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kalendraashtar · 5 years

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Fanfiction - Dark Shines

Just two chapters to go in Murder 1 after this one! Thank you for reading and supporting. Lots of love X

Part I, Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI , Part VII

Dark Shines

Part VIII – Witness

She was a witch and he was in her thrall.

Once, he had no recollection of her face as soon as she was away; now he was bewitched by the memory of her. Claire's face was never far away from his thoughts, and for the next three days as soon as he left the station he went straight to her house.

They made love with abandon, sometimes against the front door or on the hallway's floor, as if intimate touch was something that could escape them at any moment. Claire would relieve him of the burden of his holster and past sorrows with a knowing, fearless, hand; he committed to the job of loving her right with his whole body.

Jamie found laughter in her bed again, a wave that broke into him belly-deep, and he was forever chasing the sensation of lightness of her skin against his. She told him stories about her unusual customers, both tea-seekers and craft-believers, and he relished in experiencing something of her through those tales. They seldom talked about the past and never about the future, happy to exist only in that precipice before and after their joining.

"Do you want to see some actual magic?" She asked late one night, as Jamie watched her intently, sprawled on her unmade bed as she moved across the room. A rumpled sheet covered him modestly around the waist, auburn and cinnamon glistening on the sparse hairs of his naked thighs and legs.

"I thought I just did." He offered her a lopsided grin, filled with cockiness.

"I have more to offer than a good seeing to, Mister Fraser." She answered coquettishly, bouncing her stormy curls. "I mean, do you want to see what I can do with my craft?"

"I thought ye didna want to show me." Jamie noted haltingly, leaning forward so that he was half-sitting on the bed. "Couldn't ye have used it before, to convince me to believe ye?"

"You believe me now." The witch replied simply, as if that settled the matter entirely. "And that's why."

Not waiting for another rebuttal, Claire sat in front of him with crossed legs and covered her face with the palms of her hands, whispering softly.

"Servant of time under my palms,

Skin of oak, blood of sap,

Future me for him to see."

Jamie had a peculiar sense of warm wind howling from her hands, and when she finally moved them and revealed her face, he gasped audibly.

Staring back at him, with mischief laughing in her amber eyes, was a very old woman who looked remarkably like Claire, her skin seemingly made of marble-white parchment. Crowning her striking face wasn’t a riot of grey-white hair, but the same rich brown curls he had caressed just minutes before.

“How?” He asked hoarsely, moistening his lips to hide his incredulity. Fearfully, he reached out to touch her cheek - it felt warm and lively, just as her skin always felt underneath his eager fingers. “Is that - is that really ye, Claire?”

“Of course!” The tea-maker laughed and shook her head vigorously, as if battling away droplets of stubborn water, and when she raised her eyes again to glance victoriously at him, her face had returned to normal - beautiful, mysterious, young. "Or I will be, someday. What you see isn't all there is to see, Jamie. Creating things that aren’t there at all is harder - but this is actually quite simple.”

“I won’t lie, lass.” The profiler tilted his head, inspecting her closely, as if she was about to fade into thin, uncapturable, mist. “It’s verra hard to wrap my heid around it all.” He pressed his lips, half-amused. “Ye could turn me into a munter of a toad, if I dinna please ye, aye?”

Claire chuckled, nudging his bare chest with her open palm, as she came closer to him until their faces were in promising proximity. She quickly waved her right hand in front of her eyes and they shone ruby-red for an instant, before they returned to delicate honey. “Luckily, you please me plenty.”

Before Jamie could kiss her expectant mouth, the doorbell rang, sounding misplaced and dangerous in the quietness of the little hours of night.

“Stay here, Jamie.” The witch frowned and raised quickly, grabbing a blue robe to cover her nakedness, as she padded outside the bedroom, firmly closing the door behind her.

Feeling protective and more than a little curious, the police officer rapidly put on his trousers and slid outside the room as silently as possible. Tiptoeing on the wooden floorboards to avoid a traitorous crack, he crouched to peek swiftly around the corner of the hallway.

Standing with Claire was the grey-eyed woman he had seen at her house, in the very first night he had visited her, when he had stumbled upon what he believed to be a gathering of witches. The black-haired woman was tall and dressed completely in black, with a large sweater and skinny pants, that made her look willowy.

"There are words to be said between us, Claire." The newly-arrived woman asserted. Although there was nothing particularly threatening about her tone, the hairs on his arms stood on end. "Are ye alone?"

“No.” The owner of Beauchamp’s Cup crossed her arms. “You can’t just appear in the middle of the night, Malva, and expect me to be awaiting you with biscuits laid out.”

There was a long silence in the hallway and Jamie cursed himself soundlessly, realizing he had left his holster and badge on top of the table by the door, inadvertently revealing Claire’s nightly companion.

“I see.” The woman named Malva finally said mellifluously, an oiliness about her tone that made him grit his teeth. “The wee agent is a dishy, I’ll give ye that - but I dinna take ye for a junkie-lover, Beauchamp. Ye ken about his past, no? It’s all over his stars.”

“Keep Agent Fraser out of your mouth, Malva.” Claire answered calmly, her voice stubbornly composed. “Say what you came to say and leave me to my sleep, will you?”

“The last leaves are about to fall from the elder trees. Will ye be challenging me for the Alba Coven leadership?” The visitant spat, her words jumping with barely suppressed anxiety and anger.

Jamie gripped his fists, impatiently waiting for Claire’s answer, which followed a humourless chortle.

“I never wanted to be High Priestess, Malva.” He could sense the growing tension between the two women, even shielded from their gaze by the wall. “And I certainly don’t want it now. You’ll remain unchallenged, as far as I am concerned.”

“As long as ye live, Claire - the last of the Moriston’s - I am disputed. Yer mere existence is a claim on its own, don’t ye see?” Envy and resentment dripped from her words directly into Jamie’s ears. “They’ll have me, only because they canna have ye.”

Adso suddenly bolted across the corridor, almost bumping into Jamie’s legs in the process, running towards the front door while hissing madly.

“Yes, I believe she is leaving, my dearest.” Claire clearly addressed the temperamental feline, her melodic voice poised and tranquil. “You’re unsettling my familiar, Christie. Have a good night.”

“Oh, one last thing - I almost forgot.” The viperlike witch hummed, delighted. “Lizzie Wemyss is dead. I believe she was a friend, aye? I heard just before I came. Of course, yer mate would ken it already, if he kept his tadger inside his pants.”

***

Lizzie Wemyss was indeed Claire’s friend; their parting kiss had been moistened with her tears, as soon as Jamie got the call for the latest crime scene. He had pretended not to have witnessed the puzzling conversation between the two conjurers, greeting Claire from the bed where she had left him, before his phone buzzed ominously.

Just short of thirty, Lizzie’s fair hair had turned scarlet with her own blood, as she curled like a newborn at the centre of her living room. The air was burdensome, with a scent that wasn’t yet of death, but of life sprinting away in a flash of red.

Denzell Hunter and John Grey were already inside when Jamie arrived, both their faces muted and miserable at the thought of another victim to add to the harrowing tally.

“More of the same.” Detective Hunter sighed, nodding curtly to acknowledge Jamie’s arrival. “If we dinna put a stop to Edinburgh’s Demon soon, the director will demand my scalp and bollocks to decorate his fuckin’ Christmas tree.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” John’s gloved hands exhibited two books about wiccan practice, which he had retrieved from the victim’s shelves. “She surely fits victimology.”

“I have been thinking.” Jamie’s eyes scanned the scene thoroughly. “And I’m willin’ to bet that the murderer is a woman. Ye wouldna open the door to a complete stranger - but ye definitely would to a good friend; or at the very least, a lass ye were familiar with, maybe pretending she were in trouble and seeking help.”

“That certainly changes things.” Hunter chewed on his cheek, thoughtfully. “I’ll let the lads on patrol now, so that they can keep an eye out for - weil, whatever.” He shook his hands, incapable of describing in any synthetic way what they should be looking for exactly, before he stepped out of the room.

“That is one strange looking candle.” Grey said after a while, indicating with his finger a tall candle which stood on the corner, its wick untouched.

"That candle has some meaning to the witches." The red-headed criminal profiler pointed. "Claire Beauchamp has one just like it in her bedroom."

Too late, Janie realized he had slipped and revealed much more than intended - he had just exposed his secret to a man trained not to miss it.

"You're sleepin' with the witch, aren't you? A person of interest in this investigation?" Grey shook his head, incredulous and slightly angry. "Christ, Jamie! Of all the risky and inadvisable things for you to do - what were you thinking?!"

"I needed to get to her." Jamie answered in a low rumble. "To gain her trust and find what she truly kens about the murders."

He felt sick in his wame and utterly shameful for uttering such words out loud. For making another soul believe he would use Claire in such a manner. But what could he say to his partner, that wouldn't complicate things even further?

I want her. I need her. I thought I was cured of needing, of yearning, but she has proven me wrong.

"That's fairly cold, no?" The blonde man raised a brow. "And a tad despicable? Not something I'd expect from you at all, Fraser."

"Sometimes ye need to find unorthodox ways of getting the job done, John." Jamie rebuked, striving to maintain a sense of aloofness. He was known as a fairly cynical bloke - if competent and reliable - in the corridors of the Yard; it was part of the appearance he had mastered to hide the deep crack inside. "I'm no' afraid of getting my hands dirty."

“And what have you shagged out of the woman, then?” The Londoner officer glared at him, aghast. “It better be worth your career if Director Gowan gets word of it.”

“I think the murders are all about a power struggle.” Jamie breathed deeply. “As most things are in our line of work. Just a different kind of power, perhaps.”

#Dark Shines #Part VIII #Witness #Outlander fanfiction #Jamie and Claire #Modern AU #dark mood #criminal profiler vs. witch

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laurelsofhighever · 4 years

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The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 64 - Bridges Built and Burned

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: description of a panic/anxiety attack Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 or start at Chapter 1

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Twelfth day of Haring, 9:31 Dragon

An air of calm followed Rosslyn over the following days as she settled into the limitations the mages put on her for her recovery. In the beginning, she chafed at not being allowed to do more, but after the first hour-long meeting with Cailan and his surviving advisors left her grey-faced and staring into thin air, she gave in to her convalescence with barely a grumble. Anora, at least, understood her need to be doing something, even if beneath the graceful manners and elegant pours of tea every conversation with the queen felt like a test, a way to pry out her inclinations and posture over the king’s good opinion. Perhaps the suspicion was merely a holdover from too many years of habit, a wariness for the woman who had been set up as her rival before she even left the schoolroom, but it didn’t make their talks any less exhausting.

Far more pleasant was the extra time she got to spend with Alistair. Charming as ever, he kept as much in her company as he could with all her duties loaded on his shoulders, taking her out onto the battlements or to see Cuno, or tucked up in the warmth of the library so they could go through paperwork together. The normalcy of it felt strange after almost a year of sleeping with only a thin sheet of canvas to keep out the weather, and the routine and bustle of an army camp to keep her from thinking too deeply of home. Now home was the reality, complete with the familiar comforts and faces she had left behind, even if the fit was slightly off, like a favourite shirt pulled out of shape after one too many launderings.

On the third day, she even managed to sneak away. It was good to have a little rebellion, despite her reluctance to go further than either seeing Lasan in the stables, or to the kennel to check on Cuno’s recovery. Her dog’s missing foreleg had done nothing to quell his excitement when she had first stepped into the runs, his fits of whistling sneezes setting all the others off in mad barking so they wouldn’t be left out. Only Alistair’s sharp check for her injuries had stopped the dog bowling her over, but he had pushed into her face nonetheless, anxious as a nursemaid as she buried her head against his neck and erupted into sobs. He was still wobbly on his feet and a little incontinent, thanks to the medicines mixed by the healers, but otherwise he had recovered well.

“A few more days, and the mages say they can start to wean him off their potions,” Gareth informed her now as they watched his eyelids droop from the latest dose.

“That’s good,” she answered, smiling. “Then he can come upstairs and stop howling the walls down every time I have to leave.”

“Daft sod. Uh – I mean –”

“You’re the one living with him,” Rosslyn allowed. “If anyone’s earned the right to call him that, it’s you.”

Gareth chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good lad, mind.”

“He is.”

On her way back to the keep, she turned right instead of left beyond the harness room, and followed the stairs down towards the cells claimed from the old Alamarri settlement on the hill. Guilt prodded her steps, and intrigue. A question that had bothered her since finding out how her dog had survived. The guards posted to the vestibule at the bottom snapped to attention when they saw her coming, though the nervous glance they shared betrayed more than simple surprise.

“I’m here to see the blood mage,” she announced, before they could ask, or tell her to go away. When they hesitated, as if she were no more than a mere servant wanting to satisfy her curiosity, she drew herself up and stared them down.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, that man is maleficar, he canna be trusted.”

“And with no templars in the keep –”

“Am I still the Teyrna of Highever, or has something changed in the last half an hour?” she demanded. “Your concern for my safety is noted, but you wear the Laurels and you will stand aside at my orders.”

Defeated, the guards shared another glance before the one with the keys led the way to the right cell. The weight of the rock pressed down on her, almost as heavy as the darkness crowding around the oil-burning lanterns set in alcoves in the wall.

“Leave me the light, and lock the door behind me,” she commanded.

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

She held the lantern high as she stepped into the cell – the same one that so lately had housed Fergus, though she tried not to think about it, or the animalistic odour lingering in the stone. The blood mage huddled in the far corner, flinching away from the light as it fell on him, but not fast enough that her breath didn’t catch. He was thinner now, and the scruff on his face had lengthened into a thin beard, but the lank hair and pale skin were the same as they had been when she confronted Howe. Pushing the memories away, she looked further and noted the cloth wrapped around his manacles to stop him cutting himself on the sharp edges, though she doubted that would be much of a barrier to one determined to make themselves bleed. That he hadn’t resorted to those desperate measures counted for him – but then, perhaps he was just patient.

“Jowan,” she said, as the lock clicked behind her.

When he turned to her, he had to blink until his eyes adjusted to the light, and when he recognised her, trepidation stiffened every muscle in his body.

“Your – I mean, my lady?” He coughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how all these different title things work.”

“Your Ladyship,” she affirmed. “To you, anyway. I’m told you’re the one responsible for saving my dog’s life.”

A hasty, terrified nod.

“Then I owe you my thanks. He’s doing well, almost back to his old self.”

“I – I’m glad to hear it, Your Ladyship,” he managed.

Rosslyn let the silence stretch. As the moments passed under what Alistair called her general’s stare she watched the mage fidget and drop his gaze to the floor, covering his arms across his body as best he could. Good; if he were flustered, she would more easily spot a lie.

“I want to know why you did it,” she said at last.

“Uh…”

“Why didn’t you let him die when you already had a hand in the deaths of so many others?”

Jowan’s eyes flicked to hers in what might have been defiance, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. “I never wanted to kill anyone,” he confessed. “I only ever wanted to live free of the Circle. I don’t know if you have any idea what it was like there –”

“I saw what it became,” she replied, gently.

“That’s right. I heard about what Uldred did. He was the one who taught me about blood magic. If I’d been braver…” He swallowed. “But I was just an apprentice, and he was one of the senior enchanters – I knew they’d never believe me if I said anything, they’d just… All I wanted was to escape. I’m not that good at magic, I was never like Surana or Clement or Karyna, and there were always so many horror stories about the Harrowing, I knew they’d kill me or make me Tranquil for sure.” He seemed to realise he was speaking too quickly, and sighed to centre himself. “But I was caught trying to get into the phylactery chamber. I had no choice. I wanted to protect Lily, but she… I don’t know what they did to her.”

“Who’s Lily?” Rosslyn asked.

“I love her. But when I… Maker’s breath, she looked at me like I was a monster. The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

She recognised the spiral he was about to fall into, had been there herself. Steady, she leaned into his eyeline and repeated her first question. “Why did you save my dog’s life?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied, looking up from his hands at last. “I was too afraid before, but you stood up to him, even after everything he said. Howe and Loghain threatened to hand me over to the templars if I didn’t do what they asked, but when I saw what you did, I couldn’t sit by anymore.” He straightened, and for the first time met her eye without hesitation. “That’s the truth. I’ve made so many mistakes, disappointed so many people – I wish I could go back and fix it. I don’t know if anything I do could ever make it right.”

With a sigh, Rosslyn lowered the lantern. “His Majesty has asked for my opinion on what should be done with you. As it stands, the templars are not in a position to take you back to the Circle, but nor can he just let you go.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship.”

“For my own part,” she went on, “I am grateful for what you did, but it wouldn’t be fair to weigh one life against the many more you’ve caused to suffer.”

At that, the mage slumped, though his expression lacked surprise. “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, but I do wish I could go back and fix everything.” He licked his lips. “Thank you for coming to see me, anyway, for… giving me a chance to talk. It means a lot.”

“No decision has been made yet,” she told him, without quite knowing why.

He offered her a smile as she called for the guard, but it was thin and faded quickly. His eyes followed the swing of the door as it was opened, and as she ducked through back into the corridor, she didn’t look back. The second guard had followed his mate to watch her, and he saluted. The door slammed. She almost turned away, but something about his manner stopped her, a nervousness more sensed than seen, and while she couldn’t source it, it brought her notice to his posture, the way he stood not by the wall but in the middle of the corridor as if to herd her back the way she had come. Considering she had already escaped Jowan’s cell unscathed, it made little sense.

“What’s down there?” she asked, with a jut of her chin.

“No one.” The guard’s eyes flew wide. “That’s – nothing. I meant, ‘nothing’. Your Ladyship.”

She advanced on him, just a step. “Who is down there?”

“Uh… It’s really nothing to concern yourself with,” he tried again, but before she could squeeze anymore out of him, a dry, nasally voice trickled through the cracks in the stone walls and turned her blood to ice.

“Is that a visitor for little old me? Do hurry up, I’ve got a busy schedule.”

The guard tried to push in front of her. “Your –”

“Give me the keys,” she growled.

She didn’t even wait to be given them, instead snatched the ring out of the guard’s half-obedient hand, already marching forward. Her fingers shook. Disbelief raged through her blood. Her heart beat so loudly she didn’t hear the key when she turned it in the lock, but when the door swung open, with the light spilling through around her against the opposite wall, even that seemed to stop.

Howe’s face was obscured by dirt and a grey tangle of beard, layers of old bandages wrapped around his head crusted with blood on the left side, his skin saggy from lost weight, but the hooked nose and narrow, polecat eyes would be recognisable anywhere. It was like being stabbed again. She wanted to vomit.

The swine smirked at her. “Well, well, well. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

She tried to focus on his chains, his clothes, how the once-bright satin hung off him in tatters. “They found you.”

Her lungs wouldn’t work. How long had he been kept in the dungeon – under her feet? Why was he still alive? Why had nobody told her?

“I suppose it was too much to hope Loghain might have killed you,” he drawled, as if remarking about a small bet on a slow horse. “You’ve shown such an infuriating talent for survival – or maybe it’s just that so many people are willing to die in your place.” His eyes glittered. “Your father, your people, your dog –”

“You didn’t kill him,” she snapped. “He lives.”

“Oh? Pity.”

“What are you doing here?” Every word ground like glass on her tongue.

At this, Howe looked absolutely delighted. “Me?” he repeated. “I am here on the king’s invitation.”

“You’re a lopsided old man sitting in his own shit in a dungeon.” The wound in her side ached. She couldn’t stop shaking. “You have nothing left. And you’ll die a traitor’s death.”

“Will I?” he asked. “And what about you? You seem surprised to see me. Nobody told you I was here, did they? Not your crippled excuse for a brother, or the king, or even your dear princey-wincey. It must hurt, thinking you’re so important, so grown up, only to find those closest to you have so little regard for you. imagine not even telling you they’re secretly hiding your greatest enemy in your own keep!”

A pause, to let the realisation settle, but even though she knew what he was doing her feet were rooted to the stone and every barb stung and her mind stuck on the sight of him and it whisked away to what he had done, what he had wanted to do –

“They still consider you a child, just like your father when he sent you away. Do you want to know what his last words were? The look in his eyes when he realised I was the one who had brought him what he finally deserved?” He laughed. “And your mother. Do you want to know how long it took her to die? How many arrows –”

“ENOUGH!”

He fell silent, still smirking as if he weren’t manacled in a prison cell, as if this confrontation were a victory, and revulsion crawled so far up her throat she could no longer breathe. She reeled away from the door like a drunkard, vaguely aware of the guards calling her name. Her lantern slipped form nerveless fingers and smashed.

“If he speaks again, cut out his tongue.”

If she spoke the words out loud, she couldn’t tell. The only thought in her head was the need to leave, to run, never mind the ache in her side and the jumble of questions stirred up in her mind like wind-scattered leaves. The whos and hows and whens swirled before her eyes, until her legs buckled and a sharp pain in her knees found her halfway up the stairs to the keep. A sob lurched in her throat, caught only by the hand she slapped across her mouth. Tears came unbidden. She bit her lips together and forced her lungs to still against the heaving breaths they tried to gouge out of the air, to keep silent in case the soldiers heard her, in case they came looking.

It was the pain from her wound that finally calmed her weeping, the fact that every cut-off inhale sent a jagged line of fire from her ribs to her hip, but with it her mind was allowed to drift from the blank panic of needing to keep quiet, and a seed of thought sprouted in the dark. She hadn’t known about Howe’s capture, but someone had ordered the guards to keep watch. Someone had kept this information from her, ordered them to keep it from her. The spark of realisation set among her tremors like dry tinder and flared into real, scalding anger.

It had her body in its grip before her mind decided where to go, drove her only up, past a startled maid on her way from the kitchen, past Cailan and Anora arm in arm with only the most instinctive of obeisances, before she reached the second floor of the keep, her family’s private level, the pull of her wound worsening with every step but not enough to stop her.

“My lady, what –”

But she swept away again before Graela had time to finish her question or drop the linens being folded on the bed. The Cousland sword clinked as she plucked it from its corner in white-knuckled hands. She had carried it through battle and fire and the swell of the Waking Sea, and now she had only a few strides left until she reached her brother’s temporary room.

Amell, tending him, jumped away with a small shriek as Rosslyn kicked in the door. Fury took her to the bed, where Fergus hastily flung the covers over to hide the truth of his atrophied legs.

“Rosslyn, what –”

“This is yours,” she snarled, and flung the blade onto the mattress by his hand.

“Father’s sword?” He glanced from it, back to her. “I don’t understand –”

“I was going to talk to you about it,” she rushed. “About the title and who should have it and what we would do next – but why should I bother if you’ve already decided to shut me out of decisions that are mine to make by right!”

“Rosslyn –”

“I know Howe is here!” she thundered, and her lips bared in a feral smile as he winced. “You didn’t think to tell me you’d found the man who slaughtered our entire family?”

How dare he. How dare he take this from her. Her breath came in spurts, her nails biting into her palms, flesh washing hot and cold as if night and day were chasing over her skin.

