but first i pay back jamie

anonymous asked:

Are Jamie and claire going to get a car in the boston story? Car junkie here, kind of dying to know what kind??

Anon from Mod Bonnie’s personal blog: is jamie going to get his driver license soon?

Flood my Mornings: Liberty and License 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Some Sunday Morning (A crime close to home prompts a serious butting-of-heads between the Frasers)


September, 1950

“Oh, yes, I’m sure Cinderella is a darling film,” I said into the receiver, curling my finger absently around the cord, feeling the breeze tickling the backs of my knees, “but I’d really prefer not to have Bree go to the movies until she’s a bit older…. Glad you understand, thank you, Penelope, dear….and thank you for answering my call….No, no word yet, still waiting…. Hope to hear very shortly!….I’ll phone again as soon as we know…Yes, goodbye, dear.”

I hung up and and walked back to my shady bench from the pay phone, checking my wristwatch for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. Jamie and I had both taken off work for today’s mission, but at this rate—three bloody hours after we’ve arrived at the godforsaken DMV—I apparently needn’t have bothered.

“Come on, Jamie,” I murmured under my breath in the direction of the glass doors across the green, “give him what for.”

He’d failed the first time, two weeks ago. A travesty, too, for thanks to his quick memory and ease with academic learning, he’d gotten a perfect score on the written portion—a first for this district, the glowing proctor had said. His only mistake was to have the miserable poor luck to be assigned the most crotchety pedant known to mankind for the in-car examination. Jamie neglected to signal a left-hand turn once—ONCE—and the nasty gremlin had failed him on the spot. To make matters worse, the old grump had rambled on and on about it, tsking about ‘a man of Jamie’s age ought to know better,’ ‘Such carelessness!’ ‘A danger to himself and others!’ and perhaps most gallingly, ‘Dratted foreigners coming in and roaming about as they please, bringing in their Commie ideas!’ et cetera.     

“It’s alright, Sassenach, I’ll ken next time to be more fastidious wi’ the signals. It’s *no’ matter,* a nighean,” he’d said firmly, trying to calm down my ragings against the examiner, his relatives, and any animals unfortunate enough to be his pets. “I’ll almost certainly be assigned a different examiner next time, dinna fash.” 

But given the many hours he’d put into studying traffic laws and practicing on the road with Hank, the failure definitely rankled him, and I knew it. 

None daunted, we’d tried again today. Jamie had come out after his written exam and seemed confident in his performance, laughing easily with me as we shared a coffee and a Mallo Cup (his favorite modern treat to date), apparently ready to take on the world. Then, Lo and Be-bloody-hold, out had rung an oily, “James Fraser?”: the Gremlin, clipboard in hand, grinning with the macabre glee of an executioner. Jamie had swallowed his mouthful, kissed my cheek, and stridden forward to meet his foe with dark determination, Penelope’s keys clinking in his hand.

After the first hour of (im)patiently waiting, I’d gone outside to get away from the general stink of the Department of Motor Vehicles. My bookmark lay scarcely twenty pages into 1984, and I couldn’t have told a bloody thing about those twenty if my life depended on it. 

Another half-hour later, my nerves worn to shreds, I looked up at the opening double-doors for the millionth time to—at last!—see Jamie emerging, buttoning his suit jacket as he walked toward me. He saw me, I could tell, but he wasn’t meeting my eye, staying hidden under his hat, hands uncharacteristically shoved in his pockets.

Bollocks,” I hissed under my breath, rising from the bench under the tree, “Goddamn frigging bollocks….THAT EXECRABLE WRETCH!” I preemptively shouted as he walked up, head still bowed, reaching for my hand and kissing it soberly. 

Sassenach, hush, ye—”

“You wait right here, I’m going to give that little xenophobic vermin a piece of my–”

Sassenach,” Jamie said, voice steady and light, “will ye stop blethering and look down?”  

I spluttered for a moment, but did look down… to see a crisp Massachusetts driver’s license in my hand.

I swatted him with it. “So it’s YOU that’s the execrable wretch!” I scolded, laughing, in thoroughly relieved pique. Abandoning decorum, I jumped up and flung both arms around his neck, kissing his cheek exuberantly “Jamie, you DID pass—Congratulations, you utter ARSE!”

“Aye,” he laughed.“The sour wee mannie tried to dock me again for my four-way stop,” Jamie recounted, kissing my neck happily, “but I recited book-chapter-and-verse from the manual and proved that I did in fact have the right of way. He was fuming all the way back about how all Europeans are a threat to ‘Our Liberty’ but…he passed me.”

“Oh, well DONE, darling!” I cried, inspecting the license again as he set me back down.  I then stepped back to fix him with a gimlet eye. “SO…are you ready to have this out once and for all, then?”

He gave me the look right back, with interest. “Have you come to your senses since last night?”

My senses are right as rain; but I shan’t be swayed, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Shall we flip a coin for it, then?”

My coin,” I agreed, withdrawing one from my handbag and giving it to him, “you flip, I call….TAILS!” I cried as Jamie caught the coin and slapped it onto the back of his hand.

“Tis the moment of truth, Claire: give up now and walk away wi’ honor?”

“Never! Tails, you brute.”

Jamie unveiled the coin dramatically….then groaned.

“Ha-HAAA!” I crowed, “the ‘49, light-blue, four-door sedan it is!!! So there!”

“But the station wagon is so much more practicalSassenach!” he insisted for the dozenth time.

“We’ve made do without a car entirely to this point—I think we’ll manage. And before you ask, yes I’m dead-set on the blue. We’ve got quite enough red in our family as it is, thank you very much.”

He gave a dramatic sigh, but the corner of his mouth was twitching. “Fine, fair’s fair. But—” he held out his elbow to me in a courtly fashion, “—only if the lady will share a milkshake wi’ me before we give Mr. Ford our custom.”

I took the arm with equal grace. “That sounds perfectly reasonable. As long as it’s a chocolate milkshake, no malt.”

He snorted. “Is there any other kind?”

“Good chap!”


[next chapter]

anonymous asked:

Modern Claire and Jamie take a road trip to the beach where J has never been. Of course Claire has plans to make the most of it. Romance, feels galore.

“What did ye say this place was called?” Jamie asked from the shore, his back to me.

I came up behind him and nuzzled my face between his shoulder blades. “Gooseberry Falls.”

My job at the hospital required me to attend a yearly conference at the Mayo Clinic. This year, however, Jamie and I thought we’d make a sort of get-away out of it. We had left Bree at her aunt and uncle’s for the week, something she absolutely loved, and planned a road-trip along Lake Superior’s North Shore. We had quite a few recommendations from friends and this was our first stop.

He craned his neck to look back at me over his shoulder, giving me that silly grin of his. “I havena seen any gooseberries, have ye, Sassenach?”

“Mmm, now that you mention it…” I murmured, “I’m not sure I’ve been paying attention to the native flora.”

