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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

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Love Light

Author: @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt: Christmas baking! [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T for some subtly implied married shenanigans

Summary: Katniss, Peeta, and Prim do some snowy day baking. The fourth installment in the Snowstorm Universe, approximately two months after Hearthsong (and, though the characters don’t know this, in my mind it is set on Christmas day). You don’t need to have read the Snowstorm Universe to get the basics of this AU, which are that Prim won the 74th Games, and Peeta and Katniss fell in love, courted, and are now married.

Author’s Note: Special thank you to @captainseaweedbrains who acted as my lovely beta on this sugary fluff-fest! Enjoy! Word Count: ~ 1500 words

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The heat from the wood stove makes the windows fog, blurring the pale violet dawn behind our curtains, as my lips trail back up my husband’s body to make a home against his throat, feeling his pulse coming down from its rapid peak.

“Good morning,” I say innocently, tapping my fingers in a meaningless pitter-patter against his chest.

Peeta exhales a raspberry. “It is now.”

I laugh. Nip at his neck and get a gentle swat on my hip for my trouble. “Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he says, but I yawn and shake my head.

“Later,” I say. “I was promised gingerbread last night.”

“That you were,” he says, a bit dazedly, “and you’ll have it.”

I sigh and tuck my nose against his neck, breathing in his scent. His fingers lightly trace my arm, resting across his chest in a loose embrace. It’s not usual for us to stay in bed like this. Most days, I’m up and out running errands for my mother, or helping Prim make charity baskets for the people who will accept her generosity. Peeta frosts the cakes for his father’s bakery, and makes cookies to go in the baskets. Prim’s winnings mean neither of us have to work, but it’s not in my nature to be idle. Making the charity baskets is the least I can do to help those less well off than we are.

“Okay, woman,” Peeta says at last. “You’ll have to let me up if you want that gingerbread.”

“Hmm,” I say, nestling my nose further into his neck. I smile against his skin, then kiss his shoulder. “If you insist.”

“I didn’t,” he laughs, but swings himself out of our bed anyway. He pulls on his pajama pants and shimmies into a sweater. I bite my lip, admiring his broad shoulders and back, before they disappear behind the thick fabric. He gets a match from atop the stove to light the lone candles in each of our two windowsills.

“You’re sure I can’t open a window?” he asks, hand already on the latch. “It’s burning up in here.”

This is one of those compromises and arguments we’ve had to resolve as we get used to living as a couple. Peeta, having grown up sharing one room with his brothers, wants to leave the windows open, even in winter. I spent the early years of my life stopping the cracks in our windows up with old gloves and bits from the rag bag, and I hate the cold. But I’m cozy with his residual heat trapped under our quilt, so I nod.

Peeta pops the latch and opens the window a sliver. The curtains and the candle flame flicker in a breeze, but the candle doesn’t go out. My husband peers onto the street below.

“It’s snowing,” he says as he comes back to the bedside. “I bet it started last night. It’s like someone dropped a bag of sugar over everything. Come with me,” he adds. “I bake much better when I have company.”

I smile and prop myself up on my elbows to receive a quick peck on my lips and promise that I’ll join him in a minute. He leaves. His footsteps, never very quiet, thunk down the stairs and I smirk as I stretch my arms above my head, curl my toes. I could go back to dozing, but I won’t pretend I don’t like to sit and watch my husband work. I get up, wash my face, and braid my hair down my back. The stockings my mother made for my wedding go up to my knees, and a warm shawl goes over my shoulders. I shut the door to our room behind me and let my hand trail the bannister as I tiptoe downstairs. Chances are, my mother isn’t awake. She has the most patients in December and January, when illness and hunger are their worst. She needs her rest.

There is a soft conversation coming from the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, leaning against the green trim. My sister bends over a handwritten recipe book as Peeta sets out his baking supplies: bowls, measuring cups, spoons. My heart warms at the sight, as it always does. The cold season isn’t easy on Prim. The end of the year brings the Victory Tour to our district. For Prim, that means bad memories and nightmares. Peeta knows about them. The last time she couldn’t sleep, it was my husband who discovered her crying in the living room when he got up at four in the morning to put on a starter for bread. She’d fallen back asleep against his shoulder on the couch, and I’d fallen more in love with him than I thought was possible when I found them later. Peeta fits so perfectly into our home, I don’t know how we managed before him.

“Ooh, ‘cinnamon pull-apart bread,’” Prim is saying, tapping the page with her metal finger. “That sounds amazing.”

“It is,” Peeta agrees. “Even better with apples, when we could get them. We could make it tomorrow if you want. How much white vinegar for the gingerbread?”

Prim flips forward a few pages. “Um — two tablespoons.” She looks up at me. “Good morning.”

I wrap my arm around her as I come over to see the recipe book. “How can I help?” I ask.

“Ask your baker,” Prim laughs. “I only know I’m on kettle duty.” She nods to where the kettle is hung over the hearth, warming up.

“Katniss, if you’ll take these.” Peeta sets three glass jars marked “syrup” “apple mash” and “molasses” in front of me, along with a wooden bowl and stirring spoon. He kisses my temple. “I can handle the spices and flour.”

The three of us set to work in the quiet, cozy morning. The only sounds are those of opening jars, stirring spoons, the fire cracking, and Prim reading measurements to us. The sun continues to rise, and snow continues to float down under a pale purple sky.

I bring the jar of molasses up to my nose and breathe in the heady scent. It’s only thanks to Prim that we can afford such expensive things, and we try not to use them often for ourselves, but today I add an extra splash of maple syrup to the wet ingredients in my bowl. I hear my husband groan when he sees me do it.

“It’s the Everdeen sweet tooth,” Prim laughs, going to fetch the whistling kettle and add the hot water to my mix. “Can’t be helped. Especially not with three of us in the house.”

“Apparently not,” Peeta says, grinning.

I hop up to sit on the counter as he takes my bowl and slowly stirs in the dry ingredients, making a thin, brown batter. We haven’t even put it in the oven yet and it smells good enough to just drink up.

“Almost done,” Peeta says, picking up a measuring spoon and smiling like he’s a little boy again. “This is Granny’s recipe, so there’s one last thing.”

“What’s that?”

Peeta twirls the spoon between his fingers thoughtfully. “She always said to add one spoonful of being grateful, even if there wasn’t much to be grateful for.” He goes pink around the nose and ears. “I mean, we don’t have to,” he says. “It was just something we did as kids.”

“No,” I say. “I — I think that’s a beautiful idea, Peeta.” It sounds like something my father would do, something Peeta would teach our children, if we lived in a world safe enough to have them.

He gives me a look glowing with what my father would call love light, and strokes my stockinged leg. “Thank you,” he says. “I can start.” He pretends to scoop something out of the air. “One spoonful … for sunrises.”

Then it’s Prim’s turn. She holds the spoon up in the candlelight, the glimmer reflecting on the shiny surface, and smiles. “One spoonful … for a warm fire.”

I don’t know what I want to say. I have an abundance of things to be grateful for, in spite of where we live. I have a roof over my head and warm clothes. I have gingerbread and stockings, violet sunrises and snowfall — and I have hope. I’m not even sure of what, but with my husband and my sister beside me, I have it all the same.

“One spoonful … for having spoonfuls, ” I say, and I trust they understand what I mean.

I don’t know if the spoonfuls of being grateful do anything to make the batter taste better, but I wouldn’t put it past Jenny Ann Mellark. And when, an hour or so later, I’m laughing as her grandson kisses sticky gingerbread crumbs from my fingers, while my sister giggles and pretends to hide from us behind her mug of warm milk, I decide I’m pretty sure they do.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #winter #winter 2020 #rosegardeninwinter #submission #prompt

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vanderlindemangofarm · 4 years

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The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each!

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together.

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”.

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships.

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on.

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are.

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls.

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM.

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not.

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability.

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits.

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day.

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room.

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing.

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward.

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite?

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine.

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont.

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers.

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it.

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job.

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails.

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy.

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of.

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dragonagecompanionsreact · 4 years

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How would the DA:I companions react to Inquisitor Trevelyan having an elf-blooded son (10 years old) who ends up coming along with her to Skyhold? The kid in question sticks to his mom at first (Cassandra and Leliana kind of scare him then) but after a while he’d warm to everyone. He’s very polite and inquisitive about all the different people that have gathered for the Inquisition, and he shows a bit of emerging talent with magic, which he doesn’t hesitate to ask his mother’s mage friends about

Cassandra: In the beginning, the child is constantly hiding from her which the dwarf finds hilarious. The more Cassandra tries to appear less threatening, the more afraid the child seems to become. A few weeks into being at Skyhold the Inquisitor's son finally starts to seek her out. Despite this turn around, Varric still thinks it's hilarious.

Varric: Varric enjoys talking to the kid. He'll listen intently and never seems to lose interest. Some of what Varric tells the child is complete bullshit (he's an author. They're supposed to tell tall tales), but being that he is barely 10 years old, he doesn't quite pick up on it.

Blackwall: Blackwell never quite for a chance to be a father. Maker knows he's not trying to be that fatherly figure for the Inquisitor's child, but he does enjoy spending time around him. It's a little uncomfortable when the kid asks about the Wardens, questions Blackwell can't obviously ask. During those times, Blackwall distracts the kid with some carpentry. Kid is pretty damned good at it too.

Iron Bull: Despite the fact that Bull towers over pretty much everyone in the Inquisition, the, the kid doesn't seem the least bit phased. In fact, the Inquisitor's kid seems to enjoy being around him. He especially loves listening to Bull tell stories about him and the Chargers. When he does this, Bull tries to make them as G rated as possible. Don't need the Inquisitor threatening to open a rift under his ass.

Dorian: Dorian doesn't have much experience with children. One might say he is downright awkward around them-- not that he'd ever admit to it. He does grow accustomed to the child lingering around the library, sometimes asking him a myriad of questions. When Dorian next sees the Inquisitor, teases that their child asks as many questions as they do.

Sera: Sees finds that the Inky's kid has quite a knack for pranks. He's so tiny that he can avoid being seen and squeeze into spots Sees definitely can't fit. She always thought kids were frickin annoying, but the Inquisitor's lad has proven to be a pretty sweet kid. A future Red Jenny if Sera has her way.

Solas: To be honest, Solas doesn't think much of the child at first. However, after the Inquisitor proves herself to be a true friend (a fact he has come to reluctantly accept), he finds himself paying more attention to the child. He is quite an inquisitive boy, much to Solas's delight. Solas comes to enjoy answering his many questions and eventually teaching him about magic.

Cole: Cole likes to play with the child. He's always so much fun. The child doesn't seem to mind Cole appearing out of nowhere. In fact, he seems quite curious about it. Cole isn't really sure why he can do it. When the child asks, Cole explains this to him-- which he begrudgingly accepts.

Vivienne: "Oh darling, I have so much to teach you," Vivienne gushes, finding the child too precious for words. This doesn't just include teaching the child everything she has to know about magic. She'll also be able to give him lessons in how to survive spending the next year's dealing with nobles and their brats.

Cullen: Cullen first encounters the boy on the training grounds. He's practicing with a wooden sword and isn't half bad. The child runs the first few times Cullen catches him, but eventually he allows Cullen to even teach him a few pointers.

Josephine: Josephine immediately gushes over the child when she first meets him. While he is an inquisitive little boy , Josephine tries to provide him with some extra quills and paper during the war table meetings. Sometimes they can go on for longer then intended and even he will get bored eventually

Leliana: Leliana isn't as concerned with the child fearing her as Cassandra is. In time, the child seeks out Leliana out on his own. He nervously asks all types of questions about Leliana. Her favorite is why she has a large collection of bug plushies, which she is more than happy to share.

#Cassandra #Varric #iron bull #dorian #vivienne #cole #solas #sera #blackwall #Cullen #lelianna #josephine #dragon age inqusition #mod sumi #im-calling-the-lord

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rebelcap · 3 years

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We are not just friends —22

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a people of color, she’s brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.

Series masterlist

Chris was sleeping when his phone began ringing on the nightstand, it was Sofia.

"Hey, Sof. Everything okay?" He asked, checking the time It was about 2 am.

"Hi, yeah—you were sleeping, were you?" She asked, feeling a tad sad about waking him up.

"Yeah, it's okay though, Don't worry about it." He said rubbing his eyes and turned around to lay on his side."What's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to," She sighs over the phone. "Just, I'm sorry about yesterday—

"Sofi, it's okay—

"Let me, okay?" She interrupted him and went on. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have made out with that guy-" She breathed in. "It was Ryan's home, I disrespected you in front of your friends, Scott. I acted like a damn mess. I shouldn't have come up to you at the party or your house, I'm so sorry Chris." She lamented over the phone and Chris was the one taking a deep breath.

"I think we both acted like fools last night, I said things that I shouldn't have said to you. I wanted to hurt you because I was hurt. God, I'm an asshole—" He groaned. "At Ryan's, at my house, that was just me trying to get a reaction out of you. I should be calling you to apologize."

Sofia chuckle and he heard her sniffle. "It's okay, are you mad at me?"

"No, there's no way that I'll be mad at you. Even if I was, it usually never lasts long." Chris smiles and she does too. "Are you mad at me?"

"Maybe a little," She quickly answered. "But I think I'm mostly jealous,"

"Jealous of who?" Chris asked, not catching what she meant.

"You know who," She whispered and Chris swore she could picture her shrugging and pouting, which made him smile a bit.

"Sorry about that, I wasn't purposefully trying to," He explained. "As I said, I was trying to get out a reaction."

She hummed about his response. "Well, you did. I wanted to slap the hair of your head."

Chris laughed, so did her. "That was hilarious,"

"Yeah, I get really funny when I'm drunk." Sofia rolled her eyes at her and stood up from the sofa. "Anyways, it's kinda late—"

"Yeah…" Chris agreed and bit his finger, he didn't particularly want her to hang up.

"Oh, uhm… Your mom called,"

"Did she?" Chris frowned sitting up on the bed, intrigued.

"Yeap, I'm teaching her and Scott to make Argentinian empanadas. On Friday…"

"That's nice, am I invited?," He smiled and Sofia laughed.

"It's your house, dude."

"Come on," He laughed again. "You want me there?"

Sofia kept quiet for a little while. "Of course I want you there."

—

"So, what happened?" Amanda asked as Sofia groaned beside her, they were walking around the block of Mandy's suburban house.

"I got drunk, we made out—God," Sofia said, feeling embarrassed. "we made each other jealous and then laughed about it last night on the phone."

"You had sex?"

"No, but we slept together and I was a bitch when I woke up."

"As usual, you never were a morning person." Amanda smiled as Sofia grabbed her arm and wrapped it around hers. "You can't keep going like this with him, Sof. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," She scratched her head and sighed deeply. "We stretched it too long, but I love him and I told him that."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, and I took it back—kinda,"

"You're such a bitch," Amanda pinches her on her arm, and Sofia squeaks.

"I never told anyone that I love them,"

"Not even Tiffany?"

"I thought that I loved her, but I know now that I never did. It was all manipulation and downright toxic shit around her narcissistic ass. God, if I was fucked up before Tiffany. She ruined relationships for me,"

"I know,"

"That's why I can't trust Chris because every time we broke up he's off with one of his exes. Tiffany did the same but with random girls not to the same extent as her." Sofia explained. "He goes off to LA, forget all about me here and suddenly when he's in Boston I'm all we ever wanted. I don't know, I—"

"Chris it's nothing like Tiffany, Sofia. Come on," Amanda told her. "And you guys broke up two times, one you broke up with him through text and you kept talking for a bit. You two got back together and he left you—

"He went back to Jenny both times, I didn't even have sex with anyone besides him since we started this."

"You were on a break."

"It doesn't matter and you sound like Ross Geller and he's the worst," Sofia said. "And he said he loves me, you don't go back with your ex if you love someone else." She almost whispered and looked at her friend. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"

"I'm always on your side, that's why I'm telling you this. Chris isn't perfect, he made mistakes but he never mistreated you, he never lied either."

"I know that I know…" Sofia nodded a few times as she watched the sun on the clear sky, closing her eyes. "Why is it so complicated?"

—

"How come you don't know how to drive?" Scott asked Sofia and she laughed. They were at his mother's kitchen, chopping some vegetables and chatting, waiting for Lisa to come back from the supermarket.

"Never owned a car before, I didn't see the point of learning and Uber exists now," She laughed and shrugged. "Besides your brother was my personal chauffeur every time he's in town." Sofia sasses him and Scott let out the loudest laugh because it was true.

"And yet, he says that hates driving around,"

"Oh yes, but he loved speeding and scaring the shit out of me," She laughed now and sighed. "And he just laughs grabbing his left titty… Or mine." Scott was screaming when Lisa and Chris walked in carrying a lot of bags.

"What are you two laughing about?" Lisa asked, smiling as Scott and Sofia shared a look and laughed again.

