i'm not reblogging the whole post again but @zorilleerrant you are so real for this

Okay so I’m in the process of writing a fic comparing the binding of Isaac (the biblical story, not the video game) to Jason’s relationship with his father that’ll be uploaded on Father’s Day but it had me thinking about Isaac parallels with bare.

So to preface, I’ve pretty much been an atheist my whole life and wasn’t raised in a Christian environment. I even went through an annoying reddit phase when I was in middle school, largely in part to being gay, but in current day I have a lot of respect for religion and religious people. More on that later. The point is, despite my atheism, the story of Isaac has always fascinated me, and the fucked up nature of the story kind of reinforced my early dislike of God. What kind of loving God would make a father hurt his own child? And later I realized this hit very close to an experience many have. Parents hurting and disowning their own children for being queer and justifying their actions through religion isn’t a strange concept for many. 

In very early drafts of bare there are a few references to Isaac in the text. In Claire’s introduction in Epiphany in a 2000 workshop, she says:

Our first reading today is the story of Abraham and Sarah In which Sarah learns she's to bear a child

Referring to how despite their old age, (Abraham is about 99 I think?) Abraham and Sarah manage to have a child. As a result of the absurd circumstances of his birth, the child is named Isaac, which is roughly translated to something along the lines of “he who laughs” from Hebrew. This also reflects Peter’s firstborn and only child status, which is important to Claire because if he’s gay then she won’t have grandchildren. (Mind you, I’m not a fan of this Claire presented in LA 2000 because she’s written a lot less sympathetic)

In bare’s very early 1999 demos, Are You There and Confession are replaced by Cut From The Same Cloth, which changes the scene to Peter confessing being gay to the Priest. In this version, the Priest is gay and is conflicted about whether or not to give Peter the assurance he needs or to follow the doctrines of the church (much like how his future iterations would hide behind a screen, knowing how much empathy might mean to Jason). The song basically serves the role of God Don’t Make No Trash where Peter receives positive assurance from an authoritative religious figure. In it, The Priest uses Isaac as a metaphor for his struggle with what to do with Peter.

I still can feel young Isaac's fear as if I held the knife That'd slash the heart that beat for boys which I said was a crime He gave his plea on bended knee A young me in his prime

“That'd slash the heart that beat for boys” Incredible lyrics, thank you Jon Hartmere. Are You There and Confession make more sense for the overall narrative, and the Priest being an antagonistic figure to Jason in Cross makes more sense for the thesis and the Romeo & Juliet parallels, but this is still a really good lyric I can’t help but gush over.

Anyways, I know I’m writing a fic about Jason as Isaac, but the idea of Peter as Isaac is so fascinating to me. I can’t find the source for it, but one interpretation I found regarding the sacrifice of Isaac went something like, “The world will try to sacrifice you, but God won’t,” and it stuck with me. God stays Abraham’s hand at the end, after all. The fact that Peter remains faithful in God and keeps his idealistic outlook despite everything that happens in the opera is such an important message, especially for queer audiences who feel like Isaac, about to be sacrificed on the altar. His moment in Absolution where he forgives The Priest reinforces that his love for Jason isn’t sinful but is in fact the conclusion of his faith. I said before that I respect religion despite being an atheist. It is my utmost belief that what is most important is that you find something that you believe in. Whether that’s religion, or politics, or whatever. Something that makes you believe that life is worth preserving, and that happiness and kindness are things you should cultivate in others. And Peter does exactly that. In a world that’s so cruel and unkind to people like him, Peter sings. Peter’s unwavering optimism is so necessary and is a large part of why he’s one of my favorite fictional characters. 

He who laughs, indeed

Infinite Possibilities

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Chapter 9: Flying bird

"I warned you, Valentine. I told you to heed my words, but you didn't listen," she said with a hint of regret in her voice.

Claire has this way of welcoming people, or maybe she just reserves all her sarcasm for him, which always makes the detective grind a little. If something can hang in the decor, she hastens to point it out to him, and obviously, there is a nail that sticks out and gets caught in every piece of linen that hangs around. It snatches his beating core and rips it asunder. He had a hunch about what Clair was getting at, but in this line of work, he never takes anything at face value. Gotta makes sure his gut feeling is on the money.

"What are you harping on?"

"Your girl, she slipped out of my hotel just minutes after you left."

"And of course, you never had the presence of mind to hold her."

"I run a hotel, not a menagerie. If you can’t close your monkey’s cage, I don’t have to."

He knows it’s not even worth insulting. Claire is tough on words but not really mean. Just completely disillusioned, like many in this city of perdition. In the meantime, Nick still has a canary on the loose who may get eaten by the first cat. He emerges from the seedy hotel, scanning the street for any potential leads on his elusive target. A hasty glance down the avenue uncovers a slew of drifters, all of them likely fresh off a fix or a dip in the deep end. He spots a figure keeping a vigilant eye and makes his way towards him.

"Not but a mere thirty-minute prior, a dame sauntered past; locks as dark as the night, curves that could make a man weak in the knees, and eyes that could pierce through steel. Clad in a noir black camisole, denim jeans, and shoes as white as a fresh set of pearly whites."

"Not seen."

"Must-see."

"Unseen."

Nick had expectations, but they were as elusive. He couldn't wrap is mind on what he was hoping for, but he knew it wasn't what he got. The disappointment hung heavy in the air, like a blanket too stifling that a mother too protective would have strapped around her firstborn. Because he does not need to breathe to have the clear impression of choking. Or to lose his footing. Rather to lose his footing. Goodneighbor, a place where everyone's got their own game to play. Finding a lead in this town is tantamount to trying to find a sugar cube in a liter of water. He ponders for a beat on the prospect of scouring the usual haunts of the city, but his gut warns him it'd be a fruitless endeavor.

Sarah's well aware of the rules of this universe. She knows that if she lingers in Goodneighbor, he'll track her down. His gut tells him she's playing hard to get, avoiding him on purpose.

But Nick is a detective. A damn good detective. He's a man on a mission, tracking down those who don't want to be found. His livelihood depends on his ability to locate the elusive and the evasive. He's a finder, a seeker of the lost and the missing. Frequently, it's the ones who don't wish to be found. He strains his mind.

The dame had her laundry slung over her shoulder, a bag full of God-knows-what (which he should've pried into a little more), a peculiar gadget that looked like a gadget from the future, no heat, no bullets, and no clue where the hell she was.

Where might she have vanished to, other than some godforsaken abyss?

He saunters down the main driveway, his footsteps echoing in the still morning. As he approaches the city gate, his mind raced with thoughts. He feels that she already has too good a run and that if he continues to think while making the statue, she will pass away before he understands where she may have gone.

He then ventures beyond the city limits; the grim reality of the wasteland greeted him once again. The desolate ruins of a once-thriving civilization loomed before him, a haunting reminder of the world that once was. The air was broad with the stench of decay and destruction, a sickening cocktail of dust, rot, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. It was a scene that he had witnessed countless times before, yet it never failed to send a chill down his spine. The stench of decay filled the air, a sickly-sweet aroma that made is false stomach churn. The smell of body that were starting to decompose, the flesh peeling away from the bones like wet paper. Two centuries have come and gone, but the haunting scenario still persists. A new body, a new victim, a few hours or days later, the smell of decomposition is added to that already present, a cycle that is renewed without end.

He does not detect any smell of fresh blood in the area, which is a good first indication. Sarah's luck was running thin as she dared to venture beyond the safety of Goodneighbor's walls. The looming threat of a super-mutant's deadly strike or a raider's unforgiving bullet was ever-present.

As he reached the end of the aisle, he found himself at a crossroads. Where to go from here, he pondered. To his left, a notorious super-mutant burrow lurked. Their lair was nestled in a nearby edifice, and despite Nora's penchant for scrubbing it spotless on lazy Sunday afternoons, they always returned. The joint's a damn fine stash spot to ditch. Sarah's got an eye for the lay of the land, and that's a fact she can't afford to ignore.

The path ahead was blocked by a heap of debris, towering and daunting. It seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, but not entirely impossible to overcome. On the other side, the gunners have long taken possession of the square. It's a truth that's been around the block for long times.

Amidst the dank corners of the obstructed street, a path less travelled emerges, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the perilous unknown. It winds its way towards the heart of the Railroad's domain, shrouded in mystery and danger.

Sarah said something about Deacon.

Nick took a long drag from a new lighted cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a sinister haze. With a calculated exhale, he made his move. He therefore took a decisive step, but not too much anyway because he kept an eye over his shoulder and forward, towards the Railroad HQ. This trail ain't his cup of tea, and that's putting it mildly. Less traffic than the one leading to Diamond City, but less traffic than the one leading to Diamond City. One would think that a more heavily travelled route would mean more lookouts, and that’s true, but a more secretive route would mean that if it turns sour, he will be really alone to defend himself. The Diamond City route ain't exactly a bustling thoroughfare for the average Joe or delivery boy. But is at least used by travelers or provisioners. Here before him are silence, ruins, and what can linger in the meanderings of the old city.

The ghouls, they were the worst of the lot.

The small, the big, the ugly, the savage. The wildest ones were the ones that glowed in the dark, but the discreet ones too, the most dangerous. If one want ghouls, this is the place to shop.

Don't go thinking that the Railroad's gonna roll out the red carpet for visitors. They ain't in the business of making things easy. It’s quite the opposite. They encourage such neighbourhoods because they offer the best protection against unwelcome guests. Undesirables of the Institute, yes, but creatures don’t really distinguish between those who are allowed and those who are not. There ain't much difference between a synth, no matter the generation, and a human. As long as those chompers ain't sunk into what appears to be meat, they ain't picky 'bout what's fit for consumption. And once they've clamped down, the prey ain't got much say in the matter.

Nick knows that better than anyone. He'd sacrificed some prime bait to the ravenous maws of those pesky critters, only to be left with the bitter taste of failure as the reward slipped through his fingers. He never let go of his hope to steer clear of trouble, but every time he caught a glimpse of his own visage, he was reminded to tread lightly, like a man with a beating heart instead of a cold machine.

A thorough search was something he had wished for. He wished he could have knocked on the doors of HQ to establish that a strange lady had taken sanctuary there. Under Desdemona's sarcastic gaze and Deacon's sly smile, he would have wanted to be able to gently reprimand her for fleeing. Perhaps he would have relished the sight of Carrington's eyes darting around or the alluring expression on Glory's countenance. He would have dug all that. Much more than seeing thirty of these bloodthirsty ghouls flock around a telephone pole that threatens to fall to the ground under their weight, throwing into the rubble and their claws the bird that took refuge there.

This is not the worst-case scenario; the worst would have preferred her to be dead and well dead, but that’s not far from it.

He’s not Nora; he's himself. He's got himself a sweet little piece that can spit lead. Nora deftly maneuvered the sleek 44, pushing its mechanics past the limit. Her innate talent for these machines made it a formidable force to be reckoned with. But thirty ghouls. He knew it was dramatic, so he took it seriously. It was going to be a long day. That was more than he could handle, even for a tough guy like him. As he ruminated, he absently patted down his pockets, feeling for any clues that might be hiding within.

As per usual, a measly pair of grenades is all that's left of the dozen his partner had bequeathed him on their mission. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as he tossed Molotov cocktails and grenades with reckless abandon. Yet, she continues handed him explosives. Only a pair remains. He had two grenades, a handful of bullets, and a swarm of ghouls closing in.

He had a face of old synth, with joints that creaked like they were rusted shut. He couldn't run if his life depended on it.

There she was, a dame from another realm, clutching onto the cold, hard bars for dear life. Her eyes darted around with a sense of hopelessness, until they met his.

Damn, there's a glimmer of optimism in that gaze. Even if it never went down, he wouldn't have let it go. He yearned to offer her something beyond mere hope. He had witnessed one too many of these types of scenarios to be phased. The bird's fate hangs in the balance as it dangles from the branch, its life teetering on the edge of a knife. Should he break free, he may yet survive, but with a heavy heart. However, the more probable outcome is far more sinister - a furious Nora prowling the seedy underbelly of the city, leaving a trail of carnage in her wake, to find a dismantled synth. Another creature lies dead, its body torn apart like a rag doll, alongside a shredded human who met a similar fate.

He casts off the weight of his cynicism. He ain't gonna let the worst go down, and he'll pimp the best like a tech upgrade. What are the odds? His eyes darted around the place, searching for any sign of refuge. He spotted a rundown apartment nearby, barely standing on its last walls. Its crumbling structures offered a fleeting protection from the unforgiving surge. He's got options. He can shatter the surge, blast the swell, and take aim at the remnants of the tide. The notion is hazy, a flicker of optimism, yet presently, he rides the waves of acquiescence.

He deftly navigates the treacherous waves, seeking solace on his solitary perch amidst the tempest. He's keenly aware that the moment he pulls the trigger, the tide will come crashing in, leaving him no opportunity to miss a single shot. Any stray bullet could mean curtains for him.

Take aim at the peepers. If he ain't take a life, he sure as hell can leave a goule sightless. He exhales the same scent as the debris lingers around him, doesn't it?

And there he was, with his finger on the trigger, taking aim. And then the rush begins. He pulled the trigger again and again, the sound of gunfire echoing through the empty streets. The swell fractured in a violent rupture. The time had come. He delivers the last two rings, promising himself an exciting wedding night as his fiancée's fate approaches. He ain't one to waste time tallying up the numbers. The sound of gunfire echoed through the empty streets as he continued to pull the trigger. He fires off rounds like a madman, his trigger finger numbs to the bone. Can't even distinguish his metal hand from his good, the recoil's got him all twisted upside down. He would think that both are painful. Especially when the masquerades of human beings reach him. He was a fool to think he had a plan. The weight of the situation hit him like a harvester hauling through wheat, and all he could do was laugh at his own naivety. The swell crashes down, yet he persists in firing, relenting not. In the lull between rounds, he delivers a brutal blow with the butt of his piece. And it packs a punch. He takes a moment to reload, a brief reprieve in this never-ending game of predator and prey. Consider his mechanical arm. The sound of a gunshot as he pulled the trigger.

With a final click, the deed was done.

The chamber was empty. No lead left to fly. Yet the ghouls still attack with renewal. The ammo's dry, the grenades are spent, and the only company left are the ghouls. He brandishes his piece like a club, striking with a vengeance deal. He throws a punch so fierce; he can't even tell which way his own arm is pointing. Claws sink into his flesh, and teeth try to reduce his coat to even more shreds than it already is.

If the ghouls don't do it, Ellie will take care of him permanently. If Ellie doesn’t, it’s Nora. He's a corpse on two legs, a walking testament to the grim reaper's handiwork. Kind of like those ghouls around him.

"Eh! We could have ourselves a merry band, instead of tearing each other limb from limb. Don't you fancy that? Our mugs were so damn hideous; we would make a shock team."

There's one or two that making a funny expression, but it's just a ploy to catch them off guard. He felt a sudden tug, like a hook sinking deep into his ribs. Something strong enough to knock him out. As he was staring at the ceiling, he wondered where it all went wrong. Amidst this ocean of limbs and fangs, he couldn't no longer discern one from the other. He knew the endgame all too well. As he plummeted backwards, he knew without a doubt that this was the end. Once he hits the pavement, they'll smother him like a funeral shroud, sinking their teeth in and leaving him for dead.

He couldn't even land a punch on 'em.

He shut his eyes tight, attempting to distract his thoughts from the agony ripping him asunder. He got any idea how many are still standin'. It was hard to tell. Five, seven? Yet enough to shatter any hope of an easy way out.  But one thing was for sure, he had been trigger-happy. Thirty slugs, thirty creeps. A pair of deadly grenades. If he were Nora, he'd be tallying up the bullets he's got left. But he's Nick. Nick lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The gun lay in his hand, cold and empty. It was as empty as his soul. He had no bullets left, no means of protection. He was vulnerable, exposed to the ravenous ghoul. The city was a dangerous place, and he always knew it well. All he could do was wait for the inevitable, his pockets were barren, devoid of any contents.

He ought to have savored a final puff of smoke before embarking on his journey. The package nestled in his inner pocket, forever out of reach. Maybe one day, a scavenger. He couldn't help but wonder if there'd be any scraps left of him.

His tactics appeared to be effective. The sting of claws and the bite of teeth no longer register in his sensors. The weight of the beasts no longer bears down on his limbs and stomach. The treacherous and infinite attack that surrounds him no longer registers by his intern.

"Nice place for a nap. If that's your fancy, we've got some cozy beds just a couple blocks down."

"I believed this batch of synths wasn't catching any shuteye."

"Okay, new ones."

