the interface from eos 10 and the saloon doors from sparks Nevada? girlfriends. send each other virtual hearts. hack p.a. systems from across the stars to play each other songs. once derailed a scientific vessel to exist on the same system and watch a meteor shower together.
Name: Cora-Beth Age: 22 Country: United States/ United Kingdom
Hello, I’m originally from small town New York, but currently getting my master’s in Medical Anthropology in England (here until September). I’m writing my dissertation of medicine/healing in witchcraft. Queer. I’ve never had a pen-pal, but I’ve always wanted to give it a go. One day I’ll learn Korean and Russian, but for now I’ll spend my free time crocheting and cross stitching, binge watching tv shows and movies, and attempting to improve my hand writing. I’m an avid collector of teas and books that I swear I’ll get to one day, I promise. I love to travel, the little I’ve done, and am looking at the Peace Corp in the next few years. One day I hope to have a house in the woods with small farm with alpacas, and my own tea shop.
Request: When a powerful vampire falls for a human university student Requested by: Reirei anon Word count: 3,971 Genre: Fantasy and fluff, I guess? Warnings: None!
A/N: I tried :( I’m sorry I had to tweak the request a little to make the story flow better. Ended up including more of the ‘university’ aspect of the request than the ‘powerful vampire’ part, I hope you don’t mind!
For the upteempth time today, you find yourself pursing your lips at your laptop, your pen repeatedly tapping a restless rhythm against the keyboard. You’ve been staring at your year-end report for hours yet all you’ve churned out so far were a measly three paragraphs.
So much for a major in art, you think, all too ready to throw everything out of the window at this point. You loved art, but the compulsory art history module is a whole other story altogether. It is simply too dry and boring for your taste. “Forget this,” you sigh to yourself. “I’ll try this again tomorrow.”
Slapping your laptop shut, you put your study materials aside and pull out your trusty, dog-eared drawing pad out of your backpack. Nothing like a quick sketch to alleviate the mounting stress of university life.
Coffee felt anticlimactic, after the noise and pound of the
club. The fluorescents highlighted the bright orange vinyl booths, making every
spilled sugar grain on the table glow.
Claire sipped slowly, enjoying the scalding of her tongue.
The whiskey buzz had been on the verge of turning into tipsiness, but before
that could happen Claire had dragged Geillis out of the club and into the
closest open diner she could see. 24 hour caffeine purveyors.
“Do you regret it?” Geillis watched Claire over the rim of
her cup. “Not going backstage I mean.”
“No. You were very clear on what their true intentions were.
Why?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“Not anymore.” G tilted her head towards the diner door
behind Claire. The faint tinkle of a bell preceded the entrance and exit of
The lounging server at the counter had her feet up on a
stool, reading a magazine, but stood and grabbed a bunch of menus at the sound
of the door. She dropped them just as fast and gasped.
Claire turned, and who should come through the door but
James Fraser and the rest of The Clan. She couldn’t for the life of her
remember all their names just then – her eyes were helplessly riveted on the
tall man who smiled gently at the dumbfounded server and stooped to retrieve
the fallen menus.
“Here you go.” James Fraser held them out to her –
Laoghaire, read her tag. Claire and Geillis watched this encounter silently,
while the men with James Fraser (could she stop
thinking of his name like that?) waited patiently for the girl to react. She
hadn’t, thus far. Her hands went to her flaming cheeks and her mouth fell open.
“You’re—they’re… you’re— “ Laoghaire stammered.
“Jamie. Pleased to meet ye.” Jamie put the menus on the counter once it seemed clear Laoghaire
wasn’t quite up to the job at the moment. He extended a hand that was quickly
taken in a death grip. Claire and Geillis exchanged amused glances.
“Oh my God, oh my God! It’s you! Here!” Laoghaire jumped up and
down, still holding Jamie’s hand. He smiled good-naturedly and slowly
extricated himself from her grip. “Could I have a picture?”
“Of course. Here, lads.” The men quickly surrounded them,
subtly stepping in between Jamie and the girl. She pulled her mobile from her
apron pocket and looked around wildly for someone to oblige.
“Would you mind?” Laoghaire finally shoved the phone at
Geillis, who stood from the booth and held it up and snapped 3-4 pictures for
good measure. As the flash went off, Claire caught Jamie’s eye, smiling at her
and not for the picture. She allowed him a small smile in return, remembering
certain invitations and talk of groupies.
“Thank you so much!” Laoghaire squealed. “Let me find you a
table or do you prefer— “
“A table will be just fine,” Jamie interrupted. “Perhaps
this one?” He pointed at the booth Claire and G were occupying.
Claire began to fume. The whole empty diner and he was
seriously asking to have them booted? Rock star or no—
“May we join you ladies?” Jamie smiled disarmingly, running
a hand through his hair. Behind the apparent nonchalance Claire detected a hint
of nerves. “These are my mates, Rupert, William, Ian.” Each nodded and smiled
“Sure!” Geillis grinned and moved down the seat. Claire
followed suit more hesitantly, looking daggers at her friend. Jamie squeezed in
next to her. Six to a booth was a slightly tight fit, but they managed somehow.
“I’m Geillis, and this is Claire.”
The men (more boyish up close, including Jamie, Claire
noted) turned to Laoghaire, still standing by breathlessly. Rupert, the
drummer, winked at the girl. “Let’s have a keek at those menus then, shall we?”
