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bee-kathony · 6 years

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ONCE UPON A TIME | CINDERELLA AU | THE BALL

Inspired by the beautiful moodboard created by the talented @balfeheughlywed

Chapter 1: First Impressions | Chapter 2: Preparations | Chapter 3: Lavender’s Blue | Chapter 4: The Ball

“Claire blushed and felt her palms grow slick but regained her composure, remembering where she was and took a deep curtsy. She straightened, walking gently down the stairs. She could hear the crowd whisper as she came closer to joining them. And then she saw him. Him!“

Claire raced home, eager to tell her Step-father and siblings about the upcoming ball. She hadn’t heard any news of it before Jamie had told her just now. There would be a lot of preparation before the ball in just two weeks.

Walking into the lounge she grimaced, Laoghaire was playing the piano or what you could call attempting to play.

“Did you hear about the ball?” She spoke to the room and all eyes snapped their attention to her.

“Ball?!” “What ball?!” Laoghaire and Alex both said at the same time, abandoning their tasks and coming to jump excitedly in front of Claire.

“The King is throwing a ball at the palace!” She smiled, for once she felt a shared happiness with her new family. “And everyone in the Kingdom is invited!” She added, squealing internally alongside Laoghaire and Alex.

Jonathan stood from the couch, abandoning a book, “Everyone?” He asked, interest sparked across his face.

“Yes! Everyone and it’s in two weeks.” Claire twisted her fingers together, desperate to find a dress suitable enough to wear.

Laoghaire gasped, “Two weeks? Da, that’s barely enough time to have a dress made!”

She watched as Jonathan stepped closer to Laoghaire, placing a gentle hand on her arm, at least he could show a semblance of love to his own children, “You’re right,” he turned to Claire, “Cinderella, go into town and ask the seamstress to make two beautiful gowns!”

Claire couldn’t believe what she was hearing, he wanted two gowns? Obviously Alex wasn’t going to be wearing a gown, that could only mean the other was intended for her.

“Two? That’s - that’s so kind of you to think of me.” She smiled.

Jonathan scoffed, “I wasn’t. Laoghaire must have two dresses made so she can pick from them.” He placed his hand on his hip, “What? Did you think the other was for you? Don’t be foolish Cinderella.”

Claire’s heart crushed inwards, silly of her to get her hopes up.

“Oh. No, I didn’t think that at all.” She lied, controlling her features to shield them from the humiliation they had caused her.

Alex touched her on the shoulder, “Don’t forget to ask the seamstress to make me a new suit Cinderella, I’ll not be caught dead in a kilt.”

“Laoghaire, you must look your best if you’re to have a chance with the Prince, you must find him and dance with him, don’t let anyone get in your way!” Jonathan commanded Laoghaire.

Claire sighed and turned to leave the room, leaving the squealing Randalls behind.

Two weeks came and went, Claire now stood beside Laoghaire’s bed, helping her into the rather large hoop skirt. She tied it around her small waist and finished throwing layer after layer over the hoop. Claire had to try very hard to hold back her comments as she looked at Laoghaire twirling around and around the room. The dress she had chosen of the two was a green and blue, the skirts absolutely massive and the whole thing was covered head to toe in sparkles and beads.

Not in her taste.

But that didn’t matter. Once Claire arrived at the ball she would find Jamie and spend the evening with him, she looked forward to seeing him again in only a few hours.

If her stepfather would not have a dress made for her, it seemed to Claire that there was no reason why she would not try to sew it up herself.

Claire had found the remnants of an old dress that was her Mother’s stowed away in a chest in the attic, her bedroom now. She had been working on stitching it up and fitting it to her size late at night and early in the mornings.

Looking in the mirror, she was quite pleased with the work she had done and smoothed her hair one last time before joining the others downstairs.

She descended from the stairs wearing a pink chiffon dress with capped sleeves. Jonathan, Laoghaire and Alex all turned to look at her, looks of disgust written plain on their face. “It cost you nothing, it belonged to my Mother and I took it up myself.”

“Oh la la, Cinderella at the ball! No one wants a servant for a Bride” Laoghaire chimed. Alex scoffed, straightening his cravat around his neck.

Claire stood on the last step, “I don’t want to ruin anything, I don’t even want to meet the Prince!”

Jonathan was in full uniform, knee high boots and fitted with sword at the waist. “Oh and you won’t, there’s no question if you’re going. You shall stay here… where you belong.”

Her heart beat faster, “But all of the maidens of the Kingdom are invited, by order of the King.”

“It’s the King I’m thinking of, it would be an insult to take you to the palace… dressed in these old rags you call a dress.”

“Rags? This was my Mother’s, it’s lovely.” Claire flattened the fabric between her fingers.

“Sorry to have to tell you but your Mother’s taste was questionable, this old thing is so old that its practically falling to pieces.” Jonathan walked in front of her and Claire had no notion of what he would do next. He touched the sleeve of her dress, pulling on the fabric and ripping it at the seams.

Laoghaire and Alex laughed, joining in and pulling on bits of the dress until it was in shreds.

“How could you?” Claire cried, silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I will not have anyone associate my children with the likes of you, a servant girl. You shall not go to the ball, mark me.” Jonathan placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and turned abruptly, leaving the room. Laoghaire and Alex cackled as they walked past her, leaving her standing there alone.

Claire watched from the front steps as they piled into the carriage and left for the ball. She had only wished to see Jamie again and now that chance was gone.

Claire ran out of the door and through to the garden, stopping at the well, her knees hit the ground with a soft thud. “I can’t do this!” She cried, “I don’t have courage anymore.” She wept, her dreams crushed in an instant.

Moments later she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Looking up through her watery eyes, she saw the feet of someone standing beside her. Claire peered up to see who the feet belonged to.

A woman in a ragged old cloak with fiery red hair and from what she could tell, the most gorgeous green eyes, looked down at her.

“Deary, can you help me lass?” She spoke in a strong Scottish accent. “Would ye mind fetchin’ me a cup of milk? My carriage crashed down the road and yer’s is the first house I’ve seen.”

“Of course, yes, of course.” Claire stood from the well, wiping her face quickly and going to the side of the house where she knew there was a pale of fresh milk.

“Why are you cryin’?” The woman followed her around the side.

“It’s nothing.” Claire sniffed, pouring the glass and handing it to the woman.

“Nothing? What is a cup of milk? But kindness makes it everything.” This woman looked so strange, yet so familiar, Claire thought. She took the milk and drank it quickly, some of it spilling down her chin.

Claire gazed at the woman, what was this night turning into?

“Now… I don’t mean to hurry you, but you really haven’t got long Claire.” The woman said and Claire’s eyes grew wide as she spoke her name.

“What? How do you know me? Who are you?” Claire walked over to the woman to get a better look at her face.

“Who am I? I shoulda think ye’d work that one out Claire?” The woman said with a mischievous glint in her green eyes. “I’m your Fairy Godmother! Although some just think of me as a witch.” She laughed. “Ye may call me Geillis if ye like.”

Claire gaped Geillis, “You can’t be. They don’t exist, they’re just made up stories for children.”

“Fiddle faddle.” Geillis set the cup aside and and walked into the middle of the garden. “First thing’s first. Let me slip into something more comfortable.”

Claire took several steps back as Geillis produced what could only be described as a magic wand from her sleeve. She tossed it into the air and sparks flew from the tip and when Claire looked back down at Geillis she was now dressed in a very ornate and lavish silver dress.

“Mmm that’s better. Now where was I? Let’s see. What we need is somethin’ that says ‘Coach’.”

She must be dreaming, Claire thought. What a wonderful dream it was. She tossed aside the notion that none of this was real and went along with it, following her ‘Fairy Godmother’ around the garden.

“Oh that cart?” Claire pointed to a broken wheelbarrow.

“I’m thinkin’ fruit and veg… do you grow watermelon?”

“Um no. But we do grow pumpkins.”

“Oh that’ll do just fine.” Claire led them to the patch of pumpkins and Geilis picked up the biggest one she could wrap her arms around. “Lovely, oooh heavy pumpkin!” And dropped it on the ground at their feet. “Oh well let’s do it here.”

“Do what here?” Claire looked up from the pumpkin to Geillis.

“Turn the pumpkin into the carriage of course!” Of course.

Geillis flicked her wrist and more sparks shot out of the wand and aimed at the pumpkin. “Somethin’ is definitely happenin’.” To Claire’s amazement, something was happening.

“Oh take cover!” Geillis shouted and they both ran behind a stone fence. The pumpkin was growing! Claire couldn’t look away as suddenly the pumpkin burst and transformed into a beautiful golden carriage, adorned with leaves and vines.

“One carriage.” Geillis smiled, approving of her creation.

“You really are my Fairy Godmother.” This was beginning to feel like it wasn’t a dream.

“Yes Claire, I don’t just go along transforming pumpkins for just anybody. Now, where are those mice?” Geillis pointed her wand at the mice scurrying along the ground and again Claire stood amazed as the mice were changed into white horses.

Claire laughed and walked over to pet one of the horses, “Angus how fine you look.”

“Ah what next? Carriage…horses…footmen… I think I saw some wee lizards around here.” Geillis continued to transform the lizards into footmen and then their goose into a coachmen. Everything was set.

“Everyone into place! Come on.” Claire ran after Geillis and the others to the carriage now set on the path to go to the palace.

Just before she reached the carriage however Claire stopped, “Fairy Godmother…Geillis. This dress, I can’t go in this dress. Can you mend it?”

Geillis clicked her tongue and looked up and down at Claire’s dress. “I’ll make you something new!”

“Oh please don’t, this was my Mother’s and I want to wear it when I go to the ball, like she’s there with me.”

“Hmmm, well she wouldn’t mind if I cheer it up a bit aye? Perhaps a nice blue?”

Claire nodded and watched the sparks fly out of Geillis’ wand and towards her. She looked down as the fabric literally changed from pink to blue, the skirt lengthening and filling out. The dress was covered in sparkles that glittered in the light, the detail was exquisite and it was definitely the most wonderful thing Claire had ever worn.

“It’s beautiful! She’d love it.” Claire beamed from ear to ear.

“Off we go, quick! You’ll be late. In we go!” Claire picked up her skirts and began to step into the carriage.

“Wait! Lass, ye canna go in those shoes, those the best ye have?”

Claire looked down at her faded blue slippers that she wore everyday, “No one will see them.”

Geilis widened her eyes, “I’ll be quick, take them off.” Just like everything before, her slippers were transformed into delicate looking glass slippers, adorned with butterflies on the toes.

“But they’re made of glass?” Claire squinted at the shoes before her.

“Yes. And you’ll find they’re really comfortable.” Claire smiled and stepped into the shoes, completing the look. “My stepfather and my siblings?” She asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t recognise you.” She helped Claire into the carriage and shut the door, making sure the material of her dress was all stuffed inside.

“Oh Claire, I almost forgot. The magic will only last so long. With the last echo of the last bell at the last stroke of midnight, the spell will be broken and all will return to what it was before.”

“Midnight? That’s more than enough time.” Claire couldn’t believe it, she would get to see Jamie after all.

“Good. Off you go!” Geillis leaned to kiss her cheek before quickly taking a few steps back as the carriage launched forward.

“Thank you!” Claire shouted back to her Fairy Godmother. She wondered if she would ever see that woman again.

The ride to the palace was quick but Claire took in every moment. She didn’t know what to focus her eyes on, the way the moonlight shone off the carriage, the way her dress sparkled with every small movement or the fact that she currently was being taken to the ball being led by animals!

Fairytales were just that to Claire. Tales of make believe and magic. But looking around at all the splendour, suddenly Claire believed in a bit of magic or maybe it was indeed witchcraft.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire muttered under her breath as they rolled up the front of the palace towering high on the hill, hundreds of steps led up to the entrance.

“Why thank you Mr. Lizard,” She smiled, taking the hand of the footman and stepping out onto the cobbled road.

“Midnight,” she repeated to herself and gathered her full skirts in her hands, taking the first step to what awaited her inside the palace.

_______________________________________________________________________

Jamie bowed yet again as another name was announced. He hadn’t seen her come in and he knew he wouldn’t miss her. Jamie darted his eyes through the crowd once more, looking for that Sassenach.

“Jamie, lad, stop turnin’ yer neck so or ye’ll get a crick in it.” Murtagh laughed, patting him on the back. “She’ll show up. If ye asked her to come, she’ll come.”

“Do you think Father will approve? What am I saying, of course he won’t, she’s no’ a Princess!” Jamie threw his hands in the air, momentarily taking a step back from the balcony.

“I just don’t see why I canna marry someone like her…”

Murtagh made a hmmph sound in his throat, “Someone like her or do ye mean her?”

Jamie quirked one side of his mouth up, “Her,” he touched the collar of his jacket, it fit so snuggly, he almost couldn’t breath. “I dinna even know her name, well I know she called herself ‘Beauchamp’ but I dinna think that’s her name.” He chuckled, remembering finding her that day in the woods, fallen off her horse.

“Johnathan Wolverton Randall, Captain of His Majesty’s Eighth Dragoons,” said the announcer by the doors, calling out the names of the guests as they entered.

“Wolverton eh, sounds like a sap.” Murtagh elbowed Jamie in the ribs.

“Laoghaire and Alexander Randall,” the announcer shouted loudly. Jamie watched as the two people, one a young girl and the other a young man, he assumed were siblings, walk down the stairs.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Jamie laughed, Laoghaire had tripped on the train of her dress and fallen several steps down, she had reached her hand up to her brother and had inadvertently pulled him down with her.

“Christ, the wee fools.” Murtagh laughed alongside him, Jamie always felt better with Murtagh around to make a joke of things.

“Jamie,” he turned to greet his Da, “Has this mystery girl arrived yet?” Brian said as he sat down in his chair, overlooking the crowd.

He set his hand on his Da’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Nah, she hasna come yet.”

“Dinna fash son. When she gets here I’m sure she’ll be bonny.” Jamie smiled, was his Da actually coming around to the idea of this Sassenach woman?

Another thirty minutes passed by with no sign of her and Jamie was growing restless.

“It’s time lad. Ye must go down and choose who to dance wi’ first.” Brian motioned for Jamie to join the crowd of people on the ballroom floor.

As Jamie walked down the stairs, he scanned the crowd once more. He dropped his head, all eyes on him, eager to see who he would choose first.

Just when Jamie took a step forward though, the door opened.

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire raced up the steps, careful not to trip on her dress, she was surprised at how easy it was to actually walk in the glass slippers.

As she finally reached the top step, she paused, “Breathe Beauchamp, just breathe,” and walked the few steps to the ballroom doors. The guards opened them for her, she put one foot in front of the other and walked in.

She stood at the top of the stairs, all eyes turned up to look at who this beautiful creature was.

Claire blushed and felt her palms grow slick but regained her composure, remembering where she was and took a deep curtsy. She straightened, walking gently down the stairs. She could hear the crowd whisper as she came closer to joining them. And then she saw him. Him!

Jamie parted the crowd, now standing before her. He bowed, his hand over his heart, “Your servant ma’am,” and then extended his hand to her.

“Would you have the first dance wi’ me?” He asked, his heart soaring.

“Yes. I will,” Claire smiled and took his offered hand in her trembling one.

As they walked forward to the middle of the room, the crowd made a circle around them.

“Hello, Jamie.” Claire said as he placed his other hand around her waist, pulling him as close as her dress would allow.

“Hello, Princess.” Jamie smiled and began to lead them in a dance. The music started and they spun and swayed. All eyes were on them but their eyes were only on each other.

Claire could hear Jamie humming along to the song which made her relax. Jamie then grabbed her waist with both hands and lifted her high into the air above him, eliciting ‘aahs’ and ‘oohs’ from the crowd. She felt so light, so free when she was in his arms.

“I was worried ye wouldna show.” Jamie admitted as he pulled her back close to him, spinning them around the outside of the circle.

Claire gave his back a gentle squeeze, “I almost didn’t make it. But I’m here now.”

Soon the dance ended and Jamie released her and bowed. The rest of the crowd rushed in and everyone took a partner as the music began again, this time a much more upbeat tune.

Jamie was supposed to dance with more ladies, take turns with everyone there but he couldn’t bear to not be near her. He didn’t ask for the second dance but grasped her hand in his once more.

Claire spotted them across the room just then, her Stepfather and siblings. She laughed when she noticed that Laoghaire was dancing with Alex, it seems she couldn’t dance with anyone else but her own brother!

“What is it Sassenach?” Jamie asked, a smile creeping on his own face.

“Oh just someone getting something they deserve.” Jamie followed her gaze over to where she was looking and saw the two people that had fallen down the stairs.

“Och, I saw them fall down the stairs earlier, come to think of it, so did everyone else.” He loved to see her smile.

Jamie had led them to the back of the crowd, “Come wi’ me.” Hand in hers, he walked quickly through the back door of the ballroom, away from the crowd, away from the noise. He just wanted to be with her.

The first room they came to was a room filled with portraits.

“So you’re the Prince.” Claire didn’t ask him, only said it as a statement.

“No’ the Prince. I’m only a Prince.” He laughed, wanting to reach out and take her hand in his again.

“But your names not really Jamie?” Claire crossed the room, taking in every portrait.

“Oh it certainly is, well, it’s James but everyone calls me Jamie.”

“But you’re no apprentice.” She spun to face him, this time she was the one who reached for his hand.

“I’m an apprentice monarch… still learnin’ my trade.” He squeezed her hand in his and then looked shyly down at his feet, “Forgive me. I thought ye might treat me differently if ye knew. I mistook ye for a good honest country girl. Now I see you dinna want to overrule a plain solider.”

“Little chance of that.” Claire said and he met her gaze.

“No more surprises?” He asked. It seems she was a Princess after all, her dress and presence simply oozed with the air of a Princess.

“No more surprises.” Claire shook her head quickly and then turned them to face the largest portrait hanging on the wall. “Is that you Jamie?”

“Aye, I hate myself in portraits, don’t you?”

“No ones ever painted my portrait,” Claire said and she felt Jamie’s eyes on her then.

“No? Well they should.” Claire blushed and bit her lip as he pulled on her arm, leading them out another door.

“Won’t they miss you at the ball?” Claire turned to see if anyone was in fact following them but didn’t see anyone.

“Maybe, but let’s no’ go back just yet.” Jamie gripped her hand tightly as he led them outside.

“Why don’t you want to go back? What’s wrong?” Claire sensed that there was something more that Jamie wasn’t telling her.

“Och, when I go back, they’ll try to pair me off with a lass of their choosin’. Ye see, I’m expected to marry for advantage.”

“Oh, well who’s advantage?” Claire asked.

“That… is a good question.” Jamie sighed next to her.

“Surely you have a right to your own heart Jamie.” As she said this, Claire reached out and placed her hand over his heart.

Jamie was sure she could feel just how fast his heart was beating just then.

“I must weigh that against the King’s wishes, he’s a wise ruler and a loving Da.” Jamie pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a delicate kiss against her knuckles.

“Perhaps he’ll change his mind.” Claire said hopefully.

“I fear he doesna have much time to do so.” His eyes watered thinking of his Da’s latest diagnosis.

“Oh Jamie,” Claire pulled him into her arms, hugging him with all the strength she could muster.

“Thank ye Sassenach.” He kissed her forehead and they both blushed. Jamie didn’t even expect himself to do that.

“Follow me, I want to show ye somethin’” He grinned and then walked through a wall of vines. He held them aside for Claire as she entered.

They stood in a garden, surrounded by thousands of flowers and other plants, Claire could even hear the sound of a small waterfall somewhere nearby.

“Oh it’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

“It was my Ma’s garden. I’ve never shown this to anyone before.” Jamie smiled sheepishly at her.

Claire spotted a giant swing hanging from a large tree just across the garden and then looked over at Jamie and smiled, raising her eyebrows in question.

“Aye.” Jamie answered her unspoken question and led them to the swing. “Sit and I’ll push ye Sassenach.”

Claire was careful not to trip over the many layers of her gown as she sat down. She felt her heart in her stomach as Jamie’s strong hands came to her waist.

He pushed against her gently and she began swinging back and forth. The night was lit with stars adding the magic of the evening.

A few more pushes from Jamie and Claire was soaring even higher. “Oh!” She gasped as she felt her slipper slide off her foot and fall to the ground below.

Jamie reached for the swing and slowed her down to a stop. “I’ll help ye Sassenach.” He urged her not to move as he came to kneel before her. Claire held out her foot for him as he picked up the glass shoe.

“Is this glass?” He eyed the shoe with a worried expression, “How do ye walk?”

“Carefully.” Claire joked and he slid the shoe on with ease.

Jamie stood and pulled her to her feet then, his arms finding their place at the small of her back. “Sassenach, I’m so glad ye came tonight. Yer all I can think about, all I dream about.”

“Oh Jamie, I have thought of nothing else but you. With everything that has happened to me in these last few months…you… have always been the constant.” Claire’s heart raced and pounded in her ears.

