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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

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Empress of the Heart (Pt. 1)

Requested By Anon: "Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again." (It was a long request so I had to sum it up lol)

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,351 😳 (Both parts combined)

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut / Suggestive Themes, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again! Guys, I'm actually really proud of this one. It gets better as it goes on. I hope you enjoy it (you'd better, because I stayed up until 8am writing again 🥴😂). I had to split this story into two parts to appease the Tumblr overlords, just so we’re clear.

♡ Happy reading ♡

Part 2

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"Who's that?" Rosé asks, leaning in closer to the maknae as she points to a slightly recognizable face in the crowd.

"I dunno," Lisa shrugs, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "ask Jisoo." The Australian does as she says, padding over to seek out an answer from their unnie.

"Y/N L/N, I believe. Her company is supposed to make a big announcement later." Jisoo informs, adding a nod to the end of her statement for certainty. Jennie stands beside them all, taking in the crowd of staff and business people hailing from all of the most powerful entertainment companies in Korea. The big dogs have all gathered here tonight to drop some major announcements for their upcoming projects and set up arrangements for future endeavors.

"What do you think it'll be?" Jennie asks, eyes still trained on you as you converse with a famous actress. Her breath catches in her throat when you throw your head back, eyes filling with tears of laughter at something the high class woman said. You're absolutely stunning.

"It could be anything, honestly. Her company's full of talent in every category."

"Yeah, their newest girl group broke a record for Youtube streams in the first hour after release. Still didn't beat ours, though," Lisa adds with a smug look, holding her head a little higher. She's only playing, of course -- she's one of the most humble people Jennie knows.

"She's really pretty," Jennie breathes out, speaking the words that have been rolling around in her mind since she laid eyes on you. The other girls adamantly agree, nodding their heads with purpose.

"Do you wanna go talk to her? YG would probably like that; maybe we can let Jisoo do a little schmoozing." Rosé smirks, playfully nudging the unnie. Jisoo rolls her eyes with an amused scoff, quickly swatting the blonde's hand away.

"I don't know, she seems pretty busy." Her words are unsure, weary -- her normal confidence is wavering a bit, now replaced with some type of nervousness that she can't quite explain. This isn't like her; why is she so anxious?

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lisa decides for them, leading the way with Jennie's hand clutched in her own; the brunette would surely slip away otherwise.

They approach you from an angle, caught right in your blind spot as you continue your small talk with a new business exec. The man sees the girls behind you, waiting for their turn, and after a few more moments he leaves you with an office number to reach him by.

"Good evening… Y/N, right?" Jisoo leads politely, smiling as you turn to face them. You look even more dazzling up close, and Jennie's posture stiffens. She's definitely seen you somewhere before.

"That's me," you say sweetly, greeting all of them and committing their names to memory.

"Jennie," she introduces, stretching a hand out to you. Your eyes flutter down to it before you grasp it within your own, the simple action appearing unbelievably cute to her.

"How're you doing tonight? I hear you've got some big news for us." Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, voice bouncy with anticipation.

You giggle, and Jennie thinks it may just be the sweetest thing she's ever heard. "It's a little hectic, if I'm honest, but I'm enjoying myself. What about you guys? And you'll just have to wait and see what we have in store for you." You end the sentence with a wink that just happened to be directed at Jennie, despite Lisa being the one to ask the question. She tries to fight the blush that soon rises to her cheeks.

"We're doing well, I'd say. It's actually kind of nice to get out of the dorm and meet some new people." Rosé says almost wistfully, her eyes sending a fleeting glance around the room at her statement.

"I know how that can feel. When I was first starting out I didn't get many opportunities for roles. But then I met my manager at the café I picked up a second job at, and the rest is history." You smile softly at the memory, recalling the events of that fateful day. You can't imagine where you'd be right now if things had played out differently.

"You're an actress?" Jisoo asks, sounding like she just put two-and-two together. You nod at her, noticing the way that Jennie looks at you in deep thought. You can practically see the wheels turning.

"So that's where I recognize you from. You guest starred in that JTBC miniseries earlier this year, didn't you?"

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." You smile, bowing your head in praise. It warms your heart to see her face light up, knowing that she finally felt that rush of putting her finger on the elusive thoughts in her head. Pulling knowledge you previously believed forgotten from the foggy depths of your brain is a rewarding experience in itself, and you're pleased that she remembered you.

"I'm glad I made an impression during my short time on screen," you quirk, leaning in closer to her.

"With skills like yours? You're unmatched, Y/N." She flirts, finally finding her bearings again. Her confidence is returning now, slowly but surely, and she pats herself on the back for not hiding behind her hands when you send her a tempting smile.

"Ah, you're too kind--" you begin, only to be cut off by a tap on your shoulder. It's one of your co-stars.

"Good evening, ladies," he bows, "I'm sorry to break this up, but Y/N is needed by management."

Your shoulders sag at this, his words sinking in. You'd much rather spend the night tucked away with the girls, getting to know them better -- especially Jennie, who makes your heart speed up anytime she looks at you.

"I hate to go," they nod in agreement, sad to have to part ways. They really enjoyed speaking with you, and they'd be lying if they said they wanted to stop anytime soon.

"But maybe I'll catch you later?" The question sounds hopeful, albeit a bit unsure as you scrunch your face up. They affirm that they'd "like that very much," and your shoulders relax a bit. Maybe there's still some hope for you all.

◇◇◇◇◇ 2 Hours Later ◇◇◇◇◇

"Exactly! She shouldn't have forgiven him after that," you rant to Jisoo, talking about some characters from your favorite kdrama.

"Babo, I tell you." She says dramatically, rolling her eyes. The action garners a chuckle from you, and Jennie finds herself smiling as she follows along with the conversation. She must've made her staring too obvious, because a minute later your eyes meet hers from across the table. She blinks, surprise etched gracefully into her features, and she clears her throat. Both of you have been stealing glances at one another all night, and things have only ramped up since you snuck away from management to see them again. You assured them you wouldn't get in trouble, but that was honestly the last thing on your mind.

From her seat across from you, Jennie can see the curve of your body, your silhouette highlighted by the lights that shine on the wall behind you. They're dimmed somewhat to give a comfortable, soft glow to the room, and they contrast with the perfect curve of your face. She lets her eyes trail lower, admiring the expanse of your chest and how your fingers rest against the table, mindlessly playing with the expensive tablecloth.

What you do next makes her choke on the water she had so bravely dared to take a drink of.

You lean forward slightly, just enough for her to see your cleavage, while still appearing inconspicuous and innocent. The smirk you try to suppress tells her you know exactly what you're doing, and her cheeks grow hot.

"Excuse me," she mutters to the table, quickly standing and all but running outside for some fresh air. She wants -- needs -- to put some distance between the two of you if she plans to have any self control.

Cool air immediately greets her as she steps outside, hearing the sleek automatic door slide shut behind her. She can breathe now, and begin to soothe her racing mind. Despite only knowing you for the better part of 4 hours, she's already attracted to you. Way more than she cares to admit, as she presses her thighs together to put out the fire you started within her.

No more than 5 minutes later, the doors slide open once more.

"Everything alright?" You ask, tone dripping with amusement as you take in her flustered state. It's obvious that she's okay, just simply turned on.

"Never better," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile.

"You know, you ran out pretty fast back there. You sure know how to worry a girl." You fake a pout at her.

"Oh, you don't say?" She plays along, approaching you with what few shreds of confidence she has left. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering into it, "Well, I'm all good."

"Wanna see for yourself?" She continues, drawing back slightly to take your hands within her own and wrap them around her waist. She smiles as they roam over her body, making sure to be thorough as you "check her out."

She groans when your hand grazes over a sweet spot on her thigh, causing you to pause and tut at her, "Tsk tsk, Jennie. It looks like I'll have to inspect this a little further." She gulps at your words, mind clouded once again by filthy thoughts of you.

"Let's get out of here," she suggests, taking your hand to lead you away. You chuckle at her eagerness, only capable of nodding as she basically drags you to her car.

◇◇◇◇◇

Despite feeling like two horny teenagers, you and Jennie actually opted to slow things down and get to know each other more. She's one of the most interesting people you've ever met, and you could listen to her talk for hours on end. The feeling is beyond mutual, and she doesn't mind that she has to wait a little longer to have you. The promise of what the night will hold for the two of you thrills her, and the anticipation only heightens her feelings.

Takeout containers lay abandoned in her car, long forgotten about as you sit next to each other on the hood. The chilly surface of the windshield presses against your back, making you all the more thankful for having had the foresight to wear a coat tonight. You make a mental note to thank your stylist for the suggestion.

Stars are beginning to twinkle in the distance, slowly coming out of their peaceful slumber to greet the evening sky. They bring to mind all the nights you spent in your backyard as a child, laid out on a warm blanket as you gazed up into space. Back when only trivial issues existed in your world, leaving you with an unscarred heart and unadulterated outlook on life. Those times were simple, only complicated by whatever drama was going on at school or what new person your friends liked. Back then you had no idea of what the future held for you -- what you'd end up doing with your life. If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, you'd tell her to enjoy those days as much as possible; to not take them for granted for even a second.

Everyday you're reminded that fame is truly a blessing and a curse -- you miss the days that you could roam the streets freely with whomever you wanted to, not having to worry about paparazzi or the media, but you're thankful for where you are now. You get to do what you love, everyday, and make money from it -- it's what everyone wishes for in life; and although you've worked your ass off to get here, you owe a lot of credit to the fans.

"It's so beautiful up here," Jennie says, voice stuck between a whisper and sigh as she lays her head on your shoulder.

"You see that building over there, with the orange lights and trees around it?" You ask, pointing in the direction of the building. Her eyes follow the invisible path your finger makes, and she spots it, nodding for you to continue.

"My mom used to work there; it's a daycare. I always loved helping out. The kids were so adorable." A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you look down at your lap, clearly reminiscing. Jennie notices, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as she says, "I bet you miss it."

"I do," you sigh, clenching your jaw briefly, "those were the days. Seoul's home, but sometimes it feels so distant."

"I know how that feels." You don't miss the way her eyes cast down, a hint of sadness behind them, her fingers toying with yours on her thigh. Life in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be, and neither of you are strangers to that all too familiar pang of longing.

"I'm happy to be here with you tonight, though," you try to turn the conversation cheery again, and Jennie's thankful for that. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Your plan works, and soon she's pepping up. "Me neither. Being with you feels...different. In a good way." Your smile widens exponentially when she adds, "A very good way."

"Don't get too cheesy on me, now," you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping both of your arms around her and pulling her flush up against your body. She lays her head on your chest, reveling in the scent of your perfume and the warmth radiating from you. Her hand comes to rest against your ribs, lightly rubbing patterns against them as the two of you continue star gazing. She can feel your heartbeat pick up when she slides her hand downwards, playing with the hem of your shirt innocently.

Does she have any idea what she's doing to you?

Yes, yes she does. After all, your body is basically selling you out at this point.

"Y/N?"

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes closed and head leaned back against the windshield. Her skin is soft against yours, and your shared warmth has put you at ease.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? I really don't want the night to be over yet." Your heart flutters at her words; the fact that a woman such as Jennie is so reluctant to leave you is baffling in itself.

"I'd love that, Jennie. What did you have in mind?"

For a moment, Jennie's mind takes it there. She allows herself to imagine what it would be like to feel your skin against hers, connection unrestricted by clothing; how your kisses would feel against her lips, her body; what beautiful sounds you would make as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. She can't deny how attracted she is to you, nor does she want to; but she also doesn't want to ruin the innocent moments you're sharing. She doesn't want to taint them with the lustful ideas that flood her mind anytime you give her that look, or caress her thigh absentmindedly.

"How does the park sound?"

"With you? There's nowhere I'd rather be."

Despite her efforts, Jennie blushes at your statement, feeling that embarrassing warmth creep up the back of her neck. You've made her blush more in the span of one night than she previously had in her entire life, and that boosts your confidence tenfold.

"Who's being cheesy now, huh?" She asks, pinching your side playfully as she sits up. Her legs swing around until she's fully facing you, sitting criss-cross as the two of you smile at one another.

Neither of you move for a while, both content with just admiring each other's beauty. Her fingers lace with yours, and after a moment she brings your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss to it. The action -- more so, how soft her lips are against your skin -- catches you off guard, and your breathing hitches. All at once, you're acutely aware of how badly you want to kiss her.

As if things couldn't get anymore tempting, her tongue darts out of her mouth to soothe her lips, making them glisten in the dying light of the evening.

She sees your eyes dart down to them, and her body leans closer to you ever so slightly, seemingly having a mind of its own. You meet her gaze again, silently asking for permission as you glance back down at her lips. She responds by giving one single nod before leaning in close enough that your noses almost brush against each other.

"You're stunning." The compliment sounds breathy as it slips out of your mouth, but you're beyond caring at this point. Your pride was thrown out the window the second Jennie showed interest in you.

"Don't look at me like that," she says, gently biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from closing the distance. She wants you to be the one to do it.

"Like what?"

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes." Her gaze casts down to your lips again, seemingly glued there as she watches them move when you speak your reply.

"You act like you weren't doing the same thing at the event." Her confidence falters momentarily, but she fights to hold her ground. "My colleagues even noticed it, babe -- you've gotta get better at hiding your attraction." You say with a chuckle, watching as Jennie's eyes grow wider. Had she really made it so obvious?

"We wouldn't be here right now if I was good at hiding it, so I think you owe me one."

"Touché," you say, quirking an eyebrow in thought. She's right, as usual. "How can I ever make it up to you?" Your voice wiggles dramatically, face contorting in a mock apology.

"I know a way," she says lowly, smiling as your hand finds its way to her knee a moment later. You hook your fingers in the crook of it, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she falls forward and into your arms.

Here goes nothing.

You raise your left hand to her cheek, brushing the back of your fingers against it gently as you build up the nerve to kiss her. Your other arm is wrapped securely around her waist in order to hold her steady above you.

Her palms are pressed to the glass behind you, and her hair falls gracefully around you, creating a little curtain to shield you from the outside world. Finally gaining enough courage, you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss. It's slow and mild as you set a sensual rhythm, growing accustomed to the taste of each other. She sighs into your mouth as you reposition her so that she's straddling your lap.

"Y/N, we're never gonna make it to the park if you keep kissing me like that." She warns, though her words hold no real threat at all. She wants this just as much as you do.

You lay a trail of light kisses up her neck, all of them far too gentle for her liking right now. "Is this better, your highness?" You ask smugly, smiling against her throat as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips.

She places a hand on your chest to push you up against the glass, letting her fingers skim over your collarbone. Just as she's about to pounce, the sound of your phone ringing interrupts the moment. It vibrates in your pocket, right between Jennie's thighs, and you stifle a giggle at the reaction it would've drawn from her had you not quickly retrieved it.

"Hello?" You ask, realizing you hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID. Jennie sits back on your legs, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and draw soothing circles.

"Y/N, I hate to tell you this on such short notice, but you have a new interview scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10AM. I'll send you all the details later."

You sigh at your manager's words, running a hand over your face to relax yourself. The announcement party was supposed to signal the end of your busy week, but of course life just couldn't work in your favor for once. Now you'd be stuck in some random line of questioning, unable to give them any real answers for the sake of keeping spoilers from getting out. You can think of about a million things you'd rather be doing tomorrow morning, and one of them is sitting on your lap right now.

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." You wait for him to say his goodbye before ending the call and turning back to Jennie with an apologetic look.

"Sorry for ruining the moment."

"You didn't ruin anything. But luckily for you…" she leans forward again, pressing a kiss to your lips that makes your heart stop for a second, "I can be very merciful." You nearly melt at her words, paired with how she whispers them in your ear. Her warm breath fans over your neck, rendering you speechless as you pull her back to your lips.

This kiss is different -- full of passion and desire as you grow more used to each other. She raises up on her knees, towering over you as she stares down at you. You look so beautiful right now, your eyes appearing big as you look up into hers, waiting for her next move. She runs her hands through your hair before settling them on your cheeks, cupping the smooth skin and rubbing the pad of her thumb across it. You drag your nails up and down her exposed thighs, and you pat yourself on the back when you notice the trail of goosebumps they leave behind.

"I actually do wanna go to the park with you, if that's alright. There's something I want to show you. I definitely want to continue this later, though." You say.

She nods at that, a smile making its way to her face that can't possibly be wiped away. As much as she wants to have you writhing underneath her, screaming her name, she can wait. She's content with making as many memories as possible with you tonight, and she's intrigued by the surprise you're hinting at.

A few gentle kisses later, you slide off the hood and help her down before going to open her car door for her.

"Such a gentlewoman," she praises, pursing her lips at you.

"Only for you," you wink, making her giggle.

You quickly make your way to the driver's seat, set on getting to the park ASAP in order to spend as much time as you can with Jennie. After all, you can only stay up so late tonight if you want to be functioning for that interview tomorrow… and let's just say that you plan on being busy later.

---------

"Voila!" You declare, motioning to some playground equipment in the kid's section of the sizable park. Of all the things she was guessing at, Jennie did not see this coming.

"What, you came to show me monkey bars, Y/N? I've seen plenty of them--" She asks incredulously, looking around the area filled with miniature tables and chairs to go along with the equipment.

"What? No, no. I used to play here when I was growing up, and my friend's and I had a secret hiding spot. We always stashed our favorite little knick knacks in it, and we promised we'd only show it to people we deemed worthy."

Jennie watches as your eyes light up at the recounting of such a dear memory, and she grins widely. You truly are a five year old at heart.

"This is the first time I've been back here, since…" you trail off, realizing just how many years it's been. Being at such a different point in your life while standing in a place you frequented as a child is a weird juxtaposition that you weren't prepared for, but you push it from your mind.

"Anyway, I think you're pretty worthy." You joke, sizing her up. She laughs at that, and you revel in the pleasant sound. You know you probably won't see her again after tonight, so you're determined to ingrain the little things -- like her smile, her laugh -- into your brain.

"Now, let's see… where did Ashley put it?" You whisper to yourself, scanning the length of the playground. Your eyes travel across the slides, over the swings, and around the monkey bars before you spot that little dip in the siding that you'd recognize anywhere. Jennie soon finds her hand slipping into yours as you lead her over to it, a childlike sense of giddiness on your face. She likes seeing you like this.

"I hope it's still here," you say to no one, bending down to press your fingers against the old wood. It's far more worn down now, and you're worried that someone has already come by and cleaned out the hiding spot. Putting your doubts aside, you continue.

"Okay, so don't laugh, but there's a special way you have to open it. Ashley showed it to me one day and it's the only way we could get it to budge after that."