“Oh, aye? And ye a regular botanist most days.” His eye brows rose in mock surprise.

My hands traveled around him and fiddled with his belt, imitating his Scottish burr, “Oh, aye, but no’ on this bonnie day.”

I was rewarded with an ear splitting grin from my husband. “Bonnie is it? The only thing bonnier than this day is my wife.”

A small, polite cough sounded from the other side of Jamie and his head snapped forward again. He took my hands in his, quickly removing them from his belt buckle and bringing me along side him.

The disgruntled hiker sent me a look of mild annoyance mixed with slight offense as he passed by us, continuing on his way down the shoreline. His eyes met Jamie’s, however, and he quickly picked up his pace.

I couldn’t help but giggle, it had been a while since we’d been interrupted like that. It reminded me of our walks along Boston Harbor when we were dating.

Jamie glanced between the shore and the tree line, turning something over in his mind, then looked down at me with eyes aflame. “Water or forest, Sassenach?”

“Jamie! Have you felt the water? It’s freezing!” With a cry of outrage I poked him in the ribs.

“Aye, weel, no I havena,” he admitted, smiling. “But ‘tis August, surely even in Minnesota the lochs are warm by now.”

Shoving him towards the water, I responded “Go try it and tell me what you think.”

He dipped his fingers into the frigid waters and reeled back as if stung. Grinning, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the forest. “No’ a word, Sassenach.”

“And just where are we going?” I asked. “We’re in a national park!”

“‘Tis a state park, mo nighean donn.”

“Oh, pardon me, I’ll make sure to cross the correct item off on my bucket list.” I responded sarcastically as tried to keep my footing on the slippery stones of the beach.

He tipped his head back and laughed, scaring no small number of birds and tourists. The hiking paths were full of adventuring families this time of year. How was he going to find a place secluded enough that we wouldn’t be arrested for public indecency, or at the very least, permanently scar small children for life?

Winking at me, he led us off the path and over a small ridge. The trees and underbrush began to thicken as we left the trail behind. Jamie let go of my hand then, pushing aside a pine bough and motioning for me to go ahead of him.

I stepped into a small clearing and turned around to face him.

“Tell me, James Fraser,” I demanded playfully, “Just how you manage to find places like these.”

He shrugged dismissivley, “The trip was your idea, Sassenach.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I tugged his shirt loose from his jeans.

“Mmhmm,” Jamie made a definitively Scottish sound at the back of his throat before he slid the hair binder off the end of my braid, setting the rambunctious curls free. “‘Tis a forest, there is always places like these.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Quite Splendid and Terribly Rare

“Ah, Claire.” He spoke impatiently, but with a tinge of affection nonetheless. “You’ve known forever who you are. Do you realize at all how unusual it is to know that?”

“No.” I wiped my nose with the shredding tissue, dabbing carefully to keep it in one piece.

Frank leaned back in his chair, shaking his head as he looked at me.

“No, I suppose not,” he said.[…] “I haven’t got that,” he said quietly at last. “I’m good, all right. At what I do––the teaching, the writing. Bloody splendid sometimes, in fact. And I like it a good bit, enjoy what I do. But the thing is––” He hesitated, then looked at me straight on, hazel-eyed and earnest. “I could do something else, and be as good. Care as much, or as little. I haven’t got that absolute conviction that there’s something in life I’m meant to do––and you have.”

“Is that good?” The edges of my nostrils were sore, and my eyes puffed from crying.

He laughed shortly. “It’s damned inconvenient, Claire. To you and me and Bree, all three. But my God, I do envy you sometimes.”

He reached out for my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, I let him have it. 

To have that passion for anything”––a small twitch tugged the corner of his mouth––”or anyone. That’s quite splendid, Claire, and quite terribly rare.” He squeezed my hand gently and let it go, turning to reach behind him for one of the books on the shelf beside the table. 

It was one of his references, Woodhill’s Patriots, a series of profiles of the American Founding Fathers. […]

“These were people like that. The ones who cared so terribly much––enough to risk everything, enough to change and do things. Most people aren’t like that, you know. It isn’t that they don’t care, but that they don’t care so greatly.” He took my hand again, this time turning it over. One finger traced the lines that webbed my palm, tickling as it went.

“Is it there, I wonder?” he said, smiling a little. “Are some people destined for a great fate, or to do great things? Or is it only that they’re born somehow with that great passion––and if they find themselves in the right circumstances, then things happen? It’s the sort of thing you wonder, studying history… but there’s no way of telling, really. All we know is what they accomplished. 

“But Claire––” His eyes held a definite note of warning, as he tapped the cover of his book. “They paid for it,” he said. 

–– Voyager by Diana Gabaldon


First off, add this to the list of scenes I really want to see in Season 3.

Second, it can be so easy sometimes to write Frank off based on how his relationship with Claire ended. But as Claire remembers from time to time throughout the books, things with Frank weren’t all bad, just as they weren’t all good. This is one of those scenes where he doesn’t necessarily understand her but he recognizes something in her that is different, even if he can’t name it. He wants to understand but simply doesn’t know how. 

Beyond acknowledging that drive within her to be a healer, he is subtly acknowledging more––the unique nature of her relationship with Jamie. He notes that “To have that passion for anything […] or anyone” is rare. He is perhaps trying to acknowledge the pain that she feels in her loss––even years later––and in the only way he knows how; by not asking her to give up something else she is passionate about, by not forcing her to try and discard another part of herself. Frank does still love her and he can see how much she has changed and I think it pains him to see her broken, especially compared to what she was when they were first married. I think at this point in time (about eight years after her return) he’s accepted that she isn’t going to go back to being that woman on her own but that maybe he thinks medical school and pursuing this particular passion will help her get closer to what she was before. 

That final line can hardly feel anything but ominous. “They paid for it.” There is “a definite note of warning” that suggests Frank fears/believes that Claire might not be done paying for it, though it could also be argued (and Claire might well argue at that point) that losing Jamie had been payment enough. 

There are elements of the conversation as a whole that echo earlier conversations in Voyager and the earlier books, perhaps most notably the concluding pages of the previous chapter and section in which Mary MacNab explains to Jamie that she knows what he had with Claire was true love and that she, “never had that.” There’s, of course, the echoing of the palm reading Mrs. Graham performed back in the very first pages of the series, which Claire herself calls out a few paragraphs later. The line about “I haven’t got that absolute conviction that there’s something in life I’m meant to do––and you have” that brings to mind Jamie and Claire at Lallybroch and the “I was born for you” conversation. 

I was no longer nervous, but still felt like a grave robber,

standing under a pine tree with my torch, watching Young Ian and Jamie take their turns in the deepening pit, their naked backs gleaming with sweat in the torchlight.

“Medical students used to pay men to steal fresh bodies from churchyards,” I said, “handing my soiled kerchief to Jamie as he hauled himself out of the hole, grunting with effort. “That was the only way they could practice dissection.”

“Did they?” Jamie said. He wiped the sweat from his face and gave me a quick, wry glance. “Or do they?”

