#drew a little heart in his core flame that will probably be barely visible on a little sicker

[r-aindr0p]

Ignihyde siblings aaaa, the blue gummies, love that color

Idia in his comfy sweater in a gamer posture on his chair felt more in character than him wearing the actual dorm uniform

[they-call-me-peaches]

The Devil I Know

Pairing(s): Roger Taylor x f!Reader // Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor x f!Reader

Summary: you can’t quit him, and you’re gonna regret it

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song “Quit” by Cashmere Cat and Ariana Grande, but also @astroherogirl, whose post got me out of my minor writer’s block haha. enjoy!

Word Count: 5,058 

Warning(s): angst, light smut, light fluff, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, swearing

It didn’t matter what anyone else said about your relationship, their opinions were bullshit anyway. You knew in your soul that Roger really did love you, despite the mess he made of your thoughts and emotions. Anyone else would’ve believed that you were just another one of Roger Taylor’s numerous groupies, but you were nothing like those other women because they never got his call a few days later. He never asked them out to lavish dates or brought them back to his bed more than once a month. You weren’t his groupie, you were his secret.

August 19, 1972

The smell of sweat, smoke, cheap beer was familiar to you: the bars where Queen performed were always filled to the brim with heavy partiers. You had been following the band for weeks, desperately trying to get the attention of any of its members. It didn’t really matter who, just as long as you had a story to tell the next time your mates when out clubbing. Brian had come close to acknowledging you one gig, after you two locked eyes for a few moments before he went into his solo, but he quickly forgot you.

Rolling your eyes at the memory, you attempted to pull your shirt lower again so that your chest would be shown off nicely. You scanned the stage as the concert slowly started to begin, making the assessment that John and Roger would be your targets tonight. You had a near-perfect vision of Roger through the gaps in his drum set, and Deaky was hovering close to your section. As the songs began lighting up the bar, you swayed to the music and began your attempts to seduce at least one of the boys.

As one song melted into another, then another, you began to feel the sinking feeling in your stomach once again that a hookup was just not meant to happen. The alcohol helped to numb the pain, but you couldn’t deny how exhausted you were of failure. You began to just stare at the man raging behind the drum set, praying that your intense glare would somehow cause him to throw you a glance. And it did. His piercing eyes locked onto your gaze, and the corner of his mouth rose into a knowing smirk. Electricity jolted through your veins at the thought of Roger taking you to bed later that night, at it only encouraged you to keep dancing.

The gig simply couldn’t be over fast enough for the two of you. Roger was visibly antsy on stage, practically jumping out of his seat the second Freddie finally finished hanking the crowd for another amazing concert. You shoved your way through the drunken crowd, desperate to find Roger and finish what you started by the side of the stage. Watching as strangers came and went from the hallway leading backstage, you finally spotted a mop of blonde hair bouncing into the bar. The number of girls that had already swarmed around Roger was almost unbelievable, but you elbowed your way through and eventually landed right next to him.

His arm instinctively began to coil itself around your waist once he had realized who was pressed into his side. A lopsided smirk drew warmth into veins, and you could feel the icy stares from the other girls surrounding you. You faintly heard him mumble something about buying you a drink before you felt his grip dragging you towards the bar. A stool quickly made itself available once the other patrons realized who was approaching, and Roger pulled you to sit in his lap without hesitation. The sensation of his hot breath against your ear was making your head spin, and you could hardly remember your name when he asked for it.

After three rounds of shots, Roger’s hands began to feel like flames, licking your skin as he moved them up and down your body. The longer the two of you spoke, the more comfortable you got; your hand began sliding down his partially exposed chest and lingered dangerously close to the band of his jeans. His voice sounded like the growl of a tiger getting ready to pounce, and God you could not wait any longer for him to ravish you. He apparently couldn’t stand the teasing much longer either, and he hastily swept you towards the door. As you slipped out of the back exit of the pub, the warm summer night air enveloped the two of you.