He leaned closer to her and she thought just then her heart was going to burst.

“I very much want to kiss ye?” He asked, “May I?”

And then her heart did burst, “Yes, you may.”

Jamie bent his head, closing the space left between them and gently pressed his lips against hers.

This was her first kiss. And it was with a Prince. It was with Jamie.

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for him to come closer and he did. The kiss was slow, their lips moving in time with one another, anticipating the other’s desire and every move.

If Claire didn’t believe in fairytales before then she did now. Standing here under the stars in a garden filled with beautiful flowers, kissing a handsome man that comforted her and eased her soul.

Claire never wanted the kiss to stop but pulled back from Jamie as she heard the sound of clock. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! I almost forgot. It’s midnight.”

“Yes, it is.” Jamie said, curious of her to note the time.

“I’m so sorry, I had a lovely time but I must leave.” Claire squeezed his hands one last time and looked up at the clock, sure enough it was midnight and she needed to leave before she was transformed back to the plain girl she was before.

“But - but Sassenach! Where ye goin’?” Jamie shouted, stunned at her abrupt departure.

“I’m sorry!” Claire shouted back at him, already racing out of the garden. She found her way out of gates and to the front stairs where she spotted her carriage waiting for her.

“Oh Christ!” She said and began the long journey down the stairs. As she made it almost to the bottom of the steps she heard Jamie shouting after her, “Sassenach, wait!”

“Oh Jamie, I’m sorry.” She whispered to herself and dared a glance back at him.

When she turned back her foot caught on the step and her shoe slipped off. Claire bent to pick it up but noticed the footsteps sounded closer, Jamie was coming after her. She abandoned the glass slipper on the step and raced to the carriage, making it in the nick of time.

“Go!” She shouted and off she went, leaving the Prince, Jamie standing at the bottom of the steps, clutching her glass slipper in his hands.

#jamie fraser #claire fraser #claire beauchamp #prince jamie #cinderella au #once upon a time fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie and claire at the ball finally #bibidi babidi boo #fairygodmother #geillis duncan #mclairefras

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years

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to the full

Previous ficlets in this arc, set shortly after 05x12 “Never My Love”:

(1) Life Goes On

(2) Over My Dead Body

Inhale.

Toes flexing on the cold, hard wood.

Exhale.

Fist balling in the dark, nails digging into the thick skin of his palm.

Inhale.

Breath fogging the tiny windows he had worked so dearly to buy for her.

Exhale.

Quietly a deer and her fawn wandered across the dooryard, washed silver in the moonlight.

Inhale.

Splinters from the table lodged deep in his belly. Small pinpricks of pain pulsing, a dull beat, as he huddled, a crumpled mess, crusted with muck and blood and straw on the cell floor.

Exhale.

Claire’s rattly breaths as she slept across the room – nineteen days wasn’t long enough to heal a broken nose. He would know.

Inhale.

Warmth on his back – blood, or…

Exhale.

…the same sharp scent that clung to her skirts, that dark void of night when he’d found her.

Inhale.

He pressed against the windowsill, arm tense and coiled to strike –

Exhale.

You belong to no one else but me, and I belong to you, and nothing will ever change that…

Inhale.

He turned to face her. Watch her take every precious breath, labored as it might be. Serene.

Exhale.

Tears coursed down his cheeks. Comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love…

Inhale.

“Jamie?”

Exhale.

Instantly he was by her side. Hands so gentle, whispers against her shoulder and elbow. “I’m here.”

Inhale.

Slowly she shifted to take his hand, still careful of the not-quite healed wound on her breast. “Where did you go?”

Exhale.

He squeezed her fingers. “Just to the window.”

Inhale.

“Am I snoring again?”

Exhale.

He swallowed. “No, and I wouldnae mind if ye were. Because it means you are breathing.”

Inhale.

Her pulse fluttered beneath his thumb. “Stay.”

He gathered her to him, with exquisite care.

She relaxed.

Exhale.

He slept.

“These should do the trick, right?”

Claire peered at the handful of green stalks – some topped with cheery yellow flowers – that her daughter had laid on the table in the surgery.

“Marigolds. Yes! Calendula oil is a wonderful anti-inflammatory agent.”

Brianna blushed happily. “I remember learning something about that when I was in the Girl Scouts – you know, natural remedies and all that, when we were on a camping trip. I found these growing behind the cabin and I thought you could use it.”

“I can, and I will.” Claire leaned over to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Thank you. Everything else all right with you?”

Brianna quirked an eyebrow. “Yes. But I should ask the same about you.”

She didn’t need to elaborate – both of them knew.

Claire sighed. “Medically I’m on the mend. My nose is still healing. And this wound…” Gently she tapped the top of her left breast. “It’s still not closed up. Your Da, God bless him, insists on applying the healing salve before we go to bed every night.”

“He feels responsible.”

Claire began stripping the leaves from the marigold stalks, placing them in a small, neat pile. “He does. But it goes much deeper than that.” She pursed her lips, eyes fixed on her work. “I’ve told you about the circumstances of our wedding. How the catalyst for it was to protect me from being handed over to the English.”

“Yes.” Brianna took a handful of marigolds and began stripping the leaves from the stems. “Obviously he didn’t want that to happen.”

“On our wedding night, he promised to protect me. And he’s kept that vow. At least half a dozen times over the years, to protect me from…”

Brianna lay her hand on top of Claire’s. “I understand. And now he feels like he didn’t.”

“There was nothing he could have done. By the grace of God, he found me and brought me home.” She lay her hands flat on the table, palms down, trembling. “I have told him some of the details. More than anyone, he would understand. But every night after we talk about it, he has a nightmare. An absolutely terrifying nightmare.”

Claire finally looked up at her daughter. Both their eyes shone with tears.

“He wants to bear my pain – and I love him so much for it – but all it does is bring back his own. And I won’t do that to him. Not after everything we endured together for it. I won’t.”

“Oh, Mama.” Bree carefully enfolded Claire in her arms, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back. “Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

Claire sighed. “I will. I have to.”

“Have to what?”

Claire and Brianna whirled to see Marsali briskly walk through the surgery door, carrying a heap of freshly-cleaned linens.

“I have to find Jamie.” Quietly she dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron. “Have you seen him since breakfast?”

Marsali set down the linens with a huff. “He and Ian just left to track a stag that Ian saw down by the burn.”

“I’ll catch up with him, Mama.” Brianna squeezed her mother’s hand. “I know exactly where that is.” She nodded at Marsali and quickly padded outside.

Claire steeled herself and stood up a bit straighter. “Marsali – Brianna brought me these marigolds. Let me show you how to extract the calendula.”

It wasn’t until close to supper time that Jamie – and Bree, and Ian – returned home. The stag had eluded them, but they certainly weren’t empty-handed.

“Here, hand me that.” Jamie beckoned. Ian gingerly handed over the satchel containing the item he had spent hours collecting that afternoon. “I’ll bring this to Claire. You take the rest to the kitchens.”

Bree hoisted the canvas bag full of chicory and mushrooms and burdock and the other plants they’d foraged by the burn. “Missus Bug will be pleased.”

“Aye – I’m just glad to be gone of that…thing.” Ian wiped his grubby hands on his breeches. “Ye sure ye’re all right wi’ that?”

“Aye. I’ll see you at supper.” He bent to kiss his daughter’s cheek, and swiftly strode into the house, through the open door, down the hallway to the surgery.

She was there, of course – tending a pot over the fire. At the sound of footsteps she glanced up –

He smiled, for the first time that day, and held out the bag.

Wordlessly she crossed the room, one eyebrow arched, carefully took the bag, and reached inside.

“Jamie!” she gasped, gently drawing out the natural beehive. “Where did you find this?”

He flushed, pleased, and helped her remove the twisting mass of wax and honeycomb from the bag and gently lay it on the main table. The table he had made for her.

“Before the stag outran us, he made a quick turn – and when we followed him, Ian tripped over a root and fell. When he was on the ground, he looked up in the tree – and saw this. The bees have been gone for a while, but they left this beauty behind.”

“It’s wonderful, Jamie.” She leaned up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

“I…” He cleared his throat and twisted the now-empty canvas bag in his hands. “I ken the salve you’ve been using, is almost used up. It has beeswax in it, aye?”

Claire took the balled-up canvas bag from his hands, set it on the table beside the beehive, and gently took both of her husband’s hands in her own. Rubbed with her thumb the back of his bony, battered knuckles until he looked at her.

“It does. Thank you. You’re always thinking of me.”

“How could I not?” he breathed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Her voice was quiet, but strong. “I know what you dream about, Jamie. And I don’t want you to hide that from me.”

He swallowed. “You do not need to go back there wi’ me, Sassenach. Especially not after what happened to you.”

“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “We endured it – together. We survived it, together. Just like this. It can’t be done alone. You of all people would understand.”

His eyes searched hers. Full of so much pain.

“I brought you back to yourself, after that. Just like you have done with me.”

He dropped one of her hands, and his thumb gently ghosted over the still-soft bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. If – ”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. And before you go on, there’s nothing to forgive. It’s done and over. Do you understand?”

“I do.” His fingers traced the contours of her cheek, her chin, her neck, and settled on her shoulder. “If it happens again – the dream, I mean – I’ll tell you.”

“When,” she insisted. “I want you to tell me. And I’ll tell you, if you want to hear.”

“Of course I do,” he replied, not even hesitating. “If I can take that much of your burden from you…”

“So let me do the same for you.”

Now he softly pushed her to him, and wrapped his other arm around her, and she did the same with him.

And they held each other for a long while – listening to each other breathe, and to the fire crackle.

“There was a French writer in my time, who was very famous. Do you know what he said about healing?”

Jamie kissed her temple. “What did he say?”

“That we are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full.”

“You could say the same about joy, you know. That by experiencing it to the full, it heals. It heals us.” He sighed. “You are my joy, Claire.”

Just then the pot overflowed and sputtered hot oil over the floor, and Jemmy ran into the surgery to announce that supper was ready, and as Jamie deftly dived to hoist him away from the boiling oil he stepped in Adso’s tail – and the mighty row brought all the inhabitants of the house where just minutes before it had been peaceful and quiet and the two of them.

But after cleaning up the surgery and setting things to rights – and after a half-cold supper – and after saying goodnight to everyone and crawling into bed, beneath their quilt she curled herself around him.

“And you are mine, Jamie.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire

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let-the-dream-begin · 2 years

Text

Sins of the Flesh: Chapter 7

Chapter 6

Read on AO3

He stood there, fully naked before her, and she was nearly certain she was drooling.

They’d aided each other in their undressing, layer by layer, until he was bare, and she wore only her chemise, drawers, and corset, her feet bare against the rich wood of her bedchamber.

He was like art sculpted from marble, every muscle defined and probably hard as rock. She wanted to weep at her lack of need for breathing; she desperately wanted to be crushed beneath him until she was blue in the face. She wanted to sink her teeth into every bulging muscle on his body.

And Lord, his cock was enormous.

She was lucky, she knew. John was beautiful and perfect, and he was well endowed and pleasured her to the ends of the earth.

But Jamie…

He was hard and ready to take her, and she wanted it to hurt.

He stood there, watching her drink him in with her eyes, fists and jaw clenched tightly. He was painfully aroused, and the thought thrilled her to no end.

She stepped closer to him, letting her hand rest on the center of his chest. He hissed, and for a second she hated her hands and their iciness. But then she trailed them down the lines of his torso, and she thanked the Lord for them, for letting her use them to touch this man. She strolled around him, trailing her hand with her, letting her hand caress his arse, and she moaned softly. Every inch of him was perfect. This arse…she would hold onto it for dear life while he ploughed into her.

She stayed back there, cupping both halves, rubbing gently, and a growl rumbled in his chest. She nuzzled his back with her face, smelling his racing, aroused blood.

“Can I taste you, Jamie?”

“Aye.” There was hardly a second between question and answer. She moaned gratefully and opened her mouth, biting down on his shoulder. He gasped at the sensation, and she drank, continuing to massage his arse. She let her fingers trail lower, teasing his balls, and she truly thought she might kill him. He was panting like a rutting bull, even with his cock entirely untouched.

Claire took a few more greedy, deep gulps, and then she removed her fangs, licked the wound, and kissed it with all the love she possessed.

“Thank you…” she murmured. She rounded his front again, and before she could blink he grabbed her fiercely, claiming her mouth with a power that had her groaning, excited. She let her fang catch on his bottom lip, and he yelped into her mouth, causing her to laugh throatily. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever done: lap up blood from a man’s lip while he kissed her senseless. She ached between her legs, soaking her thighs.

He pulled away just when she began seeing stars, and he was sweating, his unkempt curls damp and dripping, tiny streams of blood trickling from his lip.

“Please, Claire…” His hands ran up and down the boning of her corset.

She smiled wickedly, liking the sound of his begging. She leaned in to lick some blood from his chin, and then she obliged him, pushing the corset together so the hook-and-eyes would snap open. Jamie released a breath he’d been holding, and Claire let the corset fall to the floor. She turned away from him to lift the chemise over her head, not wanting him to see her in just her drawers, wanting to reveal herself fully bare.

“Unbutton them,” she commanded, tossing the chemise aside.

She felt his trembling, fumbling fingers upon her immediately, and she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She mustn’t be too cruel, not for his first time.

He finally managed to undo the button, and she felt them slip over her hips and to the floor. He let out a choked sound, his hands squeezing her arse with a fervor she hadn’t expected.

“Holy God, Claire…”

She felt his hardness on her lower back, and he began grinding against her, and she obliged him for a few seconds, though it didn’t stimulate her at all.

Before he could get too carried away, she turned around and stepped back, finally letting him see her.

His chest heaved, his face contorted in something resembling pain. His right hand reached out, hesitantly cupping her right breast, and she whimpered, leaning into the touch.

“I canna bear it any longer…” He whimpered himself, squeezing her breast. “I…I must have ye.”

“Yes…” She muttered, her lips inches from his. “You must.”

He whipped her around, caressing her arse again, and her brow furrowed, confused. She turned back around, meeting his eye, and she took his hands and guided him to the bed. She lay down in the center, pulling him with her, and his eyes suddenly lit with understanding.

Her darling little virgin.

She spread her legs and he crawled up the length of her body. She clawed at the skin of his arse, begging. He took hold of himself, staring at her glistening folds, and she cried aloud at the sensation of the tip of him dragging along her slickness, finding its home.

Then he found it, and he didn’t even wait a fraction of a second before snapping his hips into hers, and she shrieked.

“Ye…” He was struggling to form words, and Claire was seeing stars. “...alright…?”

She pawed at his arse.

“Did…hurt ye…?”

There was still blood trickling slowly from his lip, and Claire wanted to scream. Her hands left his arse to seize his face roughly in her hands. She punctured another small hole in his lip. She thrust her hips upward, and that was enough of a hint. Jamie pulled nearly all the way out, then slammed back in again, just as Claire took a long drag of his blood, and she knew she’d be crying if her tear ducts had not died with the rest of her. Jamie moaned loudly, and he repeated his thrusting, slow and hard.

A few seconds went by before the poor lad’s arms gave out, and he didn’t have the sense to stop himself from crushing her. She didn’t give a damn. She had no reason to draw breath. She wrapped her arm around his neck, tucking his face into the crook of her neck, and he grunted and groaned in her ear, much to her delight. She bit his ear, the only part of him that she could reach with her mouth, and she drank, and drank, and drank as his hips grew more frantic and desperate.

It lasted less than twenty seconds; he yelled into her neck, freezing inside her, and she delighted in the feel of his warm seed shooting into her dead womb. She licked the small wound on his ear, suckling like a babe, continuing to mewl, not having found her release yet.

His breath heaved against her, and after several long moments, he pushed himself back onto his elbows.

“I crushed ye.”

He looked genuinely panicked and worried, and she couldn’t help it; she laughed at him.

“I don’t have to breathe, Jamie.” She shook her head, cupping his sweet face in her hands. “I’m perfectly alright.”

“Oh.” She felt the tension roll off of him, and then that silly, boyish grin returned to his dear face. “Oh.”

She stroked the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs. “How do you feel?”

“Like…God himself.”

He meant it, wholeheartedly, and Claire wanted to kiss every inch of him.

“Though, I…” He watched a drop of blood fall from his ear and onto the white sheets beneath them, just missing Claire’s own ear. Claire licked her lips. “I think I might be the lowly mortal, serving a Goddess.”

“With a blood sacrifice,” Claire finished his thought, swiping blood from his lip and bringing her fingers to her own mouth, suckling on them. He watched, mesmerized, and Claire could swear she felt his cock, still inside her, twitch, even as it still softened from his climax.

“You’re delicious, my darling,” she murmured. “I could never, ever get enough of you.”

“Nor I of you.”

“Good.”

She abruptly sat up, pinning him beneath her with her inhuman strength before he could so much as cry out in shock. She straddled him, dripping with their combined wetness.

“Because I’m not finished yet.”

Jamie gulped, and Claire chuckled darkly.

Her sex was directly on top of his half-softened cock, and she rolled her hips slowly, experimentally. As expected, the poor lad hissed; he was still so, terribly sensitive from climaxing already.

Good.

“This…won’t do,” she whispered, lowering her body atop his. “Will you be ready for your Goddess again?”

“Aye,” his voice cracked, a veritable croak. “I will, Claire. I will.”

She sped her hips, moaning. “You’re so good to me…”

She sank her teeth into his neck, opposite where she’d bit his neck in the music room. He yelped, digging his nails into her back, and she felt him grow again beneath her sex, hardening abruptly the smallest bit.

She gulped him down, then removed her fangs. “You’ve given me so much…” She suckled at the wound, mewling like a kitten, her hips rocking madly. “And you’ll keep giving more…?”

“Aye, Claire, anything, anything…”

She punctured his skin again, even as the previous spot still bled, and he hardened beneath her all the more. She sat up, shifting herself so that she could see his obedient cock spring up, freed from her weight.

“There you are,” she purred, giving it a languid stroke. He moaned, bucking his hips into her hand. She laughed breathily, and then lined herself up, sinking onto him slowly, crying out louder with every inch.

“Oh, God, Claire…”

She took him in to the hilt, throwing her head back and moaning with unrestrained ecstasy.

“You feel so good to me, Jamie…” she choked, savoring him in this position for a few moments. “So…” She dove into the crook of his neck again, guzzling at the two wounds she’d left there.

“Holy God…” he stammered, squeezing her arse as if for dear life. She rode him, grinding her sensitive, aching flesh into that hard bone that stimulated her right where she needed it.

She gulped the steady stream of his blood at his neck, until it wasn’t enough anymore. She sat up and snatched one of his hands to her mouth. She braced one hand on his stomach and gently pierced his pointer finger so she could drink as she ground down just there and felt him pierce her deeply.

She rode with wild abandonment, screaming to the heavens, suckling his finger like an animal.

And then her body clenched, tightening, and then came the explosion.

She fully sobbed, even without the tears, unable to stop herself.

She rode out her climax, the blood from Jamie’s finger trickling out the corner of her open, screaming mouth, and she braced herself on his pectorals to stop from collapsing. Her hips finally slowed, and only then did she realize that Jamie had joined her in her oblivion, her not even having heard him find it again over her own noises.

She opened her eyes to see him gaping up at her, his pupils blown wide, his hair now fully soaked with sweat. His neck was a bloody mess, as was his mouth and his ear. And yet, even still, he traced his bleeding finger over her lips like he was applying lipstick for her.

“Ye’ve…finished.”

Even through the exhausted haze, she laughed, licking her lips, tasting his sweetness there.

“Yes.”

He chuckled softly, and continued to gently trace her lips. “I didna think…it must only be yer kind, then? Only vampire women?”

She laughed again. “No, no. I…finished before I turned.”

His grin widened, and she felt herself fall all the more in love with him.

“A woman must be very lucky to have a very good lover,” she continued, feeling the need to tell him how wonderful he was, how happy he’d made her.

The look on his face made her want to weep and protect him and simultaneously eat him alive.

With great reluctance, she took hold of the hand with the bloody finger and took it away from her mouth, licking up what he’d left on her lips as she tucked his hand onto his chest, only for him to place both his hands on each of her thighs, rubbing gently up and down.

“Are you in any pain?”

She didn’t think she could bear it if he said yes.

“Aye, a bit.”

Always with that smile.

“Do you want me to stop feeding?”

He chuckled through his nose, squeezing her thighs as his hands ran down.

“Nah.”

She sighed with relief, leaning down to kiss him; no fangs, just lovers’ lips meeting and clasping with all the tender sweetness in the world. His hands ran around her body, up her arse and back, cupping her to him. His breathing deepened as they kissed, and then she pulled away, feeling him stop, and she smiled to see he’d fallen fast asleep.

She peeled herself off of him, rolling over and getting off the bed. She went to the bowl he’d washed with behind the screen, dipping a fresh cloth in the water. She frowned; it was cold now, and she prayed she didn’t wake him.

