#claire coming out of nowhere didn’t help

[zombster]

if i see one more post saying they ship carmen and therapy i’m going to scream

[aestheticaltcow]

Double Trouble

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich x Reader

MDNI 18+

Double the trouble but twice the joy. Thank you, God, for giving me a twin.

Do you ever have one of those stupid ideas that sticks in your brain even though it feels kinda stupid? Yea... that's what this was.

Next Part

The Bear Masterlist

Richie walked into The Bear that morning sweating through his suit. He’d been able to avoid Carmy the last few days, claiming he needed some personal time to ‘get some shit done,’ but the reality was he was waiting for the dark purple mark bruise on his neck to dissipate.

Richie had never been the ‘hook up’ type, but being divorced for a year and a half with practically no action makes a guy think. He didn’t plan on hooking up with a random girl he matched with on Tinder or some other dating site. He had his eyes set on asking the cute new checker at the grocery store out on a date that hopefully would end at her place, but that plan went to shit at Marcus’s birthday party last weekend. 

~

Carmy had been dating this woman, Sierra, for a few months. She was a very kind, empathetic pediatric nurse who ironically worked at the same hospital Claire worked at. One could say Carmy has a type. She was stunning. Large brown eyes with hints of a golden undertone, a button nose complemented by a dainty silver ring, plush lips, and high cheekbones. She had a half sleeve made up of different flowers and some kind of shark that Richie could never remember the name of; he didn’t know how Carmy had convinced her to date him.

It was Marcus’s first birthday after his Mom had passed. Syd took it upon herself—with some help from Chester—to throw him a true college-style buck wild rager. Natalie and Pete volunteered to host it at their house since everyone else at The Bear couldn’t accommodate a party quite that large in their apartments. Richie laughed when Syd described what she’d planned: multiple kegs, beer pong…, and the list went on.

He found it endearing how much preparation she’d put into planning this party and expected it would be a fun night. He didn’t expect what happened about halfway through the party.

Richie was buzzed but found his way to the kitchen where he saw Sierra sitting on the counter, Carmy nowhere in sight. She looked upset, and Richie, being the gentleman, asked her if she was okay. Through teary eyes, she shook her head and put her arms out to the man, expecting a hug or some other kind of comfort from him. Once again, being the gentleman, he comforted the young woman and offered to kick Carmy’s ass if he did or said something that may have hurt her feelings. Sierra laughed and squeezed him tighter- the two had hugged before, but this felt different from the others. 

Sierra's lips crashed onto his as Richie pulled away from the hug. Maybe it was because he was buzzed, maybe it was because he’s a scumbag, he kissed her back. As he pushed his tongue into her mouth, he swore he heard someone come into the kitchen and opted to end the kiss there. 

There was no one there. Richie tried to walk away, saying something about this never happening and how they should keep it between them. Sierra shook her head and hopped off the counter, closing the space Richie had made between the two of them. When her hand floated over his crotch, she purred, “It’s been so long since a real man has fucked me… why don’t we find somewhere we could have some privacy?”

As the words left her lips, Richie was done for. It had been a long time since a woman- especially one as pretty as Sierra had touched him or practically begged him to fuck them; he was putty in her hand. Richie led her toward the basement and quickly looked around, ensuring everyone was preoccupied. He felt exhilarated. It was like he was a teenager again, sneaking away to make out with Tiff. The nostalgic excitement was enough to erase Carmy from his mind temporarily. 

When the two were alone in the basement, Sierra pounced on him. As their lips touched, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, fighting him for dominance. Her hands went to his belt. Richie grabbed her wrists and told her there was plenty of time for that; he was not submissive, and today wasn’t going to be the day he’d experiment with it. He released her wrists and moved to pull the top of her tank top down to expose her breasts. As Richie attached his lips to the soft, delicious, newly exposed skin, she managed to undo his belt. She’d always get her way. When her hand enveloped his cock, he could’ve cum then and there.

Sierra worked her hand up and down his growing erection as Richie bit and suckled on each of her nipples, earning soft groans and mumbles of ‘right there’ from her. Enough had been enough; both adults were sick of foreplay and knew they had to go for it to avoid being caught. 

Richie pushed her up against the wall of Natalie and Pete’s half-finished basement and ripped Sierra’s shorts down her legs. He shoved her panties to the side and penetrated her velvety lips. Richie groaned when he felt just how wet she’d gotten from what they’d been doing. ‘Fuck me, Daddy- I need your cock!’ 

The sound of skin slapping skin and loud moans filled the basement as Richie thrust up into her tight succulent pussy. Any worries from before had left his mind as Sierra moaned into his ear, begging him to cum inside of her. When her teeth sunk into his neck, he felt her walls sucking him deeper inside of her. Richie grunted as he adjusted his grip on her thighs; Sierra threw her head back as she came around him. The gush of her fluids was enough to make him bust.

Richie woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and little memory of the events of the night before. When he looked in the mirror and saw the hickey adorning his neck, it hit him like a freight train. He took a step back and began processing what had happened; he had sex… with Carmy’s girlfriend. In a slight panic, he ran into his bedroom and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. He quickly sent a text to the ‘manager’ group chat to let Syd, Natalie, and Carmy know he wasn’t coming in for the next couple of days, claiming he needed to use his personal time. After a confirmation text from Natalie, he put his phone on Do Not Disturb and fell back on his bed. Maybe he was a loser after all.

~

Richie quickly walked through the kitchen, managing to avoid Carmy, who had been doing inventory and subsequently had his back turned. He sat at a table and pressed his forefinger and thumb into the bridge of his nose. How was he supposed to amp up the waitstaff that night when he felt like this? 

“Hey, Richie- you good?” Syd’s causal question turned serious when she saw Richie’s body language. He shook his head, “Do you want to talk about it?” Syd cautiously asked, sitting across from him at the table. 

“Nah- it’s nothin'. Don’t stress it.” Richie grumbled as he pushed himself up from the table. He went toward the kitchen, ignoring Syd’s calls as he busted through the swinging doors. “Where’s Carmy?” he announced to the prep staff, and one of the new line cooks gestured over to the office door. 

Richie took a deep breath and knocked on the closed door before checking to see if it was locked. It took a moment for Carmy to say anything; the lock clicked, and the door swung open. Carmy stood in the doorway, cheeks flushed more than usual. Richie looked over Carmy’s shoulder to see Sierra sitting on the beat-up loveseat, adjusting her scrub top. She smiled in his direction, causing Richie to go pale. “You good cousin?” Carmy queered, getting Richie’s attention.

He shook his head, “I’m good- I’ll talk to you later.” 

~

Guilt was eating Richie alive- he couldn’t sleep or eat, and everyone noticed. Tiffany was the one to question what had been going on. 

“You’re not okay. What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly as the two sat on a bench at the playground, watching Eva play on the jungle gym with one of her friends. “Nothin’.” Richie attempted to bluff, but Tiffany saw through it. “Richard.” she challenged. Richie sighed. “I did somethin’ really stupid, Tiff.”

After confessing to Tiffany about what had happened at Marcus’s party, he felt ready to confess what happened with Sierra to Carmy. Richie was nervously scratching the back of his neck as he waited outside Carmy’s door. He’d knocked just moments ago, but it felt like hours. 

With messy curls and a flushed face, Carmy opened the door. Confusion plastered his face, “What’re you doin’ here?” he queried. Richie swallowed, “Can I talk to ya?”

“Uh, sure…” Carmy stepped aside and allowed Richie into his apartment. Sierra sat on the couch with a blanket over her lap. There was some Danish cooking show on the TV. The two had clearly not been watching the show, and Richie felt another wave of guilt crash over him. “Are you okay, Rich?” Carmy questioned, concern filling his voice as his eyebrows knit together. 

Richie shook his head, “I don’t fuckin’ know why Sierra hasn’t said shit, but we uh- hooked up at Marcus’s birthday party.”

“What the fuck! Ew!” Sierra yelled from the couch, “I would NEVER fuck you Richie.”

“That’s not what you fuckin’ said on Saturday!” Richie yelled accusatory back at Sierra. She rolled her eyes and stood up, revealing her lacy underwear to the two men. “Carmy and I left at like 11 and I was with him the entire time. When would I have had the time to fuck you, Richie?!” she yelled, stepping closer to Richie.

“You were in the kitchen upset about somethin’. I asked if you wanted me to kick Carmy’s ass, then you kissed me and went off on some ‘haven’t fucked a real man’ bullshit.” Richie clarified. He was angry at himself for sleeping with Carmy’s girlfriend, and now she stood there lying to the two of them. Richie watched Seirra’s face contort in frustration, “That didn’t happen, Richie!” 

“Yes! Yes, it fuckin did! Sierra, what the fuck!” Richie groaned. The two were ready to rip each other’s throats out when Carmy broke the tension with his laughter, “Did Y/N go to the party, Si?” he managed to get out between laughs. The realization on Sierra’s face was comical, “I’m gonna kill her, Carmen.” Sierra shook her head as she stomped her way back to Carmy’s bedroom. Richie shot him a confused look, “Sierra has a sister… identical twin sister- Y/N.”

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Big Family

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader, Castiel & teen!reader (obviously platonic), Claire Novak & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You and Claire meet for the first time, but it doesn’t go so well at first.

“Claire, this is Y/N.”

Claire barely spared the girl a glance as she dropped her gear next to the table in the bunker and headed off to find a shower.

It had seemed like the whole ride back from the hunt, Sam Winchester could speak of nothing but seeing his daughter again, and Claire was sick of the girl before they’d even met.

It didn’t help that Cas and Dean kept adding bits about how great you were, and how much you and Claire would get along. She hadn’t felt so ignored in a long time.

She knew, deep down, how childish she was being, but she couldn’t help it. Ever since her parents had died, those three idiots had been the closest thing she had to parents, besides Jody. Hearing that they had someone, someone better than her, someone actually related…

It hurt.

…

Claire had half expected Sam to come after here to give her some stupid talk about how she was feeling, but even after she finished getting cleaned up, he was nowhere to be found. She went to the library of the bunker to find you and Sam; he was listening with wrapt attention while you caught him up on your past few days.

“You go to school?” Claire asked when you were finished speaking, and you and Sam turned to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m not that involved with hunting,” you explained with a shrug. “I usually just help with research sometimes, but I’d rather focus on school.”

Claire didn’t respond. This was the girl that they thought she’d get along with? She didn’t even hunt!

“So what happens when your dad needs backup? You’re too busy in math class to care?”

“Hey, um—“ Sam interjected. “Claire, how about I show you around the bunker. Hey Y/N, can you go find Dean? I think he might’ve gotten hurt by one of the vamps, but he’s being too macho to admit it.”

“Sure,” you said quietly to your father, ignoring Claire as you passed her and headed to Dean’s room.

“What was that?” Sam asked, and Claire was annoyed by his gentle tone.

“What was what?”

“Don’t,” Sam said. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You don’t even know Y/N, why are being so cold to her?”

“Oh, sorry,” Claire scoffed. “I didn’t mean to upset your princess.”

“Stop it.” It wasn’t Sam that had spoken this time, but Cas, who just entered the room. “Claire, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” Claire huffed. “I just don’t like her, ok? Get over it.”

“You don’t even know her,” Sam argued.

“I know enough.”

“No, no you don’t. And I think if you try to talk to her, actually try, you two could get along.”

“Yeah right.”

“Claire—“

“You can’t make her like anybody.” All three of them turned at the sound of your voice in the doorway. “She can think what she wants, guys. Just leave her be.” You turned all of your attention to your dad. “Uncle Dean’s fine, by the way, but you look like you seriously need to crash.”

“Yeah, ok,” Sam sighed. “I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

“I should get some food, we’re almost out,” Cas added after Sam left. “Are you two—“

“I promise we won’t kill each other.” You rolled your eyes. “Go.”

Once you were alone with Claire, she turned to look at you.

“So what, now we bond?”

You scoffed. “Do I look like Sam? Like me, don’t like me, I don’t give a crap. I didn’t do a thing to you, but if you wanna hate me, knock yourself out.”

Claire suddenly felt a newfound respect for you; you didn’t take crap from her, which was a start.

“Can I ask you a question?” Claire began.

“You just did.”

Claire rolled her eyes and continued, “Why’d you lie to Sam? You said you checked on Dean, but you went to his room and he was in the kitchen.

You shrugged. “‘Go check on Uncle Dean’ is dad’s most obvious code for ‘I want to have a conversation about you’, so I figured I’d stick around.”

When Claire didn’t respond, you continued.

“Ok, so now it’s my turn for a question. Why do you hate me? I mean we haven’t even met before, and I’ve heard only great things about you.”

This got Claire’s attention.

“You have?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “The guys talk about you all the time, half the time it felt like you were a long-lost sister.”

“Gosh, is my face red?” Claire muttered, without as much sarcasm in her tone as she would’ve liked.

“What?” You asked.

“Look,” Claire sighed. “Most of the time, the guys can do nothing but talk about you. I mean Sam brags on you like your Mother Theresa or something, and I guess…I guess I was jealous.”

Claire half expected you to laugh, or to get angry, but you just smiled.

“You? Jealous of me?” You laughed, but not the cruel laugh that Claire had expected. “That’s crazy! I mean, you’re the one that goes on all those hunts with them, and they love you!”

“But I’m not their kid,” Claire argued. “I…look, after my parents died, Jody and those three guys were my only family. So when I found out they had their own…”

“You think just because I’m Sam’s daughter, I can somehow…what, take your place?” You shook your head. “Uncle Dean likes to say that family doesn’t end in blood. You’re their family—our family. I can’t take your place, and you can’t take mine. Those three idiots can love both of us, trust me.”

“Yeah,” Claire cracked a smile. “I guess they can.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

[freedelusionshere]

Mikey, Cicero, and the mob as a representation of toxic masculinity.

Keep thinking about how Mikey is denigrated by Lee and others in Fishes for trying to come up with side businesses constantly, but to me it reads like someone who desperately wants to go legit but can’t? Same thing with franchising The Beef. Gets him out from owing Cicero or passing on that legacy to Carmy or Sugar. Mikey always has to act tough and untouchable and fake confidence to navigate this, which was probably handed off to him when his father went wherever he went. And it earns him admiration (Mikey was "cool") while internally he's self-destructing. And like Donna, whatever he wanted or dreamed for his life was pushed to the side.

Btw, the name Cicero could be a very “on the nose” reference to a Chicago town that was taken over by Al Capone to protect his territory. Like Capone, Cicero really “owns” The Bear one way or another right from the go. On the surface it appears he has guilt over Mikey’s death, wants to help the Berzatto family, etc.

But the entire time he’s around the family, even in flashbacks like Fishes, he’s trying to talk business in one way or another. Think about him (update: it was Lee, not Cicero, but my point stands, because Lee is also in on this) trying to bring up real estate to Donna in the kitchen (which she tried to beg off) or him jumping in on convos, Richie’s ask for a job, etc. Later all his convos are about money, about how he doesn’t want to take it from them, but he will. Tapping Sugar to handle all the financial stuff for him (I bet it will come out in S4 Donna does that for him on the real estate side).

Here are several other examples:

Mikey hid Cicero’s money away in tomato cans for Carmy to find and Carmy tells Cicero and his reaction? Thank God he didn’t put it in a bank. LOL.

Carmy “joking” in S1 about how he doesn’t want to get his legs broken. (Carmy is portrayed as very straight-and-narrow, not tolerating drugs being sold in the alley outside, and having a strong reaction to Claire admitting she liked to shoplift as a kid).

