his hollowed cheeks just kill me now

Imagine being Ivar’s anchor after Sigurds dead

: Hello 😊 could I please request an ivar x reader story where she is like his anchor (as in she’s the only one who can get through to him when he’s in a rage or extremely upset etc). And one day someone mocks Ivar’s deceased mother and Reader has to calm him down? Thanks 😊
Summary: He just killed Sigurd, in front of a whole army and you weren’t close enough to stop him from doing so. So you must prevent him from doing other things, for his own sake and that of others.
Words: 2283

You felt the tensity hanging in the air, like it would fall down any minute and crush everybody underneath the heaviness of it while Sigurd snapped against his younger brother. He went far out of line this time and you saw Ivar his emotion turn more inwards with every word that boy said. Sigurd didn’t stopped provoking his brother and you where just to far away to get to Ivar in time. So it was like a little twig, cracking in two when Ivar reacted, pulling his axe and trowing it to his brother. You gasped for breath, waiting, looking how Sigurd got up, pulling that axe out before strumbling to his brother. But he fell down, Sigurd died and all eyes turned to Ivar. You looked to, in disbelief, to the boy that just killed his own brother. Somewhere you saw it coming, the relationship between Ivar and Sigurd was already tensed for as long as you could remember. But being witness of it … a whole heathen army was witness of it in fact and everybody just didn’t moved while Ubbe and Hvitserk crouched down aside their dead brother. You looked to Ivar, who sat straight up in his seat, shocked eyes about his own actions and looking down to his brothers. You felt the guilt dropping in, knowing that if you were there you could maybe have stopped him. Being the only anchor Ivat still had he listened to you and now you were just to far out of reach to stop this distaster. You eyes traveled to the others, Halfdan and Harald give each other such a look you didn’t trusted really and when you went looking for Björn he wasn’t even around. You saw hatered within some looks, but you saw also fear. After his speech earlier you thought a large part of this army would follow Ivar into battle but now … you weren’t quite sure of that. And when you looked back he was gone, he wasn’t sitting on his chair anymore and in a instinct you started to push yourself between the others.

It looked like hours before you where finally free from the army and runned over to his brothers. You startled from the blood, like you somewhere still hoped he would be alive in there. But Sigurd … Sigurd Snake in the Eye was dead and Ivar killed him. ‘Find him, bring him to reason.’ Ubbe said to you. It took you a moment, torn between supporting them over the loss of their brother or going after the one who killed him. But your loyalty always laid with Ivar, being a slafe from his mother you where closer to him than anybody ever was aside his mother. She freed you before she walked to her own dead and since then Ivar kept you always close. Being capabel of knowing his feelings maked you closer than you imagined it ever to be.

You ran trought the muddy paths of this Ecbert kingdom, looking for the only person that really mattered. Every second you where away from him was a second more for him to shut of his humanity. You saw him do some gruesome things in the time grewing up together, you know what it did to him. It all started with that boy he killed when he was little, giving a little of himself away to his anger was like feeding a monster … it only wanted more. You stopped at the gate, looking over the road uphill to the horizon where you just could see gallop his white horse and chariot away. He was running of? Your eyes started looking for a horse and as soon as you find one you climbed on it and drove it right after Ivar. You where already such a miserable rider, it was like the animal knew it and took it all on himself to follow the chariot. It took more than five minutes before you finally saw him, galloping right to … another kingdom. He wasn’t running, he just needed blow of some steam? ‘Ivar!’ You yelled, hands sloppy around the reins while the horse ran throught a small forest path. You saw him looking over his shoulder and for once you just hoped that he would listen to the first time you yelled but like always he didn’t. Your horse spooked, he stopped so fast that you screamed while you lost balance over his shoulder and felt on the ground. You gasped, trying to find some cordination while the world spinned around you, and not only that. You saw men showing up from out the bushes around you. Like four of them? You started panicking, looking for your horse that ran of in the direction Ivar was going. And when you looked, trying to find him while those men approaced you he was there, in the middle of the road, looking. It was like he was thinking of leaving you there, with those men but because he was so far away you couldn’t really see. ‘Ivar!’ You begged.
‘No cripple is gonna help you now.’ One of them grinned. You swallowed, crawling backwards until you hitted a tree and you had no where to go. He wouldn’t leave you here, he wouldn’t do that. But on the other hand, he just killed his brother so what were you worth to him after that? On of them took a knife and you closed your eyes. But the only thing you felt was something warm splashing against your cheek. You heared something heavy dropping to the ground, followed by a struggling. And when you opened your eyes your hands were covered under blood and Ivar was looking down to you from on his chariot.