Moments began to blur as Roger signaled down a free taxi, hastily jumping inside and drawing you near. He mumbled his address to the driver and made quick work of your exposed neck. His tongue glided along the delicate skin and was overwhelmed by the musky scent of your sweat mixing with your sweet perfume. He left a trail of faint purple bruises in a trail towards your cleavage, occasionally traveling up again to nip at previous marks. Your hands buried themselves in his golden hair, which was knotted and greasy from his industrious performance. Silent moans fell from your lips, and you almost felt ashamed that you were subjecting the poor lift driver to this display. Almost.

You were so absorbed in the pleasure he was drawing from you that you barely registered him leading you out of the cab and up towards his flat. His hands never left your figure, although he occasionally had to pause his feverish kissing to guide you in the right direction. As soon as the door to his apartment had been shut and locked, clothes began to shed at lightning's pace. You could have sworn you heard the sound of fabric tearing as he tore off your skirt. Roger briefly paused to drink in your body once he had managed to get you in just your bra and panties.

His stuttered breath as he stared gave you a boost of confidence, and you pushed him back into the couch a few feet away from the entrance where you were standing. Your thighs straddled his, and you ground your core into the thin material of his underwear. His fingers clutched onto your hips for dear life, feverishly grinding you against his growing erection. Roger continued his path of bruises down your bosom from before until he reached the lacy material of your bra. You quickly undid the clasp behind your back and threw the garment somewhere behind the couch: you couldn’t care less about anything except his mouth right now. Lips trailed down your chest until he reached the hard bud on your right breast. You watched as Roger swiftly brought the nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking until you threw your head back and released a blissful moan of his name. “God, Rog! Fuck- need... More..”

“Such a needy little minx, need my fucking cock that bad you little slut?” his tone was so desperate that you thought your orgasm may just hit you right there, but you simply whimpered in response before yanking his head up towards your own. As you passionately began kissing him, you felt his hands slide from your hips to beneath your thighs, lifting you up to head towards his bed. You almost couldn’t believe you were finally about to fuck one of the men you had spent so long lusting after.

The bright sunlight trickling through Roger’s curtains woke you up the next morning, and it only made your pounding headache feel that much worse. The sensation of warm skin under your hands brought the memories of last night soaring back to you. You had never had a partner quite like Roger, all your past lovers paled in comparison to the blond coiled around your naked body. He laid flat on his back and he slept, with you draped across his chest and trapped in his embrace. You gently moved closer to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and smelling the sweet scent of menthol and pine: probably from his cologne. Peppering featherlight kisses along his jaw, you nearly felt guilty about waking him until you heard his breathing become uneven. His usually bright eyes were clouded with sleep as he slowly woke up, but he became much more alert at the presence of you beside him. A faint smile played on his lips, and he leaned down to press a sweet peck onto your forehead.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to wake up next to this man every morning, but waved the thought as reality reminded you that this affair was just one night of fun and that he would likely forget it before the week was up. The two of you gradually made your way out of bed in between sweet pecks and small talk of the night before.

“I’d be shocked if I don’t end up dealing with at least a handful of noise complaints after you leave, love.” he teased as he began making his way out of the bedroom.

“Oh please, Taylor, you could hardly count yourself as being quiet!” you yelled as you followed him into the living room, picking up the trail of clothes left behind last night. As you started to messily dress, Roger snuck up behind your and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. You instinctively leaned back into his touch and felt weak as his warm breath ghosted over your neck and shoulder.

“You better be planning on leaving your number behind Y/N, I thought I might have gone to heaven last night you were so wonderful,” he mumbled into your skin. You sighed as you reached up to run a hand through his messy locks. “‘Course Rog, you better be planning on calling me though, or I may just end up in a living hell,” you whispered back.

The two of you stayed that way for a few more moments in a comfortable silence. After you scribbled your number onto some random crumbled paper laying on his counter, you both delayed your departure for as long as possible. But your roommate would begin to worry if you didn’t return soon, so you regrettably made your way out between soft kisses and promises of another meeting.

