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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 10 ~The Art of Non-Communication

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Mediation

"Three million pounds for a house!" Jenny broke through his reflection. "Doesn't it make ye wonder what else she inherited?"

Jamie looked at the paper again. That's what the house is worth? Ach, Christ! Even the Oxford gossip found its way to Broch Mordha. He knew Claire would be mortified if the news of her assets became everyone's favourite topic of conversation.

Folding the note, he handed it back to his sister. He shook his head at his sister. "Not a word about this to any of yer mates!" he warned her. "Or else ..."

Jenny's eyes widened. "What do ye take me for?"

"A babble merchant," he ribbed, unsmiling. "Now, let me be."

"Ye're no' angry at me still, are ye?"

"No," he sighed. "I'm just exhausted."

"Can I do anything for ye?"

He puffed out a breath. Jenny was looking at him earnestly, and he knew she only wanted to reach out. "Aye, in fact, ye can. Ye can arrange that appointment with the therapist for me."

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Jamie was removed from the noise of Lallybroch's homely routine when he stepped inside the shower that barely allotted for his breadth and height. He stroked the erection he'd been sporting since he'd woken up from his dreams of Claire, his elbow occasionally hitting the wall. If he kept this pace up, there would be some damaged tiles to answer for by the time he finally climaxed.

Creamy pale skin and amber eyes seeped through his mind, and he stifled a groan, the throbbing flesh in his hand swelling to the point of anguish. It was the reason he'd escaped to the shower when his dad had woken him, the image of Claire still vivid and the need to spill urgent. But the act of pleasuring himself was tainted with guilt. It didn't feel right using the memory of them together to find completion when he'd left her on her own. Not only did it make him a sick lecherous human being, but his action defied all reason and logic.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't be depriving themselves if they had what he and Claire had, but instead, here he was, on self-imposed retreat, his hungry thoughts reliving that time she'd been on her knees taking his entire length in her sweet, sweet mouth. Depravity kicked in, and his body responded to the memory in a fast, fluid rush. Every moral compass he'd had, went from dried cement to loose sand, and nothing could contain the rampant desire to relieve the pressure between his legs.

He propped his left hand on the wet wall and quickened the pace of his strokes, the tight fist travelling from the base of his hardness to the engorged tip.

"Christ," he gritted, hoping he could finish without the repercussion of self-loathing and feeling like an unredeemable bastard.

Ye left her! In tears!

It's for her own good. I'm taking steps to make myself better ...for her.

What if she gets sick and tired of waiting for ye to sort out yer issues?

No, no ...she understands.

Ye havenae called her.

I'll see her after the therapy, for fuck sake.

Guilt made him want to dim the image of Claire sucking him, but the heavy sack hung between his thighs wouldn't be wheedled into emptying without envisioning her.

He was so close. He replayed Claire's most recent voice message in his head, her voice husky and yearning. She must have been in bed wearing nothing but his shirt. I love you, Jamie. I wish I could hold you right now and ease your pain.

"Ah, fuck!" Jamie groaned as convulsion racked his body. "Christ, Sassenach." His seed spurted from his cock in what felt like an endless surge of the tide. Back and forth until he was compelled to release his flesh to brace himself with both hands on the tiled surface while the remnant of his release washed down onto the shower floor.

The water had turned tepid by the time reality came streaming back in. Steeling himself, Jamie waited for the chitter-chatter in his head to start reprimanding, telling him what a sick bastard he was, but nothing came. It was quiet. Notably quiet, in fact, and the prolonged silence was too unusual for comfort and almost deafening. The voices had been his life long companion, and it seemed like someone had muted the noises. The only sound he heard was the sound of his breathing and the shower spray hitting the surfaces.

He almost jumped at the loud rapping on the door. "Jamie! Ye're gonnae be late for yer therapy appointment," Willie called out, impatience lacing his voice.

He blew out a breath. "Two minutes!" he shouted. Damn it!

"Two minutes," Willie repeated, and he strode off, the sound of his heavy footsteps making creaking sounds on the wooden floor.

Therapy! He wasn't looking forward to it, but if it would mean bringing him closer to living a normal life with Claire, he'd take his chances. He had his future waiting for him in his cottage, and God knew what was going through her mind with his prolonged absence. There's a possibility she could decide right there, and then, she'd had enough, and he could be returning to an empty home. Fuck that! No' gonnae happen.

Wrenching a curse from the depths of his soul, he grabbed a towel and dried himself in record time. No more messing about. It was time to regain back the rein to his life. After his therapy, he was returning back to his Sassenach.

..........

Jamie hadn't replied to Claire's multiple voice messages, so she'd stopped sending them, thinking he needed a break. If it hadn't been for Willie checking up on her, Rollo needing to be walked and her own work keeping her busy, she would have gone out of her mind.

She found solace in knowing he was safe with his family and sorting out his issues and tried not to dwell on the theory that she might be the reason for his worsening condition; otherwise, it would mean giving up on them and walking out of his life for his own good. They'd both had a traumatic start to childhood. If anything, their shared experience should bring them together ...well, at least she was hoping that was the case.

As long as she was busy, she was absolutely fine. But it hurt being apart from Jamie. The minute she unwinded from her daytime activities, the feeling of abandonment crept in, and she felt lost and empty. An all-consuming gloom would lurk, overwhelming her, and tears would start to fall. It had been only two days since Jamie left, but she was already fearing she'd return to London without seeing him again. It's just not fair. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep them apart, and if that was the case, they'd never really had a chance from the start. Such thoughts would lead to a part of her wishing they'd never met because it was like being shown what happiness with someone you love could be, only to be yanked back out of reach.

She glanced out the kitchen window and realised it had begun to rain, the grey skies echoing her sombre mood. Frustrated, she mentally shook herself. There were a lot of things to do, and her uncle would be arriving in a couple of days. She hadn't mentioned anything to him about what had happened with Jamie, but that was a worry she'd have to deal with later. Because of all days, Tom Christie had called earlier, arranging to meet with her this afternoon to further discuss his book's publication. She hadn't anticipated meeting up with him for another week or more. Maybe it was a good thing he'd decided to show up. It would certainly be a much-needed distraction from the growing worries she had of Jamie. But first, she needed to book a bed and breakfast room in the village centre, a request her uncle had explicitly stressed as he didn't want to stay in Jamie's cottage to watch them canoodle, as he'd gruffly pointed out. But Claire highly doubted there would be any danger of his uncle witnessing that anytime soon.

Grabbing her coat and bag, she headed out. She was just stepping across the threshold when she caught sight of Jamie's sister walking towards her. What is she doing here? The last time she'd seen Jenny was when they were first introduced, and back then, she hadn't failed to notice the lukewarm reception. She'd tried her best to dismiss it as overly protective sibling behaviour. But something had been niggling in her mind lately ever since Willie mentioned Jenny's meddling with Jamie's love life.

Bracing herself, she forced a smile. "Hi, I'm just on my way out. Does Jamie need some fresh shirts?" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I can quickly grab some if that's what you came here for."

There was an awkward silence. "I ...ah, I'm here to see ye." Jenny held up a plastic container. "Oh, and ma made these ... it's rhubarb pie. And she's asking after ye."

"Oh, that's thoughtful. How are ..."

"Do ye have a moment?" Jenny interrupted out of the blue.

