#her verse

[gottlem]

thinking about priyanka’s little vocal run on “mind” in u wear it well

[xxvernalagniaxx]

blackcowledbat 

Weights hung down by his knees on chains that were attached to a belt around his waist. With ease, he pulled his chin up above the bar, slowly he repeated the process. Sweat dripped down his body, his muscles tensed and hard, but over his own grunts he heard the door to his office open and someone enter. “Yes?” he asked through grunts, continuing his weighted chin-ups, not looking at whoever had arrived.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ❀ ╱╲╳ ( ❝ Ohh, ) I got you coffee, I remember you said you wanted some. ❞

She was trying to be discrete as much as she could but her vibrant eyes could not remove themselves from his form and the way he looked like a wonderful silky sculpture.

But she was still able to be polite and professional even if her lips were giddy.

[ddcjas]

me while hearing fka twigs breathing on fukk sleep:

[lala-kate]

From a precious anon!!! It’s Operation Cardinal!!!! Love this. I’m grinning from ear to ear. Thank you!

[lala-kate]

Her Valentine

Just some Valentine’s Day Hood Mills family fluff. The character of Amelia comes from my drabble Study Buddies in case you were wondering just who she is. 

I do hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentines Day, everyone. :D

The table is littered with construction paper hearts trimmed with doilies and adorned with glitter. Names are proudly written on each valentine in a careful, oversized script, the writing tool of choice being a metallic sharpie Merida had begged her father to purchase for her earlier that week.

It’s clear that Merida Grace Locksley had gone all out for Valentines Day.

They’re all still in their pajamas, their bellies stuffed with applewood-smoked bacon and red velvet pancakes piled with homemade whipped cream. Robin wonders if the house has ever smelled this delicious as he takes another sip of his French Roast.

Boo lets out a squeal of protest as the fork she’s trying to lay her hands on is settled just beyond her reach by her mother. Regina bounces the baby on her lap as she presses Boo’s new stuffed rabbit into her chubby grasp, and Robin can’t help but chuckle as an ear is promptly shoved into his daughter’s gummy mouth.

Distraction accomplished. One point for Mommy.

He shoots Regina a wink from across the table, and she responds with a warm, sleepy smile as she runs her fingers through dark hair styled just the way he likes it--uncombed and disheveled, the way it looks when she falls asleep in his arms after finally finding time for a quick round of sex as they somehow managed to do last night.

With four children in the house, one of them being an infant, quickies are all they seem to have time for these days. But he’ll take them--by God, he’ll take them.

This is life at its finest, he thinks. He knows it’s far more than he deserves, but he accepts it gratefully, relishing every calm and frantic moment, knowing he’ll miss the noise and the chaos one day when all of their children are grown.

“You smell good, Henry.”

It’s Merida who has made the observation, and Henry jumps a fraction in his seat, suddenly realizing he’s now the center of attention.

“You do smell good,” Regina says as she shifts Boo closer into her chest. “Are you wearing cologne?”

Roland giggles as his big brother’s ears turn bright red.

“Yeah,” Henry shrugs, attempting to sound unaffected but failing miserably. He sighs as his mother quirks a brow in his direction, knowing he’d just as well ‘fess up now rather than face the Locksley-Mills interrogation squad. “Amelia gave it to me--for Valentine’s Day.”

“Ooooo,” Roland teases, artfully dodging a scalding glance from his older brother. “A present from your girlfriend.”

“Amelia has good taste,” Robin cuts in, feeling sorry for his stepson. He remembers all too well the teasing he’d endured from his own brother and cousins when he’d once given a bouquet of weeds to a nobleman’s daughter. “Did she like the gift you gave her?”

“What gift?” Regina questions, her eyes somehow managing to round and narrow at the same time. “You bought a gift for Amelia without consulting me?”

“He consulted me, thank you,” Robin interjects as he raises his mug to his lips. “Man to man.”

“You mean teenager to outlaw,” Regina tosses back, pressing her lips together as Boo lets out an ear piercing squeal. Henry swallows audibly, sinking in his seat as if facing a firing squad.