"What did you tell him?," Chris smiled and pointed a finger at Sofia, making them laugh again "Or what did you tell her?" He asked pointing the same finger but now at Scott.

"Nothing Mom, Apparently your son doesn't hate driving around that much," Scott shrugged and Sofia laughed.

"I hate driving around, what are you talking about?" Chris smiled, already knowing where that was coming from.

"Yeah, not for her," Scott said and Chris laughed as he unpacked the grocery from the bags and put it on the counter.

"Of course no, I love her and she used to let me touch her boob—" Chris explained and Sofia choked and Scott let out a screen mixed with laughter.

"Christofer!," Lisa laughed as she threw a whole package of toilet paper at him and they all laughed.

"Ma!" He shouted and laughed.

Sofía couldn't help but think that she loves this, moments like this. She loves them, she loves them all.

—

"Isn't this your wildest fantasy?," Scott asked his brother, as they sneakily watched their mother and Sofia cooking, laughing and day drinking wine.

"Shut up," Chris nudged him off, he was trying to hear what they were talking about. "This is wrong, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes," Scott quickly said and shook his head. "Are you trying to win her back?"

"Yes, I love her. I just wanna be with her,"

"Then go, be with her—be her friend again, Sofia is half way there men. She loves you, she really does."

"You talked to her?" Chris asked.

"I'm telling you nothing, that's between us." Scott said and Chris gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, but she's my girl—what she said?, does she love me back?, does she want me back?," Chris quickly tried to pry information out of his younger brother. Scott as a true friend, kept his mouth shut.

"I won't tell you shit."

"If you don't tell me, when we have another joint interview imma tell you crap yourself in the car." Chris muttered and Scott gasped.

"You wouldn't!,"

"Oh, brother. You wait," Chris said, shaking his head. Fast forward, he did talk about it on national television.

"What are you two whispering about, we can hear your cackling from here!" Lisa shouted as she nudged Sofia, making her laugh.

The brothers walked through the kitchen door, Scott umbothered and Chris was pretending to be unbothered, he might be an actor but his mother saw right through him, he was anxious.

Sofía smiled at him and he returned the smile back, hands on his pockets, looking adorable.

"Can we help?," Chris asked, walking up to her side. Sofia was putting some empanadas on a tray and placing them on the oven.

"We are mostly done," She answered looking around, the kitchen was a mess. "You guys could help clean."

"Ah,yes. I have this thing—ma, I need to talk to you." Scott said pointing out away from the kitchen and Lisa quickly followed.

"I'll be right back, honey" Lisa said to Sofia wiping her hands on a towel. "You help her," She said to Chris.

"Of course." Chris said, quickly putting himself to gather all the dirty things and place them on the sink. "You okay?" He asked, she seemed quiet as she started to do the dishes.

"Yeah, yeah—it's just," She said and looked at him, Chris was concerned because of the last time that they were together in this very same house. They broke up. "I talk with Lisa about what happen last time I was here,"

"Yeah, I told her something about that." Chris said, thinking that he fucked up on telling his mother for a second.

"I know, it's alright." She said and looked down. "She got it, what I feel at that time." Sofia went quiet for a moment and looked at Chris. "I wish I had talked to her that time, you know? Maybe we wouldn't be in this position right now."

"You think That?," He asked, wiping his hands. Eyes focused on her, Sofia nodded a few times as she rinsed a few plates.

"I don't know, maybe—if we ever talked about all the shit we have to talk about." She laughed and Chris snorted.

"So let's talk about it,"

"Right here?," She asked sarcastically. "in your mother's kitchen. Sure,"

"It doesn't have to be here, but I wanna have that talk. I want to sort things out between us," Chris said looking at her, honestly in his voice and Sofia didn't know what to do.

"Chris… I, I don't know. It's been months, there is so much crap between us." Sofia said playing with the towel and looking down.

"I don't want you out of my life, Sofia." Chris said and she looked at him. "I would hate that, I'll regret it all my life."

"I don't want that, I would hate it too." She whispered and turned around to rest her back on the counter and let out a sigh. "I miss you. Not gonna lie about that."

"I miss you too, all the time." He whispered and got close enough to cup her face as she leaned in his touch, closing her eyes. Chris took a deep breath and Sofia wrapped her arms around her torso, holding him tight, burning her face in his chest.

Chris kissed the top of her head and hummed, only for her to hear. "I love you."

"I know," She whispered and looked up, pouting with her eyes glossy.

"sweetheart," Chris said, kissing her face as she smiled at the touch, a sweet moment interrupted by a timer ringing to take out the food of the oven.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x latina!#chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans x ofc

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suituuup · 4 years

Text

clouds

Prompt: After finding out she has Stage II breast cancer, Beca gets started with chemo. She never expected she’d make a friend there, much less a kid.

rating: M

word count: 5,4k

ao3 link

“All done,” the nurse chirps as she takes out the needle and presses a wad of cotton to the small puncture spot. “You’ll have to wait an hour or so for the lab results to come back before they set you up for chemo.”

“Okay,” Beca mumbles, lowering her sweater sleeve and standing from the cot. She thanks the nurse and shuffles out of the room and towards the elevator that will take her up to the right floor.

A month ago, Beca found out she had breast cancer. She had just got back from tour and was on her annual gynecology check-up where the doctor felt a lump in her left breast. She referred Beca to a specialist and, following a mammogram and a biopsy, Beca was diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer.

Her whole universe as she knew it shifted on its axis. While her chances of survival were pretty high at that stage, she knew treatment would momentarily change her daily life, and that the few months ahead would be an emotional whirlwind.

Beca got set up just over an hour later on a reclining chair on the infusion floor. She had packed a bag with everything she would need: snacks, a blanket, water, and her computer and headphones so she could get some work done.

The nurse soon came over to start an IV, Beca wincing as the needle pierced her skin. “Alright, you’re all set. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She closes her eyes and puffs out a long breath, willing herself to relax.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”

Beca opens her eyes to find a little girl, no older than ten or eleven, climbing in the chair next to hers. Her mom, Beca supposes from the matching hair color, crouches in front of her.

“Yes, mom. I already told you I’ll be okay.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back in half an hour.” The woman kisses the girl’s forehead, shrugging off the Wonder Woman backpack and setting it on her daughter’s lap. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” As soon as her mother turns away to leave the room, her curious blue eyes find Beca. “You’re new.”

Beca puffs out a surprised chuckle. “I am, yeah.”

A small hand is thrust towards her. “I’m Maddie.”

Beca shakes her hand lightly. “Hi Maddie, my name’s Beca.”

“Nice meeting you.” She opens her backpack just as the nurse heads towards her. “Hi Jenny.”

“Hello Maddie. How are we doing today?”

“I’m okay, thanks. Mommy and I are going to eat ice cream afterwards.” She rolls up her sleeve and extends her arm, barely flinching as the nurse pushes the needle in.

Beca realizes with a painful pang in her chest that it’s definitely not her first time getting chemo.

“Lucky you,” the nurse gushes, taping the IV tube to her arm. “All done, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Jenny.”

Beca glances away, her eyes drifting to her own IV bag. It’s strange to think about how what’s supposed to kill the cancer is also killing every good cell in her body. Soon she’ll be losing her hair and—

“Who’s your favorite singer?”

Beca is pulled out of her thoughts by that same girl — Maddie. An amused smile curves her lips. “Um, I like a lot of singers, but I guess my top 3 is Fleetwood Mac, Harry Styles and Beyoncé.”

“My mom loves Fleetwood Mac,” she says. “Mine’s Shawn Mendes.”

Beca nods. “He’s a cool guy.”

Those striking blue eyes widen. “You’ve met him??”

Beca has worked with him on his last album and he’s become a good friend, but she wants to keep a low profile, so she shakes her head. “No, I mean— he seems like a cool guy.”

“Oh. Yeah. I was supposed to go see him live last year but I wasn’t healthy enough.”

Beca’s heart cracks a little bit at that. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Maddie shrugs. “It’s okay. Do you know how to play Backgammon?”

Beca lets out another chuckle. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone here, much less a kid (she’s not a kid person), but she has to admit it’s a nice distraction from her spiraling thoughts. “No, but maybe you could teach me?”

The next two hours go much faster than Beca initially expected, thanks to Maddie’s company. Her mom —Chloe, as she introduces herself— comes back half an hour in, but she seems content reading her book while Beca and Maddie play.

“Yes!” Maddie exclaims when she —once again— wins that round.

“Well done, dude. I’ll do better next time.”

“You wanna come eat an ice cream with us?” She asks as the nurse takes Beca’s IV out.

Beca already feels tired and nauseous, so she declines, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m gonna head home. It was cool hanging out with you, though.”

“You, too. See you next time!”

Beca nods, casting her mother a polite smile as she gathers her stuff and stands up. “Bye.”

The first effects of chemo hit her for real a couple hours afterwards. Exhaustion like she’s never experienced creeps on her right before dinner (she’s not really hungry anyway), and she crashes for thirteen hours, waking up with the urge to throw up. Her day is spent wallowing on her couch when she’s not bent over the toilet, weaving in and out of sleep while the sitcom channel fills the silence of her empty apartment.

It lasts two days, and Beca starts feeling better on the third, which happens to be her second chemo session. Maddie and her mom are already there when she gets to the room, and she casts them both a wave and a tired smile before sitting down in the same seat as last time.

“Hi Beca!” Maddie exclaims, grinning brightly.

“Hey dude. Ready to kick my butt at Backgammon again?”

“Yep!” She turns to her mom a second later. “Mommy I have to pee.”

“Oh go quick then, before the nurse starts you on your IV.” Maddie scampers off towards the bathroom, and Chloe’s eyes flicker to Beca, a sympathetic smile spreading on her features. “How are you holding up?”

Beca grimaces. “The last two days have been pretty awful, I’m hoping it won’t get as bad after each session.”

“Yeah… it’s rough.”

“How long-- um, has she been in chemo long?” She asks hesitantly.

“It’s our second round this time around,” Chloe says softly, the pain evident in her eyes. “She was diagnosed with leukemia three years ago, and it’s been an emotional roller coaster since then. Two remissions, yet here we are again.”

Beca’s eyes widen. “Wow... I’m so sorry.”

“She’s a fighter. Much braver than I could ever be. Always has a smile on her face.”

Maddie comes back before Beca can say anything else, hopping back on her chair. Beca manages to win two rounds out of ten this time, and she crashes in her bed as soon as she gets home.

The next few weeks are a blur, as Beca doesn’t do much except going to the hospital three times a week for chemo and sleeping it off. She misses work, and going out with her friends, but she doesn’t have the energy to leave the house. She’s thankful for Stacie and Emily, who regularly come to check on her and even go grocery shopping for her.

Four weeks after beginning her treatment, Beca’s hair starts to fall off. She knew it would happen, but she didn’t think it would hit her so hard emotionally. She loses weight, too, and her complexion is much paler.

Maddie’s high spirits are a nice distraction every time she’s at the hospital. They play games, listen to music, and even grab ice cream once or twice with her mom when Beca feels okay enough not to head straight home.

On her last day of chemo, Beca is surprised to see Maddie isn’t there. “Is her treatment over?” She asks Jenny as the nurse sets her up for her infusion.

Jenny shakes her head. “She was admitted last night.”

Beca’s heart squeezes in her chest, and she swallows down the rising lump in her throat. “Do you know if she’s allowed visitors?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll check for you.”

After her session, Beca heads to the oncology floor and asks for Maddie’s room at the reception. She heads down the hall, turning the corner and lingering in the doorway.

Maddie looks so small in her hospital bed, her complexion as pale as the white walls. An oxygen mask covers her mouth and nose, a wheezing sound filling the room every time she breathes. Chloe’s the first to notice Beca as she sits by her daughter’s side, stroking her hair.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure-- I can go,” Beca murmurs, feeling suddenly out of place.

“It’s okay,” Chloe croaks out, waving her in. Her eyes are bloodshot and her features scream exhaustion and despair, and Beca’s heart clenches yet again.

Maddie finally notices her, a tired smile spreading across her lips. “Hi.”

“Hey dude,” Beca greets with a soft smile, lowering herself on the opposite chair because her legs feel weakened by the chemo. “Missed you today.”

“Did you ring the bell?”

Beca nods. “I did.”

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay, Maddie. I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. I was thinking-- would you like to listen to some cool music? I used to mix songs together when I was in college and nobody really ever listened to them, so you’re privileged.”

Maddie grins and nods, taking the earbud Beca offers her.

She sticks around for half-an-hour, giving Chloe time to use the restroom and grab a coffee while she keeps Maddie company. As she walks out of the hospital, Beca pulls out her phone and brings it to her ear after selecting the right contact.

“Hey. I need a favor.”

Two days later, Beca finds herself heading back to the oncology floor. She knocks on Maddie’s open door, relieved to see her sitting up and looking overall better than she did on Beca’s last visit.

“Beca!” She exclaims, grinning widely.

“Hey you.” Her gaze flickers to Chloe, who too looks better. “Hey Chloe.”

“Hi Beca. Thanks for stopping by,” Chloe says with a soft smile.

“I’m not alone, actually,” she lets them know, craning her neck towards the door to signal for her guest to come in.

Maddie gasps loudly, her eyes widening to the side of saucers. “Oh my god!”

“Hey Maddie,” Shawn greets, grinning as he steps further inside. He’s got his guitar slung across his back. “How are you doing?”

Maddie stutters, pulling a chuckle out of the three adults in the room. “Hi,” she eventually croaks out. “You’re Shawn Mendes. And you’re here. In my room.”

Shawn lets out a soft laugh. “Beca told me you were meant to come see one of my shows last year but couldn’t make it because of your health, so here I am.”

Maddie gapes, her gaze flicking back and forth between Shawn and Beca. “Mom, I think I need to be pinched.”

“It’s all real, baby,” Chloe confirma, brushing a kiss to Maddie’s forehead. As Shawn gets settled in the chair by Maddie’s bed and fiddles with his guitar, she meets Beca’s eyes and mouths a thank you.

Maddie has the biggest smile on her face for the following hour. Shawn plays her favorite songs, signs an autograph and they snap a ton of pictures together. Beca goes home with the biggest smile on her face as well, thrilled to have been able to make Maddie forget about her disease even for a short while.

Beca goes back to work the following Monday as the chemo after effects have considerably lessened over the weekend. She’s still more tired than usual, but she feels like she can get some work done. On her way back home, she swings by the hospital to visit Maddie.

She hangs out with her every evening after work for an hour, right before Maddie’s dinner is served. They talk about music and Beca brings her guitar because Maddie says she’s been wanting to learn.

“Good job,” Beca says as Maddie successfully strums through her first song. “You’re really talented.”

Maddie grins. “Thanks for the class.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave the guitar here if you wanna practice some more during the day, okay?”

Maddie nods. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“You bet.”

She’s reached the elevators when she hears her name being called, and spins around on her heels to find Chloe heading towards her.

“I just wanted to thank you, for everything. Bringing Shawn Mendes here, giving her guitar lessons... “ Chloe sighs. “She doesn’t have many friends because she hasn’t been to school much and it’s nice for her to see other people than her lame mom all the time.”

Beca smiles, shaking her head. “You don’t have to thank me. She’s a great kid, and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her. She made chemo a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad,” Chloe murmurs. “Do you… wanna grab coffee, maybe? Maddie kicked me out, telling me I should take a hospital break.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, great. I’ll go grab my coat.”

They head to the Starbucks around the block as the coffee from the cafeteria sucks, settling at a small table in the corner. Beca orders a decaf and Chloe a hot chocolate.

“How are you now that you’re done with chemo?” Chloe asks before blowing on her drink and taking a sip.

“I’m okay. No more side effects except tiredness, but I’m glad to finally be able to work.”

“That’s good.”

“Maddie seems to be doing better?”

Chloe nods as she cradles her mug. “Her test results have improved. I’m hoping she can be home for Christmas. She’s spent the holidays at the hospital last year and as much as the nurses and doctors do their best to make it merry, it’s just not the same.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Beca hesitates for a beat. “Is it… just the two of you?”

“Yeah. Her dad never wanted to be in the picture.”

Beca’s eyes soften. “That must be tough, doing everything on your own.”

“Some days are hard. I’m just-- so fucking tired,” her voice cracks and tears rapidly fill her eyes. She ducks her head. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Beca rushes out, covering Chloe’s hand across the table before she can think twice about it. “It’s okay to cry. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re an incredible mom, Chloe.”

“I’m terrified of losing her,” she whispers, those tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s my whole life, and she doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Beca doesn’t know what to say; no words seem powerful enough to alleviate Chloe’s pain. She squeezes Chloe’s hand, brushing her thumb over her knuckles back and forth. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Gosh, I’m really sorry,” Chloe sniffles after a moment, puffing out a breath. “I guess I needed a good cry and you’re my victim.”