Nick slowly pries open his weary eyes, one at a time. Two enigmatic beings struggle aside, disposing of the lifeless husks that surround him like a veil of death. It was the sunglasses that gave him away, amidst a sea of faces and costumes. One could spot him from a mile abroad those dark lenses hiding his eyes but revealing his identity. Nick couldn't help but ponder if the spy was privy to the extent of his treachery. But when you're in the dark and clueless...

Nick was in the dark about the second one, but Deacon's comment hinted at a fresh face in the game.

He was above all taken aback by the fact that he hadn't caught the sound of any gunshots. He ought to have, but he didn't. Or did the grunting, just inches from his ears, cover them? The gumshoe ain't one to get caught up in the nitty-gritty in this like time. He grasps the proffered hand with a firm grip, but as soon as he rises, he disregards the barrage of inquiries and bolts into the alleyway.

"What's gotten into him?"

"He's got a dame to find."

"Where's the girl?"

He spun around to face the spy, his voice sharp as a knife, as he noticed the crow's nest was deserted.

"At HQ. She sauntered in, on her knees. She pleaded us for help her. By the way, pal, Dez wants to have a little chat with you about the hush-hush side of our joint."

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@lured-into-wonderland | send me a number

4. multiple people threads

when i get to a point where i can shove more than one of my muses in a thread, i take that opportunity. because the reality of this blog is that they all kinda sorta know each other in some regard.

interact with Mikah long enough, they'll start mentioning Evan and he might appear here and there eventually because the two of them are like best friends. talk to Evan long enough and he'll either mention Mikah or talk about the last time he made Penny mad. Talk to Penny long enough and she'll start talking about Wynn. Wynn doesn't talk much but he'll speak about the three above at some point.

the same goes for Joseph and Dakota; in that they come as a pair and where you have one, you most certainly have the other waiting in the wings nearby. interaction is almost inevitable

of course, it's much easier to interact with one muse at a time and slowly introduce the others over time because it can be a lot. interacting with one muse is one thing but interacting with two or more is a lot and mentally having to switch between them can become very stressful if you only have muse for on.

i also like threads between multiple blogs but i feel like any more than 3 would require a lot of planning and a set method to keep track of whose turn it is on tumblr. on discord, it's a little easier because you can just plop yourself and a group of people in a server, set up channels for rping and just go wild and have fun.

28. your first muse

on this site? girl...

i'm getting first, second and third-hand embarrassment already but given that this was literally when i was in high school ( so over a decade ago at this point ) and i don't think i have ever spoken about it to anyone in my previous fandom or this one so y'all get a little treat... that will be going under a readmore because i can't y'all

so.... does anyone remember h.omestuck. remember when that entire thing had small children and teens in a chokehold? i was one such teen... as were my friends. and a couple of my friends were jjust like "hey, there's thing on tumblr called f.andomstuck where it's like h.omestuck but instead of the typical characters and ocs, your favorite fandom is your character." and i thought that was the coolest shit ever. I made a tumblr in like 2012-ish, jumped on that hellwagon, and stayed there for two whole years before switching to f.ire emblem.

the fandom i chose was final fantasy.... but not the entire final fantasy franchise--just final fantasy 13 because it was the only final fantasy game i owned and i fell in love with it ( and i'll still beat someone's ass for complaining about it because it's still my favorite ). my character's name was Fifa intially. because Final Fantasy. i eventually changed it to something less embarrassing but god i let that one stick for a while. she was essentially a carbon copy of Claire Farron ( Lightning ) so anything she did, this character could do. anything she couldn't, this character couldn't... unless it didn't suit me :)

the only good thing out of that whole thing is that amalgamation and her eventual sister ( that i got as a gift and no, i will not explain what that means ) served as personality blueprints for two newer muses that i currently adore so... that's one good thing out of the cringe.

Claire's Push

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: violence, cuss words, drinking

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy darling! I just <3 leon <3

Requested: by anon, do you know ariana grande? there is a song called "goodnight n go" and it's my fav song forever and ever. do you think you can write a fluff based on this song for leon kennedy x reader? like a slow burn friends to lovers and all these sweet things!! thank you <33

Summary: the request

Genre: fluff

Song: goodnight n go by ariana grande

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“This is ridiculous. I am a police officer!”

“In training,” you said, laughter bubbling up to your lips. You tilted to the side along with your player in the video game. “Leon! Stop! You’re going to get us killed!”

“I have to save everyone!” he exclaimed, leaning into you as his character moved quickly. You were playing some sort of shooting game that Leon had bought recently and was obsessed with. You were beating his ass currently.

“No you don’t, you’re already at low health and you have no more health!” you exclaimed. “Leon, come on!” He shook his head, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He quickly moved it back and leaned forward, furiously hitting the buttons on his remote.

“Avenge me!” he exclaimed. You rolled your eyes as he threw himself over the bomb. The screen splattered in red with a large ‘you are dead’ over it. You threw your hands in the air, tossing the remote a few feet in front of you.

“Leon, you didn’t save anyone.”

“I saved all those people from the bomb. Thank you very much.” You were both laughing gently. You shook your head and leaned back on the couch.

“You’re impossible. You just did that because I was beating you.”

“How dare you accuse me of such things,” he said, looking over at you. You rolled your eyes and stood up.

“I have to go. Do you still want that ride to Raccoon City?”

“That would be great. I’ll call you when I wake up.” You nodded.

“You’ll do great, little Leon. I am excited to see you in the full outfit and shit.” He laughed gently, shaking his head.

“I’m not little. And you won’t get to see me in the outfit because you’ll be driving away from me.”

“I’ll pick you up so that I can see it. I wonder if they’re gonna make you cut your hair.” He scoffed.

“They won’t.” He paused. “Will they?”

“It was a joke, relax. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Call me!”

You walked out the front door of his house and got into your car. You and Leon had been friends for a couple of months now. He was probably your closest companion at the moment, not that he knew that. He was kind and handsome and giving. It was hard to find people like that, let alone guy friends.

You stared at his house and swallowed your feelings down your chest. This was no time to think about how much you liked him. He had to go to work tomorrow, first day at his first police job.

You drove away, shaking the warmth in your stomach away for another day.

===

Leon ran his hands through his hair and held his phone up to his head. He walked beside Ashley Graham, the daughter of the President. He had just saved her from a cult out in Spain.

“Have you not showered?” you asked, amazed. “Oh God and you probably went through so much dirt. You need to shower.” Leon chuckled lowly, glad to hear your voice. The two of you had gone through Raccoon City together and had come out the other side. You had decided to get involved with the BSAA, alongside Claire’s brother Chris. He was working under more official purposes and the two of you often missed each other.

“I’m going to shower the second I get to your house.”

“You’re coming to my house? But I just got home, I haven’t cleaned.”

“When do I ever care about that? I’ll see you in 20.”

He hung up the phone. Ashley looked over at him, a sly smile on her face.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Leon’s eyes went wide and he shook his head quickly.

“No uh..my best friend,” he corrected. Ashley nodded quickly.

“The blush on your face says something different.” She walked ahead of him, careful not to let him respond.

-

Leon got to your house in 15 minutes. He opened the door with his own key and walked in.

“I’m here!” he called. You came around the corner. You clearly had just gotten out of the shower. Your hair was wet and you were wearing pajamas.

“Hey Kennedy. Sorry, I just got back from a BSAA thing. I heard Spain was shit what hap - oof.” He threw his arms around you and breathed you in deeply. You wrapped your arms around him hesitantly, not used to this kind of affection from him. “Oh.” You brushed his hair back and put your hand on the back of his head. He had his head buried in your shoulder.

You smiled gently, trying to ignore the emotions rising in your chest with him being so close. You had gotten pretty good at ignoring those feelings.

“You gotta take a warm shower. I’ll make a warm dinner and we can watch a movie or something. You can nap, I don’t care. You just gotta shower first.” He chuckled, his laughter muffled against your skin.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan,” he murmured, pulling away from you. “But I have to catch my train tonight.”

===

Leon stood across from Claire Redfield. She had a sling over her shoulder and a small nervous smile on her face.

“When are you going to stop treating me like a kid?” she asked.

“Probably never,” he responded. Claire rolled her eyes and fidgeted on her feet.

“Chris stopped treating Y/N like a child years ago. You should learn from your girlfriend,” she commented.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said stiffly. Claire’s eyes went wide. Her lips parted a bit, taking in a genuine surprise.

“Wait seriously? I thought you guys started dating years ago.”

“Nope.”

“You mean when she came and saved your ass at the airport last year, you guys were not together?” She paused, waiting for him to say he was joking and then nodded a bit. “I told Angela you were together. She wanted to make a move. My bad. You know, if my opinions worth anything, she really loves you. And it looks like you really love her.”

Leon knew she was right. He had been thinking about it a lot lately. He’d had this cat and mouse game going with Ada for years but really it was you he thought about when he came home. It was you he wanted to see.

You made him laugh. You made him feel genuinely okay during some of the hardest times in his life. He knew how he felt about you, he just wasn’t sure how you felt about him. Not 100% sure anyway.

“Thanks Claire.” ===

You let out a small breath out your nose and poured you and Leon a glass of bourbon. You walked the two cups back to him, handing him his and sitting beside him on the couch in front of the TV.

“I’m not giving you anymore,” you said pointedly.

“Alright alright.”

“Do you have to catch your train tonight?” you asked, tracing the outside of your glass like you weren’t hanging off his answer.

“I don’t know. Depends on how this conversation goes.”

“Oh? Don’t make me nervous Leon.”

“I’m not trying to.” He rolled his eyes. “I ran into Claire.”

“Oh! How is she? I haven’t seen her in ages, neither has Chris. She’s been out and about.”

“She said we should date.” You laughed, ignoring the raise in your heartbeat.

“She’s always been one for fantasy’s.”

“What do you think?”

“Huh?”

“About us dating,” he said quietly. Your eyes went wide. You looked down at your glass, trying to form words. It all seemed to be leading up to this moment and you had nothing good to say. Nothing meaningful or honest. You cleared your throat and looked up at him but his lips were already on yours.

You let out a mental sigh of relief. This was better than any words you could have said. You could tell him everything you felt just by the way your lips moved.

You had to pull away for breath after a moment but your heads stayed connected, breathing deeply. You stared into his blue eyes.

“That’s what I think,” you whispered. He laughed happily, gently and nodded.

“I think I can miss my train.”

“I think you can forget about ever catching the train again.”

Resident Evil Tag List: @ceruleanrainblues, @chloe-online ,@alexxavicry

Yeah, Should Have Seen That Coming: Saileen Bachelor Party Ficlet

Congrats to the soon to be Mrs. and Mr. Leahy💚💍!!!

Sam had the brilliant idea to have their bachelorette/bachelor parties on the same night. Two separate parties, at least a week before the wedding to avoid any last minute mishaps (learning from the mistakes of Dean and Cas' party last month). They had thought of everything, Sam even remembered to invite Adam this time. They were each going to have a perfect party with no unforseen issues, because they both deserved a night of fun.

Dean was granted the privilege of being Eileen's best man maid of honor, so he shut down his bar that night, and threw her an absolute rager. He even dragged the stripper pole back out at Eileen's request (though Dean thinks it was a shame Cas wasn't going to be there to use it) and set up a mechanical bull. So of course Cas was chosen to be Sam's best man, and for his party, Sam just wanted a normal, quiet night. Just board games, beer and burgers at the bunker (Crowley was pissed he got stuck at Sam's instead of Eileen's, but Garth was thrilled about the prospect of playing Monopoly). So that's exactly what Cas planned to give him. He makes sure he's got Sam's favorite beer, burgers from the place that makes his favorite vegan burgers, he's taken care of everything. And all Sam has to do is grab the board games from one of the storage rooms.

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, considering Sam and Cas are involved? 

Everything.

(read the rest under the cut)

They ended up on a hunt before the party even began. Sam had accidentally bumped into a shelf in the storage room, knocking over a cursed object, and then picked it up without thinking("Sam why did y- "It just looked like a piece of wood!" "It's not, its cursed it's called t-" "Well that doesn't help me now, Cas!"). And so it turned out, they unleashed an ancient curse that if they didn't break by midnight, the world would be "shroud in 5 billion years of darkness". But Sam won't let anyone call Eileen or Dean ("I just don't want to ruin her party!" "Sam the world could en-" "Yeah, but that happens all the time. How often do you get to have a bachelorette party?")

So it was up to Sam, Cas, Jack, Crowley, Garth, and Adam (Kevin was already halfway up the steps and on his way to Dean's bar before Sam even finished explaining what happened).

And a lot can go wrong over a few hours, especially if the threat of the end of world is looming over you.

In the past three hours, they managed to successfully tear apart the entire archives looking for lore, had Jack fly them to three different states to wake up three experts on the subject, fought and killed one of Crowley's old nemesis who had an ingredient they needed for a spell, were briefly transported to a different dimension, twice (Jack was able to get them home, but they had to go back because Garth forgot his phone). Then of course they summoned the wrong ancient god, then had to figure out how to kill them, before they eventually summoned the right one needed to break the curse.

At that point, after some encouragement (yelling) from everyone, Sam finally gave in and tried to facetime and text Eileen, finally allowing Cas to call Dean too.

But neither of them answered because Eileen was currently in the middle of an intense drinking contest between Rowena, Mary and Kevin (who arrived 2 hours ago and mentioned nothing about the curse), while Dean (totally sober mind you) learned he was amazing on the stripper pole, as Charlie, Kaia and Claire cheered him on, and Jo along with some of Eileen's hunter friends were trying out the mechanical bull.

So they were on their own, and quickly running out of time.

But unfortunately for them, the three hours of chaos was a complete waste, since they discovered a bit too late that lore was wrong. Because the weapon that was supposed to kill the God was clearly not working since it seemed to be chasing them around just fine, with a giant stake in it's neck. So they hurriedly decided splitting up would be the best course of action, and they scattered in all directions as they ran into the woods(where they had landed when Jack zapped them back) trying to confuse the God. 

Which had been a complete mistake ("It can clone itself!" "Yes, thank you Sam, I hadn't noticed").

And currently, Crowley and Garth were both knocked out by some of the God's clones, and Jack was nowhere to be seen, leaving just Sam and Cas to fight with what they had (2 guns, an angel blade, and half a flask of holy water, so nothing)

Now there was only five minutes until midnight and the God had them surrounded, as it threw their useless guns and blades halfway across the forrest.

And only one thought rang through Sam's mind.

"Eileen is gonna kill me if the world ends before the wedding"

"Well if you hadn't touched th-"Cas started

"Thanks Cas, you really know how to make a guy feel better" Sam yelled back, swiflty cutting him off.

He glanced back up to see the God (who's name Sam had already forgotten) inching closer, holding them in place as they were readying themselves to smite them.

Sam took one last look at Cas and the reality of the situation finally set in. This was it.

All Sam wanted was one normal night, but now the world's ending again and he doesn't even know the name of the God ending it.

They were screwed. Now he'll never see Eileen again and they'll nev-

Suddenly a wooden stake was shoved through the back of the God's neck with a crunch, sending them crumbling to the ground. It burst into black flames, disappearing.

And standing above them in a, 6 inch heels, covered in glow stick bracelets, and a bride sash, was a very tipsy Eileen.

She and Dean helped pull them to their feet, and Sam could cry at the sight of her (and he did).

As soon as he was standing, Sam frantically began rambling and signing trying to explain and apologize all in one breath. But Eileen simply took hold of his hands, stopping him in his tracks.

"You were supposed to use sheep's blood, idiot" Eileen signed with a smirk.

Then she grabbed by the shoulders, yanking him down into a deep kiss.

"Wait how did-where did yo-"Sam started as he broke away. He quickly takes in his surroundings spotting Claire and Kaia helping Garth to his feet, Rowena trying to wake Crowley, and Charlie and Jo who are probably trying to convince Adam not to leave. He finds Dean, Cas and Jack off to the side huddled close together, while Dean probably tells his husband how much of a dumbass he is.

"Jack flew to the bar, and we read through your's and Cas' texts. We were able to piece it together from there, and apparently you guys can't read. Maybe leave the hunting to the pros?" Eileen teased, swaying slightly (okay maybe she was a little more than tipsy). Sam tightly wrapped his arms around her, keeping her steady, as a smile grew on his face.

"I don't deserve you" Sam sighs, cupping her cheek.

"Yeah, you don't" Eileen shrugged with a smirk growing on her lips.

"She's right, you really don't" Dean's voice cuts through as he, Cas and Jack make their way over. Cas punches him in the arm with a fond smile.

"Well, that certainly didn't go as I had planned" Cas huffed.

"Yeah, understatement of the year buddy. But when does it ever?" Sam laughs, feeling a bit of relief.

Then Sam has another brilliant idea, smiling as he turns back to Eileen.