Luckily, it was too dark for Ian to notice my flush, despite the torchlight. It wasn’t the first slip I had made, nor was it likely to be the last, but most such inadvertencies resulted in nothing more than a quizzical glance, were they noticed at all. The truth simply was not a possibility that would occur to anyone.

“I imagine they do it now,” I admitted.

-Drums of Autumn

Escape

Getting closer to Christmas….

and closer to letting you know who I am!  

Special shout out to Coach Gotham for this chapter.  She’s a true gem who’s always up for a brainstorm, and manages to give exactly what is needed.  

Enjoy WTT!


CHAPTER EIGHT  


“The picture stays Janet!  Ye won’t change one fucking thing on that label.”

“I dinna care a whit about the picture, Brother, although I canna for the life o’ me figure out what in hell it is.  But no one names a wine, Jamie!”

Willie, Laoghaire, Rupert, Murtagh, Dougal, and Ian sat still as stones around the conference table. Laoghaire didn’t know whether to take notes on this part of the meeting or not.  She leaned over to Rupert and whispered her question.

“Nay, lass,” he told her. “Dinna take notes when they use the f-word.”

She’d never seen the Fraser siblings this angry with each other.  She’d never seen Jamie like this before.  His eyes were dead, and he was definitely thinner. He seemed constantly on edge.  Even a ‘good morning’ seemed to piss him off.  

Dougal piped up.  “I ken exactly what it is, and it’s bloody clever, Jamie.”  He turned the wine towards the others and used his index finger to point out the undulating lines, “Look at it one way, and it’s the Scottish mountains in the distance wi’ what seems like a burn right here.  But, here’s the clever bit.” Dougal grinned at his audience.  “If ye look right here, it’s the curve of a woman lying on her side.  And the burn becomes a tendril of her curly, dark hair.”

Laoghaire gasped.  Willie grinned.  Rupert laughed.  Jenny screamed. Murtagh scowled.  And Ian sat straight up and twisted in his chair to stare at Jamie.  

“Sassenach.”  Ian said.  “You named the Merlot ‘Sassenach’.”  

“No.  Absolutely not.”  Jenny was livid.  “Ye call it Merlot.  Ye don’t name them with names, for God’s sake.  And look at the Shiraz?  It’s called Mo Neighean Donn!  Who is going to know what that even means, Jamie?  Honestly, the Fraser name will be a laughing stock.”  

Jamie had had enough.  He slammed his hands down on the conference table and hauled himself to his feet, leaning across the table into Jenny’s face. “I’m the CEO of this company, and I don’t have to discuss the running of it wi’ my sister!” he roared.  

Jenny rose up now, too. “Oh,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Beggin’ yer pardon, Laird –“

“Dinna say it, Janet,” Jamie growled.

“-Broch Tuarach!” she finished

“Ifrinn, Jenny!”  Jamie pounded the table again.  “Dinna throw that ancient title at me!”

Laoghaire looked at Rupert, pen poised.  “How do I spell that?”

Rupert shook his head, “Nay, Lass. ‘Tis Jenny mockin’ her brother. Just….just put yer pen down, aye?”

Blessed St. Michael, Jamie thought.  His head hurt.  He hadn’t slept in days. And his heart ached.  Physically ached inside his chest.  At times he couldn’t catch his breath when the grief rose up to meet him.  The labels and the names had come to him during those four days with Claire.  She was his muse, his inspiration.  Each label was drawn by hand and sent to the printer.  He hadn’t shown anyone.  He knew they were beautiful.  Just like Claire, they were unique.  Some of his best work.  And he knew you didn’t name wines.  Naming them brought her closer.  Laughing stock.  That’s fine, he thought.  For I am truly a fool.  

Dougal stood up and placed a hand each on his niece and nephew.  “Come on now, you two.  Sit down. It’s no’ as bad as all that.  In fact, I can tell ye right now where I’m going to sell this wine.”  

Jamie sat heavily and rubbed at his temples.  Jenny huffed, crossed her arms and legs and flopped back in her chair.    

Dougal continued. “Wi’ names like these, I’m going to all of the resorts in the Highlands first.  Places that cater to weddings and such.  Can ye imagine a bride and her groom planning a wedding?  Havin’ a tasting paired with a white wine titled “Mo graidh”?  Huh?”  He looked around the table and rubbed his hands together.  “A wine called “My Love”!  Mary, Michael and Bride, it’ll practically sell itself!”  

Everyone looked around the table that was rife with tension.  Jenny spoke first, skepticism evident in her voice.  “If ye think so, Uncle.  No’ that it matters. The deed is done.”  

Jenny looked at Jamie, “For the record, I dinna like it.  Not one bit. But, if Dougal says it’ll sell, I believe him.”  She stood up, and turned to leave, mumbling, “That man could sell potatoes to the Irish.” Jenny’s exit broke the mood.  The rest followed suit, but no one dared say a word to Jamie.  

Dougal clapped his nephew on the back, and leaned down close to his ear. “It’s brilliant, Jamie.  Pay no mind to Jenny.  I see what you did.  Subliminal. Genius.”  And with that, Jamie found himself alone.  

Back in his office he looked again at the wines lined up on his desk.  The labels were beautiful.  And he hated each and every one of them right now.  Hated the memories they dredged up.  Hated the loneliness they made him feel.

Jamie looked at his calendar. Twelve days.  Twelve days until Christmas.  He never felt less festive in his life.  He always went to Lallybroch for Christmas. Lallybroch was their family estate, and the home of Jenny and Ian and their children.  Mrs. Crook was still their housekeeper.  Jamie couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t part of their family.  He always looked forward to Christmas there. Cutting the tree from the woods around the estate and dragging it back.  Playing with his nephew and nieces.  Maybe he’d stay in town this year.  Right.  Despite her anger, Jenny, nor Ian for that matter, would let him do that.  Well, he had twelve days to find some holiday cheer.

Jamie sat bolt upright in his chair.  Twelve days. For the first time in weeks he felt like smiling.  Twelve days! He scrolled through his contacts and made two calls.  Then he called down to the art department and told them what he needed and to have it ready in ten minutes.  Closing his computer, he packed it up in his bag, told Willie he was heading home for the day and headed down two flights.  Jamie, lad, Dougal said ye were a genius. Now ye need to prove it. Prove ye can fix this massive misunderstanding with a wee subliminal message.  


Claire arrived home from her shift around 8:30 p.m.  She’d done two day shifts for Mary, and was now off for the next two days.  She planned to do laundry, sleep, and clean. In that order.  

Claire unlocked her door, dropped her bag and stopped.  Normally the room was pitch black.  She’d taken to drawing the blinds on her window because the sight of the fire escape made her heart hurt.  But the blinds were open.  And the glow from the street lamps made eerie shadows in her lounge.  She flicked on a light and gasped.  

