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heartyearning · 4 months ago

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☀️ SUMMER READING WRAP UP ☀️

i read like 30+ books in july & august & wanted to do a quick little summary of that here bc i read some absolute bangers. in no partic order + these are only the good ones bc i dont need to talk about [title redacted bc im nice]

headshot by rita bullwinkel: i got this in a bookstore near my sister's art uni & you could tell it was an artunibookstore bc there were so many books i'd never heard of but this one is SO up my alley. it's about a group of teenage girls in a boxing competition and follows each of their matches from the perspectives of the girls. they don't talk to each other so they each have this really skewed vision of the other person, especially considering that there's a competitive aspect to what they're doing anyway & the fact that none of these girls feel like they're respected in their day-to-day lives. if you're a teen following me you NEED to pick up this book, i felt like it so perfectly encapsulates that feeling of being 15-17 esp if you're socialised as a girl. everything is both grandiose and gritty at the same time, these girls have FEELINGS pouring out of their ears and it is so so so well written. absolutely loved it. also look at this cover:

LOVED!

big swiss by jen beagin: this is kind of in the same vein as headshot & generally in the same vein of a lot of general fiction i've been into lately. i've known about it for a while but did wonder whether it was worth getting it / whether it would do more than just scratch the itch that i already had scratched after reading headshot & let me tell you it absolutely did. big swiss follows a transcriber of a new york sex therapist who accidentally meets and becomes involved with one of his patients. greta, the protagonist, has got a lot of weird habits and thought-patterns but since the book is written from her pov it's easy to go along with the idea that this all isn't THAT weird until it really starts to be reflected back at her through other people when big swiss starts talking about her in the therapy sessions greta transcribes and onwards. it's really good, i also love that greta's a bit older than a lot of the protagonists in books like these that i've read. i also love this cover with the painting on it but i personally had a copy with an illustration of big swiss & greta's dogs (even tho piñon was brown on the cover, not black, but i'm letting it go) which was very cute as well.

chouette by claire oshetsky: iykyk. this book is really good for many reasons but let me introduce it by saying it was good because it handles a VERY tricky subject matter and does so with incredible grace. chouette follows the birth and childhood of chouette, an owl-baby which came about after Tiny had sex with her female owl lover in a dream. (i don't have my copy with me rn but the opening line is something along the lines of "it was a shock to me when i discovered i was pregnant after i dreamt i had sex with an owl lover, especially because my owl lover was a woman." <- that but like. good writing. i wish i could remember the phrasing better) in this book the concept of an "owl baby" is actually a stand in for having a child with mental development issues. chouette is an owl-baby in a world of dog-children, that sort of thing. i was very cautious when reading this book bc it's told from the pov of tiny, who doesn't always love being a mother (and i'm sensitive about that topic so i didn't really know how i'd respond to this) and also the subject matter in general can go wrong in so many different ways. chouette is really good though, at no point does tiny think of her daughter as being anything other than who she is. she's not some genius savant nor is she broken & in need of fixing. she's simply a baby / young toddler with her own needs and desires and her own personality. very sweet, very emotional book. music plays a big role in this book (again, iykyk) and there's an accompanying playlist which i ended up not listening to bc i didn't have wifi but i do also like that aspect of it.

we go around in the night & are consumed by fire by jules grant: pros of moving in with someone who used to work in publishing & book selling: i now have access to a bunch of new books i've never heard of before. we go around in the night is an incredible book about an all-female gang in manchester (at least i think its manchester, i do not recall) and how they deal when one of their members is shot and killed. the plot and concept themselves are really good but what stands out especially is the writing style which is in part stream of consciousness and in a larger part just very particular to the pov character & how their mind works. we follow the povs of the head of the gang and the daughter of the woman who was killed. it's very emotional, very rough to read bc it deals so much with grief and also it's so intimate because with the way it's written you just feel so deeply inside the characters' minds. really cool.

fantasy break: i reread all of my branderson books (or at least the cosmere ones), so that's the first mistborn trilogy, warbreaker & the first 4 stormlights. not gonna summarise those indiv bc i'm pretty sure none of my followers on this blog give a fuck but i am actually very pleased to have re-read them bc 1. i love them and 2. it's made the scope of the cosmere a bit more understandable again. also i get very emotional about fantasy & cried like a baby at the end of mistborn & also at the end of oathbringer. and at the middle of rhythm of war. when adolin's in shadesmar with maya? yeah. sobbing.

little, big by john crowley: i listened to this on audiobook every day for about 2 weeks as i walked my dogs and did my chores and what have you. this audiobook is 24 hours long and usually that's my limit on audiobook length, anything longer than that & i start to check out mentally, but i could honestly listen to little, big forever. if you don't know it's this multi-generational novel about faeries and a family involved with them tangentially through the contact one of the early women had with faeries when she lived in the uk. it's a book about an american family though and though the faeries are ever-present in the actions and consequences that befall this family, it's so much more about love. familial love, romantic love, love for a place, love. it's absolutely incredible and read by the author who has the most wonderful accent (maine, i believe?) which just transports you even more into the world of these people. i'm generally all for a novel read by a trained & skilled narrator, not the author (reading is a skill) but john crowley does a very good job and anyway i didn't mind it when voices sounded alike because you understood who was speaking anyway just by what they were saying and anyway it's a family so it's okay if they sound similar. truly such a wonderful experience, i really loved this book.

others i read and just want to quickly mention: giovanni's room, gut symmetries, the book of elsewhere (i love china miéville etc etc), edinburgh (by alexander chee) & a couple more but these are the ones that i enjoyed most / got most out of

#recently read #preddy big post for a preddy big reading summer

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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years ago

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All That Was Good

A/N: One of my many versions of "What if Jamie and Claire both passed through the stones before Culloden?" stories. This came about just this weekend and my brain would not stop until I wrote it down and shared it with you all. I know the 20-year separation of Jamie and Claire is one of the most used plots in the Outlander-verse (I, for one, am all for it) so here's my wee contribution to it! I'm bad at summaries but hope you like this wee one! As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3

xxxxx

This cannot be it.

As their hands moved closer together to touch the stone, Claire’s heart was feeling a million emotions but her mind was clear with just one thing - Jamie.

This cannot be it.

In the three years they’ve been together, neither of them could’ve known just how much they’d mean to each other, depend on each other, care for each other, let alone, love each other - so deeply and passionately that they were willing to change history if it came to that.

This cannot be it.

“Goodbye, Claire” she felt his breath and lips in her temple as he pulled her closer to him by the waist, desperately trying to keep themselves together for as long as they could and engrain the memory of their bodies molded as one. And in the middle, was the miracle they prayed and hoped for who will never know his father and grow up with a family he deserved.

This cannot be it.

Her fingers can almost feel the roughness of the stone surface and the journey that will follow after. She wanted to turn her head and see his face one last time, beg him to release her from her promise and let her stay in this time. But time was running out. In the last seconds, Claire made her wish known again and again.

Me. Jamie. Our Baby. Our Family. Anywhere. Anytime. Together.

Claire expected the deafening buzz that usually came with the stones - but what was new was the blinding light that suddenly seemed to emit from it. She wondered if Jamie could see it since he couldn’t hear the buzz and she got her confirmation when she heard Jamie exclaim a “What in the devil..?!” just before everything went black.

----

The journey to the stones is never easy. It feels like you're being taken apart and then weaved back together. It really takes a toll to the body.

Claire stirred to someone stroking her hair. Once her mind was a little bit more awake, she took a mental stock of herself. She felt whole, alive, and for some reason, she was sitting in some armchair with her head laid down on the table.

She slowly opened her eyes, cautious just in case she got affected somehow by the last light she saw and to prepare herself to know the aftermath of this trip.

“Thank Christ!” was the first sound she heard. “Are ye alright?"

Her mind raced, she needed to respond. In another effort to finally face her reality, she lifted her, fully opened her eyes and saw the two most worried ocean eyes boring straight into hers.

Her eyes widened at the sight before her. Impossible.

“Ja - Jamie?” she softly called out, a hand unsure to touch his face.

“Aye, tis me, Claire. Do ye remember me? I was afraid you wouldn’t recognize me” he replied.

“Jamie, oh my god!” her dizziness forgotten, she quickly stood up as Jamie did too and they held each other so tightly she was sure she couldn’t breath.

She pulled away and started inspecting every part of him she could. “Are you alright? What happened?!”

“I don’t know. All I remember was I brought ye to the stones, we we’re about to touch it when a light beamed through. Next thing I knew, I woke up leaning by that shelf, wearing this clothes, and saw you passed out here.” Jamie shared.

“So you did see the light too! I haven’t experienced or seen that before so I thought it could’ve been just for me but...here you are.”

“Here I am” he said simply.

As their dizziness wore off and their mind became more rational, they needed to investigate fast on where and when they were.

Claire was wearing a white sleeveless shirtwaist dress, almost similar to the one she was wearing the first time she went through the stones, while Jamie was wearing a navy blue knitted shirt tucked in light brown fitted trousers.

They were definitely not in the 1740s anymore.

They were in an old scottish cottage, though obviously renovated and restored, with most of the items inside looking museum grade. A sign hanged up wrote “Old Leanach Cottage” and below it in smaller letters were the words “Culloden Moor” .

They were at Culloden.

Lastly, together they gravitated towards a notebook, a visitor log, and found that the year was 1948.

They were in Claire’s time.

Stunned and a little bit confused, Jamie and Claire looked at each other as the shock passed through them.

Impossible, indeed.

Claire and Jamie had more questions than answers and the place they currently were seemed different that what Claire was used to so both of them are pretty much out of place until they knew more about their present lives.

“Whatever this is, whatever has happened” Jamie’s firm voice broke the ice. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay.” Claire replied. The unknowns were endless but with the strength of having Jamie by her side, there was nothing much to fear. “Of course” Claire nodded surely and then leaned her face to Jamie’s for a single deep kiss.

There’s always something that stirs between them whenever they kiss and they both smile at the fact that that feeling hasn’t gone away. Whatever they need it to be, it will be that. And right now, this kiss was a kiss of love, gratitude, comfort, and security.

Just as they were to pull away, they heard voices outside the cottage call for them.

“Jamie, Clare, are you guys finished?” a man’s voice asked.

Surprised by the interaction, Jamie’s first action was to protect Claire. His hands automatically reached out to his side where his sgian dubh always reside but he grasped for nothing in the air. Another reminder that they were in a different time.

“Jamie, those voices…”

“D’ye know them, Sassenach?”

Claire shook her head. Her mind was swirling - the voices we’re so familiar, she was sure she knew them - but she couldn’t put a name or a face.

“Come on, you two! Chop, chop! We still have a 3-hour ride ahead of us.” a woman’s voice followed.

“Should we just head out and see?” she asked. Jamie shrugged in agreement, took Claire’s hand, and led them out of the cottage.

Nothing could’ve prepared either of them for what was to happen next. They were both frozen in place as a couple turned around and in front of them is Henry and Julia Beauchamp.

“There you are!” Julie exclaimed. “What took you so long? We thought you’re only signing the visitor’s log book”. She noticed their confused looks, and slowly reached out a hand. “Are you guys...okay?”

Without another thought, Claire gravitated towards her parents and pulled her mother to a tight embrace and cried.

“Mama” Claire said softly.

“You haven’t called me that in a long time” Julie replied, hugging her daughter back. She pulled her daughter back when she felt a wetness in her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

Claire didn’t reply but went to her dad and hugged him just as tight. “While I do love this,” Henry began, “I’m not sure what’s going on.” He patted her back, “Claire?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Claire started to think of an explanation while wiping her eyes and fixing herself up. “I just missed you so much”

There was so much more she wanted to say, just in case this was all a dream, but her last words summarized what was at the core of it all.

“I know, we missed you guys too. It’s been almost a month since we got together and this is a little overdue. Do you think you can make it back the car, though? I really don’t want to miss lunch.” Henry teased.

“Let’s go! I don’t want to be late. You know how strict Brian and Ellen are with the lunch schedule. Last time we missed it, there were hardly any food left.” Julia followed.

It was Jamie’s turn to feel more disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?” He didn’t know how we found his voice but, at the moment, his mind had life of its on and the words came flying out.

“What do you mean ‘what’? We’re on our way to see your parents at Lallybroch, James.”

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katelyn--renee · 4 years ago

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Out of the Fire (Part two)

Title: Out Of The Fire (Part two)

Fandom: Supernatural AU

Main Characters series: Reader, Lieutenant Firefighter!Dean Winchester, Lawyer!Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester (Moore), Nurse!Lisa Braeden (Formerly Winchester), Ben Braeden-Winchester, Harper Winchester (OFC), Charlie Bradbury, Firefighter!Benny Lafitte, Firefighter!Jo Harvelle, Firefighter!Castiel Novak, Claire Novak, Mechanic!John Winchester, Firefighter Captain!Ellen Harvelle, Mechanic!Bobby Singer, Doctor!Arthur Ketch, Nick Vaught and many more!

Pairings: Dean x Reader (eventual), Dean x Lisa (past), Reader x Nick (past), Lisa x Ketch (current), Sam x Jessica (current)

Word count: ±2200 words

Series summary: A slow burn romance. Reader is trying to get away from her troubled past and start fresh; a new name, new town, new friends, and a new job. A clean slate. After years of planning and saving, she is able to open her own business. With the help of her best friend and business partner, Charlie Bradbury, and her new flirty firefighter friend, she is hopeful, even when disaster strikes and her past threatens to catch up with her years later.

Part two summary: Flashback to when you first met your green eyed hero and their budding romance.

Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fire or mentions of fire, fluff (so much fluff), angst, eventual smut, mutual pining, alcohol abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of domestic abuse (physical, verbal), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of adultery/cheating, mentions of death, dangerous or life threatening situations, stress, descriptions of injuries, blood, hospital scenes, character death.

Author’s note: Here is part two! I hope you enjoy this chapter and all it’s fluffy goodness! :)

A special thank you to @that-one-gay-girl and @deanwanddamons for being the wonderful beta’s that you are! Your feedback is always appreciated! Check out their awesome work and spread some love!

All graphics and dividers done by me! :)

If you like this story, please don’t hesitate to leave a like, comment and if you’re feeling extra generous, share! Your feedback gives me live and motivation! If you would like to be tagged in the series, please don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you and let’s enjoy this ride together!

<<-- Read part one, here!

Out of the Fire Masterlist!

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

About five weeks ago.

The shop was busier than usual, but being the final days of summer, it was expected. It wasn't anything you or Charlie couldn't handle, of course, but it sure did make for long days and even longer nights of cleanup.

"Charlie, table two needs refills, table six never got their vanilla lattes, and table four is ready to pay." You announced as you joined your partner behind the counter with a handful of dirty mugs and plates, having just made one of many rounds through the seating area.

The two of you danced around each other gracefully, moving in harmony as you switched from one task to another. “On it.” She acknowledged, already preparing the missing drinks and throwing in a complimentary pastry for the mistake.

You set the pile of dishes down into the sink before turning to the next customer in line, flashing him a friendly smile. “Yes, hi, how can I help you?” You greeted urgently, looking up to meet a set of stunning green eyes. You faltered slightly, taken by surprise by his strikingly good looks.

He smiled, almost bashfully, as he began to place his order, seeming not to notice your hesitation. “A round of coffees, black, for me and my buddies ,” He motioned toward the booth near the large bay window which was occupied by three other bodies; two men and one woman, all of whom adorned matching uniforms. “Cream and sugar on the side. Oh, uh, larges… or eh, talls?” He added with a sheepish chuckle, clearly unfamiliar with the coffee house lingo.

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from smiling more and potentially embarrassing him. “Venti.” You corrected him playfully. You saw the confused look on his face, his head cocking like a confused puppy, before adding, “For our ‘large,’”

You used air quotes to emphasize your point, rolling your eyes at the technical terminology. “It’s venti.” You saw it the moment he understood what you were telling him, and he chuckled again, not missing the way he ducked his head to hide the slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“Never too old to learn something new.” He chuckled again and winked at you, the gesture setting butterflies loose inside of your stomach. It was your turn to look away this time, your face hot with a blush. He fished his wallet from his dark blue cargo pants, looking at the assortment of baked goods.

“Throw in a few of those bagels and croissants, too, please.” He added, casting his gaze down at the display case once again. “Oh, and a piece of that cherry pie.” He added almost dreamily, pulling out a couple of twenties.

Upon further inspection, you took notice of the soot and ash that dirtied his face and darkened his hair in certain places. He had dark circles under his gorgeous eyes, too, clearly exhausted after a long shift. You glanced in the direction of his crew members, finding much of the same. “Long night?” You asked, trying to be friendly as much as you were curious.

“I look that rough, huh?” He teased, a look of mock offense accompanying his handsome features.

You shook your head, a smile still curving your lips at the corners, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You clarified hastily as you calculated his order into the register, making a point to leave off the coffees; it was the least you could do for him… eh, them, right?

He winked again and laughed, the sound deep in his chest, assuring you that he was only teasing. “I know you didn’t,” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, watching your face and the way you tried to suppress your smile. “How much do I owe you, sweetheart?” He asked, glancing down at the display screen.

The term of endearment made your heart flutter slightly, and you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto your face again. You swallowed the feeling down, pressing the enter key before you read aloud his total.

“That’ll be $19.94, Mr. Firefighter.” He rose a questioning brow at the total, glancing up at the menu prices. “Coffee’s on the house.” You added quickly with a closed-lip smile, your eyes sincere. “It’s the least I can do for your services.”

Several emotions seemed to make their way across his face, contorting it briefly before settling on gratitude. “Thank you.” He said, his voice genuine. He held out one of the twenty-dollar bills, paying for his order. “That was really kind of you, truly.” He smiled softly, glancing down at the name tag attached to your apron. “(Y/N).”

A smile formed on your lips before you could stop it, and your cheeks flushed at the way he said your name, your eyes finding the name embroidered onto the left side of his dark blue button-up shirt, opposite of a silver badge over his heart. Red patches were on either sleeve, proudly showing off the station they serve. “It’s no trouble, Lieutenant Winchester...” You promised with a sly smile.

He laughed, appreciating your observation. “Dean.” He insisted as you accepted the bill. Your fingers touched, brushing against each other softly. The touch, however slight, was like an electric shock, igniting every part of your body.

There was an annoyed grunt behind the firefighter, but the two of you paid little attention to it. You put the money into the till and collected his change, but Dean insisted that he didn’t need it. He walked backwards to his table, his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth. The two of you couldn’t seem to stop watching each other, nor did you want to, silently flirting with your eyes.

You giggled when he bumped into an unoccupied table, watching as he almost knocked over its contents and awkwardly fumbled with the accompanying chair that nearly fell over. He rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled self-consciously, trying to conceal his embarrassment. He ducked his head when he got back to his table, his friends giving him a hard time.

He hid his face in his palms as a dark-haired man with scruff and blue eyes clapped a hand against Dean’s shoulder, booming with laughter. “Smooth,” You heard the blonde female tease, snickering at her partner. You watched them as you gathered up their order, blushing when you caught him stealing a few glances your way. When finished, you brought their order out to them personally, earning you another wink from the fireman.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur, unable to get those emerald eyes out of your head. Charlie had seemed to notice your distraction and, in perfect Charlie fashion, commented on it as you were closing up shop. “That fireman sure left his mark on you, huh?” She teased, a knowing smile drawing her lips up.

You scoffed at her and tried to play it off like you didn’t know what she was talking about… and failing. “W-What? No - No, I - Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Charlie.” You muttered, locking the doors and placing the keys into your pocket.

She looked skeptical and cocked her hip, propping a hand there. “Uh-huh, sure.” She stated, waving her hands. “And I’m not the Queen of Mordor.” She said sarcastically, “Oh wait, I am.” She said exaggeratedly with her hands thrown in the air, referencing her extracurricular activity of LARPing.

You rolled your eyes fondly at your best friend; she’d dragged you along to her LARPing weekends on more than one occasion, and you’d humored her, going along with it because it made Charlie happy. “You can’t fool me, sista, now spill the beans.” She insisted, following behind you with the broom as the pair of you cleaned up.

You sighed, wiping down one of the tables and the chairs that joined it, already knowing that you wouldn't win this battle against the feisty redhead. “I don’t know…” You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip as you thought about the encounter. “I can't explain it, I don’t know how to explain it… but there was just something about him… y'know?" You recalled, picking up one of the chairs and putting it on the table. "I just… I can’t quite put my finger on it…"

Charlie giggled, "Bet you wish you could." She teased, clearly hinting at more than she said. You gasped and feigned innocence, throwing the towel at her. Charlie laughed more, catching the soiled cleaning cloth before it collided with her face. "Oh, come on (Y/N)! I know that look in a woman's eye. I’ve seen it dozens of times! You want him. Bad!"

She threw the cloth back, and you caught it with ease. "Jeez, you make me sound so desperate." You grumbled, not denying Charlie's observation, despite the dramatics.

Charlie hadn't missed a beat, and she grinned, a cocky sparkle in her eyes. "So you do like him." She chimed accusingly, clearly happy to be right.

You rolled your eyes again, moving onto the next table as Charlie continued sweeping under the one you'd just cleared. "Okay. Yeah, fine." You admitted, "I thought he was cute and charming and sexy in that uniform,"

Charlie made an ‘I-knew-it’ face, but you continued before she could make a sly remark, "But it doesn't matter. It's not like I'm ever gonna see him again." You stated with a reluctant sigh, spraying down the next table with the cleaning agent, trying to hide the disappointment lingering in your voice. You began to scrub at a stubborn spot on the table, trying to distract yourself.

Charlie frowned sadly, reading into your mood, and leaned the broom down against the table before closing the space between you. "I'm sorry for being pushy. It's just that you work all the time. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?" You were about to answer when she held up a finger, "Other than this café. This doesn't count, this is work."

She had a point. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done anything that didn't involve this little shop. "Exactly. I just wanna see you have some fun and that," She thumbed over her shoulder toward the door, referring to Dean, "was fun." You chuckled softly, your cheeks getting warm at the thought.

"You deserve to live a little,” She put her arms on your shoulders and squeezed affectionately, “Especially after what that snake put you through." You frowned at the reminder, dread coiling inside of your stomach and a frown pulled at your lips at the mention of your ex, Nick.

Like always, Charlie didn’t let you get too lost in your thoughts, "And who knows, maybe he has an equally attractive sister for me." She added with a playful shrug and a giggle, effectively distracting you. "Fate works in mysterious ways, sista; you never know what she might throw your way." She added mysteriously, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect.

As it turns out, Charlie was right. Fate did work in mysterious ways because, in the weeks that followed, Dean continued to show up, sometimes with his crew, but mostly by himself. The times he showed up varied, depending on his work scheduled, which you soon noticed was quite busy. Regardless of the hour, he always showed.

It wasn't long before you memorized his order by heart; a venti coffee, black, and a slice of pie; whichever flavor was baked for the day's special. The flavor never seemed to be an issue for the firefighter, but it didn’t take you long to realize that cherry was clearly his favorite, with pecan a close second.

The pair of you flirted and subtly got to know each other as time went on, teetering somewhere between acquaintances and friends. He’d flirt. You’d flirt. But it never went any further than that.

Charlie teased you about it the whole time, of course. She wouldn’t be your best friend if she hadn’t. You’d just roll your eyes or shake your head every time she’d urge you to "grow a pair and ask him out already."

You wanted to. Of course, you wanted to; you’d be an idiot not to want that.

But you didn't, of course, because you were too embarrassed and too afraid to act on your feelings. You'd done that once before already, and you paid one hell of a price for it. Hell, in a way, you still were. Nick left such a nasty scar on your heart; you weren't sure if you could ever love again. You were in a constant state of fear, afraid of being hurt again.

