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wisecrackingeric-2 · 11 months

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Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy

Summary: Set in an AU where Luis doesn’t die in RE4 and instead joins Leon in his missions, the two of them are sent on a mission to Spain, where they need to travel on horseback. Only problem? Leon doesn’t know how to ride horses. But Luis does, and he’s more than happy to teach him how.

Aka; Leon can’t ride horses so Luis teaches him how, and gay panic ensues. Some cute domestic dialog and humour at the end, too. Already established relationship.

Word Count: 10,000

Trigger Warnings: Discussions of Religious Trauma & Childhood Trauma, Implied Sexual Content (Nothing explicit, I try to keep it as mild as possible)

A/N: “Leon praisekink who”- my partner reading this

This entire fic is basically an Autism infodump about my special interest in horses LMAO. From the moment I saw Luis I thought to myself “oh yeah. That man was a horse boy”

Also quick warning for mentions of religious trauma and just general childhood trauma!! But this fic is 95% just silly flirting and fluffy romance with Leon being a flustered idiot. Sexual content is only ever implied

Also also sincerest apologies for any poor Spanish, I literally used Google for all of this CHBSHDNSXJ

((This can also be read as a sequel to my fic ‘I Don’t Care, I Love You’ https://archiveofourown.org/works/47597077 or as a stand-alone!!))

—

“ What?! Hunnigan, can’t you drop us off in, like, a helicopter or something??”

Government agent Leon S. Kennedy leaned over Hunnigans desk in shock and annoyance, while Ingrid just sifted through her papers silently, not even looking up to acknowledge Leon's overreaction.

Hunnigan had just unceremoniously given Leon his latest government-mandated mission: a trip to the middle-of-nowhere Spanish countryside, where even further beyond that lay an old, rundown farm. Apparently it was quite popular for locals to spread rumors and campfire stories about the place. But to the government and Leon’s dismay, it was also suspected to be housed to an underground group of rogue Spanish scientists; who were (again, heavily suspected- which to Leon meant basically confirmed) to be using its empty status as a testing chamber for the hundredth new strain of T-Virus. Even more delightful, people in the closest village were reported to be rapidly going missing and were last seen near the farmhouse. How fun.

“Leon, I think you’ll live” Hunnigan finally spoke, rolling her eyes. “It’s only a two-and-a-half day walk from the village you’ll be dropped off at”

“ Exactly, Ingrid! A two day walk!!” Leon said, throwing his arms around dramatically. “Can’t you give us even a Jeep?”

“Leon, a helicopter would be painfully obvious. And there’s no roads to the farm, it’s just empty fields”

Leon huffed, folding his arms and giving Ingrid a glare. Before he could speak up to complain more, though, she’d already shoved a pair of plane tickets and a stack of government documents against his chest. “You and Luis Sera will be leaving in three days. If you’re that worried about your poor old legs, you can have some extra cash to rent a couple of horses”

From behind Leon, a woman spoke up;

“ Oooooooooo , is Mr. Kennedy going on a mission with his boooyfrieeend??” Claire teased in a sing-song voice, mimicking the cadence of a schoolgirl. Leon just groaned and grumbled back a “shut up, Claire”, which caused her to giggle.

After saving Luis from a stab to the back- literally - he’d returned back to America from Spain as a wanted criminal for his involvement with Umbrella. But with enough bargaining (and near begging) from Leon, the president himself was kind enough to pardon Luis. Of coarse, he still had to face consequences; and was begrudgingly forced to work as an agent for the government. He agreed, but on one condition: He’d work with Leon on every mission.

At the time of finding out, Leon couldn’t figure out for the life of him why Luis would want to stay with him. It made his heart flutter and his face flush at the mere thought of it. But after confessing his love for Luis in an underground basement of a mansion (a long story for another day), the two of them became even more inseparable than before.

Luis always had a hand on Leon, and vice versa. There was never a moment where they weren’t together. Which did turn some heads at the office. And Claire obviously wasn’t an idiot.

“ Loo-ees and lee-oon sitting in a tree, k-i-s-“ Claire was rudely cut off when Leon threw his empty coffee cup at her lazily, which she caught in one hand without even having to look.

And so, three days later, Luis and Leon dragged their pre-prepared exhausted bodies back to Spain over a 13-hour flight. Which Leon felt was a bit cruel, but Luis was quick to point out ‘ we’re going back to where we met, mi amor! ’, of coarse that wasn’t exactly true, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

Leon hated airports. But he hated them a little less with Luis by his side, consistently holding his hand and giving him small kisses on the cheek whenever he could. And getting stopped by the TSA for all his rings on his fingers. But that was besides the point.

By the time they’d landed in Spain, an escort car was awaiting the two of them- driving a few hours out of the city into the countryside gave the two men time to take a quick nap before they’d inevitably be thrown into another life-or-death situation. Luis took the opportunity to rest his head on Leon’s shoulder.

To both of their surprise, they weren’t dumped in the abandoned, half-dead wasteland of a village they were expecting: instead, Leon and Luis found themselves walking through probably the most picturesque, quaint little town they’d ever been in. It was situated on a small, rolling valley, with cobbled staircases and ramps dotted everywhere with clear roads and signs mapping out significant locations in the village. Each house felt unique; bright and colorful, most were painted a soft pastel color or, kept their natural brick and stone color- most houses had charming little chimneys and square windows, usually accompanied by some kind of vine or floral arrangement wrapping around the windowsill or creeping up the walls.

Convenience stores and bakeries were commonplace, and the whole place seemed to smell like vanilla and smoke.

Luis had his fingers interlocked with Leons’ as they strolled around the village, staring in awe at the quaint beauty of it all like starstruck tourists. They definitely looked the part at least, with comically oversized backpacks on filled with weaponry and supplies. The townspeople didn't have to know that, though. It was a far, far cry from the run-down village the two of them had first met in.

“Cariño, are we in a rush?” Luis asked, his eyes scanning over the appealing bakeries. “If not, we could perhaps stop and get some Ensaïmadas to eat? My treat” he winked.

As much as Leon would love nothing more than to nod and rush his partner over to the closest bakery to sit down to eat all afternoon with him, the sun was already high in the sky and realistically, he knew that were most likely on a timer. What with peoples lives possibly on the line and all. It took all of Leon’s mental strength to shake his head, “We probably are, unfortunately.” Noticing the small, tired look of disappointment on Luis’ face, Leon leaned over to give him an apologetic peck on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home, promise”

Luis just playfully scoffed and rolled his eyes, “What? With those cheap American bakeries? Next time we’re in Spain, I’ll treat you to some real caro español la cena, bonito”

Thirty odd minutes later, Leon found himself at the bottom of the village valley leaning against a wooden fence-post, his head lulled to the side as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the afternoon sun.

Hunnigan was right, the fence backed into what felt like a never-ending sea of long, grassy fieldlands; the overgrown golden grass swayed gently in the wind, stretching on for miles onto the horizon. Leon could just barely make out some large windmills in the distance.

Luis had told Leon to wait at the gate that was supposedly their starting point for making their way to the abandoned farmhouse, telling Leon, quote; ‘ stay right there Guapo, I’ll go grab something that’ll make our trip a lot more bearable’

Leon hoped it wasn’t bakery food. As good as it sounded right about now, he didn't wanna start hiking through long grass with a stomach full of sugar.

A figure walking down the cobblestone ramps caught his attention- he couldn’t make out the details of the man with the sun in his eyes, but he could see they were leading along two horses at the shoulders, and could hear the iconic sound of their hooves clip-. Leon realized he was coming towards him, and as soon as he covered his eyes with his hands to block out the sunlight, he realized it was Luis; smiling at him as he held up the reigns to show Leon clearer.

“Oi! Yankee! Look who I found!” Luis’ grin was wide as he stopped the horses in front of him, looking very proud of himself.

Leon couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him; clearly Hunnigan had been merciful enough to give them some spare cash to rent some horses.

The one on the left that Luis was handing Leon was a dark bay, almost back color. It’s mane was short and shaggy, and despite its rounded young-looking face it was actually pretty big. The horse on the right was similar in stature, but was an off-white color, and had dark gray speckles splattered along its coat. Both horses were fully tacked up in possibly the most detailed tack Leon had ever seen. Not that he’d seen much horse tack in his life, to be fair, or paid much attention to them.

“…Luis, where did you find horses ?” Leon asked, a tiny bit of him expecting Luis to answer with an ‘I stole them’.

“I saw a small ranch on our way in!” He grinned, looking very proud of himself. “Hunnigan gave me some extra cash, so I asked the lady at the counter very nicely for the finest corcel they had”

Leon shot him a glare, “you flirted with the ranch worker?”

Luis gave him a fake gasp in response “what, me? Flirting? estoy dolido!” Leon thought for a moment he was being serious, but when he turned to see Luis fighting back his giggles, he knew his partner was truly being sarcastic. That lifted a little bit of the imaginary pressure off of his chest.

Leon extended a very wary hand to the horses nose- feeling a bit awkward, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to treat it like meeting a new dog or not. He hadn't exactly been around many horses in his life. Luis must’ve picked up on it, too.

“Don’t be scared cariño, he doesn’t bite” he teased, clearly already well-acquainted with his own steed as its giant head was resting against Luis’ shoulder, looking as if it was about to fall asleep with him scratching its forehead. Leon could feel the warm breath of his horse on his palm as it gave him a curious look. Was that a curious look? Horses didn't really have much… expression to them. But Leon took it not biting his hand off as a sign to go ahead and give its nose a wary scratch.

“Yours’ name is Oso, and mines Flicka” Luis handed Leon the reigns, adjusting his own before pulling out the stirrups from under the flaps.

“Are your stirrups long enough?”

Leon blinked at him, giving him a classic deer-in-headlights look. While Luis was expertly adjusting straps and pieces of leather here and there, Leon just stood there like an idiot; he’s had absolutely zero experience with horses, and no clue how to even ride a horse. Let alone ‘check the stirrups’ to see if they were ‘long enough’.

When Luis didn't hear an answer, he turned around and gave Leon a knowing smile, his hands on his hips as he tilted his head to the side a little.

“You don’t know how to check, do you, cariño?”

He didn't know why, but Leon found himself stammering over his words the second he was put on the spot- if it was anyone else, he would’ve snapped back a witty remark in seconds. But Luis had some kind of superpower to turn his brain to mush and make his face beat up the second he held any sort of power over Leon.

To make matters worse, Luis made a little ‘ tut tut tut’ clicking noise with his tongue, shaking his head, he moved over to Leon’s side, their shoulders pressed against one another’s. Leon suddenly felt very exposed beside him, like they were meeting for the first time again. As if they haven’t literally spent hours at a time cuddled up to one another naked under the sheets. That was just the charm of Luis Sera, he supposed.

“Here,” Luis pulled out the stirrup from under the horses saddle, his voice somewhat low and husky as he murmured into Leon’s ear; clearly enjoying this.

“Just pull them tight and measure them against your arm, they should be the same length”

Luis ran a hand down Leon’s forearm, stretching it out to check if it matched the length of the stirrups. Leon wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, or if Luis was being extra slow and careful with caressing his arm. He silently thanked a god he doesn’t believe in when Luis stepped back to help pull down the stirrups on the other side.

“Need a hand up?” Luis teased, already gathering the reigns on his own horse.

“N-no, thanks,” Leon said, stammering over his own words. The last thing he needed right now was a hand on his knee. Or any more ‘help’ from Luis, for that matter.

‘ Goddamn you and your stupid pretty face, Luis’

Shrugging, the Spaniard was quick to slip a foot in the stirrups and swing his legs over, and Leon couldn’t help but note to himself how naturally Luis took to being on a horse. ‘ Maybe he’s done this before? ’ He thought to himself, eyeing up the way he positioned himself in the saddle with his legs bent expertly on the horses side. He looked far too comfortable to have only done this once or twice, at least to Leon. Who, very ungraciously, grabbed into the front of the saddle and hauled himself up the horse; hearing it let out a grunt of annoyance as he slid his over each side as gently as he could. Leon tried to copy the way Luis held onto his reigns; but he ended up just balling them up in a fist. Which surely wasn’t the correct way to hold them. Also, Was he sitting too far back? Leon didn't feel quite comfortable in the saddle, but he also didn't want to shuffle forward and bother Oso more.

And plus, If Luis actually was more knowledgeable with horses than he was letting on, Leon didn't want to look stupid in front of him.

“You ready to go, Yankee?” Luis called out from just ahead of him, already walking forward. But before Leon could respond, Luis turned around and gave him a half-knowing smile.

“…muñeco, why do you look nervous?”

“I’m not nervous” Leon retorted back, suddenly becoming aware of the way his face was beating up. His- probably inaccurate- grip on the reigns tightened. He turned away from Luis’ eye context, but the other man just turned his horse to walk closer beside him. Luis leaned ever so slightly over his horses side, just enough to break into Leon’s personal space. He looked up at him through his eyelashes,

“Don’t lie to me, muñeco”

“I’m not”

Leon totally was.

He wanted to turn away and cover his face with his hands so so badly, but neither of them wanted to be the first to break eye contact. Even if it meant Leon had to endure his face feeling like it was on fire.

Luis’ eyes drifted up and down Leon’s body; the blonde could almost see the gears turning in that pretty head of his as he examined him, humming quietly to break the awkward silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Luis met his lovers eyes again, giving him that crooked smirk that broke Leon every time without fail.

“You don’t know how to ride, do you, cariño?”

Ah, there it was. Luis caught him red-handed. Leon had never even been on a horse before, and this bastard could tell. His silence was enough confirmation for Luis to give him a lop-sided smirk. Leon could hear him whisper something along the lines of ‘ que harias sin mí?’ Under his breath, before he slipped off of his horse and made his way around to Leon’s side, all the while the blonde tried (and failed) to collect his scattered brain and save at least some of his dignity

“W-wait you don’t have to get off-“

“But how else am I gonna show you how to ride?”

Luis gave him an ‘innocent’ look up at him, and something about seeing the handsome man below him, staring up at him through his long fringe made Leon’s whole body heat up and tense. He had to suck in a breath when, even worse, Luis slipped his hands up his calf and thigh; Leon wanted to just die right then and there. He wanted to bury himself in a hole and never have to talk to anyone ever again. He just prayed that Luis didn't notice his (probably inappropriate) reaction.

“Can’t believe Hunnigan sent you out here without knowing how to even ride a horse” Luis gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Can you feel the horses shoulder? You should have your legs sitting just behind there”

All Leon can do is nod like an idiot, wanting so badly to pull his leg away from Luis’ hand, which was very gradually sliding further up as he positioned it behind the horses’ shoulder. But at the same time, Leon was thoroughly disappointed when Luis inevitably took his hand off of his thigh to cross his arms and inspect his posture.

“Now this is gonna feel really weird, but you should only have just the toes of your shoes in the stirrups. Then put as much weight in your heels as you can”

Oh yeah. Luis was actually teaching him how to sit properly. Leon forgot about that. As he was ordered to, Leon moved his foot so just his toes were sitting in the stirrups and he put as much

pressure down on his heels as he could; Luis was right, it did feel odd. He wanted to instinctively slip the rest of his foot back in and flatten it out.

“Point your heels down even more”

Leon did as he was told

“Even more”

“I feel like you’re just messing with me now”

Luis let out a loud, genuine laugh, clearly amused by Leons’ characteristic grumbling. His laugh was so, painfully contagious, Leon had a hard time biting down his own smile.

“I told you it was gonna feel weird!”

“But this just feels like my foots gonna fall out,” Leon complained in response, earning a little tut-tut from Luis.

“confía en mi, bonita, you don’t want a broken heel from this trip, I don’t think that’ll help our odds in the field”

Leon just had to trust that Luis knew what he was doing as he pointed his heels down even further, earning a satisfied nod from Luis.

“Good boy”

Oooooooohhhhhh there it was again. Leon was seriously considering jumping off the horse head-first with his badly his heart started hammering in his chest. He didn't even wanna acknowledge his jeans at this point.

“Now I’m gonna need your hands, muñeco,” Leon dutifully nodded as Luis leaned over to clasp his hands over his partners knuckles’. Leon just prayed he couldn’t feel his hands shaking- the blonde felt a little silly and embarrassed, in all honestly. They’ve held hands a million-and-one times before, why was now suddenly any different??

Giving a little hum of approval, Luis turned Leons’ wrists over so his thumbs were facing the sky. “Have your thumb resting on top of the reigns, and the rest of your fingers around it. Imagine you’re holding a bottle,” he instructed, and Leon moved to rest his hands like he was giving somebody a thumbs-up.

“Like this?”

“Sí,” Luis nodded, before sliding his hands up Leon’s forearms. Leon internally cursed himself for jolting a little in his seat.

“Remember amor, these are your steering wheels; don’t let go of them to hold onto the mane or the saddle,” with his free hand, Luis demonstrated fisting up a bit of the mane in his hand before letting go to pat the pommel of the saddle. Leon did his very best to ignore how close his hand was to his crotch.

“Trust me, if your horse spooks and you go flying, your saddle isn’t gonna do much to save you. You’ll just slip off”

“Gee, thanks for the reassurance” Leon grumbled back, finally gaining enough courage to snap back a witty response. At least he hoped it sounded confident.

“I’m just being honest” Luis laughed, giving his thigh a little pat. “Now, your reigns look short enough, but if for whatever reason you need them shorter, just slide your hands down the leather and adjust them however you want, muy bien? You should always be able to feel at least a little bit of tension in the reigns”

Leon nodded, tugging his reigns ever so slightly, noting that his horse didn't seem to mind; it’s ears were laid back, looking relaxed, if not a little sleepy.

“Now, give Oso a little squeeze with your heels”

A little confused, Leon did as he was told, and was surprised to find that Oso started walking forward; if not very, very slowly. He felt almost sleepy in his movements, and Leon let out a little noise of surprise. He was far too focused on the feeling of Luis’ hands on his legs to remember that, oh yeah, he was meant to be riding the horse. And it was gonna move. Obviously.

Luis began to walk alongside him, not that it was very difficult to keep up with his sleepy horse. “See why I asked you to put your heels down now, amor?”

“Y-yeah,” Leon stammered, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. He wasn’t quite used to the feeling of the horse moving underneath him yet. “I didn't think that’s how you made a horse, uh, go”

“I still can’t believe Hunnigan sent you out here with zero knowledge on how to ride a horse” Luis shook his head, kicking rocks as he continued to walk alongside Leon, who gave his horse another squeeze with his heels to at least speed it up a little. “Yeah, well, it’s not like they cover horseback-riding in military training”

“Maybe they should,” Luis have gave a playful wink,

“But then that’d mean you wouldn’t have me as your teacher”

“How dreadful” Leon scoffed. But he was right, he much preferred getting taught by Luis than some uptight military officer.

“Now, if you wanna get your horse to move to either side, just open your arms out, like you’re opening a door for somebody”

Sure enough, when Leon did as he was told, the horse moved to the right; almost as if it was following his hand instinctively. He couldn’t help but smile at his success a little, and turned his horse to the left to show off a little circle for Luis, which earned him a congratulatory clap.

“Sí!! You’re a natural, Leon!”

“T-Thanks,” Leon smiled to himself, swinging his legs a little like he was a kid again. He liked being praised by Luis, it felt a lot better than any kind of begrudging compliment given by the military officers back home.

“Now, if you wanna stop, just puuuull back your reigns close to your chest, and give them a little squeeze. If Oso doesn’t stop on que, just shorten your reigns up”

Luckily for Leon, Oso stopped right on que, directly in front of Luis, who was already giving the big horse a congratulatory scratch on the forehead.

“And those are your basics!”

“Those were just the basics!? ” Leon groaned dramatically.

“Don’t complain, bonito, we’ll be here all day if you do”

Luis was right, as much as he was uh…. Enjoying the other man’s ‘lesson’, they were on a tight schedule. The sun was already hanging high in the sky, and if they wanted to set up camp at the halfway point, they’d have to leave sooner or later

“Speaking of, we’re probably not gonna get anywhere by just walking” Luis pointed out, almost reading Leon’s mind. He was right, as grateful as Leon was to not have to walk the whole way, these horses walking speeds weren’t any better than his own legs. In fact, he reckoned he could probably walk faster than both Oso and Flicka combined. They seemed very…. Sleepy

“I’ll try to be quick, but ah.. I think you know better than anyone I like to take my time” Luis batted his eyelashes with a faux innocence, shrugging his shoulders and lifting his hand up to place it under his chin, clearly trying to get a reaction out of Kennedy. No shot. Leon was ready to stay stoic in the face of his flirting, even if he could feel his stomach churn a little.

“J-j-just get in with it then.”

‘ Very smooth, Leon’

“Fine, but you’re no fun” Luis fake-pouted. “I’ll get you to start with a walk, but while you’re at it, try standing up in your stirrups and balance. And don’t hold onto the mane or the saddle, remember”

Weird request, Leon thought to himself, but he did so anyways. It was weird, usually he prided himself in being actually relatively balanced for his size, but the movement underneath him made Leon wanted to instinctively reach his hands down and lean on the horses neck for support. But he didn't, and instead kept his eyes in between Oso’s ears, focusing entirely on continuing to move forward or turning in a half-circle every so often. Suddenly the way his feet were positioned in the stirrups made a whole lot more sense; his heels kept his legs a lot more balanced than if he had his whole foot in.

“Now, this part I can’t really… show you, you’ve just gotta feel it”

“ Great,” Leon mumbled under his breath, hoping Luis didn't hear.