Claire paused. Though feeling like she was in this weird bubble filled with fog and not in the mood for small talk or niceties, she stepped back and waved Jamie's sister in. "Sure. I suppose I can spare a few minutes."

Jenny nodded gratefully and stepped inside the cottage. Claire watched her cross the room to place the rhubarb pie and her shoulder bag on the dining table. She started to wring her hands, possibly because she'd realised Claire wasn't going to initiate the talk.

"Jamie is taking steps to get better," Jenny began, facing her.

"I know."

"Of course, you do."

Claire tamped down the urge to roll her eyes. "From what Jamie's told me, that's what he's been doing all his life, hasn't he?"

"Yes, that's true."

She sighed, impatience beginning to creep in. "Jenny, why are you really here? Please let's not pretend that you like me. You practically ignored me when we first met, and you've made no attempt whatsoever to get to know me. I am not expecting us to be the best of mates just because I'm with Jamie, but I do expect manners. So, I am asking very kindly if there's a reason for you taking over my precious time, please spit it out."

Jenny's eyebrows hit her hairline. "I ...uh ...I came because I wanted to see you. To check if ye're alright."

"Willie's been doing that but thank you anyway." She had no time for pussyfooting around. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she made a move to leave. "Well, I need to get going. Please thank your mum for me for the pie. I'll have it later with coffee when I return. And regards to your da as well." She pulled the door open.

"Wait ..."

"Yes?"

Jenny let out a rickety inhale. "I'm sorry, okay? I came to apologise. You're right. I was downright rude." Her lips barely moved when she said the words. It was as if it's taking a lot out of her to admit to her faults. "I have no right to meddle in my brother's affairs, moreso make ye feel unwelcome when ye're the one Jamie wants to be with." Her shoulders lost most of their tension, but the lines of her body were still strained tight. "I was worried about my brother making trips to London, and ye ken the reason why. I thought by not acknowledging ye, ye would eventually go away for good. I ken it was wrong. I shouldn't have behaved the way I did."

"But making me go away wouldn't have made a difference to his condition. Jamie would have continued to have those panic attacks."

"I ken," Jenny shrugged. "It was a dumb move, and I feel stupid for it. I realise that now. I dinnae ken what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, Claire. Can we start all over again and be friends?"

Claire felt a spark of sympathy for Jenny. In that brief moment of admission, she'd kind of started to like the girl in front of her. Though she knew it would take a while before they could converse without feeling awkward, at least this was a start. Claire smiled genuinely for the first time. "Of course. I understand now why you felt the way you did." She glanced at her watch. "But in as much as I'd like to continue this bonding, I really need to go. I have a few errands to run. Shall we talk another time?"

"Oh aye, I completely forgot ye have someplace to go." She whipped around to grabbed her bag but knocked it to the floor instead, spilling its contents. "Ach, so clumsy of me," she muttered, getting onto her knees. "Ye go ahead, Claire. I have a spare key. I'll lock up once I'm done,

Claire immediately crouched down to help, grabbing feminine bits and bobs that were scattered on the rug. "Two pair of hands are always quicker getting the job done," she assured her.

"Aye, I guess so," Jenny mumbled as she skimmed the area with her eyes looking for anything she missed.

Claire scooped the loose pennies that had rolled off and slotted them into Jenny's bag. Then she picked up a slip of paper and was about to hand it to Jenny when she realised it was a newspaper clipping with her surname printed on it. Curious, Claire unfolded it and was surprised to see it was a small article from Oxford Mail about her family home, including a small line mentioning her as an heiress. Though she was aware of the article's existence, she was shocked to see it in Jenny's possession. What is Jenny doing with this?

Blood drained from her face when she recalled Willie's story about Jenny playing matchmaker between Geneva and Jamie. Didn't Willie say Geneva comes from a well-off family, Jenny's perfect solution to Lallybroch's financial problem? Claire skimmed the familiar article once more, the worth of her property jumping out of the paper: three million pounds. A sudden sharp pain slammed into her chest.

Claire held up the newspaper cutting to Jenny's face. "Why do you have this?" she whispered through numb lips.

Jenny's face was white as a sheet. "I ...it was given to me."

"Is this the reason why you're suddenly nice?"

"No!" Jenny licked her lips, thoughts racing behind her blue eyes. "I swear to God, I meant what I said earlier ...that I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with ..." She waved a hand towards the paper Claire was holding. "...that."

Claire scrambled to her feet. "You're sorry?" Her voice was high-pitched and unnatural, but she couldn't help it. There's a rumbling earthquake beginning to take place inside her. "When did you start feeling sorry, Jenny? After you read this?" She crumpled the piece of paper and threw it on the floor. "Did you really want to be my friend? Or was that all hogwash too?"

"Claire, please." Misery slashed across her face. "I realised my mistake when Jamie took off with his car the other night, and Willie spent hours looking for him. My parents, husband and I were up, and we were worried sick. My constant meddling has made him fled and taken him away from ye." She wrung her hands together. "I was a bloody idiot for thinking I was doing what's best for my brother when, in fact, I was making things worse. And Jamie's now miserable because he thinks it's all his fault when really, it's mine. Ye have to believe me when I say that piece of paper was given to me. I never sought it myself. It was handed to me."

"Good God, are you listening to yourself?" Her voice had been reduced to a whisper. All she could see was Jamie's guilt and tortured face that day when he'd told her about his fight with Jenny. His pained expression before he'd sped off to the night and her fear of the unknown. The many times he'd excused and apologised for his sister's behaviour because he thought Jenny was doing it out of love when Claire could clearly see it was all out of selfishness. "Let me get this straight ...you only recognised your mistake because you became worried sick after your brother took off. Are you even aware that you've been treating him like an imbecile all this while as if he can't decide for himself? This was never about him, Jenny, is it? You're only thinking about yourself. The other night scared the bejesus out of you because you knew well you were part of the reason he took off. Tell me this ...how does it feel like to be riddled with guilt now, huh? Try multiplying that guilt by a thousandfold and remind yourself that's what Jamie feels every day of his life. And if you think saying sorry will make things right again, you need your head thoroughly examined. Jamie loves you despite all your meddling, and you unashamedly continued to manipulate him. So excuse me if I have trouble believing a single word you're saying now. Because you know what the bloody hell this looks like? Your apologies to me sound like you're trying to manipulate me as well. And all because I happen to own an impressive three million pound property."

"No!" Jenny shook her head in despair. "Everything else is true ...but not that about yer property." There's a tremor in her voice and shame in her eyes. "I stopped by yesterday to apologise to ye, but ye werenae home, and when Mrs Fitz from across the road saw me, she handed me that newspaper clipping. I swear to God, Claire, I came to ye even before I knew ye had that property."

Claire couldn't stand there and listen anymore, not after what she'd gone through the last couple of days. She needed to let all her frustration out, or she'd implode. "I don't trust you, Jenny. If drivel could bounce, you'd be in the bloody orbit by now. Unfortunately, that won't happen, so I'm out of here. I can't stand being here any longer." The words exploded out of her and popped in the air like bright red fireworks.

Jenny fell back a step and gasped. Claire was shocked too with the words that came out of her mouth. But she took that opportunity to rush out of the cottage, not caring if it was still raining, only focusing on getting as far away from Jenny as possible.

She'd just crossed the street when a vehicle screeched to a stop and reversed. Claire kept on walking, still reeling from her conversation with Jenny.

