair, his face still and serious, but tender. “When I came to ye like that just now…when I lay wi’ ye, I only wanted to be near ye, Claire…and then to tell ye that I’m going to face things–even when I ‘dinna feel equal’ to them–so that I might bring ye honor…that I’m no’ going to hide.”

I opened my mouth at once, both to apologize profusely for my careless choice of words that had started this whole debacle and to tell him it was alright to bloody hide. He’d been here for less than a day, for Christ’s sake, and I certainly hadn’t adjusted to life in a new century overnight! 

But before I could speak, he put a gentle hand to my lips. “I just need ye to hear my promise to ye, Claire: I’m going to work verra hard to be a good man, a proper man, for you and the lass.

I could see the light shining from his eyes as he said it and while I still felt well-meaning protests bubbling upward, something in me knew it would be wrong to take this from him: the mantle of care and mission and personal responsibility that he had apparently lacked for so long, whose absence had made him–in his own eyes, at least–less of a man.

Thank you,” I said simply. “I trust you with my life; and Bree’s.”

He exhaled deeply So did I, relieved beyond measure to have found the right words. The tension between us dissolved into the quiet of the house, leaving behind only tenderness. Closeness.  

“I shall…need a great deal of help, ken?” he said quietly. “This place…I feel so verra…” He leaned hard into my shoulder with a troubled sigh. “I dinna even ken a tenth of all the things that I dinna ken. The ways things are done. How I’m to act or dress or behave. What’s to be my place.” He kissed my neck softly and murmured, so vulnerable and so hopeful at once, “You’ll help me?”

“Of course, “I said, willing him to hear my sincerity. “Of course, sweetheart.” I cradled his head against my shoulder. “We’re neither of us alone anymore, Jamie.” 

He exhaled heavily and squeezed me tight.

“There’s the two of us, now,” I whispered. 

From across the house, there drifted a plaintive, “Ma-maaaaaaaaa?”

We both shook with silent laughter but did not loosen our holds, not yet ready to be parted, desperate to keep this moment of utter peace. 

From the silence, there came a begrudging, “….peas?

We laughed aloud, then, and reluctantly broke apart, Jamie kissing my forehead before rising, beaming. “The two of us….and the one besides.”


to be continued

Mama, I’m Coming Home

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam, Reader’s parents

Summary/Prompt:  This fic was based on my first request:  “Can you do a Dean X Reader where you go to your parents house with Dean for the first time and smut?”

Word Count:  5647, sorry, this one really got away from me.

Warnings:  Lengthy (sorry), quite a bit of plot, but smut, lots of smut eventually

Originally posted by stayclassysupernatural

(not my gif)

Tags:  @alexstarnes1701 @spnfanficpond  I’m a guppy in the pond.  Also tagging some of my favorite authors/big fish, in hopes that you might take a look, hope that’s okay.  @manawhaat @abaddonwithyall @blushingsamgirl @littlegreenplasticsoldier @jensennjared @fvckinpayno

I’d really love some feedback.  If you enjoy this fic or have suggestions/constructive criticisms, please let me know. I’ve done few fics, but I’m doubting myself,  so I could use some encouragement.

I’m also thinking this might continue as a series, so let me know if you’d like that.


You sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, the sun warm on your face, Dean’s fingers interlaced with yours, rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb, as you rumbled down the road.

You were heading home, to the place where you had grown up. You felt nervous, but mostly thrilled for your parents to meet your boyfriend Dean, and his brother Sam.

You had met the Winchesters about a year ago. You were investigating a vengeful spirit in a small fishing village on the East Coast. The handsome hunters were tracking the spirit.  

Your life changed forever that day, you learned that monsters were very real that day.

Keep reading

Hello! I hope all of my American fans and friends, both here in the States and abroad are having a great day today on the 240th Birthday of our great nation! It often seems that many people have forgotten that “The 4th of July” is more than just a day off to eat good food and watch fireworks. Though I am sure many still remember that today is a celebration of our independence. A reminder of how hard our founding fathers fought to give us a country where we are free to reach for our dreams. A country where life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness aren’t figments of the imagination, but things that are tangible and real.

I have no doubt that if 240 years ago we had not won the Revolutionary War, our world would be a much different and darker place than it is now. I am proud to be an American, a citizen of the Shining City on the Hill as John Winthrop described us and as President Reagan referred to us constantly. Though often we are bumped and bruised, we are still here. The beacon of light and hope in the darkness of oppression across the world.

As I look out at the beautiful land around us my heart bursts with joy. We are still free and I salute all the brave men and women who have fought both on the ground, in the skies, on the waters here and abroad to keep our nation free. We should never, ever forget that what we have was FOUGHT for and WON. It was not handed to us, we had to FIGHT for it and DIE for it. We are here today because those brave soldiers didn’t back down, they didn’t surrender, they didn’t run. Two-hundred and forty years later, we are still here. For that I am so very thankful.

May God bless all of you and may God continue to bless these wonderful United States of America! Happy Independence Day! -Barbara

Silly little drabble...