“It really is okay, Chloe. Anytime you need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Chloe flips her hand up, wrapping her fingers around Beca’s. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As the next few weeks go by, Beca’s hair starts to grow back (she still wears a headscarf, and will do so until it thickens out), and her energy levels rise back to normal. Work gets busier but she tries to visit Maddie three times a week, usually going out for coffee with Chloe once out of those three times. They text a lot too throughout the week, sending each other memes or cute animal videos.

Beca finds herself quickly developing a crush on Chloe over their sometimes hour-long conversations about their respective lives, charmed by her sunny personality, goofy sense of humor and both interior and exterior beauty. But she knows better than to do anything about her attraction, as Chloe is most likely not in any place to date right now, if she’s even into women at all.

Maddie is allowed to spend Christmas at home, and Chloe asks Beca if she wants to spend it with them as she knows Beca doesn’t have anything specific planned. They spend the afternoon leading up to Christmas Eve building gingerbread houses and baking cookies while belting out Christmas tunes.

(as if Beca needed anything else to fuel that crush of hers, it turns out Chloe sings beautifully.)

They eat a meal of Maddie’s choice --homemade burgers and fries-- and watch The Beauty and the Beast.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chloe tells her as she makes it back down after tucking Maddie in for the night. Beca started cleaning up in the meantime, having just finished up.

“I know. It’s no big deal.”

“Want another glass of wine?” Chloe asks, lifting the open bottle off the kitchen island.

Beca should head home, but Chloe’s place is much warmer and cozier than her own and she loves hanging out there. She also can’t resist the opportunity of spending more quality time with Chloe. “Sure, why not.”

“Tonight was really fun,” Chloe muses aloud as they settle back down on the couch, facing one another. “I’m so happy Maddie got to have a real Christmas this year.”

“Me, too,” Beca murmurs. “It was really nice. And that’s coming from someone who’s not that into the holidays, so kudos to you.”

Chloe throws her arms up in the air. “Yay! I did it!”

“You’re a dork,” Beca says, a smirk curving her lips as she shakes her head. “Ugh, I’ve got All I Want For Christmas Is You stuck in my head, thanks to somebody.”

“It’s a good song!”

Beca rolls her eyes. “It’s cheesy as fuck, dude.”

Chloe’s giggle makes her heart swell. “Okay, it’s a little bit cheesy. So is the movie.”

“Never seen it.”

A judgemental gasp fills the space between them before Chloe backs away. “You’ve never seen Love Actually?”

Beca purses her lips. “Are you gonna kick me out if I say yes?”

Chloe’s up from the couch before she can blink. “We’re watching it now.”

Beca’s about to protest, but she realizes it’s only 9:30pm and she doesn’t have to go to work tomorrow. “Fine.”

Chloe sets it up on Netflix and grabs a blanket, throwing it over her laps as she settles back down. Beca nearly forgets how to breathe when Chloe curls up against her, draping an arm over her waist. She frees her arm from in between their bodies and wraps it around Chloe’s frame, pulling her closer as the opening credits roll.

“Keira Knightley was my first girl crush,” Chloe states moments later as the actress makes her first appearance on the screen. “Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Haven’t seen it either.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe laughs, lifting her head from Beca’s shoulder to look at her. “You’re missing out.”

“Mmm,” Beca hums, her eyes momentarily dropping to Chloe’s lips before she can really help herself. She forces them back up to find Chloe’s own gaze on her mouth and, following a beat of hesitation, reaches up to cup her cheek tenderly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

Chloe melts into it, her own hand coming up to rest on the side of Beca’s neck as she kisses back in kind. Time seems to suspend as they explore in soft brushes and nips, their bubble bursting when Chloe abruptly pulls away.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” she whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. “You don’t want that.”

Beca blinks, furrowing her brow. “What?”

“You deserve someone that can be all in, not…” she waves a hand towards herself. “Not this mess. My life is so complicated right now.”

“I know,” Beca says softly, covering Chloe’s hand with her own. “I know your sole focus is Madison, and I’d never hold your lack of time for me against you. I honestly— didn’t even think you’d feel the same way.”

Chloe’s eyes flutter shut for a few beats. “I like you a lot, Beca. I just… can’t promise you more than day to day right now.”

“We can do day to day,” Beca murmurs reassuringly. “There’s no pressure on my end, alright?”

Chloe contemplates it for a moment. “Okay.” She leans in to kiss Beca gently, resting her forehead against hers. “Okay.”

They fall asleep in front of the movie, eventually shuffling up to Chloe’s bedroom around midnight as Chloe states it’s too late for Beca to head home.

Come morning, Beca takes care of breakfast while a nurse stops by to take Maddie’s vitals and do some injections. They open presents next as Maddie is too excited to wait until after breakfast. Beca got her a few books and a VIP ticket to Ariana Grande’s next show in a couple weeks. She got Chloe a full day spa package for whenever she’d like, insisting she could spend the day with Maddie.

“For you,” Maddie says, extending a small package towards Beca.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, dude.” She takes the gift nonetheless, opening it to find a rainbow themed friendship bracelet. Beca grins, taking it out. “I love it. Never taking it off.”

The New Year brings good news: Maddie’s health improves enough that she’s discharged from the hospital, and Beca is clear from any cancer, the chemotherapy having worked tremendously. They celebrate Maddie coming home and Beca being cancer free around a homemade dinner at Chloe’s house.

“Are you guys together?” Maddie blurts out halfway through dinner, causing Beca to nearly choke on her piece of bread.

She and Chloe haven’t engaged in any sort of PDA around Maddie as Chloe wants to take it slow, but something must have given them away.

Maybe the heart eyes Beca gives Chloe on a daily basis.

She briefly meets Chloe’s gaze before Chloe focuses on her daughter, a soft, albeit slight nervous smile curving her lips. “We are, yeah. Is that okay?”

Maddie nods. “You look happy, Mommy.”

Beca feels her heart swell, and as Maddie goes back to her food, she leans across the distance between herself and Chloe to kiss her cheek.

Something tells her this is going to be a great year.

Over the following months, she, Chloe and Maddie do plenty of activities together now that Maddie is healthy enough. They go ice skating, attend concerts, bake, have movie marathons. Beca falls so quickly in love with Chloe, it’s kind of scary.

They’re even talking about moving in together when Maddie relapses.

She’s admitted into the ICU after contracting pneumonia, and the tests show that her number of white blood cells is higher than it’s ever been.

“Where’s Mommy?” Maddie asks tiredly, twisting her head to look at Beca.

It’s been a week, and the light has already left Maddie’s eyes.

Chloe hasn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days, afraid that Maddie might pass during the night, on her own.

“She went to the bathroom, sweetie. Want me to go get her?”

When Maddie nods, Beca shakily rises to her feet and swallows down the lump in her throat as she leans over to press a kiss to Maddie’s forehead.

Beca doesn’t step back inside Maddie’s room once Chloe is in there, preferring to give them privacy. She calls for a nurse, then sits down on a chair in the hallway, tears silently sliding down her cheeks when Chloe starts to sing.

Her heart crumbles when the song doesn’t make it to the end, sobs filling Maddie’s hospital room instead. She hears the doctor pronounce the time of death, and the machines stop.

Night has fallen over the city by the time Beca finds the courage to step inside. Chloe is curled up on the bed next to Maddie’s lifeless body, and Beca freezes in the doorway, feeling absolutely powerless against Chloe’s immense grief.

“Her skin is still warm,” Chloe croaks out after a minute, her gaze blank as she strokes Maddie’s short hair back and forth.

Beca pads forward slowly, tears burning her eyes as she lowers herself on the chair Chloe previously occupied and covers her free hand with her own.

“I can’t let them take her away. It’s too soon, I-I can’t.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Beca whispers, her voice nowhere within reach. “Take all the time you need, they won’t take her away until you’re ready.”

Chloe’s parents, whom Beca has met a couple times over the previous week arrive only a few minutes later, and Beca suddenly feels out of place.

She quietly slips out of the room to let them say goodbye to Maddie in peace.

Madison’s funeral takes place five days later. It’s a beautiful day, graced with unexpected warmth for the season. Beca stands a couple rows behind Chloe’s family. She helps Chloe’s parents out during the wake following the ceremony, setting out the food and washing the dishes.

As people shuffle out at the end of the afternoon, Beca is unsure what to do. She’s wiping the last of the dishes when Aubrey, Chloe’s best friend, rounds the corner to the kitchen.

“Thank you for your help today,” she says with a nod. “I’ll finish up here.”

Beca gets the message that she’s not needed anymore and nods, setting the dish towel down. “Oh. Right, okay.”

She gathers her coat and purse and sees that Chloe is speaking to her parents on her way out, and as she doesn’t want to intrude, steps out without a word.

“Beca.” She turns around halfway down the driveway to find Chloe closing the front door of her house behind her. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Well, um, you’re with your family and...” she falters, shrugging. “I just didn’t want to intrude.”

She hates how it sounds like she’s making this about herself when it’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Can you stay?” Chloe croaks out. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

“Of course,” she murmurs without an ounce of hesitation, taking a few steps forward and wrapping her arms around Chloe. Chloe melts into her body, releasing a shuddering breath. “I’ve got you, Chlo.”

The next days, weeks, months are extremely hard for Chloe, and Beca helps in whatever way she can. While she can’t make Chloe’s grief less intense, as much as she wants to, she can take care of things that will make her daily life easier, like taking care of the administrative paperwork following Maddie’s funeral, sending out thank-you notes, making dinner, cleaning and just being there for her.

She holds Chloe when she cries, even if it happens in the middle of the night, gives her space when she needs some, listens to her when she needs to talk about Maddie, even if it’s a story she’s already heard.

“Chlo?” Beca asks upon coming home one evening, about four months after Maddie’s death. She’s been staying at Chloe’s house ever since, and while they haven’t really talked about it, Beca wants it to become a permanent installment, and she’s got the inkling Chloe feels the same way.

“In the kitchen,” Chloe’s voice carries to the entryway and, after taking her shoes off and tucking them away, Beca heads over to the kitchen, slipping her arms around Chloe’s waist.

“Hello,” she whispers with a content sigh, brushing a kiss to Chloe’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too. How was your day?”

“Good.” She takes a step back and hops on the counter, watching Chloe cook for a moment. She hasn’t done that since before Maddie’s relapse and Beca takes it as one small step towards healing. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Chloe lowers the heat under her pot and steps in front of Beca. “What’s up?”

“A few months ago, I pitched the idea to Shawn about organizing a concert in memory of Maddie, where all proceeds would go to funding leukemia research.”

Chloe’s eyes get misty as she proceeds Beca’s words. “You did? What-what did he say?”

“He agreed. Now we need to work on finding a venue with a limited budget, but I wanted to make sure you were okay with the idea in the first place.”

Chloe slides her hand into Beca’s, squeezing it. “Of course I am. You’re amazing, you know that? I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am for you these past few months.”

Beca leans in to kiss her softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Chloe backs away a little. “I also need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can live here anymore. Everything I see reminds me of Maddie one way or another and it feels like I’m in a continuous loop of grief all day long. I wanna go back to work and— and find a new place to live, in a different neighborhood. With you, preferably.”

Beca smiles and nods, linking their fingers. “Okay, we can do that. Wanna start looking now?”

They find themselves a place in a quiet Brooklyn neighborhood and move in a month later. The concert for Maddie is sold out, and they raise close to $10,000 dollars for medical research. Almost a year after the funeral, Chloe asks Beca if she’d come with her to Oregon to spread Maddie’s ashes near her favorite beach.

They fly there the following weekend, and Chloe bids her daughter a final goodbye.

“Mommy loves you, baby girl,” she croaks as they watch the ashes being swept away by the wind towards the ocean.

Beca presses her lips to her hairline, holding her around the waist as tears burn behind her eyes.

She proposes to Chloe six months later, and they get married in Chloe’s parents’ backyard on a lovely fall day, in an intimate ceremony surrounded by their family and close friends. Two years into their marriage, Chloe brings up a topic Beca has been putting off for a little while.

That evening, Beca finds her wife on the couch with Maddie’s box opened in front of her. She’s flipping through Maddie’s baby book, a fond expression on her features.

“That was her first time tasting lemon,” she says when Beca lowers herself next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame as Chloe cuddles into her side.

“That’s adorable,” Beca comments with a soft smile, her eyes moving to the next picture as her fingers feather up and down Chloe’s upper arm.

Chloe’s been going down memory lane the past few days, opening up the box that contains all the things she wanted to keep: Maddie’s plush dinosaur, a few Mother’s Day gifts she’d made Chloe, her favorite children’s book and of course plenty of photo albums.

Her grief comes in waves. Beca knows the loss of her child is not something she’ll ever ‘move on’ from, or ‘get over’. The ache is still present, some days more suffocating than others, and Beca does her best to help her through those.

“Do you ever think about having kids?”

Chloe’s question makes Beca briefly pause in her motions. “I do, yeah. But it’s okay if that’s not something you’re ever ready for, I promise.”

“Up until a few months ago, I thought that having another one would come across as though I’m trying to replace Maddie and I felt guilty. But my therapist helped me through it and... I do want to have a baby with you someday.” Chloe glances up from the album, looking at Beca. “I think-- I think I might be ready, soon?”

“Okay.” Cupping Chloe’s cheek, Beca leans forward to brush a kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

Oliver Beale-Mitchell comes into the world a year and a half later, four days past his due date.

“Hello,” Chloe whispers as she walks back to Beca, carrying their swaddled newborn. She lowers herself on the side of the bed. “He’s so beautiful, Becs.”

A tired yet beaming smile spreads across Beca’s lips as she reaches out to run her thumb over his knuckles, leaning her head against Chloe’s shoulder. Her heart feels full. “Hi little man.” She glances up at Chloe. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Chloe croaks out, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away from their bundle of joy. She bends down to brush a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome to the world, Olliebear.”

#bechloe fic #bechloe

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hortensemitchell · 3 years

Text

Love Science: Chapter Four

Logan believed that he could solve anything through the power of science, even something as complicated as love. James is set on teaching him that love can't be summed up in experiments and charts.

The two of them might just learn that there is more to love than they realize.

Rating: T

Paring: Logan Mitchell/James Diamond

Words: 1852

It’s almost fall, James realized as he makes the familiar trek to Logan’s house. The air was crisp as the afternoon sun started lowering in the sky. It made him wish that he’d brought a jacket with him, but he rarely thought that far ahead.

Logan would have reminded him to bring one.

He was good at stuff like that, always prepared for anything. It was one of the things James loved about him. But the words Logan and Love in the same sentence felt very confusing to him at the moment.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, one moment he was listening to Logan drone on about his algebra assignment and the next he almost asked him out. He had never been more thankful for Kendall and Carlos’ interruptions in his life.

Getting dates for the dance was a good save, and he didn’t have any doubts on the other boys being able to follow through. Kendall, while not exceptionally girl crazy, seemed to do alright with them. And James had no doubt that Carlos would have a good yet danger filled night with Jenny.

Logan however looked a little panicked at the idea of having to find a date for himself, and had all but ran out the door before James even noticed. That’s why James was heading over in the first place. He had to make sure the other boy was okay.

James stood at the edge of the Mitchell’s driveway taking in the brick exterior and slightly overgrown bushes. His mother had made plenty of comments about the unmanicured lawn before as she dropped him off, but James had always felt it made the place feel more like a home.

If he was honest, all of his friend’s houses felt more like a home than his own ever did. He was hardly ever in his, not that there was ever anyone there to notice. His mother worked long hours running her makeup empire, and his father? Well last he heard his father was on vacation in the Keys with his secretary.

James quietly made his way up the driveway, careful not to be seen through the living room window. If he approached the front step he’s sure Mama Mitchell would let him in, offering a warm cup of cider and a snack. He couldn’t take that risk though. One moment she’ll have you in the kitchen enjoying her excellent baking and the next you’re in the living room looking through a photo album titled ‘Hortense- Potty Training’.

Logan was horrified when he found them that day, and had James swear to take it to the grave. And of course he would. Secretly though, James found it sweet how much she loved her son, even if she embarrassed him on the regular.

He could stop in for a visit later, for now he had to make sure Logan was okay. He approached the gate leading to the backyard and lifted up on it to avoid the loud croaking noise it was prone to make. When he rounded the corner to the back of the house, he was pleased to see the soft lamp light filtering through Logan’s bedroom window.

Now came the more difficult part, scaling the building to the second floor. James pulled his body weight onto the trashcan leaning against the side of the house, using it as a stepping stool to reach the slanted roof.

He privately thanked all the afternoons he had spent working out in the gym after class because the maneuver wasn’t the easiest. But he finally got his footing on top of the roof and carefully edged his way to Logan’s window.

Inside the room was an extremely familiar sight. Logan sat slumped over his desk, quickly scanning between two different text books, strone all around the floor of his desk were balls of crumpled paper. Illuminated by the blue light of his laptop in the corner of his desk, Logan wore an expression of intense focus as he studied.