She smiles her gummy smile at you, and you can't help but return the gesture and even steal a quick kiss. She's a bit taken aback when you ball your hand up, using the side of it to deliver a couple blows to the wood in two different spots. Next, you stand and line up your foot, remember exactly how your friend taught you, before executing a calculated kick to the other side.

At first, Jennie wants to laugh at you; but upon closer inspection, she sees that in fact, a small opening is visible in the wood now. You smirk cockily, knowing full well that she hadn't expected that to work.

"Told you so," you tease, now bending down again to work the panel free. You wiggle it back and forth repeatedly, being careful not to go too quickly and damage anything else, and eventually it pops out. She watches as you reach in and pull out a mini jewelry box -- the kind that can fit in your hand, mainly meant for rings or other small items.

"We stole the box from our other friend, Janelle. Had to pay her our allowances for 2 months afterward. Can you believe that?" You ask, shaking your head with another smirk on your lips. Jennie laughs at you in full, loving how carefree you are right now. In a way, she's happy that your manager called earlier; otherwise the two of you most surely would be locked away in your bedroom right now. This experience is definitely one she'll cherish.

"Unbelievable," she sighs, shaking her head and going along with it.

You click the latch on the small box, it's material now weathered and rusty as it creaks when you open it. Jennie steps closer to you to examine its contents, and you fight to contain how hard your heart starts beating at the feeling of her hand on your lower back.

"No way…" you utter, voice full of disbelief as your eyes land on one of your most prized possessions from childhood.

"What?" Jennie asks, genuinely on the edge of her metaphorical seat.

"This butterfly hair clip," you inform, slipping the small contraption between your fingers as you hold it up for her to see, "I won it at a fair with my mom and I always wondered where it went…"

"It's beautiful, Y/N," she says, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the details etched into it. For something so small and seemingly unassuming, it's actually very unique.

"I want you to have it." You say, taking a step away so you can look at her. She instantly goes to refuse, saying, "I can't! You just found it after all this time--"

"And I went all that time without it. If you take it, I'll know it's safe with you. And you can use it to remember me by." You say, your gaze softening as you watch her debate with herself.

"Okay. But if you ever want it back, call me."

"Roger that." You say dorkily, earning yourself a roll of those dark eyes you find yourself getting lost in.

"And for the record, Y/N, I could never forget you. Pretty hair clip or not." Her confession makes you feel happy on a whole new level; knowing that you've left an impact on her is truly a wonderful thing.

"So, what now?" She asks, breaking the happy lull your conversation found itself in.

"We can walk around the park for a little while, or…" you start, waiting for Jennie to prod you further. Both of you know exactly what game you're playing, but it's still fun nonetheless.

"Or?" She inquires, stepping closer as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. She nonchalantly gives you a once over, knowing what power her darkening gaze holds over you.

"We can go back to my place. Maybe play a little footsie, who knows?" You say, shrugging your shoulders with a stupid grin. Even while seducing someone, you can't resist being a geek.

"Footsie?" Jennie gasps, raising her eyebrows, "What kind of girl do you take me for? That only happens after at least 2 dates in."

"Such a prude, Ms. Kim. How can I change your mind?"

She presses a finger to her cheek, pretending to think, before getting an idea. Her lips flirt with the shell of your ear as she whispers obscenities into it, turning you to mush with every new scenario she puts in your head.

You stiffen as she kisses your jaw, the action catching you off guard as you continue reeling from her words.

"I can do that, I think," you cough out, stumbling over the words a little bit. She laughs at the effect she has on you; seeing your confidence waver is a nice role reversal, and it's something she could definitely get used to.

"Let's go." She commands, now taking your hand to pull you after her, just like you had done before.

◇◇◇◇◇

It's painful, how hard Jennie has to restrain herself from touching you as you fumble with your keys. She told herself she'd keep her hands to herself until you got inside, just in case any stray paparazzi managed to catch you two together. The last thing either of you need is some new scandal, especially with your careers in a vulnerable spot as they're really beginning to take off.

"If you don't get that door open within the next 10 seconds, then I'll just take you out here in the hallway."

You audibly gulp at the image she just conjured up in your mind, and you speed up your movements. The prompting worked, evidently, because soon she's practically shoving you through the doorway.

"Finally," she breathes against your lips, pressing you up against the door once you've locked it back.

"I've been waiting to do this since we met earlier." She indulges you in that little secret, smiling at the way you whimper when she pulls your leg up to wrap around her hips.

"I'm all yours," you say, making Jennie's heart flutter at the sentiment. For the night, you're hers and she's yours. "...now kiss me," you command, growing more impatient with each feather-light kiss she presses to your jaw.

"So bossy," she toys, making you roll your eyes.

"You have no idea, babe."

She bites her lip as your husky voice makes its way to her ears, thick with the desire she's been steadily building within you all night. You tug her forward, your fingers bunching up the material of her shirt with little care as her lips meet yours.

Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for a permission that you granted the second she touched you. You pull her chin down slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen as you tangle your other hand in her hair.

After an especially bruising bite to her lip -- one that thrills her to her core -- she pulls away, breathlessly asking, "How're you so good at this?"

You cackle against her, taken aback by how genuine the question sounded. "Practice for the kdramas, of course."

"I haven't had to do this," you slide a hand between your bodies, smirking at the gasp that sounds off deep in her throat as you make contact with her, "yet though. That might be a little extreme for the screen."

"You think?" She scoffs softly, bringing her hands up to gather your hair to one side. She presses gentle kisses to your neck, prepping the surface for the dark marks she'll most certainly be leaving there later.

"Ready?" You ask, making sure she wants to go through with this.

"You have no idea, babe." She copies your statement from earlier, garnering another smile from you. She swears she can never get enough of that sweet look on your face.

"Follow me," you say, giving her another peck to last until you reach the bedroom.

◇◇◇◇◇ The Morning After ◇◇◇◇◇

Warm, glittering rays of sunlight sneak past the curtains of your apartment window, shining gently through the light material. A dream-like haze befalls the room, serving as a wonderful greeting once you peek your eyes open. The only thing capable of rivaling such a wonderful sight is the woman beside you, her soft breaths keeping your shoulder warm.

As you turn your head to look at her, careful not to wake her, your heart flips. Having her here next to you is the only reason you even believe last night happened; it was magical -- the stuff of fantasy. The two of you did everything: acted on every desire, every impulse -- you truly made the most of the night, determined to make it unforgettable.

A few blissful minutes later, she stirs beside you. "Good morning, Y/N." Her eyes remain closed, still safe from the bright light of the morning as she smirks at the memories replaying in her mind.

You lay a small kiss to her lips, simply missing how they feel against your own. "Morning, beautiful."

A content sigh slips past her lips as she presses them against your neck, cuddling further into you. "Last night was fun."

You decide to tease her. "Eh, I've had better."

If there's one thing that Jennie knows, it's that she's good in bed -- great, even -- and you definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself last night, just as much as she was. Still though, a bit of insecurity runs through her as she raises up on her elbow to look at you through her lashes.

"Really?" She stills her fingers on your arm, stopping them from continuing the trail that they had been blazing just seconds ago. Her eyebrows furrow subtly, the action almost unnoticed by you.

Deciding the joke isn't worth it, you cup her cheek and raise her head so she can meet your eyes.

"No, I'm kidding. Last night was… something else." You chuckle, smiling as your eyes move around the room in an attempt to find the right word for it. When none come to mind -- no words capable of conveying how great it was -- you look back to her.

She has a knowing grin on her face, "I couldn't agree more."

Sneaking a glance at the clock propped up on your bedside table, you get an idea. "You know, Jennie…" you start, purring her name out as you had last night, garnering that achingly familiar groan from her, "...we still have a few hours before either of our schedules start." Your suggestion hangs in the air as you roll her over onto her back, hovering over her and brushing your noses together.

"Hmm, you don't say? Well you're in luck; I still have some things I wanna try out." She plays back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips as her hands wander over your body.

Your eyes widen in shock, "What the hell could you POSSIBLY be thinking of?? We tried just about everything." She laughs at your reaction and pulls you down closer to her body to whisper in your ear. Jennie can feel you tremble with every new image she puts in your head, just like she had in the park, her lips dragging you further under as she sneaks little kisses to your skin here and there.

"Let me get this gay straight: you want me to do that on the balcony? What if my neighbors see?"

"They won't, we're on one of the top floors. And even if they do… would that really be so bad?" She lets the question hang in the air; she'd be lying if she said the idea of getting caught doesn't thrill her. Thinking of your lips on her neck as she rocks against you, pinned to the railing while out in the open for the world to see, sends a rush of warmth through her.

"I wish you weren't so good at convincing me to do things. You're dangerous, Jennie Kim." You warn, pointing a disapproving finger at her. Your eyes nearly pop out when she kisses it, taking the digit in between her lips while looking up at you innocently. This woman will be the death of you.

◇◇ Back At The Blackpink Dorm ◇◇

"Yah, I know! The new update looks so weird--"

"There she is," Lisa says, motioning to the doorway, interrupting Jisoo and Rosé’s conversation about whatever new video game the unnie had downloaded.

Jennie leans on the heavy door as she locks it behind her, lazily spinning around on her heel with her lips drawn back in a huge gummy smile.

"Somebody's happy…" Jisoo teases, shooting her a smirk. She's still riding the high you put her on, and it's no wonder her members are noticing. It's not like she's exactly trying to hide it, either.

"How was your night? Have fun with Y/N?" The maknae wiggles her eyebrows while propping herself up on her elbows to see Jennie's reaction.

"LISA! She wasn't supposed to know!" Rosé shouts, letting out a disappointed huff. The younger girl only shrugs, a stupid smirk on her lips. Some people just wanna watch the world burn.

The brunette's daze is momentarily broken at this, and she asks what they're talking about.

Jisoo lets out a hesitant breath before explaining, "We saw you two leave together, but we agreed to not bring it up until you did." She shoots some daggers at Lisa before continuing, "Somebody can't seem to keep her mouth shut, though."

Jennie only chuckles now, not really caring if they knew or not. Her night was too wonderful to keep to herself; she would've ended up telling them anyway.

"Gather round, girls; I'll fill you in."

◇◇◇◇◇ Months Later ◇◇◇◇◇

"Why exactly do we have to go to this premiere again?" Jennie grumbles, looking out the window of their limousine. She'd much rather be back at the dorm, snuggled into her cozy heap of pillows and blankets with Netflix playing on her tv.

"Some of our colleagues are starring as background characters, so YG wants us to attend and show our support." Jisoo informs, always seeming to have more knowledge than all of the other girls combined. Jennie nods; the reasoning is sound, but she'd still prefer to be home. Mingling with business people for god knows how long doesn't seem all that enticing to her.

"What's the movie?" Lisa asks, throwing the question behind her to the other girls as she searches the cubby for some complimentary snacks.

"Empress of the Heart," Rosé answers, finally knowing something that Jisoo doesn't.

"Let's watch the trailer for it. If we have to sit through it then we might as well see what we're getting ourselves into." Lisa suggests, her fingers busy opening the bag of chips she chose from the assortment.

"Yeah, okay." Jennie says, her statement followed by words of agreement from the other girls. Rosé takes her phone out to search the title, pepping up when she spots it. She whispers something to Jisoo and Lisa, Jennie paying no mind as she watches the buildings pass by. Her favorite thing to fidget with is secure in her grip, occupying her mind. It's familiar design feels good in her hands -- like it's right where it belongs. (Yes, this is what you think it is).

The other girls put their acting skills to use as they hit play, keeping straight faces when your voice comes through the phone speakers. Jennie's head snaps over to them, recognizing the sound in an instant. "Y-Y/N's starring in it?" She asks, voice coming out as a stutter. The thought of seeing you again thrills her, but she doesn't know if she can do that without falling even deeper. Your night together left her with lasting feelings, none of which she was prepared for in the slightest, and she knows they'll be reignited the moment she lays eyes on you.

"Mhm." They nod sympathetically, all knowing how much she's thought about you the last few months.

Their driver knocks on the partition, requesting to open it. They give him the all clear, and soon he's rolling it down to inform them, "We're here, ladies."

"I'll be okay," Jennie tells them, attempting to stop their worries from growing anymore than they already have. She plays the statement back in her head, whispering it to herself as she exits the limo; tonight could only go one of two ways, and it depends entirely on you.

☆☆ Part 2 Linked Up Top ☆☆

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hyuckssunchip · 3 years

Text

Redemption Pt. 2

Pairings: Jungwoo x reader, ft. Johnny, Jaehyun, Mark

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), some angst

Summary:

Y/N finds Jungwoo in a compromising position weeks after their breakup. A list of misunderstandings leads to outcomes neither of them can bear to handle. Will the two of them be able to move past this and sort things out again? Or is there no room for redemption?

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The tickets from the movie of our first date

"Hey I'm sorry I'm late." There was a breathless voice that came from across the room. A boy in a grey shirt stood before his date and she blushed shaking her head.

You reached for another piece of popcorn, slowly chewing on the piece before sighing and reaching for another.

As the last call for your movie showed on the big screen you glanced at your watch again.

"Is this your movie?" He was tall, wearing a baby blue shirt and wore a thin pair of spectacles. Definitely not your blind date.

You sighed.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be."

"Supposed to be? You don't want to watch it anymore?" He asked, taking the seat in front of you.

"My date stood me up." You said bluntly, "I'm not really in the mood for a romance movie right now."

"How about murder mystery?" He flashed two tickets in the air, and sent you a sweet smile.

"Murder mystery? You don't really seem the type." You laughed, looking at the screen one last time. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that this is research and I kill people on my down time.”

You cringed at him.

“Okay, that was bad, I know. But don’t you pity me now? Now you have to join this loser for a movie date.” He smiled, his dimples on display.

You laughed standing up from your chair, “If you promise never to say stuff like that again, I’ll join you.”

“So it worked!” he fist pumped the air before skipping the way to the right theater with you in tow.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“I can’t believe that it was the police officer the whole time!” You spoke animatedly, genuinely shocked that you spent the majority of the movie liking the man.

“I know right! People are so crooked.” He said, shaking his head on disappointment. “But what a great plot twist right?”

“Yeah I thought for sure that it was the store owner. I mean who carries around a metal wedge like that?” You nodded enthusiastically, way too into the conversation.

Jungwoo laughed beside you. “So you don’t regret joining me?”

“Nope, I think I rather enjoyed myself.” You sent him a cheesy smile when you noticed that the two of you had already made it to the exit.

You didn’t want this to end quite yet.

Almost as if he sense your hesitation he spoke up. “How about dessert? There’s this fantastic ice cream shop just down the street and I’d love to treat you, y’know cause I just stole two hours of your time.” He grinned softly.

“I’d love that.” You couldn’t help the smile that was bursting to break free.

“Then shall we?” He asked in a fake posh manner, sticking out his elbow for you to grab onto.

“We shall.” You linked your arm and his and the two of you left for the shop.

The evening had started out sour, but like always Jungwoo managed to bring a little extra spark into your life. Imagine if he had never come up to you that evening, imagine if he had never stepped foot in that movie theater. You might’ve lost out on the most important thing in your life and never started your journey with Jungwoo. Where would you be now?

JUNGWOO’S POV

PRESENT DAY

The movie ticket of our first date.

The three boys looked down at the list and contemplated what they should do next.

“Okay, how am I supposed to find movie tickets with the same movie and date?” Jungwoo groaned. “This isn’t going to work it’s just stupid.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. All we need to do is get comfortable with photoshop. Right? It’s not like it’s that hard to make a pretend movie ticket.” Jaehyun rested his hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder, “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will.”

“Do you atleast remember the movie? And date?” Mark asked, notebook already in his hands again.

“Of course I do. How could I forget?” The last bit he muttered under his breath, but still loud enough that the boys could hear him.

They gave each other pitying looks.

“Right. Write it down then.”

Jungwoo’s hands moved on its own.

“Dude! No way! That’s what you watched on your first date?” Mark couldn’t help but giggle at the title, earning a glare from Jungwoo and a shove from Johnny.

“Dude. Not helping.” Johnny shook his head at the youngest before turning back to Jungwoo.

“Sorry. It’s just that they’re making a sequel to that. It came out last week.”

Jungwoo cringed at the thought, vowing not to watch it.

“Was it good?” Jaehyun asked, more interested in the movie than the current situation.

“Yeah! God you would not believe the plot twist there. It was awesome, I would totally watch it again-”

Johnny shoved the two of them. “Guys, not important right now.”

Jungwoo had retreated back, heads in his arms again and sighed, hearing the others talk.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t know how you got yourself dragged to the movie theater in the middle of the week. It was Wednesday and it seemed like all of a sudden your friends decided that movie night could be moved up a few days.

“Popcorn?”

You nodded haphazardly in response to your best friend Jennie’s question.

“Cool, I’ll wait in line, go ahead and go to the bathroom, I can see you squirming from here. I’ll meet you in the theatre.”

You sent her a look of relief, and rushed towards the bathroom.

Staring at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, you couldn’t help but notice the large black circles under your eyes. You rubbed them once more before heading to the theatre.

Jennie had picked out the movie, dragging you along and you pulled out the ticket that she shoved into your hands the moment you walked in the building.

Theatre 2 B14.

That should be easy enough to find. Although your direction skills could always use improving.

You froze as you stood before your theatre, noticing the large poster next to it.

No.

You recognized the familiar poster, same cast, give or take a few, but it was almost identical to the one you remembered as your first encounter with Jungwoo.

You scrambled for your phone and typed in the title of the movie, your heart dropping at the description. It was the sequel.

Your feet refused to move, stuck in the same spot and you heard a loud bang coming from the theatre. The commercials had already started.

A group of teenagers bumped into your shoulder trying to enter the theatre, you stumbled forward, hearing the faint giggles and muttered apologies.

It was the push that you needed to make your way into the theatre.

As you walked up the aisles to find your seat you felt a wave of anxiety as you noted the group of rowdy boys in the seats next to yours.

You sighed, knowing that you were in for a uncomfortable movie.

Taking your seat, the boy next to you turned to give you a hesitant smile, almost as an offering of an apology in advance.

Your blood ran cold.

“Jungwoo?” It came out as a whisper, catching in your throat, but it was undeniable that he heard you.

He gulped, eyes fluttering across your face.

The noise next to you seemed to hush, a familiar voice called out to you, tearing you from Jungwoo’s face.

“Y/N?” Mark couldn’t control the amount of shock as well as the other boys, letting you know that you were the last person they were expecting. You lifted your hand into a shy wave, to which they returned, leaning back into their respective seats.

“So...”

You turned awkwardly to your ex, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you excited for the movie?”

You raised your eyebrows, the idea of small talk still uncomfortable to you.

“Yeah, I guess... I hope it lives up to the first one.” You blushed in memory of your first date brought up subtly.