“I didn’t want –”

“He’s sitting beneath us right now and you thought you could keep it from me? How long has he been there? How long have you been lying to me? Was it before I woke up, or after? Those soldiers down there were wearing the Blue, plain as day, and only one person could tell them to lie to my face. How could you –”

“Your Ladyship, your wound.” Amell started forward. “It would be best if you –”

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t snap at her,” Fergus chided, as if he had the right, then slumped. “How did you find out?”

“What does it matter when you didn’t tell me?” she cried. “You’re my brother! You should understand! What, do you think I’m still a child who should be kept away from the kitchen knives? While you were cringing away in that dungeon doing nothing I was out leading armies, fighting for our people’s freedom! I did everything expected of me and more to get back here! I retook this castle! And yet none of that means anything?”

“You were still recovering,” he ground out, but the excuse only made her anger flare hotter.

“I have hunted him for a year, I had to read report after report of everything he did, I saw what happened to Canavan and Gilmore, and Mother, and Father, and I led Highever’s army away and into war even though it was the last thing I wanted to do! And you, meanwhile, can’t even find the guts to walk ten steps to your own room! You’re a coward. How dare you make decisions for me? The monster responsible for everything we’ve been through has been locked away right beneath our feet and you’re just sat here as if you don’t even care!”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care!” he roared, his own anger finally let loose. “He took everything from me – everything. I couldn’t lose you as well. We thought it best –”

But she pounced on that word like a jackal. “We?” she repeated. Spots danced in front of her eyes now that her battle rage was burning itself out. She clutched at her side, felt something wet seeping through the fabric of her dress, but his blanch turned her stomach more than the agony gritting her teeth.

“We wanted to protect you,” Fergus insisted.

“Alistair knows.”

Her legs crumpled. She had to catch herself on the bedpost, and in the confusion that followed, Amell’s hands pressed over hers with cool words of reassurance, a shoulder under her arm hoisting her up, her brother reaching for her from so far away – and him in the doorway, transfixed, horrified.

“Graela told me you were…”

She swallowed past the knot of tears gathering sharp at the back of her throat and turned to the enchanter. “I – I can’t breathe.”

“You’ve torn the muscle layers. Here –”

Alistair darted in to help as she staggered forwards on Amell’s arm, but she pierced him with such a glare he stopped short, mouth slack with a look of puppyish hurt that woke a vindictive squeeze of satisfaction in her chest. She vaguely heard him exchanging low, desperate words with Fergus as she limped back to her own room, a curse, and then tentative footsteps as she was eased down into a chair by the fire. Now that she had opportunity to notice, every tiny shift of her clothes over her reopened wound tugged at the edges like fishhooks.

“Rosslyn.”

“This isn’t your room,” she growled at him. Air hissed between her teeth. She couldn’t tell if it was the pain causing the sting at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Pushing down the discomfort she let her eyes fall on him, taking him in, hunched shoulders and hands wringing with the suppressed need to reach for her. “You’re sorry you were found out,” she corrected, slowly, with only the barest wobble in her voice before she turned her gaze to the hearth.

A pause, and then a sigh.

“Riley and half a squad of infantry brought him back two days ago. They found him with Loren and Mother Berit. It seems Loren decided favour with the Maker was worth more than his loyalty to the Crown.”

“And yet I didn’t hear a thing about it,” she replied. “You lied to me. To my face. Even though you knew what he meant to me.” The struggle to keep her voice level was one she was losing, but between the threatening tears and the words she had already hurled at Fergus, her throat ached as if she had swallowed smoke. And still her anger smouldered. “Ever since the battle you’ve treated me like I’m incapable of even standing on my own feet, like I’m a fool who can’t be trusted to drink out of a proper goblet. Fergus doesn’t surprise me, but you – How could you keep this from me?”

Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen! Every time Howe turns up you get this – this intense focus and you stop caring about anything else. You push yourself, and you hurt yourself, and you get so blinded by the idea of vengeance you turn into someone I barely recognise!”

“I don’t turn into anyone!” she shot back, staggering upright once more.

“No, you should sit –”

She slapped his hand away. “This is me, and it’s not something that can be tucked away out of sight just because you find it distasteful. What do you think I was doing all those months you sat so cosily under that mountain? I killed people. I’ve lost count of how many, not to mention all the others that were sent to die on my orders. Why shouldn’t I seek vengeance?” she demanded. “Howe deserves to die. He deserves every ounce of suffering I can wring out of him.”

“There – that’s it right there!” he shot back. “You’re so focussed on how he hurt you, you can’t see how it’s twisting you into something exactly like him!”

“‘How he hurt me’?” Incredulous, she could only stare at him. “He ruined my life! Are you saying I shouldn’t be angry about everything he’s done?”

“This isn’t anger, this is blackness, and you’re letting it consume you.”

“He murdered my family!” she shouted. “He pretended to be my father’s friend for years and then he slaughtered him like an animal! Doesn’t it matter what he did to Cuno, to my people – what he was planning to do to me? He has caused so much pain and he deserves all of it back again –”

“And how would you do that?” Alistair challenged, in a voice like steel. “He’s one man – you can only kill him once.”

“I’d find a way – I will find a way to make it right. I let him go at West Roth and I have regretted it ever since!”

He drew back at that, as if she had struck him.

“I can’t do it again,” she promised. “I won’t.”

“And this isn’t a path I can see you walk down. I won’t watch you destroy yourself.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed the physical distance separating them. There was hurt in his eyes, but also a plea to a part of her still reeling from the blow of being lied to – that he had lied to her about the one thing she had wanted for almost a year – and it channelled her rage into something colder, harder, like the slow of a river freezing into winter ice.

“Then get out,” she said.

He stepped towards her instead. She looked away, stiff, shoulders straight, a dismissal she had learned in her time at court when pretending someone didn’t exist was the biggest insult of all.

“Damn your pride,” he spat, after a long moment of watching her. She followed the stomp of his boots to the doorway with her face still turned to the window, refusing to be cowed, and when he paused, she braced for whatever curses he would choose.

“You saved my life at West Roth, in case you didn’t remember. I hope you don’t regret that as well.”

And then he was gone, and the anger clutching at her heart unspooled, and when her breath came back it was the sharp, desperate gasp of a sob as she fell to her knees.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #da:o #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #cousland #f!cousland #alistair x cousland #the falcon and the rose

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

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One Quote, One Shot

This is my one shot for the One Quote, One Shot challenge! Thanks so much to @balfeheughlywed and @notevenjokingfic for setting this up!

My quote is: “You’re quite sizable, aren’t you?” I said. A half smile curved his lips and he nodded, clearly wondering what I was up to. “Big enough for most things,” he answered.

I needed a break.

My work was my pride and joy, but it could also be exhausting. I was in the middle of casting for my newest show and it was draining me. The price of being a big name was that everyone wanted to work with me.

If you followed Broadway in the last decade, then you knew my name. Everyone did. I’d become a sensation. A legacy, they’d called me. I was basically raised in the theatre. At the tender age of five, I’d been orphaned and taken in by my Uncle Lambert. Lambert Beauchamp had whisked me off to New York City, where he was a Broadway legend. I went to school during the day, but from 3:00 til nearly my bedtime, I lived and breathed theatre. No one was really surprised when I followed in my uncle’s footsteps, especially after he grew too sick to continue his passion.

I knew I owed my career to Lamb. No one in their right mind would have offered an opportunity to direct a Broadway show to a 25-year-old woman if they hadn’t been Lambert Beauchamp’s niece and protege. And yet, that’s how it happened. I’d sought out the opportunity, expecting to be rejected; and yet, I hadn’t been. I had been determined to prove that I was worthy of the title on my own merits. Lamb had sat in the front row, smiling ear to ear, on the first night of my first show.

Ten years later, I was getting ready for my next show. Living up to my reputation could sometimes be a lot to handle. There were no free passes, and everyone expected the best from me. The best cast, the best show, the best ticket sales. I was supposed to be the wunderkind, but it came with an immense amount of pressure.

That was how I found myself at a bar far away from Broadway on a night in the middle of my casting season.

It was just supposed to be a night to myself, a break from the annoying people who were part of the beginning stages of the production and the pressure the world placed on me. I’d ordered a drink and was sipping my martini as I scanned the crowd. When alone in a crowd, some people liked to people watch. I was different. I liked to look at people and decide what role I’d cast them as. Particularly annoying people were instantly recognizable, and cast as such.

That night I found herself playing my little game. I looked at the blonde woman by the bar, drinking some fruity concoction. Laurey in “Oklahoma”, I decided. My eyes drifted to the older man across the room, desperately trying to win the attention of the woman near him. The Wizard in “Wicked,” I chose, though I left my mind open to other suggestions. My eyes caught a man wearing a thick sweater and a peculiar expression. I giggled to myself as my mind landed on a decision. Rum Tug Tugger in “Cats.” I spotted a young woman in heavy makeup with a look of consternation, surrounded by men. Aldonza in “Man of La Mancha.”

I continued my game until my eyes landed on the tall redheaded man by the bar. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. He was particularly handsome, with a mop of curls and piercing blue eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was captivating. I watched as he moved with a grace that a body his size shouldn’t have. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t stop. He was caught up in a conversation with the bartender, so it was innocent enough to stare. He had yet to notice me anyway.

But then his eyes flicked up and met mine. I coughed on my martini as I’d been caught. The corner of his mouth flicked up in a small smirk. Looking anywhere but at him, I tried to pass it off. When I couldn’t help it any longer, I glanced back at him.

He was gone.

I took a deep breath, trying to slowly look around the bar to see where he’d gone. Perhaps he’d been creeped out by the woman so openly staring at him and had left. Turning my head to the left, I scanned counter-clockwise around the bar to see if I spotted him.

“Like what ye see?”

My head whipped to the right, seeing the man standing next to me.

“Dear Lord,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry, I was just a bit spaced out. I didn’t really even know I was staring. My apologies.”

He grinned. “Are ye sure about that? Ye didna look very spaced out.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Wow. What, do you want me to have been staring at you?”

The man shrugged, the smug grin still on his face. “I canna say I mind it from such a beautiful woman.”

“And if I was ugly, then you’d mind it?” I countered. He’d been blunt enough with me, so I decided to be blunt myself.

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough. Ye’re a bold one then, aren’t ye?”

I shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Do ye mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the chair next to me.

“You want to sit?” I asked, admittedly a bit surprised. I wasn’t used to men wanting to spend more time with me once they’d been exposed to my bite.

“Well, I’m a tall man and I’m craning my neck a bit looking down at ye,” he reasoned. “And if it’s alright wi’ ye, I mean to keep talking to ye.”

I fought the grin threatening to spread on my face. “Well it seems you’ve made up your mind then.” I took a look at him and decided to give him a bit more. “I suppose I wouldn’t be remiss to have some company. Seems better than drinking alone. Though I don’t know why you’d want to come over here.”

He looked at me, watching me for a moment. “Like ye said, tis better than drinking alone.” He took a long drink of his whisky, watching me over the glass. I felt myself subconsciously crossing my legs a bit tighter. “Canna help but notice the accent,” he remarked. “What brought ye here from Merry Old England?”

“I’ve actually lived here most of my life,” I admitted. “My uncle was English as well and helped me keep the accent.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Can’t help but notice the Scottish brogue. What brings you here?”

The man shrugged. “I suppose I was a bit reckless. I didna want the life I was expected to lead, so I left and came here, ready to follow my dreams.”

I nodded. “And how has that worked out for you?”

“Some weeks, rather well. Other weeks, no’ so much. But as far as my family is concerned, I’m living my best life,” he confessed with a chuckle.

“I suppose we’re all just out here trying our best,” I offered.

He nodded, his eyes still watching me. “That’s kind of ye to say.” He held up his hand in signal to the bartender. “Another whisky and another one for her as well.”

I looked down at my nearly finished drink. My original plan for the night had been a drink, maybe two. This was the bottom of number one. Based on the look from my companion, I wondered if my plans would end up changing.

I cleared my throat after downing the rest of my drink. “So what brings a man such as yourself out for a drink by yourself in the middle of the week?” Without meaning to, I leaned a bit closer to him.

He took a deep breath, seemingly debating his answer. “Just needed a break.”

I smiled. “I know what you mean.” I shook my head. “My life can be a bit more demanding than I want it to be. I worked my arse off for it, but sometimes I wish I’d chosen a simpler path.” Sighing, I felt the need to continue. “I don’t want to sound like I’m ungrateful or anything. I suppose sometimes I just wish people expected less from me. I wish they could see that I’m doing my best.” I looked down at my drink, wondering why the hell I was sharing so much with a complete stranger.

“Well, I’m sure the people in yer life ken that ye’re doing a fantastic job and will continue to do so,” he said with a smile.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a matching smile on my face. “That’s an awfully kind thing to say for a man who knows absolutely nothing about my life. You don’t even know my name.”

He scooted a bit closer to me. “Well, go ahead. I’m all ears.”

I watched him for a moment before I stuck my hand out to him. “Elizabeth,” I lied. It wasn’t a full lie; my middle name was Elizabeth.

His hand wrapped around mine as he stared back at me. “Malcolm,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied lamely.

I expected him to release my hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he brought my hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it. I held my breath as I watched him. “The pleasure is mine.”

I swallowed thickly, slowly taking my hand back. “So, how did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, taking another drink of his whisky.

“Make such a brave move?” I explained. “You must have been nervous to move so far away from everything you know.” I inched closer as he started to answer.

“Och, it was nerve wracking to be sure,” he admitted, “but at a certain point, I just had to commit to it. What I wanted was here, and no matter how comfortable Scotland was, it was never going to offer me the same opportunities.” His hand dropped, grazing my knee. “Like the opportunity to meet a lass like yerself.”

I felt myself blush as I looked down. Glancing back up, I shook my head as I caught his gaze again. “What a line.” Trying to play it off was key. My body had reacted to such a simple thing as a light touch from him. I had to be careful. “What was at home that you were so desperate to get away from?”

“My family has a farm. Has had one for generations,” he told me. “I was due to inherit it, but I didna want it. It shall be my sister’s now. That type of work wasna for me.”

I couldn’t help but look him up and down carefully. “You’re quite sizable aren’t you?” I said.

A half smile curved his lips and he nodded, clearly wondering what I was up to. “Big enough for most things,” he answered.

I grinned, fighting the images swirling through my mind of things he was big enough for. “So, I’d think you’d be perfect for that type of work. Lifting things, hauling things, turning over a field and such.”

His eyes betrayed nothing as he watched me. “Oh, I’m plenty strong,” he assured me. “I’m fit enough for the work, I just dinna want to do it. Some people live for it, but I thought it would leave me with a life I didna want.”

“There are easier paths than the ones we’ve chosen,” I said, somewhat to myself. “Do you think it makes us brave or crazy to go with the lives we’re leading?” My hand grazed his arm where he leaned against the bar. Our conversation was mostly innocent, but the body language between us was starting to say otherwise. I felt drawn to him in a way I hadn’t felt towards anyone in a long time. We were sitting incredibly close to each other, our knees almost touching. We’d started out at a respectable distance, but over the course of our conversation, we’d grown much closer.

He leaned in close to me, his face mere inches from mine. “I like to think we’re brave.” His hand landed on my knee, just next to his own.

“I don’t know that I am,” I muttered. He looked at me questioningly. I sighed. “Everyone knew what my life was going to be before I even made the choices for my life. And maybe it was because everyone could tell what I was passionate about even before I could. But I think back on my life, and it’s all been perfectly routed. What you did — leaving Scotland, your home, your inheritance, everything — it’s almost reckless. I’ve never done anything reckless in my life.”

Malcolm watched me as he finished his drink. I followed suit and took a long sip of my own. “I can think of something reckless ye could do.”

I took a deep breath as I caught his intense gaze. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

His hand squeezed my knee, lighting a fire within me. “Kiss me,” he suggested.

I looked down at his lips before I met his eyes again. Leaning in slowly, I placed my hands on either side of his face. He didn’t move forward, waiting instead for me to go at my own pace. His eyes fluttered closed, as I was merely a breath away from him. I glanced up at his face once more before I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. He responded quickly, meeting me in kind, his free hand grabbing on to my waist. My body was coming alive, and it was only a simple kiss. Quickly, I pulled back, looking at him. As he stared back at me, he almost looked a bit dazed.

His thumb traced a line across my knee where his hand still laid. A line of fire followed in its wake.

“So how did it feel being reckless?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

I decided that, for once, I was going to listen to my body and not my mind. It didn’t make sense that a complete stranger could make me feel this way. But in that moment, I didn’t care.

I took a deep breath, looking him in the eye. “Honestly, it didn’t feel all that reckless to me.”

His brow furrowed as he processed what I said. “Oh?” He tilted his head, appraising me. “Well I suppose we’ll have to think of something better to do.”

I leaned forward again, my hand clutching his shoulder. “I can think of something.” He nodded for me to continue. I stood up, whispering in his ear. “Take me home with you.”

The ride in the cab felt excruciating. He’d given me a hard kiss as a yes before we left the bar, but then we tried to keep our hands off each other in the back of the cab. It wasn’t entirely possible though. My hand laid over his, my fingers drawing patterns against his skin. He moved his hand, running it against the side of my leg. I shot him a dangerous look. Finally, we arrived outside a rundown-looking building. Suddenly, I wished I’d taken him back to my place instead. I stood on the sidewalk as he paid the cabbie, looking up at the building. It was a far cry from the Central Park West apartment I had where I stored my pride and joy: my Tony Award. But I kept that place from random men for a reason. Hell, I hadn’t even given this one my real name.

“Tis no’ much, I ken,” he said, looking over at me. “But it does the trick.”

I didn’t know what to say back. I watched him for a moment, an awkwardness between us. “I’d love to see inside,” I finally replied. He smirked, grabbing my hand and directing me inside.

He started climbing the stairs and I followed, taking in the view of his tight arse. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that. For the hundredth time, I pictured it — what was to happen — and my stomach tightened in anticipation. Malcolm slowed down, looking back to me. He reached a hand out to me and I gave him mine. As I reached the landing, he pulled me against him, kissing me deeply. He turned and my back hit the wall. My gasps were lost between us as his tongue ran along my lip. I opened my mouth, letting him in. His hands ran along my body as my fingers wove through his hair.

When his hands found my ass, I finally broke apart. “Bed,” I breathed.

His eyes were dark as he met mine and I felt proud of the disheveled sight of him – his kiss-swollen lips and messed-up hair. “Aye,” he replied, taking my hand again and leading me up another set of stairs. We stopped at the third floor and walked halfway down the hall. His hand shook slightly as he pulled out his keys. I understood the feeling. I was shaking with desire and the need for him to touch me again, to touch me in new places.

He opened the door and let me in before quickly slamming it behind him. Pulling me to him again, his mouth was quickly on mine. We were in a frenzy, both of us trying to be close and also strip off our clothes. I needed him and I was pretty sure he felt the same way. I was down to my bra and my panties when he stopped. His shirt was hanging in his hand as he stared at me, his mouth slightly open. Feeling a bit self-conscious, my hands came up to cover myself. “No,” he urged. I looked at him, unsure. “Ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I walked closer to him, running my hand down his toned chest. My hand stopped at the waistband of his jeans and I reached for the button. He took a deep breath as I grazed the bulge of his pants. He was ready. There was no doubt about it. I slowly unzipped his pants, pushing them down for him. He stepped out of them, bringing me against him again, our lips meeting once more in a passionate frenzy. Somehow, my back ended up against his door as he started kissing his way down my body. I unhooked my bra and threw it behind him. His eyes darkened as they locked on my chest. Soon his mouth followed, his tongue swirling around a nipple, driving me crazy. His hands ran down my sides, pulling my panties down. I watched as his mouth moved from my chest and down my stomach. He looked up at me, seemingly for reassurance. I nodded, and his mouth found its way between my legs.

I cried out, clutching his head in my hand. His tongue was lapping at my core, swirling around in amazing patterns. He was quickly winding me up and he hadn’t even used his hands yet. His hand ran up my left leg, pulling it to rest on his shoulder. He reached up with one hand to hold me in place as I felt my knees grow weak. He added his fingers to the mix, finding my clit and sending me further to the edge. I tried to ignore the noises I was making. It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone, and I felt certain I’d find my release quicker than I expected. It was already so close.

Soon, he found the right spot within me and I cried out again. He repeated the motion again and again, until I was clenching around his fingers, collapsing against him. Malcolm put my leg down and stood up. He met me for a sloppy kiss, the taste of me still on his lips. He bent down as he kissed me and picked me up. I felt weightless in his arms as he carried me with ease to his bed, not breaking away from me until he laid me down on the bed. Stepping back, he pulled off his boxers, showing himself off for me. Sizable indeed, I thought to myself.

I laid back on the bed, motioning for him. I needed him inside me and there was no denying that he was clearly ready as well. He crawled over me, leaning down to kiss again. I pulled him closer, writhing beneath him. He broke away for a moment, fumbling through his bedside drawer. Brandishing a condom, he chuckled in success. I grinned, grabbing it from him and tearing it open. He groaned as I slowly rolled it on, squeezing him in the process.

Once it was on, there was no more pretense. He stared at me for a moment before guiding himself into me. I moaned loudly as I felt that all-too-familiar stretch. He was in to the hilt and kissed me as he started moving. I clutched him to me as I met him, thrust for thrust. His mouth attached to my neck, working on leaving a mark, and I found I didn’t mind that I’d bear a reminder of this evening. My leg wrapped around his waist as I felt his bite. His hand held my leg there, squeezing tightly. It was passion and frenzy between us, pushing us further and further. We weren’t exactly gentle with each other in our mutual race toward release. My hips met his again and again, and he panted words I couldn’t understand in my ear. Finally, it hit me that he must be speaking Gaelic. I grabbed his arse in both hands, pulling him further into me. He groaned, moving to kiss me deeply again. His tongue moved against mine in a similar rhythm to his hips.

He moved his hand down to the place of our joining. I keened as he found my clit again, bringing me to the edge. He was close too, and by the look of determination on his face, I could tell he was trying to time it all just right. Leaning down, he whispered to me, urging me along. With one final thrust, I was coming, my walls tightening around him. He shook above me with a loud groan, and he was there too. His arms gave out and he collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around his sweaty body, not completely minding the weight of a spent man on top of me. Soon, he moved, flopping down next to me.

I chanced a glance over at him and he was staring at me, a broad grin on his face. A matching expression was surely on mine as I laid there panting. My night had certainly diverged from the original plan, but I didn’t mind one bit. Instead I laid there, contemplating if I should stay or go home. Staying meant I might be rewarded with a second round. As if he could read my thoughts, his hand came to rest on my upper thigh. He wasn’t starting anything, but he also wasn’t necessarily letting me leave.

We laid there for a while, both recovering our breathing. He moved at one point, jumping out of bed and walking out of the room. I wondered where he was going, but not enough to muster up the energy to follow him. Quickly, he returned with two glasses and a bottle of whisky tucked under his arm. “Feel like a dram?” he asked, a grin still on his face.