“I got her a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils,” Henry mutters, avoiding his mother’s gaze. “Since she loves to draw so much.”

Robin watches as Regina cocks her head in grudging acknowledgment of a job well done.

“That’s a great present, Henry,” Merida beams, her curls bouncing in a wild array around her head. “You did good.”

“Well,” Regina corrects, rolling her eyes as Boo tosses her rabbit to the floor and tries once again to reach for the forbidden utensil. “He did well.”

“I’m glad you think so, Mom,” Henry states, a small grin emerging across his face. “I thought you’d approve.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Regina sighs as Roland hands Boo her damp bunny. Henry freezes, and Robin shoots his wife a calming gaze, inclining his head just so in Henry’s direction. “But it is a...a nice choice, Henry. You did well.”

Robin smiles as the boy sits up two feet taller.

“Didn’t you get her any flowers?” Roland asks, ducking as Boo tosses the rabbit at his head. “All men know you’re supposed to give girls flowers on Valentines Day. Right, Dad?”

A stunning bouquet of red roses and purple lavender sit proudly in a crystal vase on the countertop just behind them. He meets his wife’s gaze, warmed by the genuine smile she’s wearing just for him.

“Absolutely, Roland,” Robin states, tossing a wink at his beaming, freckle-faced red-head whose bouquet of pink carnations sits displayed proudly to the right of her mother’s flowers. Boo’s matching bouquet sits just to the left of the roses.

“I did, actually,” Henry admits with a shrug. “Daisies. They’re Amelia’s favorite.”

Robin smiles broadly at this, proud of his stepson’s gallantry and his taste in women.

“Well done, indeed,” he states, patting Henry on the back, daring Regina to say anything to the contrary. She doesn’t.

“And I got some yellow flowers for Penny,” Roland says, practically making Regina choke on her coffee.

“Penny?” Robin questions, turning to face his rather shaggy-looking son. “Who, may I ask is Penny?”

“Her parents run the pet shop,” Roland states, completely unfazed by his parents’ incredulous stares. “She’s in my class at school, and she can outrun all of the boys.”

“Well if you don’t have magic,” Regina utters, actually drawing a chuckle out of Henry.

“I can outrun boys, too,” Merida insists, looking somewhat offended that she wasn’t included in Roland’s statement.

“Are you and Amelia still okay to babysit tonight?”

Robin’s question to Henry steals both his wife’s and daughter’s attention.

“Oooh, Daddy. Are you taking Mommy on a date?”

Regina gazes back at him, her expression both surprised and curious.

“Indeed, I am, Merida,” Robin replies, grinning as his wife blinks rapidly in response. “I’m planning on taking your mother out for a first class Valentine’s dinner.” The truth is that they haven’t been on a date since Boo was born. It’s past time for his wife to be properly appreciated and romanced.

“Oh, brother,” Roland utters, handing the bedraggled bunny back to his baby sister. “Here we go again.”

“Says the boy who just gave flowers to Penny,” Henry retorts, smiling at the face Roland makes back at him from across the table.

“And just when were you planning on telling me about these plans?” Regina questions as Boo stuffs the rabbit back into her mouth. “Was I supposed to poof myself into dress at the very last minute?”

“Just like Cinderella!” Merida exclaims, clapping her hands. “Oh, do it, Mommy!  We can ask Auntie Mal to be your fairy godmother. Please!!!! Maybe Kitty can be your horse!”

The dog looks up at the humans before stretching out again by the back door and closing her eyes. Robin chuckles audibly, staring back at his wife. If anyone besides one of her children had made such an audacious suggestion, he’s certain they’d be charred to a crisp by now.

“I’m capable of dressing myself, Merida,” Regina replies, attempting another sip of her coffee. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I know, Mommy, but just think!” Merida beams. “You could be poofed into a princess in front of everybody, and Daddy could take you out to dinner in a pumpkin carriage. You could wear glass slippers and everything!”

The look Regina shoots him screams Dont’ even think about it, thief.