She didn’t, thankfully, as she dabbed at the wounds she’d left in her wake. She cleaned him up and then applied her salve, everywhere but the bite mark on the back of his shoulder. She’d get that when he was awake.

She hoped he wasn’t disgusted sleeping on bloody sheets. It didn’t look like a murder scene, but it certainly didn’t look clean. Louise had bragged about the state she’d left a few men’s beds in. Claire had drooled at the thought, but now, in practice, the thought of Jamie being disgusted by any aspect of what they’d shared made her want to rip her own hair out and burn the world.

She applied the salve to his bottom lip, the last wound accessible to her, and she knew with painful certainty that she would kill for him. She’d tear anyone, anyone limb from limb for him. Including herself. She’d burn villages to the ground for him.

And she’d rip the head from the neck of any other vampire who had even a drop of his blood.

“Mine,” she whispered, barely audible, brushing back his damp curls and kissing his unwounded upper lip, his mouth open in sleep. “Forever.”

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kkruml · 3 years

Text

STAY CH 16

I am absolutely gobsmacked by all the love this wee story has gotten over time. I did not intend for it to take as long as it did to find the ending to this story, but alas, life and circumstances (and a f*cking pandemic) got in the way. BUT- it’s here. The final chapter. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. This story started off as a prompt about a trope that I had always enjoyed but never considered writing. I am glad I took the leap and am forever grateful for the support and beta magic that are @abreathofsnowandwaffles and @missclairebelle. Without you both I would never have attempted this. I love you both.

To everyone who has read, shared, and enjoyed (even a little!) this story, thank you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

AO3

Mood music

Previously

Whole.

The word danced around the corners of her mind. Her eyes shifted from him to the golden hues splashed across the sky. Was she whole? Twisting her wrist for inspection, she felt no sharp pain, just a dull ache from use.

No longer broken.

Now came the recovery. As a doctor she had seen the scans, she knew the rehabilitation trajectory. Yet here, with him, the statistics and analytical journal findings faded from mental view. Here, in this moment, she was simply Claire. With Jamie. Her Jamie. An overwhelming sense of calm washed over her.

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” drawing her gaze back to him, she exhaled contentedly. Instinctively, her hand reached out for his, taking it gently. “Thank you, Jamie.”

“Och, ‘tis nothing lass.” Dirt-stained fingertips pressed into her skin. His warmth encompassed her.

“Jamie…” she started, her eyes lowering to see their fingers intertwined. Blinking hard and tilting her face to meet his, she finished, “I don’t just mean for today.”

An echo of a smile tugged at his lips and he exhaled.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” His voice hummed, soft and tender. “There’s the two of us now.”

His words were so simple. But there was something in the blue of his eyes that spoke to the depth of his meaning. Her breath caught as she felt the same weight of prophecy to his words.

CLAIRE

Blue.

Whisky.

Stay.

The words whispered to her in a soft rhythm, beckoning her from sleep. One eye begrudgingly parted and she was blessed with the sight of Jamie’s face. His nose, straight and angled, thick stubble dappled his cheeks, and the line of his lips curled into a small smile while he slept.

She had missed that quiet smile.

It had been so long. Since the accident.

She yearned for it.

Ached for it.

Shifting slightly onto her side she felt his arm tighten around her waist, and a flutter of a giggle tickled her chest.

He had been gentle with her, almost too gentle. At first he kept a respectable space as to avoid injuring or jostling her arm, or pressing into her ribs as they healed. But then as days passed, they became hesitant with each other as a small crack formed and slowly spread to fill the space between, a sliver at a time.

It had been weeks. But tonight, he had reached out to her in sleep.

Perhaps it was the whisky from the hours earlier, or the heady tension between them as they traded glasses and slipped farther and farther into their own bubble, consumed by each other’s mere presence that she’d felt a shift between them. His warmth encompassed her and flushed her cheeks before dipping into her chest. She burned for his touch. Her fingers trembled as they slowly rose towards his face, before stopping just short of his jawline. She faltered for a moment, losing her nerve.

What if he woke up?

The thought lit the fire that had sunk just below her belly button and her lip quivered. The boldness she felt that night, all those months ago- that night he bared his soul to her, the night he told her about the accident- that strength had slowly faded from her with each passing day since her injury.

Gently placing her hand back onto her side, her eyes traced the solid line of muscle from his shoulder down to his elbow. Perfect peaks and valleys were highlighted by the faint moonlight. Reveling in the knowledge that he was hers, she let out a satisfied sigh.

A glow from the bedside table caught her attention and she rolled her eyes. She knew who it was, and what the message said, and she silently cursed herself for the spontaneous text earlier. A moment of alcohol-induced bravery had prompted a bold proclamation. That tonight, she would reclaim that lost and most intimate connection with Jamie… in a somewhat less than mature manner of speaking.

Lifting the phone enough to see the screen, she caught the text that flashed.

Have ye crawled out from under the Viking for air yet?

Geillis.

To be honest, there were a few moments she thought that it might happen. Jamie’s gaze grew more menacing and his fingers lingered as they traced the lines of her hem at the small of her back, all the while whispering old stories of Lallybroch in her ear so close that she could taste the amber liquid on his breath. But then… after stumbling past the doorway into their bedroom, with fits of laughter breaking between them, they settled into a coy yet contented ball of sheets and blankets on the bed.

She had welcomed the weight of his body against hers as their laughter softly echoed off the bedroom walls. But with a swift tug of the comforter beneath them, he had rolled clumsily onto her left side and the spell between them was broken. Stammering his way through an impassioned apology, he shifted his body, overcompensating for the contact and leaving ample space between them. The buzzing electricity between them simmered and the courage she’d come so close to wielding receded. After a few more gentle smiles and muttered apologies from Jamie, they both had drifted into blissful sleep. But that ache persisted, and it rose from a dull ache to a heady throb.

With a half-hearted sigh, she tapped the screen to respond.

Will catch up tomorrow. Too tired and too much whisky tonight ;)

Three bubbles quickly appeared on her screen as Geillis’s words flashed quickly.

Aye. Too much ‘Whisky.’ As ye say. XO

That was not what she meant, but she didn’t correct Geilis. They would see each other tomorrow, and she would set the record straight then. Maybe.

Struggling to settle her mind back into the quiet darkness of the room, she let her eyelids close and the words beckoned again.

Stay. Please stay.

Her fingers twitched. Her head swirled with the words, and then a melody slowly seeped in and clouded her thoughts. An almost torturous rhythm played over and over in her head, keeping sleep at bay and forcing out the memories of the night before.

Sighing again, this time in resignation, she slowly slid off the bed. Gently moving his arm to rest on the space she had just vacated, she paused. Gazing at his perfect form in the tangle of sheets in their bed for a moment longer, she then turned on her heel and padded out of the room.

Where is that bloody guitar?

JAMIE

Claire.

Mmm. Feeling the warmth against his palm, he contracted his muscles and pulled a tangle of empty bed sheets against his chest.

Where is she?

Thoughts came quickly, erratic and half-formed as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

His last vision of her was in bed next to him, a beautiful mosaic of dark curls and light skin, splintered in his mind but beautiful nonetheless.

It was still late… no- early? The soft morning light had not yet fully crept through the curtains, but it kissed the soft linen and a glow inched across the bedroom floor.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he could still, but barely, see her face as they stumbled into his, no their flat just hours before- lips parted in a beaming grin, eyes warm and glowing, curls spilling out of a bird’s nest atop her head.

Having stopped at a local pub in a desperate attempt to prolong their evening, the memory of her leaning in closely as each drop of amber fluid eased the tension in her shoulders. The heat on her breath as she whispered new Gaelic words she had been studying but never said aloud settled in his bones and burned just under the surface. The timidity between them had receded with every look, every brush of skin against each other. Like a balm on a healing wound, her every look and movement was a salve on his soul.

Shaking his head, the memory slowly faded, and he blinked ruefully as it subsided. He heard a faint sound, a slight… plucking of strings? Moving quickly through the flat he eyed his guitar stand in the corner by the couch- empty.

His lip twitched and he fought the sensation. Doesna mean anything.. Or does it?

Grabbing the tumbled mass of tartan on the cushion, he slinked his way up the fire escape to the rooftop, following the sounds of his guitar as the notes tweaked and came into tune.

CLAIRE

There’s my C. Finally.

He said it would come with time, but neglected to mention just how tedious tuning a guitar could be. It always seemed to sing when he played, a natural extension of himself.

Effortless.

He was right.

A small echo of a laugh bubbled in her chest. He was always so sure when he spoke. Whether he was storytelling or gesticulating on the latest rugby match. There was a conviction in his words, and in this instance, she knew he was right. What the strings and pick are to him, a scalpel and needle are to her.

She plucked the string again.

Bloody Scot was right.

And she was grateful for it.

Letting out a quick breath into the crisp night air, her eyelids fluttered shut as the words undulated in her mind, like a tide rolling in. Growing closer, then receding before pushing closer and closer, she surrendered to the pulsating rhythm.

With a quick roll of the wrist, and sigh of relief as it cooperated without sign of pain, she set her fingers against the strings. The words thrummed in her ears, echoing as the memory struggles to come into focus.

“Nothing is lost… please stay.”

JAMIE

His breath caught as his eyes found her, freezing him. An unruly mess of dark curls cascaded around her, the wind toying with a strand as it twisted and fluttered in the air, the curves of her shoulders draped in his favorite rugby shirt.

He stood breathlessly, watching as her hand absentmindedly grasped the errant lock and tucked it behind one ear. The movement was subtle, but made his heart pound. Her wrist, newly healed and etched with fresh scars, moved with an ease. There was a fluidity, an almost absent-mindedness he hadn’t seen in weeks.

Her chin was set in determination, her lower lip tucked between her teeth and head cocked as if the guitar was whispering its secrets to her. The curve of her back matched the line of his guitar, two of his favorite things molded into one.

A Dhia.

She was beautiful.

With a heavy exhale to take in the scene, his body rested against the metal railing. A high pitched creak filled the air and he watched as her face jerked toward him in panic. The current of gold in her eyes settled slightly as they fixed on him before igniting into a deep ember.

CLAIRE

His hair was tousled from sleep, but his eyes were electric, and the slope of his lips, parted as raspy breath escaped, filled her vision. The heat of his stare traveled down her throat with a hard swallow, descending into the depths just below her navel. Blinking hard to quell the feeling, she held her gaze, letting his beauty overtake her nerves.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” his voice cut through the darkness. It shook just slightly as the Gaelic punctuated his question, two fingers tapping against his thigh.

My brown haired lass.

She remembered the first time he’d called her that. He promised one day he’d tell her what it meant. Instead, she’d found them in an old, nondescript and dusty book on his shelf... or perhaps the words found her. She reveled in knowing what it meant as he’d whisper it in darkness, tender and soft.

“Y-yes, quite,” she started as pulled herself back to the present. Letting a deep sigh encompass her, she met his eye. “Did I wake you?”

“Ach no, I just dinna...” he started as twitching fingers ran through his hair. “ I just… dinna sleep well wi’out ye with me.”

“Oh.” she said quietly, letting a small smile play at her lips as heat rose in her chest. “I wanted to show you something.”

One eyebrow quirked and with it came a breathtaking grin framed by fiery red hair and electric blue eyes. “I seem to recall ye said once that they let anyone play.”

JAMIE

“Och! You don’t need to ruin the moment,” she said with exasperation.

“Wai- what?” His ears perked at the noise. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to find the words. “Was that...Did ye just-”

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she countered, “Wot?”

“Tis nothing,” he started, recovering from his stumble. “That was just a decidedly Scottish sound there…”

“I most certainly did not,” her voice stuttered on the last word, her eyebrows creasing as he watched her question her own words.

Thank the laird for small miracles and glass faces.

“Are ye sure yer a Sassenach aft-after all?” A laugh rumbled from his chest as he moved toward her, “Ye do a fine version of a salty auld Highlander indeed.”

“Well,” her lips parted in a conciliatory smile and her eyes glowed. “I seem to have learned from the best.”

A breeze filled the space between them and he caught her slight frame shiver.

“Are ye cold, Sassenach?” he asked, drawing out the last word for emphasis. She was an outlander, a most rare and precious gift.

“I’m alright,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, but there was no conviction behind her voice.

“Dinna be stubborn lass, I can hear yer teeth rattle from here.” He countered with an attempt at a wink. In truth, it was an excuse, any excuse to move closer to her.

Her face softened and she sighed, nodding as she bit down on her lower lip. His eyes darted to her mouth, tracing every curve and line. His tongue reflexively darted out and licked his lips, aching to taste her breath against his skin. Balling his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to touch her face, his fingers dug into crumpled up fabric- the tartan soft and warm in his hand.

The tactile sensation brought him from his thoughts, and he held it out to her as he closed the space between them. His lips curled as he cocked his head, “After all… Ye canna bring dishonor on the Fraser colors, Sassenach.”

“Oh mon dieu, first the Fréselière and now your clan’s colors and creed?” Her eyes were alight with humor as she turned to fully face him, his guitar shifting in her lap. She inhaled sharply, her eyes intent and glowing, “My hands seem to be full at the moment... might you help?”

He stood still, surprised for a moment but swallowed hard and gathered up the material in both hands. Timidly, he wrapped his arms around her, her hair tickling his nose as he leaned in close.

Pressing against him softly, her voice was low and heavy as she said, “Thank you.”

Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he set himself on the seat next to her- close but not quite touching. “Ach, so ye had something to play then, aye?”

“Well it’s just the start of something, I think,” she mumbled.

The familiar chords echoed between them as she hummed the melody. Had he played that for her before? He didn't think he had?

CLAIRE

She pulled her eyes from her fingers as they pressed into the cords to find his gaze heavy on her. She hummed for a few beats and then with eyes closed she exhaled with contentment.

“Clear blue….” she breathed, waiting for the next chord progression to continue with a disjointed “world of whiskey.” The strings vibrated against her fingertips before she whispered the lines that had repeated over and over in her mind, “Nothing is lost… Please stay.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see him staring at her. His hands were clasped together tightly, fingernails dug slightly into ruddy, sunkissed skin.

“I wasn’t sure.. I mean, it’s-” she was suddenly shy, embarrassed. It was absurd to try to explain, the words just… were to her.

His face was frozen and his lower lip quivered. With a low, shaky voice he asked, “Where did ye find those words?”

“They just…” she started. Without thinking she continued, the words tumbling out of her, “They just came to me. I think it was a dream. I was drowning, and then I saw... light. Wings. And then a voice asking me to stay.”

“Mo Chridhe,” his voice was almost a whisper, each word quiet but strong. “That was me.”

She struggled to understand the pain in his voice. “You?”

Fragmented time flashed through her mind. Her father, the heron’s wings. The tattoo. The flutter of wings in her ears as she lay in that bed. Through it all, the words, those words- they cut through the noise.

It was him.

JAMIE

He watched her, waiting. The realization flashed across her face.

Her voice was almost a whisper, but her eyes were a smoldering amber. Her voice was sure, true. “It was you.”

She remembered.

The weeks lost to the accident and the uncertainty of what was to come when she couldn’t remember- the truths they had shared… it was still there. A weight lifted from his chest and he exhaled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Whatever it was between them, that awful night hadn’t stolen it from them. As she had lain, still and broken, in that hospital bed amidst a rhythmic beeping of machines and hushed voices in the hallway, he had sung to her.

And she had heard him.

“It was me,” he said simply, wanting to repeat those words over and over again. Inching close, eyes trained on her, he let the echo of a smile pull at his lip. “I had trouble finishing the line.”

The whisky in her eyes burned as her chest heaved with effort. The gravity of the moment threatened to crumble her facade, and she struggled to keep her tone light, “Yes, you did.”

The confirmation sent a shock wave through him. “So, Sassenach…” he let his voice fade as he contemplated. His voice hung between them, both unsure of how to speak.

CLAIRE

His voice was low, his irises almost black. “How does it end then?”

The silence throbbed between them like a heartbeat. The weight of his question lingered. Seemingly innocent on the surface, the deeper meaning reverberating between them.

With a small smile, her fingers touched the strings. Without breaking eye contact, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders.

“Your face is my heart and the love of you…” she paused, wanting the words to ring true. Her hand twitched and curled to find the strings without difficulty as she finished, “My soul.”

The chord hung between them, the vibration echoing against her skin. Without looking away, she gently set the guitar down as the note dissipated and scattered into the air. The wind whipped between them, the familiar scent of linen, sandalwood and him struck her as she watched him, waiting.

“I thought I’d lost ye,” his voice was gravely as it tumbled out of him, carrying the weight of the last several weeks. His eyes were focused on a point in the distance. When he pulled his gaze to her, she saw a pool of tears threatening to brim over. Speaking the truths he’d hidden even from himself, his voice broke as he said, “First wi’ the accident and then ye lost sae many memories of… us. I just couldna bear it- losing ye, losing us.”

“Jamie…” her chest constricted as she watched his face contort and relive that night.

JAMIE

“I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out ye. I was born-” He felt the desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t stop it. She had to know. Had to understand. She needed to feel the love that nearly burst out of his chest, and the agony he’d kept at bay these last long few weeks. He pushed his fingers through his curls as the words spilled out in fragments, “I was- I c-cannae explain it I just… just…. Christ!”

All the words he needed to say came crashing down in his mind and he couldn’t form a single thought to sort them out. He stood helplessly, two digits thrumming against his leg.

Her tone was low as she peeked through furrowed brows and dark lashes, “... I was born for you?”

“Aye,” His eyes darted to her face, the air ripped from his lungs. “How did ye know?”

“Jamie…” her voice was small but warm. “I’ve whispered those same words.. I’ve known that every day since I met you.”

“Claire,” his voice coiled around her name, reveling in the sound. His fingers twitched again as he raised his hand to her face, cupping the smooth porcelain of her cheek.

CLAIRE

Feeling the dam break, she leaned into his touch. “Bha mi gad ionndrainn.”

His hand sunk into her hair, pulling her to him. Grasping his forearms, she pressed her forehead to his. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His breath was heated against her cheek, a faint scent of whisky lingered between them. Her fingers slowly lifted to trace the line of his jaw, the stubble coarse against her skin. They settled just below his jawline, feeling his pulse quicken against her fingertips. Tentatively, she lifted his face to meet hers, and it was breathtaking. Dark flecks interrupted the turbulent blue in his eyes, and they trained on hers with a weight that ignited a fire in her chest.

“I would like-” he started, his voice raspy and raw. His skin was almost vibrating with need. “-Very much to kiss you. May I?”

An ache pulled deep in her belly as she struggled to focus on the words- the anticipation filling her senses. Struggling to focus, she blinked hard and smiled, “You may.”

His fingers intertwined in her hair as he leaned in, soft yet firm. With a final sigh, she closed her eyes and tilted her chin to meet his. His lips were warm and full, quickly molding to hers. With two more movements her tongue was tracing his lip and as she felt them part, she pushed against him with arms snaking around his neck.

Tongues pulsed and kneaded against each other as her hands found his hair as his arms circled around her waist. His fingers urgently sought her skin, pressing into the flesh at the small of her back as she arched into him. The aching need of the past weeks melted away with every movement and every ragged breath between them.

JAMIE

Every thought scattered. There was nothing but her. She filled every sense. The lavender of her shampoo, the velvety touch of her skin against his fingertips as he pulled her closer, the sound of her exhale as she reignited their kiss. He needed her now.

For all the time and distance and tentative silence that had grown between them, speaking was now unnecessary.

He needed to show her the way he loved her. Struggling for composure, one hand snaked up into her hair and he pulled back his lips and held her in place.

Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed and beautiful. Her eyes were a fiery gold and glistened with a thin film of tears.

Sorcha.

Sassenach.

Claire.

She was his, he was hers. Shattered apart, a beautiful mosaic of both pain and triumph together. They fought for this. They earned this.

Her breath was shaky but her voice was calm, “Will you have me?”

The gold specks in her eyes burned like embers as she held his gaze. His skin pulsed with electricity as her fingers lifted the tartan to cover his shoulders. Leaning forward and gently lowering her to the ground, he felt the soft warmth of her body beneath her and he knew he was home. She was home to him.

“Yes,” he whispered as the heat in his chest reverberated out into his fingertips.

He would have had her, any part of her, in any way he could- even the quiet, timid moments of the past few weeks where he had scarcely dared to touch her. But here, now, he saw that each crack and fracture she had endured had only healed stronger. Made more beautiful by the very lines of black etched into her skin, the flap of a heron’s wing flashed before his eyes before fading into the vision of her face.

He pressed against her as he lowered his face to hers. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

Now and forever.

#STAY fic #outlander #outlander fic #fan fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #holy shit i did it

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dramioneasks · 3 years

Text

HP FESTS: For The Love of Fests (Part 1)

Love at Second Sight January 2021:

Second Time's the Charm by floorcoaster - T, one-shot - The first time Hermione sees Draco Malfoy again, she's in for a surprise.