Richie having a gun to protect the shop and later telling Carmy he’ll come after Cicero if he comes for them.

Richie dealing with the mob associates lingering on the sidewalk outside The Bear, who are obviously conducting business of some kind.

The way The Beef has magically always had just enough money to stay afloat all this time and has things hidden in its walls. The story about Mikey trying to burn it down to collect the insurance money rather than allowing all this to continue when he spiraled.

Claire “joking” about sending Faks to beat up Carmy. I guarantee you there are Faks who do this, the Cena character 100% reads as a body man, you see him physically intimidating his brothers to be "funny".

The sudden presence of The Computer as a numbers guy coming to reconcile Cicero's accounts for someone(s).

Mikey not allowing Carmy to work at The Beef and pushing him away emotionally to make him want to GTFO of dodge.

The partnership agreement that seemingly comes out of nowhere, as Cicero now tries to rope Sydney into the family operation? Which is super triggering for her because she already has trust issues around Carmy as a business partner?

This also plays into the show liking to make references to Shakespeare which had violent family factions who controlled things (Romeo & Juliet being the most obvious) and Michael Mann who often focuses on organized crime in his storytelling.

This is all background noise and not the main driver of the show, but I was curious to see what others think about this and if anyone is noticing all of this? Especially when it comes to the kind of masculinity that is being idolized by characters like the Faks, even though it appears to go against Neil's actual nature.

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 17

Loki had a battle in his mind about where to take Claire. Whether her place or his place would be better. On the one hand, he thought his house would be good as Bat could help calm her down. Then again, he thought once he told her the truth about vampires, he worried she might freak out about being in the home of one.

On the other hand, if he took her back to her home, she might feel better being in her own surroundings. Though he didn’t want to scare her over a vampire being in her home once he told her he was one, thinking she might panic and think there’s nowhere safe to go if she’s scared.

In the end, when the taxi took them closer to both homes, he made the decision to go to his place, then if she did go into a further panic, he would get a taxi to take her home.

When they arrived, Claire was calmer and had stopped shaking. She was still confused and a bit vacant.

Loki paid the taxi driver, then helped Claire out of the car. She was able to walk, though was a little stumbly as her legs were weak from the shock. Loki kept his arm around her as he guided her up to the front door.

As soon as they stepped inside, Bat was purring around Claire’s legs as if she had been waiting behind the door for them to arrive. She followed Loki and Claire through to the living room, as soon as Loki sat Claire down on the sofa she jumped up onto her lap and began rubbing her face against Claire’s chin.

‘Hey, Bat.’ Claire whispered as she wrapped her arms around the cat and snuggled into her.

Loki nipped through to the kitchen to get a glass of water for Claire, he also grabbed a throw that was draped over the back of a chair at the dining table. When he got back to the living room, he wrapped the throw around Claire’s shoulders and handed her the glass of water.

‘Are you ok, darling?’ He asked softly.

Claire took a few sips of the water and nodded. ‘Jessica… that was… that was no act. That was real. She’s a vampire. They’re real.’ Her voice went a little shaky again.

Loki nodded as he rubbed her back gently. ‘They are… and she is… she won’t have meant to scare you like that, or hurt you, she was caught up in a feeding frenzy, won’t have been thinking clearly. She’s not a bad vampire. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time…’

Claire buried her face against Bat’s soft fur for a moment, she was still purring, which was really calming for Claire.

‘Wait…’ Claire raised her head to look at Loki, she looked slightly uneasy. Loki knew what was coming.

‘You’re so calm about this, you know about vampires?’ Claire asked.

Loki nodded slowly. ‘Claire… I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I’ve been so worried about scaring you.’

Claire’s heart began racing, so much so that Loki could hear it.

‘You have been right about vampires all this time, about the red river. The rumours are true, well, sort of.’ Loki said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. ‘I… I’m a vampire too, Claire.’

At first, Claire wanted to laugh. Even though she had always hoped deep down that the rumours were true, she still thought it was impossible to be real. Then she felt fear, though she quickly realised it was ridiculous to be fearful of Loki, he was so kind to her and sweet…

Claire couldn’t say anything, she couldn’t get the words to come out, her eyes were wide in shock and Loki could still hear her heart beating like a million miles an hour.

Loki stood up and took a few steps backwards. ‘I won’t hurt you, I promise. If you want me to call you a taxi home, I will do it. I’m not going to trap you here. I’m still me.’

It took a minute for Loki’s words to really sink in.

‘I… I just need a moment to process this…’ Claire put her hand over her face and breathed in deeply, her breathing was wobbly.

She realised that even though she was just told that Loki wasn’t human, she didn’t feel like she was in any danger at all, he wasn’t a threat. In-fact, she realised that her thoughts were running wild in an excited manner with so many questions more than anything.

‘I can give you some space if you need.’ Loki said softly.

Claire didn’t answer straight away, she looked down at Bat and focused on her for a while. Then she looked back up at Loki, who surprisingly looked really worried. That melted her heart, the fact he was worried about scaring her.

‘I uhm. You’re not pulling my leg, are you? This is genuine?’ Claire tried to keep her voice steady but it did break a little.

‘I’m not pulling your leg, sweetheart. It’s been difficult not telling you the truth, I can’t apologise enough for not being truthful. Though telling someone you really like that you’re a blood sucking monster, isn’t the easiest of things to do.’ Loki rubbed the back of his head.

Claire closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them again. ‘Do you… do you kill a lot of humans?’

Loki’s eyes widened and he looked almost hurt, but he remembered that she didn’t really know anything about their world. So he couldn’t blame her for assuming that. ‘God, no. I don’t feed off any human, unless they are willing… There’s a lot to it. The hospital dad runs, the blood-bank side of it, is a way for vampires to get their feed without involving a human directly. There’s a few humans that also volunteer themselves up to it but that’s pretty rare. I’ve only ever fed off of around ten humans in the span of fourteen years being a vampire. Most of us want to co-exist peacefully with humans, not to harm them.’

‘Why do you call yourself a blood sucking monster then?’ Claire asked quietly.

Loki raised an eyebrow. ‘Well… that’s what a lot of humans still think of us, because there are still a handful of vampires that like to feed from humans without consent and for the thrill of the hunt, they enjoy hurting.’

Suddenly Claire began piecing things together and Loki could practically see the lightbulb going off in her brain.

‘Wait… so your dad is a vampire if he runs the hospital and blood bank… Chris is a vampire too, isn’t he? That’s what you don’t agree upon? You both have different views on it all?’

Loki nodded with a half-smile. ‘You’re far too smart for your own good.’ He chuckled. ‘Can I sit next to you?’

Claire swallowed hard and while she definitely was nervous, she wasn’t scared per say. She nodded though and looked down at Bat, continuing to stroke her as Loki came and sat down next to her, though he didn’t touch her.

Loki noted that her heartbeat had slowed down, no longer in fear. He could tell she was still on edge and that she had a million questions no doubt.

‘Chris believes that vampires are the higher beings, that humans need to evolve. He’s been around for a long time. Very old school, dad was of the same principles as Chris back in the day. They went around turning as many humans as they could, on a bit of a spree. One day, dad realised they were going too far, Chris began killing some humans that he didn’t deem worthy of turning into a vampire. Then dad met my mum, and that’s when things drastically changed. Chris still believes in the old ways, he likes the torture aspect and hurting humans. Dad began his mission to allow us to live in harmony with humans, to change our ways. Thankfully many vampires follow his teachings and want to do good, too.

We’ve come a long way, but still have a long way to go… What you saw tonight with Jessica, she was feeding from drunken humans. We have deals with some bars and clubs that we can feed from the drunks out back, as long as we give them an endorphin release so they don’t feel pain, and when they come around, they think it was just a drunken dream. Some vampires find that a safe compromise for getting their feral urges out, but without causing too much harm or fear. Jessica was so caught up in her frenzy she didn’t realise what she was doing to you. Blood can drive us crazy.’ Loki explained.

‘So, she wouldn’t have killed me?’ Claire asked quietly.

‘No.’ Loki said in full confidence. ‘She would have fed from you, if given the chance. Though you wouldn’t remember it the next morning.’

Claire wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved to hear that or not.

‘I… I think I’d like to go home… I don’t, I don’t mean I’m shutting you out or anything. I just need some time for this all to sink in. It’s a lot to take in.’ Claire said as she looked down to focus on Bat again.

Loki nodded and stood. ‘Can I walk you home? Or do you want a taxi?’

‘Uhm… A taxi, please. I think. I don’t really know.’ Claire’s brain was a complete jumble. She had so many questions but she didn’t know how to get them out properly, plus she was feeling quite nervous and she wasn’t sure if that was just from the shock with what happened with Jessica or because of Loki admitting he was a vampire too.

So, she needed a bit of time to get her thoughts to settle. Still having alcohol in her system really wasn’t helping either.

Loki called her a taxi and it arrived within five minutes. He walked outside with her after she gave Bat a last cuddle. He walked her to the taxi and opened the door for her after slipping the driver some money.

‘Can you text me when you get in, so I know you’re home safely?’ Loki asked.

Claire nodded and gave him a small smile. ‘I will… Thank you for saving me tonight.’ She went to reach out to touch his arm, but hesitated and brought her hand back.

Loki’s heart was tugging at him, but he knew she just needed time to process everything that had happened tonight. He had to have some patience.

Of course, he knew that she would be safe enough taking the taxi home, but just to be on the super safe side he turned into a bat and followed the taxi to her home, making sure to stay hidden from her as he watched her head inside her building safely.

When he flew home, he was relieved that she did text him, but what made him smile was she ended the text with a ‘x’ still.

Which gave him hope.

[exhuastedpigeon]

🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻 🕵🏻

99 for 🕵🏻

“Okay yeah,” Buck nodded, not sure what this was all about until it clicked. To everyone’s knowledge here, he was gay and maybe Claire was worried about homophobes. “Everyone has been great so far. Really helpful.”

“Great,” Claire nodded and handed Buck his coffee. “We’re glad to have you on the team.”

“Yeah, I-I’m glad to be here,” Buck said and if the smile Claire gave him was any indication, he sounded like he meant it.

–

Buck hadn’t planned on going to Eddie’s gym after work, but he wasn’t able to get to the gym at the office during his lunch and he was feeling like he was about to vibrate out of his skin. So instead of going home after work he went right to the gym. 

It was a nice gym, a really nice one actually. It looked like the kind of gym a guy like Jason Miller would certainly belong to. Buck walked up to the desk and smiled at the extremely short ripped woman behind it. 

“Hi, welcome to Thrive,” the woman said with a customer service smile. 

“Hey,” Buck grinned, looking around like maybe Eddie would appear out of nowhere just because Buck had walked in. He didn’t, so Buck focused on what the woman behind the counter was saying, or at least he tried to. 

“Are you looking to sign up for a membership?” The woman asked. “We have multiple options depending on what you’re looking to use the space for. If you’re just going to use the gym and not do any classes or personal training sessions I suggest starting with a one month trial membership before committing.”

“I uh - I was looking for Dan-”

“Baby,” Eddie’s voice reached Buck’s ears and he couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed over his face if he’d wanted to. “I didn't know you were coming in today.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Buck said, looking Eddie over as he walked out from what was probably the staff room behind the desk. Eddie looks good. Eddie looked hot. His hair was damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. His black tank top was sticking to his chest. His gray joggers were doing nothing to hide the fact that Eddie was packing.. Well that Eddie was packing a very nice cock. Buck wanted him so badly his knees went a little weak. 

Instead of stopping behind the desk like Buck expected him to, Eddie walked around the desk and pressed a kiss to Buck’s lips. If you had given Buck 100 guesses at what the context of the first kiss with Eddie would be, he still wouldn't have guessed right. How could he have guessed it? It didn't feel like a first kiss, it felt like the kind of kiss you have after years together. The kind of kiss you give to your partner after a long day at work. The kind of kiss you expect to have thousands more of. 

It was too brief for Buck’s liking, a firm and sweet press of lips against his, one of Eddie’s hands on his waist as he did it, like he was holding Buck in place. Buck leaned in and pressed another one to Eddie’s mouth because it was right there in front of him and he couldn't help himself. He was greedy when it came to Eddie. 

“Hi,” Eddie said, a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth only for Buck. Or at least that’s what Buck told himself. He had always loved the way Eddie’s eyes kind of melted when he smiled, going all soft and gooey. 

“Hi yourself,” Buck was pretty sure his eyes were as soft as Eddie’s, but unlike it being just how he smiled like Eddie’s was, it was how he smiled when he looked at Eddie. 

“This must be Jason,” the woman behind the counter looked between them with a smirk and raised eyebrow at Eddie. 

“Jason, this is Ava, Ava, this is my husband Jason,” Eddie laughed, leaning his hip against the front desk. 

“Nice to meet you,” Buck smiled at her. Eddie had mentioned Ava being his favorite coworker at the gym so it was nice to put a face to the name and stories. 

“You too,” Ava’s smirk turned into a smile. “Danny talks about you all the time.”

“I’d tease him about it, but I’m pretty sure I talk about him all the time too,” Buck laughed. “He’s kind of my favorite person.”

 “Oh good, you’re just as sappy about it as he is,” Ava laughed. “I’ll let you take care of you man.”

“You just want to go see if Stacey is still here ,” Eddie shot at her, but he was laughing too. 

“You can’t prove that!”

“I don’t have to prove it for it to be true,” Eddie called after her, laughing even harder when she flipped him off behind her back. 

“Stacey?”

“We’re having a couple of the private training rooms painted, Stacey is our go to contractor and Ava has a giant crush on her,” Eddie explained, finally walking behind the desk. “I really wasn’t expecting you to come in today or I’d have had your membership set up already.”

“I get a membership?”

“Perk of being married to an employee,” Eddie winked at him and typed a few things into the computer. “What’s our address again?”

An hour later Buck pulled into their driveway, Eddie in the passenger seat because he’d walked to work that morning. Buck wasn't surprised that Eddie walked, the gym was pretty close to them on the main stretch of Market Street, only a fifteen minute walk from their house. He liked picturing it, Eddie walking down the sunny street, maybe stopping for a coffee on his way in. 

“If you want to shower I can start dinner,” Eddie said as they walked into the house. Eddie’s hair was still damp from his own shower at the gym. 

It was all so domestic. It was the life he’d dreamed of having with Eddie except it wasn’t with Eddie, it was with Danny. It was his life but it wasn’t his life. Buck let himself cry about it in the shower and when he walked downstairs thirty minutes later he felt a little better, or at least he felt like he could live with it. 

He smiled at Eddie when he walked into the kitchen because he’d always smile at Eddie. 

“I thought I was going to get fired!” Buck laughed as he retold the story of Claire pulling him for a chat to Eddie over dinner, their feet knocking against each other at their little kitchen table. 

“I know you hate office work, but I doubt you’d get fired,” Eddie laughed. “Plus, even if you did get fired we’d be fine. WITSEC gives us each what, sixty grand a year paid out bi-weekly like a paycheck on top of whatever we’re making at these jobs. We could afford for you to just stay home and look pretty.”

“And then I’d just be your trophy husband,” Buck said with a wink, smiling even bigger at the flustered little blush on Eddie’s face. He swallows and reigns himself in because Eddie isn’t flirting. As far as Buck knows, Eddie is straight and he’s probably just trying to stay in character. 

“You’d lose your mind in under a week,” Eddie kicked him gently under the table. “It sucks because I bet I could stomach working a desk job again for a little while again and you’d be a great trainer. It feels like they gave us the wrong jobs.”