"Miss Beauchamp?"

She stopped and glanced into the Land Rover window that stopped by her side and noticed a familiar face. "Yes?"

The man tipped his baseball cap on his head and smiled. "It's me, Tom Christie."

"Oh ... it's you ... you're early!" was all she could say, too surprised for words.

"Actually, I'm on my way home to change clothes before our meeting. Do ye need a ride? I noticed ye dinnae have a brolly with ye, and it's raining."

Claire glanced back at the cottage and saw Jenny standing at the doorway, looking at her with that still ashen face. She'd heard rumours in the village about Tom being a ladies' man and knew what it would look like to Jenny if she got into the Land Rover with him. But she didn't give a flying fig. Let her gossip! Smiling, she nodded at Tom. "Yes, please. To the village centre if it's no trouble."

He grinned. "Nae bother at all. Hop in."

..........

"Remind me again why I'm here," Willie mumbled under his breath as they followed a young woman down a long hallway lined with modern paintings. "I thought I made it clear it should be Claire attending this therapy with ye. In case ye need reminding, I got our business to run."

Jamie sighed. "I'd rather ye're here. Ye ken my condition better than anyone."

"Is it Geneva ye're worried about?" his older brother asked in a low voice.

"God, no. I'd be more worried if Jenny came with me. Christ, she'd been pushing Geneva and me together for as long as I can remember. I ken the lass took a fancy in me, but that's all it ever was. I'm just concerned it's gonnae be weird since we ken each other."

Willie glanced at him with understanding. "There's nae avoiding it, lad. We live in a small village, and everyone knows everyone. It's the bane of living in such a place. We just have to make do with what we have."

"Aye, that's true."

The young woman in front of them turned. "The last one on the right," she smiled, pointing at the white door. Jamie wanted to say he knew his way around and that it was the same office as his former therapist but decided not to and returned her smile instead.

With Willie close behind him, he stepped forward and knocked lightly against the door. A feminine voice answered from the inside, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, they were greeted by a familiar, cosy space and Geneva, dressed in a black pantsuit with her hair done in a bun. She was sat in a dark leather armchair, looking them over with her transparent-rimmed glasses. If she was surprised to see Willie with him, she hid it well.

"Mr Fraser, it's nice to see you again." Smiling warmly, she stood up and held out her hand for him. Taking it, she gave him a firm handshake before doing the same to Willie and motioning them towards the over-size beige leather sofa arranged in the middle of the room. "Please take a seat." Like a couple of schoolboys, they both did as they were told.

"Before anything else," she began, looking at Jamie. "I have you here for one on one therapy. Is there a reason why you brought your brother with you?"

Jamie cleared his throat and licked his lips. "I, ah, wanted him here for moral support."

"Fair enough. So what can I do for you?" She smiled, crossing her legs and reclining back into her armchair, a clipboard resting on her thigh.

Jamie anxiously glanced at Willie, but his brother only shrugged. "I dinnae ken where to start. Ever since yer predecessor left, I havenae been to therapy because I didnae feel comfortable seeing a therapist who knows me on a personal level. It kinda feels odd."

She steepled her fingers together, her blue eyes narrowing on him. "I understand this is out of your comfort zone and probably, for some, highly unusual. But I'd like to make it clear that I take my job seriously, and I hold myself to the highest professional standard. Whatever friendship I have with your sister will have no effect whatsoever on what would transpire within these walls. If you wish to proceed, please take a few deep breaths and just forget that you know me. In here, I am Dr Dunsany, and you are Mr Fraser."

Jamie considered her words as she waited patiently for his reply. After a minute of contemplation, he finally nodded and took a few cleansing breaths. "Fine."

She smiled. "So, first things first. What prompted you to finally see a therapist?"

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "I'm in a serious relationship." Jamie thought he saw an ever so slight arching of her eyebrow but immediately dismissed it as his imagination. "And my condition and the panic attacks are hurting our relationship. I figured in order for us to move forward, I needed to take steps in getting better."

Geneva picked up her clipboard and started scribbling. "What do you believe your girlfriend thinks about your condition?"

Jamie smiled briefly at the thought of Claire. "Weel, she's very understanding and very patient, and she's taken my condition in a stride. Like the rest of my family, she thinks I'm suffering from suppressed guilt and emotions."

Geneva paused and closely appraised him. "Why do you think she thinks you have suppressed guilt and emotions?"

His heart began to increase its pace, and his throat tightened. "Because we were both there when her parents died. She was able to move on, but I couldnae," the words came out rapidly.

A whoosh of breath came from Willie.

"Why do you think she was able to move on and you couldn't?" she pushed, seemingly unaffected by Jamie's revelation.

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Because it's my fault that she grew up without a family."

He heard Willie's breath hitch, but Geneva ignored his brother.

"And why do you think it's your fault?"

His mouth became dry, and his tongue thick. "I didnae run fast enough to get help when their car crashed. If I had, she wouldnae be orphaned today. If I was stronger, I wouldnae have needed to run off and get my godfather, and I could have pulled the door open myself and saved her parents as well."

"You look like a strong man, Mr Fraser. Why do you think you needed to run and get help to pull the door open?"

"I wasnae big enough back then. I was only ten." He dropped his head into his hand. "And she was so wee ...crying for her ma. All I could do was hold her."

He started to hyperventilate as the image of Harry staring at him through the window, sprung to life. It was the last image he saw before the car had exploded.

Sensing his discomfort, Geneva stood from her armchair and retrieved two bottles of mineral water from the mini-fridge, handing them each to the brothers. They both gratefully accepted, taking large gulps.

When he got his breathing back under control, she proceeded. "I understand now your frustration at not being big enough to carry the task out yourself and why you had to get your godfather." She scribbled a few more notes on her clipboard. "I'm going to go back to the question you haven't answered yet. Why do you think your girlfriend was able to move on from her parents' death?"

He squashed the empty bottle of mineral water. "She was too young then to understand any of it, just a wee bairn when it happened."

"And so were you."

"She was five, and I was ten. I was old enough to be able to do something about it, but I couldn't."

"Your godfather, who was old enough and stronger than you, was unable to do anything further. Do you think it was your godfather's fault?"

"No! Of course, not. He tried his best. We got her ...Claire, who's m-my girlfriend now, out first and my godfather made me take her to safety. But the car caught fire, and it exploded."

"So it's not your godfather's fault, and yet you think it was your fault."

"Yes!"

"Why would you think, after all the efforts you and your godfather have done to try and save your girlfriend's parents, it's still your fault?"

"It was the way he looked at me."

"Who looked at you?"

"Claire's father. Just before the car exploded."

"How did he look at you?"

"He was just staring at me."

"And you can't get that out of your head?"

"No."

A mild frown of concentration descended across Geneva's face as she flipped through the notes on her clipboard. She reached out for a manila folder on a coffee table by her side and browsed through it too. "This is a great start, Mr Fraser," she continued. "From what I've here in your history with your former therapist, this is the first time you've ever talked about an experience from your childhood. This is highly interesting. Care to tell me why you've never talked about this before."

"It's a memory that I've forgotten, and it's just resurfaced recently."

She arched an eyebrow. "How recently?"

"A few days ago."

"Can you remember what triggered the memories to come back?"

"The night I met my girlfriend's uncle on video chat."