Influence by Misdemeanor1331 - G, one-shot - Draco and Hermione bump into each other at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Draco thinks it’s a chance encounter. Hermione knows it’s anything but.

The Love Boat by Seakays - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and her two best friends are embarking on a week long "Divorced Magicals" Cruise. Hermione took advantage of the Cruise's pre cruise chat room, where she met Scorly1203. After six months of texting, she has agreed to meet him on the first day of the cruise. Could she really find a second chance at love on the Lido Deck?

Second Time Lucky by rennaissance_woman - not rated, one-shot - During a trip to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, what do you do when presented with a second chance?

In Vino Veritas by beautyberry - M, one-shot - "Granger?" he asked disbelievingly. "Malfoy?" she asked, "What are you doing here?" Rated M for mentions of sex.

The Art of Second Chances by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - A chance encounter at the museum brings up unresolved feelings

What Lies Beyond the Light by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - The thing about prisons is that it tends to change a you. The person you were when you went in, will not be the person that comes out. Sometimes for the better, oftentimes for the worst. For Draco Malfoy, the scales were tipped when a certain lawyer forced themselves onto his case with the start of one letter. A letter that turned into the type of correspondence where you end up baring your soul to a stranger. A stranger that ends up knowing every little part of you, from the darkest corners, to the sunniest fields - while barely knowing you at all. But then again, Hermione Granger was never really a stranger to begin with.

Silly Love Songs February 2021:

This Beauty By My Side by Amarillis39 - M, one-shot - My entry to the Silly Love Songs Fest. ____ "But as he watched her glide through the crowd, he decided he would take every second she would give him. Worthy or not, he was still a selfish git." ___ It's another stuffy gala at the Ministry and Draco is overcome with conflicting feelings as he watches Hermione in her element.

The Light That You Shine by SlytherinHermione - M, one-shot - Draco was adrift. All around him was an endless, unforgiving ocean, dull and grey in colour. The waves kept crashing in on him. Back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes he felt like he’d been cursed to remain like a graying tower, alone on the sea. This all changed on a random cold winter day and a bright light. Because what followed the light was as unexplainable as the feeling of calm that suddenly enveloped him. He felt a twinge of something that he couldn’t explain. On the other side of the sidewalk stood Hermione Granger, more beautiful than he could remember, locking eyes with him for a second, as if she herself was caught with him inside of this time bubble filled with light and large, fluffy snowflakes. And with a blink of an eye, she walked the other way, as if this was just another Monday. As if she hadn’t just turned Draco's world up-side down. The tumultuous oceans that surrounded his untethered soul were full of waves, but now of a different kind.

Discord by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “I’ve seen your darkest, and it doesn’t scare me. You’ve become something so much more.” She placed a gentle kiss on his jaw. “I love you, dark and all.”

Time to Spare by Willowfairy - M, one-shot - Draco gets drunk enough to finally tell Hermione how he really feels, and once he starts talking he finds it impossible to stop.

Sometimes When We Touch by sodamnrad - T, one-shot - What if Hermione and Draco were dating when he took the Dark Mark? Submission for the Silly Loves Songs Mini-Fest One shot | Draco's POV | Sixth Year

To Be With You by Blessedindeed - not rated, one-shot - Her ability to show forgiveness intrigues him. Draco finds he has a soft spot for Hermione.

Masquerade March 2021:

Punch Line by tygermine - E, one-shot - Hermione seems to hide behind multiple masks.Draco wants to remove them all.

A Deadly Dance by MykEsprit - T, one-shot - An unexpected guest arrives at the ball. Dramione.

Ask it of Me by WritingFicariously - T, one-shot - Hermione has always had the ability to chase away demons, the darkness that twists his mind into believing he is not good, never enough. She sees and knows every part of him. But Draco has always kept one thing from her, one secret that he never dared say aloud. Until he did.

A Masquerade of Body and Soul by Annav94 - M, one-shot - She’s here to escape the reality, to break the rules. She is here to break the rules because all rules have only given her, is false hope. She turns her head and her eyes meet his. He’s there for the catch of the night. And while he finds himself smirking, smiling at the unforeseen turn of event, he wonders if truly Hermione Granger is flirting in a room full of witnesses with none other than himself - the infamous Draco Malfoy.

Imbolc by CosmicCthulhu - G, one-shot - Hermione celebrates the beginning of spring for the first time, years after the war. She's not the only one who wants a fresh start.

Suit Up by calico_kitten - M, 2 chapters - Gawain Robards has cooked up a new idea for the Departmental Hallowe'en Ball: comic book hero disguises!

This Mask I Wear by SlytherinHermione - T, one-shot - This mask I wear feels cool on my skin. I slip it on, and the act is ready to begin.Safety. Protection. Freedom.

Lover of Fiction April 2021:

3 Words, 8 Letters by sodamnrad - T, 2 chapters - “Do you like me?” Draco’s flitty looks, his tart remarks about her feelings for Blaise, the way he’s following her around instead of chasing an eligible witch who isn’t pining over his friend is extremely telling.“Define like.”Her mouth unhinges. No effing way. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”“How do you think I feel?” He glares at her. “I haven’t slept. I feel sick like there’s something in my stomach, fluttering.” He presses a hand against his belly, as if he’s experiencing the sensation at this very moment.“Butterflies?” she deadpans. “No. No, no, no this cannot be happening.”“No one is more surprised or ashamed than I am.” He gestures to himself, lifting his chin tersely.“Draco, you know that I adore all of Earth’s creatures and the metaphors that they inspire,” she says as her hand forms a crushing fist, “but the butterflies have got to be murdered.”---Draco & Hermione: Their Story (2000s TV Drama Style)Dual POV | 2 Shot | Idiots in Love

The Ambition by In_Dreams - M, one-shot - After ten years at sea, Captain Hermione Granger has a ship and a crew of her own. But one of her new crew mates is a blacksmith from her past. Dramione Pirates AU.

Jitters by TheMourningMadam - M, one-shot - This was written for the Lovers of Fiction mini fest for April. Thank you to QuinTalon for being a gracious host in this fest.My prompt was Jamie and Claire Fraser from Outlander. If you have never seen Outlander, why not? You at least need to watch their first time to see some hot and bewildered Jamie. This is a tiny snapshot into what would be a much larger story, so please take it at face value.Also, I finished this story right at the wire, so didn't have time for a beta. All mistakes are obviously my own and I apologize. Bold sentences are word for word from the tv show.

I Meant Something Like That by CharliPetidei - M, WIP - “You know what’s funny?” said Hermione, crossing her ankles and leaning forwards on the slightly peeling leather sofa. “When I first saw your advert online… I thought you were Hufflepuffs.” The three men opposite her exchanged glances, and then the tall, platinum blond one (it had to be dyed, right?) with the funny name leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. Draco, that was it. “You thought we were what?” A New Girl Dramione AU.

The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition by Annav94 - T, WIP - Don’t we all know what happened when Phoebe finds out about Monica and Chandler in season 5 of Friends? Well, what would then happen if it was Draco and Hermione to be discovered by Pansy? Would then Theo try to calm her down, in the hope that she would stop screaming so his boyfriend (Harry bloody Potter, of all people) would be prevented from finding out about them is such crude way? And would Blaise go along with the scheme the two Slytherins would come up with to push the new couple to expose itself or will he be done with all the ‘pretending’ of not knowing, when he knew all along?Stay with me on this journey called: ‘The One Where Everyone Finds Out - Dramione Edition’.

The Dragon's Moving Castle by SlytherinHermione - T, WIP - Hermione Granger had accepted that her life wasn't going to be a great big adventure.She wasn't particularly beautiful, or interesting, and she hadn't been born with magic like her sisters. Really, she was just as plain as could be.One day though, a castle was seen rolling around the hills near her town.Not long after, she met a strange, handsome, and mysterious man.And she was cursed by the Wicked Witch of the Wasteland.Perhaps life was an adventure after all.

Lanky Brunettes with Wicked Jaws by Lostinthenightrain - M, one-shot - “You’ve got types?”“Only you darling.” He put his hand under her chin and brought her around to face him. He pulled her close with his arm held tight against her. His head to the side of her own, he grinned. “Lanky brunettes with wicked jaws.” A gentle kiss placed against her jaw. She smiled, a blush prettying her cheeks as she pulled back.

Reader, I Married Him by Lostinthenightrain - T, one-shot - “Why must you?” he questioned as he pulled himself forward, using the rough pads of his fingers he gently touched under her chin, dragging her gaze to his own. “You know why!” She wrenched her chin from his grasp. “You are to be married, Malfoy.”

This fest is ongoing.

#fests/exchanges/challenges #for the love of fests

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freddieslater · 2 years

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Jamie and Claire 38.❤

And if you don't mind writing for tvd, Klaus and Elena 36. I'm a sucker for that crackship.

That prompt absolutely SCREAMS Jamie and Claire lmao good choice! Alright, let's get started! <3

In another situation, perhaps Claire would find good reason to be mad at Jamie. Standing there in front of her, though, so sheepish and barely able to look at her, she can’t quite bring herself to make him feel worse.

She bursts into a peal of laughter and asks, ‘Is that your idea of an apology?! Oh, Jamie.’ He startles like a deer interrupted during its morning grazing, solidifying her response. ‘Well, here’s a tip. Try actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’ in future, if you want anyone, never mind a woman, to forgive any misgivings.’

His cheeks must be flaming hot judging by the way they darken to match his hair, turned an ancient copper in the rising sun. It’s a rather remarkable colour, she thinks, pulling her gaze away after a moment to continue attending to the plants. And perhaps so that she can’t be accused of staring longer than appropriate.

Jamie makes a noise like he’s trying to dislodge something from his throat. ‘Yer right. I'm sorry.'

She raises an eyebrow at him over her shoulder but barely turns her head to do so, never ceasing her work of carefully derooting the rather important plant from the damp soil. In her experience, getting a proper apology out of someone - especially a man so set in his stubborn ways - is a more strenuous task than trying to get blood from a stone. At the very least it should take more than a joking lecture.

'Do you even actually know what it is you're apologising for?' she questions, already getting the sense that she knows the answer.

He gives a sort of shrug, only raising the one shoulder - his good one, of course, as he now seems to be well aware that going against her advice of no unnecessary strain to the bad one will result in a real lecture, as it already has done more than once.

'I've got a general idea,' he says. 'So, for the trouble I caused you, I am verra sorry, Sassenach. Ye ken I never want to cause any issues for you. I just... let my temper get the better of me when that bastard got handsy wi' ye like that. The balls he had to do it in front a aw' us, too, I was ready to--'

He cuts himself off and his expression immediately contorts back into that same sheepish one from before. He bows his head, another apology already falling from his lips; he's a considerably fast learner.

Claire smiles, getting over her disbelief. She hadn't known that was why Jamie had stepped in during her... tussle with the clansman. From the way it went down, she had thought it was a matter of pride and property. Now, she can see that isn't the case.

And I am absolutely okay with writing for TVD! I won't lie, Klaus and Elena are a secret curiosity crackship for me, too, so thank you for giving me the chance to explore them a bit better!

Elena's patience finally wears thin, and despite her better judgement, she sets down her sandwich and asks, "Do you want something?"

"No," Klaus says, with a shrug. Yet his eyebrows remain steepled and he merely swings back in his chair as he continues to stare at her, a strange glint in his eyes. Every flicker in their depths makes her think they're about to brighten to a blazing gold.

A shiver runs down her spine. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, not able to let it go until he stops. "It's creeping me out. Do I have something on my face or...?"

Klaus' mouth twists into a sort of smile, like he's just had a wicked thought. But he just pitches his eyebrows higher and gives her another innocent shrug, waving a hand off to the side.

"I was just trying to work out why you're having breakfast in my house," he says with an air of nonchalance, almost completely disguising the curious edge. He pushes himself forward and plants his elbows on the table, clasping his hands beneath his chin. "You aren't exactly fond of my family, so it's a tad strange that you'd willingly spend even a second more than necessary in the place where we live. And eat."

She raises her eyebrows back at him, unimpressed by his attempt to unsettle her. While she did feel a bit like an animal being eyed up by its prey a moment before, she can see now that his only intention is to bother her, not make her his own breakfast.

"If you must know, I'm waiting for Elijah," she tells him matter-of-factly, picking up her sandwich once more. "We have plans, but he wanted me to eat something before we leave."

She purposefully doesn't look at him until after she's finished talking, flicking her eyes up to catch a reaction. His smirk slips, and she's pleased by his dissatisfaction at his brother's constant ability to be a perfect gentleman.

"How thoughtful of him," he says dryly. His eyes spark again, and his smirk curves back across his face as he straightens. "Fed up of the Salvatore brothers, then? Fancy a bit of a change? Can't say I blame you. It has been a while since my brother and I competed over a girl, though, and it's hardly fair that Elijah seems to have a head-start advantage."

It's a good thing Elena hadn't tried to continue eating or else she would've choked. She gives a dry laugh and sets the sandwich down on the plate, saying, "And suddenly I feel queasy."

"You wound me," Klaus says with a mocking hand on his heart.

She rolls her eyes at him and pushes her chair away from the counter, getting to her feet and collecting her jacket from the back of the chair. "And you annoy me. I'm going to find Elijah, who, by the way" --she turns to look at him briefly as she walks away-- "will always be miles ahead if it's between the two of you."

Klaus doesn't take offence but simply smiles at her retreating form, calling out to her, "We'll see."

#oh look a wild anonymoose #ask away earthlings!#outlander #the vampire diaries #jamie x claire #klaus x elena #elena x klaus

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 11 ~Suspicious Minds~

Picture Edit by melodyheart

Previously in The Art of Non-Communication ...

A familiar bright red Fiat slowed down next to them just as Jamie was about to get into the car, and Ian, their brother-in-law, poked his head out of the window. "Hey, lads, guess who I just saw back in town?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged.

When Ian stalled, Willie blew out an impatient breath.

"Out with it!" Willie grumbled. "I've been away from work for far too long already."

Ian grinned. "Yer pal Christie."

Jamie waved a hand in the air in dismissal and turned to open the car door, not particularly interested in hearing the latest coming and going in Broch Mordha. "I'm pretty sure the lassies will be thrilled he's back."

"Aye, ye're probably right, but I dinnae think ye'd be too pleased to hear if one particular lass is enjoying his company."

Jamie whipped around. "What do ye mean?" He sounded like someone just launched a flying rugby pass onto his stomach.

"Saw Claire and Tom through the window of Slater's Arms. Probably sitting down for late lunch."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire hurriedly made her way to Slater's Arms to meet Tom Christie. They'd arranged earlier to meet at the pub after he'd dropped her off at the village centre to do her errands, so she was surprised to see him waiting outside. After exchanging a hurried cursory hello, he allowed him to guide her through the half-filled bar, his hand ever so lightly touching her elbow. They were greeted by a string of boisterous sallies from the locals, to which Tom good-humouredly responded with a couple of wisecracks of his own . It was becoming pretty clear they were in his local haunt and was well-liked by its patrons. But she also suspected there could be whispers going around, wondering what she was doing with him. Despite those thoughts, she kept her head up, and a smile plastered to her face.

After navigating through the narrow maze of tables and chairs, they opted for an empty space by the window, away from the bar where a heated football discussion was just about to begin. They simultaneously slid into their seats, sitting opposite each other, his lopsided grin and lax manner putting her immediately at ease. He was seemingly oblivious to the curious stares around them, but Claire paid no heed to the attention they were garnering and pushed her earlier encounter with Jenny away from her mind. This was a professional meeting, a welcome distraction even though it was proving an impossibility not to picture Jamie across from her. Suddenly missing Jamie, she allowed her thoughts to momentarily drift and wondered what he was up to.

"Hey."

Claire snapped out of her reverie. "Huh?"

"I asked if ye're hungry."

"Oh! Well, I'm not sure," she murmured, squinting at the specials scrawled on the blackboard hanging behind the bar. "Sort of, I guess."

"Sort of?" he laughed. "What kind of answer is that?" He passed her a menu. "Here. Ye ought to try their haggis tweeds. They have the best in this area."

She snorted, taking the menu card and skimming through it. "Really? I've never met a Scot who liked haggis, and yet every one of you lot I've met recommends it to non-locals."

"Aaahh," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. "To be honest, I dinnae like haggis myself when cooked the traditional way. But the haggis tweeds are different ...more palatable. They're rolled into balls, breaded and deep-fried. I'm quite sure ye'll like them."

"Hmmm ..." When she glanced up from the menu, she met his thoughtful gaze. Though smiling, he had an odd expression on his face. "Wot?" She smoothed her hair, thinking it must be all over the place. She dreaded what her hair looked like after being caught in the rain earlier on. She wished now she'd tied it back before leaving the cottage. "Anything wrong?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Just noticing ye dinnae look as upbeat as ye sounded on the phone the first time we talked. I was expecting ye to be more excited about selling me the idea of publishing my travel book. Ye kinda look as if something is bothering ye. Is anything the matter?"

She let out an exhale and placed the menu down. "I'm sorry. I've just had a rough day."

"Boyfriend problem?" he asked slowly.

She arched an eyebrow at him. Friendly as Tom was, Claire wasn't prepared to share any details of her personal life. "I just have a lot of things going on, and then you threw me out of the loop," she explained, not wanting to lie but not wanting to over-share either. "I was caught off-guard when you phoned earlier, and I wasn't expecting your call until, at least, sometime next week."

"Ye could've told me to meet at a later date. I wouldnae have minded."

"No! Today is fine," she assured him quickly. "I'm probably slowly weaning from the fast pace of hectic schedules in London, that at the first sign of change, I stumble a bit."

He grinned. "Weel, whatever is bothering ye, I dinnae like you looking so downcast. Maybe we can do something about it right now and tell ye a bit of good news. To cheer ye up."

"I like good news ..." she remarked, perking up, guessing he probably had a new picture or post on his blog he wanted to show.

"That's much better," he said when he caught a hint of a smile forming on her face. "As I was saying, I have a bit of good news. I've been giving your proposition a lot of thought ..." he shifted on his seat and took a deep breath. "I've decided I want to go ahead and publish my travel blog in print."

She blinked and swallowed before finding her voice. "But you haven't seen the projected sale and all the ..."

He waved a hand. "I'm quite sure after that impressive pitch over the phone, yer projected whatever and other wotnots ye wish to go over with me will be just as equally convincing. The idea is sold, and I'm on board."

"Just like that?"

He nodded his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aye. Now that I've met ye in person, I'm pretty confident ye'll make sure I'll get a fair deal for my book. I'm a good judge of character, and I trust ye'll do what's right."

"Of course."

"So it's settled."

"Well, that's ...that's fabulous," she breathed, her mind rushing in all sorts of direction.

"This calls for a celebration, don't ye think?" he smiled, waving at the waitress.

Before Claire could reply, her purse vibrated. She pointed an index finger at Tom. "Hold that thought." She opened her bag and grabbed her phone. It was her boss, John Grey.

"Oh, hi, John! I'm in the middle of ..."

"Claire, I'm sorry to dump this on you," John said rapidly in a panicky tone. "Mary Hawkins just phoned and said she expects you to pick her up at Inverness Airport."

"Wot?!? But how? Why?" She glanced at Tom and noticed a light frown lining his brows. "She hasn't been answering any of my emails. What the hell is she doing in Inverness?" She knew it wasn't professional to be discussing another author over the phone with a potential client in front of her. But it couldn't be helped. At the moment, she was far too agitated to care. Mary Hawkins, the publishing's star author, had been elusive ever since she disappeared to France, and she'd been the reason Claire had decided to take a break in Scotland only to be given another job in the form of Tom Christie. "Please don't tell me you sent her here. I have enough on my plate as it is." She gave Tom an apologetic look, to which he just shrugged and smiled in understanding.

A frustrated sigh came from John. "I swear to God, this isn't my doing. She arrived yesterday here in London, and when she demanded to start work right away on her book, I assigned another editor. But she wouldn't have it. She insisted on working with you. So I told her you're in Inverness doing another project. And then she called a few minutes ago, demanding you pick her up at the airport. I swear I didn't know she was planning on flying to Inverness."

Oh, God! "John!" she whined. "I can't just drop everything and pick her up. I'm an editor, not a chauffeur! I'm in the middle of talks with Mr Christie."

"I'm terribly sorry for this mess, Claire but, isn't there anything you can do? Your boyfriend, perhaps? You know how Hawkins is a big deal for the company."

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Claire felt she was being put in a position she didn't want to be in. On top of it all, her uncle would be arriving in two days, and there was the added worry she had with Jamie and potentially Jenny. The day was definitely getting worse by the second, but Claire reminded herself she was John's only hope, and he was a friend and had always been good to her. When she finally had the strength to open her eyes again, Tom mouthed something she couldn't quite catch.

Wot do you mean? She mouthed back, shaking her head.