Although it was dark, the red tint on Jungwoo’s was noticeable by you.

“Yeah... I heard it was good though, Mark’s already watched it and he dragged the rest of us here again.” His voice dropped a few octaves, lowering as the commercials got quiet as well.

You nodded, facing the screen, refusing to take your eyes off of it.

“Y/N.” There was a hiss coming from your right, you found Jennie desperately trying to find your form before initiating a crouch run to your side. She sank into the seat and leaned towards you, not noticing the boy next to you.

“I’m so so so sorry. But Lucas just asked me to pick him up from school. My mom stranded him again and he won’t stop calling.” She grimaced and looked at you apologetically.

Your eyes widened, realizing that she was planning on leaving you here.

“He’s been waiting for three hours and I actually think he’ll try to kill me in my sleep if I don’t go to pick him up.”

You nodded, knowing that Lucas may be younger than his sister, but he was ten times bigger and had enough passion in him to do so.

“Okay.” You moved to get up, you didn’t really want to stay here alone. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. You should stay for the movie, we already paid and movie tickets are not cheap. Plus I think you’ll like this one, it looks right up your alley. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She shoved the bucket of popcorn into your lap and left before you could respond.

You sighed, slumping in your seat and picking at the pieces of popcorn that sat on top.

Jungwoo looked over at your side profile nervously from his seat.

You were tempted to move into Jennie’s unoccupied seat, eager to distance yourself from Jungwoo. But your body didn’t move.

His eyes followed the movement of your fingers, aching to reach out and grasp them in his own.

Less focused on the beginning of the movie and more concentrated on the bucket in front of you, you could feel yourself eating your way through your anxiety of the situation.

You choked slightly, turning red from embarrassment and tried to suppress the urge to cough.

You felt a nudge in your side, Jungwoo slid his drink towards you, and invitation to relieve your throat of pain.

You hesitated, as childish as it seemed you really didn’t want to drink from the same cup as him, but you were suffering.

You gave him a thankful smile and sipped for moment until you felt alright again.

In return you stuck the bucket of popcorn out towards him, after all there was no way that you could finish the whole thing on your own.

Halfway through the movie you felt the warmth of his hand graze yours as you simultaneously reached for a handful. As cliche as it seemed you felt sparks fly up your arm and you flinched pulling away, watching him do the same.

You hated that you still felt your heart rush at the close proximity. You hated that he still made you nervous. You hated that you still had these feelings.

Before you knew it the closing credits had rolled across the screen and the lights of the theatre began to fade on.

From the corner of your eye you could see as the other boys stretched and stood up, making their way out of the theatre. It was only you and Jungwoo now.

You avoided eye contact, moving to make your exit. He followed.

The bright lights of the lobby had you blinking in distress. Johnny grinned at your fazed state and walked the group over to where you were standing, Jungwoo steps behind.

“Hey Y/N.” Jaehyun waved shyly at you before shoving his hands back into his pocket.

You smiled in response before turning to face Johnny, who looked like he was dying to say something.

“Y/N fancy seeing you here.” There was a grin that crossed his face, he looked too happy to be seeing you here.

You furrowed your eyebrows and nodded at him, not saying anything.

Standing awkwardly in the group you glanced at your phone checking the time. It was getting late and you groaned suddenly realizing that Jennie had left earlier. You no longer had a ride.

You grimaced, pulling your phone out to text her, then realized that it was best not to bother her, as she was dealing with a very upset Lucas.

“What’s up?” Johnny asked, peering over at your screen.

“Nothing.” You sighed, “I just remembered that my ride left earlier. I should go now to see if I could catch the bus.”

He shook his head, “No way, why don’t you let us give you a ride?”

“Oh. You wouldn’t mind?” As much as you hated the thought of being confined in a car with the four of the them, it was much better than getting on the sketchy bus that comes by every hour.

“Of course not, the bus is gross.” You nodded thankfully.

“Oh, that makes things easy then, could we pick up my box of things on the way then?” You asked, remembering that Johnny said they were at his place.

There was a pause, and you didn’t miss the look the three of them gave each other.

“I-uh... I forgot I actually have this thing I have to go to, with Mark and Jaehyun. Jungwoo, why don’t you drop her off?”

Your eyes widened at him.

Jungwoo nodded more enthusiastically than you expected him to.

You glanced at him, reluctantly following his lead.

How bad could one car ride be?

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

Text

Hogmanay Hauntings: A Christmas Carol Crossover

Chapter 1 -- Past: Creideamh

Read on AO3

“No.”

It was a grunt, a growl, a snarl, perhaps all three.

“For Christ’s sake, brother, ye didna even let me finish,” Jenny huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

“I didna need ye to,” he snapped. “I’m no’ going.”

“And why no’? If no one is in danger, can ye even think of another reason to no’ go?”

“Ye canna guarantee safety, and ye ken it.”

“Jamie, it’s been four years since Culloden. We havena had any visitors in a year! The villagers said the harassment has lightened considerably,” she reasoned. “The tenants miss their Laird, Jamie.”

“I’m not their Laird.”

Jenny flinched a bit at the coldness. “Aye, I ken. But they do still see ye as such. Ye’re their hero whether ye like it or not.” She paused, moving her hands from her hips and crossing her arms over her chest. “And the tenants arena the only people that feel that way.”

“What d’ye mean?” He was still staring at the dirt between his feet, still refusing to look at her.

“The lad,” she said, her voice softening. “Your lad.”

Your adopted boy.

She had called him that.

“He’s...no,” Jamie said hoarsely. “He isna mine.”

I have no children.

“Christ, Jamie,” her voice regained the bite it had lost. “Try telling that to him.”

“What d’ye mean by such?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Ye’re no’ the only one that lost her.”

He stood up abruptly, propelled by boiling rage exploding in his blood.

“I’ll no’ be intimidated by yer pathetic excuse fer a towering bear.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Claire was — ”

“Don’t say her name.”

“ — the only mother the lad ever knew. And ye ken it well,” she went on as if uninterrupted. “There was no need fer him to be orphaned entirely. Yet here we are.”

Jamie growled with rage, shoving over one of his piles of books, sending them flying all about. He should not have been surprised that Jenny would turn asking about Hogmanay into throwing her into his face.

“Fine,” Jenny said calmly, unaffected by his tantrum. “Suit yourself.” She hiked up her skirts and made to leave, but paused at the entrance of the cave, turning around again. “Christ, Jamie...I ken ye have sorrow. And I only wanted to bring ye a bit of happiness. I ken how much the holiday meant to ye when we were bairns. And it’s the grandest party we can afford since the rising.”

Jamie was momentarily seized by guilt, remembering the sad holiday they’d had last year. After Caitlin. Jenny had been grief stricken nearly to the point of no return, and Ian had suggested they not have a party at all. But she’d picked herself back up and thrown together whatever they could afford at the last minute. For the children, perhaps; they’d already lost enough. But for herself, as well. It had always been important to her, too, Hogmanay. And Jamie knew it.

“I just...I miss my brother. This…” She gestured to his hunched, ragged form, the cramped quarters of his cave, “isna my brother.”

“This,” Jamie bit back bitterly, “exists to keep the rest of ye safe.”

“One night, Jamie. That’s all. But if ye canna bring yerself to quit yer wallowing...suit yourself.” She turned again, and then she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, allowing his sister’s enormous presence to truly leave the cave, his chest tight, his fists clenched.

No, he would not go. Not only was it a threat to their safety, no matter how Jenny insisted that she’d insured there would be protection, but his presence was a blight. He would not bring misery to those he loved by dampening their joy on a night meant for rebirth and celebration.

He had nothing to celebrate, nothing to look forward to in the new year, or any year thereafter.

His future was gone. All that existed was his present, these dark walls, the quiet forest on days where he hunted. And pain. Such...pain.

His future...her future.

For the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her. He thought of them. Four years...his bairn would be four years old. Running around with Jenny’s bairns, a child now, not an infant anymore. Claire would struggle to pick up the child, especially if it grew like a Fraser.

It. He’d never know what to call it.

The months he’d spent in the Bastille, not knowing the fate of his wife or child, trapped in his own mind as much as in his cell...he was living there again. Except this time, nobody would come to his rescue, nobody would enlighten him about his child, tell him it was a beautiful girl, what she looked like…

Ah, my sweet Faith.

And for the hundredth time in just that day, he thought of her, too.

Claire and the bairn were not dead, not really. But their loss had felt just as acute as that of his wee lost daughter.

I have no children.

A small scuttling sound jolted him from his reverie, and he sniffled, swiping at the tears on his cheeks.

“Uncle Jamie?”

Christ! How had the bairn…?

“Milord?”

Ah.

The smaller voice belonged to the head of strawberry blonde that bobbed into the cave, blue eyes wide.

“Are ye really no’ coming to Hogmanay, Uncle?” she said, her lips full and drawn into a sad frown.

Jamie was always sinfully grateful for the isolation of his cave. It physically pained him to look at the children. Especially wee Maggie. The red hues of her hair, always accentuated in firelight, were far too much like the copper hair he saw in his dreams, copper hair that only Claire had really seen. He couldn’t bear to look at her, at any of the lasses, and think that Faith would have played their wee games with them, and perhaps so would the new bairn, were she a lass. Were he a lad, he’d be traipsing around wee Jamie and Michael.

If he had his own bairn with him, if he had its mother with him...perhaps it would be different.

But that hair, those eyes, that sweet frown...it was too much.

“No. I’m not.”

His voice was far too short and harsh. She was only seven years old.

“But Kitty and I made ye a gift to give ye at midnight.” She twisted her apron in her hands, swaying a bit.

“Yer Ma will give it to me. Dinna come back here, it isna safe.” His eyes flicked up to Fergus, who’d been hanging back to allow this conversation to unfold. “Ye’re a fool to bring her here.”

“She will not remember,” Fergus said. “She was crying, Milord. I thought — ”

“Ye thought wrong. Quit my sight.”

The wee girl sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. He was wracked with guilt at the sound, at the sight. For a split second, he almost fell to his knees and pulled her into him, whispered into her hair, rocked her.

No, he’d fall apart if he did that, and he’d never be able to put himself back together. He’d never be able to let her go.

“Now, Fergus,” Jamie snarled. He couldn’t bear to listen to her anymore. He couldn’t bear to be confronted with the knowledge that he was incapable of bringing a child comfort. Because all of his children had been stolen from him.

“You are a heartless beast,” Fergus said with great disdain. “I do not want you at Hogmanay anyway.” He stepped forward and took Maggie’s hand. “Come, petit.”

And they were gone.

Aye, lad. I am a heartless beast.

His heart had been gone for four years. Never to return.

——

Jamie was in a deep, heavy sleep. Ian had come by with whisky, not to try and persuade him to come — quite the opposite in fact. He’d essentially encouraged Jamie to get piss drunk alone in the cave, and that was exactly what he’d done. His head had hit the pillow like a stone, and he’d passed out.

A gushing wind roared inside the cave, and it roused him immediately, like a bucket of icy water poured on his head. His eyes shot open just in time to see his singular candle knocked over by the gust, blowing the light out. He lay there in silence for a moment, waiting for the deafening wind to stop. When it did, he counted a few breaths, swallowing thickly.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a deeply ingrained sense of foreboding and dread.

He got up then to re-light the candle; though it was night, sleeping without the light of the moon had always been difficult, even after four years. A candle was a poor substitute, but it had to do.

As he fumbled around blindly, he was aware of something glowing behind him, as if someone had suddenly lit a fire. Yet the color was different, as if the fire were ignited by the moon itself. Brow furrowing, he turned around, and he staggered back at what he saw.

It was a child. A wee lass, barely even reaching the height of his waist. Barely bigger than wee Janet. But she was glowing, like her tiny slip of a nightgown was sewn from strands of moonlight. If Jamie didn’t know any better, he’d say that above her head was a flickering flame. Or maybe it was just her hair...fiery red. Like his.

And her eyes, how they glowed.

Like amber in front of a flame.

Like whisky.

“Hallo.”

She spoke, and her voice sounded like music underwater, like ringing bells in an echoing cave. Far away, yet right in his ear. He jumped at the sound, staggering back again, stumbling until he landed on his rear in his makeshift bed.

“W...what d’ye want…?” Jamie stammered, his eyes frozen and unblinking on the ethereal being. “Are ye...a spirit?”

“Aye,” she said calmly, a placid, gentle smile on her cherubic face. “I was sent to ye.”

“Sent...to me?”

“Aye.” She giggled, and it made his head spin. She was so...sweet. So lovely. Her hair was floating above and around her, never resting on her shoulders or back, like it was floating in water behind her. For the first time, he noticed the wreath of holly she wore atop her little head.

“By who?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed. He was a devout man; he’d not be tempted by one of Satan’s visions, sweet bairn or no. Yet, there was a lingering paganism in him, the part of him that believed his dreams of Claire were not makings of his own fevered imagination.

“By the Ghost of Hogmanay past,” she said proudly, as if reciting a poem taught to her in her lessons. She smiled, giggling again, and Jamie was overwhelmed by how small her glowing white teeth were.

“The...the what…?”

“She’s a little girl spirit like me,” the wee thing explained. “She gave me this crown of holly berries so I could do her job fer tonight.”

Jamie blinked dumbly, not at all understanding.

“It’s a very rare thing fer the spirits to appear,” she said, again like reciting lessons. “And even rarer that the honor be given to someone else. Like me.”

Jamie swallowed against a painfully dry throat, wracking his brain for what to say. “Why...why’ve they given ye the honor this time?”

She giggled again, and he swore he could feel it fluttering his heart. “Because the mortal they needed to reach was my Da.”

Something pricked him on the skull between his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

“Da…?” His voice was nearly inaudible.

She nodded, her fiery tendrils bobbing midair, that flame that may or may not be atop her head flickering. She smiled sweetly, beatifically. “It’s me, Da.”

He thought he might faint. Copper hair, her mother’s eyes —

“It’s Faith.”

He lost vision completely for several seconds, but still glowed behind his eyelids, burned into his mind.

Faith.

His eyes opened again, burning and watery. The tears slipped out, unabashed, and a sob tore through him.

“Faith…?” he stammered, making to stand, but falling to his knees on the stone. “My...my Faith…?”

She was still smiling, twirling back and forth like any mortal wee lass, oblivious as to the effect she had on her father.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” he wept, inching forward toward her on the floor. “Christ, ye’re beautiful...I never even dared dream of ye...and here ye are...so bonny…”

She was now in arm’s reach, and he made a desperate grab for her, meaning to gather her in his strong arms and cradle her to his chest, rock her there for hours, never let her go.

But his hands met nothing but thin air, white-hot air, and he fell forward, his palms slapping the stones.

“I’m sorry, Da.”

She said it like she’d been caught eating too many bannocks or tormenting the chickens.

He heaved with shuddering breath, unable to look up at her again just yet after having his heart broken like that. He watched as his tears dotted the stone beneath her glowing feet.

“Mortals canna touch spirits.”

He bit back another sob, swallowing hard. Spirit or no, his daughter deserved better than to see her father completely unravel like this.

“It’s…” He sniffled. “It’s alright, lass.” He picked his head up, daring to look at her again. “It’s enough to...to see ye. To hear yer sweet wee voice.” He sniffled again, breaking out into a smile against his will. “I’ve...I’ve always loved ye, though I never saw ye. D’ye ken that?”

“Aye.” She nodded sweetly. “I ken. And I always loved ye, too.”

He was wracked by another sob, overwhelmed.

“Yer...yer mother…” he stammered. “Have ye…”

“No,” she said lightly. “Ma doesna need me.”

His brow furrowed. It was incomprehensible. How could Claire not need this? How could some powers-that-be decide that a mother need not see her child?

“Doesna need ye…?”

“I ken she misses me. But that’s no’ the same as needing me. That’s what the Ghost of Hogmanay Past said.”

“And why is it that I...need ye? And what’s all this about a Ghost of Hogmanay…?”

“It’s my job to show ye things ye need to see,” she said, that sweet, youthful pride pouring out of her again. “Hogmanay’s past.”

“I...I dinna understand…”

“It’s alright, Da. I’ll just show ye.”

She stooped down, reaching for his hand, and Jamie’s heart leapt into his throat. Perhaps he couldn’t touch her, but she could touch him. The thought almost had him weeping again.

But then there was fiery heat in his left hand, and his guts were in his mouth as the world dissolved around him. He cried out in fright, but there was no sound to be heard above the roaring wind.

As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, and Faith was no longer holding his hand. He didn’t even see her at first, and the panic that that created was enough to make him completely unaware of his surroundings.

“Faith, mo chridhe? Where are ye? Come back, please…”

He whirled around and was met with a rowdy pair of children running headlong for him, and it was far too late to move out of their way. Much to Jamie’s horror, they ran right through him, as his hands had gone right through Faith.

Christ! Am I dead?

A small giggle.

He whirled around, and there she was, floating, flaming hair, glowing white skin and all.

“Ye’re no’ dead,” she said, shaking her head at his foolishness. “Ye’re...a visitor. But ye’re no’ really here. Everything here has already happened. Ye ken?”

His brow furrowed, and he finally took in his surroundings. He was...home?

But he wasn’t just inside the main house. No...something was different.

The parlor was decked out as Jenny always had it for Hogmanay when they could afford it, but it was far more extravagant than as far back as Jamie could remember. The greenery and the holly and the wreaths and the candles were simply beautiful. It was like stepping into a magical woodland castle, the air drugged with joy and high spirits.

And then he saw them.

“Da? Mam…?” His voice was no more than a choked whisper, and he found his feet bringing him closer to them before he even willed it.

They were whirling around the dance floor, and Jamie sidestepped other couples in vain. It didn’t matter anyway; they danced and twirled right through him. His mother was radiant. He’d forgotten, forgotten how beautiful she’d been, how full of life. And his father...he looked at his mother like he was holding the entire world in his arms. Jamie had forgotten what it was like to look at two people so in love, knowing that he had come from that love, however abstractly he’d known it at that age.

They were both laughing, red in the face from exertion. Jamie could not even keep up with them in following them around the room. He felt inexplicable giddiness bubbling in his chest. He used to watch them whirl around the floor all night, lost in the music of the fiddler accompanied by the laughter of love. Mam used to blow kisses at him and wink, sometimes Da would throw him up on his shoulders, or Jenny, or even both at once, tossing them both over each shoulder like sacks of grain.

“Willie! Lemme! Lemme!”

A piercing, chillingly familiar voice stood out among the throng. Jamie whirled around and completely froze.

That’s me.

Little Jamie was standing there, the tips of his ears red, his face twisted in a ridiculous scowl. He was watching two other children dancing clumsily, a little girl twirling around the finger of her partner.