“Can you feel your horses gait? It should be a one-two-one-two pattern”

It took him a second of focusing to try and decipher what Luis meant, but he figured out he was probably talking about the horses stride. Sure enough, when he counted the moment each hoof hit and lifted off the ground, he could feel that signature ‘ one-two-one-two ’ stride Luis was talking about. It reminded him a bit of jogging, except obviously, double the legs. He listened out for the clip-clop-clip-clop sound of the hooves, it was a much better indicator than trying to figure out the horses’ stride by pure instinct.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it!” Leon shouted out, turning around again in another half-circle.

Luis smiled, “great! Now try sitting and standing up and down to the beat”

That was infinitely trickier than just standing up in the stirrups. Each time he sat back down, Leon found himself struggling even more to get up without getting unbalanced- and then he wanted to hold onto the horses mane for support once he was actually standing, and by the time Leon would finally balance himself up, the stride had already switched and he had to sit back down again. Not to mention, it was getting increasingly difficult to focus on holding the reigns correctly, or keeping his legs behind the shoulders. And he was only in a walk still.

“Need a hand?” Luis offered out his hand to Leon, walking alongside the horse as the blonde struggled to get the trick right.

“Would that be cheating?”

“Not if it’s helping”

Leon thought for a couple seconds before taking Luis’ hand; and something about the way he smiled up at him, walking underneath Leon’s usual point of view…

It made him feel….

Interesting.

Maybe he wanted to see Luis underneath him more. Maybe he just wanted Luis to praise him like this more often. Maybe this was just a sign Leon needed to get laid more often. Who knows.

But one things for certain is that Leon was not going to forget this image anytime soon. He wished he had a camera, or some way to take a picture of Luis; he looked perfect to Leon, his hair in loose curls with that stupid toothy grin on his face Leon loved so much. He made a mental note to buy a new camera for next time they traveled.

“Ready to try trotting?”

All Leon nodded, not daring to speak as he turned all of his once broken focus back to the task at hand, taking this ‘lesson’ very seriously.

“Just give him another squeeze with your heels and he’ll be off. Just sit up and down, you’ll be fine. I’ve got your hand if you need me, cariño”

With just a little bit of contact in his heels, Oso was off. Suddenly that ‘ one-two-one-two’ pattern became a lot more exaggerated as the horse rolled forward, picking up its legs and the pace in the process. Leon felt like he was being thrown up-and-down, struggling quite a bit to not bounce around in his saddle. It was a lot easier to stand up and sit back down like this, though, now that he had a clearer moment to sit back down and back up again. Leon almost copied the horses motions with his own, sitting up when the horse moved up, and sitting back down when the horse moved down. At least that’s how it felt.

Luis was jogging alongside him now, hand barely on his knuckles as he gave a laugh of approval, whipping his long hair out of his eyes. “¡sí Sí! lo estás haciendo increíble amor!” He shouted over the rising wind. “¡sigue adelante, lo estás haciendo genial!”

Leon couldn’t help but smile, a wave of confidence rushing through him at Luis’ praise. He tried his best to keep looking forward at the imaginary road in front of him, but he couldn’t help but steal a look from Luis everytime he turned an imaginary corner. God he wanted to lean over and kiss that man so badly.

“Do you think you can go any faster?”

“ Faster?!” Leon snorted, shortening up his reigns a bit in preparation.

“I can try!”

“Good enough for me!”

Leon gave his horse a very nervous squeeze again, and he was off; the trot became bouncier and harder to sit, but Leon was actually doing it. He turned in a large circle, just to impress Luis, who had since fallen behind and was getting ready to mount his own horse.

Leon slowed down when he noticed Luis waving him over, shouting something over the now almost whipping wind, eventually coming back to a walk to meet him at the gate again, his heart thrumming with adrenaline. He noticed Luis was turned around, grabbing something out of his backpack on the grass.

“I can’t believe I forgot about this until now, but look what the lady at the stables gave me for free!”

Leon’s jaw dropped in a look of comedically disappointed shock when Luis pulled out a cowboy hat from his backpack, grinning like a madman

Of coarse Luis got a goddamn cowboy hat for free.

“Luis you got a cowboy hat?!”

“Whaaat you don’t like it?” He cuddled the hat closer to his chest, almost looking a little disappointed if it wasn’t for big smile on his face

“I despise it” Leon was lying. He actually loved it, it was just so corny and so very Luis that he wouldn’t let the Spaniard get away with it. It was actually a very beautiful hat, with encrusted diamonds on either side, accompanying the dark mahogany-coloured stains, Leon was actually a little jealous of the hat. Just a little.

“You should go back to that poor lady and give it back, it clearly doesn’t suit you” Leon bantered playfully

“ Doesn’t suit me? ¡Díos Mío! You hurt me!” Leon grabbed his heart in a dramatic show of pain, leaning his head back to shake the hair out of his eyes for extra emphasis. He slipped the cowboy hat on, too, for good measure.

“I can think of a lot more ways to hurt you”

Leon….

Did not mean for that to come out sounding sexual.

And of coarse, that meant Luis caught onto it.

“ Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, walking closer to Leon’s side.

“Maybe you’d like to see me with it on in a different position?”

Luis’ hand left his chest to sneak up Leon’s thigh, just ghosting the fabric of his jeans ever so slightly.

Leon completely forgot how to breathe in that moment. Or speak, for that matter. All he could do was stare right back into Luis’ gray eyes, which were staring right up at him through his eyelashes, underneath the wide brim of his hat, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Well mí amor… you know what they say about saving horses.”

Leon snapped out his teenage-boy brain for a moment to be completely confused. Huh??

“What… what do people say about saving horses??”

Luis bit his lip, smiling, giving the brim of his hat a condescending flick.

“Well, to save a horse…”

Before Leon knew what was happening, Luis had leaned up on his toes to snake a hand around the back of Leon’s neck, pulling him down closer to Luis’ height, and closed the gap between them to indulge himself in a kiss.

Leon didn't need to think twice about returning the kiss, immediately taking his hands off the reigns to slip his fingers into Luis’ long dark locks; grasping at them to bring his lover closer, tilting his head to the side so he had better access to his mouth. Luis returned the favor, squeezing a little at the short hair on the back of his neck he had his hand around. Leon sighed into it the kiss, feeling Luis’ eyelashes flutter against the skin of his cheek as Leon inhaled the smell of old leather and cigarettes. Luis always tasted like tobacco. Two years ago, he would’ve cringed at the idea of kissing somebody who smoked. Now he kisses Luis like the man was his only lifeline.

Unfortunately, though; Luis inevitably pulled back from the kiss, earning a little whine from Leon he didn't mean to slip out.

“…You ride a cowboy”

Ooooooooohh . That made a lot more sense.

Still, though, it caught Leon off-guard regardless. He stumbled over his words, trying to scold, thank and tease Luis all at the same time while his brain turned into mush trying to process all

The words at once. The imagery of “ riding a cowboy ” was unwantedly stuck in his brain now. Not that he minded very much.

Maybe he would like to see Luis with the cowboy hat on more often.

When all that came out were little squeaks of noise, Luis gave him a heart-melting smile, before taking off the cowboy hat to set it atop of Leon’s head; taking the time to brush his blonde fringe out of his eyes.

“You look very gorgeous with that hat on, muñeco”

Leon didn't bother to hide his blush this time, readjusting his hat to sit more comfortably, slightly tilted down. “You think so?”

“I know so”

The two men just sat there, staring up and down at each other for what felt like an eternity; neither one wanting to break eye contact, lest they let go of the moment they shared together.

But… they also had to get moving sooner or later. And Luis took the fall and gave a little awkward cough, turning around to do the walk of shame back to his own horse; it was Leons’ turn to giggle now, watching his lover swing his legs over the white mare and adjust himself in the saddle.

“You alright there, Don Quixote?” Leon called out, the wind suddenly picking up again as he had to raise his voice. This got Luis’ attention clearly, as shot back a very genuine smile at the tiny reference. He always loved it when Leon made little references here and there to the novel he knew off by heart. And was especially fond of when he called him ‘Don Quixote’

“¡Sí, Mí amor!” Luis yelled back over the wind, already beginning to trot past the gate and into the never-ending sea of golden grass.

“Let us save the Princess Dulcinea!”

“Lead the way” Leon smiled, following Luis past the gate- feeling a little bit like they’d just crossed the point of no return, chasing the sunset to whatever perilous dangers they had to face next. For a few moments, Leon could forget about the fact that they were about to face a group of possibly very dangerous scientists, with god knows what kind of supernatural virus bioweapons at their disposal.

For a few moments, Leon could just enjoy the way Luis’ hair blew in the wind, tangling and encasing his handsome face as the pair of them trotted through the long, yellowed grass. Cold wind nipping at their ears and noses as the sounds of their horses’ hooves thumped against the soil, leaving behind a trail of flattened grass in their wake.

Maybe an hour or so had passed before the wind finally decided to die down. The quaint Spanish town behind them growing smaller and smaller, Leon felt the familiar pull of anxiety grip his chest. He was very used to the feeling by now, watching as his only escape back to normalcy fall away into the horizon line. He shook his head, cowboy hat still somehow surviving the wind. It was hard to look forward; the grass surrounding them was almost reflective against the sun, almost glowing a golden hue as it stretched on for miles- it literally looked like an ocean, with the way every blade swayed in motion against any small breeze whatsoever. When a particularly strong gust would come through, it would send a ripple through the grass- almost looking like waves as it passes by the horses legs. It was long. Too; easily tickling Leon’s calf’s.

Oso and Flicka kept an even trotting pace- never far behind one or the other, if not always by the same side. Which Leon was grateful for, it meant he could always be almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Luis; he could spend the time getting into a rhythmic trot staring at his lovers pretty features- his hair, his nose, his skin- as Luis’ eyes scanned the horizon nonchalantly, constantly with a relaxed smile on his face. The sound of the horses hoofbeats synchronizing would be enough to lull Leon to sleep, if he weren’t in the situation he was in. He could really go for a nap right about now. His legs were growing tired from having to stand and sit repeatedly, and the beating afternoon sun was making him sleepy and warm.

Another twenty odd minutes pass, and as precisely according to plans the two men pass by their first windmill; it’s clearly old, wood tattered and worn, creaking with every turn. Luis looked absolutely delighted to see the windmills, though; pointing to them excitedly like a little kid, turning back to Leon as if to confirm he was seeing them, too.

“¡mirar! Windmills!!” He smiled from ear-to-ear

“It’s just like in Don Quixote!”

Leon couldn’t help but smile back at his enthusiasm. “Do you think our horses match, too?”

“Alas, no, Don Quixote had a mule as his steed,” Luis answered back, eyeing up the second windmill they passed. “He thought it was a white stallion. And Sancho had a little pony, if I remember correctly”

“Your horse is a bit of a white stallion, though”

“ Hah!” Luis leaned down to give his horse a big pat on the neck, earning a satisfied snort from Flicka. Leon followed suit, ruffling up his horses’ mane a little.

“These windmills look a lot like the ones back at my old village, though,” Luis changed the subject as they passed under the shadow of the third windmill.

“They were old, too. I don’t think anyone took very good care of them”

Leon was happy to start talking again; the hour of silence was slowly getting to him. Plus, he never turned down the opportunity to learn about Luis’ childhood. Neither of them had…. An ideal upbringing. That much was obvious. But where Leon became closed off and sheltered, Luis seemed to bloom the second he was out in the real world.

“Slightly off-topic, but how do you know so much about horses…?” Leon inquired, careful with his wording when it came to anything about Luis’ past.

“Did your Grandfather own some, or…?”

“Sí, we had some horses grazing on the property our little cottage was in,” Luis started. Leon remembered that cottage; tattered and burnt down, he remembered finding various bits and pieces of Luis’ past in the rubble. At the time, he didn't think to carry any of it back with him. But now he wished he did.

“In fact, the one my Grandfather used to let me ride looked a whole lot like Flicka,” Luis absentmindedly patted his horses neck again, staring out at the horizon, seemingly lost in thought as he didn't even acknowledge the fourth windmill.

“There were plenty of horses around, though, they were our only transport around the village, so it was kind of impossible for me to not know how to ride, y’know?”

“You guys rode horses around?? What, you didn't have cars or anything?” Leon snorted, trying to sound lighthearted. “Did you grow up in a cult or something?”

“Actually amor, yea, I did”

Oops.

Leon forgot about that. He internally cursed himself every swear under the sun as he should not have forgotten that Luis Did in fact grow up in a real-life cult goddamnit!!!! Leon tried to save himself, his mind reeling with every apology imaginable

“I- I- I- I-I’m s-so sorry-“

“Nono you’re fine cariño!!” Luis assured him with a playful laugh, clearly picking up on the fact that Leon just thought he’d just completely fucked up their relationship permanently “you didint say anything wrong!”

“I feel like I should’ve remembered that, though…” he mumbled under his breath, hoping Luis didn't hear him.

“It’s weird, I don’t mind talking about… that with you as much as I thought I would,” Luis began slowly, also seeming to be careful with his wording.

“I think maybe it’s… because you get me, y’know?”

Leon knew. He didint need to answer with anything, he just knew.

He hadn’t talked about it very deeply witn Luis, but he’d opened up about his traumatic childhood a little in the past. A good portion of it was repressed, though; and he wondered if it was the same for Luis. He couldn’t help but notice some definite religious trauma underneath his suave persona- the way he talked about his experiences with the Spanish church like it was a horrible memory was ever familiar to Leon. But he also noticed Luis hadn’t been entirely shut off from his faith like Leon had; throwing up the Sign of the cross everytime they charged into battle, or the cross chain necklace he hung around his neck- Leon highly doubted he was still a religious man, but old habits die hard.

“My village felt so isolated from the rest of the world when I was a child. I never knew life could look so..”

“Beautiful?”

“..Yeah,” Luis turned his attention back to Leon, breaking away from his gaze over the horizon. For a split second, Leon couldn’t help but wonder if Luis was talking about him.

“I still feel fond about the little things from when I was little, though. I remember my Grandfather used to show me how to fish on weekends, and he used to take me horse-and-carriage riding up to the church on Sundays.”

Leon let him talk, enjoying the way a familiar smile crept up on his face.

“Sometimes he’d let me use his old TV, and I’d just spend hours watching those Vienna Lipizzaners, hell, I used to imagine myself being one of the riders, all dressed up like Don Quixote riding off into the sunset to save his Dulcinea”

Leon laughed at the image of a baby Luis, laying down in front of a rickety old TV like he was watching cartoons after school.

“You were a ‘Horse Boy’?” Leon teased him. “That must’ve been hilarious ”

“Sí,” Luis giggles along, breaking out of his own memories for a moment.

“But I grew up as a girl, so it was a lot less awkward”

“Oh yeah, uh, me too” Leon corrected himself. It weird to think that at some point in his life, Luis presented as a girl; he couldn’t even begin to imagine the beautiful man riding the horse beside him to look any other way than he did now.

“Just Trans things, I guess”

“Truly,” Luis smiled, still staring into Leon’s eyes as they passed by the sixth and final windmill.

Leon didn't notice it at first, too focused on his lovers face; but Luis had reached out his arm, offering his hand for Leon to take. He gladly did. Even if it was a bit awkward trotting along beside him.

“I’m… I’m very glad I found you, amor. I’m not sure how we managed it… but I’m so so very grateful we found each other.”

Leon could easily give a whole speech about how he should be the grateful one; how finding Leon in that dirty, zombie-infested village while desperately searching for Ashley, and narrowly saving him from that stab to the back from Krauser was easily, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened in Leon’s life.

But Luis already knew that.

So he just squeezed his hand tighter.

“Me too… I know I don’t say it a lot, but I’m dead serious when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”

Leon could’ve sworn he saw tears welling up in Luis’ eyes, but before he could take the time to check if he was right or not, Luis leaned over his horse to give Leon another kiss. Leon leaned over his side, too, hopefully making the distance between them a little easier to manage.

The kiss this time was a lot less intimate, with Leon finding himself kissing Luis’ teeth half the time as the Spaniard struggled to bite down a smile; and when Luis smiled, Leon was never too far behind. He tried to nip playfully at his lovers bottom lip, scolding him for not being able to keep his grin down- but it was hard to stay balanced as the horses suddenly seemed to want to do everything in their power to throw the two of them off each other. Shaking their manes out and snorting, eventually the two men had to break apart as their horses drifted off to the side.

They were both a giggling mess at the comedy of it all.

“You’re an awful kisser on horseback, cariño”

Leon gasped dramatically, grabbing his hat to keep it from loosening “Ex- scuuuse me, but I didn't think I’d have to practice kissing on a horse to get your seal of approval!”

Luis threw his head back into the wind and laughed, kicking his horse along to speed up; Leon didn't even notice at first he was trying to run away from him before he was already far ahead

“ Oi!!! Get back here!!” He yelled out, hoping Luis could hear him over the rising wind.

“ You’ll just have to catch me!”

Leon was nervous to speed up, cautiously giving his horse another squeeze with his heels or two to just barely pick up the pace- thankfully, Luis slowed down for him, but was still just out of reach. He turned around to meet Leon’s gaze,

“Do you wanna skip the cantering lesson and go straight into a gallop, cariño?”

‘No, actually, not at all’ was what Leon wanted to say back. He was already nervous speeding up in a trot, and he had seen videos of people galloping on a horse before. If he was already struggling to keep balance now, it was highly likely that in a gallop he’d just slip off into the tall grass and never be seen again.

But…. Also, his legs were getting very tired. Riding turned out to be a lot more work than he was expecting. Any relief for his poor muscles would be welcomed.

And, plus… how could he say no to that face? Luis had a hopeful smile, waiting expectantly for his answer.

“…Uh, yeah, sure, I’m down to..” Leon hesitated for a moment, weighing up his options.

“But what if I slip off?”

“Then I’ll be there to catch you,” Luis responded.

Somehow, Leon didn't think that’d be realistic. But the mental image of his lover turning a sharp corner to dramatically save him from instant-death was very appealing.

And he trusted Luis. With every fiber of his being.

“Then tell me what I need to do”

Luis’ smile somehow widened, “attaboy!”

Leon forgot how nice it was to be praised by Luis. He would do any and every dangerous stunt under the sun if it meant hearing him say that again.

“Now, remember what I said about never letting go of the reigns?

“…yeah?” Leon was already getting anxious.

“Forget that. Actually, that’s a lie; keep holding onto your reigns. Just grab onto a part of the mane, too”

Leon did as he was told, grasping a fist of hair gently in his hands

“OK, now what?”

“Stand up out of your seat and lean forward, but not so much that you’re falling over Oso’s neck, just enough to be in a bit of a two-point position”

Luis demonstrated on his own horse, sitting up out of the saddle and leaning forward so that his back was laid out flat. It took Leon a couple tries, with his routinely falling back into his seat; but eventually, he found himself copying the two-point to the best of his abilities. It definitely took the pressure off of his legs, weirdly enough, giving them a well-needed relief.

“It’ll be easier to hold once we’re off!” Luis shouted backwards, his horse already switching gaits from a trot to a slow canter, waiting for Leon to catch up.

After waiting a couple moments to catch his breath, Leon finally sucks up his anxiety and kicks his horse along to move it into a trot. It was almost as if Oso read his mind, because in just a matter of seconds, the two pairs of riders were flying across the yellowed grass fields.

Luis was right; it was a lot easier to hold his position. Leon held onto the horses mane a little tighter instinctively, trying his best to not look down at the rushing ground underneath him, instead focusing on the sound of the horses’ heavy hooves hitting the soil. After realizing that he was not, in fact, actively slipping off the horse; Leon found himself actually enjoying this a lot more than he’d expected.

Leon was even brave enough to take one of his hands off of the horses neck to grab onto his slipping hat, laughing to himself as fringe blocked his vision every so often. It reminded him of speeding on his motorcycle, a bit, but a lot more.. freeing? That sounded cheesy.

Leon turned his head to see how Luis was holding up; and just as expected, his partner was giddy with glee. He even had one of his arms out to catch the wind, just smiling and laughing to himself as he galloped off in his own world.

Leon felt like he was in a corny horse-girl movie, off to save his fathers ranch on the black stallion he tamed with his ‘magical bond’. But he couldn’t care less. Not when Luis looked so gorgeous in the sun, his skin almost glowing and his long dark locks getting tangled and thrown back around his shoulders. Leon could stare at Luis’ body all day, the way his jacket he never seemed to take off hugged his chest and shoulders and hips perfectly. The gold floral accents occasionally glinting in the sun.

Leon could get used to this.

The two of them arrived at their designated Resting Point far sooner than they’d expected to, even on horseback. It was signaled with a long, fluorescent orange flag stabbed into the ground- another agent must’ve previously scouted the area for the safest place for the two of them to rest without danger. Despite their early arrival, though, the sun was still just beginning to set. And with no light pollution or city skylines in the way to full the glow, it almost blinded Luis while they struggled set up their makeshift tent; Leon offering his hat as sacrifice for the poor man’s eyes. The yellow grass didn't help much, either, it’s flaxen feel reflecting off the suns rays.

Eventually, the two men managed to flatten out enough grass to successfully pin up their tent. They only had one, but one was enough. Luis tied the horses off to one of their spare poles with a lead rope he had in his saddlebag, and took the liberty of un-tacking them both (mostly cuz Leon didn't know how). They both gave their respective horses lots of pats on the neck and scratches on the forehead, earning them a loud, heavy sigh. Oso was especially tired, grunting loudly as he rolled onto his side into the long grass- almost squashing Leon in the process. Luis, of coarse, laughed first and helped him up second.