“This might just work, Meri,” he states, watching in amusement as his wife’s eyes widen in panic. “I’ve always wondered just how a pumpkin carriage would ride.”

“Not as good as other things you like to ride,” Regina utters between her teeth. Henry stands up at that, scooting his chair beneath the table.

“I think I’ll go make sure Amelia’s good to babysit tonight,” the boy mumbles, not looking at his mother as he exits the kitchen. “See you later.”

“Could be a nice warm-up, though,” Robin teases back, hoping Roland hasn’t yet caught on to their double-entendre. “Ease the way, so to speak.” Her brow quirks up a couple of notches.

“I’m not that easy,” Regina hums, her thumb now gliding suggestively along the rim of her mug.

“Easy come, easy go,” Robin tosses back with a flick of his eyebrows, watching a slight flush crawl up Regina’s neck.

“You guys are so weird,” Roland sighs as he stands and takes his plate to the sink. “I’m gonna go play Mario Kart.”

“After you make your bed,” Regina shoots back. Roland’s shoulders slump in resigned acceptance. “And they’ll be no passage to ease for you if you even try to make me look like some helpless princess waiting for her prince charming. That’s Snow’s thing, not mine.”

He leans across the table and takes her free hand within his own, stroking her knuckles as she eyes him with suspicion.

“I have no use for princesses, my lady,” he breathes, standing just enough to drop a kiss to her hand. “Not when I’m married to the queen.”

One side of her mouth draws up in a half-smile.

“All right, then,” Regina states. “So no fairy godmother and carriage?”

“No fairy godmother and carriage,” he concedes, smiling until a small foot stamps in frustration bside them.

“There goes my idea,” Merida utters as she stands and heads to the sink. She turns quickly after depositing her plate, her face alight in excitement. “How about a magic carpet instead?!?!”

She’s dashing up the stairs before either of them can form a response.

“You know she’s probably calling Mal right now,” Robin remarks, finishing off his coffee before setting his mug on the table.

“Don’t get any ideas, Romeo,” Regina mutters as Boo drops her rabbit yet again. “I’m not wearing any I Dream of Jeannie get-up, so don’t even go there.”

He grins then, sliding into Merida’s abandoned chair right beside his wife and leaning in for a soft kiss.

“As long as I get to rub your lantern,” he teases, kissing her open-mouthed before any other protests can be launched.

[lala-kate]

Her Christmas

Since it’s still Christmas somewhere....:D

Happy Holidays to all of my beautiful followers. Mistakes all mine. Excessive fluff alert.

“They’re still at it.”

 Robin’s words are whispered so as to not wake the slumbering red-head snuggled into one side and the -she’s- finally-asleep infant now snuggled into her mother’s chest on the other side of the couch.

 “I know,” Regina breathes, stroking the sparse, dark strands on the baby’s head. “That art kit was an inspired idea.”

 “I wonder what they’re creating over there?” Robin questions. “They’ve been at it for an hour at least.”

 Henry and Roland sit at the table, hovering over the surface, completely absorbed in paints and colored pencils as they discuss something concerning what looks to be a shared work of art.

 “Who knows? When it comes to those two, the sky’s the limit.”

 Robin chuckles softly as Merida snuggles into him, burying her face into his chest another measure, prompting him to kiss the top of her head and adjust the blanket around her.

 “I’m glad her fever finally broke last night,” he continues. “Rotten luck catching the flu just before Christmas.” He touches her forehead, reassuring himself that she still feels cool to the touch as he continues rubbing her back through the blanket.

 “I know,” Regina returns. “Let’s just hope it’s made its final round in this household.”

Merida had been the third to get sick, preceded by Henry and her father. Thus far, Regina, Roland and Baby Audra had managed to stay healthy thanks to tireless precautions and an exorbitant amount of Lysol spraying and hand-washing.

 Nobody was taking any unnecessary chances within the Mills-Locksley family, especially with a two month old in the house.

 “I think she was more disappointed about not being able to exchange gifts with Neal than anything,” Robin says. “She was rather proud of the stick sword she made for him.”