“Yes, please.”

He poured us both a glass and handed mine to me. I lifted it up and he clinked his glass against mine with a chuckle. We drank silently. For whatever reason, I felt the need to break the quiet.

“This is good whisky,” I mused.

He had a devious look about him. “Aye, it is. But I have a suspicion.”

I watched him as he inched closer to me. “And what’s that?”

“That it’ll taste even better from yer lips.” He closed the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine and quickly deepening the kiss. His tongue was in my mouth, dancing with mine. I moved closer, nearly into his lap, as he continued to kiss me deeply. He pulled away suddenly with a pop. “I was right.”

I climbed the rest of the way into his lap, feeling brazen. I downed the rest of my glass, slamming it down on his bedside table. “Oh yeah? Well then maybe you should have another taste.” Before he could reply, I’d wrapped myself around him and crushed my mouth to his. His hands held me in place, one against my back, the other on my arse. My hips rolled against his as our tongues twined together. My hands were in his hair, holding him to me. As I felt him stir against my thigh, I knew my mind had been made up from the second I walked in the door.

I wasn’t going home that night.

He broke from me for a moment, readjusting himself on the bed and bringing me with him. His back was against his headboard as I still sat in his lap, straddling him. I kissed him again, with more intent this time, letting my hands rove where they pleased. His hands held tight to my arse. I could tell he was already fond of it. I rolled my hips against his again, and he replied by holding me tighter against him.

I ended our kiss and stared at him before I reached for his drawer. Feeling around, my fingers finally found the foil wrapper I was looking for. I had the wrapper half torn off before I was back in my original position on his lap.

“Do it,” he urged, as if I needed encouragement.

I rolled the condom on him and knelt above him. Taking him in slowly, I sat back down on his lap. He looked deep into my eyes, watching me as I started to move on top of him. “Christ,” he sighed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

I reached and moved his head to look at me again. Our eyes were locked as we moved together. I leaned down and kissed him hungrily. He wrapped one arm around my waist as his other hand wove through my hair, refusing to let me break our kiss. We rocked against each other, desperate to find our release again that night.

The sweat was cooling on our bodies as we laid there breathlessly. Sleep found me quickly after a night like that.

I woke the next morning, unsure for a second where I was. Looking down at my naked body half-covered by the sheet, I suddenly recalled what had happened the night before. I couldn’t fight the smile on my face as I turned to look at my bedmate. My smile faded as I saw the empty spot next to me. Before I could grow upset, he stumbled into the room.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I have somewhere I have to be this morning,” he said as he hastily tried buttoning up his shirt.

I pulled the sheet with me as I got out of his bed, suddenly more shy in the light of day. “Not to worry,” I assured him. “I actually do too.” I found my clothes and dressed myself quickly. Once I found my phone and checked the time, I was grateful that he had somewhere to be. It wouldn’t have been good to miss auditions that day.

My shoes were on and I was nearly out the door when he stopped me. He kissed me again, a mere echo of the fire the night before. This was almost tender. And to be honest, it frightened me a bit. How was I reacting the same way to such tenderness?

We walked down to the sidewalk together. I hailed a cab and was ready to jump in when he stopped me for the second time that morning. “We should see each other again,” he suggested.

“That sounds great!” I agreed before closing the door in my haste.

As the cab pulled away, I realized we had no way to get ahold of the other. It had been a mindblowing night to be sure, but maybe that was all it needed to be. The entire way to my home, I tried to convince myself of that. I showered quickly and did my best to make myself look as decent as possible. There was no denying the fact that I’d had more to drink and had less sleep than usual. That combination was bound to show on my face. A scarf was a must that day, as I needed to cover up the marks he’d left.

I wore big sunglasses and carried a large coffee as I strolled into the theater, walking over to the director’s seat. “Good morning,” I said in a quiet voice.

John laughed at the sight of me. “Christ, Claire, you look like shit!”

“Good to see you too,” I retorted.

“Isn’t it a bit unprofessional to be coming in in this state?” Marilyn asked me. She was always the annoying one with the stick up her butt.

Before I could defend myself, John stepped in. “She’s fine. She just looked like she had a hard night,” he said with a chuckle.

“Actually, I had a bloody fantastic night. I’m just having a bit of a rough morning,” I clarified.

“Well if you feel up to it, maybe we should start the auditions for the lead,” Marilyn said pointedly.

“Yes, let’s,” I agreed with a roll of my eyes.

Three men had come and gone, not making much of an impression on me. My mind desperately wanted more sleep, and these boring actors weren’t doing much to keep me awake. I took a long swig of my coffee between auditions.

“Alright,” John said, looking through a stack of papers. “And our next one is...Jamie Fraser.”

I nodded, not really listening. The sound of the door opening off-stage caught my ears but I barely processed it. My body reacted to the sight of him before my mind caught up. His eyes went wide for a split second at the sight of me before he schooled his face. “Oh fuck,” I whispered, looking ahead at the man who’d thoroughly done so the night before.

He cleared his throat up on the stage. “Hi, I’m Jamie Fraser and I’m auditioning for the role of Peter.”

“Very well, Mr. Fraser,” John answered. “Give us your best.”

Jamie (Jamie?) nodded and adopted a professional posture, ready to begin his audition. I slouched slightly in my seat, my face feeling hot. Seconds before he started speaking, I muttered to myself.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.”

Next chapter

#one quote one shot #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing

434 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 64 of 83 : World of Sea

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Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 64 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

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Kurin watched her unbar the door of the cabin as she thought about it. She said, “No, I don’t think so. He used to be my friend. I just wish that I understood how things went so wrong.” She looked a mute appeal at Tanlin and added, “How could he hate me so? I never did anything to him.”

Tanlin paused before opening the door. She considered before answering, “Nae t’ ‘ear Silor tell t’e tale. ‘E believes t’at ye were t’e author o’ all o’ ‘is misfortunes. According t’ ‘im, ye were a Dragon-wicken an’ ‘eld t’e ‘ole Naral fleet in t’e palm o’ yer ‘and.”

Kurin was taken aback. “You mean it?” she asked. “What could put him so far onto dry land?”

Tanlin looked at Kurin with pity in her eyes. “Oi’ve been tryin’ t’ tell ye. ‘E’s insane w’ere ye are concerned. ‘E believes ‘imsel’ a tragic ‘ero, persecuted for ridding t’e fleet o’ a deadly an’ unperceived menace.”

“Lady Tanlin,” came a forlorn voice from within the cabin, “I can hear you out there. Who is with you? Has the fleet come to their senses yet?”

Tanlin opened the cabin door, leaned in, and said, “Silor, someane ‘as come t’ speak wit’ ye. She’ll be representin’ t’e Grandalor before a fleet tribunal. Will ye tell ‘er t’e exact trut’ o’ yer involvement in t’e poisoning? ‘T may ‘elp our case.”

Silor’s voice answered, calm and assured, “Of course I will talk to her but it is a waste of time. No case will be needed. The Witch is dead and in a short time her curses will be gone. When people are themselves again, they will know themselves freed.”

Kurin spoke from out in the hall where Silor couldn’t see her. “Silor, you were a good student at learning to navigate by wave and current. Do you know where we are?”

He replied with confidence, “We are in the Dragon Sea. It was clever of Captain Barad to bring us here. No fleet owns these waters. We will be safe here.”

“What of the Great Sea Dragons? If Mecat taught the witch, perhaps they will not like your having killed her,” Kurin said.

“Dragons live too long to care much about any particular human. They won’t care one way or the other,” Silor replied airily.

“I’m afraid that you’re wrong about that, Silor,” said Kurin, stepping into his view.

“You’re dead,” he said flatly. “Nobody can survive Ord poisoning. Your dying is why the Grandalor had to flee in the first place.”

“No,” Kurin contradicted, “I lived. The sailor that you duped into poisoning me is the one who died.”

Silor looked at her in dread and leaped at the conclusion that fit his delusion. “You turned the Ord against the man who poisoned you!” he accused.

“I didn’t have to,” Kurin said quietly. “The Corliss fleet knows how to heal Ord poisoning. Sula carried me to her ship and Doctor Worran cured me. The sailor that you gave the poisoned awl to wasn’t so lucky. He got the poison through his shirt from carrying the awl in his pocket. It got to his lungs first. The doctor tried but she couldn’t save him.”

A wild glint entered Silor’s eyes and he shouted, “Don’t lie! It was you! You and that evil Dragon magic! You killed him just like you did your father!”

Kurin recoiled as if she had been struck. The very idea that she would have harmed her father was past simply shocking. It was truly sickening and called to mind her mother’s accusations as she sank into madness.

Silor bunched his legs under him as he paused for breath. “What does it take to kill you?” he screamed, lunging at Kurin, arms outstretched, hands clawed.

“More’n ye’ve got, Lad!” said Tanlin as she pounced almost into his path and grabbed his arm as he passed, spinning him headfirst into the wall. Kimson landed on top of him and Tanlin calmly pulled her knife from concealment. She laid its blade against Silor’s throat and added, “Mister Kimson’s goin’ t’ get off o’ ye, an’ ye’re goin’ t’ get onto yer bunk very slowly. I’ ye try t’ ‘arm Kurin again, ye die. Clear?”

Tears of rage and frustration in his eyes, Silor mutely nodded. Carefully, Kimson released Silor, who slowly got to his feet and sat on his bunk.

Dully, he asked, “I heard whales, who else has she killed?”

As Kurin was about to protest, Tanlin waived her to silence and answered, “Nane. We lost ane killed outright an’ ane mortal injured. Yer Longin did t’ose murders an’ some ot’er injuries as well.

“Just gettin’ Kurin ‘ere ‘ad a ‘eavy price. Macoul t’e steersman died o’ a cut t’roat an’ Lenai Halin died later o’ an abdominal wound.”

That brought a reaction of disgust from Silor. “So, the witch got to you too? She made you sacrifice good people just to finish her revenge on me?”

At that, Kurin would not be silent. “Revenge? What for? No witchcraft is needed. I never lifted a finger against you. You bring yourself down!” Bitterly, she added, “If I was a witch, I’d have just changed you so that you wouldn’t care.”

“You knew that I was here on the Grandalor! How?”

“You were careless. You were seen at the Gathering,” Kurin retorted angrily. “Even the sailor that you killed told us it was you before he died. You are under the same execute on sight order that you got put onto Barad and all the officers of this ship with your murder plot.”

That brought Silor up short. “Barad? He tried to stop us. Why would the Council order him executed?”

Tanlin burst in, icily angry, “M’ too, as an officer o’ t’e Grandalor. We’re all t’ be executed on sight because o’ ye. Our ‘ope lies in Kurin’s ‘ands an’ t’e jaws o’ t’e Dragons. T’e Dragons ‘ave let us ‘arbor ‘ere in neutral woters but we cannae go t’rough t’em t’ escape t’e justice o’ a fleet t’at seems t’ ‘ave nane.”

Silor began to whimper and curl up. “I tried to save you all. I never wanted to hurt anybody…” He uncurled an accusing arm, pointing at Kurin. “If she is your hope, you are as doomed as I am. . .” He collapsed, eyes rolled back in his head, still breathing but showing no other sign of life.

Shaking and slapping elicited no response. Silor was gone where none could follow.

Sadly Tanlin said to a thoroughly shocked Kurin, “Oi warned ye. ‘E wa’ so far ont’ dry land t’at not’ing could bring ‘im bock t’ safe woter.” She looked grimly down at Silor’s still form and reached a decision.

“Oi’m proof t’at Doctor Corin can care for a person in a coma. T’he doctor’ll care for ‘im until ‘e recovers or simply dies.” She turned to Kimson. “Guard ‘im until men come t’ take ‘im t’ sickbay. See t’at ‘e’s restrained after ‘e’s taken t’ere.”

She led Kurin back to the Captain’s cabin. Barad was out and they had the place to themselves. Tanlin ordered food and drink for Kurin and then said, “T’at wa’ awful. Oi wad never ‘ave guessed t’at ‘e wad just retreat like t’at. Wat now?”

Kurin had no answer. She simply sat and shook, crying inside but not allowing the tears to reach the surface.

Sympathetically, Tanlin sat by her and held her hand.

With a bit of scratching at the window, Thunderhead entered the cabin with a skelt in his beak. Tanlin looked up at the big Sea Hawk and smiled.

“Ye’re right, T’under’ead. She does need lookin’ after just now. T’anks for t’e ‘elp.” She took the small fish and held it out to Kurin. “‘Ere, youngster. Take a bite so ‘e’ll know t’at ‘e’s ‘elped. Friends ‘oo’re ‘urt need food t’ get well. Tis all t’at ’e knows ‘ow t’ do for ye.”

“It’s raw,” Kurin said, a bit of smile beginning to show around the edges of her shock.

“T’at’s ‘ow tis best for young birds,” said Tanlin tolerantly. “Go on, ‘e’s really tryin’ t’ ‘elp.”

Kurin took a small bite of the fish and realized that the skelt was good, even raw. She set to nibbling around the coarse bones until most of the meat was gone, Thunderhead watching critically. Tanlin absently scratched him under the right wing.

By the time that she was done with the fish, Kurin had a grip on herself. The distraction provided by the somewhat comic antics of the bird and having to eat as well, helped.

There was a knock at the cabin door and Benj, the cabin-boy entered with a tray. It had sliced, hard-boiled paddle duck eggs, red-weed bread and dried fillets of skelt for Kurin to eat. Beside the water bottle were sweet and tart flavors.

By the time that she was done eating the simple fare, Kurin had regained her composure. She gave Tanlin a measuring look.

“I have all the information that I am likely to get,” Kurin announced, “and I have begun to outline a multi-issue defense. You said that you could summon the fleet Council and the Longin. I would like to see how you do that from here.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 64 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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bee-kathony · 5 years

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“Your Nose is Blue” - Jamie and Claire

This is my ‘One Quote, One Shot’ fic, thank you @balfeheughlywed and @notevenjokingfic for organizing this! nswf at the end

My quote is: “Your nose is blue,” I remarked conversationally. I glanced downward. “And so are your feet.” He grinned and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “So are my balls. Want to warm them for me?”

Lallybroch December 8th, 1743

Snow had been falling every day since the first of December. Jamie and I had been at Lallybroch for almost two months, and it had been the happiest two months of our entire marriage. Granted, we hadn’t been married very long, but there was a simplicity with Jamie at his childhood home that we hadn’t found anywhere else.

I relished in every story that Jamie told me about growing up here. Even the ones that didn’t favor him in a good light — him and Ian sneaking away, getting into all kinds of mischief which led them to both be disciplined by Jamie’s father. I wondered what it would be like if both of Jamie’s parents were still alive, much in the same way I wondered the same about my own.

His sister, Jenny had been wary of me at first, and I didn’t blame her. I was a stranger who had come into her home, wed to her younger brother — I’d be cautious too. But over the past few weeks, we had grown close and I began to consider her my own sister.

I was still getting used to the idea of settling down and making a life here. There were still mornings when I would wake up and forget what century I was in. When I looked over to see Jamie, his hands folded across his stomach, and a small smile on his lips, I was grateful to be here — with him.

It was another chilly morning, much like it had been the past several days. My toes were ice cold and I turned over in bed to snuggle up to Jamie. I pressed my feet against him, warming them to his hot skin. He started to squirm, his eyes fluttering open and I felt him wrap his arm around me.

“Ah, Sassenach,” he said groggily. “Yer feet are freezin!”

“Sorry,” I started to pull them away, but he pulled me closer.

“Nah, tis alright,” he grinned, placing a kiss to my forehead. “Twas just a shock this early in the mornin’.”

“Would you be able to go and get some fresh wood for the fire later?” I asked him, resting my head on his chest. The heat radiated off of him, and he knew as well as I did that the fire was for my benefit only.

“Aye,” he said. “I’ll go chop some down after breakfast.”

“Get enough for the whole house if you can,” I looked up at him, tracing my finger along his chin. “I think everyone must be out as well. The whole damn place is freezing!”

“Och,” Jamie turned me in his arms, pressing my back to his chest. “They say a quick way to warm up is to take all yer clothes off and lay yer body next to another.”

“We can’t bloody walk around naked all day,” I laughed. “That only works when we’re in bed. What about the rest of the time?”

Jamie sighed, his hand settling over my stomach. “Hmm, well then I reckon I’ll have to keep ye in my bed all day.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I chuckled, turning my head to look at him, noticing his smug expression. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve seen you ever lay in bed all day. You’re constantly doing things around the stables or with Ian.”

“Aye, yer right about that.” His hand moved along my arm, fingers lightly tracing my skin. “There’s much to do, even wi’ the snow. Ah!” He suddenly shouted in my ear. “Ye can help Jenny wi’ the clickit. I saw her start a new scarf just yesterday.”

“Clickit?” I asked, turning back to look at him. His brows rose near his hairline and he rose to his perch himself on his elbow, staring down at me like I’d just cursed his mother’s grave.

“Claire,” he said incredulously. “Are ye tellin’ me ye canna clickit at all?”

I shook my head, twisting to lie flat on my back.

“And what did ye do for your winter stockings in yer time, then?”

“Bought them,” I said simply.

He looked from me and then out the window, “Well, I dinna see any shops about, I suppose ye’d best learn, aye?”

“I suppose so,” I eyed him dubiously.

“Tis no’ that hard, Sassenach,” Jamie shook his head. “Once we go downstairs, I’ll show ye how to get ye started.”

“You can clickit?” I asked, surprised.

“Well of course I can,” he laughed. “I’ve known how to clickit wi’ needles since I was seven years old. Do they no’ teach bairns anythin’ in your time, Sassenach?”

I thought for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. “Sometimes they teach little girls to do needlework, but not the boys.”

“Tis no’ fine needlework, Sassenach,” Jamie sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to his waist. “Just simple knitting.”

Muttering under his breath about raising children the proper way, he climbed out of bed, stark naked in search for his sark. Once he found it, he shrugged it over his shoulders, now grabbing his kilt.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” I asked, admiring him from bed, my arms stretched above my head.

Jamie came over to me, looking down with both hands on his hips, kilt still in one hand. “There’s no time to waste, Sassenach. Ye’ve gone this long w’out learnin’ how to clickit, tis time for yer teachin’ to begin.”

“But breakfast,” I said, rolling over in bed and then I felt something land on top of me — it was my shift. He was bloody serious about me learning how to clickit, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I got dressed, watching the puzzled looks that crossed his face every now and then. There were a handful of times that I wished it were possible for Jamie to travel through the stones — if only to see what my time was really like, how things were different.

Once we were both dressed, Jamie led us downstairs where he proceeded to tell the whole household about my clickit skills — or lack thereof.

“What do ye mean she canna clickit?” Jenny asked, pausing from serving bowls of porridge on the table.

“Claire was never taught it as bairn,” Jamie shook his head, taking his seat at the table. I followed, feeling embarrassed at my lack of knitting knowledge. It just wasn’t a skill I had ever needed. When I wanted to wear something warm, I would buy it — necessity was the mother of invention and in my time, shops were invented so we didn’t have to knit.

“Well, I ken what we’re doin’ today,” Jenny said and shoveled porridge into my bowl.

++++++

It was an hour later, and I was sitting with Jenny in the living room, my fingers cold and feeling strained. Both Jenny and Jamie had explained it to me — draw the thread out of the closed fist, make a loop around your thumb, slip it into the needle and you cast a row. It looked simple enough, but every time I tried, it all came apart.

After watching me fail again and again, Jamie had shrugged, and left me in Jenny’s capable hands while he went to fetch firewood.

“Maybe by next Christmas I’ll have managed a small scarf,” I said helplessly. “I’m quite skilled with a knife or needle, but only when it comes to flesh, not knitting.”

“Och, ye’ll get the hang of it, Claire,” Jenny smiled, her fingers working quickly on her own scarf. She had no trouble at all casting a row, and I tried to watch, but my brain and hands couldn’t work together in that way.

I set aside my mess of a scarf, and picked up a bit of yarn, rolling it into a neat ball. In the winter, there wasn’t so much to do outside of the house besides tending to the animals. My hands were itching to hold a real needle in them or dig up the earth for planting. It was no wonder so many babies were made in the winter months — there wasn’t anything else that could be done!

“I think I’m going to go and lie down for awhile,” I said and stood up. “Will you tell Jamie when he comes back that I’m upstairs?”

“Aye, of course,” she smiled. “I expect he’ll be back soon wi’ the fresh wood. We could use it, looks like it’ll be a cold one again tonight.”

I left Jenny in the living room, and rubbed my hands together for warmth as I walked up the stairs. I wanted Jamie to hurry up and come back, not only for the warmth of the fire, but for the warmth of holding him next to me.

Climbing into bed, I pulled up the layers of sheets and quilts to my neck to try and get warm. My teeth were chattering, and I pulled the quilt above my head, hoping sleep would take me under.

What felt like a minute later, my eyes opened to see the sun’s shadow in a different place. It must have been an hour or more since I’d come up for a nap. The room was quiet, and the fire wasn’t lit which meant Jamie hadn’t come back yet.

Brushing my hand across my face, I rose out of the bed and walked downstairs in search of Jamie. Jenny was gone, her knitting needles stored in the basket near the couch. The fire in the main room wasn’t lit either.

“Jamie?” I called out.

Noise came from the kitchen and I followed it.

“Has Jamie come back yet?” I asked Jenny as she poured herself a cup of hot tea.

“No, I was just startin’ to grow worrit for him myself. The wee numptie should have been back by now,” Jenny shook her head. “He kens this land like the back of his own hand, so I dinna think he would be gettin’ lost.”

“Do you know where he would have gone to cut the wood?” I asked, already looking around for my wool cloak.

“Tis just back behind the house, near the tree line.” Jenny looked up from her cup of tea to find me tying my cloak on, and stepping into my shoes. “Oh, Claire, ye canna be thinkin’ about goin’ to find him. Ye’ll freeze!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about with Jamie,” I said. “If I can’t find him, I’ll come back. And if I’m out there too long, come and find me.”

I heard Jenny mutter something under her breath about being stubborn and I laughed — she was one to talk, the other half of the Fraser siblings.

It must have still been early afternoon, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freezing. My breath puffed out in front of me and I began walking in the direction of the tree line behind the house. It was a ways back, and I hoped for Jamie’s sake he had thought to take his coat and gloves.

“Foolish man,” I muttered, stepping through the snow. There were a few possibilities of his lateness running through my head and none of them good. Looking up to the sky, I could tell that it would snow soon — I could practically smell it in the air.

I crossed through the trees, trying to keep an eye out for a mop of red hair. Jenny said he wouldn’t go too deep into the woods, and so I turned to my right, stepping over a fallen branch.

“Jamie?” I called out, placing both my hands to my mouth to make the sound carry.

There was no answer, and I couldn’t help but think of all the horrible things that could have happened to him. A sound came from my left and I looked to see a small grey rabbit hopping through the brush. For some reason, I decided to follow it.