They spent the early hours of that evening mulling over maps and coming up with strategies, sharpening weapons and making sure their guns weren’t jammed and could successfully reload. As the hours went past, the sun started to sink over the grass horizon. The windmills they’d passed earlier only now being tiny dots in the distance.

Leon cooked the both of them as decent of a dinner as he could with the supplies he was given- Luke-warm baked beans on toast. Leon was used to the gross food he was given on missions at this point, but still complained nonetheless. Luis complained alongside him, dramatically describing him all the better meals he could make with just their flimsy cooking pot and a makeshift fire. They ended up just snacking on the candy Luis had stolen off of the plane on the flight in after dinner.

Leon absentmindedly braided his sleeping horses mane as he watched Luis smoke, the sun now gone from the sky, leaving behind the most gorgeous pink-and-purple sea of clouds, the dim cooking fire being their only source of light, aside from the occasional flame from Luis’ lighter. They shared conversations over cigarettes; or at least, Luis did. Leon liked to just rest his head on his partners shoulders, watching the smoke from Luis’ mouth rise up into the air in coils and eventually dissipate. It was oddly beautiful.

Luis was beautiful.

Leon let Luis talk for as long as he wanted to. Occasionally joining in, or giving him a little him to reassure him he was still listening.

Eventually dusk turned to evening, and Leon had taken to laying in Luis lap; his hand running through the blondes hair, massaging his scalp and carding the strands out of his eyes. Leon was close to falling asleep just right then and there; feeling every one of Luis’ rings against his scalp, listening to his lover quietly sing a Spanish lullaby he did not recognise.

Eventually, it got completely dark, and the stars came out, as if they were shining just for the two of them. Leon was lucky enough to be able to experience seeing the milky away and hundreds of thousands of constellations in a remote area like this before, but it never got old.

He wondered to himself if Luis ever looked up at the same stars he did when they were younger.

“…Aaaaand that one’s called the Roosevelts belt”

“ Uh-huh. And that one?” Leon pointed up to a constellation that was very clearly the Great Bear, aka Ursa Major.

Leon knew Luis knew absolutely Jack-crap about constellations or star patterns. Leon had to learn the basics in his military training, but that didn't mean he actually remembered them at all.

Luis wanted to be ‘romantic’ and name as many stars as he could, just like in those old black-and-white Spanish romance movies. But instead of actually guessing the stars’ names, he just made them up on the spot.

“Uh…. The Monty Python,” Luis spat out, clearly making it up that very second.

Leon burst out laughing, slapping his shoulder playfully “Luis that’s a comedy group!”

“ No no es, tonto, it’s a very real constellation . Everyone knows about it,” he tried to make a serious face but to no avail. Even in the darkness, his smile was obvious.

“What do you think it is, then, muñeco?”

“That’s Ursa Major,” Leon said, matter-of-factly

“We had to memorize it in training, in case we ever got lost in the dark, or if we didn't have a compass on hand”

Luis just mocked Leon, clearly having been caught in his lies with a “ mimimimi oooooo look at meeee I know the the names of staaaarss”

Leon fell back into his lap in hysterics, trying and failing to whack Luis in the face to shut him up (gently, of coarse). “You are such a sore looser!!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a…. Uh..” as Luis tried to find an adequate insult to throw back, Leon reached up and swung his arms around the back of his neck, pulling Luis back down into the grass with him.

They laid there for a few seconds, everytime they tried to stop laughing they’d see each others face and just start laughing all over again. It had to have taken them a good few seconds before they caught their breathes again, their laughs eventually slowing down.

Staring up at the stars, neither of them wanted to leave each others sides. Sharing the occasional kiss on the cheek, they knew they had to go inside soon; the fire was already starting to dim.

“…Could you point out any more constellations? For me?”

Luis asked, his voice shy and genuine as his thumb was running over Leon’s palm.

He smiled, “I’m not very good at it, but… sure”

“I don’t mind. I just want to hear you talk”

They stayed like that for easily another hour. Only retreating back to their tents and warm sleeping bags once the cold had started to make Leon sneeze.

They curled up to one another, as close as they humanly could; if it wasn’t for the fact that the sleeping bags were tiny, they would’ve easily slept in the same one.

Leon could feel Luis kissing the tip of his cold nose. He was huddled against him, fists right up to his chin as he tried to stay warm, and he could feel Luis wrap his legs over his underneath the sleeping bags.

Leon was juuust about to fall asleep, seconds away when…

“Leon, do you think Ashley ever had a Horse-Girl phase?”

Leon involuntarily burst out cackling at the totally random question Luis just shot out of nowhere

“ D-do I- what???” He tried to ask in between giggles. Even in the darkness, he could tell Luis was grinning

“I dunno! I just thought of it now!! Ashley just seems like she’d have a Horse-Girl phase y’know??”

“Luis, Ashley spent a majority of her childhood as a boy before she got to transition, so I don’t think she would’ve had a Horse-Boy phase. But I’m sure you could ask her”

Leon could only just barely make out Luis’ wide-eyed shocked expression through the darkness

“ Ashley’s Trans??”

“You didn't know?!?! Luis !!” The two of them completely devolved into shocked giggled, unable to form cohesive sentences

“ Díos mío it feels like everyone I meet is Trans!!”

“Maybe you’ve got sixth sense for it” Leon teased. Luis paused for a moment and Leon hoped that meant he was going back to sleep; Leon was tired dangit.

“… I still think Ashley had a Horse-Girl phase-“

“Go to sleep Luis!!”

55 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Note

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear 📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go.

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years

Text

Something in the Rain - “Situations”

A/N: WHAT?! BACK TO BACK UPDATES?! Yes, you're not dreaming, it is happening and even I, am surprising myself. I'd like to thank you all for the support even though I haven't written in a while. I've never received much more heartfelt messages and comments. With much encouragement, this next chapter wrote itself quickly. :) I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground

XXXXX

“Are we on for lunch next Friday?” she asked, three blocks away from her home.

“Actually, I’ll be going on a two week business trip to London.” Jamie answered. “I need to look at our office down there, catch up with our staff and clients”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mention it earlier. But my schedule is going to be cramped.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s work!” Claire bumped his arm with her elbow. “Message me when you’re back and settled and let’s catch up then.” she followed, hoping to keep communication lines open in line with what seems to be a long break.

“I will.” Jamie noted that offer. “How about you? How is your week looking?”

“Uhm, between my rounds, surgeries, and department duties” Claire counted with her fingers for emphasis. “My days are pretty much full. Lunch, late evenings and the weekends are generally my free times.” The answer also serves as an indirect information Claire hoped Jamie would figure out about how unpredictable her time and availability is.

A brief silence and then Claire asked the question that was on her mind since the afternoon. “Erm, why didn’t you tell me you were popular?”

“What?” Jamie chuckled. “What is the world are ye talking about?”

“It has come to my attention that you, Jamie Fraser, apparently, is one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors.” Claire said and Jamie groaned.

“Ugh, how’d you find out?”

“Geilis mentioned it earlier. Apparently, there are magazine pictures that I should see. She’s showing me her copy on Monday.” she added, earning another joking sigh. “I wondered why it never came up and/or why you didn’t tell me?”

“One, I thought you, at least, knew. I mean, it was in a national magazine. Second, it’s not the first thing I share with the people I meet. How would you feel if I said, ‘Hi, I’m Jamie Fraser, did you see my photo on Tatler?” he saw her tilt her head and stick her tongue in feign disgust. “Exactly.”

“I guess that’s a valid point. Still - I guess, I’d rather knew about myself first or you.”

“I’m sorry, Sassenach. It just comes with working at a local, historic business, keeps us afloat, ye know. I’ll warn ye ahead of time of any write-ups about me out there.”

“What’d ye call me?” Claire stopped walking.

“Hmmm?”

“You called me a Sassenach?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Aish, it’s not as bad as ye think it means. It just means Englishwoman, an outlander, not from Scotland.” Claire didn’t look convinced, forcing Jamie to explain further. “It was my first thought about ye when you slipped under my umbrella. I guess it kinda stuck and is what I’ve been calling ye in my head.”

“Mhmm, alright.” She shook her head and smiled. “This is me”

Jamie looked at the Georgian building and took note of the place and surroundings. “I guess, I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks” Claire waited briefly if Jamie had anything else to say or do but when he didn’t move, it was her cue to leave. “Bye, then.”

“Bye.” Jamie watched Claire enter her home and when she was safely in, he walked back to his car, berating himself if he missed a big opportunity.

Claire reached the emergency room and immediately asked for a patient in the nurse’s station. “Tammas Baxter?”

“Bed 4” She quickly went to where the nurse pointed and opened the curtain to find a pale, sickly, boy, a frightened grandma, and a fidgety young lady.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Claire Beauchamp and I’ll be checking on Tammas today. Are you his family and what seems to be the problem?” She asked the ladies on the other side of the bed as she examined his physical state.

“Yes, we are. I’m Mrs. Fitz, his grandma and this is Laoghaire, his cousin. He came home from school this afternoon and just started vomiting and developing a head and stomachache.”

Claire leaned down and smelled Tammas, having a hunch already on what the boy might be going though but she needed to confirm. “Tammas, my name is Claire. I know you’re in pain right now but I need you to tell me something so we know what medicine to give you, okay?” The boy nodded weakly.

“Did you eat this?” Claire shared a photo on her phone and despite his frailty, everyone saw the panic in his eyes looking from Claire to his grandma. Claire looked at the old lady as she soothed rather than scold her grandson, telling her he was in no trouble and just needed to tell the truth. With that, the boy turned to Claire and gave a nod to confirm her suspicions.

“Thank you, good lad.” Claire patted the boy and proceeded to order her treatment to the nurses. “Get blood and urine samples, hang an IV and start to give him a dose of anti-poisoning”

After getting a clear from the nurses, Claire invited his guardians outside to explain his situation better. “Hi, Mrs. Fitz, was it?” the older lady confirmed and she proceeded to explain the situation. “Tammas ingested a plant called Lily of the Valley. It is incredibly poisonous and you made the right decision to bring him in immediately. We caught it at the right time and we’ll treat him with fluids and medicine and we’ll observe him in the next couple of days until his situation improves. He’ll be just fine.”

Mrs. Fitz sighed in relief and then hugged Claire which she returned. As a pediatric surgeon, she’s already used to these moments but it always warms her heart when it happens. Mrs. Fitz then asked her niece to check on admitting Tammas and left. They checked on Tammas again, the boy now asleep after being medicated.

“I’ll check up on him before my shift ends. I’ll ask the nurses to page me if anything changes on his condition.” Claire said, signing his chart and placing it back on the caddy.

“Thank ye, Doctor.”

“Please call me Claire”

“Ye know, it was my nephew who told me to go straight to the ER and look for Dr. Beauchamp. He didn’t mention, though, that Dr. Beauchamp was a pretty lady.”

A blush threatened to creep Claire’s cheek but she kept her composure. “Jamie called ahead as well, told me that you were coming. I was free and was able to come down to the ER. I’m happy to help”

“And how did ye know it was poisoning right away?”

“I dabble in medicinal herbs sometimes. The plant has a distinct smell that I picked up while I was examining him. Jamie also had a hunch and told me about a tradition with the boys about eating the plant as a right of passage. Between those two, it kinda showed itself.”

“I see. And how long have ye known Jamie?” Mrs. Fitz found the opening and she took it.

“Not too long.” Claire smiled and answered honestly. Just then, Laoghaire returned with documents for them to sign and she excused herself out.

As Mrs. Fitz finished the paperwork, her thoughts flitted back to Claire. When she asked about Jamie, she somewhat expected the lass to immediately gush all over him as what she’d experienced with his previous affairs.

But what she found, instead, in their short conversation thus far, was a genuineness that was incredibly refreshing to see. She didn’t know the extent of their relationship, yet, but for whatever’s worth, she knew Jamie found a good one.

---

“You were right, it was poisoning. Yep, no - he’ll be fine now, Jamie. We’re treating him and should be able to go home in a few days.” Claire put the phone on speaker as she signed documents in her office. It’s been a week and a half since they last saw each other and due to the nature of their jobs, they’ve texted sporadically, just catching up or checking in, here and there. But, today, the emergency forced them to communicate more directly and urgently to which each of them welcomed.

Jamie was on the other line, wanting to hear the update himself. “I told the lad not to do it and he still did. Mrs. Fitz might not have a thing to say anymore to him but I might have”

“Like you were not a ten year old that broke the rules before.” she gruffed.

“Still, my da told on me.”

“Jamie, I’m sure Tammas would have plenty to hear about it by the time you come back.”

She heard a sigh on the other end and she knew she’d saved the lad against more scolding from his family. “Yer right. I’ll just settle for a really, really stern look and not give him his presents”

He can hear her roll her eyes and moved to change the subject. “Who accompanied Mrs. Fitz, Sassenach?”

Claire smiled, still not use to the name but truthfully, she liked it because it came from him. “A granddaughter, I think her name was Laoghaire.”

“I see.” he said plainly and Claire caught on.

“Anything you’d like to share?” she pressed but instead the call ended and rang again, this time a video call.

Claire was surprised but took a quick look at her mirror and accepted the call.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how are ye”

“You called after I mentioned Laoghaire. That is suspicious.”

“There’s nothing to tell other than, she might have a wee crush on me, Sassenach.”

“A wee crush. That explains the weird look she gave me earlier today.”

“What weird look?”

“Like she was sizing me up or something. Didn’t last long, though, Mrs. Fitz had her do all the errands earlier.

It was Jamie’s turn to make a face and shrug. “Don’t let her get to ye, Claire. I’m no interested in her”

“Oh yeah? Why so?” she quipped back.

“For starters, she isna my type and…”

Claire cut him off, “Alright, alright, no need to say more” a laugh bubbling as Jamie looked so serious on her screen. “Anything else, you need to say, Mr. Fraser? Some of us have to work here.”

She saw Jamie scratch the back of his head, turn red, and hear the shuffling of his feet. “Erm, Claire, would you be free this Saturday evening?”

She looked at her calendar, “My schedule is free so far”

“May I have the pleasure to take you to dinner then?”

“Are you asking me out, James Fraser?” Claire asked, eyeing him adorably. She was not at all surprised that their lunches would eventually become dinners. It was only a matter of time. If they we’re not interested in each other, they had stopped meeting a long time ago.

“Aye.” Jamie replied, anticipating her answer.

“Pick me up at my place around 7:00?”

“It’s a date, then.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #something in the rain #SITR #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #mia writes #TB writes #I cant believe how quickly this next story came #honestly a miracle #thanks to all your encouragement really #it was incredibly heartwarming #i hope you enjoy this one

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

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bbhyeoliskooks · 3 years

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ꉂ ‵̤๑♡ 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡๑‵̤ꉂ

➶ TXT’s Reaction to Realizing They’re Falling in Love

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

Genre: 5 cuppies of fluffies and three sprinkles of angst~!

Warnings: Nothing, but it’s a bit suggestive(?) for jjuniebug~

Song: Can’t Help Falling in Love

(Yeah... guess who’s a clown for coming back after like 15 days of break when she’d said she’d come back in march 🗿🗿 we’re just gonna pretend that never happened, and shift to where i’ll post in a while?? thank you for being patient with me tho 🥺)

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Yeonjun ꉂ ‵̤

<3 You and Yeonjun had um... a rough night of frustration so you decided that even though you were friends, you could have a few benefits only the two of you knew about

<3 It had been a while of resting with each other after cleaning up with blankets covering the two of you as you giggled, telling stories

<3 This time you were being clingy instead of him, snuggling up to him while he fawned over how cute you were even if your hair was messy

<3 He was in the middle of telling the story when he stopped to appreciate how you were paying full attention to him and only to him for that matter

<3 Seeing how your sparkling eyes widened in the moonlight once he told you about how he fed the ducks in the pond with bread, he couldn’t help his new desire anymore

<3 Without warning, Yeonjun leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours

<3 The kiss lasted for a while >.< both of your hearts pounding against your chests quickly despite the other person not knowing anything

<3 You both pulled away at the same time, panting because of the loss of air once he captured his lips with yours

<3 “How can someone’s lips be so soft,” he delicately whispered before cupping your cheek tenderly with his hand (ahh my poor heart, why am i doing this to myself eeee >3<)

<3 Even like this, you were so gorgeous to him and you made him smile so much that goodness, he can’t help but fall in love with the beautiful you.

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Soobin ꉂ ‵̤

<3 Awwe late night drives with Soobders, let’s go~!

<3 It just peeked two am, the wee hour of the morning in which you obviously knew the two of you weren’t supposed to be out this late since classes started tomorrow

<3 How had it all started? Because both of you were still awake at one am for some reason, you decided to do an activity with him to make both of you sleepier

<3 It had been an adventure of driving Soobin to Mcdonalds first to get his ice cream like he asked, but then soon evolved into driving just because it was soothing

<3 Soobin was softly singing along to Magic Island, looking out the window while you thought internally how pretty his voice sounded

<3 All of a sudden, he spoke up after thinking for a while, “If we ever grow apart, will all our late adventures be over?”

<3 You were confused as to why he asked the question nonetheless, but you found his worries endearing... what made him think that in the first place?

<3 He looked to see you with a soft smile decorating your face when you hadn’t answered while you pulled over just to answer him

<3 “Don’t worry, my Soobders~ There’ll be much more to come, and I promise we can do this as long as you’re with me and I’m with you til the end of time. You promise, too?” You asked before sticking up your pinky finger.

<3 His heart- aghh he knows he can’t take this fluttering feeling much longer !!

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Beomgyu ꉂ ‵̤

<3 Beomgyu knew he had a fever and guess what he did that made you as red as a tomato due to anger !

<3 He wasn’t taking care of himself and you had enough of it :cc

<3 It was after you fed him (literally) with a ton of chicken noodle soup that you decided to reprimand him once and for all

<3 “You’re so stupid for not resting when you’re sick, idiot! I told you so many times to stay home, but you didn’t listen. What could’ve happened when-”

<3 Instead of answering, he tugged on your arm to make sure you’d fall into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist in order to bring you closer

<3 “I know and I’m sorry, but could we please just stay like this? I wanna hold you, please. You know that your hugs give me strength the most.”

<3 Seeing how you didn’t object to his affection, he sighed against your embrace while sighing in relief~

<3 Although you were still a bit angry at him for not thinking of himself, with no hesitation you held him back while humming his favorite song quietly to yourself

<3 “Beomgyu, you know that I love you a lot, right? So please do me a favor and take care of yourself 🥺,” you cooed while mustering up the best puppy eyes you could do

<3 Seriously if you keep this up, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with that pounding heart in his chest

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Taehyun ꉂ ‵̤

<3 are you happy to be in paris- oui (ifykyk hehe)

<3 N E WAY, the teacher paired you up during this school trip to France for an assignment with the one and only Taehyunnie !

<3 You both easily completed it after thirty minutes, so for the rest of the time you had left, decided to scout a few trinkets and souvenirs for home~

<3 Along the way though, you finally found the Eiffel Tower and Taehyun awed at how pretty it was, pulling on your hand to get a closer look

<3 As if everything was going in slow motion, you heard La Vie En Rose echo from the back !

<3 You giggled at how the butterflies in your stomach fluttered as soon as the lights shone softly onto his warm face

<3 Taehyun held out his hand as if to say “care for this dance?” and you really couldn’t say no to that charming boy

<3 for this was a place containing the language of love after all~~

<3 The two of you stayed like that for a moment, dancing through the night while staring into each other’s gentle eyes

<3 He soon realized while holding you that you were the person he wanted to experienced new feelings with- and seeing your blinding smile grow whenever you were with him... it’s cheesy, but you two are definitely made for each other

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

ꉂ ‵̤ Kai ꉂ ‵̤

<3 It was a rainy day today :(( a bad rainy day today...

<3 At first, it was actually quite calming as you heard the famous piece “Clair de Lune” play from the distance~!

<3 But to add to the pile of misfortunes that occurred today from running late to classes to embarrassing yourself in front of everybody by loudly dropping both you and your books at the library, this was the most frustrating part since you forgot your umbrella when you left the house :cc

<3 Just your luck, huh? You were sure you looked like a pathetic fool in front of everyone there

<3 You just started piano lessons a few weeks ago so when you compared yourself to others, seeing how well they played, especially Kai...

<3 You couldn’t help but tear up since you kept thinking you weren’t going to be as good enough as them no matter how much you tried

<3 The tears welling up in your eyes gave you enough courage to step out into the rain, but before you could...

<3 You felt someone slip his hand into yours, holding an umbrella which covered the two of you as long as you stayed close to him

<3 When you burst into tears as soon as you glanced up at Kai, he felt the need to protect and make you feel better to the best of his abilities by engulfing you in a tight hug

<3 Really, what’s wrong with him? He said he’s too young for love, but what was this warm and bouncing feeling in his chest when he let you cry on his shoulder?

‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’. ‵๑*’.;‵๑*’;.‵๑*’;. ‵๑*’.