As he scribbled away in his notebook, he bit down slightly on his lip showcasing his dimple. His hair was sort of ruffled like he had been running his fingers through it out of frustration, and his clothes were a little rumpled. It was entirely unlike the poised and proper boy James would see in school. There was something kind of charming about the way Logan lost sight of everything around him when he studied, absorbed in his own little world.

But James quickly backtracked on those thoughts, realizing how creepy he must seem peering in his friends bedroom window like a pervert. He tapped on the window in front of him and laughed when the boy inside startled at the sound.

When he glanced over to see that it wasn’t an axe murder, but James sitting at his bedroom window, he quickly crossed the room to let him in. As soon as the window opened, James rushed inside along with the cool breeze of the evening air.

Logan instantly shivered, hastily shutting his window again. “Where’s your jacket? You must be freezing.”

“A body this hot,” James gestured to his abdomen. “Never get cold.”

Logan rolled his eyes, before he tossed a throw blanket from his closet in James direction. “Uh huh, use this before you get sick.” He then made his way back to his desk chair before spinning to face James. “Anyways, what are you even doing here?”

James took a seat on the edge of Logan’s bed beside the desk, and wrapped the throw blanket around his shoulders. “You left Kendall’s pretty fast, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward to peer at the books on the desk. “And also to see what you’re working on.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed red, a response that instantly caught James’ attention. “It’s just some work for my AP World History class, real boring stuff.” He rolled his chair so he was blocking James' view of the desk. “Honestly, you’d probably have more fun going to Carlos’ tonight, I’ll be working for a while.”

There was absolutely no way Logan was working on a school assignment. James knows how Logan gets about his school work. He can’t help himself but ramble on about the new knowledge he learned to anyone who would listen. No, whatever this was, Logan didn’t want him to find out.

“Yeah you’re probably right. My head still hurts from all that algebra we did at Kendall’s anyways.” James stretched out his arms, and turned his body toward the window as if he was going to leave.

Logan let out a soft sigh, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Once James left, he could carry on with his work. At the last second though, James turned back toward the desk and lunged for one of the textbooks laid across it. Logan had made an attempt to stop him, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Give it back James, I have work to do!”

James ignored his pleas and walked away from the desk, the prized textbook held high above his head far from Logan’s reach. There was no way the other boy could grab it without jumping, and James knew for certain Logan’s pride wouldn’t let him do that no matter how badly he wanted his book back.

“Not until you tell me what you’re really studying. We’re best friends, we don’t keep secrets from each other, remember?” James paused for a moment, before a sinister grin appeared on his face. “Unless you’re studying something dirty?”

Logan’s face flushed bright red as he scoffed at Jame’s teasing. “What? No!”

“Then why can’t you tell me about it?”

Logan leaned forward in his chair, and hid his face in his hands. For a moment James felt worried, he might have pushed things too far. Logan sat like this for a moment before he looked up making eye contact with James across the room. “I’m researching love, okay?”

James made his way back over to Logan’s bed and sat down, placing the textbook beside him. “This is about the dance isn’t it?” While Logan didn’t reply, James knew he hit the nail on the head. He laid his hand on Logan’s shoulder before he continued in a soft voice. “Love isn’t something you can learn about in a textbook Logan.”

“You can learn anything through science. And love is just a series of chemicals anyways all the experts say so, if I study hard enough I can break it down to simple components.”

Now it was James' turn to roll his eyes. “Who are you going to listen to? A bunch of science nerds or your best bud who just so happens to be the leading casanova at Richview High?”

Logan let out a sigh, before meeting Jame’s eyes. “I’ll listen to you, but without science there’s no way I’ll get a date in time.”

“I’ll tutor you!”

James was kind of surprised as the words came out of his mouth. Since he could remember he’d been going to Logan for extra help in his studies. The idea that it was finally his turn to pay his friend back left him feeling a little bit giddy.

“You’re not unfortunate looking, dude, plus I think you have adorable dimples and kind eyes.” James noticed Logan looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place.

“You think my dimples are adorable?”

“Well I-, I mean girls will think they’re adorable.” James quickly recovered. “Plus you have that smart guy thing and girls go wild for that. I’ll teach you some of my go-to moves, and you’ll have a date in no time.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, and pondered James' offer for a moment. He really had nothing to lose. He’d seen James in action before, and if even half of that charm rubbed off on Logan, he was sure to have a date for the dance. He really didn’t want to run the risk of playing third wheel for his friends on a Saturday night.

“Okay, I’ll let you tutor me.”

James felt himself grin widely, glad that he could finally help his friend who had already helped him so much. He stood abruptly from the bed and rushed toward the window, making his way out into the cool evening.

Logan was slightly puzzled at the other boy's actions, “Where are you going?”

“Home, I have to create a study plan. If we are gonna get you ready by Saturday, I need a plan of action.” He slipped out of the window leaning his head back into the room. “I’ll come over after school tomorrow, and we can start training then.”

James turned around and climbed his way back down to the safety of Logan’s backyard. He heard the sound of the window shutting above his head and carefully snuck out the way he came.

The evening air was chilly, but James didn’t really notice. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about the fun afternoon he had planned, showing Logan what love was really all about.

#my writing #Big Time Rush #Logan Mitchell #James Diamond #Jogan

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introductions-are-a-spook · 3 years

Text

Reblogs and feedback always appreciated!

@kissthe-gogoat Let me know if you want to be added to / taken off the tag list!

Aqua eyes slowly opened, and a hand reached to a pair of glasses nearby. Maxwell blinked a few times, adjusting to the light streaming through his curtains. And then he paused.

There, sprawled out on his couch, was Andrew. Sleeping peacefully, a piece of sheet music held over his chest. He looked very sunny, with rays reflecting on his hair and making his cheeks glow. Maxwell sat on the edge of his bed, still in yesterday’s clothes, and gazed at the other man a little longer.

Nothing had happened, other than them staying up far too late to keep working on the piece, which they had finished. Luckily it was the weekend, and while they had slept late, they had slept well. Maxwell checked the clock. Eleven. Stretching his arms above his head and throwing on a robe, he went to the kitchen and began to make breakfast.

He thought about the day before. What had happened to wanting to bring the hammer down? He had investigated Andrew a grand total of once, and even then, what had he done- look around his house a bit? Read over the obligatory and lifeless reports on him from the police department? And yet even that pathetic inkling of progress had been squashed as soon as he looked into Andrew’s indigo eyes.

Meanwhile, those same eyes were just beginning to open on the couch upstairs. He sat up with a start, before recognizing his surroundings and relaxing. He rubbed his eyes and looked around for his glasses. Stumbling his way across the room, he finally found them on Maxwell’s bedside table. Why were these here? He took a moment to remind himself that nothing like that had yet happened.

Yet. And that was the problem. Andrew wasn’t going to lie to himself, he had had a liking for Maxwell for a long time. And now he was almost certain that Maxwell felt the same, Andrew selfishly wanted more.

And yet everything screamed at him to turn back. Yes, Antigone was now the obvious reason. Who knew what he had in store? He seemed to think of Andrew as a sort of unwitting lackey. He might hurt Maxwell, might force him into the same position. Might simply manipulate him into going away. But what about the simple fact that Maxwell was a detective? Andrew had not missed the repetition of his own name on Maxwell’s case pinboard. What if this whole relationship was a ploy for information?

Maybe it didn’t matter, Andrew told himself. It was too early to tell much about these things, but it wasn’t too soon to attempt to continue the relationship, that both undeniably wanted.

As he thought, he found that he had wandered downstairs. He smelled something that had a burnt twinge to it.

“Max? Is something burning?” he called as he walked into the kitchen.

“Not anymore,” indeed, there he was, body failing to block the view of a singed frying pan dropped in a pot of water. “And did you just call me ‘Max?’”

Andrew tried and failed not to laugh. “Um. Yeah, is that okay?”

Maxwell hesitated for a moment. “I suppose I don’t see why not, if it’s just you. Just don’t confuse me for the cat.”

“Cat? What ca-” Andrew was cut off when he felt something soft and warm rub against his leg. Indeed, a black cat had taken to purring at him.

“Her name is Maxie, so you don’t get to call me that. So does this mean I can call- are you even listening to me?” Andrew hummed a yes while sitting down and petting the cat, who now had happily crawled onto his lap. Max chuckled. “I see you two are friends now. But if you’re going to call me ‘Max’ then I’m going to call you ‘Andy.’”

Another hummed a yes and a pitiful ‘no’ as the cat got up, stretched, and trotted off to find it’s water. “Sounds good to me. And…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should let me do the cooking and baking from now on.”

Max blushed. “Fine.”

~*~

The two had spent the day together, in Max’s library (luckily none of his siblings were around to ruin the mood). Occasionally they would stop to go on a walk or get sweets at the closed bakery.

When evening rolled around, Andy proposed the idea of a third date. There was a dance that he was invited to that evening, and he needed a partner. Max cheerfully agreed and they set to getting ready and meeting back up again when they were done.

Both looked positively dashing as they walked into the dance hall, turning a few heads. The room itself was beautiful, lit by a chandelier and decorated by all manner of gold. Mediocre in the eyes of the rich, but paradise in the eyes of the average. Someone called to Andy, to explain who his new partner was. Max laughed and dropped his grip from Andy’s elbow to his hand. And so, the music, drinking, and fun began. The two danced their way through the first few songs, laughing and talking like any other couple in the room.

“God, my feet are getting tired,” Andy laughed. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?”

Max grinned tipsily and relaxed in Andy’s arms. “My mother tried to teach me, but it was my sibling Casey who made me keep going. I suppose it paid off.”

“Hell yeah it did! I’m sure as hell glad you…” Andrew trailed off, eyes transfixed on a woman across the room. Her fiery emerald eyes shot right through him, holding his gaze and promptly sobered him up.

But just as Maxwell began to ask what was wrong, the next song started and Andrew’s mind cleared. The dance had them switch partners every thirty seconds or so.

They flitted from person to person, a cycle that eventually led Andrew to the green-eyed lady. As soon as he was up close to her. he recognized her. She was at the house he tried to burgle, just before meeting Antigone! But more than that, she was… Okay, stay calm, it’ll be okay.

She glared at him as she quickly and resentfully spoke. “Well, if it isn’t Andrew Winston. I figured you’d want to spend your evening on another heist.”

“Jennifer McAllen! I haven’t seen you since, uh, a while ago! Gee, I don’t think I know-”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

Andrew was going to ask more questions, but the music forced them to move along. But instead of continuing on, he pulled her out into the hallway. Away from prying eyes and ears, he became much more serious.

“Alright, cut the crap, Jenny. What are you talking about? What do you know?” he snapped at her.

“What don’t I know, asshole! You left me three years ago, just like that, and now you break into my house! And then you have the audacity to strut around with a goddamn detective? Especially Chapman of all people, what the hell is wrong with you!” Andrew tried to protest, but she cut him off and shoved him away.

They used to be best friends- partners in crime, even- before they had the argument. Jennifer wanted to settle down a bit as they got older, go back to her life as a higher-up, but Andrew wanted to keep going full speed ahead. They couldn’t work it out, and so one night, Andrew snuck out and drove to London, leaving Jennifer behind and taking her secrets with him.

Andrew shut up. He knew not to interrupt her when she got like this. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, well, maybe this isn’t all bad. That pompous brat has been snooping around my life, trying to shake the skeletons out of my closet. Ones that you helped me get! So help me god, Andrew, if you don’t dump this guy and help me out, I will burn your life to the ground. Hear me?” Her words startled Andrew, and he backed away even further.

He took a moment to think and compose himself. He knew how conniving Jenny could be- he had seen it himself- but give up Maxwell to satisfy her? And then there was Antigone, who also wanted Maxwell gone. And he had shown that he was a much more violent man, over Jennifer’s scheming. The two of them combined, even if they weren’t working together, could be detrimental.

And yet, he simply wasn’t willing to let Max go.

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to give up the life I’ve built just to make you happy,” he said, beginning to walk back to the dance hall. Jennifer grabbed his wrist and dug her nails into his skin.

“If you think I’m not going to decimate you for this, you’re sorely mistaken,” she snarled.

Andrew laughed. “I know you, Jenny. And I know all your tricks.” He opened the door and took a step back inside. And then he hesitated.

“Tell you what. Since we both did some bad shit, if you get caught, I’ll give myself up too. Drop Max and everything. How ‘bout that?”

She raised an eyebrow and sneered. “Sure. But I’m going to hold you to it. I don’t believe for a second you’re going to do it on your own.”

“That’s my Gem!” He laughed. “Bring it on.” And with that, he shut the door and strode off.

#writing #my writing #📖 the detective and the crook 🖋#✒️ you write and i’ll read 📖

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a-gorgeous-george · 3 years

Photo

Basic Questions

First name? Georgette

Surname? Foxworth

Middle names? Luciana

Nicknames? Gigi (by her mother)

Date of birth? August 7th

Age? 22

Physical / Appearance

Type of clothes?

Georgette’s style is all about femineity and luxury. She wears a lot of dresses, a lot of skirts, but even her workout clothes are designer. She swears “cheap” clothes give her a rash – and who would want to mar her perfect skin like that.

How do they wear their clothes? Tight and tailored.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc)

Georgette is rarely seen without heels on, and thanks to regular pedicures and lack of abuse, her feet are soft and pretty always.

Race / Ethnicity? Spanish and Indonesian

Are they in good health? Oh yes, she has a strict workout schedule and diet she sticks to… well, actually, perhaps not, because alongside that she also lives a life of high stress and nicotine.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

It really depends on the source of power in a situation. If it is something she has control over, she is optimistic, can’t see how something would ever not work out, but if someone else is in control, her view changes considerably and she is usually fairly certain it will fail.

Do they ever put on airs?

When is she not putting on airs?

What bad habits do they have? She has a serious nicotine problem.

What makes them laugh out loud?

She isn’t really a laugh out loud type of person. She might chuckle or smile in amusement, but laughing out loud indicates a level of ease that she just does not feel around people. Also Al.

How do they display affection?

She is very physically affectionate… I think. She has never been in a position where she felt comfortable being affectionate with a person in that way. Besides that, she shares her wealth in ways that benefit that people she cares about, shares her privilege with them. She is happy to be her friends’ sugar mama.

How do they want to be seen by others? Beautiful and in control.

How do they see themselves?

She very much sees herself as a lone wolf. She knows she’s beautiful, smart, capable, hardworking, but she’s alone and absolutely terrified someone will recognize it. She is also very much aware of her inner rage.

· How are they seen by others?

Because of her past with her family and the lack of ties it provided her, Georgette was left defending herself. Her arrogance and obsessive need to believe in her own importance is directly tied to the lack of importance anyone else gave her.

Strongest character trait?

For all her bravado and arrogance, Georgette is 100% unafraid of hard work. From her work on her blog and marketing it, her history as a beauty queen, her strict adherence to her diet and exercise routine, every aspect of her life, she has no issue knuckling down and putting in the time and effort to succeed.

Weakest character trait?

She is incapable of asking for help, as if it somehow undermines her own achievements if someone else must assist her.

How competitive are they?

Extremely. If you want to manipulate Georgette into doing something, make it a contest. She’ll probably even know what you’re doing and still be unable to resist.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?

Snap judgements all the way, baby!!

How do they react to praise?

Smug agreement.

How do they react to criticism?

Strong commitment to your character’s delusion that she is anything other than amazing.

What is their greatest fear?

Dying without ever achieving anything of substance.

What are their biggest secrets?

Georgette is crushingly lonely. Her whole life has been spent pushing people away, trying to protect herself and prove herself, full of anger, and it has left her without anyone she can be close to.

What will they stand up for?

Once her blog is up and running and successful, once the magazine starts to take off, she will have real issues with people saying she’s self-made. She is fully aware that even without her father’s money, her name alone carries a certain currency most people do not have. She is well aware of her own privilege in that area and will stand up against anyone who compares her achievements against someone who didn’t have that head start.

Who do they quote?

She’s a closet book nerd and might not quote directly but will frequently make allusions to literature.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Indoorsy.

What is their sinful little habit? Cigarettes.

What sense do they most rely on?

Sight – how someone/something looks dictates more of her life than it should.

How do they treat people better than them?

What people better than them?

How do they treat people worse than them?

That seems like an unfair question when everyone is worse than them.

What quality do they most value in a friend? She wouldn’t know.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Niceness.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

She would have people who cared about her.

What is their obsession? Herself?

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?

Her mother and stepfather, father and stepmother, Jenny and Oliver (Yes, she considers Oliver as part of her family)

What is their perception of family?

When she was barely cognizant of life, her father had an affair, had a baby, split up her family, quickly destroying the idea in her head. It is an outdated concept made to make people feel like belong to a group, no loyalty or love.

Describe their best friend.

………. Let me get her just a friend first.

Ideal best friend?