“Are you going to lead me to my husband little rabbit?” I said out loud and immediately rolled my eyes. Talking to rabbits now, Beauchamp.

I continued to follow the rabbit, pausing when it would stop to munch on a leaf of grass or scratch behind its ear. Soon, it stopped and jumped behind a bush. My eyes traveled upwards and that’s when I saw him.

“Jamie!”

He was lying on his side, the ax near his hand and pile of wood at his feet. I ran to him, picking up my skirts so I wouldn’t trip and end up in the same state as him.

“Jamie,” I crouched down to my knees, both hands flying over his body. My fingers were at his neck, checking for a pulse and I sighed whenever I felt that steady beat. His cheeks were pale and his lips blue, much like the rest of him. I glanced down and saw that he’d taken his boots off and the tips of his toes were blue.

“Oh, please wake up,” I knelt over his body, pulling my cloak to cover him. When I pushed back my hand over his forehead, I saw blood congealed on the side of his head. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”

I checked him for other injuries, and determined it was only his head that had received the brunt of it. Most likely, he’d knocked himself in the head with the ax, and that thought did make me grin, but only briefly.

Trying to recall all my knowledge about hypothermia, I remembered that body heat was one of the best ways to revive someone. I sat up, pulling off my cloak and started to undress, hastily pulling at the laces of my bodice — I needed to lie with him, to save him in any way I could.

Just as I was about to lift my dress off over my head, I heard a groan from the body underneath me.

“Sassenach,” he said groggily and my hands dropped, covering his cheeks. I pressed my head to his, catching my breath for the first time since I’d found him.

“Oh thank God!”

“Claire,” he said a little louder. “What the devil are ye doin’ wi’ yer laces undone?”

I looked down at myself, feeling heat creep up my cheeks. “Well, I was going to warm you up — body heat.”

“Aye,” he smirked and then winced as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t move,” I said and forced him back to lie on the ground. “You’ve hit your head and you might have a concussion - er, a blow to your head.”

As he laid back, his brows knitted in discomfort, I began to tie up my laces again, putting myself in order. Thank goodness he had woken when he did because I was ready to take it all off and cover his body with mine.

“Your nose is blue,” I remarked conversationally. I glanced downward. “And so are your feet.”

He grinned and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “So are my balls. Want to warm them for me?” Cold or not, he was plainly in good spirits.

“Perhaps when you aren’t lying in snow and sporting a head with blood,” I smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on the tip of his blue nose. “What we really need to do is get you inside and by a fire.”

“Christ,” he looked over at the pile of firewood. “I dinna think I can manage to make it back like this wi’ the wood.”

“Well, maybe Jenny or Ian could come and collect it,” I said. “I should have thought to bring out a horse, but who would have thought you’d hit yourself with an ax!”

“Is that what I did?” He rubbed at his head, pulling his hand back to look at the blood that covered it now. “I dinna remember it, but I do remember ’twas a bit loose sliding through my hands.”

I slid my hand under his back to help him up into a sitting position. The back of his head was wet with melted snow. Jamie groaned as he moved, placing his head into his hands.

“Are you dizzy?”

“Aye, a wee bit,” he said. “My head feels like it’s been split open.”

“You’ll need to get plenty of water and rest over the next few days,” I told him. “But first things first is getting you out of the snow.”

It took a few tries, but I managed to help him stand up. Swaying a bit on his own, he steadied himself by placing one hand on my shoulder.

“This will be a long journey back inside,” he said and looked down at me.

“It will be with that attitude,” I smirked. “And are you going to tell me what you were doing out here in the snow with your shoes off, hmm?”

As if he had just realized he was barefoot, he looked down. “Och, I guess my feet were gettin’ sweaty and I wanted to feel the cold between my toes.”

“You’re just lucky you didn’t get stuck out here for much longer or you might have caught something called hypothermia and lost both your feet!”

“Tis no’ my feet I’m worrit about losin’,” he touched his crotch, as if checking all the bits were still there.

“Come on,” I laughed, “Let’s go home.”

++++++

It had taken nearly twice as long to get back as it had taken for me to come and find him. Jamie was moving slow, and he was obviously much larger and heavier than me so I found it difficult to support his weight.

When we arrived back to Lallybroch, Jenny and Ian had been waiting.

“Ye hit yerself wi’ an ax?” Jenny asked and I could see a smile forming on her lips.

“Aye,” Jamie scowled. “I dinna want to hear a word about it either.”

“We had to leave the wood he chopped behind,” I told them. “Would someone be able to fetch it and bring it inside?”

“I’ll do it,” Ian said. “I can take Donas out. Ye’ll have left the cart to carry it, I suppose?”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. “I was just goin’ to pull it back myself, but ye can use a horse since yer no’ as strong as me.”

Ian flashed out his hand, lightly smacking Jamie on the side and laughed, limping away to the stables outside.

“Ye best be glad yer wife was concerned for ye,” Jenny said and came around to slide her arm around Jamie’s waist. “If it were up to me, I might have let ye stay out there all night so ye could learn yer lesson.”

We started to make our way slowly up the stairs, taking them on at a time.

“And what lesson is that?” Jamie asked.

“That ye keep as firm a grip on yer ax as ye would yer cock,” she snorted and I couldn’t help but burst into a laugh. The big heavy scot between us groaned, either in embarrassment or pain — possibly both.

Jamie landed in our bed with a thud, rolling onto his side to avoid the light from the window. Sensing his discomfort, I walked over and shut the blinds until only a sliver of light was left.

“I’ll have Mrs. Crook prepare some soup,” Jenny said. “And I’ll fetch ye another couple of quilts to keep him warm.”

“Could you see if she can make willow bark tea as well?” I asked and Jenny nodded before heading out of the room.

I looked over at Jamie, still shivering under the covers. Sitting down beside him, I ran my fingers over his cheek, which now was much warmer than before.

“You already don’t look so blue,” I commented. “How are those balls of yours?”

Jamie smirked and glanced down between his legs. “They could still do wi’ a bit of warming up.”

“That part of your anatomy is taking a bit longer to to get back to it’s normal body temperature,” I grinned, moving closer to him in bed. He was now rolling over onto his back, and his hair moved aside, showing the blood once again. “But first,” I reached out to touch his head.

Jenny came back with two more quilts and laid them on top of his body, tucking him in as any mother would do. I imagined this wasn’t the first time Jenny had to take care of Jamie after he hurt himself.

I scrounged up a bit of cloth and found my comfrey salve in a small medical chest I had brought from my days at Leoch. Jamie turned his head to the side, allowing me to cleanse his wound and spread the slave over it to help heal it.

“There,” I said and discarded the bloody cloths. “You don’t need any stitches. And I expect you’ll have a bloody good headache for a couple of days, but nothing you can’t handle.”

Jamie was looking up at me, almost innocently and childlike. So often since I’d met him, I had bandaged him and healed his wounds, and every time he had the same expression on his face.

“What?” I asked, moving to sit beside him again.

“I just love havin’ such a fine healer as my wife,” he smiled. “Tis quite useful.”

“You do seem to get into a lot of painful situations,” I laughed and leaned against him, laying my head on his shoulder.

“Sassenach?” He asked a moment later.

“Hmmm?”

“I wasna lyin’ when I said that my balls were still blue,” he said almost sheepishly. “Ever since I woke to find ye half dressed and ready to throw yerself on me, I’ve had half a cock stand.”

“So it’s my fault, hmm?” I glanced over at him, finding blue eyes gazing at me. He was already in such a delicate state — I would have done anything to make him feel better.

“Aye, tis always yer fault,” he admitted and pulled one hand out from under the covers, reaching up to cup my cheek.

Leaning in, I kissed him, tender and slow. He was laying on his back, his head propped up on two pillows. I shifted onto my side, pulling the covers up and over my legs so I could join him in the warmth and hopefully give him some of mine.

My hand settled on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat for a moment before sliding it to rest over his belly. I didn’t have to move my hand much further before I came in contact with his greedy length. Jamie moaned into my mouth, his tongue sliding over my bottom lip as I palmed his cock.

“Sassenach,” he muttered between kisses. He was only wearing a clean sark, having shed his wet clothes before climbing into bed earlier. I pulled the material up and took him fully in my hand. Jamie groaned, his mouth hovering just against mine.

“As your healer, I think it’s only right for me to check on the precise color of those blue balls,” I said against his lips and I felt him twitch in my hand.

“Oh, aye,” he smirked and he was already pushing back the cover to expose himself to me.

I slid down the bed, easily fitting in between his legs and sat on my knees. Gripping his pulsing length in my hand, I ran my fingers up and down twice, watching as his hips flexed. He was trying not to move, his hands gripping the sheets beside him.

“C-christ,” he stuttered as I pressed my thumb over the head, collecting the bit of seed.

“Try not to move,” I said softly. “You wouldn’t want to hurt your head any further.”

“Sassenach, yer tryin’ to kill me,” he muttered between his teeth and then after grazing his blue balls with my hand, I descended on him. I took him eagerly in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him. I glanced up to see him watching me, and I felt my own belly light with a fire.

My hand worked in tandem with my mouth and I hollowed my cheeks, sucking deeply. Jamie was moaning, and his hips lifted off the bed, pushing his cock back against my throat.

“I’m sorry,” he was now panting, reaching his hand into my hair and I pulled my lips off of him, briefly licking the tip.

“Don’t apologize,” I smiled before placing a kiss to his head and swiping my tongue along his shaft. My hand slid down easily, pumping him and I twisted my grip, watching as his eyes shut tight. I knew he was close, so I kept my gaze on his face, waiting for that perfect moment.

I wrapped my lips over him, feeling swollen and needy. He tasted salty and whenever I met his gaze, Jamie jerked and came. I had no option but to drink him down, tasting him on my tongue, and lips and I released him with an audible ‘pop’.

Jamie wasted no time in pulling me up to lie on top of his body, his hands coming to grip my sides.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” I said, placing my hands on his chest. “You shouldn’t be exerting yourself so soon.”

“Who said anything about me exertin’ myself?” He cocked a brow and reached one hand under my dress, finding my center and rubbing slowly. A few seconds later, I sank down on him, shifting until he was buried inside of me. I leaned over, pressing my lips to his and began to move. He felt so good and warm, filling me in a way that I would never tire of.

Jamie held me close to him, his hands roaming over my back, tugging at my dress. It was no use, my laces were still tied in the front and I began to push back harder on him, searching for a release of my own.

“Uhhh,” I moaned, placing a wet kiss to his cheek and jaw. Jamie’s hands found my arse under my dress, pressing me against him as he lifted his hips. And just so, he hit that spot inside of me and I came with a deep cry. I trembled in his arms, feeling his release inside me and I lay on top of him, knowing I should move to not hurt him.

Carefully, I rolled onto my side, sighing as my head hit the pillow and I lay one arm across his stomach.

“Did that take care of any blue balls?” I asked, biting my lip between my teeth.

Jamie looked over at me, running his finger over my cheek. “Aye, ye’ve taken good care of them, as ye always do.”

“It was my pleasure,” I smiled and leaned over to kiss him. Then I sat up in bed, tugging on my dress and climbed out. Jamie started to protest, but I shushed him, pulling the covers up around him. “Now, you really do need to rest. I’m going to go check on that willow bark tea, and when I come back, there will be no more funny business.”

“Aye, captain,” Jamie pressed his hand to his head and tried to wink. Laughing, I left him on his own to get the tea.

When I came back upstairs, his eyes were closed and his mouth was hung slightly open, a bit of drool dribbling down. I don’t know how he managed to possess all the qualities that made me want to claw at his back one minute and the next, tuck him up and sing him a lullaby.

I took a sip of the tea before sitting it on the bedside table and shed my clothes, crawling into bed naked with him. After all, body heat was the best way to warm up.

#one quote one shot #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #outlander fanfiction #lallybroch #canon au #your nose is blue

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foegold · 5 years

Text

people be wanting to know about a lil blue bastard. this ones long as hell so its under the cut jsdhfg

Your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead?

farmer! he’d just keep living the way he’d been living. it’s the sort of life he imagines he’ll return to one day, after he’s seen and done enough. ‘enough’ is a really arbitrary end goal though

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life?

who in the party wouldn’t he trust with his life tbh. in the most literal sense he’d trust Eli with it just because he knows Eli can bring him back from dying in some stupid and ill-advised way

What are your character’s core moral beliefs?

frogs are good, try to be nice to people but if they’re mean to you first then at least a few bets are off, the rich should probably be eaten. killing is sometimes necessary but maybe try some other stuff first

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings?

he doesn’t have any siblings, and his relationship with his mom and recently present dad is. a little weird, and not all the way comfortable, and not like really bad, but just confusing? it’s confusing. at least he’s had more transparency from his mom recently than just about any other time. it’s a start

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races?

he trusts other tieflings a little quicker than other races but its not really saying much because he’s not smart and if you’re good at talking and sound like you know what you’re talking about he’ll just believe you. he doesn’t have the good sense to second think it without prompting

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority?

so far just about every interaction with nobility has been messy or bad or scary or all three so right now the opinion is “not great”. also thats just too much money. whaddahell would you do with that much money. he’s generally uneasy with authority figures at best, and flat out paralyzed by them at worst. he’s easy to bully when he doesn’t have anyone backing him up and he knows and hates it

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc.

he cycles through an assortment of sweaters but the one he wears the most is the heart sweater he got in Wunjo that’s been altered a few times in the last few months. he do keep collecting those scars tho, before starting adventuring he had a handful of minor scars just from working around the farm with the animals and the equipment and from romping around in the country. now he’s got all sorts, but the most prominent ones are: the thin scar on the left side of his face, starting just below the eyebrow and curving gently below his eye (the last time Leo would leave a mark on him); the twisted angry scars across his torso from being mauled by a giant undead horse(?); and the fluid, patterned necromancy scars slowly spreading across his back, creeping along inch by inch

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most?

besides his own house, Roman’s house has been the nicest! its warm and theres soup and friends there. there was a run down little ranch house somewhere at some point, but he’s not so sure anymore that he didn’t just dream about fixing the place up with his best friend

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship?

he doesn’t have a god he actively worships, but he’s peripherally aware of the god in the mountains that’s responsible for some of the most brutal storms in the region. he doesn’t care much about religion but hes got the same amount of concern most people would have about evil deities and what their followers do

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be?

probably woodworking! its handy, it’s useful for living out in the country where you have to either make the tools or furniture or fun items to put on a shelf you want, or go out of your way and also spend money to get them. maybe an actual alchemy set and/or poison kit but 1) playing with poison just a fun hobby for him and Xan to get into when they have the time and the plants for it, and 2) man he wouldnt follow the instruction manual anyway so whats the point

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?)

will his friends be okay? will he be okay? is there an FAQ for tieflings learning that they’re much closer to fiend lineage than they originally thought? that would be convenient and helpful. is john gonna figure out more about the little men named ‘adam’ that’re allegedly everywhere? if he could know one thing about the future, he’d like to know if everything will end out okay. if things will turn out as nice as he’d like them to.

What colors are associated with your character?

looks at the camera like im on the office

blue, white, and black are the big ones but im trying to pepper in a few other colors. reds and yellows are a close second

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances?

everyone sits squarely in the #1 spot on the rescue list

that aside john and roman are extremely high priority, they’re not the sturdiest and if something looked at them too hard they might keel over. baster and xan come next, he knows baster’s a shit brick house but he keeps seeing bad things happen to her and really hes just had Enough of it. eli’s a little lower priority because they can heal themselves if they’re in a tight spot, and then blu considers himself least concern. he knows he can get thrashed around some and still survive, he’d rather take a beating and know he’ll walk out of it than let someone else take it and wind up dead

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos?

pathos, it’s easy to make him feel for u. legit any of them work though as long as you talk it up good enough he’ll believe you and if there aren’t any glaring conflicts between what you’re selling him and his base morals then it’s relatively easy to get him on board

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for?

idk probably something really simple that he put all of .5 of a second of thought into. hes not smart and doesnt have good foresight so he’d probably ask for a frog or smth unless there was something very much more pressing and present

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.?

favorite(?) spell is life transference. it hurts a bit but it keeps his friends safe so it’s worth it. invisibility is up there too, its fun and easy to steal from stores when ur not visible

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party?

he doesn’t like lying and also lies really poorly. he’s usually just honest from the get-go, its easier and feels better. if he has to lie its through omission, bold faced lies really just dont work

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by?

all sorts....bro the world is full of animals and lots of them like to be pet

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?

he thought he’d grow up and be a farmer like his mom, the adventuring thing was extremely unplanned and impromptu. he hoped he could be a kind and brave person though, the way Canna described his dad.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond?

random roll says it’s Roman, he’d probably laugh because the only reason that would happen is because the party is fooling around with potions again. Roman’s very married and very in love with his husband and makes sure everyone knows it all the time

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with?

that doesn’t seem like a very viable circumstance, the only npc thats important enough that he’d listen to for something like that is his mom and she actively encourages him to take care of himself and his friends, and lets him make his own decisions about what he’s doing with his life, so

What unusual talents does your character possess?

idk if its all that unusual of a talent but he got really good at stealing and pickpocketing and he can do a sick flip. also does some black magic sometimes

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?)

it’s his name, u kno. bluebell is his middle name, but Canna called him bluebell growing up and he latched onto it a lot more than arden, and he thinks its a nice name, and a nice flower, and it sure would be nice if people would stop laughing when he introduces himself as “Blu”,

(blu was originally a stand-in name until i named him something else but it really grew on me and it fit him so! it didnt change, he just got other names too)

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character?

The Moon. 👀

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it?

he’s def scared of magic sometimes, especially his own. he also really wants to understand it better though, and be less scared, or at least control it better. imo it’s a healthy fear, theres been lots of magic mishaps

How did your character learn the languages that they speak?

he learned common and infernal from mom! and he’s learning draconic from xan. it’s a nice downtime activity, sit down with ur best friend and homie and learn a new language just for fun

#asks #hohg.....thats a lot of questions lksjflsahfdg #c: blu

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yellowcanna · 5 years

Text

Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Status: Ongoing

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◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

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CHAPTER 6

LUCY MAUD MONTGOMERY (DAY 1: SUNDAY)

None of the U.A students knew exactly how it had happened.

After the teachers left, they all went back into their rooms to get ready.

Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, Yaoyorozu, Asui, Sato, and Aoyama were the fastest ones to finish, as their appearances fit the normal criteria. As for Shouji, all he needed to do was to retract his extra limbs. Iida, Mineta, and Jirou took a bit more time, but their unique characteristics were simple enough to cover.

The rest had to look through the boxes of clothes Kunikida left them, seeing what they could use to mask themselves. The ones who had it worst were undoubtedly Ashido and Hagakure, for the two girls needed to smear foundations on their faces. They didn't know what to feel when they found that the blond-haired man had even prepared make-up in the box of clothes…

After they finished dressing up, the group headed off to begin their first exploration of Yokohama.

However, the moment they stepped out into the busy street, all of them froze. The first thing their eyes laid on wasn’t the people or the shops around them. It was five, sleek buildings dyed in black towering over the city.

“Woah! What’s that?” Kirishima said in awe as he stared at the building that looked completely out of place in contrast to the retro feel this city was giving off.

“Where did those popped out from?!” Sero gapped.

“We must have been driving away from those buildings, that’s why we didn't see it," Yaoyorozu explained, remembering back to the path they were talking. They had been going straight after all, so those buildings had been behind them the entire time?

“Ah!” Uraraka clapped her hands as a thought came to her. “Could those be the government buildings?”

“Gero, it’s possible!” Asui nodded, agreeing with her friend.

“Truly magnificent, they are overseeing the city itself! Look at how each of those buildings faced each part of the city!” Iida praised with stars in his eyes.

“Government buildings?” Midoriya looked over those towers. There was an odd feeling in his heart as he looked at those dark silhouettes. A call of his name snapped him out of thought as he looked down to see his classmates walking off.

Being surrounded by Old Humans was another very interesting experience. It was completely different from just observing from the bus. Just standing there within a crowd of people all having the same characteristic was very…strange.

It was a weird feeling none of them could describe, and it would be a lie to say that they felt comfortable.

When the girls saw some beautiful kimonos being put on the display window, they wanted to go in and check it out, only to remember how none of them had Yokohama currency. So they continued on their journey, deciding to leave shopping for another day after they got the money.

That was when they came across a library.

The library wouldn't require any money and there won't be any clerks trying to introduce their products to them. Thinking that perhaps they could find more information on Yokohama—especially Ability—everyone agreed to go in there.

And then it happened…

“…Mineta-kun?”

None of them could react in time. They didn’t know how it even happened.

“Hey, bitch! What did you do?!” Bakugou was the first to jump out as he screamed at the girl.

“Wait, Kacchan!” Midoriya quickly stopped his childhood friend by jumping between him and the girl. That girl…she definitely did something, but what?

What exactly happened that could make a person disappear within a blink of an eye without alarming any of them? Midoriya could only think of one—no, there was only this one possibility, but to think they’ll meet one so soon?

“Ah?! That disgusting pervert was looking up my dress and you got the nerve to question me?!” The girl said through gritted teeth.

“You’re an Ability user.” Todoroki calmly spoke out the thought that was going through everyone’s head.

“So what if I am?” The girl’s eyes narrowed as she slowly looked through each of them.

“We’re very sorry!” Midoriya hurriedly apologized with a bow. After all, they can’t make a scene, especially after Kunikida specifically told them not to use their Quirks. Without Quirks, how could they stand up to the girl whose power was still unknown to them? And for all they know, she could be an ordinary civilian!

“Hey, Deku! What are you doing apologizing to that bitch?!” Bakugou roared behind him.

Iida also thought of the same thing as Midoriya and stepped up as well. “Mineta-kun didn’t mean it! He was just—”

“Didn’t mean it?!” That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

The girl whipped around and pointed at the old ladder leaning against the bookshelf. “I was standing on that ladder trying to reach that book and he was standing right under me looking up and drooling!”

“Stupid Mineta!” Hagakure crushed her scream into a hush whine like many others. Though as much as they all wanted to shout at Mineta right now, they have to get him back first.

“Uh…I could get that book for you?” Sero tried helpfully.

“Who asked you?!” The girl exploded as Sero instantly raised his hands and backed away. Jesus, this girl’s temper was as bad as Bakugou!

“Then what can we do to have you give him back to us?” Jirou hastily cut in before the situation could worsen.

“You want him back so much?” The girl smirked as the air around her suddenly changed. The anger she was displaying on her face was gone in a blink of an eye, replaced by abnormal calmness. The sudden change in her was unnerving and had all the students unconsciously raised their guards against this one girl who couldn’t be that much older than them.

“How about you tell me who the hell are you and what do you want from me?” The girl spoke in an icy tone.

“W-what do you mean?” Yaoyorozu swallowed as her heart pounded. It can’t be that they’ve been found out already?

“Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve been following me for the past half an hour and into this book shop.”

“Hah?!” Ashido exclaimed, nearly exposing her face as she clumsily grabbed her scarf and pulled it up. Unfortunately, her gesture only made the girl’s eyes narrow.

“Why would we follow you?!” Kaminari shouted. “We don’t even know you!”

“Hold up! This is all a misunderstanding!” Kirishima tried to convince her.

“We just came in here because we wanted to look at some books!” Uraraka added. “We weren’t following you! Really!”

“Yeah, we’re not anyone suspicious!” Hagakure frantically said.

“No matter how I look at it you’re the most suspicious one.” The girl deadpanned as she glared at Hagakure who was currently the very definition of suspicious. “You’re Ability users, aren’t you?”

“Huh?!”

Of all things the girl might accuse them of, they were not expecting this.

“Why would you think we’re Ability users?” Yaoyorozu carefully questioned. She needed to approach this carefully. The girl's temper was short and currently, none of them has any idea what happened to Mineta. Without knowing anything, they can’t protect themselves if the girl suddenly uses her power on them.

“Don’t try to avoid my question. I’m going to ask you one last time.” The girl’s face twisted into the perfect balance of annoyance and anger. “Who. Are. You?”

It was at this moment that the gravity of the situation finally hit them.

This girl was an Ability user—an Old Human with powers that they know nothing about. What’s more, the murder bleeding from her eyes was real. Having all experienced Villains first hand, all of them could tell that this girl wasn’t just a normal civilian. She was someone who could kill them without blinking an eye.

It was at this moment that they truly began fearing for Mineta’s safety.

“Yeah, we’re Ability users, what’s it to you?” Bakugou’s sudden declaration made his classmates looked to him in surprise.

Midoriya almost stumbled when Bakugou shoved him to the side. With his hands tucked in his pocket, his childhood friend began walking up to the girl.

“Bakugou-kun?!” Iida looked at the explosive boy as if he had lost it.

“Wait, Iida-kun!” Midoriya gasped, carefully standing behind Iida’s larger frame and gave a small tug on his shirt to stop him.

Iida paused in his step, but sensing that Midoriya didn’t want to draw the girl’s attention, he didn’t look back.

At the same time, Todoroki also discreetly positioned himself before his other classmates, using his body as a barrier to stop them from doing anything. The entire time, his eyes were on Bakugou who was getting closer and closer to the girl.

“You look so weak I wouldn’t even peg you for an Ability user!” Bakugou taunted as a vein on the girl’s head throbbed. “I don’t see why those bastards wanted us to bring you in!”

All of the students stared at Bakugou with a mixture of confusion and disbelieve. But even so, none of them stepped up to do anything, because they knew Bakugou must have something in mind—especially when he began talking nonsense.

“That’s right!” Kirishima joined in. Although he has no idea what’s going on, he was going to support Bakugou. “Let’s just hurry and just bring her in!”

“What did you say?” The girl glowered at Bakugou who now stopped right in front of her.

Midoriya swallowed. That’s right, this was the best chance they got right now.

From what he had analyzed, to be able to make Mineta disappear without even so much as moving could only mean that this girl’s power was something similar to teleportation. The girl must have moved Mineta to somewhere and confined him.

In other words, if they could also get the girl to use her Ability on them, then they will find Mineta.

“What a moron.” The girl snorted, the anger on her face lessened as she gave Bakugou a condescending look. This sudden change took them all off by surprise. "Whichever organization you're from, they must be desperate. I didn’t think armatures like you would exist in Yokohama.”

“What did you say?” Bagkuou gritted his teeth as he glared down the girl who didn’t even flinch.

“You want to taunt me into using my Ability and let you reunite with your friend, right?”

“Eh?! Was that right?!” Hagakure gasped as she looked at Bakugou. If they were capable of seeing her face, it must be one of pure shock right now.

…And then, their surroundings suddenly changed.

There was no warning at all. To Midoriya, it only felt like he had blinked and all of the sudden, the scene before him became foreign. He blinked a couple of times, staring at the magenta sky over his head before to the checkered floor he stood upon. It took a full five seconds before his brain reacted as chill crawled down his spine.

“…Eh?” Sero blinked as he did a double-take at the sudden change in their environment.

“What the heck?!” Kirishima frantically looked around.

“What is this?” Uraraka whispered as she stared at the gigantic blocks, presents, ribbons, and balloons decorating the place. There was even a table and tea set. It was as if they arrived in a gigantic dollhouse or something.

“Hey bitch, where did you bring us?!” Bakugou snapped at the girl who was sitting on top of a stack of blocks, looking down upon them like tiny ants.

“This is my Kingdom.” The girl replied as she stood up with her hands laced behind her back. “Welcome to Anne’s chamber.”

“Could this be…Ability?!” Midoriya’s eyes dilated as he took in this space. Was this is an Ability? If so, then does that mean this girl’s power was to manifest an entire dimension and pull people in? Can something like that even exist?

“An Ability? But that’s…!” Yaoyorozu looked around in disbelieve.

“Impossible! There’s no way—” Iida couldn’t believe it as well.

"No, it's possible," Todoroki said as he carefully observed his surroundings, refusing to let go even the smallest bit of details. After all, Abilities aren’t Quirks. These are powers they’ve never heard of, it was only natural the effect would be something out of their knowledge as well.

Bakugou was putting on a confident smirk, but the droplet of sweat rolling down the side of his face betrayed what he was actually feeling.

How could one person have the power to tear apart space and create a new one? Just who in the world was this girl?

“G-guys! Look at this!” Hearing Ashido’s shout, everyone turned to see Ashido standing by a white door. The door was designed elegantly, like those ancient western doors the kids remembered seeing in oversea movies. Despite its beauty, it was an odd place for a door to be, considering how there was nothing but the sky behind it.

“Come over here! Quick!”

“What is it?” Hagakure ran over, looking out the window on the door only to yelp in surprise.

One after another the students gathered by the doorway. When they peered out the window, they saw the library they were in just seconds ago. But that wasn’t what shocked them. The library has huge window panels, and through the glass, they were able to see the street and people beyond.

Everything—the car, the people, the birds in the sky—they were all frozen.

“Time…stopped?” Midoriya whispered in disbelieve.

“What is going on?! First, we're in a weird place that’s not even real and now the time stopped?!” Kaminari furiously scratched his head, unable to wrap his head around any of this nonsense.

“Hey! I thought this was the sky but it’s just a wall!” Sero’s scream had everyone looking over to see that their classmate got a hand against the eerie sky. To them, it looked like the boy was just hovering his palm in midair, but when they stretched out their hands, they were soon met with an obstacle. It was as if there was an invisible wall there, preventing them from going further.

Midoriya gasped as he looked around the rails surrounding this place, noticing how it was forming a square. This wasn’t a floating platform like he had originally thought.

This was a room, with the sky being the wallpaper!

They were trapped in a room.

Uraraka reached out, about to grab the door handle when the Ability user’s voice came from behind them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

They all turned to see the girl standing up from on top of those blocks.

“That door will take you back to the real world.”

Real-world—Midoriya committed those keywords into memory. He needed to hurry and figure out just what this girl’s power was.

“But once you go through that door, you will lose all memories of what happened in this space, including your little friend there.” She smirked, left hand resting on her hip while the other jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to another door on the other side of the room.

That door was like the polar opposite of the white door. It was the same western-themed door, except it was black. Also, the wall around the door looked like normal walls made out of ordinary bricks instead of the reddish-pink sky.

“Mineta-kun?!”

They all rushed for the other door. When nearing the girl, they were all wary, but the redhead just watched them as they passed by. Once they arrived safely without meeting any obstacles, they peered through the window and saw their lost classmate Mineta.

“Gero! Mineta-chan!”

“It is Mineta!”

“Mineta-kun!”

“What’s up with that creepy room?!”

Shouts resonated through the space as everyone called out to Mineta who was separated from them by a metallic door. The room behind the door got no walls, no ceiling, it didn’t even have floors! It was just pitched darkness with wooden hands stretching out of the abyss, gripping onto Mineta and suspending him in midair.

The boy’s eyes were wide with his eyeballs completely rolled to the back of his head. White foams were slowly flowing down from his open mouth, disappearing into the shadows beneath. Mineta was out cold, and by the looks, he had fainted from some sort of shock.

“I can’t open! It’s locked!” Iida gritted as he pulled the door’s handle with all his might.

“Move!” Bagkuou snapped impatiently. Tiny sparks dancing on his palm were the only warning before a strong, but carefully controlled explosion blasted against the door.

“Hey, Bakugou!” Kirishima gasped.

“Bakugou-kun!” Iida shouted. “Have you forgotten—”

“Shut up and use your brains, moron! Right now we’re trapped in that woman’s fucking power, you know what it means, don’t you?” Bakugou smirked widely despite his fingers twitching at the irritation of how the girl had insulted him before doing exactly what they wanted.

The woman had brought them in here to taunt them, but she just dug her own grave.

This space isolated from the rest of the world meant no one else but them are in this space and knows what happened here.

In other words, they can activate their Quirks without the fear of being found out!

Fortunately, the smarter students caught on fairly fast, though the dumber ones still looked rather clueless.

“Try as much as you like, but it won’t work!” A snide remark reminded them that the girl was still there, enjoying their futile attempt to save their friend. “The only way to open that door is with the key.”

The students looked down and indeed saw a keyhole on the door.

"Give us the key," Bakugou demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The girl didn’t look pleased by Bakugou’s attitude, but she snapped her finger as a golden key appeared, hovering in front of her.

“Here you go.” The girl waved her hand at the key. She smirked when no one made a move to take it. “What’s wrong? You wanted the key, didn’t you?”

Something was up. They all knew the girl wouldn’t give them the key so easily. Why would she pull them into this place otherwise?

“I’ll do it.” Iida stepped forward.

“Dude, this is obviously a trap!” Kirishima warned.

"Don't worry, if anything happens I can run," Iida muttered just low enough so the girl wouldn’t overhear as he began to approach her.

One step….two steps…three steps…

Twenty-seventh step.

Iida stood in front of the key and the girl. He watched the redhead carefully as he slowly reached out his hand before he felt Goosebumps crawling over his skin.

What was this feeling?

It was as if he was being watched, but it wasn’t the girl. He had kept his eyes on her the entire time! He didn’t see her do anything, so what—

“IIDA-KUN!”

Urgent cries of his name snapped him out as the engine in his legs roared. With breakneck speed, he darted to the right, aiming to get away from the girl.

However…

“Too slow.”

Iida only saw shadow covering his eyes before what felt like walls slammed into him from both sides, completely immobilizing him.

“IIDA-KUN!” Midoriya, as well as many others, rushed forward towards Iida the instant they saw that…that thing materialized out of nowhere.

BAM

The black door that wouldn’t open no matter how hard they tried now slammed open on its own.

“KYAAAA!” Koda’s high pitched scream was what made them risk glancing away from Iida, looking behind just in time to see Koda—engulfed by wooden hands—got dragged back into the darkness.

“Koda-kun!”

“Gero!” Asui croaked as she—who was second last in the group and closest to the doorway—got caught by those hands as well.

“Tsuyu-chan!” Uraraka shouted as she jumped back and grabbed her friend’s ankle just as Asui was being pulled back. Like snakes swarming into prey, wooden hands snaked around her boy, gripping onto her limbs to immobilize her with another hand grabbing her by the throat, causing her to choke.

“Uraraka-chan! Tsuyu-chan!” Midoriya shouted, digging his heel into the floor as he sharply changed direction—only to be met face to face with Iida.

The green-haired boy's face twisted between horror and shock as he stared at the class president who was being tightly squeezed between a pair of giant wooden hands. And right there, hovering in front of him was an ugly doll with hair similar to the Ability user girl.

“Midoriya!” Seeing how their target had disappeared, Todoroki spun around to find Midoriya coming face to face with that weird floating doll. However, his attention was soon grabbed by the screams coming from the far back.

Stomping his left foot down, a pillar of ice shot across the room and towards the endless hands coming out from behind the door. To his shock, his ice barely held those hands stilled for three seconds before it shattered, leaving behind no damages to those wooden hands as they reeled in Asui and Uraraka.

At the same time, Midoriya had leaped up, first thrusting towards the doll’s face as he screamed, “Let him go!”

The loud sound of impact practically shook the room.

But…that was all. Just the sound that indicated the amount of strength he had used.

Midoriya stared in horror at that doll whose face didn’t even have the slightest bit of scratch.

How?

Even if he held back in fear of Iida getting caught up, he still used quite a bit of his strength. So how?

“Get away! Don’t worry about me, Midoriya!" Iida managed to choke out before smaller wooden hands grabbed onto him. The doll let go and instantly Iida was pulled towards the door. Being pulled along were Ashido, who was screaming as she kept releasing acid over the hands, but her acid only rolled off them like harmless water.

“I got you!” Sero shot out his tape, wrapping it around Iida’s ankle as Sato grabbed Sero’s tape and pulled with everything he got.

From another, Kirishima and Kaminari were grabbing onto Ashido’s hands as they tried to pull her free.

Tokoyami was using his dark shadow, desperately fending off the hands while protecting Hagakure who was hastily peeling off the layers of clothing on her body.

Shouji had grabbed onto Jirou, running from the hands with Jirou constantly trying to counter the hands with high-frequency sound, but that too was useless.

Forgetting that he had a trench coat on, Ojiro tried to flick out his tail only to be restricted by the large coat. This moment of delay led to his swift capture along with Aoyama who was screaming at the creepy hands grabbing him.

“Think, there must be some way!” Yaoyorozu told herself repeatedly.

With her Quirk, she could easily conjure a metal cuff over where the area where the hand grabbed her. By enlarging the cuff, she could easily slip out of those hands’ grasps, but if this continues she will reach her limitation very soon. She has to think of something before that happens. There must be a way for them to escape this place!

“Everyone!” Midoriya gasped, deciding to ignore the doll for now as he ran to save them. That was the biggest mistake. Midoriya had been way too confident with his speed. With Full Cowl enhancing all of his body’s physic, he hadn’t considered the fact that the doll would still be faster than him, given how when the doll went after Iida it was still at a speed he could follow with his bare eyes.

Midoriya was halfway across the room when the doll just appeared in front of him as if it had teleported. The green-haired youth tried to dodge, but he was too slow. He could only manage to free his right arms just before the doll’s hand came down on him, holding him within its iron grip.

“SMASH!” He roared, this time putting his all as his fist slam down into the hand gripping onto him. The sound of impact was deafening as the force of his punch created a blast of wind throughout the room.

The result was the same as before. Midoriya couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked down at the perfectly undamaged wooden hand. How was this possible?!

“BASTARD!” Bakugou roared, evading the hands trying to snatch him from midair and with a blast of explosions, he shot down like a rocket. He was aware of Midoriya’s predicament. Pretty much everyone was after the boy made a ruckus like that. But Bakugou’s priority at the moment was the save the others first, as they were the ones in danger of being locked away.

It was fortunate that whatever that disgusting doll was, it was preoccupied with Midoriya. He held out his hands, about to blast those wooden creeps into charcoals when a strong force slammed into him from behind.

“Kacchan!”

“Bakugou!”

Midoriya’s and Todoroki’s shout sounded distant as Bakugou’s eyes spun from the impact. His head felt faint, there was even a weird ringing in his ears as the air was forcefully knocked out of his lungs. When Bakugou looked up, he came face to face with that disturbing doll. Its large hands were holding him so tightly that he couldn’t even budge an inch.

“The fuck?!” Bakugou painfully twisted his neck, managing to get a glimpse behind him to see that Midoriya was still being held by the same doll.

“Two dolls?!” Midoriya was equally as shocked as he stared at an identical doll gripping onto Bakugou.

“Damn it!” Bakugou growled as explosions began to go off from beneath the doll’s hands. At first, Bakugou had assumed with these explosions, even if the doll refused to let go he would still be able to blast its fingers off. It was wood, after all, and wood’s weak against fire. However, as time passed and explosions were repeatedly fired, the doll’s hand was perfectly fine without any hint of damages.

That was when realization dawned on Bakugou.

That this monster was immune to his attacks! No, no just his…perhaps this thing is immune to all of their attacks. But how the fuck was that possible? It didn’t make any sense!

On the ground, Todoroki was captured as well. He had been skidding across the rooms, sending blasts after blasts of ice at the hands coming at him to stop them momentarily. He had already found out how fire does nothing to these wooden hands. As he ran, he also used his ice in an attempt to slow down all the other hands, to buy his classmates some time.

In the end, he too was captured. He froze his left his foot firmly against the floor, stopping the pull of his hands as he let his continuously flow at the hands, doing whatever he could to stop them.

On the sideline watching the ruthless battle, the red-haired girl who was seemingly forgotten by the entire class watched the battle unfold. Instead of looking pleased or happy that she was winning, the girl had a really deep frown on her face. Her brows were furrowed as green eyes scanned over these kids.

A boy had…tapes for arms…

Fire and ice…

Explosions…

Sound…

Enhanced physic…

Aside from the elemental and explosion that are somewhat mediocre, what kind of useless Abilities were the rest of those?! Actually, were those even Abilities? She has never seen anything so pathetic in all of her life, and that was a lot considering how useless her own Ability was.

“…!”

Sensing something approaching her, the red-haired girl speedily jumped to the side, just as she felt something flew right past her, creating light wind brushing against her cheeks. And then…that invisible attack came with a weird sound effect…

“Hiyaaa!”

The girl took half a second to get over her surprise before instantly reacting. With a spin, she thrust her leg out and felt her foot sinking into something that weirdly felt like the flesh of a human.

“Geeeh!” The thing was only able to grunt out this much before wooden hands wrapped around it and immobilized it.

The red-haired girl stared at the wooden hands gripping onto her invisible attacker. The wheels were slowly turning in her head as she noticed a pile of clothes discarded in the corner of the room.

The girl’s turquoise eyes widened as something she neglected to consider hit her.

“Quirk?!”

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

“Seriously,” The red-haired girl—whose names was Lucy—slammed down a mug of matcha latte in front of Midoriya. “If you just told me right off the beginning I wouldn’t have to go through all that trouble!”

“S-sorry…” Midoriya muttered meekly. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug and took a shy sip.

Lucy crossed her arm, letting out a huff as she looked over the quiet group of kids filling the small pastry shop. All the tables in the shop had to be pushed together just to fit all of them in. There was a dejected atmosphere around them—so much that Lucy didn’t feel like lecturing them anymore.

“Well…I suppose I’m at fault as well, so let’s just called it even.” She sighed before her eyes sharpened and glared daggers towards a particular boy with balls as head huddled in the corner. “Be grateful I didn’t lock that thing with Anne for the rest of the week!”

Ever since getting out, Mineta hadn’t spoken at all. He just curled up in the corner, hugging his knees close to his chest with his eyes practically budging out as he mumbled a string of incoherent words. No one dared to ask the boy just what in the world happened during their short time of separation, so they all just let him be.

"We're very sorry about his behaviour!” Iida—the ever so responsible class president—immediately shot out of the chair and bowed a perfect ninety-degree to the girl. "We’ll be sure to give him a stern talking after!”

“We’re sorry!” Yaoyorozu—the vice-president, followed as well.

With the two representatives setting an example, the rest of the students hurriedly followed—all but Bakugou who was fuming as he stabbed at his pancakes.

“L-Lucy-san!” Midoriya spoke up hesitantly. “About what happened back there…about our Quirks…”

“Ah?” Lucy looked over to the timid boy—who hadn’t looked so timid before when facing Anne. It wasn’t hard for her to understand what he’s asking.

“Don’t worry,” She said flatly. “I don’t make it a habit to blabber. What goes on here isn’t any of my business.”

“Thank you so much!” Uraraka let out a breath of relieve.

“Thank you, gero!”

“Yes! Thank you!”

“Thank you, Lucy-san!”

“Enough with the thanks.” Lucy snapped impatiently. The girl didn’t seem like she was used to having so many people thanking her. She walked behind the counter and began piling different kinds of cookies onto a plate.

“So uh…Lucy-san, is this café yours?” Uraraka asked as she looked around the cute décor of the store.

"No, I just work part-time here," Lucy stated flatly.

"Then is it okay for us to be here?" Hagakure wondered worriedly. After all, the moment Lucy brought them in, she had locked the door and closed all the blinds, making it impossible for anyone to see what’s going on inside the shop.

“The shop was closed for the day anyways.” Lucy set the plate in the middle of the table, earning a round of thanks. “And you’re all paying, so why would I have a problem with it?”

The redhead then went back to the counter, returning with a cup of steaming tea and a large Daifuku, cleanly cut in half to reveal the red bean and the deliciously ripe strawberry inside. She set it in front of Todoroki, taking the boy by surprise.

“I didn’t order this.” He told her.

“It’s on the house.” Lucy gave Todoroki a look before she grabbed a rag and began wiping the counter.

“What?!” Kaminari’s jaw dropped at the unfair treatment. “Is it the face?! Is that it?!”

“Yo! The pretty boy got charms!" Sero teased, though the person being teased had no idea what that meant.

To the corner of the room, Mineta’s mumbling got a tad louder, though no one but Jirou notice as she gave him a weird look.

Bakugou grumbled from the end of the table as he shoved another piece of pancake into his mouth.

The other students may not have seen it, but Todoroki did.

Although the girl’s eyes were seemingly meeting his, the half-fire half-ice Quirk holder felt her gaze lingering on his burnt scar. He almost touched his scar out of reflex but caught himself in time as his hand paused halfway. Changing the direction of his hand, he reached out, gently picking up the wooden fork and stabbing it into the soft Daifuku.

“Thank you.” Although he wasn’t sure what the girl's action meant, she gave him free food, so he must thank her. Lucy just kept on cleaning, showing no acknowledgment that she had heard him.

"Lucy-san," Yaoyorozu called. When Lucy just continued with her work without even lifting her head, the raven-haired girl realized that she was listening and waiting for her to continue. “Your Ability is really amazing. I’m wondering if all Ability users are as strong as yourself?”

“My Ability’s amazing?” That made Lucy paused. With her back turned to them, none of them could see what expression she was making.

“Yeah, it was super awesome!” Kirishima shouted in excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“To make a whole new dimension like that is unreal!” Kirishima added.

“And you can even stop time!” Hagakure added.

“Your dolls were really strong as well! None of us could even damage it and there were two of them! Does that mean you got more of them?!" Midoriya greedily asked, wanting as much information as he could get with stars in his eyes.

The redhead straightened, dropping the rag before she turned around to face them. All of their praises died on their tongue when they saw the deathly stoic look on the girl’s face.

"There's nothing amazing about my Ability." She finally said, turquoise eyes tainted by a mixture of anger, sadness, and jealousy. “I envy you kids. I bet your Quirks are considered top-notched in your world.”

“How can that be?!” Iida looked offended that Lucy was selling herself out so short. "I've never even imagined a power like yours could exist in this world! With a power like that amazing, you could—!”