“Willie…” Jamie breathed reverently, coming closer to the cloister of three children, unblinking, hardly daring to breathe.

“I want tae dance!” Little Jamie protested, stamping his foot. “Lemme!”

“Haud yer whisht!” Little Jenny scolded. “If ye dinna quit yer scowling, I’ll tell Mother to hide yer presents!”

“Jenny,” Willie interrupted. “He’s just a wee lad. Let him dance wi’ us.”

“He’s clumsy!” she protested, little nose wrinkling beneath mirthful, cunning blue eyes.

“He’ll never learn if he doesna get to try.”

Jamie crouched down nearby, watching and listening in awe. There Willie was, protesting about his brother being a wee lad, when he himself was only ten years old. He was wee as anything to Jamie.

And he’d be dead in a year.

“This must’ve been our last Hogmanay all together,” Jamie whispered before he realized he was saying it aloud. He didn’t need to look to know that Faith was standing beside him; he could feel the heat of her fiery presence, could see her glowing from the corner of his eye.

The little Jamie he was looking at was no older than five, Jenny was about seven. Willie would be eleven and dead soon, and his mother would follow in three more years. This was the last time everything had been truly magical during Hogmanay.

“This was...the last time,” Jamie said, unable to elaborate so that his tiny daughter would understand.

Willie finally convinced Jenny to allow Little Jamie to hold one of each of their hands, and they twirled and skipped in a circle. Little Jamie’s scowl seemed to transfer to his sister’s face, apparently unhappy that her nagging wee brother had gotten his way, but before long, all three children were laughing and squealing, tripping over each other in glee.

“The last time what, Da?” Jamie could not tell if his daughter was genuinely asking, or if she was wiser than she seemed and was trying to get him to reveal the contents of his weary soul.

“The last time we were...together. Happy.” Tears stung his eyes. “Willie was my very best friend, ye ken? I was so young when I lost him that I...I dinna even remember what it was like. But look at me....I’m looking at him like he hung the stars.”

And he was, Little Jamie. He adored his big brother. So did Jenny.

The fiddler ceased that particular tune, and everyone paused to applaud wildly, whooping and cheering. Da made his way over to his trio of wee Frasers. Jenny began hounding him to allow her to dance with him instead of Ma, Jamie began demanding to be sat on his shoulders. To compensate, he reached down with a great playful growl, scooping them up and tossing them over his shoulders as the fiddler started in again. Little Jamie and Jenny squealed their wee heads off as Da fully performed a jig with two bairns on his back, and Ma laughed her head off, taking Willie’s hands and swinging their arms between them.

Before long, the rest of the room took notice of Brian’s absurdity and was cheering him on, and then both of his wee children were sitting atop his shoulders, clinging to each other over his head as he danced. The jig finished and the room erupted again. Eyes leaking with tears of laughter, Ellen took Little Jamie into her arms, kissing his temple and rustling his wild hair as Jenny settled on Brian’s hip. His parents kissed, sweet and chaste and beautiful, and Jamie’s heart felt full and empty all at once.

“This truly was the last joyful holiday we had,” Jamie said with a sense of finality. He could live in this memory forever, forget the suffering that was to come, the fate of his poor brother and mother, the fate of himself all those years later. He wanted to fold himself into that loving embrace of that family of five, to meld himself with his five year old soul and live this night forever and ever.

“It wasna the last one, Da,” Faith said gently.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt a tiny, delicate hand grasping his again, and before he could speak the panicked protest on his lips into existence, his family was melting away in a whir of color, and the deafening wind was back. Jamie’s frightened cry made no sound, lost to the howling wind.

Colors began leaking back in around them, dimly lit and getting brighter by the second. It was like watching a painting being created right before his eyes, all around him. Then the parlor was back, the Hogmanay decorations all in their place, but just the slightest bit different. Jamie frantically whipped his head around, completely disoriented. His eyes took in a crowd gathered around a dancing couple, and he weaved in and out of them, apparently forgetting that he could just walk right through them if he wished. His heart soared, ready to find his mother and father again, but his breath was taken away at what he saw instead.

Jenny was grown now, hair long and flowing and tied back with a bow, her face bright and beaming, hands clasped with…

Ian.

He was laughing just as heartily, twirling and skipping and dancing right in step with Jenny.

Both of his legs.

Jenny was a young woman, clearly in love with the man that would be her husband, so this must have been…

“The last holiday before...” Jamie breathed reverently. “Before…everything.”

Before Fort William, before Da, before Ian’s leg was taken.

Before Claire.

“Mhmm.” Faith nodded in confirmation, swaying ethereally to the music. “Auntie is very bonny, aye?”

It took Jamie a moment to register her words, entranced as he was by the sight of his sister’s joy. So much had been lost, her brother, her mother. She’d become the woman of the house before she could even see over a washtub. Far too young. Yet, here she was, glowing, radiant.

She’s already stronger than I’ll ever be.

He smiled then, nodding. “Aye, lass. She’s bonny.”

He’d been so blind! How on earth hadn’t he seen the way his sister looked at his best friend? Where was he now that he hadn’t seen this, hadn’t heard the crowd whispering about what a bonny match they’d make someday?

A whooping roar sounded behind him, and Jamie whirled around, following the sound into the dining room, where he laughed out loud at what he saw.

Murtagh and his father were tossing back mugs of whisky and so was…

Himself.

It was not the same as looking at himself as a bairn; it was much stranger. It was so clearly him, yet it wasn’t at all. He was so young, this Jamie. So foolish; present Jamie could tell. He had that stupid glint in his eye, like he was seconds away from doing something foolish at any given time. The crowd roared again as the three men — or, rather, two men and the lad — slammed their mugs down. A drinking game of sorts.

“Aye, I remember,” Jamie breathed, laughing. “Da is about to drink me under the table!”

He’d passed out that night, so hell-bent on drinking more than his father and godfather that he hadn’t taken into account exactly how much he’d been consuming.

“I was sick as a bloody dog the next day,” Jamie went on, still laughing to Faith. “Da wouldna let it go fer weeks. Jenny didna even seem to notice, didna nag me as she would ha’ to see me in such a state. Her mind was elsewhere, I reckon.”

Jamie threw a look over his shoulder into the parlor, finding Jenny still bounding about the room with Ian, joined now by other couples. Jamie looked back again, watched as his father slapped younger Jamie’s back ruthlessly, causing him to sway, and causing the crowd to laugh raucously.

Then there was Da, beaming bright as young-and-in-love Jenny was.

Jamie had seen with his own two eyes how much losing his mother had crumbled his father. They were the loves of each other’s lives, there was no getting around it. Brian lost a piece of his heart when Ellen died, after having already buried a piece of it with Willie. Jamie knew the pain of losing a child, and he knew the pain of losing his wife.

And yet there he was, his father.

None could deny that there was always a quiet sadness about him after Willie, after Ma. But then he tossed his head back, howling with laughter as his son stumbled again, and Jamie’s heart twisted.

He carried on.

He looked back at Jenny again upon hearing her laugh, a shrill, shrieking sound that he’d always hated as a lad, but that now brought him such aching joy.

Certainly growing up too quickly had hardened her; it was unavoidable. And the horrors to come, Randall harming her, the rising and its aftermath, losing her own child...they’d all make her harder still. Jamie could see it in their present.

But she carried on.

Jamie did a visual sweep of the dining room, practically overflowing with food and decoration, every painstaking detail in place to give joy. He was certain that Jenny had done her best to recreate such a thing in her present day, for her children, for Fergus.

For him.

The way his Da had carried on and continued to make each holiday special after losing pieces of his heart had instilled itself into his daughter as well.

And it had missed Jamie himself.

Jamie was overwhelmed with crushing shame, tears stinging his eyes. His eyes bore into his father, so full of life, into himself so full of life. So young.

“Da...I…” he rasped, swallowing thickly. “I’ve failed ye. I have. I’ve failed Jenny, and Ma. I ken ye’d be disappointed in the man I’ve let myself become.”

How far had he fallen that such strength had eluded him? What was so bloody pathetic about him that he could not carry on as his father had set the example for his entire life?

“D’ye see, Da?” A little voice jolted him out of his reverie of self pity, and he finally tore his eyes away from the pillar of a man that he still loved fiercely, still missed with a painful ache.

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Aye, lass...I see. I see that I’m a...a bloody coward. A puir excuse fer a son.”

“Oh, Da,” Faith’s wee voice was tinged with sympathy, as if she were coddling one of her dollies.

Jamie sniffled, then turned to look down at his beautiful wee daughter. “The spirits sent ye to humble me, then?” he said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice for her sake. “To remind me how far I’ve fallen from this time of great joy?”

“Aye...I think so.”

Had he not felt sick to his stomach, Jamie might have laughed at her sweet innocence.

“But,” she went on, “all is not lost.”

She grasped his hand again, and Jamie threw a desperate glance back at his father, tossing his head back in laughter again; the last time he’d ever see him until the Eternal Kingdom.

The lights, the music, the laughter, and the joy all faded away like melting wax until the cave molded back into existence around them. His candle was still turned over, the only light in the room Faith’s glowing essence. Jamie’s head was spinning, so much so that he nearly forgot what Faith had just said:

All is not lost.

“What...what did ye mean, mo chridhe…? What isna lost?”

She giggled. “All!”

He laughed despite himself, his heart straining in his chest. He knelt down in front of his daughter, his hands physically aching with the need to reach out and touch her, and his heart splitting upon remembering that he couldn’t.

“Cheeky wee thing,” he said softly, his eyes glistening.

“It’ll be alright, Da,” Faith said sweetly. “The other spirits will help ye understand.”

“Others?”

“Aye, I only showed ye the past. The spirits said ye must see the present and future as well.”

“But what...what good’ll it do…?”

She smiled, reaching out to ghost a white hot finger over his nose. “It’ll do all the good in the world, Da. I promise.”

Jamie leaned into her touch, but was met with nothing but air.

“Can ye promise me ye’ll keep yer heart open?” Faith asked, and the room suddenly seemed to get darker.

Her light is fading.

“Faith? Faith, mo chridhe, what’s happening?”

“Promise, Da. Promise that what I showed ye has opened yer heart fer the next spirits.”

She’s leaving.

“Please, lass, dinna leave me…”

“Promise,” she begged, fading dimmer and dimmer.

“Aye,” Jamie choked, a sob wracking through his body. “Aye, my sweet babe...I promise.”

Faith sighed with relief, smiling brightly. “Thank ye, Da.”

“Wait…!”

“I love you, Da.”

And she was gone.

Jamie fell forward onto his hands and knees, sobbing gutturally, every inch of his body alight with the horrible pain of losing her again.

“I...I love you too, Faith.”

The room was entirely black, black as his heart felt now that she was gone. He didn’t bother to light the candle, didn’t even move from his hands and knees as he wept for his lost brother, parents, his poor daughter, and the mother that would never be given such a gift as he had to see her and hear her voice.

Then there was light again; he could see it behind his burning eyelids. He looked behind him. The candle was still turned over, unlit. He turned back around, sitting on his haunches and beholding the next glowing spirit to grace his presence.

He almost fainted.

“...Sassenach?”

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years

Text

A Safe Haven - Part Two (of Two)

Part One

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

Claire set the mortar and pestle down so she could wipe at the sweat on her brow and arch her back. She hated that it took so much more from her to do the simple things she’d been doing for years. A kick from the occupant inside her swollen belly let her know she wasn’t alone in her discomfort and frustration.

The ghost of a smile passed over Claire’s face as she laid her palm over the place where she now knew a foot rested. It nudged her again, more gently this time.

“Milady,” Fergus called from the doorway. “There was no meat to be had today. The butcher, his wife and son are ill so he has no help. What he managed alone was gone before I arrived.” He had a basket over his arm and a frown across his face. He hated being tasked with the shopping but never complained (not aloud, at least) to Claire when she sent him out. She was far enough along that so much time on her feet and carrying things was too taxing.

Claire sighed and turned to take the vegetables and bread Fergus had managed to acquire from the basket, setting them on the other, larger table.

“We will just have to make do with a vegetable soup then,” she declared. “I’ve stock saved that ought to be enough to give it some flavor. And perhaps I should go see the butcher’s family tomorrow morning.”

“Much as I should like the best cuts when I visit his stall,” Fergus conceded, “ I do not think Milord would want you to put yourself at risk in your condition.”

He eyed her belly and she sighed, wanting to argue but she had too little fight left. Fergus had been getting after her to send word to Jenny and Ian about where they were and the fact that there was a new Fraser close to making its arrival. But she was too terrified to write. Letting them know where she was meant that news of Jamie would reach her, and she was convinced there could only be one kind of news where he was concerned—the worst and most painful kind.

He wouldn’t have turned back from that battlefield. It simply wasn’t in his nature. He would do everything in the world to protect those around him but then sacrifice himself even knowing that the fight was doomed. If he’d survived the battle, he would have been captured and almost certainly killed. While there were plenty of soldiers who would simply be imprisoned (under harsh and deplorable conditions), he was Red Jamie and notorious enough for the English to want to make an example of him.

Then there was the spectre of Faith. She was further along in her pregnancy than she’d gotten with Faith, but that only made her fears that something might go wrong worse. To write and tell them before she was safe through it felt like she might be tempting fate. Then there was the idea—flimsy though she knew it to be—that if she were holding Jamie’s child in her arms, maybe she could face the horrible and inevitable truth when Jenny’s response came. Not to mention, it would cushion her from Jenny’s grief and possible wrath over not having told them she was safe sooner.

“Are you well, Milady?” Fergus asked, reaching to guide her to a chair. She let him.

“I’m just tired,” she murmured. “It’s to be expected at this stage. I’ve a month yet and I’m afraid I’ll feel increasingly useless until the baby arrives. Thankfully,” she added with a smile for him, “I have a wonderfully capable assistant and protector on hand.”

Fergus beamed at that. “Madame de La Tour’s cousin asked if you would be interested in joining her for a dinner with several of her friends. She assures it is not a large party and has decided getting away from the cottage will do you well. She says you will soon be spending more time here than you’ll care for and you must enjoy society while you still may.” He set himself down in the chair beside hers with an exhausted huff, having delivered the message. “I think she is afraid she has not been hospitable enough for you and fears what you will write to her cousin.”

“Is that your assessment?” Claire asked, amused.

“Oui.”

“Well, I’m inclined to agree. I suppose I will need to send you with my response—assuming you don’t mind the errand?”

He shook his head. “And you are declining, Milady?”

She nodded. “Tell her that, while I am flattered and would love to be able to accept, I am not feeling well enough in my condition. However, if she should like to call on me for a light luncheon one of these days, I should be happy to have her company.”

“As you will, Milady. You do not need assistance with our dinner?”

The note of hope in his voice made her smile. Anything to get out of what he considered, ‘women’s work.’

“No, I can manage on my own. Once everything’s in the pot, it pretty much takes care of itself. I can rest while it cooks and stir it a little here and there. You’ll be back long before it’s ready.”

“Very well then, Milady.” He heaved himself up and dashed to the door, pausing long enough to glance back at her for one last reassuring smile and nod, then he was gone on his new errand and Claire relaxed back in the chair, sighing and counting to ten before pushing herself up out of her own chair.

It was easier to keep moving once she’d started. In so many ways, it felt like that was all that kept her going. Forward momentum carrying her away from Lallybroch, across the sea, across France. It was when she stopped moving that her thoughts and fears would catch up with her. She could only look forward to the next thing, no longer able to see several steps ahead, to plan. It had been ‘get to Paris.’ Then it had been, ‘get some help.’

Louise had stepped forward in an unexpected way, not only offering to take both Claire and Fergus in but offering an alternative when Claire declined. To see Louise’s healthy son, born so soon after the loss of Faith… to see Louise and all the people she and Jamie had befriended in their failed efforts to prevent the Rising that had ultimately taken Jamie…

Instead, a cousin who was dependent on Louise and her wealthy husband, was implored to take Claire and Fergus under her wing in Geneva. She had provided lodging until Claire was able to secure some on her own, and it was through her that Claire was introduced around and ultimately found some work with her healing and Fergus was taken on as a runner among the local elite. Messages, packages, errands… Fergus was paid to undertake the lot for those whose time was more important. Seeing it as his duty to provide for Claire in Jamie’s absence, Fergus proved diligent and capable when he wished.

But soon there would be another mouth to feed and Claire’s time to spend healing would dwindle. She would have to write to Jenny and Ian, though she was loathe to ask any sort of help from them. Perhaps she could bring herself to ask for aid from Jared instead. He’d been fond of Jamie and she was one of many Jacobite widows who’d lost the security and earnings of a husband.

She hated it, more than the ache of Jamie’s loss. Being dependent on the favors of others, of his family and friends. In such moments of self-pity, she almost wished she’d gone to Craigh na Dun and traveled back to her own time. At least there she would have more options for how to provide for herself and her child. But she couldn’t leave Fergus alone like that. And she’d made her decision years before when Jamie had taken her to that hill himself.

Finished with the vegetables, she left the soup to simmer while she sat in her chair by the window resting and waiting. It shouldn’t take Fergus long to get back… unless he found another job to run in the process. Good thing the soup would keep.

Dozing, she slipped into a dream. It must be a dream, for she heard Jamie calling her name at great distance. The child in her belly kicked out hard and woke her.

She sighed and rose, stretching to ease the ache in her muscles and joints from sitting so cramped and still.

Through the window, she thought she saw movement up the way. Fergus finally arriving home for dinner. Claire crossed to the hearth to stir the soup, breathing deep the earthy aroma that rose with the steam.

She dropped the spoon into the pot as her name came to her again, as it had in the dream. Except it wasn’t faint. It was close. She spun and lurched for the door, throwing it open and stepping into the fading light of the late afternoon… where it caught in Jamie’s bright, fiery hair and brought Claire to her knees.

He was there in an instant, kneeling in the dirt path beside her, his arms around her and his tears mingling with hers.

“I’m not too late then, I see,” he remarked when he pulled back to look at her, his eyes dropping to her prominent belly.

“You…?” she gasped before catching the sly twinkle in his eye, the proud smile stretching across his relieved face. She gave him a light smack on the arm before gripping it to brace herself and stand. “I should have known you knew. You knew when you sent me with Fergus.”

“Of course, mo ghraidh,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I couldna have parted wi’ ye otherwise. I was most worried I’d no find ye again before yer time came. I couldna bear the thought of ye goin’ through it on yer own after Faith. Mind, I’d have had an easier time of it if ye’d written Jenny where it was ye’d gone.”

Claire felt heat rushing to her cheeks even as tears filled her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter why I didn’t,” she told him, her fingers taking a tight hold of his shirt as they fumbled their way to their feet. “All that matters is you’re here and you’re whole. We’re together and the rest… well we’ve time to figure it out.”