You were covered in blood. You tried to wipe your hands off to your dress before you touched you own face. The men all layed dead before you, one lost his head, the others slaughtered in to pieces. And than you had Ivar who looked like something hollow. Two bleu eyes staring at you without nothing more. He just killed his brother and you where alone with him in a forest, how bad could this get further? ‘Ivar,’
‘What were you thinking?’ He asked you, furious. Good, he still had some emotions, not the good ones but it was better than nothing.
‘What was I thinking? You ran of to attack the first kingdom or village you encountered. On your own!’ You shouted in disbelief. You pushed yourself up and walk to the road, carefully looking to the bodies that laid spread on the ground.
‘It could got you killed Ivar!’ You yelled, realizing that him killing his brother could maybe be the last thing that you saw of him. He clenshed his teeth together, he took his reins again and gave you that hollow look again.
‘Home is that way.’ He pointed in the direction where his brothers were, planning on leaving you on you own without a horse.
‘No!’ You jumped on his chariot before he could take of.
‘Why are you doing this y/n.’ He shouted out. He turned his body in his seat, you grabbed the egde of the chariot in chase he was thinking of pushing you off.
‘Because I care, because I don’t want you to wander of to some village with innocent people you can slaughter.’
‘Nobody is innocent.’ He fired back.
‘I am. I hate it when you do this, building walls, hating everybody, I’,
‘It is better to hate than to love.’ He itterupted you. You hand flew out, smacked him right against his cheek. You pulled back, covering your mouth in disbelief of what you just did. He rolled his jaw and slowly looked back at you. And gone was that hollow emptyness in his eyes. You saw his anger flaming up like the fire before a sarcrifies. He never got you really scared before but he did now.
‘Don’t kill me.’ You begged as a reaction on the monster you saw in his eyes. And just as that you pushed him out of balance, something flashed through his eyes and you took advantage of it. ‘It isn’t your fault, nothing is. That is what your mother always told you. The gods aren’t punishing you, you are punishing them for making you this way, a cripple.’ Your voice wasn’t that strong as earlier, it was hardly a whisper.
‘I killed my brother y/n, why are you not running in the other direction?’ He hissed. The unsteadyness in his gaze grew and you slowly brought you hand up to touch him. But he refused, catching your wrist in his tied grip.
‘It wasn’t your fault. He never listened to you when you warned him so he got what he deserved.’
‘He was my brother!’ Ivar reacted. Your eyes filled with tears because his weren’t doing it.
‘I know. And I would ask the gods to turn back the time but they can’t so the only thing that I can do is make sure you don’t loose what is left of your humanity.’ You folded your hand over his that still holded your wrist. It didn’t hurt but is didn’t felt relaxing either. He lost a little of his grip so you could peel of the fingers around your wrist before you wrapped your arms around him. His head felt heavy against your shoulder. He just sat there, hands in his own lap while the embrace holded on for minutes. ‘Everybody in your situation would do the same. I don’t know what price you pay for this but I still believe that some part of you can be saved because impatient, anger and hate are also gifts from the gods, you only have to use them right.’ You whispered in his ear. He wrapped an arm around you waist and you knew you had cracked him right open, leaving a vunarable version of himself only for you to care about. ‘He loved you Ivar and you loved him. I’m sure Valhalla will great him with a big feast, just as they will do for you when your time comes and you tell them your tales of glorie. You will see Sigurd back,’ you felt silent, carefully cupping his face and looking down on him. His bleu eyes where just so alive but the pain and sadness he showed maked you a little hollow to. He regreted his choise, he regreted the picture of him killing his own brother. And it would haunt him the rest of his life.

The both of you stayed on that road the rest of the day until it was dark enough and most of the army would be to drunk or sleepy to notice Ivar coming back again. You where glad you convinsed him but as soon as you arrived and you saw Ubbe stand at the gate he tensed. It took him hardly a second to pull away all the feelings in his look back under that mask of him. And when he drove in he didn’t looked to his brother but his brother certainly looked at him. You only gave a reassuring not when Ubbe noticed the blood on your dress and the fact that Ivar even wasn’t speaking. Maybe it would be best for all of them to grief Sigurd in their own way, meaning you had to stay close to Ivar for the time being. He hardly said anything when he found himself some far of cotage to sleep. You tacked down his horse, give it a place to rest before you followed him in. But his silence kept going, he pulled himself on to the bed and tried to untied his legs what only caused him to react in anger on it. ‘Ivar,’ you rushed over, crouching down before him while you laid you hands over his.
‘I killed him.’ He whispered. You looked down, slowly untied the belt around his legs before you looked up again.
‘Yes.’ You nodded softly. Denying things wasn’t a option with Ivar, he was making it himself already hard enough. You could only maked it easier. So you started to take of his armor while he just gazed in front of him. ‘If you wanna raid tomorrow I can look for some men to accompany you.’ You suggested, not knowing if he still needed to blow of some steam.
‘No, we go home.’ He nodded for himself. You carefully pulled his armor of so he was in nothing more than just his shirt.  
‘We go home,’ you replied, laying your fingers under his chin so you could guide his gaze up. ‘we give your brother a proper farewell, you regain strenth and you conquere again. Because that is your destiny, Ivar the Boneless is made to conquer this world, despite what he has done on the way.’ You smiled encouraging. He laid his hand around you waist and pulled you softly down on his lap. You looked into his bleu eyes that still screamed a lot of things, but it was a magnificent set of eyes.
‘Stay. I need you.’ He confessed, pulling your face closer.
‘Always.’ You whispered before you felt the soft pressure of his lips against yours. You wrapped carefully an arm around his shoulder, opening your lips to his and so helped him forget what was consumed him all day. He was Ivar … Ivar The Boneless, he would survive, he always did.