"So, prior to that night, you had no recollection of the forgotten memory, is that correct?"

"Aye."

"Why do you think your girlfriend's uncle triggered all the memory to come back?"

His fingers began to pick at the water bottle label. "He looks exactly my girlfriend' father."

A long silence ensued.

Geneva placed the clipboard by her side and uncrossed her legs. "That will be all for today, Mr Fraser. We've covered enough to have something to work on."

Jamie's head shot up. "So that's it? That was quick," he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

"Oh, we're far from done, Mr Fraser, but you've revealed more than I anticipated, so I decided to stop while we're ahead. Thank you for answering all questions as openly as possible."

"So what's yer diagnosis?"

She tilted her head to the side. "I believe you have a lot of misplaced guilt about your past that may be hindering you from moving on. So ...what I would like you to do is ...I want you to think about how you want your future to look like. Think really hard and try to dig deep. Next time we catch up, we'll discuss everything in details." She stood up, and Jamie and Willie followed suit. "I'll see you next week. My assistant will write down the date of our next meeting. You can pick up your appointment card on the way out," she smiled, opening the door and ushering them out.

The brothers walked out quietly together, both lost in their own thoughts.

"That wasnae too bad, was it?" Willie asked as they stepped out of the building.

Jamie shook his head. "No, no' at all." His head was still buzzing from the session, so he didn't really have much opinion to offer.

"Perhaps next time, ye can bring Claire with ye."

At the mention of her name, he pulled out his phone from his back pocket. He'd silenced it all morning as he'd prepared himself for the therapy but was disappointed to see there was no new message from her. "She hasnae messaged."

"I'm no' surprised. You havenae been returning her calls. And ye have no excuse, lad, because I left ye a charger at Lallybroch."

Jamie followed his brother close behind as they made their way to the car. "How do ye know I've no' been returning her calls?"

"She told me."

"How is she?"

"Find out yersel'."

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

His heart and brain must have swapped places because suddenly, his heart seemed twice as heavy, and his brain thumped against his skull. "M-my Claire?"

Willie tipped his head like he's on the brink of calling Ian an eejit. "Hold up, this could all be just an innocent thing. Wasnae Claire supposed to be meeting with someone from here for some book publication?"

"Nae way!" Ian shook his head. "Christie doesnae look like the type to string a sentence together, never mind write a book."

"Alright," Jamie breathed, propping his hands on the edge of the car's roof. His brain was barely functioning because it was knocking against his temple, making him see red. He'd completely underestimated his ability to let her go, thinking he was doing it for her own good. Claire hadn't called today because she thought he'd given up. Ah, shite! He felt he was going to be sick. "I need to go and see her. Now."

"Fuck!" Willie muttered. "I'm coming with ye." Then he bent down to Ian's eye level and pointed his index finger at his brother-in-law. "Next time, run this kind of info by me first."

Ian smirked. "Fine. But I'm coming too. I'm up for seeing a bit of nefariousness."

Jamie was already in the car, fastening his seat belt. "Let's go!"

Dear Readers,

Whew, that was a long chapter. I'm literally drained; nevertheless, I'm feeling a sense of satisfaction that I can post it today. My eyes are wonky, though, from editing, and I was about to go through it again when I thought, ah bugger it, I will do the grammar check tomorrow.

Before I say nighty-night, thanks for your feedback from the previous chapter, and I'm looking forward to what you think of this next one. I know it's slow going, but I really wanted to cover as many plot holes as possible. Slowly but surely, I'm getting there. Anyway, take care always and keep spreading kindness and love. Until the next update, much love! X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

Note

Jin Guangyao supervises a-Fu and a-Ling's first sleepover while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are night-hunting

[Well, this was SUPPOSED to be just fluffy, but that’s a little hard inside of JGY’s head]

A-Fu bounded his way into the room and flung himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms with such force that it nearly knocked him over. “Oof--my child, please--” he chuckled as he caught him and A-Fu rubbed his face all over the embroidered Sparks Amidst Snow peony on the front of his robes, likely wiping his snot off on it. His clothes were still cold and damp from their flight.

“We--” A-Fu reared his head back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Are gonna stay up all night!”

A-Yuan appeared to have stayed behind by Lan Xichen’s side, because the pair made their entrance at a more measured pace as Lan Xichen reminded, patiently, “While the rules of Carp Tower may be different than Cloud Recesses, staying up all night is not good for you.”

Rather shyly, A-Yuan bowed in greeting to Jin Guangyao and he nodded back, smiling down at the boy. It had always been vaguely amusing to him that A-Yuan had more patience and decorum than A-Fu, who was born a Lan. One had to wonder if it was the influence of the slightly more rowdy Nie Clan exposure or simply innate. “Seeing how I am the one watching you and I cannot stay up all night, I’m going to have to disagree with you, Fufu,” Jin Guangyao slotted his gentle negation right alongside Lan Xichen’s and braced for the inevitable pout.

Instead, he received a sunny smile. “Oh, okay, then you’ll just go to bed at the Lan time and we’ll stay up to help the sun rise!”

A-Yuan was looking between the adults with a rather furtive smile, as if trying to silently communicate that he did not, in fact, condone this plan and would not like to be a part of the repercussions. Jin Guangyao grinned and hefted A-Fu over to his side to brace him on his hip, his back beginning to complain. “Ah, what a creative set of ears you have, Fufu--we say ‘you’re not staying up all night’, and yet they hear ‘you’re allowed to stay up until sunrise’! Truly remarkable.”

Quite dramatically, A-Fu sighed and smushed his hands up onto Jin Guangyao’s face, smearing his cheeks around. “Dieeee, don’t be a party pooper, it’s our first Jin sleepover with all of us!”

Gently, Jin Guangyao shook his face free of his cold fingered grasp and turned toward Lan Xichen to receive the kiss to his forehead. Despite A-Fu beginning to wiggle, he leaned into it, let himself inhale the scent of ozone-sky, clean wind, and sandalwood that clung to his robes and hair. The habitual tension torqued at his core loosened, like a sigh. “Easy trip? You’re not too tired after carrying them both, are you?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, slid to kiss his temple. “I’m fine, A-Yao. I’m sorry again for the short notice--Wangji is off on his own night hunt and this cannot wait.”

Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao smiled. “It’s no trouble. A-Ling is very excited.”

“And you?”

“Also very excited--ah!” A-Fu made a lunge off of his hip, not being content to simply wiggle his displeasure at being kept from pelting about and Jin Guangyao had to stoop to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. “A-Fu!” The boy froze, guiltily, and let himself be lowered down to his feet. Jin Guangyao crouched down and straightened his robes and headband with little tugs to lessen the sting of his scolding, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “Patience is valuable. You’ll hurt yourself that way.”

As soon as no more admonishments came, A-Fu brightened immediately. “You wouldn’t drop me. A-Yuan!! Let’s go find A-Ling!”

Darting away, he seized A-Yuan’s wrist and dragged him out and down the hall, already excitedly chattering about the plans of the night as Lan Xichen chuckled and shook his head, winding an arm about Jin Guangyao’s waist when he rose. “Good luck. He couldn’t keep still the entire trip and told me the same thing when I reminded him that dropping from my arms in the sky was a bad idea.”