To say he was flabbergasted was an understatement.  In the two years he and his Swan had been together as a couple, the discussion of children had never come up.  She…no, they had Henry, even if they did share him with Regina and her outlaw, and Emma had never broached the subject of having more children. Henry was everything he could want in a son, and being a part of his life made him happier than he could ever have imagined. 

If she had brought it up, he would have told her.  Been honest about it.

Because he and Milah had spent years together on the Jolly Roger lifetimes ago, and they had tried.  Or at least, they had not actively tried NOT to have children.  And nothing had come of it.  He assumed the problem must lay with him, for obvious reasons.  Reasons he later met, and came to care for deeply.  Reasons he lost, just like he lost Milah.

In this realm, Emma had insisted on using what she called protection at first, until they both had a chance to have separate, mortifying visits with Dr. Whale.  (Her last partner having turned out to be a flying monkey, and, well, they had both seen how very open with his affections his past-self had been).  After their results came back clear, Emma had made a passing comment about some kind of pill, and that was that.

Until this morning, when she had woken him up in their bedroom with a soft kiss on the back of his neck, her warm breath rustling his hair.  He opened his eyes to see that it was still very, very early, the summer dawn light turning from violet to pink over the ocean outside their window.  “Morning, love.”

“I have something to tell you,” she said, her voice quiet and tremulous.  Her hand slid around his waist, lacing her fingers with his. 

“You know you can tell me anything, Swan,” he said, squeezing her fingers.  “Whatever it is.”

She was quiet behind him for a long time, and he felt a little wave of panic in his gut.  Finally, she blew out a little breath of air.

“I’m pregnant.”  Time stopped, and his hand stilled.  He felt her stiffen behind him.  “We haven’t talked about it, and I don’t even know if you want children, and…”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, and she went silent.  He let go of her hand, and turned to face her.  “Truly, Emma, are you sure?”

She had tears in her eyes, and his heart broke just a little bit.  “There are tests you can do, in this realm.  I took five of them this morning, and they all came back positive.  And I am two months late on my…”

And then he was kissing her, joy spilling over him as his hand moved to cradle her head, run through her hair.  It was impossible and wonderful and he felt like his heart was going to burst.

When they broke apart, her green eyes were searching his face.  “It’s…okay?”

He pressed his forehead to hers.  “Emma, love.  It’s brilliant.”  He traced her jaw, and then his hand dropped, pressing gently against her still flat stomach.  “When I was with…well, we never.  And since she was Bae’s mother, I assumed it was me.  That I couldn’t…”

Her soft smile went straight to his heart.  “Well, this one is definitely yours.”  Then she giggled.  “And considering that it managed to defeat the pill, it must be as determined as its father.”

Even now, she always found a way to surprise him.  He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.  “I love you, Swan.  So much.”  Then he looked down at her belly.  “And you.  Papa loves you too.”

Letters For Christmas | Seven

Secret Santa Posts

Ahh we’ve come to the end! I hope you’ve enjoyed your fic-gift @akb723! I loved this little world. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And may you have wonderful days ahead! -WTT


25th December 1969

My Wonderful Wife,

Merry Christmas!

Today has been beyond words. Our first grandchild is snug on your breast, her peaceful face reflecting that of her mother and grandmother…happiness. She’s pure joy and I’m so thankful to have her, but Sassenach, are we really old enough to have grandchildren? When did this happen? How did the years go by so fast?

It feels like only yesterday we were kissing under the mistletoe for the first time, and only a second ago was Faith this small and curled up sleeping on you beneath the Christmas lights. I consider myself a lucky man beyond measure. I have lived a life filled with so much joy I am bursting on the inside, and I have only lived half my lifetime.

For forty of my fifty years alive, you have been by my side, and each year feels as though no more than a second gone by. I have loved you from that first day, and you I believe have loved me from the first week. This love has grown and expanded into four children and now one grandchild. Soon two of our four children will be married.

Brianna’s Roger seems like a fine young man, and it warmed my heart that he wanted to join in on our traditions. He asked my permission to propose on Christmas; he knew this holiday was special to our family and he also knew it was our anniversary. He did not wish to take away from our day, and I laughed at the idea. If anything, his proposal will only enhance our day, I told him, and it did. Seeing Brianna so happy with young Roger MacKenzie made the day even more special to me. All of my children are happy and healthy, and together.

I do wonder if Bree will do as she always said, and get married the same day we did. So far, she’s off to a good start. Proposal on Christmas Day was the first step, but I don’t know if our daughter will wait a full year to be married. I would not be surprised if by July they were married and by next May we have a new grandchild to spoil.

I would love to see Brianna in white, surrounded by the garland and snow. I can see her as a red-headed version of you walking down the aisle.