[kurt-hummel-eat-your-heart-out]

John Bendy boy(Bender) with a trans masc reader who comes out to him as trans and he’s like “I knew.” Turns out he had a feeling all along and you tell him your preferred name(let it be known that he will mess up ANYONE who deadnames you.)

Omg I love this idea! @screamfome Tysm for the request I appreciate it from the very bottom of my heart🫶🫶🫶 sorry if this is a little late, I got sick over the weekend😭

John Bender (The Breakfast Club) x transmasc reader

Disclaimers/warnings?: reader has fears of era-typical transphobia, I put like the tiniest sprinkle of angst in here w that. This is written from 2nd person btw. Also relationship between John and reader is platonic in this.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The creeping chill of winter had made its way into the November air. This thanksgiving break was a much needed one. School had already been dragging you down the moment the year started, so you were always happy when you could catch a break. You were practically in distress at the fact that you were going back to school tomorrow already.

Not only were you dreading this approaching Monday, you were dreading a meet up that you had planned. You’d been the one asking John to meet up, saying that you had something you wanted to talk about. You were the one who initiated it, so why were you tempted to chicken out now?

You couldn’t help but pace around the sidewalk outside the diner you’d told him to go to. If he was really your friend he wouldn’t mind, right? I mean, who would he tell? It’s not like anyone else could see past his intimidation tactics like you had, so it’s not like he would leave you for this. Right?

John was just about the closest friend you’d ever had in your life. The way he understood you was almost indescribable. You and him were one in the same sometimes, it was like you two shared brain cells. The same thought process, similar views on your classmates, the works. You didn’t know how you two did it, you just… worked.

You knew you were pretty much his only friend, so it’s not like he would abandon you. At least, you thought so.

As you paced around, your nerves grew worse. It was no big deal, all you had to do was just… tell him you were a man. Totally casual, not at all off-putting. You mumbled your spiel you’d lost sleep over reciting to yourself.

‘Hey John, guess what. I’m a boy… no. I’m a man- fuck, no. I’m a dude. Does that sound better…?’ This train of thought was going nowhere. You let out a frustrated sigh, stopping your nervous pacing to lean against the wall. You’d heard cold things were supposed to calm you down, but this air was doing nothing to help you.

It felt like what you’d planned was leaving your memory, breaking off in little pieces until you couldn’t remember any of it. You buried your face in your hands, groaning in exasperation. The more you let yourself think about it, the more you’d psych yourself out.

Just then, you felt a light shove to your shoulder. You stumbled away from the wall, spinning around to see none other than the reason for your unease. John stood in front of you with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

“Yo, jackass.” He flashed his signature smirk, something you’d grown accustomed to seeing over the years. You could never get past how white he managed to get his teeth, it was the first thing you’d notice about him. That and little jingle his belt chains made when he walked. Usually you could hear him before he even rounded a corner, he used to joke that you were ‘telekinetic, or some magic shit’. His words, not yours.

“Where’s mister spidey-senses today, huh? Is he on vacation, to the cape perhaps?” He talked in that snooty little rich girl voice he often did to mock this sophomore in your biology class.

“Alright, didn’t know we invited Claire to the function.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him. You turned around, motioning for him to follow you inside the diner. His belt chain jingled in time with the bell on the front door, soon being silenced by the shouting of a waitress telling you to ‘Sit wherever ya like!’. You promptly chose a booth all the way towards the back of the aisle, John following suite.

“All the way back here, huh? Not trying to pull something on me, right?” He laughed softly, leaning into the uncomfortable booth cushions.

He took his usual unruly position, slouching with no particular care for his posture or appearance. You took a more reserved position. Your arms were crossed on the table, your gaze was thrown out the window, staring at the fading sun in the distance. This was one of many sunsets you’d seen with John. That was a secret of his you’d kept; he loved to watch sunsets.

“It’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?” You mumbled, not really expecting an answer out of him. You were sort of just avoiding what you knew you had to tell him.

“Mhm…” He turned from you to the window, replicating the way you crossed your arms. As you turned back to him, you felt a sudden wave of dread. The blank-mindedness hit you again, leaving you scrambling for any thought you could remember.

“So uh, Bender…” You hesitated. You knew you had to tell him, it was the entire point of you two meeting here. You’d figured he would want to sit down for this one.

“Mhm?” His eyes were still on the bleeding red and orange hues in the sky, seemingly absorbed in the sight. If he was distracted, maybe this wouldn’t be such a shock. You only hoped.

“So I um… I didn’t ask you to hang for no reason. Actually I kinda need to spill something pretty important.” You looked down at your hands, picking at your nails. One of them was uneven from the last session of nervous fidgeting you’d had while waiting for him outside.

“‘Sup? Shit, did your dog finally kick the bucket?” His expression was serious now. One of his favorite parts of going over to your house, besides getting out of his own, was getting to see your old German shepherd. You shook your head, laughing a bit at his assumption.

“No, missy is fine. I- um” Inconveniently, you were cut off by the waitress who had greeted you not even two minutes before. You were startled by the loud request for an order from the both of you, to which you quietly asked for just some coke. John said the same, just not as quiet (not to your surprise).

“So…” you started as soon as the waitress sped away to the back kitchen. You did a quick search of the tables in front of you, just to make sure nobody you knew, or anyone for that matter, was near your booth.

“So? C’mon, this ain’t junior high. Tell me your little secret already.” He settled back into his slouched position, keeping his arms crossed. You noticed that his look still remained a little serious, which did absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves.

“Okay, so it’s uh, pretty important. Just, whatever you do, don’t go telling anyone. Okay? I don’t care if you get mad or look at me like I’m a fuckin’ weirdo. Just… this stays between us, okay?” You reciprocated his stare, perhaps a bit more intensely. You needed him to know that this wasn’t a time for jokes. You wouldn’t be able to take it if he insulted you about this, or worse, brought it up to anyone.

“Well shit… you okay man?” He seemed worried. Which was odd for him, considering he tried to keep up as much of a carefree act as he could. He usually tried to act like he couldn’t give two shits about anyone, but when it came to you it was different.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just nervous, is all.” You paused, trying to recollect any memory of the little speech you had prepared in your head. It was still a bust, so you decided to just ad-lib it.

“Okay, fuck it. John I’m- look I know the way I look is, well, I guess butch-y? For lack of a better word. Okay, what if I told you that wasn’t dressin’ the way I do to be different or uh, make a statement or something.” You rambled on, not really knowing how to get to your point anymore. All your thoughts just jumbled into a big mess, and there wasn’t much you could do to sort it out.

“I guess the way I dress and reason I got my hair like this is because, um. I see myself as a man. A guy, a dude, whatever you wanna call it. Yeah, I know I don’t one hundred percent look the part, but that’s me. I’ve realized that that’s who I am.” You ran a hand through your hair, the nerves slightly wearing off as you got everything out.

Then you met John’s gaze and promptly began to panic. He wasn’t saying anything or making any motion, just staring at you. Your expression dropped as the weight of your words set it. His lack of words spurred on thoughts of your worst fears, and the possibility of them becoming a reality. You felt a tear prick the corner of your eye, immediately looking away from the embarrassment of it all. You usually weren’t one to cry, but this could warrant it.

As he saw your panic, his expression immediately changed from stoic to concerned. “Oh shit, no you’re fine. I promise, you’re fine. I mean…” He reached out to grab your arm, reassuring you that his reaction towards you wasn’t negative.

“I kinda knew already, I just didn’t think you’d ever say it.” He gave your forearm a gentle squeeze, trying to get you to look at him.

Upon hearing this, you turned back towards him. Your face held a mix of shock and relief, surprised he wouldn’t thought about you like that in the first place and relieved that he wasn’t looking at you like some freak.

“Wait really? I didn’t think I’d be so easy to read…” You muttered, taking a deep breath in to try to keep yourself from tearing up even more. “Shit, part of me was thinkin’ you’d be kickin’ my ass over this.” You confessed to him, laughing it off now that you knew things were okay.

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it. Especially not you, you’re kind of my ride or die. You know that.” His words were calming your nerves. Your heart was still beating like crazy, but at least you weren’t walking out of this diner in hysterics.

“I mean hey,” he continued “I’ve got a gay cousin. You remember Tommy, right? Nobody in the family talks to him anymore, but I’ve visited a couple times. He’s doing okay on his own, but I’ve heard what it’s like for him. I would never, ever, do that to you. I couldn’t just up and stop talking to you, you kidding? And not to be dramatic here,” He paused for a moment, looking to be figuring out how to phrase things in his head.

“But you’re like, my guy. You’ve got my back when I know some of these sons-of-bitches only hang around me for the dope. You ain’t like that though, I think you can always see who I really am when nobody else does. It’s just weird, it’s like you know me better than I know myself sometimes.” The look in his eyes was one you didn’t see often. His rough exterior was gone, you could see his genuine self. It was nice when he was like this.

“But anyways, my point is I’m not letting anything change that.” He gave your arm one final pat before letting go, but he still kept that soft gaze on you. It was sort of weird, how sometimes he just knew what to say.

“Thank you, John.” You sighed contentedly, everything in your world was just about right now. “Well, I guess I should go over a few things then. You wouldn’t mind callin’ me something else, would you? I was kind of thinkin’ of a different name to try out.”

“Well shit, yeah.” John smiled at you. He seemed happy, and maybe a little excited about this. He’d always sort of seen you as someone like him in that aspect, so knowing that you were feeling more yourself made him happy. A thought came to him though, so he interrupted you for a moment. “Oh, and just know this. If anyone ever dares to fuck with you, you let me know. I'll knock some fuckin' lights out." He crossed his arms, giving you a smirk.

The waitress soon came back with your cokes, asking if either of you were going to order anything else. You shrugged at John, being both broke and not that hungry. So, much to your waitress's dismay, he said no. She sped off back to the front counter, grumbling about something or the other. You and John laughed it off, throwing around the idea of loitering just to piss her off.

You were glad you'd asked him to meet you here. Taking that chance was worth it.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lmk if I made any typos or if you have any constructive criticism:D

[notsoattractivearenti]

Polar Opposites (Christian Pulisic x Reader) - Part 3

WC: 1.9K

Warnings: curse words, slight mention of alcohol

A/N: Here comes the 3rd part… 2 more to go! 🥰 Before you read this, I’m here to remind you it’s best to read the previous parts first 😉 apologies if this part may not be as good as the previous ones, but I hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts thru reply/reblog/ask 🫶 If you wanna be added to the taglist let me know 😊 Feedbacks are highly appreciated! 

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 4 |

---

It was time for you and Christian to help the future bride and groom find their wedding dress and tuxedo respectively. You went with Claire to a bridal shop while Christian accompanied Nick to the tuxedo gallery.

Since the day Nick told you he was going to propose, you had done a lot of research about wedding dresses – the styles, necklines, fabrics, lengths, etc. – so you could be helpful for her while she decided on the perfect dress for her big day.

The previous week, you both went to several bridal shops and finally settled on this one store – which had more options that suited Claire’s liking and the price range was on the budget. Claire was so excited to try on different wedding dresses today, she told you how she had been waiting for this day since forever. You couldn’t be happier to be there with her, and you were so thrilled to see a preview of your best friend as the most beautiful bride in the world.

“Y/N, what do you think of this one?” Claire asked, showing you the dress she was wearing.

“Beautiful! I think the A-line style suits you perfectly. But maybe try another dress with different necklines and uh, some laces?”

“Wow, Y/N, since when did you know about this stuff?” She sounded amazed.

“I’m a Person of Honor, aren’t I? I’m doing my job as one. You deserve the best, Claire.” 

She held your hand and smiled at you. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

As Claire tried on another dress, you poured champagne to the glasses for you and Claire. You loved how you got to enjoy free champagne because you were quite overwhelmed – you didn’t expect shopping for wedding dresses would be this complicated.

“So, Y/N, have you talked to Christian?” She asked as you helped her put on a dress.

You raised your eyebrows, confused by the question which seemed to be so out of the blue. “About what?”

“I don’t know, anything? I mean, aren’t you friends with him now?”

“Friends? Nah.” You pouted and gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “That stupid man-child will never be my friend. Do you know how difficult it is for me to tolerate him?”

“Oh no...” She shook her head, her hands were covering her eyes, “Did I miss something?”

“Uh.. Okay. Claire, to be honest…” You paused for a second, “I didn’t tell you anything because well, I don’t think you’d like what you’re about to hear.”

You finished an entire glass before you continued. “I don’t like him. Can’t even stand him. I’m telling you, he is truly a fucking pain in the ass.”

“Come on, he can’t be that bad, Y/N. Christian is actually one of the nicest guys I know.” She responded.

“Nicest? Girl, your standard on ‘nice’ must be low. Christian is nowhere near ‘nice.’” You disagreed with her.

“Hmm, I think I see what’s going on here...” She covered her mouth and giggled a little. “You can’t stand him because you have feelings for him.” 

“Exac- wait what?” A look of surprise appeared on your face.

“If by ‘feelings’ you mean like loathe, exasperation, then yes, you are so right.” You corrected her.

“Please, quit playing Y/N,” she teased you, “you know what I’m talking about.”

You rolled your eyes, “Claire, you have got to stop romanticizing things. I just really don’t like Christian.”

“Oh, you adorable oblivious idiot,” she said as she pinched your cheeks, “believe me when I say you two have the connection I’ve never seen before!” 

“Uh, what the hell? Are you fucking rambling right now?” Confusion was written all over your face.

“I saw how you guys were during the party!” Claire exclaimed joyfully. “There was definitely something between the two of you. Now you’re telling me you don’t like him? Nah, I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just in denial.”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough champagne, lady,” you said as you took the glass on her hand and put it away, “I’m not in denial or anything, he and I are just too different.”

You then told her everything that happened during the day when you and Christian were planning the engagement party. Claire was so entertained by your story, she thought you and Christian had so much chemistry.

“Also, first impressions matter,” you added. “I didn’t tell you this, but remember the dinner when you and Nick introduced me to Christian? He was really rude to me that night. I don’t want to go into details but yeah, I don’t like him.”

Claire was silent, but her facial expression at the moment spoke a million words. She clearly didn’t believe everything you said because she was so sure you had feelings – romantic feelings ­– towards Christian. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

“Plus, he stole my ice cream and berries, Claire. My ice cream and berries. You know how protective I am when it comes to my food.”

She laughed. “Trust me, Y/N. I know.”

---

“You look so good in this tux, bro. Very sharp.”

“Thanks, man,” Nick looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with the tuxedo he had on. “I like this one too.”

“By the way, Did Y/N tell you how the dress shopping went?” Nick asked.

Christian squinted. “Umm... No? And why would they?”

“I thought you two are close now? Aren’t you like, texting and all?”

“No, Nick. Just because we did something together doesn’t instantly make us friends.” He shrugged his shoulders with his hands up. “You don’t know this but planning your party with them was a torture. They are like, so stubborn and aggravating. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve not put up with them.”

“But you guys pulled it off perfectly! It must be a good sign, no?”

“Yeah, because we had to!” He insisted. “Do you know how long it took for us to finally come up with the plan?”

“A day?” 

“Yes but it felt like eternity... In hell.” Christian heavily sighed. “We were basically screaming and yelling at each other. It was a lot.”

“Mmhm... Passion.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Bro, come on, it’s obvious,” Nick chuckled. “You two have this burning passion between you.”

“Yeah right” Christian laughed. “Passion my ass.”