Someone who understands her hustle. Someone she can see the inherent importance in. Someone that can still pull her out of her head and get her to have fun.

Describe their acquaintances.

She is jealous of the closeness of Dodger’s gang, watching as an outsider and wishing desperately to be a part of it all.

Do they have any pets?

She is a massive dog person! (Get it?) But yes, she has a little doggo, Valentina.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?

Awful? Spoiled? She was raised spoiled, but after her father’s betrayal, she sought to teach him a lesson. Even as a child, she would blackmail and torture him, threatening to reveal his dirty secret to the world. She was worse to Jenny even, more easily able to take out her anger over the affair and her birth on the younger girl than the truly guilty adults.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?

Neglected – but that is partly her own fault. She is as much at fault due to her reaction and actively hurting her family and her father. She lashed out and did truly awful things and crushed what bond there might have possibly been.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said?

Oh, I don’t know… in my head, I feel like she can be a very problematic person. Add that in with her natural meanness, I am sure she has said some awful stuff.

What was their first kiss like?

It was awful. Some other 7th grader when she was in 7th grade. Too wet. Thought he was trying to drown her.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?

Repeatedly blackmailing her father for her own benefit.

What are their ambitions?

She wants to outshine her father, claim their last name as her own and not the sullied version her father left in the wake of his controversy. That is why her blog and future magazine is named after her.

What advice would they give their younger self? It’s not Jenny’s fault.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Perfume and peppermints.

What was their childhood ambition?

Growing up, her mind stayed on the pageant world. Her ambitions usually stayed just one pageant ahead of her.

What is their best childhood memory?

She doesn’t know if it’s real or not, just this soft memory of her father grinning and spinning around the living room with her, dressed in his coat and tails.

What is their worst childhood memory?

Listening in from the hall as his father confessed everything to her mother, hearing her mother sobbing as he threw clothes into a suitcase.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?

The last one? She still hasn’t got over her first one.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?

She only barely believes in love in any form.

· How do they behave in a relationship?

Georgette really doesn’t do relationships, thanks to that whole “love isn’t real” thing. They usually last a month or so, but she gets bored and has no issue telling him to get lost after that point.

When did you character last have sex? Perhaps a couple weeks ago.

What sort of sex do they have?

She is looking for something hot, passionate, and with someone she doesn’t have to worry about calling back.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?

Georgette doesn’t back down from a threat, though her means for fighting usually involves $$$ instead of doing any sort of fighting herself.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Point out her lack of backup.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Say it with me… diamonds.

How do they perceive strangers?

Her trust or lack of trust in them is based solely on how they look.

What do they love to hate? Oh, that is way too long a list to put here.

What are their phobias? Bugs of any sort.

What is their choice of weapon? Poison.

What living person do they most despise? Her father.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? That would not go well for that person.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home, to seethe and plot.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Blogger.

What do they think about their current job?

She has dreams of something bigger, more substantial, but she’s thankful for the success the gossip blog has had and excited to grow it.

What are their hobbies? Painting, reading, dancing.

Educational background? Some college.

Intelligence level?

I believe she is fairly smart, but her work ethic covers a lot of distance for her.

Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Doggies.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? Her face in the mirror.

What is their favorite song? Ego by Beyonce

Music, art, reading preferred? Ooooooh… probably reading

What is their favorite color? Gold

What is their password?

Honestly it is probably a secure combination of letters put together by a professional.

Favorite food: Lasagna

What is their favorite work of art? Judith and the Head of Holofornes

Who is their favorite artist? Gustav Klimt

What is their favorite day of the week? Saturday

Possessions

What is in their fridge? A lot of water, veggies, meal prepped chicken

What is on their bedside table? The current book she is reading, a bouquet of pink and white roses, a gold lamp, a rose gold silk eye mask

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?

If she has a guardian angel, she would really like a word with it.

Do they believe in the afterlife? I mean, she now knows Hades, so yeah

What are their religious views?

Once you meet a god, you kinda realize which system of beliefs is the right one

· How would they like to die? Painless and pretty

What is their zodiac sign? Leo

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Abandonment

What is their view of ‘freedom’?

Able to make your way through life on your own two feet without having to rely on anyone else to support you.

When did they last lie? Probably an hour ago

What’s their view of lying? It definitely can make things easier.

When did they last make a promise?

She doesn’t really bother. You either do things or you don’t. The rest is just extra words.

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Healthy food prepared by a chef.

Describe their home.

Luxurious home in a gated community bought by her father.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Drink a glass of cold water.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?

She can be found putting the finishing touches on her blog post for the week.

What do they do on a Friday night?

She can just as easily be found out dancing as home alone working.

What is the soft drink of choice? She doesn’t drink soda.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Merlot.

Miscellaneous

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Anything sexy.

Are they comfortable with technology? She can do basic things.

If they could save one person, who would it be? Jenny.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Over her dead body.

What is their greatest extravagance? Jewelry

What is their perception of redemption? She hopes it’s real.

What would they do if they won the lottery? It would change her life 0%.

What is their favourite fairytale?

She isn’t really big on fairytales, but definitely prefers the darker original versions. So much more realistic than that happily ever after in love bullshit.

Do they believe in happy endings?

She believes in the ability of a person to make their own damn happy ending.

What is their idea of perfect happiness?

Surrounded by a family that loves her

If your character could travel through time, where would they go?

She has it on good authority that life gets more uncivilized the farther back you go, so she’s good, thanks.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?

Full on mind control. She’ll make you do what she wants and feel no guilt.

#watasks #{beauty for the beholder}

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thebrochtuarachs · 4 years

Text

To Begin Again, Chapter 11: “Riding”

A/N: I know it's been a while since I updated this story but I hope you like this short little chapter. :) It's been fun revisiting this story and I just love this AU of Jamie and Claire. It’s been a while since I wrote so apologies in advance and as always, comments and suggestions are always welcome. Hope you're staying safe in this pandemic. Love always, M

This chapter is dedicated to @samncait4ever. 🧡 Thank you for being a wonderful friend and fandom ally. Rest in Peace. <3

AO3 / CH: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

XXXX

Jamie and Claire spent the next two days rekindling with each other inside the laird's room, only bothering to leave the chambers once to grab food from the kitchen that will last them for days.

They flitted through talking, eating, coming together, and sleeping ( not particularly in that order ) until they’ve reached another pause in what has been a blissful 2 days.

"Jamie," Claire said softly, a hand caressing the back of his head, "I don't think I've ever been so happy." Jamie rolled to one side, shifting his weight carefully so as not to squash his wife, and lifted himself to lie face-to-face with Claire.

"Nor me, my Sassenach," he said, and kissed her lightly, but lingering, so that she had time just to close her lips in a tiny bite on the fullness of his lower lip. "It's no just the bedding, ye ken," he said, drawing back a little at last. His eyes looked down at Claire, a soft deep blue like the warm tropic sea.

"No," Claire said, touching his cheek. "It isn't."

"To have ye with me again -to talk wi' you -to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts...God, Sassenach," he said, "the Lord knows I am lust-crazed as a lad, and I canna keep my hands from you-or anything else-" he added, wryly, "but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the pleasure of havin' ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart."

Claire’s heart ached and soared with Jamie’s confession, much more to the fact that his sentiments echo to hers so strongly.

“So tell me all yer heart” Jamie said, “We’ve got time now”

Claire gave a small chuckle but moved to settle a bit more to Jamie’s side. "It was lonely without you," she whispered. "So lonely." She need not say more.

“Do ye regret it?” he asked, not really meaning to dampen their high but a question that came naturally in the conversation.

Claire didn’t even think about not answering but owed it to her and Jamie’s newfound strength to bring up these kinds of conversation in their reunion.

“The time we lost, yes. Brianna, no - definitely not.” She gave him a wry smile and continued. “There are so many what-ifs, the things we dreamed about happening, the future we planned… a part of me wonders what our life would be like if we stayed in the 18th century, raised Bree in that time with Jenny and Ian.”

“Aye, I do ken what yer saying. I spent a lot of time in the cave thinkin’ about ye and the bairn and what she’d look like, how ye’ll be as the lady of the house, something of the like’

Claire glanced at the window where the light was strong through the blinds, telling us that it was probably mid to past noon.

“Jamie, as much as I’d like to stay here another day, Bree’s coming in the evening and we need to get up and put our clothes on at some point.”

Knowing full well that Jamie won’t be the first to comply, Claire reluctantly got up and rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor to look for some undergarments and pants. Jamie was still not moving, staring at her with hooded eyes she knew so well but she would not budge as well.

“Oh, come on, get up!” She said laughingly as she pulled the blanket off Jamie’s body forcing him to groan in the cold. “There’s plenty more to see around! care for a stroll with me?”

“With ye, anywhere, Sassenach.”

Bree’s last class for the day cancelled allowing her to travel up to Lallybroch earlier than scheduled. Her parents' directions were fairly easy to follow and now, she found herself on the rough path towards a 3-story building that was meant to be her home.

She saw every detail as told by her mother - the arch that bore the Fraser emblem at the top, the handsome three-story manor of harled white, windows outlined in the natural gray stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimney’s and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about.

She took it all in and expected to feel all the history to overwhelm her but for some strange reason, it brought her a sense of peace and belonging.

She parked her car and proceeded to knock on the front door. After three tries and no answer, she decided to explore the backyard and found out why her knocks and calls were unanswered.

Over the horizon, Brianna saw two horses racing one another in the open field, the competition clearly fierce.

“You’ve lost your touch on the horse, Sassenach” Jamie called, looking briefly behind him to watch Claire.

Claire commanded her horse to a faster speed, easily surpassing Jamie, calling him out “Sorry, you were saying?” she laughed. “Race you to the stables!”

With her headstart, Claire ran out Jamie and won the race.

Once she dismounted her horse and led her white horse to her stable for some food and water while Jamie followed suit, dismounting from his black stallion.

“I should’ve known you were holding back from me, Sassenach.” Jamie said, walking towards her as she closed the door to her horse’s stables.

“Well, if last night was any indication, you shouldn’t have doubted that” Claire replied, allowing herself to be trapped as Jamie placed both his hands on the stable door, blocking her way.

"I thought you'd be a little sore but I seem to be mistaken" Jamie teased, leaning in for a kiss until -

“Mama! I’m surprised that you can ride...” Brianna began her question “... a horse!”

“Bree! You’re here! I thought you won’t arrive till nighttime” Claire pulled away from Jamie’s arrest and went to greet their daughter.

“Yeah, my last class got cancelled. Roger and Mrs. Graham will come in a couple of days.” she explained. “Hi, Da” Bree proceeded to give Jamie a brief hug as well.

“Well, it’s almost lunch, I think we have pork chops we can easily deep fry.”

“Sounds good.”

The trio walked back to the house where Claire proceeded to the fridge and told Jamie and Bree where everything else in the kitchen are.

“So, tell me about the house” Bree asked as they prepared their food.

Claire and Jamie proceeded to exchange stories, flitting between when Jamie’s father built it, to stories of the Fraser children being born in the house, to when they stayed there for a couple of months after they got married, how Jenny and Ian kept it in the family through the challenging years in the past and how Claire purchased and renovated to what it is now.

“It’s a rather large piece of land, that’s why we need the horses.” Claire finished the story.

“How’d you learn?” Bree asked.

“Well, you know my stories with Uncle Lamb and how we traveled to archaeological sites when I was younger. I had to learn pretty quickly how to ride. And then, when I met your Da, he was a soldier and a stable boy, taking care of the horses, so I got to spend a lot of time watching him train the young kids in the castle” Claire explained.

“Do ye know how to ride, Brianna?” Jamie asked as they fixed the table.

“Uhm, no.”

“I can teach ye! If ye want, of course.” Jamie stammered, hoping he did not push his limits.

“Yes! I would love to.” Bree exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to try but never got the chance.”

“Why not? I thought Boston had good facilities for horseback riding?” Jamie asked. Bree and Claire exchanged glances but came out with it.

“Frank and I were either too busy with the university or the hospital so we never really got to take Bree out to spontaneous weekend trips.” Claire began to explain.

“Our trips are planned months in advance so everyone is free. We mostly went to historical sites or the beach for maximum relaxation but adventures like these didn’t happen often.” Bree followed.

Jamie looked unsure how to proceed based on their stories as it seemed half fun. Claire and Bree picked up on it and decided to continue on baby steps when it comes to telling Jamie details of their life the past 20 years.

“Maybe you can start teaching Bree how to ride later after lunch and we show her around the house” Claire pitched.

“Sounds like a plan!” Brianna agreed with a clap.

They proceeded on eating their pork chops while continuing with exchanging stories about Lallybroch. After lunch, they showed Bree to her room while they all freshened up and took a short nap.

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, they all went back to stables where Jamie introduced Bree to one of the mares, Jilly, gave a little lecture and then let her mount up. Claire was content watching on the side with a basket full of snacks for the afternoon.

“Alright, now, just try and be comfortable on the horse. Sit straight and relax. You know when they say that horses smell fear, it’s true” Jamie said to Bree. “Okay, I’m going to take you on a short walk around.” Brianna nodded and gently held on the reins.

Jamie took the horse for a walk around an open lawn and Brianna pretty quickly caught up with the rhythm. After 5 trots, Jamie put the horse on a gallop as a challenge and his daughter ran with it excellently.

“This is fun!” Bree called out to Claire.

“Wait till you dismount it then let me know again.” Claire joked. “But you’re doing great, sweetheart!”

After two hours on and off the horse, night was falling in and they decided to call it a day.

“I’ll go ahead and start dinner, hope you like carbonara. You two, take care of things around here.” Claire declared.

“I’ll walk her to the stables.” Brianna insisted and took the reins from her Da and walked Jilly back to the stables.

“I’ll follow you in a minute, Bree” Jamie said as Claire went towards him for a snuggle as they watched their daughter walk ahead.

“She’s a natural, Jamie” Claire whispered. “Just like her father”

“Don’t make me cry, Claire. But yes, she is” Jamie pulled Claire tighter and gave her a light kiss in the hair. “I always imagined how teaching and taking our children out on a horse would look like. Now, I don’t have to.”

“Aww, darling. It truly has been the best days and I know there is more to come.” Claire lifted her head and gave Jamie a quick kiss. “Now, go and teach our daughter how to rub down a horse and I’ll get dinner started.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #to begin again #to begin again AU #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #brianna fraser #jamie x claire x bree #mia writes again after a long time #canon divergent AU

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bee-kathony · 4 years

Photo

Walking the Tightrope - Jamie and Claire AU

The year is 1919, and a 13 year old Claire Beauchamp has just lost both her parents to the Spanish Influenza. Alone in the world, and out of options, Claire runs away, stumbling across train tracks. When she wipes away her tears, she discovers a train, and is welcomed aboard.  

What happens when Claire finds out that the train is home to the Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey Circus? Luckily, she meets a family – The Fraser’s, who help her learn the circus life. But, will she always want to stay? Or will she eventually grow up and realize it’s time to leave the circus and her best friend, Jamie… behind? 

This is the first 3(ish) and only chapters of this fic. I will also add the outline for what this story was going to be at the end. I hope you enjoy it and I was excited to get into the twists of this story. Moodboard by @beaauchamp xx

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts 1919

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was 13 years old when she ran away to the circus. Normally, young girls don’t run away to join circuses — especially not young British girls who had just moved to America.

Claire and her family were originally from England, the beautiful city of Oxford, and had relocated to the United States for Henry Beauchamp’s job. He was a veterinarian, and had been offered a position to teach the subject at Harvard University, an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Their family packed up their small home and moved across the Atlantic. Claire found it was rather easy to leave her home country, she hadn’t always been the best at making new friends. And besides, she had her parents to keep her company. Henry’s brother, Claire’s Uncle Lamb, was an archaeologist and had traveled with them to stay for a few months in between digs.

They had only been in Boston for eight months before the sickness came. It was 1919 and the Spanish Influenza was spreading rapidly throughout the country and throughout the world. Claire felt helpless as she watched people around her die.

“You must stay with Lamb, darling,” her mother said, voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll take good care of you.”

“But I want to stay with you, mum,” Claire gripped her mother’s hand, aware of how hot her skin felt against her own. “I want to stay with you and papa.”

Julia Beauchamp had woken up that morning with a chill that rapidly turned into a fever. It was a miracle that Claire wasn’t ill. Her father, Henry hadn’t been so lucky. He lay in the bed next to Julia, chest rising and falling slowly, skin moist with fever.

“We won’t be here much longer,” Julia said and did her best to squeeze Claire’s hand. “You must make a good life for yourself. I know you can.”

“Mother!” Claire weeped as her mother’s grip loosened. Bent over the bed, she threw herself on top of both her parents, desperate to give them all the life that was in her.

“Oh, Claire, dear,” her uncle Lamb raced in and pulled her off the bed, his own eyes filled with tears as he watched his brother and sister-in-law leave the earth. “You mustn’t look, child.”