“Some things we’ve more time for than others,” Jamie whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached to lay them against Claire’s belly. The child inside shifted beneath his palm in casual greeting. “What shall we call him?”

“When I thought you were dead, I decided I’d call the baby after you,” Claire managed to say around the lump in her throat. “But seeing as you aren’t dead…”

“Would ye mind callin’ him for my father?” Jamie asked.

Claire rested her hand over his. “I think that would be lovely.”

#;mod lenny #a safe haven au #so it's a two parter #featuring: fergus #(and Geneva... Switzerland! hahaha)

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sprnklersplashes · 5 years

Text

he’s a prick but he’s my prick

(or: no one hurts michelle’s counsin except her) (warning for references to violence)

Michelle tosses the pen between her fingers, staring blankly at the page of maths problems on her lap, her feet tucked up underneath her on the sofa. Maths is such bullshit as far as she’s concerned. It’s not like she’s ever going to need to know how long the line on a triangle is. Most of the time, she gets James to help her, and by help, she means do it for her, but he had to go and join the drama club at school, didn’t he, and have to stay behind to rehearse for the Sound of Music. He was a shoo-in for the part, obviously. Though she’d have paid good money to see him putting on a frock and twirling around playing Maria.

Still, if he thinks she’s wasting time and money watching him prance about the stage in a fancy suit pretending to be a Da to four kids and struggling through Adeilweiss, he’s got another thing coming. Especially not with that insufferable Jenny Joyce playing his wee girl.

“Where is he?” her mum asks out loud, looking out the window. “Christ, he said rehearsals ended at five. I’ve no time to go out and pick him up if that’s what he’s looking.”

“Course he wouldn’t ask for a lift, Ma,” Michelle reminds her, scribbling down a few numbers, not really paying attention. “Too bloody polite for that.”

“Aye, well you could learn a wee bit from him in that regard,” Deidrie tells her, moving away from the window. She’s wearing a coat over her nurse’s uniform and glaring at the clock like she can make James appear at the door by sheer will power alone.

Michelle looks up at the clock herself, surprised to see it’s gone half five. The school is five minutes away by bus, and that bus comes every five minutes. Not surprised enough to be worried, despite the stupid nauseating feeling in her stomach.

“There he is now,” Deidrie sighs when they hear a key in the lock. “Christ he’s lucky he got home when he did.” Michelle goes back to her homework, waving her hand absentmindedly when she hears him shuffle into the room. “Jesus James what have you done to yourself!” her mother shrieks, making Michelle jump six feet in the air, nearly knocking over her tea.

But it’s the sight she sees when she turns that nearly makes her jump higher. James’ stupidly apologetic face is battered; his left eye is swollen and purple, as is his lip, which is bleeding, and there’s a nasty looking gash on his forehead, making his hair stick to it, not to mention a bruise on his right cheek and cut on his chin with blood smeared across his chin and down his neck. He’s carrying his blazer, and the sleeve of his jumper is torn. He can’t even stand straight, sort of helplessly swaying, like Michelle when she’s drunk.

“I’m fine, really,” he begins, but his voice is small.

“Aye, you look it, come here.” Deidrie grabs him by the arm and drags him into the kitchen. Michelle doesn’t hesitate in dropping her book and pen and following. She’s been tempted to give James a whack on more than one occasion, but this isn’t a whack. This isn’t even in the same neighbourhood as a whack. Deidrie sits him down at the table, despite his insistences that he’s okay. She gets out the Quality Street tin for medical supplies and begins taking everything out one by one, plasters, wipes, gauze, some ointment Michelle can never remember the name of, just that it stings like hell.

“I’m fine, Auntie Deidrie, really,” he says. “And don’t you have work tonight?” Michelle smirks to herself. He’s not as thick as he looks. Deidrie sighs, looking at the clock and back at him. She knows he’s right.

“First off, tell me what happened,” she orders. “No funny business. Tell me what happened.”

“It was my own fault,” he admits, shrugging then wincing. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I tripped.”

“You tripped?” Deidrie echoes.

“Yeah.” Deidrie looks at the clock with a resigned sigh.

“You go on, Mum, I’ll clean him up,” Michelle says.

“Do you know how to do all this?” she asks.

“Of course. I’ve seen you do it all the time. Now go.” Deidrie gives James another quick once-over before taking her back off the counter and rushing out the door. Michelle turns back to James with folded arms. He’s practically shrunk in his chair. “You must think we’re full of balls, don’t you?”

“I’m not entirely familiar with that particular expression,” he replies, neatly dodging the question.

“You must think we’re fucking stupid James!” she exclaims, grabbing the stuff from the counter and pulling over another chair so she can sit opposite him. If possible, he looks even worse up close. His eye is practically swollen shut, the blood around the cut on his forehead is still oozing out, and he’s having trouble focusing on Michelle. Given how swollen his lips are it’s amazing he can actually talk. “You did all this by tripping over?” She makes a start by wiping away the blood on his neck, then dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

“It was the street outside the shops,” he protests, wincing as she wipes his cut. “You know how hard that ground is. All those… uneven cobblestones.”

“James!” She would punch him herself if he wasn’t in such a state. “Cut the crap, okay? I’ve tripped on that street, far less sober than you are right now, and I’ve not come away like this so what bloody happened?”

James looks down at his hands, which are joined together in his lap. His chin starts wobbling and she nearly screams. If he starts crying she’ll finish what whoever did this started.

“Don’t tell Auntie Deidrie,” he says, his voice thick. “Swear you won’t tell her, Michelle. Scratch that, won’t tell anyone. Not your mum, not Erin, or Clare or Orla, or anyone. Promise?”

“Right, fine I promise,” she says.

“I popped into the shop on my way back,” he whispers. “Just wanted a bit of sugar. While I was in there, there were these three lads from the boy’s school in the line behind me. I guess they heard me talk. Heard my accent.” He presses his hands tighter together. “And so when I was coming out they jumped on me, this one lad. Asked me where I was from. What I was doing in Derry.”

“What did you tell him?” she asks. He’s ducked his head so low she can’t see his face, but his shoulders are shaking. She feels sick to her stomach and she wasn’t even there.

“The truth. I just thought if I told them the truth they’d leave me alone,” he explains. “They didn’t. It’s all kind of a blur, to be honest. One pushed the down, then rolled me over and just started hitting me. They ran off when someone came out of the shop and threatened to call the police. He offered me a lift home but I told him I could walk it.”

Michelle feels like she’s going to vomit. She knew back when James first moved here that people wouldn’t love the English thing, heck that’s why he puts on a green blazer and sits behind her on the bus annoying her and holding Erin’s hand, making her want to boke, every morning. But there’s a big difference between knowing it might happen and seeing the after effects of it happening, and it makes her hands shake. They should be over this by now, both sides should. And going after a little prick like James who can hardly defend himself…

“Who were they?” she asks, tilting James’ chin up so she can wipe ointment on his cut. “I want names.”

“It’s not like I asked,” he replies. “Did you think I’d stop in the middle of being beat up to ask for names-ow! That really stings, Michelle!”

“Ah you’re such a baby,” she tells him. “Right no names, faces. Give me faces.”

“It’s not like I had a camera with me,” he protests. She keeps quiet for now, keeping cleaning him up. “Thanks. You don’t have to do this.”

“Aye course I do,” she says without thinking, and he starts smiling despite the cut on his lip. “Well it’s not like you could do it yourself and my mam would kill me if I let you bleed over her tablecloth.” Still, the smile doesn’t fade. She patches him up with gauze on the forehead and a plaster on the chin and cheek. She gets up and goes to the freezer. They don’t have ice packs, but she gets a beg of frozen peas for his eye. “You look like such a prick.”

“I know,” he mutters, holding the peas over his swollen eye. He moves to stand and she rises with him.

“Still not willing to rat them out?”

“Even if I knew their names I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Do you want to… maybe… talk about it?”

He raises his eyebrows at her, utterly in shock, and she rolls her eyes back.

“Look, I’m new at this, okay?”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “And really… all I want to do is lie down.” He needs it too. She doesn’t want to let him go, but she also knows she won’t win this, so she nods and lets him pass. Before he goes, he grabs her wrist, looking pleadingly at her. “You won’t tell?”

“Snitches get stitches,” she says. “And you’ve had enough of them.”

She watches as he makes his way to the stairs, staggering slightly. Her hands curl into fists, acrylic nails pressing into her palms.

She thinks how long it’s been since she was in a fight.

*****

The next day, they’re at the shop Michelle and James outside while Erin, Orla and Clare buy their morning pick n mix. They lean against the wall, warm in their woollen blazers in the spring weather. Still, James seems to be wearing his like a suit of armour.

“Are you okay?” she asks him quietly. The bruises are still standing out starkly on his pale face. She imagines he’ll get all sorts of questions from Sister Michael, and she knows the ‘tripped while walking’ excuse won’t work with her and her zero bullshit tolerance policy. It barely worked on Erin and Clare, though it definitely worked with Orla, but everything works for her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies.

“You know, once Jenny Joyce sees you, she’ll probably get the entire cast of the Sound of Music to sign a wee card for you,” she jokes, and laughs as he groans.

“Don’t tell me that.”

“With a wee teddy bear as well,” she cackles. “Imagine Erin if she finds out Jenny Joyce is sending you teddies.”

“She’d go ballistic,” he agrees, smiling. But the smile soon fades when a group of lads their age from Christian Brothers come down the street, laughing obnoxiously and whooping. James keeps pressing his back to the brick wall like he can disappear into it, his face turning grey. His gaze drops to the floor when they start coming in their direction.

“Is that them?” she asks in a low voice. “James is that them?” All he can do is nod quickly. They pass by them, glaring daggers at James, and Michelle manages to get a good look at them. “Holy crap, that middle one, the skinhead, he’s Eoin McConnor.”

“You know him?”

“I shagged him.” If she didn’t regret shagging him before she sure as fuck does now. The little shite.

Still, at least they shagged at his place. And his mates live close by. And she knows just the place to wait for them.

*****

Michelle sits in wait, crouching behind a small shed next to the shop, keeping her eye on the bus stop. She pulls her black jacket tighter around her, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She’s even forgone wearing hoops, despite how naked she feels without them. She’s seen first hand what happens to hoop earrings when someone’s in a fight. First year, Christmas party, Jessica Moore. Wasn’t pretty.

She hears them before she sees them, hollering as they jump off the bus. Probably didn’t even thank the bus driver. Lucky she’s here to beat some manners into them, otherwise their mammies would have to do it for them.

“Here, you lot,” she yells, coming out from behind her hiding place. The turn to face her, two of them with their noses wrinkling, but Eoin lets out a loud laugh. Too loud.

“What about you, Michelle?” he asks, and turns to his mates, tapping one in the chest. “This here’s Michelle. Sure didn’t I tell you about her? She’s the one I did at the Halloween party last year.”

“Do you go around telling your mates about every girl you shag?” she asks. “Or am I just special?”

“Oh aye,” one of his mates says. “The one with the English cousin?”

“Aye, the one with the English cousin,” she confirms. Her fists are clenched already and she’s itching to get the firs swing in.

“He’s such a prick!” the third exclaims, leaning on his friend.

“Hey!” she explodes. “He might be a prick. But I am the only one who gets to call him a prick!”

“Here, calm the fuck down Michelle,” Eoin says. “Sure what’s the problem?”

“The problem is my cousin came in last night looking like hell!”

“Sure he always looks like that,” one snickers.

“I will thank you to shut the hell up!” she commands. “Now, I need to know, was it you lot who did that to him?” The three of them dissolves into pathetic laughter. “Answer me!”

“Aye, it was,” Eoin says, sauntering up to her. She forgets what she ever saw in him. “And so what if we did, Michelle. Come on, he was asking for it, for Christ’s sake.”

“You know something Eoin?” She steps closer and whispers in his ear. “Having a big dick means nothing if it’s mostly your personality.”

With that, she pulls her first back, and it hands right on Eoin’s jaw-

*****

“Sweet Jesus, Michelle,” Deidrie sighs. “I swear between you and James I’ll be running out of supplies. It’s like a bloody warzone in here!”

Michelle sits at the kitchen table, wincing from the ointment her mum dabs on the scrape on her china and gash on her forehead. She’s also got a black eye to match James’, albeit not as swollen. She knows how to defend herself.

“And these girls just jumped out on top of you?” she asks.

“Aye, didn’t even see them coming. Not even Big Mandy and she’s not what you’d call light on her feet,” she answers. “Lucky I’ve got such sharp reflexes.” She smirks to herself. Eoin especially will have fun trying to explain how he got that particular bruise on his cheekbone. Lucky she remembered to wear the gold rings that night.

“Right, that should do it love,” she says. “I don’t know if I want the two of you wandering around alone now if this carry on is happening.”

“Well, Erin’s insistent on walking me home after rehearsal from now on,” James says from where he leans on the counter. “So you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Oh I’m sure she wants to walk you home,” Michelle jokes, wiggling her eyebrows. James sighs heavily but doesn’t say anything.

“Right, I’m away to work,” Deidrie says. “Your daddy’s coming back in about half an hour. No funny business, you two.”

They hear the front door click shut, leaving them alone in the house. Michelle busies herself clearing away the medical stuff, while James just stands at the counter.

“Do you want to help out here, you dick?” she asks.

“You know, it’s odd that Big Mandy got the jump on you,” he says, not moving. “Considering how loud she is when she walks.”

“Aye, well I was in a world of my own,” she replies.

“And I didn’t even think she lived around there,” he continues. “And… oh yeah, she’s on the Paris trip right now, so she’s not in Derry at the moment.”

Fuck. How did she not notice that? Maybe school had been a little less intimidating and a little more peaceful without her around. Not that she’s intimidated by Mandy.

“Is she?” she asks casually. “Well must have been someone who looked a lot like her.”

“Does anyone look like Mandy?” he asks, snorting. “You know there’s a rumour that some girl was in a fight tonight. Heard it while I was in the supermarket with your mum. She took on three boys from Christian Brothers.” The room falls quiet and Michelle’s heart begins to get louder. She doesn’t even look at James, but she can feel the stupid smile on his face. Her own face flushes red. God she hates being caught in a lie. It happens nearly every time she does it and she hates it each time.

Suddenly, James’ arms are around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. Her whole body freezes, but she finds her arms around his shoulders too. She hopes to God he isn’t crying, because she can’t get snot all over this top. And he might set her off too.

“Thank you,” he whispers sincerely. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Course I did,” she insists, pulling away from him. “They’re dicks. They had to be taught some manners. And anyway…” She flicks him with a tea towel. “No one calls you a prick and roughs you up and gets away with it.”

“Except for you?” he asks cheekily. She should thump him or call him a dick for that. Instead, she just laughs.

“Aye, except for me.”

#derry girls #derry girls ff #michelle mallon #james maguire #i need a scene like this on the show #also im writing fics for this show now that's just where i am #y'all can pry drama nerd james from my cold dead hands

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mymelodyheart · 4 years

Text

Forget Me Not Chapter 24 ~Untreasured Past~

He heard a gunshot. Claire's eyes widened, and her body stiffened before she fell into his arms.

Jamie's eyes flew open, heart pounding like a jackhammer, and squinted into the shadows. Soft skin, warmth and feminine smell surrounded him as he looked down at the slender arm across his waist and dark curls that scattered across his chest. Claire muttered something in her sleep and shifted, not sensing anything wrong. Carefully, with his free arm, he reached for his phone lying on the bedside table to look at the time and saw it was only five a.m.

Slowly, his body relaxed and gathered Claire's sleeping form closer, kissing the top of her head to reassure himself that she was truly there. It was another bad dream of the shooting, one that haunted him on an almost nightly basis.

Inhaling deeply, he tried to even out his breaths as he stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, an odd sensation stirred in his guts as if sensing a storm coming. He wondered if he was becoming jumpy and sensitive because of the shooting incident, but primitive instinct told him, it didn't feel like danger. It was more like a premonition of something about to be unravelled. But what?

As a different type of stirring started to occur in his groin and unable to go back to sleep, he gingerly extricated himself from Claire, careful not to wake her up. He didn't bother putting on clothes, afraid with his awkwardness on his feet, he would make too much noise. Grabbing his crutch, he hobbled his way to the kitchen in his boxer briefs.

Moonlight trickled through the window, and the cold air sent goosebumps sweeping all over his skin. Although it was almost spring, it still felt very much like winter. Switching on the light, he made himself a mug of coffee and settled in an oversize leather chair in the family room, where it was a tad bit warmer. He wrapped himself with a seat's blanket and leaning back, he watched the world slowly wake up through the window and listened to the rousing of his peaceful surrounding.

His mind drifted to Claire and their conversation last night, and then he smiled, a feeling of gratitude and hope of second chances hitting him in waves. She was right about the many road bumps ahead but having her close by, energised him and gave him purpose. The future didn't seem as bleak. He understood then that certain things can't be protected from storms and that things need to be shattered once in a while to make way for growth. Above all else and most importantly, she came back to him, and there was no way in hell he was going to mess up this time.

Jamie was so deep in his thoughts, he didn't realise his father had walked in. "Ye alright, son?" Brian was stood in the doorway with a mug of coffee, looking at him with a strange look.

"Uh, good morning. A-aye I'm fine. I didn't hear ye come in last night." He straightened up on his seat and smiled.

Hugging his mug with both hands, Brian took the seat opposite his son. "We came home early enough, and yer ma and I were surprised to see all the lights were out. If I hadn't seen Claire's car, I would have thought she didn't come to last night's dinner at all. So how did it go?"

Jamie let out a small laugh. "Aye, dinner was great. I suppose ye were in this with Jenny, aye? Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but after Jenny announced she was leaving us, I was afraid Claire would follow suit and leave me on my own."

Brian shook his head. "No. Yer ma and I didn't have anything to do with it. Dinner with friends yesterday was planned a long time ago. It was all Jenny's idea. But we knew what she was up to and we didn't object. Ye and Claire have been miserable for far too long, and talk between the two of ye was long overdue. So, how did it go?"

"Aye, we talked, but I noticed she was exhausted ... and I was too. We went to bed early."

"I was going to check up on her upstairs, but I was afraid I'd wake her up, so I thought better of it. She hasn't been sleeping weel, ye ken."

Jamie's face turned red. "Da, she slept in my bed," he confessed. Although his parents had given their blessing to their relationship, he and Claire weren't comfortable when it came to sleeping arrangements when together in Lallybroch. After all, they grew up together as siblings and sleeping together under the same roof as his parents felt awkward. Hence, they had sought privacy in his unfinished house and eventually in Claire's and Geillis' residence.