"So my party....was ruined by an ancient God. Mind if we crash your's?"

And an hour later, Cas (much to Dean's delight) is now spinning around on the pole while Dean, Charlie and Jo cheers him on. Crowley, Rowena, Garth and Jack (with a shirley temple of course) are seated at the bar, talking about god knows what. Claire, Kaia, Kevin and surprisingly Adam have just returned from the parking lot, giggling a bit too much. And Sam is now seven shots in, messily making out with Eileen in one of the booths. Eventually they pull away, just sitting in a drunken daze as they stare at each other.

God he can't believe she's gonna marry him. He really is the luckiest man in the world.

And before Sam can relay this sentiment, Eileen downs her glass, signs "watch this", and runs to take a turn on the stripper pole to the thrumming bass.

With a laugh he surveys the bar, watching his family drink and laugh without a care in the world. He spots Eileen and Dean by the pole in the center of the room, heads thrown back in laughter, as Cas and Jack cheers them on. So Sam quickly slides out of the booth and makes his way over, plopping down inbetween Jack and Cas, watching his fiancé and brother dance to the beat like idiots. Heart swelling at the sight of his family.

And yeah maybe this isn't the night they had planned, but it was certainly a night they'd never forget.

(Especially since Cas had shirts made that said, "I survived Sam Winchester's bachelor party")

Tag list:

(Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!!💛)

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @shelikestv @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @organicpurplepants @writtendevastation @tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog

@rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @shadowywerewolfqueen @the-cookie-navy @thelahatiel @thefantasyfiend @castielle-deanna @aestheticflyer26 @multi-fandom-imagine @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @wellofwoes @becky-srs

@multi-fandom-dark-lord @perfectkoaladream @castiel-for-lunch @it--hurts--to--become @bowtiesandneckerchiefs @dakiaty @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @hrh-princess-bea @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @slipper007 @rainbowsam @winchester-novak

Disco Elysium and No Truce with the Furies

It took me way too long to realize that Disco Elysium’s in development name, No Truce with the Furies, is a reference to the three Fury Sisters in Ancient Greek Mythology: Megaera, Tisiphone, and Alecto. From what I understand, they torture souls in Tartarus, the depths of hell basically, for the crimes they’ve committed in their waking lives.

From Disco Elysium’s perspective, however, it never fully rid itself of its Ancient Greek inspired roots with Elysium in its name. Elysium is the highest plane in the underworld, where important souls, like kings and warriors, lay to rest. However, it’s also kind of purgatory, where souls can forget their past? Which ties into the themes in the game, because Harry’s in literal purgatory/hell in Martainaise with his memory loss.

There’s a lot to unpack with Harry’s feelings and struggles in purgatory, but I want to look at it from the perspective of the Furies. I’ve also been playing a lot of Hades recently, and it was the game that I played after beating Disco Elysium, so that’s mostly what got me thinking about Disco Elysium. I also have this entire rant about Elysium in Disco Elysium but also Xenoblade Chronicles 2 if anyone else is interested.

Anyway, who are the Furies? As I said before, they torture people in death. But what about in Disco Elysium? I thought about it for a while, and it can mean a few things:

The three Krenel mercenaries. I think this is the most likely, because there’s three of them, and they want to basically torture you and the other characters for the death of the Hanged Man. It is also the focal point of the entire game, and where the most action happens; everything you’ve done in that game leads to this point. The ‘no truce’ part is also of importance, as there’s no way to get out of that confrontation without violence, or avoiding it in the first place. With the Furies' focus on torturing people, and therefore using violence, and Harry being in purgatory/hell, there’s some weight to it.

There’s the quote back when you’re handling the body for the first time to name the case No Truce with the Furies, even before you learn about the rest of Krenel. Which puts a bit of a wrench in this theory because you don’t know about the three guys out for your blood. I know it’s a reference to the original title, but there could be more to it that I'm not sure about.

The three main political factions. I know there are four, but it’s mostly based on the political climate of Revachol: fascism, libertarianism, and moralism, in respect to each of the main characters involved in each. I.e. Rene Arnoux, Evrart Claire, and Joyce Messier. I know communism is also present, but you don’t meet the Deserter until the end, after the tribunal. But anyway, this is more prominent for Evrart and Joyce, but you really have to play by their rules to succeed in the game. Grovel by Joyce’s feet for money, while kicking out poor people from their houses to make juvie, basically, for teens to find your gun for Evrart. There’s no way to talk them out of their political views, in the same way that you can’t talk a truce with the Furies to stop them from torturing you. I don’t think they’re necessarily torturing Harry, but they’re making his life more of a mess.

A slightly different version of the main political factions with Dolores Dei, Kras Mazov, and King Frissel, three main figures with political ties that still have significant holds on the world. I know there’s the Ultraliberal faction, but that one doesn’t really have a figurehead associated with it in the same way.

With a focus on the Fury Sisters, there’s definitely something with Dora/Dolores Dei in there and could possibly relate to Harry’s internal misogyny. Or relate to Elizabeth, Klassje, and Rose, three prominent female characters that all betray Harry in some way.

Could be a reference to the three main archetypes in the game. That there’s no way to fully tap into all three of them at the same time, and you can’t have a ‘truce’ between Harry’s thought demons in his head.

I think going with Disco Elysium was the better choice for the name of the game, but I still appreciate No Truce with the Furies still showing up in some way. Disco Elysium still gets across a name that basically doesn't make any sense, which really reflects the feelings of the game. No Truce with the Furies sounds more like a name for a side quest, rather than the name of a game, but it still has significant weight backing it.

I also had the realization while writing this that Harry losing his memory is likely a reference to the River Lethe in Elysium, where if you drink from it, it wipes your memories. But that's also its own post. God.

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 31: Counsel of a Witch

Summary: Jamie turns to the bookstore owner in search of help

Read on AO3

Read chapter 31 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 31

***

Jamie was at the end of his rope. With every passing hour, he watched Claire get worse and worse. She was pale, drawn, with dark circles stark under her eyes. Her ashen skin, so different from the soft gleam of its usual pearl, made him want to break down sobbing. She was so different from the vivacious faerie he’d come to know. It broke his heart to see her despondence, and he loved her far too much to endure her suffering in silence for even a moment more. 

So he decided to turn to the one place he might find help. 

The bookstore owner. 

It seemed foolish— bordering on mad— to go to a complete stranger for help on the love of his life. Only this Geillis seemed to be the only one besides Claire herself that knew anything about the Fair Folk. Jamie couldn’t simply take her to a hospital. Going to Geillis was the only thing he could think to do. He was out of options. 

He sat then on the couch, with Claire draped over his lap like a flesh and blood blanket, having just arrived at a decision. 

“Mo ghraidh?” he said quietly. 

He reached out a hand to tangle gently in her curls, his fingers delighting in the softness of it. 

“What is it, Jamie?” she asked. 

Even her voice came off weak, hard as she was trying to sound unaffected. There was a breathy tonality, as if she couldn’t quite draw in enough air. A chilling reflection of her exhaustion. 

“I’m goin’ tae go back to the bookstore,” he said simply. 

At that, Claire sat up, pushing her hands against his thighs to brace herself enough to get upright. Big whisky eyes regarded him with a bewildered expression. 

“To see the witch? Why?”

It took Jamie a second to realize what she had just said. He was opening his mouth to answer the “why” when the first part of her question finally sunk into his brain. His heart stopped beating for a solid second at the same time as his brain ground to a halt. 

“Did ye say ‘witch’?” he asked hollowly. 

Claire furrowed her brows and stated simply, “of course. The one who gave you her notes on traveling through the stones? That witch?” 

“I—” Jamie’s tongue was tied in knots as he struggled to get on board with this new reality-shattering revelation, “I didna ken witches were real,” he finished lamely. 

“Oh,” Claire said, with the same patience Jamie had when explaining something like toothbrushing to her, “she is. That just means she is a human who understands about our realm.”

Blinking, Jamie gave her a look. He was struck dumb for the moment, but as soon as he regained the ability to speak, he demanded, “ye kent she was a witch all this time and didna tell me?”

Claire blinked her weary eyes and gave a nonchalant shrug, looking a bit more like herself as she answered with a straightforward, “It didn’t seem all that important.” 

“Ehmm... so… how did ye know?” he asked, trying to keep up. 

“Sensed it. I just sort of… knew. Like how you know when someone is from a different place that you haven’t been. We both saw each other for who we are. Plus it makes sense, since she obviously knew I’m of the fair folk, that’s why she gave you the book.”

Jamie gave a hesitant nod. He was about to ask more questions about witches when he noticed Claire was raising a hand to her head and rubbing it wearily. His stomach turned over in sympathy. 

Overcome by the bittersweet tenderness, he reached out a hand to replace hers, cupping her face gently. 

“I’m goin’ tae ask her if she kens anythin’ that can help ye, lass,” he said gently, “Just because ye dinna ken what’s goin’ on doesna mean we canna find answers.” 

She leaned her face into his touch until his hand was the only thing keeping her head raised. 

“That’s not a bad idea, Jamie,” she said quietly, “let’s go.”

“‘Let’s’?” Jamie echoed, “nae, a nighean. Ye can barely stand on yer own two feet. I wouldna have ye do anything other than rest.” 

“And I would not have you go to a witch alone,” she countered. 

Jamie’s eyes widened and he felt his brain kick into overdrive. “Do you mean she might be dangerous?”

“No,” Claire said with a shake of her head, still leaving her face pressed into his hand, “I know she’s not. But I’m coming.” 

His stubborn lass. 

Jamie brought his other hand up to frame her face, fixing her with his best admonishing stare. 

“I said no, mo Sorcha. Ye’re stayin’ here.” 

He saw the spark of resistance flare in her eyes before she made the move. Pulling away from him, Claire stood abruptly to her feet. Weak as she was, she swayed for a second, thrusting out a hand to grab hold of the top of the couch and steady herself. Jamie popped up beside her, getting ready to reach out to grab hold of her waist, but she took a hasty step back. 

“I’m going,” she insisted. 

Jamie was left trailing after her as she began to walk stubbornly toward the door (her weakness only betrayed by the way her body shook with tiny tremors). She grabbed the bolt and slid it free with a clang before throwing open the door and walking outside. 

“Claire!” Jamie called, running out after her, barely snagging the car keys and his wallet from the table before he did, “wait!”

She whirled around— the most energetic thing she’d done in a long while, it hurt him to recognize— and placed her hands on her hips. As she did though, her eyes grew wide as if she was suddenly feeling dizzy, and her hand shot out instead to brace against her knee. 

Getting hold of herself, she straightened once again. “Like I said, I’m coming with you. Now, should I do it myself or are you going to help me?” 

Knowing he’d lost the battle and terrified that he’d be forced to watch her collapse as she stubbornly walked to the car if he refused, Jamie caught up to her. 

Gently taking her by the arm, he said quietly, “alright, a leannan, my stubborn lass, you win.”

***

Claire had laid her head down on his lap the moment they were both seated in the car. She spent the majority of the ride to Inverness slipping in and out of consciousness while Jamie worried over her. He prayed under his breath that God would send them answers in the form of this witch. She’d provided him with revelations once before, so Jamie could only dare to hope she’d have a solution just waiting for them. 

As he pulled into the public lot nearest the bookstore, he found himself daunted by the distance Claire would be forced to walk. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed that they weren’t moving anymore, and her breathing was shallow as she drifted in that odd state of half-consciousness. 

“Claire,” he said gently, his voice catching in his throat, “we’re here, a nighean.”

She raised her head, curls falling back behind her, and then dragged her body upright. She rubbed again at glassy eyes, trying to find the necessary strength. 

“Take yer time,” he said softly. 

When her hand fell away and her eyes connected with his, the desperate look inside of them sent him crumbling to pieces. 

“Do you really think she’ll know what’s happening?” she asked in a tiny voice. 

The air in his lungs was expelled with a whoosh. She wasn’t asking him that, not really. She knew he would have no idea— he’d only just learned about the existence of witches mere minutes ago. No, she was asking him to tell her everything would be okay. And that much he could do. 

“Aye, a nighean. I pray that she can gi’ us somethin’. It’ll be alright.”

She gave a shaky nod, and Jamie took that as her being ready. He went around to her side to take her hand and pull her out of the car. She got out easily enough, but once she was standing outside, she fell against Jamie’s chest. He quickly encircled her in his arms, holding on tight to keep her upright. 

“Woah,” he murmured, “take a second. Ye’re okay.” 

The words felt weak even in his own mouth. 

She took his advice, leaning against him for a drawn out moment before she raised her head just enough to say. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Of all the tortures Jamie’s brain had conjured in his life— speculations about how it might be to die by fire versus drowning or other such morbid games— the torture of the next few minutes of watching his very ill faerie struggle to walk down the street topped any agony he’d considered before (save maybe the time when he’d left her at the stones and thought he’d be facing a life without her). 

He kept one arm wrapped tightly around her waist the whole time. The weight of her leaning against him was obvious, and he worked to support her as much as possible. As she struggled to put one foot in front of the other, drained as she was, Jamie cursed himself for giving in so easily and allowing her to come along. 

But she pushed on, his stubborn lass. After a couple slow and shaky blocks, they arrived at the bookstore. There was only time for a single exchange of hopeful looks before Claire stepped away and took his hand instead. 

He pushed open the door with a jingle. 

*

Just like the last time, they were greeted by the air of other-worldliness. Knowing as he now did that Geillis was, in fact, partial to things not of this world, the odd atmosphere made more sense. It took a moment for Jamie’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and an even longer while for the goosebumps on his arms to ease. 

Claire must have sensed Geillis’ presence before Jamie did because there was a squeeze to his hand the second before a red head popped out from between two shelves in the back. 

“Ooh, the lovers, back again. Did ye read my wee notes, fox cub?” Geillis cooed. 

She emerged from between the shelves holding two old books to her chest, looking quite excited. 

“Yes, they were verra… informative. I thank ye for it. That’s actually why we’re here…”

Jamie was about to launch into his plea for help when Geillis suddenly stopped dead in her tracks a few feet before reaching them. Her eyes went wide as she looked at Claire, a frown slowly forming between her brows and on those cherry colored lips. 

“I see…” she said softly, “something is wrong wi’ yer fair one, aye?” 

Sensing something— maybe it was a laxness in her fingers or maybe it was just his intuition— Jamie glanced down at Claire just in time to see her face freeze and eyes go distant. He let go of her hand and whirled around to catch her just before she collapsed. Both of his arms went around her tightly and pulled her to him as her knees buckled. 

Looking down at her pale, scrunched features, Jamie was relieved to see that she wasn’t unconscious, but she certainly wasn’t doing well. Her eyes were glassy as she blinked hard, trying to keep herself aware. 

He looked up from his suffering love to give Geillis a pleading look. 

“We need yer help,” his voice broke on the word help. 

Geillis looked somber, studying him and the faerie in his arms. Then, she gave a nod. 

“Bring her back, and then tell me everything.” 

*

“Back” apparently was referring to a back room. Geillis had led them to the back of the bookstore as Jamie all but carried Claire, and then she pulled back a curtain to gesture them into another room. 

With Claire tucked tightly into his side, Jamie ducked through the doorway. 

On the other side was a whole second bookstore with the same crowded shelves and haphazard organization. Only this side also had shelves of all kinds of paraphernalia— vials of colorful liquids, bowls containing small animal bones, and all types of odd trinkets. Jamie tried to take everything in, but his mind was so fixated on Claire that he had trouble taking stock of all the things Geillis had in her secret stock. 

His survey was interrupted as Geillis gestured them toward a window on the far right. There was a bench seat built into the window, and Jamie brought Claire over to it and sat her down before joining her on the smooth, wooden surface. Geillis appeared a second later with a chair, setting it up in front of them before settling in and regarding him with raised brows. 

Claire was leaning against his side, quiet as a mouse and their fingers entangled where they rested together on Jamie’s thigh. Her head tilted down slowly to rest on his shoulder— too tired even to feign strength. 

Geillis looked at them for a long moment before saying, “tell me everything.” 

So Jamie explained. How he found her on the hill. Her story of wandering on the moors when she fell through the stones. How he’d taken her into his home before reading the book and trying to take her back. Her choice to stay. And finally, her deteriorating condition— the exhaustion that rendered her drained and lifeless. 

In the middle of his explanation, Claire had drifted down to lay her head in Jamie’s lap and curl her feet on the bench. It had made the lump in his throat grow, nearly choking off his words, but he’d pressed on to finish his story, knowing how important it was to get answers. 

Once he’d finally closed his mouth, Geillis gave a thoughtful hum, looking down at the faerie in his lap with a worried expression that was almost pitying. 

“I could tell the moment she walked in that somethin’ was wrong,” she said softly. 