I hope you liked it! I’m more of an emotional writer, can’t find my way in the smut sometimes (how do you guys do that) but hopefully this is as good as any other. <3

Outlander Noir: Part 5.

Buckle up kids, there’s a bumpy chapter ahead. Especially for @tara-58 …you beauty, I hope you enjoy the next part of Noir.

Find the rest: HERE.


Spanks @outlandishchridhe for editing this whilst you’re on your mini-break.

Time seemed to move disjointedly. Claire could barely recall how long she’d been sat, gagged and bound in the bath. The shower had been turned on and the water had long since run cold. Letting her head loll against the cold tile wall, she swam in and out of consciousness. The ropes, soaked through with the falling water, chafed at her ankles and wrists.

Blood circled the drain, the mesmerising whirl of diluted red making Claire nauseous. She closed her eyes.

Must not be sick,’ she thought, over and over, begging her stomach to cooperate.

Focusing her thoughts on Jamie, she prayed for the first time in a long while. There was still a chance, and she wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

It had to be him, she hoped.

If he didn’t find her before Black Jack returned, she certainly wouldn’t see another dawn.

A week.

The days ebbed by, one merging into the other.

There was still no sign of Claire.

Her apartment had been emptied and cleaned and put back up for rent. The letting agency had no forwarding information for the ‘previous tenants’.

Jamie had a number of cryptic notes. One had been left slipped into her old postbox, one neatly folded and placed, discreetly, under his apartment door, another Angus had come across in the file cabinet in Jamie’s office. All seemingly meaningless words, old Gaelic that he’d not heard since his mother and father were alive.

They *must* mean something, he cursed, downing another straight whisky. There was nowhere to turn, nobody he could ask. Even if there was such a person, how could he trust them?

No. He was alone, and he’d need to figure out the message, and fast. Every day that passed was another day Claire was at risk.

It was obvious from the tenor of the first note that she’d escaped her chains, for the moment. But how long would it be before Black Jack tracked her down? Not long, of that he was certain.

If he located her before Jamie did, he was certain he’d been writing up another homicide.

Jamie’s blood curdled and he buried those dark thoughts, deep, letting the alcohol haze blur his vision. Getting steaming drunk wouldn’t help his cause, but it was the only bandage for his seeping wounds.

The skies outside lit up his bedroom, coating the dusty furniture in an eerie yellow burst of light. On the dresser, the three notes he’d found so far glowed, the paper blazing orange.

The illumination of the paper struck him like the sheets of lightning flaring outside. The words weren’t meant as a note with sentences written. They were places. Memories of his early childhood hit him forcefully.

Broch Tuarach, his ancestral home.

Lallybroch, the auld house that stood, battered and broken, by time and disrepair.

Beauly, the Fraser homelands that his father had spoken so fondly of, all those wild adventures in the woods when he was just a boy.

Separately, of course, they meant nothing. But splice them and they made something altogether more significant.

The Broch at Lally was an old, rotten motel in the Beauly district, only a hairsbreadth from the centre of the city.

“Canny lass!” he whispered, sobering up as he dashed from the bedside chair to collect up the notes. Picking up the phone, he dialed the only person he could trust to impart such news.

“I ken where, Angus. Ready the team. I’ll be wi’ ye in an hour, max,” he barked, slamming down the receiver without waiting for a response. If he was right, there was no time to waste.

Going alone would have been a fool’s errand. Instead, he’d called in backup and had them line the streets around the suspected motel. The lights of the occupied rooms glowed in the dense black that coated the edges of the city.

Jamie and Angus had discussed the situation and decided that waiting until nightfall was their best option for attack. They would cover the area in cops, light up the residential estate with blue and red with an ambulance on stand by.