"Claire, are you still there?"

"Yes!" she snapped, tamping down the urge to curse. "I'm here!"

"Well?"

She let out a frustrated breath. There was no way out of it. "Fine, John! But you owe me big time! I'll see what I can do." Damn it!

"You're a star!" John said, relief lacing his voice. "I knew I could rely on you. I'll text Hawkins to let her know you're on your way, and then I'll text you her private number. I don't think you'll have that. It's one of the reasons you couldn't get in touch with her. Anyway, let me know later how you get on."

Before she could answer, the line went dead. What the bloody hell just happened?

Claire dropped her head into her hands and groaned. She wanted to bawl, throw stuff and pull her hair out in frustration.

"Problems?"

She raised her head and looked at Tom. "I'm sorry you had to witness that. I have to cancel our meeting. I need to somehow get to Inverness and pick up this author I'm working with." Without going into too many details, Claire quickly explained her predicament, almost forgetting to breathe. By the time she finished, she was gasping for air and wondering if Tom understood what the hell she was on about. "As you can see, I probably have to organise her accommodation as well. So I really must get going." She stood up and grabbed her bag. "Raincheck?"

He got on his feet as well. "Look, I'm not doing anything for the rest of the day. How about I drive you to Inverness. I can even help you set her up."

"Tom, you don't have to."

"Hey, I'm about to get a book deal from your boss. Let me at least prove to ye what a perfect travel guide I am as I've portrayed on my blog."

Claire stopped to collect herself. On second thoughts, she did need Tom's help, and she couldn't well impose on Willie to drive her to Inverness when he'd been taking time off to check up on her ever since Jamie left. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone and talk him through his own book's publishing process on their way to the airport. It was a brilliant idea, and hopefully, by the end of today, John would be able to draw up a contract for Tom. With a resigned smile, Claire appreciatively accepted the offer. "Alright then, but we do need to get going now."

"Absolutely. We'll go through the back door." When Claire looked at him curiously, he grinned. "I've parked the car in the staffs' parking lot. I'm good friends with the owner, so I get the privilege to walk through the kitchen and use the backdoor," he explained. Then he leaned closer to her ear and spoke in a low voice. "And if the chef is in a good mood, he might allow us to taste today's menu."

Claire laughed out loud, attracting attention from the pub's clientele. She ignored the curious stares. It was good to laugh again after the last couple of days of feeling down, and she owed it to herself to steer negativity and worries from her thoughts. "We'll stop by the cottage to get some clothes. Knowing my client, she'll probably want to stay in a posh hotel in Inverness and want to start working right away. She doesn't do bed and breakfast or small places. So I doubt she'll want to come to Broch Mordha."

Tom nodded with a smile as he took her hand and lead the way.

Heading to the back of the pub, Claire made a few mental notes on what she needed to take with her. She also reminded herself to message Willie about taking care of Rollo and Adso while she's away, hoping he would think nothing of it when he hears from the village gossip of her meeting with Tom.

...........

Jamie caught Willie's livid expression before the car started, and they were driving down the small country lane. He knew his brother was miffed with Ian, who'd sped ahead of them after revealing Claire's whereabouts with Christie. Though common sense told him he had nothing to be worried about, it had been still a punch in the gut to hear Claire was out with another man.

"Can ye speed up a bit?" Jamie muttered, shifting restlessly on his seat.

"We're not in a bloody motorway, and there are speed limits for a reason," Willie growled, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "And it will do ye a lot of good to use this time to calm down before we reach Claire. It's obvious ye're not thinking clearly."

Jamie almost wished he'd taken a ride with Ian instead. They couldn't see their brother-in-law's red Fiat anymore as it disappeared at a bend further ahead. But he knew Willie was right. He wasn't thinking clearly. It's just that, why it had to be Thomas Christie of all people Claire had chosen to go out with. He had nothing against the bloke, but he was a renowned player. What if Claire had grown tired of his condition and fell for Christie's charms? It wouldn't be a difficult feat as the bloke oozed charms by the bucketload. Hadn't he lost a girlfriend in the past because of Christie? Or was it because of his condition? He couldn't be sure anymore. Either way, knowing Claire was with Christie at this very moment was burning a hole in his stomach. "So ye're an expert on my thoughts now, are ye?" Jamie grunted, unable to think of a better excuse for his behaviour.

"I dinnae need to be an expert to know what ye're thinking ... it's written all o'er yer face," Willie retorted. "If ye'd called her up in the first place, then ye would've had a fair idea why she's meeting Christie, and ye wouldnae be in this stinking shite thinking the worse. The lass has been worried sick about ye, and she's put up with yer silence more than what could be expected of her. So do both yerselves a favour and calm the fuck down, aye?"

Jamie knocked back the claustrophobic sensation and forced himself to breathe. This had always been his trouble with his PTSD. He always had these intense emotions that always grew out of proportion to a point it would suffocate him, especially negatives ones like a feeling of lacking or guilt. Wasn't that what Geneva had said? There was a lot of misplaced guilt involved? And no matter what he did to get better, it was a bloody never-ending cycle that always brought him back to square one. But despite the shortcomings, he knew it would kill him if he didn't give himself a fighting chance with Claire. He might as well die trying. She was, after all, either going to be his reason for living or the reason he died. It was all right there, shining in front of him like a floodlight.

With a sigh, he tried to relax. Jamie knew justifying his earlier behaviour was a bad idea in both their current edgy states, but nothing would stop him from seeing Claire right now. It was like a need that required satisfying, and he couldn't wait to finally see her. He focused on the road ahead of them and listened to the radio to take his mind of negative thoughts.

It's a dreich Thursday afternoon, and here's another trip down memory lane with Mac's Classics here at MFR, with the biggest hits and the biggest throwbacks. Next up is a song sure to make ye forget the dreary days ahead – Let's get rickrolling with Never Gonna Give You Up.

"Turn it up," Jamie said suddenly, surprising his brother.

"What?" Willie glanced at him like he'd grown a pair of horns.

"I said, turn the bloody volume up!"

"Ye're joking, right? Rick fucking Astley? Nae chance pal!"

"Just do it," Jamie huffed, not caring what his brother thought of his song choice. When Claire had told him it had made her smile listening to it in the cafe the other day, he'd listened to it as well on his mother's antique record player. It was a bloody awful song, but for some strange reason, it had made him smile too.

Scowling and cursing under his breath, Willie eventually complied, and they listened to Rick Astley's song for the rest of the way. When they reached the village centre, Willie illegally parked outside Slater's Arms, carefully avoiding bumping into the menacing bollards. They were just about to get out of the car when Ian appeared from the pub, shaking his head.

Willie stuck his head out of the window. "What's the matter?"

"They're gone," Ian replied, shrugging, perplexity evident in his expression. "Spoke to Angus, and he said they didn't even order anything. They just got up and left."

Jamie got out of the car. "Did he say where they went?"

Ian narrowed his gaze at him. "I didnae ask."

Jamie ran a hand in front of his face and got back in the car. His brother had to work. There was only one thing left he could do, and it was to go back to the cottage, and if Claire wasn't there, he'd give her a call. He turned to Willie, letting out a sigh of resignation. "Just drop me off at the cottage. I've taken too much of yer time already."

"Ye sure?" Willie asked quietly. "I can drop ye off at Lallybroch. Yer car is there. Ye'll most probably need it soon, especially with more bad weather to come."

Jamie shook his head. He was certain Claire would be at home, and if not, surely later. He wasn't planning on going anywhere anytime soon but had every intention of making up for lost time with her. "It's time to go home," Jamie sighed, waving goodbye to Ian. "No more running away,"

Willie smiled, starting the car. "Good choice!"

It was a short drive to his cottage, and by the time they pulled up outside his house, the sun started to peek out for a splinter of a moment, his driveway though occupied by an unfamiliar vehicle. As soon as he saw a man's profile sat on the driver's seat, he immediately knew it was Christie. As if anticipating his next move and before he could yank off his seatbelt, Willie slapped a hand across his chest.

"What?" Jamie wheezed.

"Claire's in the cottage. Talk to her first and find out what's going on before ye jump to any conclusions."

Jamie breathed through a laugh, but he could hear it was edged with doubt. "What if I've fucked this up?"

"Ye havenae. And it's up to ye to keep that way. Now go to her. Ye'll find out soon enough there's a perfect explanation for Christie hanging about."

Words were fighting to leave his tongue, but he clamped his lips together and held them back. Vocalising the feelings raging inside his chest would only allow his emotions to run away with him. He reigned them in and took a deep breath. Whether it's a consequence of PTSD or not, he couldn't expect Claire to understand every time. So instead, Jamie gave Willie a reassuring nod and hoped his brother was right.

He got out of the car and walked straight to the cottage, refusing to acknowledge Christie. He knew he was being rude and could feel his brother's eyes boring into his back as well as Christie's. He didn't care because right at this moment, his primary focus was Claire.

As soon as he opened the door and saw Claire hooking a bag onto her shoulder, he bounded across the room, dropping his face into her neck and breathing for the first time in days. "Sassenach," he whispered. "I'm so sorry for leaving ye. I wasnae thinking. Please forgive me."

Claire dropped her bag on the floor, wrapping both arms around his neck. "Jamie, you're here," she breathed into his ear. "Are you alright? God, I've been so worried about you."

"I'm alright now that I'm here and ye're here," he rasped, lifting his head for a moment and eyeing the bags on the floor. "Why are yer bags packed?"

She followed his gaze. "I ...ah ... it's work, and I have to ..."

"Ye're going back to London?"

"No!"

That's all he needed to hear. Unable to wait any longer for an explanation, he pulled her into his arms as urgency pumped in his veins. He badly needed to absorb as much as he could of her, breathing her in, in huge gulps of air. His mouth travelled over her neck, into her hair, across her lips, whispering for forgiveness, his hands restless as he touched her everywhere.

"Hey, look at me ... there's nothing to forgive," she murmured, drawing away. She placed her hands on both sides of his face and searched his eyes. "I understand what you've been going through, and I know you're fighting your hardest. It's going to be alright."

"I've missed ye." He turned his face to kiss her palm before placing her hand on his chest. "I-I thought ye're better off without me. I thought I could walk away from ye, and it would be enough knowing ye're safe from me. But nothing was right. I was sick to the soul, knowing I've left ye. I wanted ye to be with a better man than me, but now ... I'm gonnae be selfish and beg ye to let me be that man by yer side."

"Jamie, where's this coming from?" she queried. "I was worried and afraid for you, but I haven't changed my mind about us." She sighed. "Your brother told me yesterday, you were seeing a therapist this morning. Did you go today?"

Jamie swallowed and nodded, unable to still his hands, touching her everywhere, needing to assure himself he was really holding her.

"Is this why you're talking like this? Has the therapy dug up a lot of unwanted issues? Because if it has, it's perfectly normal."

"No!" He let out a frustrated breath. He'd been so unpredictable with the symptoms of his PTSD coming and going, she wasn't taking him seriously when he needed her to hear him out. "No, please listen and look me in the eye. I panicked when I saw the bruises on yer arms, and without thinking, I left. I did what I did because I didnae think I could ever be the man for ye ...a bloody disappointment, constantly causing ye grief. But I understand now why my condition is out of control at the moment ... it's because I have suppressed emotions that need to come out. It's been coming out more because all this while, ye've been the key to my healing. So I'm handing everything inside me over to ye because I trust ye, and ye're the only one who can make sense of me. I cannae promise smooth sailing, Sassenach, but there is one thing I know ye can depend on and will always be constant despite my condition. And that's my love for ye. I can guarantee ye with certainty ye can rely on that. This isnae a result of my therapy talking, alright? I willnae let ye go for anything. I can work around my condition with ye by my side, and I'll work twice as hard to get better."

"Jamie, I love you too, and I have no doubt that ..."

"Then why are your bags packed?" he questioned accusingly. "And why is Christie outside waiting for ye?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Claire quickly explained everything from the call she received from her boss to Christie's involvement and an impatient Mary Hawkins waiting for her at the airport.

He could tell she was itching to go by the way she tried to subtly glance at her watch, but he was feeling too selfish. "How about I drive ye to Inverness?" he cajoled, his hand stroking her hair. "Willie is still outside. We'll get my car in Lallybroch, and I'll drive ye." He suddenly felt like a bastard keeping her from doing her work.

"Jamie, no!" she said gently but firmly. He knew she was restraining herself from rushing off, wanting to make sure he was alright first. "I can't be fretting about you being in a city when I have work to do. There's a possibility I'll be back tonight, but if Mary wants to work straight away on her book, then I have to stay in Inverness for a couple of nights, tops. Besides, I need to explain to Tom about his book's publication and make sure he hasn't changed his mind. Until we've drawn up a contract, nothing is certain." Her hands smoothed the hard muscles on his chest. "Besides, I need you to be here when my uncle comes. He'll be hiring a car, so he won't require picking up."

"What? Ye're uncle is coming here?" he almost shouted.

"No. I mean, uncle Lamb won't be staying here in the cottage even though you told him he could. I've already booked him a place in the village centre ...close to the amenities."

He let out a sigh of relief. He didn't think he was ready to bond with Harry's look-alike ...yet. If anything, he dreaded it, afraid of other suppressed memories dying to come out and choke him with guilt.

"Jamie, I really ought to go. I promise I'll call later and explain everything."

With a groan, he pulled Claire in once more in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, and she responded with a whimper that told him she was enjoying the kiss. He hadn't even had a second to savour getting her back before the prospect of letting her go again struck him like a baseball bat between the shoulder blades. But he wanted to give her something to remember while she's away and what she'll be missing if she didn't hurry up with her work. He slipped his hand under her cardigan, caressing her nipple with the calloused pad of his thumb and pressing his burgeoning erection against her belly.

"I love ye ...always remember that." His mouth coasted along the lines of her jaw, his hands squeezing her waist. "I ken ye've been patient and understanding with me, but just try to be extra tolerant with me for now. Can ye do that?"

She nodded, her face red from beard burn. "Alright, but I do need to go, Jamie." Her eyes flashed. "And you have nothing to worry about. So please rest up tonight because you'll need a hell of a lot of energy when my uncle comes."

It's the way she looked at him, pleading for understanding that became his undoing as if she's reading his thoughts, and despite everything he'd done, she couldn't find fault with a single one. He needed to be a better man and control his emotions and needs. Her work was important to her, and she was important to him. "Fine, I'll walk ye to the car." He stooped down to get her bags and followed her outside.

They stopped beside Christie's car, and Jamie watched the other man climbed out, both men grunting a greeting at each other.

"Am I still driving ye to Inverness, Claire?" Christie asked, avoiding Jamie's eyes.

Claire nodded. "Yes, please, if that's still alright with you. I'm so sorry I took so long."

"It's nae bother, and of course, I'll drive ye to Inverness," Christie smiled warmly.

A long silence stretched as the three of them just stood there. Christie rocked on his heels, and Jamie held on to Claire's bags like it was his lifeline.

Caught up in the awkwardness of the moment, Claire bit her bottom lip. "Well, I guess that's settled then. We best get going before Mary does something like bite some poor soul's head at the airport." Claire's attempt to sound cheerful lessened the tension in the air but not the one on Jamie's shoulders. She turned to him and tried to take her bags off his hands, but he couldn't seem to let go. "Jamie ...my bags," she whispered, her hand running up and down his forearm as if to tell him everything was going to be alright.

But instead of giving Claire's bags back to her, he begrudgingly handed them to Christie while launching if looks could kill look over her head. They had a few seconds of stare off until Claire's hands on his face forced him to look at her.

"Jamie, kiss me, goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate at her request and sucked on her bottom lip as she made a sobbing noise. That wee noise she made jolted something free inside of him, and he, too, wanted to cry. He couldn't remember wanting to openly cry before. Not like this. He couldn't control it, and it dragged him down, stealing oxygen from his lungs, but Claire's touches soothed him.

"I don't want to go," she murmured against his mouth. "Not one bit. But I'm doing this for us, remember that. The sooner I'm done with work, the more time we can spend time together."

He allowed himself to wade into the shallow waters of comfort Claire was starting to represent. He'd lived with this reality for too long that he wasn't enough. Or probably worse, he was too much. For years, these memories of loss and guilt and shame had been subdued. Now they're coming out with guns blazing, and he felt totally defenceless. But with her arms around him, he felt cocooned in her bubble of protection. So he clung to her like a drunk with his last shot of whisky, the desperation inside him going into overdrive, and he was practically mauling her lips with no care whose watching, drawing her onto tiptoes so he could get all of her from every angle.

"Jamie," she whispered shakily, gently pulling away. "My phone is going off every second. Mary is probably wondering why I haven't called her."

Breathe, lad, it's going to be alright. Don't lose yer cool, or ye'll drive her away. He let go and opened the car door for her, not taking any notice of the man waiting patiently at the driver's seat. "I'm sorry," Jamie mumbled.

"It's alright." She smiled in understanding, squeezing his hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

He held on to Claire's eyes, the only tangible thing he could grasp, giving him a renewed determination to manage the condition that had ruled him all his life. At that moment, the world suddenly made sense, and he was veering into a place he didn't recognise ...a place of calm, where the voices in his head had lost their dominion over his thoughts.

He watched as Christie's Land Rover drove away and was surprised when a hand landed on his shoulder. Jamie turned around to discover Willie stood there, a smile etched on his face. Jamie had forgotten about his brother, too caught up with Claire's departure and the intense emotions he'd nearly let out of control.

"Ye did well, bràthair. I'm so proud of ye."

Jamie dropped his head forward and let out an exhale, feeling a lot lighter in days. He knew he'd only scratched the surface of their relationship, but Claire was giving him all the time in the world to get back on his feet, and he was determined not to disappoint her. Though it had been a struggle not to let his emotions take control, it was at least a start. He glanced up at his brother and smiled.

"Ye alright there, Jamie lad?" Willie playfully slapped him on the back for good measure.

"Aye, I think so." This time Jamie meant it and believed his own words. He threw an arm around Willie's shoulder, squeezed it briefly before stepping back. "And thank ye for sticking around. I owe ye one."

"Aye ye do," Willie grinned. "How about repaying me like right now and coming to work. It should keep yer mind busy and help me catch up with a long list of jobs."

Jamie didn't need prodding. His mouth curved into a smile, and he nodded his head. "After seeing Christie, I think I'm in the mood for uprooting trees."

They shared a wicked glance and then laughed out loud.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your patience with this story and the feedback from the previous chapter.

Mental health stories are, I personally think, the hardest to put across because it involves a lot of emotions and psychological battle that are difficult to put into words. But I was determined to write this account even though it has its challenges, so I hope I've done it justice.

Part of the reason for pushing to write such a story that delves into the mind of a tortured soul is to raise mental health awareness because there are many things that people still don't understand about this illness. In saying that, some of you were disappointed by Jamie's behaviour, and I wanted that to happen to make a point.

In real life, it's so much easier to categorise and point out someone's shortcoming instead of trying to understand the psyche of a person's behaviour. From my perspective, each of us has undoubtedly suffered a form of mental illness at least once, but not everyone has the emotional and psychological strength and maturity to cope or overcome it. Nor do they have access to help. In Jamie' case, he's got a strong network of family, and he got Claire to help him get through it.

So the moral of the story is, spread kindness because you never know what really is going on in someone's mind.

For now, take care of yourselves. Until the next update ... X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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scapegrace74-blog · 2 years

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Love Stained, Chapter 3

A/N Here is the promised mid-week chapter. Jamie and Claire don’t meet in this chapter, but she’s not far from his mind. Stay tuned next weekend when they get together for their first, ahem, session. Thanks as always for reading!

Trigger warning: mild references to past sexual assault

The whole story can be found on my AO3 page.

”Weeel, if it isn’t my favourite wee fox cub!”

Geillis Duncan was a walking embodiment of the stereotypical flamboyant therapist with her brightly patterned clothing, chunky framed glasses and vibrant red hair. Her office was a cozy pastiche of over-stuffed armchairs, swag lamps and Himalayan salt crystals.

Jamie settled his bulk into one such armchair, eyes scanning the familiar room for any new eccentric curios. A gaudy cat with one paw raised in greeting stared down at him from a bookshelf with porcelain eyes.

Despite outward appearances, Geillis was a dedicated and relentless professional, always eager to support her patients in whatever way she could. These weekly meetings had become a mainstay of his otherwise tumultuous life, and he’d grown quite fond of his colleague.

Didn’t stop him from taking the piss, though.

“What’s with yon wee cat? Looks like he’s tryin’ to hail a cab on Grassmarket,” he teased.

“Ye really dinna miss much, do ye Jamie? That’s a maneki-neko. A Japanese cat of good fortune. A patient gave it to me the other day.”

“We could all use a little more good fortune in our lives,” he conceded, eyeing the cat more critically.