 “As she should be,” Regina returns. “Although even if she were completely well, she couldn’t have given it to him today now that he’s sick.”

 “They’ve all had it now, haven’t they?”

 “Yes,” Regina sighs, touching her lips down to Audra’s soft head. “Emma and Killian included. I blame that family for starting this whole flu epidemic anyway.  Charming would be the first one to come down with it, and I’m sure that his being contagious didn’t stop Snow from being all lovey-dovey with him for one second.”

 “Is Boo still asleep?”

 They’d named her Audra Rose, but since she’d been born during the final hours of Halloween, her brothers had unceremoniously nicknamed her “Boo”.

 “Like the proverbial baby,” Regina breathes.

 “Thank God,” Robin utters, having bounced the grumpy infant on his shoulder earlier this evening until his arms ached. “What a Christmas.”

 Regina smiles at his observation, adjusting her body as best she can while holding a baby who happens to be a very temperamental sleeper.  She casts a glance towards the small puppet stage that had been a gift from Maleficent, a gift that had lifted Merida’s spirits so high that the marionettes that came with it began to levitate the moment she’d laid eyes on it.  Only Roland had been disappointed with the gift, having told his little sister repeatedly that he bet their Auntie Mal would be giving them a pet dragon for Christmas.

 Regina had had a private conversation with the other woman a few days ago to ensure that wasn’t so.

 Merida and her brothers had proceeded to entertain the adults with their own renditions of The Nutcracker and A Christmas Carol, one of the highlights being Roland’s attempt at a British accent to give voice to Ebenezer Scrooge. Dessert and How the Grinch Stole Christmas had followed, the house growing excessively quiet when the boys took to drawing and the Locksley girls fell asleep on top of their parents.

 “Thank you for my gift, by the way.”

 Regina shoots him a subtle glance.

 “You already thanked me.”

 “I know,” he grins. “But I know you didn’t particularly want a dog in the house.”

 She casts her eyes down at the large black and brown body lying at Robin’s feet just as soulful brown eyes gaze back up at her.

 “No, I didn’t,” she admits. “Especially a dog named Kitty. But I know how badly you did. Besides, she’s hardly left Merida’s side all day.”

 “That’s because she senses that Merida’s been sick,” Robin says. “Animals do, you know. They watch out for their humans.”

 “But she just got here,” Regina observes. “Kitty has only been our dog for a day. How is it she’s already so in tune with our children.”

 He hangs his head sheepishly.

 “Kitty and Merida have met before.”

 Her eyes widen as understanding takes root.

 “Go on.”

 “The kids went with me to the shelter on several occasions to visit her,” he confesses, pausing as Merida shifts against his chest. “Merida fell in love with Kitty on sight. I was a bit apprehensive about the thought of bringing a fully-grown Rottweiler into the house, but Merida…” He stops, looking her directly in the eye. “Merida told me that she was an old and gentle soul who liked to watch out for children and that she would take care of her family. Regina, you know how Meri is when she senses things, how she gets that serene look on her face and speaks more like a grown woman than a little girl.”

 She’s tongue-tied for a moment, blown away again by the innate and beautiful magic her oldest daughter possesses.

 “I do,” she whispers, looking down at the child Merida sensed within her mother’s womb, the child she knew to be a girl before Regina had even confirmed her pregnancy. “She’s always right when she has those feelings.”

 Robin nods.

 “That she is.”

 Kitty stirs slightly as Henry and Roland approach, carrying a sketch with them they display with pride.

 “It’s our family,” Regina states, leaning forward to better see the figures drawn with love. There’s Robin holding Merida on his back with Henry at his side. Then there’s her with Boo in one arm and the other wrapped around Roland’s shoulder. Kitty stands in front of them, tongue dropping out of an open mouth in what looks to be a canine smile. “I love it, boys. But who are they?”

 She points to some brown and white figures milling in the distance just behind where she and Roland are standing.

 “Those are Roland’s cats,” Henry states with a shrug. “The ones he keeps in the shed.”

 The room goes deathly silent.