Neither of them knew what they’d find inside.

Tamas Baxter, the aging owner, had furnished Jamie with a key to the room, stating (in a most disinterested tone) that the gentlemen whom had procured it had given him fake names, but they’d paid –generously– in cash so he hadn’t found it in him to complain. He hadn’t noticed a woman, but then again, he hadn’t notice much at all.

Jamie smelt the stale smell of alcohol on his breath as he spoke. The man had probably been drunk for weeks.

Crickets chirped in the long grass surrounding the parking lot, their eerie songs piercing through the inky blackness.

“Do you think we should go in now, sir?” Angus asked, adjusting his tie in agitation as he spoke. If this succeeded, Jamie would definitely have him promoted.

“Are the team in place, Detective?” Jamie whispered back, straightening his spine as if preparing for battle.

“Yes, sir. Everyone is in position; ready to rock and roll…on your word.”

“Aye, then we’re ready. Maintain radio silence until I’ve ascertained the situation inside. I’ll go in alone, as discussed. It’s me he’s after, but I dinna think he’ll make a move. This has been blown out of the water, it’s high profile. He thrives on living in the shadows, ken?”

“Indeed, sir. I agree…but be careful, alright?” Angus raised his bushy brows at Jamie, nudging his arm before returning to his squad car.

The room to which the key belonged was dark; no lights lit the bedroom but the moment Jamie entered it was clear that it wasn’t unoccupied. Dark splatters covered the sheets.


Claire’s blood.

Jamie’s heart beat faster and his ears piqued at the sound of the running shower. Skirting around the crime scene as best he could, he laid his palm flat against the closed bathroom door.

Grief shot through him as he pushed the cheap plastic barrier open.

Trussed up and left to rot, Claire sat, tied hand and foot.

“Ifrinn!” he cursed, taking one large stride towards the bath. Reaching out, he ran his shaking hand along her bruised cheek. “Claire, mo nighean, ye have to wake up now for me, aye,” he coaxed, pulling the gag from her mouth.

Cold water hit him, the icy flow jolting him almost fully upright. He snapped the faucet off and turned to grab a towel, eager to warm Claire through. Only now did he notice the hollow blue hue that coloured her usually fresh skin. Her lips were almost purple.

“Just kill me already, get it over with…” came a faint whisper from behind him.

Rolling the thick, wooly towel through his fingers he turned back, swallowing audibly.

“I am’ne going to do that, Claire. It’s me, Jamie. I’m going to get you out of here.”

He could have sworn she slunk backwards, relief coursing through her at the sound of his voice.

“He’ll find us. It won’t matter where we go, or what we do, he’ll always find us.” She sighed, laying her head against Jamie’s shoulders as he released her bindings and pulled her from the tub.

Blood stained his white shirt, running in various damp patches through the flannel that covered her bare skin.

“Nah, he won’t. Half of the NYPD are outside waiting for us. That is’ne his style. By the time he’s concocted a plan to snare us, we’ll have vanished, Claire. Trust me, I will’ne let him take ye again.”

There were still many questions to answer, but with her in such a fragile state, now was not the time.

“My uncle is a doctor at the hospital. Collum is ready for ye. But afore I take ye, I want t’ ken where yer hurt. Can ye tell me?”

A shudder ran through her as he spoke.

“No hospitals, Jamie. No.” Her tongue peeked out, licking the dried blood that’d gathered along her chapped lips.

“Alright, Claire, no hospital. I’ll have him come to the safe house.” Steeling his nerves, he swallowed back the rage and anger that was pulsing through his veins, readying himself for his next question.

“Did he…” he began, his voice low and splintered as he spoke, “touch you, Claire? Did he *hurt* you?”


Jamie didn’t dare look down at her, lest her face give her away.

He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“Please, Jamie,” she begged, her hands tightening against the fabric of his shirt, “I don’t want to talk about it, don’t make me. Not now.”

“But soon. I ken, Claire, that it’s still raw. But Collum will need to know, aye?”

Despair filled him as he cautiously dressed her, trying to avoid the deep welts that covered her head to toe.

Red slashes littered her thighs. Jamie held a clean pair of women’s underwear between his fingers, knowing that there was no way for her to put them on without irritating the newly inflicted injuries.

“Jesus *fucking* Christ,” he murmured. Rubbing his chin with his open palm as he turned and threw the thin, lacy material at the bloodstained dresser.

I’m sorry, Jamie” she began, stopping as he turned back, sharply, giving her a dark look. She twitched, her leg jiggling as she tightened the silk dress around her chest.