“Anyone wi’ two eyes could see that, she can barely stand on her own two feet!” Jamie snapped. He regretted it instantly. Geillis was their greatest hope and her comment didn’t warrant that response, he was just so worried that he was strung nearly to breaking. 

He started to apologize when she cut him off. “Nae, I meant her aura is wrong. Worse than wrong it’s… barely there.” 

Jamie couldn’t help but ask, “that’s how ye kent she was a faerie the first time, aye?” 

Geillis nodded. She was quiet for another gut-wrenching moment, looking down at Claire. The lass in his lap was unconscious, and Geillis seemed to be longing to talk to her instead of him. Or maybe she was just studying her.  

“Do ye ken what’s wrong then?” Jamie couldn’t help but ask, “please? Any ideas at all. I—” he started to try to express how terrified he was, how he couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her, but the words clogged in his throat. He looked down at her as hot tears pricked in his eyes and brushed those beautiful curls back in a way that was probably more soothing for him than it even was for her— out of it as she was. 

When he looked back to meet the startling green eyes, there was sympathy there. 

“I have a theory…” she said, but trailed off. 

Jamie felt his entire body lift. His back straightened as he eagerly asked, “tell me?” 

Her eyes flicked down again to his hands stroking Claire. “Ye willna like it.” 

The hope that had begun forming in his chest popped with suddenly ferocity. He felt sick to his stomach, worse than he ever had on a boat or plane in the worst of his motion sickness bouts. He wished he could just refuse to hear the bad news that was about to come, but he had to face it, for Claire’s sake. No matter what, he would keep fighting. 

“Tell me,” he said. This time it wasn’t a question. 

Geillis settled back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Ye said she came through the stones by accident, aye? I think…” for the first time ever, Geillis looked hesitant, “I dinna ken how else to say it…. I think she’s becomin’ human.” 

“What?!” Jamie burst out, loud enough to make Claire jerk in his lap. He quickly looked down, placing his hands on her again to settle her. She hadn’t fully woken, so his touch on her side and face was enough to soothe her back into tenuous sleep. He looked back up to Geillis and repeated, more quietly this time, “what?” 

She looked uncomfortable as she looked at Claire like the theory was forming in her head. “Well, not exactly becomin’ human. Not really. She’s still fae. It’s jes— ye ken she’s from another plane, aye? Well now she’s separated from her realm, and things are different here. She canna draw energy in the same way. Going through the stones— being here in this realm— she’s cut off, and she canna eat and drink like the rest of us to sustain herself, her body isna capable. She’s likely been drawing on what energy she can, but it isna the same as in her realm.” 

Jamie came back to himself to find he was clutching the end of Claire’s hair in a balled-up fist. He felt like Geillis’ explanation had torn him open and ripped him inside-out. 

“So...” he spoke through the bile rising in his throat, “she’s essentially starvin’ to death? From lack of energy?”

She nodded solemnly. Her fixed gaze on him was so intense that he had to look away. He tried to look down, but the sight of Claire’s pale face as she slept in his lap made his eyes burn with tears. 

“Do ye—” Jamie tried to ask, choking back tears, “what can I do?” 

Geillis looked sympathetic but made no move. 

“Take her back to the stones,” she said simply. 

Jamie shook his head violently, his very body tense, as if it could expel the idea. “No, no, she doesna want that. There has to be another way. She could eat— or—”

“That won’t help her, that’s not what she needs. I’m sorry, fox, I… I don’t know of anything else,” her voice was so low and excruciatingly sympathetic that Jamie wanted to scream. 

He found himself still shaking his head in denial. There was a sharp ache in his stomach, as if his heart had shoved its way down there. 

“I dinna think I can—” he choked as the first tears began to fall. Trying to find the barest hint of comfort, he stroked Claire’s hair again, his fingers brushing her face. 

“There’s no choice,” Geillis said finally, “she’ll die.” 

*

Jamie wanted to leave the bookstore. He almost wished that he had never come— only he could never wish to be ignorant about such a thing, even if it was tempting. He glanced down at Claire in his lap. 

She was unconscious, her face nearly ashen in the light from the window. There was no hint of her usual golden warmth— only pallid skin and dark circles under her eyes. He could feel her shallow breathing, 

He wanted to break down completely. The allure of giving into his grief was so strong, but she didn't deserve to languish in this place any longer. He would see her home. 

The polite thing would have been to thank Geillis for her help. Only his throat was so clogged that the words never would have come out. He couldn’t even spare a glance up at her. 

A silent tear dripped down his cheek as he reached a hand down to gently shake Claire’s cheek. 

“Mo ghraidh?” he choked. 

He was suddenly overcome by the acute desire— no need— for her to wake up. He had to see those golden eyes or he’d die. He couldn’t draw breath, he couldn’t—

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking dazedly up at him from where her head rested in his lap between his hands. He expected her to murmur out “what’s wrong?’ as she usually would have upon finding him in such a state of extreme distress. But she didn’t say a word. She was likely too tired to sense his emotions, too tired to even bring herself to confront the reality that was showing on his face. She just breathed in shakily. 

Jamie somehow found a strength inside himself that he didn’t know he possessed. He gathered his composure— for her sake. 

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his voice astoundingly even. 

He gathered Claire up in his arms with the utmost care, lifting her under back and knees until he was standing face to face with Geillis. 

“Take care of her, fox cub,” the witch said solemnly. 

Jamie swallowed hard. Unable to verbalize it out loud, he gave her a nod. 

A promise. 

He would send her back. He would do what needed to be done to save her. 

At that moment, Claire stirred in his arms. 

“We’re leaving?’ came her breathy question. 

“Yes, a leannan. We’re going home.”

To his surprise, her hand pushed against his chest— her touch weak and lacking any real force, but still insistent. 

“I don’t— they’ll—” she sounded distressed, which broke Jamie’s heart. But she was so incoherent he didn’t have any idea how to assuage her. 

“What is it, a nighean?” he asked, on the verge of tears. 

“Don’t want them to see,” she finally managed. 

That did him in. More tears leaked from his eyes to pour down his cheeks. He swallowed the sob in his throat.

She had always hated other people seeing her— accustomed as she was to being invisible to humans— and now she was embarrassed by the thought of Jamie carrying her through Inverness. 

“Dinna think about them,” Jamie answered, barely able to contain the heartache in his voice, “no one matters except you, mo ghraidh.” 

She still looked distressed. Her eyes were squeezed closed again, her brows furrowed, and she shook her head. 

“Jamie, I…” 

Her voice trailed off. Her head lolled on his shoulder, and he nearly broke down all over again. 

He turned his teary gaze to Geillis, giving her his best look of pleading. 

“Is there nothin’ ye can do tae ease her?” he asked brokenly. 

Geillis looked wrecked too, staring at Claire as if the sight of his wee faerie suffering was too terrible to look away from. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sad shake of her head, “there’s nothin’ I can do.” 

Jamie bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and then refocused on his love. 

“Damn the world,” he told her firmly, “we’re goin’ home.” 

***

IMPORTANT:

Hi, friends! I mentioned a few chapters ago that I will be going on hiatus for a short time. I've finished writing arc II now, and in the interest of leaving you all at a decent stopping point before I go on hiatus, I will be dropping a chapter a day. There are 3 more chapters after this one until arc II wraps up. BUT the story will be far from over, so I truly hope you stick around until I get back in a number of weeks. I love this story and these characters so much and I'm really excited for arc III.

With that being said... I will now be running off to hide in fear of my life. IknowIknowIknowI'msorry! SORRY!

Next

Can you write a fix just full of jolex fluff or jo and Luna fluff Because I really need something from Thursday episode?

clair de lune

wc: 2.2k

pairing: none. Jo & Luna mother-daughter relationship.

summary: sweet little moment between jo and luna

rating: general audiences.

category: fluff.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff. (also, lots of time skips, but that's intentional)

AN: ik you requested this after 17x16 anon, but i hope this still works now! this is easily the fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i hope you enjoy! also, sorry my fics have been so short lately...but what can you do. (contemplated posting this in a couple days, but ultimately didn't. don't start thinking i'll start posting regularly now though haha)

____

“Welcome home Luna,” she says to the quiet apartment, reveling in the way it felt like a home. She sits on the floor, rocking the car seat back and forth while her little girl sleeps, her fist curled into the blanket Link had gifted her a few months prior. She uses her finger to trace the outline of Luna’s nose, giggling silently when it scrunches up in her sleep.

She glances around the apartment, large and spacious in the matter of there was no furniture in it. New things would be delivered soon, but for now she had herself, her little girl, a mattress, and a Pack ‘N Play, and wouldn't wish for anything else.

Luna squirms a bit in her seat, and Jo thinks she’s going to wake up, when she really just circles her hand around Jo’s finger that had fallen close to her chest.

She feels her heart clench, immediately scrabbling at her phone to capture the moment, breathing a sigh of relief when the picture is taken and her baby hadn’t moved.

With that, another photo is added to the album she had labeled under Luna, and she laughs to herself at the absurd amount of pictures she already had of her daughter.

After a few minutes had gone, she tries to remove her finger to get a snack, but settles back down when Luna’s grip around her finger just tightens.

She sighs, but it’s more of a promise to the words that she says next.

“I’ll never leave you, I promise.”

_____

She was driving frantically through the streets of Seattle, rain beating down against her windshield as she made a turn. She bit her bottom lip anxiously, nibbling on it until she could taste the copper on her tongue.

Pulling into the parking garage she stops the car haphazardly into the nearest space, snatching her purse so quickly from the passenger seat it nearly whips her in the face.

While in the elevator she pushes the top floor button so many times it nearly breaks, tapping her foot against the cool marble tile. Normally, she would marvel at the way that the elevator had such flooring (three months of living there and she still wasn’t used to such luxury) but tonight it was the furthest thing from her mind.

When the doors finally slide open, she’s out of them so quickly she nearly trips over her own feet, brushing multiple strands of dark hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ears and out of her eyes. She swings the door of her home open, not even caring to notice the sound it made when it banged against the wall, too focused on the cries coming from the nursery.

Before she even reaches the room, the nanny comes out, carrying a crying Luna in her arms, trying to calm her down with gentle words and hushes.

“Oh thank god,” she says, exhaustion plain on her features. “I've been trying to get her to quiet down for over thirty minutes now. I’ve tried feeding her, changing her, rocking her, but nothing’s worked. I called you as soon as I knew you would be off work. I’m so sorry Jo, it’s just that—”

“—Hey, hey,” she says gently, taking her daughter from the girl. “It’s okay, I’ve got it from here. Thank you, take thirty from my wallet,” she starts rocking Luna in her arms, the screaming cries coming slowly to a stop once she comes to the realization that she was in her mother’s arms.

The nanny lets out a sigh, “How—? I mean, I’ve tried everything, but—” she stops, tucking the money into her back pocket as she watches Luna’s cries settle down to soft whimpers.

Jo smiles gently, locking eyes with the younger woman, “Sometimes she just needs her Mom.”

____

They were currently in the middle of a very intense game of peek-a-boo, Luna giggling and clapping her hands like crazy every time Jo would reveal herself behind her hands, each grin from the little one bringing one to Jo’s face as well. She could listen to the sound of her daughter’s laugh all day.

After one more boo, Luna laughs so much she falls back onto the couch, squirming and kicking her legs into the air, and Jo scoops her up, blowing kisses on her belly and ticking her little feet. “Mama’s so silly isn’t she?” she teases snuggling her nose with Luna’s.

“Mama, Mama!” she babbles, clapping her chubby palms against Jo’s face.

Jo freezes, not even noticing a small tear had escaped her eyes until she sees it fall on the tiny girl’s onesie. She smiles immediately, her cheeks hurting from how wide she was grinning.

“Yeah baby girl, I’m your Mama,” she hugs her daughter close to her chest, placing tiny kisses on the tuft of hair on her head, letting her happy tears fall freely, her heart so full she felt that it could burst.

The happiness she felt in that moment was greater than one she had ever felt before, and she knew it was a moment she would ever be able to forget.

It was official, she was a mom.

____

“Mommy, mommy!” Luna squeals, running and attaching herself to her mom’s legs the second she walks through the door, latching herself on so tightly Jo doubted anyone would be able to pull her off.

She crouches down and takes her girl in her arms, brushing back her hair from her face, “Hi Lunes,” she places a kiss on her forehead. “I missed you, you know that?”

“I missed you too, Mommy!” the three year old grins, grabbing her mom’s hand and dragging her through Meredith’s house, into the playroom that had somehow held up over years and generations of kids passing through.

She pulls up a plethora of drawings, shoving them into her mom’s hands. “Look Mommy, I made pictures,” she uses her finger to point at the drawing, “That’s you, that’s me, and that’s Chewy!” she exclaims, stopping on a figure which Jo could only assume was their pet goldfish.

“It looks amazing baby,” she places another peck on her daughter’s temple, taking in the scent of her shampoo. Three days without seeing her daughter was torture, but now that she was back home she felt like she could breathe again.

“Make one with me Mommy, then we can be matching,” Luna reasons, already pulling crayons out of the box and displaying them on the table.

Jo looks up to Meredith in the doorway, who only grins. “Go ahead, all she’s been talking about for the past three days is how much she missed you.”

The brunette’s expression relaxes, “Thanks again Mer, I hope she was okay,” she says, using her green crayon to draw the grass in her picture.

Meredith only scoffs, “Are you kidding? She was perfect. She’s my favorite goddaughter for a reason,” she says as she picks up some stray toys that were scattered across the room and tucks them into the chest.

“Were you good for Auntie Mer, Lunes?” Meredith asks the girl, who only nods excitedly.

“Yeah! I ate all my food and I go to sleep early,” she picks up a brown crayon and starts to draw hair on her picture, tongue poking out of her mouth as she focuses.

“You did!” Jo beams, voice cheery and happy when she sees that Meredith had no objections to Luna’s words. “I’m so proud of you baby.”

A little while later, both Wilson’s are done with their picture, and Luna pouts when they put the two next to each other. “Your’s is better,” she whines.

“What!” Jo gasps dramatically, taking Luna and placing her in her lap, wrapping her arms around her . “I think yours is so much better than mine Lunes.”

“Really?”

Jo ruffles her hair, “Oh yeah,” she picks up the drawing and holds it up as if showing it in the light added extra flair. “This one’s going up on the fridge.”

____

Shaking her daughter gently, she brushes her hair out of her eyes, stopping briefly when she feels Luna’s forehead. “Wake up sweetie, you have to get up and I need to take you to daycare.”

Luna groans, “Mommy, my head hurts.” she winces, putting her hand to her head and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, her bottom lip trembling.

Jo’s face immediately twists into a frown, placing her lips to Luna’s forehead, pulling away when she feels the heat practically radiating off of her.

As if she could read her thoughts, Luna immediately rips the comforter off of her. “It’s too hot Mommy.”

Jo hums, concern pooling in the bottom of the stomach; even though all her daughter most likely had was a common case of the flu, the doctor in her couldn’t help but imagine the worst scenarios.

When Luna lets out a hacking cough, she immediately lets the girl bury her head in her chest. “Can I stay with you today Mommy? I don’t feel very good.”

Jo nods, “Of course baby, of course. I’m just going to call work and then I'll take care of you okay?” When Luna agrees she untangles herself from the girl’s hold, quickly rushing back to her room and calling into work, telling them that she wouldn’t be able to make it in that day. She prepares some saltines and medicine, carrying them back to the room where Luna was clutching to her stuffed bunny, another violent cough ripping through her.

She places the crackers down on the bedside table, eventually coaxing Luna into taking the medicine, which she tries to spit out not even seconds after she takes a sip.

“Let’s go to my room, okay? That way you can watch some TV,” Jo says softly, lifting her up and into her arms when she nods, grabbing the crackers for later.

When Luna finally settles into her bed, she curls up to her mom the second she lays down. Jo puts on Disney Jr, and a Puppy Dog Pals re-run plays, lulling Luna into a temporary state of peace.

The rest of the day is filled with lots of soup, crackers, blankets, ice packs, Disney Jr, and so many tissues the wastebasket had started to spill over, but when Luna gets up the next day, completely fine, Jo’s more than relieved.

And when a few days later, Jo wakes up with the same symptoms Luna did a few days prior, the little girl tries to take care of her mother the same way she did her.

_____

Wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks, Jo does a final comb through of her hair, letting it fall into uneven waves. It was too early to cry, there would be plenty of time for that later. “Lunes, ready to go?” she yells, stepping out of the bathroom and sliding on her shoes.

“Yeah Mommy. We need to go now or we’re gonna be late!” Luna stomps into her room, arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip puckered out in an adorable little pout.