Posted: 1/15/21- 3:00am (yes ik im up so late but what can you expect after i’ve taken like a four hour nap earlier)

Tags:

#txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt timestamps #txt ot5 #txt drabbles #txt fanfic #txt ff #txt fic #txt headcanons #txt blurbs #ahhh hi im back #big cry i need to sleep soon it's nearing 3am #i have to go to physical on tuesday tho pls save me :D #anybody just randomly craving chicken rn or is that just me

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nattikay · 3 years

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So I saw this post while browsing toa tags the other day. While I don’t think being obsessed with the school mascot automatically makes Toby a furry (though it is funny to joke about lol) since “being a furry” actually just means “being a fan of anthropomorphic animals” and doesn’t necessarily require any form of costuming or interest in such, it did get me thinking, hmmm...if he was a furry, what would his fursona be? 🤔 And from there I started wondering what Jim’s and Claire’s would be as well because y not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BUT WAIT, I hear you say--haven’t you already drawn the trio as werewolves and wolfwalkers etc.? Wouldn’t those be their fursonas??

Well yes....but actually no.

I guess it’s a little hard to explain, but there’s a nuance between “[person] but as an animal” and a proper “fursona”. While a fursona is an animal character used to represent its person, it doesn’t have to physically resemble them at all as you would expect [person]-but-as-[animal] to. For example, if you were to design me but as a cat, you’d probably give it light brown fur and green eyes like I have irl. But my fursona, unlike my human self, actually has blue fur and purple eyes. You can give your fursona matching physical traits to your own if you want to, and some people do, but most use only a pinch of their irl appearance, if any at all.

The choices people make when designing their fursonas vary wildly from “it looks like me irl” to “it looks like who I want to be” to “I just really like this color scheme” to “this particular color/marking holds deep personal meaning to me” to “this particular pattern represents a particular defining moment in my life” to “idk it looks cool and i vibe with it” etc. etc. etc. Everyone has different reasons of varying depth for the decisions they make in designing their fursona.

Therefore, to design a fursona for Toby etc., it’s less a question of “what would this character look like as [insert species here]?” and more of “how would this character choose to present himself with his own [animal] character?”

And that’s a much trickier game than just transferring a character aesthetic to a new species. ^^; We have to kinda dive into the characters and makes some guesses about how they, if given infinite creative freedom to design an animal avatar with no rules or limits, would choose to present themselves.

So all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Starting with Toby because he’s the one who inspired the post. I think Toby might choose a wolfdog fursona. A lot of people who choose wolves as fursonas consider themselves to be overwhelmingly loyal to their friends, a trait that fits Toby very well. However, while Toby likes to be “cool”, I don’t think he really thinks of himself as much of an “alpha” type--he’s more of a sidekick, and he knows that, and he’s ok with that. He’s the wingman. So what better way to incorporate that than to add dog into the mix? Man’s best friend=Jim’s best friend. Sociable, humorous, and unwaveringly loyal. Wolfdog it is!

With the species decided, we can move on to the design itself.

I can’t imagine any form of Toby in anything other than warm colors. This is extra emphasized by the flamelike patterns on his legs and tail, which both speaks to his desire to be totally awesome-sauce as well as acts as an allusion to his flaming warhammer. It’s fairly common (not universal, but common) for people to give their fursonas a more “ideal” physique than the person actually has as a sort of way to live by proxy physical goals or fantasies they’ve been unable to attain irl for whatever reason. Given that we’ve seen Toby struggle with fitness from time to time, it wouldn’t shock me to see him take this route. His wolfdog self is still relatively short and stocky, but it’s all muscle, babey.

This fursona is strong, fun, boisterous, and generally just kicks butt. Concentrated awesomesauce flows through his veins. Just don't mess with his friends, or you’ll feel the flames!

Moving on to Jim. Jim was the hardest to nail down, and most definitely the hardest to keep my personal biases out of oof. Which I may have failed to do anways because yes, ok, I made my favorite character a blue feline, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But hear me out first!

For Jim I ultimately settling on a cheetah/lion hybrid.

Cheetahs, in a way, are sort of the underdogs (er...cats?) of the feline world--at least, in their local ecosystems. They are built wholly for speed, not strength--and as such, just about every other large predator in their environment has them beat when it comes to raw strength. Remind you of a certain Trollhunter? plus the long lanky legs. don’t forget those lol

However, because of this disadvantage, cheetahs...usually surrender. They know it’s not worth it to defend their kill from larger, stronger opponents, so they’ll give it up and just catch something else. This aspect doesn’t quite fit our protective, selfless protagonist all too eager to risk everything to save his loved ones--so a pure cheetah may not be the right choice.

So what animal is brave and protective? That’s where the lion part comes in, of course!

Why not just make him a pure lion? Well, a little similar to making Toby a wolfdog instead of a pure wolf. A straight-up lion feels a little too “chad” for our sweet Jimbo. Too much of a jock.

Jim has the humble underdog nature of a cheetah as well as the bravery and fierce protective drive of a lion. Cheelion? Leetah? idk, but let’s design it!

Like Toby and warm colors, I don’t think I can possibly associate Jim with any color but blue. While it’s never directly stated, given that we’ve never really seen him wear any other color (with the exception of the Eclipse armor), I think it’s pretty safe to assume that that’s his favorite. Blue sweater, blue jeans, blue shoes, even his backpack and bedsheets are blue. So naturally, his fursona would be predominantly blue as well! Plus some yellowish accents to (somewhat) match the natural colors of his chosen species(s).

I imagine he originally designed the character without horns, but then added them after becoming the Trollhunter, since it became such a major and impactful aspect of his life.

His lion’s mane also continues down his back in imitation of the “mantle” found on baby cheetahs. This youthful feature could subtly represent the fact that he’s been forced to grow up too fast and take on so much responsibility so young--so his fursona can still be young and carefree as long as he likes even while his real self struggles with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This fursona is relaxed, calm, and confident. He’s not just cool--he’s crispy!

Lastly but not leastly, we have Claire. Out of the three, I think Claire was actually the easiest to choose--or at least, I had the clearest idea of what I thought she might go for.

Claire is a bit of an interesting duck, because while she’s shown to be fairly popular at school, she’s definitely far from the stereotype of The Popular Girl™. Yes she’s smart and pretty, but she’s also a little spunky or even a bit quirky--she’s a theatre kid, she’s a huge fan of hard rock band Papa Skull, and while I wouldn’t quite call her “rebellious” per se, she’s certainly willing to bend some rules if she feels the situation calls for it (not telling her parents that she was going to the concert with Steve, literally sneaking into Jim’s basement to try to find out what was up with him, etc).

That said, I think Claire might go for a hyena fursona--something a little out of the box, but not totally out of left field. (she also shows a slight Gurl Power™ streak here and there “the staff was not meant to be wielded by man--” “I am not a man!!!”) and if you know anything about hyenas...well, yeah lol)

I think Claire would lean into her punk-rock “rebellious” side with her fursona design. This character is completely free of the pressure of being the councilwoman’s daughter and having to maintain her mother’s public reputation, and thus allows Claire to express a less restrained side of herself. She has a bold semi-edgy color scheme with bright accents (and some earrings to match her person’s hair clips) while still remaining feminine and (her own brand of) fashionable.

This fursona is spunky and sassy; she’s spicy and sweet all rolled up into one. She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to chase it down. She lives her own life and she’s dang proud of it.

....sooooo yeah there’s my take on what Toby’s, Jim’s, and Claire’s fursonas could hypothetically be. And I guess since this post was inspired by a joke about Toby’s infatuation with the school mascot, here’s just some quick thoughts on how they might approach fursuiting to end us off:

Jim I don’t see as much of a suiter. He might try it once or twice if given the opportunity, but at the end of the day it’s not really his cup of tea--he’d rather act as the “handler” for his friends, if anything.

Toby and Claire, on the other hand, I could definitely see as suiters. In fact, with her interest in acting, Claire would probably particularly enjoy it--she’d be one of those suiters who really gets into character, absolutely refuses to break the magic publicly (outside of any actual medical emergency), and popular at cons because she just performs so well.

Toby, meanwhile, would be the more chill type--uses his normal voice in-suit, isn’t really too stressed about “breaking the magic”, just kinda hanging around like he would normally except “look I’m a talking dog, cool right?”.

also while I was typing this it occurred to be that since Eli is canonically a cosplayer then he could be a fursuiter as well; in his case i imagine he actually made his own suit it’s a protogen and it’s full of little LEDs and other electric gadgets, it’s not the prettiest thing ever as sewing is not his forte but boy did he try!! good for him. good for him

#so anyways I put way too much thought into this...enjoy I guess?#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toby domzalski #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #furry #my art

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

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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flyinghome-againstthewind · 3 years

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the best by far is you: chapter 16

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Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 16

There were three things Claire was keenly aware of in that moment. First, that they were weeks behind Jamie and the gap of time seemed to stretch out ahead of them like the horizon ‒ something they’d never quite reach. The second was the gentle weight of Fergus’s head resting against her shoulder blade while he held loosely to her as their horse kept pace just behind Murtagh’s. She hated to move Fergus, and to stall their progress in closing the gap, but the third thing she was aware of was her bladder getting squished ‒ yet again ‒ as her body tried to accommodate its steadily growing inhabitant.

“Wait!” she called ahead to Murtagh as she started to slow her horse’s pace. Murtagh’s head whipped back frantically, but seeing no present sign of danger, there was a flash of irritation on his face ‒ but only for a moment. He slowed to a stop.

“I’ll be quick.”

Fergus slipped off the horse first and grabbed the reins so Claire could dismount. She did hurry, but the frequent breaks surely weren’t helping them catch up.

Inverness had been a bitter disappointment, to learn that Jamie and Faith had left the very next morning after Culloden and taken Mary with them. They were chasing after ghosts, not knowing the plan or final destination. The matron of the boarding house had only been able to give them the direction that the carriage left in, and from there, their search party stopped at every village, small town, and tavern along the way to inquire if a coach had passed through about 3 weeks ago.

The faint thrill of confirming Claire’s suspicion that Jamie had gone to Inverness first had quickly waned as they cobbled together some sort of trajectory to follow.

Only days before, in their trek through the war-torn Highlands, they’d caught on to the coach’s trail, with confirmed sightings of it that matched the time it should have passed through.

Still… as hard as it was to chase after Jamie and Faith, weeks behind them, they did so knowing that by all indications, Jamie and Faith were still alive and free, traveling under a guise with Mary Hawkins. That kept them pushing forward.

They started to build a map in their minds, comparing the direction the coach was traveling with potential destinations on the other side of that. Like Aberdeen or Dundee, or perhaps even further, into Perth or Edinburgh or Glasgow. And though Mary traveled with them… surely they wouldn’t cross into England…

“There’s a village no more’n half a day’s ride,” Murtagh said as Claire mounted her horse again and held steady while Fergus clamored up behind her. “We should aim tae make it there before dark. See if there’s anyone in town we can talk tae.”

Claire nodded briskly. “I’m sure we can manage that.” She glanced over her shoulder at Fergus. “All set?”

“Oui.”

“Then lead the way, Murtagh.”

And amidst all of this was a fourth awareness, ever-present since she’d opened her eyes that morning. Something never far from her mind and that kept her heart heavy even as they chased desperately after her husband and child.

This day was Faith’s second birthday. And Claire was missing it.

“Ye’d swear th’ whole village was blind…” Murtagh groused, mostly to himself. Then his gaze locked with Fergus’s and this time he directed his next words to the boy. “No’ a single intelligent person anywhere to be found.”

He proceeded to prepare the fresh-caught game for their dinner, not expecting a reply. Fergus stayed silent and swung his gaze over to Claire, checking her reaction.

She smiled slightly, all that she could muster in the moment.

“Where will we go now?” Fergus asked her.

“We’ll still keep pressing southward along the most likely route they would be traveling.” She tried to look more confident in that plan, but caught Murtagh’s frown and figured it hadn’t been too reassuring to Fergus. “Not the first place we’ve stopped without getting answers,” she added as a reminder.

“I suppose,” was all Fergus said to that. He’d built a fire and stacked the wood how Claire had taught him, so that a new log would feed into the fire once the one before it had turned to ash.

They’d made it to the village well before dark and after their rather unsuccessful encounter with the locals, they’d had time to head out to the woods and set up camp. With limited funds that they weren’t sure how far would need to be stretched, they rarely ate in town or stayed at a tavern for the night.

When the food had been cooked over the fire, Claire divided up the portions, giving Murtagh the largest. He tore off some of the meat from his portion and pushed it back into Claire’s hands. “Ye dinna eat enough,” he said in response to her bewilderment.

They ate the bird and some of the potatoes Jenny had provided.

“It’s Faith’s birthday,” Claire said softly over the crackle of the fire. “She’s two.”

Her statement was met with resounding silence from Murtagh and Fergus, except for the soft Scottish harrumph from the older man that she couldn’t quite interpret.

She wasn’t sure what she expected out of telling them, other than it felt wrong to let the day pass without acknowledging it in some way.

Fergus wiped one greasy hand on his pants and reached into his bag propped next to him. He fished out his wooden horse and set it to stand in the grass between him and Claire while he chewed. “Sometimes we have to wait for things, Milady,” he said kindly ‒ sagely, even ‒ while talking around the mouthful of food.

She locked eyes with him and felt her vision swim with tears when he nodded encouragingly. They’d asked him to wait when it was his birthday ‒ smack dab in the middle of a war ‒ and he was still waiting. Still believing that his wish would come to fruition ‒ that it would be Jamie who picked out the horse for him. And in order for that to happen, Fergus had to believe that they would be reunited.

“We will see le petit again.”

“Yes, we will,” she murmured in agreement.

And she did believe that. It was only… she was desperate to find them and had hoped to be reunited with them swiftly. But the reality was setting in… of how long and how far they might be searching still.

And all the while, Claire was missing more days, more moments in her daughter’s life that she’d never get back. How many days had she already lost… and how many more would be swallowed up in the time it took to find her?

That night, Claire couldn’t sleep. She gave up after a while of lying there in the dark, listening to the soft crackling of a dying fire and the rustling of the wind through the trees, and finally pulled herself into a seated position facing the fire instead.

She caught Murtagh’s gaze across the fire instantly. “Not you too?”

“Aye,” he sighed.

“What’s keeping you up, then?” she asked, mostly so he wouldn’t ask her first.

He paused, linking his fingers together over his propped up knees. “Was thinking o’ the wee lass,” Murtagh admitted hesitantly, and Claire felt an instant pang in her heart. “The last time I saw her… and better times, too. Before the rising. At Lallybroch.”

She smiled against the urge to cry ‒ lately, she seemed on the verge of tears at any moment, the cause of which could never be determined between her raging pregnancy hormones or the pain of separation from Jamie and Faith. More than likely, it was some tangled-up knot of both things, she reasoned.

“She is a canny wee lass, and sae bonny and sweet.”

She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Murtagh cared for Faith ‒ had seen firsthand at Lallybroch how the baby could draw a smile out of the dour old man better than anyone else ‒ but she’d never heard him articulate it so.

And god, it hurt like nothing else ever had ‒ missing Faith and knowing she had other loved ones who were missing her just the same.

Murtagh breathed in deep, and let his breath out slowly, his gaze on the dwindling flames. “I’m only sorry and heartsick for my role in all this… that I played a part in why ye canna see yer lass now, on the anniversary o’ her birth.”

She felt her throat constrict and shook her head. How many rounds of the blame game had she played for herself? “No, Murtagh… I’m sorry,” she managed in a hoarse whisper. “For what I said when I came back. For striking you. I don’t blame you for any of this. I was terrified and angry that they weren’t back at Lallybroch like I’d hoped, and I took it out on you.” She thought of her conversation with Jenny, and the words they’d repeated to each other in reassurance, in absolution. “None of us knew. None of us chose this outcome.”

She stared across at his hardened face, the lines of it appearing sharper in the fading light of the fire. He didn’t speak, and she wondered if that meant he wouldn’t accept her words for himself.

“Please forgive me?”

“Och,” he said immediately. “There’s nothing tae forgive, lass.”

They fell quiet for a moment, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Had her words made any difference, or did he still blame himself even if she didn’t?

There was a strange sense that they were merely retracing steps they’d already taken during the rising. That’s how it felt to Claire at least as they entered Kingussie, near where they had started training Jamie’s men back in August of last year.

They walked into Kingussie on account of Murtagh’s horse needing a new shoe. Upon arriving, Claire handed Murtagh a few coins for the blacksmith and considered out loud how much food she should purchase to replenish their stock.

It was then they all seemed to take notice of a handful of Redcoats exiting the tavern.

“Fergus, stay close to me,” Claire instructed as they parted with Murtagh.

She’d thought Fergus was right behind her as she walked through the small market and picked out some grains and vegetables to pair with the fish or meat that Murtagh usually provided for their meals.

She turned a corner and nearly knocked Fergus over. “Oh. Where have you been?” She set her basket down and her hands went instantly to her hips.

Fergus shook his head as if to indicate that was of little importance.

“Here, Milady.” He reached for her hand and dropped several coins into it.

Her eyes went wide with shock. “Fergus!”

He turned defensive at her tone, seeing she wasn’t exactly pleased. “I will not let you starve! And there is le bébé as well. I heard Murtagh say you need to eat well enough so it can grow.”

“Yes, but do you understand that there are very real consequences to stealing if you are caught?” she snapped at him in a harsh whisper. There was a flash of indignation in his eyes at that.

“I will not get caught.”

She grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him over to a more secluded spot away from the market stalls.

“You might! There’s always the risk and ‒ for Christ’s sake, Fergus, there are British soldiers right here in town!”

“Where do you think I found those coins?”

She was horrified at what he’d just admitted, with the sudden urge to sequester him out of town immediately, should any of the Redcoats realized what had been done.

“Milord would not have doubted me,” he added accusingly, clearly in response to whatever he’d read in her face.

She recoiled from his words. “It’s not a matter of doubt, I‒”

There was a flicker of movement in her periphery and when she glanced over, what she found made her blood run cold.

Murtagh, on the other side of town from them, surrounded by the soldiers.

Fergus’s head whipped around and Claire had barely enough time to slip a hand over his mouth and hold him back with the other arm before he did something truly stupid.

“Don’t, Fergus,” she pleaded in a desperate whisper as he struggled to break free and rush toward Murtagh. “He’ll be alright. Don’t provoke them. He knows what to do.”

You’ll get yourself killed…

All the while, her heart thundered in her chest, and she hoped that what she’d said would remain true; Murtagh was a stubborn Scot through and through, but he wasn’t stupid. He was outnumbered five to one. Should these soldiers happen to have rosters of Jacobite soldiers, they wouldn’t find Murtagh’s name on it. Jamie had had the foresight to keep Murtagh and the Lallybroch men off of any records during the war.

And with a month having passed since the battle, Murtagh had put away his kilts at Claire’s insistence and now wore breeks. He didn’t look the part of a Jacobite soldier and there was no way these men could prove that Murtagh had fought.

Unless one of them recognized him…

Claire tried to steady her breathing and when she felt as though Fergus had gained some semblance of self-control, she let her hand fall away from his mouth, but still held him anchored in place beside her.

They watched the exchange between Murtagh and the soldiers but were too far away to catch what was being said.

But she took in the way the soldiers acted, the glances they shared, the way they held themselves tall and proud.

And the way Murtagh had to shrink in their presence.

The Redcoats were the recent victors, having put down the Jacobite rebellion. And to them, that meant they could assert their superiority over the people of Scotland as they saw fit.

Finally, the soldiers appeared to be ready to move on, some of them shifting their weight from one foot to the other and beginning to turn and break off from the group.

But one soldier still spoke to Murtagh until suddenly and unexpectedly, Claire and Fergus watched as he spat in Murtagh’s face.

Fergus flinched with his whole body. Claire subconsciously tightened her hold on him and something between a cry and a sound of disgust slipped out of her.

The soldiers moved away then, nothing escalating from them, but it was the sight of Murtagh standing tall and refusing to wipe his face in front of them that finally broke Claire.

There had been no reason for it; the man had spit on Murtagh simply because he could. Because he knew Murtagh wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

And to watch helplessly while these men degraded Murtagh left her with an emblazoned fury building in her chest. They weren’t better than him. And she knew if it wasn’t for Fergus right beside her just then, she would’ve been tempted to do something about it herself.

But she wouldn’t risk her boy. And Murtagh wouldn’t want that either.

Fergus himself was seething at her side and she had to tug him away and turn him so she could look him in the eye.

“I will slit their throats,” he said with such conviction that she was stunned into silence for several beats.

“Look, I’m angry too,” she assured him. “But Murtagh is alright‒”

“They had no right to‒” “I know. I agree with you.”

“They should still pay for what they did.”

She drew in a deep breath and fished out the coins from her skirt pocket. “Let this be your revenge, hmm?”

Fergus seethed in front of her, sorting through his thoughts. “I wish I had waited to rob them until now,” he said finally. “I would have taken much more from them. Bastards.”

With that, she realized they’d reached a resolution, and with a heavy sigh, she placed one hand gently on the back of his neck to tug his head forward into the cradle of her chest. He went willingly, his slight arms snaking around her waist to hold tight. “It’d be much harder to look for Jamie and Faith if we’re on the run from the Redcoats,” she said softly, hoping this idea above all else might take root with Fergus. He was so god damn cavalier sometimes, he had no idea how often he’d scared the living daylights out of her by doing something careless and risky.

Fergus sighed heavily, still vibrating with frustration. “I know, Milady.”

They waited for Murtagh to find them, having come to some unspoken understanding not to bring up what happened with the soldiers or admit that they had witnessed it. When Murtagh did join them, he was terse and itching to move on from Kingussie as swiftly as could be arranged, which Claire didn’t begrudge him for.

Murtagh’s horse had been giving a new horseshoe and Claire had enlisted Fergus’s help in gathering a few more necessities to augment their dwindling supply. But there was usually another reason they spent time in each village before they could move on and Claire hesitantly pointed that out.