 “Roland has cats?” Regina questions, sitting up an inch taller. “In the shed?”

 Robin is biting his lower lip, looking far too guilty for her liking.

 “Did you know about this?”

 Both boys shoot him a directly look.

 “Well,” he begins, trying to remain quiet about clearing his throat. “Technically, I suppose...I did.”

 “And nobody thought that perhaps I should be told?”

 Boo’s face scrunches up, the baby seeming to sense her mother’s shift in mood. Regina forces her spine to relax back into the sofa, sliding the child’s preferred pacifier between pink lips until she settles back down.

 “We were all afraid you might say no,” Henry finally ventured, giving his mom that half-smile that sometimes allowed him to get away with far more than he should.

 “And they’re a family, Mom,” Roland cut in quickly. “A mama cat and her three kittens--Sparky, Scooter and Spike. You can’t break up a family. Families are special and stay together, at least, that’s what you always say.”

 She’s been effectively backed into a corner by the men in her life, knowing that a certain, slumbering red-head has most likely been a part of their shenanigans as well. But as three pairs of eyes stare back at her--four, if she included Kitty’s, she knows there’s no way in this realm or any other she’ll be able to refuse them.

 “They stay in the shed,” she states, unable to hide her smile the moment Roland’s face breaks into an earth-shattering grin. “And no more animals in the house. Got it?”

 “Got it,” Henry and Robin repeat as Kitty lays her head back down on the floor.

“Not even a dragon?” Roland asks, hustled out of the room by his big brother before Regina can change her mind.

[lala-kate]

Her Halloween

This is a combination of a prompt sent to me ages ago from @oneresilientheart and a request for some Maleficent/Merida interaction by @trina-deckers. So here you go, you two. I hope this pleases both of you. And I hope all of my readers have a Happy and Safe Halloween!

“Like this, Merida,” she instructs, moving forward and kneeling down so she is eye to eye with the child. “You’re thinking too hard. Just let your body relax and feel the energy move.”

Blue eyes stare back at Maleficent with more than a small amount of wariness as her self-proclaimed aunt opens her palm and gently strokes the lines she finds there.

“That tickles,” the girl mutters, making the older woman smile.

“It’s supposed to,” Maleficent assures her. “That’s how inborn magic feels when it’s itching to get out.”

Small fingers twitch, the need to release what is building internally close to overtaking the girl, and just when Merida thinks she’s going to rocket off the ground, her arm is extended, her hand pointed towards a makeshift mannequin just her size that receives the full impact of her magic. There is no sound, but the child’s body shakes against the older woman’s legs, and she holds the girl steady, trying to remain focused in the brilliant menagerie of an undisciplined yet powerful gift.

The smoke from her hand is silver, dotted with rose-tinged beads that sparkle within its wisps, more veil of light than plume of smoke. It smells of lavender, Maleficent notices, a scent that matches the girls wild curls that spill haphazardly down her back.

“That’s it, Merida,” she assures her, laying her hands on the child’s trembling shoulders. “Let’s see now what you’ve created.”

Small eyes are squeezed shut, afraid of seeing damage or something distorted and ugly, something that will remind her of the birth mother she’s never known but feels marked by all the same. As the fog lifts, Maleficent laughs, a brilliant, bubbly sound that makes Merida’s eyes pop open in wonder.

“What?” the girl questions, looking up to her aunt for answers.

“Just look,” Maleficent instructs, pointing in the direction of the mannequin, no longer bare but clothed in an outfit that shimmers in the sunlight streaming in from the nearby windows.

“A Dragon? I made a dragon?”

They walk towards the costume together, hand in hand, both extending their opposite arms towards a body suit scaled in gray, pewter and pink with horns that look as if they’ve been carved from opal atop a hood just the right size for a girl of nearly five.

“You made a dragon, little one,” Maleficent beams, feeling the unworldly lightness of what should be heavy material, gazing back at the child in amazement as the costume sparkles in her clasp. “And a very complicated and detailed dragon costume, at that. You never told me you wanted to be a dragon for Halloween.”