Charlie, being the wonderful best friend that she is, always tried to remind you that love… true love… would never hurt you. That real love was the stuff of magic and fairy tales. That what you had with Nick wasn’t love. It helped, a little, but that fear never truly went away, you just sort of learned to live with it.

Maybe someday you’ll feel differently.

And there you have it. Part two is complete. I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I did. Awkward/adorable Dean is one of my favs. Haha.

As always, thanks for reading!

Read part three, here! -->>

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278

Out of the Fire (series)

@vicmc624 // @anotherspnfanfic // @krazykelly // @compresshischest09 // @thefamilybusiness

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

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EUPHORIA - Chapter 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Series Warnings: Slow burn, slow build, feelings, mutual pining, consent is key, praise kink, dirty talk, light d/s undertones and other kinky things, after care, angst, fluff, chapters will be warned individually.

WC: 2481

A/N: All I can say that this fic starts slow, hence the warning of slow build and slow burn. It’s going to get a little kinkier because I’m trying to fill out some kink bingo spaces. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback. Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Y/N stands in line and feels kind of out of place. No wonder. After the call, she didn’t exactly have a lot of time to change into anything too nice. She also didn’t have a lot of time to do research, but she’s here in her black skinny jeans and a simple blouse. She’s glad she opted for some boots with heels today and not her Chucks. She took a last look in the mirror before leaving her work place, thinking that she might look alright, maybe a little on the pale side but there was just really no fucking time. She stares at the building and the door ahead of her.

The big sign above the door says ‘Euphoria’ in fancy gold lettering.

It’s one of the biggest, in-demand night clubs, at least from what she’s heard. Her colleagues were raving about it. She could neither confirm nor deny, having never been here. She’s not one for nightlife to be honest.

The big bouncers at the entrance kind of scares her and she really hopes that they will let her in. She wants to write a story about the club but they don’t need to know that. She just needs to get in, and have a look around.

There was a woman on the phone earlier, calling up the agency where she works. She was so angry, telling them that she already contacted the police but they waved her off. Y/N’s boss was quick to pass the phone to her, because she wasn’t biased, and the woman said that she would love for Y/N to go investigate and expose the club for the indecency and debauchery that went on behind closed doors. Apparently, the reason for the woman’s anger was that her daughter, barely legal, worked at the club and the woman had a feeling that her daughter’s been doing things that exceed her work as a simple waitress and that the owner of the club pressured her into something the girl can’t get out of.

And now, Y/N’s just really here to see if the allegations are true. She knows that it could just be disappointment, confusion and frustration of not having control over her own daughter anymore which can lead someone to be so drastic about it. But if it is really true, it could mean a big breakthrough in her career as an investigative journalist. Even though Y/N isn’t sure if she’s on the right career path she wanted to take. If she’s honest, she’d rather just write a novel like she had done at the beginning, publishing stories that people rarely bought, but she loved doing it, loved everything about her writing process, loved the feeling of being able to write what was on her mind, to create characters from scratch. To get into the depths of emotions, to write down their feelings.

However, she needed a roof over her head and something warm in her belly. Y/N needed an income, even though it wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be, but at least it’s something. Especially now, after she had finally detached herself from her abusive ex and built up her own little life. He wasn’t really physically abusive, more the emotional type. Pressured her into things she thought she wanted too — like that damn stupid sex tape — but it turned out that she didn’t. She didn’t want any of the stupid games he played, and she needed many therapy sessions to realize that.

Now, two years after finding herself, she could breathe easy again. She could really enjoy life. She wouldn’t let anything or anyone dictate her emotions and she believed that the saying was really true; What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

She jerks back to reality as the line’s moving ahead again. There are still two more girls in front of her and then it will be her turn.

Her heart thumps fast in her chest.

Of course, the two girls get in without any problem at all. They are barely wearing anything!

Just as Y/N predicted, one of the bouncers stops her. “Excuse me,” He just says, eyeing her up and down.

He doesn’t say anything more though, so she’s kind of wondering if she should talk? Should she? Yeah, she probably should, so she summons up all her courage, “What’s wrong?”

The bouncer, who’s so fucking big, starts to frown and it makes him look even meaner, “I don’t think I can let you in like this.”

“What does this mean like this ?”

“Boots are not really appropriate for our establishment.” He says calmly. She can see that he’s been trained to keep a cool head.

“Well, I’m sorry, I just got out of work and my friend wants to meet me here. She’s probably inside waiting for me already,” She whines, throwing him a pout while she’s at it, using her big puppy eyes too. It usually works and she hopes that it works on this big guy as well, “Please? Make an exception? Just this once? We’re not staying too long. I just don’t want to disappoint her because she just got her heart broken and she needs my company, please?” She pouts some more, for fucking good measure.

“Dammit,” The bouncer groans out the word before placing a hand to his ear. She can see now that he’s wearing an earpiece, “Yeah, sir, sorry to disturb, we have a situation— yes, sir. Okay,”

The bouncer turns his attention back to her but he doesn’t say anything, just jerks his head towards the open door.

Y/N smiles and whispers a thank you in passing.

Euphoria is big, alright. The music is not too loud, which is weird because the music is always way too loud in clubs, but this one is just right. You can still talk to each other comfortably and you don’t need to scream to be heard.

There’s a packed dance floor and a long bar. A drink sounds about right, so she decides to go there first.

“Hey,” The bartender greets her with a bright smile, “I’m Garth, what can I do for you?”

Wow, he’s friendly. Bartenders usually just stare at her and raise their eyebrows, making her feel like she’s wasting their time because she obviously doesn’t look like she’s a heavy drinker, nor does she look like she’s a good tipper.

She smiles, “Are you always so friendly?”

“Your first time here I reckon?” Garth chuckles and is really taking his time. The other people standing around the bar don’t seem to mind waiting a little longer.

“Yeah?” She frowns a little, she doesn’t know why it’s so obvious.

“Friendliness and patience is key. Mr. Winchester wants his guests to feel comfortable. We’re all friends here.” Garth smiles when he looks into the crowd, winking and greeting some patrons as he does so.

“Mr. Winchester?” The name sounds familiar. She’s gone to high school with someone named Winchester.

“Maybe it’s him, how many Winchesters are there, eh?” Garth shrugs, “So, what can I get you?”

“I’m having a martini, please,”

Garth nods at her with a smile and turns around to mix her martini. He’s quick to place the drink in front of her, “On the house, since it’s your first time.” He winks, before he moves to take an order from someone else but he’s quick to be by her side again when he’s free. She strikes up an easy conversation with Garth when another girl walks behind the bar with an order.

The girl looks familiar. It’s the daughter of the woman who called her. The woman had sent her pictures so Y/N would recognize her daughter. The girl is blonde, the make up a little dark around her eyes. She wears a black leather mini skirt and a leather crop top. Her heels are very high.

“Garth, two bottles of Dom Pérignon Vintage Rosé,” She says and then frowns, “We still have two bottles of it, right?”

Garth chuckles, “Hey Claire, yeah, just restocked,” He proceeds to fill a big bucket with ice and calls for a male waiter to come help carry, “VIP, right?”

“Yeah,” She girl smirks, “It’s wild tonight,”

“I can imagine,” Garth smirks.

The girl, Claire, walks off with one of the male waiters, up the stairs and Y/N watches them disappear behind another thick looking door.

So, the VIP room is up the stairs then. How will she fucking get in there?

Y/N returns her attention back to Garth, thinking that if they’re all friends here, she can maybe get Garth to tell her about the VIP room and maybe he can show her? She has to feign interest in becoming a VIP — if it’s easy to become one?

Dammit, she should have done some more research.

She watches Garth work and waits until the man is free to come over and talk when she hears a voice behind her. It’s deep, husky, and it rolls above the music.

“Do you like it here?”

It makes her turn in her seat.

The man who looks at her is tall, broad, has an easy smirk on his face that borders on cocky, his hair a little tousled and he has crinkles around his eyes. Her brows furrow, he looks damn familiar and then the penny drops.

“Oh, I know you! Dean, right?”

She notices that he’s a little taken aback. She doesn’t know if he’s offended that it took her so long or if he’s surprised that she still remembers him at all. To be honest, he’s quite memorable. He sat next to her in English and they had History and Chemistry together. He rarely showed up and if he did, he always stared out of the window or pretended to listen when in fact she knew that he couldn’t care less about being there with his give ‘em hell attitude. She had the feeling that it was all just a big joke to him and he just sat out his time like a criminal who wanted to get school over with, to be released into the world. Surprisingly though, during English, when he sat next to her, it seemed like he really tried to follow the class, tried to get involved. And she remembered that he did really well on his GED.

Y/N never had the feeling that Dean was dumb. On the contrary. They read The Great Gatsby in her English class and Dean had some insightful additions when they discussed it.

He was always the bad boy in high school, though, and she thought that he was chasing after skirts which he probably did, but not as much as he took care of his little brother, Sam. Sometimes, Y/N would be jealous of what the two brothers had. They both came from broken homes, but the difference between her and Dean was that he had someone else to talk to. Someone else to get his mind off his situation at home, while she was stuck with cleaning after her alcoholic mother who she would constantly find passed out and laying in her own filth after a school day.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t like to go home. After class, she’d walk to the playground closest to the school. She would sit under the big tree and do her homework or do some writing until it got dark and she really had to go home. She would get lost in her stories. Stories of happiness, stories of happy families — something she didn’t have. Sometimes, even now, when she’s having a rough day, she’d still go there, sit under the familiar tree and write. It is her happy place.

Her and Dean were never friends at school. He hung out with the popular crowd. They never really talked outside of class, but one time, during English, he asked her if she’s going to prom. She said no. Not because she didn’t want to, more because she didn’t have money for a nice dress and she had to take care of her mother. And besides, nobody would ask her anyway. She asked him in return if he’s going. Dean just shrugs, “Nah, prom is stupid anyway.”

“You still here?” Dean asks when he sees that she has zoned out for a bit. It’s really a bad habit of hers, she knows.

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

“—I’m surprised you still remember my name, Y/N.” He smiles, it’s bright and wide and the crinkles deepens around his eyes. He looks very good and she can see that he had made something out of himself, unlike her.

“Of course I do. You still remember me too, apparently.” She tries to return his smile. It’s really addicting.

“Well, you’re hard to forget,” He says with an easy smile, “It’s your first time here?”

“Why does everybody think that? Do I have ‘ first time’ stamped on my forehead or something?”

He has to chuckle, “No,”

“Actually,” She says, and takes another sip from her martini, “I’d like for you to tell me more about your club. It’s your club, right?” She raises her eyebrows as if she’s not sure.

“Yeah, what do you want to know?” Dean asks, his hands disappearing into his pants pockets.

Y/N grins, “Well, Dean, I’ve heard about your club and your VIP rooms. Is it true?”

He cocks an eyebrow, “Is what true?”

“Well,” She gestures with her hand, and feels a rush of blood to her head, “You know, they say that people can get what they want in there?”

He lowers his face to be level with her, moves in closer, and brushes his nose against the faint hair on the side of her head. It makes all the other hair on her body stand erect, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He whispers and stands up straight with a cocky grin on his face.

She swallows and pulls her eyebrows into a frown at his remark.

Dean Winchester is still as cocky as she remembers him to be. Nothing has changed, has it?

Well, one thing had changed. She’s not the shy little girl anymore, she can stand her ground. If Dean wants to play, he can play. She won’t back out so easily.

Y/N smiles, it widens on her face and she clicks her tongue while she pretends to think about his words. After a while, with another big smile, she says, “I’ll find out,” She winks at him before she hops off her stool and she’s determined to walk to the bouncer up the stairs when Dean grabs at her wrist.

“Come with me,” He says in a deep and stern voice before he begins to walk ahead. She grins because he has taken the bait.

Chapter 2

#euphoria #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years ago

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Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.), Part XXVII (A Tale’s End)

I would have walked away from this story (forever) a very long time ago if it weren’t for the constant and unwavering support of @notevenjokingfic and @balfeheughlywed. They have held my hand through this – through my tantrums, through my protestations that I didn’t know what I was doing, and through the times I begrudgingly admitted that I actually like the end of product. This story is dedicated to them and to their friendship. This has been a ride, and writing it has been an endurance contest. My gratitude to everyone who has read this, liked it, reblogged it, favorited it, or sent me a message. This is the end. I hope you enjoy. xx.

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.) Part XXVII: A Tale’s End

Claire’s limbs were leaden, and yet she rose from the bed.

Fraser’s sleepy noises (ones she teased sounded Scottish) were missing, and his long, even breaths had risen from bed with him.

In the absence of his noises, it was quiet, too quiet.

The scent of him (sage and clove) was like a mislaid memory (an empty space where it had been tucked against her nape), and the duvet was cool when she flopped one arm over into the bedding.

She already knew that Jamie was gone.

She rose and slipped into her dressing gown before making her way down the hall. Her feed had carried her down the halls on many nights, her arms clutching their colicky bairn and tracing a path that she had hoped (usually in vain) would soothe her.

She did not bother to flick on a single light switch.

In London, the underbelly of their home was always in motion. The clamor of it all made her mind whir, her eyes rebel in the night to focus on the ceiling, and her fingers clutch to insomnia.

At Balmoral, the quiet was like another layer of skin, and the stillness went to the center of her bones.

Scotland.

It was here that Claire had demanded they spend their one-week honeymoon before setting off on a tour of the Commonwealth’s various holdings.

It had been in Fraser’s cabin that they spent their one-week honeymoon, her body feeling like the crescendo of a symphony under his hands and lips. Idly tracing the conch-shaped curve of his bared hip bone, Claire wondered aloud whether the walls of the cabin would keep their secrets. Turning his new wife gently onto her back (“my Queen” – a breathless, almost-whimper on his lips) and rising over her, Fraser had touched her belly and kissed the space between the clotheslines of her clavicles. Breathlessly, he asked her to commit that when they spoke, it would only be truth.

There was room for secrets, but no lies.

She had agreed, just as breathlessly, and he held her hand as he kissed down her body, glancing up her sternum before closing his mouth over her.

It was here that Claire had demanded they spend their first months as a family of three.

On the same bed from which she had just risen, she had given birth to an heir.

It had been the last thing on her mind.

They had been married for six months.

With Jamie’s hand crushed in hers, and his sister mopping sweat from her forehead (a bond she quietly conceded once reminded her of her own sister), their baby came into the world.

With a final push, an immense feeling of relief flooded her. She felt light, like her body was no longer being twisted in opposite directions by a molten-hot vice, as though the weight of an entire kingdom was not bearing down on her pelvis.

The relief was short lived.

Claire’s arms quaked under the effort of pulling herself fully upright. She breathed for a moment, trying to keep her inhalations even.

The part of her that was relieved was rapidly giving way to a gnawing panic.

Brows furrowing as the umbilical cord was clipped, her eyes darted from Jamie to the doctor who had attended the birth and back again.

“One final push,” the midwife who had been there throughout her labor said, stepping in as the doctor turned away.

“Ye did it,” her husband breathed, only tearing his eyes from his wife’s face to look at the silent bundle in the midwife’s hands.

“No…” Claire breathed, the weight that had been bearing down on her lower half suddenly in her chest, expanding and contracting, wheedling its way into the space between her bones and her organs. “No.”

“A nighean–” Jamie started, but she shook her head.

“Tell me it’s okay. That the baby...”

He said nothing, his hand closing over the cap of her shoulder as he craned his neck.

His breaths were short, dry, shallow.

Her voice was imploring as she snapped, “Jamie. I can’t… if the baby is… tell me that-”

And then the wailing came.

A desperate, fevered, cold yowl that sounded almost inhuman. It would not stop, and she prayed that it never would as long as it meant that their baby (mysterious, puckered, purple, blood-covered) would suck in breath after life-sustaining breath.

“The bairn…” Jamie started, immediately fading away as his voice cut.

“She’s just fine, mam,” Jenny laughed, gently moving a soft cloth over the birth-slicked baby. Claire had nodded, still feeling the nagging tug of uncertainty in her belly until she saw the bundle move from Jenny’s arms to Jamie’s.

She lowered herself back to the pillows stacked behind her back, sighing and thanking God.

Julianna Alexandra Elizabeth Faith, the heir apparent and tiniest member of the royal House of Beauchamp, was perfect – ten fingers, ten toes, button nose, cap of jet-black hair, earlobes with skin as soft as velvet, and the smallest bow of a mouth.

She barely heard the words that followed.

Blood.

The commands.

Back up.

The pleas.

She has to be okay. Ye dinna ken, she’s everything.

Their perfect daughter had torn her spectacularly, and just twenty minutes after giving birth in their bedroom, Claire was transported to the hospital, where she went into surgery for hours and stayed for six nights.

It was behind her now, left in some small hospital retrofit to make way for a postpartum queen. What remained was Balmoral – the place where she could ensconce herself in the history of her lineage as she wrote the history of her own family.

She could live here in Scotland.

As a wife.

As a mother.

As a woman, above all else.

Try as she did, she never felt that way in London.

The easiness of this place. The way that it felt like home, even though her accent was a reminder that it had not always been her home.

On this night, a little over six months after the birth of Julianna, she heard Jamie before she saw him.

His voice was low, a mix of Gaelic and English. All of his words blurred together.

As carefully as possible, she toed the door open another inch and leaned against the doorframe.

“She’s a braw one, yer mam.” He was shirtless, but shrouded in a plaid on the chaise at the center of the sitting room just outside their suite. Flames popped and crackled in the hearth, small bursts of sparks spiraling up and up as the fattest log broke in two. “Ye should’ve seen her, laborin’ wi’ ye. She’s a fearsome thing, ye ken. Ye didna make it easy on her, refusin’ to come out… she was so set on meetin’ ye.”

Claire mopped away the stinging in her eyes with the hem of her robe.

“I didna ken if I could love something as much as I love ye, mo chridhe, but seein’ ye, it’s as if a piece of my own heart, my brain, and my wame lives outside me. I felt it the moment yer mam told me that ye were in her belly. Above all, I kent I must protect ye both, and I will. Until the day I no longer draw breath.”

Claire’s own breath was coming ragged now, listening to him. She had not expected to feel so different in the aftermath of the easy pregnancy and long labor.

To feel as though her emotions were like a balloon on the end of a long string, floating high above her head at all times. As though the slightest breeze could shift them, change her entire existence.

“And someday, when ye’re no’ a bairn, we’ll share wi’ ye how ye surprised us, a leannan.”

Julianna let out the quietest coo that made Claire’s thighs and fingertips tremble. She wanted to take her baby in her arms, to have her close, to take comfort from the fact that her soft limbs were still warm, that her heavy head was held firmly in place by an increasingly-strong neck.

Out of hand, the doctor had dismissed the ebbs and flows of these moods as baby blues. Jamie, in turn, dismissed the doctor with no slight amount of outrage, demanding that someone with “the sense the good lord gave a turnip” help his wife.

That the fog was not imagined. The sense of isolation she felt, even when surrounded by people, was not a matter of someone just being around for her more. The feeling of disconnection from their baby was not a function of being Queen.

Sticking a finger into the doctor’s paunch, Jamie had hissed that the Queen (“my fucking wife”) would not be so dismissed, that if he refused to help, they would find someone who could, who would.

Jamie was a hands-on father, and she was grateful for it. Even with all of the help her status (their shared status) could bring, he made himself present. He rose with her in the night, brought her warm compresses when she shed tears over engorged breasts and cracking nipples. He changed diapers with little more protest than a wrinkled nose at the spectacular streaks of shit that would somehow paint themselves up their daughter’s spine. And he did what he could in the darker days just to be near, even if it meant holding Claire’s hand in the dark and wiping away her seemingly sourceless tears.

But the fog had started to lift, the haze in Claire’s eyes becoming less impenetrable.

Just weeks earlier, she said she was ready to ride again.

And they did.

They picnicked at night, after dark when the baby nurse had assured them she was quite alright.

He plucked roses from the garden to tuck behind her ears.

They stole kisses with her back gently pressed against trees or with his on a picnic blanket, her rounded hips cupped by his hands as she tentatively reintroduced the friction of her body to his.

And one evening a few nights later, when he had looked away for only a minute before turning back, his wife was slipping free of her blouse, her curls wild and her smile wide as she unclasped her bra.

That night, with the sounds of summer as the backdrop and the late-night-Scottish-dusk just descending into dark, they made love in the stables, their bodies joining for the first time in months. He took his time, asked her again and again if she was sure, if she was ready. When she winced, he stopped. She shook her head, then nodded with a sigh as he began to move inside of her with an almost-exquisite tenderness. They were cautious with each other, circumspect, as though either might be broken by a hurried touch or indelicate mouths. Utterly besotted by one another’s bodies and the way intimacy felt familiar, comfortable, and lived in.

At the scene in front of her, just days after their reconnection, Claire swallowed hard, silently begging her eyes to dry out. She had shed enough tears in the last six months to last a lifetime.

“Ye wanted to be in our wedding, so ye nested yerself early in yer mam’s belly, ye fierce wee thing. We’ll show ye the pictures. The day I married yer mam is the happiest day of my life... second only to the day that I met her…” At that, Julianna let out the lowest little whimper of a cry, and Jamie tut-tutted for a moment, then continued, “Her fat arse was leanin’ over the gate in the stable, and I couldna stop smiling.”

“Hey,” Claire breathed in feigned exasperation, stepping fully into the room. “My arse was not that fat, and I quite enjoyed our wedding day. Also, I’ll thank you not to teach the heir to the throne such things.”

“I kent ye were there,” Jamie said as he looked over, humming. “I have a hunter’s senses for yer presence, a nighean.”

Claire pursed her lips, rolling her eyes as she strode the rest of the way across the sitting room. Carefully, she took the bundle from his arms. “I think this wee girl’s nighttime garbling, and our resultant insomnia, are enough to dull even the most astute tracker’s senses.”

Jamie lifted the edge of his plaid, allowing Claire to slip in beneath its warm folds. She centered herself between his legs, leaning against his bare chest as she carefully slipped one bare breast through the neckline of her robe. Jamie’s hand rested loosely on her waist, his fingers flexing for just a moment as Julianna’s lips parted then closed around Claire’s nipple. Claire stiffened for a moment, then relaxed backwards into his chest. Julianna left one soft palm to rest just above Claire’s heart.

Closing her eyes, one hand cupped behind Julianna’s head and one on the baby’s soft bum, Claire whispered, “Tell me about the wedding. What would you tell her?”

“Our wedding?”

Claire opened her eyes and craned her head back just enough that he could see her roll her eyes. “Whose wedding do you think I want to hear about?”

“Jenny’s maybe?” he posited, eyes crinkling at the corners as her shoulders bounced with hardly-contained laughter.

The baby’s mouth slipped free and an impressive stream of milk sprayed her cheeks. Jamie and Claire’s laughter was cut short by the soft, threatened grumble of their bairn. It was a precursor to a cry from the suddenly quite-crabby Julianna. With the baby gently mopped up, and returned to her middle-of-the-night suckling, Jamie began to recount the wedding day. By then, Julianna had one eye half-closed, the other lazily roving around in an utterly useless attempt to focus on something as she fed.

“I didna expect ye to look the way ye did. I kent ye’d be beautiful, of course, but I thought somehow ye’d be someone else’s bride, ye ken? That ye’d be dolled up for a ceremony. A queen prepared for a royal wedding – no’ for our wedding – but there ye were. Ye were as bonnie as I’d ever seen ye… as bonnie as I thought I’d ever see ye. At least until I saw ye like this… wi’ our bairn at yer breast, and Christ, I dinna ken what I did to have such a rare woman love me.”

She felt warmth flood her cheeks, the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. Bloody Scot. “You looked pretty handsome yourself in that uniform that I knew you did not want to wear.”

A long hum came from him, the vibration beginning low in his chest and making her own body vibrate.