As the door shut behind you however, small cracks began piercing your heart. The pain worsened the further you went from his flat, and hot tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes. You never meant to get attached to the man you were leaving behind, he was only meant to be a fun story to tell to your friends, about how you slept with a rockstar. Roger had made his mark on your soul, however, and you had finally let the reality of your situation into the forefront of your mind. He would never call you, he would stare at you again with the hungry gaze you had grown fond of. One night with him had ruined your life, and you felt the sinking feeling that you were going to regret ever meeting him.

October 2, 1972

The clock’s endless chimes had begun to cloud your conscience with doubt. It was nearing one in the morning and you hadn’t left your position on the loveseat near the phone in almost two hours. Roger was supposed to ring you at eleven, but the receiver hadn’t let out a single noise since you had arrived home from work. He had called you a few nights after your first encounter to invite you back to his apartment, and the two of you had been meeting every Friday night since. You knew it was only a casual fling, and still fairly new, but you couldn’t help but be disappointed that you wouldn’t see him tonight.

Just as you had finally begun to drift off on the arm of the couch, the phone blared its ringtone throughout your small flat. Only one person would be calling so late into the night, so you quickly willed your drowsiness away and picked up the call.

“Hello?” You asked out of habit, and the greeting was met with a soft chuckle from the other end. “Hi Y/N, how’ve you been?”

“Well, my week was going wonderfully until some bloke decided to leave me waiting all night for his bloody call.” Huffing as you waited for his excuse, you listened to his quiet sigh before he began his explanation.

“Figured you’d be a tad angry about that, but I really didn’t mean to love. I was about to call when Josephine showed up from her business trip early and-“ the blood in your veins started to boil as you cut off his last sentence. “I’m sorry, who showed up at your flat?”

“Josephine, she’s my, um, girlfriend.” He mumbled in response. You suddenly felt like a million bricks had settled into the pit of your stomach due to the guilt you felt. “Roger, how could you? I can’t believe that you wouldn’t tell me you were seeing someone, that I’ve been your fucking mistress for two months!” The tears pricked at the edges of your eyes, and the feeling of betrayal overwhelmed you.

“Y/N please hear me out, I’m begging you to listen,” he pleaded, “I’ve been meaning to break things off for a while now, but I just can’t yet. She’s Chrissy’s best mate and Brian will have my head if I break her heart. She’s going through some shit right now though and I have to wait, but I promise you’re the only one I want to be with right now.”

The line went silent as you absorbed this new information. Did he really not love her anymore? You couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in your heart as you heard Roger confess his feelings for you. If what he’s saying is true, then a few more weeks of waiting for him to commit fully to you wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“Okay.” You said quietly into the receiver. “Okay?” He asked, his voice flooded with relief with your reaction.

“Okay, Rog. I believe you, but promise that you’ll break up with her soon though. I don’t think I can live with this guilty conscience forever, alright?”

“I promise Y/N, just give me some time to let her down easy. How about lunch tomorrow? Jo is going to visit her parents for the day out in the country and we can spend the whole afternoon together.” He sounded genuinely excited to take you out, and you could hardly deny him the pleasure. That and, of course, you became giddy with the thought of your relationship evolving into more than just weekly hookups.

“That’d be lovely, babe. Call me tomorrow with the time and place after she leaves, yeah?” You bit your lip in anticipation. “Of course, can’t wait to see you again. I gotta go, but get a good night's rest alright?” Roger said in a borderline whisper.

“I will. Goodnight Rog.”