Spotless.  Her flat was spotless.  Her kitchen was free of the dishes she’d left there this morning.  And she could faintly smell the solution that was used to wash her floor.  But what really rendered her speechless was the huge Christmas tree in the corner by the window.  The smell of pine was heavy in the room aided along by the natural garland that lay over her mantle.  Jamie. He must have found the key she’d misplaced in his flat. She hadn’t the heart to return the one he gave her.  It could only be him.  Oh, Jamie.  There was also a huge floral arrangement on her kitchen island. Flowers in reds and golds and white, dripping with cedar greens.  She couldn’t help the tears that sprang to her eyes, spilled over onto her cheeks, and dripped from her chin. She closed her eyes, buried her nose in the bouquet, and wept.  

She pulled herself together enough to grab a shower, and padding back into her kitchen in flannel pajamas, she opened the fridge to make something to eat.  The tears rose again.  She should have guessed.  He’d stocked the fridge with ready to go meals from one of those gourmet delivery places.  

Why, Jamie?  Why now?  

She sifted through the labels and found a pasta option to heat up.  As it cooked she thought about what it all might mean.  Was this his way of saying sorry? That was all well and good, but to be honest she would rather he actually say the words to her.  

Maybe he was trying to say he understood?  But understood what, exactly? That she would need this type of support while she went back to school?  That he could make things easy for her?  He can throw all his money into cleaning services and pre-cooked meals. That’s not the support I need. Or want.  It was all so confusing.  

As she sat at the counter eating, she spied something else.  A small white box was under the tree.  Damn you, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Damn you for surprising me AGAIN! 

 She got up and brought the white box back to her seat.  It was clearly a pastry box, tied with brown string.  But the artwork on top was breathtaking.  An origami partridge.  She carefully lifted it off the top of the box.  It was about the size of her hand, and folded in such a way that it stood on its own two feet. The markings were clearly drawn in ink. Jamie.  His name reverberated through her.  Setting aside the paper bird, she opened the box and smiled.  A danish pastry.  Not just any danish, but a pear danish.  A partridge in pear tree.  And Claire laughed for the first time in weeks.  

With only laundry and sleep to focus on, Claire woke up the next morning in better spirits than she had in a while.  Maybe she would get some shopping done for her friends. 

Heading out after lunch she opened the door and froze.  There on the threshold was another white box, but also dangling in front of her face were two origami doves.  One looked to be landing on an invisible branch, and the other seemed to already be perched.  Their wings were cut to show the finest of feathers.  The workmanship was so exquisite it was almost surgical in its precision. Jamie, love, these must have taken hours.  Claire grabbed a chair to remove the tape that hung them from her door frame.  Carefully she carried them inside and stood still, thinking of where to keep them. When it came to her, she didn’t hesitate.  She hung the turtle doves and went back to the door to retrieve the second package. Another pastry box, but this time it was a gorgeous pear tart, and another beautifully crafted partridge.  She placed the partridge on a branch of her Christmas tree along with the first one, and before she could change her mind, or dwell on what was happening, she headed out to the shops.  

Later that night, Claire lay in bed looking up at the two doves hanging from her ceiling.  For the first time in days, she dared to hope.  

Shifted - Part 4, Chapter 1

Every Tuesday I’ll be posting a chapter from my brand new AU story. The premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in Part 4!

Previous installments…


Part 4 - The Decision

Lallybroch, Autumn 1752


“Shall we not even bother collecting the rents this quarter, then?”

Ian rubbed a hand over his tired face. “I’m no’ saying that, Jamie. Only – ye ken as well as I that many tenants won’t be able to pay in full.”

Jamie leaned his head back on the couch, whiskey tumbler in one hand, eyes closed. It had been a long day of going over the ledgers, counting and re-counting the estate’s bills. What with the lack of rain this summer and the latest levy placed on the land by the English, many crofters simply hadn’t been able to produce. Which meant that come harvest, they’d need much more of their grain for their own families. Times were hard enough – Jamie kent well that there was no point in taking food out of his tenants’ mouths.

It had rained nonstop today. Between the dim candlelight of the study he shared with Ian and all his thoughts trying to balance what to do, he had developed quite the headache. He had them now and again – a legacy of the ax-blow that had nearly killed him eight years before – but today’s was developing into something more potent than usual.

Claire could give him something to make it go away, of course – but she’d had her hands full with a rambunctious daughter today. Brianna was five – sweet as could be, but busy and inquisitive. And as stubborn as both of her parents. She never let her small size act as a barrier for anything she wanted to do – whether that was ride with her da on his periodic visits to the tenants, or “help” her mam gather plants and roots, or supervise Mrs. Crook in the kitchen. Brianna and her cousins had had to stay inside with the rain, and he felt bad for steering clear of the four small whirlwinds. Claire called it “cabin fever” – and he kent well the feelings of frustration that came with such restrictions.

Jamie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the headache away. “Aye, I know. We’ve got the wool from the sheep, and the beeswax candles – those we can always sell. We’ll live on the potatoes again this winter. And we’ll collect whatever we can tomorrow.”

Soft footsteps – a rustle of homespun – and the cushion beside him on the couch sank slightly. Claire. He reached out a hand and neatly found her palm, twining their fingers together.

“Headache again?” she asked softly.

“Mmphm.” He opened his eyes and met her concerned gaze. She squeezed his fingers. “Nothing ye can’t fix, Sassenach.” She smiled and shook her head.

Jamie’s thumb secretly traced the lines of Claire’s palm. Over Claire’s shoulder he watched Jenny ease through the doorway and sit beside Ian. In the eighth month of her fourth pregnancy, she was still able to move with the same grace as she always did. And in the light of the fire, with the half-darkness cast by shadows highlighting her features, Jamie thought his sister had never looked more serene. Watching Ian, he saw that his best friend agreed.

“We’ll collect what we can, then. We know we’ll be able to eat this winter, and we’ve got enough saved away for the spring planting.” Jamie raised his head from the back of the couch and took a restorative sip of whiskey. “How are we with the second cellar, then?”

For the past year, Jenny and Mrs. Crook had been slowly setting aside spare preserves, potatoes, dried fruits and meats, and other stores in a cave a half-mile behind the house. They’d started laying food away in the second cellar as a precaution – so that if the English patrols stepped up again and sought to take more food as payment, then at least the residents of the main house – including the growing brood of Fraser/Murray children – would have plenty to eat.

Jenny rested one ankle over the other and rubbed her belly. “Weel, all the food we’ve put away is keeping nicely. I was thinking we could put some of the dry goods in there as well – to keep them away from the house.”

“About that, mo dhu.” Ian rubbed one hand over the stump of his leg; Claire knew it pained him in the evenings. “We’ll need to sell more wool from your sheep. And all the candles ye can spare.”

“Is it that bad, then?” Jenny’s eyes darted between her husband and brother. “Are we no’ expecting much tomorrow? That’s three straight quarters now, Jamie.”