The wedding was not the ordinary royal nuptials in ways that went even further than the fact that she was carrying the heir to the throne.

The dress she wore was light, modern, and cut just right to conceal their secret. Together, they had carefully wrapped it in tissue and tucked it away at his cabin. So it wouldn’t end up in some stuffy museum with a bland placard, she explained as she rose on tiptoes to push it to the back of a closet.

They married in candlelight, with a bouquet of wildflowers picked from the gardens at Balmoral in her hand.

She wore Jamie’s ring, and for some reason she was not at all surprised when her hand did not tremble as he slid it over her knuckle and let his fingers linger on the band for a moment. Her own voice was low as she slipped a band of gold down his finger, whispering the words back to him that he had said to her.

I give you this ring, James Fraser, as a sign of our marriage and mutual trust, our love and our promise to care for one another over all others.

The papers could scoff all they wanted, muse over what a slap in the face it was to the Commonwealth she headed. To give away power, a piece of her divine right.

Nevertheless, she gave herself to him, just as he gave himself to her. She had done it long before that moment, long before the promise concluded.

This day. All of the days we have remaining.

Julianna grunted, released, and whimpered the start of a gut-wrenching, milky cry before latching on again with only the slightest encouragement. This time, both of her eyes closed and her hand fell to a tiny, balled fist above her brows.

“She has a tooth coming in,” Jamie whispered, his hand slipping up Claire’s arm and coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Trust me,” Claire murmured. “I can feel the bloody thing.”

Claire allowed her eyes to close, her attention somehow equally split between her husband’s even breathing and the gentle suckling at her breast. She felt Jamie tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her temple.

“Ye’re a braw queen, mo nighean donn, but ye’re more than that. Sae much more.”

She wet her lips and turned her head, slowly shifting the now-sleeping bundle in her arms. “Is this what you thought it would be, Fraser?” There was no tentativeness in her voice – it was as though she already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear him say it. “Your life here... with me?”

Humming, his hand skimmed down her upper arm, cupped her elbow, and then found its way to her fingers. His palm covered her hand, and his fingers brushed the narrow expanse of their baby’s lower back.

“Ye helped me come back to life, Sassenach. All that time after the war, I was dead. I didn’t ken it then, but I loved ye then. Before I met ye.”

Running a finger along Julianna’s cheek and tucking her breast back into her robe, Claire whispered, “I loved you both before I met you. You brought me to life, Fraser. I always will love you.”

Fraser shifted, his stubbled cheek against hers as he wound an arm around his queen’s waist and drew her closer.

“So long as my body lives, and yours—we are one flesh,” he whispered. The magnolias at Balmoral smelled like zested citrus and honey. The scent was in the air along with the smoke from the fire Jamie started. Julianna cooed quietly and nestled her face against Claire’s breast, her lips having gone slack. “And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours. Claire—I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.”

Claire closed her eyes, the feeling of his rising and falling chest against her back and that of their baby on her own chest.

This was her beginning.

The End

#;mod Kate #Her Royal Highness Modern AU #jamie x claire #thank you to anyone who has read this xx #fin.

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96thdayofrage · 3 years ago

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Hollywood and Broadway need to realize that you can tell the stories of people of color without whitewashing or blackwashing them. Real life, if not yet reel life, is already kaleidoscopically diverse.

Of course, this assumes these agents of cultural production want to tell these stories. Their answer, however, seems to be that as artists it is not their mission to tell the stories of people of color but to tell universal, human ones. This implies that the stories of people of color are not, or as British author Nikesh Shula has observed, “White people think that people of color only have ethnic experiences and not universal experiences.” Evidently so do some people of color.

The colorism controversy surrounding the lack of Afro Latinx representation in the Hollywood version of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s In the Heights is recent but not new. As Ishmael Reed pointed out in his 2019 critique of Miranda’s Hamilton, in addition to glorifying its titular slaveholding hero and the Founding Fathers as a whole, it fails to present the voices of the “Native Americans, slaves, and white indentured servants” they victimized, voices Reed himself would subsequently include in his play “The Haunting of Lin-Manuel Miranda.”

In response to such criticism, Miranda generously conceded his limitations, while still defending his melanated whitewash of American history: “All the criticisms are valid,” he tweeted, adding, “The sheer tonnage of complexities & failings of these people [the Founding Fathers] I couldn’t get. Or wrestled with but cut. I took 6 years and fit as much as I could in a 2.5 hour musical.” The implication: the oppressive weight of these complex individuals somehow justifies jettisoning acknowledgement of the reality of their failing as slaveholding white supremacists.

In an interview with Reuters, Miranda once again invokes “tonnage” to defend his film: “To be quaint would be a dream come true. No one movie can encompass the sheer tonnage of stories we have to offer.” But “tonnage” vision may not be the only reason for the film’s failure to see Afro Latinx people. (Ironically, the Reuters interview begins with the observation that Miranda is “hoping [his] musical In the Heights changes the conversation in Hollywood about the wider appeal of such movies, just as Crazy Rich Asians did in 2018.”)

Jon M. Chu, the film’s director, provides another, noting that while the casting of Afro Latinx people was “discussed,” “in the end, when we were looking at the cast, we tried to get people who were the best for those roles.”

The sentiment is echoed by Melissa Barrera, one of the film’s white passing Latina: “I think it’s important to note though that in the audition process, which was a long audition process, there were a lot of Afro Latinos there, a lot of darker-skinned people. I think they were looking for just the right people for the roles, for the person that embodied each character in the fullest extent.”

Certainly, Miranda and Chu were aware that the film’s casting did not accurately reflect the racial demographics of Washington Heights, any more than the cast of Hamilton reflects the racial composition of the Founding Fathers. (Read another way, the dark-skinned Afro Latinx Dominican community of the Heights were the wrong people to be represented in a film about their own community.) But Hamilton’s oxymoronic, color-conscious colorblind casting is intentional. A similar intentionality cannot be read into In the Heights, and not just the movie version. (One wonders how the original Broadway musical addressed these issues during its 2008-2011 run: Were dark-skinned Afro Latinx people represented any better? Sadly, it seems colorism plagued these productions as well.

This is unfortunate, since just as Hamilton whitewashed the emotional, financial, and intellectual investment of the founding fathers in slavery and genocide, the film adaptation of In the Heights opts to omit the reality of colorism within communities of color, an issue that was suggested, albeit fleetingly, in the original Broadway production in which the father of Nina, a light-skinned Afro Latina, disapproves of her black, non-Latinx lover Benny. (Not only is this subplot excised from the film, but the romance between the two characters has also been truncated and Benny’s overall role in the film reduced.). In fact, Miranda decided to remove this suggestion of racism from the film, telling the LA Times, The film “isn’t about the parental disapproval of this interracial relationship because we wanted to focus on the specifics of the racial microaggressions Nina faced at Stanford, which Benny very much understands and has her back on. So it didn’t make sense for her to be fighting that war on two fronts.” What Miranda fails to appreciate is that battles against racism and its handmaiden colorism are swaged simultaneously on multiple fronts and that his own film’s conscious attempt to minimize these conflicts may itself be interpreted as a not so micro microaggression.

What makes the current conversation about colorism even more remarkable, is that we’ve had it before. This is not the first time Chu has been criticized for colorism. In 2018, when the Singapore-based Crazy Rich Asians was released, it was criticized there for not accurately portraying that nation’s diversity. The film’s leads are light-skinned East Asians, those in subservient roles are dark-skinned Southeast Asians. As Singapore journalist Kirsten Han, put it, “The focus is specifically on characters and faces of East Asian descent, which plays into issues of racism and colorism that still exist, not only in the U.S. but Asia.”

Responding to his critics, Chu told a press conference, “We decided very early on that this is not the movie to solve all representation issues. This is a very specific world, very specific characters. This is not going to solve everything.” Now, three years later, Chu has directed another film about a specific world and specific characters that excludes specifically dark-skinned people, creating more problems than those it was not intended to solve.

Still, Hollywood has had plenty of opportunities to clean up its act, only to squander them[3] as it deliberately continues to erase people of color from their own lived narratives. The film 21 (2008), based on a true story about a group of MIT students gaming the tables in Vegas, replaces Jeffrey Ma, a Chinese American, with a white character renamed Ben Campbell, while the rest of the real Asian American members of the blackjack team are similarly whitewashed. In an interview with The Tech, Ben Mezrich, author of Bringing Down the House, the book on which the film is based, said that he had been told by a studio executive involved in the casting that “most of the film’s actors would be white, with perhaps an Asian female.” In Stuck (2007), based on another real life incident, this one involving a black woman who accidently hits and kills a homeless man with her car, not only does the main character undergo a name and race change, but, adding insult to injury, the film’s race-switched white female lead sports cornrows.

Fictional characters of color are also subjected to whitening. In 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984), the sequel to2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Bob Balaban is cast as Dr. R. Chandra, the creator of the sentient supercomputer HAL 9000, quite a departure from the Dr. Chandra, a.k.a. Dr. Sivasubramnian Chandrasegaram Pillai, of Arthur C. Clarke’s original novels. In the film Wanted, based on the graphic novel by Mark Millar and J.G. Jones, The Fox, a character physically modeled on Halle Berry, is played by Angelina Jolie. Reuben St. Clair, the black social studies teacher featured in the novel Pay it Forward (2005), in the film becomes white Eugene Simonet (Kevin Spacey). Presumably, in the eyes of the filmmakers all these actors were “the best fit for the role,” even where the race and the names of the characters they portray were changed to accommodate them. If the shoe fits – alter it.

Movies, television and Broadway shows are entertainments not history (though they can be both). To be sure, actors should be given leeway to practice their craft, and escapist histories can provide a means of critically reexamining contemporary constructions of race and being (see for example, Barry Jenkins’ The Underground Railroad). But such imaginative excursions devolve into extravagant indulgence when they substitute for or impede the production of stories that attempt to engage history, particularly history that has been erased by what Reed calls the “Historical Establishment.”

Sure, in the eyes of producers, a film about Anne Boleyn will capture a greater audience share than one about Sojourner Truth. A film about Boleyn starring a black woman could potentially outperform them both, if only because of the controversy it will generate. After all, Boleyn is a known quantity, a brand, a bankable historical commodity. Truth is not, at least to the gatekeepers of popular historical dramaturgy. As history, Gone with the Wind (1939) is irredeemable trash. Yet, for many, both in America and abroad, it offers, like its predecessor The Birth of a Nation (1915), a distorted vision of past American greatness.[3] As for Hamilton, aside from the entertaining irony of turning the melanophobic Founding Fathers into people of color, it tells us nothing meaningful about either but a lot about the marketability of sanitized history, just as In the Heights’s erasure of an entire darkly pigmentated community of color from its own storytells us all too much about our present.

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 5 years ago

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After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 4: 14 Seconds (2)

When Jamie's car stopped just before the entrance of the gallery, it had already begun to rain in torrents. The sky had darkened to black and every now and then a loud thunder could be heard. The limousine driver parked near the entrance and then quickly jumped out of the car with a large black umbrella bearing the logo and name of the hotel in gold letters. He opened the door on the rear passenger side and held the umbrella so that Jamie could get out without getting wet. The chauffeur accompanied him the few steps to the gallery, then quickly hurried back to the car where he would wait for the guest to return. As soon as he had entered, Jamie was greeted by a friendly member of the gallery staff. He paid the entrance fee and received the exhibition catalogue. Then he slowly started his way through the exhibition. It took him about forty minutes to reach the back room of the gallery. Already from a distance he saw the well-known photo showing the painter in front of his famous work "Wall". Only once had Richter had himself photographed in front of this work. This photo had then adorned the title page of the art magazine "art". Exactly in front of this two-meter by two-meter picture sat a petite woman, whose head was surrounded by an only slightly tamed, dark brown mass of curls. Carefully and anxious to make as little noise as possible, Jamie approached with some distance. A few minutes passed, then he heard the woman sniffing softly. She opened her handbag and was obviously looking for a handkerchief in a hurry. Jamie reached into the right pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of Tempo tissues, which he opened and held out to the unknown woman. "Please, take one of these."

“Boston” by chabotphoto The woman turned her head up to him and looked at him with big, red, weeping eyes. Then she immediately looked back down to the ground. "Don’t be ashamed. I know only too well how much this painting can speak to a person's soul," Jamie said softly. "What?" asked the young woman and looked at Jamie again. "I meant the picture..." Jamie pointed with his right hand to the large photo she was sitting in front of. Claire looked over, then shook her head. "I ... I didn't ..." At that moment, the dark silk scarf she had wrapped around her neck began to come loose, revealing her ivory skin. To his horror Jamie discovered several dark red-blue strangulation marks there. James Fraser had learned early on to hide his emotions well. Among the people who regularly dealt with him, he was known for the stoic mask he was able to put on. A mask that never betrayed what he really thought or felt. Ernst Neuenburger had once highlighted this characteristic of his Scottish friend as a further asset to his diplomatic missions, saying, that if Jamie ever got tired of his daily work, he could make a very good living as a poker player. But at that moment every joule of stoic calm left him. A feeling of righteous anger pervaded his entire body and the desire to bring the one who had caused those marks and the pain and fears associated with them to justice almost overwhelmed him. His emotions had obviously not escaped the young woman. Frightened, she grabbed her neck and immediately put the scarf back on. Then she looked down again. Now tears were dripping from Claire's face onto the floor. Jamie, who had not failed to notice this either, again held out the package of Tempo tissues to her. "Please, take the whole package." Claire reached for the tissues. "Thank you." "May I sit with you?" Jamie asked, pointing to the other side of the bench. She nodded.

Cautious not to get too close to her, he sat down on the other end of the bench. A few minutes went by in which they both remained silent. But in James Fraser's head the thoughts were spinning. What could he do to help this young woman without endangering his mission? How could he approach her without frightening her timid nature even more? In what way could he gain her trust? And above all: How could he prevent her from being exposed to even more brutality? In Claire's mind, too, one thought chased the other. Who was this man? What did he want from her? Could she trust him? Was he the help she had prayed for just a few minutes ago in a more or less conscious prayer? He did not look like an angel, more like the modern version of a tall Viking. And yet there was nothing about him that seemed threatening to her. His bright blue eyes gave her a feeling of ... a feeling of ... Suddenly the soft, deep voice that had so kindly offered her the handkerchiefs before interrupted her thoughts: "Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre. I'm a wine merchant. I had a business meeting in town today." Jamie gave her his right hand. Claire, who had calmed down a bit, grabbed it and answered: "Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp..."

“Hände” by Bru-nO

Usually, she would also have used the name "Randall", but she never wanted to have anything to do with that name again. Before she could even think about how to get rid of this name, the stranger's voice interrupted her thoughts again: "Oh, from France too?"

"Not exactly. My ancestors ... emigrated to England ... many centuries ago. Are you from France? You speak English with no accent?“ Jamie had to smile.

"Well, my ancestors also left France centuries ago. Then they came to Germany ... through ... various countries. I ... I work as a wine merchant for a company in Berlin.“

He reached into the right inside pocket of his jacket, took out a small silver case with business cards and handed one of them to Claire. She took the card and read attentively. Surprised, she suddenly heard herself wonder: "How far is Berlin from here?" Jamie thought for a moment. "A little over 6,000 kilometers, I guess." "And how far is it from London to Berlin?" "About 1,000 kilometers." "And you are in Boston on business?" "Yes, I had a meeting with one of our business partners." She nodded. "I don't want to be indiscreet, but may I ask you something?" Claire looked at him and Jamie realized that the trust he had just so carefully tried to build between them had disappeared from her eyes.

But then the young woman nodded again. "You ... you're not here for the exhibition?" he asked softly, almost whispering.

"No," Claire replied just as softly, and then, to her own surprise, it flowed out of her: "I ... I was looking for a place where ... I could have some piece, a quiet place to think, and since the church was closed ..." "Sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t mean to." Jamie made preparations to stand up carefully. But to his surprise, Claire had quickly put her hand on his arm as if she were holding him back. Was she? She didn't know it herself. At that moment, the voice of the friendly co-worker who had greeted Jamie sounded from the ceiling speakers. She warned the visitors to the gallery that it would be closing shortly.

Jamie looked at Claire. "What are you gonna do now?"

He did not need to wait for an audible answer, her eyes told him that she did not know. "May I invite you to dinner, Mrs. Beauchamp?"

What did that man want from her? Could she trust him? Or was there some other purpose behind his altruism. She had truested Frank once ... But what if he really just wanted to help her? What if he really just wanted to be kind to her? Maybe because the thought of his French ancestors had activated a kind of feeling of solidarity? Did she have any chance? Did she have a better alternative? Claire nodded. "Thank you." Jamie got up and waited until Claire had also got up and taken her bag. Slowly they walked towards the exit. Through one of the large windows they saw that the rain that had begun to cover the city a few hours earlier, had gradually turned into a real storm. Jamie grabbed his smartphone and dialed the chauffeur's number. Shortly afterwards Carl appeared in front of the gallery with two large black umbrellas and together they walked quickly to the car.

“Schwarz und Weiß” by Pexels

"To the hotel, Mr. Alexandre?" "Yes, Carl, to the hotel." Claire looked at Jamie in surprise. But he briefly put a hand on her right arm to calm her down: "My hotel has a wonderful restaurant. I arrived yesterday and will fly back to Berlin tomorrow. I didn't have time to explore other restaurants." Half an hour later they were sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant and had ordered dinner. Claire had decided that she would make the most of the time they had together. She had nothing to lose and so she began to question Jamie, alias Etienne. How had his family come to Germany? Had he grown up in Germany? Had he studied? Did he have brothers and sisters? How long had he worked for the company that sent him to Boston? Did he enjoy his job? Did he want to pursue this profession all his life? As they ate and talked, Claire carefully glanced over his hands. He was not wearing any rings. So the question of whether he was married seemed unnecessary. Now he looked at her questioningly, obviously he had noticed something.

“Glashütte Original Panomatic Date“ by GFP via WikiMediaCommons

"You are wearing a very beautiful watch, Etienne," she said, hoping that he would not notice that her attention had not been focused on the piece of jewelry on his left wrist. Already in the car she had seen that he was wearing a watch with a blue dial that matched the colour of his eyes.

"What kind of brand is it?" she asked, hoping to distract him further.

"It's a Glashütte Original. Model PanoMaticLuna," he replied. Then he cut off another piece of his steak.

"Looks expensive," she said, then led another fork of lettuce to her mouth.

"Let's just say it wasn't cheap," Jamie replied before he in turn brought his fork with the meat to her mouth.

"So you make good money?"

The question came briskly and Claire almost bit her tongue. She hoped she hadn't offended him. But Jamie didn't seem to mind her remark.

"I was lucky enough to close a very good sale a few years ago and my boss gave me a percentage of the profits. That's how I afforded this watch. I'm not giving much about wearing ... jewellery, but I've always wanted a reliable watch.

"What was that you were selling at the time? It must have been quite extraordinary."

Beauchamp! Your mouth will finally get you into trouble.

She was about to apologize when Jamie grabbed his wine glass, smelled it and then took a sip. This gave him a chance to think for a moment before he answered.

Claire also reached for her wine glass. She looked at him and saluted him.

"Well," he began, after putting his glass down, "I can't, of course, talk about business matters. But let's put it this way: I located some very old bottles of European wine a few years ago and was able to acquire them for someone else, a collector, at a very good price."

Fraser, you nut. I hope she takes it from you.

He'd read that this sort of business was really happening, but extremely rare. He also wondered if his answer had sounded convincing. Yes, he'd bought this watch on a bonus. But he had not received it for finding and reselling old wine bottles. For weeks he had been negotiating in the hottest weather with a North African group of bandits who had kidnapped a German-Austrian team of archaeologists. After finally returning the twelve men and women to Vienna and Berlin on a Gulfstream 650, Ernst Neuenburger presented him with a cheque. With this money he had bought the watch he had been wearing ever since. As dinner drew to a close, Jamie decided to play at full risk. "Claire, I know this must sound ... strange to you. But ... I'd like to help you. How would you feel about me booking you a hotel room? My company can cover the cost. It's no problem. I'll check with my boss later. You ... you don't ... you don't have to ... go back to ... him ... tonight." He had spoken softly, almost in a whisper. Yet she felt as if her ears were ringing. Before she could even answer, Jamie had called a waiter and asked him to ask at the reception if he could book another single room. She looked at him speechless. He just smiled. Shortly after, the waiter came back and explained that unfortunately there were no more free single rooms because of the Boston Marathon, which would take place in two days. "So that's all right then, but thanks for the suggestion," Claire said and reached for her wine glass again. "There's another possibility," Jamie started and reached for his wine glass as well, "there's a fold-out sofa in my studio. You can take my bed, I'll have it freshly made and I'll take the sofa." Claire placed her wine glass on the table with such force that he thought the stem would break off. "What do you think?!" she thundered at him. "I'm not that kind of woman." He would have been happy to answer her at the same volume. But some of the other guests were already looking to them and he wanted to avoid further fuss at all costs. "And I, Claire, am not such a man," he replied in a calm but very specific tone. When she had calmed down a little, he went on quietly: "I have a family in Berlin and I don't travel the world to bring vulnerable women to my room on my nights off."

He put his hands in front of his face and massaged his forehead lightly. When he looked up again, he saw her shaking slightly. Since she was silent, he continued speaking: "All I want, Claire, is to help you. I don't know who inflicted those marks on your neck and I'm not going to ask you about. But I don't want you to have to go back to him - if you don't want to. And I don't want you wandering around this town in the middle of the night in this weather too. I want to be sure that you're safe and that you're getting a good night's sleep. Tomorrow you can decide what to do next. Tears ran down her cheeks and Claire quickly reached for her napkin to wipe them away. "Claire, please! Allow me to help you." He reached out his right hand to her. When she had put the napkin aside, she grabbed it. "Thank you. You’re kind." Jamie waved to the waiter and asked him to arrange for the pull-out sofa in his studio to be preoared and his bed to be freshly made up. He also asked to separate the two sleeping areas with screens. When the waiter returned shortly afterwards and announced that the guest's wishes would be carried out, Jamie asked that dessert be served.

“Lemon Meringue Tart" by la-fontaine After they had eaten the lemon meringue tart and emptied the rest of the bottle of wine, Jamie stood up and offered his hand to Claire. Together they walked out of the restaurant to the cloakroom where they received their coats. Soon after, Jamie opened the door to his studio and let Claire go in. When he entered after her, he saw that the service had carried out his wishes to the point. His bed had been freshly made and there was a second bathrobe on the bedspread. The bedroom had been separated from the living room area (where the sofa had now been converted into a pull-out bed) by a bamboo screen about 2 meters long. Claire also looked around carefully and Jamie thought he saw something like an expression of satisfaction and relaxation on her face.

He took Claire's coat off and hung it with his in the cloakroom. "Take a seat, please," he said, pointing to one of the armchairs in front of the gas fireplace. Claire let herself fall into the armchair more than she let herself sit down. It seemed as if she suddenly lost all her strength. Her eyes fell on the wedding ring that she still wore out of habit. She tried to take it off, but she couldn’t. Overwhelmed by feelings of pain and anger, she burst into tears again and began to sob. Jamie, who stood at one of the windows for a moment and looked down at the street, turned around immediately and took two big steps towards her. Without thinking about it any further, he knelt in front of her and put an arm around her. "Claire," he said softly, "trust me, we'll find a way. You don't have to go back to him." When she looked at him with her redish weeping eyes, he could hardly bear the sight and pulled her to him.

#14DaysofOutlander #Outlander #Outlander Fan Fiction #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Frank Randall #Jenny Murray #Ian Murray #Berlin #Boston #Modern AU

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svubabes · 5 years ago

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It’s You - Sonny Carisi || NSFW!