“Abilities aren’t the same as Quirks!” Lucy cut him off angrily.

Silence filled the room as everyone stared, shocked by her outburst.

“For you to be able to say something like that must mean I’m the first Ability user you’ve come across, huh?”

The students nodded mutely, not daring to speak, fearing it might anger the girl even more. Lucy almost wanted to laugh at how carefully they were behaving. She stared at those naïve and clean gazes—something that doesn’t exist in her world.

This was why she hated those outsiders.

“How did you guys even get to Yokohama?” She finally asked the question that’s been bothering her the entire time. At first, she thought these kids might have secretly snuck into Yokohama, but now that she thought about it, with their weak powers and low brain cells, they wouldn’t even be able to get in let alone survive a second within Yokohama.

"We're here on a field trip," Jirou answered.

“Field trip?” Lucy blinked. That was not what she had expected.

“We’re from U.A High School. Er…it’s a school for Heroes.” Ojiro explained.

“I know what U.A High School is.” Lucy retorted. She looked around the kids before her eyes landed on a certain explosive boy. “…I thought you looked familiar! Weren’t you that brat that got kidnapped by those Villains?”

“AH?!” Bakugou hollered, the fork in his hand bending from the force he was applying.

The rest of the class tensed up, ready to jump on Bakugou the moment the boy loses control and jumps out to scream in the girl's face. After all, this topic was a sore spot for Bakugou, and for people to constantly bring it up to his face like this…they wouldn't be surprised if Bakugou literally explodes in rage.

To their surprise and relief, Bakugou just gritted his teeth and kept his bottom glued to the chair. His body was body shaking in rage but he just continued to stab his pancakes with his mutilated fork.

“W-we’ll pay for that!” Midoriya hurriedly said to Lucy whose brow had twitched when the boy had ruined the fork.

“Wait, how did you know about that?” Iida gasped once he reacted to what the girl had said. “With Bakugou and…”

“TV of course.” Lucy arched a brow as she pointed to the flat-screen television hung on the wall.

“TV?!” The group shouted.

“So? You’re telling me the Port Mafia let you in because of a field trip?” Lucy asked, having no interest in explaining to these kids how television works.

“Uh…yes.” Uraraka nodded, still trying to get over the fact that there are televisions in Yokohama possibly broadcasting news from the outside world.

Lucy almost wanted to retort and tell them how it’s impossible, but when she saw those honest gazes staring at her, she felt every single hair in her body standing up unpleasantly.

“You’re kidding me.” She muttered.

These kids were serious.

These Quirk holders—Heroes-in-training—came to the city of Ability users—a city filled with criminals—with zero knowledge of what they’re in for?! Are they stupid?!

“Is something wrong?” Midoriya looked at the girl in concern, feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Is something wrong? Are you idiots?!” Lucy looked at them in disbelief. “You should consider yourselves lucky you’re still alive!”

“W-what do you mean?” Hagakure asked.

“Since you outsiders just arrived, you wouldn’t know, but the underground is a mess right now!”

“By underground do you mean the Port Mafia?” Tokoyami asked.

“Did you really think the only criminal organization in this place is Port Mafia?” Lucy huffed. “Seriously, you guys don’t’ know anything and you still dared to come in here?”

The students couldn’t say anything back to that. They knew coming in here was dangerous, but after everything they saw, they sort of just brushed the danger aside despite knowing that this place was controlled by the Port Mafia.

“There are two worlds in Yokohama.” She stretched out a hand, gesturing to the blinds protecting them from the views of the outside.

“Ordinary people,” She then brought her outstretched hand and gestured to herself. “And Ability users. Ordinary people know the existence of Ability users, but that's it. Unless it’s those who have ties with the underworld, Ability users never interfere with them.”

"What do you mean they don't interfere?" Iida frowned, not understanding what she meant. After all, they lived in the same city, how could they not interact with one another? “Wouldn’t there be Ability users using their powers for evil?”

“There’s no good or evil in battles with Ability users.” Lucy scoffed. “Don’t put us on the same level as those Villains of yours.”

“But evil is evil and good is good.” Asui pointed out. “There’s always a difference, gero.”

“Oh?” Lucy looked down on them like looking at some five years old. “Then what’s evil?”

“Like robbing a bank!” Ashido shouted, eager to bring up the first example. After all, bank robberies were extremely common in their world. It was one of the most frequent crimes. "If you have so many Quirkless—I mean, ordinary people, wouldn’t it be easy to rob a bank?”

“And?” Lucy didn’t look impressed as she put her hands on her hips. “Why would anyone rob a bank?”

"Uh…because they want money," Kirishima replied as if it’s the most obvious thing.

“Why?”

“Get rich of course.” The lightning boy gave the girl a weird look. Why she was asking such obvious things?

“Ability users have no interest in such materialistic things as only getting rich," Lucy replied. “If they do want money, they get it through their own powers, not something as petty as robbing a bank. Do you really think robbing a bank would give you that much money? There’s no Ability user anywhere in the world that would do something so stupid. You brats live in an easy world. You’re all pampered the moment you’re born, that’s why you have Villains going after something so pointless.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened at Lucy’s use of words.

Ability user anywhere in the world—he was certain that was what she had said.

“Lucy-san.” Midoriya didn’t know why it never occurred to him before. Her name and looks were obviously not Japanese. Yokohama has been sealed for centuries—even if there were foreigners at that time, it was unthinkable that there would still be any left after so many years. “Where did you come from?”

That grabbed the rest of the class's attention as they looked at Lucy with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"America," Lucy replied easily, not even going to hide the fact that she was not from Yokohama.

“Wait, you’re American?!” Kirishima gasped.

“There are Old Humans and Ability users in America?!” Uraraka shouted in surprise.

“…Who knows?” Lucy wondered as well. “As far as I know, we’re the last ones in America.”

“Did something happen?” Yaoyorozu was hesitant to ask, fearing she might have asked something improper.

“No, our populations declined, that’s all.” Lucy sighed. “There are still some organizations surviving in other countries with strong Ability users holding the organizations together, but sooner or later they’ll be wiped out through time. Not all of us were able to preserve an entire city like Yokohama, it’s only natural we’ll slowly die out.”

“If population is a problem…why not just live in the open?” Yaoyorozu asked. “I’m sure the governments of any country will be glad to have you!”

"…Are you serious?" Lucy's eyes were dilated as she stared intensely at the ponytailed girl. "Do you even know what you people will do to us when we reveal ourselves in the outside world?!”

Lucy didn’t give Yaoyorozu the chance to respond. She just continued on.

“I’ll tell you what! We’ll be captured, experimented on and those with Ability will be used by your governments as tools!”

“We wouldn’t do that!” Iida immediately argued.

Lucy laughed. “Are you stupid or are you just ignorant of how the world works? You’re all what, sixteen? Are you seriously telling me that you don’t think your government will try to capture an alien species if they suddenly appeared within their arm’s reach?

“Alien?” Ashido looked at Lucy weirdly. “What alien?”

“It’s a metaphor.” Lucy deadpanned. “I’m saying that to your people, we might as well be aliens—although it’s you people who are the aliens.”

“What are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, unable to follow her words at all.

“You kids kept calling us Old Humans. Did you seriously think after so many years, we're still the same species?"

"Lucy-san…could it be that you know how Quirk came to be?" At Uraraka’s question, everyone looked at Lucy with surprise in their eyes. After all, this was humanity's biggest mystery of all time. Through years, there were only speculations, but no scientists have ever confirmed the truth behind the appearance of Quirks.

"It's not some secret," Lucy replied.

“Then can you tell us?!” Uraraka pleaded.

“Yes, we want to know too!” Yaoyorzu nodded frantically.

It was a virus brought into earth by a meteor," Lucy explained. “A meteor entered the earth’s atmosphere, but it dissolved into pieces from the force so the people at the times didn’t think much about it. In truth, that meteor was carrying a weird type of virus from outer space. When the meteor dissolved, the virus quickly spread throughout the earth’s atmosphere and became the air people breathed. I’m sure you can imagine what happened after breathing in these viruses for five continuous years. In those five years’ time, the virus spread through the body and that was what sparked the first change in humans and caused them to develop mutations.”

The students listened with their jaws hitting the floor. Outer world virus?! That was where Quirk came from?

"Wait, so we've been breathing in these viruses our entire life?!" Kaminari shouted in horror.

"They don't exist anymore," Lucy told him. "The viruses disappeared eighty-six after its appearance—presumably absorbed by your ancestors. The outside air right now isn't much different than in here...save for some pollution issues.”

“So…what happened?” Uraraka couldn’t help but wanted to know. What exactly had happened in the past that separated people like Lucy from the rest of the world?

“You can’t count on the governments to do much," Lucy said mockingly. It was clear she harboured no love for the governments. “The only ones that acted were different Organizations scattered around the world in the underground. Whatever those viruses were, they got no effect on Ability users. Being the only ones still able to maintain order and with Ability users that have immunity, each organization separated themselves from the rest of the world. Some created a literal underground world while others sealed themselves within a barrier like Yokohama.”

“But wouldn’t you still breathe in the air, gero? You said it took five years before the mutation fully started, correct?” Asui asked.

“They developed a vaccine," Lucy replied. "I don't know which country's organization developed it first, but one of them created a vaccine to counter the virus within a year after Quirk began to appear. In early stages, while the virus still hasn't taken root, it was still possible to kill it and revert humans back to normal. For a price, that organization sold the formula to other organizations. That’s why we’re still able to keep our genes clean from the invasion of viruses.”

“Wait, but if those people had the cure, why didn’t they give it to the government?” Iida furrowed his brows in disapproval. “Wouldn’t that save the world from falling apart?”

“Hah?” Lucy looked at the glassed boy as if he was stupid. “Why would they do that?”

“What do you mean why?” Iida whispered. “For the sake of the world, of course!”

Lucy almost laughed at that dumb remark. No, actually, she did laugh. It was a sarcastic laugh as she looked at Iida as if looking at a moron.

“For the sake of the world.” She parroted. “Here’s something to keep in mind while you’re here. Whether it is Ability users of the past or now, we don’t care about the world.”

She leaned close to Iida, towering over him and making him shrink back as maniac rolled off her body.

“Before the appearance of Quirks, Ability users were dangerous and deemed by the public as threats. I just said the underground. Do you think organizations with Ability users were lawful ones? If I was in your world I’d be branded as criminal as well.”

“Did you do something bad, Lucy-san?” Hagakure swallowed hard as she looked at Lucy.

“When we came to Yokohama, we also tried to burn this entire city to the ground," Lucy said so casually that no one would think there was anything wrong with her sentences until the words registered into their brains.

“WHAT?!”

“To be precise, the one who wanted to burn down Yokohama was my old boss.” Lucy clarified. “Well, lots of things happened. Right now I’m just another resident in Yokohama.”

“Y-you tried to murder an entire city?!” Aoyama was hysterical. No one could blame him though, as they were all reeling from shock.

“W-wait! If you’re some sort of terrorist…shouldn’t you be arrested?” Kaminari gapped.

Lucy arched a brow at how the boy called her a terrorist. That was a new one. “I got their citizenship.”

“That’s not what I meant—they gave you citizenship after you tried to burn their city?!”

“That was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t like the plan succeeded. The Port Mafia shut us down before we can get there. So anyways, do you understand now?” Lucy dismissed the panicking kids, not interested in talking about the past.

“After so many years, the virus has merged with your DNA, creating completely new ones different from real humans. It’s only our appearance that looked similar, but we’re already two separate species. We had been since hundreds of years ago after the virus took root. Do you ever wonder why Abilities doesn’t exist in the outside world? Like Quirk that never manifest on Ability users, Ability will never manifest on Quirk holder. It doesn’t matter if they are Quirkless, because Ability only occurs in humans."

The kids fell silent after hearing the end of the story.

Sure, they were shocked at the origin of Quirks, but they were listening with the mindset of hearing just an old story—a truth that no one in the outside world has discovered yet. The thought of being aliens never occurred to any of them or affected them in any way.

Perhaps it just hadn't fully sunk in yet, as the story sounded too surreal and distant for them to link it to themselves.

“Can we ask…uh…how did the Port Mafia…?” Yaoyorozu began hesitantly. The moment the girl mentioned the Port Mafia, that had become the center of their attention. After all, this was a valuable chance for them to know the enemy.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Lucy picked up her rag and began cleaning again. “We were completely crushed, that’s all. As far as I know, only me and three other people survived—the rest were all killed. Though the other girl that was close to my old boss believed he was still alive and went off looking for him.”

To say the kids were more shocked by how she so casually talked about her comrades’ deaths than knowing the origin of Quirk was an understatement. How could she act as if she was just talking about the weather? She didn’t even show the slightest bit of remorse, anger or sadness over their deaths.

“Do you hate the Port Mafia?” Uraraka whispered softly.

“No.” Lucy still had that not-my-problem tone. “It was our loss. That’s how things work in the world. There’s no point in resenting over anything. The loser dies and the winner lives.”

Her attitude and tone sent a chill down all the kids’ backs. How could she say this? What exactly did she go through to make her say something like that as if it was completely natural?

“Besides,” Lucy continued, “it wasn’t like we ever had a chance of winning. From the beginning to end, everything was in the palm of that person’s hand.”

“That person?” Tokoyami spoke for the first in a long time.

"The boss of Port Mafia," Lucy replied.

“Did you meet them? The boss of Port Mafia?” Midoriya wore a serious expression as he stared at Lucy. The shyness he had when he first sat down in the shop was all gone by now.

“Never mind the boss, we never even saw any of his executives.” Lucy snorted as if mocking herself from that time. “Not a single one of them appeared when we invaded Yokohama. He only sent out his successors and their underlings to deal with us. From the very beginning, we were used by the Port Mafia boss to train his successors.”

“Successors?”

The kids looked around one another.

“That’s why I said you guys got here at a bad time.” Lucy turned to them with a solemn look in those turquoise eyes. “The Port Mafia boss announced that he will choose the next boss of Port Mafia by the end of this week. There are two successors. The last to stand will become the next to lead Port Mafia. After that announcement, everyone in Port Mafia started choosing sides. The underground is also a mess right now with various organizations plotting to use this chance to overthrow the Port Mafia. A war is coming.”

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#Crossover fanfiction #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #bnha

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isitgintimeyet · 6 years

Text

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Thanks again for all the likes and comments and reblogs and for reading it, of course!

Happy Valentine’s Day... and in that spirit, some more J & C time coming up. NSFW warning!

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Chapter 9: A Morning Intervention

Then I examined my own heart. And there you were. Never, I fear, to be removed. - Jane Austen Emma

Sunlight through a chink in the curtains woke Jamie up. Initially disorientated in these unfamiliar surroundings, he reached for his watch and squinted, 5:50. Lying on his back, he looked round the bedroom as best as he could, trying not to move, not wanting to disturb Claire sleeping next to him, her round arse rammed tight against his hip, her feet resting against his calves. He gently ran a finger down her spine. A brief moan sounded from Claire before she resumed the regular breathing of deep sleep.

Like the living room, the bedroom was decorated in neutral tones with light oak furniture. Although last night Jamie’s mind was otherwise engaged, he could now appreciate that the bed linen, a simple coffee and cream design, was very luxurious cotton. The aroma of essential oils permeated the room, mingling with the musky scent of sex.

In contrast to the classic simplicity of this room, the wall opposite the bed was dominated by a huge print of a single scarlet poppy, painted as if under a microscope, one flower filling the entire frame. To him, it was a very powerful and somehow sensual image. This room was the embodiment of Claire, outwardly very calm and ordered but with an undercurrent of passion and sensuality. Jamie found it a very arousing combination.

He rolled over to spoon Claire. Instinctively, she moved her hips, snuggling her bottom in closer to Jamie. He reached round and cupped her breast, feeling the nipple harden. Claire sighed contentedly as Jamie drifted back to sleep.

******

Claire woke to find herself enveloped by a giant Scot, one breast cupped in a large hand, with an insistent stiffness prodding her bottom. She reached behind to touch him.

“Turn around. Hold me properly.” Jamie’s voice rumbled into the back of her neck.

“Don’t want to breathe on you… garlic breath.”

“Dinna be daft, Sassenach.” The rumbling continued, the breath on her neck sending little spasms of pleasure through her body. “We both have garlic breath. That means we canna smell it. So, like I said, turn around and hold me properly.”

Claire turned to face Jamie. “Good morning.” She smiled.

“Aye, ’tis...’tis a good morning.”

Claire’s hands roamed over Jamie’s chest, enjoying the feel of the wiry ginger hairs. Her mind couldn’t help but think about the differences between Jamie and Frank - a warrior's body and an academic’s body. Even though Jamie had obvious intelligence and emotional sensitivity, he still exuded strength and controlled power, a throwback to his grandsires that founded the distillery and even earlier. With Frank, on the other hand, it had all been cerebral, with an artist’s physique, yet somehow missing that emotional sensitivity. She cast the thought of Frank and his inadequacies aside and focused on the man that was in her bed, her mind and, dare she say, her heart?

Jamie took her hand and guided it lower to caress him fully. “Aye, that’s it. Like that.” He moaned.

Licking his chest, she slowly trailed her tongue down his body, swirling in his belly button before reaching her goal.

As she took him in her mouth, he spoke hoarsely. “If ye dinna want tae do this, that’s fine, I understand.” The longing and hunger in his voice made a lie of his statement.

She put her finger to his lips to hush him as she set about her business.

******

“Five more minutes lying here, then I’m going to have a shower.”

“Ye said that ten minutes ago, Sassenach.”

“I know, but I’m so comfy… and sweaty. It’s like sleeping next to a radiator. Are you always so warm?”

“Aye, I must jes’ be a hot blooded creature.”

Jamie blew gently in her ear. Looking up, he added. “That picture on the wall…it’s very powerful.”

“Oh yes, it’s a print of a Georgia O’Keeffe painting. I love it, there’s something about her work. Definitely a power to it. You know, despite her denying it, art critics have argued that her flower pictures actually depict female genitalia. Can’t really see it with that picture, but I get what they mean with other paintings. Intentional or not, there is a certain eroticism to them. Perhaps it’s because we’re just not used to seeing art created from a female perspective? Or because female power is erotic? I don’t know… I just love it.”

Claire slipped from his grasp and climbed out of bed. Jamie watched as she headed for the bathroom, an idea forming in his head.

In the shower, Claire closed her eyes and let the water rush over her. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in there and was about to get out, when she heard the shower door open and Jamie stepped in behind her. Claire didn’t turn around or say a word. Jamie lifted her damp curls and kissed the back of her neck, running his fingers down her spine, all the way from neck to the cleft of her cheeks – his touch so light. He did this again and Claire felt her insides melt. Still not turning round, she put her hands against the wall for support. Jamie came closer to her, pressing his body against her back, putting his arms around her, all the while kissing and nibbling her shoulders and neck. Claire could feel how aroused he was, his hardness rubbing against her back. His hands moved to Claire’s breasts – his fingers played with the already hard nipples, pinching and teasing, then gently massaging them with a barely there touch as he ground his erection into her back. One hand slowly travelled down her body. Claire set her legs apart slightly, and allowed his hand to move between them and start rhythmically rubbing and caressing. She could feel her climax start to build in her core, sending sparks shooting all over her body, now feeling very sensitive. She moaned involuntarily, causing Jamie to increase the rhythm of his strong fingers. With a huge great explosion of pleasure, Claire reached her peak and collapsed on to Jamie. She turned to face him, her legs feeling very unsteady. He smiled and kissed her tenderly on the lips. She pushed him out of the shower and reached for two towels. Taking his hand, she led him back into the bedroom and onto the bed.

******

The angry grumbling of Jamie’s stomach finally forced the pair to get out of bed. Jamie wrapped a towel around his middle as Claire quickly donned a thin strapped vest top and pair of running shorts. He grabbed her round her waist and held her close.

“How can ye be jes’ as sexy in clothes as naked, Sassenach? I would throw ye tae the bed and ravish ye again, if it wasna for ma belly complaining.” His stomach groaned in agreement. “Have ye any bacon?”

Claire pulled away laughing. “Yes, you go and sit yourself down, I’ll make some coffee and a bacon sandwich. You definitely deserve it.”

Jamie moved into the living room and sat on the sofa, contentedly listening to Claire pottering in the kitchen, brewing coffee and grilling bacon. He moved a cushion to settle himself more comfortably. Down the side of the sofa cushion, he noticed a bit of tissue. Pulling it out, he saw it was an old napkin, with writing on. He read:

Standard Operating Procedure for a Fling

1. Looks good in a kilt and out of one too

2. No complications

3. Enjoys a drink, likes to let hair down

4. Loves the X Files, watches repeats

5. Fancies you as you are

Jamie suddenly remembered where he’d seen that nurse before. She was in the pub when he was with Geneva, she came back to retrieve this manky old napkin for ‘scientific research’. Was that what Claire thought this was, just a fling? That he was just some man who happened to fit these criteria? For a bit of fun and then move on? Jamie’s stomach lurched. Surely not, Claire wouldn’t share those stories of her childhood if this were a fling? Would she?

Claire came in carrying two mugs of coffee to see Jamie sitting ashen faced holding… Oh God no, not that blasted list. He handed it to her, not quite making eye contact.

“Is that what this is… a fling, then? Did ye and yer wee friend just look fer any suitable man tae meet yer needs?”

Claire shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “No, not at all… Geillis and I did that list as a joke. I told her that I didn’t think I was ready for a new relationship just yet. And she reckoned that a fling would be the best way to move on. But, believe me, I’m not cut out for a fling. And I saw you before this damn list. You were at a wedding last month, talking to a petite lady, pregnant. I wondered then… but I never saw you again. And I hoped that I would the next day at the pool, but no.”

Jamie finally looked at her. “I saw ye at the wedding too… well mainly yer arse and yer curls. I wanted tae see ye again. Then I saw ye in the pub wi’ yer nurse friend. I couldna believe it when ye walked intae the cubicle to fix Wee Jamie’s arm. But, much as I want ye, I dinna think I could stand it if what it is between us is only casual. So, tell me now, please, do ye want me… and no’ fer jes’ a bit o’ fun?”

Claire reached over and held his face in her hands. “James Fraser, I want you… and not for just a bit of fun. This is different, and I want, I want...”

“A real relationship.” Jamie finished the sentence, moving closer.

“Aye,” breathed Claire as their lips met.

#outlander fan fiction #outlander fanfic #the ties that bind #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #chapter 9 #some J&C lovin'

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lady-o-ren · 6 years

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Just Between Lovers

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Despite the embrace he held me in, the walk towards the flat Jamie called ours was noticably awkward. Questions burned at our lips and seized the link between our hands fraught with tension as his thumb tapped an erratic beat against the back of my palm, sweating within his keeping. Though I had known Jamie in the tangible sense for only two days I knew what I had said, to unknowingly question the names he gave me from his heart and to dismiss them, wouldn't be shrugged off so easily. My own questions would have to wait.