“I dinna ken what we’ll get, Jenny. We need to be prepared.” Jamie swallowed. “The damned English are bleeding us dry. And I ken it’s because of me – ”

Jenny drew her dark brows together. “Dinna say that. Times are tough for all the estates – ye ken that weel.”

Claire felt Jamie stiffen beside her. “Ye also ken that the patrols stop by here more often than anywhere else. They want to punish me. They mock who I was, and they want to take that out on my family. Jenny, I – ” He swallowed. “I’m too much of a liability. If I were to go somewhere, and they kent I was away, they wouldna be by here so often, and –”

“Are ye a fool, Jamie? Ye do understand the terms of your pardon, am I right? Because if you set so much as one foot outside estate lands they’ll have you in a wagon on your way to meet the hangman.” Jenny rose from her seat, voice rising. “If ye think that I, or Ian, or God forbid Claire would let ye do that, Jamie – weel, ye dinna understand us at all.”

Ian gently laid a hand on Jenny’s arm. “Hush, mo graidh. Please sit. We’re all tired. He doesna mean it.”

Jenny sank back into her chair, glowering darkly at her brother. A tense silence engulfed the room for several moments, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire.

Unfocused thoughts darted through Claire’s mind. Jamie’s hand gripped her fingers, but she knew his mind was so very far away. Ian had done his best to diffuse the situation – now it was her turn.

“It will go on for several more years yet, Jamie,” Claire finally spoke softly. “But it won’t last forever. Things will indeed go back to normal – or as normal as could be expected.”

Jamie turned to her slowly, eyes unfocused. He had explained to Jenny and Ian that Claire had The Sight – or some form of it - but Claire had never directly referenced the future in their presence.

“Ye’ve seen it, then?” Ian asked quietly. “Do you ken how much longer it will last?”

She nodded, eyes trained on Jamie’s. “For eight years after Culloden. That means two more years yet. After that, the English will get preoccupied with politics and rebellions in other parts of the empire – and so they’ll gradually ease their grip on Scotland.”

Jamie set down his glass and quietly gathered Claire to his chest. “Of course the patrols won’t go away entirely,” she continued, side flush with Jamie’s. “But the weather will improve. And with more to give the English, the less they’ll be so…direct in their interaction with the Scots.”

Ian nodded, thoughtfully. “Aye, I suppose. I trust ye, Claire. Ye were right about the potatoes – they dinna get the same blight as the barley, and we’ll be living on them again for the next seasons. But only –”

“Do ye ken what will happen to us, Claire?” Jenny’s voice was quiet, full of fire. “Or just to Scotland in general? Because I tell you, I do care about the country and our people and what’s happening to us, but at the end of the day it’s my family and estate I care about the most, and –”

“Jenny-” Ian laid a big hand on her arm. “I dinna think-”

“No, it’s a good question.” Claire rested a hand on Jamie’s thigh. “I don’t know what will happen to Lallybroch, just what the English will do in Scotland more generally. I wish I did know. But I can do something that I know for sure will have a direct impact, a direct positive impact.”

Jenny’s eyebrow raised skeptically. “And what’s that, then?”

Claire paused, considering her words carefully. “We can sell my gold ring. That should bring in more than enough to make up for what the tenants won’t be able to pay this quarter.”

Jamie rested one big hand over hers. “Claire, I canna ask ye to do that.”

She smiled into his worried eyes. “You’re not asking me – I’m offering. I’m happy to do it. It’s not doing anything now – I’d rather put it to good use.”

“Yer old wedding ring, ye mean?” The surprise in Jenny’s voice was plain – clearly this was not what she had expected.

Claire squeezed Jamie’s hand tightly. “My first husband, he – well, he’s not alive. I’ll never see him again. That part of my life is fully, truly behind me.” Or ahead of me? She thought dimly.

“Claire.”

She lifted her eyes to meet Jenny’s across the room. “Ye’d do that, for us? Truly?”

Claire nodded. Jamie’s slowly caressed her right hand – with his ring – between his two work-roughened hands. “You are my family. This is my home. Jamie knows this, but Jenny – Lallybroch is the only true home I’ve ever had. You and Ian and Jamie and the children are the only true family I’ve ever had. You opened your home to me when you were under no obligation to do so.” She swallowed. “It’s the least I can do. The very least I can do.”

Jenny nodded, lips pursed. She turned to Ian. “I suppose ye can have a wee word wi’ someone about getting a fair price for it, then?”

He nodded and sipped his whiskey. “Aye. I’ll do it the day after next – after we see how much we collect tomorrow.”

Jamie had remained uncharacteristically silent, obviously deep in thought. Just as Claire turned to him he stood, and drew Claire up with him.

“I’ll be down early to read through the ledgers one more time, Ian,” he said, setting one hand on the small of Claire’s back and steering her out of the room. “All right?”

Ian raised one brow, but said nothing. “All right.”

Claire turned, trying to meet Jamie’s gaze, but he quickly pushed her out of the room. “Jamie-”

“Let’s collect the wee lass and spend the rest of the evening upstairs,” he said quietly. “I want – I need – I must be wi’ the two of ye right now.”

Claire frowned as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Jamie-”

Too late – their daughter had already caught sight of them, and shrieked with delight from behind Mrs. Crook’s skirts.

Jamie let go of Claire’s back and knelt, catching Brianna as she ran to him. He swept her into his arms, heedless of the jam and mud stains on her smock. “Ciamar a tha thu, mo nighean ruaidh?” he said, voice smiling as she smacked loud kisses on his cheeks.

Claire sighed and met the housekeeper’s weary gaze. “Thank you, Mrs. Crook,” she said sincerely. “I would have been at a total loss with her today, had you not stepped in.”

The older woman smiled, wiping her hands on her threadbare apron. “Ah, it’s no bother, milady – there are always tasks for small hands. She’s a sure handful, but a true delight. Minds me of her da at that age.”

Claire glanced back at Jamie and Brianna. He had picked her up, arms securely around her little legs. Brianna was excitedly telling him all about her day in the Gaidhlig. Jamie nodded periodically, listening intently as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Claire’s heart raced. Seeing the two of them together, in moments like this, bringing such joy to each other – it was worth it. They were worth it.

anonymous asked:

I was reading your amazing flood my mornings post yesterday and a naughty thought came to mind: what would jamie's reaction be to prophylactics? Thank you!

Flood my Mornings: Not Yet 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.


September, 1950

“Erm…Jamie? Did I…break you?”

We had just finished making love and I’d closed my eyes, feeling sensation rippling across my body and my blackened vision sparking like heat lightning. Satisfied and exhausted, I’d opened my eyes to see Jamie (still inside me) looking down in a kind of wild, fascinated horror, face rigid as though someone had put a knife against his throat.

“Jamie?” I said again, giving him a poke in the belly, “Have your English flown away?” I asked with a grin in my pidgin Gaelic.