Christ, what I wouldn’t give to go back and relive our marriage over and over again. You were so beautiful that day, and more importantly you were all mine. I was not nervous asking you to marry me (any of the times I asked). I wasn’t scared when you dated a boy that wasn’t me when we were teens, I knew you’d come back to me. However, I was shaking in my boots when you walked down the aisle to me. You were a vision out of a fantasy, and I didn’t feel worthy to be yours. You eased my fears when you got to the altar and grabbed my hand, whispering ‘I love you.’

The rest of the day was a blur filled with presents, love, laughter, and family. Regular Christmas celebrations and wedding day festivities had you falling asleep on my shoulder as I carried you to our bedroom. That night. That most blissful night will be one of the most special moments of my life. We came together as one, before the church and God, our families and friends, and then finally in the intimacy of our bedroom.

That started my insatiable need for you at all hours of the day. Before I thought I would die from frustration of not knowing your skin on mine in that way, but afterwards I knew I would die if I could not experience that coming together for the rest of my days. I will never get enough of you, my Claire. There’ll never be enough hours in the day or days in a year for me get my fill of your body and your love.

You have shown me what it means to truly love someone without any reservations, boundaries, or doubts. You are my one true love and each second of every day, I count my blessings, because you are near.

Merry Christmas Mo Nighean Donn and Happy Anniversary.

Love, Your Husband of 30 years,

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser


Claire smiled down at her namesake, Elizabeth Claire Moore, her first of hopefully many grandchildren. Faith sat beside her leaning her head against Rabbie Moore, her best friend and husband of two years.

The peace and joy she saw in her face made Claire’s eyes prick with tears. So much love and happiness was surrounding her. Brianna cuddled on Roger’s lap, William blushing furiously with Rabbie’s sister Jane, and Fergus flying a superhero around the tree, protecting it from the evil villain that tried to take it over.

Jamie made his way over and sat on the arm of the chair, gazing down at his granddaughter.

“Do you think we’ll have more?” Claire asked him. Her eyes hopeful.

“If yer asking me if we’re to have any more bairns the answer is, God I hope not. We’re no so young anymore.”

“I’m only 51 and you’re 50. It’s not as though we’re that old.”

“I ken the wean has given ye, what have ye called it? ‘Baby fever?’”

Claire nodded with a pout. “I suppose you’re right. But I just love them when they’re this little. I love holding them, and feeling their unconditional love.”

“Aye, but do ye remember what else comes with a bairn, Sassenach? The dirty diapers, the scream-filled nights and the sleepless days?” Jamie bent down and kissed the top of her head reassuringly. “Let’s wait for the children to bring us many grandchildren we can spoil then give back, or babysit as often as possible, aye?”

Claire smiled and leaned against his side. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Da!” Fergus squealed, launching himself onto his father. “Can Ian and I go out to the barn to play? Please?”

Wide, whisky-colored eyes, and dark brown curls framed his youngest son’s pleading face. Fergus took after Claire the most of all the children, and because of that he held a special place in Jamie’s heart.

“No.” Claire said to Fergus, breaking Jamie’s thoughts just before he nodded yes.

“Ahh! Mam!!!”

“Don’t you pout at me Fergus James Beauchamp Fraser! You haven’t cleaned your room and I know you want to go out there to rile old Donas up. I will not be resetting bones on Christmas nor will I be taking anyone to the hospital. It’s too icy for riding and I’ll not have it.”

Fergus groaned and stomped back to the tree to tell Ian the verdict. Jamie laughed. “See, do ye really want another bairn to go through this stage again?”

Claire groaned. “I guess you’re right.”

Switching subjects, Claire coyly looked up at her husband, “So, did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?”

Jamie smiled and kissed Claire. “Aye, I did. What about you, mo ghradh?”

“I didn’t,” Claire sighed dramatically. “Every year my husband writes me the most beautiful letter and this Christmas season I haven’t gotten one.”

“Oh, no?” Jamie gasped in mock horror. Claire smacked his arm.

“No, is there a reason for that Mr. Fraser?”

Chuckling Jamie handed Claire his yearly letter. “The reason, Sassenach, was because I hadn’t finished it yet.” He kissed her lips once, twice, then pulled back.

“Happy Anniversary, Jamie.” She sighed.

“Merry Christmas, mo chridhe.”

My utterly adorable commission from the amazing flatbear! I asked her to combine my two favourite things, Pippin and otters, and it’s perfect - the frolicking and tailwrap and utter joy of them playing together makes my heart burst with happiness. THANK YOU SO MUCH <3

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Milk-Daughter: Chapter 2a(ish)

I haven’t returned to working on this fic since March, but I kind of love this next bit, which is not quite long or complete enough to call a second chapter. So here’s a little extra for anyone who’s enjoying the story thus far.

P.S. There’s a smidgen of baby!Everlark and you get to see more of child!Mellark brothers… :D

***

There was little romance in what came next, but Raisa cared little enough for such things and neither asked nor sought for them. Her madly drumming heart echoed three thoughts only:

She would leave this place.
She would wed this man.
She would be mother to his daughter. 

The dusky little princess would be her very own, to catch up and love and bathe and cuddle till her heart burst with joy.

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