Brian cleared his throat as he noticed his son's embarrassment and waved his hand in dismissal, a silent understanding passing between them. "I'm just glad ye've sorted things out. Whatever happened between the two of ye, I was sure ye'd find yer way back to each other. Yer ma says, yer both soulmates, whatever that means," he laughed. There was a thoughtful silence before he continued and changed the subject. "Ye ken Isobel ... Geneva Dunsany's sister?" he asked.

Jamie nodded his head, his brows furrowing. "Aye, I ken the lass. Why?"

"She came to talk to me about the horse she rescued from the slaughterhouse. The horse has been abused and is in distress. Isobel kens ye're good with horses, and she asked me if ye could help. I told her ye might not be up for it since ye're still recovering," his father explained.

Jamie stared out the window and thought of a time when they had horses. They've always had one or a couple while growing up, but ever since the younger Frasers pursued their studies outside the Highlands, his father had stopped adopting them. The stables were now used for storage, which held many memories of their childhood days, of riding in the open fields and responsibilities of taking care of animals.

"I don't know da, it's been a while since we've had horses..."

"Aye, of course, dinna fash. I thought it would be therapeutic for ye, and maybe, it would encourage ye to get out of the house more."

It had been said many times that Jamie had a gift and was known as a horse whisperer. But that was then. In his current state, he needed to focus on getting better and on Claire. Their relationship was very fragile, and he needed her back in his life for them to move on. On top of it all, his back and his thighs still throbbed, and the nightmares plagued him. He couldn't possibly take responsibility for a broken horse when he had his own demons to fight and his own life to get back on track. He knew he had to refuse even if it meant missing out on something he was passionate about.

"No. I'm so sorry, da. I wish I could," he shrugged apologetically.

"I thought, ye'd say that. Weel, in case ye changed yer mind, the horse will be temporarily staying in our stable until Isobel can convince her da to keep it. It's a better option than in the slaughterhouse." Brian got up from his seat to go and stopped, remembering something important he ought to say. "And also, be mindful of Geneva, son. That lass is bad news. She seems to have something against Claire. I've refused Geneva's job application on the spot after overhearing the way she spoke to her. Isobel seems to be a nice enough lassie, but her sister sounds like trouble."

Jamie nodded, a strange impression of deja vu billowing around him as his father's warning flicked at him like tiny stings. "Aye, I'll bear that in mind," he replied, getting up, not wanting to discuss it further until he talked to Claire. "Thanks for letting me know, da."

"Nothing to thank me for, son. Just glad things seem to be looking up. And look at ye ... ye're on your feet already. Who would have thought, eh?" Twisting his wrist, Brian looked at the time. "Got to go. I have to bring coffee to yer ma." He squeezed Jamie's shoulder before walking away, leaving his son with disturbing thoughts of Geneva.

...........

Claire stepped out of the shower, still feeling exhausted. Last night was the first time in ages she slept a straight solid nine hours without any nightmares, but yet her body craved for more rest. Putting it down to mental fatigue from having to sort out a lot of paper works and administrative chores in the hotel, she resisted the urge to go back to bed and make most of her day off instead.

When she woke earlier, Jamie was gone. Disappointment warring with concern, she had hoped to wake up with him by her side. Christ, it was only seven a.m.! Maybe the aches and pains from his injury had kept him awake, she thought.

Dressed in yoga pants and over-sized checkered flannel shirt, she dried her hair and twisted it into a messy bun, leaving the loose curls to frame her face. Slipping her feet into thick woollen socks, she made her way back to the makeshift bedroom. Her plan was to make breakfast for the family and maybe, have some more enlightening chat with Jamie.

Feeling slightly more invigorated after having seen the beautiful weather from the window, she started to make the bed.

"Good morning, Sassenach. What are ye doing?"

Claire spun around to find Jamie leaning against the doorjamb, amusement putting a slight quirk in his mouth. Pushing away from the door, he walked over to her with a slight limp, using the crutch for support. Despite the cold, he was only wearing his boxer briefs, putting his beautiful sculpted body on display for her to gawk at. His tousled hair and bearded jaw gave him a wild look, making her wish she hadn't said anything about taking things slow.

Clamping on her desire to throw herself at him, she gave him an exaggerated, cheery smile. "I was going to make breakfast. Did you sleep well?"

"Aye, I did. But a bad dream woke me up." His eyes automatically wandered over her body, staring at her like a starved man deprived. "I was expecting ye to be still in bed. Why are ye up so early? It's yer day off."

"The weather is beautiful. It would be a shame to miss a big chunk of it by lounging about." Tempting as Jamie looked in his dishevelled state, she averted her eyes and made a move to go to the other side of the bed to fluff the pillows.

His arm shot out to block her. "Come back to bed, Sassenach and lie down with me for a little while. Today is not a day for rushing," he urged softly, his gaze fastened on her mouth.

"Hmmm, I don't think that's a good idea.," she said with one eyebrow arched as her eyes strayed to his burgeoning erection.

Unapologetic, he grinned boyishly, his sky blue eyes lighting up. "Why?"

The question hung between them, and Claire could only stare, half expecting him to close the distance and kiss her. But Jamie didn't budge as he rocked back on his heels, waiting for an answer like they had all the time in the world.

"I feel like you're about to pounce on me, and we agreed to take it slow," she admitted finally, frustration nipping at her nerves.

With a cocky smile still plastered to his lips, he took a step forward and lowered his head, warm breath brushing against her mouth. "I'm not going to lie, Sassenach. There are a lot of things I would like to do with ye right now, but I respect yer wishes. We'll take things slow unless ye want otherwise. So stop being stubborn and get back in bed. I just want to hold ye and kiss ye. Is that alright?"

His words jolted through her, and she sucked in air. Jamie's relaxed stance hid a fine-tuned tension that stiffened his muscles and carved out the lines on his face, and the glint in his eyes belied his real thoughts. Not one to back down on his teasing game, she fought her rising need and took it as an opportunity to talk.

Turning away from him, she pulled back the bedcover, slipped onto the bed and smiled at him. "Very well. Breakfast can wait. I'm not that hungry anyway," she said, patting the bed beside her.

"That's a good lass," he beamed, ignoring the warning look she launched.

As she settled against the stacks of pillows, she watched him move with ease as he slid in next to her, signs of his injury almost unnoticeable. And when he opened an arm as an invitation to move closer, she let go of her unease and relaxed, resting her head on his chest in contentment. It was no use fighting it. Their attraction to one another was palpable.

Tucked in his embrace, he gently pulled the pins out of her bun, tugging his fingers at the damp waves that spilt over his chest. And when he spoke, the playfulness in his tone was gone. "Da told me about what happened with Geneva. I thought she might have outgrown her bullying ways. Obviously, she hasn't. There must be more to the story. Want to talk about it now? I ken ye don't like talking about what happened in school, especially when someone was mean to ye, but maybe now's the time."

Jamie's question woke sleeping demons inside. All the reasons she never wanted to return back to Scotland if it wasn't for the Fraser family, whispered in her ears. Claire squeezed her eyes shut, shivering slightly.

"What's wrong, Sassenach? Are ye alright?" he asked in a soft voice.

The past and the present flashed together, merging a faded memory that demanded her attention. She hadn't thought about it in for so long, after burying the truth under so much rubble, deeming it dead forever.

Unfortunately, it wasn't. Claire's meeting with Geneva in the pub months ago had stirred the monster up and ever since then, they had never been far from the surface. Safe in Jamie's arms, she realised she wanted to tell him what happened and unload the massive weight she carried in her heart for years.

"You've always known I never really fitted in school."

Jamie's arms tightened around her, settling into a silence that told her he'd spend the whole day listening. With a gentle squeeze to her arm, he urged her to continue.

Suddenly, the past reared up and yanked her back in time. Her vision blurred while she fought the images, reminding herself nearly a decade had passed and she wasn't that girl any longer.

"As you know, I've always looked different from the rest of the kids back then. They thought I looked like a freak with my big hair, braces and thick eyeglasses. The teasing was usually harmless, and it gave me the backbone to stand up for myself. The fact that I did so well in school made only matters worse. I thought it would improve my chances of being liked. Instead, I was labelled a nerd."

She let out a half-laugh, hopelessly trying to lighten the mood. And as she tried to curl her hand into a fist, Jamie entwined his fingers with hers, holding it tight and refusing to let go.

"Then, of course, there were groups in school that everyone begged to be part of because the members of these crowds were popular, better looking, great in sports, had more money... you name it, they had it. And you were one of the popular ones, and you didn't even need to prove anything. Although I wanted to be accepted, I didn't mind not being part of these groups. I think everything would have been fine if nobody knew I was your foster sister, but I caught the attention of a group of popular girls because of my connection to you. One day, Geneva and her friends gathered around me after school and invited me to join their little club. Geneva was their leader. For some reason, deep down, I suspected she hated me, but at the same time, she wanted something from me. I supposed she wanted to get closer to you, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Although I was wary, awkward and shy at first, I agreed to join them."

Her heart beat off-key, and she dragged in a breath, trying her best to push through. The memories edged her nerves, but she was determined to tell her story.

"Over the next few weeks, I sat with them during lunchtime and was invited to a lot of their parties and after school activities. Eventually, I started to enjoy myself, and the teasing about my looks stopped. I started to believe everything would finally be alright. During those times, Geneva asked a lot of questions about you, but I tried to avoid answering them because I felt like I was betraying you. And you were my closest friend then. When she finally realised I was of no use to her, she pulled this awful prank in front of everyone."

She blinked back the tears, desperate to get through her story. "At the end of one Friday lunch period, we were all sat together, and I was telling them a story about uncle Lamb. Suddenly, in the middle of it all, I felt something was off. I saw Geneva gave some sort of signal with her eyes. Before I knew what was happening, Laoghaire MacKenzie dumped a container of tomato juice over my head. Then they started chanting I smelled like a skunk and needed a bath of tomato juice. Anyway, I don't know how the story reached the headmistress, but Geneva and Laoghaire got detention which made it only worse. When ma heard all about it, she confronted me and threatened to talk to the teachers. Instead of confiding to her, I laughed it off, pretending it was just a silly prank that had gone wrong. I didn't want her worrying because she was busy enough with the hotel and us, children, so I played it down."

"Then the torture began, and every day they did something to make my life miserable and got a lot of people involved until I felt like every morning, I was entering a battlefield. They were careful not to leave any shreds of evidence in case you and Willie found out. I began to have anxiety attacks, and I started to isolate myself to hide it. When you weren't spending time with me, I spent most of my time in the woods or in the stable reading books to keep my distance. You, Willie and Jenny, have been so good to me and I didn't want to burden you with my problems, so I remained quiet about it."

She paused for a while to gather strength before continuing. "I knew I had two years left before college - two years of mocking, isolation and pain. I didn't think I could survive it so, one day I made a decision. I wanted to end it. I wrote a goodbye letter to all of you and stole some old medication pills ma was hiding in the cabinets. I didn't know what they were, but I took two bottles with me and hid them under my bed."

Jamie's body stiffened beside her, and she felt his heart accelerate beneath her hand, but he remained silent.

"On the day I was planning to end it all, Murtagh picked us up from school because ma and da were running late from whatever they were doing. I was the last one to get out of the car. As I was getting out, I dropped a book, and my goodbye letter slipped out. To cut a long story short, he found my letter and an hour after he dropped us off, he was back to confront me. He found me in the stables with the bottles of pills in my hand, writing a new goodbye message. He came in with two bottles of beer, one for him and one for me, and the letter he found in his car. We had a long talk while we drank beer, and he confided to me that he used to be in a similar position. His own story was sad, to say the least."

The image of Murtagh's face was ingrained in her brain. The desperate glint sparking from his brown eyes, pleading her to reconsider. The almost panicked air as he sat next to her, trying to get her to focus on his words. Gone was the face of a cantankerous man, but in its place, a man with his own demons who understood her pain.

Claire cleared her throat. "Anyway, Murtagh convinced me that Geneva and Laoghaire weren't worth it, and if I went ahead with what I planned to do, you would all be devasted, and that made me think long and hard. He promised me he was going to do something about Geneva if I promised him not to take the pills. So I agreed after a lot of tears, but I also made him promise not to tell any of you. Two days later, I found out Geneva, Laoghaire, and her cronies were transferred to another school. I don't know what Murtagh did, but it made life a lot bearable. The teasing and taunting didn't stop, though, but it wasn't as torturous as when Geneva and her mates were there. After that, once in a while, I would cross paths with Geneva and Laoghaire in town, and they would spew hate at me and promised me one day, they will get their revenge back. I still wonder what Murtagh did all those years ago, but it was such a painful time that I decided to leave the past behind."

"Sassenach." His voice came out like rough sand as he lifted her body and forced her to look at him in the eye. "Christ, I had no idea. I swore to protect ye."

She reached out to touch his face, his stubbles tickling the palm of her hand. "It's not your fault, Jamie. I was selfish and ungrateful to even consider taking my own life after what all of you have done for me. And I was young and so very lost. But I have forgiven myself because it's the only way forward. After what happened, Murtagh continued to check up on me, and he kept up this gruff facade whenever everyone was around so no one would suspect of anything. Sometimes I forget his grumpiness is just a front, and he really scares the hell out of me."

A smile curved her lips, letting him know the past was the past. And that the present was all that matters. "Not much changed about Geneva's and Laoghaire's behaviour to this day, but I changed my reaction. I realised I was trapped in a tiny droplet of time, but there is a massive ocean of years out there waiting for me. Although the world is painful at times, I shifted my focus on what matters most. My family here in Lallybroch. All of you made a difference, and I am forever grateful to my uncle Lamb for bringing me here and to Murtagh for saving my life. Maybe I lost a few things along the way, but overall, I love every moment of my life. I owe that to all of you."

She didn't realise she was crying until he wiped her tears away with his thumb as he whispered sweet Gaelic endearments under his breath. His eyes glistened, and so much warmth, understanding and tenderness radiated from them. There was no pity nor judgement. Only his heart full of love just for her.

" Mo ghràdh," Jamie whispered. "Thank ye for being brave enough to bring up the past. And thank ye for being brave enough to live."

His lips gently brushed hers, soft and as fleeting as butterfly wings. And because there were no words worthy of a response, Claire reached for him, and he kissed her deeper, shattering the last barrier in her heart and rebuilding it whole.

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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bearnece-city · 6 years

Text

Ivory Keys: An Excerpt (to be used as base Treatment for Feature Screenplay) by Ara Bear

Evening. Smoke clouds fill an exposed brick, jazz club on the lower east side. The year is 1972. Patrons come and go as they please, musicians bump along behind the laughter, tobacco, and too loud talk. Though no one pays attention to the music around them, everyone moves to its rhythm. Music cuts, people move, to get away from whatever conversation they no longer want to have; or the music treads on, urging you to find your pace – talk too slow, too fast, just right.

When people enter, they notice the chunks missing from cracked brick and cement walls, and then the bar. Maybe the tune, but never who is playing the tune, who is controlling the rhythm.

William Shepard noticed the cracked brick, but it wasn’t the bar he saw second; it was Nick – and some could even argue that it was Nick he saw first.

William with his golden pompadour waves and early acceptance to Stanford Medical School, was not meant for the lower east side, but he needed a break to breathe. And breathe he did.

William was with his friends and girlfriend Jenny. They all spoke at once about the dingy place, the fog, the jazz; they were squeamish, but interested in the city’s underbelly. Will could not even speak to the beauty they all missed among the grime – Nick.

Nick’s jawline was covered in five o’clock shadow, with a single piece of chocolate, almost black hair, falling in front of his forehead, long enough to reach his right eye. His head hung down as he clamored away at ivory keys. William saw all of this.

Jenny, his friends, the room, and Nick all grappled for William’s attention. Nick won. But, Jenny tugged at William and lead the friends to a table closest to the bar, farthest from Nick. Will sat easily, snapping back into reality.

The night carried on as any other. They drank, laughed, smoked, talked, smoked, laughed, drank. They – including Will – fell into the rhythm played by Nick and his ivory keys, all the while forgetting he was even there.

Music cut out and it was time to make a choice: move on or wait for the next tune. Will and his friends chose the former; it was Thursday and it was getting late. Jenny and their friends went outside and left Will with the check. He was used to it. He sat at the bar, until the waiter would lock eyes with him long enough for him to mime “Check

please.” A new song had not rung over the room yet in a couple minutes. Nick had left his post and a new artist set up shop.

Sauntering off stage in tight blue flares and a – supposed to be white – dingy t-shirt, Nick made his way to the bar, to sit, in the seat next to Will. Turning to get the waiter’s eye Will caught Nick just as he sat down.

Nick commanded the bar; he had the waiter tending to him almost before he settled in his seat; he’d noticed Will having trouble and made a motion toward him, asking for two bourbons: two fingers, dry.

“Oh, no. I just need the check,” Will spoke up. “Not a fan of bourbon?” said Nick. “No. Yes,” Will fumbled. “What I meant was, I don’t mind Bourbon, I’m just picking up the bill, then

meeting my friends outside.” “So, just not a fan of me?” Nick chuckled. “What? No. You were great. Really,” said Will. “Name a song from tonight,” said Nick. Will was flustered. He had noticed Nick, but now he saw him there, so close. It was clear Nick was only

teasing. Even so, Will hadn’t an answer. “All of it. Great. Really,” said Will. The waiter came back with two bourbons. “Have a drink and I’ll consider it square,” said Nick. Tempted, Will sat silently for a second. He noticed the veins that outlined Nick’s hands as he reached for his

own glass. “I’ll pay for mine, but I can’t,” said Will. Nick swiftly knocked back the drink he was holding and reached out for the second glass. “Don’t sweat it,” said Nick. And just as Will was on his way, Nick crossed one leg over the other, accidentally brushing his foot against

Will’s . Will looked down, then back to Nick. “Don’t sweat it,” said Will.

Will went back to his dorm on the upper West side and dropped Jenny to her room.

“Comin in?,” she said. “Not tonight, I’m just exhausted. Been a long day,” said Will. The two-kissed goodnight and Will went back to his room. On the opposite side of the city, Nick wandered through the desolate streets of Brooklyn, making sharp turns

at every corner and running through every light. He moved like every muscle was controlled by a melody; taking two quick steps then a slow followed by a flourish of the arm or the occasional spin. He did not care who saw him, who judged him.

Nick made his way into a tenement building somewhere between the ritzy Park Slope and the colorless Bay Ridge. 40th street; a tan cinder block building, but you wouldn’t notice that amidst the illegible graffiti that painted its every inch. The sidewalks steamed from subway grates where Nick could feel the D train rumble under him. The corners smelled of piss and sweat – and home, for Nick.

Nick continued his melodic steps up to his apartment. Opening the door Nick saw his father in the kitchen. “You up?” said Nick. “Got off tomorrow, can finally sleep in. Thought I’d make the most of it,” said Nick’s dad. “Long as you’re not waitin’ for me,” replied Nick.