Their session proceeded as usual, with Geillis sharing her notes and observations of the women they were both treating. A large part of being a sexual surrogate was understanding the underlying causes of a woman’s dysfunction, and where she was at on her journey to coming to terms with those causes. Patients had to agree to allow the two professionals to share otherwise confidential revelations. Their work was two sides of the same coin: Geillis addressed the emotional response to trauma, while Jamie focused on the physical one.

“Mary McNab will only be comin’ to see me once a month, henceforth. She even went on a date last week.”

“That’s grand!” Jamie enthused, truly pleased for the mousy woman who had been in treatment for well over a year after a violent attack in the alley behind her flat. It had taken three months before she’d allowed even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Aye, tis. She went on and on about how wonderful ye were wi’ her. It was nauseating, if I’m bein’ honest. Still, twas a job well done.”

Geillis pushed a thick envelope across her desk towards him. This was part of their agreement. Jamie never accepted payment directly from his clients and only once his assignment was complete.

“I hear Claire Randall finally sought yet out,” Geillis continued after Jamie slid the money into his messenger bag. He worked hard to school his features before looking back up. He wasn’t the only one with a keen eye for detail, and Geillis saw him better than anyone except his sister.

“Aye, she did. She found me at the Ridge the other night and we spoke. Texted me afterwards to thank me for my time. Ball’s in her court whether she wants to pursue treatment.”

The therapist observed him with the same jade green gaze as her porcelain cat.

“And what did ye make of her?”

Measuring his words carefully, Jamie went on, “Skittish. Highly strung. A perfectionist who needs to please to feel valued.”

Geillis nodded in agreement.

“Ye’d have made a fine psychologist, lad. She lost both parents in a car crash when she was seven. Claire was in the back seat at the time. It took o’er an hour to extract her wi’ the jaws of life.”

Jamie shuddered in sympathy. His mother and father were also gone, but he couldn’t imagine what it might do to a child to be trapped in a twisted heap of metal next to the dead bodies of her parents. Calling for them in that throaty wisp of a voice, with no answer ever to be heard again. He urged the salty knot in his throat down into his chest.

“Her paternal uncle raised the wee lamb,” Geillis went on. “A bit of an absent-minded professor type, I gather, but he doted on her. Probably to excess. He passed away eighteen months ago. Cancer.”

The puzzle pieces began to rearrange themselves in Jamie’s mind. Claire had said she’d been married for just over a year.

“Attachment disorder?” he guessed.

“A reasonable assumption, but Claire has no problems maintaining healthy relationships with friends or colleagues. No, I think we’re looking at a case of fear of abandonment that’s manifesting itself through resistance to sexual surrender.”

A thought had been niggling him since he met Claire at the Ridge and heard her heartfelt wish to save her marriage.

“What of her husband? Should he no’ be part of her treatment since it’s their intimate life that’s at issue?”

Geillis’ mobile mouth arched downward and she cleared her throat. Clearly, she hadn’t formed a better opinion of the bastard than he had.

“Mr. Randall is of the impression that since his prior sex life was fruitful and, in his mind at least, mutually satisfactory, the onus lies wi' his wife to resolve whatever problems she brought to their marriage bed.”

Huffing like an enraged bull, Jamie stood and began to pace in front of the floor to ceiling bookshelves, fists forming and unforming in thin air.

“He does,” Geillis conceded, “approve of her seeking therapy, along with any treatment she may request from you.”

“Mac an donas,” Jamie swore, rounding on Geillis where she sat watching him from behind her cats-eye glasses. “What kind of man sends his wife to another to see to her pleasure? A duty that is his by both vow and honour.”

It was a rhetorical question, but Geillis answered him anyway.

“The kind that keeps ye gainfully employed, Jamie Fraser.”

#my writing #outlander #fanfic

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denimbex1986 · 4 months

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'Loosely based on the 1987 novel ‘Strangers’ by Taichi Yamada, the film ‘All of Us Strangers’, written and directed by Andrew Haigh, is a fantasy film which constantly oscillates between dream and reality, blurring the thin lines between them. The plot revolves around a television screenwriter Adam (Andrew Scott) who, torn by his existential angst, lives in a skyscraper in London. He is a victim of lonely suburban existence, also undergoing a writer’s block. Leading a mundane life, spending most of his time lying on his couch eating crisps, he stares at the skyline from his window. One day, he meets his drunk neighbour Harry (Paul Mescal) who, too, is weary of the emptiness of urban life and yearns for Adam’s company. But Adam declines the offer.

The next scene cuts to next day when we see Adam attempting to write something about his childhood, ‘EXT Suburban House 1987’, he types. Immediately we see him in a train heading to the suburbs. Here onwards, the film unravels to us the inner world of Adam that is mostly a figment of his imagination or dreams.

‘The interpretation of Dreams’ is a 1899 book by Sigmund Freud, who introduces us to the theory of the unconscious with respect to dream interpretations. Freud proposed that dreams could provide valuable insight into an individual’s unconscious desires and conflicts. Dreams are a form of ‘wish fulfillment’ as they represent the unconscious desires that our conscious mind represses. In order to analyze Adam’s world of dreams, Freud’s theory seems highly feasible. Through Adam’s world of dreams, we see that he had a turbulent childhood due to the untimely death of his parents as a result of an accident. He, thereby, always longs for their company since he wishes to tell them about his journey of growing up, open up to them regarding his homosexuality and mostly the experience the feeling of home.

As a child after the accident, he never got a proper closure, he wasn’t allowed to bid a final goodbye to his parents as he was kept away from them by his grandmother, who thought it would be too scarring for a child his age back then. But at times it’s important to come in to terms with the harsh realities in order to move ahead in life. Though Adam has grown up into an adult, his mind is still fixated on the childhood memories of his parents. From the deepest corners of his mind the repressed memories of the time he spent with his parents often resurface. In order to fulfil his unfulfilled wishes, he travels on a train to his world of dreams which is a major source of his wish fulfillment as stated by Freud in his theory.

The train in the film stands as a metaphor of a time machine or a cosmic medium which transports him to a parallel world.

Freud used a technique called free association to uncover the latent content of dreams. In this process, a person says whatever comes to his mind, leading to insights about the unconscious wishes the dream represents. This aspect of Freud’s theory is particularly evident in Adam’s conversations with his parents who hasn’t aged and look exactly the same way they looked when he was 12 years old. Through his dreams, he assumes his parents’ reaction to his homosexuality. Being from a small town family of 1980s, his mother (Claire Foy) doesn’t seem pleased when Adam first confesses his sexual preference. She thinks, ‘it’s a very lonely kind of life’ her son has chosen. Adam counters that he may be lonely but it’s not because he’s gay. Then in another conversation with his father (Jamie Bell), we learn that Adam was different since school; he wasn’t masculine enough to throw a ball no matter how many times his father taught him. His father, therefore, knew that Adam is different from the kids around him. As such he wasn’t shocked when Adam’s mom told him about their son’s homosexuality. When Adam asks his father as to why he never said anything despite hearing his son sobbing in his room, his father admits that he would have picked on Adam like the other kids at school if he was of the same age

Freud believed that the latent content of a dream refers to the hidden, symbolic and unconscious meanings or themes behind the events of a dream. This contrasts the manifest content which is the actual storyline or events that occur in the dream as the dreamer remembers them. Adam’s conversations with his parents in his dreams have embedded themes of ignorance and homophobia. He was deprived of proper love and care ever since childhood which left in him a void that he desperately seeks to fill by frequent meet-ups with his parents in his imagination.

In a parallel plot, another story brews between Adam and Harry, possibly his only neighbour whom he shunned the previous day. Adam’s conversations with Harry initially feels rooted in reality until the twist in the end where we discover that Adam’s intimacy with Harry, too, is an element of his dreams. Harry is another homosexual, estranged from his family since they don’t accept him the way he is. However, the two of them are tied together by the yearning to be loved which stems from the lack of parental love in both the cases.

There’s a significant scene where we see an adult Adam snuggling between his parents since he couldn’t sleep at night. The camera shifts to one side so that only Adam and his mother are in the frame. His mother talks how this has been a habit of Adam ever since childhood, when he always used to be scared of murderers breaking in, rabies or nuclear war and therefore couldn’t sleep. Adam continues the conversation on how he used to plan everything as to where they would have vacationed together during his twenties. The frame when moves back…we see Adam’s father is replaced by Harry, who grabs his shoulder and comes in for a kiss.

Transference is a process in Freud’s theory, where the feelings and desires that the individual has towards significant people in their life are transferred onto the therapist. In this case, it is the character of Harry, who is shaped by Adam in such a manner that he meets his emotional quotient.

Through the film, the characters appear and disappear like reflections emerging from Adam’s dream silhouette, at times reversing the process and seemingly merging into one. This process is termed condensation by Freud, where several ideas, or people are combined into a single dream object or event. Adam’s dreams about his childhood and Harry. His fear of not remembering his past enough in reality is compensated by relocating his present through his dreams.

Adam indulges in the process of secondary elaboration, which according to Freud, occurs when the unconscious mind strings together wish-fulfilling images in a logical order of events. This further obscures the latent content, which furthermore involves adding details or creating a storyline that connects the different elements of the dream. Adam adds intricate details by weaving conversations with his parents in his dreams. He shares with them about his love for Harry. While initially they seem hesitant, eventually they approve of the relationship. The closure which he didn’t receive from his parents in real life is received through his dreams wherein he visits his favourite restaurant with them for one last time. They tell him that he must let go off them, in order to find happiness in life. Before leaving, they inquire about the circumstances of their death from Adam and then tearfully, after, reaffirming their love towards him, they vanish.

Dreams thus acts a medium of catharsis for Adam.

The entire movie feels like a dream, or a reality extended into a dream. Andrew Haigh uses dream as a recurrent trope in his narrative because like Harry, he too, one may assume, felt like a stranger in his house while dreams seemed to be best means to cope with this eternal void. In one of the interviews Haigh states, “I think there’s a lot of things that I’m sort of throwing into this film about a child — which is still me- wanting to talk to his parents”. He channelised his longing to bond or exchange conversation with his parents through the character of Adam. In one conversation with his mother, Adam asks, “Is this real?”, And she responds, “Does it feel real?”

As viewers it feels real in a very unreal way. But again, reality is a narrative and narrative is fiction. Thus, reality is kept fluid in the film.

We see Adam upon entering Harry’s flat, discovers the latter’s body in a bathtub holding the same wine bottle that Harry was carrying on the night asking for Adam’s company. Harry’s reappearance just after Adam finds his body stating, “I just needed to not be alone” might suggest that Adam’s inclusion of Harry as an element of his dream is mainly due to Adam’s guilt — the guilt of not allowing him to let in. If he did, Harry might not have died. The way Harry died is fuzzy.

Eventually, the two men curl up next to each other in bed while ‘The Power of Love’ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood plays in the background. We see a warm glow that engulfs them; they merge into a single being. The glow diminishes into a pinprick of light shining in a night sky.

In their final conversation, Harry tells Adam, “I am scared”, while Adam replies, “I know, but I am here with you”, which might be an implication that he amends for his unkind behaviour in the past through his dreams. The film explicates the shades of loneliness using shades of blue in the film’s colour palette placing it both in temporal and spiritual time and space, exploring its devastating impact on people who are afflicted by it. In a subtle way, the film, most importantly, asserts the importance of love and care, which possess the power to comfort people from the pangs of grief. It urges us to refrain from being strangers and instead, be there for each other, by helping each other to heal and thrive. Adam’s world of dreams, his desires, are therefore, manifestations of a feeling of emptiness that engulfs a modern man stuck in the banal urbanity.'

#All of Us Strangers #Freud #Andrew Scott #Paul Mescal #The interpretation of Dreams #Andrew Haigh #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell

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outlander-babes · 3 years

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Drums of Autumn thoughts*

*y’all know the drill

Jamie being there for his friends hanging is heartbreaking yall

Claire being absolutely terrified of Rollo is what I call consistent writing

Have I mentioned how much I love Duncan Innes?

Gayle is hysterical oh my god

Roger screaming “Tulach Ard” is everything I didn’t know I needed

Omg he told her what the Frasers would say so she could be a part of it if she wanted I’m going to cry

Joe threatening to beat the shit outta Roger is so funny

WHY ARE YALL MAKING SEXY PASSES AT EACH OTHER IN JOES LIVING ROOM STOP IT GET SOME HELP

Young Ian: I don’t know Greek

Jamie: oh my god he doesn’t even know Greek

Steven Bonnet sucks ass but then we could have guessed that

Stan Jocasta Cameron

Ah yes the age old American sport of antagonizing people and then lynching them when they fight back

Philip Wylie get kicked in the balls challenge

Am I a little bit in love with Mr John Quincy Mayers? Yes.

I’ll bet y’all $80 right now that that soldier guy murdered that poor girl

Pollyanne seems very nice I like her

Hey now Claire and Jamie are 2 for 2 they both killed a deadly wild animal!

Jamie making friends with natives and immediately trying to learn a bit of their language is very cute

Henceforth I propose as a nickname we call Jamie “strawberry”

If you think Roger MacKenzie is bad because he was upset Brianna rejected his marriage proposal you need to leave my blog

Also Brianna sweetie please go to therapy

Duncan Innes is my sweet boy and you can pry him from my cold dead hands

I love that we’re getting more into the magic/fantasy aspects of the story

Claire finally figure out you aren’t just a time traveler challenge

Every time she describes what happens when she heals someone I’m like “babes that shit isn’t normal that’s some Master Raymond type shit”

Roger I love and cherish you but sometimes you don’t make good decisions

CLAIRE WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT MAGIC WHAT DID I SAY THATS A FUCKING GHOST

Duncan Innes that’s it that’s the thought

I think Brianna should go to therapy

Rollo is goodest boy and Ian being so proud of him is so cute

Haha Jamie’s an old man (who can somehow still get some even with a busted back and a minor case of hypothermia)

God I’m in love with Young Ian

WILLIE THE BOY IS BACK

Nayawenne deserved better at that’s just facts

Young Ian and Willie are the duo I never knew I needed

Can Lord John PLEASE move on. It’s been over 10 years he doesn’t love you in fact the very thought of you being attracted to him makes him violently uncomfortable and thus makes me uncomfortable MOVE THE FUCK ON JESUS CHRIST

I love John and think he’s great but literally this is unhealthy and he’s starting to annoy the fuck outta me

Anyway

Jamie telling Willie that he loves his son but being unable to tell him that HE is the son is SO SAD

I hope the natives reach their new home safe

BRIANNA GO TO THERAPY

Geillis is ✨awful✨

JOE KNOOOOOOOWS

Fiona? Do you mean...baby?

Ian Murray is in fact one of the loves of my life

Roger accidentally screwing up because he wanted to meet his dad is both sad and amusing

Fiona dousing him in coffee when he shows up on fire? Queen shit.

Brianna punch Laoghaire in the face challenge

Lizzie’s so cute omg I’m in love with her

Hell yeah Roger save your great grandfather!

Steven Bonnet is the Worst™️

Oh Lizzie my sweet summer child

Was Roger in the wrong? Yes. Did he have valid reasons? Also yes.

No Roger hate in this household

Bree and Jamie are so cute

I find if fascinating that Lizzie remembered Roger was going by MacKenzie but Brianna who was also there is like ✨Roger Wakefield✨

Lizzie is baby and I understand where she was coming from but DAMNIT LIZZIE

Jamie my love you make some fucking stupid decisions sometimes

Kinda overshadowed by my worry for Roger is that the prose about Brianna attempting to overcome her trauma is BEAUTIFUL

Let Claire bitchslap her husband when he lets his 1700’s misogyny get the better of him

Listen I love Jamie but there are times where I genuinely wanna rock his shit

Brianna and Roger pining and trying to get back to each other is so sweet 🥺

Poor Roger he’s going through it

Why did Ulysses’ story make me cry??

Pére Alexandere deserves better!

Brianna and John are the power couple of the century

Roger is not doing good

Why does Jamie hate Roger so much ugh

OK YALL IS THE FUCKING “LOOKING OUT FOR NUMBER ONE” RANT IVE HEARD SO MUCH ABOUT ONLY IN THE SHOW BECAUSE I HAVE NOT SEEN HIDE NOR HAIR OF MY SWEET BOYS SUPPOSED MISOGYNY

He named the baby Alexandra excuse me while I cry

John and Brianna’s friendship is SO CUTE I LOVE THEM

Why do the show runners do this??? Why did they make my poor boy a misogynist??

If you don’t like Roger you’re wrong

Jamie being a grandpa that’s it that’s the thought

ROGER AND BRIANNA HAVE MY WHOLE HEAR OH MY GOD

They’re calling the baby Gizmo and I...

DUNCAN INNES MY MAIN MAN!!!

Ugh I love Roger learning about his family

Someone for the love of god PLEASE coldcock Frank

“Go tell them the Mackenzies are here” YALL WATCH ME SOB

#vic rambles about outlander #vic reads outlander #claire fraser #diana gabaldon #jamie fraser #outlander #outlander starz #brianna randall #jamie x claire #jammf #roger mackenzie #brianna x roger

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quierorodarnojodan · 3 years

Text

Estábamos bromeando con un amigo @mcdonneeli sobre que tenemos muchos ships similares si no casi todos, pero que irónicamente ambos nos peleamos por el mismo pj a usar y por eso jamás podemos rolear las ships xDD entonces me puse hacer la lista a ver que dice mi compatriota desalmado.

Anime/Manga

Axis Power Hetalia

Alemania x Norte De Italia

Austria x Hungría [♥]

Dinamarca x Noruega

España x Sur De Italia

Prussia x Hungría

Prussia x Austria [♥]

Bleach

Ichigo Kurosaki x Uryuu Ishida [♥]

Ikkaku Madarame x Yumichika Ayasegawa

Kyouraku Shunsui x Ukitake Jyuushirou [♥]

Carole & Tuesday

Carole Stanley x Tuesday Simmons

Cyborg 009

Jet Link (002) x Albert Heinrich (004)

Digimon

Ishida Yamato x Yagami Taichi [♥]

Dragon Ball

Goku x Vegeta

Durarara!!

Celty Sturluson x Kishitani Shinra

Kadota Kyohei x Izaya Orihara

Fairy Tails

Levy McGarden x Gajeel Redfox

FullMetal Alchemist

Maes Hughes x Roy Mustang [♥]

Get Backers

Kakei Juubei & Fuuchouin Kazuki

Haikyuu!!

Ooikawa Tooru x Iwaizumi Hajime

Haru wo Daiteita

Kato Youji x Iwaki Kyosuke [♥]

Hunter x Hunter

Hisoka x Illumi Zoldyck

Leorio Paladiknight x Kurapika [♥]

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Joseph Joestar x Caesar Zeppeli

Jotaro Kujo x Noriaki Kakyoin [♥]

Mohammed Abdul x Jean Pierre Polnareff

Kuroko no Basket

Atsushi Murasakibara x Tatsuya Himuro

Kiyoshi Teppei x Makoto Hanamiya [♥]

Midorima Shintaro x Takao Kazunari [♥]

Naruto

Uzumaki Naruto x Uchiha Sasuke

Hatake Kakashi x Umino Iruka [♥]

Haruno Sakura x Yamanaka Ino

One Piece

Eustass Kid x Trafalgar D. Law

Roronoa Zoro x Vinsmoke Sanji

Saint Seiya

Manigoldo x Albafika [♥]

Hyoga x Shun

Sailor Moon

Kunzite x Zoisite

Michiru Kaiō x Haruka Tenou

Sakura Card Captor

Touya Kinomoto x Yukito Tsukishiro [♥]

Shingeki no Kyojin

Erwin Smith x Levi Rivaille

Marco Bott X Jean Kirstein

The Prince of Tennis

Inui Sadaharu x Kaidou Kaoru [♥]

Tiger & Bunny

Kotetsu Kaburagi x Barnaby Brooks Jr.

Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru

Hotsuma Renjou x Shusei Usui [♥♥♥]

Cartoons

Adventure Time

Marceline Abadeer x Princess Bubblegum

Marshall Lee x Prince Gumball

Avatar: the Last Airbender

Jet x Zuko [♥]

Ed, Edd n Eddy

Kevin x Edd (Doble D)

Generador Rex

Rex Salazar x Noah Nixon [♥]

Happy Tree Friends

Lumpy x Russell

Shifty x Lifty

Splendid x Flippy

Scooby-Doo

Daphne Blake x Velma Dinkley

The Dragon Prince

Rey Harrow x Viren

The Legend of Korra

Korra x Asami Sato

Iroh II x Bolin

Voltron

Takashi "Shiro" Shirogane x Adam [♥]

Xiaolin Showdown

Chase Young x Jack Spicer

Series

9-1-1

Edmundo "Eddie" Diaz x Evan "Buck" Buckley [♥]

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Angel (Angelus) x Spike (William) [♥]

Willow Rosenberg x Tara Maclay

Carmilla

Carmilla Karnstein x Laura Hollis

Class

Matteusz Andrzejewski x Charlie Smith

Common Law

Travis Marks x Wes Mitchell [♥]

Cobra Kai

Daniel LaRusso x Johnny Lawrence

Deadwind (Karppi)

Sofia Karppi x Sakari Nurmi

Downton Abbey

Tom Branson x Thomas Barrow

Richard Ellis x Thomas Barrow

Eyewitness

Lukas Waldenbeck x Philip Shea

Grey's Anatomy

Mark Sloan x Derek Shepherd

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham

Hawaii Five-0

Danny Williams x Steve McGarret [♥]

Hemlock Grove

Peter Rumancek x Roman Godfrey [♥]

How to Get Away with Murder

Oliver Hampton x Connor Walsh

Iron Fist

Danny Rand x Ward Meachum [♥♥]

Julie and the Phantoms

Alex x Willie

Las chicas del cable

Francisco Gómez x Carlos Cifuentes [♥]

LazyTown

Sportacus x Robbie Rotten

London Spy

Alex x Danny

Merlin

Arhur Pendragone x Merlin

Once Upon a Time

Regina Mills x Emma Swan

Regina Mills x Robin Hood

Shadow and Bone

Aleksander / The Darkling x Kaz Brekker

Jasper Fahey x Kaz Brekker

Star Trek

James T. Kirk x Spock

Leonard MCCoy x Spock

Malcolm Reed x Charles "Trip" Tucker III

Stranger Things

Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

The Alienist

Laszlo Kreizler x John Moore

The Boys

Billy Butcher x Homelander (John)

The Irregulars

Billy x Leopold

Sherlock Holmes x John Watson

The Order

Hamish Duke x Randall Carpio

The Umbrella Academy

Diego Hargreeves x Klaus Hargreeves

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon x Rick Grimes

The Witcher

Geralt de Rivia x Jaskier

Torchwood

Jack Harkness x Ianto Jones [♥]

Travelers

Trevor Holden x Philip Pearson

Vampire Diaries

Alaric Saltzman x Damon Salvatore

Warehouse 13

Helena G. Wells x Myka Bering

Películas

Cloud Atlas

Rufus Sixsmith x Robert Frobisher

Sonmi-451 x Hae-Joo Chang

Inception

Eames x Robert Fischer

Dom Cobb x Robert Fischer

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

James Bond

James Bond x Q [♥]

Rise of the Guardians

Sandman x Pitch Black

Star Wars

Baze Malbus x Chirrut Îmwe

Poe Dameron x Armitage Hux [♥]

The Old Guard

'Joe' Yusuf Al-Kaysani x 'Nicky' Nicolo di Genova

The Road to El Dorado

Tulio x Miguel

U.N.C.L.E.

Napoleon Solo x Illya Kuryakin

Libros

Harry Potter

Albus Dumbledore x Gellert Grindelwald [♥]

Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy

Blaise Zabini x Theodore Nott [♥]

Pansy Parkinson x Daphne Greengrass [♥]

James Potter x Severus Snape [♥]

Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Shadowhunters

Magnus Bane x Alexander G. Lightwood

The Raven Cycle

Ronan Lynch x Adam Parrish

Richard Gansey III x Blue Sargent

Comics

DC Comics

Apollo x Midnighter

Clark Kent x Bruce Wayne [♥]

Diana Prince x Steve Trevor

Garfield Logan x Rachel Roth

Hal Jordan x Barry Allen

Pamela Isley x Harleen Quinzel

Jason Todd x Dick Grayson [♥]

Maggie Sawyer x Kate Kane

Roy Harper x Dick Grayson

Cassandra Cain x Stephanie Brown

Hernan Guerra x Kirk Langstrom

Michael Jon Carter x Ted Kord

Marvel

America Chavez x Kate Bishop

Azazel x Janos Quested

Gambit x Rogue

Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier

Logan x Scott Summers [♥]

Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner

Shatterstar x Julio Richter (Rictor) [♥]

Steve Rogers x James B. Barnes [♥]

Theodore Altman x William Kaplan

Tony Stark x Loki Laufeyson [♥]

Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Wade Wilson x Peter Parker

Videojuegos

Assassin's Creed

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad x Malik Al-Sayf [♥]

Ezio Auditore da Firenze x Leonardo Da Vinci

Bayonetta

Bayonetta x Jeanne

Detroit: Become Human

Captain Allen x Gavin Reed

Connor, RK800 x Gavin Reed [♥]

Elijah Kamski x Gavin Reed

Elijah Kamski x Leo Manfred [♥]

Kara, AX400 x Luther, TR400 [♥]

Markus, RK200 x Simon, PL600 [♥]

Nines, RK900 x Gavin Reed

North, WR400 x Chloe, ST200

Ralph, WR600 x Jerry, EM400

Simon, PL600 x Gavin Reed

Devil May Cry

Dante x Vergil [♥]

Nero x V

Final Fantasy VII

Cid Highwind x Vincent Valentine

Final Fantasy XII

Basch fon Ronsenburg x Balthier [♥♥♥]

Kingdom Hearts

Saïx x Axel

Metal Gear

Solidus Snake x Raiden

Overwatch

Gabriel Reyes x Jack Morrison

Resident Evil

Chris Redfield x Leon S. Kennedy [♥♥♥]

Claire Redfield x Moira Burton

Jake Muller x Leon S. Kennedy

Jill Valentine x Chris Redfield

Jill Valentine x Carlos Oliveira [♥♥]

Jill Valentine x Claire Redfield

Rebecca Chambers x Billy Coen

The Evil Within

Sebastian Castellano x Joseph Oda

Podcast

Welcome to Night Vale

Carlos x Cecil Palmer

Crossovers

Samurai Jack/Johnny Bravo

Johnny Bravo x Samurai Jack

Canon x Oc

Deadwind (Karppi)

OMC x Sakari Nurmi

Downton Abbey

OMC x Thomas Barrow

Locke & Key

Tyler Locke x OMC

OMC x Duncan Locke

Lost in Space

OMC x Don West

Pokemon

OMC x x James

The Dragon Prince

Soren x OMC

The Irregulars

OMC x John Watson

The Lord of the Rings

OMC x Legolas

Political Animals

OMC x Thomas James "T.J." Hammond

Resident Evil

Jake Muller x OMC

Star Trek

OMC x Julian Bashir

Warehouse 13

OMC x Steve Jinks

Wizards: Tales of Arcadia

OMC x Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan

Duplas de Actores

Aaron Paul x Hugh Dancy

Bradley James x Colin Morgan

Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan

Daniel Craig x Ben Whishaw

Daniel Sunjata x Aaron Tveit

Dominic Purcell x Wentworth Miller

Edward Holcroft x Ben Whishaw

Gabriella Pession x Richard Flood

Gabriel Macht x Patrick J. Adams

Hanno Koffler x Max Riemelt

Jamie Dornan x Cillian Murphy

Jensen Ackles x Jared Padalecki

Landon Liboiron x Bill Skarsgård

Mads Mikkelsen x Hugh Dancy

Matt Davis x Ian Somerhalder

Michael Fassbender x James McAvoy

Rami Malek x Martin Wallström

Scott Caan x Alex O'Loughlin

Shemar Moore x Matthew Gray Gubler

Tom Hardy x Cillian Murphy

46 notes · View notes

youngclaire · 3 years

Text

One Last Final Goodbye

I rewrote sending Claire back through the stones at the end of book 2 but from Jamie's POV. I thought it would be a nice way to ease myself into writing these two. This is very book compliant, I actually bad the book open next to me whilst I wrote this in order to translate it from Claire's POV to Jamie's and it was a lot of fun. It's not a copy of the fuller chapter, it's been shortened down in places but the essence is there. I've also removed bits and pieces. Uhh yeah...all dialogue in this belongs to Diana and the book I'm just responsible for remixing the words. Anyway, I hope whoever bothers to read this likes it :)

(This is also my first fic in this fandom with these two so don't expect it to be perfect, it probably isn't)

- - -

He wouldn’t stop for anything; not food, water, or rest. He keeps the horse at a constant gallop at all times, scared that if he paused or hesitated for even a moment he would lose all courage and go neither back or forward.

I shall see my wife safe, is a mantra that keeps him riding. If he is to die tonight or on the battlefield tomorrow, he would not take her down with him; not her or the innocent being she carries inside her.

The stones come into view just above him. A cursed salvation of granite and Jamie tries not to see them, his gaze fixated forward. Behind him, Claire lets her displeasure be known, protesting against the idea. Jamie steels himself against them, clenches his jaw and gallops harder, fighting the urge to give in. This was the only way to see her safe and unharmed, he tells himself.

She protests still, even while he urges her up to the ruined cottage. She doesn’t realise he has no intention of parting with her right now, he just wants time to breathe, to think, to let the panic and worry abate. He sinks to the ground, his body cold and his mind racing.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hear himself say. “We have a bit of time now; no one will find us here.” He shivers, though from the cold, and wraps his plaid around him.

God, he could still see it; Dougal’s lifeless eyes, the blood pooling out of him, the shock on Willie Coulter’s face. How long before everyone knew? How long before everyone found out he had committed familicide?

Jamie’s head falls forward onto his knees, a tiredness washing over him, fatigue clutching at his bones and eyelids. Tired as he was he could not sleep for fear of the images in his mind’s eye.

His breath comes out in ragged pants and he can barely stand the sound of it. He feels Claire’s warmth and presence beside him, uses it as something to anchor himself to.

What happened in that room and who knows wasn’t the priority, while Claire had yet to explicitly say so Jamie’s fate waited for him on Culloden Moor. Tomorrow he will die and all this will cease to matter. Claire will be safe.

His breathing eases back into its natural rhythm, the panic wilting away from the edges. He’ll take hold of Death’s hand, gladly accept his destiny knowing he did one thing right at last.

“I won’t go, Jamie,” she says, as if she’s read his thoughts. “I’m staying with you.”

Jamie shakes his head. She couldn’t persuade him, he couldn’t change his mind. He needed to do this.

“No,” he says. The firmness bites at him, makes him wince. He hopes she can hear the gentleness that lies beneath it. “I must go back, Claire.”

“You can’t,” she cries. “Jamie, they will have found Dougal by now! Willie Coulter will have told someone.”

Aye, that was a fact he had resigned himself to, a fact she must resign herself too as well. He grieved for Dougal, for the second father he had, but Jamie had done what he’d done- he would take whatever consequence waited for him behind that door. She talks of fleeing to France but it’s no use, he’s chosen his fate, set his heart and mind to it, accepted it. A traitor twice over, a rebel, a murderer…The English will hunt Prince Charles. The English and the clans will hunt Jamie. He was dead either way.

“Claire, I am a dead man.”

He watches the tears freeze on her cheeks. “No,” she says but the effect is lost, she knows he speaks the truth.

“I wouldna get very far anyway.” On its own accord, his hand runs through his red hair that makes him a beacon at all times. Not exactly inconspicuous. “I can save you, Claire,” With his other hand he brushes away the tears that continue to fall. “and I will. That is the most important thing.”

Then he will go back. If he finds he cannot do it for himself then he will find it in him to do so for his men.

“I think I can get them away,” he says thinking the plan through. “Even if it’s known what I’ve done, none will stop me wi’ the English in sight and the battle about to begin.” The plan visualises in his mind and he nods to himself. “I will bring them safely away and set them on the road toward Lallybroch.”

“And then?”

Well…wasn’t that obvious?

“And then I will turn back to Culloden.”

He lets out a breath, strong and final as his decision. He catches Claire’s worried look and gives her a smile.

“I’m no afraid to die, Sassenach,” he says, but then he thinks of that door, black and foreboding, the unknown behind it. “Well…not a lot, anyway.”

He hears a sound a human being should never be able to make as arms fling around him. He finds himself surrounded by Claire, caught in her tight embrace as the scent of her overwhelms him. He clutches her back, trying with all his might not to succumb and cry.

“It’s all right, Sassenach,” he says into her hair as she cries once more. “A musket ball. Maybe a blade. It will be over quickly.” A lie, they both know it, but Jamie will them both to believe it. He’s seen men die in battle, knows how horrifically slow it can be but it was better than waiting for the hangman’s noose, that would be the one thing that does not lie behind that door.

“I’m going with you.”

Lost in thought he barely registers it but when he does he reels at the notion, startling backwards.

“The hell you are!” He has a plan, damnit, and not even Claire will deter him from it.

She displays her argument but he will not listen to it, will not give it thought.

“No!” he says. “No, Claire!”

How could she suggest such a thing, knowing what they both knew? How could she be so selfish?

“If you’re not afraid, I’m not either. It will…be over quickly. You said so.”

You said so. What he said was a lie, did she not see that? A lie to comfort them both.

“Jamie- I won’t…I can’t…I bloody won’t live without you, that’s all!”

He had a thousand things to say and none at all. His mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head. Through the gaps in the ceiling he can see daylight dwindling, night approaching. The sky is painted red. Blood of a battlefield, blood of childbirth.

He reaches toward her, pulling her close. He knows where this fight comes from, if the tables were turned he would say the same thing, knows because he feels it too.

“D’ye think I don’t know?” His voice is soft, a whisper. “It’s me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you- then I am asking you to tear your heart out and live without it.”

She lets out a whimper, clutching him closer. He fingers stroke her hair, whispering soft coos towards her.

“But you must do it,” he finally says, feeling his stomach twist and turn. “Ye must.”

“Why?” She is angry, considerably so. Confused and hurting. “When you took me from the witch trial at Cranesmuir- you said then you would have died with me, you would have gone to the stake with me had it come to that!”

He had said all that, and to this day, it remains true. He’d have rather died than to be parted with her.

“Aye, I would,” he says. “But I wasna carrying your child.”

The reason he is allowing them to part.

She is surprised, shocked, frozen in place as she looks up at him in bewilderment.

“You can’t tell,” she says at last, shaking her head. “It’s much too early.”

It makes him smile, brings amusement to him.

“You havena been a day late in your courses, in all the time since ye first book me to your bed. Ye havena bled now in forty-six days.”

She hurls insults at him, shocked he even managed to keep track of such a thing during a war but he had for hope they would have a second chance at raising a child and for fear that it would end like this.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him, rattling off reasons for why she might not have bled. It’s no use, she forgets he’s seen her so before, studied all the tell-tale signs of her body changing, committed them to memory.

“Claire…” His voice is quiet, not sounding like him. “Tomorrow I will die. This child…is all that will be left of me- ever.” He reaches for her hands, needing some part of her to hold. He casts his gaze to their joined hands, running his thumb over her fingers. “Claire, I beg you, see it safe.”

He keeps his eyes downcast while he waits for her answer, scared she’ll say yes, scared she’ll say no. The silence feels long and he shuts his eyes against the twisting of his stomach.

Finally her answer comes.

“Yes.” A whisper in the darkening cottage. “Yes. I’ll go.”

He nods, swallowing back the lump in his throat, hearing the sound of a flower stem snap.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After telling her to sleep, she doesn’t sleep himself. Time seemed wasted on that and they didn’t have much of it left anymore. In a few hours he will take her to the fairy hill and part with her forever.

He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. To brandish his sword and yell and scream and cry but he knew there was no point to it. He knew that what he had been handed was more than fair, that not many men live the life he’s led and are allowed to be rewarded in such a way.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, he had said to her, quoting what he would say to God when he met him. God! I loved her well. He had, he could really say that. He took this woman, in all her unbated strangeness, into his broken hands and within her found company and peace, a place to call home.

She loved me well, too, he adds, watching her sleep for the last time. Content and safe, here in his arms and their fortress of cloth. He had healed him with her touch and love and perseverance. Picked a broken man off the floor and carried him through towards the light at the end of the tunnel no matter the setbacks. She really was a rare woman, his sassenach.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, murmurs a quick thank you in Gaelic to God and to the fairies for dropping her into his life.

Pressed against her, safe in their fortress of clothes, her skin warming his bones, his eyelids grow heavy and he succumbs to sleep as the first inklings of tomorrow break across the sky.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was gone.

Disappeared in the same manner in which she had appeared. Gone through the stones and back to Frank.

Jamie presses his hand against the stone. The hard granite presses back on his wound, her mark, the letter C, reminding him it was real, she was real.

Her arisaid lies on the grass, forgotten in their haste to love each other one last time. Jamie picks it up, bringing it to his nose, inhaling her scent still lingering on the tartan. Tears fall on their own accord as he prays she made it back, prays that she and the bairn are safe.

A cannon in the distance booms, startling the birds and startling him. It’s beginning.

He is hesitant to move, to leave the place of their last coupling, his last connections to her.

Yet destiny waits for him on Culloden Moor, along with his men. He pictures the thirty men waiting for their laird.

There is nothing he can do for Claire now but there is something he can do for his men.

He kisses the inside of his fingers, presses it to the stone and bids his soulmate one last final goodbye.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie's pov #standing stones scene rewrite #i tried ok #and i am scared #im gonna go hide in a hole now #bye

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

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In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 32: Beginnings

Chapter 31

Read on AO3

December 31

“Faith, baby, wake up.”

Currently, her little face was smooshed against Jamie’s shoulder, lips open in sleep. It was 11:55, and Faith was down for the count at 9:00 this year, despite having made it all the way to midnight last year. It was probably due to the fact that she was up at three in the morning last night, stimming and screaming her head off with glee until breakfast, Risperdal and Angus no match for the will of autism and a wound up five year old. Even Claire was entirely too exhausted to be awake, New Year or not, but she wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.

“Come on, lass,” Jamie jostled Faith a bit in his arms. “I’ve got ye a wee blower. I ken ye like those.” He tickled her nose with the noiseless paper blower, and she stirred, rubbing her nose roughly against his shoulder. Jamie and Claire both chuckled.

“Come on, Faithie! It’s almost midnight! New Year! Remember?”

Her eyes opened, rather reluctantly.

“There she is,” Jamie said. “Here ye go.”

He deposited the blower in her hands, and she seemed to completely wake up in a split second.

“I wish mine was sleeping,” Jenny groused, watching her son run circles around the coffee table with Thomas and a few typical siblings that were as hyper as he was. “I wouldna be waking him up fer anything.”

“Believe me, I know I shouldn’t be waking her,” Claire said. “After the morning we had. But little celebrations are very important to Faith. Right, lovie?”

The little girl was currently preoccupied blowing into her toy and allowing the unfurling paper to hit Jamie in the face. He was giving quite an animated, exaggerated reaction that was sending Faith into fits of giggles that kept her wanting more.

“What did I tell ye,” Jenny mumbled. “He’s a giant child.”

Claire snorted, shaking her head lovingly. “I do love that about him.”

“It’s good he’s found someone who does.”

Mary and Alex had been more than happy to add Jamie and his entire family to the invite list once Claire had timidly asked. She’d felt strange doing it; it was one thing to ask to bring her boyfriend that was practically Faith’s father, and entirely another thing to ask to bring three more adults and two more children that they’d never met. Jenny had offered that they’d find something to do on their own, that Claire needn’t bother, but Claire had insisted that they spend the holiday together, even if Mary and Alex couldn’t swing it. She’d been fully prepared to have the entire Fraser-Murray clan in her apartment.

But Mary had been surprisingly enthusiastic about having Jamie’s family over, intrigued as she was by the man himself, and invested as she was (from the beginning) in their relationship.

“His sister is terrifying,” Mary had whispered after the first few minutes of the party. “She looks stone cold.”

“She’s not,” Claire assured her. “We get along really well. She’s really quite lovely underneath all that. You’ll see.”

With under a minute left until the new year began, Claire got up from where she’d been perched on the arm of the couch, and Jamie stood up with Faith. Ian scooped his wriggling son off the floor and settled him on his hip while Jenny reminded him with no little bite in her voice that he was not to scream and clap when the ball dropped.

“It’s a different kind of party, a quiet party. D’ye understand?”

“Aye, Mam.”

Maggie had been asleep for hours in her stroller, among a throng of other babies and toddlers strewn around the living room in carriers and strollers, but Brian scooped her up, careful not to wake her. Gillian slid in next to Claire and laced their hands together, just as she had always done for the countdown.

“Bit different this year, no?” Gillian whispered, smiling.

“Yes…a bit,” Claire smiled crookedly at Gillian, then up at Jamie.

“I hope it keeps getting different,” Gillian said, shoving her lightly with her shoulder. “If ye ken my meaning.”

Claire blushed furiously. Before she could open her mouth to reply, to chide her friend for implying right in front of Jamie that they ought to be married for the next New Year, the countdown from ten began, a quiet chant bubbling through the crowded living room. Jamie wound his arm around Claire’s shoulder, the arm that was not holding Faith, careful not to disrupt her grip on Gillian’s hand. Claire couldn’t put her finger on why that touched her as much as it did. His care to never overstep, to simply be an addition to their lives and never a replacement, always touched her.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Before Claire could blink, Gillian was loudly and grossly kissing her cheek, and she laughed out loud, grimacing in disgust.