“I want my parents!” Claire cried against her uncle’s chest, her body shaking and not able to contain the grief she felt. There was nothing that could have been done — nothing that anyone could have done.

She had just lost both of her parents, what could have been worse?

It was barely twenty-four hours later that her favorite Uncle Lamb had fallen ill and died of the Spanish influenza. Claire Beauchamp was now an orphan with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

An orphanage was the only suitable place for a girl like her. The thought of being stuffed into a house with tens of other children without a family made her stomach twist into knots.

Claire stood by herself, hands clasped firmly in front of her, trying not to cry as she watched her parents and uncle’s caskets be lowered into the ground. It took everything in her not to throw herself down and demand to be buried along with them. What did she have to live for?

Alone in the world and with nowhere to go, she ran from the funeral with nothing but the black dress on her body and the Oxfords on her feet. She thought she could make it on her own — survive all by herself.

There was no particular destination in mind, but the air around her was suffocating and every look of sympathy shot her way made her want to scream. So Claire turned, tears streaming down her face and began to run even faster.

The wind whipped past her face, salty tears flying behind her as she pumped her arms and legs to carry her as far away as possible. No one stopped her. No one knew her.

It wasn’t long before her chest began to burn and the tears filled her eyes to the point where she had to stop. When she looked up, she saw iron train tracks and followed them, only hoping that soon something would come and take her away.

As the sky darkened and the night grew cold, Claire shivered and wished more than anything for her family to be alive. But wishing wouldn’t bring them back. So with every step, Claire pushed out the memories she had of Henry, Julia and Lambert Beauchamp — because thinking of them only brought pain.

Stumbling along the tracks, her feet aching and stomach rumbling, Claire knew she needed to find a place to sleep. Lifting her head up, she saw lights in the distance — lights of a train. A train would have food and people, surely someone would be kind enough to help her find her way, or perhaps they would let her ride along.

With careful steps in the dark, Claire made her way to the last car of the train and stepped off the tracks to peer at the side of the boxcar.

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus

A circus.

Claire’s eyes went wide, wondering what kind of animals lived inside the small confines of the boxcars. She had never been to the circus, but had always wanted to go. Claire loved animals and was always quick to make friends with them in whatever country they were visiting.

Voices came from further down and Claire walked forward into the light.

“Psst,” came from behind her and she whipped her head around, back into the dark. Not seeing anything, Claire shrugged her shoulders and kept moving forward. “Psst,” she heard the sound again.

“You!” A voice said quietly from above her. Claire looked up and gasped, jumping back to see a head sticking out of the boxcar. “I’m talkin’ to ye lass!”

“Me?” Claire pointed at herself.

“Do you see any other little girls around here?” The man said in a thick Scottish accent.

She shook her head and before she could do anything else, the man stuck his hand out, offering her a way up. With no other option, Claire reached up, grabbed it and was pulled up into the boxcar.

“Yer a wee thing,” the man said and for the first time, Claire got a good look at him. He was tall, with wide shoulders and had jet black hair. “What are ye doin’ out here so late at night?”

“I—“ She stammered, suddenly wondering if she made a mistake running away.

“Where are yer parents, lass?” The man said and when Claire met his eye, it hit her, the fact that she would never wake up to the smell of her father’s chocolate chip pancakes again or hear her mother sing along to the radio every evening. Tears fell down her cheeks and her chest caved in. The man with the jet black hair caught her in his arms as she began to fall to her knees and he held her against his chest.

“Shhh, I didna mean to upset ye,” he spoke softly. “Tis only it’s no every day young lasses come walkin’ beside the tracks.” The man ran his hand gently over Claire’s head, smoothing down the unruly curls.

“I have a lad about yer age, maybe a couple years younger. My daughter is probably near yer age though,” he said, trying to soothe her with conversation. “Usually the brothers dinna take a family on the road wi’ them, but they’ve allowed it this time.”

“Y-you have children?” Claire stammered as she wiped her face on her sleeve and looked up at the man. He released her, making sure she could stand on her own two feet.

“Aye, two of them, the wee numpties,” he laughed. “And my wife, they’re all part of the act, ye ken.” Claire raised her brows, unsure of what “act” he was talking about. He saw the confusion on her face, “Och, have ye never been to see a show before?”

“No, never.”

“My wife Ellen and I are lion tamers,” he said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall of the cart. “My son and daughter are what ye could say cub tamers in training,” he laughed.

“You tame lions?” Claire asked, eyes wide for the second time that night. “I’ve never even seen a lion!”

“Ah, I thought I detected an accent,” he smiled. “That makes this even more curious. What’s a Sassenach like ye doin’ here?”

“A Sassenach?” Claire asked as she took a seat on a cot nearby, her legs unable to hold her up after a day of running and walking along the tracks.

“An English person, just a wee nickname,” the man smirked.

“I moved here with my parents about a year ago, we’re from Oxford.”

“Ah, Oxford,” he smiled. “I went there once as a lad, beautiful place. Yer parents, ye say? Where are they? Do they ken their daughter is runnin’ away from home to join the circus?” He laughed and then the laughter died as he caught sight of her face.

“My parents are dead,” she nearly whispered and the man dropped to his knees in front of her. “My uncle is dead. I have no one.”

“Oh lass,” he took her small hand in his. “I’m sae sorry, I— I’m sorry for yer loss.”

“Their funeral was today, it’s why I’m dressed like this,” Claire pointed at her dress. “I did run away, but I didn’t know where to run to.”

“It’s every kids dream to join the circus is it no?” The man put his thumb under her chin, lifting it up. “Ye’ve a place here, if ye want it.”

“But I can’t join the circus!” Claire laughed, her emotions running on overdrive. “I’m just a girl and a circus is no place for me.”

“Try tellin’ that to my daughter Jenny, she’ll be sayin’ the opposite,” he smiled. “She loves the animals, helps take care of them when she’s not performin’. She’s wi’ her Mam and brother up in the car ahead eatin’ dinner.”

Claire didn’t know what to say at this offer. Join the circus? It all felt like a fantasy. No one really ran away to the circus and certainly not young girls like her. But she didn’t exactly have a lot of options — no family, no house, no money.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp,” she offered her hand to the man.

“Brian Fraser, lass. Pleased to make yer acquaintance,” he kissed the back of her hand. “So is that a yes? Are ye runnin’ away to join us?”

It could’ve been much worse and as Claire looked around the small train car, she thought she might as well give it a try — the least she could get out of it was a hot meal and a night’s sleep.

“Yes. I’m running away to join the circus,” she smiled for the first time in days.

“Tha!” Brian smiled. “Ye’ve just made the best decision of yer young life, lassie. Now,” he stood up, taking her hand. “We need to feed ye and then find ye some place to sleep. I expect ye’ll be needin’ a wee nap soon.”

Claire followed Brian through a small door and through another into another train car. They walked through several others, past people with curious eyes and hushed tones, wondering who she was no doubt. Claire had never seen so many people crammed into such a small space before. They finally came into the train car Brian was looking for and he let go of her hand to walk over to a red headed woman, kissing her on the mouth.

They seemed to be in a train car where people ate, the place was lined with small tables and chairs, plates of food in front of everyone. Brian motioned for her to join him and she stood shyly next to him while he introduced her.

“I found a young lass outside,” Brian smiled, placing his arm around her shoulder. “This is Claire Beauchamp, she’s from England and she’s run away to the circus.”

“Run away?” The girl who must be his daughter Jenny said from beside her mother. “I didna ken anyone like ye would want to come and live here.”

“Who wouldn’t want to live here, Janet?” A young boy said beside her, looking at her with the bluest eyes Claire had ever seen.

“Claire will be joinin’ us for dinner tonight,” Brian smiled and then pulled up a chair for her. “Jamie, Janet, say a proper hello to the lass.”

The young girl stuck her hand out over the table, “I’m Janet, but you can call me Jenny. I’m fourteen. This is my younger brother, James.”

“But ye can call me, Jamie,” the young boy offered her his hand from beside her. He had a mop of curly red hair and mischievous glint in his eye. “Did Da tell ye we tame lions?!”

“He did,” Claire nodded. “I’ve never seen a lion before though.”

Jamie gasped, frightening Claire and he grabbed her arm, “Ye’ve never seen a lion? Jenny, did ye hear the lass?”

“I heard her fine well, Jamie,” Jenny rolled her eyes, but then smiled at Claire. “We can show ye them tomorrow when we unload”

“Unload?”

“Aye, when we unload to set up for the circus, we’ll be in Boston for the next two nights and then it’s on to another city,” Jenny smiled.

A plate of food was set down in front of Claire and her stomach made a very loud noise at the sight of it. She hadn’t eaten all day — she hadn’t eaten much of anything since she found out the news about her parents. She grabbed the fork and began to eat quickly, not caring if the food was too hot.

“Slow down lass,” Ellen smiled from across the table. “Ye need no worry about it disappearin’.”

“Sorry,” Claire said shyly, her cheeks turning bright red.

“Dinna fash, lass. I just dinna want to see ye gettin’ a belly ache. My Jamie gets those when he eats too fast,” Ellen smirked.

“Mam!” Jamie shouted. “Dinna talk about my belly in front of her!”

Brian snorted over his food, which only made Claire blush harder. She took her next bites a bit slower, savoring the taste.

“I never asked before,” Claire said to Brian once her plate was clean. “You’re from Scotland. You all are,” she looked around. “What are you doing here then?”

Brian glanced around at his family, then finally his eyes focused on Claire. “I suppose ye can say that we ran away too.”

Ellen took her husband’s hand, squeezing it so tightly her knuckles went white.

“We still need to find ye a place to sleep, lass,” Brian said a moment later. “There’s probably room for ye to join in our car tonight.”

“I can show her, Da!” Jamie said beside her and he nearly jumped out of his chair.

Laughing, Brian smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Aye, son. Take her to the car, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Follow me, Claire,” Jamie smiled, offering his hand to her. She took it, following the boy back through the train cars she had come through. They found themselves in the same car Brian had pulled her into. As she looked around now, she saw that it was rather cozy — as cozy and nice as a train car could get she supposed.

“This is where I sleep,” Jamie said as he pointed up at the top bunk. “Then Jenny sleeps in the middle and there’s actually an empty bunk on the bottom. I guess that’s where ye can sleep.”

“You all sleep in here?” Claire said.

“Aye, Mam and Da take the cot in the corner, tis small, but it’s enough,” Jamie smiled. He couldn’t have been but a couple of years younger than her, but he was just as tall as her, if not taller. He seemed kind and not for the first time, Claire wondered what an entire family was doing joining the circus.

“My Da said ye were runnin’ away…” Jamie said to her as he came to stand in front of her. “Why, Sassenach?”

“Oh you too?” Claire smirked. “Your father called me that earlier, I suppose I better get used to it.”

“Och, I didna mean any offense!” Jamie put up both his hands. “Yer English is all.”

“No, it’s alright,” Claire smiled and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“Ye didna answer my question…” Jamie said softly.

“I—“ Claire felt her chest tighten and her eyes water. “I’d rather not talk about it just yet.”

“Oh that’s fine, Claire.” Jamie reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. “Ye’ll see soon enough how great this place really is. It’s like a dream!”

“I’ve just woken up from a nightmare of my own,” Claire said, her shoulders drooping. Jamie lifted her chin with his fingers.

“Ye’ve nothin’ to be scarit of, Sassenach. Not so long as I’m wi’ ye,” he smiled, squeezing her hand again.

“You’re very kind, Jamie. Much kinder than I deserve,” Claire smiled. She had to admit that Jamie was rather cute and very charming. Perhaps this circus thing wouldn’t be so bad after all. “I’m feeling rather tired.”

“Och, of course,” Jamie smiled. “As I said, the bottom bunk can be yers.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” Claire let go of his hand and climbed into the bottom bunk, sighing as she slipped off her shoes. She winced as she felt the blisters, but tried to keep quiet as Jamie climbed up to the top bunk.

“I’m glad yer here, Sassenach,” he said a few minutes later as they both lay quietly. “I was wishin’ for a friend.”

Claire didn’t know what to say so she turned over on her side and let herself weep. Only hours before, she had buried her family and said goodbye to the life she knew and now she was lying in a bunk on a circus train.

Her eyes grew heavy and soon the tears stopped as she slipped into a deep dreamless slumber.

Chapter 2

Claire woke to the quiet whispers of Brian and Ellen Fraser. She didn’t want them to know she was awake just yet, so she kept her eyes shut tight and face buried in the pillow.

“What is she going to do here, Brian?” Ellen said softly and glanced over at Claire lying still asleep on the bottom bunk. “Ye ken fine well that this is no’ a proper life for a girl like her.”

“Jenny’s here is she no’?” Brian said.

“Aye,” Ellen clicked her tongue. “But she’s our daughter, and she didna have much say in the matter at the time if ye recall.”

Brian rubbed his hands over his face, sighing as he looked at the young girl.

“She’s got nowhere else to go, Ellen. Her parents and uncle died of the influenza,” he said softly and Claire realized that his own children must still be asleep above her.

“Christ,” Ellen muttered under her breath. “So she really did run away to the circus, the poor lass.”

“Ye ken just as well as I do what that grief feels like,” Brian said to his wife. “The poor lass is heartbroken, I’m sure we can find somethin’ here for her to do.”

Ellen leaned against her husband, silent for a moment before nodding. “We must help her.”

“Aye,” Brian kissed his wife’s forehead. “I’ll go and talk to the brothers. Let them know about our newest passenger. I’ll find ye and the bairns at breakfast after setup.”

A sliding door opened and closed and Brian Fraser left the small boxcar. Claire could hear sniffling from the corner and opened one eye to see Ellen wiping away tears that fell down her cheeks. Compassion stirred Claire to rise from her bed and she sat down beside Ellen on the small cot.

Without saying anything, she took Ellen’s hand in hers and squeezed it. The older woman smiled down at her, squeezing back.

“I’m glad that yer here, Claire,” Ellen smiled and ran her fingers softly over Claire’s cheek. “We’ll do the best we can to take care of ye, and make ye feel at home.”

Claire’s throat felt tight, and she knew that if she spoke she would burst into tears, so she wrapped her arms around Ellen and buried her head against the woman’s chest. There was nothing quite like a mother’s embrace — warm and soothing, like being wrapped in the arms of an angel.

The two of them sat there for a moment longer, quiet as they both grieved for their own loss. Claire looked up and finally released her arms from around Ellen when Jamie and Jenny both started to wake up.

“Morning my darlins,” Ellen said to her children.

“Morning mam,” Jenny said, wiping her eyes as she jumped out of bed, landing on her feet.

Jamie yawned and jumped down as well, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He blinked and looked at Claire, as if remembering that she was there. “Morning Mam, Claire,” he smiled softly.

“Are ye ready for yer first day at the circus, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, a grin spreading across his lips. It was infectious, and Claire found herself smiling too.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

++++++

“So, what exactly do you and Jenny do all day?” Claire asked as they walked over to where the large tents were being setup. It looked like quite a job to do. Men and women were lined up in a circle, each holding rope, and tall wooden beams were on their sides, ready to be lifted. Claire didn’t envy their job.

“We help wi’ anythin’ that needs to be done,” Jenny said. “I usually help wi’ the cookin’ and feedin’ everyone. Well, as much as our cook Mrs. Fitz will allow me to since I’m only fourteen. She’s Scottish as well!”

Jamie bumped against Claire, “And I help with the animals! No’ the big ones though. Mam willna let me near them.”

“That’s cause you’re a wee ten year old,” Jenny smirked and winked at Claire.

“I’m turning eleven next month!” Jamie scowled and kicked at a nearby rock. He hated to feel like the odd one out. “I usually just walk around and see who needs help. Since I am ten…” he sighed. “I can only do so much. The circus is a tough job, ye’ll see soon enough, Sassenach.”

“It sounds like it,” Claire agreed.

They found the food tent, which had already been set up the night before. The smell of fresh eggs and bacon made Claire’s stomach growl and they got into line. Claire looked around the tent and saw mostly women there, as the men were still setting up the larger tent that would house the main event.

“Are you the only other kids here?” Claire asked the Frasers. She hadn’t paid much attention to anything when she boarded the train last night.

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, scooping a large helping of eggs onto his plate. “We’re also the only family here too. The circus is no’ exactly a life most people choose to raise bairns in.”

“But, we havena been here our whole lives either,” Jenny added. “We were both born in Scotland. Ye see, we moved here five years ago.”

They found Ellen sitting at a table, a plate of food already in front of her.

“Good to see ye, Claire,” Ellen smiled gently. “I hope my bairns havena been tellin’ ye too many wild stories?”

“No,” Claire shook her head. “Jenny was just telling me about when you moved here.”

At that, Ellen froze, her complexion going pale and she looked over at her daughter who shook her head slightly.

“Ye’ll have to forgive me, Claire,” Ellen said. “I dinna like to talk about our life before the circus. Those times are better left in the past.”