This seemed to bring him back to his senses, for he blinked, shook his head to clear it, and murmured an apologetic, “No, no, mo chridhe, I’m alright.” He pulled himself out of me and sat kneeling on the bed between my legs.“I’m sorry, I just realized that–” He halted again, gaping wordlessly and running his fingers backward through his hair in agitation. 

Out with it, lad,” I said, laughing at the strangeness of seeing that familiar gesture in his now-laughably-short hair. I pulled the coverlet across to cover my naked body, still cozily exhausted.

“When you talked about wanting another bairn,” he said slowly, “ye said ‘not yet,’ aye?”

I froze. 

Now? Could I tell him now? Was this the right time? 

“Well, yes, I suppose I did, or something to that effect,” I said carefully, hearing alarm bells sound when his nostrils flared and his mouth went taut. “I don’t remember the exact—”

“But have we no’ been trying in effect these last two months?”

“Ohhhhh,” I said, understanding.

“It’s only I got a wave of panic, just then,” he said, the dismay clear in his voice, “that ye might get wi’ child before you’re ready…and it’s only— I wondered…if I ought not to come to your bed—lie wi’ ye—until…until then.”

I swept up onto my knees before him and stopped his mouth with a kiss. Pulling back, I held his face in my hands.  “You’re so very sweet, my love.”

“Sweet?” he said darkly. “Damnably careless.” He made a scoffing sound deep in his throat, and his face contorted as though he were trying to hold back an explosion. “Claire, I’m…so sorry. What must ye think of me?” 

“Dinna fash,” I said, an an exaggerated accent I hoped would make him laugh. “I’ve been taking precautions.”

His eyebrows went high in shock. “Precautions?”

Ooft, a bloody great SLEW of minefield talks to be had this night, it seems. 

…and quite the field indeed, when the prospect of discussing birth control with an eighteenth-century CATHOLIC husband could be deemed the lesser of the mines!

After a deep breath and a prayer, I succinctly explained the concept of the diaphragm and—following a quick trip to the washroom to excavate and sanitize—showed him the handy little thing. 

He said nothing during this; not a word. He was holding it gingerly in the palm of one hand, staring at it as though it were about to go off. 

“I’d…like to know how you feel about my using it,” I said cautiously, trying to both scrutinize him and avoid his eye. I was talking too fast in my nervousness, babbling to fill the silence. “The other option is a rubber sleeve that you would have to wear, every time. More or less effective, but I’m told it lessens the sensation quite a bit for the man’s part. This seemed more…well…unobtrusive.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, and at last said, full of emotion. “I…think it’s a wonderful invention.”

Really?” I said, releasing a huge breath in relief and leaning back on the pillows. “Truly? You were so quiet, there, I thought you must be upset with me.”

He shook his head. “I was only thinking about all the women back home–back then who might have benefitted from such a device. All the lives it might have saved.”

“Your mother?” I said gently. 

“Well… no, I dinna think so….” he said, moving to lay on his side facing me. “She and my father, they wanted another bairn, aye?” He rolled the diaphragm meditatively between his fingers. “But I can think of many a woman that would have deemed it a verra great blessing indeed to be free of perpetual pregnancy and risk; to simply enjoy the bairns she had been given already….and no’ be driven to slip a bairn in desperation.”

“Indeed,” I agreed gravely, thinking of how many such women I’d known and seen in my own brief time in the eighteenth-century; women whose lives hung in the balance between the forces of men’s desires, the capabilities of their own bodies, and the dark, desperate ways out that might be offered by the Geillis Duncan of their community. I shuddered involuntarily and cleared my throat. “I did wonder if perhaps you might oppose it on religious grounds.” 

“Oh, aye?”

“The Catholic church has opposed contraception time out of mind, you know: circumventing God’s plan for humans ‘being fruitful and multiplying,’ among other objections.”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows indignantly. “But that puts all the responsibility for things on woman, then, no? She must accept what spunk comes her way and whatever might spring from it, but man may spill it with impunity? Seems horribly unjust to—What are you grinning at like a wee frog, Sassenach? Do ye no’ agree?”

“No, I most certainly do! You should write pamphlets, darling!” I laughed, relieved by his unexpected open-mindedness. “So…you don’t think me wicked for using it?”

“No, Christ, not at all,” he said at once, firmly. “To my mind, if God can forgive a man for sowing his oats hither and thither and whenever he pleases, I’m certain He can forgive a woman for taking prudent precautions against the wily stuff.”

“Wily indeed,” I said, grinning still wider. 

I did wonder if Jamie would be quite as progressive in a decade or two when a grown Brianna began exploring her own contraception possibilities….

Ah, well: sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

“And besides,” he said, more softly, “It’s no’ as if we mean to use it so that we might commit sin….If I’m wrong or blasphemous, I’ll answer to God for it on the day of judgement, and gladly, but for the time being, I see no evil in two loving parents waiting for the proper time to bring another bairn into the world.” He kissed me. “No….Ye shall take your precautions until you’re ready…”

Until I’m ready. 

One mine down. Another about to explode. 

He leaned forward and took my face between his hands, kissing me so tenderly I wanted to cry.   

I could feel the pressure of suppressed thoughts ready to burst out from my chest.

“Jamie…but it’s…”

His eyes were crinkled up with mirth. “No ‘buts’ about it. If the pope has a problem wi’ it, he can take it up wi’ me himself.”

Despite my distress, I gave a small laugh, imagining Pope Pius XII in our living room, having it out on the ethics of contraceptives with my formidable husband. “No, that isn’t…Jamie, I need to say something.”

It came out in a rush and he stiffened at once. “What is it, mo chridhe?”

“I had thought…” I grabbed a pillow and wrapped my arms around it, grounding myself to it. “That is…I had thought to wait a time before conceiving again…”

I stopped. He tilted his head to the side, mouth quirked as though repressing a smile. His eyes sparkled with…anticipation? “You…will be thinking differently, now?”

“I want to go to medical school,” I blurted gracelessly.

In the space of one blink of the eye, his glowing features turned to stone. Not angry, nor surprised; just that impassive blank of control that he wielded so skillfully to keep his emotions undetected. He was closed. Present. But closed. “Did ye no’ already have your schooling to be a nurse?” His voice was light and even, but not his own.

Oh, please, God, please let him understand.

“I did,” I began slowly, “but that was for nursing. To be a full MD–medical doctor–you have to go back for more rigorous training; but you have so many more capabilities, for it. You can do surgeries, prescribe care, make the diagnoses that matter! And it…well, it’s expensive, and it takes a good number of years to complete, but…it’s something I’ve been contemplating for some time, now.”

“‘Expensive,’ ye say…Can we afford it?” he asked. His face was still inscrutable, his voice calm. He wasn’t looking at me.

“Yes. I’ve still got part of my inheritance left over from Uncle Lamb…and with your salary coming in, we should be able to manage, if we’re careful about our expenditures. They do offer loans for tuition, and if it comes to it, we can take advantage of that. My earning potential will be immensely higher once I’m an MD, so we’ll have no trouble paying them back.”