“Goodnight Y/N”

The sound of the phone latching onto the receiver brought you back to reality. You never imagined yourself to be the kind of girl to sneak around with another woman’s boyfriend, but Roger was everything you had ever wanted in a man. Plus, he’s already planning on breaking it off with her, you just had to wait it out a little while longer. It felt as though you were floating when you walked across your home towards your bed, the guilt already beginning to slip from your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

February 14, 1973

The scalding water which filled the bathtub felt as though it was burning through every layer of your skin, but it was nothing compared to the pain Roger had caused. You had given him four months already to call it quits with his lousy girlfriend, but still, nothing. It honestly felt as though he was never really planning on ever leaving her in the first place. The further you sank into this pit of depression, the further you allowed your body to slip into the blisteringly hot bath.

The telephone had been ringing nonstop since you had bolted home hours ago. You were itching to just jump out of the tub and rush to his call, to hear his voice drip from the handset like sweet honey as he professed his apologies. Instead, you kept a death grip on the bathtubs walls, willing yourself to stay strong and burn the scene you had witnessed earlier from your memory.

During your lunch breaks, you often just took a prepared meal from home rather than make a fuss about going out to eat. But due to a romantic dinner with Roger last night, you didn’t have any time to prep your meals. The cafe where you and Roger usually ate after a late night was right down the street from your office, so you decided to pop in and grab your usual. What you hadn’t anticipated was Roger also being there when you arrived. A grin spread across your cheeks as you approached him, but you stopped once you realized he had another girl wrapped in his arms. They were sitting on the same side of a window booth; she was practically on his lap as he buried his head into her neck and hair. You could see her giggling and whispering to him, and he had the same look of love on his face as he did when he spent time with you.

Josephine, your mind reminded you. In a flash, there were hot tears trailing down your cheeks, and you placed a hand over your mouth to prevent letting out any pained noises. You spun on your heel and sprinted from the cafe, passing by the window where Roger was cuddled with her. He almost certainly saw you pass by, but you honestly couldn’t give a shit about what he saw. Let him get one last look at you because you swore you would never let him anywhere near you again after leading you on for all those months.

You spent the rest of the walk to your office attempting to make yourself look somewhat presentable, but despite looking put together you were falling apart inside. After telling your boss you were feeling ill, you took the rest of the day off and quickly left the building. Somehow you managed to keep yourself composed enough to make the drive home safely, but you were inconsolable the second you entered your flat. Loud sobs wrecked your body as you sunk to the cold hardwood floor, a harsh contrast to your heated body. You didn’t move for nearly half an hour until you had shed every single tear in your body. Slowly, you pulled yourself up and into the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and setting it carelessly on your stove. You almost forgot to turn on the burner because of how fogged up your mind was.

You had just sat down with your mug of chamomile tea when the first phone call came through. Your mind felt numb as you glared at the landline, wondering if it always rung so long or if it was just because Roger was on the other line. A minute passed once it had finished, but then the incessant ringing picked up once again. Allowing it to be the background noise to sounds of you preparing your bath, you nearly forgot that the receiver was making noise at all.

Once the bath was properly set up however, you decided to bring your record player into the bathroom from the living room so that you could drown your heartbreak with some depressing albums. On your way to grab the machine, you tried to make your way past the bloody telephone, but stopped in your tracks. You bit your lip as you watched the phone rumble on the stand, begging to be picked up. Your curiosity got the best of you and you finally allowed yourself to answer his calls.

“What?” you hissed into the transmitter, already regretting your decision.

“Jesus Y/N, what’s gotten into you? I was just calling to ask if you were feeling any better since you left work so early?” you quickly recognized the soft, feminine voice to be Amy, one of your coworkers and a dear friend.

The sound of her caring tone brought all of the pain back to the forefront of your mind, and so the waterworks began again. You confessed your affair to Amy; about how you carelessly allowed yourself to sleep with Roger Taylor and let yourself get attached, and how you kept sneaking around with him even after he let it slip that he had a girlfriend. You confessed how he had slowly slithered his way into your heart, and now you couldn’t give him up.

“I wish you would have told me sooner Y/N, you know I would have been there for you so you wouldn’t have had to go through this alone.” her sympathetic words provided a small sliver of comfort to your aching heart, but you still felt so awful.