“Aiya,” he shook his head and, since they were alone, turned inside his embrace and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he murmured against him. “But you will be careful, yes?”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen tilted his head, pressed a firmer, more complete kiss against his lips, slipping his arms fully around him before pulling back to smile down at him. “I always am. Da-ge will be with me.”

With practiced ease, he swept aside the tangle of anxiety, old hurt, regret, and darker things the mention of Nie Mingjue bubbled inside his gut and smiled back. “Of course.”

The boys were already fighting by the time Jin Guangyao found them in Jin Ling’s toy room down the hall--something about the colors of toy swords--but quieted down fairly quickly when he mildly suggested that perhaps they wouldn’t need more sugar after dinner because they were already so lively. Eating went well, as both A-Ling and A-Fu were too busy inhaling food like they were starving and A-Yuan was making like a good Lan child and not talking during meals. He contented himself watching them dart around afterward, announcing in grandiose little voices the various heroes they were and what monsters they were battling. Without direct adult interference, A-Yuan grew a little more vibrant and playful, and though he never reached the same volume of the other 2, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Jin Guangyao faded into the background for them like so much furniture. He smiled as he watched them play. It was funny how sometimes it worked on children as well as adults.

That is, until A-Ling twisted around like he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, right, shushu?”

Jin Guangyao blinked and smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say all that.” Modesty was a good trait to teach your children. In any case, his father would certainly agree with his hedging and Madam Jin would certainly take exception if her grandson began calling such a bastard a hero in her presence. “Most people of my generation were a part of the Sunshot Campaign. Why do you ask, A-Ling?”

“Well, you just seem so normal.”

Jin Guangyao did not let the slightly darker, wry humor he felt coil in his chest bleed into his perfectly reasonable smile. “I’m pleased that you think so.”

“But heroes aren’t normal, though, they’re heroes,” A-Fu seemed to understand whatever A-Ling was failing to adequately explain. “They aren’t moms and dads and stuff.”

“What should they be instead, then, A-Fu? Simply stories?”

His son squinted his eyes at him, like he was solving a particularly difficult equation and looked over at A-Yuan and back. “But...you didn’t have...like...sleepovers and things, right?”

Jin Guangyao was silent for a moment, keeping his expression perfectly balanced. There had never been another child to whisper the night away with. No adult in the corner to watch him play. Nights were not a time for fun. “No, A-Fu, I didn’t. But plenty of others have.”

A-Fu cocked his head. “Why not?”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Why don’t we see if the cook has any sweet buns leftover? I know she baked them fresh this morning.”

After the hunt and acquisition of their prize and after the children had licked their hands clean, A-Fu looked up at him with a few crumbles of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose and said, “You can be part of the sleepover if you want, though, die, ‘cause this is our first one all together too!”

Heart pinching, flooding with warmth, he reached out and brushed the little crystals off with his thumb, tilting his head. “So thoughtful, xiao-Fu. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You’re fun, die! Right, A-Yuan?”

With a shy smile, A-Yuan nodded. “I liked when you taught us about the plants in the woods, that one time.”

The time in question had been more than 2 years ago when they were quite a bit younger, not too many months after the boy had recovered fully from his illness to be well enough to leave the Hanshi where he was staying with Lan Xichen and A-Yuan for extended periods of time. Even as A-Fu screwed up his face in confusion, the strange buzz of realization that he lived in the minds of these children in ways he did not control rushed through Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, cognitively or as if this wasn’t true of everyone, but...when they were small and unsteady on their feet, still learning the ways of the world and the words for things, one forgot to consider them people on the way to becoming themselves. Recording and collecting moments that were inconsequential to their grown ups. When he considered his own childhood, there wasn’t a boy who lived there, but himself, as he ever was, reflected back through time, the story written and unyielding. He had never felt particularly like a child.

And yet, here was a boy who remembered him fondly from an insignificant walk from some recordless day for pointing out a few edible plants along a path.

He found himself wondering if his mother had ever been taken out of her own head for a moment, watching him watch her, not knowing the picture she painted across his memory. For good or for ill.

Always good.

He blinked back to himself and made sure to smile at A-Yuan. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t remember that,” A-Fu complained just as A-Ling said, “I didn’t get that! Shushu, tell me about plants!”

That startled a genuine laugh out of Jin Guangyao and he knelt down. “I’m no expert, but in the morning, what if I took you all out to the gardens and told you about some of the plants that we have growing here in Carp Tower? Would you boys like that?”

The answering, competitively loud yells of YES from both A-Fu and A-Ling had him wincing but A-Yuan’s eager nod made him smile.

There was whining and stalling at bedtime, misuse of soap, and a hastily declared armistice of a mutinous pillow fight because there are lanterns in here, A-Ling, you know better, but, finally, they were tucked in, 3 dark little heads on the pillow with the blanket pulled up to their chins. “Are we going to greet the sun?” Jin Guangyao asked with knowing patience, kneeling beside their bed, leaning with his elbow in his own nightclothes.

“Nooo?” A-Fu widened his eyes, as if his own father didn’t know when he was trying to be innocent.

Smoothing a palm over his forehead, bare of its headband, Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows. “What happens if I find you trying to stay up to greet the sun, A-Fu?”

“Youuuu...join us!”

Jin Guangyao blinked slowly, smile still fixed on his face. A-Fu sighed grumpily. “I probably have to clean dishes for a month or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it up to your blue father.”

A-Ling snickered as A-Fu stiffened. “Nooo, don’t tell him!”

“Then I will advise you, Fufu, to not do it at all,” he replied indulgently, stroking his thumb between his eyebrows.

Tucked in the middle so the other two didn’t fight, A-Yuan piped up, saying, “I won’t let them, bo-fu.”

When A-Yuan gave him a smile, he felt his own soften without his say so--but here, with uncalculating eyes and sleepy shadows, he supposed that was alright. He reached over and patted A-Yuan’s round cheek, resisting the illogical parentally-encoded impulse to pinch them. “Thank you, A-Yuan.” Then, he reached farther to do the same for A-Ling. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”

As Jin Guangyao rose and moved to the door, A-Fu chirped, “Love you.” He paused as the other 2 echoed the same words, like A-Fu had reminded them of an important ritual.

Drawing in a deep breath around his suddenly tight throat, he turned back and smiled. “Love you, too.”

#xiyao #3zun raise jingyi au #my fic #my stuff #jgy #lxc #ljy #jl #lsz #Thanks for the prooompt Maaads it's way angstier than I meaaaaant #madtomedgar #3zun raise jingyi content

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dinomight · 5 years

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all the stars in all the skies: a playlist for Home and a Half by @echodrops

the chain - fleetwood mac // sorrow - the national // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex // child i will hurt you - crystal castles // constant craving - the cat and owl // run boy run - woodkid // female robbery - the neighbourhood // sleepsong - bastille // small things - ben howard // iron - woodkid // greens of june - neko case // mars - sleeping at last // iscariot - walk the moon // human - daughter // body - mother mother // i come with knives - iamx // all these things that i’ve done - the killers // an angry blade - iron & wine // all the stars - the wailin’ jennys // i’ll be good - jaymes young // slow wake up sunday morning - mountain man // someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic // it’s alright - mother mother // this is home - cavetown

Song explanations under the cut!