Nick saw an opportunity to tease Christian. “Well, Chris, Webster’s dictionary defines passion as a strong liking or desi-“

“Man, I beg you to stop,” he interrupted Nick mid-sentence because he knew what was coming. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Okay then,” Nick turned around to face Christian, “I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me loud and clear you did not enjoy the time you spent with them.”

“I... I don’t...” He stuttered, his voice was getting smaller. He turned his head sideways, couldn’t even make eye contact with Nick.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, Nick could barely hear him.

“Ha!” Nick pointed at him. “You can’t even look me in the eyes and say shit out loud. Admit it Christian, you like them!”

“Uh, shut up Nick,” he was embarrassed, his cheeks were blushing red. “Aren’t we here to get you a tuxedo? For your wedding?”

“Ah, yes, classic sign of denial: trying to change the subject.” Nick said jokingly.

“I wasn’t, gah,” Christian groaned. “Just pick a tux, Nick. Please.”

---

You just got home after spending most of the day in a bridal shop. You were exhausted, but at least you did help Claire find her perfect wedding dress – it was worth it. 

While you changed your clothes, you heard your phone ringing multiple times. Who the hell texted me this late? You then went to check your phone, and saw 5 unread texts from an unknown number.

Hey, Y/N, this is Christian Pulisic

Idk if you remember me lol

Hope I’m not bothering you or anything

How did the dress shopping go btw

Did you have a good time?

Your jaw just dropped. Holy shit, why is he texting me all of the sudden? You didn’t expect him to reach out to you that night. You didn’t even save his contact on your phone. You kept staring at those texts, not even aware that you were smiling while biting your nails. You weren't sure whether you should text him back right away or wait for a while – and before you knew it, your messages were already sent.

of course I remember u dumbass haha

just got home. it went great, she found the dress 👍

what about u guys?

You just locked your phone screen and were about to put it away when you saw new messages from Christian.

Good to know! 😄👏

He did too. Didn’t take long thank God

Are you going to sleep now?

That was fast... Is he bored or something?

I am actually.. today was a long day

i’m pretty tired tbh

u?

30 seconds later, you received some replies from him.

I think I am too.

Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams

Talk to you soon 😊

Another smile appeared on your face – but this time it was bigger. At the same time, you questioned his intention: why is he being so nice to me?

good night Christian

After sending that message, you charged your phone right away then went to lay on your bed. Fuck, what is happening to me? You covered your face with a pillow and let out a shriek. Dammit Y/N, remember how unbearable he is! You tried to come to your senses. You kept reassuring yourself he wasn’t someone you could see yourself having any kind of relationship with. You and him were supposed to get along only for the sake of the bride and groom – and the the wedding festivities come to an end, that would be it for you two. 

And at this moment, doubts filled your mind. After the conversation you had with Claire, you couldn’t help but wonder if you really did have some kind of feelings for Christian. The differences between you two were just too much for you to handle – or so you thought. Before you went to sleep, you whispered to yourself repeatedly: ‘Don’t be a fool Y/N, nothing could happen between you and Christian.’ You didn’t realize that Claire was right – you were in denial.

---

Christian couldn’t stop thinking about what Nick said. Passion? What was he talking about? He wanted to believe Nick was talking nonsense but he wasn’t even sure. He didn’t even know whether he had experienced ‘passion’ before.

He also recalled how you said to him that you two were just so different. He thought to himself: how can you have a passion for someone who is a complete opposite? Somehow, you were on his mind – he couldn’t think of anything else but you. He still perceived you as somewhat maddening, but he did enjoy your presence. 

Suddenly, he wanted to know how you were doing. No, not about the dress shopping – you. After pondering on whether or not it was okay to text you, he finally gained his courage to do so. It took him a while, he was really nervous but he sent the messages anyway. He didn’t expect you to respond – he was sure she hated you, also it was already a late night – but when he saw your replies, he was so relieved. His face lit up the whole time.

good night Christian

That message from you made him beaming – he went to sleep that night feeling content, already excited for the next day. Little did he know, you were struggling with your own feelings.

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem @cinderellawithashoe @alwaysclassyeagle @ala2ilas-s

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

My other half

masterlist

TW: implied kidnapping, captivity, implied domestic violence, starvation, shock collar use, manipulation, lady whump

There was a clumsy knock at the door. When Claire’s mom opened it, she found Lucas standing on the porch, trying to adjust a bouquet of roses. He was Claire’s partner of a few years, fiancé of a couple of months. It wasn’t out of the ordinary that he showed up at their doorstep, when Claire spent the weekend home, to surprise her.

“-evening Mrs. Denning!” he smiled following a passing look of confusion as to why she was the one opening the door “I thought I’d drop this off” 

“Luke, what a surprise! Is Claire coming home later then?” she asked, reaching for the flowers.

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her today, I just wanted to surprise her, it’s really hard on her that she can’t help out with all the renovations”

“All that stress! She really shouldn’t take on this in her state” she took a step back  “Come on in, you can wait for her inside”

“Did she say when she’s gonna be back?” Luke asked as he stepped over the threshold into the hallway.

“No, last week we agreed you two would come over this afternoon together, with all her things” he could barely hear the end of the sentence, because his soon-to-be mother-in-law was already in the kitchen, presumably continuing with where she left off doing the dishes.

“Last week? Didn’t she say anything before she left today?” he yelled as he took off his shoes.

“What?” He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t she say anything today?” he repeated.

“What do you mean?” she looked up at him, just as confused.

“Before she left today?” he tried again.

“Left? She wasn’t here” Luke frowned.

“She came over yesterday afternoon. Didn’t she?” They stared at each other for a long moment. Claire wasn’t at the new place with Luke yesterday. She wasn’t at home either. 

Luke put the flowers down on the kitchen counter and grabbed his phone from his pocket to start calling Claire.

“She’s not picking up” he stared at his phone as it went to voicemail. He dialled again. Claire wasn’t in the best shape the past few weeks. She had violent nightmares almost every night, sometimes she was barely able to tell reality from dream. Once she fell down the stairs at their new place, almost breaking her arm, but getting away with a bunch of large bruises. Noone knew what set all this off, that’s why she was advised to move back in with her parents, because they could care for her better than Luke, who beyond his studies at the medical college worked part time at an electronics store.

Or at least she was supposed to move back.

“I’ll try to call as well” Neither of them moved from the kitchen for a good long while, leaving calling and calling, leaving voicemails after one another. When Claire’s dad got home from work, he joined as well “I’ll call her therapist” he suggested. Luke called around her friends, although she hasn’t spent much time with them lately, and he had a feeling suggesting Claire isn’t with her friends, he had to try.

“We have to call the police” her mom whispered finally, her face white as a ghost. Luke and his father-in-law agreed.

The dispatcher picked up on the fourth ring, and asked what they can help with. After a brief introduction to the situation, they advised the family to come to the station to provide their statements so they can report her missing. 

The first time it was said out loud, that Claire is missing, it made no sense to any of them. As days went on, its reality set in. She was nowhere to be found. 

...

The dingy old car pulled up to the house with unmistakable noise. He stepped out, and slammed the door in, with no care in the world. He was in the middle of the forest, at his great aunt’s property. No civilization in any direction for miles.

It was rather cold inside, as he opened the door he made a mental note to bring some firewood inside later. He hung his jacket next to the door and headed inside. Took a quick glance at the empty living room and turned right, fumbling a bit with his keys he opened the door to the basement.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” he addressed the girl lying in the middle of the room. She shuddered as she heard his voice, but didn’t seem to have enough energy to answer or move.

He walked downstairs, and crouched down next to her, checking on the chains keeping her from moving away from the middle of the room where a hook was installed in the cement.

He petted her head gently, trying to coax some kind of reaction out of her.

She was lying on the concrete floor for days now without food or sleep. There was a shock collar on her neck that went off periodically keeping her up. She was at the point, where she'd seen more things that didn't belong there than she perceived reality.

"Hey, I asked something" he laughed softly, but stopped petting her head to reach into his pocket for the remote to the collar. She twitched in her whole body, when she breathed in to try to answer, granted she already forgot the question.

"Can you tell me who you are?" His voice asked from above her. Something changed in it, but she couldn't make out what, she barely understood the words.

"I-i-i, don-know wha-what-sh happening" she stuttered barely audibly.

"You're not going to leave now, will you, darling?" he chuckled and there was something terrifying about just how true it was.

"I, uhm, I'm..." She did not remember. All she knew was the cold concrete under her body and the cold blue eyes watching her like a hawk.

“That’s alright, love” Luke hushed, almost proud of her. He unlocked the chains around her limbs and lifted her up. 

She was laid on something soft, something that smelled familiar. It was good. She heard a click and her collar was lifted from her neck, leaving the skin vulnerable under it.

"You can rest now, sweetheart” he cooed into her ear softly "You will get something to eat tomorrow too" And she finally closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep.

He just watched her. She was so pure, sleeping on the bed buried under the sheets. She seemed dangerously fragile and way too thin, but she would be perfect now. He was honestly intrigued to know how much she'll remember, when he let her recover, just for a while. He couldn't take her back to their place again, which he did a few times before, when he brought her here. She was officially missing. He was leading search groups every evening he could manage, while also spending time with her parents, he was her fiancé after all.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twelve

“The good weather is making me suspicious” Claire says to us as we spend yet another blazing hot afternoon on the deck of the mobile. It’s been weeks now without a drop of rain, and I have to concede with her that it’s weird. The grass is starting to shrivel up and turn brown, little whiskers of pale straw, and heavy, dense air oozes through the village like treacle. Everyone moves slowly as though they’re wading through it, anxious for a thunderstorm that never arrives to cleanse it. At night I lie with the windows open, skin glazed with sweat and hair still wet from a cold shower, but sleep doesn’t come easily. It’s rare that Ireland gets hot like this, but when it does it’s unbearable and though I rarely fantasise about wintertime I find myself imagining cold droplets of rain or snow flakes on my arms and face.

“How’s it making you suspicious?” Kelly has big sunglasses on and has turned her face up towards the sun, seemingly the only person who’s enjoying the heatwave. I wonder if she just pretends to, because it’s what Irish people are supposed to do; suffer through the misery of a hot spell because so much of our year is beaten down by rain and sharp winds, long, dark, bleak winters that go on for far too long, we should be thankful for every drop of sunshine that is served up to us.  

Claire fans her face with the book she’s trying to read. “Because it’s never this hot for this long, I’m starting to get awful sick of it.”

“Blasphemy.”

I know that there’s no end in sight yet for it. The forecast shows another two weeks of cloudless skies at least, and at this rate we’ll be into August before we see rain again. I agree with Claire, It’s all becoming too much, and only for my morning swims – which by now have become afternoon and evening swims too so that I can keep myself cool – I’d be really suffering. My pasty skin was never meant for this weather. 

“I’m bored.” she protests. “And there’s nowhere to escape to when it’s like this, I just feel sweaty wherever I go.”

“I’m not.” Kelly says somewhat defensively. “I always spent my summers like this, it’s fine, you just need to learn to relax.”

“But I feel like we didn’t make any actual plans, like Evie is the only one who even left the beach all summer.”

“Yeah to go to an art gallery, which neither of us would be bothered with.”

“And you really wouldn’t have been bothered with that one.” I say. “It was modern art.”

“Bleargh.” Kelly emotes. “I’d definitely rather not have done that. I don’t know why you’re complaining, honestly. This was what you agreed to do for the summer. Better to be doing nothing here than doing nothing at home in the midlands.”

“But it’s my birthday the week after next.” Claire protests. “My eighteenth.” She says this with wide, urgent eyes as though this is of dire importance, like this is the one significant birthday she will ever have. “We haven’t planned to do anything yet.”

“Well we could go to a nightclub.”

“I can’t, I’ll still be seventeen.” I remind them. 

“We’ll just get you a fake ID.”

“No.” Claire says. “I’m not dealing with that. And I don’t want to go to some nightclub for my birthday anyway. If I was at home my mam would have made me a big cake and had balloons and birthday banners up all over the house.”

“And what? A bouncy castle too?” Kelly jokes, and Claire rolls her eyes. 

“Well, what would you like to do?” I ask her, feeling like I should try to help to move the conversation into a somewhat more productive sphere. “I’m up for anything that’s like, not including clubbing or anything else that isn’t age appropriate for me.”

Claire looks away from us and out over the caravan park shrugging. “Well… maybe there’s something I’d like to do, but… it might be a bit late to plan it.”

“We can at least try to make it happen, even with short notice.”

She shrugs self-consciously “On the weekend of my birthday there’s a festival.”

“A music festival?” I echo, thinking that something like that sounds pretty cool to me, actually, and I don’t understand why she seems embarrassed about it.

“Yeah, it’s on up in Laois, and there’s so many good acts playing at it, I was looking at the website the other day.” She looks at me then. “And you don’t have to be eighteen to go. The age limit is seventeen, we could all go together no bother.”

“That sounds so fun!” I say, beginning to feel excited by the idea of going to a music festival; something that always seemed reserved to those older and much cooler than me. I start to think about all the things I will bring with me, and the outfits I might wear when Kelly interjects. 

“Where’d you hear about it?” She asks, her eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. 

Claire shrugs. “Everyone knows about it, it’s a big event, like.”

“Yeah but you didn’t seem bothered about going to it until now, that’s all I’m saying.”

Claire looks baffled, and rightly so, Kelly’s questioning seems absurd to me too. We glance at each other, Claire’s eyebrow is raised and I just shrug back at her. I don’t know what to say. 

“Um. Sorry I didn’t mention it enough times before now.”

“Yeah well I think it’s a bit short notice, we won’t get tickets.”

“No, they’re still for sale.”

Kelly shoots the kind of withering look at Claire that would make me feel like curling up into a little ball and wishing I would vanish, but she seems unfazed. “I think I’ll buy a ticket. If the two of you want to or don’t want to, that’s up to you.”

I pipe up nervously. “But you can’t go alone. Where will you stay? In a tent by yourself?”

“No she won’t.” Kelly growls. “My brother and his friends are going. She’ll probably bunk in with them.” She stares pointedly at our friend “Won’t you?”

Suddenly I understand everything. Kelly knew the entire time that Shane and the gang already had tickets to the festival. I see Claire glancing quickly away from us again, but I catch a pink blush on her cheeks before she turns. Is there something else I don’t know, I wonder? Did the gang invite her to come with them? The thought of this makes me feel miserable, as I start to ponder all the reasons why they might have asked her and not me too.

“I don’t know why we can’t just enjoy the summer with just us.” Kelly rants. “That was the point. You think I wanted to spend any time with Shane? I see him every day at home, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of him always being around and everyone being obsessed with him. Like, sorry now Claire, but is it too much to ask that I get to have friends that actually want to hang out with me instead of him?”

“That’s not true.” I say in an attempt to be helpful, but she just barrells on.

“Oh, Shane plays county football, Shane did eight subjects in the Leaving. Shane is so funny and has so many friends, and he’s going to get into UCD and do science. It’s so boring. I’m actually really bored of hearing about it if I’m being honest.”

“Maybe you should stop being so sour about it then.” Claire snaps back. “Everyone can tell that you’re jealous. So what if you’re not better than him at every little thing? Get over it. You’re boring.” 

There’s weight in the air after this that makes me want to hold my breath for fear that if I don’t all hell will erupt. I glance at Kelly to see her jaw set and her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Claire looks surprised at what she’s just uttered too, but it’s too late for her to go back on it now. She steadies herself and goes on. “It’s my birthday and you can’t even let go of your own jealousy enough to let me do what I want to do for it. If you just stopped needing to control everything then we’d all be having a better summer already, but I’m allowed to hang out with whoever else I want to hang out with, and I’m allowed to go to the festival if I want to. You don’t have to come. And actually, if you’re going to have that annoying face on you the whole time, I wouldn’t want you there anyway.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

“Good.” She stands up so abruptly that the chair rattles beneath her. “And Evie, I can buy two tickets or one. If you want to come you can.”