“Stay up with the old man?”

The two settled into their modest living room with two single chairs and a T.V. Nick’s dad grabbed a beer from the fridge and tossed one to Nick who fiddled with the TV antennae, trying to get a signal, or steal the neighbors – whichever worked first. Catching a signal, the two sat down to an episode of “The Odd Couple.”

“Always thought those two were a couple of fags,” said Nick’s dad.

Nick sat silently, sipping his beer then putting it down. Nick’s dad looked to him for a response. Nick grabbed his beer and continued to drink, though he was almost finished he drank like it was half full.

“Fags on T.V. and I’m barely makin’ rent working construction. Man’s work. Don’t pay like it used to.”

Nick finished his beer and fished in his seat for the remote. He flipped the channel and passed the remote to his father.

“Early day tomorrow, think I’m gonna call it a night,” said Nick.

Two weeks had gone by since that night. Nick had been playing in various clubs in the city and the city streets. Will, however, had spent the past two weekends back at that same club, hoping for another chance to see Nick, for another chance at bourbon, two fingers dry.

It was Saturday night and Will is tired of waiting.

Making his way back home, Will thought about Jenny. She had bought him a gold cuff link, pressed with Stanford’s crest to congratulate him on his acceptance. Will, then, gingerly rubbed his thumb over the cuff link. He hadn’t seen much of Jenny lately and as he approached campus, thought of stopping in to see her.

Five city-blocks out from the dorms, Will could hear soft jazz playing. He stopped rubbing the cuff link and closed his eyes. Will back tracked his steps and leaned against the open doorway of the club. There wasn’t the same underground vibe and people actually listened to the music around them and took it in as a substitute for conversation. Red light beamed over top shelf whiskey air.

Engrossed, Will walked in and took a moment to peer around the room.

“Alright, alright, alright bad cats, we have one more for ya tonight. Welcome this far-out fox all the way from Brooklyn...Nick Holt, on the sweet ivory keys,” said the club announcer.

Will saw red. Not because of the light in the room or a sudden surge of anger, but from his longing and excitement. Now he knew his name – Nick.

Will posted himself up at the bar, never facing inward, only out toward the stage, toward Nick. He never even ordered a drink. Just sat and watched. Just sat and smiled, and bumped on, to Nick’s rhythm.

After his set, Nick did as before. Sauntered off, sat at the bar. Next to Will. “You dig Jazz I gather?” said Nick. “Something like that,” said Will. Before Nick had the chance to retort, Will ordered two bourbons.

“Figured I owed you,” said Will. “For last time? Said, don’t stress it,” said Nick “For your ‘sweet keys’,” said Will. And the two laughed Nick, had seen Will walk in. Keys first and everything else second was Nick’s way of focusing on his goals.

But even still, that night he played on, hard and strong making sure not to lose a single person in the room.

“Yea, that guy is somethin’ else,” said Nick. The waiter came back with the bourbons. “You forgot to tell ‘em dry.” Will had not managed to come off as cool as he had wanted. “So jazz, why?,” Will said trying to recover.

“Why not? But really man, we’re losing the greats, Armstrong?,” said Nick. Will wanted to listen to Nick, but he could not focus beyond his lips to hear what he was actually saying. “And not to come off as you know..., but I think I could be that great,” finished Nick. Will stared blankly and filled the musky wood smelling air with “I have some records back at my place.” “Maybe I should come by sometime,” said Nick. “How ‘bout now?” Will said, shocking himself in his reply. Nick was puzzled, but smirked as he lifted his drink and looked straight down the glass. Nick knocked back

his drink. “Easy when it’s mostly ice,” teased Nick. “Come to think of it, I might have some better stuff, and I don’t have an ice machine,” said Will. The two left the bar at a hesitant pace, almost waiting for one of them to turn around, make an excuse to why

tonight wasn’t a good night. But, neither did, so they walked on. Will’s place was so close, there was no time wasted between them being at a crowded bar and them alone in Will’s room. It was quick enough that they could not think, which was terrifying, but also a relief.

“You have got two records man,” said Nick. “And neither are good; I mean Bread? Bowie? Psychs and depressants, where’s the groove?”

Will walked over to where Nick was in his room. The record player was set up on the desk by his bed. Will liked to put on music as he slept. “Excuse you, but I have at least five: Hendrix, Morrison, Bowie, Bread, and Zeppelin.”

“Listen to what they tell you to. Who are you, what do you want to hear?” said Nick.

“Maybe I like what these artists have to say,” Although, Will knew he knew not a thing about music and it was showing.

“Yea. Thought you brought me back here to listen to jazz?”

Will took the Bowie record from Nick’s hand, touching it slightly. “I said I had records, you assumed jazz. I just didn’t correct you.”

Nick moved in closer to Will. He reached for the record. “Maybe I’d like to hear this,” he said, as he grabbed it with a flourish. He spun it once in his hand then slid the record from its casing and placed it on the turn table. Leaning over Nick, Will placed the needle on his favorite spot. Will, just over Nick’s shoulder could take in his subtle scent of liquor and sweat. It was sweeter than one might think. Nick couldn’t help but notice their proximity and turned his face, away from the spinning record, to meet Will’s face by his shoulder.

“Did you also lie about that drink?” said Nick.

Will, abruptly, removed himself from behind Nick. He went off to his closet and rummaged for a minute. He knew exactly where his liquor was, but needed time to think, assess. He went through the logic like the med student he was sure to be, weighing possible outcomes, situations, what could go right, what could go wrong. Finally, he reemerged, bottle of whiskey in hand.

Nick walked over to Will. “Well?” said Nick. Will pointed to a glass on his desk and began to step away. “No need,” said Nick. And Nick took the bottle from Will, twisted off the cap and began to drink straight

from the bottle. He took his pull then passed it to Will; Will did the same. When it was Nick’s turn to take the bottle, he did but, he held it to his side.

“Name’s Nick,” he said. “I know, the club guy said it before you went on. Nick Holt,” it was burned into Will’s memory. Nick looked away and smirked; when he came back into the moment Will reached up and placed back

Nick’s straggling hair that never wanted to be anywhere but, in front of his eyes. Nick, with his free hand met Will’s wrist by his forehead, and pinned it against the closet door behind him, snapping it shut. Will was breathless. Nick pressed his lips to Will’s, both of them tasting of whiskey. Will jerked, but only for a moment before allowing Nick to do as he pleased.

With the bottle still in his hand, Nick continued to kiss Will and removed his other hand from Will’s wrist to begin to explore Will’s body. There was no thinking now as Will pushed away from the closet urging the two to stumble back to Will’s bed. They stopped long enough for Nick to take another swig from the bottle, set it down on Will’s desk, and now with free hands undo his fly.

As he had done that first night at the bar, Nick took complete control. He started stripping Will, pressing him down chest first on the bed as he climbed on top. Will muffled his breath and screeching moans into a pillow, in part to not let anyone else know what was happening and in part to not let Nick know his inexperience.

Done, Nick slipped on to one side of the bed. Will propped himself up with his head in his hands and his elbow digging into the now needed to be washed sheets.

“Name’s Will,” he said, looking up at Nick.

Still somewhat breathy Nick replied, “Nice to meet you.” The two laughed to themselves, then with each other.

“I have a girlfriend,” said Will. “We all do.” “What?” Nick had put together Will’s inexperience early in the night, but did not care. And this is how it went for three months. Will met Nick at gigs; Nick stood outside of Will’s dorm hall. Nick

introduced Will to the underground gay clubs of the east side, of Brooklyn and Queens. They danced, hard and sensual against the streaky nightlife lights and sweaty bodies, who were just like theirs. Nick spent nights teaching Will about music, sound, soul and rhythm; Will told Nick of his hopes and dreams of becoming a trauma surgeon overseas; if he could not stop the war in Vietnam, he would aide its victims. A pressure had been released on both of them: for Will, he cared about something beyond himself and his success and now Nick only played the ivory keys on weekends; his weeknights were too filled with Will.

The two created an oblivion between them where they saw, felt, and touched nothing else in the world, but each other, with only brief moments pulling them out. They found it hard to hide themselves in in public.

One day, making their way from the upper west side to Brooklyn the two had no choice, but to ride the subway. They caught the 1 train downtown; both stood against the train door. When they spoke, they did so in such proximity one could either think they were lovers or both hard of hearing.

“Take me to your place,” said Will.

Nick leaned in, so close he spoke into Will’s lips and nose. “Think I’m rollin’ with someone else? But, dear you are water turned to wine, I could want nothing more,” said Nick.

Will playfully pushed his hand against Nick’s chest; Nick moved his hand to meet Will’s in a loose holding of hands. Looking away from Nick to see what stop they were at, Will noticed eyes burning holes into him and Nick, each faced looked utterly disgusted with the two. At the following stop, a man pushed through Nick and Will, rougher that necessary followed by a mumble under his breath. They joined together again once the door closed, but this time when Nick came closer to Will, Will moved and pointed to two seats at the far back of the train.

Five months now. Will was set to graduate in a few weeks, Nick was still lapping up gigs where he could. They were in Will’s bed when they spoke of their lives to come; Miles Davis echoing off the turntable.

“I want to...to be with you after you finish” said Nick. “I’ll be in California. You want to be in California, middle of nowhere with no license?” “You are worth a license and nowhere with you is better than I ever thought I’d get,” Nick moved his bare

body on to Will’s. Nick was serious and would not let the subject lie. He got frustrated by Will’s deflections each time he

brought it up. “Prove it!,” shouted Nick in the middle of Washington Square park. “Tell me you love me, or I’m out.” “Would you stop. I don’t work for my money. My dad will cut me off, if I tell I lose everything,” said Will. “Nothing every distracts me from my music and I let you.” Nicked stormed off, basically ran back to Brooklyn. He was upset, red cheeked and puffy. Meanwhile, Will

had went back up to Columbia. He didn’t want to lose Nick, but he couldn’t see their future the way Nick could. He found a way to buy himself some time, while still showing his commitment, for Nick. He walked passed the jazz club, passed his dorm and vigorously began knocking on a door.

Nick was now home, his dad in the chair, beer in one hand remote in the other. “Dad! Dad?”

Nick’s father turned to look at him. “Son. Someone jump ya?” he said watching his tear, streaked son’s face. “No. I got something to tell you.” Back on the west side, the door behind Will’s fist opened. It was Jenny. He had seen her less in the past few

months, but she chalked it up to pre-med stress which was an understatement. Jenny went in for a kiss, but Will pulled back.

“I’m going to the other side of the country Jen. I think it’s time.” He left Jenny sobbing on her bed. One person off his chest. Nick was now hurriedly packing a backpack, shoving in as much as he could. “No lip wrist musicians in my house. This ain’t even our house Nicky! The landlord sure to put us out there.

Send us both on our asses. You like that? Being on your ass? No. Not here. When you want to be a man, you knock on my door.”

Nick pushed passed his dad practically leaping over the tenement steps, floating to Will’s dorm. “I broke up with Jenny. See? I told you, it’s just you,” Will said as Nick moved passed him to his bed. Will was so excited to give his news to Nick he failed to take notice of his bags, both in hand and under

watery eyes. “I’m did it. I’m out” said Nick.

“You told your dad?” “Yea. And I’m out. Pest control; don’t like fags. I mean, I knew but hoped but couldn’t keep hoping.” Will stood without words, just like the first time he had seen Nick. “No Jenny, guess there is no reason you can’t stay here,” said Will. In the summer months Will and Nick carried on as they had before that day. They made plans of their new

life in California. Will told Nick he’d come out to his dad and everything was moving along fine; rhythmic almost in their pattern. But, like any rhythm one note has to break pattern, to get to the next part of a song going; to change it, to move it along.

“I don’t think I have enough summer wear for a year. I’m gonna start lookin for clubs out there. Somethin’ to do when you’re being smart,” said Nick.

Two weeks before Stanford and Will knew he couldn’t keep up the lie any longer. “He doesn’t know,” said Will. They were on the subway, on their way back from one of their best nights out. Neither knew it would be their

last. “Huh?”

“You can’t come to California. I’m going to the other side of the country.” And so Will went on to gave the same trodden talk he’d given Jenny months before.

“I think it’s time we—“ and just as Will was about to put an end to it all the train came to its next stop. Nick got up and walked off. Will did not chase him. He had too much to lose. It was time.

Mid-day. Fifteen years passed. Will now lived upstate; he was a general surgeon, had a wife and a son with another on the way. He went on like Nick had never happened, though he always knew he did. He never did anything or anyone with as much love as he had done Nick. Fifteen years since he had been with a man.

One night after work, Will went into the city. He went back to one of the underground clubs that Nick had brought him to, only to find it no longer existed. Defeated, Will made his way back to his car, prepared to drive home. He didn’t know what it was he was looking for. Then a tune caught his ear. Two blocks south. “My Funny Valentine.”Willcouldn’tbelievejazzlastedthislong,itwas1987. Hefollowedthetuneandstoppedin.Afterafew scans of the room, Will came up blank.

“You lookin for someone baby?” said a man by the bar. He was dressed in mostly neon and glitter stroked his eyelids. “No. Thank You.” “Oh, I know your type. Shy?” Who was this man and how did he know? Was it always that present on Will’s face? The unknown man

scribbled a number on a napkin. Just as Will got up to leave he brushed him with his foot. “Not your type? Fine. Call this number, sure we got one for you,” and Will was on his way. Will went home. He left the napkin in his car glove box. He looked to the glove box every day; on his way to

work, on his way home. One day during lunch, Will went out and made a call. “Yes? Hello? Yes, Hi. I was told to call this number if I want—“

“I know what you want baby,” said the voice on the other line. “Just tell me when and how you want it.” “I don’t—this was a mistake.” “Hold on, hold on. What’s your type? I have a fit fella; 6ft blonde. 23.” “Too young.”

“Ok. How about mid-thirties, dark hair with a little salt sprinkled in?” “Yes, yes. That’s fine.” “Where am I sending, him honey?” “East side motel, 8’oclock,” and Will hung up the phone.

The whole drive over to the city, Will’s chest felt heavy and his mind cloudy. He had made it to the hotel, 15 minutes early. Enough time to pour himself a drink. He needed to breathe.

A knock came at the door. The man’s back was turned at Will’s opening of the door; “You ready for me?” replied the man. He turned on his heels to face Will.

“William goddamn Shepard.” It was Nick.

As Will drove off back to security he could not yet bring himself home. He stopped at a local bar and decided to stay for the day. He grabbed a seat. “Bourbon,” he said and held up two fingers. “Make it dry.”

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takebackthedream · 7 years

Text

Open Letter to Louise Linton About Angels and Humanity by Richard Eskow

Dear Ms. Linton,

This has undoubtedly been a difficult couple of days for you, both as a person and as the wife of the United States Treasury Secretary.

Nobody enjoys the sudden onrush of hostile attention that comes when something they’ve said goes viral, and not in a good way. Your public record, and even your recent infamous post, suggests you want to be a good person – or, at the very least, that you’d like to be seen as one.

That’s not how people are seeing you at the moment, and that has to be rough.

Perhaps it would help if someone explained why you’ve received so much negative attention in the last 48 hours.

Bubble Life

Simply put: You live in a bubble. That’s not your fault. It’s just the way it is. According to the Internet – the same Internet that has turned on you with such ferocity – you were born into a wealthy Scottish family and educated at the prestigious St George’s School for Girls and Fettes College.

Your family owns a real-life, honest to God castle, for God’s sake.

A little self-awareness is therefore in order: Your experience is not like that of most people. Some people are born into privilege and make a dedicated effort to see life from other people’s point of view. That does not seem to have been the case with you.

Out of Africa

The controversy about your “memoir” of life as a volunteer teenager in Zambia suggests that you didn’t see the people of Zambia at all. The country itself seems to have passed you by. There are, for example, no 12-inch spiders there.

You portrayed Zambia as a savage, untamed place where wild animals roamed the street. You also imagined they saw you as an idealized, almost heavenly figure: a skinny foreigner “with long angel hair.”

Here’s a tip: Zambia is not a wild land, and you were not the first blonde that the people there had ever seen. They have many foreign visitors. They are also familiar with European and American magazines, television, and film.

The only “angel hair” spoken of in the capital city of Lusaka, in fact, is served at one of the city’s many Italian restaurants: here’s a listing of the top five, courtesy of TripAdvisor. Casa Portico has good pasta dishes, we’re told, while Frescobar is praised for its “great food and vibe.”

See the People

You apparently do not appear to see the people of this country, either. In the United States, the wealthiest nation in human history, 45 million people live in poverty. That’s unjust. Most of us have endured decades of wage stagnation, a dying middle class, rising deaths of despair, mass incarceration, and other ordeals undreamed of in your rarefied world.

That might help you explain why you received a rather unfriendly response when you posted a picture of yourself exiting a U.S. government plane with your husband, Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin, along with the following comment:

Great #daytrip to #Kentucky! #nicest #people #beautiful #countryside #rolandmouret pants #tomford sunnies, #hermesscarf #valentinorockstudheels #valentino #usa

You were shown exiting an aircraft that is paid for and bears the symbolic markings of the American people, while wearing – and boasting about – your very expensive clothing. You ended your hashtag string with the name of the country itself, as if this nation – suffering and struggling as it is – was nothing more than another accessory, a bauble to be worn around your wrist or finger or ankle or neck.

An Expensive Bauble

But then, that’s how the entire billionaire-heavy Trump administration, from the President and your husband on down, has treated this country: as a personal trinket to be used for personal enrichment or glorification.

That’s undoubtedly why an Instagram user named Jenni M responded, “Glad we could pay for your little getaway. #deplorable”

You certainly didn’t empathize with Jenni, did you? Here’s what you wrote:

@Jennimiller29 cute!….Aw!! Did you think this was a personal trip?! Adorable! Do you think the US govt paid for our honeymoon or personal travel?! Lololol. Have you given more to the economy than me and my husband? Either as an individual earner in taxes OR in self sacrifice to your country? I’m pretty sure we paid more taxes toward our day “trip” than you did. Pretty sure the amount we sacrifice per year is a lot more than you’d be willing to sacrifice if the choice was yours. You’re adorably out of touch. Thanks for the passive aggressive nasty comment. Your kids look very cute. Your life looks cute. I know you’re mad but deep down you’re really nice and so am I. Sending me passive aggressive Instagram comments isn’t going to make life feel better. Maybe a nice message, one filled with wisdom and hunanity [SIC] would get more traction. Have a pleasant evening. Go chill out and watch the new game of thrones. It’s fab!

Have You Given More?