“I’m not sure what to do Amy, He’s been calling the house nonstop since I caught him. I was prepared to talk to him, but when I finally gave in and went to pick up it was you on the other side. I’m still not even sure how you managed to get your call in between all of his.” You weakly laughed, but Amy didn’t seem to find the situation very amusing.

“I’m going to be bluntly honest here Y/N,” she stated, “It’s crazy to me how the two of you have lasted this long. He’s suffocating you from moving on with your life, and I think this is the best opportunity you will get to leave him.”

“But I don’t know how, that’s my problem. Every time I start to drift away from him, he tells me he loves me and lures me back in. I can’t quit him even if I wanted to. Especially when he won’t stop phoning me twenty-four seven. I need help.” you were exasperated at this point, and you had no idea what your next move should be.

“Well, you haven’t answered him yet, right? Then don’t pick up the phone, let him think there’s nobody home. Deal with this at your own pace and don’t let him force you into making any snap decisions.” you slowly nodded your head at her words, and thanked her profusely before wishing each other a good night. Almost immediately after you set the handset down, it resumed its endless ringing. Feeling a bit more confident than before, you made a beeline for the record player and rushed back to the bathroom to set it up.

Now here you were, burning your skin in lavender scented bathwater while allowing the dark thoughts to creep back into the forefront of your mind. Amy had kept them at bay for a short while, but now, in the crushing loneliness of your bathroom, they returned with a vengeance. Your eyes drifted around the dim room, seeking out any form of distraction from your own mind when you spotted the calendar. It was February 14. It was Valentines Day. How ironic that Roger tore your fucking heart to shreds on the most love-centric day of the year.

At this point, you wanted to stop existing. It would only take a moment to slip your head beneath the water’s surface, to stay there until all the pain had slipped away. Your nose had just touched the water when a harsh banging erupted from the hallway outside your flat. Quickly resurfacing, you listened closer and realized that the telephone was no longer ringing. How long ago it had stopped, you had no idea, but the incessant pounding at your door suggested that it was however much time it took for Roger to drive here.

You jumped out of the tub and quickly wrapped your plush red robe around you, which thankfully reached down to your mid-calf. The less temptation either of you had, the better. Creeping through the hallway into your living room, you stared at the shuddering door frame and wondered whether calling the police would be a better choice than letting him in. you didn’t even give yourself the time to debate the choice, seeing as your feet instinctively led you towards him, and your hand slowly turned the lock and loosened the deadbolt.

His eyes were the first thing that you noticed when you finally came face to face. They were severely bloodshot and looked like glass due to the tears which poured from them. The ice blue of his irises created a contrast which was almost beautiful in a sick, twisted way. His usual smell of pine and menthol was replaced by the burning stench of hard liquor as if he had poured the entire bottle of whiskey over his body instead of actually drinking it. His slumping posture straightened out once he finally grasped that you had opened the door, and he engulfed you in a suffocating hug.

As tempting as his touch was, you forcefully pushed your hands against his chest, struggling to rip his strong body away from your own. The voice in the back of your mind screamed to get away, but with the feeling of his heart beat against your chest, you could barely hear it. You needed space, desperately; because every second that you spent wrapped in his arms made it harder to keep your head on straight, to remind yourself of the real reason you were both in such pitiful states of being.

Finally, you were able to pry him off your body, and he stumbled back into the wall. Roger was so hammered he could hardly stand up straight, and how he even managed to find his way here you had no clue. You marched across the living room in an attempt to get as far from him as possible; when you once again turned to face him, a lump formed in your throat at the sight of his doe-like eyes. For almost a minute, both of you stood there staring, daring the other to make the first move. Roger’s voice eventually broke the deafening silence.

“You know none of that meant anything to me, darling, you’re overreacting.” His excuse held no emotion; he sounded just like a robot. His nonchalance about the whole scenario only made your fury stronger. You balled your fists and stormed over to the asshole, ready to give him hell.