“Dinna need to ask around. I already learnt all we need to know.”

“Someone here saw Jamie and Faith?” she asked, feeling a little breathless. Fergus perked up at this.

“No’ exactly. But the blacksmith had a lot tae say about a certain devilish black beast he had the misfortune o’ re-shoeing a few weeks ago.”

“Donas!” Fergus said brightly.

“Aye.” He smiled slightly as he grabbed Fergus’s shoulder and gave him a playful shake. “So we’re on th’ right path, aye? Dinna fash, laddie.”

“Let’s not linger about then,” Claire said decidedly.

She could tell there was something else going on with Murtagh, but chalked it up to the encounter with the Redcoats.

They’d ridden for as long as they could after leaving Kingussie before stopping for the night. Their evening passed in a similar fashion as it did every other night, with the one exception that Murtagh had found a moment when Fergus was out of earshot to ask Claire to wait up after the boy fell asleep.

Once he had, Murtagh jumped into his news without preamble.

“Black Jack Randall is dead.”

Her stomach dropped.

“What?” Her gaze flew to the outline of Fergus’s slumbering form under his blanket. He didn’t stir.

Of course she knew that bit of information. She hadn’t forgotten Frank’s discovery that Randall seemed to have died away from the battlefield, within a few days of it. The thought that he’d gotten to Jamie and Faith had haunted her, but she knew by the time she had traveled back here ‒ by the time she had learned the news even ‒ it would have been too late to do anything about it.

“How‒”

“Redcoats,” Murtagh muttered. “That’s why they stopped me.”

“I knew he was dead,” Claire admitted. “But the soldiers told you that?”

“Aye and there’s a bit more. They found his body at a tavern just outside Carrbridge.”

Carrbridge. They had gone through there as well, spoken with the owner of the tavern who confirmed that a carriage had passed through there. Said nothing of a dead body, though. Murtagh said as much and Claire shrugged.

“Suppose that might be bad for business. What else did you learn about this?”

“No’ much, but they are looking for whoever killed him. That’s why they stopped me to ask about my whereabouts, where I was from.” He absently tossed a leaf into the fire and watched it burn up. “The good news is they dinna seem to have connected it tae Jamie.”

Neither of them had said it, but both of them knew. It had to be Jamie.

“Well, I guess that’s something,” Claire agreed. “Did they‒ I don’t suppose it would matter to the soldiers but… no one else was hurt?”

Murtagh’s gaze locked onto hers and he smiled sympathetically. “Didna say. But we do know they came through Kingussie afterwards. Blacksmith confirmed as much.”

A cold feeling had crept in and Claire hated to put it into words. “He said he saw the horse. He didn’t say anything about Jamie or Faith, did he?”

“He did say there was a rather large man who helped him wi’ Donas. I didna press for details, but I’m sure that was Jamie.”

That she could believe… but what of Faith?

“He wouldna have kept going if Faith was lost,” Murtagh said bluntly. “What reason would he have?”

“Well, Mary was still with him. I imagine he wouldn’t just abandon her to the wilds of Scotland to fend for herself, she being an Englishwoman after all.”

Murtagh grunted softly at that. “Ye’re tired, a nighean,” he said gruffly, in a way that Claire knew to mean that he cared. “Get some sleep.”

She smiled half-heartedly at that ‒ and did stretch out on her spot near the fire for the night. But sleep evaded her, as it so often had on this journey.

Even if Faith survived… had she been hurt? Had Jamie? And had she been scared, in whatever events unfolded when they encountered Black Jack Randall?

Claire had told herself so many times that they must’ve slipped away from the British ‒ and thus Randall ‒ as her way of coping with the unknown. But now… to know that he had found them… sought them out, even…

Until they found them and she could see for herself that they were alright, she wouldn’t have a moment of peace.

One day, a storm caught them unawares. Their last touchpoint to civilization was a day’s ride behind them, and they’d started their travel early that morning, when the clouds were only an unassuming, white canopy above them.

But then the sky darkened and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and by the time they were scrambling towards the trees, they’d already been caught in the torrential downpour of rain.

Fergus argued for the cause to keep going, even through the storm, but Claire was firm in stating the risks that that would pose, such as hypothermia and pneumonia. Murtagh was more concerned about the risk of mudslides with the horses, but the two of them were at least united in the cause to wait out the storm.

That was how they found themselves wedged tightly under a small shelter they’d constructed, huddled in a line in front of a small fire at the edge of the shelter.

Yet another delay in their journey.

She glanced down at Fergus and saw his face drawn tight with concern. Slipping an arm around his shoulders, she tugged him even closer to her. “You know, in my time… there are horseless carriages called automobiles. What I wouldn’t give to have one of those right now…”

Fergus’s brows furrowed as he considered this. “How do they move without a horse?”

“They’re motorized. They have something called an engine that makes them run. And they can go even faster than a horse.”

She passed the time describing everything she could of a modern car to Fergus, and then moved on to tanks, trains, bicycles, and aeroplanes. Much like Jamie, the concept of flying through the sky fascinated Fergus.

And once she’d run out of modes of transportation to describe, she fell quiet and let Fergus (and Murtagh, she assumed) ponder these oddities of the future.

“It sounds so grand, Milady,” he said at length, leaning his head back against her shoulder. The rain lessened some, but was still steadily coming down.

“Hmm,” she murmured softly. “Maybe some things in comparison to this time might seem that way…”

But she’d seen the ugliness of the World War in her time, and she’d found beauty in this time, considered to be crude and uncivilized in comparison.

“Do you miss it at all?”

“No,” she said easily. “Although… the hot baths, yes. Especially now.”

Fergus pulled a face at that. “You can take hot baths in this time, Milady…” he said slowly, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing at him explaining that to her.

“Yes, I know, but it’s not nearly as much work in my time. Just turn on the faucet and it’s already hot.”

“... faucet? And how is it already hot?”

“Before ye begin tae explain that one, I think my heid’s already done in wi’ everything else ye’ve given me to consider,” Murtagh interjected suddenly.

“We can leave indoor plumbing for another day,” Claire agreed with a laugh.

They had reached a long stretch of wild country with little in the way of civilization. A land they had traversed before, twice during the rising. And along with their trek through the remote Highlands wilderness was an impending sense of dread. What if they missed a checkpoint or overshot Jamie’s path? Could somewhere within this deserted expanse of land be where he would choose to hide out from the British?

They were steering towards the village of Kenmore, Murtagh having decided that was the most likely stop on the journey. And since he’d been right about Jamie’s instinct to flee to the north two years ago, Claire was inclined to trust his judgement on this. Especially since he knew the landscape of this place much better than she did.

The nights had become the only moments on this journey when Claire and Murtagh could speak without Fergus being awake and present for the conversation.

Not every night. But enough that it had become something of a routine more often than not.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Claire began one night when the howl of the wind coming down from the mountain kept her from sleep. “That we’ve found ourselves at this again… searching for weeks but never quite finding him.”

Murtagh grunted in acknowledgement, a cheerless smile in place. “Och, aye. Canna forget that silly tune you sang during that time even if I tried.”

“What? The one you taught me?”

“Nay, lass,” He fired back indignantly. “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.”

She laughed as the memory resurfaced. “I sang that to you once.”

“Aye,” he said sourly, “And it stuck.”

“Hmm, my apologies for all you’ve apparently suffered as a result. I happen to like that one.”

“Weel, it never would ha’ worked for our purposes,” he said as one last hit against her song.

The wind whipped through their camp again and Claire pulled her thick shawl tighter about her. With the wind, the mood shifted, bringing them back to their reality. They were hungry, tired, cold, on what seemed like an endless journey. Their small moment of joy dissipated, as if carried away on the harsh wind itself.

“What if we never find him?” Claire uttered the words just above a whisper. “He has no idea we’re looking for him.”

She had no doubt that if Jamie Fraser wanted to disappear into the night without a trace, he could do it. And what would stop him?

The difference between this time and before was that Jamie had been looking for a way to return to her. Now, he believed her gone.

“Found him once before,” Murtagh reminded her.

“Yes. Captured. I’m less worried about that this time, though.”

“Then what?”

Claire shrugged, trying to appear more unaffected by her fears. “He has Faith with him. He thinks I’m gone. He knows the Redcoats will either kill him or imprison him if they find him… so he’d make sure they couldn’t be found, right? By anyone.”

Murtagh made that Scottish sound at the back of his throat and didn’t say anything else.

“And Fergus…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Well, I just worry. He loves Jamie so much… and I don’t know‒” She thought of that day in Kingussie, how he’d said Jamie would never doubt him. “If it’s just me that Fergus has… what if that’s not… enough?”

“Claire.” Murtagh said her name in such a way that it felt as though he was gently chiding her. “The lad loves ye.”

Her throat clogged with emotion and she wiped gingerly at the silent tears that spilled down her cheeks.

Murtagh sighed heavily. “Ye didna see him. After Culloden. When I came back wi’ the news that Jamie would stay to fight… there was still a hope, ken? That Jamie could survive the battle. We waited for news o’ him for days and days. But ye and Faith were gone for good ‒ that’s what we kent at the time. For two weeks, Fergus grieved ye. Ye’re his family too. He doesna just want Jamie back… he needs ye both, ken.”

She nodded solemnly, still too choked up to speak as fresh tears clouded her eyes. He did something then he hadn’t yet in any of their late-night conversations; she watched as he stood and made his way over to her side of the fire, plopping down next to her. His arm went about her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“S’alright, a nighean.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling more emotions in that moment than she could put into words, but taking comfort in Murtagh’s support and steadfast loyalty while everything else in her life felt shaky at best.

“I’m glad you’re here, searching with us.”

“Aye. I’m glad ye came back,” he said with tenderness in his voice. “And we’ll find Jamie and wee Faith. Dinna fash yerself.”

They were just departing from Sterling when the choice had to be made. Before them laid two potential paths with no indication of which one the carriage had traveled.

Should they go west towards Glasgow? Or East along the river towards Edinburgh?

Jamie’s end goal was still hazy to them, but they were fairly sure by now that he wouldn’t proceed much farther south than either of those cities.

“The lowlands were largely on the side of the British, so either place is risky,” Claire pointed out.

“Aye,” Murtagh sneered, none too pleased to have left the Highlands either way. “But Glasgow wasna a point of conflict during the rising. Edinburgh is likely still crawling with Redcoats since they recaptured it months ago.”

Claire considered this, wondering what Jamie would choose. What would be safer for Faith. “So Glasgow?”

“Glasgow,” Murtagh agreed.

“And how fast can they go, again?” Fergus’s curiosity had circled back around to the topic of cars, and Claire indulged him, having little else to pass the time while they traveled.

“There were some cars that could travel 80 miles per hour.”

“Eighty?” She knew he couldn’t really grasp it, having never traveled that fast before, but the number was very high. Much faster than they could manage on horseback.

“Oh, yes. Dangerously fast.” She couldn’t explain what prompted her next words, perhaps born out of her desire to protect those she could while struggling with the separation from Jamie and Faith. “They can be terribly dangerous. That’s how my parents were killed when I was young. A car accident.”

Fergus was quiet for a moment and she wished he wasn’t seated behind her so she could see his face.

“I did not know that, Milady,” he said softly, with an undercurrent of compassionate understanding she didn’t expect most eleven-year-olds possessed. His arms gave her waist a gentle squeeze and she patted his hands where they rested overlapping on her stomach.

“Didn’t seem relevant exactly when I was giving everyone the truth of the stones and where I’d come from. But yes, I should’ve told you. I lost them when I was five. After that, I went to stay with Uncle Lamb.”

She caught the slight chuckle from Fergus. Yes, those stories he had heard, some even before the truth of her origins, though those were always carefully constructed. He’d heard a few more on this journey and always delighted in them.

“I didn’t realize you were a girl then. With Uncle Lamb,” Fergus admitted and then, after some consideration, added, “I can’t imagine you as a child, Milady.”

“What, this whole time you thought I was an adult in all my stories with Uncle Lamb?”

“Yes,” he admitted with a laugh.

“I guess that makes sense. I always had trouble picturing my parents as younger than I would’ve known them. My Uncle Lamb too, for that matter.”

Their conversation lapsed in a comfortable sort of way. There was an intimacy in their shared experience and though Murtagh was only a few feet ahead of them, he felt miles away from their small bubble. And what Murtagh shared about Fergus’s grief was never very far from her mind.

“I used to play a game when I was little. After my parents died and I went to live with my uncle. I would pretend that they were out there in the world somewhere, still alive, and they would come get me eventually. It felt easier sometimes, if I could just pretend that I was waiting on them.”

“I used to play a game,” Fergus began quietly and Claire strained to listen, “that I had ended up at Maison Elise by mistake and my parents were looking for me all that time. I would imagine what it would be like to have them show up and take me away, to a home.”

“What was it like? What did you imagine?”

“It was one of those big houses that I would pass on my walks through Le Marais. Of course I’d never been inside a house that grand until Milord brought me to Monsieur Jared’s house. That house was more beautiful than any of my imaginings.”

She felt his head come to rest against her back again. “Of course, by then I did not need to imagine such things anymore.”

Her heart leapt to her throat and she gave another reassuring squeeze of his hands within her own.

They’d lost the trail.

By now, they’d learned to not give up if they came up empty at the first and second stops, but by their sixth time coming up empty, the doubt began to set in.

“Do we double back?” Claire asked. “Head for Edinburgh?”

In some part of her brain, the question rolled around that maybe this had been Jamie’s plan all along. For weeks, she’d feared reaching a point where any trace of them simply vanished.

Murtagh seemed to catch that look of despair in her eyes. “We head back to our last confirmed sighting. Go from there.”

Back to Sterling. From his spot behind Murtagh, Claire watched as Fergus’s face fell at the realization of the time they’d wasted since choosing Glasgow.

Fergus’s bedding was angled in such a way that when he curled up for the night, his head rested close to Claire’s.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she said softly to him, propping her head up on one hand. She studied his young face, glowing orange from the light of their campfire. “Are you feeling alright? You’re not sick, are you?”

“Oui, Milady, I am just tired.” He said all of this half-heartedly and without taking his gaze from the fire.

She reached out and brushed a hand over his messy curls. His eyes slid shut and he sighed. She thought of all he’d gone through in the last month and a half, from war to loss and disappearances of loved ones, to having one returned to him unexpectedly. And again she thought of his grief ‒ it struck a chord deep within her that she wasn’t soon to forget ‒ and wondered if Fergus was already bracing for some sort of loss with Jamie.

And that thought broke her heart clean in two. Because she couldn’t protect him from the hurt if anything did happen to Jamie, or if they failed to find him.

“Look at me, love.”

She waited until he had listened and tilted his head back to look at her. “I know we’ve been at this for a while. I’m tired, too. That’s alright.” She kept brushing back his curls from his forehead as she spoke. “And I know I can’t make any guarantees, but for what it’s worth, I believe we’ll find them. But no matter what, you have me. You have Murtagh. The baby, too, eventually,” she said with slight laughter in her voice. She was rewarded with a small smile out of Fergus.

“You have me, too, Milady. No matter what happens.”

She leaned across and kissed the top of his head. “It’ll be alright, love. Try and get some sleep.”

Claire laid there in the dark looking up at the stars, long after Murtagh’s snores had begun and Fergus went still and quiet. Her thoughts swirling around Jamie and Faith, the heavy fears of losing them or never finding them, the worry over Fergus and how he was faring‒

She breathed in sharply and one hand flew to her stomach, though there was nothing to be felt under its palm. But there had been a quickening in her belly ‒ the first movement she’d felt of this baby from within.

“Oh…” she breathed out. Tears sprouted in her eyes and spilled over gently. She was scared to move in that moment, like she might startle the small thing somehow. It was so quick, she wondered if she had imagined it. But no, she knew that feeling from when she’d carried Faith. “Hello, you little darling,” she whispered into the night. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Her hand rubbed slow circles over the firm, small bump. “Thank you for letting me know you’re still there.”

Claire knew it was coming ‒ had remembered well enough from when she’d traveled through here with the Jacobite army ‒ and careened to the side in her saddle, trying to see around the bend.

Yes ‒ there it was!

“Fergus,” she called out, pulling her horse up alongside Murtagh’s. He looked at her, bewildered, and she grinned. “Look up ahead.”

Though they’d lost time in misjudging Jamie’s next steps, they had eventually caught the trail again after starting fresh from Sterling. Now, they were quite certain that Jamie and Faith were in‒

“Edinburgh!” Fergus exclaimed as the first sights of the city came into view. His gaze flew back to Claire’s. “We’re almost home, Milady!”

She felt her vision burn with tears and had to face forward to keep from crumbling as Fergus’s words landed.

This place had never been home to them, but Jamie and Faith had… and they were almost home again.

#jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fic #OL fic #faith fraser #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #my fic

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ladylynse · 3 years

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Chapter 6 [FF | AO3] of Down the Rabbit Hole: Wirt had heard a lot of stories about college, but somehow, he still wasn’t prepared for one of his roommate’s crazy friends to smuggle a hatchet into their dorm room.

beginning | previous

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Toby had hung up without giving more of an explanation, but from the look in Wendy’s eyes, Wirt knew she didn’t need one.

“You grab the kit from the kitchen,” Jazz said. “I’ll get the one from under my bed. Danny, there’s one in the top drawer under the bathroom sink.”

“On it,” he said, not questioning why they would possibly think they’d need three first aid kits between the two of them.

When they were all back with the kits and Wendy was pulling on her shoes, Wirt saw Danny glance at Jazz and Jazz’s answering nod. “Wirt and I can catch up,” she said without even looking at him for confirmation even though they were all gathered near the doorway now. “Wendy?”

Wendy paused long enough to look at Danny. “If it’s safe for me, then yes.”

“You’ll be fine,” Danny said, handing Wendy the other two first aid kits when she finished getting her shoes on. She cradled them against her chest as he picked her up with ease—how the heck was he so strong when he looked so slight?—and then they vanished.

Just like Danny had back in the library.

“H…how—?” Wirt could see Danny being able to do that with himself. Lab accident. Okay. Fine. But with Wendy?

They hadn’t even opened a window, let alone a door, but Wirt knew they were already gone.

“Lab accident,” Jazz said, as if that explained everything. “That was your next show of proof, by the way. Now come on. They’ll be there by the time we get out the door at this rate.”

“When…when you talked about Danny flying in earlier,” Wirt said as Jazz shooed him out the door and locked it behind them, “was that supposed to be literal?”

“I would’ve meant it literally even if I had meant on a plane,” she said, which Wirt supposed was answer enough. He just….

“What else can your brother do?”

Jazz was already heading down the stairs, but she glanced back without missing a step. “How much research did you do on Amity Park?”

“Um….”

“Just give me the cliffnotes version.”

“It’s a nice place to live?”

“I’m serious.”

“Ghosts attacks are common.”

Jazz made an irritated noise and started moving faster, forcing Wirt to take the stairs two at a time to keep up with her. “Read anything about our town’s protector?”

“The ghost hunters, you mean? Your family?”

There was a beat before Jazz answered, “I don’t just mean Mom and Dad.” He joined her on the landing, and she immediately turned and led the way out the door, setting off at a quick clip for the residence hall he and Toby had been assigned.

“The other one, then?” He had to practically jog to keep up with her. This was ridiculous. This was not a fast walk, whatever she made it appear to be. “The one with the jet sled?”

“I’m talking about Phantom.”

“So there really is a ghost that fights other ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“And that matters right now because—?”

“Danny Phantom.”

“What?”

“That’s his name. Danny Phantom.”

“So—?”

“My brother is not very original.”

“What does Danny have to—?” Wirt broke off as Jazz’s meaning sunk in.

This had to be a joke. She couldn’t seriously mean that.

Even if it would explain her brother’s cryptid remarks earlier. And the reason he could turn invisible and get into locked room and apparently fly.

But…but Danny was solid. Real. Wirt had touched him, seen him touch other very real, very solid objects. Jazz’s brother couldn’t be some spirit clinging to this world after a tragic lab accident, however dramatic he’d tried to make that seem. Ghosts weren’t tangible—

—except in Amity Park.

“Danny’s dead?” Wirt hissed.

“Not exactly.”

That made even less sense.

“So he’s a demon?”

There really wasn’t another option. Plus, it might be the real reason Jazz never came to any of Wendy’s apocalypse training sessions with them. Wendy wasn’t big on demons. Not that Wirt would have expected her to be, but—

“No.”

Okay, he was completely lost now. “Then what the heck is he?”

“Just think of him as a human with ghost powers. It’ll be a lot easier on your head.”

“How is that supposed to be easier?”

“Do you really want me to launch into a spiel about what I think Danny’s molecular structure looks like right now?”

“I—”

“Because it is all speculation. I haven’t exactly put him under a microscope. I don’t even need to ask him if he’s comfortable with the idea because I know he isn’t. Who would be? We have no reason to believe he’s in any danger; not more than anyone is who does what he does, anyway. He’s stable. He’s not broken. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing.”

“He’s dead.”

“Not dead. And not demonic. Just because that was your experience, doesn’t make it Danny’s. Or mine.”

He’d played along with this whole thing for too long to ask if Jazz really meant that Danny had been the first person to give Phantom a name, hadn’t he? Because somehow being the reason Phantom took the name Danny—whether Danny Fenton gave him that name or if Phantom fancied it and adopted it, in honour of Fenton or not—didn’t explain anything. That would just be wishful thinking, especially after what Jazz had said.

Besides, Wirt knew that things that couldn’t be explained could actually happen.