“Of all the obnoxious…”

“Just staking my claim!” She winked up at Jamie, who was jolting violently with laughter.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ…”

“Ach, come here, lass.”

Claire craned her neck up as Jamie squeezed her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her soundly. Claire felt Gillian give her hand one final squeeze before releasing it, and Claire used it to cup his face. This was by far not Claire’s first midnight kiss on New Year’s…but God, none of them had ever felt like this. Like a beginning, a promise, a gift, all in one.

They had to break away when Faith’s paper blower kept smacking both of their cheeks.

“You silly goose, happy new year, love,” Claire said, giggling. She signed it, coaxing Faith to copy. They’d been working on that one with her in school, along with Merry Christmas. “Yes, good job, baby. Tell Jamie, tell him happy new year.”

She did, rather lazily and hastily, preferring to blow the paper blower in his face again.

“Aye, happy new year to you too, ye wee heathen.”

Jamie kissed Faith’s cheek, and she squealed, squirming away. It became a game; every smack from the unfurling paper blower earned her a kiss on the cheek from her chosen victim. Jamie and Claire kept it going until Jenny popped over to wish them a happy new year, and Faith was blowing into her face too, and getting kiss after kiss from her Auntie, her Uncle Ian, and her Grandda. She was acting like she hated being bombarded like this, but Claire knew she was loving every second.

Claire turned around to find Gillian, to tell Faith to wish her a happy new year as well, but she was a bit busy getting her own New Year’s kiss. Toni had been with friends before arriving at 11:30 to watch the ball drop with Gillian, and soon they’d be off together to get wasted until God knows when with Toni’s friends. Toni had initially felt weird about coming at all, given that most, if not all of the attendees were kids and families she worked with, and Gillian had scoffed.

“If ye think Mister Jamie isna going to be snogging his lass in front of all the kids…”

That had earned her a smack on the arm from Claire.

Well, if anyone was closest to snogging, it was Gillian herself. Though it wasn’t all that bad; Toni and Gillian knew better considering the company they were in.

Claire turned back to Jamie to see that he was looking at the pair of them as well. They both smiled at each other, then pecked each other again.

“Happy New Year, Sassenach.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” Claire answered, nuzzling his nose with hers. “Here’s to more beginnings.”

“Aye.” He kissed her nose. “You are my beginning, Claire.” He kissed her right cheek. “And my middle,” then her left, “and my end.” He punctuated his profession with another kiss, and Claire melted.

She didn’t think she’d ever find a way to compete with his Shakespeare-like tendency for flowery words of love…but she didn’t think he minded.

——

January 15

Claire glanced nervously at the tea kettle, near to whistling already.

“It’s no’ a ticking time bomb, Sassenach,” Jamie chided.

“I know that,” she snapped.

“Hey…come on, now.” He sat down at the table and tried to meet her eye, and she obliged guiltily.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he brushed it off. “Ye said her first interview went great. What are ye so nervous about this time around?”

“Last time I scrubbed the apartment top to bottom, I picked up every barbie and lego and dog toy, cleaned out any leftovers that might have smelled…” She put her head in her hands. “I could prepare, you know? But there’s really no preparing someone for Faith. Or vice versa.”

“I see,” Jamie said. He took her hand, rubbing circles on her knuckles. “But listen. Ye said she was sweet as anything, sounded like she and Faith would get along great. And even if they don’t…it’s no’ the end of the world. There’s dozens of other staff that Morgan can pull out of her file. One of ‘em, or two, I suppose, are bound to be a good fit. No?”

“I know.” Claire sighed, squeezing his hand. “I know. Thank you. It’s just this…lingering panic from the days where every introduction was a disaster, and the disaster was my fault.”

“Those days are over, Sassenach.”

“I know.”

The previous day, Jamie had taken Faith to the park while Claire interviewed two potential candidates for Self Direction staff for Faith. Claire had done research before their move, and had applied for the program as soon as she’d gotten her work visa. She’d been told it would be one or two years before things would be set in motion for Faith to actually have staff, which is why she’d had to resort to finding Mrs. Lickett and paying her out of pocket all this time. Two weeks ago, Claire had finally been set up with a broker, Morgan, and from here on out, Medicaid would be paying Mrs. Lickett and the two new staff. Never again would Claire have to stress about being home in time to take Faith to the stables; that was something staff could do. There was always staff with some of the other kids at the stables, and Claire had always looked on longingly at the relationships they had. She’d go with them, of course, for the first few weeks, get Faith used to going with someone new, but in the long run, it would save her a lot of trouble.

The tea kettle started screaming, and Claire jumped up to stop it just as there was a knock on the door.

“I got it,” Jamie went for the kettle, nodding toward the door. “Go on.”

Claire smiled gratefully, feeling frantic and rushed despite the fact that she’d been sitting waiting for Leina’s arrival for twenty minutes now. Faith was climbing on the windowsill again to see who it was, and Claire pulled her down, lest she upset her plants (again). Claire wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans before opening the door.

“Hi!”

“Hi, Leina, great to see you again.”

Claire ushered the girl inside. She was petite for her age, twenty years old with shimmering dark hair and olive skin.

“Oh my goodness, is this Miss Faith?”

The little girl in question cowered behind Claire’s legs, wrapping her arms around her thigh for dear life.

“Yes, here she is.” Claire cupped Faith’s head. She beckoned Angus over in case Faith started getting upset over Leina’s presence. “And that’s Angus.”

“Wow, Faith. You have a really nice dog. Is he your best friend?” Leina signed friend, and Claire smiled.

“Go on, Faith. Tell Miss Leina that Angus is your friend.” Claire crouched down, so Faith latched onto her shirt instead, hiding her face in her mother’s hair. “Go on, tell her.” Faith signed friend, still not looking at Leina. “Good job.”

“That’s awesome, Faith. Good job,” Leina said warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Jamie appeared from the kitchen just then, and Faith bolted away from Claire and right into Jamie’s legs. Knowing exactly what she wanted, Jamie sighed and picked her up.

“Hi there,” he said. “I’m Jamie.” He stuck out a hand for Leina to shake, and Faith buried her face in his shoulder, her plan to retreat to Jamie apparently backfiring.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Claire told me so much about you.”

Leina had been incredibly receptive to the unusual family unit that Claire had presented her with. She hadn’t asked any questions when Claire had said that the father was not in the picture, she’d smiled widely when she’d explained Jamie’s role in their lives. Claire hadn’t wanted to bombard any candidates with “the boyfriend” before she knew it wasn’t going to be uncomfortable, which is why she’d had Jamie take Faith out.

“Do you want tea?” Claire jumped in. “The kettle just finished.”

“Oh, sure, thanks so much.”

Leina had accepted Claire’s offer of tea last time, so this time, Claire made sure to have everything ready, remembering just how Leina had liked it. When she returned with it, Jamie was gently yet firmly telling Faith that she needed to play, that she could not sit on his lap until Leina left. She silently thanked him as she handed the mug to Leina, knowing that he was preparing Faith for the eventuality of Leina playing with her.

Leina and Jamie sat on opposite ends of the couch, and Claire perched herself on the arm on Jamie’s side so as to not crowd the girl.

“So,” Jamie began, chipper. “Claire tells me ye’re in school for special education.”

“Yeah, sophomore year at Hofstra,” she said. “I went into it because my brother has autism, too.”

“Right, Claire told me. He’s verbal, though?”

“Yeah, I’ve never worked one-on-one with a nonverbal child, but I’ve interacted with them in a group setting where someone else was in charge.”

“And ye know signs?”

“Jamie,” Claire chided quietly. “It’s not an interrogation.”

Leina blushed, but she laughed. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“She was signing to Faith when she got here,” Claire said.

“Yeah, I’m not fluent by any means, but I know some.”

“Well, neither is Faith,” Claire said. “She’s absolutely still a beginner, and so am I, really. Jamie is the expert.”

Leina chuckled again.

“So, remind me of your availability?” Claire said.

“I’ve got class and volleyball Monday through Friday, except I’m free Wednesday nights.”

“Well, ye need time to do homework,” Jamie said reasonably. “Especially if we eat up yer weekends. Unless you want Wednesday nights?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all! I’m totally used to squeezing schoolwork into my schedule.”

“Well, the more hours the better, right?” Claire said with finality. “Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday it is.”

“Wow, okay, great.”

Granted she gets along with Faith, of course.

“D’ye have any questions fer us?” Jamie asked.

“Claire answered a lot of them yesterday, but I’d love to hear more about what Faith does at the stables?”

Jamie then launched into the whole process, including her transition to a new therapist given the new situation. He even went into the science behind the therapy, why it was effective, how it changed children’s bodies and minds. Claire adored watching him like this, going on and on about the part of his life he was most proud of, Faith’s presence in that part of his life making it all the more sweet.

When the conversation petered out, they all knew it was time for Leina to attempt to talk to Faith. She’d been playing a video on her tablet and waving around a mermaid barbie, Angus’s head in her lap. Leina sat on the floor about four feet away from her and waved.

“I really like your mermaid, Faith. She’s super pretty.”

Claire and Jamie watched with bated breath, clinging far too tightly to one another given that they had company.

“Can you tell me what color her tail is?”

Faith kept her eyes on her tablet screen.

“Faith, I want to talk to you. I think it’s time to turn off the tablet.”

Claire bit her lip fiercely, her stomach flipping.

“Faith, listen to Miss Leina,” she said firmly. “Turn off the tablet. It’s all done.”

Leina threw a grateful smile her way as Faith exited out of all her apps and turned it off.

“Good girl,” Claire said.

“Thank you, Faith,” Leina said sweetly. “Can you tell me what color tail your mermaid has?”

Faith kept her eyes downcast, fidgeting with Angus’s fur, but she signed: blue.

“Yeah! Good job!” Leina said. “And what else?”

Faith signed purple.

“Yeah! So pretty, right?” Faith wiggled the doll, biting her lip. “Can you use your device to find colors?”

Faith picked up her communication tablet and said blue, then, when Leina prompted, purple.

“Yeah! Good job, Faith. What about her hair? What color is her hair?”

Yellow.

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

Faith giggled.

Claire felt Jamie’s eyes on her, and she glanced down at him. His eyes were wide, and he was grinning, making a “she’s amazing” face if Claire had ever seen one. Claire beamed back at him, and then Leina and Faith were shuffling into Faith’s room. Claire could hear Leina prompting Faith to name everything in her room, could hear the device answering, and could hear Leina’s praise when she signed colors.

“I’m seriously going to cry if this doesn’t work out,” Claire said. “I love her.”

“I do too,” Jamie said quickly. “Did ye tell her how much Faith loves naming colors?”

“No! I didn’t! She just knew exactly what to do!”

“Christ, I might cry if it doesn’t work out.”

Before long, they’d exhausted every item on Faith’s tablet to name things in her room, and then Claire heard the rattling of a puzzle.

“Do you think Leina is getting it? Or Faith?”

“Dinna ken.”

“Shh!”

“A puzzle? Do you want to do a puzzle with me?”

“She brought it to her!” Claire repeatedly smacked Jamie’s shoulder.

“Aye, I can hear!”

Faith, on her own, of her own volition, was inviting Leina to play with a toy of her choosing, one of her favorites, of all things.

“It’s working out, Jamie! It’s working out!”

“Shh!” It was his turn to hush her, her whispering getting a bit too loud. “Ye’re gonna scare her away, then it’ll be yer fault it doesna work out.”

“Oh, don’t even say that.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, reassuring her. “Nah, Sassenach,” he whispered. “Ye’re right. It’s working out.”

——

Valentine’s Day was a grueling Tuesday, a long day and a late night. Despite her exhaustion, Claire didn’t even have it in her to trudge up the staircase to her front door; it was bloody freezing outside. She shivered and breathed heavily as she fumbled with the key, opening and shutting the door so fast, she didn’t even see him right away.

He was there, as he’d been on their one month and a few anniversaries after that when she was working, and she’d somehow never managed to notice his car parked on the street any time. He was sitting with Amy, the other staff they’d taken on along with Leina. He could have sent her home before Claire arrived, but he’d likely not wanted to cut the woman’s hours short. She was a forty year old divorcee with children of her own and other clients already; she’d been looking to fill in holes in her week so she’d be closer to a forty hour work week. Faith got along with her just as well as she had with Leina.

“Hi,” Claire stammered, a little breathless.

“Hi there,” Jamie said, standing and revealing a ridiculous bouquet of roses. He never showed any shame in doting on her in front of whoever was there with Faith any given night, no matter how it made Claire blush.

She sighed with forced exasperation, given Amy’s presence, but she could feel her cheeks getting hot, burning hot.

“He’s just the sweetest thing, isn’t he?” Amy said, zipping up her coat, throwing her purse over her shoulder, and pulling her keys out.

“Yes…” Claire cleared her throat. “Ehm, thank you, Amy. She was good?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine,” Amy said. “I’ll get out of your hair. See you Thursday.”

“Yes, see you Thursday,” Claire replied, and with a gust of piercing cold that was there and gone, Amy left.

“Jamie…when are you going to—”

Claire was abruptly cut off by a mouth on hers, Jamie’s to be specific. She whimpered in shock, but then melted into him.

“Ye have no idea what that blush of yers does to me, mo ghraidh.”

This only deepened said blush, and he kissed random parts of her face, and it took her a moment to deduce that he was following the path of her blush, as it grew more blotchy and red by the minute. The longer he held her, the less often she found herself shivering, and she moaned in delight, stopping his kisses to bodily press herself against him.

“You’re so warm…” she mumbled, clinging to him. “I’m freezing.”

“Aye, so ye are.” He tenderly rubbed her arms, then took her hands in his, covering them completely. “This help?”

“God, yes…” she groaned.

“Careful of those wee noises, Sassenach,” Jamie warned, his eyes dancing with mirth. “I’ll no’ have much restraint left by the time ye’re warm enough to undress.”

She groaned again, this time in dread, shoving her face into his chest. “Can’t you just fuck me in my coat?”

He snorted into her hair, wrapping his arms fully around her, rocking gently. “Ah, Sassenach. I could make love to ye in anything, any time, anywhere.”

He kissed the crown of her head, and she shivered for an entirely different reason. “Thank you for the roses,” she murmured into his shirt. “They’re lovely. You really didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” he said, sounding almost offended. “That’s what a man does fer his lass on Valentine’s day.”

“And what about a lass for her lad?” Claire said.

“I got the Starbucks and chocolates at the stables,” he assured her. “Toni even heated up the coffee in the back room so it’d be ready when I got there.”

“That was good of her,” Claire said fondly. “Doesn’t feel like enough, though.” She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. “Nothing I could ever give you would ever be enough to show you how much I love you.”

“D’ye think a few dozen roses are enough to show how much I love you?” He shook his head, aghast. “I could fill this room, this apartment, the whole island, the whole world wi’ roses or anything else ye could ever want, and it would never come close.”

Claire’s self-deprecating pout morphed into a liquid smile, and she kissed him sweetly. She shook her head as she pulled away. “Nothing I could ever say would work, either.”

He chuckled. “Dinna fash, lass.” He kissed her again, harder, more urgent. “When I hold yer small, hot body in my arms, and ye look into my eyes, ye make that face while we make love…”

“What face?”

He hushed her. “…That’s more than enough for me to ken the truth of yer heart. Ye give me so much wi’ yer body, Sassenach. D’ye understand?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she exhaled with a tremble. “I understand.”

He kissed her one more time, then kissed her nose, then her forehead. “D’ye think a nice hot shower would warm ye up? Or d’ye just want to burrow into yer blankets?”

“No, that actually sounds like a lovely idea. As long as there are blankets awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“And as long as there’s a big, warm, human-furnace Scot awaiting me after.”

“Of course.”

“Although…you don’t have to wait until after.”

She gave his arse a smack, and he growled, swiping for her, but missing as she sidestepped him.

“Be a dear and start the water, won’t you? I want to put these in a vase.”

He shook his head, smirking darkly at her. “As ye wish, Milady.”

By the time Claire arranged the roses to her satisfaction and put them on a counter, far enough away from the edge that Faith couldn’t stretch and knock them over, the shower was steaming as she approached it. Jamie’s shirt was already off, and she fought the urge to lick her lips at the sight.

“You’re in luck, my lad,” Claire said. “You’re going to get me naked after all.”

He chuckled as he undid his fly. “How d’ye know that wasna my intention all along?”

“You brute!” she said, feigning an obnoxious damsel voice. “Baring my body for your own selfish needs rather than for my own comfort!”

He pulled his pants down, laughing heartily. “Ach, dinna fash. Your needs will be duly met, my Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, heat gathering in her core. She sputtered then, realizing she was still in her bulky winter coat in the middle of the steaming bathroom. She made a mock-striptease of removing it, and Jamie shook his head, laughing. As each new area of skin was revealed, she broke out into gooseflesh, shivering violently.

“Come on, lass,” Jamie purred, now fully naked along with her. “Let’s get ye warm.”

The hot, nearly scalding water was a balm, and in a mere ten seconds, she’d stopped shivering. She sighed, leaning bodily against Jamie, not wanting to hold herself up, yet not willing to lean against the cold tile walls. She wrapped her arms around his torso as he slid his hands up and down her back, her arse, her shoulders, gliding smoothly in the water. When he took healthy handfuls of her arse with both hands, kneading and squeezing, pulling apart and pushing together, she could stand it no longer, and she stretched up to kiss him.

Oh, yes, she was quite warm now.

Tongues danced, teeth nipped, lips suckled, and Claire stroked Jamie’s hot, searing length until he begged her to stop before he spoiled the rest of the evening. Claire knew it was taking all of his control to not bend her over and have her right then, but he restrained himself, scrubbing her body gently and thoroughly, washing her hair and massaging her scalp with all the tender care in the world. She returned the favor, unable to resist a kiss here and there, as he’d been unable.

When they were satisfied with their cleanliness, the kissing resumed, and then Jamie was turning her around, kissing down her back, her arse, her thighs, getting onto his knees.

“Hold on, mo ghraidh.”

His breathy purr brushed against her, and she shivered, despite the chill in her bones having been long gone. She braced herself on the wall, not at all certain that she wouldn’t slip, and then he thoroughly devoured her, sending her reeling with his mouth alone. She came hoarsely, sharply, trying to curl her fingers into something but finding nothing but slippery tile. Jamie was on his feet in an instant, catching her around the waist, holding her up, cupping the tender spot he’d abandoned to stop her fall. She gratefully rode his hand, gyrating lazily, riding out what was left of her orgasm, her head thrown back into the crook of his neck.

He cupped her until the aftershocks ceased, and then his hands roamed up to squeeze her breasts, as if they were the only thing keeping him upright. He was hard as a rock against the small of her back, and Claire ground her arse against him, giggling when he groaned in misery.

“Come on, love,” she purred, shutting off the water. “I’m all warm now.”

Jamie stepped out and quickly dried himself off, stopping Claire before he was done.

“Let me.”

And, despite how painfully aroused he must have been, he tenderly patted down every inch of her, squeezed out her hair methodically, gently. He then wrapped her in a second, dry towel, something Claire never allowed herself to do, and he scooped her up in his arms, leaving the two wet towels on the bathroom floor, and carrying her, naked, to the bedroom. Claire locked the door for him after he shut it with his foot, and they giggled into a kiss as Jamie walked her onto the bed. He laid her down among rose petals that he’d likely scattered hours ago, and she shook her head at his thoughtfulness. She watched as he lit candles, resting her head on her hand and biting her lip to keep from laughing at the extravagance of it all. He flicked off the light when the candles were lit to his satisfaction, and then he turned back to her.

“Hurry back,” she whined, only partly joking. “I’m getting cold again.”

He wasted no time, closing the distance to the bed and rolling her onto her back, hovering over her.

“Canna have that.”

He unfolded her towel and kissed every inch of her pebbling skin, as if kissing away the goosebumps. He stayed for a while on her nipples, lapping at her there until she was panting and arching her hips into the air.

“Warm enough yet?” He smirked up at her from between her breasts, and she nodded desperately.

A man on a mission, Jamie tossed aside her towel and finally, finally straddled her, bracing himself on his elbows so their mouths were inches apart.

“God…” he groaned, kissing her one more time as his tip teased her entrance. “I’m the happiest man alive.”

“I love you…” Claire murmured, and then with one snap of his hips he was fully sheathed within her, as if the words propelled him forward against his will.

He tried to take his time, Claire could tell, but it didn’t take long for him to take up a maddening pace, slamming into her, and then rubbing rough circles on her clit so she could follow him into oblivion. She did, losing her grip on reality so thoroughly that she did not know where she ended and he began, did not know whose cries she was hearing.

She quite literally didn’t open her eyes again, physically unable after her long day and the activities she’d just finished. So Jamie tucked her in under the excessive amount of blankets she kept on the bed in winter, and she drifted off to the sound of him blowing out candles, only fully surrendering to sleep when he was once again at her side, tucking her into him like she belonged there, like an extra limb, an extension of himself.

My Valentine.

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