I blink, dazed. “I um. Nobody invited me.”

“I’m inviting you.”

“Neither of us want to go.” Kelly snaps.

“Are you her mam?”

Kelly’s face is pink and furious now. I’ve only seen her pushed to this point a handful of times and it makes me hot and prickly all over. My stomach feels sick and I desperately wish for the superpower of teleportation so that I can beam myself from this situation, but instead of things escalating any further, Claire just leaves. I watch her storm down the steps and across the caravan park, her blonde hair bobbing about her shoulders until she swings around a corner and she’s gone. I turn to look at Kelly, to say something placid and vaguely comforting to her but she’s not there anymore. Her seat is empty, and I realise she’s gone inside the mobile home to sit by herself, or to scream into her pillow or throw something against a wall as is her usual. The flimsy plastic door rattles shut and seems to echo through the park, and then I am alone out on the deck, ears ringing sweaty palms and heart leaping in my chest. 

Prev // Next

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black River, Chapter 14

A/N  At long last, the truth about Henry, Murtagh, Julia and the whole shebang comes to light.  Jamie and Claire have people in their corner, but will it be enough?

Previous chapters are available on my AO3 page.

“And then what happened?” Claire was held rapt by the story Murtagh was relating, his typical dour demenour nowhere in sight, blue eyes sparkling with mirth beneath thundercloud eyebrows.

“Brian said that if the lad sought tae blame a fox fer all the missing eggs, he could at least harry the hens a spell so as tae make the lie more convincing.”

“Was Jamie punished?” she leaned forward, delighting in the chance to explore another side of the man she’d fallen in love with.

“He’d eaten a dozen raw eggs, lass.  He didna leave the privy ‘til after nightfall.  I reckon Brian felt twas punishment enough and that he’d remember it far longer than any hiding he might give.”

Merry peals of laughter echoed off the rocks, startling several birds into flight.  The sound cut Murtagh like tiny blades, even as it warmed his heart.  Claire’s laugh was a perfect facsimile of Julia’s.

“He sounds like quite a handful,” she commented, unaware of the older man’s torment.

“Oh, aye.  A more devious wee rascal ye ne’er did see.  Brian would send him tae bide wi’ me a spell when he felt himself losing patience. Ellen understood him better.  Peas in a pod, those twa.”

The pair spoke of Jamie’s mother as the cart proceeded down the valley at a sedate pace.  They passed brochs and castles, farms and shielings, all in advanced states of dereliction.  It was a haunting landscape, emptied of life as though some biblical plague had swept through and rid the lush fields and overhanging moors of everything but sheep.

“Ellen was a proud woman,” Murtagh explained.  “She was a Mackenzie, ken, from a branch o’ the clan that hadna suffered as much as most.  They didna approve o’ her marriage tae a mere Fraser crofter, sae when Brian wanted tae go tae her father tae ask fer help wi’ the rents, she refused.  T’would have saved them both a fair deal o’ hardship. The lad is no different.  He’d sooner suffer as compromise his damned principles.”  Murtagh gave Claire a shrewd look.  “T’will fall tae ye tae be the practical one an’ drag the stubborn oaf tae see sense.”

Claire sniffed in dismissal.  “I assure you, Mr. Fitzgibbons, I am more than equal to the task.”

***

Mrs. Crook’s weepy cries of relief brought Rosemary rushing into the kitchen where she came across a sight that cracked her usual unflappable poise.

“Claire!” she cried, throwing her arms around her niece.  “Murtagh??”

“Hallo, Rosemary. Ye’re lookin’ well,” the hermit said, tam clutched between his hands and a blush detectable beneath his scraggly beard.

Pulling herself together, Rosemary asked Mrs. Crook to prepare a warm meal for the pair, despite Murtagh’s protestations that he couldn’t stay.

“Nonsense,” Rosemary insisted.  “It’s gone eight o’clock.  You can’t make your way home in the dark.”  With a significant look, she added, “The men are out searching for Claire.  They won’t be back until at least tomorrow.”

Wooed by the promise of home cooked food and female companionship, Murtagh settled onto a stool before the great hearth and proceeded to charm Mrs. Crook with his Highland brogue and odes to her cuisine.  

Once fed Claire grew sleepy, no doubt worn out by the emotional tumult of the past two days.  Rosemary helped her to her bedroom and into her nightdress, then sat on the edge of her bed and began to brush the matts and tangles from her hair while Claire told the tale of her rescue.  She could make out scrapes and bruises on the young woman’s fingers where her hands lay clasped on the coverlet.

“This Highland lad,” Rosemary asked cautiously between strokes, “he didn’t… impose himself on you?”

“Jamie would never do such a thing!” Claire said, sitting bolt upright in indignation.  “He’s decent. Honourable.  We want to be married,” she added quietly.  “He’s going to ask father’s permission once he’s saved up enough money to start our life together.”

Rosemary sighed.  “I was afraid it was something like that.”

“Will you help us, Aunt Rosemary?” Claire asked, sounding more like the girl she’d raised like her own.

“I can try, but I can’t promise anything.  You know how strong willed your father can be when it comes to his daughter.”

Claire bit her lip, every morsel of doubt and inquiry visible on her transparent face.

“What is it, child?” Rosemary prodded gently.

Unable to contain the gathering suspicion she harboured, Claire blurted out, “Am I really his daughter?”

Rosemary startled visibly before once again donning her smooth mask.

“What did Murtagh tell you?” she asked with an intimation of dread.

“Nothing,” Claire sighed.  “But he had a picture of my mother in his hut.  And you two are obviously acquainted.”   When her aunt didn’t reply, she resorted to begging until Rosemary gave way.

“Once upon a time,” her aunt began, as though telling her a bedtime story, “there lived a young woman named Julia Morriston.  She was beautiful, free-spirited, and used to being the centre of everyone’s attention.  She met two best friends at a country dance, and both fell hopelessly in love with her. They competed for her affections as young men do, until finally she declared that the first to make his fortune would win her hand.  It was a childish impulse that had lasting ramifications we all live with to this day.”

Rosemary looked pained; her profile turned to the window as though she was seeing the decades-old scene play out across the frosted glass.  

“One young man pulled together every pound he had and gambled in one bold stroke on a horse named Blair Atholl in the Derby.  He won, at fifty to one odds.  He was rich.”

“Father,” Claire said, very familiar with the story of how the Beauchamp family fortune came into existence.  “And Murtagh?” she asked.

“Murtagh,” Rosemary smiled wistfully, “decided to try his hand at making whisky.”

***

Claire woke the next morning to the lowing of cattle and the crack of a stock whip.  Rushing to her window, she watched Jamie and Rollo drive the stray cows down the lane and into the nearest holding yard.  The Highlander sat tall and proud in the saddle, his sweaty hair the colour of a banked fire where it met the early morning light.  Sensing her gaze, Jamie looked up and broke into a glinting smile that shot an arrow of joy directly at her heart.  Anticipating his arrival at the manor house, Claire hastened to make herself presentable.

Jamie was bone-weary but burning with the flame of victorious virtue.  He’d retrieved Beauchamp’s cattle; every last recalcitrant one of them.  Even the prospect of having to search for a new position far from his Sassenach lass couldn’t quite dampen his spirits, especially when he caught her watching him with frank female appraisal.  He stabled Donas, performed some brisk ablutions at the well, and hastened towards the manor, careful to enter via the kitchen since he was still in his filthy riding clothes.

“Ye’re back early,” Murtagh said once he had extricated himself from the arms of the Netherton cook.  “We didna expect ye back til teatime.”

“Clearly,” Jamie chuckled, watching Mrs. Crook bustle about in artificial busyness, ignorant of the fact her apron was untied and askew over her ample bosom.  Murtagh’s expression was one of long suffering.

“I was jus’ getting Miss Beauchamp’s breakfast ready,” Mrs. Crook said.

“I’ll bring it up tae her,” Jamie offered.

“We really should be going, lad,” Murtagh advised.  “Ye dinna want tae be here when Henry returns.”

Jamie fixed his jaw.  “We’ll go in a bit.  I willna leave wi’out seeing Claire.”

Murtagh and Mrs. Crook shared a look of concern as the young Scot hoisted the breakfast tray and made his way up the stairs.  

Jamie hesitated on the landing, unsure which of the ornate doorways led to his lady’s bedchamber.  He was saved any further indecision when one opened and revealed a vision from his furtive imaginings.  Claire stood there in a pale dressing gown.  Her hair was unbound, billowing in endless tannin-dark ripples that called to mind the burns of his youthful roaming.  He wanted nothing more than to lose his hands in its depths, cradling her to his breast. With a start he realized he could do just that, if only he could convince his feet to move.

“Claire…” he pronounced in supplication.

“Jamie.”

It felt like a month since they’d seen each other last, and not a mere day.  Claire opened the door wider and beckoned him in.  Jamie walked forward as though caught in a trance.  Ignoring the luxurious appointments of the room, he lay the tray at the end of the bed and turned to find she’d closed the door behind him. His pulse beat violently in his throat.

“I’m so happy you came,” Claire said, her voice unusually wispy, as she clasped his chilled hand in her much smaller one.  “Your godfather drove the cart so slowly, I was worried you’d be gone before we even arrived.”

“With a beautiful lass fer company, who can blame him fer tarrying? Besides, I wouldna have left wi’out seein’ ye one more time.”

“Jamie, my aunt told me…”

Claire didn’t have a chance to finish her revelation before the sound of boots hastening up the wooden stairs was followed by the door to her room swinging open with a bang.  The two lovers startled apart at the sudden appearance of Henry Beauchamp, his usual kempt clothing messy and his eyes switching from relief at the sight of his daughter to displeasure when he noticed her company.

“My sincere gratitude, Mister Fraser, for my daughter’s safe return,” he said with barely veiled hostility.

“Twas nothing any decent man wouldna have done in my stead,” Jamie replied humbly, placing a subtle emphasis on the word decent.

“Would you join me in my study, so we can speak, man to man?”

“Aye.”

Jamie met Claire’s concerned golden gaze and attempted to assure her with a failed wink.  He followed her father back down the stairs and into a wood-paneled room with a view over Netherton’s expanse of property.

“When did you find Claire?” Henry began.

“Twa nights ago,” Jamie answered honestly, and without any further clarification.  Henry grunted as though his poorest opinion had been confirmed.

“You seem to care very much for my daughter,” he went on.

“I do.  I love her,” Jamie said plainly, unwilling to hide or be ashamed of the fact.

“Love,” the older man scoffed with a shift in tone towards open animosity.  “It’s a damn selfish kind of love.  To take a girl who’s been brought up surrounded by riches and stick her in a sod hut, to watch her grow old with hard work and childbearing.”

“I reckon that’d be Claire’s decision tae make,” Jamie’s voice rose with his temper.  “Ye arenna the only one who can make something o’ himself.  I have plans fer my own place.”

“Well, make your plans with someone else’s daughter.  I won’t hand her over to the first teuchter gold digger who arouses her fancy…”  The implications of just which fancies had been aroused were implied without being spoken.

“You bastard!” Jamie’s temper broke, unable to bear Claire’s reputation being disparaged, by her own father no less.  He took a broad step towards the shorter, slighter man, hands balling into fists.

“Steas, Seumas!”  Murtagh’s voice boomed across the room, freezing his godson in his tracks.

The Englishman stared at his one-time best friend as though he’d seen a ghost.  Murtagh, for his part, seemed unaffected by their reunion.

“Henry Beauchamp,” he intoned.  “I barely recognized ye wi’out yer musket.”

“Musket?”  Claire had descended the stairs at the sound of Jamie’s shouting.  “What does he mean, father?”

“All of you, get out of my house!” Henry shouted, his face a startling shade of red.

“Or ye’ll what?” Murtagh goaded him.  “Blow off the o’er one?”

“Murtagh, really,” Aunt Rosemary chided, having also come to the study when she heard raised voices.

“I only shot to warn you off,” Henry muttered.

Murtagh chuckled and patted the loose leg of his pants.  “I’d hate tae see what ye’re capable of when yer intentions are serious.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Claire pleaded.

“Go to your room!” her father begged to no avail.

“Oh, come along, Beauchamp.  Let’s be done with this secrecy once and for all!”  Rosemary said, turning towards her niece.

“Murtagh wanted to give your mother a wedding gift, a strand of Scotch pearls.  Your father came upon them and assumed the worst.  He flew into a rage, and Murtagh was shot.  Julia was furious.  She vowed she’d never forgive her husband and wanted a divorce…”

“Enough!” Henry cried, rushing from the room, unable to bear another word.

“In a way, she did leave him,” Rosemary continued philosophically. “When you were born.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Claire rushed to embrace Murtagh. After freezing a moment in shock, he held her gently in his arms and whispered something softly to her in Gaelic.

“There now, lass.   Dinna weep. Tis no’ the end o’ the story, tis only the beginning.   Ye an’ the lad can right the wrongs o’ yer elders.”

Rosemary cleared her throat.  “You two really should be going, before Henry comes back.”

Murtagh and Rosemary discretely left the young pair alone to say their goodbyes.

“Stay close tae yer aunt,” Jamie advised once Claire was in his arms.  “And dinna antagonize yer father o’ermuch.”

Claire leaned back in his embrace, fixing him with her golden gaze.

“Come back to me, James Fraser,” she leaned her forehead against his own.

“Aye,” he vowed.  “As soon as I can.”

[winksasleeplesseye]

obscura (one)

SUMMARY: Six years have passed. And Amara can't help but think about them as she heads for her next mission, recounting a pair of blue eyes and blonde hair and just what the government has done thus far.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, cursing, experimentation implied, angst

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

London

October 2004

Amara’s headspace had become more and more frequently a comfort these days. A more refined person would call it a mind palace, a memory palace, etc. 

She found living in memories, in moments of calm, had become an anchor for her. Between every punishing mission, she’d find a quiet place and drift and daydream into this place. Her mind conjured up images of a familiar, yet slowly unfamiliar pair of blue eyes and blonde hair but she couldn’t produce much else. But it was enough for her. 

Leon was becoming a distant memory since Raccoon City and that scared her more than anything, not being able to see him or talk to him after everything is agonizing. 

Sure, she had her outlets like kickboxing classes in the gym down the street from her apartment with that stupidly hot instructor John, sporadic visits coordinated by that weasely bastard Simmons with Sherry and Claire, and other things like music and painting but companionship was something she’d craved. Maybe too much sometimes. That was something that still made her just like everyone else. 

Things moved at a breakneck pace after they’d been picked by the government in the aftermath. Once it became known just what Amara carried now forever in her blood, did the threats come for her by the very same government that she thought would protect them. 

Now, she’s just a weapon—correction, an agent to do their bidding, their science experiment. Wesker did this to you. Keeping her mouth shut about Raccoon also guaranteed her safety and not just hers but Leon’s, Claire’s, and Sherry’s safety. 

Another part of her wanted desperately to find the man who put her in this position in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Wherever he is, she hopes it’s nowhere good.

Above everything else, Amara wanted nothing more than to keep her new allies—friends safe. Most of all, Leon. 

She lets out a pitiful laugh to herself, thinking about him, her eyes focused on the road ahead. If she’d known everything that would’ve happened after that night in the motel, she would’ve held him longer, tighter. Kissed him more and savored the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of him inside her. 