I wouldn't have thought simple endearments could be so precious to a person. I had been Darling, for years and never thought the word was anything more then a passing affection on the cheek, an imprint of soft, thin lips with the heady musk of cologne to linger about me and sting my eyes. I couldn't even remember the last time it was spoken to me without an, I'm sorry, trailing after from the other side of the phone with a promise to amend the wrong only for it to be broken as well. It would leave me with a hollowness in the pit of my stomach, but only for a moment as I reminded myself that I was guilty of the same to Frank. Why did I have any right to be upset.

Jamie was though, and I could feel his gaze searching for who he knew me to be and a rise of panic began to trickle through my veins if he didn't keep to his word.

With a twist of a key and turn of a knob, through the door we crossed to a space of deceptive warmth that did little to thaw my blood. I was freed from Jamie's grip as he shedded himself of his coat, eyes still on me but mouth clamped shut. If his plan was to unnerve me, it was working.

I threw my coat to the back of the couch, almost tripping over my own feet - the inebriation was kicking in more forcefully now as I no longer had a hand to cling to - and headed for the room to rid myself of clothes that smelled of pungent antiseptic, heavily of grease, with a splash of drink being the only inviting scent. I wanted to throw myself beneath the covers to let the haven of sleep wash over me. Perhaps this time I'd wake to an empty bed - mine, alone - even though it was made for two. The thought left me chilled as opposed to what this limbo brought me, of ever present sea blue eyes always seeking mine.

But as Jamie's step came closer, I decided for the shower with a swivel of my heels. I closed the door then pulled at my clothes that scattered to the tile and turned the water on to a scalding degree that melted me to a boneless state, distracting me of my dilemma if only for a moment. There was only one problem.

This time I forgot to lock the door.

Submerged in a cascade of water I didn't hear Jamie until the door parted, releasing the steam that foggied up the glass and leaving me bared to his sight - all shining in pink with arms around myself offering a meager shield even though Jamie had seen it all - flat against the tile with him a ruddy flame, brushing along me skin to slippery skin. I was thoroughly trapped between a wall and a very large and looming, completely drenched and dripping, hard muscled Scot.

Very well played.

Jamie hadn't noticed my gaping expression as his head was bent with eyes closed in his own submersion, relishing the rushing heat of water until he tipped his head my way.

"Hello." Jamie called with a crooked grin. "Did I interrupt yer washing, Claire?" While his voice was teasing, Jamie's eyes didn't waver from mine to linger downward, that wasn't what his intrusion was about. He was reaching out to me the only way he knew how to without breaking his word. That or I was being lulled to free myself of whatever he thought burdened me. I couldn't argue with his methods. Nor could I figure, with a brain ceasing to function, how to push him away without making matters worse. So I didn't.

"You're stealing all the hot water." It was the best my brain cells could muster as I raised my chin to show I wasn't the least bit bothered, yet my arms across my breast spoke otherwise that Jamie interpreted as a sign of a chill.

"Are ye cold still? I dinna think the water gets any hotter." He stretched his arm to turn the knob and grabbed a plentiful amount of my arse instead.

"Jamie!" I shrieked.

"What?" He asked in blue eyed innocence that flickered with a light that left a fluttering beneath my ribs down past my belly. The sensation only intensified when both Jamie's hands cupped the curve of my bottom and settled me softly between the bristly warmth of his hips that no longer had him flinching away in pain as my mark had faded to a dull splotch of yellow.

"Jamie." This time my voice was more a whisper lost in the water, his nose grazing against mine, as droplets of water fell from the strands of darkened cooper to my cheeks down to my lips. Jamie's hands slowly slid up my waist - leaving a shuddering of goosebumps in it's wake - to my arms still clasped around me and with a gentle pull, loosened my hold to lay my hands at his chest. I was pinned intimately so along the length of him, rousing me to a fervent blush that had me drowning in heat and calmed me of anxious thought all at once despite feeling faint. How could he do that?

Then Jamie's fingertips lightly traced up my neck to skim the line from my chin to temple, pushing away my flattened curls with a tenderness while mine twitched as his heart pulsed an even beat under my palm. My gaze locked at the steady heave of Jamie's chest rose to his, intense with sincerity and maybe that was my final undoing.

"If ye plan on keeping to yerself then the only thing I can do is cherish ye, Claire. By feeding ye, making ye laugh or the way that clears yer mind best. Just holding ye to me and calling ye all my heart feels for ye - mo sassenach, mo ghràidh..." Jamie's lips brushed along the sweep of my cheeks and brow between every word, their meaning becoming very clear to me. And then Jamie added with a small smirk that at any other time I would have wanted to stab my finger to if not for it's accuracy. "Leaving ye with no escape." He did know me very well.

"Just know ye can trust me whatever is plaguing ye."

I blame the alcohol, Jamie's close proximity overwhelming my better senses that I could feel with every soothing touch and kindness of voice that had me give the man the opportunity to press me for answers.

Maybe I just wanted to be closer to him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I replied honestly.

Jamie pulled away to look me straight in the eyes, his shining with a serious determination, even as his mouth curled at the corners of how absurd my statement sounded to him.

"If ye told me ye fell from the heavens with the light of the stars within ye, I'd believe you. If ye told me you and Geillis were a pair of witches who danced naked on Samhain I'd say my suspicions were confirmed."

"It's not a joke!" I exclaimed, irrational as it was. I pushed away from Jamie, sliding the door to grab a towel hanging off to the side and wrapping it tight, only for a hand to whip me back around.

"Neither was I, Claire." Jamie bent to my level, confusion and concern etched deep in his face."I only meant nothing you could do or say could stop me from believing ye."

It wasn't his earnesty that had me crack. Only the need to shatter my own illusion that was too perfect to be real. To stop pretending this world had any foothold in reality.

So I did. I told Jamie in a rabid ramble of words that sputtered free and surely sounded delusional to his ear.

His face turned a horrid shade of sick.

I explained to Jamie that he was a complete stranger to me that I knew nothing of him or us.

Jamie grabbed a towel and wrapped it across his middle.

I told him all these things and reality was still intact, no crack in the walls, my vision going dim. Still him and me and probably an admittance to an asylum.

Jamie stood there like a pillar, unmoving and quiet, as water gathered at his feet, his face lowered away from me in the throes of strained contemplation and that's where I left him. Back into the bedroom, pulling at drawers of clothes that I tossed to the bed in a plaid flurry. Was there nothing of my own? A rustle of fabric and sharp intake of breath behind disturbed my frantic dressing and when I turned with a final tug of shirt there was Jamie, clothed and head finally raised to meet mine.

"You think I'm lying."

"Yer incapable of a fib without giggling."

I could!

"Then I must be insane."

"Yer not." He said firmly. "I would never think so."

"That I hit my head and am suffering a concussion."

"A wee bit," Jamie admitted. "I won't lie to ye but -"

"But what?" My palms were twisting the hem of my (his) shirt, knuckles turning white, shivering from the dampness still clinging to my skin. Jamie walked over to me, approaching me with a slow step that one shows an injured animal. His hands hovered above mine in question and I answered, slipping my shaking ones in his that stilled instantly at the stroking of his thumb over the backs of my palms, raised close to my chest.

"Tell me this." Jamie began with a soft breath, warm in a caress where our fingers twined. "Why of all places did ye find yerself here in this bed. Mine and no one else's?"

The shirt fit me loose and by the way his chin tilted, Jamie could plainly see the painful blush of embarrassment staining every inch of visible skin.

"Ye ken yer face is telling me all yer secrets and more so." Jamie arched his brow in curiosity, even so he gave me a gentle squeeze to coax the truth from me. "Speak. It canna be anymore preposterous then a dip in water to another world. Though," he mumbled low under his breath. "The more I think about it - I never did trust anything wet I couldna drink."

When Jamie put it that way, what was one more reveal. I only wished he were far across the room and I in another hemisphere. Preferably on the moon.

"I had - before all this," I twirled my finger in a loop. "Had been having dreams about you that were... vivid...quite so." I was glowing bright like a beacon and ready to burst into a million shards.

"Theses dreams, were they the kind that make ye squeak?" He asked in what he probably thought was a delicate choice of word. I didn't take it that way.

"I don't squeak!"

"Ye do. Encourages me." A chuckle was suppressed in a grunt, familiar to my hearing.

I knew it did.

"As ye know." Jamie read me with such an ease and cockiness maybe he did understand. But I asked again and probably would until I awoken to a hue dark of hazel.

"Do you really believe me?"

______

Jamie

"I do, Claire. Even if I don't understand it, I do." Jamie assured her, surprised at how convinced his voice sounded.

Even as he worried about his own state of mind that he wasn't rushing Claire off to the hospital to scan her brain for fractures or growths pressuring within her skull.

But relieved at how for the first time in the past two days he saw his Claire reflecting back at him, trust surging in her eyes with her distress cast to him. The keeper of her heart, protector of any ill harm that came her way.

Aye, he believed her.

…

Come morning though, he might think differently.

____

A/N: I ended the last chapter a certain way so I could push the plot further along (Jamie was always going to know) but once I started writing this one I couldn't get the line where she questions Jamie's gaelic out of my head. He wouldn't let that go, a definite change would have been apparent in him and the original outline for this chapter (Q's directed at Jamie not the other way around) just didn't support that no matter how I twisted it. So I spent what? Two weeks writing everything else but this story and while I don't think I earned these emotions (everything works better in my head) I hope through the faults whatever I have here is entertaining.

*Cracks in the wall is a reference to Doctor Who - The Eleventh Hour

Thanks for reading!

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire

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lawofavgs · 6 years

Text

The Sacrifices We Make - Chapter 7

A/N: WHAT? What is this? No, this isn’t a dream. This is a new chapter! I want to thank every reviewer, every person who said nice things about this fic (despite how long it’s been since it’s been updated). It was certainly the motivation and the confidence-booster I needed to finish up a half-done chapter.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Clouds were insistently rolling in, blocking out the sun and matching well with Jamie’s mood. I could see him gripping the paddock railing, head bowed and shoulders rising along with his ragged breaths.

I stopped 10 feet away, clutching my fingers before I spoke. “You realize that if you can’t keep your anger in check, you’re proving your father right. He’ll never allow you to be in the presence of the English army.”

At first, it didn’t seem like I would get a response. His shaky inhales and forced exhales filled the air between us for stretching moments. My sense of self-preservation was whispering at me, telling me to retreat to safety at once.

“Aye, I ken. I’m just…Christ!” His voice, starting off soft, rose in anger as his palm slapped the wooden beam. “How long does this go on? How long must we live under the thumb of those bastards?”

I sighed and closed the remaining distance between us, taking a place on his right side and gazing up at the ominous cloud cover.

“The Act that Parliament is going to enact soon will remain on the books for decades. Scotland will eventually become more of an integrated part of the Kingdom, and will not attempt another uprising. This level of intrusiveness will not last, since your father and grandfather did not support the Jacobite cause, but the Redcoats won’t leave you be for some time,” I answered plainly. There was so much more information, and so much more I did not know, but that was better saved for another time.

Jamie’s head turned my way quickly, brows drawn tight. “My grandsire? How do you know about him?”

“Oh,” I exclaimed, mind searching for the best answer that would not be considered a lie. “At the start of the Uprising, back in my time, I was at Beaufort Castle when your uncle Colum was making his argument to stay out of the fighting.”

I felt Jamie’s stare hot on me for endless beats of time before his eyes dropped, the acceptance of my story clear on his face. A large part of me wished to tell him I went to Beaufort Castle with him, another version of him, the version I called my husband. A slow inhale of breath calmed my unchained emotions and alerted me to the rain threatening to fall.

“I want to stand with my father when they ride up to our front steps, but I dinna ken how I would stay calm if I saw anyone strike him,” he told me with a strained voice. Without much thought, I placed my hand over his on the wooden railing, wishing to soothe him with a simple touch, just as I did in the priest hole not even a few hours past.

“You would grit your teeth because you knew any outburst would put your family in danger. I know how much you love them, how far you’d go to protect them, and that’s how I know you’d never do anything to risk their safety. Even if it meant punching an innocent, unassuming piece of wood afterwards,” I informed him with a soft smile.

His eyes searched mine for the span of several heartbeats, the attention making my breath come faster. He used the hand I was holding to turn us until we were facing each other, separated by a meager half foot of space. I was frozen under the weight of his intense gaze.

“Even knowing what you are,” he started, swallowing before continuing, “it still takes me by surprise when I see how familiar you are. You know me, my family. And I swear it’s like I know you as well.”

I wanted to answer, to tell him everything about me, to confess the secrets I’d been holding on to so tightly. Every word died in my throat as he bent down, lips softly touching mine in a tender question. As soon as I responded, I felt one large, calloused palm cradling my cheek with a heartbreaking gentleness.

With a start, Jamie took a step back, disengaging from all contact. His eyes were panicked, his breathing laboured.

“I’m sorry, lass. I dinna ken what came over me. To be so bold and forward with ye….”

“Stop,” I interrupted, laying my hand lightly on his forearm. My cheeks were flushed from the brief kiss and sore from my futile attempts to contain my smile. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he could hear my heart beating a rapid rhythm against my ribcage. So much time had passed since our last kiss. The contradiction between that frenzied, heart-shattering moment and this soft, tender one was staggering. A goodbye and a hello. So many days had been spent around him, getting closer to him, yet never close enough. The simple act of a undemanding, almost innocent kiss was enough to send a riot of emotions through me. Words failed me, so I merely leaned in, lifting my lips to meet his once more.

“Jamie!” Ian’s voice cut through the bubble Jamie and I created and we broke apart hastily. If I hadn’t been so annoyed by the intrusion, I would have enjoyed the fierce blush steadily creeping up the back of his neck and covering his ears.

“Aye, I’m coming,” Jamie grumbled, eyes noticeably not meeting mine. My hand, still wrapped around his muscled forearm, gave a reassuring squeeze. When his gaze finally lifted, I offered what I hoped was a calming smile. He released a shaky breath before replying with a grin of his own and a respectful bow. I watched as he turned, walking away in his reluctant retreat.

Memories flashed before my eyes as I replayed that reverent bend of his head and shoulders. Our wedding day. His ill-fated departure from Lallybroch. The soldier on his way to battle at Prestonpans. I fought for every breath as I worked to steady myself.

I had to tell Jamie. I had to explain everything I had kept hidden during my time here.

Room for secrets, but not for lies.

With a secret this large, it could not be viewed as anything other than a lie. A sin of omission.

A sin I was ready to repent for.

- - -

“Ach, lass, would ye give me some peace?” Brian grumbled out as I removed the bandage covering his wound and prepared to clean and re-dress it. “Tis merely a scratch.”

I shook my head with an almost-contained smile, noting the Fraser trait of stubbornness alive and well in Laird Broch Tuarach. I pretended not to notice his wince has I swiped the cut with an alcohol-dipped cloth.

“Waste of perfectly good whisky,” he muttered under his breath as he fought to school his features. I quickly finished the re-bandaging with a practiced hand before passing him a tumbler of the amber liquid – this time to be used as intended.

I sat with as much grace as I could, desperate to be off my feet after such an emotional day. It would have been easy to tilt my head back and find respite in the arms of sleep. “We’ll leave that on until it’s scabbed over, so don’t pick at it.”

“How was Jamie? The lad seemed rather intent on avoiding me today,” Brian noted, taking another sip from his glass.

“He’s a 25 year old man being treated like a child. He’s angry and frustrated and worried about his family.”

A familiar Scottish noise erupted from Brian’s throat as he shook his head. “Ye saw how quickly his temper came about when he saw what the Redcoats had done to me over something as small as a lack of meat to give them. I cannae risk it.”

“He was upset at being locked away while you were the one in danger. It isn’t that he would have started a brawl, he just wished it had been him being struck instead of you,” I reasoned passionately. Brian eyed me warily, perhaps wondering if Jamie had told me this or if I figured out his feelings on my own.

“And what if they only gave me a quick blow to the head because I’m an auld man? What if that was their idea of compassion, something not afforded to a young man such as my son? It wouldn’t be the first time someone saw his size as an unstated challenge and decided to have a go wi’ him.” He set his tumbler down with a little extra force, the mix of his fear and ire bubbling under the surface.

“Brian –“

“I will. Not. Lose. Him,” he cut me off with clear, concise words. “This family has mourned enough, as I’m sure ye ken well. Ellen, Willie, wee Rabbie, all taken too soon. Jamie’s name will not be added to that list. For all ye’ve done to keep him alive, I’m sure you agree.”

I took a moment to collect myself, his words hitting their mark. I knew loss as well. My mother and father, Uncle Lamb, Faith. For a brief moment in time, Jamie had been included as well. “I do agree. I also know you can’t keep a Fraser out of the skirmish for long. You tend to be a stubborn lot. Eventually, it will be his duty to represent Lallybroch against less-than-friendly forces. Who better to learn how to do it from than you?”

His eyes softened dramatically, his frustration ebbing away like water down a drain. He shook his head in wonderment as he sat back in his chair.

“I couldna have picked a more suitable lady for my son if I had been given a lump of clay and told to create her from that. Whip-smart and headstrong enough to walk beside him and to keep him in line.” I blushed at the praise, finding an interesting spot on the floor to focus my gaze on instead of meeting his eyes.

“Perhaps a little less English?” I joked in an attempt to regain my composure.

“Nah,” he replied with a smirk so familiar to the one I’d seen from Jamie countless times. “English or Scottish, it doesna change your heart or your mind. Are ye planning on telling him the whole of things soon?”

I sucked in a startled breath at his impromptu question. Surely I was running out of time to tell him about everything before he realized I was pregnant. Into my fourth month, there was only so much my corset and layers of clothing could hide. Even with the rationed food, I was showing. I had seen Jenny eyeing my midsection earlier with a knowing gaze. It would only be so long before Jamie noticed, too. While I didn’t know for sure the words I wanted to say, I did know it was a conversation I wanted to start on my own terms – not because news of my pregnancy got out and forced my hand.

“I’ll have to,” I responded quietly as my hand unconsciously moved to my belly. “All I can hope is that he’ll listen with an open mind.”

“He’s yers, Claire. His heart belongs to you, whether he kens it yet or not. Gather your words and give them to him gently. If he willna listen, box his ears until he hears your story. As someone told me recently, us Frasers are a stubborn lot.”

My spirits lifted from Brian’s pep talk. His unshakeable belief that everything would work out, that Jamie would accept what I had to say, gave me the confidence needed to have one of the most difficult conversations of my life.

Tomorrow, I promised myself as I bid Brian a good night and headed up the stairs to my room. Tomorrow I would gather my courage and explain my wild tale to Jamie, and I would keep telling him until he believed every word.

I fell into a deep, restful sleep with the feeling of hope residing in my chest.

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #claire x jamie #outlander #the sacrifices we make #fanfic

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whenfrasermetbeauchamp · 6 years

Photo

“Jamie,” I said, and swallowed. I could barely speak the next words, but they had to be said. I had known what news he would bring, and I had thought of what might still be done. “Jamie. There’s only one thing left—only the one possibility.”

His head was bent, forehead resting on his knuckles. He shook his head, not looking at me.

“There is no way,” he said. “He’s bent on it. Murray has tried to turn him, so has Lochiel. Balmerino. Me. But the men are standing on the plain this hour. Cumberland has set out for Drumossie. There is no way.”

The healing arts are powerful ones, and any physician versed in the use of substances that heal knows also the power of those that harm. I had given Colum the cyanide he had not had time to use, and taken back the deadly vial from the table by the bed where his body lay. It was in my box now, the crudely distilled crystals a dull brownish-white, deceptively harmless in appearance.

My mouth was so dry that I couldn’t speak at once. There was a little wine left in my flask; I drank it, the acid taste like bile on my tongue.

“There is one way,” I said. “Only one.”

Jamie’s head stayed sunk in his hands. It had been a long ride, and the shock of Alec’s news had added depression to his tiredness. We had detoured to find his men, or most of them, a miserable, ragged crew, indistinguishable from the skeletal Frasers of Lovat who surrounded them. The interview with Charles was far beyond the last straw.

“Aye?” he said.

I hesitated, but had to speak. The possibility had to be mentioned; whether he—or I—could bring ourselves to it or not.

“It’s Charles Stuart,” I said, at last. “It’s him—everything. The battle, the war—everything depends on him, do you see?”

“Aye?” Jamie was looking up at me now, bloodshot eyes quizzical.

“If he were dead.…” I whispered at last.

Jamie’s eyes closed, and the last vestiges of blood drained from his face.

“If he were to die…now. Today. Or tonight. Jamie, without Charles, there’s nothing to fight for. No one to order the men to Culloden. There wouldn’t be a battle.”

The long muscles of his throat rippled briefly as he swallowed. He opened his eyes and stared at me, appalled.

“Christ,” he whispered. “Christ, ye canna mean it.”

My hand closed on the smoky, gold-mounted crystal around my neck.

…

“I could do it,” I said. My heart was beating heavily in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “I could mix him a draught. I think I could persuade him to take it.”

“And if he should die upon drinking your medicine? Christ, Claire! They would kill ye on the spot!”

I folded my hands beneath my arms, trying to warm them.

“D-does that matter?” I asked, desperately trying to steady my voice. The truth was that it did. Just at the moment, my own life weighed a good deal more in the balance than did the hundreds I might save. I clenched my fists, shaking with terror, a mouse in the jaws of the trap.

Jamie was at my side in an instant. My legs didn’t work very well; he half-carried me to the broken settle and sat down with me, his arms wrapped tight around me.

“You’ve the courage of a lion, mo duinne,” he murmured in my ear. “Of a bear, a wolf! But you know I willna let ye do it.”

The shivering eased slightly, though I still felt cold, and sick with the horror of what I was saying.

“There might be another way,” I said. “There’s little food, but what there is goes to the Prince. I think it might not be difficult to add something to his dish without being noticed; things are so disorganized.” This was true; all over the house, officers lay sleeping on tables and floors, still clad in their boots, too tired to lay aside their arms. The house was in chaos, with constant comings and goings. It would be a simple matter to distract a servant long enough to add a deadly powder to the evening dish.

…

In the doorway, watching me with a look of absolute revulsion, was Dougal MacKenzie.

…

“Filthy…traitorous…whoring…witch!”

…

“You,” he said softly. “I should have known it; from the first I saw ye, I should have known.” His eyes were fixed on me, something between horror and fury in the cloudy green depths.

There was a sudden stir in the air beside me; Jamie was there, a hand on my arm, urging me back behind him.

“Dougal,” he said. “It isna what ye think, man. It’s—”

“No?” Dougal cut in. His gaze left me for a second, and I shrank behind Jamie, grateful for the respite.

“Not what I think?” he said, still speaking softly. “I hear the woman urging ye to foul murder—to the murder of your Prince! Not only vile murder, but treason as well! And ye tell me I havena heard it?” He shook his head, the tangled russet curls lank and greasy on his shoulders. Like the rest of us, he was starving; the bones jutted in his face, but his eyes burned from their shadowy orbits.