Oh, Louise. You got that so wrong. There’s no room to list all your grievous mistakes, but here are some highlights:

“Have you given more to the economy than me and my husband?”

I don’t need to know anything about Jenni M to know that, in fact, she has been better for the economy than your husband.

There’s no kind way to put this: Your husband was involved in some very bad business. He literally foreclosed on a widow over a 27-cent error.

Investigators in the California Attorney General’s office concluded that his bank had engaged in “widespread violations,” identified over a thousand illegal actions, and wanted to file charges.

Most people find that behavior even creepier than… well, than a 12-inch spider.

Mortgage holders, especially elderly widows, are not something to be used and then discarded like last year’s Hermes scarves.

Your husband’s reputation wasn’t helped when reports emerged alleging that he had perjured himself before Congress. He was once required to run his bank under the supervision of an independent monitor – by an agency he now oversees. Maybe that can help explain why people are a little touchy about the flaunting of your family’s wealth in a government aircraft.

Your husband hasn’t “given” anything to the economy. He and his fellow bankers nearly crashed the global economy, in fact, and the recession they caused has robbed the U.S. economy of trillions of dollars.

Fort Knox

It’s more than a little ironic that you and your husband were in Kentucky to tour Fort Knox, that target of James Bond villains where the nation’s gold bullion is stored. He and his fellow bankers robbed the economy of much more money than Fort Knox could ever hold.

Your wealth isn’t the product of personal virtue. You, along with other billionaire families, have benefited from government policies that created levels of economic inequality unseen since the Roaring Twenties of the last century.

You should not have as much as you do, and that which you do possess should be taxed appropriately to restore economic balance.

What’s more, paying taxes isn’t a “sacrifice.” It’s a reciprocal obligation, a chance to repay the nation that has allowed people like you to become so wealthy. It’s an opportunity for gratitude. What’s more, given the way tax laws work in this country, there is every possibility that Jenni M has paid a greater percentage of income in taxes than you or your husband have.

Angel Heart

In all likelihood, your ordeal is ending as I write these words. You’ve apologized for your comments through your publicist, and that’s good.

Most of us have to apologize directly, because we don’t have publicists, but any apology is appreciated. Your social media account is now private. If you’re not prepared to grow and change, that’s undoubtedly a good decision.

In any case, I hope this has been “a nice message, one filled with wisdom and hunanity.”

I know it’s been harsh in places, but sometimes the kindest thing we can do is be honest. I hope that the next time you’re tempted to speak out publicly, you will do so with humility and compassion.

Oh, and here’s one last hint about life here in the ordinary world: We identify angels by looking at their hearts, not their hair.

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years

Text

Die For You

Requested by Anon: “hi :) can I request Jennie scenario based on The Weeknd’s song ‘Die For You’? I also wanted to say I really love your works, they’re really good”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,705

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Near-Death Experience, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Thank you anon! My schedule is getting busy again, so writings may take a bit longer to get posted; I apologize for the delay with this one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Let me know what you guys think!

PS ~ This is my first time writing a song request, so I kind of just went with it lol. It’s a little messy, but I think it has charm. Happy reading!

��🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jennie Kim has a magnetic pull to her -- one that is relentless and unwavering once it takes control of you. It’s hypnotic in every way; sweet torture in its truest form; and you’re always left to pick up the pieces.

The arrangement that you share with Jennie has been clear from the get-go: friends with benefits, no strings attached. Neither of you have time for anything serious, and this seemed like a win-win: always having someone to come home to when you happened to be in the same area at the same time? Hell yeah.

You hate that you want me

Hate it when you cry

You're scared to be lonely

'Specially in the night

Gradually, though, things got messy -- lines became blurred as feelings mixed into the equation. You did everything in your power to make them go away, reminding yourself time and time again of the agreement you had. But in moments like these, as you lay in bed with Jennie, her head resting on your chest as your hand runs through her hair, you can’t help how your heart swells. Pale moonlight traces patterns on the floor, wiggling its way into the room to offer a soft glow and ambiance. In here, you’re untouchable: no cameras or prying eyes; it’s just you and Jennie, free to be yourselves. Given this fact, you’ve grown to have a love-hate relationship with these four walls; they’re your haven -- your refuge -- but they serve as a brutal reminder of just how limited your relationship with Jennie is.

Nothing is certain: weeks turn into months -- especially when she’s on tour or otherwise occupied with her busy schedule -- and you’re left to your own devices, waiting on her return. Each day without her brings you closer to believing that you’re strong enough to move onto something better -- something more consistent; but then there she is, knocking on your door again, completely pushing that absurd idea from your mind. One smile from her is enough to reel you back in, and it only makes you feel more conflicted.

Jennie stirs in her sleep, nuzzling her face closer into you as she brings a hand up to rest against your collarbone. Her body twitches lightly, lips pursing and pouting against your neck, and you wonder what she’s dreaming about. She doesn’t seem to be distressed in any way, so you take the opportunity to get a good look at her. Within the next couple hours the alarm would be blaring that sound that you despise more than anything else in this world, signalling for her to get ready and head off to the airport to leave you all over again. Despite the circumstances, you're comforted by the fact that she always makes sure to set it for the very last second, barely giving herself enough time to catch her flight -- she wants to spend every moment possible with you, and she makes it a point to do just that. Tearful goodbyes in the back of your car would be too involved for your “relationship”, so you always try to seem unaffected (or, at least, as close to that as you can manage). You save your tears for when you arrive back home, where you spend the evening coming to terms with her absence. She would never tell you, of course, but her flights are known to bear witness to plenty of sadness for her as well; with each new mile added to the distance between the two of you, her heart breaks a little more.

~~~~~~~

It’s been 4 months since you last saw Jennie. The time apart had offered you a new perspective, something in the long nights without her affirming what you already knew to be true -- you weren’t capable of continuing on like this much longer. Nothing about your situation was ever simple; the instant you began catching feelings, it all became muddled. The one rule set -- the only principle you were tasked with following -- had been broken, and there was nothing you could do to repair it.

A knock at your door echoes out across the empty apartment, and you quickly put down the food that you had been preparing. With a swift adjustment of the dial, you set the burner to simmer and make your way to the door. None of your friends had mentioned that they were coming by, so you’re genuinely clueless as to who it could be.

“Jennie?” Surprise is inadequate in describing the feeling that courses through you upon meeting that familiar gaze. The metal of the knob is cool in your hand as you grip it, knuckles turning white while your emotions run wild. She had failed to let you know that she was coming back to town, neglecting even to text you recently.

“Miss me?” How are you to answer that? Part of you wants to blurt out your thoughts, effectively ripping the metaphorical band aid right off, but another part of you wants to deny her: the past few months had allowed your feelings to become somewhat dormant as you attempted to see a future beyond this arrangement, one void of her presence. It’s completely normal to feel like that, you tell yourself. It’s strange, but as in love with her as you are, you’re almost as equally indifferent about it all. How many more times could you watch her walk away, only to string you along until she came waltzing right back in?

The more important question of the matter is apparent: how would you even begin to tell her what you’re feeling? In the past, you’ve tried to make her aware of what you’re going through, only to be met by a change of topic. She always stayed reserved, opting to spend your time together talking about anything other than that.

Deciding that you were taking far too long to respond to her, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her. The time away from you had affected her more than she’s willing to admit, and she’s more than ready to embrace you. Her arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your body flush up against hers, and she sighs at the feeling. “I’ve missed holding you, Y/N.” The sweet nothing does it’s job, making your heart flutter as the words register in your mind. You’re still tense, though, and she doesn’t fail to notice; before long, soft kisses are being trailed across your face -- her attempt at relaxing you. Sometimes you wonder if she knows your body better than you do: it responds to her, just like she knew it would, and you loosen up.

After what feels like minutes of just standing there, bodies intertwined, her hands make their way to your hips. She leans forward and ghosts her lips over yours, her gloss smudging a bit in the process. A battle is being fought in your mind: should you allow yourself this indulgence? Or is this the time to be strong and finally put your foot down? The choice is made up for you by the way that she slowly backs you up against the wall, along with how her mouth brushes against yours as her warm hands steady you. Before you can stop yourself, you close the distance.

Her lips move against yours in perfect time, a delicious rhythm being set in the process. It brings to mind the notion that maybe -- just maybe -- the two of you are meant to be. After all, you fit together like a puzzle, being complete in the presence of one another.

As her fingers play at the band of your shorts, hands roaming further with each needy kiss she presses to your lips, you debate with yourself. Her actions tempt you to cave in and give yourself up to her, but you decide that you can’t go down that road again. At least not until everything gets sorted. Quickly -- as to not give her anymore time to change your mind -- you step back and run a hand through your hair. Hers is messy, lips red and pupils blown wide. She reaches out for you again, but you simply hold your hand up in response.

“I can’t, Jennie.” The words come out as a reluctant declaration, your tone sounding tired.

Her brows furrow, but you continue.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

“Elaborate.” Her demand is clear, but you miss the effort that it took for her to come off that way. At your words, panic began to course through her; she can’t lose you.

“Whatever this is,” you say, motioning between the two of you. “I can’t be someone who waits around for you all the time, just keeping your bed warm.” She wants to laugh at that one; it’s almost comical how far you are from the truth. Jennie knows she’s good at hiding her feelings, but she’s shocked that she managed to make you believe something that ridiculous about yourself. You mean the world to her -- she’s just too afraid to admit it.

“Y/N--”

“No, don’t even try to change the subject; I’m sick of it. Please, just listen to me for once.”

A subtle nod from her serves as your cue to continue.

“I never meant for things to get like this, Jennie, believe me. But I can’t pretend anymore: I like you, a lot. And after having you in the ways that I’ve had you…” you pause, allowing your eyes to trail up and down her body as you clench your jaw, “I can’t bear the thought of someone taking my place when I’m not around. Do you know how hard that is to deal with?”

Happens every time

I'm scared that I'll miss you

I don't want this feelin'

I can't afford love

She seems stunned, to say the least; she blinks a few times before gathering her thoughts and speaking up. “You’re all I think about, no matter what I’m doing.” For a second, you’re hopeful: your heart beats a little faster at her confession, and you finally believe you’re getting somewhere with her. Sadly, she continues: “But I can’t afford that. I don’t have time for a commitment like that, and we have something good right now. I’ve seen plenty of relationships go bad and end in heartbreak; why should we risk it?”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Sometimes I really start to think that you like me back, but then you’re as guarded as ever, pushing me away again. I never know where I stand with you. So unless you tell me how you honestly feel, you’ll have to take me off your list of fuck buddies.”

Your language catches her off guard, seeing as how it’s unexpected and unlike you. How are you so oblivious? You’re so much more than that to her.

“Fine, Y/N! I’m in deeper than I care to admit. I’ve tried to run from it, but I can’t. You’re the one person I can’t seem to forget, and I can’t stand you because of that. And yeah..” she pauses, a bit exasperated, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I won’t deny that I’ve been with other people when I’m away.” You close your eyes at her admission, that familiar sadness beginning to seep in -- it wasn’t anything you didn’t already know, but that doesn’t make its confirmation any easier to hear.

“They’re not you, though. They don’t know me like you do… they’re not fun like you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t want to. It terrifies me.”

“That’s kinda part of the deal, Jennie -- it’s a scary thing. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’m willing to try with you. What we have right now is wearing me down, and I don’t deserve it; so either listen to your heart and be with me, or you won’t be seeing me again.”

Following your ultimatum, she doesn’t dare speak. Her brows are slightly furrowed again, jaw set, and she’s looking at the ground. Out of habit, your arms cross against your chest -- being vulnerable is never something you particularly enjoy (especially with so much on the line) but you’re sick of beating around the bush with her. One of the first lessons you ever learned from Jennie is that she avoids her feelings at all costs; so, standing there, you wonder what it would take to make her finally open up. Would your absence be enough? Maybe you were foolish for thinking so.

With every second that passes, silence remaining unbroken by the words that you so desperately want to hear from her, your heart sinks more and more. Every insecurity you have is swirling in your mind, further clouding it. Her lack of a response confirms your fears, and you nod quickly, knowing what you have to do.

“Okay, I get it. I’m gonna take a walk, but you can stay here and take a shower since you just got in. When I come back, though, I want you gone.”

She doesn’t even raise her head to look at you. Inside, her heart is breaking; every fiber of her being is begging to say something -- anything -- but she stays quiet. It’s hard enough for her to keep her feelings for you in check with the arrangement you have now; if you become official, she won’t know what to do with herself. She’s falling hard, but she’s fighting it all the while -- her lifestyle doesn’t have room for love. You deserve someone who can be with you whenever you want them, not someone who’s always a world away. Calls and texts only go so far, and she knows it wouldn’t be enough for either of you. She’s spent your latest stint apart attempting to come to terms with the idea of life without you; it’s the last thing she wants, but she needs you to move on and find someone better. For you, she’s willing to hurt, so long as it means you’re happy.

After a beat, she accepts your words, confirming that she heard you by giving a simple nod. Any remaining hope you were clinging to fades away completely, and you’re left feeling empty. Now at the coat rack, you pull your jacket over your shoulders and slip your shoes on. “There’s food on the stove, by the way. Don’t let it burn.” You say over your shoulder, too sad to look at her again. Maybe that’s some sort of symbolism: the wonderful thing you had spent so long creating was fizzling out right in front of you, Jennie being the one who could fix it all. She can step up and repair things, but that doesn’t seem very likely to happen. Tears are brimming in your eyes, and her heart breaks at the sound of your sniffles.

Even though we're going through it

And it makes you feel alone

With a thud, the apartment door closes, and Jennie finally breaks down. It all hits her in an instant, and soon she’s sliding down to the floor, her tears mimicking her actions as they fall onto her cheeks. Why did this have to be so hard? Seeing the pain etched so plainly into your features was definitely the hardest part to all of this; she’s being cruel to be kind… if only you knew that.

I try to find reason to pull us apart

It ain't workin' 'cause you're perfect

And I know that you're worth it

I can't walk away, oh!

As soon as Jennie had realized her feelings all that time ago, she racked her brain for any and every logical reason to end things. She would pick fights over small things, praying to every higher power that you’d get tired of the stupidity and give up on her. So many other people had in the past, so why wouldn’t you? Knowing that you’re different from all the rest -- perfect for her in every way imaginable -- only scares her more. You lit a fire in her heart the day you met, and it’s only grown stronger ever since.

~~~~~~~

20 Minutes Later

You have no real destination in mind; you’re content with just allowing your feet to take you wherever they wish to go.

Chatter from across the city makes its way to your ears, oddly offering a sense of comfort in your time of need. The night sky is full of stars, and the city bustles with life and activity. As you pass different businesses and shops, their iridescent lights shine just for you. Distant cars honk as they traverse the streets, and your mind begins to think of all of the different things those people might be doing right now. Surely some are having a great day, maybe on their way home, eager to be greeted by their loved ones. Others might be hurting just like you.

And you won't find no one that's better

'Cause I'm right for you, babe

I think I'm right for you, babe

Jennie fails to realize that all you want is her; you’re not naive -- you know how crazy her schedule is, but you’re more than willing to make sacrifices if it means she’ll be yours. No one makes you feel the way she does, and the thought of spending your life searching for something that can never compare scares you.

A slight breeze rolls in, ghosting over your skin, and you’re reminded of all the times she would pull you in close to keep you warm. Her sweet perfume would fill your nose as you snuggled into her embrace, sharing the heat that her coat offered. Getting over her would definitely be a bitch.

It's hard for me to communicate the thoughts that I hold

But tonight I'm gon' let you know

Let me tell the truth

Baby, let me tell the truth, yeah

The peace -- if you can call it that -- is broken by a shout. “Y/N, wait!” Confused, you spin around on your heel towards the voice. It’s Jennie; she’s sprinting to you, her brown locks bouncing and flowing in the wind with every step. Conflicted, yet again, your feet appear to be rooted in their spot. What does she want now? It seems that every time you get your hopes up, she’s always letting you down. With this in mind, you slowly turn back around and continue your walk. Eventually she’ll catch up to you, but you need the extra time to gather your now-jumbled thoughts.

Just know that I would die for you

Baby I would die for you, yeah

It all happened in a blur. As you began crossing the street to put more distance between Jennie and yourself, the high pitched sound of tires squealing against the pavement rang out. The car came out of nowhere, barrelling straight towards you with no signs of stopping; they had run a red light. Your eyes locked with the driver’s, both of you donning an equally terrified expression, and you had no time to react. Just as the bumper was about to come into contact with your body, you were instead forcefully shoved out of the way. Another person -- your savior -- comes tumbling with you just in the nick of time, and the driver swerves around you.

“Are you okay?!” It’s Jennie; her voice is ripe with worry, her thoughts focused solely on your wellbeing. She doesn’t even notice the cut that she received from the fall. You bring your hand up to her forehead to assess the wound.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. But you,” you say, touching her injury and eliciting a pained hiss from her in the process, “...are not.” The two of you are breathing hard as adrenaline courses through your systems; once it has died down a bit, you stand up and check each other for any more sore spots.

“Thank you, Jennie. I don’t know how to repay you for something like that.”

“I’d do it again a million times, Y/N. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. I came to tell you that I love you, and that I’m done running. Seeing you leave really put things into perspective for me.”

“Am I supposed to believe that, or will you change your mind again?” The words are harsh, your voice laced with the bitterness that you still hold onto. You can’t find it in yourself to cushion the blow much; you’re still hurt by what’s happened in the past, and rightfully so. Beyond that, though, you’re trying to be cautious; after hearing her confess like that, you know there’s no going back.

“Okay, I deserve that one. But I mean what I said. You’re the best thing in my life -- the best I’ve ever had -- and I just want you to be happy. I’ve always been afraid that I can’t give you that if I’m so far away all the time.”

“Oh, baby,” you start, cupping her cheek and running your thumb across it soothingly. She leans into your touch, and your expression softens. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. You’re everything to me, you know that? We can do this together, so long as you’re willing to try.”

“I am.” She utters before pulling you in, sealing your new agreement with a kiss. Her lips move against yours gently, taking their time as they attempt to make up for her previous behavior. It’s soft yet urgent, a million different things passing between you without words.

Suddenly, you pull back, and Jennie panics for a second.

“Did you turn the burner off?”

“Oh shit!” She exclaims, a look of pure fear gracing her features.

Just as that cold, prickly feeling of dread begins to spread throughout your body, she grins.

“Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes and huff loudly at her, delivering a rough shove to her shoulder.

“Don’t do that to me!”

She responds by pulling you in again, kissing away your frown. “I love you, too, if you didn’t catch that earlier.” You declare, feeling her lips turn up in that beautifully iconic smile of hers. She hums at that, pulling you in closer just as the chilly wind blows again. Huh, maybe the universe had been listening all along.

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