Even in their last interaction, deep down she knew she shouldn’t have let go. 

See you later had shifted from what she thought would only be days, weeks, months…to six long years. 

Rain pelted down against the tan leather of her jacket, she couldn’t find it in herself to even wear a helmet as she weaved through the traffic on her bike. Something about the rain against her face reminded her that she was alive. 

With what she’s paid? A quick trip to the salon would fix her right up anyways. She actually didn’t quite mind when her hair reverted to its natural state. 

Cutting down a narrow alley, she stops short in front of a parked van in front of what seems to be a derelict building. It’s black, inconspicuous, and with this weather? Practically invisible. 

Her eyes venture up at the dilapidated sign above the said building. King Arthur’s Sword in the Stone attraction.

“There seems to be a fine line between coincidence and irony.” She says to no one in particular. The window of the van rolls down and an unfamiliar man sticks his head out. 

“Good evening, Agent Moore.” The man smiles, a little too cheerful for Amara’s taste. “I’m Joe, I’ll be your support on this mission from here.” 

A crack of lightning brightens the area momentarily. “I thought supports usually stayed in an office?”

“Courtesy of the government, this is my base of operations,” Joe, with a hint of a British accent she notices, gestures to the back, Amara briefly sees the high-tech screens and monitors. 

All to keep her in line, she’s sure. For a brief moment, the lyrics of that stalker song by The Police play in her head. Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you take, every step you take, I’ll be watching you… “Right. So you’re telling me there’s an old Umbrella facility underneath a King Arthur attraction?” 

“According to our intel, yes, unfortunately. There was actually some nonsense of the real King Arthur’s tomb here years ago…soon discredited.” 

“And yet another roadside attraction was born,” she jokes. “Let’s see what we can see, shall we?” 

She doesn’t wait for Joe’s answer, opting to head to the wall to climb up from the gutter into an open window at the top. Dropping gracefully into the expansive space, decorated distastefully and quite cheesy for a King Arthur attraction. 

“Joe, hear me loud and clear?” Amara pressed the comms system on her ear. 

“Clearer than clear, love.” 

“Good, hopefully, this will be educational for you.”

“Learning from one of the top agents in the US division is more than an honor.” The thought of being a top agent at one point would’ve made Amara proud but now it felt like a stain that's never washed clean. 

Covert operations never did seem like things deserving of the honor. 

Crates and other knick knacks lay about haphazardly. “If I were an evil pharmaceutical company, where would I hide a lab?” 

“I thi-“

“That was rhetorical.” 

Amara ventured further in, finding more opulent, ornate items scattered throughout the various ridiculous set pieces. Jill would’ve thought it was a good score. The goofy narrations made her chuckle; were they really trying to actually educate anyone about the King Arthur tale?

Many times in her schooling, particularly on the subject of English literature, her teachers would talk of how King Arthur’s life and deeds gave way to the Arthurian legends. The once tried and true history nerd inside of her would’ve devoured this silly attraction.

Now, she can’t exactly imagine sitting down to read much of anything except lots and lots of mission reports. When she wasn’t reading them, she was certainly writing them.  

At least going on missions broke up the monotony. The routine that had become so much of her life as of late. Another side objective to this mission, one that HQ told her not to really divulge anyone of, was her search for paintings. Not just any paintings either; these ones were linked to Umbrella’s former leader, Oswell E. Spencer. 

She had found 4 out of about 5 (luckily the man never quite got them all in his possession), spanning across the globe, each one portraying demonic, disturbing imagery. HQ claimed they held “power” within the paint which was just about the stupidest thing she’d ever heard but in a world with the most grotesque monsters created by a human hand, was it that stupid? 

Something about each one, despite the thoughts of its stupidity, intrigued her because of the symbols within the image but she did as told, destroying them (and those who protected them). All her intel pointed her to this place but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in July that it was actually here. 

“How long ago did this place close down?” Amara asks, tiptoeing over water-damaged pieces of wood. “This place certainly is not up to code.” 

“The illustrious owner, a…uh, Professor Kenneth Whitman went bankrupt in 2003, it’s been closed ever since then,” Joe answers, “Madness, right?”

“I shudder to think that that man had students, but shudder even more at how much disrepair this place has fallen into within a short amount of time.” 

Amara attempted to test her royalty, pulling up the aforementioned sword in the stone with no luck. No power. No King Arthur glory for Amara. And certainly no way further inside. “Looks like I’ll need to switch on the breaker, wherever it is.” 

“Map shows a side alley entrance, check there?” 

Ugh, back out in the rain? She really didn’t want to go through another period of drying out inside this dank, almost humid place to getting soaked by London’s neverending rain again. This is what I signed up for, remember? 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. But that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. She sighed, following the map displayed on her communicator, the newest gadget added to her gear. 

After traversing over the cast iron gates outside to switch on the breaker, only then does the power cut back on. Light pours out from the windows of the attraction, illuminating the rain as it hits the pavement. 

“And let there be light,” she deadpans, it still earns her a chuckle from Joe through the comms in her ear. 

Through all the narrations and displays, somehow Amara finds that she’s disappointed just a tad that the very room that supposedly was meant to get to the truth of the myths of King Arthur had now been converted into a storage facility.

“So much for getting to the truth of King Arthur.”

“Give the Professor some credit, at least he chose the most boring part to convert. Besides, who wants to know the actual truth anyway?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Amara responded, finding a crack in the wall furthest from an exit beaming red from the fluorescent light above it. She knocked on it, finding the whole wall is hollow. Her eyes also happen upon a forklift, just asking to be used. 

Operating it should be simple enough, right? It’s like operating a claw machine…with two metal sticks on the front. Joe seems to scoff, obviously watching her feed. “Is this what they teach you agents in America?” 

“No, we usually just shoot our problems. But I thought I'd give this a try." Amara quipped. 

He laughed. “I don't know about the forklift, but they definitely teach the sarcasm."

“Oh no, sarcasm is when I say the opposite of what I mean. Wit is when I say exactly what I mean, but in a way that makes you wish you had thought of it first."

“Lesson number one with Agent Moore? Wish I had grabbed a notepad.” 

“I charge for lessons by the hour, Joe. Hope you’re ready to pay up when I get back there.” 

“I’m good for it, love.”

The forklift did its job, taking down the wall to reveal…a secret entrance to a cavern. Amara pretended to be shocked, but she’s not. “Oh, wow, they hid that sooo well.” 

“Is that sarcasm?” 

“Yes, Joe,” she answered, hopping off the forklift. “This next part will require some silence, mate.” 

All she hears is a small hum from Joe in her ear before the line is dead silent. Thank the gods above he knew when to be quiet. 

The cavern is shrouded in darkness just beyond what Amara can see with the forklift’s headlight, so she flicked on her flashlight finding the craggy rocks bending and forming crudely to reveal a path. It seems to descend rather than just go straight forward. Huh, so it goes underground? This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it, Amara? 

It’s a bit of a tight squeeze in some places, especially with all her gear, but she manages. More and more static filters through her comms in her ear the deeper she goes, so she lowers it. She almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief at the fact that she was finally alone even momentarily. 

Eventually, the cavern begins to open up, an almost ominous humming echoing off the walls of the cavern as she gets closer to…

…a lab? Down here? 

Well, at least the intel was correct. 

The humming, she found, emanates from a big generator nearby which is hooked into a cavern wall. The wires seemed to lead nowhere, perhaps they were powered on with the breaker above ground? It looked more and more likely. 

“Does this shit ever get less complicated?” 

In 2003, after a lengthy trial that led to the dissolution of Umbrella and loss in stocks, the US Government, in a rare show of giving a shit, went after all involved with the company but that didn’t absolve their part in blowing Raccoon sky high. Hence, why she was here, partly. 

While she’d been on other tasks (very much like the government’s goddamn lackey), this one was of the utmost importance. After RC, the government under USSTRATCOM formed the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. To no surprise, she alongside Leon are their main operators (though it wasn’t like they had much of a choice). 

The current administration, Graham and his lovely cabinet, actually seemed to want to take down as many Umbrella adjacent so she’d spent the better half of last year during the RC trials and this year doing this. 

Outside of her Umbrella pursuits, she’d heard of something going on with the President’s daughter but that currently wasn’t under her jurisdiction, technically she wasn’t even supposed to be aware of that.

There was some…mole within sectors so while usually Amara would be flanked by at least two other agents, now it’s down to just her. For reconnaissance purposes, it makes sense. The fewer agents, the less information could slip between the cracks. A smart tactic at the time, smart keeps most people safe. 

But now in hindsight, it seems kind of absurd that one lone agent is tasked to find what could very well be an active Umbrella facility. 

A sleek doorway stood before her, a sense of deja vu took her by surprise. The doors opened with no trouble, and the overwhelming smell of rust and damp concrete mixed with unused chemicals lingered in the air. Almost by instinct, Amara drew her Beretta, taking a moment to scan the surroundings. 

The eerie silence was only broken by the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls. 

Dimly lit corridors made her a little cautious, only her trusty flashlight in her other hand guiding her next steps. The place was in disarray, with broken machinery, debris, and paperwork scattered everywhere…it must’ve been a hell of a time escaping this place. 

Amara didn’t scare easily but she couldn’t shake the chills up her spine and flare in her nostrils. Taking in deep breaths, she pushed on and focused on what she came here for. The facility is empty as she suspected, so her next steps were getting information and finding the painting. 

A glint of something shiny on the ground just so happened to fall in the line of her sight. 

“Well, hello there,” she bent down and picked it up. A small metal disc with Umbrella’s logo shines briefly in her vision, a small bit of her reflection displayed within the iridescent surface. 

She pockets it and keeps moving. 

Chancing it, she raises the volume back up on her comms. There’s no longer static so that’s a relief. Except now, she had to work a little harder to hear considering the comms tended to block out sound quite well when cranked up, so well, in fact, that she could hear her own footsteps reverberate through to her skull, maybe even hear her own brain knocking around it if she focused hard enough. 

“Joe?” She speaks and for a few seconds, there’s a nerve-wracking silence. 

His one-syllable answer practically rattles her skull from the vibration, “Yes?”

Oh, thank god. Joe may be a tad annoying but at least there was someone to get her through this creepy-ass atmosphere. “Nothing. Just checking that you’re still there.” 

“Were you getting lonely?” There’s a teasing tone to his words that she doesn't appreciate. Fuck, especially here of all places. “If you needed a big, brave man to accompany you, all you had to do was ask.” 

And there he goes ruining it. Some support he is. “Shut up.” 

“No need to be touchy.” 

One thing she’d learned about these paintings is that they tended to be within a shrine of sorts, or blatantly on display. Judging by the narrow hallways and the dim lighting, barely even lighting as much as the shoes on Amara’s feet, she definitely doubts that the painting is here. Seriously, who would even have a shrine down here? 

She paused in front of a rusted door, her hand hovering over the handle. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond. The final room within the lab is a computer lab of sorts, though all the computers are ten years behind. Blocky, huge, and ugly to look at.

As she began to sift through the piles of documents laid atop the desks, Amara's eyes fell on a computer with its screen turned on, nestled in the far corner.

It’s sleek, newer, and curvier than blocky. Someone was showing off to their colleagues. 

That same computer spits lined papers of what seems to be numbers onto the floor. It must’ve also cut back on with the breaker. 

“Joe? You seeing this?” She raises one of the pages to eye level. 

“Yeah, what are they?” 

40.4637° N, 3.7492° W…that layout…these were coordinates. She ran her fingers over the papers, reading them out quietly. Where could these lead? 

“Coordinates. Think if I give you a few, you could find where they are?”

“Give me—“ Joe cuts himself off, shuffling sounds coming from her comms, “alright, give me the numbers.” 

She reads them out at an even pace, making sure that Joe could catch every number. 

This time, his brief silence has her on the edge of a hypothetical seat. It annoys the shit out of her. “Well?” 

“Hmm…” Joe’s small noise is filled with confusion, a first for him that she’s willing to bet on. “These coordinates were pulled recently. Coordinates are in Spain.”

Spain? Pulled recently? So maybe the heebie-jeebies she was getting from that place meant someone else was there not too long before she got there. But, her senses had been too good, she would’ve picked up on someone sooner.

“Think it’s another former Umbrella researcher? Trying to reach out? Maybe another facility?” Amara hypothesized, it was the only logical thing that came to her. 

Joe laughs, though it doesn’t sound like he finds any of this particularly hilarious. “Highly doubt there’s people still that devoted to Umbrella.” 

Amara always divided former Umbrella employees into two categories: the devoted and the wise. She always liked the wise, for one thing, they weren’t as dumb as the devoted (for researchers, they sure didn’t use their brains). The wise researchers knew to get the fuck outta dodge as soon as they even whiffed the brewing disaster. The devoted? Oh, they’d been drinking the red Kool-Aid for so long.

Apprehending the devoted made her feel as though she’d left the real world behind and entered the world of Alice in Wonderland. They’d taken to the primrose path, the path of fantasy and illusion, believing themselves to be doing right with Umbrella as their guide through and through. 

Regardless, both bled the same.

“I think these coordinates will be worth a look. At least I won’t be leaving here empty-handed,” Amara replied. No painting, though. Guess that’d be for another mission. 

The return to the above ground is far less treacherous, a bit anticlimactic but she likes that. She’s well-equipped to engage in a little hand-to-hand combat, all thanks to Uncle Sam but these jeans were far too nice to get messed up. Who knew that she could throw a man off balance by just using her legs? Those were the better parts of training, the others she hoped would never resurface in her brain. She’d gotten good at dividing parts of her life now into sections. 

Climbing up the way she came in, she drops right down outside into a puddle, splashing a bit of her bootlaces with rainwater. It already seeped into her socks. Gross. 

She lets out a deep breath as she walks back over to Joe’s van (she’s not calling that thing a base, no matter how much he convinced her), holding out the disc she’d found earlier. “Mission accomplished?”

He runs it over and over through his fingers, appraising it for its usefulness to the reports he’d no doubt have to write too. “Mission accomplished. Well done, Agent Moore.” 

“Now you and your mystery van can skedaddle.” Amara waves her hands towards the road, chancing her eyes back towards the attraction. She sees a flash of red atop the roof. 

Joe chuckles briefly, turning his attention to starting up the van. He’s none the wiser to what Amara has her eyes set on. 

No fucking way. 

Talk about a ghost story. 

Amara makes sure that Joe drives off before following the trail. Could she have left well enough alone and got back to her hotel? Yes, absolutely. But at her core, she knows she’s curious as hell. Always had been. Besides wanting to protect others, she always had a curiosity to know all there is to know. 

And right now, she wanted to know why Ada Wong is haunting this attraction. 

Amara carefully plans her steps, trying to avoid detection by the woman as she watches from afar. Ada moves through as if she knew the place like the back of her hand. 

The path narrows, making it more than a little difficult for Amara to conceal her presence. 

“Well, well, well…” Amara announces herself, and for the first time since she’s known Ada, she notices a minute jump in her shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a history buff.”

Ada is slow to turn around but wears what seems to be a trademark smirk on her face, like she always knew something that no one else knew… most of the time she does.

“I could say the same to you.” 

Ada and Amara now faced each other in the dimly lit hallway. The only sound that could be heard was the stupid, cheesy narration about the Lady of the Lake.  Amara was tense, ready to fight, but also conflicted. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Ada.

"So, you're the one who's been tailing me," Ada said, a smirk still ever present on her face. "I'm flattered."