Quarters were a bit cramped for flipping the laminated
pages. Jamie couldn’t seem to help brushing Claire’s hands every time he ran a
finger down the proffered items. Claire picked up her coffee cup only to
discover it was empty.
“Can we get another?” Jamie gestured at the server, who
scampered away for the pot.
“Thanks.” Claire smiled as her cup was topped off. Laoghaire
ignored her, eyes only for Jamie.
The rest of the men ordered burgers, fry-ups, and more
coffee. Laoghaire balanced the tray full of food and lingered eagerly by the
side of the table.
“Could ye maybe leave the pot?” Jamie gave her a dazzling
smile and she grinned back, setting the coffee down and backing away slowly,
her eyes never leaving his.
“So.” Jamie forked some chips over to his plate, while Geillis
flirted with the rest of the men—Claire focused on her cup like her life
depended on it.
“We asked you backstage at the pub.”
“We?” Claire raised her eyebrow at him, and sipped. Two
could play this game.
“Och, weel.” He ducked his head and the red strands tickled
his forehead. “Not we, then. I asked ye backstage. Ye looked… intriguing.”
Claire glanced at Geillis. She was laughing raucously at
something Rupert had said – no doubt something lecherous. The men’s
conversation had faded into the background as Claire focused her attention on
“I’m not a local. I’m visiting with my friend. I had…” She
took a deep breath. “A bad experience in London. I needed to get away.” She
didn’t understand the need to pour her troubles out for this stranger.
“What kind of bad experience?” Jamie’s heavy eyebrows knit
Claire shrugged, despondency settling briefly on her
features. “Romantic, you could say.” She waved her hand dismissively, not
willing to go into details at the moment. “How about you?”
“Nothing as bad as that,” Jamie smiled, making the corners
of her own mouth lift ever so slightly. “We’re on tour, heading south. We’ve
done Edinburgh, tomorrow’s Glasgow, then Newcastle and Leeds . Then Manchester,
Liverpool, and Cambridge, and ending in London.”
“Scotland, obviously. Place called Lallybroch. Family farm,
for generations and all that. Can’t wait to get back. You?”
“Based in London. I’m a nurse.”
She spoke of the hospital and her cozy flat. Of her
childhood with wandering Uncle Lambert and her favorite bookshop. Of her
longing for mornings when she could sleep in and her dislike for high heels. Of
the way she drank her coffee and the most difficult medical case to ever cross
He filled her in with the details of his large family – his
sister Jenny, married to Ian their keyboard player and his nieces and nephews.
How he had taught himself to play guitar in between farm chores. How his
parents had encouraged him to pursue his dream of music and crowds who clapped
and cheered. How he had found his band – his clan – in Ian the pianist, William the bassist, Rupert the drummer, and his uncle
Murtagh as manager.
Two hours later, as Claire happened to glance at her watch,
and still going strong at 3 AM. The food was gone and the whole coffee pot
practically empty. One of the other men—Ian, Claire recalled—raised his hand
for the check, glancing briefly at Jamie, who nodded. Laoghaire bounded over,
paper slip in hand.
“No charge for you. On the house.” She smiled ingratiatingly
at Jamie and thrust the check into Claire’s hand. “Two coffees, £2.40.”
“Och, I insist.” Jamie pulled a £50 out of his pocket and
set it on the table.
“But that’s too much!” The girl’s eyes almost popped out of
her head. She reached out for the bill and drew her hand back, afraid to touch
it for fear it wasn’t real.
“Nae bother. Thank you, lass.” He nudged Willie, who had
been sitting to his left all along unobtrusively, and they all slid out of the
booth. Geillis flushed and laughing still, her hand on Rupert’s shoulder.
Well, well, Claire thought, what have we here. She caught
G’s eye and winked, which only caused Geillis to giggle unabashedly.
Jamie placed his hand on Claire’s back, guiding her towards
the door. She couldn’t resist a dig at Laoghaire as she turned her head back
and called out, “Thanks so much!” while the girl just stood there, agape and overwhelmed
by what had transpired.
The burst of cold air on her face was most unwelcome, after
the secluded warmth of the diner. Instinctively her shoulders hunched against
the chilled wind, and she drew her coat about her. The rest of the band was
still talking animatedly with Geillis, and Claire managed to catch her slip a
napkin with her number to Rupert the drummer; he tucked it in safely into his
She turned to face Jamie as much as she could, still
shielding herself from the freezing gusts. “Thank you for the coffee Jamie. It
was nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand a bit idiotically and was
surprised to feel the enveloping warmth of his own.
“Claire. It was lovely to meet ye. I hope… perhaps… we can
meet again.” Jamie gave a most convincing bow, which would not have been amiss
in an earlier century. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss
into her skin.
Her heart stuttered, against her will.
Against her will, images of Frank flooded her mind. When
they went out on dinner dates, when she sat through his endless lectures, when
he supported her decision to apply for medical school, when they spent time
together in the morning reading the paper, when they had kissed and touched and
loved. When she had been betrayed.
And she thought, Never
Claire pulled her hand out of Jamie’s grasp as gently as she
could, hoping her face would not betray the anguish his simple gesture had
triggered. “I wish you good luck Jamie, with the rest of your tour.” No word on
meeting again, no number exchanged, no last name given.
She turned to the William, Rupert, and Ian; shook hands with
each of them quickly, nodding goodbye. She took Geillis by the elbow and pulled
her away, down the street, and managed to glance back only once.
Jamie stood there, fiery hair glowing in the street light,
smiling after them. A smile that said, Soon.