“Don’t ye dare, Claire,” he spat, his anger flaring. “I dinna want to hear apologies from ye, do ye understand? This is no’ yer fault!”

A knock at the door broke their heated conversation, and Claire twisted, her back now facing the door as Angus popped his head around it.

“Sir, I presumed all was clear here, but we need to get a move on. Baxter is getting anxious and dawn is coming. Are you ready?”

Jamie nodded, running his hand through his slicked back hair, removing the gel from it as he attempted to calm himself. “Make sure the paramedics are ready, Angus. I’ll bring her out. Lights aimed at the path. I dinna want us to be out of sight for a moment, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal!” he parroted, returning to the rest of the team.

The rest of the operation ran smoothly. Jamie carried Claire, her face buried against his neck to avoid making eye contact with *anyone*, from the soiled motel room to the private, unmarked car he had ready.

She slept for the entire car ride, her left eye almost fully swollen shut. The cool water from the shower had certainly been keeping her wounds from becoming inflamed. One consolation, though, was that she’d finally begun to return to a normal colour.

Jamie had the heat turned up for the whole hour they were in the car.

Collum was waiting outside the safe house as they pulled up, medical bag in hand, stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.

With Claire wrapped securely against his chest, he greeted his uncle with grim cordiality.

“Thank ye for doing this, Collum. There is’ne anyone else I can trust. Naybody that I wouldna assume to sell us out for the right price, at any rate.”

“Dinna fash, Jamie lad. Let’s just get her inside, aye?”

Collum’s thick Scots brogue soothed Jamie, and his shoulders slumped as he followed his uncle into the property.

Claire gripped her stomach as Dr. Mackenzie inspected every inch of her. He was soft, his hands warm and gentle as he prodded and turned her as he needed.

“You’ll need some stitches, Claire. Ye will need a general anaesthetic for one, so I’ll give you some pain relief, and come back in a few days to do it.”

She knew where he was going and pursed her lips to stem the tears as her heart thumped sporadically against her splintered ribs.

“Will you tell him, or shall I?” Collum asked, pulling the blanket back over her, covering the welts and bruises that littered her arms, torso and legs. Not one inch of her lay unmarked by injury.

“Me, I’ll do it,” she concluded, taking in one, long, painful breath.

“How many times did it happen, Claire? To have sustained such a wound, it must…” he began, stopping when he saw the pain flash across her face.

She knew what had been done to her, she didn’t need him to reiterate it.

“Too many times to count, doctor.” She sounded bone tired, hope draining from her at the prospect of having to tall *anyone* about her past, let alone Jamie.

“He’ll see ye safe, Claire. I’ve nay doubt about that. Jamie Fraser is a bold, brave man. My sister raised him well, so dinna be worrit about telling him. He loves ye, that’s as plain to see as the sun in the sky, and I think you love him too.”

Pacing the floor, Jamie waited in the sitting room as Collum examined Claire, the small clock on the wall ticking the minutes away. She had wanted him in there with her, but he needed some time to process the events of the evening. His ire at the situation wasn’t directed at her anymore, but the way he was feeling, he wasn’t convinced that he’d be able to keep his cool.

He knew she’d been assaulted, and hearing the minute details, along with the breakdown of the injuries she’d sustained, was something he wanted to be mentally prepared for.

“Laddie,” Collum’s soft voice broke his spiraling thoughts. He was a coward, and he knew it. “Claire’s asking for ye. Will ye come?”

“Aye, aye. I will. H-how is she?” he broached, pushing down the self-loathing that was building beneath the surface.

Collum’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak.

Jamie understood.

Collum had rested Claire on her side, facing them. She had her eyes closed, but the tense set of her body gave her away. She was petrified.

“I’ll leave you two for a moment. But just a word of warning, Jamie. Physically she’s in bad shape, but mentally, she’s worse. Aye? I think ye ken this already, but she’s had to be strong for so long. I’d be prepared for either a complete mental shutdown, or, at the very least, a breakdown. Probably something for a psyche to evaluate properly though.”

“Thank ye, uncle,” Jamie returned, shaking Collum’s hand as he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“I used to have this secret place inside of me,” Claire began, her words quiet, muffled as she half buried her face in the buffed pillows. The fabric absorbed her tears as she sobbed, silently, “somewhere I could disappear to when I was forced to succumb to him.”

Jamie’s hand lingered on the closed door, his knuckles twitching with rage as he listened but did not turn.

“But then there was you,” she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat, her back aching as if he were there, thrashing her still, “once he knew that I…” she stopped, grief pummeling her, “once he –guessed– my feelings for you, there was no hiding anymore. He made damn sure of that.”

“Could he have gotten you wi’ child, Claire?” His voice shook as he spoke.