First I’d like to clarify: I’m not insane. I’m just a huge ass dork for this fic. (For a lot of things, really, but irrelevant.) HaaH is one of my favorite written works ever, fanfiction or not, so I really, truly should not have been surprised that this playlist ended up being so much longer than I meant for it to be, and it probably could’ve been even longer if I’d let myself keep going. In my defense, I can’t art, so this is one of my only ways to show my appreciation.

Anyways, I’m not gonna wax poetics about how much I love this story because we would be here all day and this post is too long as it is, so down to business: this playlist is very loosely structured. It’s hard to give the songs a significant order when only a few correspond to specific moments or lines; most of them I chose to focus more on bigger picture themes and concepts from the story. So the order isn’t that important, I just organized them so they’d transition relatively smoothly sound-wise and tried to keep similar concepts together. Additionally, I did use both quotes from the fic and the songs in some of my explanations, so fic quotes are bolded and song lyrics are in italics. Some of these are short, some are a bit longer, some are just the quotes because I didn’t feel the need to explain further, but hopefully all of them give a good idea of why I chose the song. I thought about just posting the playlist by itself, but I felt weird not explaining the thinking behind it, so uh, here it is I guess?

1) The Chain - Fleetwood Mac: The best song in existence. Objectively speaking, of course. The first time I heard this while thinking of HaaH though, it just fit so well, and I haven’t really been able to un-associate the two since. (Not that I want to lol) It just has such a desert vibe to it that matches with the story, and I think it represents Keith’s desperation to avoid rejection from the team so well. It’s like...if I were to picture a trailer for HaaH, this is the song I would hear in the background, y’know?

2) Sorrow - The National: This one’s a bit of a weird one because I can’t quite put into words why this is on here. Like, I added it back when I was just throwing some songs together for background atmosphere while reading HaaH, but when I was working to make this into something more thought out, I couldn’t bring myself to take this song off. So here it is, I guess.

3) Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex: This one is here more for its sound and atmosphere, not really the lyrics. It just sounds like...nostalgia, I guess. Like it’s supposed to be reminiscing about something comforting, but it’s not quite there because the pain of the present is keeping you rooted. The way I hear it, it’s like Keith is thinking about his mom and her love and comfort, but it’s tainted by the loss of all of that. (I might be slightly insane. I’ve come to terms with that.)

4) Child I Will Hurt You - Crystal Castles: I don’t know how else to phrase this so I’m just gonna say it: this song gives me the heebie jeebies, just like Keith’s flashbacks to his earlier times with the Garrison. I swear, every time he says replacement mother or father it gives me chills. Or makes me want to cry a bit. It just feels so wrong, and that’s why I picked this song, ‘cause it gives me the same feeling. The music is so soft, like it was supposed to be a lullaby, but the lyrics and the feeling underneath is...disturbing. Plus, “Hide all that you could / Done for the greater good / It’s later understood” reminds me all too well of the Garrison scientists and what they did to Keith.

5) Constant Craving - The Cat and Owl: So while I was searching for songs to add, it suddenly occurred to me that despite the fact that one of Keith’s major problems is that he can’t put his thoughts and feelings into words properly, every single song I’d added did exactly that. And so began my search for some instrumental songs that unfortunately only turned up this one, mostly because I realized this playlist was getting far too long lol. Though now that I’ve thought about it, an all instrumental HaaH playlist would be an interesting challenge. Hm. I already knew I wanted to add Constant Craving as a sort of representation for Keith’s own craving for love, acceptance, and family, but when I heard this version I knew it was right. Keith knows he desperately needs all these things, but he can’t put it into words, can’t communicate it right. It’s made even better by how well known the original song is, because you can feel the familiarity in it, feel what’s missing and what should be there, but it’s different at the same time, like that absence has created something strange, something off-kilter from what it should have been. Plus it’s sorta a lullaby version, which I like since Keith’s childhood is an often reoccurring topic.

6) Run Boy Run - Woodkid: Seems to me like there’s a lot of shit Keith’s been running from. (also...running makes me think of “escaped from the Garrison”. Escaped. Escaped. ESCAPED.)

7) Female Robbery - The Neighbourhood: There’s some really fucked up stuff in Keith’s past in addition to the whole Galra thing, and he really does not want the team to find out any of it. This song makes me think a lot about that.

8) Sleepsong - Bastille: “You go to sleep on your own / And you wake each day with your thoughts / And it scares you being alone, it's a last resort” & “All you want is someone onto whom you can cling / Your mother warned of strangers and the dangers they may bring / Your dreams and memories are blurring into one / The scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone.” ...yeah.

9) Small Things - Ben Howard: Another song that’s on here more for the sound than the lyrics, though the lyrics could possibly fit. I just love the dreamy, suspended feeling that this song exudes and how well it fits with the feeling that Keith’s flashbacks and memories give me.

10) Iron - Woodkid: “But Keith was gone—every reflex retuned for battle, every nerve sparking under his skin, and all there was fight, win, refuse to be killed.“ - “I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest / I'm ready for the fight, and fate” So the lyrics don’t *exactly* match up, but the underlying themes are there, I think, and the atmosphere of this one was more important to me anyways. The intensity of it just screams fighting and death and red to me.

11) Greens of June - Neko Case, k.d. lang, Laura Veirs: “Just in the moment / Everything's changed / My dark disposition / Has been rearranged” The arrival of the kids is certainly not a very happy time considering the circumstances, but it brought a change that Keith desperately needed, one that will hopefully help him actually be happy. (My other reason for choosing this song is, for whatever reason, it also gives me desert vibes.)

12) Mars - Sleeping at Last: “We let the end goal blind us to the means. We’ll have to re-evaluate before we take on any more missions. If violence is our go-to method of beating the enemy, we’re no better than the empire ourselves.” - "Lay your weapons down! / They're calling off the war / On account of losing track / Of what we're fighting for." The team has taken up an immense and necessary duty to protect the universe, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get caught up in the grey areas of war, and it doesn’t mean they get to come home without scars.

13) Iscariot - WALK THE MOON: Broganes, anyone? For real though, this song is about betrayal between two people who are essentially brothers (specifically Jesus and Judas but I didn’t pick it for the religious references). While I don’t think Shiro is gonna see Keith being Galra and hiding it as a personal betrayal, Keith clearly does. “How long did he have left before…Before Lance said he’d known all along there was something wrong with Keith, before Pidge threw his hypocrisy back in his face: no secrets between paladins, huh? Before Allura turned her back on him. Before Shiro couldn’t, and Keith had to meet his eyes, watch betrayal dawn white-star bright and burning.” Ah. That sweet, terrible angst.

14) Human - Daughter: “Underneath the skin there's a human / Buried deep within there's a human / And despite everything I'm still human / But I think I'm dying here.” I think this song works on two levels. One, you can take “human” to be quite literal and interpret it as Keith’s desperation to hide his Galra heritage and keep pretending that he’s entirely human, even though it clearly has awful emotional repercussions for him. Two, you can look at “human” with a metaphorical lens to talk about how even though Keith seems like a cold tough guy on the surface, underneath that is a complicated mess of emotions and trauma, and not being able to properly deal with all of that is killing him.

15) Body - Mother Mother: One of the things about HaaH that I find most interesting is Keith’s relationship with his body. Between the whole Galra form vs human form, the fact that his human form is not how he was born, and everything that the Garrison did to him...it’s a goddamn mess. Hence, this song. can I please give this boy a hug

16) I Come With Knives - IAMX: First and foremost, I had to include this song for the irony, because Keith did, in fact, come with a knife. However, I also included it because I really like how on the surface, it can be written off as just another angsty emo song, but if you take the time to really listen to it, it’s filled with genuine emotion and hurt. (Almost like a certain knife-wielding alien boy I know...)