Amara is puzzled by her words, she only stumbled upon Ada by chance. If anyone was tailing anyone, it had to be the other way around. 

"I'm not here to tail you," Amara said, raising her fists. "I'm here on a different mission but stopping you from causing any trouble would be a benefit.” 

Ada laughed. "And here I thought we were friends."

"We're not friends," Amara retorted. "But I don't hate you either."

"Good," Ada said, as she lunged forward with a swift kick. Amara blocked it easily, her training kicking in. The two women traded blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Amara was quick and agile, an added benefit to whatever pumped through her blood, but Ada was more experienced and calculated in her movements.

As they fought, Amara couldn't help but think about the strange friendship that was developing—well, redeveloping— between them. She and Ada were on opposite sides, and now they crossed paths once again. Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but Amara found herself almost liking Ada.

"You know," Amara said, as they continued to fight. "I really don't hate you, Ada. I kind of like you, in a twisted sort of way."

Ada raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by Amara's admission. "Is that right? Well, that's good to know. Maybe we can be friends after all."

Amara smiled, just as she landed a punch on Ada's jaw. Ada stumbled back, but recovered quickly, launching herself into the fight.

Despite their differences, Amara and Ada fought with fierce intensity, each determined to come out on top. In the end, Ada emerged victorious, but as she helped Amara to her feet, the two women shared a small, knowing smile. Maybe they weren't enemies after all.

“With that in mind, you’ll have to forgive me, friend.”

Ada moves quickly, too quick for Amara to stop her. Jabbing a needle into her neck with efficiency. Not even her body could fight whatever was within the syringe. 

Things become unfocused, and blurry as she stumbles back, away from Ada. She clutches her throat, every muscle in it closing up. The last thing Amara sees is Ada standing over her, she fights to get out one crucial word, “Bitch.” 

Hours later

Amara jolts awake, gasping for air, expecting to shoot upwards but she finds that she can’t move. At all. Upon further inspection, she realizes she’s strapped down to a cold, hard table. 

The brightness of the light above her blinding, making it hard to see beyond its edges. How long had she been unconscious? 

The last thing she remembered is London, King Arthur, and…Ada. God damn it. That’s the last time she lets her defenses down so easily. So much for being friends.

She pulled and struggled against the restraints, hoping that “enhanced strength” would actually come in handy but found they were very unbudgeable.

“I wouldn’t mess with those if I were you,” a voice with an accent sounds off, “they were made just for you.” 

Amara turned her head, finding a curly-haired man leaning against the adjacent wall, his eyes scanning between her and the lab equipment next to him. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Eso es irrelevante, encantador, ¿no?” There’s an almost sleaziness to his tone, it reminded her of the creeps you’d find on a busy street as they tried to catcall. 

Amara sneered. “Considering you’re holding me captive? It’s very relevant.” 

“I don’t find pleasure in this, precioso.” 

She laughs lightly, he was laying it on pretty thick. “Amara. As much as I love an ego boost, call me by my name.” 

“Amara, I am not the one holding you captive.”

“Okay…if it’s not you, then who is it? How long have I been here?”

“Long enough for me to take your blood,” he gestures to a machine, about 3 vials of red liquid sitting inside it.

“What?!”

“Relax, eh, I haven’t done anything with it. At least not anything they’d want.” 

Amara couldn’t find it in herself to put up with the back and forth anymore. If she’d learned anything from Raccoon City, it’s that time is of the essence and mincing words and being secretive got you nowhere good. “Enough with the runaround what you really mean bullshit. Get to the point.” 

The man comes close to her side, eyes darting around quickly before focusing his attention on her. Apprehension seemed to spring up in him on a dime. Whoever he worked for certainly must have him spooked. 

“There’s an infection, a virus, going around this village. I believe with your blood, they want to strengthen the strain. They call it Las Plagas.” 

So that’s why Ada brought her here. To be used in someone else’s nefarious game. Using her own bioorganic chemistry against her, against others. Amara was really beginning to think whoever Ada worked for and her own government was one and the same. Two sides of the same fucked up coin.

“Great, you’ve already stolen my blood, so why tell me this?”

“I’m a biologist. I think—no, know that I can reverse engineer a vaccine. Something to stave off symptoms.”

With his admission of this, Amara senses a serious case of deja vu once more. It’s John all over again. The intercepted email he wrote echoed in this man’s words, “Seriously, fuck these guys. Innocent people are getting hurt.” 

“How long would that take? I can’t imagine your employers are just going to let that happen under their noses.” 

“This is my lab, not theirs,” Luis said simply. “Think you can stand being strapped down a little longer?” 

Amara didn’t exactly want to trust this man. He’d given up this information so easily, what was to say he wouldn’t turn on her at some point? But, throwing caution to the wind, she goes along. Well, it’s not exactly like she had much of a choice, considering she’s the one strapped to a table, god knows where. 

“Just get on with it.” 

“Name’s Luis, by the way. Luis Serra.”

She nods in understanding, training her eyes on a corner of the wall to try and take her mind elsewhere. The hum of the lab equipment takes over the silence of the room. At least Luis seems to realize that he didn’t have to take up the air in the room by talking every second. Amara appreciates that. 

Her eyes move towards the other end of the lab, scanning over tubes filled with bubbling liquids, diagrams of molecular specifications, X-rays of subjects unknown to her, and, on the far wall, calculations of specific chemicals and their reactions. Whatever was going on, Luis’ employers had been going at it for quite some time. 

Amara is certainly no biologist but training in the government, you had to know some science. It wasn’t just close-quarters combat or weapons training, agents needed an analytical mind and the ability to recognize specimens, especially biological weapons now. 

Training with the government wasn’t too unlike the police academy, though there was the unfortunate thing of everyone, everyone, keeping their eyes on her. Her reputation preceded her and the same could be said for Leon.

There wasn’t a place in training where she didn’t hear utterances and whispers about him but he became just as elusive there as he was to her now. Upon learning that Leon was there, to begin with, pissed her off, they’d clearly gone against their deal but it’s not like she could do anything about it. 

And anyway, the government must have a personal vendetta about keeping them apart. But for her in the same circles, she was the subject. The Subject. Never her and never by name. There was another one she’d heard from recruits as she passed. Dark Angel. 

Dark Angels were known for their inability to fall and their brutality, well, at least to the mythos Amara had read. Still, she couldn’t stand either choice of names bestowed upon her.  

In a way, both were dehumanizing. A reminder of the distinction between her and everyone else. Amara certainly didn’t want to be separated from everyone else. It’s not like she asked to be turned into some science project. As much as Amara hated to, she looked on the bright side…it certainly made her infinitely more interesting than she actually was.

At some point, Amara found that she couldn't keep her eyes open, her eyes fought against the almost burning lids, but it was no use. 

She drifts off, finding that familiar set of blue eyes calling to her again. Man, were they pretty. 

Amara is now sitting up when she wakes up for the second time. Still strapped down, still not-so-cozy and there was a very chilly draft that lingered around, thanks to whoever stole her jacket—but overall this was much better than the hard table.

Shit, they took her sidearm too? Why is she only just now noticing? This place is beginning to suck more and more. 

One thing she hadn’t been warned of was her lungs burning, her eyes stinging, she had to fight for her first breath. She lets out a few coughs, her breathing returning to its normal pace. But, a weariness sat in her muscles that she couldn’t shake. 

Luis…

…where was he? How long had she slept this time? What the hell had he done since she’d been asleep? 

As if to answer her question, Luis runs inside the lab, with an urgency he didn’t possess before. At first, she couldn’t hear him, her senses hadn’t quite progressed past pain. Then she heard shouts. Whispers. Murmurs. 

Luis was yelling. Yelling at her. He was trying to coax her into consciousness in any way he could. “We have to go now!” 

“Go? Go where?” She asks while Luis undid the straps. Her legs wobbled as she stood, all the strength was gone momentarily but she regained her footing quickly. 

“Anywhere but here,” Luis pulls out a Red9, places a magazine in it, cocking it, and holding it at the ready. “You ready for an escape, Amara?”

“Is that even a question?”

He grinned and cocked his head towards the door. Amara hadn’t felt a rush like this in a long time. Something about it reminded her of Raccoon City in a sick, twisted kind of way. Luis grabbed her wrist and tugged her along, setting them both off into a sprint down long corridors and dimly lit passages with side doors and passcodes.

Amara’s eyes widened at just the enormity of this place, this was all Luis’ lab? There was no time to pause and gawk; getting the fuck out of here took priority, otherwise, both of them would be dead. 

“I guess this is a bad time to ask, but why are we running?” She questions between heaving breaths. Running and talking at the same time especially after only just being able to breathe again are not things Amara enjoyed doing. 

“Do you really want to-”

“Yes!” Amara interrupted him, ripping her hand from his to get a better pace going. 

Luis stops short as the hall opens up to a big space. Amara barely has a second to register his ceasing movement, preventing herself from all but crashing into his back. “That’s why.” 

Amara follows his line of sight, upon seeing what he’s referring to, she laughs bitterly. “Are you fucking for real right now?” 

This gigantic asshole stomped in through the door that Amara assumed was their ticket to freedom. He was dressed not unlike a monster she’d seen before, but this guy had a beard, yellow eyes, and sickly pallor to his skin and could talk. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had been kidnapped? But now she had to deal with this shithead? God must be playing a cruel joke on her.

Luis reached for his gun, but before he could draw it, the man’s towering figure charged at them. Amara tried to dodge, but the giant man grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her against a nearby table. She felt a searing pain in her side as something sharp pierced her skin.

He’s not here for me.

Luis fired his gun at him, but it had no effect on the hulking monster. As he advanced on him, Luis ducked out of the way, practically army-crawling to get to her.

"We have to go, now!" he yelled, dragging Amara behind him as they ran towards the door.

Amara stumbled, her head spinning. She could feel blood oozing from the fresh wound in her side and knew they had to keep moving if they wanted to survive. 

Just as she thought they might make it out alive, Mendez lunged towards them, his massive hand closing around Amara's neck from behind. The man was quicker than she thought he’d be. She gasped for air as he lifted her off the ground, the world spinning around her.

Mendez's grip tightened around Amara's neck as she struggled to breathe. She clawed at his arms, but it was no use. She was trapped.

"At least buy me dinner first!" Amara gasped out, her eyes flickering with anger. 

But it was too late. Mendez hurled her across the room, her body slamming into a nearby table with a sickening crack.

Everything went black.

[destieltaggedfic]

Canon Divergence - Part 10

In Which…[Series] – thebatmandiaries   Ao3

Set S1 AU.  Sam is very confused when Dean turns up on his doorstep with his adopted daughter Claire in tow.  But that doesn’t seem to be the only thing that has changed in Dean’s life including someone in Dean’s life called Cas. [At the moment the series is unfinished]

Word Count: 44k                                              No Sex

Ramble On – andchaos   Ao3

Set S6 AU.  After an accident with a ghoul, Dean moves out of Lisa’s and starts building a house where Cas regularly visits to help and stay with him occasionally.  Sam stays in the pit, Crowley is nowhere to be seen and Cas says he is growing more human.

Word Count: 56k                              Non-Graphic Sex

a certain slant of light - aapicula   Ao3

Set S15 AU.  What if Cas didn’t hear Dean’s prayer when they were in Purgatory?  They wouldn’t have made up quite so soon and Dean starts suffering badly from nightmares is what.

Word Count: 31k                              No Sex

It's My Turn (To Be Watching Over You) – Desirae   Ao3

Set S13 AU.  In the quiet moments after Cas come back from the empty, he and Dean finally talk, with Dean admitting that it was only lack of time and thinking that Cas wasn’t interested that deterred him from saying something earlier.  But before they can get their happily ever after they need to get Mary back.

Word Count: 19k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

Any Other Day - peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)   Ao3

Set S12.  Since the events with Ramiel, Cas’ grace has been doing strange things.  But no one noticed until he was arrested for killing a man in broad daylight while covered in Sam’s blood.  Now they have to figure out what is wrong before he goes nuclear, his bond with Dean may be the answer.

Word Count: 125k                            Graphic Sexual Acts

[ilyrhyme]

chicken girls s10 opinions! (since the final episode came out today)

this season was honestly ROUGH with many different details that made it better and worse in some ways?

season 10a (episodes 1-10):

• the beginning of season 10a was such a slow beginning! getting through the first few episodes was such a bore and i would often skip weeks of watching😭

• i love brat for trying out the parallel between the second gen (s7-9) and third gen (s10) plot lines but i hated it! I’m sorry!!! it was kind of messy and pointless to say the least

• ivy is a boring protagonist and that’s that. after having iconic characters like rhyme and harmony as our leads, ivy didn’t have the spark that they did? she got severely better in 10b (will go in depth later) but she was such a bitch all of 10a!

• kara and ivys beef was honestly funny to watch. im somewhat of a kara stan so to see their beef that was REASONABLE was entertaining and one of the saving graces of 10

• you could tell the writers were bored out of their minds making this season! half of the plot points were either dropped mid season or not even fully developed!!

• bailey and her brother were kind of annoying im sorry. she felt like a sport version of leyla that was whiny literally the WHOLE season. this isn’t the actors fault at all, it’s simply THE WRITERS FAULT

• jj was a chill character. i liked her and she made sense. her home plot line was really sad and bailey had her best moment in the whole season by helping jj which i enjoyed. jj and bailey are one of my fav ships this season btw, they were cute and i enjoyed watching them! (sorry reading this back, this sentence made no sense😭)

• the gen 2 chicken girls were so boring in 10a. i feel like the writers just wanted to keep them in so ppl would still watch for one reason or another. in result of this, they got the dumbest plot lines in the show. I MEAN WHAT WAS THE TEST PLOTLINE W SIMONE AND PETRA?! my girl simone went through sm in 10b tho which ill go in depth on later obvi

• why did poppy do a full personality 360 from forever team? made no sense whatsoever!

• LOVE LOVE LOVE that we brought the dance team back!? it was random but i loved the og plot w the dance team and all that

• petra was a bitch in 10a and i loved her sm😆 she was a better written character than the 4 lead girls and idk why the writers did that but slay!

• kara x bailey, i was waiting the whole god damn season for and we didn’t get it😭

• the best character award goes to finn! he wasn’t annoying and remained my favorite character the whole season. some of y’all bout to hate but he was the best male character chicken girls has SEEN. he was such a better love interest that both walker and tk

• ivy and finn were cute ig? idk they got a build up which i liked but it was also out of nowhere

• i hate theo sm what😭 he was attractive but like he as a total bitch to BOTH petra and ivy! he wasn’t a one dimensional character but wasn’t two dimensional either? (iykyk)

• 10a was messy and i didn’t like most of it sorry😭 BUT 10B WAS SO MUCH BETTER I PROMISE

10b (episodes 11-20)

• UGH WHAT AN UPGRADE THIS WAS!! the second half of the season took like 3 months to come out BUT THE WRITERS NEEDED IT!

• finn, kara and jj were such a trio this second half and i LIVED for it! they were so supportive towards each other

• bailey tempering with more stuff she shouldn’t be dealing with YET AGAIN!! she didn’t need to do that whole thing for ben and set him up w a girl that was literally sapphic and liked her😭

• ivy tryna kiss petras man? kinda bitchy but it was fun to watch more in 10b than 10a? ivy and theo were also kinda cute ngl and they had chemistry

• SIMONE AND CLAIRE WERE AT EACH OTHERS THROATS.