Claire stifled a sob, her hands automatically wrapping around her inflamed tummy.

Jamie regretted his question instantly. Seeing her this vulnerable sliced him open from head to toe; he couldn’t fathom it, nor could he tailor his behaviour, or his words, to suit. In all the time he’d known her, she’d been strong and confident. She’d walked tall, causing lesser men to shrivel and melt in her presence alone.

Now, having been freed from her ties to that madman, her world had been blown apart. Her confidence shattered; she’d been left, cold and alone, weak and deflated. A shadow of the woman she’d been moulded into.

He was by her side in an instant, pushing the stray curls away from her damp forehead.

“Ah Dhia, Claire. Forgive me, please. Shush now, aye? I didna mean it.”

“It’s alright,” she replied, her cheek warming under his palm as he soothed her, “there’s nothing to forgive, Jamie.”

“There is, mo nighean donn. No’ just then, but before, when I came to ye. I said some,” he paused, their argument hitting him squarely in the chest as he realised just what he’d left her to, “abhorrent things. So, aye, I must ask forgiveness for what I said. I was sore.”

“Forgiven, Jamie,” she sighed, sadly, a morose lilt colouring her tone.

“Ye dinna have to tell me about the assault, Claire, if you dinna wish. But I ken he did,” he whispered, his thumb stroking softly against her jaw. “That was what ye meant, aye? When ye told me you had a secret place?”

“Yes,” she muttered, immediately, and firmly. “I meant what I said when I told you about him before, Jamie. It wasn’t…’ she took a deep breath, her toes curling at the images that played before her eyes like a bad B-movie, “…normal.”

Jamie could feel her shudders beneath his fingers, sweat springing up along her cool skin as he face took on a faint green glow. She looked as if she were about to be sick.

Rushing for the wastepaper basket, Jamie hauled the small metal can from under the small desk, placing it by Claire’s head just in time for her to lose the contents of her stomach. Gently, he rubbed her back, waiting for her to come back to herself before taking the glass full of water Collum had left by her bedside and passing it to her.

“Drink, Claire, and dinna fash about it anymore. Just rest yerself. I’ll be right here.”

Unwilling to break his promise, Jamie sat as Claire slept, stroking the fine hairs that fell behind her ear in an attempt to stem the nightmares. She seemed at ease, at least for the most part. Occasionally her brow would scrunch, and she’d tense as if about to cry out, but as soon as he’d hushed her, his hands running rhythmically over as much of her as he could reach, she’d calm and relax.

She slept for two whole days, waking only to drink some water, and once to eat some crackers.

The bruising across her cheeks had begun to fade, the redness fading to a mere pink splodge. Externally, she was healing.

“Claire, lass, I have some news for ye,” Jamie teased, his tone light as he shook her lightly awake. “I’ve got permission to take ye away. My other uncle, Collum’s brother, is a Chief Inspector at The Met Police in Glasgow. He’s promised us safety in Scotland. Angus is getting our papers ready, and then I’ll get ye away.

Claire, still shrouded in sleep, pushed herself up as best she could and nodded. The taste of nearly three days sleep coated her mouth, the stale saliva clinging to the roof of her mouth.

“Where will we stay until then, Jamie. Here? Is it safe?”

Jamie leaned forward and kissed her forehead, “no, no’ here. I’ll take ye somewhere far from the city. We’re a wee bit too close here for me to feel truly at ease. But I couldna take ye far the other night, as *hurt* as ye were.”

Resting herself softly against the headboard, Claire sat herself up, her muscles twinging at the movement.

“When will we go?” She seemed wary, her posture closed as she crossed her arms and folded herself in.

“As soon as you’ve eaten a full meal, aye? I willna take ye on that kind of drive wi’out ye being strong enough to take it. Once we get moving,” he reached out and took her hand, uncrossing her arms to do so, “we canna stop, for anyone.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes gazing down at their joined fingers, “of course.”

“I will protect ye, Claire. To the last drop of my blood. I give ye my word.”

Bringing her hand up, he kissed the back reverently. “Now, how about some toast?”

Claire smiled and nodded, her eyes shining with moisture as her throat bobbed up and down. “I love you, Jamie. T-truly,” she murmured, squeezing his fingers as he dipped his head in a miniature gentlemanly bow and made his way towards the kitchen.

“Thank you for saving me, Jamie,” she breathed to the empty room, only the scent of him swirling around her, “I promise I won’t let you down. Not again.”

Buried Sorrows - Part 13

Summary:  This was my first request:  “Anonymous asked: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a supernatural fic which is like the vampire diaries in which reader meets Sam and falls in love with him but then develops feelings for Dean and then falls in love with Dean. You could make a series? Please? Thankyou.”  Hope you like it!  For the sake of the story, Dean didn’t go to Lisa or settle down with her and Ben at all.