17) All These Things That I’ve Done - The Killers: I have a few different reasons for why this song is here, but the main one is pretty much “I got soul, but I’m not a soldier”. I mean...yeah. That screams Keith to me. He’s driven and angry and passionate and willing to fight so hard to protect the people he loves, but...that doesn’t mean he’s emotionally okay with being a soldier, even if the rest of the team seems to think otherwise.

18) An Angry Blade - Iron & Wine: Another one that immediately earned points for Keith irony in the title. Seriously though, I love the tone of this song for Keith. It’s got desert vibes to it, and maybe it’s just because my hearing isn’t fantastic, but I like that the lyrics are a bit hard to make out. You really have to listen. (Again, almost like...hmm...) Plus: “You’re an angry blade and you’re brave / But you’re all alone”

19) All the Stars - The Wailin’ Jennys: I swear I didn’t just pick this for the title. It was a little bit for the title though, sue me. Nope, it was more for “So open wide your wounded heart / Feel yourself be blown apart” because for the love of god, Keith, please open up a bit more to the people around you. On a more serious note, I was also struck by “You don’t know me / You know one side of a story” because it’s true for both Keith and his mother. The Keith part is obvious--the team, with the exception of Shiro, only really sees the Keith that’s on the surface. But it’s kinda true for Keith and his mom too, right? He’s missing so much information because of his spotty memories. Up until the kids arrived, it seems like he didn’t even consider the idea that she might be, y’know, not evil. So...yeah. Also “All the stars in the sky / Say goodbye say goodbye” because I didn’t need my heart, it’s fine, it’s okay, I’m not crying over a fictional character and the death of his alien mother, there’s just dirt in my eyes--

20) I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young: “But if there was a way to stop the blood flowing down his glove, the sound a sword made when it struck bone, the way her breath came in pieces between the shocks her sobs, then he definitely would have... “ - “I've been cold, I've been merciless / But the blood on my hands scares me to death / Maybe I'm waking up today”

21) Slow Wake Up Sunday Morning - Mountain Man: “It's lucid dreaming; he knew it wasn't real, not anymore, but still he couldn't focus his eyes, couldn't see past the fall of her hair in the pale morning light...” - “The light / It moves / Across this room / Like it could reach us, honey” & “We are already there, it seems / (I know I can't stay in this place)” I don’t quite know how to explain why I connected this song with this moment beyond the whole early morning thing but...this moment was an especially emotional one for me. It felt like something Keith wanted to hold on to, wanted to go back to, but just like the sun continues rising, the world keeps moving, regardless of whether we want it to or not.

22) Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic: “You were alone left out in the cold / Clinging to the ruin of your broken home / Too lost and hurting to carry your load / We all need someone to hold” I just...yeah. There’s not much I need to say about this one. Just Keith and the kids, man.

23) It’s Alright - Mother Mother: Whenever I listen to this song, I feel like I’m getting a hug. Since I cannot project myself into fictional stories and hug the characters myself, I instead gift this song to Keith. Please, someone give this boy more hugs. Please.

24) This is Home - Cavetown: “Get a load of this monster / He doesn't know how to communicate / His mind is in a different place / Will everybody please give him a little bit of space / Get a load of this trainwreck / His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet / But little do we know the stars welcome him with open arms / Oh / Time is / Slowly / Tracing his face / But strangely he feels at home in this place.” <3

This got way too long, so to anyone who actually made it through all of that, I sincerely apologize. >.<

#echodrops #home and a half #haah #not using fandom tags cause ha no way am i getting involved in that mess again #anyways imma just...leave this here #and go have my anxiety in the corner so bye

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3rdgymbros · 7 years

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no hell had ever burned so sweet

A/N: This was inspired by @hanihana's wonderful comic on tumblr, and I hope I've done her art justice! If you haven't already seen the villain! katsudeku AU, you totally should. That being said, this is my first time writing katsudeku (let alone in an AU setting), and I hope I haven't made them too OOC! Please scream at me in the tags or in the inbox!! (There’s slight NSFW, so it’s been put under a read-more~)

Kendou finds him in the morning, poring thoughtfully over his collection of notebooks. He’s spread them out on his desk; there are only a few blank pages left in his latest one, and he’s managed to add an entry or two about some upcoming heroes who have managed to catch his eye. Soon, the book itself will need to be changed, and maybe he’ll write more in it, when all he sees is his own writing.

“I’ve got news, boss.” She says by way of greeting, waving a sheath of newspapers about in the air.

Izuku lets out a noncommittal hum, studying the auburn haired girl as she strides into the room. Exhaustion from pulling an all-nighter drags at him like wet winter clothes after a swim. The king-sized bed had felt empty, wrong, without Kacchan in it beside him, and he hadn’t felt like crawling into a bed that was far too big for him and attempting the farce of sleeping.

Not that they’ve been doing much sleeping as of late.

Even in the bedroom, Kacchan had an improper tongue. Hearing those sweet, filthy words pouring out of his mouth was always a turn-on, and he’d come right on the spot, with only Kacchan’s hot mouth wrapped around his dick. Surprisingly receptive, Kacchan had mercilessly exploited his weakness; taunting him with all the things he planned to do to Izuku once they were alone, unravelling Izuku with both his words and body whenever they kissed and touched and fucked – though not always in bed.

“Boss.”

How persistent. But Kendou’s voice is enough to clear the lust fogging up his mind.

The mantle of responsibility falls hard back onto his shoulders. Izuku takes Kendo in with tired, lidded eyes, his expression giving nothing away. He might be running on fumes, but his mind is as alert as ever, going full speed with his observations.

She’s wearing makeup and perfume. Subtle, smells like vanilla and marigolds. The jacket’s new, she bought it last week. Her boots are a little too tight; they’re pinching her toes on the left foot. The dress is low-cut and flashy; she’s planning to go out for some fun. Her mouth is turned down at the corners, her eyebrows are drawn together.

“Bad news, hm~?”

There’s a statement behind the honey-laced question, and Kendou knows it. Tension pinches her freckled cheeks and rapidly drives the colour from her complexion. Izuku studies her all the while, a specimen under the microscope.

He waits.

Her expression closes and darkens. “It’s Bakugou. He’s . . .”

The very name chases wishes of sleep from his head and battles the exhaustion back to the periphery of his mind.

“What about Kacchan?”

Rage eats at his calm. His anger burns brightly. He knows that Kacchan’s more than capable of looking after himself, but his childhood friend has been the only constant in his life, and Izuku knows, without a shadow of a doubt that he’d kill anyone who dared to lay a finger on his Kacchan.

“It’s Bakugou,” Kendou says again, almost ruthlessly calm and unperturbed by the dark anger colouring his voice. She’s one of the few people who aren’t put off by his volatile mood swings, and talks to him freely, without fear of any repercussions. She can lift twice Izuku’s body weight and works harder than anyone to make sure the underlings aren’t causing any unnecessary trouble and drawing too much attention. Izuku’s grateful to have her around. “The pro-heroes caught him. He’s under heavy guard now, but our intel says he’ll be transferred to a maximum-security prison in approximately three hours.”