He didn’t speak, but nodded his head, brows furrowed in thought.

“I can do it, Jamie,” I said, doing my utmost to keep the pleading out of my voice, but hearing it nonetheless. “It’ll be hard for a few years, but we have Penelope, and I can do much of the studying the first two years from home, and–”

He raised a hand.

“Jamie, please listen to me–”

But he put a quelling hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “If ye want this thing, Claire….you’ll have it.”

I sat gaping at him. “Thank you,” I breathed, a huge weight rising from my shoulders. “Truly, thank you.

He smiled, a little weakly, but with genuine love and feeling. “I’ve no doubt that you’ll be wonderful….and we’ll manage wi’ the details as they come. Together.”

I leaned down and kissed him, running my fingers through his hair. “Jamie….thank you….You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s…God, just… thank you, sweetheart.” 

“What would I no’ do for your sake, mo chridhe?” he said, so quietly it was no more than a breath against my cheek.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, steeling myself for the final revelation of the evening. “And so…I’ve been thinking…perhaps we ought not to….put off having the second baby, after all?”

His head snapped up and I watched as—in an instant—his mask cracked and fell away, from first shock and then from the dawning of the most breathtaking smile. “I thought–” He exhaled heavily, stertorous, his whole body seeming to shake as the words tumbled out of him. “Claire, I thought ye were telling me ye’d decided ye’d changed your mind and didna wish to bear another child so you might pursue your schooling!”

“No, no!” I exclaimed, feeling my heart rise like a balloon. “Oh, no, sweetheart! I just meant if the child was a year or two of age before I began medical school, rather than falling pregnant in the midst of things, that would be ide–”

“I was fully prepared to stand by ye if that was your wish, and never say a word more about it, but–” He grabbed me around the waist and pushed me back down on the pillows, kissing me with abandon. When he pulled away, his face above me was filled to bursting with tenderness and joy and love. “Oh, God, Claire,“ he groaned, cupping my face with his free hand. “I’m so happy.”

“So am I,” I whispered, breathless with it.

He was beaming. “We’ve a marvelous future, ahead, do we not? You’ll make a verra fine doctor, Sassenach, and I ken already you’re a wonderful mother.” He pulled back and laid a hand gently on my belly. He rubbed tenderly, murmuring something in Gaelic I couldn’t understand.

“There’s nothing in there at the moment, you know.” I said it to be humorous, but my voice cracked.

“But it’s a wonderful thought, aye?” he said, looking up with tears in his eyes. “That ye’ll soon carry a child—our child—in a peaceful time?”

And you’ll be here for all of it.

He kissed my hand, then straightened and picked the diaphragm up off the bedspread. He looked down at it for a moment, laughed—a deep, full, throaty incredulous sound—and flung it carelessly over his shoulder, crawling toward me with a deep, significant growl.

Again?” I said, laughing as he tugged me bodily down beneath him in that way that drove me wild. “ALREADY?”

“Well, it didna count all the times you’ve worn the wee stopper, now did it?” He lowered his head to fasten his lips maddeningly around one nipple before grinning up at me with one eyebrow raised. “We must get on wi’ it, if you’re to become a doctor anytime soon.”



to be continued

3

I’m An Idiot

Prompt -   “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

Relationship: Friends

Character: Team 2016

Warning:

Gifs: Found on Google.

A/N: I don’t read much for the 2016 Team and this prompt seems to fit for them.

It was a nice quiet day around the cave, no mission, no training, just a rest and relax type day. I had chosen to stay in my room and catch up some shows that I had been meaning to watch when I heard a loud crash. Rushing out of my room and to where the noise was I saw Cassie, Bart, and Jaime. The training room with a mess and the three of them happened that looked to be pancake batter on them.

“Explain.” The three jumped at my voice and turned to the doorway, quickly trying to hide what seemed like water balloons behind their back.

“3.” The younger member knew that when I started count that better start explaining.

Keep reading

EOnline: Once Upon a Time's Jamie Chung Speaks Out on Mulan's Gay Reveal: "Her Heart Is With Aurora"

And when we chatted with Chung at the 2014 Winter TCA Press Tour, she told us how “glad” she was when the ABC fantasy hit’s creative team decided to go there with Mulan’s storyline. 

“When I was filming that, it was like an ongoing inside joke between Sara and I. Like, ‘I secretly really care about you,’ Chung recalled. "And the audience as well, there was this conspiracy online, like, 'Mulan loves Aurora!’ And I’m really glad that the writers listened because I really do think that’s what they planned from the beginning. They’re all about twists and like, why not? It felt so natural to begin with.”

However, the pause button was pressed on the storyline as Mulan joined Robin Hood’s band of Merry Men to spare herself the pain of being around the woman she’s in love with after learning Aurora and Phillip were expecting their first child. Chung has yet to make another appearance on the hit ABC series.

But Chung is totally down to pay Storybrooke another visit, saying, “Are you kidding me? I think it would be really disappointing to leave the audience with this giant question mark. I would go back in a heartbeat.”

[Read the rest of the article on EOnline’s site]

160703 Ex’act fansign

(trans by _hppyvrs)

  • A fan had a test coming up so she asked Chanyeol to write ‘pass’ on her album and he wrote it for her. Then she spent 3 days making two differnet flower crowns and asked Chanyeol if he could wear one for her, so he chose the fancier crown and wore it for her
  • Chanyeol’s the first member to finish his fansign! 
  • Chanyeol said that lately, he’s been really into Jamie Collum’s music. Then OP told Chanyeol not to pay attention about people telling him about revealing his abs and he replied 'Ohuu~ I don’t pay attention to those things’
  • Chanyeol finished his signing so fast, he said he was so sorry and asked if he should do another round, then when staff said he couldn’t, he had a sulky expression and said 'I guess I can’t…’
    Then he said he’d be right back because he needed to use the bathroom, and when he came back, he said he’d talk and joke around a  lot more
  • Chanyeol’s wearing a hat with Luffy (from One Piece) on it! 
  • A fan wrote on a sticky note that said 'In my opinion, I think this was the best song’ and the options were: 1. Moon 2.Listen to the letter 3.All of me, 4.Problem, 5.A song he hasn’t released yet and Chanyeol chose no.5
  • OP: Hello
    Chanyeol: Hello~ Ah, your nickname, nono, your name is xx right? (because OP said her name is really unique)
    Then OP said: Ah, oppa, this letter!
    Chanyeol: Ah, yes! Thank you!
    OP: Oppa, last night I prepared a song for you, if it’s ok, could you please listen to it for me?
    Chanyeol: Go ahead
    Then OP sang the aegyo song that goes: 'You know, I really really like you. You know, I really love you. This much, this much, this much, I love you this much!’ With the cute noise at the end while dancing, and Chanyeol followed along with her.
    And since Chanyeol’s line was the fastest,
    OP said: Oppa you’re first place!
    Chanyeol: Ah, I went slow but I’m still first place.
    Then Chanyeol signed really slow when OP asked him to sign for her!
A Lightened Soul

*comes out from hiding* I’m so sorry this took so long! But here it is, as promised. I wrote this 30,000 feet in the air. Hopefully, the next chapter will be a much shorter wait. I have a vague outline of where these two kids are going but feel free to send in some prompts! As always let me know what you think!