“I cannot believe you have the nerve to come into my home and tell me that I’m overreacting! After all the shit you’ve pulled on me? Why don’t you go back to your whore of a girlfriend, huh? I’m done with your shit Roger; the sneaking around, the lies, everything.” He opened his mouth to comment, but you quickly cut him off.

“Get out Roger, now,” you demanded through gritted teeth. He took a large step towards you and crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Excuse me? The last time I checked this was my apartment, not yours, and I told you to get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you Y/N, I’m not quitting you. After you ran, Jo turned on me. Asked me all about what the hell had just happened and I was forced to tell her everything. She’s gone now, and this time I mean it. I need you, love, please give me another chance.”

His words conflicted your judgment. You wanted to hate him so badly, to curse his name and throw him out of your life; but the fuzzy feeling in your chest betrayed your mind. It was as if your body was under his spell, slowly inching your way across the room until you stood right next to him. Roger’s fingers twitched, itching to reach out and pull you flush against him and never let go. He inhaled deeply before speaking again, this time his voice came out in a low mumble.

“Please, baby, just say something. Anything.” he pleaded, and before you could process your actions you were pressing your lips against his own. The kiss was brief, but enough to spur a spark of lust between the two of you. Roger bent his head down and took your bottom lip between his teeth, firmly biting until you let out a desperate moan. Smirking, he whispered a final sentiment in your ear, and it was all it took to make your dam break.

“I love you, just lay me down and we’ll fuck the pain away, darling. There’s no one else I want but you beside me; better the devil I know, right?”

As you impatiently dragged him to the bedroom, your mind couldn’t stop screaming at itself to put an end to this relationship, that you were going to regret this. Your body refused to listen though, because how could something that feels so right be wrong? The feeling of his hands on your skin felt so familiar, as did the burning desire they left in their path. And while Roger may have been too intoxicated to recite the alphabet, he knew exactly what to do to turn you to putty in his grasp.

February 15, 1973

You didn’t dream last night. It was unclear if that was a bad omen or not, but all you knew as you awoke in Roger’s arms was you felt mind felt numb. You were nowhere near forgiving him yet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to truly hate him anymore. Now that she was out of the picture, however, your heart told you to let him in again. Despite the hell he put you through, the man was heaven personified in your mind. He even looked like a cherub for Christ’s sake, with those baby blue eyes and his soft golden hair.

Roger stirred behind you, tightening his grip around your waist. He nuzzled his face into your messy hair, leaving tender kisses at the nape of your neck. The domesticity of the moment melted your heart, and you knew in your soul you would never be able to quit him.

Gonna regret it,

Yeah, I’m gonna regret it...

thanks so much for reading this far, any support/feedback is appreciated! xxx

[redstarfiction-blog]

The Very Bones Of You.

This is a continuation of Sonas/Happiness which was supposed to be a one shot but it had a fantastic reaction and actually this instalment will lead directly to another prompt I have received (watch this space!) So please enjoy my own version of events for early Voyager times - *spoilers for fans of the show only* H xxx P.S this is the first time I have ever written in Claire’s voice so please do bear with me if it feels a little off - I’m working it out :-)

I remembered a time in which the cold did not seep so easily into my bones, a time when my calves did not ache with the ascension of a single slope. I looked down at the grassy bank, just visible beneath the clutch of fabric in my hands and frowned. The grass, if it could reasonably be called grass at the length it was, had made various little nicks and cuts across my knuckles and for a moment I considered shrugging out of the woollen dress and continuing upwards in just my shift and stockings and bitter March wind be damned.

“Alright, Sassenach?”

I looked up, still grinning fiendishly at the thought of leaving the heavy garment to the elements and saw Jamie smiling back at me with a mix of amusement and pity. Clearly my laboured breathing had been more pronounced than I realised and I forced my trembling legs back into motion, lunging up the hill with a renewed determination.

“Of course, just … enjoying the view.”