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x Reader

Warnings: !!! S M U T !!!, cheating, Sonny is in an emotionally abusive relationship, obsessive calling/texting & somewhat stalking !!! N S F W !!!

Summary: Sonny Carisi is in a relationship he is far too afraid to leave, the reader is determined to show him exactly why he should.

8 missed calls, all by 6AM from Sonny Carisi’s “caring and worried girlfriend.” Truth of the matter, it was emotional abuse. Claire, Sonny’s girlfriend of 4 months was constantly calling him, no matter what or where he was. So many times he had gotten in trouble for the phone going off at a crime scene or in the office at a meeting. Many nights, Sonny went straight to her house. Knowing if he stayed at his, he’d be accused of cheating. So many missed opportunities to hang out with his coworkers and especially (Y/N). He knew it was wrong, having feelings for someone while he was in a relationship but he couldn’t control himself.

“Hi Claire.” Sonny said into the phone, whispering as he walked to his desk in the precinct.

“Sonny! Where have you been? I was so worried!” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, resisting the urge to hang up.

“You know it takes me a bit to do my morning routine and get to work. I’m sorry I didn’t call soon enough.” Sometimes he wondered if this crossed the line of emotional abuse. The woman couldn’t let him go ten feet without her texting, calling or sometimes following him out the door. Did he love Claire? At one time, yes. Now? Not so much. He knew it’s shitty, keeping the woman by his side when he didn’t love her. Truthfully? He was afraid she’d stalk him,come to the station and make a fuss. It was too much to deal with.

“Aw Sonny, I know! Just checking on you! Making sure I don’t hear any women in the back!” There it was! The accusal of cheating first thing in the morning. He wanted to scream, cuss, so tired of dealing with the constant calls, texts and accusals. Not even being able to go out and enjoy things. Feeling held down to a woman who only wanted to control him.

“Well I have to get to work, bye.” He hung up quickly before he lost his cool, this was very uncommon of Sonny Carisi.

He threw his head back in relief, there’s at least 3 hours he wouldn’t have to deal with her questioning his every move. He looked at the door to see (Y/N) standing in the way, doughnuts in hand. Low cut shirt, skirt that hugged her just right.

He asked himself “what are you doing? You have a girlfriend. A bad, controlling and border line stalker one, but none the less a girlfriend. “

“Good morning Sonny! First ones in the office as always!” It was 6AM, catching up on paper work was always a pain in the ass, but not when the two of you were together. You placed the doughnuts on Sonny’s desk and headed to your desk. Feeling his eyes graze your ass. You loved it. He couldn’t help but stare. Secretly, he wondered what you had on under. Lace? Cotton? Black, red? So many questions ran through his mind. Of course you turned around to catch him. Although you knew he was already staring, you felt a blush come over your face. Knowing his dick was getting hard under those navy blue dress pants.

“Rough morning? You look a little upset?” You asked, Sonny sighed.

“Claire again.” You rolled your eyes, and shook your head. Hair bouncing around and falling on your shoulders just perfectly and of course, Sonny noticed.

“Sonny, honey.” You groaned. He couldn’t help but imagine you morning his name. It sounded so good coming from your lips. He wished you wouldn’t call him honey, his pants were already snug enough. “You need to break things off with her. She is stalking you! Cyber stalking! She probably has some kind of tracker on your phone.” He sighed, knowing you were right.

“She actually does. On IMessages you can turn on a location thing, shows you right where they are if they ask.”

“Dear God Sonny! Are you dating your mom or a woman?”

“Hey now, my mom isn’t even that bad.” You laughed and so did he. He noticed the beautiful laugh and took it all in. He loved when you laughed.

“If you ask me, you should dump her. If you think she’d come after you here? She’s got something coming. I could take her.” You said, throwing a fake punch. Sonny laughed and looked away, thinking of why it couldn’t be simpler. Why you couldn’t have met sooner and saved him from this strange relationship he had. You noticed his face and moved closer, placing your hands on his thighs, still hovering over him, running your hands softly over his thighs.

“Sonny?” You began, “You deserve a woman, not a girl who is constantly stalking you, watching your every move. You know what field we work in and what these signs are. What would you tell someone in this situation?”

“I’d tell them that it sounds like an emotionally abusive relationship and they should leave.” You slid your hands down, getting on your knees in-front of him. You could see the bulge coming from his pants. You ran your hands slowly to the waist of his pants, only allowing the tip of your finger to touch them. His eyes went dark, he craved you.

“Sonny, you need a woman who would treat you right, love you right. Let you make your own choices without worrying of any consequences that follow, and one that will fuck your brains out in bed.” His face lit up red. You stood up, pulling him up slowly by his tie.

“Come on, interrogation room one? Let me give you another reason if you aren’t convinced.” He followed you eagerly, once the two of you were in the room, he pushed you up against the wall, running his hands all over your body, leaving sloppy kisses all over your mouth and neck. Clothes were thrown off in a blink of an eye, and you were back on your knees. Looking up at him, your hand wrapped around his cock.

“Tell me you want me Sonny Carisi.” He felt shaky, the woman he craved was finally on her knees in-front of him.

“You don’t know how bad I want you (Y/N). I have for so long.” That was enough for you to lower your mouth down onto his cock. He let out a moan, he thought about this moment before, while sitting across from you in the office. He always thought of how your mouth felt and now he knew, he loved it. His moans made you weak, you wanted to hear more.

“Fuck. That’s so good. So fucking good.” His hands were tangled in your hair. The longer you kept going, the closer he got to climax. Finally, you stopped and stood up, leaning back on the table in the room. He smirked, knowing he had also thought about this moment. All his wildest dreams seemed to becoming true.

“(Y/N),” he whispered as he placed one hand on your breast, his lips close to your ear. He moved his free hand to your clit and slowly started moving circles. You let out a loud moan, since you had seen Sonny, you had so much sexual frustration pent up for him. Today was the day you finally get to use it. He kept rubbing slowly, loving every moan you let out. You looked at him, eyes darkening.

“Sonny, please fuck me. I want you more than you can imagine.” Those words were enough for him, he slipped into you. Instantly, a moan slipped from your lips. He kept rubbing your clit, you grabbed his face pulling it to yours. Kissing him roughly, tugging at his bottom lip just enough to make him go crazy. His speed picked up and you both were in euphoria. You couldn’t control yourself, in that nothing could have kept this sentence from coming out of your mouth.

“Do you think of me when you’re fucking her?” Instantly, his face hardened and his eyes went dark. For a split second you knew you had just screwed this up and would have to finish yourself off later, until Sonny grabbed your wrist, placing them over your head and hovering over you.

“Every-time. I can never get the thought of me fucking you out of my head. No matter where I am.” You felt your body tense up, you knew what was coming.

“Sonny, oh my god.” He moves his hands, leaving one to graze your cheek. His thrust became even faster than before.

“Come on, go ahead and let it go. You don’t know how bad I’ve craved to hear you scream my name in pleasure.” Hearing him say these words sent you straight into orgasm. Not long after, he followed. The two of you resting for a second, out of breath.

“That was everything I have wanted.” Sonny looked at you, all seriousness on his face. “I know it’s bad, but I’ve liked you for a little bit now. It’s wrong, I won’t dump my girlfriend but I want someone else. I’m just so af-“ you kissed his lips gently.

“Tonight, if you have anything at her place we’ll get it. You can get some things from your place and stay with me since she knows where you live. Don’t be scared of this Sonny, we’re gonna get you through it.” He smiled, knowing things may get rough, praying he wouldn’t have to file a restraining order or worse, but he knew you were there by his side.

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfiction #law & order smut #law and order svu #olivia benson #amanda rollins #law and order svu imagines #rafael barba #fin tutuola #nick amaro #law and order svu fanfic #mike dodds

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 5 years ago

Text

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 15 - AN EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE

Good evening all! As promised here is Chapter 15 of Edinburgh to Boston. This picks up right after Chapter 14. Our lovebirds grappling with the argument they had. As the title implies there is a lot of soul searching going to happen.

At the end, I will include some interesting information. At least, I think it’s interesting. I do need to thank my betas for their magnificent and tireless help, suggestions, and comments. Thank you @curlsgetdemgurls and @scubalass. You guys keep me on my toes and push me to do my best. Honestly, a lot of work on the part of @scubaless went into this and unjumbled the mess I made at times. How do I thank @curlsgetdemgurls who always tells me I can do this and supports my desire to write. I am truly blessed to have you both. I honestly don’t know how I would do this without you. 🧡🧡🧡🧡

As always I welcome any thoughts suggestions, comments you would like to share with me.I hope you enjoy reading. Without further ado I give you:

Edinburgh To Boston

Chapter 15

An Examination of Conscience

***********

Click!

Claire stood mutely watching as the door closed with a muffled and insubstantial sound. Biting her upper lip, she watched the handle for any sign of movement. She fully expected it would reopen momentarily and Jamie would walk through. Nothing happened. With the bolt slipping into place, it created a barrier as strong as any prison wall between her and the man she loved.

She didn’t know what to do. Should she go after him or call him? At the edge of her vision, she caught a glimpse of his phone resting on the bedside table along with his wallet and money. “Idiot bloody man,” she huffed. She had no choice other than to wait. Maybe it would turn out for the best allowing him time to sort through his thoughts. Perhaps they both needed a little time away from each other to calm down and become more rational.

What a bloody mess this turned out to be. If Claire was honest with herself, she never expected that it would come to this, that he would leave. She fully believed that they would have a loud and impassioned fight concluding with...what? Forgiveness? Compromise? Possibly the dissolution of their tender three-day-old relationship? At this point, she didn’t know what to think.

Needing a distraction, Claire began to set the room right. Taking a large bath sheet, she wiped up the spilled whisky and the broken crystal discarding everything into a wastebasket. Jamie’s still sodden jeans rested on the floor where he had discarded them earlier anxious to crawl into the warm bed and into a still warmer Claire. “Ye ken the fastest way to warm up is with body heat,” he murmured erotically against her ear. She did know and had shivered in anticipation of his intention.

Her jeans and jumper left a trail from the door to the bed. The lacey black bra that he removed, lay on the floor. Her skimpy panties drooped from one of the four posts of the bed, like a flag hanging limply in a windless sky.

She felt like a live wire skittering across the ground shooting off sparks. Remaining on edge and unable to concentrate, she padded around the room picking things up and putting them down. Every little noise or echo of a footfall in the hallway drew her attention. “He’ll be back, won’t he?” she said to herself.

Scanning the room she saw reminders of him wherever she looked. His shaving kit, suit, shoes, jeans, jumper, cologne. She ran her hand over his things aching with the need to connect to him. His touch, his scent, his look. The room felt empty. Not because of the lack of his physicality in the space, but from his essence. Jamie filled a space with his being. Claire suddenly felt lonely. She missed him already - terribly.

Exhaling a huge sigh, she walked over to the window, peering down at the street. She had a very strange sensation that Jamie just might be standing down there next to a lamppost looking up at the window. From her perch high above the street, she had a commanding view of the area around the hotel. The street was devoid of people. Not even a taxi cruised around looking for passengers. Even though Claire knew that it a foolish thought, she couldn’t help feeling disappointed she didn’t see him standing there. She rubbed the glabella, the tender skin between her eyebrows, in an effort to thwart a beginning headache.

Relationships are complicated things, she considered. For Claire, relationships were hard for her because she has trust issues. A gift courtesy of one Frank Randall. She gave him her heart, love, and trust only to have him toss everything carelessly away like a worn-out, useless, old shoe. She was hurt, betrayed, and doubtful to ever trust another man again. And then Jamie Fraser walks into her life. After working with him for over a year, she knew him as a kind, thoughtful, gentle, considerate, loving man.

In spite of their close working relationship, Claire continued to hold back her feelings, her trust. She knew Jamie to be a good man and it wasn’t that she didn’t trust him because she did. Well, professionally she trusted him implicitly. Personally, she did but... Maybe it’s because she feared how he would judge her if he knew the whole truth. Whatever the case, she thought he deserved someone better than her. She didn’t blame him for leaving after the way she treated him. Truth be told, she all but forced him out after insinuating that he was to blame for what happened.

Claire knew that Frank had been watching them. He admitted it to her. ‘I’ve been watching you with him all night. What the fuck do you see in that Neanderthal?’ She also knew that Frank observing her with Jamie fanned the flames of his jealousy. He always had been a jealous and possessive man. Come to think of it, Claire refected, this is just like the time he almost thrashed poor Albert, the young assistant professor that had the misfortune of spending time with and talking with her.

Albert took pleasure at her admiring his wit. Frank watched from the sidelines following her every move, smile, or laugh. He watched and drank, drank and watched until sufficiently drunk enough to physically menace the younger faculty member. Dragging her out of the party, he called her every vile name he could think of slut, whore, tramp bringing tears to her eyes. “You're mine, Claire. I don’t share well. You are my wife and you had better act like it. Don’t do it again,” he threatened. “Or so help me, I’ll…” He raised his hand to strike her. “Or you’ll do what Frank, beat me?” she called his bluff and succeeded. He dropped his hand grabbed her and pulled her to their car.

She exhaled deeply and walked away from the window. Claire knew that neither she nor Jamie could have changed what happened in the restaurant. Frank, hellbent on creating trouble, would have followed them determined to create mayhem.

She knew deep in her heart she wronged Jamie. Letting her anger get the better of her, she created a wedge between them. She knew she needed to admit her mistakes and tell the truth about her life with Frank. He needed to understand. No more secrets. No more lies.

Claire yawned and stretched feeling overwhelming fatigue settle over her. She hadn’t slept much since they arrived in Boston. It became an emotional roller coaster fueled from jetlag, too much alcohol, the newfound intimacy with Jamie and the disaster in the restaurant. No wonder she felt exhausted. She decided to rest while waiting for Jamie to return. Spying one of the tee shirts he had recently worn, she walked over picked it up and inhaled deeply. It smelled of him. Heady, musky, woodsy with a slight undertone of citrus from his aftershave. Claire pulled off her sleep shirt and put his on. It was too big, baggy, and shapeless on her small frame. Running her hands over the fabric, she felt the softness of it from frequent use. She climbed into the bed, breathing in his scent. She pretended that instead of his shirt wrapped around her, she lay enveloped in his arms and protected by his body. I’ll make it right. I must. Slowly she drifted off to sleep.

**********************************

Ding!

The elevator door slid open with a soft whoosh permitting Jamie Fraser to step in. Entering the lift, he leaned against the glass wall dropping his head back to rest against the cool slick surface. He needed to get away, clear his mind, try to figure things out.

An enigma. A puzzle. A mystery. How else to describe Claire? Damn the woman. He only wanted to offer her comfort, tenderness. Instead, she turned away from him. She says one thing I love you and only you and then she rejects him. Why would she do that? Frustrating. Infuriating. Confusing.

He sought oblivion. Tonight was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he wanted to understand what was happening with his Sassenach. Then, again, he wanted to forget and to reduce the memory of this evening to ashes. Raising the bottle of whisky to his lips, he drank deep. The spirit slipped across his tongue cascading down his throat followed by its familiar burn.

The door slid open allowing Jamie to exit into the main lobby. He strode past the reception desk.

“Dr. Fraser, can I be of assistance?” The pretty receptionist inquired.

“Thank ye kindly lass, but no.” His face appeared slightly flushed.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to call a car for you. It’s quite cold out. Definitely not a night to be on foot.”

“I’m a Highlander, born and bred. I’m used to the cold, ye ken?” With that, he exited through the hotel’s sliding doors into the fridge embrace of a Bostonian winter. Jamie searched the pockets of his jacket for his cap and gloves finding neither. He also discovered he neglected to bring his wallet, money, or phone. “I’ll do,” he muttered to himself. Mercifully, his jacket had a hood which he pulled up over his head while cramming his hands, carefully, into his pockets. His bottle of whisky tucked into a pocket inside his jacket.

Lacking familiarity with Boston, he wondered where he should go, though it really didn’t matter. He was not out to sightsee but out to clear his head.

Taking another long drink from the bottle, he turned to his left and began to walk, then jog, eventually running without direction. He slipped and slid on the black ice, tumbling into a snowbank laughing at his own foolishness. He was drunk, very drunk, he thought as he took another big gulp of the whisky. His Da always said, “Yer never drunk if ye can still stand up.” And he was still standing, albeit with the assistance of the snowbank, but standing he was.

Jamie found himself back at Boston Commons where he spent the day with Claire. He walked slowly through the whispering white silence of the park looking at the places where they had gone. The park had an ethereal feel to it. Streetlamps cast shadows across the park’s snow-encrusted expanse giving shape and form to the spectors hiding in the gloom. Evergreen trees, tall, imposing, majestic released their sharp piney tang around him. Deciduous trees with branches bare, naked without their leaves, covered with smatterings of snow or encased in ice. The wind howled through the trees causing clumps of snow to drop around him. At night, the park became a desolate place reflecting the wretchedness of his soul.

He came across the spot where they met the sparrow family. Collapsing onto the cold bench, he found himself surrounded by the memories of the day.

“The lass has ye twisted around her wee finger, ye ken? Ye even speak to birds if it makes her happy. She’s even gotten you to believe that they have the souls of her dead family,” he snorted. He sat there shaking his head. “What wouldn’t ye do for her? Nuthin’. Then why is this so hard? If she doesna want to have the scoundrel arrested, then let her have it. She has her reason, Fraser. Ye trust her word, do ye no’? Aye, I do. Then leave her be. She’ll tell ye why when she’s ready or when she can.”

“Remember lad, she’s been hurt.” Harry had said. “Be gentle wi’ her.”

“Aye, ‘tis all true, but why did she no’ discuss this agreement she made with me first? I mean we’re supposed to be partners.” His fingers tapped out a rhythmic tattoo against his thigh as he sat in contemplation. “Ye ken the reason, ye eejit. Ye would have said no. She did this for ye, tae protect ye. Tae sacrifice herself for ye. No’ because she loves the man. She loves ye enough tae do such a thing.”

Jamie knew all this within his innermost heart, but he still wanted justice for her. He did not want to be the one causing her to lose that chance.

“Besides,” he told himself, “ye heard her, she blames me for what happened. For failing tae protect her, for leaving her for,” he choked, “no’ being the man she needs.” Abruptly he realized that he also broke his promise to the bird family.

‘I promise tae see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life,’ he vowed to the birds. Jamie slammed his hand down on the bench. “Ifrinn! Fraser, ye are useless, and no’ a man of honor. Ye couldna even keep yer word tae a cluster of sparrows now could ye? If ye canna do something as simple as that, how could ye keep yer word tae Claire? Ye dinna deserve her.” He took another drink, the bottle very nearly empty.

He saw the bird tree just a short distance from where he sat. Feeling the need to apologize, Jamie staggered toward the tree calling out loudly, “If ye can hear me wee birds, I am sorry, sae sorry. I let her down and ye as weel. I’m no’ a man.” He hung his head in shame but quickly his anger rose to the surface.

He unleashed his fury against the tree hitting it hard reinjuring his right hand causing it to become scraped and bleeding. The pain from the single blow shot white-hot up his arm into his oxter. He collapsed into a mound of still soft snow at the base of the conifer. He let loose a torrent of Gàidhlig curses and self-deprecating rants. Hanging his head between his knees, Jamie took a deep breath trying to stem the waves of pain, nausea, and dizziness gripping him. No good. Heaving and retching, his stomach turned itself out of whisky and bile. He felt numb, tired and decidedly less drunk than before.

“What a waste of that verra fine whisky,” he ironically thought as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

It was cold, colder than before. “Weel, yer sitting in the snow, yer no’ dressed for the weather, and yer just vomited up all yer antifreeze, what do ye expect?”

The problem, he considered, came down to where to go. He could go back to the hotel but he did not want to see Claire, just yet. He didn’t have his wallet with his credit card nor did he have any money. As he saw it, he needed to keep moving to stay warm. He stood up with great difficulty. Choosing a random direction, he began to walk. Jamie began to feel better walking. After walking about five blocks he came upon a Church with a brightly lit sign outside.

Cold? Tired? Hungry? Or just need a place for the night? The Lord Loves You. All are welcome!

He looked up and saw a statue of Blessed Michael the Archangel standing guard over the entrance.

“Blessed Michael of the Red Domain defend us,” he thought and knew he had found a safe refuge for the remainder of the night.

Brother Stanislaus Kostka possessed an imposing figure. In his previous life, he was a former naval corpsman serving with a marine unit. He had blonde wavy hair, kind green eyes, and maintained a muscular physique hidden by his simple religious habit. He wore a brown habit with a hood, a cord wound around his waist and sandals. The cincture tied around his waist had the characteristic three knots symbolizing poverty, chastity, and obedience. A black rosary hung from the cingulum completing his attire.

Jamie stood quietly in the back of the shelter, observing the clergyman caring for his flock. The friar had a gentleness and compassionate way that emanated from him. A woman had approached him with a problem, to which he devoted his full attention. After considering and weighing the possible alternatives he smiled and presented his proposal. The woman grinned nodded in acceptance, then moved away.

Looking up he spotted Jamie standing in the doorway waiting to be acknowledged.

Brother Stan turned his attention to Jamie. “How can I help you tonight, my friend?” His smile could warm a person through and through.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Father, but I need a place to stay for the night,” Jamie apologized.

“It’s Brother, Mr…?”

“Fraser, but ye can call me Jamie.”

“Welcome, Jamie. It seems you had a difficult night so far. You know there is always room at the Lord’s table for one more.” Looking at Jamie he took in his appearance and observed his battered and bruised hand.

“So Mr. Fraser, er Jamie, come with me and let’s get a look at that hand?” He turned away not waiting for an answer. Jamie followed and they walk into a small room both office and treatment room.

“May I ask how you injured your hand?” asked the Brother as he set up what he needed to care for Jamie’s hand.

Jamie looked abashed. “I, ah, had an argument with (what do I call her?) Claire the woman I love. And I got drunk. I needed time to think things over. So, I jogged to the park and my anger got the best of me, and I took it out on a tree.”

Brother Stan went about the task of caring for the wounds removing any splinters that he found.

Jamie hissed as the open areas were cleaned and dressed. “I have two hairline fractures of my right third and fourth fingers. I, um, somehow lost the splints that were there. Could ye make something temporary to put there?”

“How did you acquire the fractures?”

“‘I was in a fight last night defending a friend’s honor. I ken how it sounds like I’m some kinda drunken brawler, but ‘tis no’ true.”

“And would this friend be, Claire?”

“Aye, ‘twas.”

By this time, Brother Stan had cleaned and dressed the wounds. “I see,” he nodded solemnly.

Giving Jamie a direct look, Brother Stan inquired, “You are troubled. How can I help you?”

He considered this offer to help. “Ye can let me into yer chapel to pray and ask the Lord’s guidance.”

“Usually, we don’t allow people in the chapel alone at night.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair adopting his storyteller pose. “Let me tell ye a story. ‘Tis a tradition in the Fraser clan that parents make a rosary for each child for their First Communion. My Da carved each of the beads and the crucifix. My Mam strung the beads together thinking on the Glorious Mysteries. As she placed each bead, she said a Hail Mary, Our Father, or the Glory Be in the appropriate place. They had it blessed by a priest and it was gifted to me on the morning of my First Communion. I put it away after and dinna think much on it again until they died. Then it became the most precious thing I owned. I would ride out on my horse and go tae the old deserted churches in the Highlands and there I would pray. I would pray my rosary, the one they gave me, and it gave me comfort as I believed they were near me. Now, I’m asking ye to grant me another chance for comfort, tae talk tae the Lord so I ken what tae do. I dinna have my rosary with me, but I’ll do. Can ye help me?” Jamie placed his left hand over Brother Stan’s appealing for understanding.

Emerald green met sapphire blue seeking the truth and asking for help.

Brother Stan’s hand went to the cord around his waist and removed his rosary. “Tonight you can use mine.”