Author’s Note: As promised, Part 8 is up tonight!  Part 9 tomorrow and Part 10 will be later this week :) Enjoy!

Words: 1966

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four Part Five  Part Six  Part Seven

Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven  Part Twelve

  “What do you mean?” I asked him, my voice cracking and desperation evident in my words.

  “No, Y/N.  We aren’t doing this.”  I could feel my heart falling and shattering within my chest as his words penetrated it. “He’s my brother and he loves you.  I can’t do this to him.”  I looked up at him, tears still trailing down my cheeks and mixing with the raindrops.  

  My eyes met his as I begged and pleaded with him silently to take his words back.  His expression gave nothing away.  His eyes seemed hollow and withdrawn and the smile that had brought me such happiness and frivolity was now replaced with a stern set line.  “You’re serious,” I observed, stating what was apparently already obvious.

  “I’d die for the kid,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowed. “I have.  I can’t take his girl.  It would kill him.”  

  “Are you sure?  Because from the discussion I just had with him, he couldn’t care less.”  My heartbreak was beginning to give way to anger as I slowly began to realize that I was going to be the only one of us fighting.  Dean said nothing, just remained silent as he stared at me.  “He already knows about us, Dean!  He told me he knew!  He wasn’t crushed, heartbroken or anything.  How can you be so eager to give up on this?”   I rose to my feet, shoving his hands away from my face.  Ignoring the pain searing through my thigh, I turned away from him, taking deep breaths as I took a step back.  

  “It’s only been a few weeks, Y/N,” he began.  His old cocky tone returning, full of arrogance and narcissism.  “Not really a relationship if you think about it.  Just an extended good time.”

  I turned back and glared at him, my eyes narrowed and my hands balling into fists.  “You can try your self assured destruction another time, Dean.  I know you cared.  I know it was more than that. If you’re giving up, that’s on you.”  I walked back towards the house, emanating anger and rage as I threw open the screen door and barreled into the kitchen where Bobby still stood.  

  “I take it that didn’t go well,” he said as he rested his hands on my shoulders and attempted to look into my eyes.  

  “I need to get out of here.”  He nodded as if that was exactly what he expected to come next.  Bobby walked over to the keyhook on the wall next to the back door and grabbed a simple silver key.  I held my hand out as he dropped the key into my palm.  “Bobby, what is this?”

  “Did you really think he’d let you just throw that car away? Leave it for some scumbag?”  My confused expression must have been answer enough.  “He picked the keys you threw out the window up before you guys even left town.  Called me to go pick it up the second you passed out.  He may be acting like a damn fool right now, but that boy loves you.”  I rolled my eyes in response.  

  “Bobby, I have to leave.  I can’t stay.  Not here.  Not with them.  Either of them.”  I began to ramble.  My words disjointed and nonsensical.  “I know, kid.  I know.  Just call in every now and then, huh?  Give an old man some peace of mind?”

  “Of course,” I said, stemming the flow of my tears long enough to give him a sad smile as I walked towards him.  He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in a big teddy bear hug.  “It’ll all work out.  You’ll see.”  He let go of me, returning to the dishes in his sink.  “Car’s parked at the end of the first row up front.”  I smiled sadly back at him as I ascended the steps, hoping that Sam would have vacated my room.  

  I must have run into some luck because when I opened the door, he wasn’t there.  I grabbed my duffel and threw what little clothes I had unpacked into it along with the toothbrush and toiletries from the bathroom.  Once I was sure that I had everything that I needed, I threw the bag over my shoulder and headed back downstairs.  I could hear muffled voices as I made my way through the hallway just outside of the kitchen.  

  “What are you thinking, boy?  You’re just going to let that girl leave because you’re too scared?  Too full of guilt? You idjit!” Bobby was yelling at who I could only assume was Dean.  I made my way past them trying to ignore the pleas tumbling out of Dean’s mouth. “Please Bobby,” I scrunched my eyes shut, attempting to block out their conversation.  “Don’t you yell at me now, too.  He loves her. And she loved him.  Probably still does.  I can’t come between that.”  I couldn’t stand to hear any more.  I pushed the front door open, intentionally slamming it behind me as I made a run for my car. I held the keys tightly in my hand as I pushed my fist against my thigh hoping to kill the pain spreading through it.  

  I unlocked the driver’s side door and sat down in the seat, quickly pulling the door closed behind me.  I took a deep breath, realizing that my tears had ebbed and that just maybe I was going to survive this.  I looked back at the house and saw Dean’s face, his hair still soaking wet, looking out at me from the front window.  He still had that same hollow look in his eyes as I turned the engine over and put the car into gear.  Sam stood in the window just next to his brother, starring at me, equally as disinterested.  