“I dinna blame ye, lad,” he said. His voice was suddenly weary, and I remembered that he was a man in his fifties. “It isna your fault, Jamie. She’s bewitched ye—anyone can see that.” His mouth twisted as he looked again at me.

“Aye, I ken weel enough how it’s been for ye. She’s worked the same sorcery on me, betimes.” His eyes raked over me, burning. “A murdering, lying slut, would take a man by the cock and lead him to his doom, wi’ her claws sunk deep in his balls. That’s the spell that they lay on ye, lad—she and the other witch. Take ye to their beds and steal the soul from you as ye lie sleeping wi’ your head on their breasts. They take your soul, and eat your manhood, Jamie.”

His tongue darted out and wetted his lips. He was still staring at me, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.

“Stand aside, laddie. I’ll free ye of the sassenach whore.”

Jamie stepped in front of me, momentarily blocking Dougal from my view.

“You’re tired, Dougal,” he said, speaking calmly, soothingly. “Tired, and hearin’ things, man. D’ye go down now. I shall—”

He had no chance to finish. Dougal wasn’t listening to him; the deep-set green eyes were fixed on my face, and the MacKenzie chief had drawn the dirk from its sheath at his waist.

“I shall cut your throat,” he said to me softly. “I should ha’ done it when first I saw ye. It would have saved us all a great grief.”

…

“Let it be, then,” he said, breathing heavily. He swayed slightly from side to side, shifting his weight as he sought the advantage. “Blood will tell. Ye damned Fraser spawn. Treachery runs in your blood. Come here to me, fox cub. I’ll kill ye quick, for your mother’s sake.”

There was little room for maneuver in the small attic. No room to draw a sword; with his dirk stuck fast in the tabletop, Jamie was effectively unarmed. He matched Dougal’s stance, eyes watchful, fixed on the point of the menacing dirk.

“Put it down, Dougal,” he said. “If ye bear my mother in mind, then listen to me, for her sake!”

The MacKenzie made no answer, but jabbed suddenly, a ripping blow aimed upward.

…

There was a terrible sound from Dougal, a sound of shock and stifled breath. Jamie caught him as he tottered and fell, Dougal’s weight bringing him to his knees. Dougal’s head lay on Jamie’s shoulder, Jamie’s arms locked around his foster father.

I dropped to my knees beside them, reaching to help, trying to get hold of Dougal. It was too late. The big body went limp, then spasmed, sliding out of Jamie’s grasp. Dougal lay crumpled on the floor, muscles jerking with involuntary contractions, struggling like a fish out of water.

His head was pillowed on Jamie’s thigh. One heave brought his face into view. It was contorted, and dark red, eyes gone to slits. His mouth moved continuously, saying something, talking with great force—but without sound, save the bubbling rasp from his ruined throat.

Jamie’s face was ashen; apparently he could tell what Dougal was saying. He struggled violently, trying to hold the thrashing body still. There was a final spasm, then a dreadful rattling sound, and Dougal MacKenzie lay still, Jamie’s hands clenched tight upon his shoulders, as though to prevent his rising again.

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: Starz, Season Two, Episode Thirteen, July 9, 2016

Gif: headoverfeels.com, Season Two, Episode Thirteen, July 9, 2016

Gif: oohlo.com Season Two, Episode Thirteen, July 9, 2016

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: October 9, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Thirteen #S2E13 #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Forty-Six #It’s Charles Stuart, if he were dead.… #You’ve the courage of a lion, mo duinne #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Dougal MacKenzie #Rupert MacKenzie #128 #100918

#Outlander #Season Two Episode Thirteen #S2E13 #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Forty-Six #It’s Charles Stuart if he were dead.…#You’ve the courage of a lion mo duinne #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Dougal MacKenzie #Rupert MacKenzie #128 #100918

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mybeautifuldecay · 6 years

Text

Private Tutor. Chapter Four: So Much Work Remains.

I’m getting there...slowly but surely catching up :)

I hope you enjoy this wee chapter.

Catch up here: Private Tutor Chapter One, Two and Three.

Packing her small *new* Moleskine into her small satchel, Claire tied her long curls back into a messy ponytail as she rushed down the drive to catch the bus. Her visits to The Mitchell had become an almost daily occurrence now – especially with Frank’s increased hours at the university - nobody even noticed she was out of the house.

Bolstered by the solemn and calming atmosphere of the public library, Claire had asked Jamie very bluntly whether he wouldn’t mind passing on some of his knowledge to her – thus allowing her to feel part of a profession she desperately wanted in on. She thought about his excited nod of agreement at the idea as she rode the bus, the soft speed bumps jolting her up and down as she travelled through the residential areas close to her own home.

The vision appeared and disappeared in an instant, but for a moment she could see herself in one of the old brownstone properties that lined the streets here. It would be a simple life, but she would be happy. Happier than she was now for sure. In the midst of leaving the house, finding a new spot to call her own and making her first friend in the city, Claire had begun to think outside her own wee box and it thrilled her.

Dinging the bell, she waited until the bus had pulled to a complete stop before standing and alighting. She said a kindly farewell to the driver and skipped her way up the two small front steps into the library, leaving the overcast day outside.

Being a medical student meant that Jamie couldn’t be at The Mitchell everyday as Claire could, but she was more than pleased when he’d told her that he came as often as he could between his residency placements and they’d arranged a once a week session together where he could pass on some of his own knowledge.

“Ye look pleased wi’ yerself. How are ye today, Claire?” Ellen asked as she passed by the front desk.

“I’m very well, thank you Ellen!” She replied proudly, clutching her satchel to her chest as she stopped for a moment.

“Ach, weel, that’s good to hear. Are you planning on applying to university after all then, lass? Ye’ve been coming a lot lately. Wi’ all that research, surely you’ll be a pro before you know it.” Ellen said, resuming her typing briefly as she waited for Claire to answer.

“I’m not sure about that just yet, Ellen,” Claire sighed, a vision of Frank appearing unwanted as she thought about the actualities of applying, “but I’m sick of being lonely, so it’s a beginning.”

“Perfect place to start if ye ask me. The only way is up, my girl. Enjoy the rest of yer day.”

The science and medical section was empty when Claire finally reached it and she took the small stool from beside another stack of books to help her take the text Jamie had advised her to study first. It was just a basic, thin guide to medicine, something that would help her to recall the science lessons she’d had at school. It had been nearly ten years since she’d left sixth form and her A Levels were a distant memory now. But some of the information she’d learned had been retained and from the moment she picked up the text, she felt instantly relieved that it hadn’t all been forgotten.

Human Biology was her first port of call, body function, skeletal structure and general guide to the body. Settling into the comfy chair, she adjusted her reading glasses and flicked over the detailed diagrams of the central nervous system, her hands tapping against the hardcover of the book as she read the detailed descriptions.

“Personally,” Jamie said, placing his hand softly on her shoulder as he appeared behind her, “I think I prefer the endocrine system to the nervous system, but maybe I’m biased, aye?”

“If I hadn’t known you were a medical student before, I would now.” Claire chuckled in return as she placed the book back on the table for a moment. “I didn’t think you’d be here today, Jamie. Don’t you have class?”

“I do, but it’s over now and I had a sneaking suspicion that ye might come back today. So I came over on the off chance.”

“And what if I hadn’t been here?”

“It isna like I don’t have plenty of studying to do.” He laughed, pulling out a chair beside her and sitting down, “I’d have just settled down wi’ my latest stack of research journals and hit the books. How are ye liking that one so far?”

“It’s amazingly interesting…but intense.” Claire replied, twisting a stray piece of hair through her fingers and she picked the book back up once more and thumbed through some of the unread pages. “I’m remembering some of my A Level Biology now, but I didn’t realise how much there would be to learn.”

“It willna take ye long, soon you’ll be flying through all of these, Claire.” Jamie said soothingly. “Ye’ve been away from education for a while now, dinna be so hard on yerself in the first few weeks. Yer a smart lass, ye’ll get there in the end.”

“I haven’t told my husband I’m coming here.” She suddenly blurted out, her cheeks flaming at the admission. “I mean, he’s not…” Claire paused, her brain unable to think of a valid way to end her sentence without lying. Frank wasn’t understanding. He was a little old fashioned and he had agreed with his aging parents about her not needing to find herself a profession once they were married. Anything she said now was likely to be a lie and she really didn’t want to fib to Jamie.

“He isna very supportive of ye then?” Jamie whispered, reaching his hand out to take hold of hers.

“No.” Claire sighed. “It isn’t just the studying. It’s working on Frank as well.”

“So much work remains,” Jamie said cryptically with a small smile alight on his face, “but ye’ve an inner strength that canna be beaten by any man, Claire. You can do it. Whatever ye need to do, you will. Trust in that.”

#gotham's writing workshop #Private Tutor AU #Claire X Jamie #Outlander #Fanfiction

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

In the Eye of a Hurricane

master list - Ao3

Chapter Nine

Jamie and Claire were hiding in the old Broch on the Lallybroch lands. Claire didn’t think it looked very structurally sound but Jamie assured her they’d be fine. She’d been inside, helping Jenny with some chores when Jamie sent Young Jamie with a message that she should meet him. Claire had wandered into the scene before her, Jamie sitting on a blanket next to a picnic basket, a large smile on his face.

“Would ye care to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the blanket.

Claire matched his smile, sitting down right next to him. She leaned in to kiss him. “I would love to.”

Jamie grinned as he started unpacking the basket. He handed her two wrapped sandwiches and set out a plate of fruit. Claire laughed as she looked at the contents of the basket. “Was this just the lunch we would have had inside?”

Jamie nodded. “More or less. I told Jenny I had something I needed yer help with and that I’d just take our lunches wi’ us. I canna say if she believed me or not.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t just all going to collapse on us?” Claire asked, eyeing the structure around them.

“I mean at some point we should probably tell Jenny and Ian the truth, but tis complicated, is it no’?” Jamie said, handing Claire a glass of water.

She stared at him for a moment in confusion. “I meant the tower,” she clarified, pointing up at the ceiling.

Jamie laughed, covering his face with his hands. “Of course ye did. Yes, we’ll be fine here.”

“Makes me wonder though, are you worried about...this,” she gestured between them, “collapsing on us?”

Jamie took a deep breath as he looked back over at Claire. “There’s no denying that it’s a complicated situation.” Claire nodded. “But I think we should be alright. Do you?”

Claire scooted closer to Jamie on the blanket, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I do. I know that I’m not going to just give up on anything. I want to be with you.”

Jamie rested his forehead against hers. “As do I, Sassenach.”

They shared a small moment, their feelings laid bare between them. Soon, the moment ended and they turned back to their picnic. They ate their sandwiches in a comfortable silence, Claire’s shoulder leaned against his. It was a quiet peace from the rest of the world. Jamie took a drink from his cup as he turned and looked at her. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, drawing her attention. “I was thinking about our time at the camp.”

“Oh?”

“Tis how I thought of this picnic,” he explained. “I remembered our clandestine meetings outside the tent.”

Claire laughed. “You make it sound much more dramatic than it was.”

“Twas nice to escape those days,” Jamie recalled, a far off look in his eyes. “I remember feeling like at any time someone could figure out our secret and blow it all to hell.”

Claire laid her head on his shoulder, curling herself in closer to him. “I was afraid of that too. I’d lied to so many people.”

Jamie turned his head to place a kiss on her crown. “Ye were far too good to me.”

“No,” she disagreed. “I was being selfish. I couldn’t let you leave.”

Jamie brought his hand to her cheek, bringing her to look at him. He held her gaze for a long moment before he met her for a deep kiss. It was slow and unhurried with a multitude of emotions between them. Claire’s hands reached up to caress his cheeks as he pulled her closer still.

Slowly, they separated, looking to each other. Jamie stroked a lock of hair away from her face. “Sometimes I still canna believe ye came here,” he whispered. “That I got to see ye again.”

Claire smiled, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I know the feeling.”

They sat, watching each other for a long moment, absorbing the miracle of their presence in each other’s lives again. Soon, the moment was over as they went back to their picnic, conversing on life at Lallybroch. It all seemed so normal, so simple. Jamie talked of chores he needed to get done. Claire shared a story of something silly Wee Jamie had said. They spoke of their mutual excitement for the new baby that was still a few months away.

They lounged, taking full advantage of the time they had alone. Claire sat with her back to the wall of the broch, Jamie’s head in her lap. Her fingers wove through his curls absentmindedly. “Claire?” Jamie asked, breaking their silence.

“Yes?”

“Do ye have any problem wi’ me telling Jenny and Ian? About this, I mean?” he asked, not looking up at her.

Claire leaned forward, catching his eye. “Why would I have a problem?”

“I dinna ken. Perhaps because it’s complicated a bit,” he voiced with a shrug.

“You’re right, it is. But they feel like the closest thing I’ve had to family in a long time,” Claire reasoned. “I don’t want to be keeping a secret this big from them.”

Jamie sat up and looked at her. “Aye, I dinna want to do that either. And from things Jenny and Ian have both said to me, I doubt they’d be all that surprised.”

Claire laughed, leaning her head back against the wall. “You’re quite right. Neither of them have been all that subtle. How long had I been here when Ian just asked me outright?”

Jamie shook his head, an annoyed look on his face. “I couldha killed him.”

Claire reached over and laid her hand on his cheek. “He was right though.” Suddenly a look crossed her face and she dropped her hand to her lap.

“What is it, a nighean?”

She took a deep breath. “Do you think they’ll think less of me?”

Jamie took both her hands in his. “No,” he said vehemently. “I promise ye they willna. They ken what yer situation is.”

“You really think so?” she asked, an unsure look on her face.

Jamie leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. “I really do. They care about ye.”

She nodded slightly. Jamie pulled her in closer, essentially on his lap, as he held her close to him. Planting a kiss on her temple, he continued to reassure her.

* * *

Jamie waited until he had a moment alone with Jenny. Ian had wandered upstairs with Young Jamie. Claire saw the look on Jamie’s face and came up with an excuse to leave the room. Jenny was drying the last dish when she turned around and saw Jamie waiting awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.

“Something on yer mind, Brother?”

“I suppose,” he started, taking a deep breath. He walked over and sat at the table. Jenny raised a brow, watching him. “I was thinking about what ye have tried multiple times to get me to admit.”

“Jamie, that could be a number of things,” she joked. Her eyes flitted toward the hall before looking back at him. “Would this be about Claire?”

Jamie nodded, looking down at the table. Suddenly, he understood why Claire had been so nervous. As he was about to tell her, he started to worry how she’d react. “Aye,” he said in a small voice.

“Ye’ve finally come to terms wi’ it then?” Jenny asked, fidgeting with a towel.

“I have. Finally allowed myself to really acknowledge it,” he informed her.

“And?”

Jamie sighed. “And I told her.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. “Ye did? Christ, Jamie, she’s still marrit!”

Jamie threw his arms out. “Well then why were ye pushin’ me to admit my feelings to myself if I wasna supposed to do anything about it?”

“Well how did she react?”

“She feels the same way. Twas actually Claire who started the conversation,” he told her.

“So what now? I mean, Jamie, I know the two of ye feel a certain way for each other,” Jenny said, clearly avoiding a specific word, “but the fact of the matter is, she’s still marrit to another man. Have ye thought of that?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “No, Jenny. That just never occurred to me. I thought she was here just to pass the time.” He shook his head at her. “Of course I’ve thought of that.”

“Well then what do the two of ye plan to do about it?”

“I dinna ken exactly,” he admitted. Jenny opened her mouth but Jamie held up a hand to stop her. “We need to figure out a way that she can start the process of separating herself from him wi’out him figuring out where she is. And that seems incredibly complicated. There arena many women who can file for divorce, Janet.”

“Surely she could have a case. The man beat her!”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, I’m sure so. But if he finds her, there’s no telling what he could do to her. I ken it’s no’ ideal, but we just need to take our time on it so she doesna end up getting more hurt.”

Jenny sighed, planting herself in the chair across from him. “I understand. And ye’re right. Tis very complicated. And I’m sure when ye’re living under the same roof and spend every day together, it’s no’ as though ye can just ignore these feelings. Especially when she wants to be rid of the man as it is. I just...I want ye to be careful.”

“Careful?”

“Wi’ her. And wi’ yer heart,” Jenny elaborated. “Both of ye have been through a lot, Jamie. I dinna want either of ye to get more hurt than ye already have been. Just be careful wi’ each other. Alright?”

Jamie gave her a small smile. “Aye, I will.”

They sat there in a long silence. “So what about Ned?” Jenny finally said.

“I thought of him, but last I heard he was living in Inverness. Tis no’ like we could take her there,” Jaime said with a shake of his head.

Jenny reached over and grabbed his hand. “We’ll think of something.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “I’ve just one question for ye.” Jamie nodded. “Does she make ye happy?”

Jamie breathed out a laugh. “Verra much so.”

“Tis all a sister could ask for.”

* * *

Once they settled into the lie, things became very easy at the camp. Claire would routinely “check” Jamie’s wounds. Privately, she would also check in to see how he was faring. She could tell that the extra time was helping him. His nightmares had become less frequent. He still had them, of course, but by his own admission, they weren’t as often.

Claire started spending more time away from the tent. Well, at least when she could. She still saw patients and helped heal the soldiers coming in, but she didn’t linger as long as she used to. Her fight with Nurse Smith had left her wary. She didn’t want people to catch on to her lie. On her off times, she found herself wandering toward the patch of trees where she and Jamie had devised their plan.

One day, she wandered out there, bringing along her lunch from the mess hall. She needed to get away from the others. The air in the tents had been too stifling. Sitting among the wildflowers, she realized she wasn’t alone. The sound of footsteps alerted her to someone’s approach. Looking up, she saw Jamie coming closer. He planted himself down on the ground next to her. “Sassenach.”

“Jamie,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”

“Just needed to step away,” he explained. “What about ye?”

She looked over, a reluctant smile on her face. “Same.”

They sat in silence for a bit as Claire finished her lunch. “How are ye doing?” Jamie asked. She looked over at him, confusion on her face. “Ye ask about how I’m doing constantly. We hardly ever talk about how ye’re handling things.”

Claire was so touched by the thought. It was true though, for more than just the pair of them. Most of the world was worried about the soldiers. She never felt that concern about the combat nurses or doctors. “I’m alright,” she answered. Jamie fixed her with a knowing look. “I’m worried, a bit. But I know what I did was right so I can’t feel too badly about it. Nurse Smith knows I lied though and if Campbell finds out…”

“I thought he said twas up to ye to clear me,” Jamie recalled.

“He did. But I just fear he’ll change his mind or something,” she said with a shrug.

Jamie took a deep breath. “Should I come clean? Should I ask to be sent back? I can do it. I think.”

Claire turned to him, laying her hand on his arm. “Absolutely not. We lied for a reason. You need to heal, Jamie. I’m not taking that away from you. You’re not leaving until you feel absolutely ready to. Do you hear me?”

Jamie smiled as he nodded to her. “Aye, I hear ye.”

“And are you ready to leave?” she asked, her brows raised.

“No’ quite yet,” Jamie admitted.

“Then you’re staying.” She shook her head as she let out a huff. “Don’t let my fears steer you to do something stupid.”

Jamie laughed. “Verra well.”

Soon their conversation steered to better things, life back home, jokes about the quality of food in the mess hall, things they missed. And somehow, their accidental meeting in the woods became more purposeful as the weeks carried on. Many times, they’d sneak off separately, finding solace in the private conversations they had away from prying eyes and ears.

Claire worried that their secret meetings would make it harder for her when he finally left. She wondered if she could convince him to wait there until the war ended. It wasn’t likely. It didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. There would reach a day when the jig would be up and people would wonder why he was still at the camp. Each time it came to mind, she pushed it away. He kept insisting that he wasn’t ready to go back.

She grew concerned one day when she went to the woods and he never showed up. Rather than walking back to the tent and confronting him, she shrugged it off. It happened three more times. Concern grew within her. He still seemed healthy. They spoke when she checked in on him. His mental state was improving, but not to the point where she thought she should send him back. But why would he stop going to their hiding spot? She could have sworn he needed it as much as she did.

It was five missed days later when Jamie finally showed up in the woods again. Claire’s face lit up as he approached. “You made it!” she said excitedly.

“I need to speak wi’ ye,” Jamie told her, standing a good distance away from her.

“Okay. What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly.

Jamie stared down at his feet for a long beat before looking up at her. His face was hardened, no expression upon it. “I need ye to tell Dr. Campbell I’m clear to return.”

Claire drew back, horror coursing through her. “I’m sorry, what?”

* * *

Ian stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him. Jamie and Claire jumped up, following him into the kitchen. “What’s the matter, Ian?” Jamie asked, standing away from him.

“The blasted tractor broke!”

“Why were ye even on the tractor?” Jenny asked. “Tis December. We finished up the harvest weeks ago.”

“I was trying to get it back to the shed and it got hooked on a root and the blade broke,” Ian told.

“We dinna have need for it till the spring anyway,” Jamie offered. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Do ye really think it’s wise to wait until spring to fix it?” Ian asked, a questioning look in his eye. “That’s irresponsible, Jamie.”

Jamie held up his hands in defense. “Sorry. I just dinna want ye to worry about it too much. We dinna need it immediately.”

“I need to go to Edinburgh to get the part for it,” Ian said with a frustrated look.

“Do ye need to go all the way there?” Jamie asked. “Ye canna find it anywhere closer?” Ian shook his head. Jamie sighed. He glanced over at Claire quickly. “I’ll go.”

All eyes turned to Jamie. Claire furrowed her brow. “Why would ye volunteer to go?” Ian asked.

Jamie shrugged. “Ye shouldna want to leave yer pregnant wife. She gets closer to giving birth each day.”

Jenny frowned. “I still have quite a while.”

“Still,” Jamie insisted. “I’ll go. I can leave in a couple days. We dinna need it urgently. But I can take care of it.”

Claire was silent but watched Jamie with a curious expression. Ian shrugged. “Up to ye, mate. Tis fine by me.”

Jamie nodded, strolling from the room. Claire followed him. “You’re going to Edinburgh? Why were you so insistent on going?”

Jamie turned around, drawing her close. “Edinburgh is a long way from Inverness. I thought we could go together.”

Claire raised her eyebrows. “You want me to go with you?”

“They’d never look for ye there.” He watched her as she toyed with the idea.

She took a deep breath, winding her arms around his neck. “And what would we do there?”

Jamie shrugged. “Get the new blade for the tractor?” Claire rolled her eyes, grinning despite herself. He pulled her flush against him. “Just be together, perhaps? No one to bother us. No one who kens the truth of us.” Claire smiled, looking into his eyes. “What do ye think?”

Claire leaned up and kissed him softly. “I think it sounds wonderful.”

Next chapter

#Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #my writing #in the eye of a hurricane

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