• bailey got better FINALLY. getting her OWN plot line without having to temper with other peoples? YES YES YES. and it was abt trust issues too. ugh so real girl

• petra was so real all of 10b and also deserved SO MUCH BETTER OMG. i felt so bad for her the whole second half

• the whole football, dance crossover bailey thing was kind of a smart move on the directors part? idk it was kinda boring but also gave bailey MORE DEPTH WHICH SHE NEEDED!

• kara for more screen time!!

• kara and ivy had that really cute moment where they forgave each other and ended the rivalry. absolutely loved that

• ivys eating disorder was so important and a great plot point. i love that she was able to open up to the team! my only criticism was that (again, like most of the season) came out of nowhere!

• i feel like they could’ve afforded a better set. you could even tell regionals wasn’t even real bc they didn’t even have a stage

• bailey and sage! i liked them ngl and i hope sage comes back

• why did ivy go back to finn? like she wanted theo the whole season and then went back to him?…I LOVED IT! again, gave the season a bit of spice towards the end which came back to me wanting more!

• the last two episodes were REMARKABLE! 10B WAS GOOD AS IT STARTED OUT BUT UGH GOT SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING AND I WAS SO EXCITED TO SEE THE NEW EP TODAY

• petra needs to come back. i miss her already :(

• i lowkey thought jj and finn were gonna happen but I GUESS NOT. no but i also feel like jj was hinted at as being sapphic. she said smth like "the upsides of being a lesbian are.." and idk if that was referring to bailey or not but i found that interesting

• the group dynamic wasnt there until the last three episodes which was like again, the writers fault but them getting the bracelets out of nowhere was so confusing

• THE LGBTQ SHIPS THIS SEASON (canon and non canon) WERE SO GOOD BYE- BAILEY WAS DEF A SHIPPABLE CHARACTER AND UGH I JUST LOVED IT. FINN MY TRANS BABY!!

• now finally, the gen 2 chicken girls and they're PLOTLINE THIS SEASON. 10a was pointless but 10b. wtf was going on! nothing was working out and simone deserved sm better. claire and bel were SUCH trashy friends. poppy wasn't even given a bracelet so idk why she thought she was a chicken girl?! the existence of leyla was also 100% wiped and it felt like everyone forgot her?? claire also got so mad at simone for giving the bracelets away when she and bel didn't even care about the group the whole season💀

final thoughts:

sorry this was like a 85% bashing on the new season but chicken girls has gotten such a downgrade over time. the fans honestly deserve better if any of them are even still watching lmao. i think we are getting a season 11 bc of the cliffhanger as well as corrine joy (simone) posting a tiktok of them filming. if we do get a season 11, ill probably tune in and give my opinions but that's all for now. i would say to the chicken girls fans and anyone else to give this season a watch in your free time. it isn't terrible but it isn't the best we've ever seen from chicken girls *ahem seasons 3 and 7*. anyways, yeah it is worth somewhat of a watch. the start of the season compared to the ending is astronomical on how much of a change it was. ok bye now haha

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 36

Claire was struggling to breathe as her legs carried her as fast as they possibly could through the tall trees, it was just starting to get dark, which made the woods all the scarier.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her heart raced as she kept glancing over her shoulder every now and then, but there was no sign of him at all.

She knew not to scream, to try and make as little noise as possible. Not that it would help her in the long run, she knew he would be chasing her, that he’d be able to smell her so easily. Though every step she took, twigs snapped under foot that even she could hear clearly over her heavy breathing.

Continuing to run, she leapt over logs and dodged large boulders or the odd fallen tree. She thought about finding somewhere to hide, then had the idea to double back on herself and hide. In hope that he’d continue onwards, to let her run back to the cabin.

She abruptly turned and ran back the way she came, trying to follow the same path she’d taken. She had no idea where he was, for all she knew he could be flying above, watching her right now. Or he could still be hunting her further back. She did get quite a good head start on him while he was distracted, but knowing how fast vampires were, that meant nothing.

There was a large tree with a big hole in the base of the trunk, so she managed to squeeze into there. She took deep breaths to try and slow her breathing down, though her breathing was shaky.

She noticed her hands were shaking, too. She didn’t get long to try and calm herself down, when over the sound of her heavy breathing she heard the sound of wings fluttering around the trees up above. She put her hand over her mouth to try and stop from making further noise. Her ears were on high alert, she soon heard the wings fade into the distance.

Taking a chance, she figured she had managed to trick him into going further into the woods. Though she knew her trail of scent would stop soon, then he’d be coming back this way for her. So she started running back from where she came from.

As she began heading back, she got confused as every direction she looked in, looked the same. With it growing ever darker, it really messed with her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was going in the right direction anymore, but she knew she just needed to keep moving. If she stopped, she knew she’d be done for.

When she came across a small stream, she knew she’d definitely taken a wrong turn somewhere. She skidded to a halt and was about to head back, but she swore she saw a shadowed figure dart between trees.

A shiver ran down her spine and her eyes widened as she spun around and leapt over the stream, her right foot slipped a little and she got her trainer soaked, but she ignored that as she broke into a run once again, the sound of heavy footsteps running after her made her sprint a little faster, even though she was becoming exhausted.

She suddenly felt a rush of wind against her as a bat flew above her head, fluttering his wings at her deliberately. Though then, there was nothing. She kept running, but she realised there was no sound of any wings up above, or feet coming after her.

Feeling like she was about to pass out from continuously running, she had no option but to slow down to a quick walk to get her breath back. She was just starting to think she was getting away with it, when out of nowhere, a strong arm grabbed her from behind and she was pulled flush back against a firm body, making her scream.

‘You really thought you could escape from me, my prey?’ He chuckled wickedly and pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling deeply. ‘I could smell you from a mile away. It is so much fun though, the thrill of the chase.’ He growled and grinded his obvious bulge against the back of her.

Claire shuddered when she felt sharp fangs drag along her neck, looking for just the right spot. She began squirming in his grasp, to try and get away.

‘Please, let me go, please.’ She cried out and tried struggling even harder.

‘You can fight and whine all you want, my dear. It only arouses me further, and will make claiming you all the more fun.’ He said as he brought his free hand up to stroke her cheek. She took that opportunity and bit the fleshy part of his palm as hard as she could.

He gasped, more in surprise at her attack than anything, as of course it didn’t hurt him at all. Though he loosened his grip on her just enough for her to be able to slide downwards quickly, getting out of his hold.

She bolted forward, but didn’t get very far. She was swiftly tackled from behind and wrestled down onto the ground, she didn’t give up, she kept trying to fight him off. Though she rapidly found herself pinned beneath him, with the side of her face pressed down into the dirt and leaves.

‘Hmm, it seems I’ll need to subdue you before I fuck you. You’re far too feisty.’ He snarled at her and nipped the back of her neck with his front teeth, making her yelp.

Then she really yelped when he moved to the side of her neck and, using his fangs, he pierced into her and began sucking her blood.

Her pleas and cries to get released soon fell short and quiet, as her mind started going hazy and she felt like she was floating.

‘Mmm, Loki.’ She moaned out softly as her eye-lashes fluttered, she couldn’t help but enjoy it when he fed from her. It was such an intimate act for them, even more so than sex, she found.

Loki chuckled against her neck. The adrenaline and rush from hunting her had his feral instincts running so high, he could feel the excited rush flowing through his veins as he drank from her. Not only was it from the scene they were doing, but it was the fact that Claire found this just as exciting and arousing as he did, that she wanted to do this for him too, to let him be his instinctive, feral-self.

Not only had he smelled her adrenaline while he’d been hunting her, there had been a very small tinge of fear mixed, though her arousal was what drove him the most, the smell of it had been thick in the air. Impossible for him not to find and track her so easily.

He didn’t want her to be completely out of it, so he stopped drinking after a short while, even if it was difficult since he didn’t quite get his fill. She was still aware and could move, though she felt rather weak. Which had been his intent.

‘Not so feisty now, are you, pet?’ He chuckled wickedly and nipped at her earlobe.

She tried to squirm a little, but that was all she could do. Loki shuffled off of her just long enough so he could tear her jeans off, just using his hands and brute strength. Claire let out a gasp and tried kicking her legs about, though she just couldn’t get much energy to do anything even remotely substantial.

‘Behave, or this will be more difficult for you.’ Loki said in warning as he gave her ass a smack.

She didn’t want to admit how much she enjoyed that… but she did as she was told and stopped trying to get away.

Loki moved behind her on his knees and lifted her hips up slightly, he positioned himself as he took out his cock. He shoved her knickers to the side and with his thumb, he slid up and down her soaking wet cunt, rubbing over her clit which made her whimper.

‘I captured my prey, now it's time to claim my prize.’ He stroked his cock a few times, then lined up with her and thrust in.

She whimpered as he pushed into her, filling her up so amazingly as always. Though he did make her catch her breath as he gave a few sharp, yet hard, thrusts. He was filled with growls and grunts as he tried to control himself, but it was difficult. Seeing her on front of him, in the dirt of the woods, after the thrill of the chase and blood smeared on her neck, he couldn’t help himself from going to town on her.

Claire cried out in pleasure as he used her body, not that she physically could have done anything if she wanted to, she didn’t want to, anyway. Even if the ground was uncomfortable due to small stones and dirt everywhere, she just didn’t care. All she could focus on was Loki’s cock filling her so nicely, building up her pleasure.

Loki dug his fingers into her hips as he fucked her, his teeth were clenched as he was close to losing his mind. He hadn’t planned to drink more from her, so she could remain fully aware, but he just couldn’t stop himself from doing so.

When he felt her cum around his cock, he folded himself over her and thrust deep into her as he sank his fangs back into her neck, re-piercing through her skin to drink more of her blood.

Claire slowly began to black out, feeling so floaty and she was so sure she was on her way to heaven. Or hell, perhaps, as Loki came inside of her.

Loki needed to stop… before he went too far, but his inner vampire wasn’t letting him. He kept sucking her blood, she tasted so damn good, and after her orgasm there was so much blood for him pumping through her veins.

When Claire let out a small whine, just as she passed out, Loki was able to snap himself out of it. He released her neck with a loud groan, his eyes slowly returned to their normal colour. He was panting heavy as he licked her blood from his lips, then licked at her neck to clean her up a little.

‘Oh, my darling.’ He said softly as he scooped her up off the ground and began to head back to the cabin, his legs were a little like jelly.

He got her inside and ran a bath, he was just lowering her into the water when she came around. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled when Loki’s face was the first thing she saw.

‘I’m sorry, Claire… I went a little too far.’ Loki apologised and stroked her hair.

Claire’s smile grew even larger as she looked at him with hazy eyes, she reached out and cupped his cheek. ‘That’s ok, vampy. I love you.’

Loki’s heart melted completely. ‘I love you too, my darling.’ He leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Thank you for doing that for me. It was incredibly thrilling.’ He winked at her.

She blushed a bit. ‘It was for me too. It felt so real, like I was really running for my life at one point.’ She giggled. ‘It’s strange how exciting it was, how much I enjoyed it.’

‘I’m glad it was as exciting for you as it was for me.’ Loki moved up the bath and began washing her hair, making her melt.

‘Did I manage to trick you by doubling back? Or did you know?’ She asked with a smirk.

‘It was a smart idea. Though I realised half way along that your smell was stronger, so you’d doubled back. I couldn’t contain a laugh when you almost fell in the stream though.’ He smirked.

‘I didn’t almost fall. My foot just slipped.’ Claire argued, though she still didn’t have the full strength to properly argue back.

‘Uh huh, sure.’ Loki sniggered.

Claire splashed some water at him, making him laugh.

‘Careful, love. You’ve been captured by the vampire and are now in his lair, so you best not push his buttons.’ Loki said in a growly tone with a smirk.

‘Oh, this is your lair, is it? Maybe I’ll need to hang fresh garlic up around the bed, keep myself safe from any attacks during the night.’

Loki made a loud hissing noise, with his fangs visible, showing his displeasure. Claire raised her eyebrows at him.

‘Ok… that was way hotter than I think it was meant to be.’ She admitted.

Loki burst out laughing. ‘I was going for scary, but hot is good too.’

‘Scary hot.’ Claire corrected him, making him laugh more.

[wintermilori]

~ timeskip, at the hospital an hour or so after the attack ~

While he himself hadn’t attended the island’s anniversary festival, busy in his room at Hotel Transylvania on a call with his daughters still back home. It had been a shock, hearing from them that they couldn’t find Peri anywhere then seeing the blonde here in Echo Isle - but as the weeks had passed, he had accepted his middle daughter’s presence, even if he still feared what it might mean for her once things started getting intense as he was certain they soon would. And he had been proven correct the moment he heard shouts from down in the lobby, hanging up with his family immediately and rushing down to see what was going on. It didn’t take long to piece together that there had been an attack - likely from one of the hunter groups that were scattered across the island - but Liam didn’t give much thought at the moment to who it was behind the chaos, instead jumping right into helping all of the injured bodies being brought to the hotel for sanctuary. Years of leadership amongst his royal court of magical beings back in his home country had prepared him for a situation like this, and he was moving almost instinctively as he started to help anyone and everyone he could.

It wasn’t until someone stopped him, another guest of the hotel that Liam had spent a few nights conversing with at the bar, to tell him that they had seen his daughter being rushed out of the fray of the attack and to the hospital, clearly deeply wounded. And the moment that news had been given to him, he had bolted from the hotel. There were plenty of others there to help, to get everyone in safely and to offer the care that the injured would need. Where he needed to be right now was with his daughter. It would have been easier, navigating his way to the hospital if he still had his flight, but it also would have been far riskier. So perhaps it was for the best that he was stuck running through the city, even if it was slower than the mode of transportation he had known so well in his youth.

Nearly twenty minutes later, he had finally made it to the hospital, bursting through the emergency room doors and right up to the check in counter, demanding that he needed to see his daughter. Except they said there was no one checked in under her name, not her legal one nor the nickname everyone actually called her. And she swore there weren’t any Jane Does that met her description either. Which couldn’t be possible. She had to be here. This was the only hospital on the damn island - there was nowhere else that she could be. Liam was ready to shout just as much, to demand to be allowed back into each emergency room until he found her, when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. Spinning around, half hoping it would be Peri herself, it was the first time he’s ever been disappointed to see Clarion standing by his side. “Claire,” he breathes out her name, the single word coming out as if the sight of her was an answer from God himself. “Please. You have to help me. My daughter, she’s here. Her name’s Penelope, or Peri, she actually likes to go by.” With shaking hands he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pulling up a picture of all three of his girls and zooming in so the focus was fully on the blonde. “Have you seen her? Please, I need to know that she’s okay.”

⋄⋄ ✨ ⋄⋄

One thing she knew went without saying was that Claire wouldn't have reached out if it wasn't for good reason. One thing about her was she was a woman who took pride in her independence, only asking for help when she found it absolutely necessary. Liam had known her better than most people and seen her when she was at her most broken. Claire needed people she trusted right now, and the man from her past was at the top of that list. After all this time she went to him as if it had only been months. Regardless of what happened their closeness wouldn't change but only shift how it was expressed. He had come, which meant more to her than she could find the words for. "Things have gotten worse here. I fear for us, we have nowhere to run with the borders closed," the blonde started quietly, pulling him further into the room so that they could have more privacy. "They made the borders sound like people were trapped in here with us but it's us that are trapped in here with them." Claire motioned to a chair for him while she sat in the one next to it. Even with the door closed the woman kept her voice low to assure no one but Liam's ears heard. "One of them saw me, I may be forced to step down if word gets out. If that happens I won't a way to keep making sure things move forward with getting the borders open."