They rose and silently walked through the slumbering mass of people. Homeless men, women with children, battered women, runaways, lost souls, those down on their luck. Jamie looked around committing this sight to memory.

As they ascended the stairs to the chapel, the scent of beeswax and incense hung heavy in the air. On the right of the main altar was a shrine to the Holy Family while on the left was a shrine dedicated to St. Michael. The red sanctuary lamp was lit hanging near the main altar announcing the presence of the Lord.

In accordance with the custom of the Roman Rite, both Jamie and Brother Stan dipped their fingers into the holy water font and crossed themselves in the Sign of the Cross. Brother Stan gripped Jamie’s shoulder before leaving, “May your heart find comfort and your soul know peace. The Lord be with you. If you have need of me, you know where I will be.”

“Thank ye for everything,” Jamie replied choking with emotion.

Brother Stan nodded and left.

Jamie walked to the center aisle, genuflected, got down on his knees, then lay prostrate before his God in humility, respect, and penance.

“Lord God, please let me understand her.

Let me shelter her from all danger, pain, and sorrow.

Let me be her sanctuary, her safe port in a storm.

Let me keep her safe; her protector from what seeks tae harm her.

Let me help her tae find peace, happiness, joy, and love.

Let me be her home the place where her heart resides.

Let me love her rightly.

God, oh God, please let me be enough.”

And he wept.

****************************

Claire woke up looking at the time on the bedside clock. Ill-temperedly it announced 3:38 AM. Shit, she only meant to take a brief nap not fall asleep. Rubbing her eyes ridding them of residual sleep, she scanned the room looking for...

“Jamie?” There was no answer. The opposite side of the bed was cold and not been slept in. There was no sign of him.

Claire began to panic, her heart racing, fingers cold and sweaty. What if something happened to him? What if he had fallen and gotten hurt? He could be lost. Maybe he was hit by a car? Her imagination ran wild imagining different catastrophes that could have befallen him.

Deciding not to let panic consume her, she thought maybe he fell asleep in the lobby not wanting to wake her up. Calling down to the front desk, she discovered he had left about three hours ago. According to the receptionist Jamie did not say where he was going. The young woman did notice that he turned to his left when he exited the building.

Foolish man, where could he have gone to? Guilt engulfed her. She should have gone after him when he left. She should have never left him alone. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him.

Claire decided to look for him and dressed quickly. Where he could have gone, she had no idea. But she was damned if she was going to sit here to wait and worry. She grabbed his warm coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and his wallet. Claire thought having his wallet could prove useful as it would serve as a means of identification. Although, a very tall red-headed man would be easy to spot.

Claire turned left following Jamie’s assumed route, hoping luck would be on her side.

Walking the empty streets, she began to wonder where he could have gone. She trudged along for several blocks before noticing that this is the way to Boston Commons. Of course. That’s where he would go. The open spaces would be a balm to his soul. She hurried quickly over the icy walkways.

She reached Boston Commons and followed the path they had taken. There was no sign of him. She passed by a tree and found an almost empty bottle of whisky that she recognized from the hotel along with a fair amount of vomit. So! He had been here. She looked around and did not see him. “Jamie, where are you? Jamie!” But there was no answer.

Claire continued walking, looking for any sign as to where he could have gone. She followed the path out of the park and walked straight for several blocks until coming across a welcome sign posted by a church. The sign welcomed anyone in need of a place to stay. She wondered if he would have gone in until she looked up and saw the imposing statue of Blessed Michael the Archangel and knew. Michael was important to the Scots. They often petitioned him for assistance in a time of need.

“No harm in asking,” she considered. Descending down the stairs, Claire entered the shelter and observed Brother Stan at work talking, comforting, praying. Looking around she did not see any red curls anywhere. Just as she was about to leave, Brother Stan approached her.

“May I help you?” he asked a gentle smile across his lips.

“Well, maybe. I am looking for a tall red-headed Scotsman that…”

“Are you Claire, by chance?”

She gaped at him. “How did you know? Jamie, is he here? Where is he? Is he alright?” Claire babbled. She frantically scanned the room again. How hard could it be to find him here?

“He is here and safe. Though he re-injured his broken hand, I’m afraid. I had to pull several splinters out of his hand. He had a run-in with a tree, it seems,” he said with a little smirk.

“Take me to him, please,” she pleaded. He was hurt and she hadn't been there to care for him. She felt uneasy until she could see him with her own eyes.

“He is upstairs in the chapel, praying. Come I will take you.”

“Praying?”

“Yes, he said it would bring him comfort and peace.”

They walked up the same stairs and repeated the same blessing. “Go to him. Be with him. He needs you.”

“Thank you Father for everything.”

“You’re welcome my dear. Oh and it is Brother, not Father. The Lords’ peace be with you both.”

Brother Stan left silently as he did before.

Claire put Jamie’s things down in a pew, and soundlessly approached the man she loves.

Kneeling down beside him, she hesitated wanting so much to touch him. Wanting to stroke his soft curls to give him comfort. To reassure herself he was real. But she felt afraid to startle him out of his deep meditations.

Instead, she whispered softly, “Jamie, it’s me, Claire.”

***********************

Interesting things:

St. Stanislaus Kostka is the patron saint of broken bones. So I named the Brother after him.

In the mood board, the picture of the church in the left upper corner is a church devoted to St. Stanislaus Kostka. It is located in Brooklyn.

The Marine Corps is part of the Naval services and do not have their own medics. So that’s why Brother Stan served as a naval corpsman.

You all noticed I didn’t say anything about Chapter 16 and I’m not going to either.

#edinburgh to boston #chapter15 #outlander fanfiction #An Examination of Conscience #my writing #best ever betas #the best readers #curlsgetdemgurls #scubalass #Here Goes Nothing

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oncexinxmyxdreams · 4 years ago

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A Christmas Memory

This was a different Christmas Eve from all the past ones. Most of them had been without his father and it got worse after his mother passed away. Last year had been a new direction; learning to appreciate what he did have even if those bitter feelings tried to sneak upon him. Indeed, Peter wouldn’t forget Christmas of 1984 with it being the first one as a Ghostbuster. This one had gone unexpected. If someone had told Peter that’d his guilty conscience would convince him to fly over to Kokomo, Indiana and spend it with the illegitimate child he’d never known of until three months ago, he’d thought that person was insane. He’d even give a snarky comment to boot.

That was running through Peter’s mind as he leaned back on the couch in the cozy living room. After Ruth had encouraged him to not be formal and kick his shoes off, he’d finally hunkered down. He partially dug his socked feet between the cushions and stared out the window. Snowflakes dusted the pane, but he could see the warm glow of lights outside. He was trying to think over things, maybe face the emotions he’d shoved far back when meeting Ruth and Laurie. One of them about Claire and knowing she was sadly gone. Every time he remembered it, he felt a horrible and sickening chill in his heart.

“You alright dear?” asked Ruth. She was putting another log into the fireplace.

“I’m okay,” Peter answered with a small head turn and polite smile.

“Ruth!” came the barking demand of Arnold from upstairs. “Ruth! Where’s my damn bottle opener?”

“You left it on the TV tray!” Ruth called up.

“Then bring it up woman! Do I have to do everything around this old shack?!”

With a sigh, Ruth picked up the bottle opener which had been left on an old TV tray in front of a rugged chair. It seemed like she wanted to converse with Peter, but her husband’s demands had to distract her. Arnold apparently had a tradition to have a couple of beers while watching the TV and would stumble off to his room with the newspaper. Not long after he settled down, he’d be demanding for another beer or like this time for the bottle opener. Peter wasn’t against having a beer himself, but he was disgusted by how Arnold behaved. There was no way he’d ever speak to a woman like that and he knew his limit before he got tipsy. Arnold didn’t seem to have any nice words to his wife. He didn’t even have a nice word to say about his grandchild! It wasn’t long before Peter could hear Arnold and Ruth debating over something. Thankfully, the radio was a bit louder and played classic carols.

“Sorry that man has to be your dad Claire,” Peter thought. “No wonder you had a hard time finding kind words about him.” Peter couldn’t forget when he and Claire were just friends and they opened about their lives. Revealing how she quit dance because of how hard he pushed her with little regard of her wellbeing had been shocking to hear. It was quite another to witness how Arnold was in person. Peter was right three years before telling Claire that they both got the short end of the stick when it came to families.

Now that he thought about, what happened for that Christmas? Peter remembered that he didn’t really spend Christmas with Claire that one year. She’d gone back to Kokomo for a week. She’d asked Peter to come with her, but he kept turning it down. It wasn’t only because of this negativity to the holiday, but it was his last year at Columbia University. It’d been exhausting from strenuous finals and tedious term papers. Peter spent half of Christmas catching up on sleep.

Not that he and Claire didn’t do something for the holidays. The day before she left, they went on a sweet date and exchanged gifts. She’d gotten him a new bomber jacket. Peter found her a pretty nightgown. He would’ve gotten her something more extravagant if it hadn’t been for Claire reminding him, she didn’t want anything. It’d taken Peter weeks to get an answer, but Claire finally admitted a new pair of pajamas was fine. She told him that with a little eyeroll and playful grin. Then again, that was Claire. She didn’t ask for things and was easily happy with what she already owned.

They didn’t see each other again until Peter came to meet her at the airport as planned on December 27th…at 1:00 a.m. because of Claire’s overly delayed flight. Despite the icy weather and painfully early morning, neither of them felt fatigued. They overwhelmed each other with a strong hug-where Peter practically lifted her off the ground- and deep kissing. It went on with Claire “insisting” it was too late for him to go back to his dorm and Peter “insisting” she wasn’t going back to her apartment alone. What happened then? If Peter told anyone he would’ve left out the details, but he would’ve hinted that whatever happened was more than twice. “Another round” as Claire suggested for the term. It'd been weeks since their last round together so there was pent up energy for each other. Combining that along with the late prescription update on Claire’s birth control pill for her polycystic ovary syndrome, maybe it wasn’t a surprise Laurie existed.

“Figures,” sighed Peter. He was back to his core struggle: he was now a dad and he didn’t want to be.

It wasn’t that he hated Laurie. Of course not! That was the issue: Peter didn’t know how to feel about her. He was told that when a parent first sees their child, they instantly love them. He didn’t feel that at all! She was a stranger to him. Peter hated imagining what Ray, Winston, Janine or Egon would say if he was honest about it. He’d have to keep that secret to himself. He’d have to keep digging through the graveyard of emotions.

He’d never really desired to get married or have a family of his own. He’d loved Claire and had serious relationships before, but even then, he couldn’t imagine anything further down the road. Besides, even though babies and kids were cute, they were a chore. Kids whined and threw tantrums. Babies cried, needed diapers changed and were always spitting up. He wouldn’t say he was the best with kids in general either. He still felt a pinch of guilt with what happened to Kenny Fenderman back in late spring. Yet whether he liked it or not, he was a dad.

“Ruth said I don’t have to be involved unless I want to,” he reminded himself. “Even Claire wrote in her journals she wouldn’t force me.” It was true. Even Arnold didn’t want Peter around, but that was due to his crass comments about Claire having slept with Peter. “So why am I here?” Peter asked himself again.

There was an answer to all this; there had to be. Somewhere buried deep down was the reason he reluctantly came out to Indiana. Even with being a psychologist, Peter sometimes had to deeply analyze himself.

Right on cue, he felt one of the cushions move and was distracted. It was Laurie. She dropped a thick book on the couch and then crawled up. She was still dressed pretty in her little red velvet dress; black mary jane’s and white tights. Seemed like it was staple to her wardrobe along with her still having a pacifier. She crawled upon the couch and wobbled over to Peter. Reflexively he held a hand up to balance her as she nearly stumbled, but she caught hold of his drawn-up knees. Her deep cornflower blue eyes sparkled, and he could see the creases of her smile behind her pacifier.

“You trying to get away from the noise?” he said half-heartedly to her. When she looked puzzled, Peter gestured up to the ceiling where he could still hear faint arguing. She only copied him and grinned. Then she pointed at the window where the snow was falling at a quicker pace.

“Sho,” she said with her muffled voice. “Sho.”

“You’ve got a mouthful there Ankle Biter,” Peter snickered. “Take that out of your mouth.” He gently pried the pacifier from her lips. Cleary not bothered; Laurie spoke again. “Sho. Pwetty.” She looked past him and pointed to the side table behind him. “Mama pwetty,” she added.

Peter glanced over his shoulder to the picture frame sitting on the edge. It was hard for him to see that beautiful face. Laurie tried crawling around him to reach for the frame, but nearly squished herself between Peter and the cushions. Hesitating, he twisted around to get it.

“You want this?” he said kindly as he handed it to her. Laurie still stood up and held the frame. She looked almost sad. It was a picture of Claire from last Christmas. She was sitting in front of the tree with Laurie in her lap. From what anyone could guess, the little girl knew Claire wasn’t coming back, but she didn’t understand why.

“Mama,” Laurie repeated. Her tiny hand patted the picture. “Mama go.”

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Peter empathized. “My mama’s gone too.”

Laurie looked at him in such an odd way that Peter second guessed if she understood him. What she did next left him stunned. She crawled onto Peter’s lap and buried her face into his neck. Her little arms wrapped around him the best she could. Her hair was strong of her shampoo which smelled like cherry soda. After a pause, Peter gingerly wrapped one arm around her little figure. Laurie twisted around so she could look out the window but nuzzled her head under Peter’s chin.

“Sto-ee?” she asked.

“Story? Okay. What’s the book you brought?” Peter sensed if he flat out refused, Laurie may throw a fit. “You’ve got a real sense of humor,” he sighed when he realized what she brought. Of course, Laurie had brought up her copy of Peter Rabbit. (Laurie's book was a treasury of Beatrix Potter's stories.) He probably could’ve just recited the story since his mother used to read it to him when he was Laurie’s age. He read the familiar beginning:

“Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were-Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter.”

The story continued exactly from what Peter could recall. Mrs. Rabbit told her children to not enter Mr. McGregor’s garden, but Peter Rabbit disobeyed, and he ate some vegetables in the garden: Mr. McGregor tried to catch him, and Peter Rabbit got lost in the garden: Peter Rabbit finally got out and was put to bed while his siblings had bread, milk and blackberries for supper.

“What a shock its still the same after twenty years,” Peter said cynically.

“Mice,” said Laurie. “Sto-ee of mice. Pwease!”

Peter bit his lip. Those pleading blue eyes gazed up to him and Laurie pouted. Cute kid, but she was clever enough to pull on heartstrings. Even her conflicted father couldn’t say no to her face.

“What story of the mice?” Peter quickly flipped a couple of pages to find the story. He couldn’t remember any Beatrix Potter works that were only about mice. Much to his surprise, he found a page with a mouse wearing glasses and sitting on a spool of thread while reading a newspaper. The story? The Tailor of Gloucester.

“That one,” Laurie announced.

Despite feeling a little tired, Peter continued reading. He found that he kind of liked reading to Laurie. Not to mention, he liked the new tale. It was centered around Christmas and a poor tailor was trying to finish a coat for a mayor’s wedding day. What fascinated Peter most was when the tailor’s cat went outside at night: there was something about the atmosphere that was so magical it almost seemed believable. At least, believable after being a ghostbuster for almost two years. According to Beatrix Potter, between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, all the beasts could talk though very few could understand them. Birds, rats, dogs, mice and even the cat spoke.

While Peter was reading, Laurie’s eyelids drooped, and her eyelashes fluttered when she tried to stay awake. She was warm, comfy and best of all, safe while snuggled against Peter. The moment the last sentence was read, Laurie was asleep. Her breathing was gentle, and her tiny fingers unclenched. She looked so peaceful and sweet that Peter didn’t want to move. Instead, he glanced back out the window and tried analyzing his thoughts again.

“I used to sit with Mom like this,” Peter recalled to himself. “I know Mom couldn’t afford a lot, but I know she tried.” The very few Christmas memories he had included his mother, Lydia Venkman, sitting on the sofa with him while the TV blared the cheerful specials or when they watched the stars. She’d bake gingersnaps with maple icing and got a small tree for them. Best of all, she’d play in the snow with Peter, even start a snowball fight. At that young age, Peter didn’t know any other mother that played in the snow with her kids like his mom. All memories reminded him how much he missed her.

“Of all the times I could use your advice Mom, it’d be right now,” he sadly thought.

Despite how tough his childhood had been, his mom had been the warmest and brightest light in his dark world. When she passed from pneumonia, the light was extinguished. It wasn’t until the friendship of Egon and Ray that helped brighten things again. Claire, being one of his most steady girlfriends, brought more. Then Winston and Janine helped shape the rest. There wasn’t any need to add a daughter into the mix. No, that wasn’t fair. Laurie was in a similar position having lost her mom and now, she’d have to grow up with her dad far away…

Peter eyed the little girl again. He swallowed.

“No. I can’t let that happen.”

He wouldn’t see her every day, but she didn’t need to have a darkened world like he did. She could have those warm lights from Ruth, the neighbors, the ghosbusters and from him. Peter didn’t know and there was still plenty to evaluate, but at least he could commit to that.

The next thing Peter knew was that he’d awake that next morning, Christmas day, still on the couch. Laurie would still be cuddled against him. He didn’t know yet it’d be one of Laurie’s favorite memories when she got older, let alone the first memory she remembered was when she first met her dad.

#the real ghostbusters #peter venkman #laurie venkman #fanfic #fanfiction #Peter's got a long way to go but he's starting somewhere with being a dad #RGB: A Christmas Memory #rgb fic

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perriewinklenerdie · 5 years ago

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Louder than words (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! I got that idea out of nowhere and had quite a different plan for this, but I'm not mad at the direction it went in. It's fluffy and warm

Link to AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797814

Enjoy! <3

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She moved with confidence through the halls of the hospital, a file in her hand as she approached the room of her next patient. She was almost done with her shift, only two hours left, and she was told by the nurses that the person she was about to meet was one of the most nice but demanding people she would ever meet. It made her feel excited and anxious at the same time, loving the challenge and wanting to be the best doctor she could be for that patient.

Opening the door with a friendly smile, she looked at her patient. A woman was lying in bed, reading a book with glasses on her nose. When she heard Claire coming in, she looked up, a pleasant smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

“Ah, you must be my doctor. Pleasure to meet you, Doctor…”

“Herondale. It’s nice to meet you Mrs… Ramsey?” she muttered with shock, looking up from her chart with shock written all over her face.

“Judging by your face, you know my grandson, Ethan, don’t you?” she laughed warmly as Claire nodded slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment.

Never would she have thought that she would meet Ethan’s grandmother. They have talked about their families and maybe a thought of meeting their relatives crossed their minds, but definitely not that early. Now, she didn’t have a choice, his grandmother was right before her.

Ethan didn’t talk a lot about people who raised him, but he did mention the old woman once or twice. From the way he was talking about her told Claire that he valued her opinion and how much he appreciated her being in his life.

“I sure do. He talks about you all the time, Mrs. Ramsey.”

“Oh, does he? He doesn’t keep in touch with my son or my daughter-in-law, and I think that’s mostly their fault. They didn’t try to understand him, they didn’t support him, they turned him away. It’s hard to be around people that don’t believe in you, wouldn’t you agree, Dr. Herondale?” she wondered out loud, shaking her head. “Please, sit down if you have a moment. It’s been a while since I could talk to anyone about my grandson, it’s a refreshing experience.”

“I will, right after we get you some tests and figure out what I can do for you, okay?” Claire smiled brightly, focusing on diagnosing her.

After a few minutes they had their answer, tests were ordered and both women were engaged in a deep conversation. They exchanged the small details that made Ethan the man he was, what Claire noticed and what Mrs. Ramsey could tell her, and by some miracle, the pager didn’t go off.

“He broke three plates while stealing the cake, leaving a path of icing and crumbs all the way to his room. He hid in his closet, eating what he managed to get, and when I found him he had his whole face covered in chocolate. Of course, he blamed everything on the dog, and everyone believed him. Besides me, of course, but that was our little secret.” A memory flooded her mind, bringing a smile onto her face. Claire smirked as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“So young Ethan was a hellraiser, huh. I am definitely going to remind him of that any chance I will get, you can be sure of that.” Both women laughed as their hands met in a warm embrace.

“I am so glad he has a friend like you, darling. You seem like the nicest person I’ve ever met. Makes me sad that he seems to be in love with someone else.”

That kicked the air out of Claire’s lungs. Mentions of love and her not being on the other side of it made her feel insecure all over again. So Ethan talked to his grandmother about… someone else? It all confused her, made her head spin. Mrs. Ramsey must have seen it, because she squeezed her hand a little tighter. Having made sure she was okay, she started listing things Ethan said.

“He talks a lot about her. How his heart beats faster when she is close, how her smile brightens up his day. If I recall correctly, he said that if he could, he would never leave her side… and he mentioned that he works with her. Maybe you know her? Her name is-“

“Grandma? What are you doing here?” Ethan’s voice interrupted her train of thoughts, standing by the side of her bed.

“Ethan, dear! How are you, are they treating you alright here? I know I am taken care of, Dr. Herondale is doing an amazing job. And while I am here, maybe you can introduce me to Claire? I want to meet her.” his grandma spoke, clearly not aware of the fact that she already met her.

Ethan’s eyes widened, looking to Claire, who had a look of shock combined with the biggest grin he has ever seen. At that moment he knew that he would never live this down, but if that meant that she would be by his side till the end of time to remind him of that, he was ready to endure it.

“Um, Mrs. Herondale-“

“Tana, please.” She smiled at the young doctor, only slightly confused about what was happening.

“Claire, maybe we should-“ Ethan started out hesitantly, his face twisting into the expression of a caught man as Tana gasped, delighted by the new piece of information.

“You’re Claire? Oh, what a glorious piece of news it is! I was secretly hoping it was you. I must have given you a heart attack earlier.” She laughed and Claire breathed a relieved sigh, nodding her head.

“You have no idea.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What heart attack. What did you two talk about?” his eyes jumped between the two women, completely lost. Claire smirked at him, looking up at him innocently.

“Oh, you know, childhood stories, your thoughts on me. All the good stuff, I promise.”

“Claire, dear, did I tell you about that time he painted the walls in his room black-“

“That is enough! We are terribly sorry, but we have to run, diagnostic team meeting is about to start. I’ll check on you before I leave tonight, okay?” Ethan exclaimed, taking Claire by her hand and pulling her up and away from Tana. Embarrassment was clear on his face and he was ready to do anything to help his own situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the whole story later.” Tana whispered as she and Claire laughed hugging before the two doctors left the room.

Once on the hallway and far enough to ensure they would not be heard, Claire turned to a very flustered Ethan.

“There is no meeting today and you know it” she smirked as she leaned onto the wall. He closed his eyes, knowing fully well that there was no fooling her.

“You’re way too smart, Rookie. No, there isn’t. I just wanted to get you away from my grandmother, before she embarrasses me further.” He muttered, walking closer to her, their eyes locking.

“You know that it’s inevitable? I am her doctor, just look at how much she told me in those thirty minutes today. I.” she laughed, grabbing his tie. “Will.” She curled the material around her hand. “Know.” She pulled on it, hauling him onto her. “Everything.”

Their lips met in a searing kiss, time and place they were in be damned. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. She responded immediately, her other hand gripping his hair tightly. Getting lost in each other seemed so easy when they were together, way too easy to forget the world. His lips moved down her neck, causing Claire’s eyes to open slightly, bringing some sense to her.

“Ethan…” she breathed his name, her lips curling around it softly and caringly. He hummed, continuing his ministrations on her skin, his fingers curling around her hips. “Ethan.”

He pulled himself away from her, purely by the force of he didn’t know he had, coming to his senses. Claire laughed gently, stroking his cheek softly as she pulled him by his hand.

“Come on, take me home.”