The girl bites her lower lip, a lopsided grin unleashing deep dimples inherited from her father.

“I thought about it,” she confesses. “Just like I thought about being a football player for trick-or-treating, but Mommy didn’t like that idea too much.”

“Well, I highly doubt your mother will disapprove of this costume,” Maleficent states with more than a bit of awe in her voice. “This is magnificent, Merida.”

The girl is bouncing on her heels, wide-eyed and eager yet stunned all the same.

“I don’t know how I did it, Auntie Mal.”

“You don’t have to know,” Maleficent assures her, taking a small hand within her own. The feel of it makes her heart ache, the tug of lost years and experiences with her own daughter blurring into the present with this child she has come to love as family. “Sometimes, it’s best to let the magic move you. Sometimes, it knows what is needed before you do.”

Merida bites her lower lip, scrunching her freckled nose in the process.

“Isn’t it dangerous to let it do that?”

There’s so much doubt in the girl, fear she recognizes, fear bred from being born a magical being among people who tend to demonize what they themselves don’t possess, the fear of being inherently evil because of the choices made by the woman who carried this precious girl in her body while unleashing unholy hell on everyone else around her.

“Not necessarily,” Maleficent assures her. “You mind always controls your magic, Merida. If you thoughts and heart are in the right place, your magic will be, as well. You only need worry when your thoughts and emotions are completely out of control. That’s when your magic can turn on you.”

The child nods once, her little face drawn inward in concentration.

“You need to stop being afraid of yourself, my sweet girl,” Maleficent continues. “Trust me. If your magic were something to be feared, your mother and I would have found the means to have blocked it for your own safety.” Pink lips part at that, forming a soft “O” shape that speaks of realization.  “Now, why don’t we go and finish our snack before I take you home in time to get ready for trick-or-treating?”

Red curls bound into the kitchen at that, drawn by the heady combined scent of cinnamon, brown sugar and pumpkin.

They walk back to her own house nearly an hour later, Maleficent diligent in making sure that sticky cheeks and fingers are washed and that the dragon costume is beautifully and securely packaged before they leave. Merida carries it proudly, she notes with a measure of relief, and if anyone they pass has any ill thoughts about either of them, they think better of uttering them out loud.

Good. There’s no way in hell she’s going to let any prejudiced simpleton with a brain the size of a magic bean ruin this little girl’s Halloween. Her own fingers twitch as she scans the streets with a scowl.

Merida lets herself in, bounding into her house with excited cries of Mommy. Daddy, look what I made flying from her lips. Maleficent steps in behind her, careful to close the door as she hears Regina make her way down the staircase, the younger woman’s belly swollen and hard as the last stages of pregnancy make themselves known. She looks tired, Maleficent notices, a bit paler than usual, and she moves closer to the staircase as Merida dashes towards her mother.

It’s then that everything freezes—literally.

Silver smoke wafts over them, the scent of lavender permeating the room as Regina hangs suspended just above the stairs, her foot having slipped in her eagerness to reach her child, her child who now stands with both arms extended and a look of raw panic in her eyes.

“Let her down gently now, sweetheart,” she manages, moving forward and touching the child’s shoulders just as she had back at her house. “You saved your mother from falling. Now just help her down.”

Merida trembles all over, her eyes fixed and unblinking, holding on to her mother with a ferocity well beyond her years. This must be the same instinctive magic that protected Regina from Zelena when Merida was still inside that woman’s womb, Maleficent reasons, a protective magic she can’t help but believe grew from a combination of her father’s inherent nature and the magic that runs in the veins of all the Mills women.

Plums of rose water and what resembles starlight set Regina down on the bottom step, the younger woman grasping the rail, open-mouthed and shaken as her free hand moves instinctively around her middle. But her eyes never leave her daughter’s, the connection between these two as strong as what could ever exist between a birth mother and child.

“Merida—you saved us.”