“That’s all right,” Claire nodded. That was certainly how Claire felt now. She would much rather leave all of her pain and grief behind her, and try and start a new life. Granted, this wasn’t what she had in mind, but it was better than living in an orphanage.

A few minutes later, Brian Fraser came over with his own plate. He was sweaty from putting up the tent, but didn’t seem to mind. Most people here were covered in a thin layer of sweat and dirt. Living on train wasn’t exactly all that clean, Claire realized.

“After ye eat, Da, can ye come wi’ us to show Claire the lions?” Jamie asked his father.

“Aye,” Brian nodded, chowing down on piece of bacon. “But ye kids ken the drill. Dinna stand too close while we feed them.” He turned to look at Claire, “The lions will be hungry this mornin’ and it only takes almost gettin’ yer hand bit off once, to practice extreme caution around them.”

“I don’t want to get too close at all!” Claire squeaked. She had been around animals all her life, her father had been a veterinarian. But, he had never worked on a lion before — only house cats and dogs, with the occasional horse.

Once Brian was done with his breakfast, Ellen and Jenny stayed behind to help with the food and cleanup, while Brian, Jamie and Claire went to see the animals. They were still in their cages, but would be unloaded into their own tent before the show.

“We have the lions of course,” Jamie said excitedly, almost bouncing as they walked. “Then we have the horses, pigs, giraffes, one elephant, monkeys, zebras —“

“Zebras?!” Claire gasped.

“Oh yes,” Jamie grinned. “They’re my favorite after the lions. A bit like horses, really, which I also love, but the stripes are the best!”

Claire could immediately tell when the reached the animals cages, as the smell was quite strong. As was the loud roar that one of the lions gave as they approached. Another man was already there with a bucket full of meat, which the lion was eyeing and trying to get through the bars.

“Stay back here,” Brian instructed them before going to join the man.

“That’s auld Alec,” Jamie pointed. “He’s in charge of takin’ care of the animals.”

“All of them?” Claire said, awestruck.

“Aye, I help sometimes, but he does most of the work,” Jamie said. They watched from the trees as Alec and Brian began to feed the lions. Brian distracted the lions, moving them to one side of the cage, while Alec opened it up and set the bucket of meat inside. Then the lions pounced on their food and ate it ferociously.

“Wow,” Claire gasped, grabbing onto Jamie’s arm.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “They’re no’ as scary after they’ve eaten. Later, I’ll show ye how to pet one. They can be quite friendly.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Claire laughed.

Brian returned to them, and auld Alec followed closely behind. “This is young Claire Beauchamp who has come to join us,” Brian introduced her.

“Tis nice to meet ye little lass,” Alec offered her his hand and she shook it.

“We need to find somethin’ for the lassie to do,” Brian quirked his brow.

“My father worked with animals,” Claire said shyly. “All kinds, but not any lions or elephants.”

“He was a veterinarian?” Alec asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, perhaps some of his skills rubbed off on ye lass,” Alex grinned. “How’d ye like to come wi’ me and see the rest of the animals? I could use all the help I could get!”

Claire looked over at Jamie who nodded encouragingly, as did Brian. Jamie stayed back with his father, leaving Claire to follow the animal carer. The thought of being around animals was a small comfort, at least she had vague knowledge of their needs.

She would never forget one warm afternoon when her father was seeing to a pregnant dog. Claire had stayed up with her father all night, comforting the dog as she gave birth, and making sure the puppies were seen after.

“Is she in pain, papa?” Claire asked, petting the head of the golden Labrador.

“A bit, my dear,” Henry Beauchamp replied. “Giving birth is no easy feat. But she’s a strong girl,” he stroked the dog’s bulging stomach. “It should be within the hour.”

Claire and her father had stayed up late into the night, watching over the dog. She belonged to a woman from town, but all Claire wanted to know was who would keep the puppies.

“How many puppies will she have?”

“I think perhaps four,” her father said as he moved his hand over the dog’s belly. “But we won’t know until she has them. Why are you asking my love?” He cocked a quizzical brow at his daughter.

“Oh, you know,” Claire grinned. “Maybe Mrs. Wilcox doesn’t want four new puppies. Maybe she only wants three!”

Her father laughed, “That’s something you can ask Mrs. Wilcox tomorrow. And of course, you’ll have to ask your mother.”

“I will, papa,” Claire smiled and went back to petting the dog’s head. “When I grow up, I want to do what you do. Being around animals all day must be fun.”

Henry rose to his feet to check that he had everything he needed — sutures for after the birth, plenty of towels. “It is rather fun, my dear. But, I will warn you, that it can be quite hard too.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s never easy telling someone that their pet is ill,” Henry frowned, coming back to join Claire on the ground. “Or feeling like you can’t do anything to help. Not everything can be solved with medicine, I’m afraid. But I try.”

At this, Claire felt sadness wash over her. As little girl, they had a pet cat, but he had passed away before they moved to Boston. She knew all too well what it was like to be told that your animal was sick.

“Well, you can still be there for someone and try and make them feel better,” Claire replied. “I think I still wanna do what you do.”

Henry reached out and smoothed back his daughter’s unruly curls. “Then you shall, my darling. You shall do whatever your heart desires.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Your mother and I will always be here to support you.”

Auld Alec showed Claire all the animals. Claire was gobsmacked seeing so many creatures she had never seen before. She had heard about the circus coming into town, and thought about asking her parents to take her, but that was before…

“I bet yer Da never worked on zebras, aye?”

“No,” Claire shook her head as they approached one. “A few horses, but never a zebra.”

“They’re a lot like horses, of course,” Alec said and reached his hand through the bars. “Go ahead and reach yer hand in, she willna bite.”

Slowly, Claire approached the cage, trying to be careful as she reached her hand inside. The zebra nodded her head forward against Claire’s hand, letting her pet her. The zebra made a snorting sound, and Claire laughed.

“Does she have a name?”

“Zoe,” Alec smiled down at Claire. “Zoe the zebra.”

“Fitting,” Claire nuzzled Zoe’s nose.

As the morning rolled on, Claire stayed with Alec and watched as he interacted with every animal. Treating them with such care and gentleness, as if they weren’t really animals at all, but humans.

Finally, they got word that the animals were set to be moved into their proper tent. Men came to unhook their cages and wheeled them into the tent. The horses were let out to walk and stretch their legs, and Claire immediately gravitated to them.

She was barely half the height of the horse, so she came up to it carefully, not wanting to disturb it. Alec had tied them up to a nearby pole and they were munching on a trough full of hay.

“Here,” came a voice from behind her, making her jump. She turned to find Jamie, holding a bright red apple. “Donas loves these.”

“Thank you,” Claire took the apple from Jamie and walked around to the horse’s head, and held out the apple. He snorted, looking her up and down before placing his wet mouth on her hand and snatching the apple up. “He did like it!”

“Aye, told ye,” Jamie grinned. “I love the horses.” He came to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to rub over Donas’ nose. “Tha thu nad bheathach math,” Jamie said in a foreign tongue.

“What did you say?” Claire asked.

“Oh,” Jamie’s cheeks blushed. “I didna even realize I was speakin’. Twas Gaelic. Just callin’ him a fine creature. I find that speakin’ to the animals in Gaelic helps to calm them.”

“Would you teach me some then?” Claire asked. “It looks like I’ll be helping auld Alec with the animals!”

“That’s great!” Jamie smiled. “What I say to the horses is really just gibberish. No’ meant to even mean anythin’, but try sayin’ what I did — tha thu nad bheathach math.”

It was a language Claire had certainly never heard before. Her mother spoke a bit of French and had taught Claire a few words and phrases, but Gaelic was very different.

“Tha thu nad,” she said slowly. “Be-heath-ach math?”

“Let it roll off yer tongue,” Jamie said the phrase again.

“Tha thu nad bheathnach math,” Claire said again, this time getting it as closely as she could to how Jamie had said it. “Well, with practice, I think I’ll get there.”

“Aye, ye’ll do great,” Jamie smiled. “I’m glad ye found yer place, Sassenach. It’ll be nice to have ye here.”

“Yes,” Claire rubbed her hand along the side of Donas’ neck. “I think it will be rather nice here after all.”

She hadn’t even been at the circus for a full twenty-four hours, but already it was beginning to feel like home. The animals would be her new companions, as well as the Fraser’s who had welcomed her in as one of their own. Running away to the circus was the best idea Claire ever had.

Chapter 3

7 years later… New York City 1926

Claire thought often of her first night on the train — how alone she had felt and like she would never belong anywhere. It had been nearly seven years since then and the circus was now her home.

She wasn’t properly educated, but her love for animals kept her with a full time position with the Ringling Brothers. Jenny Fraser was her best friend, along with her younger brother Jamie, of course.

They traveled from city to city, amazing people with the greatest show on earth. Wonders and mystery surrounded them and Claire felt she was part of something truly spectacular.

There were times she thought she should find proper work, especially on her eighteenth birthday two years ago. Jamie had set up a picnic by the horses, Claire’s favorite of the wild menagerie.

“I think I need to leave, Jamie,” Claire said as she took a bite of a strawberry. They were sitting under the tent where all the animals were kept and it was rather smelly, but Claire had grown used to it over the years.

“Leave? Why would ye do that?” Jamie said as he reached for a cracker.

“I don’t know,” Claire sighed. “I’m an twenty year old girl, traveling around with a circus, surely I can find a real job out there.”

Jamie grew quiet, his brows knitting together and he crossed his arms over his knees. “If you want to then you should.”

“I didn’t think you would want me to go,” Claire said.

“I don’t,” Jamie looked up at her. “But if ye want to go…”

Sighing, Claire laid back on the blanket, followed by Jamie. They had grown close over the years, able to tell each other anything and everything. He had always been there for her as he said he would be. On the anniversary of her parents death, he always made sure she was alright and was there to distract her if she needed — or to be a shoulder to cry on when she needed that.

“It’s not like I want too… I just feel I should. Make a proper life.”

“Ye have a family here, Claire,” Jamie turned onto his side, lifting his head up on his elbow. “Ye ken that.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “It was just a silly thought, Jamie. Nothing more.”

“I hope so,” Jamie said as he brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. Something in Claire’s stomach fluttered whenever he touched her and she wanted him to do it again. Jamie was much taller than her now, and had grown into handsome young man.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said. “I dinna want ye to leave.”

“I won’t,” she whispered and then his lips pressed against hers. A small sound left her lips in surprise, but then she relaxed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Before she could really taste his lips, Jamie pulled back, rising quickly to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I dinna ken what came over me,” his face was bright red and he was turned away from her.

“It’s alright, Jamie,” Claire sat up, her heart hammering. She had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but he apparently regretted it.

“I shouldna have done that,” Jamie cursed in Gaelic and before Claire could say that she liked it, Jamie had stormed out of the tent, leaving Claire alone, sitting on the picnic blanket.

++++++

Neither of them had spoken of the kiss since then and that was two years ago. Claire wondered if Jamie even remembered it had happened or maybe it had been so bad, he had forgotten it.

Claire thought he liked her, but clearly he didn’t and things had gone back to how they were before. Claire knew she fell in love easily — she always had a crush and for a long time her crush had been Jamie.

She would watch him nearly every night in the show, holding up hoops for the lions to jump through, admiring the hard muscles of his body. He was just two years younger than her, but already he looked like a man.

It came to no surprise, however, just how fast she fell for a man one night when Claire was introduced to a young investor by the name of Philip Wylie. He was in New York to see the show and was interested in becoming a partner with the Brothers.

“You’ve been with the circus for seven years?” He asked her over a drink one night. The show had just closed and people were still loitering around. She knew he was an important man by the fine material of his suit. Claire wanted to impress him, and help the circus bring in more money.

“Yes,” she smiled, “Joined when I was just a young girl.”

“That’s quite impressive,” Philip smiled, his hand resting lightly on her knee. “What is it that you do?”

“I help with the animals. Taking care of them, checking that they’re alright to perform for the night,” she placed her hand over his. Philip was at nine years older than her, and already she was smitten.

They talked for the rest of the evening and he escorted her back to her train car, kissing her on the cheek and promising to see her soon.

Blushing, Claire placed her hand over where Philip’s lips had just been, sighing as she leaned against the wall. Just then, Jamie came through the door, still wearing his costume from the performance.

He glanced over at her, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his coat. “Ye look happy.”

“I am,” she smiled. “I’ve just had drinks with a man who wants to invest with the circus.”

Jamie stopped undressing and stared over at her, noticing the glossy look in her eye and the red tint to her cheeks. “Ye mean that stuffy old man I saw ye wi’?”

“He is not stuffy! And he is not old!” Claire picked up a shoe nearby and tossed it at him, narrowly missing his head. “He was kind and charming, much nicer than you,” she rolled her eyes.

“Och,” Jamie grunted and finished taking off his coat. “Just be careful wi’ him. Next thing ye know, he’ll be wantin’ to take ye away.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Claire crossed her arms, becoming annoyed with him.

“Well ye said ye wouldna leave,” Jamie turned to her. “Not for a proper job as ye say so I wouldna like to think ye’d leave for a man either.”

Claire’s mouth dropped open in shock and she crossed the small space to stand in front of Jamie, having to look up at him. “I’ve had a couple of drinks with the man, Jamie! Not accepted a proposal!”

“Forget I said anythin’,” Jamie ran his hands back through his hair, turning to leave to another car.

“Fine,” Claire huffed. “I’ll do just that, Jamie Fraser.”

He glanced at her, his eyes full of something Claire didn’t quite recognize before sliding the door closed and leaving her there on her own.

She knew it was important for Philip Wylie to want to invest in the circus, so perhaps she had flirted a bit too much and let him place his hands a little too high on her leg. But nothing would come of it, and besides… Claire would never leave the circus. Not for a real job, and certainly not for a man.

Outline for this fic:

Chapter 1: 1919. Claire’s background. She runs away to the circus, meets the Fraser’s

Chapter 2: 1919. Claire’s first day at the circus, she helps the Fraser’s and then Brian asks her what she’s good at. She tells him that her father was a vet and she was always around to help. He tells her they have a vet but she can be his young apprentice.

Chapter 3: 1926. Claire meets Philip Wylie. Two days later one of the animals gets sick and she stays overnight to keep it company. Jamie finds her and stays with her, on the other side of the train car. They talk more about what Claire would do if she left. Jamie tells Claire about Willie and how he died of the Spanish influenza when they came here. Claire asks him why they came to America, but he won’t talk about it.

Chapter 4: Jump forward two weeks later, and Claire has drinks again with Wylie. She kisses him and he puts his hands on her. Jamie sees them kissing and thinks that Wylie is trying to hurt Claire so he goes over and punches the guy. The next morning, Wylie shows up with a black eye and forgives Jamie, and says he’ll invest in the show on one condition - that Claire marries him.

Chapter 5: Claire feels like she has to marry Wylie to save the show and also she tells herself she loves him. Jamie is jealous, because he’s been in love with Claire since he first met her. That night he gets distracted at the show when he sees Wylie whispering into Claire’s ear and the lion scratches him. Jamie is rushed into the medical tent and the show continues. Claire helps tend to him and cries over him. Hours later as he is recovering, Claire tells Jamie that she’s going away with Wylie.

Chapter 6: Two weeks later, it’s Claire’s last day of the circus. Jamie tells her why they came to America. His father owed his uncles money, and after a time when Brian couldn’t pay, Colum wanted to show him a lesson. So he told one of his men to set fire to the small chicken coop, but a wind caught and it ended up burning down their house. They all escaped. Finally, she won’t have to be a girl on the run anymore. She will live with Wylie in New York City, and still be able to come to some of the shows on the east coast.

Chapter 7: Two months later. It’s two days before Claire’s wedding to Wylie, and she hears from him that the train crashed. He’s angry about losing money that he just invested and Claire keeps asking him if anyone is hurt. He finally tells her that six people died in a fire. Wylie tells Claire that she can’t go back to the circus, she left that behind and she belongs to him now. “I belong to nobody.” Claire leaves in search to find out if Jamie has died.

Chapter 8: Claire makes it to where the train car is. There’s still smoke from two days before and Claire finds Jenny who is crying. Claire thinks immediately that Jamie is dead, but Jenny is crying because one of the animals died. Claire cries with her and then asks about Jamie. Jenny tells her that all wounded men and women are at the hospital and so she takes her there. Claire finds Jamie and he’s badly wounded. Burns on his arms and legs. She sits with him and while he is asleep she tells him that she loves him and that she isn’t with Wylie anymore.

Chapter 9: Jamie starts to recover. He admits his feelings for Claire. He says they don’t have to get married just yet since they’re both young. He knows now that with a few of the train cars damaged, it’ll be weeks maybe months before they get back on the road. Jamie says that he wants to go to school and become a vet. Women aren’t allowed at school yet. They make plans to one day open up their own vet clinic.