---- ---- ----

Few days passed and with every moment Claire spent with Tana, more and more of Ethan’s past came to light. She appreciated all the insight she got, knowing that he didn’t give away anything willingly.

Tana’s hand was wrapped tightly around her arm as they walked through the halls slowly, their voices quiet, laughing at yet another memory. Other members of the hospital personnel didn’t pay them much attention, the sight of doctors accompanying their patients was quite common.

“So, my son was never fond of Ethan’s pranks, as you can imagine. He may be a seemingly calm and collected man that doesn’t joke, but when he was younger…” words of the elder lady amused Claire, who had quite a hard time imagining young Ethan, raising hell and giving his parents trouble.

“He said that time and time again, that he absolutely hated joking and that he isn’t the type to joke. What a liar.” Claire laughed, shaking her head as she thought of all the ways she could tease him about it.

“Did he now? You should hear about the time-“

“No. Absolutely not. You are coming with me.” Ethan’s voice pierced the air, silencing two women. His hand grabbed Claire’s, pulling her away from his grandmother and towards his office. Tana’s laughter rang after them, saying something about seeing them later.

The door closed behind them with a slam as he pressed her against it, his forehead touching hers softly. Her arms wrapped around his neck, smiling up at him gracefully.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re hiding something from me. Good that it’s just you not being able to stay away from me, right?”

Teasing him has become her favorite past time, and the way he reacted made her unable to stop. Every time she touched him or spoke to him in that low, warm voice, it made him feel all the emotions he never though he could experience. In any other circumstance, with anyone else, he would push them away, insisting that he didn’t need them. With her, it was different. With her, he wanted to try.

“There are still so many things you don’t know about me, all of them could change the way you look at me. All could be different if you listened to the stories through their eyes. I just… care about you. And I don’t want you to see me through the glasses made of my past.” He mused pensively, carefully, gauging her reaction. She pulled him to her, hugging him tightly as she whispered into his ear.

“Your past is a part of you. It’s who you are, you wouldn’t be the man you are today if past didn’t happen. Your Grandma is an amazing woman, she would never do anything to hurt you. All she told me were the storied of your childhood, which, by the way, only confirmed my suspicions.” She cut off, waiting for him to lean back and look at her. “You were the most adorable, little troublemaker to ever walk this planet.”

He scoffed as she giggled, hiding his face in her neck as she stroked his hair. They remained in this position for quite a while, breathing each other in, unable to let the other go. The more time passed, the tighter their embrace got, so much so, that at some point he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the couch. He lied down, letting her head rest against his chest, his fingers running through her hair soothingly.

“You can tell me everything, Ethan. Or you can tell me nothing at all. It’s up to you, and I want you to know that I support and respect that, whatever you decide to do.” She muttered against the material of his shirt, her hand trailing down his arm to lace their fingers together. He hugged her tighter, letting his actions speak louder than words ever could.

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Tag list: @paleweasels, @lilyofchoices, @hopelessromantic1352, @aloehasrose, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer, @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture-blog, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @hazah, @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @yesimacerealkiller, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h,

#ethan ramsey #open heart #choices #mc x ethan #dr ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #mc x ethan ramsey #fic #choices stories you play #playchoices

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sablelab · 5 years ago

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Covert Operations - Chapter 87

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Preparations are made for a relocation of their prisoner as Karen’s suspicions about James Fraser are accurate. Can Claire leave a clue for Jamie if she is moved? Meanwhile William Ransom gives Jamie a location as to his Sassenach’s whereabouts and he hastens there to find her.

Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

My THANKS for your continued support and comments on the previous chapter. My sincere appreciation for doing so.

CHAPTER 87

Karen was very pleased for her conversation with her father had gone well. She had sought his counsel and Sun Yee Lok had taken her recommendations about their hostage Claire Beauchamp without questioning her reasons why. She couldn't wait to implement the changes she thought were necessary concerning her captive especially as her father had given his permission for her to change the locale and deal with Claire as she saw fit. Having his approval had been gratifying and was very important as her rite of passage into the triad had been a long and arduous road. Finally, she felt as though she had passed the final test and was now a worthy member of the Rising Dragons. As Sun Yee Lok's only child, it had seemed that she always needed to prove herself to her father, but this was obviously the beginning of better things to come. It was obvious that her father now saw her as a fitting heir to the triad when the time came. Returning to where the two men were keeping watch over their detainee, Karen addressed Andy before approaching the older man. "How is our guest doing? Has anything happened?" "Nothing ... She has been quiet." "That's good. But I wonder how long it will last?" Claire Beauchamp's kidnapping had been a coup for the Rising Dragons but she was clearly not the person she proclaimed to be. Her gut instinct told her that she was trouble and those connected to her were too, so they needed to find a more secure location to question her. She was worried that Claire's whereabouts would be discovered if they didn't leave this safe house soon and turned her attention to the older man voicing the request, she'd asked her father.

"Wang Yu, our leader needs you to organize a transfer of our prisoner."

"When do you want her moved?" "As quickly as possible." "Tonight?" he queried anticipating her reply. "Yes … if that is possible." Karen's hidden meaning was evident. "It can be arranged Kai-lin. I'll see to it right away." "Thank you, but we need somewhere less accessible than here. We are too exposed and vulnerable at this location." "I understand … I have the perfect place in mind that will be difficult to find if someone comes looking for her." Most pleased with this information. Karen divulged her father’s gratitude. "Excellent … Sun Yee Lok said you would take care of things and he was right." Wang Yu bowed his head in acknowledgement of his leader's praise then quickly left the room to organize the transfer of their "guest". Andy Ma had listened intently to the conversation that had taken place and gave Karen an understanding look before voicing his opinion. "Why the urgency to move her?" "I don't trust her boyfriend. He will certainly come looking for her and I don't want to be here when he does," she declared looking at her boyfriend with a determined stare. "We can deal with him." "He's dangerous Andy. James Fraser is a chameleon. There is more to him than meets the eye. We saw that at the park the other day." "Yes, I agree. But we're more than a match for one man." Karen’s brow furrowed and her face had a look Andy had not seen before. She was obviously worried about this enigmatic man. "There's something about him that's different. He had a coldness in his eyes that was chilling. That man is a killer." "Do you think he will be suspicious of our involvement in Claire's kidnapping?" "I know so. Jamie Fraser will be ruthless in his quest to find her once he knows Claire is missing, so the quicker we leave here the better. I don't want to leave any clues that could lead him to our whereabouts." Andy nodded his head in agreement of her words. "I see what you mean." He then gave her a smug look. "Do you want me to get our "visitor" ready for a transfer in that case?" "We'll wait until Wang returns … then we'll move."

Casting her eyes towards the room where cameras were monitoring Claire's every move; Karen picked up on Andy's "visitor" tag for Claire. She was anything but their visitor and she answered accordingly. "I think our prisoner will be fine until then."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire sat up on the bed wishing that her strength would return. It had been very quiet for some time. No one had stepped into the room and she had been left alone. The drug Steven Bonnet had injected into her had most probably been some kind of sedative to immobilise her movements, and although the drug had nearly worn off and she had better control of her faculties, she felt lethargic. Her injuries were showing some improvement and even her face didn't throb as much now, but her shoulder wound was still tender to the touch. Unfortunately, it would take longer to heal than she thought it would for when she tried to raise her arm, movement was limited. She could only hope that she would have more mobility and strength back soon. Knowing that there was nothing she could do other than wait and see what they had in mind for her; Claire got up and began to walk around the room to get some feeling back into her legs. A little tentative at first, she soon found her balance and managed to walk without stumbling. As she passed by the monitors she looked up and stared at the camera with a defiant look on her face. Whoever was watching would know that she was not broken by their treatment. Her aim was to place doubt in their minds about their methods thus far. Claire knew she had the strength not to buckle ... but Karen didn't know that. Giving the camera another defiant glance, she completed the circuit of the room then sat back down on the bed again. Having spent enough of her energy, she needed to conserve some just in case anything happened. As she sat there, her thoughts turned to her captor Karen Yee. She had been a revelation. How quickly she had shown her true character. She chastised herself for being too trusting where her erstwhile friend had been concerned over and over, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Karen would have her comeuppance … her time would come. There was no way she had even remotely considered that she was a member of the Rising Dragons, but Karen's behaviour towards her tonight had been reminiscent of Madame Cheung who'd been a woman with a charming façade that hid the real person beneath. Was Karen as ruthless as Madame Cheung? If she was a woman in the triad it was highly probable, otherwise they would never have survived the initiation challenges to become a member. She knew then that she would need to watch her foe closely. Although she felt betrayed, it was no good beating herself up over her failure to see through Karen Yee's personality. She’d chastised herself enough since she had known Karen was involved in the Rising Dragons already. Her self-appraisal though had made her stronger and she would not allow her emotions to cloud her judgment anymore. There was also something else that perplexed Claire.

Karen was the second woman to be in this triad which was the bastion of male members. That meant that she must be someone of importance to Sun Yee Lok. Could there be a connection between the two? Was there a connection to Madame Cheung as well?

Claire's mind was wrestling with a myriad of questions to which she had only suppositions and no concrete answers.

How she wished Jamie was here. Closing her eyes, she imagined her love’s beautiful blue eyes. A faint smile touched her lips as in her mind's eye she saw her avenging angel dressed in black coming to her rescue. Jamie would be able to make more sense of her ramblings and add some authenticity to information he may already know about Karen. If she was patient, perhaps an opportunity to escape may present itself in the future. Until then, she would need her wits about her if she was to out manoeuvre Karen Yee when the time was right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Although Claire was trapped in a situation with no obvious means of escape, what she did have was time to think. She had few options until Jamie found her, but she knew he would. If only she could contact him or Section One … but how? Her failure to do so meant that she needed to come up with a strategy that would alert Jamie to who her captors were and how she could be located. Knowing that she was being watched, Claire didn't want to draw attention to herself. She carefully rummaged around in her pocket and her hand felt something. She fingered the object suddenly realising what it was and hoped that it just might leave a clue for Jamie if he was able to find this place. It was a long shot but at least it was something.

Jamie had trained her well and had prepared her for all contingencies. If by chance adversity befell her, then Section One knew she wouldn't crack. Claire would never betray the Section and she could weather any torture the triad might inflict. Her captors really didn't know her at all. Karen may think that she knew her, but in reality, she didn't know the inner strength that she possessed. Hence, they would always be at an impasse. Having learned to shut off her emotions when it mattered, she would do it again if needs be. Claire knew the mantra well. There was only one thing ... one person ... that could ever make her capitulate ... James Fraser, but the triad didn't know that. Nothing had happened yet and Claire began to speculate on what her captors' motives and next move would be.

Were they trying to implicate her in misdemeanours that had befallen the Rising Dragons of late? How much Intel did they really know about her or were they having a stab in the dark? Were they trying to find a weakness in her so that she would submit?

If they were going to extract Intel from her, they would have started their interrogation by now. Hence, she assumed that they were biding their time ... perhaps they were waiting for a major player from the Rising Dragons to arrive. She had her suspicions as to why the triad was doing this and who the person may be. They couldn't afford to stay here for too long ... it was too dangerous for the triad. Jamie would certainly find her if they planned on keeping her here for some time. Karen therefore would need to start her interrogation or move her to another location.

Little did Claire know but her captor had already organized her immediate transfer to a new locality.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Karen Yee Lok watched Claire Beauchamp on the surveillance monitors looking for anything, anything at all that would give her an edge over her captive but she just sat there. Claire was motionless and appeared calm. This was quite infuriating as she thought she would have been edgy at being detained, shot and drugged.

The woman was a mystery to her. She had nurtured and manufactured her friendship with this woman over the months and thought she knew her well, but did she really know her at all? If Claire was involved in the atrocities that had befallen the triad ... there was obviously more to her than met the eye. It was imperative that they broke her to elicit the information they knew she was hiding. Claire Beauchamp knew a lot about the Rising Dragons and she would find out just what she knew and how she was involved with Tony Wong and Madame Cheung. The truth would come out one way or another. If she couldn't get the information ... there were ways and means to make her talk. The triad took no prisoners and once they had broken her and Claire had capitulated, she would be disposed of somewhere where her body would never be found.

Karen’s mind ceased its musings about their prisoner when she heard the sound of footsteps entering the room, and turning her head she saw who it was. Wang Yu had returned. "Well?"

Her one-word question was enough for his explicit reply. "It has been arranged ... we can leave within the hour." "Excellent work Wang. We'll get the prisoner ready."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

William Ransom had served his purpose.

It had been easy to extract the location where Claire was being held for Ransom had capitulated easily when he'd seen what had happened to his friend Steven Bonnet. Fearing what this man would do to him, he’d given Jamie all the information he needed as to Claire’s whereabouts as well as spilling the beans on how they had kidnapped her and why. In retaliation, James Fraser had shown no remorse for his actions towards the man who had abducted his Sassenach and who had been complicit in her being subjected to injury. Ransom had therefore met a similar fate as his accomplice kidnapper.

Once armed with the Intel he required, Jamie knew he would be pushing to make the address where Claire was being held captive by nightfall. He had to travel from the New Territories in the north to the southernmost Peninsula of Hong Kong Island. Time was of the essence. He had many miles to drive to get to the address where his Claire was being held captive not knowing what he would find once he got there.

As he pushed his foot to the metal, Jamie’s main concern was that he wouldn’t be too late to rescue her before the triad tried to extract any information she may know about them. He tried to disregard the thoughts that rushed thorough his mind as to her safety, but he knew that his Sassenach was strong and resilient. She would persevere knowing that he would move heaven and earth to rescue her. Ever determined, he vowed to do whatever it took and however long it took to find her. Claire would risk everything to save him if the situation was reversed and he could do no less for her.

He had fifteen days. He didn't want to waste one moment. James Fraser sped down the road as if he had the devil on his tail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire looked up when she'd heard the sound of the door opening and watched as Karen Yee and Andy Ma entered the room. Through hooded eyes she watched as Karen spoke quietly to her boyfriend. They both looked over towards her for a brief moment, then continued their conversation. Judging by the look on their faces something was up. It looked to Claire as if they were planning how best to handle a situation that invariably concerned her.

So, they had finally come for her. Were they going to torture her for information about the Rising Dragons or were they taking her somewhere else?"

She knew what she could do and decided to thwart their plans for her. She'd try and find out what it was that they wanted. She also needed to find an opportunity to leave the clue for Jamie. Without any shadow of a doubt whatsoever, she knew that he would have found her whereabouts by now and would be on his way to retrieve her. If she procrastinated and was indifferent for as long as possible, then perhaps she could give him extra valuable time in finding her at this location before they moved her to a new one.

Lowering her eyes, she heard their footsteps approach then Karen's voice issued an order as she made her way over to her. "Get up Claire!"

"Why?" "We're leaving." "Where are you taking me?" Karen eyed her with disregard. "Enough questions ... just do as you're told." "No! Not until you tell me where we are going," Claire replied defiantly. Suddenly she felt a stinging whack across her cheek. "That's not important. Get up!" Giving Karen no satisfaction that her blow had had any effect, Claire glared back at her. "Make me!" "As you wish!" Karen gestured towards Andy when it was apparent that she was refusing to comply. He stepped forward, grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her to her feet. When Claire began to lash out at him, Karen quickly grabbed her by the other arm. The jolt to her shoulder caused her to wince in pain. "Arrrgh!" Although mentally refusing to accept Karen's order, the effort to resist their tactics proved to be too exhausting. Physically, Claire was far too weak and was unable to overpower them for she was in a great deal of pain. She gave Karen an imploring look as they began to drag her from the room.

"Okay ... Okay ... I'll comply. Please Karen ... my shoulder."

Her strategy had the desired effect. Relenting, Karen released her arm but not before giving Claire an admonition. "Very well ... but if you resist again ... I will use force."

"I understand. I'll go quietly."

Karen let go of her arm and Claire immediately lowered it placing her hand in her pocket. Her fingers curled around, then closed over the signature matches nestled in her palm. Claire stumbled while at the same time, unbeknownst to her captors, she managed to drop the matches on the floor in the corner near the bed. Karen glared at her when she tripped thinking that her prisoner was really not going to comply as she’d said she would. In retaliation Claire felt them both grip her arms firmly once again. A wry smile briefly appeared on her face, but she disguised it with another moan as Karen and Andy quickened their retreat. Preoccupied in their haste to leave, they'd failed to see what she'd done. She'd been able to leave a vital clue for Jamie. When he managed to reach this location, this small clue would lead him to put two and two together and realise that someone from The Triangle nightclub was involved in her capture. Jamie would know it could only be Karen, Andy Ma or Jonathon Randall who was implicated in her kidnapping and detainment. Armed with this Intel ... he would act accordingly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The address William Ransom had divulged was in the beautiful seaside fishing village of Stanley. Located on the isthmus of Hong Kong Island's southernmost headland, it was a sleepy, beach hollow famous for its covered market and Dragon Boat races. Although Jamie had driven like the wind, it had taken him many hours to drive from the north of the country to Stanley. But he didn't care; he had only one purpose in mind ... to rescue his Sassenach, Claire. William had said that she was in a residential area behind the Temple of the Queen of Heaven and Protector of Seafarers ... the Tin Hau Temple. It was here that Jamie hoped to find something concrete with which to start or indeed end his search for Claire. His wish was that, she would still be there, but if not, perhaps she may have been able to leave a clue as to her whereabouts if she'd been moved.

Jamie drove along Stanley Beach Road and headed into the fishing village. At Stanley Market Road, he passed the large open-air marketplace well known for its bargains. There were many stalls selling ready made clothing such as silk garments and traditional Chinese dress. Further on people were milling around the many toys available, while arts and craft ornaments, luggage and souvenirs were well patronized. It was a popular destination for both tourists and locals alike drawn there by the cheap goods that would usually fetch a much higher price elsewhere. Keeping a keen eye on the people as he passed, James Fraser scanned the faces looking for one that he might recognise, but alas to no avail. Heading west he drove down Stanley Main Street close to Stanley Bay, where a host of western style bars and restaurants lined the waterfront. Many people were enjoying the ambiance of the picturesque scenery of the sea front while cultivating an atmosphere of European panache by al fresco dining on the pavement in the evening air. Cruising along the main road he was vigilant. Jamie scrutinized the diners as he drove slowly past looking for those familiar faces he would never forget. Thinking that he saw a couple dining that looked like Andy Ma and Karen Yee, he slowed down to make sure. When they glanced his way, he sped up again realising he'd been mistaken. The couple were not who he was looking for. Driving to the outskirts of the city, Jamie then headed towards the Tin Hau Temple, one of the oldest temples in Hong Kong. This was the time of the year for the Tuen Ng Festival in the region. As he came closer, he saw many of the local population gathered around the shrine while others were congregating at the temple with candlelight. There appeared to be some sort of pilgrimage to the Goddess of the sea. It was a tradition of the fishermen and their families to make wishes to Tin Hau in order to protect them from dangerous seas and to reward them with a bountiful catch. The locals were also obviously praying for success in the Dragon Boat Championship races that were held at Stanley Main Beach each year to celebrate the festival. It was to his advantage that so many of the locals were at the temple tonight. His movements in his search for Claire would now go unobserved while so many people were occupied elsewhere. James Fraser drove on to the huge residential estate behind the temple. This area was of importance to him, for it was here, somewhere, that his brave Sassenach was being held hostage by the triad. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Claire Beauchamp had been taken to a private airstrip.

Another man, who they'd called MacNab had accompanied Karen, Andy and Wang Yu to the airstrip where a helicopter was waiting for their arrival. From what Claire could gather Mr Yu appeared to be Sun Yee Lok's right-hand man and someone Karen trusted and turned to for guidance. However, the relationship between him and Karen surprised her. Once again, her suspicious were roused. Judging by the way they reacted to each other, it appeared as if Karen was someone of importance in the triad. This was a revelation to her for up until now; Karen had not been as assertive as she had shown tonight. The woman was a chameleon. Just who was she? Claire wondered.

Hovering on the heliport, the rotor blades of the helicopter quickly picked up momentum as their car drove over to the waiting aircraft. Once the vehicle had stopped, Ronald MacNab bundled Claire out of the vehicle and into the helicopter. Wang Yu remained on the tarmac for a brief moment and spoke to Andy and Karen before he too entered the helicopter. He buckled himself in next to Claire with Ronald flanking her on the other side. Wang then signalled to the pilot they were ready. Once the passengers were all inside, Wang Yu closed the door and the helicopter readied for take-off. Claire was unsure of what was going on especially when Karen and Andy did not enter the aircraft. Swiftly the pilot took off ascending into the darkness. Claire managed to see the silhouettes of the two people who were left behind on the asphalt watching as the helicopter flew south over the sea to a new destination. Inside the aircraft, she knew that she would just have to have the fortitude to withstand whatever they had planned for her. Claire had great faith that Jamie would move swiftly once he had something to go on and it wouldn't be too long until he found her. She also vowed to try her comm. unit once again in the hope that this time it would work. She could then contact Section One so that they could finally trace her location. Until then she would sit tight to conserve her strength until the morning and whatever may befall her. Things could be better in the light of day ... but then again ... perhaps not.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

#Jamieandclairefanfic #jamie and claire #outlander fanfiction #outlander au #jamieandclaireau #jamie x claire crossoverau outlander-LFN covertoperations #jamieandclairecrossover #James Fraser #claire beauchamp

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maviemesregles · 5 years ago

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Once I was an Eagle

I'm completely blown away by your responses to this work. Thank you each and one of you who read it, left kudos, reblogged or just said a kind word. It means a lot <3 This second chapter was prewritten before and I did not want to make you wait! :) For those who's been asking about posting in future I plan to update this fic once a week, probably on Wednesdays (but not necessarily). I’m still figuring out the way I want to tell this story but I guess we'll just see how their relationship develops until the present times. At first, I thought of it as little flashbacks but now it seems more necessary to show all the steps of growing together before we arrive at the Angst. Once again excuse me for any mistakes that might be there. ( Yes, I'm still looking for my beta? ❤)

It’s also available on AO3 :)

Posting a little behind the schedule here but... Enjoy!

1.The beginnings

CHAPTER 2: Sassenach

" How did you break your nose?" I asked him (out of nowhere to be honest) finishing the last stitch on his forearm. The tissue there was split about 3 inches long, quite deep. It ran atop his other scar (where did he get it from?) and once healed it would make a cross sign.

'' Huh?" My patient lifted his head looking at me. For whatever reason, I felt my stomach turn into a warm pool. ( why?) That was the first time I had a chance to examine his face properly, to register his features in my mind. His eyes were strangely blue, the shade of blue that reminded me of my vacation to the Maldives. The stubble of gold reddish colour was sprinkled along the sides of his jaw (I wondered whether it was his style or he just did not bother to shave). His face was framed by short cut curls, sticking out slightly near his ears. (I had to fight an urge to tuck them behind).

I nearly dropped an anesthetic when he spoke. The deep flush crept up my neck, reaching my cheeks when I realised I was staring at him.

" Ye didna ask me how I cut my arm but ye ask me about my nose?" Jamie's eyebrows rose as he smiled, small dimple on his right cheek appearing for me to remember. " Is it yer trying to compare the size of my nose and..."

" No." I cut him off coldly, biting on my lip, his sudden remark threw my professional mask off. The smile on his face was wiped out in seconds, eyes fixed on mine. I cursed in my mind (what is wrong with you, Beauchamp?). He was just trying to make a joke and I'm going to have PMS or why else I had snapped again? I almost physically felt the awkward silence that fell on the room, spreading its dirty hands to ruin any possible professional etiquette I tried to maintain. But, it did not have a chance when we spoke together.

" I'm sorry. I did not want to sound mean".

" Sorry, that was verra stupid of me to say, Sassenach".

The phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans before I could answer him. With quiet "excuse me" I pressed decline thinking that Geillis can wait a couple of minutes more, though she would say she'll curse me with all her long line of witches in the family. " What does it mean? Sassi-nak?" I asked taking the last band-aids (only with Disney theme left) from the drawer.

" It means English." He snorted behind my back but when I turned his gaze was surprisingly warm. I swallowed. I had to admit he was beautiful. Beautiful in the way that hypnotized me and I thought that if I could paint he is the perfect model for that. " Or simply an outlander." Jamie watched me opening up the band-aid (which happened to be with Micky Mouse).

" Really? " I narrowed my eyes. Satisfied with my work I gave him the last instructions. " All done. Don't scratch it, don't swim, avoid sport. You may take showers and keep the bandage until you get home". Feeling my phone buzzing again I smiled at him, watching him put on the same woolen coat (dark navy, ending just above his knees) and tartan scarf, I grabbed my own coat.

" I'm sorry I kept ye after yer work hours". He said quietly and suddenly took my black jacket out of my hands. "It's alright." I responded taken aback by his gesture." It's my duty". I could feel his warm breath at the nape of my neck when my back faced him. I grabbed my purse mumbling incoherent 'thanks' and feeling stupid that I acted like a schoolgirl. (Has he noticed that? Christ.)

" What do ye call us, Scots?" Jamie looked up at me when he stood in the doorway. " Nothing really. Is it already not offensive enough?" I bit inside of my cheek trying not to laugh. He smiled. " Aye."

We said goodbye in a rush being interrupted by young nurse Mary Hawkins who has had about a million questions to me. Saying to James Fraser that he can come back in a week for sutures removal I had spent another 20 minutes talking to a father of one of my patients. Geillis was cursing me in three long text messages to which my response was a crap emoji. She had planned on going to some fancy restaurant and spending a ridiculous amount of money on some luxurious dishes, saying it would cheer me up. I wasn't particularly agreeing with her on the thought "Ye look like shite and behave the same. Tis time ye put aside all that Frank story" and was going to spend time home but Geillis wouldn't be one without trying. Typing the message on the screen I mentally counted how much time I really have to get home, change in something more suitable and meet Geillis.

"Sorry, hon. Had one more patient. xx"

" Was he hot?"

" What makes you think it was' him'?"

"Just hope for ye, love"

I rolled my eyes and shivered at the cold wind (bloody hell, Scotland, it was just September?) running down the stairs I successfully avoided the puddle when a familiar voice called. "Sassenach?"

In his hand, he held a takeaway coffee from Starbucks "Just black. Americano. Did I get it right?" " Right" I whispered back. (why? why did I whisper?)

" I'm sorry again for yer wee nose. And yer coffee" Jamie smiled handing me the cup, our fingers brushing slightly, me noticing how warm his skin was despite the brutal Scottish weather. I shook my head and looked down at my shoes. He was smirking. (really?)

" It's okay. Sorry I barked at you then." I chewed on my lip, feeling my toes go numb in the cold. "Be careful with your hand".

"Aye, I will." He had asked my name then and I blurted "Beauchamp", his eyebrows rose and I laughed "Claire. My name is Claire."

Being awfully late for a dinner with Geill, cursing why did I buy this bag that was as big as bloody house, I finally found the keys in the depths of it. Throwing it on the hall floor and kicking my boots off on the way to bedroom I scratched Adso behind his furry ears (who had been sleeping, paws up, sprawled on the carpet in the living room). I jumped into the shower almost breaking my ankle at the slippery tiles. I had to give Geillis a credit. Truly I was feeling as I stood on the edge of the cliff, one foot hanging above it. The emotional state that had me hooked for the last few weeks because of a nasty remark I'd received from Frank in the text message. " You have to cut off the bullshit, Claire. You are not as great a woman as you think". I simply replied, "Fuck you, Frank Randall". But it kept lingering at the back of my head and surely soon enough I started thinking perhaps it was me who did everything wrong and that is why we divorced? Had it been my friend I would have said that it's a talk of insecure man and nothing surprising in a fact that man tries to blame a woman. This is as old as the world and you cannot beat yourself up for it and possibly think you've done something wrong. There were multiple reasons why we have broken up, on both sides. It just didn't work. But his remark threw me off the track and I've got stuck in this state for past two weeks.

Thinking that Geillis's idea of the restaurant actually might be a good distraction I grabbed the purse from the floor when my eyes stumbled at the coffee cup I have left on the bureau shelf. Feeling familiar warmth rising from my belly and going up up up my body making me smile I took a few sips of now cold drink setting it aside. Only then I've noticed a set of numbers scrabbled on the side. It was a number and I did not need to guess long whose it is.

Dinner with Geilis was indeed a distraction. A good one for that matter. We went through all our work weekly news and now for the last twenty minutes, she was telling me in all explicit details about her last Tinder date. Sipping on the nutty red wine I could not help but admit that Jamie has lingered at the back of my mind all evening. When the waiter brought us the check and we were trying to split the sum James Fraser became our next topic of discussion. "Ye ken that he left ye his number on purpose?" Geillis smirked putting away her wallet. " Yes. But what then?" I nodded with my shoulders. "I saw him just twice and the first one was not much of a success." The pharmacist rolled her eyes when we stepped out to the drizzle of rain, lighting a cigarette. " Christ, Claire. I saw him. He was smoking hot. Ye canna just let that chance flow by." The cloud of smoke hid her face for a moment and I coughed. "And ye dinna need to have serious relationships with him. Or just sex with no promises is taboo for ye these days? C'mon. Relax, Beauchamp."

I knew she was right in a way. I was overthinking it. In the last five months after divorce with Frank I had shared a bed with men, went on meaningless dates. Why couldn't I do it now? Jamie was attractive and kind. I definitely could give it a shot.

For the next week, I was swirled into the chaos of work, night shifts, new patients, Adso having stomach problems. I did not have the time or chance to call Jamie. And when I finally remembered about it, sitting in well-worn pajamas, eating crisps out of the packet on the couch I'd realised I threw the cup into the rubbish bin. Thinking of it as bad omen I tried not to dwell on it much but my plan has been changed by Mary Hawkins who apparently took off the sutures of Jamie and with red face shoved a note into my hand while I was filling in the charts. All the way home I felt as if the note in my pocket will burn my hand off.

Looking at the piece of paper with neat handwriting that said "I'd hoped it would be the Sassenach who removes my stitches. *smiley face* P.S. I hope my handwriting is good enough this time because I have a feeling ye couldna read the phone number. Fancy a good Scottish whisky instead of coffee? J." I dialed Geillis, pacing the room in circles, Adso following me with a look "Are you okay, Mama?"

" That's the lad ye bumped into in Lallybroch? The one with stitches?" Her voice sounded dangerously excited. " Mmmh" I hummed noise of approval, staring out of the window.

" He knows his ways" She chuckled. "Tell me ye will go and see him?" I leaned my forehead against the glass, the warm breath making it misty. "He's my patient." A long line of cursing on the other side followed my answer and it made me smile. That's why I loved Geillis though sometimes she was a lot to handle.

"Well, a patient ye treated... like what? Ten minutes? Plus, ye've seen him before so it's like ye know him. I will kill ye with my own bare hands if ye dinna call him at least."

I chewed on my lip and glanced at Adso as if it could shake off my doubts. " You know what? I'll meet him." I stated simply.

" That's the spirit, lassie!" Her happy squealing made me grimace. "Dinna forget to shave". After another five minutes of a stream of advice from my best girlfriend I took out the Starbucks paper cup from the trash, I threw it in the evening before (he better be worth it). Not to give myself a chance to change my mind I dialed right away.

We agreed to meet in a pub of Jamie's choice (he had promised it's one of the best in Edinburgh) I spent a good amount of time thinking what to wear. What does one wear to a pub? To date in the pub? (seriously?) Was it a date at all? As my wristwatch showed 6pm I finally stood in the hallway 30 minutes before meeting James Fraser (not as my patient). I had promised myself to keep this easy and fun. I'm just seeing this handsome Scot, having a couple of drinks with him, flirty chit chats, maybe ending up in mine or his apartment as a bonus. Easy and fun.

"Get your shit together, Beauchamp." I hissed to myself taking the last look in the mirror. Highwaisted jeans, cream sweater and suede high heels boots that I've bought being drunk last Christmas and never wore (heals and I were from different worlds). It was definitely an upgrade since Lallybroch market accident but it did not scream "Look, I've just spent two hours figuring out my outfit!".

Getting into the cab (not that I had planned on being drunk but my inner voice knew better) I texted Geillis the name and GPS location of the pub.

"In case I get abducted, you know. xxx".

" Yer ridiculous but I still love ye. Have a good shag. Kidding. Have fun. xxx"

Nodding at cab driver's "Have a good evening" I stepped out to the busy street, full of noises, tipsy people, the smell of street food mixed with weed smoke. Glancing last time at my cell phone where Jamie's text shone on the screen five minutes ago "I'll be inside, ye can find me at the bar. ;)" I walked inside the pub.

The first time we met (or rather bumped into each other) I haven't noticed much besides his bright hair and a soft smile. The second time, James Fraser was my patient and despite all medical etiquette written I kept thinking how good-looking he was. Neither times I felt nervous or confused, I felt at ease with him and only anticipated what he might be if we meеt in normal set up? Now I caught myself fidgeting my fingers along the strap of my purse, eyes scanning the crowd. It wasn't hard to spot him. His tall posture was slightly bent across the bar as he spoke to the bartender, the red mop of hair shook in agreement and then he turned his head.

I was halfway there when he noticed me. I had smiled when he leaned to press a kiss to my cheek, his lips dry and warm, body dangerously close to mine.

" Claire". He hummed with a deep noise coming up his chest. I dropped my coat on the back of the stool when Jamie slid it aside for me to seat.

"I took a chance and ordered for ye." He pointed at two tumblers of whisky on the polished wooden counter.

"Taking a risk?" I smirked, my fingers feeling a cold surface of the patterned glass. " Oh, aye." If a look could burn then Jamie's eyes would’ve made a see-through hole in me. "Sláinte!"

"How's your arm?" I tilted my head, watching his lips meet the glass surface. It could have been a mesmerizing movie scene I'd watch again and again. "Do ye always talk about yer work, Dr. Bechaam?" He grunted glaring at me. " But since ye asked, it's fine, though I was verra much disappointed it wasna ye there to remove the stitches." I felt goosebumps running down my skin, making each little hair erect, all the same, familiar warmth rising at the bottom of my belly.

"How come?" I quirked one brow in a question (although I knew the answer). "Ye have a good touch, Sassenach" Jamie shook his glass, ice clinking, before gulping it down. Feeling slightly more reckless I licked the tingling sensation off my lips, leaning closer to him. "I could check it for you if you like. To see if there is no infection".

The rest of the evening we spent in easy banter. Jumping from one topic to another, fun and serious, sad and happy. He had told me about his family "Wee Maggie was verra jealous of the Micky Mouse band aid ye gave me". I told him about my times in medical school (how I broke my arm in the third year trying to pass a note to Geillis on the exam). He remembered his most embarrassing date with his first girlfriend Annalise. I shared my last awful experience with meeting a guy after speaking with him on Facebook. Jamie said he likes horses, I answered: "I'm interested in botany".

All the time I was strongly aware of our knees touching, of him laughing (loud and so genuine it made my heart skip a beat) and bending forward, his warm breath lingering above my skin, our fingers brushing accidentally when laid atop the bar counter. Two hours later we stood outside the pub, his coat loosely draped over my shoulders for extra warmth "Aren't you cold?" I had asked then. "No, Sassenach. We Scots made of solid stuff" He laughed, fishing his cell phone out of the pocket. I was fidgeting from one foot to another thinking how I might get him inside my flat? I was tipsy, feeling quite reckless and more than conscious of his attractiveness.

"I'll get ye a cab, text me when yer safe home, aye?" He glared at me, his pinky lightly caressing the inside of my wrist when he called a taxi.

" Jamie, don't you..."

He did not let me finish, tucking away the stray curl behind my ear, his warm fingers tracing the line down my jaw. " I would verra much like to kiss ye. May I?"

Without much words I stepped forward, his lips crushed under mine. Jamie hummed appreciative "mmmm" his fingers tangling in the hair on my nape. I could feel the lines of muscles under his shirt when we were pressed along each other, my hands going up and down his arms. I inhaled deeply when we parted, watching him lick his lips.

"I'll see ye around, Claire?"

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #once i was an eagle #chapter 2 #outlander modern au

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boogiewrites · 5 years ago

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Choking On Sapphires 87

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: It’s too late to turn back now.

Summary: Genevieve gives a heavy dose of karma and learns about herself in the process. Alfie is once again reminded why he fell in love with her in the first place.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Alfie was met with cold indifference that he knew was justified, no matter what his intentions were in his harsh words to Genevieve. He’d let the stress get to him and he’s forgotten to be delicate. She truly had come so far, but her defeat that he warned her of had pushed him too far and he found himself falling into the easy habit of giving his cold hard opinion in retaliation to someone going against what he said to do. He’s forgotten to treat the one soft thing in his life with just that when she needed it the most. And now she was gone.

There was no weakness behind her eyes that next morning. No hurt or shame to be found as he studied her from the opposite side of her dining room table. The great expanse between them more than suited for how distant they felt to each other now. They eat in silence, and she pays him no mind. He knows it’s warranted. As he had been helping her back to their room before he readied himself for work he calls out as she stands from her seat.

“Do you need me to-“

“No.” She states plainly with black eyes meeting his from across the room. “I won’t be requiring your help any further.” She states with cold biting tounge that he hasn’t heard since before the accident, and never directed at him.

“‘Course.” He says with a bow of his head as he sees Claire approaching her with a stack of paperwork, handing Gen her glasses as he saw she already had her plans for the day.

Their mornings continued in the same pattern. He ate as if he were invisible, and Gen came out fully dressed and talking shop over her meal with Claire about business. As much as it did hurt in its own way to be ignored, to see the result he had wanted all along forming in front of him as a result of his actions was still satisfying. The businessman in him was pleased, but the lover in him was not.

Genevieve felt a new. She felt self assured in a way she hadn’t even before the abuse. She knew now the cold and careless ways of the world

Outside. She was no longer approaching her work or life with a touch of whimsy, but the same harsh judgement it had given her. She got better faster, taking Alfies words in mind and not pushing but working forward at a steady pace. She stayed home but found her routine again, the maths and the reading and writing of her work. She walked the gardens, greenhouses and aviary and became one with her land and product again. She was slowly becoming what she felt she should have already, a confident but realistic woman who would no longer try to rule with love. She would rule now with respect, and if she found it Necessary, fear.

Claire was out conducting what would be the last of the solo collections for the rent of Genevieve’s properties. Seeing the state of her land without her constant oversight led the staff to have more than enough to keep busy to get things back to her standards, not a Normal one.

Gen’s feeling quiet and reserved this afternoon, a leisurely stroll around her estate to brainstorm and reflect. She found the click of her heels on the marble floors to be soothing as the architecture and decoration kept her eyes busy. She was planning for her future, wondering how to dispel the nasty rumors that had been going around about her, as she’s demanded Claire tell her them all. And she had. And now Gen was out to make everyone eat their words.

As she takes this thoughtful stroll she hears a female voice from the phone room. With narrowed eyes she approaches, knowing she’d told the girls no calls unless emergencies during work hours. And nothing had been approved by her so she prepares to scold an absent minded young girl. But the voice is not young and the words she hears stops her in her tracks and a new much stronger emotion creeps in.

“It’s been a bloody mad house let me tell you.” The women’s voice says and Gens hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “She’s a mess. Falling apart at the seams, she is. Her and Solomons don’t even speak anymore!” The delight she hears in the rumors being fueled by one of her own makes her eyes dilate and go black. Her shoulders relax and she spine stiffens, and she shifts into a mood that was far more intense than what she had felt before. “Who even knows! Wandering about naked in the garden! It’s shameful! Like some bloody pagan!” The woman laughs. “She talks to people who aren’t there you know? Almost sad.” She continues and Gen presses her back against the wall. Feeling the cool stone under her palms as she takes deep and slow breaths. No matter what the next words were there would be no saving this woman now. “They fight constantly! Shouting and hitting like children! He’s bound to leave her anytime now!” She exclaims as if she were proud as the red haze in Gennys eyes grew thicker, pulse pounding in her temple as she hears the nonsense spewed out into the Londoners ears that she was now having to help reign in. All this trouble from this woman. All this work because this cow couldn’t help herself. If this maid couldn’t help but talk, then Gen couldn’t help what she was going to do to her. “Once he finds out she’s pregnant with Horne’s child then he’ll be gone. She’s not bled still! How they are living in denial this deeply is BEYOND me!” She laments and Gen loses the last bit of reserve she had. Her brain makes the connection. This had happened before. This was Dorothy, the same woman who kept on with her passive aggressive compliments and mentioning things that triggered her. She was what made Gen lose control before, and she was about to cause it again.

If you were to ask her in approximately 15 minutes what happened she couldn’t tell you. But she most certainly knew the woman got what she had coming to her.

She meekly hangs up, and trots with her cloven hooves to the back hallways and Gen is right behind her. Silent as the night and eyes as dark with their blown pupils and no sign of remorse anymore. She saw only red and was going to kill Dorothy.

Dorothy moves into a dry goods pantry and Gen seizes the opportunity. She hadn’t felt this alive this...good in so long.

“Hello Dorothy.” She scares the woman as she clicks the door shut behind her.

She jumps and clutches her chest. “Oh Miss Durand! You startled me!” She laughs.

“Did I? And I thought nothing got past you in this house?” A single light bulb casts and eerie shadow on Gens hard and uncaring face. Dorothy watches as she takes a chair and wedges it under the doorknob and she starts to sweat.

“What ever do you mean Miss?” She stutters.

“You can drop the act you lying slag. I know you’ve been telling rumors and lies about me.” Her voice is deep and her shoulders shift with her body as she approaches the other woman, her body moving like a cat stalking its prey.

“What are you-?”

“I said… fucking… drop it.” She very literally growls and moves closer as the woman gives in.

Her shoulders slump and she sighs. “So you FINALLY found out. I knew Solomons was into me but not you.” She shakes her head.

“Even counting the days I bleed? What sort of fucked up woman does that? Do you have no life of your own that you must insert yourself into mine and try to belittle me?”

“I was paid to, don’t flatter yourself. Some high class London woman told me about this job after my former passed. Knew I’d be suited to help take you and Solomons down.”

“Why?”

“Because someone should.” She snarls back as Gen looks her up and down. “You’re nuttier than a fruitcake love don’t ya know?” She snaps back. “People should know you’re mad as a hatter out here and taking Solomons with you!”

“So someone who doesn’t like our lifestyle.” She responds calmly.

“No one should! You’re a loon and he’s a criminal!”

“Then we were made for each other hmm?” She smirks.

“See! You make no bloody sense! you’re both awful and hide behind your money. He’s a murderer and you’ve been beaten senseless.”

“You forgot one thing.” Gen says with a wicked smile that makes the maids blood run cold as she realized the danger of the company she was in.

“Wha- What?”

“He’s not the only murderer.” A smile that grows slowly, time enough for fear to cross Dorothy face. There was that look Gen missed. The one where they knew they were going to die. She hums at the feeling of control again. She’d missed it so.

What follows is a damn near artistic display of violence and gore from Genevieve. From the first pounce, the shrill scream of her victim sending chills of delight across her skin she blacks out, gives in to the dark part of her mind and loses herself.

When she comes to the door is being beaten in behind her, concerned shouts from the other side and her thumbs are dug into Dorothy’s brain. Her face was beaten into an unrecognizable pulp, broken bones led the body to lay in a most haunting and unnatural way. Gen was covered in blood spatter from beating the woman’s face into the stone floor. She’d taken every bit of frustration out on her and she felt… amazing.

Gasps and cries of shock are heard as the door finally breaks and Gen is pulled away. The red of blood lending a lovely contrast to her white and navy business ensemble.

Aggie screams at her only inches away, face full of concern but Gen only smiles. “I’m lovely Aggie. Thanks for asking.” She says despite not hearing what the woman said. She only stared at the body in the floor and heard a high pitched tone that drowned out most everything else.

Aggie face is confused and turns to fear when Gen starts laughing. She’s snapped she thinks. And to a degree she was right, but it was only temporary.

Gen comes to a realization. She’d seen this before. She’d been Aggie in this scenario. Arthur had spells like this, of inhuman violence and wild abandon. His mad dog side they’d called it. She hadn’t understood it until now. She realizes she owes him some apologies. She understood now. She had to break and put herself back together just like he had after the war...and now they were one in their madness. She thought it all very sentimental.

“GENEVIEVE ARE YOU HURT?!” Finally breaks through. Her eyes turn to Claire who does not look afraid, and that was why she adored her so much to be honest.

“I’m fine.” Gen responds with a shake of her head. “Not hurt.” She says looking down and touching, double checking herself.

“Who IS that? WHY?” She demands.

“Dorothy. She was a paid spy who has been leaking the rumors.” She calmly states and recognition comes across Claire’s face.

“What did you...do to her?”

“I killed her it seems.”

“Yes but...you’ve never done THAT before Gen. are you sure you’re-?”

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time cheri.” She smiles up at her friend. “But I’m afraid I don’t know what I did. I must’ve blacked out in anger.” She works thought he erased space of time.

“Well that…” Claire shrugs. “That would make sense.” She mutters. “So you had proof she was the one doing it?”

“I heard her.” Gens nose twitches in anger but seeing the blood spot where the woman’s head used to be makes her feel better. “Every disgusting word. Some high class cunts hired her to spread stories and help bring Alfie and I down.” Gen blinks rapidly. “Alfie.” She says looking to the doorway. “He should know.” She adds quietly.

“He should be on his way home at this hour. What a surprise for him today.”

“At least it is a good one.” Gen says with a tilt of her head.

Claire looks at her befuddled and lets out a nervous laugh. Gen seemed perfectly aware and coherent. But good lord what she’d done to that woman was anything but.

—————

Alfie comes home to very skittish and whispering maids. Taking his coat off and hanging it, narrowing his eyes at them before shouting.

“FUCKIN’ WOT, EH?” Causing them to jump and scurry away.

“Alfie.” Claire says with a tone he knows means nothing good. Her hand resting on the archway towards the kitchens

“What now?” He says loudly and shoves his feet into his slippers, taking his suspenders off his shoulders as he begins rubbing his temple.

“Just follow me.” She says with a less problematic delivery.

“Now I can’t even know what’s going on in me own house?” He gets out before rounding the corner and seeing Gen standing, covered in blood. Much to her surprise when she sees him he rushes towards her and holds her face. She meets him with wide blinking eyes that look mildly confused. “What happened, love? Are ya hurt?” Looking her up and down and touching her lightly.

She takes his hands slowly and puts them back down at his aides and his brow furrows further at her reaction.

“I’m perfectly fine.” she pauses and her lips form a tight line before she continues. “... but I did kill a maid.”

“YA FUCKIN WOT?” He shouts his face moving quickly to angry.

“The pantry.” She points casually and he steps back, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell Genny. Gods not gonna recognize her sendin’ her back like that.” He remarks with a raised brow. “Ya fuckin...I ‘on’t even know who that is! Can’t even identify the body in that state.” He continues and scratches his head. “And you did this?” His tone turns to concern.

“I did.” She nods and looks unaffected.

“Ya mind telling me fuckin’ WHY ya turned her head to mash?” He exclaims.

“Her name was Dorothy.” She states factually without emotion. The name immediately rings a bell for Alfie. “I caught her calling out and telling lies and stories about me, and you. And us. Nasty rumors I know you’ve heard by now. Us fighting, me pregnant with…” She takes a deep breath and her eyes meet his with a boldness he knows means she was indeed sane for the time being. “Horne’s child. The hallucinations, pagan rituals, every sort of thing. It was her.” She nods her head in the direction of the headless body.