He had simply never expected that they had genuinely happened to anyone else.

Particularly while they were still in this dimension.

“I just can’t….”

“You wanted to help Toby, didn’t you? So stop saying you can’t. Just roll with it and do the best you can. Life gets weird sometimes. You should’ve learned that by now.”

“I was fifteen!”

“Danny was fourteen.”

There was no way he could argue this like a sane person and actually come out ahead, was there?

Wirt swallowed his retorts, deciding to save his breath as Jazz picked up the pace again. Geez, that girl could run. By the time they got to the residence hall, he could taste blood and was gasping for breath in between coughing fits that somehow made the stabbing, burning pain in his side worse, and she wasn’t even winded.

He was still fumbling for his keys when someone else walked out, giving him a weird look but holding the door long enough for Jazz to grab it. Wirt pretended that his face was flushed only from exertion and not the fact that he was pretty sure that kid lived just down the hall from him and that he’d have to live with the fact that this guy was always going to remember him as this out-of-shape weirdo who—

“Come on. You can catch your breath when we get to your room. Probably.”

Jazz didn’t bother knocking when they got there. The knob turned when she tried it, and she shoved him inside before following and locking the door behind her.

Wirt wasn’t sure what he expected to see when they got there.

Someone injured, sure. That made sense. Toby had asked for a first aid kit.

But somehow, Wirt had never expected that said injured, uh, creature would not be human.

A quick glance told him that Jazz wasn’t the least bit fazed by the giant thing sprawled across Toby’s bed. It looked like it was dressed in armour, too. Without a helmet but with horns. Wirt shuddered, too reminded of the Beast not to immediately think demon despite the vastly different horn type. He looked for Wendy, but she was just perched on his desk, digging through the first aid kits, one balanced on her lap and two open beside her; she showed no signs of going for the hidden hatchet and trying to kill the thing, so that had to be a good sign.

Not that that gave Wirt much of an idea of what the creature was if it wasn’t a demon.

He didn’t really want to ask.

It did explain why someone had covered the window, though. Not so much as a shaft of sunlight was peeking through, so there was no way someone from outside could just happen to glance in and see…that.

“What—?”

“Jim and Claire are hurt,” Toby said, and Wirt tore his eyes away from the beast and finally realized that Jazz stood with Toby over a figure on Wirt’s bed, this one in that purple armour Claire had been wearing.

Was still wearing.

Toby was still wearing his armour, too. Wirt was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the blood on it. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the fact that he knew he was still sweaty from that run. There was just…so much here he hadn’t known. And that creature….

He hadn’t realized that anything could give him chills like this. Since the Unknown, horror movies and such had never given him the creeps. They weren’t real, and he knew that, so he just never let himself be bothered by it. But this?

This thing was real.

And definitely not human.

And probably not a demon, since Wendy had no problem with it. At least, it wasn’t glowing. Its eyes might be, if they were open, but they weren’t, so—

No. He couldn’t go down that rabbit hole now. This one was bad enough. Wirt swallowed. “Badly?”

“Bad enough,” Wendy said as she hopped off the desk to give Toby whatever she’d been looking for in the kit. “A home stitch job isn’t going to make a concussion go away.”

“Let me, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Jazz said, reaching for something from Wendy. It wasn’t until she’d ripped open the package and fished out the contents that he realized it held sterilized needles. That wasn’t standard for first aid kits, right?

“This is crazy,” Wirt said. “We need to get her to the hospital.” He moved to stand at the end of his bed and tried to ignore the monster who lay on Toby’s in his peripheral vision. He stared at Claire’s armour instead, noting the smoothness of its joints and trying not to see what the others were doing. A quick glance had told him entirely too much. “She needs actual medical care. Last I checked, none of you guys have graduated med school.”

“No, but I’d wager we’re all experts in home treatment,” Wendy said. “Toby never flunked that part of the apocalypse prep courses, if you’ll remember.”

“I thought that was just your idea of first aid on steroids.”

“We don’t need an audience,” Jazz interrupted, and Wirt didn’t need to lift his head to know she hadn’t looked up from threading her needle. “Go help Danny.”

Wirt hadn’t actually seen Danny, so he glanced around the room again. “Where is he? Trying find someone to help?”

“He’s checking over Jimbo,” Toby said quietly. He was still looking over the piece of armour that was jutting out of Claire’s arm. Her arm. Speared by what Wirt could only assume was her own armour, though he couldn’t imagine how. He could see her losing a piece of plate, sure, but having it come back, sharpened to a point and tearing through her flesh— No, he couldn’t think about that right now. He quickly looked away, staring at Toby’s helmetless head instead and realizing how much sweat had plastered down his hair. “He and Claire got it bad. Jim can shake off a lot, but there was some dark magic in this mix.”

“Jim,” Wirt repeated. He remembered that name. “He was that other kid you were close friends with in high school, right? Tall, lanky? I think you raved about his food?” In truth, the last was the only thing Wirt remembered. Toby always raved about Jim’s food. Apparently, he made a mean omelet. “Did you at least drop him at the walk-in clinic or—?”

Toby finally met Wirt’s eyes. He looked…drained. That was the only way Wirt could think to describe it. “He’s on my bed.”

Wait.

What?

Wirt looked. The monster was still very much there. And now that he looked a little higher, he could see Danny hovering above him. Literally hovering. Maybe two feet from the ceiling. He’d paused in whatever examination he’d been doing to stuff his hand in his mouth and try to stifle his laughter, but he lost that battle the moment he realized Wirt had seen him.

“This is a prank,” Wirt said, coming to that conclusion again. That was the only thing that made sense. They’d finally done it. He didn’t know how they’d done, but they’d gotten him good, and he’d admit that. “Good one, guys. You really had me going.”

“This blood isn’t faked,” Wendy said bluntly. “Trust me, Wirt, if we were going to prank you, we’d all be laughing.”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered as he dropped down to Wirt’s eye level. “I just…. When I realized you hadn’t seen me, I couldn’t resist.” The smile dropped off his face as he added, “They’re right, though. This is serious. Definitely worse than the time Sam got hit by some of Skulker’s shrapnel.” His feet finally hit the floor again, and he pointed at the mon—at Jim. “Look at the way the armour impacted. It’s like he ran into a wall. Which he wouldn’t do, because when his eyes are open, they actually function. My guess is Jim has a lot of internal injuries, even with that stoneskin of his. Plus, y’know, the sheer amount of magic it would’ve taken to knock out him out. I’m surprised they were strong enough to bring him back here. He would’ve been dead weight.”

He turned away from Wirt, leaving Wirt to stare at the creature’s—Jim’s?—face and try to see something other than solid stone.

And trying to see the human face of the kid he’d thought had been Toby’s friend Jim in there somewhere.

However, Wirt was not so absorbed that he didn’t hear Danny’s utterly ridiculous question. “You guys can open portals to the Ghost Zone, right?”

How could this be real? It shouldn’t be real. It was even more insane than the Unknown, because he could pretend that that had just been a dream, complete with singing frogs and magical curses and nearly dying ten times over. There was a legitimate nightmarish monster lying on Toby’s bed that was apparently Jim, the amazing cook, and Jazz’s little brother had been floating, and—

“I mean, it doesn’t look like the Shadow Realm,” Toby said slowly. “Have you ever heard a name for it?”

“No,” was the hissed response, and Wirt blinked. He hadn’t realized Claire was conscious, even though he didn’t know who else Toby could have possibly been asking. “Haven’t seen anyone else there. Wouldn’t ask them where we were if I had.”

“Wait,” Wirt said. “What are we pretending happened here?”

“We’re not pretending anything because we’re not telling anyone else,” Wendy said without looking back at him. “But you should be able to guess what happened. Claire came to get Toby because they needed help. It went poorly.”

“Can I just see your staff?” Danny asked. “If I’m right and it does open portals to the Ghost Zone—and I really think I am—then I know someone who might be able to help Jim.”

“I’m willing to try anything. Claire?”

“Yeah.”

“Wendy, can you—?”

“I’ve got you covered,” Wendy said, smoothly swapping places with Toby.

Wirt backed up until he hit the door and tried not to think about how much blood was on Toby’s hands right now. He felt…out of place. More out of place than usual. Even more out of place than he’d felt in the Unknown, and this was the real world.

His friends were all taking this easily, like they’d known each other’s secrets all along, but his gut told him they hadn’t. His gut had been wrong before, admittedly, but this time it was backed up by how Jazz and Wendy had reacted to each other’s bits of dropped knowledge earlier. There had been curiosity and consideration, but there hadn’t been doubt.

“You know how to work that thing, right? I can carry Jim. Heck, I can carry both of you if you can’t manage a portal to a specific spot in the Ghost Zone.”

“Claire’s the one who really knows how to work this thing, not me, and getting back here took enough out of her. I can make it open a portal but I’m not good enough to do a place, especially not to somewhere I haven’t seen.”

“Okay, I can carry you piggyback so I can hold Jim and you can have a hand free to work that staff. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Toby reached over Claire to grab something from the bed, and Danny…changed.

Wirt had closed his eyes against the bright light, but when he opened them, he recognized Danny Phantom from the pictures he’d seen while researching Amity Park.

“Awesomesauce,” was all Toby said before lifting up some kind of baton that glowed and grew into a staff and—

That was definitely a portal in their room, opening up as quickly as if reality were tissue paper that Toby had just stabbed through with his finger instead of gestured at with that staff.

It was a huge, vividly green portal that pulsed brightly enough to make the overhead light seem dim, and it apparently led into the Ghost Zone, of all places….

Jazz’s little brother, who was none other than Danny Phantom, with Wirt’s armour-wearing and staff-wielding roommate Toby on his back, picked up and cradled the giant monster that was somehow Toby’s friend Jim in his arms before flying all of them through that portal.

It winked out behind them as it had never been there.

“Wirt, Danny put some ice in the bathroom sink. Can you wrap some in a towel and bring it here?”

Where had Danny gotten ice? It wasn’t like this was a hotel and there was an ice machine down the hall or something. The cafeteria was in an entirely different building, but maybe he’d gone there for some. Even if it was winter, there wasn’t exactly a lot of ice or snow outside.

Then again. Danny Phantom. Wirt had a vague recollection of a reference to ice powers.

Wirt moved robotically, trying not to be surprised by the fact that the sink was full of perfect ice cubes that weren’t melting, or at least weren’t melting enough to stick to each other yet, and scooped a handful into a hand towel that he hoped was clean. Those had never gone missing like the socks, but they weren’t always remembered come laundry day, either.

He came out and handed the homemade ice pack to Wendy, trying not to stare at Claire’s pale face or the bruises already beginning to blossom on it. There was no sign of the helmet she’d been wearing earlier, though that cut that came entirely too close to her eye might be the reason for its absence, if someone had gotten in a lucky strike with a spear—

“I’ll be fine,” she hissed between clenched teeth when she noticed him. “I’ve had worse.”

Having had worse didn’t mean she was fine now. She shouldn’t be conscious. Well, she at least shouldn’t be this coherent, shouldn’t be able to read his expression and know his thoughts so easily. Was he really that transparent? Wendy had been worried about a concussion. Maybe—

“Go get some air,” Jazz said. “We don’t need you fainting on us, and we can handle this ourselves.”

He hadn’t been thinking about fainting. If anything, he’d been debating running away from here and just never coming back. This kind of stuff was supposed to be reasonable and stay in dreams and stories instead of invading perfectly logical or rational realities. Or maybe he just needed to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge him for what would sound like wild fantasies. A real therapist, not Jazz.

“Hey, you still with us?”

That was Wendy. She would not appreciate Wirt saying no. “Yeah,” he croaked out.

“Good. Then go. Get yourself a drink. Take a moment for this to sink in. Then you can come back and we can talk.”

He didn’t want to talk.

He didn’t want this to be real.

Why did this have to be real?

The Unknown was just supposed to be a dream. He didn’t want to admit that, yes, he’d actually travelled to another dimension or stumbled into some limbo between life and death or whatever it had been—

Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe none of this was real and it just felt real. Though, if he was delusional, this went way beyond his friends supporting him. This was…. Either this was enabling him or none of this was real and—

“Wirt.” Jazz again. “Seriously. Talk to us. What do you need? Would you rather just lie down for a bit instead?”

Right. Lie down where the monster that was Jim had been. Since that bed was free now that he and Toby and Danny had left through a portal in reality.

“Yeah, he’s not okay.” Wendy. “Hold down the fort. I’m going to wash up and get him out of here.”

He didn’t register that Wendy had moved until she was steering him out the door with still-wet hands. She paused only long enough to close the door behind her before pushing him forward.

It took entirely too long for him to realize that they were going to her favourite hidden corner on campus, a bench on the path that passed the bio and chem buildings that was half-hidden by bushes and trees in a little alcove by the northwest entrance to bio that Wirt had never seen anyone use.

“Sit.”

Wirt sat.

Wendy dropped down beside him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was really no point in lying. Wendy would call him on it. He spoke in short, halting sentences, not so much because he didn’t know what he was thinking as because he wasn’t sure of a sane way of wording any of it. But that was the crux of it, really. Sanity didn’t factor into any of this. So, he just told her the truth, as best he could.

Wendy, being Wendy, never laughed at him. Never denied any of this. Never reassured him that it wasn’t real or that she hadn’t seen what he had.

“Yeah,” she said when he’d stopped for long enough that it was clear to her he didn’t intend to continue. “That about sums it up, I guess.”

“How does this not….” He swallowed and tried again. “Did you know?”

“About what, Jazz and Danny? Not really. I never bothered doing research on her or anything. I just knew she could take care of herself, and that was enough for me. I learned the details when you did.”

“Toby?”

She grimaced. “I knew something was there. I didn’t know it was this big. Trolls weren’t something I’d encountered in Gravity Falls. Don’t get me wrong; they’re probably there. And from what I know about the Gremloblin, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s related.”

“The what?”

She shrugged. “Half-gremlin, half-goblin. Makes you see your worst nightmare if you look it in the eyes. Dipper captured it once. Or at least one of them, if it’s a species and not just a rare hybrid.”

She didn’t look like she was kidding.

Wirt groaned. “This can’t be real life.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow at him. “You are lucky Mabel isn’t here for this conversation or she’d take that as a cue to start singing.” When Wirt didn’t say anything else, she continued, “Look, I know this is a lot. You’ve obviously been in denial for a long time. But if we’re going to be able to help Toby and Claire and Jim, you need to pull yourself together. Like it or not, this is real life. It’s your life, it’s my life, it’s all our messed up lives. You can choose to walk away from this. I know Toby won’t judge you for that; he’s a better person than I am. But if you want to walk away, you need to be prepared to either cut us off completely so you can ignore everything that’s going on in our lives or cover for us when this stuff does come up, even if your involvement ends there. It’s your choice, but you need to make it soon.”

“But—”

“This isn’t me trying to pressure you into making a decision. It’s me telling you that we don’t have time for you to weigh every pro and con about every feasible scenario you can think of. We’re in the middle of this now, and we need to know if you’re in or out.”

“I don’t know—”

“That’s why I’m going to let you think it over and figure it out. Unless you want me to stay here and listen some more?”

She was more use to Claire than she was to him, so he shook his head.

“Okay. Text me if you wanna talk one-on-one with someone before you come back. As far as your decision goes…. We’ll do what we can to protect you either way, but I’m not going to promise you that you’ll be fine. I don’t know if you will be. I don’t know if I will be. I don’t know enough about what’s going on despite what Toby told me when Danny and I got there, but even if I did know, I still couldn’t make that guarantee. We’ll never be able to give you that guarantee.”

“I just…. I don’t know if I’m ready for any of this.”

“No one is. Well, I like to think I was more prepared for my first apocalypse than the average person, but for the most part? No one is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, first apocalypse?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I helped save the world once. And I don’t think it’s a lie to say I’m not the only one, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to think I might wind up helping stop a second.” Wendy got to her feet. “Just think about it. Take some time to clear your head and sort things out. We’ll be in your dorm room until Toby gets back, and one of us will text you if we leave before you show up.”

“I don’t think I can do this,” whispered Wirt, looking away so he didn’t have to see Wendy’s face when he admitted that.

“Then you don’t have to. But don’t give up until you give it some real thought, okay?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t look up as she walked away.

(see more fics | next)

#otgw #danny phantom #trollhunters #gravity falls #toa trollhunters #fanfiction #crossover #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #trollhunters snippet #otgw snippet #gf snippet

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jamiemackenziefraser · 3 years

Text

All That Was Fair

Chapter 6: Bonded Pair

Chapter Summary: Things get more difficult for Jamie as he struggles to keep himself in check.

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Read Chapter 6 below the cut

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Chapter 6: Bonded Pair

Jamie was just about to stand up (unsure of how exactly he was going to do so with Claire still reclining on his chest and giving no indication that she was interested in moving) when suddenly his stomach let out a loud grumble.

Claire had jerked away and was twisted to look at him in concern before his stomach had even stopped its growl. There wasn’t even a chance to explain. She thrust a hand out to place over his stomach, palm flat against it and oh-so tiny, and she looked up at him with such earnest worry.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Her free hand came up to rest on his jaw. He could feel her thrumming with concern over him.

Jamie found himself enjoying her attentions so much that he almost didn’t want to explain to her that there was nothing to worry about. But her brows were furrowed and she was studying him anxiously, so he quickly explained.

“Dinna fash. That’s just my body telling me that I need to eat.”

In all the excitement, food had been the last thing on his mind. He spared a glance down at his watch and found it to be 14:10. Seems he’d forgotten all about lunch.

Claire was giving him a look of admonishment. “You need to care for yourself,” she said, looking disturbed, “if your body is telling you that, it’s for a reason.”

He gave her a dismissive half-shrug. “I jes’ forget wi’ everythin’ goin’ on. Humans usually eat three times a day, ken? I already had my first meal, which we call breakfast, and now it seems I missed lunch, the second meal.”

“We need to get you it then,” she exclaimed. She shot to her feet and reached a dainty hand down to him. When he didn’t immediately move, she added an urgent, “come now!”

Jamie snorted a good-natured huff through his nose at her rush, but took her hand and allowed her to try to haul him to his feet (really, he did most of the work himself, but wanted her to feel useful).

“It’s alright,” he laughed as she started dragging him by the hand toward the stairs, “I’m okay. It willna harm me tae miss a meal.”

She stopped and turned around, brows knit together so there were two wee creases between them that Jamie wanted to reach out and trace over with his thumb. But he resisted, and met her eyes instead.

“Your body is telling you to eat, so you’ll eat,” she said decisively, “come on.”

They went together to the kitchen, where Claire looked at him expectantly. He sat her down on a stool of the island and began to prepare some chicken. As he cooked, he narrated to Claire what he was doing and tried to explain the basics, but he had a feeling that most of it went over her head. And he certainly did not explain what the chicken had once been.

When it was finally done, Jamie sat down at his kitchen table and Claire wandered after to sit across from him.

As he ate, Claire propped her elbows on the tabletop and rested her chin on her hands. She watched with fascination, those whiskey eyes wide to take in his every move. He felt like a bit of a lab rate under a microscope, which was rather disconcerting. Ignoring good manners of not speaking with food in one’s mouth (she wouldn’t know the difference anyway), he broke the silence.

“Sorry fer makin’ ye wait while I eat,” he said simply to fill the space.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said in an upbeat tone, “I like watching you.”

“Och, aye? Why’s that?” he teased between a bite.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And I care about you,” she stated very simply.

Jamie nearly choked on his food. She was so straightforward in her statement. She likely didn’t even see the implications of saying that to him. No wonder he was heart-sick over her when she said such things and touched him without shame and climbed into his bed and looked at him like he was her everything and...

But it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know any better.

He quickly gathered his wits and countered playfully, “am I no’ one of the only human men ye’ve ever seen?”

She chuckled a little. “Well, yes. But I just mean…” she struggled with herself over how to express the next part before saying, “of the men I’ve seen, but also of all the fair folk, I’ve never seen someone as perfect as you.”

If Jamie could have smacked himself without drawing attention, he would have delivered a solid one upside his head over the way his heart foolishly leapt at her words.

Despite the fact that he’d promised to himself not to act on his feelings for her, he couldn’t help but say, “Well, ye’re the bonniest lass I’ve ever laid eyes on, so I supposed we’re even.”

Claire smiled at that, and even eliciting that reaction from her gave him the forbidden urge to do everything in his power to make her smile like that for every moment of every day for the rest of his life. Jamie was quickly being carried off by his fancies and it was only getting harder and harder to resist the affection that welled up in him at every damn thing she did…

Jamie quickly went back to finishing his food. They passed the rest of his meal in silence, seemingly Claire was just as lost in her own thoughts as he was in his. Afterwards, he cleaned up quickly, and then began showing Claire around the house as promised.

He led her by the hand— her insistence, he justified, not his— around to each room. Her bedroom, of course, his (which she’d found no problem last night), the bathroom (where an awkward conversation about the function of a toilet had ensued), and Jamie’s study.

“What’s this?” Claire asked, pointing toward the laptop on his desk.

“That is… well, that is verra difficult to explain. Maybe save it for another day?”

He placed a hand on her lower back to steer her towards the door. A familiar zing raced through him as he touched her, and he felt absurdly like his hand was glued to the spot. He couldn’t seem to remove it. She was warm under his palm, and he could feel the curve of her flesh where it made a divot at her spine. His hand was so big and her back so small that his fingers spanned the entire area. As he led her downstairs again, his hand remained rooted to the spot.