  Pulling out of the driveway, I sighed, attempting to release the tension that had built up inside of me.  With nowhere to really go, I drove without a destination.  My only purpose was to keep on driving and put as much distance between myself and the Winchesters as possible  

*   *   *

  Three Months Later

  I had been taking job after job.  Killing whatever monster I came across and saving as many people as I could without actually being forced to interact with too many of them.  Witches, demons, shifters, ghosts, even a tulpa. And slowly, I began to feel at ease again.  My heart didn’t lurch as violently as it had initially whenever Dean’s name came up and I no longer felt sick to my stomach at the mention of Sam.  Losing myself in the job seemed to be just the right kind of therapy for me.  That is, until Atlanta.

  Bobby had called me in on a case that he had said nobody else would be able to make it to in time. A family had purchased some land just outside of the Atlanta airport and built their new home on it. They moved into it within the last few months.  Within weeks, their oldest son, Alec, had gone missing.  In the days that passed, they had heard things.  Whispers seeming to come out of the walls.  Cold spots in places that should have been warm.  

  After some digging, I found that the property had originally been owned in the 1920’s by John Squire.  He had an orchard on the property.  When his daughter, Anna, had fallen in love and promised to marry a man of far lower status than their own, Mr. Squire forbid Anna to see the man again.  Going so far as to confine her to the grounds.  Not too long after, Anna hung herself in the orchard.  Her father, being the upstanding man that he was, opted to bury her body under the tree where she had died.  Shortly after, the Squire family left, bulldozing the orchard and leaving Anna’s body in an unmarked and unidentifiable grave.  

 That night, I decided to go looking for the remains to end the new residents’ torment once and for all.  And that was when I saw them. Both of them.  Sam and Dean.  They were canvasing the property. Looking for signs of a grave just as I was.  Dean’s head jolted, turning to face me as our eyes met for the first time in months and I suddenly lost my breath.  Maybe I wasn’t as over him as I had thought I was.

  “Y/N?”  I heard him call out to me.  His voice sent shivers down my spine.  I turned from them, continuing on my search for Anna’s burial grounds instead. Dean was running towards me now and I could hear him calling my name repeatedly.  I took a deep breath and attempted to prepare myself for the pain I would soon endure.

  I stopped walking and looked him in the eye. “Dean,” was all I gave him as a greeting.  His arm was extended towards me as if he were about to caress my face but thought better of it.  “Where have you been?” he asked me.  I shrugged.  “Around?  I’ve been working.”  

  “I’ve called.  I’ve left you messages.”  He seemed so frazzled; a version of him I was definitely not used to seeing.

  “I got rid of my old number.  Needed to start fresh.”  I stared at him, pointedly, knowing my words hadn’t missed their target. I shook my head and looked down at the ground.  “Look, if we’re both here, we might as well spend our time looking for the gravesite.  Speed up the search party, yeah?”  He nodded his ascent.

  It didn’t take us long to find, salt, and burn the bones.  Once the job was done, I headed back into the new family’s house to grab my gear.  They had vacated when I had shown up and asked for some time to get everything sorted out for them.  I had found that most people, when confronted with an impossible situation, were very willing to accept the truth about the monsters under their bed and the things that go bump in the night.

  I walked up the steps, opening the door and down the hall to where my bags were at.  I could feel Dean’s footsteps behind me, following me around wordlessly and still not giving anything away.   When I turned and headed back for the door and my escape, he broke the silence.

  “I should never have let you leave.  Or said what I did.  I was trying-”

  I cut him off.  “You chose this, remember?”  I asked him, angry and desperate to get him to see what his decision had put me through.  Put us through.

  “Yeah, I remember,” he bit back at me sourly.

  “Well now you have to live with that.  Your decision.  Not mine. I wasn’t asked for my input.”  I emphasized my words, making sure he knew not only how hurt I had been, but how this entire situation was made possible by him.  “You just left me there.  And now, I’m leaving you.”  

  I walked out the front door, never making eye contact with him as I did.  He had given up on us.  He had decided that we weren’t worth it.  That  I wasn’t worth it.  Now, three months later, he wanted my love and forgiveness.  He had lost that plausibility when he had completely broken me.  

  My Challenger sat in the driveway, promising speed and a quick escape.  I unlocked the door and sat in the driver’s seat, hesitating before turning the ignition.  I wanted to look up into the window, knowing he’d be there watching me like he had so many times.  But I knew that if I saw him there, I wouldn’t be strong enough to back out of the driveway and leave.  I put the car in revers, backed out and started driving.