Where Luna got her sense of urgency from, she wasn’t sure.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jo laughs to herself, grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, taking Luna’s hand as they exit the house. “Wait, wait,” Jo says, stopping outside the door and rushing back inside to return with a blackboard saying ‘First Day of Kindergarten!’.

Luna sighs, but takes the board anyway and holds it up in front of their apartment door, smiling for the camera. When Jo had taken enough, she grabs Luna’s hand again, running to the car with her.

It only takes a few minutes before they arrive at the school, and both girls rush to the line for Mrs. Blake’s class, thankful that they hadn’t gone in yet. Luna makes conversation with the little girl in front of her, Kayla, and Jo talks to her mom, Christy, thankful that she wasn’t as stuck up as some of the other parent’s around them seemed. It was a private school, much different than the ones she had spent her childhood growing up in. She had promised herself ever since she was little that whatever children she had would have a different upbringing than her, and she took that to heart. Even if that meant paying for a ridiculously overpriced private school, with preppy uniforms, and parents that had jobs ranging from lawyers to actors.

When Mrs. Blacks comes out, she introduces herself and lets the parents say goodbye, she feels the pricks of tears in her eyes, trying to no avail to keep them from sliding down her cheeks.

She bends down to her daughter’s height, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting it rest on her rosy cheek. She sighs deeply, biting her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.

“You be good, okay Lunes?”

The little girl nods. “I will. Don’t be sad Mommy.”

Jo laughs, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, releasing her only to rest her forehead against hers. “I love you baby.” she says, and she knows she’ll have to let her daughter go soon, off to start a new adventure, a new chapter in her life that has really only just begun.

“I love you too Mommy.”

love, we shine like a falling star

Leon Kennedy, Claire Redfield It's slow, this particular kiss. Gentle and sweet, demanding in its own promises.

Rating: M --- The death he finds in his drinks and the life he seeks in her kisses, a sharp contrast, she soothes away his pain with just a touch. And she's angelical, downright divine, and he's just a man with way too many problems and too many vices and sometimes, well, sometimes he thinks these vices are getting the best of him. But isn't she a vice, as well, isn't she the love of his life, the one he wants for forever, the one, his one, his girl? How does he go on about that, how does he even trust reality when she makes it possible for him to feel out of this world? When she’s like this, on her knees, head moving back and forth, lips wrapped tightly around his cock. His eyes are closed, right hand on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. His mouth hangs open when she hollows her cheeks and hums in appreciation; she loves his taste, loves to have him this way. It’s a secret she’s shared not too long ago---that sucking his cock makes her wet, sends her spiraling out of control, she could get off on that action alone. He's a lucky man, no doubt about it, a lucky and foolish man, drunk in love, drunk in her. He's hers until the universe wipes him out of this god-forsaken place, he's hers afterwards too, in the emptiness that follows, he'll wait for her there when it's time, he swears he will. She makes him hunch forward and moan when she swallows him deeper, takes him until his cock hits the back of her throat, holds him there until she gags and her eyes water. His heart beats fast and his hands shake as she slowly pulls back, her lips dragging along his shaft, his cock covered in spit and precome, her lips pink and swollen when she lets him slip away with a pop. “Fuck," he lets out in a breath. "I'm not gonna last like that, sweetheart." She smirks, wraps her hand around him and starts stroking, baby blue eyes scanning every reaction on his face. "No?" she teases. "You're not gonna last if I keep sucking you like that?" "Claire..." he thrusts into her hands, instinct speaking louder here, but he's still got some semblance of self-restraint. "What?" she instigates him further, holds him tighter, rubs her thumb over the head of his cock. "What if I want you to come in my mouth?" He groans at that, the mental image  enough to make his cock twitch in anticipation. She knows exactly what she's doing, what she's saying, she knows it's one of his favorite things: to watch her swallow every drop he has to offer. And she always does such a good job, she's so sweet to him, so kind, takes everything---even after all this time, it means something, it has to. It means something that she welcomes him even after seeing the worst of him. That she touches his skin with an adoration he's certain he doesn't deserve. So he plays her game, reaches out and gently holds her chin up. "You'd just let me, wouldn't you?" he starts. "Would let me come down your throat like the good girl you are." She nods even though there's no need to. He smiles, grabs her by the arms and pulls her up to his lap so she's stradling him while he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes a moment to look at her, leans in and plants a small kiss in between the valley of her breasts, makes his way up until he reaches her neck, bites and sucks on the skin there, leaves a tiny, red mark, a small bruise that will be hidden by her hair but will be there nonetheless. His hands run up and down her sides, stop at her hips as he leans in to give her a kiss. It's slow, this particular kiss. Gentle and sweet, demanding in its own promises. She smiles in the middle of it, moans into his mouth, gives him a thrill when she gets lost in it, rolls her hips to get some relief from the ache between her legs. They're out of breath when they break apart. There's a slight flush on her face that makes him proud. He brings a hand up to her cheek, a gentle caress as he drags his thumb across her bottom lip. "I could use your pretty little mouth some more--" "Then do it," she says. "Do it, please," another roll of her hips, his cock trapped between their bodies,throbbing and hot. And she's a needy little thing, she is, when it comes to him at least. No other man has ever made her feel this way, no other man has made her crave for something as much as she craves for him, for any part of him, any form of comfort or touch. He shakes his head, smirking like a boy. Leaning in close, he buries his face on the crook of her neck, breathes in her scent, her perfume--jasmine with a hint of vanilla--only to then whisper in her ear, "But I want your cunt." There's a sharp intake of breath from her, as if his confession has traveled and trembled through her bones, but he's not the one in control here. No, he's a man with a stolen heart and an impossible need. Because holy hell, he needs her. Needs to taste her, to fuck her, to kiss her. He needs her smiles and minutes long kisses, needs her messy hair and grumpy face when it's too early in the morning, needs to hear her voice so he can be reminded that there's still good left in this world. He needs and she gives and he takes because she lets him. She's got him wrapped around her finger. She's so worked up and ready, she places her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself, reaches down with her right one, grabs his cock and gives it a light tug just to hear him gasp. She raises her hips slightly and guides him to her entrance, sinks down onto his length slowly, viciously so, until he's all the way in and she's looking down at him as if he's hung the stars in the sky himself. "Like this?", her tone is candid as she grinds against him, moans when she feels him so deep inside. He closes his eyes, his hands moving down to grab hold of her ass. "Yeah, fuck---" he breaks into a moan when she squeezes around him on purpose. Both  arms on his shoulder now, she holds on to him, works her hips. His mouth finds her breasts, he licks and sucks into one, watches her throw her head back, neck exposed, hair falling behind her like a curtain. It's gotten long, her hair, as long as it was when they first met and she's beautiful anyway but this is too much, too much for him to handle. So he trails a hand up her back, grabs a fistful of her hair, she looks down at him, mesmerized, and he starts thrusting into her, still softly sucking on her breast. She tries to keep up with him but he holds her in place, god, he's strong and handsome and he's got her, he's got her---"L-Leon," she chokes, fingers digging into his skin. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he says, releasing her breast. Her nipples are hard, her left one slightly darker and wet with his saliva. "How are you so gorgeous?" Because I'm made for you, I'm made for you---she thinks and she wants to say it out loud but his thrusts are hard and fast, his pace is overwhelming, she can only close her eyes and feel him, she's so wet and good and he slips in and out of her easily. "You're gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he sounds absolutely wrecked as he buries his cock deeper and then grinds up into her, heart beating so fast he's certain she can hear it. "Gonna come on my cock?" "Yes," she lets out in a rushed breath. "Yes, please, I'm so close, god---fuck," her voice falters when he lets go of her hair and brings his hand down to press his thumb on her clit, caressing it in circular motions, applying the pressure he knows she likes. She makes this keen sound that is half a moan and half a sob and he just wishes every single day could be like this. "You're the only thing that makes sense, sweetheart, the only fucking thing," he says, watching her intently, the expression on her face--eyes closed, mouth open, a few strands of hair sticking to her lips, fingernails sharp on his shoulders--and he feels himself close to his own release. "So soft and perfect--yeah, that's it, come on my cock, be my good girl--" and she does, she does, cries out loud and tightens around him as it hits her, she clings to him and he holds her steady, keeps her safe, helps her ride out her orgasm, his thrusts now a bit slower and deliberate. She comes back from it dazed, holds his face in her trembling hands and leans down until her forehead is pressed against his. "You...you too, I want you---" "Want my come in you? That what you want?" he asks, voice hoarse. She tries to answer him but all she manages is a small nod together with a moan. He increases the pace then, goes harder, stares right into her eyes, the slapping sound of skin against skin filling the room until he thrusts into her one final time and comes with a raspy groan, cock pulsing and twitching, spilling inside her. Breathless, he stares right into her eyes and then looks down at her lips, manages to give her a quick kiss before dragging his mouth down her neck, turning his face and resting his right cheek on her chest, his arms wrapped around her frame, holding her close. She's panting, trying to calm down, and she moves one of her hands up his neck, buries her fingers in his hair and lightly scratches his scalp. They stay like that for a moment, both of them unable to let go. He's going soft inside her and they're both so sensitive that any kind of movement proves to be too much. A comfortable silence sets in, and there's no need to break it. Eventually she pulls back a little, smiles at him and slides off of his lap to lie on the bed, on her back. She can feel her slick and his come slipping out of her, running down her thighs in an obscene display of affection. She closes her eyes for just a second and when she opens them again he's lying right next to her, smiling too, some strands of hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat on his skin. She fixes his hair for him and he catches her wrist mid-action, brings it close to his mouth and plants a small, quick kiss there on her pale skin. It spreads warmth throughout her body and she chuckles, prompting him to do the same and they lie there, content, in no hurry to be anywhere else. He counts the freckles across her nose in his head, adores every single of them, says, "I love you." It's a rare thing for him, for them, to say it out loud. They've both been robbed of so much sometimes it feels like tempting fate every time they utter such heavy words. "I love you, too,” she says. And he is, he truly is, a man of vices and sorrows and regrets and traumas. He's broken in too many places. Shattered. But he's also a man of his word and he means it with every cell in his body that, in this whole goddamn world, she is the only thing that makes sense.

Hi, love!! For your request game, I’d like to request Sofia by Claire O + Luz, Malarkey, or Liebgott (surprise me!) + Friends to lovers 🥰 the MC character’s name could be Sofia! Thank you!

Oh I am a sucker for all these boys but Malarkey had my heart on this one! Thank you for the request <3

Donald Malarkey folded the piece of paper for the thousandth time, and for the thousandth time slipped it back into the worn envelope that was beginning to come apart at the corners. He ran his fingers over the torn corners that were decorated with tiny hand-drawn daisies. The vision of them took him back to his first week in England. The daisies had been fresh, drawn in dark ink, when the letter had first arrived. It had been the first letter he received all those months ago and back then, he never would have guessed he would feel as confused as he did now.

Sofia was one of his oldest friends. He had watched her grow from a young girl to young woman and she had seen him stumble into manhood. She had written to him diligently since he enlisted. He wrote her back with equal devotion, taking great care to explain the details, politics, and frustrations he experienced. She validated him and reminded him to lead with grace. He always signed his letters with their inside joke: your best brother friend. That’s what she had referred to him ever since she had a crush on Mac Wilson in 9th grade and wanted it to be clear to everyone that Don was not her sweetheart.

A year into his time at Toccoa, Sofia had asked Don to stop referring to himself as her brother. Although confused, Donald obliged her request. He had to come up with new ways to sign his letters. He stuck to the innocent ‘friend’, ‘with love’, ‘your devoted friend’. But each time he signed the words seemed insufficient.

He returned to Oregon for Christmas where he and Sofia’s families celebrated together. Christmas day wrapped up with good food, handmade gifts, and parlor games. The sky was growing dark as Sofia’s parents insisted that they needed to get her exhausted siblings home and into bed.

“But-,” Sofia protested. She and Donald were in the middle of a cribbage game they weren’t even close to wrapping up.

“Oh, but I’m just heating up some milk!” Don’s mother said from the kitchen, “let Sofia stay at least! Donald can drive her home when they finish.”

Her parents were easily persuaded. How could they not be? The Malarkey family was an extension of theirs, and Don was nothing less than a cousin to their daughter.

Once they finished up their game, Sofia and Don bundled up and he drove her down the snow-packed road to her house.

“Don?” she asked.



“Yes?”

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” he said without a second thought. He pulled his truck into the driveway of her house.

“Well, just hear it out first,” she said warningly, “you may not be up for it.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” Don said reflexively.

She smiled softly, “really? Anything?”

Her tone was light, but Don considered her question seriously. He thought about it; he had so many lines he wouldn’t cross. But he realized if he needed to, he would cross them for her. There truly was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her happy, to keep her safe. She waited patiently for him to respond. Her eyes were dark in the unlit cab of the parked car. “Really,” Don said resolutely, “anything.” He was suddenly aware of the space between them. It would only take the slightest of motions, a few inches forward and an outstretched arm, to pull her against him.

She was motionless but Don could feel the energy grow heavy between them, she was waiting - challenging - him to make a move. Instead, Don cleared his throat, “so what is it?”

Her chin dropped slightly, “Um, it’s about a job. I can explain more tomorrow, I’ll give you a ring.” Don nodded. Sofia swung the truck door open and the winter chill blew in, pinking his cheeks before she slammed the door shut again and disappeared into the house.

The next day, she asked him to keep an eye out for secretarial positions with the army. Although Don wasn’t eager for her to be involved with the military he admired her desire to work and contribute to the cause. He agreed to keep her in mind when she drove him to the train station for a ride back to Toccoa. Before he boarded, Sofia took his hand in her mitted one and said, “keep me in mind, in other ways too.” She slipped a black and white photo of herself into his palm. Don had been so surprised he didn’t know what to think or say.

That was the last time he saw Sofia before shipping off to England. But he had kept her in mind; the vision of her waving goodbye on the platform, the memory of her hair blowing as they drove down dirt roads with the windows down, her squeal of excitement when she beat him in cribbage or gin.

She continued to write to him and he continued to struggle with how to orient himself to her.

The letter with the daisies had been the last he received; he had never responded. She had stopped writing.

Don pulled the letter out one more time and re-read the words he had memorized. She understood he saw her as a sister. Did he? But he never left her thoughts. She never left his. She knew their families were intertwined, and that could be a good thing. It was! Because she saw a future with him. In what capacity? And, she loved him.

It was that line that Don had no response to. He had no idea what to think, he had no sense of his own emotions. And now, it had been weeks, and she had responded to his silence with silence. He could feel her regret and embarrassment from across the Atlantic and those were the very last things he wanted her to feel.

He had tried time and time again to draft her a response but the words were lost on him. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t see her as a sister and more than a friend. She was too beautiful, too captivating for that. He wanted to tell her how he loved her laugh and watching her pick wild berries along the river in the summer. He wanted her to be his, and he wanted to tell her that, God, he thought he was in love with her.


But he couldn’t bring himself to write any of that down. Don ran his fingers over the worn envelope one more time, taking in the neat cursive letter of his name and address in Aldbourne. Finally, he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. He poised his pen and wrote:

You're more than my sister, more than my friend. I want to give us a try.

Songs About Me: Theories & Scones (CH8)

Claire, Geillis, and Joe theorize Claire's relationship with Jamie, and what’s missing. Just a quick chapter today, but it’s leading up the biggest one yet! 

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Claire’s bedroom, a cold morning in early December, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

Two months had passed since Claire and Jamie met at the 21st Amendment. In two months, their relationship went into hyperspeed. With every revelation of how they had just missed each other not just in Boston, but all over the world for decades now, they fell harder for each other. What started as one packed weekend with karaoke, a drunken dinner, a late night walk in the park, and visits to each other’s respective businesses, they found themselves starving for more connection. In the time they could get away from the demanding schedules of being small business owners, they were with each other. The pressure of dating someone new and needing to impress one another quickly gave way to the comfort of takeout meals, board games, and Jamie’s cooking at one of their townhouses. Jamie told her of his home in Scotland and his adventures bagging munros all through college, Claire recounted stories of traveling all over the world with her uncle, and they filled in the blanks of their lives together. Time together was easy, natural. The way a good relationship is supposed to feel. Every Saturday night since the one they’d met, they’d wander the few blocks over to the 21st Amendment to meet Geillis, Joe, Rupert, and Angus for karaoke. Only once did they miss their standing date, and only just: Claire was ready to open the door to the bar when Jamie pulled her back in a whirl and kissed her senseless for the next thirty minutes around the corner. There was only one thing missing from their relationship now… 

On a rare morning she wasn’t at the shop or with Jamie, Claire was engaging in a time-honored tradition with her two best friends. Joe and Geillis were Claire’s go-to advisers on everything in her life. They were the only two people in the world to tell her she should leave Frank and move to Boston. They were the two people to tell her she should start her greenhouse and plant shop. They were the two people who convinced her to continue writing music. They were her everything this morning, they were trying their best to convince her of what everyone but her seemed to see in her budding relationship with one James Fraser. Joe had worked a long shift at the hospital and was calling into the girl’s discussion from his car. Claire had been tossing and turning on her bed while Geillis laid with her back on the floor and legs up against the bed, snacking on scones she brought from the bakery down the block. English breakfast and catching up had been the group’s little routine since they were all in school in Oxford. No matter what the week held, they’d set aside an hour (that inevitably morphed into all morning and most of the afternoon) to sit around, relax, and eat. When Claire and Geillis moved to the states, they continued the tradition. When Joe moved to Boston to work at the hospital, their group was reunited and English breakfast Sundays felt right again. Even when one of them couldn’t make the physical date, they always had at least a few minutes to shove down some kind of British snack and catch up. The conversations ranged from old classmates to how the Americans ruin tea (Joe objected to this, but always agreed in the end), and today’s topic landed squarely on Claire’s relationship with Jamie.