No harm, he figured, as long as Claire didna mind. And it seemed that she enjoyed it just as much as she did any other touch.

She had seen most of the downstairs already. Still, he went through each room— the kitchen, dining room, living room, downstairs bathroom, even the entryway, and the hallway that led down to the basement. To end his tour, though, he was excited to show Claire the back garden.

He led her outside and proudly showed off the backside of his property. Off to the right was the vegetable patch, admittedly a little under loved, with various plants and herbs growing there.

Claire let out a squee of excitement and let go of his hand to run toward it like an energized child. She knelt down in the dirt to run her hands all over the plants, heedless of the mess she was making on his (hers now, really) sweatpants. (Not that Jamie particularly minded, he had more. He just enjoyed seeing her excited).

“They could use a bit more love,” she commented, shooting him a slightly admonishing look out of the corner of her eye, “but I am glad you have this bit of nature with you. Don’t you feel stuffed up being in there all the time?” She gave a wave of distaste in the general direction of the house.

“Jes’ remember, lass,” he chuckled, “inside is where it’s warm. Canna say the same for out here.”

As if on cue, a shudder ran down Claire’s body. She grimaced and wrapped her arms around herself. Gooseflesh was already popping up on her skin, and he kent well that she’d be a trembling mess if he didn’t get her inside soon.

“Come on, Sassenach. Let’s get ye out of the cold. Ye can come back out and show some love tae the plants once we get ye a proper coat.”

He reached down and took her elbow to help her up. She went willingly, pressing herself into Jamie’s side as he began to walk toward the house. In order to keep from tripping over her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and synced his steps to hers. It seemed that to be nestled against him was exactly what she’d wanted, because she gave him a smile as they walked inside together.

The sun was already going down since it was getting late, and Jamie realized that it was time to take some action. He hadn’t thought too far yet into the future, but what he did know was that there was no way in hell he was leaving Claire alone tomorrow while he went into work. However, perks of being the boss were that you didn’t always have to come in. He’d just have to call to let them know.

He didn’t want Claire to fash herself about what was going on with all that, so once they got inside, he asked her if she could entertain herself for a little bit while he took care of some things. She gave a nod (looking a little too eager at the prospect for his taste), and then he left her downstairs while he went up to his study.

Once safely inside with the door shut, he sat down at his desk and picked up his phone. He dialed Ian, his brother-in-law and business partner, and waited for his friend to pick up.

“Jamie!” came Ian’s enthusiastic voice, “I havna heard from ye since work on Friday and wondered if ye’d gone hikin’ and fallen down a hole.”

Jamie had to resist the urge to say “something like that,” but instead got straight to the point and answered with a simple, “I’ve been busy. Listen, Ian, somethin’ has come up, and I canna come intae work tomorrow.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. Ye havna missed a day in God-knows-how-long, and now ye expect to jes’ ‘not come in’ wi’ no word of explanation other than ‘somethin’s come up’? Spill, Jamie.”

He should have known better than to think Ian would accept it without pressing him for details. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually thought through what to tell him if he asked. He couldn’t very well say that he’d rescued a faerie from atop a magic hill and now he doesn’t want to leave her. Suppressing a sigh, he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

“Aye, I havna missed a day in years, Ian. Which is exactly why I deserve a day off wi’out ye grillin’ me. Everythin’s fine. I jes’ need some time.”

He could hear Ian’s eye roll over the phone. “Alright, I’ll let ye off the hook for now, brother. But dinna think ye’re gettin’ away wi’ this. Especially when I tell Jenny about how strange ye’re bein’.”

Jamie groaned. “Dinna drag my sister into this. I’m jes’ askin’ fer a day off, no’ announcin’ I’m fleein’ the country.”

“All this could be avoided if ye’d only tell me what’s goin’ on wi’ ye.”

“Goodbye, Ian,” Jamie said pointedly.

“Alright, ye bugger. Goodbye. I’ll talk tae ye soon.”

With that, he hung up. And Jamie was free to head back to his Sassenach.

Not his, he corrected himself firmly.

He gave a cursory glance into the rooms on his way downstairs, but he didn’t really think she’d be in there. When he didn’t find her in the kitchen, he paused briefly to preheat the oven for something or other he could throw in. Claire wasn’t in the living room either, and he was starting to wonder what the devil she was getting up to. His heart jumped to his throat when his brain suddenly questioned whether she had left. But that was highly unlikely, she had nowhere to go after all, and he shoved that aside.

Suddenly, it came to him that he knew exactly where she was, and he headed there.

Just as expected, Claire was sitting cross-legged in front of the space heater, Adso curled on her lap, and both of their eyes were closed in relaxed bliss.

Jamie cleared his throat, and two sets of eyes— one gold and one green— flicked to him in startlement.

“Interrupting something?” he joked.

Claire smiled— both in greeting and triumph.

“I figured out how to turn it on.”

“I see that,” he said as he made his way toward her and sat down next to her a respectful distance away, “verra canny. I searched for ye for a bit. I shouldha known exactly where ye’d be.”

“Shower was a close second,” she admitted, “but I didn’t think I could manage that one alone.”

They were both quiet for a second. Everything was still save Claire’s rhythmic stroking of Adso’s fur.

“How are ye feelin’?” he asked after a time.

She tilted her head. “I’m fine. I haven’t felt any ill effects from the stones at all today,” she answered dismissively.

“I meant... with all this.” He raised a hand in an abortive circle, indicating the enormity of the situation.

Her hands stilled on Adso, and he wanted desperately to take them in his. But for once, she didn’t reach for him or offer touch, so he left the little bit of space between them undisturbed and swallowed down his disappointment.

“I am alright,” she said, but sounded hesitant, as if she was trying to convince herself as well, “it’s just a lot to take in. I’m scared, of course…” there was a slight trembling in her hands where they were buried in the cat’s fur, “but I’m glad you’re here.”

She ended by rewarding him with a blinding, albeit a little tremulous, smile. Her eyes crinkled adorably at the corners as she did, and that was how Jamie knew she’d be okay.

“I’m glad ye’re here too,” he found himself saying despite himself, “I’m glad I found ye on that hill. I— I’m aware that sounds strange, but I feel like our paths were meant to cross. I ken this is a terrible situation for ye, Sorcha,” he didn’t think he had the self-control to stop himself from reaching for her hand, so he shoved them both under his legs instead, “but I’m glad ye’re here wi’ me.”

“I’m glad to know you, too, Jamie,” she breathed, hands folded in her lap.

In that moment, she leaned in closer to him. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, lips so close that their breath mingled together. The air was thick and heavy with tension; his heartbeat pounded in his ears, a second delayed from the organ itself thundering inside his chest. Her eyes were locked with his, and for an instant, he thought for sure she wanted to kiss him. He drew even closer, ready to lean in and bridge the distance between them, anticipating the feeling of her soft mouth against his...

-But the spell was broken as suddenly as a bubble popping when Adso chose that exact moment to jump off Claire’s lap, making them both jerk backward away from each other.

With the magic of the moment gone, Jamie felt foolish and averted his eyes from her, his cheeks flushing. He must have been reading too far into the situation— his fantasies getting the better of him. She was a faerie. He was a human. And they sat in his basement in front of the space heater. He needed to keep himself better in line before he did something to betray her trust. He shook himself out of his daze and stood abruptly.

Claire stood as well, yawning slightly as she did.

“Why dinna ye get some rest, Sassenach?” he suggested.

She nodded. As he turned to head upstairs with her, she slipped her hand in his, and he smiled. At least he hadn’t scared her off.

Walking together as they always did, Jamie led her upstairs. He grabbed her a change of clothes, another one of his tee shirts and some sweats, and left them on the bed with her in the guest bedroom.

They both stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment. He thought about telling her goodnight, but suddenly found he didn’t want to leave her just that second. Instead, he told her “I’ll let ye change,” and walked out, closing the door behind him.

A minute later, the door opened and Claire peeped out. Finding him still there, she smiled, and opened the door wider.

“Come now, I’ll tuck ye in, lass,” he said. He felt a little absurd saying it (perhaps this was crossing boundaries as well?) but Claire seemed glad. He held the blankets up for her, and she slid in underneath them.

“Goodnight, Claire,” he said softly as he settled the covers under her chin.

“Goodnight, Jamie,” she breathed, giving him a sleepy smile.

Then, before he could do something foolish like kiss her forehead, he turned and left the room.

If he was being honest with himself, what he did next could best be described as “fleeing.” He all but ran downstairs, and then shoveled some food in his mouth, careless about what it was. If he thought of her at that moment, he’d never stop— let alone sleep— so he shoved all thoughts of the faerie from his mind. Instead, he made up a rough shopping list while he ate, and once he was finished, mindlessly did the dishes.

He was dead tired, even though it wasn’t that late. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he trudged upstairs. He breezed through his nighttime routine, and soon he was sliding into bed.

His head had scarcely hit the pillow when the door opened. A curly head peeked through, followed immediately by the rest of Claire. Just as boldly as the previous night, she walked in and began to crawl into his bed.

But at the sight of her, Jamie had bolted upright. Before she could lay down next to him, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She sat down beside him on the bed, turning big doe eyes on him, which he could make out clearly by the bulbs from the hall. The low lighting made them appear an even deeper shade of whiskey, and his breath hitched.

“What?” she asked.

“It isna right, lass...” he explained gently, but a little huskily. This was using every ounce of self-discipline he possessed… “Lads and lasses dinna sleep together in the same bed if they arena together— that means bonded for life—” he hastily elucidated his fumbling statement, “that’s why I gave ye yer own room.”

“But aren’t we bonded for life now?”

Her breathy question knocked all the air from his lungs.

And the way she was looking at him, so earnest...

He couldn’t breathe, let alone answer. He desperately wanted to cry at her sincere tone. Because there was nothing more in the entire world that he wanted to say than “of course we are.” But she didn’t understand what that meant.

So Jamie was unable to say anything at all.

The silence stretched on for a long second as he struggled inside himself. Claire was the one who finally broke it.

“Please, Jamie. I don’t want to be alone.”

Her pleading tone broke his resolve. Obliterated into tiny pieces. There was no way that he could ever even dream of saying no to her after that.

“Come here, mo nighean donn,” he breathed.

He opened his arms to her, and she instantly came to him, leaning in as he folded her against himself. Gently, he laid them both down together on the bed. He thought perhaps he would gather her spoon-fashion against him, but once they were horizontal, he found that she didn’t want to face away from him. She settled against his side, her head rested on his chest and arms snaking their way around his middle. So, he simply adjusted his own arms around her until he was comfortable and relaxed into the bed.

Jamie lay awake long after Claire’s breathing had evened out to the rhythm of sleep. Eyes wide open in the darkness, he held her tightly as his mind raced.

It would be a sleepless night for him.

Because he could no longer deny what it was he felt for her.

Love.

Self-sacrificing, all-encompassing, completely consuming love.

***

#All That Was Fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #claire/jamie #slow burn #fae!claire

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onlysarah235678 · 3 years

Text

A Little Bit Part 8

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: So here is a break from the death. Just a little dog fluff, annoying people, and flowers and lube as promised. Thanks for reading 😊. Also special thank you to illuminated-blue for helping me figure out what gifs I wanted and then making them for me again (and for listening to me rant today). You’re the best ❤

Warnings: annoying people, brief mention of blood/wound cleaning, and slight dog aggression/distress.

The next day at work you feel like you’re floating you’re so happy. Everything is going well so far with appointments, and you’ve seen at least three happy, healthy puppies today. Not even the reporter waiting for you outside your building this morning could bring your mood down. You and Milo had just waltzed right by them to your car because you were determined to make it through this day unscathed. At least up until you went to Billie’s house.

The two of you had decided that you should come over because then Billie wouldn’t have to worry about the cats being left with the sitter. You felt bad for Heather who always seemed to be watching them, and Billie most likely wouldn’t be able to see you until after dinner time. The teen probably had better things to do than watch kittens all night. Even though they were adorable.

Speaking of cats, you look to your schedule and see that it’s changed a little. You take a minute to review the new client’s information before running up to your desk to finish up some notes while you had the chance. They should be here soon if they were in fact on time.

Claire smiles as she arrives at the clinic with her cat. She shuts the door behind her after grabbing the meowing cat in the back seat. She had specifically taken the day off so she could get her cat’s vaccines updated. Fridays were ideal because they were usually the busiest at the pet store. That’s why she’d picked today. She didn’t want to work. She also had wanted to make sure you’d be here, and that she could schedule an appointment with you. That was the real reason why Claire had taken today off of work.

She hadn’t seen you since running into you and Milo at that bar and that was too long for her liking. That meeting hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted so she was going to try again. She also had never gotten the chance to see you in your element, and she was way too excited for this opportunity today.

As Claire walked in through the front door, she immediately looked around for you, but came up empty. She turned to the blonde at the front desk with a half-smile.

“Hi, I’m here with Jonesy. I have an appointment with Dr. Y/L/N.”

You had never bothered to learn Claire’s last name. However, after being harassed by the brunette numerous times, you’d think that you’d want to have that sort of information. Unfortunately, you realize your mistake too late, and you walk into the exam room with Claire and her cat only to be completely blindsided. Dammit.

You barely hold back the urge to groan as you allow your professional persona to take over. You stomp down your personal feelings toward the brunette for probably the umpteenth time since you’d met her.

“Hi, Claire. Good to see you.”

For fuck��s sake. You had to stop saying that to her.

The exam went pretty well. Claire’s cat was a little shit for some of it, but he wasn’t the worst you’ve had to deal with. You’re at the point where you just need to get samples on him, but you have a feeling that you’ll need a little help. At the end of the exam, Jonesy got a little feisty and not too keen with being poked. For this reason, you asked the assistant helping you, Maria to go get another person to lend a hand, but Claire spoke up before she could leave. They exchange an uncomfortable look before you manage to cut the tension by smiling and effectively shutting Claire down.

“Don’t think you can handle little old Jonesy, Dr. Y/L/N?”

Maria’s jaw drops and you remind yourself to be a professional as you just laugh slightly instead of rolling your eyes.

“Not at all. I just want to make sure that no one gets hurt and that Jonesy is as least stressed as possible.”

Jonesy was very stressed. He hadn’t wanted any of the baby food that was offered and it took two holders wrapping him in a towel to keep him still. You pulled his blood easily enough, despite him having old cat veins that were practically non-existent, but there was no way in hell you were going to be able to get pee on him with how he was squirming.

As you did your job, you pretended not to notice Claire’s eyes on you. It was unsettling to say the least, but you weren’t going to call her out on it and let your assistants know that you’re tense. Well, you were all tense because Jonesy was getting pissed off.

You finish up quickly and pull out the needle from Jonesy’s leg, but you have to hold it for a moment to make sure his blood clots. That’s when he claws you with the nails you hadn’t gotten around to trimming yet. Maria had lifted her hand off of his leg like she was supposed to, and Jonesy took that opportunity to claw the shit out of your hand.

“Oww, okay! Let. Go.”

You pull Jonesy’s nail out of the back of your hand as carefully as possible before dropping his foot back onto the table. You used the towel wrapped around him to wipe up the blood that was already pooling before you go to grab the nail trimmers.

“Are you okay?”

You nod before grabbing the first paw with dagger-like nails. Jonesy of course hates it, but you finish quickly enough and manage to get out of there before Claire says anything too inappropriate. First thing you do is go to treatment and grab some gauze and disinfectant to put on your cut. It was still bleeding and you hiss in pain as you scrub it clean. This one is going to hurt like a bitch for a while.

Once done you wave your hand to dry it off before returning to pharmacy. You are about to start writing up Jonesy’s note when Maria comes out of the room you’d just been in with an uncertain look.

“Dr. Y/L/N. She has another question for you.”

You hold in your sigh before you nod and head back into the exam room. Hopefully this goes quickly.

Billie Dean was on lunch when you texted her about Claire. She had been working non-stop since she arrived to the studio at 6 this morning. She was ready for a break long enough to finish a cigarette because she was long overdue for one. She was grateful that Michelle had gotten her lunch and had it waiting for her once she finished her most recent episode. She only had one left to get to, and she was excited to be done. Even though it would definitely take the rest of the day.

After re-recording was done for the season, she was going back on television and radio to promote it. The thought made Billie exhausted, but she had to admit it would be nice to leave this studio for the next one. She had a television interview scheduled for next week, and she had already decided to talk to you about it beforehand.

There was no doubt in Billie Dean’s mind that the interviewer would ask her about her relationship with Y/N. She couldn’t just sit there and dodge it, well she could, but it would be too obvious. She needed to figure out where you both stood with your relationship. It was something she’d have to mention tonight when you came over.

Billie had to stop herself from smiling at the thought of what tonight would bring. You had agreed to come over, and you had even offered to cook. Billie wasn’t very good in the kitchen despite learning a couple of your favorite dishes, but she knew how much you loved cooking. You had practically begged her to let you make her dinner, and of course she’d said yes. How could she have said no to that?

She was eager to see what you made and was certain that the image of you cooking in her kitchen would be enough to get her through the rest of the day.

Billie sighed as she put out her cigarette before grabbing her phone out of her purse. She ignored the emails and immediately looked to your messages. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she reread the texts a couple of times.

Even after doing that, she still had no idea what you were talking about.

You were angrily texting Billie in your office when Erin came upstairs to give you your stethoscope. You’d left it downstairs in your hurry to go vent to Billie and you hadn’t even realized it. You didn’t hear her because you were muttering darkly under your breath, and you nearly fell out of your chair when she spoke up.

“Damn, annoying persistent little--.”

“Uh…Dr. Y/L/N?”

Your feet hit the ground fast as you spun around in your chair to see Erin standing in your doorway with your stethoscope in hand. You smile before laughing awkwardly and reaching out for it. You see Erin look to your phone before shooting you a concerned look.

“Oh, thank you!”

“Everything okay, doc?”

You nod despite the fact that you’re lying. You are annoyed at Claire for reasons you can’t really work out, but it’s enough to tick you off. You were having such a good day, and then she had to come in here and trap you in a room with her. She didn’t really have any questions for you, at least ones related to Jonesy. You try not to think about those same annoying questions before you shrug and decide to tell a little bit of the truth.

“Yeah, I just saw a client who I’ve had not so fun encounters with before.”

This piques Erin’s curiosity and she can’t help but ask who you just saw. You mention her name and how she works at a pet store you go to, and Erin practically jumps at this.

“Wait, is she brunette and kind of lanky?”

You open your mouth to reply, but don’t want to be unnecessarily mean so you just shrug noncommittally.

“Possibly?”

Erin groans as she moves a little closer so she can whisper and not be overheard. You are a little surprised by what the brunette says but you figure you shouldn’t be. She has pets too after all, and she is the one who told you about the store in the first place.

“Oh my god. She is the worst. She’s always there when I go get something for Dex and she-.”

Erin trails off as she looks to you uncertainly before deciding that you should probably know. She was really hoping that what she had to tell you didn’t surprise you. If you were annoyed with her it was very likely that you were well aware of Claire’s creepy tendencies.

“She always asks about you, but I promise I don’t tell her anything!”

Despite the chill you feel travel up your spine at the thought of Claire being that creepy, you smile at Erin. You’re grateful that she can tell when someone’s being a creep, and that she’s smart enough to not give them anything they could use against her. It’s also nice to know that she has your back when it matters.

“Thank you for that. She’s always just a little too pushy.”

Erin frowns a this before nodding to herself and you. She decides that she was going to have to run interference if this Claire showed up again. She leaves you alone after that to go back to work, and you almost forgot that you’d texted Billie when your phone beeps. You jump slightly in surprise before looking to what she wrote.

Who is it that’s bothering you? One of your coworkers?

You look back to the messages you sent to her as if you’d forgotten and cringe at how you let Claire rile you up this much.

This bitch won’t leave me alone.

Her cat’s a little shit too.

Okay, so maybe this had been a little unnecessary. Sure Claire was kind of a bitch and annoying, but you probably shouldn’t have said this. She just wouldn’t leave you alone no matter what you did, and now she was showing up at your work? Next thing you knew she’d be showing up at your damn front door.

The part about her cat was true though. He was a little shit.

You type a response before returning to your records. You write up the last details for Claire’s cat, you’d been waiting until everything else was done before doing that, before heading downstairs. It’s almost 1:30, so you only have about half an hour until your next appointment. You take the steps two at a time going down on your way to the kennels. You see Milo sleeping and smile as he jumps up at the sound of the door opening.

“Hey, Milo. Want to go out?”

He nearly knocks you over in his excitement to get out. You curse before grabbing onto Milo’s harness to lead him outside. As soon as you reach the yard and make sure it is empty, you release Milo and watch him run away. He pees here and there before coming back to jump on the bench that you were sitting on. You sighed before standing up and grabbing a frisbee and holding it up with a smile.

“Ready?”

Milo runs after the frisbee until he’s exhausted and panting ten minutes later. He’s lying in the grass with the frisbee near his mouth because he still had to hold onto it so you wouldn’t take it from him. You walk over to him because you figure he needs to go inside for some water, but Milo grabs the frisbee when he sees you coming. He runs away despite still panting and you sigh as you watch your dog run around with his frisbee. You decide it’s a lost cause and leave him to play with it for a minute as you run inside really quickly to grab something.

You nearly run into Erin on your way inside, but you stop just in time before shooting her an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Erin.”

She waves you off before glancing outside. “Milo out there?”

You just nod and she asks if she can take the twins out there. The ‘twins’ are two golden retrievers that are boarding for about a month while their home is under construction. They’re super sweet like most goldens and Milo loves them. You smile before nodding and continuing on your way into the clinic. You don’t make it very far before you’re stopped again.