The cheeriness of my tone and the vacant wave across the expanse of valley below us did nothing but cause Jamie to raise one arched red brow in my direction and hold out his hand.

“Let me help ye, lass.”

“Unless you mean to carry me …”

“I probably could. Ye’re a wee wisp of a thing! Did they no’ have proper food in Boston?”

Jamie caught my elbow as I huffed past him and helped me over a sudden rocky patch of earth, his own feet sure and steady on the uneven ground.

“Ha! Flatterer! They had plenty of food and I assure you, I ate plenty of it!”

I immediately regretted trying a form a full sentence as the air left my lungs in a rush of words and seemed to remain empty whilst I gasped, sweat prickling beneath my hair.

“Ach. Weel if ye did, I ken where it’s all gone.”

Jamie grinned with an exaggerated glance at my posterior. I rolled my eyes but didn’t have the energy for further banter. We crested the top of the hill and I all but collapsed onto the nearest boulder, mopping my forehead with my already sweat soaked handkerchief and grimacing. Jamie had settled on the ground before me, like a little boy in class ready for story time from his favourite teacher but his face was carefully blank – like Brianna’s before confessing to some naughtiness when she was a little girl.  

“So, we are now safely in the middle of nowhere - what is it you have to tell me?”

The element of surprise most often worked with Bree and sure enough, colour touched Jamie’s cheekbones that could not be put down to the cold alone.

“As a matter of fact there is something, Sassenach. I should have told ye sooner but … well. I should have and I did not and ye may hold me accountable in whatever manner ye please but I would ask that ye let me finish the telling before ye have your say.”

His head had been bowed but he looked directly at me as he spoke, his eyes fixed on my own and I saw both fear and love, each battling to outdo the other and I noticed that his hands were shaking.

“Jamie, whatever it is … I’m here. We’re here. We can tackle it together.”

He made a sound half way between a laugh and a moan and stood up, his whole body seemed to vibrate with nervous tension and my own leg twitched beneath me in response.

“What is it then?”

“I … Claire, I …”

He came and stood before me, arms held rigidly at his side and his gaze burning through me, furious and wild, his emotions barely contained and for the first time, I was afraid.

“Jamie, please…”

He nodded once, then twice and finally took a breath that drew his shoulders upward before releasing it slowly through his nose. I felt almost ready to scream, panic rising in my chest with every heartbeat but forced myself to stillness, waiting for him to speak.

“I got re-married, Claire. A few years ago when I was released from my debt of servitude in England, when I came back to Lallybroch and Jenny couldna stand my listlessness anymore… it was arranged and I was wed to a widow … and …”

Jamie had started pacing, gesturing with his hands when the words stuck in his throat but I could barely hear what he was saying. The wind seemed to howl around me, through me, blocking my ears and wrenching moisture from my eyes that I did not want to feel against my cheek. Everything seemed to sharpen into focus. The way the grey light of the sky above accentuated the deep bronze threads of his hair and muted the gold. How his shirt pulled against the powerful swell of his shoulders and his lips, slightly chapped with the cold, formed the words he spoke with a delicate precision. The rough feel of his hands on my skin as he cupped my face between them and his eyes, those beautiful, slanted eyes that he had passed down to his daughter, our daughter. Brianna. Oh Bree! To have put her through all that I had only for it to come to this …

As swiftly as thick grey blankets of fog engulf unsuspecting moors in winter, misery covered me like a shroud and I found myself too numb even to weep for all that I had lost and all that I had given away.

“Please say something Claire. I ken ye must be…”

I pushed his hand away and drew upon what little courage I had left.

“We don’t need to talk about it Jamie. If you could ask Ian or one of the boys to see me back to Craigh na Dunn…”

“NO!”

The violence in his voice shook the layers of shock cocooning me from the full impact of his confession but it was his hands on my arms that penetrated it, the sudden heat of him, and the feel of his fingers biting into my flesh. I looked away and closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of him. Mine and yet not mine at all.