“So things really are going well then?” Joe asked from the phone screen in Claire’s hand.

“For as quickly as things started, yes. Things are going more than well, I think,” Claire responded.

“It’s obvious the lad is crazy about ye -- his eyeballs may as weel be superglued to ye every time we go out. It’d be disgusting if it weren’t sweet how he hangs on yer every word,” Geillis offered.

“I think you mean his eyes are glued to Claire’s ass , friend,” Joe cut in, making the girls giggle.

“I cannae imagine how good that man is in bed,” Geillis sighed. Claire shifted to her stomach, facing the end of the bed when Geillis sat and propper her elbows up to cradle her chin. “Speaking of, it’s been over two months since ye two got together, and we’ve still yet to hear the juicy details!”  

The wheels in Claire’s head spun quickly to try to play off her increasing anxiety to answer. “Details about what?”

Geillis scoffed loudly and Joe laughed through the phone. “Oh come on, you know exactly what!” Joe teased.

“Ye cannae possibly tell me that a man like Jamie Fraser is not an absolute god. Jes’ look at him! And the way he looks at ye, like he wants to devour ye … after that night of dancing at the 21st a few weeks back, I can imagine what that big, strong body can do and I’m dying for the details!” Claire threw a pillow down at Geillis, laughing at her friend.

“Use your own imagination! I see you go home with Angus more nights than not!”

“And Angus is more than fine, but that’s no’ what we’re discussing here! Plus, Angus doesna have the same… everything Jamie has about him!”

“Come on Claire, spill! We’re dying over here and it’s been two whole months now!” Joe practically begged.

“Unless,” Geillis scooted up to Claire on the bed, sitting cross legged across from her and her garden green eyes boring into Claire, “they haven’t had sex yet. Mebbe there’s nothing to tell?” Geillis continued to search her friend’s reddening face.

“Alright, fine! Are you happy?” Claire threw her hands up in resignation. “It’s been weeks of dates and late nights and practically all our free time spent together, but still nothing!” It was no secret to her friends that Claire had enjoyed her fair share of men since they’d known her. Traveling the world with her uncle had provided her with a slew of fascinating new people: her first kiss was at age twelve in Cairo on an expeditionary dig, her first time having sex was in Thailand with a boy who’s father worked with her uncle, and the names of lovers and crushes littered her diaries in the years between. In college, the friends had embarked on a backpacking trip across Europe where all three had their share of fun, but none so much as Claire. For her, embracing her sexuality made her feel empowered, desirable, powerful. Once she met Frank, everything changed -- through constant beratement, displeasure at her body, and emotional abuse, she no longer felt that same sense of power she’d long found within herself. Geillis and Joe had tried to set her up again in Boston, but Claire resigned herself to her work. The hurt from Frank had made it too difficult to be in bed with anyone else. I’ll be ready again when the right person comes along, she’d told them.

“Ye mean to tell me ye haven’t shagged the brains out of that man?” Geillis asked, shocked. “If it were me, I would’ve had him under me ages ago!”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried,” Claire sighed. “Jamie’s the first person I’ve wanted to be with since Frank. I’ve tried to move things along when we’re together, but he always puts a stop to it and I honestly don’t know why.”

“Puts a stop to it, how?” Joe questioned. “Because god knows it isn’t that he doesn’t want you. Anyone with eyes can see how head over heels he is with you.”

“The only way I can describe it is that he almost… panics?” Claire shrugged. “I mean, I guess we haven’t had the “are we exclusive” conversation yet, and there’s this girl that always pops up on his phone.”

“Want me to beat her up for ye?” Geillis casually asked, stuffing her face with another scone.

“Christ, Geillis, I don’t even know that she’s a threat! It’s just a small thing I’ve noticed. It’s not like he’s hiding his phone or anything, so I’m sure it’s not a big deal, but…”

“But you are a little worried about it,” finished Joe.

“Fine. A little. Maybe that’s why he always shuts me down.”

“Here’s what ye do: ye just need to ask him about it. Point blank. There’s something he’s not telling ye, and it’s either that he’s got some girl on the hook, or he’s a virgin or something. There’s literally nae other reason to have ye by now,” Geillis offered.

“We’re supposed to meet up for dinner at his place tonight… I think you’re right. It’s time to figure out what’s going on.”

Safe Place Chapter 6

“Christopher, Jake, Claire!  The movie is starting in 5 minutes,” Emma yelled from the kitchen.  After dinner, the three children had gone to get their pajamas on while Emma cleaned up.  She had promised them earlier in the day that they could watch the newest release on the Disney+ app before going to bed.  

Just as she turned on the dishwasher, her phone rang.  A smile graced her face when she recognized Eddie’s ringtone.

“Hey, love.  How’s your shift going?” she said when she answered the call.

“It’s been okay.  We’ve had some crazy calls so far,” Eddie said with a sigh.  “How’s everything going there?”

“Good!  The kids are getting their pajamas on and then we’re going to watch that new movie they saw a preview for at Disneyland yesterday,” Emma replied as she moved to the room she shared with Eddie to change into her own pajamas.  They had decided to go ahead and move in together after he asked her to marry him.  Their wedding was set for the next month at Athena and Bobby’s house.

“I wish I was there with you guys,” Eddie groaned.  

“I wish you were here too,” Emma sighed.  “At least we’re both off tomorrow before I have to go back to work.”

“Thank God,” Eddie said.  “What time is your brother coming to pick up Jake and Claire?”

“He should be here around 9:00 in the morning, and Carla is coming to pick up Christopher at 9:30,” Emma said as she pulled her pajama top over her head.  The sound of giggles in the living room let her know that the kids were ready to begin the movie.  

“I forgot he wanted to spend the day with her tomorrow,” Eddie said quietly.

“Is that still okay?” Emma asked.  “I can call Carla if you’d rather him stay home.”

“He’d be so mad if we did that,” Eddie laughed.  “Plus, it will be nice to have some time alone.  We haven’t had the house to ourselves in weeks.”

“That will be nice,” Emma said dreamily.  “We have some more wedding planning to do too.”

“Let’s knock as much of it out tomorrow as we can,” Eddie said.  “Are you sure you don’t want to just go to the courthouse?”

“And have your mother and mine kill us both?  No, thank you,” Emma said as she walked down the hall to the living room.  

“I don’t blame you on that one,” Eddie said with a laugh.  Emma laughed along with him as she pulled up the Disney+ app on the television.  She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a loud roaring noise and then the unmistakable sound of an explosion that rattled the house.

“Emma!  What was that?” Eddie yelled through the phone, but got no response. 

Emma had fallen to her knees at the force of the blast and dropped the phone in the process.  Once the house stopped shaking, she grabbed the three children and ushered them quickly into the bathtub in the bathroom closest to them.  All three of them were terrified, and Emma paused a moment to calm them down.  

“You are safe,” she said.  “Stay here while I go check out what happened outside.  Do not leave this room!”

“No!  You can’t go by yourself!” Christopher yelled at her.  

“Christopher, I will be fine,” Emma said soothingly.  “I promise.”

Emma closed the bathroom door behind her and went to grab her gun, badge, and keys.  She grabbed her phone from the floor as she ran towards the front door.  

“Eddie?” she said into the phone.

“Oh thank god!” Eddie exclaimed.  “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know yet,” Emma said as she jogged outside.  When she turned around to face her old house, a fireball lit up the sky the size of a mountain.

“Eddie, we’re going to need you guys here ASAP,” Emma said as she moved closer to the fireball.  Less than half a mile from their house, she found a scene straight out of a movie.  Remnants of an airplane were strewn all over a section of a neighborhood where houses once stood.  The whole area was engulfed in flames.

“What happened?” Eddie asked.  Emma could hear the sirens from the firetruck in the background.

“A plane crashed,” Emma said.  “The fire is out of control!”

“You need to get away from there,” Eddie yelled at her.

“I know,” she replied as she turned to head back to the house.  “I’m going to get the kids and take them to Athena and Bobby’s.  This fire is huge and it’s going to get bigger with the amount of jet fuel leaking from this plane.”

“Be careful,” Eddie warned.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.  You need to be careful too.  Come home to me safe and sound,” she said before she hung up.  As she got closer to the house, she saw neighbors coming out to investigate.

“You all need to go somewhere safe until the fire department has this area secured,” Emma said as she jogged past them.  When she returned to the house, she ushered the kids out of the house and into her car just as Engine 118 went roaring past.  

“That’s dad!” Christopher yelled. 

“It sure is,” Emma said calmly.  “We’re going to go to Athena and Bobby’s house and wait until it’s safe to come back.”

“Is Eddie going to be okay?” Claire asked with concern from the backseat as Emma maneuvered the car out of the driveway.

“Yeah, baby.  He’s going to be fine.  He does this kind of thing all the time,” Emma said as she smiled at her niece in the rearview mirror.  

On the inside, Emma’s heart was beating faster than normal.  She knew this was not your typical fire and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.  A wave of nausea passed over her as she pulled to a stop in front of Athena and Bobby’s house.  She and the kids went to the door and were greeted by Athena and Maddie.  

“Hey kids!” Athena greeted them.  “Harry is outside on the patio getting games ready for you guys.”

The kids followed Christopher outside as Maddie engulfed Emma in a friendly hug.

“I’m so glad you guys are okay,” she said as she released Emma.  “Buck called when Eddie couldn’t get you on the phone.  I came over to Athena’s to see what we could do to help.”  

“Bobby said the fire was awfully close to you guys,” Athena said to her partner.  “I’m happy to see you were able to get the kids out of there before it got really bad.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Emma said.  “It was like watching a horror movie unfold before my eyes.”

“Bobby said the FFA is reporting that it was a commercial flight out of Houston that crashed,” Athena said solemnly.  Maddie shuddered while Emma quietly hung her head.

“Let’s just focus on keeping things light and positive for the kids,” Maddie said.  

“Great idea,” Athena said.  “I can make us some popcorn.”

“That would be great,” Emma said with a weak smile.  “I’m going to go to the bathroom for a minute.”

“Sure, take your time,” Athena replied.  “We’ll keep an eye on the kids.”

Emma quickly made her way to the bathroom and barely managed to make it to the toilet before she became sick.  Several moments later, she emerged from the bathroom to see Maddie waiting outside the door.  

“How far along are you?” Maddie asked as she handed Emma a wet paper towel.  Emma took it, and gulped loudly.

“Six weeks,” she whispered as she moved the wet paper towel across her face.  

“Does Eddie know?” Maddie asked quietly.

“No,” Emma sobbed.  “I was going to tell him tomorrow after the kids left.  I just found out the day before we went to Disneyland.”

“Oh, honey,” Maddie said as she wrapped Emma in a hug.  “Eddie is going to be thrilled about the baby.”

Emma nodded her head unable to speak at the moment.  

“It’s never bothered me before that he puts his life on the line every time he goes out to a fire,” Emma said.  “I get it because I have a dangerous job as well, but for some reason today, it scares me to death to think of him out there in danger.”

“That’s completely understandable.  You love him, and you just found out that you’re carrying his child,” Maddie said as she rubbed Emma’s back soothingly.  

“You’re right,” Emma said quietly.  “I wish I would have told him about the baby yesterday.”

“You’ll be able to tell him when he gets home,” Maddie said.  “I smell popcorn.  You want some?”

“That actually sounds good right now,” Emma laughed as they headed out to the patio to be with Athena and the kids.  Even as Emma smiled and tried to act like nothing was wrong in front of the kids, her stomach rolled and she fought off the feeling that something awful was going to happen.a

Just meanstiel things

Horror bingeathon nights

Meg and Dean share bubblegum all the time and just spit it straight into the other’s mouth. They also do this whenever one of them finds an incredibly weird/bad-tasting drink and instead of just giving the other the container, they just take a big swig and spit it directly into the other’s mouth. Yeah they nasty

On the contrary, whenever someone tells Mean they nasty, they immediately start acting like an old married couple calling each other “schnookums” and making kissing faces. Cas deals with it

Mg appreciates Cas’ blunt honesty. It’s a trait that’s slowly rubbing off on her, too, along with Dean

Meg once described Dean as “like if an alt-right southerner hate-fucked a real southerner and out popped a beanie baby that they then heavily traumatized.” As such, his nickname is “deanie baby.”

Meg makes them try crop tops. Bi panic ensues

Meg’s openly bi and polyamorous, so she really helps Dean to understand his own sexuality and the do’s/dont’s of polya

Dean and Cas are super fucking awkward after Cas is revived and god Meg just cannot stop trying to get those boys to make the fuck out already

Like. Seriously. I’m talkin’ mistletoes when it’s not December, I’m talkin’ forging valentine’s when it’s not February, I’m talkin’ Meg sending one of them a bouquet and signing it the other’s name. Sam’s in on it, but only because Meg doesn’t have the money for that type of shit. Before she brought Sam in, she’d just have Ruby mug a bitch

Destiel thinks Meg’s games are cruel, but as long as Destiel keeps coming up to each other just to ‘doublecheck’ that a new thing was Meg’s doing, they have a reason to talk about it, so Meg’s not letting it go because Dean’s a fucking idiot

Everyone knows Destiel’s real. The only ones that don’t know are Destiel. Cas thinks it’s unrequited, while Dean thinks he cannot possibly be into guys. Meg is a big reason why they figured their shit out, mainly because she walked up to them one day, kissed both, and said “we’re dating now” all matter of fact and both were too surprised to respond

Destiel first kissed when Meg dragged them to a bar and forced them on the dance floor. It was not a good kiss, or a long kiss, it kinda just happened because well their faces were so close to Meg’s and Meg was kissing them and it felt weird to not kiss the other. Destiel didn’t want to be rude y’know?

Meg was like fUCKING FINALLY and held their hands on the way to the bathroom so they could figure out how to have a drunken makeout session with three players

Mutually peer pressuring Cas into getting out of his comfort zone

Meg making Dean fully embrace his dorkiness

Dean: “hey meg can you,, teach me how to apply makeup” meg: “i’ve been waiting for this day all my life”

Cas just randomly giving them affirmations about themselves all the time. Like damn boy slow down or they’re going to fall in love w/ you (too late)

Meg and dean have so much pda. Just all the time. Please stop grinding in public you’re mentally scarring the children

Cas really likes holding their hands. Dean likes putting his arms around them. Meg likes hugging them. They’ve attempted to do all three at once multiple times. Bones are broken. They do not stop

Cas takes them to horror houses. First guy that jumped out, Meg decked em. Dean then kicked them. Mean then beat the shit out of this poor actor. Cas watched and did nothing. It has since become a tradition of theirs. They are banned from horror houses nationwide.

Cas and Dean are all sweet domestic bfs. Dean still sputters whenever Cas gives him a lil smooch or puts his hand on his back or matches his stride or puts his hand on his shoulder or they laugh together or when Cas smiles or laughs or breathes-

(and meanwhile Megan™ wakes up everyday and immediately chooses violence)

The biggest wedding. Giant as fuck. Their ceremony crossed multiple state lines

They have an awkward and long discussion about kids, Meg instantly outlining that just because her body is cis that does nOT mean she wants to deal with pregnancy and, quote, “dean your dick don’t work” (transgenderism). After this dramatic talk about their future, Meanstiel decides that Miracle is enough trouble as is, and they’re sure Claire and Jack will still need ‘em, so they’re great where they are now, child-free by choice.

Cas surprises Dean with comic con tickets. Dean makes them cosplay as Cyclops, Wolverine and Jean Grey.