“Ah.” As if a switch has been thrown, Izuku relaxes and grins at Kendou. “Well, that’s fine then. You should have said something sooner, Kendou-chan!” He arranges his notebooks in a neat pile upon his desk, changing the subject with ease. “Do you want to grab some breakfast? I need some caffeine in my system.”

“I don’t mind, but – Wait. Boss. We have more important things to worry about – How is everything fine?”

His smile grows. “All we have to do is get Kacchan out before they transfer him, right? Problem solved.” Izuku hums thoughtfully. “On second thought, maybe we should postpone breakfast, hmm? I should probably get going.”

“Alone?”

“Well, seeing as how you’re busy going on dates with that boyfriend of yours –”

She flushes a bright shade of red that clashes horribly with her auburn hair. “It is not a date, I’m just –”

It’s always so easy to push her buttons. Izuku takes in her embarrassment with cold and detached amusement before waving a dismissive hand in her direction. “That’s fine. Have fun on your nondate with your nonboyfriend Monoma. No objections here.” His voice sharpens. “I’ll go and get Kacchan alone.”

His hands are sticky, stained red with blood. He wishes he’d worn his gloves today.

They’ve put Bakugou in a lightless place, stagnant and airless. Filth and despair seems to clog his every pore. He’s grown used to spending a life in the darkness, but it doesn’t suit his Kacchan, a force larger than life, a typhoon that hates to be contained.

The corridor is about thirty yards long, with cells on both sides. Some are padded cells with an observation window, long and narrow like an archery slit; in the centre of the door. Others are standard prison cells, with a wall of bars opening on the corridor. Izuku is aware of figures moving in the cells, but he spares them nothing, not even a glance.

He could care less if they rot to death in here.

His objective is one person only.

Bakugou’s cell is well beyond the others, facing only a closet across the corridor. It’s the only one fortified with heavy double doors of iron and steel. They’ve spared no expense in keeping him locked up, it seems. Izuku presses the button beside the doors, waiting for them to hiss apart and announce his arrival.

The cell is spotlessly white and brightly lit. Izuku walks in, his footfalls the only sound in the otherwise silent room, and takes it all in with a contemplative hum. Heavy canvas webbing keeps Bakugou bound tightly to a thick slab of concrete bolted to the floor. Barbed wire rings his neck, his chest, his arms. Beneath the webbing he wears a straitjacket and leg restraints.

Up close, Bakugou looks fine. His hair still sticks up in messy, unkempt spikes; his face is pale, the stark absence of colour emphasizing his brilliantly red irises. His lips are chapped and his nose is pink. He raises his head and grins as Izuku approaches. His eyes run up and down Izuku lazily, like the stroking paws of a cat.

Izuku’s answering smile is as sharp as the edge of a blade.

Bakugou’s straightforward desire is enjoyable. No seduction, no pretence. His want is simple, and he does nothing to hide it or dress it under honeyed words.

“What took you so fucking long, Deku?”

Even chained up and bound with all manners of tracking devices, Bakugou is still as cocky as ever. A mocking edge to his question, made all the more pronounced by the rasp in his voice makes Izuku’s stomach flutter. It brings sex to mind. Extraordinary sex.

The thought of his Kacchan tied and bound up with a length of rope, spread out prettily on their bed, writhing and moaning Izuku’s name over and over again, coming undone while Izuku pounds into him makes for a pretty picture, and sends a white-hot desire trammelling through Izuku’s veins.

His lips are dry, so Izuku licks them before answering, “Sorry, Kacchan. It took me a while to bypass their security system.”

“Heh?” Bakugou asks, teasing and mischievous, “The heroes gave you a hard time to save me, huh?”

Izuku’s eyes darken with desire. Bakugou licks his own lips, mirroring his gesture from several minutes before, as though he knows what Izuku’s thinking. Kacchan’s there. Right there. All perfect and gorgeous and smelling of soap and sweat. If they weren’t hard-pressed for time, Izuku would be fucking Bakugou senseless here and now, hearing him scream and beg as his nails rake their way down Izuku’s back –

“No, no, don’t worry about that.” Izuku smiles angelically, in a way that completely dismisses the other’s concerns. “Getting through their defenses was actually fun.”

Izuku bubbles out a laugh that’s tinged with mania. He’s lost count of the number of heroes he’s killed, the wake of bodies he’s left in his rampage; the only evidence he has is staining his hands, dripping and splattering onto the linoleum tiles in a soft crimson rain. “But Kacchan, saving people is what heroes do. And I’m not a hero. Neither are you. We abandoned that title a long time ago, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Bakugou hums in approval, the sound as warm as bathwater.

It manages to bring a genuine smile to Izuku’s face. Few things these days have the ability to make Izuku happy – and even now, Kacchan can still make him smile. It’s something that hasn’t changed from when they were kids, bright-eyed and young and naïve, playing at being heroes with sticks and capes made of blankets.

Izuku isn’t connected to these dreams on a personal level. Not anymore.

“I’m not here to save you.” Izuku purrs, leaning forwards to nuzzle his nose along the sensitive spot behind Bakugou’s neck, so that his words vibrate into skin and bones. He can’t make Kacchan scream his name yet; but hearing his sudden, sharp intake of breath is enough to satiate him. For now. “I’m here to pick you up.”

It elicits a growl from Bakugou. “Quit teasing and just fucking kiss me already, Deku.”

Izuku bites back his amusement, running his fingers through the sweat-damp roots of ash blond hair. “Why, since you asked so politely, Kacchan!”

Izuku knows he’ll pay for it later, that he’ll be reduced to a quivering, panting mess on the bed, begging to feel Kacchan’s dick inside of him. But when Bakugou’s pupils darken, Izuku takes a single sip of his arousal and finds it exquisite. That’s enough teasing for today.

Chuckling lightly, Izuku leans forwards, mindful not to snag himself on the barbed wire. With another growl, Bakugou surges forward and kisses Izuku hard, bruising his lips. Izuku’s hands twine themselves in ash blond hair, fisting it roughly, holding him in place so he can’t turn away. He bites the tongue that Bakugou thrusts aggressively into his mouth, then his lower lip, tasting blood. Izuku sighs. A slow, hot trickle of arousal gathers deep in his bones.

“Let’s go home, Kacchan,” Izuku breathes against Bakugou’s mouth.

“Yeah, but before that –” The cutting rasp to Bakugou’s voice becomes more pronounced, and Izuku feels his stomach clench in anticipation.

“Hm?” Izuku hums lightly, feeling a dark grin spread across Bakugou’s lips.

“Release me and let me burn this place to the fucking ground.”

It’s incredibly easy to get Bakugou riled up, and each and every time, Izuku relishes the sight of it. A feral smile is stretched taut across his face. The sparks in his eyes fly into his darkness like fireflies down a cave.

God, how Izuku wants him. The craving hasn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku coos, his fingers already making quick work of the wires and straps, “Stop being so charming, will you?”

#katsudeku #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #bnha #bnha fanfiction #i did it #sam has written that katsudeku villain au #after so many days of slaving over it #nOW I CAN GO BACK TO WRITING ABOUT OIKAWA #ＴＥＬＬＵＳＡＳＴＯＲＹＯＦＷＨＡＴＷＥＯＮＣＥＫＮＥＷ | my fanfiction

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