“I KNEW that one was off!” He snaps and growls looking at her again then to the floor towards Gen. “I told her not to make calls during work hours once before. Guess she didn’t listen eh?” He remarks sarcastically before taking steps towards Gen.

“Someone hired her as an insider. Some high class person to infiltrate and destroy us.”

“She said that?” He responds quickly.

Gen nods and Alfies face contorts in thought. “They don’t like our lifestyle. Don’t think people like us should be in their world.”

“Nothing new.” Alfie grumbles. “What a fuckin pain in the arse though yeah? The bollocks to plant someone! And to further harm a sick woman! Fuck those posh cunts. Swear I’d like to bash their fuckin’ heads in meself!” He proclaims with a groan after. “ But you…” He begins and puts his hands on her shoulders. “You did exactly what you should’ve. I would’ve done the same.” He says with eye contact and sincerity to his voice that breaks through her now useless resentment towards him.

She nods in agreement. “I couldn’t let her live after the things she said. I knew what I was doing but, I just kept...going. Until there was nothing of her left.”

“Ya okay now it seems.” He offers.

“Yes. Perfectly.” She shrugs. “It felt damn good to do that to her truthfully.”

“I’d say so.” He reserves his judgements and feels an inkling of optimism for Gen and their future. She was always a killer, but before Horne never to this degree. She’d snapped like one of the boys in the field. But there was no screaming and hitting to bring her back thankfully, but he could use this brutality to his advantage. “I’ll take care of this, love.” He says with a nod to her, being sure to meet her eyes and show support that he had so severely been lacking in doing as of late.

“No.” She says gently with a shake of her head. “I will.” She clears her throat and looks over to Claire who’s pleasantly surprised by the exchange between them. The most they’d spoken in around a week and certainly the most affectionate. “Gather the staff. All of them. In the ballroom. We need to get some things straight.” She says before sighing and looking to the body in the pantry. “Could use some help cleaning that up though.” Says before turning to look at Alfie again.

“I can certainly do that. Get my lads on it.” He nods and follows her lead. “Won’t have to worry about no one identifying the body at least.” He offers in a light hearted way.

she blinks slowly as if she’s considering it. “I do suppose that’s true.” She reflects in a thoughtful tone and moves to the meeting place.

With the varied people all standing and most looking confused in the golden and marbled ballroom, Gen walks in from the hallway slowly with clicking heels and blood still covering her clothes. Alfie stands back at the entryway and observes.

“There was a woman murdered here today. Her name was Dorothy. Some of you knew her, others didn’t. But I want to take this occasion to make some very important statements. Best you listen well.” She stands with her back straight and her eyes piercing into each person as she speaks. “We will deny this woman ever existed. She never worked here. We haven’t heard of her and she was never here in any capacity. You say nothing and heard nothing.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, adding to the delivery. “She was here as a spy to take us down. To spread lies and rumors by those who would oppose our successes. By those who do not approve of Mr. Solomons and mine ways of conducting business. They dared to send a rat aboard my ship when I was incapacitated. This shows me there is a new line drawn now for us. For me. This for each of you. There are people out to get us. Who want to destroy what we’ve worked so hard to build. They want to kill us and our way of life and we will not allow it. If you think that they are after only Alfie and myself you should remind yourself that our ruin is yours. If you have had the good fortune to only ever work for me, then you do not know of the horrors that await lovely little girls with no families in other homes. There is no school, adequate housing or support. There is back breaking work, rape and no future.” Some of the girls shift and show their discomfort. “I killed this Dorothy for what she has tried to do. And I will make sure personally that anyone else that tries to betray me will also be met with a violent end just as she was. I will not tolerate anything but loyalty. For this is a new era for myself and all of you. My successes are yours, and my downfall is shared by you as well. You’d do well to remember that. And if you cannot, leave now or go see the remains in the pantry before they’re gone so you can know what your future holds.” She holds the room in apt attentions all eyes on her. “Nothing will change in this moment for you. Go on about your work. But best you remember who takes care of you, yes? Because I can end you just as easily.”

The room is silent except for the stray gulp or sniffle. She gives a stern nod and exits after a drawn out silence here she eyeballed each girl to get a read on them. She was hoping she had fully put the fear into them.

Alfie watches her walk past him and down the hall to her wing like he’s invisible. He feels an odd churn in his stomach. One he hadn’t felt in months.

The power was still coming off her as her stone face readied for bed with its creams and primping. She was back in her sheer and flowy gowns, having noticed their reappearance after their last fight. She felt strong and womanly in them, showing her body that carried her through these challenges proudly. She empowered by herself and her nudity and her mind once more. All aspects of herself forming a newly evolved woman who was more based in reality and fact, less heart and more mind. Her new take on life killed pieces of her old self, but in their absence a new woman was born. And she was ready to take back her power.

There was that stomach roll again as he sat in silken pajamas and watched her over his half circle glasses while she took strides around her room. Her body language most certainly sold that it was her space, and his body was responding to it.

She takes off her dressing gown and matching slippers, lotioned and potioned and ready for a well deserved rest as she slides into bed and as it has been she pays Alfie not much mind. He decides it’s time to change that.

“Genevieve, love?” He asks politely as she settles back into a pile of pillows, propped up and facing him with her journal in hand.

“Yes?” Her eyes bright and attentive to him as they meet his without hesitation now.

“I wanted to tell you that I support your handling of the situations that came to pass today.” He leans in to speak to her with a calm but still gruff tone.

“Thank you.” She accepts with a nod.

“And I know we’ve been in a bit of a bad way yeah? And I hope that we can start to mend that now. Seein’ as you’re so boldly taking things into your hands again. Which is lovely to see that is.” He gives her a genuinely supportive series of nods.

He could sense her reservation but she wasn’t angry anymore it felt. “Thank you again, Alfie. I would like for us to… mend what’s been broken over these past months. Now with others out to take down both of us, and in such a tasteless manner, it’s important for us to appear as a united front. We are stronger together than apart. And I believe in time we will… mend as you said both our personal and professional relationships.”

She speaks so diplomatically about their lives it should’ve made him feel cold or detached. It should’ve made him not want to warm up to her, to touch her and tell her how proud he was of her. But it did.

“As all things it will come in time. Not only do I need more time to process and grow but more reflection on your behalf wouldn’t hurt either.” Her words were not meant to anger him, she was speaking like he would in a transaction. She was being level and honest and telling him what she wanted and not much caring if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. And he hates to admit it but he loved it. “We’ve been through a lot. Best not rush the apologies and… romance until the more important things are handled, yes?”

He wanted to kiss her for her stern words. Wanted to tell her this woman was more perfect than the last, this rational and striking ball buster with her own needs first was making him want her something terrible. “‘Course love.” Is his measured response with an approving nod. “Couldn’t have said it better meself.” He adds as he situated into the covers. “May I wish you a goodnight?”

Her eyes moves back over to him and he swears there’s a ghost of a smile behind her calculated tilt of her head. “You may.” Her voice almost as a purr to him.

He leans over and kisses her cheek innocently. “Goodnight love. Sleep well.” He adds with a charming furrow of his brow.

“Goodnight, Alfie. I believe I will.”

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elizabethemerald · 5 years ago

Text

Dreams of Drowning: Chap 10

Before they can rescue Claire Jim and his friends need more information. Jim is sent back into 49-B for reconnaissance. He and Claire are desperate to be with the person they love. And the Lake house will receive an unwelcome guest.

AO3

Please Reblog if you like! Please, please, please!

Jim couldn't help his annoyance as he walked back into his work. He would love nothing more than to never see this building again till they broke in to free Claire. Strickler however had stressed that they couldn't let anyone know that they were plotting something.

"If you don't show up," Jim could clearly remember his voice. "They will know we know. And the last thing we want is them knowing we know they know."

That had brought nothing but confused murmurs from everyone else. When Nomura had clarified that they didn't want to tip their hands too soon they had finally nodded their understanding.

Strickler had continued, "You two will be our men on the inside. Gather as much Intel as you can, but keep these with you." He had handed out a bracelet to both Jim and Toby. Hidden on the side of each was a small button. "If you get found out, this will signal the rest of us. We'll do everything we can to get you out of there."

Jim had communicated the plan so far to Claire that night while he dreamed. Then reluctantly returned to work the next day.

He made sure to document everything he could, taking picture after picture of security cameras, the security guards and anything else he could think of. The one place they had almost no information on was the basement levels, the very levels where Claire was being held. If their plan was going to succeed they needed to know what was down there.

Toby had volunteered to get "lost" and find his way down there, but Jim felt he had too much to risk. So when he got into work he prepared Claire's food and took it to the elevator himself.

It was a simple affair to step onto the elevator along with one of the researchers who worked below. They recognized the tray of food going to what they had dubbed "the entity."

Jim wanted to scream at them. He wanted to don his armor and force them to release her. Claire is a person, he wanted to shout. Not some lifeless thing to be studied! They've been willingly hurting her and he wanted to take revenge on every single one of them.

With more restraint than he would have thought himself capable of, he did not attack them. Instead he followed them out of the elevator. He pushed the tray down the hall carefully angling the hidden camera to capture everything.

There were even more security guards down here. Multiple cameras catching every angle. Even the doors down here were heavy metal, with only small portholes. But Jim couldn't risk getting caught looking through them.

He followed the researcher in front of him to a pair of massive doors. He passed the tray of food off to the security guard at the door. He turned away with more restraint than he would have thought possible. He tried not to let his rage show on his face as he walked back to the elevator.

Behind Jim, the door that he knew lead to Claire’s tank opened and an amazing melody filled his mind. He recognized it as one of the songs that had been playing on the radio when he had driven Claire to the party.

As the music overwhelmed his senses he couldn’t resist the urge to start to dance along with the music. Right there in the hallway Jim danced. He was surrounded by staring researchers and concerned guards and still he danced.

When he turned around he found himself face to face with Dr. Morgan. Her eyes were wide as she watched him dance in place. Even with her right in front of him, the woman who had been hurting Claire so badly and so often he couldn’t resist continuing to dance.

“I-I-I’m so sorry Dr. Le Fay.” Jim struggled to say. Even as he addressed her he spun in place. She stared at him for a moment longer than seemed to shake herself.

"That's quite alright Jim. Step this way, you can dance to your heart's content in this room."

She lead him to one of the rooms with a small porthole window. She held the door open while Jim tried to reign in his dancing. There was a look of wonder on her face as she shut the door behind him.

When Jim was by himself he reached out with his mind to Claire. As soon as his magic touched her the music overwhelmed him and he began to dance again.

"Claire! What are you doing?" Jim called to her.

"We didn't get a chance to dance at the party and I know you wanted to." Came her reply. Jim couldn't even pretend like he hadn't badly wanted to dance with the woman he loved. "Who knows when we can next dance together. I just want to dance with you."

Jim let the music flow through him, he shut out the room he was in, and in his mind's eye, he could see her there. He danced with her waving back and forth, spinning this way and that. He could feel cerulean flames pouring down his arms as he danced with her. Their magic flowed together just like it did when they awakened his mother's magic. He could feel, as their magic sang through his blood, an answering song. He could feel Barbara's magic join them in their dance, Toby and Darci he could feel distantly as well.

The two of them danced together as the music flowed and their magic flowed with it. Claire danced in her tank, twirling as much as the chains on her arms allowed, while Jim danced in the room. Even though they weren’t in the same room their dance was perfectly in sync like they were in each other’s arms.

Eventually Jim stepped back laughing. He could feel Claire’s laugh in his head as well. The music faded from his mind.

“I love you, Claire.” Jim thought.

“I love you too, Jim.”

More than the thought, Jim’s mind was filled with the overwhelming feeling of Claire’s love. He matched the feeling, pouring his own love for her into the air. He bowed low to the empty room and felt her bow in return.

"I'll get you out of here, whatever it takes." Jim whispered.

He sheepishly stepped out of the room he had been dancing in. However neither the guards nor researchers approached him. A few threw him odd looks but no one said anything. And Dr. Le Fay had disappeared from the hallway.

Jim hurried to the elevator and ascended to the kitchen level. The rest of the day passed by in a blur, his joy made him feel like he was flying.

* * *

Jim walked into his mother's house and all eyes immediately flew to him. He paused his hand still on the door knob. Strickler, Nomura, Toby and his mom all stared at him.

"Wha-?"

"Jimbo, are you the reason I've had Eres Tú stuck in my head all day?" Toby asked, cutting him off.

"Or are you perhaps the reason my wife felt the overwhelming need to dance with me to music only she could hear?" Zelda asked.

Jim blushed up to his ears. "Ah, well that was partially my fault and partially Claire's."

"Young Atlas, I thought I had stressed the importance of remaining unnoticed if we weren't to show our hands too soon."

“I’m sorry-Actually no I’m not.” Jim set his shoulders back. He stared at all of them, but he could feel himself looking through them, looking at the woman in the tank. “I love her. I’m going to do whatever it takes to free her, but if there’s anything I can do to make her imprisonment less awful I will.”

“Jim-” Strickler started but Toby interrupted.

“Actually that makes a lot of sense.” Toby said. “I felt how much they loved each other during the dinner. If anything like this was happening to Darci I would probably do the same.”

“I-” Walter tried to start again.

“I agree.” Barbara said, she put her hand on Zelda’s cheek. Dark blue light shone in her eyes and at her fingertips. “I could feel their emotions during the dance. Any small thing we can do to reduce her suffering. I would do the same for you.”

She said the last directly to her wife. Strickler looked between them all then shrugged his shoulders magnanimously.

“It is clear I am the odd man out. Not just on this matter either. Still we need to begin our discussions about what to do. If we want to be able to free her this year.”

Jim sat on the couch as Strickler pulled up the pictures he had taken. They were so close to a good plan, but it would take time to perfect. But how much time? In many ways he worried about how much time Claire actually had.

Before Stickler could start his little presentation he got a phone call. He stepped aside to answer it. Barbara dimmed the light of her magic, and Toby sat forward to look through some of the pictures.

“You found him? Where is he?” Strickler’s sudden shout brought everyone’s heads whipping around to face him. Strickler looked at them, his eyes wide. He hung up the phone. “Bular has been sighted! Heading this way.”

A crash from outside the front of the house brought them all to their feet. Jim had his amulet in his hand, he quickly ran to the front window and looked out, Toby over his shoulder. As they watched Toby’s truck was tipped over on its side.

“Awe, not my truck!”

Jim pushed past him, throwing open the front door. From the other side of the tipped truck came a familiar figure. Bular still wore his black leather jacket, though he had forsaken his helmet.

“You’ve gotten strong, but I’m stronger too!” Jim said, holding out his amulet.

“I’ll carve your spine out! Your mother and her wife too!” Bular roared.

“I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her again!” Jim held up the amulet, pale blue fires racing down his arms. “Daylight is mine to comma-”

Before he could finish the incantation Bular charged with a roar. Jim didn’t have time to avoid the attack. He took the hit just as his armor finished appearing around his body and was knocked flying backwards. He crashed through the front wall, shattering windows and throwing furniture flying as he slid to a halt in the living room.

Everything hurt. Jim groaned and felt blood trickle from his mouth. Even with the protection of his armor he could feel multiple broken ribs, and his arm sat at a wrong angle. Each breath wheezed out, and blood foamed at the corners of his mouth when it did.

“Jim!” Barbara fell to her knees at his side. Blue light flared from her hands and shone from her eyes. “Oh my god Jim!”

Even as he struggled to maintain consciousness, the question whirled around his head. How could Bular be that strong? No human was that strong. Unless… Unless he had taken some of Claire’s magic.

He could feel his mom’s magic flowing through his body, knitting the wounds back together, fixing his ribs and his arm, pulling the blood out of his lungs. But it wasn’t fast enough. He could hear the crunching of glass as Bular walked into the hole in the wall he had created. He knew he wouldn’t be healed fast enough to protect his mom.

Through blurry eyes he saw the massive tank of a man step up to her. Barbara stood, light shining at her fists as a shadow extended out from Bular’s body. He reached out a hand toward her throat.

“Get away from my wife!” Zelda screamed. Then there was a crack and a flash. Bular stumbled to the side. Barbara immediately turned back to Jim and he felt even more of her magic flow into him. He could finally see clearly enough and the ringing in his head faded.

Zelda Lake-Nomura walked down the stairs with a combat shotgun in her hands. She fired again driving Bular back and away from the woman and step-son she loved. She moved forward pushing Bular out of the house with another blast from the shotgun.

“Arm yourself old man!” Zelda said, than tossed an assault rifle to Strickler. He caught the rifle out of the air and began firing at Bular as well. Zelda glanced to Barbara. “I told you I would protect you if he ever came back to the house. Now get Little Gynt back in the fight. I think we are going to need him.”

Jim stood up shakily as Zelda and Walter forced Bular back and back again. Barbara helped him to rise, magic still pouring from her hands. He took a deep breath and didn’t feel any more pain from that. He flexed his armored hands, and allowed Daylight to appear in his hand.

“Where’s Toby?” Jim asked.

“Right here dude.” Toby pushed aside some of the rubble to get to his friend’s side. “Not to put more pressure on you Jimbo, but Darci is definitely going to kill us both if this bastard kills us.” Toby glanced out the hole as Bular roared. “And bullets don’t seem to be doing much.”

“Well let’s see what magic can do!” Jim stood up and shook out his shoulders, then marched through the hole.

He appeared just in time to see Nomura roll to the side as Bular charged past her. He slammed his hand into the ground, tearing up chunks of the street to stop his charge. He roared again as he turned to face her, while Jim walked up beside her, Daylight in his hand.

Now that Jim could see him clearly he could see there was something very wrong about the other man. His eyes glowed red, and black energy swirled around his body. Dark patches, like scales appeared on the visible skin. He was massive before, now he was enormous. He towered over Jim and looked like he could toss cars aside. A smirk filled the man’s face as he watched Jim step forward, blue fire roaring down his arms and across his torso.

“I see you’ve come into your own magic!” Bular laughed and pulled something from his pocket. “But your puny armor is nothing before my strength!”

Jim recognized the black stone Bular pulled from his pocket. Corrupted Heartstone!

“Everyone get back!” He shouted.

Bular cracked the stone in his hand like it was a walnut. A dark cloud blasted out of the cracked crystal. Jim materialized the shield on his arm to cover his face as the shockwave nearly took him off his feet. When he looked again his mouth opened in horror. Bular was changing in front of his eyes. Becoming something else, something monstrous.

Massive horns burst from Bular’s head. They curled forward and back framing his face. His body grew even larger, bursting through his clothes. Black stone, just like the Corrupted Heartstone covered and replaced his skin. The red of his eyes blazed, almost burning into Jim from where he was standing.

Jim allowed his helmet to form around his head, the faceplate dropping into place. If Bular killed him here, he would kill his moms next, then Toby and Strickler. Claire would never be free. There was no turning back now. He gripped Daylight tighter and charged.

Bular raised his arms to protect himself from the first few slashes. When he swung back Jim cartwheeled back out of reach. In the small breath of space Bular put out his hands and two wicked looking swords materialized in them.

Jim took a deep breath and braced himself to charge in again when Bular howled in pain. The monster spun reaching towards his back. As he turned Jim saw a pickaxe sticking out of his back.

Toby didn't wait for Bular to turn all the way around, instead he swung with a sledge hammer at the side of his knee. Bular dropped to one knee with a roar of pain and rage.

Jim ran forward to slash at Bular's side while Toby pulled the pickaxe from his back and swung it again, embedding it this time into Bular's arm.

The wooden handle of the tool shattered as Bular wrenched his arms back then slammed them into the ground. A black shock wave of energy shot out of him knocking both Jim and Toby into the air.

Jim arched up, flipping in the air to land on his feet a few yards away, Daylight still in his hand. Toby would have flown forty feet had his Nana's car not been parked twenty feet away.

"Tobes!" Jim screamed. Toby's body was crumpled against the car. Jim pulled back his arm, allowing Daylight to vanish, the flames at his hand glowed white hot. Bular charged him and just before he was hit he unleashed his magic.

The beam of blazing light slammed into Bular. The beast he had become was tossed backward by the blast. He was sent flying clear out of the cul-de-sac and into the green belt. Jim didn’t wait for Bular to land, instead he was rushing to Toby’s side blue flames pouring down his arms. Before he reached Toby a wave of navy light flashed over him.

“Jim don’t touch him!” Barbara ran in front of him, her eyes blazing with her light. “I’ll heal Toby, you protect us from that!”

Jim turned back to the greenbelt and could hear the distant sound of snapping branches as Bular pushed his way back toward them. He materialized his shield on one arm and Daylight in his other hand. Strickler and Nomura moved to the car, bracing themselves on the other side of it, their guns aimed over it. Barbara carefully cast her healing light over Toby’s body, while Jim braced himself.

With a crash Bular knocked down the last tree in his way and charged. Jim knew he couldn’t dodge or get out of the way. If he did Bular would kill Toby, and his mom, before she could finish healing his best friend. He set his foot back and braced himself for the impact as Bular sprinted toward them, his head low and his swords held wide. Just before Bular hit him, time seemed to stand still.

Jim could feel his fires burning in waves down his arms. His mom’s light was shining from her eyes. At the moment of impact he saw another wave of magic roll over him, emanating from behind him. Orange flames rolled past and around him.

He could see through his own eyes. Bular charging forward, hate and rage burning from his eyes. He could see through his mom’s eyes. Her navy light shining down on Toby’s body, trying to heal the damage the impact had caused. He saw through Toby’s eyes. Looking up at Barbara and feeling a sudden surge of power flow through his body. And he saw through Claire’s eyes. He saw Morgan and Gunmar dragging a massive Corrupted Heartstone into the chamber that held her tank while she strained against her taut chains.

Time suddenly returned to its regular speed. A shockwave blasted around them all throwing Bular down the street again. The orange flames burned around them mixing joyfully with Jim’s blue flames. He felt his feet start to leave the ground and turned around with difficulty.

Barbara was floating in the air as well, the light had faded from her hands, but blazed even brighter from her eyes. Walter, Zelda and the car they were sheltering behind all were slowly floating, wreathed in orange flames. Toby was bathed in fire. It poured from his eyes and flared at his fists.

“Tobes! You’re ok!” Jim said as he started to turn upside down as he floated.

“Yeah I am. I feel great!” Toby said. “And look I have magic!”

He pulled his fists into the air and everything that was floating rose even higher.

“Well your power is amazing, Mr Domzalski, but perhaps you can return us to the ground and we can focus on our current problem?”

Strickler gestured toward Bular pulling himself up a few yards away.

“Gladly.” Toby said.

The flames retreated back into his body and they were all lowered gently to the ground. He stuck out his hand his sledgehammer flew to him. As he held it, it changed. The hammer blazed with fire, slowly changing shape until it looked closer to a warhammer. Then he stepped up beside Jim. Barbara stood next to them her own magic almost blindingly bright. Walter and Zelda flanked them reloading their guns.

“This ends now Bular!” Jim shouted. “Leave now and never return.”

“Never! I will make a river of your blood!” Bular roared, then charged.

Jim and his friends braced themselves together. Blue flames flowing down Jim’s arms. Light flaring from Barbara’s eyes. Orange flames roared around Toby’s body as he hovered in the air. This was his family. The only person missing was the woman he loved. But he would face down Bular, then Gunmar and Morgan as well. Jim would do whatever it took to free Claire. Whatever it took.

#jim lake jr #toby domzalski #claire nunez #Barbara Lake #bular the vicious #zelda nomura #walter strickler #morgana trollhunters #gunmar the black #Trollhunters #tales of arcadia #writing emerald #dreams of drowning #please reblog

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