Cas gets Meg really into podcasts

Cas acts as Meg and later Dean’s model for makeup and clothes

Cas is always showering them in gifts. Dean keeps sayin that he doesn’t have to, man, but he secretly really, really likes the look Cas gives Meg or him when they’re excitedly opening a new gift. Meg is always delighted at the presents, but feels just a tad, tiny bit bad that Cas never expects anything in return, so everytime Cas gets them something, Meg and Dean get him something, usually more flashy and more expensive. All three are now competing for best gift giver. It’s a vicious cycle

Meg crudely draws them nsfw art. Cas once tried to pin one on the fridge. So much screaming ensued

Dean and Cas usually fall asleep alone in their bed as Meg is a night owl, but always wake up with her in a dogpile that was definitely started by her

Meg once wore Cas’ suit. Dean was red for days

And if you’re wondering, Cas wore Meg’s clothes because she’d stolen his suit. Meg wears mostly leather and croptops. Dean was red for days

Meg is Dean’s “no personally I’m sexy as hell” to Dean’s “i wanna die lol.” Cas is their “what the fuck you’re both the most beautiful beings on this planet how could you, Dean, be so kept down by self doubt and depreciation and Meg, how could you let yourself be so wrapped up in yourself that you don’t see the pain around you? You’re better than this. Both of you. You’re so much better than what you think you are.” Meg and Dean instantly start crying

As Sam and his quad (eileen, rowena, gabriel) convert the bunker into a hunter center, the three eventually move out and conform to a somewhat normal life in the country, still wreaking havoc and kicking ass, but now they have their own little farm and flowerbeds and tree swing and are happy to be semi-retired from their previously batshit lifestyle. Of course, they take close cases and always help the hunters in need, but they spend most of their afternoons laying in the grass and cloudwatching and snuggling and picniccing and playing with Miracle and swimming in that nifty little lake by the forest’s entry. They’re sweet, and soft, and feel more human than ever. Most importantly, they’re so happy, with themselves and each other. Dean learns to appreciate the little things that make him great, Meg learns to deconstruct her ego and pay attention to what other people need, and Cas finally allows himself to feel all the things that humans feel, and to be honest about them without fear or doubt. They’re just… happy, y’know? They deserve that. They’re in love and they love it

Lover Chapter 7: “Afterglow”

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Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6

Summary: A chance meeting at a football game from Jamie's perspective, and what happens under the bleachers.

Notes: Thanks so much for reading and all your kind comments on the last chapter! I promise we're almost "Out of the Woods" as far as angst goes (for now).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter 7: Afterglow

Jamie’s heart was still aching a month after Claire left him. However, his pride kept him from reaching out to her. The truth is, he’d forgiven everything she’d done and everything she could do long before that day. For him, that was no choice. That was falling in love. He threw himself into his work on the farm and his family. Helping Jenny with meals, driving the children to various practices and scout meetings, helping Ian with the unending harvest September brought.

On this particular Friday evening, Jamie found himself at his nephew Ian’s homecoming game. He tried to pay attention to the game, but he really couldn’t wrap his head around the complexities of American football. It was so stop-and-go--what exactly was a ‘down’? It reminded him of battle maps of the Rising he’d seen in a history textbook when he was in high school in Scotland. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to Claire. As the cold September air wrapped around him, he felt it was fitting. His heart had been cold, frozen without Claire’s light and love for the past month. He could have buttoned his jacket, but what was the point of feeling warm?

He didn’t even realize it was half time, until he heard the marching band start playing.  Everything around him was bright and alive, he felt like an island, detached from his surroundings, drifting in the waves. In truth he’d been living like an island all month. He decided to get some snacks to distract himself. He hadn’t sat like this without a distraction all month. At least with Kitty’s soccer games he could focus on the game. Here, where the game was an enigma to him, he needed a task to deter his restless mind.

           “I’m going to go get something to eat, anyone want anything?” he asked his family.  A barrage of orders came at him from his nieces and nephews, and he recited them back--intentionally messing up their orders (much to their amusement) before correcting himself and making his way up the bleachers.

           It was on his way back down that he spotted an unmistakable mop of curly brown hair and almost dropped the snacks he just shelled out twelve American dollars for. Sassenach. His heartbeat immediately picked up to match the beat of the marching band. God, she was beautiful, but she looked so fragile there, cold and alone, head down, wearing a muted blue grey jacket that seemed to match the air around her. He suddenly realized how stupid he’d been all month to ignore her. He’d punished her with silence. How many times had he typed a text to her only to erase it without pressing send? How many times had he pulled up her contact but couldn’t press the call button? Now seeing her like this, she looked so utterly broken. It was excruciating to see her so low. Had his own pride allowed him to do this to her? I blew things out of proportion now you’re blue. He wanted to wrap her up until he saw that beautiful spark light up her face again. He just wanted to lift her up and not let her go. Before he knew it he was beside her, “Claire?”

           “Hi Jamie, fancy seeing you here!” He had no idea how to reply, it was as if he had gone mute. He just stared into those whiskey eyes that looked so full of sorrow. He almost started to reach out to her, forgetting the concessions he was holding. Luckily, she offered to help him carry them and before he knew it they were headed down the bleachers together.

           When she agreed to sit with him his heart was soaring. If simply sitting next to her was all he could have for the rest of his life, it would be enough. I don’t wanna lose this with you. They were actually able to talk and even flirt a bit as she tried to watch the game, but his eyes couldn’t leave her. He felt so comfortable with her, they just seemed to fit together effortlessly. She was so close he could smell her shampoo, something herbal that he couldn’t quite pin down. It wasn’t fruity or overpoweringly floral like some women he had met in his life--it suited her. Having her there, inches from her made him feel bold. He formulated a plan in his head to get her alone, he needed to be closer to her, but not with his entire family right there.

           He had ended his bold, flirtatious exchange by winking to make it abundantly clear what he was asking her. She had seemed responsive. Her face lit up like it had so many times over the summer they shared. He was starting to sweat despite the chill in the air pacing underneath the away team’s bleachers as he waited for her. How long should he wait? What if she wasn’t coming? What if she saw this opportunity to leave again? It’s all me, Claire, just don’t go, please, come to me mo nighean donn.

           After what seemed like an eternity, she came to him. He heard her feet soft on the gravel, approaching him in the dark. He saw his opportunity, and met her, taking her in his arms as soon as he could, ready to take her mouth as he had imagined so many times in the past month.  How many times had he imagined kissing her again? How many times had he tried to recreate their last night together—conjuring the thought of pinning her hands behind her back and making love to her in the soft light of their hotel bed.  He wished he had committed every moment to memory, not knowing it could have been their last. None of that mattered now, his Sassenach had returned to his arms--but just like that, she was gone again running away--but he wouldn’t let her go this time. Don’t walk away. He pulled her back and set her straight. Poor, beautiful, broken, Claire collapsed before him. He sat with her, trying to calm and comfort her, when she could speak, she confessed she was afraid.  

           “Claire, there now, what are you scared of?”

           “I don’t wanna--I don’t wanna do this to you” she sobbed, choking out the words.

           “Claire, what are you talking about?” he could see the pain on her face and he needed to explain, needed to say his piece. “I’m to blame Claire, I see your pain, I should’ve come after you, I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

           “He, it’s all me, in my head. I’m the one who burned us down. I just tried to leave you again, but it’s not what I meant. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if we can put this back together. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”

           “Is this it? Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us? Is that what you want?” He placed his thumb under her chin, lifting her head so their eyes could meet. She didn’t look away. “Claire, please just tell me what you want.” Tell me that I’m all you want.

           “I--I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but now--” she paused. Jamie could tell she was thinking, and let her mind work as he stared into her beautiful amber eyes. Claire could see her pain reflected in his own eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him a month ago in the car, she knew now if she had she would have seen it then too.  He was just as broken as she was. Why’d I have to break what I love so much? Her tears started flowing freely again. “Oh Jamie, I put you in jail for something you didn’t do. I’m sorry that I hurt you. How can you ever forgive me? After all I’ve done--how can we be just fine, how can we be together?”

           “I forgive you, I’ve forgiven you. I swear to it, I wanted to text you, to call you. I let my pride get in the way. I just need to know, Claire, I need to know where your heart’s at now. Tell me that you’re still mine. I need to hear you say it.”  

           Claire realized in that moment that she was fighting with true love. It was like boxing with no gloves--futile, hopeless and most of all painful. She couldn’t keep herself from him no matter how hard she tried.  I thought I had reason to attack, but no. What did she want? She wanted him. She wanted him to be the one by her side, the one she told when she finally got into a residency program. The one to celebrate life’s victories big and small. The one to be there as she put her life together. She knew she couldn’t put it back together without him. He had bared himself to her, and she knew he wasn’t going to let her get away with silence. It was her turn to share her feelings. “Jamie, I want to be with you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. It terrifies me, but I can’t help it. I’m drawn to you; I can’t explain it”

           Jamie’s hand was still on her face, thumb stroking her cheek, as she spoke, he took her hand in his other hand, entwining their fingers together. Something about this moment told him this love was worth the fight. “Aye, Sassenach, I feel it too. I don’t ken what it is, but I think we’re meant to honor it.” Claire nodded in agreement. They had been drawing in closer to one another as apologies and declarations were made in the dark. Each moment they shared under the bleachers, their faces inched closer together. “Claire, I would very much like to kiss you” he whispered, “May I?”

           “Yes” came her breathless reply.

           Instantly, their mouths were joined. Slowly, tentatively they reacquainted their lips before opening to each other fully. Tongues finding their way back between open lips, teeth finding their way to lower lips. All the pent-up passion of the last month culminated into one enduring kiss.

           Claire finally managed to pull away, realizing where they were. For a moment, they basked in the afterglow of their reunion, meeting again after a painful month of separation, each living a half life. “Jamie,” she panted, slightly out of breath, “take me home.”

           “As ye wish, Sassenach.” he replied, rising to help her to her feet and slipping his arm firmly around her and kissing the side of her head as he led her to the car.

End Notes: This chapter actually has two complete iterations. I orginally wrote it as "Me!" and it worked pretty well, I was actually pretty proud of myself for using such a catchy pop song for such an emotionally weighty chapter. However, as I started to write Chapter 8, I realized "Afterglow" didn't fit after they'd already hashed everything else out. The title really threw me, because we're "meeting in the Afterglow" in the future, but the lyrics hold the emotional weight. I think I'll post the "Me!" chapter as an outtake in case anyone wants to read it, since I am pretty proud of it. Stay tuned for that later.

Thanks again for reading!

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 10

A special thanks to @Statell for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Ten

The sun bounced its light off the surface of the water looking like a million diamonds sparkling all around them. Jamie watched Claire laughing at something Darius said and he almost pinched himself to verify this wasn’t a dream. He had not seen her this relaxed in quite some time and she looked so beautiful. Adso stretched out on her lap and she stroked him while her attention was on Darius. She turned to look at him suddenly with a smile that would melt a glacier.

“Happy birthday Jamie. I have a present for you, want to see it?”

“Nothing can top the day we’ve already had but yes please show me.”

She led him below deck and unlocked the door to the guest cabin pushing it open. Jamie’s face was unreadable as his gaze swept the room and stopped at the tubes of oil paint, the container of brushes, a pallet, turpentine, and empty canvases waiting to come alive with color. He pulled a brush and bounced it between his fingers and then smiled at her. His heart was beating rapidly as the paintings appeared to him, one after the other.

“Do you like it? Will you paint?”

“Come here Sassenach. I love it, yes I will paint,” he whispered.

Jamie kissed her softly and when she moved into him he could hear his heart ramming as his large warm hand slid down her body making his intentions known. The mind-bending heat came on them so fast their mission in life was suddenly to get the other naked. Jamie pulled where the sarong was tied and it dropped to the floor around her feet. She was naked except for her tiny thong panties.

“Ah, God, you’re a beauty Claire and I love you.”

One grab of the bed cover stripped the bed and Jamie pulled off his clothes while Claire reached for him. They were out of control and Jamie pulled away and looked into her eyes.

“This is the consummation of our marriage, Sassenach, I feel we should slow down and pay it the attention it deserves,” was panted out.

“Too late.” Claire pulled him on top of her and raised her knees on either side of him. “I’m with you until the wheels fall off sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the slow-burn lovemaking they had fantasized about but reinventing themselves, breaking all the rules, and finding the alternate route had become their forte. When they dropped back to earth, panting and clutching each other, it was just perfect.

Maia served a late lunch and then it was time for bikinis and jet skis. They played until exhausted, pulling themselves up on the lowered aft deck as the beautiful sunset filled the sky.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect day when the couples curled up on the deck couches and watched Casablanca. Jamie carried Claire to bed and spooned her into a deep sleep. He was restless and his hand itched to paint. Rather than wake his bride, he went below deck to find a suitable place to work and he set his watch for two hours to prevent painting all night. Just before dawn he pulled his wife to him and sighed his appreciation. Claire smiled to herself in the dark room, aware he had been painting all night and thrilled she could lead him back to the canvas, even if she slept alone occasionally.

In Washington, Hesser sat back in his chair and thought about Claire Beauchamp. He was impressed with what she had overcome in her short life to become a full professor at the University of Chicago. A virtual globe trotter because her appraisals were in such demand. He wondered what caused the birth of Casper and how she became so notorious for stealing art. Most likely Javier pulled her into the dark side and he would spend the rest of his life in prison. It wasn’t enough to save her, but he would be punished for what he did to her. Hesser would keep her leash short and execute Javier’s lover, Joseph, as a warning to stay in line. Jamie Fraser would be of no use to him. There was a kill on sight order on him so he couldn’t be used to pressure Claire. He just wanted this resolved and these loose ends cleaned up. It was taxing to even think about.

Claire let Jamie sleep and pulled Adso from under the covers while he stretched and yawned. Adso’s preference was to stay in bed if either of them was still in it but his purring right into Jamie’s ear would surely wake him up. She held him against her mouth and gave kisses all the way to the galley.

“Time to head out Claire,” Darius was smiling and looked sleepy. “Or, we can stay right here for as long as you want, the choice is yours.”

“I got rather excited about seeing Croatia and eating more lobster of course.”

“Where is your husband?” No response. “Your husband?” Nothing “Who is your husband, Claire?”

“Hmm?”

“Your husband.”

“My hus…” Claire’s eyes went from conversational to lovesick in seconds and she left the galley, drawn to him, awake or asleep, she wanted to cuddle with him.

“Nice going, Darius,” Maia giggled, “ my egg casserole is done and there’s no one to eat it now.”

“I can fix this sweet girl.” He bent over and hoisted her over his shoulder heading for the stairs to the upper deck. He kept climbing and smacked her ass when she tried to get down. At the highest deck, he set her down and smiled like a fox. When she turned to the stairs he ordered her to stay. Maia knew his voice intimately and could recognize happy, bored, stressed, aroused, and dangerous. She closed her eyes and felt the excitement of what was to come.

“Come here, Maia.”

“No.”

“I will come over there and get you.”

She turned around as he was advancing and she held her hand up, “I will jump overboard if you come any closer!”

Darius let his eyes wander up her body slowly and he noticed her nipples standing at attention and the flush to her face. It was like catching a wild cat that wanted to be caught sometimes but he would trick her. He held a quarter up and asked her to call it.

“Fine, then I’m jumping, heads.”

She watched the coin toss into the air and land on his arm. “Ha, you lose!”

Darius pulled his shirt off and the sun bounced off his toned bronze torso. Maia licked her lips open so she could breathe. He told her to call it.

“Heads again!”

“You lose girl, off with the shirt.”

“But I have nothing on under my shirt.”

“You should have thought about that when you got dressed this morning.”

Darius had a beautiful smile with bright white teeth and full lips that made her weak. “C’mon little one, off.”

Maia raised her chin in defiance and finally pulled her shirt off, naked to her shorts barely hanging on to her hips. She was breathing hard and called tails for the next toss. Darius barely touched his cut-offs and they fell to the ground around his feet. He was uninhibited by nature and Maia was stuck on looking at him letting him sneak forward and pull her to him.

“You have a choice, dear one, I can pull them off, or you can.” She felt his hands pull once on her shorts and they were off. He pulled her up on the handrail at the top of the stairs and sank to his knees using a slow tongue to pull her into orbit. He watched her head go back to lean against the boat and her breasts bounce as she got close.

He kissed her and carried her to a mattress dropping onto his back and pulling her on top of him. Darius moaned when she dropped her body onto him. He sat up and pulled her feet behind him pressing down on her knees to supply the needed friction. She was too good at this and he held her still while he regained control. He slipped out of her body.

“Put your legs over my shoulders.”

When she did he told her to bring it to him and pushed her pelvis up and to his mouth. Maia was losing her mind and her arms burned from holding her weight up. She was making strange noises that made Darius pull her higher and then over the top as she screamed his name. Her arms buckled and she came down on the mattress as her orgasm ripped through her. Darius pushed into her and hammered with his own need until he growled and held her against him.