“When we first wed, you were marrit and ye had to make a choice. There is no choice for me Claire, it is you. It has always been you.”

“Jamie, don’t …”

“Look at me.”

I kept my eyes shut and felt the air stir by my cheek a split second before the warmth of his palm settled there again, as gentle as a hummingbirds kiss.

“Look at me, damn ye Claire. See the truth of it for yourself and know what ye are to me, what ye have always been and will always be.”

“I can’t. If I look at you … if … I … I won’t be able to leave you.”

My voice cracked and broke over the words as Jamie lifted me to sitting.

“Please Claire.”

I swallowed and forced myself to look; I didn’t want to but something deeper than want compelled me to it and I moved on instinct for it was all I had the strength to do.

He looked tired and afraid and in the moment before I blinked, I saw his twenty-six year old self, sending me away to protect our un-born child, the same haunted lines of misery in the corner of his mouth. Yes there was love, as there had always been love. But I had been a fool to think it was enough to overcome all other disruptions of life for twenty years. I had been a fool to come back and expect it to all be the same.

“I should not have disrupted your life like this. I had no idea you had … I found no mention of a … a second wife in the history books … but I am glad you know of Brianna. You deserved to know about her.”

My voice shook again but held firm and did not break.  

“I am glad ye came back.”

“You shouldn’t be!”

I shook my head and slapped my hand against the earth in frustration.

“Jamie, you are married!”

“Aye! To you!”

“No … I mean… yes but …”

“You are my first wife Claire, the only woman I have ever truly loved and you think I would cast ye aside for a sham marriage that Jenny concocted? Christ!”

“It’s not about casting me aside! It’s about what is right!”

“THIS IS RIGHT!”

Jamie roared, his face flaming as the fire of his temper lit and caught

“You are my heart Claire! I love the verra bones of ye! Do ye ken what it has been like to live without ye?”

“Of course I fucking know! I’ve done the same as you and more! I raised your child!”

We were nose to nose, our voices raised and echoing off of the ancient stone around us, twenty years of hurt compressed into the clipped sentences we could manage to form coherently.

“Then dinna speak of leaving for I canna bear it!”

“You think I can? What would you have me do?!”

“STAY WITH ME!”

I could not say which of us started it, perhaps it was him, perhaps it was me, but we came together with the fierce and desperate longing that I had remembered from our parting twenty years before. It was not the cautious love-making of Edinburgh, nor the joyous coupling of our days since. We were fighting with the need to consume each other, the metallic taste of blood between our lips and teeth marks blooming from stark white to heavy bruised purple on collar bones. The slap of hands against taught flesh and muscles quivering with the assault of our combined efforts.

The salt of his tears stung the abrasions his teeth had left on my breast as I clutched him to me at the last, the colours of him exploding behind my eyes as my voice rose toward the grey sky above, the noise entwined with his own cry.

“Thoir maitheanas dhomh. Thoir maitheanas dhomh, mo Gradhe.”

Jamie’s voice was hoarse, his cheek pressed into the damp earth beside my ear. My fingers stroked the thick tresses of his hair almost without my bidding. The weight of his body pressed me into the earth, our joining an anchor for us both. I clenched my muscles and felt him move, an answering touch at the very core of my being.

“There is nothing to forgive, Jamie.”

“Whatever there was between us is there still Claire, do ye no’ feel it?”

I nodded. Whatever else was true, it was between us still, the force which had been powerful enough to survive war and starvation, even lift the veil of time itself. I love the verra bones of ye he had said and I knew it to be the absolute truth for us both for even separated by two hundred years when all that had remained of him was bones, my heart had pined for its mate and here in his arms was where I felt the most alive I ever had.

Turning my head to face him, I realised that the decision was not mine to make. To say good bye or to move forward was not a choice I had; for I had placed my bets and allowed the chips to fall as they may and I had won more than I had any right to dare hope for. Jamie was alive, I had found him, and we loved one another still. Now I needed only to gather my winnings and carry on.

“What do we do now?”