Chapter 10: Once Jamie is out of the hospital, they walk back to the site of the crash. He tells Claire just how horrible it was. They both feel sad that this part of their lives is coming to an end. Jamie’s parents tell him that they will stay with the circus as long as they need. Jamie takes Claire back to the small hotel room and they make love for the first time with each other.

Epilogue: nine years later, Jamie has graduated from vet school and they have their first clinic open. They already have two children and live in the country, where Jamie travels to work. They have a whole farm of animals.

#walking the tightrope #alternatively titled rewrite the stars but can't use that name now can i #unfinished fics #outlander fanfic #outlander #outlander fanfiction #what could never be

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

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Hi! I love your works and I was wondering if you could write something about a new "lost soul" saved by the gang and trying hard to fit in. A reserved female reader who secretly develops feelings for Arthur, knowing well he has no interest in getting involved with anybody. A good ol' heart-wrenching, I-will-pine-from-a-distance-and-suffer-in-silence kind of unrequited love. Ending is up to you (but maybe it's a happy one

This one turned out sweet. Arthur’s the biggest softy. That said, FLUFF AHEAD!

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You look around nervously, not sure you’re entirely in the right place. Everything’s changed so quickly, it’s hard to process. Sure, you’ve heard endless tales of gangs and outlaws, living wild and free, but you never knew the gritty details about any of it. Now here you are, living it.

You ended up here with the Van der Linde gang because your life has a funny habit of putting you in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d been on the train two days ago, and it got robbed by a gang. As they were busy killing the engineer and the conductor and going through everyone’s possessions, a man you’ve come to know to be named as Arthur rode by and killed the bastards. You sank to your knees in fright, afraid you’d be killed too.

As you sobbed into the grass, your hero dismounted and comforted you. When you explained that you had no home, nowhere to go and nothing to return to, Arthur offered you to come with him. You accepted, of course, you just found yourself incapable of saying no. He put you on the back of his horse and rode down south of Blackwater and into a small hideout called Thieves Landing.

You’ve never been here before, your parents told you as a child to avoid the place as though it had the plague. Everyone south of the Upper Montana knew it was where criminals hid and because of its layout, it was hard for the law to take.

It was here that Arthur told you his gang was hiding out in and that you were welcome to stay until you got your life sorted. An older woman named Grimshaw immediately jumped on you and started barking orders, despite you being completely dumbfounded and confused.

It’s been two days since you were brought in, but you’re not entirely convinced you’re fitting in all that well. The gang’s big with at least twenty members. All of them, even the women, have a track record. The only one who’s as innocent is a child named Jack, but the rest have done something to earn them at least a few days in jail, but most have earned even the noose should they ever get caught.

It’s not a comforting idea exactly, but already you can see how tight-knit they all are. There’s a sense of family here, the likes of which you’ve never had the fortune of experiencing. While in the day, Grimshaw barks and even nips, at night she turns pleasant, making sure everyone gets a plate to eat and singing songs around the campfires.

She’s not the only one to let down their hair at night. Most of everyone does, telling stories about things that have happened or singing songs. You especially liked it last night when a young man named Javier sat down and played his guitar, singing in Spanish. Being from down south yourself, you were used to hearing his native tongue though you understood none of the words. It was still pleasant to hear.

“So, how’s you adjustin’?” asks the young girl next to you as you scrub at a shirt in the wash bin with a rather stubborn spot that doesn’t want to come out. She’s got brown hair and she’s wearing a faded purple dress with a rather pretty necklace.

“I… I think I’m okay. But… Mary-Beth, isn’t it?” you say. She nods. “Can I be honest with you?” She nods again. “I really don’t fit in here. Not because you’re criminals and I’m not, it’s just… I have nothing to offer anyone. I don’t know how to steal, shoot a gun. Hell, I can barely ride a horse.”

“And that’s okay,” Mary-Beth says with a small smile. “You can learn how to do those things. I’m more than happy helpin’ ya, and I bet the other gals will too.”

“Not only that, but we can always use another girl,” Grimshaw snarls, stomping over to you both. “Now get to work, both of ya!” She marches away to go bully Tilly.

“Don’t worry about Ms. Grimshaw,” Mary-Beth says when the woman’s out of earshot. “She likes to act tough, and sometimes she can be a little too forceful, but she does care.”

“That’s to be debated,” says Karen, walking over with a repeater in her hand. She must have just finished with guard duty. “That ol’ bat wouldn’t give a damn if we was all on fire, long as we’re workin’.”

Mary-Beth gives a little giggle, but Karen walks off to go and talk with a red-haired man. Because Thieves Landing is so large, you’re still learning the names of the members of the gang. You’ve kept your ears open though, wanting to learn about these people, see how the other side of society works.

Growing up, you never had many friends, always being very shy. At school, you were bullied a lot for reasons you couldn’t understand. Your parents tried to help you but there was little they could do aside from pulling you out of the school and teaching you themselves. They didn’t know much about math or science though, so they taught you what they knew: how to ranch and garden.

When you were about ten, your father got sick and died. A few weeks later, your mother, who had contracted his illness, died too. You ended up at your uncle’s house, but he was such an abusive, angry drunk you just left one day when you were 15. You’ve been on your own since, jumping from one job to the next. You were between them when you were on that train a couple days back, when Arthur found you.

As you sit and work, you smile as you think of your father. He used to tell you many stories, but your favorites were those about gunslingers and outlaws. Something about them seemed romantic and fantastical, the way they represented the idea of freedom, of never being tied down. You never thought you would be incorporated into a gang of them as an adult.

A few hours later and you hear the somewhat familiar voice of the camp cook Pearson shouting that dinner’s ready. You sigh in relief, knowing that dinner signals the end of the day’s work and you can relax. The past two nights you’ve spent alone on your bedroll, being too shy to mingle, but as you stoop to collect your stew, you wonder if you can muster the courage to change that.

Several of the gang has gathered around a large campfire to talk over dinner. There’s an empty seat, but it’s right next to Arthur Morgan. Sure, he’s the man who brought you here, but you feel especially unimportant next to him. He’s a big guy, much taller than yourself, broad, handsome. The girls told you he’s got a very rough exterior but secretly harbors a heart of gold. However, it wasn’t until you found out he holds some of the greatest weight in camp that made you shy around him.

A hand pats you on the back, making you jump a little. Turning, you see Grimshaw.

“Go on, have a seat, dear. You’ve earned it.”

Unable to say no to her, you walk over and take a hesitant seat next to Arthur, hunching down a little. He doesn’t seem to notice as he’s listening to a man named Hosea tell a story about how he’d nearly been busted for robbing a house during a wake but how he’d managed to act his way out of being caught. It’s a rather funny story and as the others laugh appreciatively, you feel yourself relaxing. That is until Hosea’s story ends and he asks you a pointed question.

“How are you settling in, miss?”

You hate being brought out in the spotlight like this and it doesn’t help that Arthur, sitting so close, turns to look at you, his expression neutral.

“Oh, I’m… I’m doing okay, thank you. Mary-Beth said she can teach me how to rob people, so I’m hoping I won’t be so useless to you anymore soon.”

“No one’s complaining about you being useless,” says a man named John, sharpening his knife on a whetstone. “When you start bein’ as useless as Uncle, then we’ll have a problem.”

“Hey, I work!” complains the man in question.

“Really? When was the last time you lifted a finger ‘round here, ol’ man?” Arthur challenges. The group happily begins to bicker, but you’re grateful as it’s pulled their attention off of you.

As the days pass, you begin to hear people in the gang beginning to talk about a big score. A member named Micah came in to bring the idea of a big river boat to the gang’s leader Dutch. From what you can make of Dutch, he’s a clever, calculating man who cares deeply for his family. Mary-Beth and Tilly told you how he and Hosea took both Arthur and John in as their sons despite not being much older themselves. They formed this gang together and it’s stayed strong.

Ever since Micah brought in the potential job, the gang’s been humming with excitement. It seems to be a very big score and will need a lot of help for it to work. You’d like to volunteer, to contribute something, but you know you’re utterly useless right now. Mary-Beth’s only begun to explain the basics of robbing to you. However, this job sounds like it’s to come with a guaranteed gunfight.

The day for the heist arrives and pretty much every man in the gang goes to do it. A few hours later, they return to Thieves Landing bearing bad news. Somehow the law knew the boat was going to be hit and they met the gang with fierce opposition. Poor Jenny, whom you’d just started to get to know, was shot and so was Davey and John. Dutch and Hosea start shouting for everyone to get packed up as the Pinkertons are in pursuit.

Days go by and Thieves Landing is far behind you and the others. The gang has moved north, still trying to shake the Pinkertons off. Jenny passed away two days ago, but no one has been able to bury her as a massive snowstorm moved in shortly after she passed.

Moral is at an all-time low, yours included. You wouldn’t dream of leaving though, these people have become your close friends and even border on something like a family. Grimshaw tries to encourage everyone to stay positive, but it’s clear she doesn’t feel it much either.

Night falls once again as the wagon train goes along a narrow pass, the horses trudging through the thick snow. The weather has stayed horrible for days, dumping the white powder in great heaps. The Pinkertons haven’t been seen in the past two days. Perhaps this means the gang can finally find somewhere to hide. Dutch sent Arthur out a few hours ago to scout, along with John and Micah.

Arthur returns just as Abigail makes note that Davey is nearly dead. He reports that he found a place to shelter and guides the train there. It’s a small town named Colter according to a small sign by the main trail. The gang moves into the largest building but Abigail says Davey’s passed. Soon after, Dutch and Arthur go out to find what else might be around and they end up bringing back a heartbroken woman named Sadie.

Two days go by and the weather’s hardly let up. You stand outside in the freezing, snowy morning. You just need a break from the others for a while. Even though you enjoy most of them, being cooped up in such tight quarters for so long has worn you out. However, you’re already shivering from the cold under all your layers.

“You doin’ okay? Ya look half frozen,” a voice says from behind. You turn and see Arthur, wrapped up in his big blue coat, his face hidden beneath his hat.

“Yeah. Yeah, just need a break. Been a tough few days.”

“It sure has.” Suddenly a fierce blast of wind whistles down the path and Arthur wraps an arm around you as though to protect you from it. As you lack a hat and your head’s covered only by a thin blanket, you bury your head into his chest. He lets you though, but as soon as the wind dies a little you pull away from him, your face red. You blame it on the cold wind.

However, something changes with your view of Arthur. Sure, you’ve seen him comforting most people in the gang and he’s known for being caring and gentle, interested in all movements in the gang. But you were never a receiver of that care until now. You try denying your feelings, saying you’ve just been isolated for too long.

Nearly a week goes by and you’ve tried keeping distance between yourself and Arthur, believing your feelings will cool down with the space. The weather finally breaks and Hosea suggests camping in a new place he knows in the Heartlands. The gang is moved into action finally and the wagon train moves down to it.

It’s a great relief to finally be surrounded by trees and green rather than white and feel the warm sun instead of cold wind. The new camp spot, Horseshoe Overlook, is beautiful. Immediately you’re set to work by Grimshaw, but when night falls, you’re allowed to rest.

You stand on the edge of camp near the cliff, overlooking the river and the canyon. This place is beautiful. You’ve rarely seen this much moving water, being from the desert. Arthur walks over with two bowls of stew.

“Here, noticed you ain’t eaten yet.” He hands you one and you thank him.

The two of you stand together, eating without speaking for a few moments.

“So, now you been with us a while and seen us at our best and worst,” Arthur says, “what you thinkin’ of doing?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean what you plan on doin’? You gonna stay or you thinkin’ of movin’ on? No one would blame you if you decided to leave.”

“Do you… want me to leave?” you say with a pang.

“No. No, far from it. I think you could easily find a place among us. Seems like you already have too. Pretty much everyone here likes ya.”

You blush a little and look away. “I think I wanna stay. I like it here.”

He smiles a little, his blue eyes shining. You feel a surge of desire to hug him, your heart beating a bit faster. “Well, good. Like I said, think you’ll fit in easy.”

He takes your empty plate and heads off, leaving you alone. You turn and watch him, wanting nothing more than to be with him. Part of you wishes he’d come back to you, but he heads off to sit next to John and Hosea at the campfire. You turn back to watch the sunset, trying to push him out of your mind. It won’t do you any favors.

The next morning, you’re sitting with the other girls doing chores. Mary-Beth turns to you. “So, saw you blushing when Arthur said good mornin’ to you.” She gives you a sly look.

“I… I thought I had to sneeze right when he spoke to me,” you lie.

“It’s okay if you like him,” she says consolingly. “To be honest, I think we all developed a little thing for him in the beginning. I did anyways.”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t,” Tilly says. “But, do yourself a favor, Y/N. Move on from him. I ain’t sayin’ that out of selfishness or cruelty, but Arthur’s unavailable.”

“I didn’t know he had someone,” you say sadly.

“Well, he doesn’t anymore, but he can’t seem to move on from her,” Mary-Beth explains.

As if on queue, Arthur walks out of his tent, reading a letter. Susan walks up to him and they exchange words. You hear the name Mary and Susan tells him she never liked her. He says something to her and then heads out.

“And there he goes, off to see her,” Karen says sourly. “She barely has to say his name and he’ll move mountains to see her.”

Your heart sinks even further. You’d just begun to accept the fact that you have some strong feelings for Arthur, but this is a harsh blow. If he’s still attached to this woman, it means he’s definitely not interested in you. It’d be best if you give him up.

Night comes and Arthur’s returned. Once again, he brings you a plate of food as you stand near the cliff. A long silence passes between the two of you, your mind heavy.

“You okay? Awful quiet,” he says.

“I’m doin’ just fine, Arthur, thank you though,” you say somewhat coldly. You mentally make a note to be a little nicer. It’s not his fault you’ve got a crush on him.

“You sure? If ya need to talk, I’m always willin’ to listen. I want ya to be happy.”

God, why does he have to be so sweet yet so unavailable? It’s incredibly frustrating. You turn to him.

“Well, maybe you can help. Have you ever had real strong feelings for someone? Someone you couldn’t be with because you know they’d never want to be with you, and because they’re hung up on someone else?”

He gives you a curious look. “Who you talkin’ about?” His face falls a bit. “It’s John, ain’t it? You got a thing for him, don’t ya?”

Is that envy in his eyes? “J-John? No, Arthur, I don’t have a thing for John. Sure he’s nice and funny, but he’s not my type. Plus I think Abigail would murder anyone who tried anything with him.”

His face lightens up a bit. “I think you’re right there. Well, I don’t know much about relationships. Pretty useless, in fact.”

You smile up at him. “Well, thought I’d ask.”

“Who is this person?” he asks. “Anyone I know?”

“Definitely. He’s… someone in this gang, but like I said, he’s emotionally unavailable. Besides, I wouldn’t stand a chance with him.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short.” He sighs a little. “Well, maybe you just need to walk up to this feller, tell him exactly how you feel.”

“Okay. Arthur, I like you.”

“Exactly. Just like that.” He smiles. “See? It ain’t so hard.”

“No, Arthur, you’re not listening to me,” you say, your face beat red. “I said I like you.”

He blinks and straightens up a bit. He looks shocked. Or maybe that’s anger. Fear stings your stomach and you take a step back.

“I… I’m sorry. I was… just practicing.” You turn to walk away, deciding never to be alone with Arthur again. You can’t blame him for being angry either. You wouldn’t like you if you were him.

“Y/N, wait.” His hand’s on your shoulders. “Did you mean it?”

You look down at your feet. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I didn’t choose to like you, and I’m sorry for it. Not because you’re not a good man,” you say hastily at the look on his face. “What I meant is I’m sorry for… me.”

His eyes soften considerably. “Please don’t apologize. Especially for you bein’ yourself. Can I tell you a secret?” He leans in a little and whispers, “I’ve liked ya since that day up in Colter.”

You blush even deeper. “Me too.”

His arms suddenly slide around you, hot and gentle. Your hands are on his shoulders and he leans down, placing his lips on yours. Something flutters in your chest. It’s like a bird is trapped inside, fighting to get out. They’re slightly chapped, but the moment his lips touch yours, the bird settles and gives a satisfied purr. You lean into the kiss, sighing a little.

“Bout time you two finally did somethin’,” Hosea says, walking past. He gives you both a sly smile. “Dutch and I been gettin’ tired of seeing you two gettin’ all dovey eyed when the other wasn’t looking.”

You laugh and put your forehead onto Arthur’s chest, trying to hide your face as Arthur laughs.

“Sorry, Hosea.”

“Nah, you two kids have fun.” He walks off, chuckling a bit. Arthur looks down at you and smiles.

“You wanna go somewhere a little more private? Try that kiss where we won’t be spied on?”

You bite your lip and smile, nodding. Arthur takes your hand and leads you off into the trees. You pin him to a tree and kiss him hard, pressing your body on his. His arms slide up your back and wind into your hair. As the kiss deepens, you wonder where else this night will go.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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