“That’s a good girl,” he panted. “Now you can jump overboard.”

He kissed her face a dozen times and then ran a towel under the cold water tap behind the bar. She looked like a sated angel lying there with her eyes closed. When he ran the towel down her arms, chest, breasts, and stomach she moaned and smiled at him.

“Will you be flinging yourself into the ocean?”

“From way up here? Not a chance,” she giggled and reached for her clothes.

In Paris, Joseph sat on a park bench and watched Javier walk around the park while he talked on his phone. They had been on the surface too long, Joseph felt, and he flicked his eyes to Javier as a warning, it’s time to go. Javier walked back to Joseph growling into the phone to go two-million and make the deal by noon tomorrow or he was out.

“Two million Javier?”

He sat down heavily on the bench and exhaled nodding his head. It looked like he had aged a decade in the past week and it broke Joseph’s heart.

“Our girl needs a miracle so two million is a small price to pay.” He looked at Joseph and his eyes were full of love. “I have lived a full life, I want Bear to have that chance and it’s all I want. I’m ready to rest in the ground and wait for you Joseph.

Joseph pulled him up and walked him toward the path to the bunker hoping the package would be delivered at noon tomorrow.

Cruising back to Greece would be a memory Claire would not soon forget. She glanced at Adso sitting at the edge of the deck watching something in the water. When she looked up the water was boiling with jumping dolphins who were keeping up with the boat like it was a game. She grabbed a phone to the bridge and asked Darius to drop the speed so she could see the dolphins.

The yacht stopped moving and Darius came down to lower the hydraulic aft deck to the water level. The four of them sat with their lower legs in the water watching the playful dolphins. Several of them came close enough to touch their feet and babies would swim between their legs. When Adso sauntered out and jumped down on the platform everything changed. He sat watching like he was unimpressed and the dolphins gathered around the platform trying to see him. He walked forward and batted at the long noses making them lurch back and blast out of the water like it was the most fun thing to happen in a long time. They tried to lift their upper body out of the water to see him bringing Claire two inches from a large wild dolphin who was captivated by her cat. She didn’t dare move and scare them away but she got brave after a while and reached out to touch one of them. Jamie got to his feet which dipped the platform underwater and Adso ran into the boat like a shot, shaking his wet feet as he went.

He pulled Claire up and walked her inside because the dolphins were leaving and it was too dark to see anything. He looked at her face and chuckled at the wonder in her gaze.

“Well, my wife is in a dolphin stupor so we might have to hold dinner for a bit.”

When Santorini was in sight the next day, Jamie and Darius were chomping at the bit to go spearfishing. Once a mooring was purchased the women saw them run to the tender and wave goodbye.

Claire laughed and followed Maia outside with a pitcher of iced tea and a deck of cards. Darius had secured a commercial grade fishing pole to the boat and the baited hook drifted out to the current to spin and bounce while the girls played cards.

Claire looked up sharply at Maia, “what’s that sound? It’s like a huge zipper going up and down.”

“It’s a fish,” and then she yawned.

“It’s a what?”

Claire looked at the pole and the line was being dragged out to the open ocean at a rapid rate. She felt adrenalin course through her body while Maia walked over and waited for several minutes, then reached down and locked the reel causing the pole to jerk almost in half.

“What now?”

“We play another hand and then bring him in if we can. It’s a very big fish.”

Halfway through the hand, the pole almost jerked out of the holder and Maia ran to grab it but the pole slammed her against the railing and she couldn’t move.

“Oh my God Maia, let me help you!”

Claire held onto the pole and both women were straining to hold onto the fish. They fought with it for twenty minutes before Maia could feel a bit of slack and started reeling with all her might. The fish would let them reel it in for a few minutes and then suddenly dash back toward open water pulling the line with it. They were exhausted after an hour and both sat down on the deck, holding the pole, sweating through their light clothing. Maia smiled when she heard the tender coming.

“Reinforcement.”

Jamie came running when he saw Claire looking like she went three rounds with Mohammed Ali. When he was told there was a monster fish on the line he ran to get Darius.

Strong male hands took control of the pole and they took turns reeling the fish in. Darius had the timing down to snap the reel lock driving the hook deeper into the fish. Jamie had the strength to drag it closer to the boat. Claire brought cold beers out for everyone and was captivated by the muscles that bulged in Jamie’s arms and chest.

“It’s close Darius, how do we get it onto the boat?”

Darius laughed at the question and told him it would be several hours before they got it close enough to grab it.

“No, it’s close, I can feel it getting very close.”

When the monster fish came to the surface and saw the boat it dove deep and ran the line out to the original distance.

“My turn!” Darius sat down on the deck and pushed his feet against the rail. He let the fish fight until he got tired and then started reeling. He worked the pole, pulling it taught and lifting high overhead like he was dragging the fish toward him and reeling quickly to take up the new slack. Jamie watched and learned.

The girls brought dinner to the table and ended up setting the plates and food on the deck and they all sat cross-legged eating and encouraging whoever had the pole.

A fishing boat passed slowly coming in for the day and two crew members laughed and pointed to the line in the water giving them a thumbs-up as they motored by.

The sun was starting to go down and Jamie warned Darius the fish was close. Darius looked out at the water and seemed to freeze and blink his eyes. He squinted and stared at the water.

“Holy shit!” In the next instant, he was overboard swimming toward the fish, he yelled to Jamie to pull it to the surface and waited for the fish to come up. When he saw the sword break the surface he yelled holy shit again and swam hard toward the boat. He climbed up on the aft deck and dripped water running through the saloon to the forward deck getting a stern look from Maia.

“It’s a Swordfish for Christ’s sake! Oh my God, what is he doing close to the island? He should be long gone by now. Oh! Jamie, don’t let go.”

Claire wondered if she had ever eaten Swordfish, she didn’t think so. It wasn’t long before Jamie’s strength was too much for the fish and it was reeled close to the boat. One last push of fight or flight from the Swordfish and it was completely out of the water dancing on his tail with the long sword in the air. Jamie looked at the gorgeous fish shimmering in the moonlight, thrashing up out of the water and crashing back. He had never seen anything so beautiful come out of the water.

Darius grabbed the pole and walked it back to the aft deck by the side deck that ran along the side of the boat. He sat Jamie on the deck and told him to keep reeling. He was back in two minutes with orange gloves on a grappling hook that he carried out to the lowered back platform. When the fish came alongside the deck, Darius swung the grappling hook into its side and told Jamie to hold it. He jumped into the water and fought the wounded monster. Once he got a hold of the sword and the body Jamie lowered the deck under water so Darius just had to sit with the fish on his lap while Jamie lifted the deck up. Darius sent the fish’s soul to heaven and once dead he took a picture of it and then cut it into thick fillets.

He and Jamie worked quickly to cut and clean sections of the Swordfish put them into freezer bags and stow them in the chest freezer. Jamie was sitting on the deck with his feet in the water throwing the waste far from the boat.

“Get your foot out of the water before you get bit,” Darius warned. He flipped the underwater lights on and Jamie looked down at a dozen large sharks right under his foot. He jerked it out of the water and they wrapped it up for the night. They both carried their loves to bed and Jamie locked up and set the alarm. It was a very good day.

Claire stretched and gave kisses to Adso who purred contently next to her ear. She showered and dressed before finding Maia in the galley.

“Where are the guys this morning?”

“Darius had to clean the bottom of the boat and Jamie jumped in after him to help. You two don’t act like millionaires.”

“Ill-gotten gains, sweet pea.”

Claire looked down both sides of the boat from the foredeck and could not see the men in the water.

“Maia they aren’t in the water.”

“They are under the boat and use long tubes to breathe. Look harder for the two clear tubes just above water level.”

“No need, I’ll wait until they’re done, just looking for a morning hug.”

Claire felt her phone vibrate and opened her text messaging. She read Javier’s message and walked up the stairs to the bridge computer to read his email. She knew he was working tirelessly on a solution and she loved him for it, hoping for a breakthrough. She downloaded a video file, hovering over the video she clicked the mouse and waited for it to load into the player. She was looking out the bridge windows when she heard Frank's voice and a child crying. She turned her gaze to the video.

Maia heard something crash upstairs and called to Claire but got no answer. She bounced up the stairs and found Claire on her hands and knees retching on the floor. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tried to say “Jamie” but she couldn’t push the words out. Maia ran to the deck and pounded the side of the boat until they surfaced.

“Claire is in the bridge and something is very wrong Jamie.”

Enough said and he was taking the stairs two at a time.

“Sassenach! What’s happened?”

He pulled her to her feet but she couldn’t do more than snivel and shake. She pointed at the monitor and said watch. Jamie felt her pull away from him and head for the stairs she turned and put her hand up telling him to watch the video. She was crying and apologizing and then slammed her hand against her mouth and ran down the steps.

Jamie started the video and the images shot into his brain where they would torment him for the rest of his life. He had seen a lot of violence in prison, some that made him physically ill, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He turned it off and ran to find Claire wondering who he would strangle for sending this evil video.

Claire laid on their bed in the fetal position, clutching Adso and crying.

“Who sent you the video Sassenach?” said through his clenched teeth.

“Javier.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Frank!”

Jamie struggled to hold onto his composure. He wanted desperately to run to the deck and throw himself in the ocean until he felt normal again if that was even possible. He heard Claire crying and forced himself to sit down and take a deep breath. He put his hand on her thigh and promised to make everything alright. He told Claire that no one else should ever see such a thing and he was going up to the bridge to shut her email down.

“Claire, hold on for five minutes, I will close your email and clean up the bridge and be right back. Okay?”

When he saw her nod he ran upstairs and read Javier’s email message. “Darling Bear, First, load the VPN and the email security program attached to this email. The video and documents attached are not to be viewed by you, I forbid it. Forward the attached to the Washington Post and every major news outlet, the DC chief of police and the DC district attorney. Send the attached to Senator Frank Randall as well. Above all, do not view the video, just forward them. This will save you Bear.”

Christ Claire, did you not read Javier’s message? Jamie closed her email and locked the video so no one else could open it. He cleaned the floor of the bridge and went back to Claire.

“Sassenach, come here love.”

He laid against the headboard, held his arm out to her and she crawled into his strong embrace. Her crying subsided and she gripped him around his waist like a shield against the horror she witnessed.

“We will forget, eventually, your mind wants to protect you and what you saw will be forgotten. Now tell me what you intend to do with the video.”

“I will ruin Frank Randall so he goes to prison forever,” said through clenched teeth. “I don’t care about the blowback. He belongs in a dumpster, dead and rotting. I’m sending it everywhere Javier told me to.”

“So you read his email and played the video anyway?”

She dropped her head, “I wish I hadn’t but there is no turning back now.”

Jamie tried to get Claire to rest but she was hell-bent on following Javier’s instructions. Back on the bridge, she loaded all the email addresses and attached the video. Jamie watched her finger hover the Enter key and then she pushed it. Her eyes instantly snapped to his and she looked scared.

Jamie sat in the captain’s chair and pulled her into his lap where she laid against his chest with her head under his chin. He stroked her hair while they were silent, watching the water and boats below. They didn’t move or speak until the sun had set.

“It feels like we just lit the fuse on an explosion we know nothing about Sassenach.”

“I agree, but I trust Javier, implicitly. One thing is certain, Frank is no longer a candidate and I won’t be forced to marry him.”

Jamie felt their story was racing to an end and he didn’t know what to do, except run. He helped Claire downstairs and they sat at the table when Maia brought dinner from the galley. While they ate, Jamie gave a brief version of what had transpired and now felt they needed to put distance between them and Greece.

“I say we leave in the morning and head somewhere far away. Maybe Jamaica.”

Claire looked pale since she and Jamie returned from the bridge, now she stuttered out her concern.

“I need cat food, litter, and treats before we leave. It’s still early, can we tender to Santorini tonight and be ready to go in the morning?”

“I’ll go with Jamie and you two can rest. You don’t look so good Claire.” Darius looked concerned. “Let’s go, Jaime.”

Jamie and Darius made short work of their trip ashore and were on their way to the tender in thirty minutes. A junior CIA agent recognized Jamie and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. After they passed him he stayed in the shadows and watched them tender out to a huge yacht. He pulled his cell phone out with shaking hands and dialed the private number for Hesser who was throwing every object in his office against the wall in a rage over a video that was sent to him. Hesser could hardly speak through his panting and told the agent to give him the details and say nothing until he arrived. He pulled a notebook out of his breast pocket and wrote while the agent talked.

Frank Randall sat at his desk and stared at the monitor. He knew the video was a fake because he had no memory of such brutal behavior. His mind raced to find a solution and he tried to reach Hesser over and over again. He finally made his way to Hesser’s office and was jogging to the building when he saw the man walk out. Frank caught up to him and begged for his help. Hesser towered over him, looking down at the hysterical Senator with a menacing face.

“You’re finished in politics you pustular pimple on the ass of humanity. You better get your affairs in order before they come for you. Get the fuck out of my way.”

Frank argued that the tape was fake and someone was trying to ruin his campaign. Hesser pushed by him but before he reached his car Frank pulled his arm and drove his fist into his face. Hesser was shocked and staggered a bit looking down at Frank with bulging eyes. Then he dropped to the pavement, out cold.

Frank searched his pockets and pulled out the notebook he was always writing in or reading from. He pushed it into a pocket and ran for his car. He found a parking garage to hide in and read the notebook cover to cover. He giggled hysterically at the names and events he read, happy to have dirt on the powerful people in Washington who would have to help him. He flipped through to the last page and read the notes from the junior agent in Santorini. There was a description of the yacht and location of the mooring. He read the other notes on that page where Hesser had written video=Claire? Frank’s blood boiled and he headed to the airport.

The close circuit security cameras in the parking lot recorded a clear picture of Randall attacking Hesser. It would be added to the list of atrocities and they would nail his prison door shut with the evidence. Hesser didn’t know that Frank was already at cruising altitude on his way to Greece. He got lucky, had his passport, and found an open seat immediately.

While Jamie and Darius plotted a course to Jamaica Claire slipped away to soothe her jagged nerves in a hot bath. After drying her hair she slipped her new nightgown on, and it was a near duplicate of what she wore in Paris. Candles were not allowed on a boat but every lamp in their cabin had a dimmer switch and she turned them all way down and opened the big doors to the outside.

Jamie watched Claire lean against the door looking at the water. Her bare back was crisscrossed with tiny straps from her nightgown that stopped high-thigh to show most of her tanned shapely legs. He crossed to her quietly and kissed her shoulder feeling her press into his chest. When he asked her to wait for him to shower she looked up at him with wide eyes that he couldn’t read. Worry had settled into his stomach after they sent the video so he assumed that is what he saw.

After a calming shower, Jamie dried off and walked naked to his wife. He had pulled the bedding off the mattress and wrapped an arm around her to lead her to it. She giggled at him for running his hand along the satin garment whispering how soft it was. He started at her feet and talked about how beautiful Jamaica was while he rubbed and pulled moans out of his lover. His strong hands wrapped around her calves and massaged them to her knees for ten minutes. He was not in a hurry and noticed her smile when he described the crystal clear water around the island.

He moved to her side, slowly massaging her thin arms and hands explaining how long it would take to cross the ocean to Jamaica.

“Poor Darius will be stuck on the bridge for days, I don’t suppose we can take turns driving the boat.”

“He will set the autopilot once we’re at sea. The boat will warn him of other boats or objects under the water.” He turned her over and rubbed her back, then butt, and then down her legs.

Claire wanted to look at him and flipped onto her back, searching his eyes.

“I knew you before we met at Sotheby’s, not what you looked like but certainly as an artist. I broke many hearts appraising paintings that were fake. Every master painter has distinguishable strokes and I would know your work anywhere.”

Jamie blushed and looked at the skin he was working on. “I am a forger, not a master painter love.” He kissed her before she had time for rebuttal. She felt the kiss to her toes and wanted more but Jamie indulged himself in sliding his hand up and down the satin material getting closer to her breasts and core until she opened her mouth to breathe.

When his hand slid down her inner thigh she gasped and looked at him with a mixture of heat and pure love. Jamie twisted himself and settled between her legs where his soft, wet tongue made promises of the heights he would take her. He stopped before she lost her mind, wanting to love her slowly and let their passion build with simple strokes. He entered her, feasting on the story her eyes were telling, about love, hero-worship, and devotion. She looked at him like he was the king of men and he stopped moving so he could kiss her until he found her soul. She breathed into his mouth, “I love you so Jamie.”

When they cuddled to sleep Jamie hoped to find a jewelry store in Jamaica and a beautiful diamond befitting his extraordinary wife.