“Dr. Y/L/N!”

You turn at the sound of someone calling your name. One of the receptionists is holding a large arrangement of flowers that almost completely hides their face. You smile about to ask who they were for before she hands them to you.

“For you. Do you want me to put them in your office?”

You shoot her a confused look and it takes you a second to respond. You eventually shake you head before reaching out to take them from her. You thank her before watching as she heads back up front before you look to the flowers again.

They’re beautiful and bright and they smell wonderful. The arrangement is a mix of roses, lilies and a couple other flowers you didn’t know the name of. You were halfway up the stairs before you attempted to look for a card. It was hidden and you couldn’t pull it from the flowers easily. You set the vase down on your desk before freeing the card from the petals and flipping it over to read what was written.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Billie Dean.

You smile at the note before tucking it away somewhere safe. You were touched that Billie would surprise you like this and you couldn’t wait for tonight either.

It was going to be different from any of your previous dates. You were going to cook because you had been wanting to since you found out how much take-out Billie ate, and it was going to be at her house so you could see the kittens. You were only a little nervous about going over to Billie’s house again, but you were determined not to make it a big deal.

It had only been a few weeks since you met, but you hadn’t felt like how you did with Billie, with anyone else. Certainly not with your horrible exes. Billie Dean made you feel comfortable in a way that no one else ever had. She was different. Obviously because she was a medium, but honestly that wasn’t the difference that mattered to you. You hadn’t been lucky enough to be with someone that was as considerate and understanding as Billie. She never faulted you for your awkward and depressing past, and she was busier than you were so the sporadic texts and the even more sporadic dates didn’t upset her like you feared it would.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of yet someone else calling your name. This time however it was more frantic than you were expecting and you hurried out of your office. You’re met at the stairs by a slightly panicked Lindsey who must have been on lunch because she still had half of it in her hand.

“What’s is it? Is something wrong?”

Lindsey just hurries back down the stairs and opens the door to treatment. You follow her without question as she nods and fills you in on what’s going on.

“Milo was playing with the twins and he got stuck in the fence chasing the frisbee.”

You have to hold in your groan of disbelief because of course your overzealous and slightly impulsive dog would do this. You just mutter an okay under your breath before heading back out into the yard where you see Erin and Mina standing beside your screaming dog. He’s thrashing and trying to pull himself out, but he’s pretty stuck and really must have been running full speed.

You run over to the trio to try and calm Milo down because it seems like he really is stuck. You crouch down next to him on his right before reaching out for the panicked shepherd.

“Hey! Milo, hey, hi. It’s me, you’re okay. Shh, it’s okay, buddy.”

You reach through the bars of fence to pet Milo’s head and he calms enough for you not to be worried about him injuring himself further. You look him over quickly and don’t see any blood immediately, but then you reach his head and you see some dripping from his nose. You sigh in frustration as you try to figure out what the best thing to do is.

“Could you run inside and get a couple of towels and some lube?”

You figure that’s the best thing to get him out of this jam and you watch as both Erin and Mina leave, the latter leading the twins inside so they don’t get in the way. You turn back to your dog who is still panting in either exertion or stress, you’re not sure, and you do your best to keep him calm while you wait for your supplies.

“It’s okay Milo. You’re alright. We’re going to get you out, okay?”

Milo just whines before he turns to lick your hand that had been scratching his neck. You realize that you should probably take off his harness if you hope to slide him back through the fence, but you only get it halfway off before it becomes stuck.

“Dammit.”

Erin returns first and she stands back a little not sure if you want help before she speaks up.

“Anything I can do?”

You nod before motioning for the brunette to come closer so you can show her what you’re trying to do. If you pull on his harness while Erin pushes him away from the fence post a bit you might be able to get it off. You explain this and Erin just nods before moving to put her hands on Milo.

“Sorry buddy.”

It works but Milo yelps as you do it, so you decide to leave the other side be. Maybe you can slide him forward enough on the other side and figure it out from there. He was trapped from just behind his shoulders with most of his body still inside the yard, so maybe you could just pull him back in. When Mina arrives with the towels and what looks like all of the lube in the hospital, you relay the plan and put on the gloves that Mina luckily had the foresight to bring.

“Okay, Milo. We’re going to put this on you and try to slide you out alright?”

You know that he’s not going to respond or even really comprehend what you’re saying, but you know that hearing your voice will calm him down. He’s always been anxious when having things done to him and this was going to be worse due to the fact that he’s already highly stressed before anything has even begun.

You start to rub some of the lube on his right shoulder through the fence while Mina and Erin take his left side. Milo turns as they talk to him too, but is unable to see and growls as they touch him.

“Hey, Milo, stop that. They’re just trying to help you, okay?”

You try to keep going, you even move one of your hands to his left side but it doesn’t help. Milo just gets antsier and he’s growling louder before you realize it’s not working. You can’t be mad at him for being scared. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t see them so he’s distrustful.

You make the decision to switch sides with them so he can see them and just hear you on his blind side. You berate yourself for not doing this initially because Milo immediately calms down and his tail starts to wag as you scratch him between his shoulder blades.

“Good boy, Milo. Almost done okay?”

Now that Mio is sufficiently lubed, you try and slide him back through the bars. You manipulate one of his legs forward to try and slide him backwards but he’s still too wide. You instruct Erin and Mina to do the same and Milo’s legs are stretched out as far forward as they can go before you try again. You have to readjust as Erin moves to pull him from behind, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Milo finally slides back into the yard. You hold onto him as his head whips around to see who’s at his rear end, and you look at his nose carefully before taking his harness off completely. You try to wipe off some of the lube with the towels, but it’s no use. Milo’s too excited about being freed and he’s already shaking it everywhere anyway.

“Look at you Milo. You’re a mess, huh? You need a bath.”

He just licks your face and you groan in annoyance before thanking both of your helpers. You scratch your dog behind his ears for another few seconds before you stand up and motion for him to follow you.

“No more frisbee for a while, okay?”

It turns out that Milo’s a little sorer than anticipated and after his bath he yelps when you reach underneath him to pick him up. You try again more carefully before just letting him jump up on you. You regret this immediately once all 70+ lbs of him is in your arms, but you put him down quickly as he shakes all of the water off of him. You groan in disgust before covering him with a towel and attempting to dry him off.

He whines when you put him in the kennel with the blow dryer, but you have to get to your appointment. You’ll check on him afterwards, but for now you have to go see a dog about some skin issues.

“I’ll be back Milo. Be good.”

It’s 4 before you are able to take the time to examine Milo again. You are in between appointments when you pull him out of his kennel and bring him into treatment. You brush him out because he looks like a mess and as you’re doing that you notice he’s a little sensitive along his ribs. Not that you’re shocked. He’d forced himself through a damn hole he shouldn’t have been able to fit through.

You listened to him and didn’t find anything else wrong and decided to just give him a little something for the pain that would be worse tomorrow. Your next appointment arrives as you are finishing up with him but it’s taking you a minute to get Milo to take his pill. He’s always been horrible about taking medication.

“Dr. Y/L/N. Billy’s here.”

You’re a little confused by this and you turn to Erin with a frown. You’re currently holding open Milo’s mouth to try and shove this pill down his throat when you realize what she means. Billy. The cat with arthritis.

“Right okay, what’s going on with him?”

Billie Dean checks her phone again once she’s done with work. She hasn’t heard from you yet which makes her think you’re still working. It’s nearly 6:30 which is a little late for you, but she decides to just head home and get things ready.

Other than taking care of the kittens and making sure there were clean dishes for you two to use, she didn’t have much she could do. You had refused to tell her what you were cooking and had insisted on shopping yourself. Billie was already in the car when her phone rang. She answers it without looking to see who it is because she’s driving, but she doesn’t have to wonder long.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Billie I’m so sorry for not calling you sooner! Things got crazy here. Milo got stuck in a fence, a dog came in after getting hit by a car, but thank you so much! The flowers are beautiful!”

Billie chuckles under her breath at your flustered state, but then she registers everything that you said and she frowns in concern.

“I’m glad you liked them, Y/N. Did you say that Milo got stuck in a fence? Is he okay?”

You turned around to glance in the back seat briefly to see him fast asleep. He was exhausted from his exciting day and probably would sleep the rest of the night.

“Yeah, he was having too much fun with some friends and a frisbee and ended up halfway through an iron fence.”

Billie shakes her head at the image this conjures up and she sighs as she turns into her driveway.

“Aw poor baby.”

You laugh at this before pulling up to your apartment building. You still had to go shopping to get groceries, but you had to make sure that Milo was situated first. You weren’t sure how long you would be gone and were a little stressed by this, but you would figure it out.

“Yeah, he had a rough day.”

You both were silent as you turn off your cars and consider what to say next. You were trying to figure out how much time you needed to take care of Milo and shop before you could head over to Billie’s. Billie was trying to figure out things for Milo as well, but you hadn’t even considered what she suggested.

“How was your day?”

“Do you want to bring him?”

You both speak at the same time and it takes you a second to realize what she’s said. You shake your head as you turn around to see Milo still out cold. You hoped you wouldn’t have to carry him. Again.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just get him set up here before heading to the store.”

Billie’s already out of her car by the time she responds. She doesn’t mind either way, but she has a feeling she knows what you want to do. Not to mention, she supposes that the kittens need to be socialized and Bit possibly scared obedient. As if that would ever work.

“Would you feel better if you brought him?”

You don’t answer immediately which is honestly the only answer that Billie needs. You’re thinking about how you would love to bring him along because you’d be able to watch him and you could see how Milo would act around the kittens. You had always wanted a cat, and you supposed now was as good a time as any to see how it might work. Or not. As long as Billie didn’t mind.

Eventually you answer and Billie has to force herself not to smile smugly at how well she knew you already.

“I guess. I don’t want you to feel obligated though. I can’t exactly promise that he won’t get hair everywhere!”

You jump out of your car quickly before opening the back door startling Milo awake. He sits up quickly and you reach into the back seat and unbuckle him before grabbing his leash. He jumps to the ground a little more carefully than he usually would before you hear Billie reply.

“I want you to do whatever you need, Y/N. I’m fine either way. You know I adore Milo.”

You smile at this as you look to your dog who is yawning as you walk to the elevator. You suppose that you can take him with you. He might actually enjoy it. You just had to make sure he behaved and didn’t hurt any of the kittens. Billie said this before you got a chance to and you laugh as you nod in agreement.

“We’ll just have to see how he plays along with the kittens.”

You follow Milo into the elevator before leaning against the wall with a sigh. You suppose it’s decided then. You feel your excitement for tonight increasing again, now that you know Milo won’t be home alone. You just smile as the doors close and you take a deep breath.

“We will. I’ll feed him and then be over in about an hour. Does that work?”

Billie’s nodding before she greets Heather who is with Mickey in the living room.

“I’ll see you both then.”

Part 9

#american horror story #ahs fic #ahs #my ffic #ahs murder house #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit #IS IT TOO LATE TO TAG THIS AS SLOW BURN???#Y'all I promise it's coming

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

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

Chapter Warning: Implied Smut, consent is important, feelings, Claire is 19 in this story.

WC: 2461

A/N: This chapter fills my square‘titty fucking’ for @spnkinkbingo. Although it’s only mentioned. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

She follows him, is fucking relieved that she wore boots and not heels because Dean’s fucking fast and she almost has to run to keep up with him. They go up the stairs and a bouncer opens the door into the VIP room for them when he sees his boss approaching.

It’s that easy, isn’t it?

Stepping in, it feels like a whole other world opens up for her and it welcomes her in. The air is thick. It gets a little harder to breathe. She can smell a hint of arousal. Can detect the smell of bodily fluid — the sexy kind, not the nasty ones.

The room is quite big, could easily fit one hundred people, at least, but there were about thirty if she had to guess. There’s a long couch along both walls, stretching from one end to the other, and there are groups of sofas in the middle. Dean walks ahead and she slows down, taking in her surroundings.

There are people kissing on the couch, full on making out. A girl grinding on someone’s lap who’s still dressed but the girl is naked, there are men getting blow jobs. One girl is receiving oral whilst getting her big tits fucked. Y/N can’t stop watching them but eventually, she tears her eyes away. She’s sure that someone is fucking right at the end of the couch in a dimly lit corner and then there’s also people engaging in an orgy right in the middle of the room like it’s no fucking big deal. While she stops to scan the room, her eyes find a familiar face.

Claire.

She’s sitting in a guy’s lab, while she turns her head to kiss him and there’s another woman with her face buried between Claire’s thighs. Oh wow, Y/N thought she was only a waitress. Maybe the mother wasn’t exaggerating after all.

“You coming?” Dean returns to be by her side.

“I— y—eah,” She stammers but can’t quite take her eyes off of the crowd. She feels hot all of a sudden and there’s something tingling between her thighs. She realizes that seeing these things turns her on so fucking much. Like, she’s never seen anything like it.

Dean chuckles and takes her by the hand to whisk her to another door but she’s still staring until they are out of that room.

They pass a girl sitting on a tiny desk with a laptop on it as they walk along a big hallway, with rooms left and right and Dean’s still so fast, she can’t even take a real look at the little windows with light spilling out of them. Even though she’s sure that she’s not allowed to look anyway but still...

There are little red and green lights lined above the respective doors and putting two and two together if she’d have to guess, she thinks it’s to signal if the room’s occupied or free. The guests probably have to book the rooms with the girl who runs the front desk.

The hallway is long, and there are about two dozen rooms with numbers on them and nothing else. No description of what they could find in there. Maybe they’re just all bedrooms? She doesn’t know but she needs to find out.

He pulls her along with him until they finally come to a halt at another door. This place is a fucking maze. She wonders if she’ll find her way back, probably would need to ask Dean for a fucking map. Dean punches in a code and goes in, his hand still holding hers tight as they walk up a staircase until they reach yet another door. He goes in and she realizes that they are in some sort of office.

Dean lets go of her hand and she takes in the room. There are several screens with security camera footage, a big wooden desk with a huge office chair. He probably saw her coming. She’s sure that the bouncer called him up.

In the middle of the room is a big couch, off to the side is a little bar.

“Please take a seat,” Dean says and walks over to his bar to pour himself a drink, “You want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She replies, she’s not really a drinker. She usually only has one drink and that’s enough because she’s always been afraid that she’ll end up like her mother — dead.

“So,” He says, turns back to her with a tumbler in his hand, brown liquid sloshing inside, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“It’s just, I don’t think you’re the nightlife kinda girl,” He shrugs and sits down on the couch next to her.

Well, he’s not wrong. Damn him.

“To tell you the truth,” She starts to say, thinking that it’s maybe good if she tells him what’s going on. She knows him. Dean was always straight forward with her at school, “I’ve been tipped off and now I’m investigating.”

“Here?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have received a call from someone who was very upset that their daughter worked here and they think that you’re probably making them do things they don’t want to.”

Dean’s face changes. He looks a little hurt. She can’t really read him though. With Dean, you only see what he wants you to see. It’s always been like that.

After a while, he opens his mouth to speak, “‘S that way you’re here? Because you think I’m a pimp?”

“No,” She says, “I don’t think that but maybe you can clear it up, prove me wrong.”

Dean rubs a hand over his scruff, thinks about it, “You’re a journalist now, right?” Dean raises his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah,”

“Congratulations! That’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it? You were attending creative writing, too. I remember seeing you on the playground writing under the big tree after school.”

“Well, not really what I always wanted, but writing novels apparently isn’t that rewarding,” She shrugs with a weak smile. Doesn’t want to really go into detail about the playground remark because she doesn’t want to reveal to him that the reason she did that, was because she was avoiding going home.

Dean frowns but then he changes the subject back, “Let me guess the one that tipped you off, it’s Jody Mills, right? Claire’s stepmother?”

Her eyes widened, “How do you know?”

“The woman has been raging on and on since Claire started to work here. Came by too many times to get Claire to go back with her but Claire likes it here. She loves working for me.”

“She loves being pimped out?”

Dean throws his head back and laughs, she doesn’t think it’s funny at all.

“Y/N,” He says after a while and she likes how her name sounds off his lips, “Consent is very important here. It’s like a mantra we use. Nothing happens without consent and my employees know that. I would never make them do anything they don’t want to do. They don’t take orders from me. They are old enough to decide what they do or don’t do.”

“Or who they do,” She mumbles and Dean has to grin.

“Look, the VIP room is what it says on the tin. It’s strictly for very important people. It’s difficult to get on that list, difficult to stay on the list. They want absolute secrecy and in turn, they play by my rules. They undergo a tough background check, they get tested regularly, and if someone behaves just a little out of place, they get kicked out immediately. The list of new people want to get a spot is so fucking long. I look out for my people, Y/N. Everyone knows the rules and knows not to cross the line. What I’m doing is legal and I have a license for it. There’s no harm in giving people what they really want and can’t act upon at home. And no, I don’t have underage girls working for me, neither do I have pedophiles on the list. Like I said, I have employed three private investigators and they will find anything unusual if there is anything to find. I like being thorough.”

“Okay,” She says, and it’s weird. She kind of believes him. Maybe because she saw Claire. Saw how the girl was smiling while she’s been eaten out, and Y/N had the feeling that the girl clearly enjoyed being sandwiched between a man and a woman.

No wonder, Y/N thinks. Perhaps she would enjoy it too, can’t lie about it. There’s still a tingly feeling between her thighs and she presses them together, trying not to be obvious.

“Listen, what I can offer is, if you still have to write that piece or article, then you at least can do it right. I will show you everything in the club. I can show you every room. I can get you alone time with my employees and you can ask them questions. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay, that sounds fair.”

“There’s one condition.”

“What?”

He smirks, “I can’t obviously show you everything tonight, because we’re open and it’s not long before all the rooms will be occupied. I want you to come in another day before the club opens, I can show you around then.”

“Yeah, okay.” She agrees.

“Great,” He says and he stands up after they agree on it and exchange numbers, waiting for her to do the same, “Come on, I’ll take you back. I have a meeting to attend.” He places a hand on the small of her back and ushers her to the door. Dean leans down to whisper into her ear, “And try not to get too aroused walking through the VIP room, alright?”

She looks up at him with raised eyebrows and flush cheeks. He chuckles.

Dean takes her hand again, probably doesn’t want her to stall because as he said, he has a meeting to attend. He walks her to the door that separates the VIP room from the normal club and looks down at her, he’s still smirking because she’s probably more flustered than before.

He lowers his face to whisper into her ear, “You’re turned on, aren’t you?”

Ugh, she hates that he knows.

Y/N doesn’t say anything though, instead she looks down and gnaws on her bottom lip.

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he leans down again, “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Wow, consent is apparently really important.

She nods her head, because there’s nothing wrong with it, right? Dean’s a good looking man, too good probably — with his suit that looks like it’s been sewed onto him — and she’s turned on, there’s no harm in kissing one's cheek.

Dean smiles, a breath of hot air hits her skin and he leans down, kisses her cheek. His lips feel soft on her skin, his scruff a little on the rougher side but it’s nice. It makes her heart flutter, the tingling feeling between her legs intensifies.

“You’re still as cute as I remember,” Dean whispers before he stands up straight and has to clear his throat after.

Y/N doesn’t say anything, she can’t because she’s too flustered.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He smiles that easy smile of his before he opens the door and closes it behind her.

Dean hurries back into his office, ignoring a woman who called out for him to join them. It’s one of his employees, he guesses, but he doesn’t look. He thinks it’s kind of stupid too, because he never did join in, what makes them think that he would now.

Well, having a boner, yeah, maybe that gave it away, and his dress pants don’t really conceal much, he realizes when he looks down on himself as he makes his way back.

He sits back into his chair at his desk, pulls up some camera footage to watch her over his monitor. He watches her until she leaves.

When she’s gone, Dean sighs and bends down, leaving his forehead on his desk.

Fuck.

He never thought that he'd meet her again in his life. Never thought that she’d be the one looking out for him. And now that she’s here, he feels things that he had buried deep within himself.

It’s a stupid high school crush, he tries to tell himself. She’s probably changed and so had he, right?

Yeah, right. She changed. She’s even cuter now and she has something vulnerable about her. Something that wakes the protective instincts in him. He senses that there’s more to the girl with no friends in high school, more to the girl who turned him down when he was about to ask her out to prom — which he didn’t want to attend in the first place but if she would have wanted to, he would have taken her out. There’s something about her that makes him want to know more, makes him want to know what and who hurt her. If it was a guy, Dean would also like to rip that guys fucking lungs out.

But there’s also something about her that shows that she became a strong woman. She was holding eye contact when he talked to her, something she never did while in school. He also didn’t feel like she was intimidated by him, which speaks volumes because most people are.

She’s something he’d like to explore, he can’t lie about that. His body can’t lie about that either, apparently, because he popped a boner as soon as he kissed her cheek, which never happened and he thinks it’s stupid. He’s not a fucking teenager anymore, he thinks that he should be able to control himself better.

It’s stupid of him though, to tell her that he wants to show her everything. He doesn’t even know what to show her, where to fucking start. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to see her again and him showing her his club was just a lame excuse on his part. He doesn’t think that her article would harm him. He told her the truth when he said that he has got nothing to hide.

Now if he could get his dick in check when she shows up next, that would be fabulous.

Of course the meeting was a lie. He just didn’t know how he could be around her without ripping the clothes from her body. He needs time to think about his next moves. Time to train his body to not act like a seventeen years old when he’s around her.

Chapter 3

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

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