The child’s body remains immobile, as if she’s frightened of what will happen if she lowers her arms, so Maleficent presses on them gently, whispering that it’s time to let go, that her mother and baby sister are safe thanks to her, thanks to her magic. Small muscles finally give, and the girl nearly collapses as both women rush to her side and keep her upright. They slowly allow themselves to settle to the ground and huddle together on the floor, a cluster of past, present and future—of purple, black and silver, and words slide off of her tongue before she can stop them, words that shimmer and hover over Regina and Merida before disappearing into their skin.

Merida turns then, facing her aunt with a look of wonder.

“You spoke a blessing over us,” she mutters, her lips continuing to work independently of her voice.

“You understood that? What I said?”

Auburn locks bounce as she shakes her head.

“No,” Merida replies, resting into her mother’s chest as Regina’s arms engulf her. “I just felt it.”

A tear falls down Regina’s cheek, and she kisses Merida’s forehead, pressing her face into the unruly nest of ringlets.

“You feel so much, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Regina’s voice is hoarse as the girl wraps herself around her mother as best she can, burying her head into a chest that’s grown to accommodate a new baby, one that now comforts the child born to her from another woman’s body.

“Too much sometimes, I think,” Maleficent states, seeing Regina nod in agreement as she kisses her daughter once again. Merida doesn’t speak, only holds on to her mother, and it’s beautiful, this scene playing out in front of her, something Maleficent knows Regina never had with Cora, something she herself was denied with Lily—the freedom to love and be loved without judgment from the one whose opinion matters most.

It’s then that Regina’s mouth falls open with a low, guttural sound followed by a gasp of some sort, one accompanied by rounded eyes and furrowed brows as dark eyes gaze directly into hers.

“What is it?” Maleficent asks, helping her friend to her feet, her question answered wordlessly as she spies a small puddle on the floor where Regina had just been kneeling. Merida sees it, too, and she looks frightened again, placing her hands on her mother’s stomach just as the other woman is able to formulate words.

“The baby’s coming,” Regina states, her eyes finding and locking with those of her husband who has just walked in the front door, both boys gaping open-mouthed by his side. They all stand frozen in time for a moment, that is until Roland tugs off his beanie and crosses his arms in an exaggerated pout.

“Does this mean we don’t get to go trick-or-treating?” the boys asks, ducking as both his father and step-brother give him a sound whack on the head.

[lala-kate]

Her Bedtime Story

For the amazing desperationandgin who brings me so much joy, sends me such incredible support and gives me all the feels with her writing. Here you go, my friend. In fulfillment of your request for Little Merida to be talking to the baby when Regina is very pregnant. 

Shit.

He’s late for dinner, something he knows will annoy the hell out of Regina. Of course, it isn’t his fault that David needed a hand when his truck battery died on the outskirts of town, nor could he control the fact that cell phone service was spotty for some reason out by the town line. But reasoning isn’t her forte these days—not when she’s eight and a half months pregnant with swollen feet, an aching lower back and recent leg cramps that have been keeping her awake half the night.

And tonight is lasagna night. Of all nights for him to be running late.

The smell of her signature dish hits him as he mounts the front steps, making his stomach rumble loudly enough for him to pause and take notice. What had he had for lunch today? A bologna sandwich that was supposed to have gone into Roland’s lunch box? Oh well, thank God for microwaves at least. The ability to warm cold food so quickly with the push of a button still excites him.

He unlocks the door and steps inside, expecting to hear the house alive with sound—voices, the television, Roland’s X-box, Regina reprimanding somebody for something. But it’s quiet, almost too quiet save a muted whispering coming from the living room.

He turns the corner, taking care to walk as quietly as he can, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him. Regina—stretched out on the couch sound asleep, mouth open, shoes off, hands on her rounded stomach with Merida kneeling beside her, reciting a book she knows by heart in a hushed tone.

It’s Goldilocks and The Three Bears, he realizes, grinning at the number of times either he or Regina have read it to her. He must always play Papa Bear—Merida insists upon it—while she has perfected three distinctive voices, one for Mama Bear, one for Baby Bear and one that sounds remarkably French for Goldilocks herself. The discovery of the little intruder in Baby Bear’s bed turns into a tickle fest more times than not, one that has brought Regina in to calm down pre-bedtime antics more nights than he can count. He angles his head , his heart swelling at the notion that their pint-sized red-headed renegade has read her mother to sleep.

“Hi, Daddy.”

She grins up at him, laying the book aside as she stands to her feet. He’s been caught spying and extends his arms towards her, catching her up in a hug as she dashes towards him, her favorite lavender nightgown bunching around her legs.

“Shhh,” the girl insists. “Mommy’s asleep.”

“I can see that.” He kisses her freckled cheek then, enjoying the dampness of hair that smells like baby shampoo. “Were you reading her a bedtime story?”

She shakes her head, stifling a soft giggle into his shoulder.

“No, silly,” she whispers. “I was reading to my baby sister.”

She’s said things like this throughout Regina’s pregnancy, but they always catch him off-guard, making lumps of emotion clog his throat as blue-eyed innocence gazes back at him.

“To your sister, eh?” He pauses as she nods. “And just what does she think of Goldilocks and her furry friends?”

“Oh—she likes them,” Merida beams. “Even better than The Gingerbread Man.”

“Is that so?” The child’s conviction is unwavering, and his finger dots her nose, wincing as small fingers pinch his in return.  “How is it you know that, Merida?”

Her eyes drop then, her shoulders shrugging, a habit she’s recently picked up for reasons unknown whenever someone questions her about the baby.

“I just do.”

Fear starts to shine in her eyes, and he won’t have that—the child is scared enough by her magic and biological link to a woman whose name she won’t even speak.

“Well, I think it’s lovely.”

Her nose scrunches, and she gives him a look oh so reminiscent of the brunette still snoring softly on the couch.

“Neal says it’s weird,” she murmurs. “But Auntie Snow says it’s a special gift.”

“Auntie Snow is right,” he returns, making a mental note to thank the woman the next time he sees her. Merida relaxes in his arms somewhat, her arms hanging around his neck. “Not everyone is born with magic as you were, pumpkin. Many people would pay a king’s ransom to possess what you were given.”

Ginger brows crease as she ponders his words.

“What’s it like, Daddy? To not have magic?”

He sighs, wondering how in God’s name he can even begin to answer this question.

“It’s normal,” he finally states with a shrug. “For me, anyway. And for your brothers.” Her expression falls at that, but he cups her chin and draws those wide eyes back up to his own. “But not for your mother, or Emma, or Auntie Mal, for that matter. Normal for them and for you is entirely different, Merida, and that’s alright. It’s lovely, actually. I wish I could sense everything about your baby sister that you can.”

She studies him with the seriousness of a child twice her age before leaning in until their noses nearly touch.

“She has magic, too.”

Her whisper brushes his cheek, making his heart flutter at her words. It’s something he’s wondered, how could he not with one magical daughter and Regina for a wife, but hearing it spoken with such certainty, a certainty even Regina hasn’t felt both thrills him and makes him pause.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing she’s got you to show her the ropes.”

She pauses, blinking rapidly a few times.

“I guess,” she shrugs, her face alight with something that evidently hadn’t occurred to her until this moment. “You really think so, Daddy?”

She’s biting her lower lip now, a habit she’s picked up from both of parents, one that gets to him every time she does it.

“I know so,” he breathes.

She kisses his cheek then, tickling his skin with the softness of a moth’s wings before sliding down to the floor and skipping back to the book she’d left on the rug. She silently motions for him to come closer, beaming at him when he does before taking a breath and picking up just where she left off. Regina has shifted somewhat, her head now tilted to the side, and he moves to lay a blanket across her bare feet before they turn to icicles. It’s then he spies the slight upturn to her mouth, her mouth that is now closed even as her snores have ceased. She’s heard their conversation, the sneaky woman, and he can’t help but grin down at her as he leans in close and brushes a kiss to her forehead, feeling her move slightly beneath his lips. Her smile is unmistakable,though her eyes remain closed as familiar words in the whispered excitement of a four year old move softly over them.

“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed, said Baby Bear. And there she is.”