Part 1


I clutched the warm cup of tea in front of me, gliding my fingers along the raised flower design of the side of the cup, letting my fingers thaw from the chilled air outside.

The bright lights of the tiny diner made everything seem more immediate and present, especially the man sitting across from me at the booth. His red hair gleaming as radiant as the core of the sun against the lights.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks as his eyes lingered on my face as the waitress filled his coffee mug, her body angled into him as she tried to gain his attention. Her nails were vibrant pink and she smacked on a piece of gum loudly. Altogether, I found her to be most unpleasant.

“Thank you,” his soft voice murmured as she finished pouring, but he never glanced at her.

I smiled and looked down, swirling the little spoon in my cup. I cleared my throat as I reached for the honey.

“You didn’t have to take me for tea to make sure I didn’t off myself,” I said, cheeks continuing to blaze under his gaze as I squeezed a dollop into my cup. “I was just trying to clear my head and the air up there is much fresher than the streets of London.”

He chuckled, eye crinkling in amusement as he picked up his mug. “I believe you,” he reached across the table and patted my hand lightly, nevertheless sending shivers up my spine. “You don’t have to keep trying to convince me you not suicidal.”

I glanced up from my tea at this, watching him as he took a large gulp of coffee.

“You seem like a strong lass. And I asked ye here because I wanted to keep talking to ye.”

To my horror, I felt the heat burn even more on my face and my chest.

He gripped my hand harder, stroking my little finger. His voice dropped lower and softer as he continued.

“But tell me, why is a bonnie lass like you so sad?”

I looked down at our hands, twining together like a lock and key. I ran my thumb across his palm, shaking my head at the madness of it all. A man come into my life so suddenly, yet when I needed someone the most.

I forced tears back down as I shook my head slightly.

“I was just overwhelmed,” I said quietly in a small voice. “I’m in medical school and working all the time, and not to mention the studying and…”

The words seemed to pour out of me like a lost stream, desperate to find somewhere to lay its burdens. I told him everything, this stranger. I told him of my pains and hardships, my grief and my loneliness.

And all the while, he held my hand and didn’t say much but the occasional soft, comforting words of an unknown language.

He let me talk. He let me vent. He gave me an outlet to pour all of my frustrations into and when I finished, I felt like I weighed a stone less from my confessions.

“I’m so sorry,” I half laughed and waved my hand, self-consciously. “I’ve been talking for an hour.”

“I like the sound of your voice, never fret,” he smiled, eyes twinkling.

I smiled back and took a gulp from my now cold tea. He moved his hand away from mine and I mourned the loss almost instantly.

“We’re closing,” a high-pitched voice with annoyance in their tone spoke, starling us both.

I briefly looked down at my watch for the first time since I laid eyes on Jamie.

“Jesus H. Christ! It’s nearly midnight!” I gathered my things quickly, stopping to fumble in my purse for a few coins to pay.

“I got it, Claire,” Jamie said, handing the forlorn waitress a few crumpled pounds.

We both stood up and his hand went to my lower back as we walked out of the small diner and into the darkened street, a great contrast to the florescent lighting inside. The world suddenly felt much smaller and much more intimate.

Jamie reached out and grabbed my hand, moving his free hand to cup my cheek. His eyes closed briefly and I took the opportunity to stare at his beautiful red lips that were begging me to kiss them.

His eyes fluttered open and he leaned his forehead against mine while taking a deep breath as I stood frozen, locked by his eyes.

“I dinna know why it is we met, or how it is that I care for ye after so little time together, but from my experience, everyday is a gift and there is no such time for not saying how ye feel.”

He licked his lips before continuing. “I dinna want ye to be alone and I don’t want to be alone anymore either. I think maybe we were meant to meet tonight on that roof top, mo nighean donn.”

My breath caught in my throat at his admission. He eyes lingered on mine, hesitant and nervous, awaiting my response.

Not knowing what to say and equally aware of my inability to say what lay in my heart, I simply moved my free hand to the back of his neck while taking a step closer to him, feeling the soft red hair against my fingers and tugged his neck down so we were nose to nose.

I noticed a small scar on the side of his mouth and had the sudden desire to know everything about that scar and everything about this man. But right now all I wanted was to feel his lips against mine.

I saw him glance down at my own lips and that was all the incentive I needed to be bold. I moved to my tip toes and pressed my lips against his soft and malleable mouth.  

The warmth of his lips made me shiver and I lost myself in his breath. I moved my other hand to twine around his neck as his moved around my back as we sank into each other.

A blunt force broke us apart as a man in a trench coat pushed passed us on the sidewalk, powerwalking until he disappeared down a dark street. Jamie cursed him under his breath.

I turned around and looked back up at Jamie. We both stared at each other, at a loss for words until we started to giggle at the absurdity of it all.

He chuckled and put his arm around me tightly.

“Alright then, mo nighean donn, where do ye live?”

Continued here

Honeymoon Quiz

@lynnialljohnson asked: What about the guys in the rent party quizzing Jamie after his “first time” following all their advice. Maybe some admitting how bad they were at first with Claire catching and hinting he’s a fast learner. With a little sweet Murtaugh at the end?

This one felt a little weird to me. Not the prompt, but my answer to it. I’m not sure. Something just feels off. I love the prompt though. I might take another crack at it again and see if I can make it work better. Thanks!


I stared into the warm fire, though that wasn’t what heated me. Jamie had one end of his plaid wrapped around my shoulders, his arm about my waist. He was naturally warm, something I thought might come in handy in the coming winter months.

We’d been married only a few days, but I found myself enjoying his company. It was nice to know at least one of the men had my back in case something happened. Jamie had made it clear that I was his to protect now and he would do anything to keep me safe.

I wasn’t paying attention to the conversation around the fire, most of it being in Gaelic. But when I heard my name, I pulled myself back into reality and sat up. Jamie squeezed my shoulder gently.

“Did ye do what I said?”

“I dinna think it’s any o’ your business,” Jamie answered, glaring at Rupert.

“Come on, man! My first time was a near disaster!”

“Oh aye?” Jamie asked, smirking at me. “Tell us about it, then.”

“Och… Weel… The lass was ah…”

Angus spit behind him and clapped Rupert on the shoulder.

“That wasna a lass at all! If ye’re talkin’ about that whoore wi’ the yellow hair.”

“I am. She was a lass!”

“She wasna! Tell me, if she was a whoore, how was it a disaster?”

“I didna ken what I was doing!”

The whole circle erupted into laughter as Rupert explained just what he’d done.

“Premature ejaculation isn’t unusual in young men that age,” I blurted.

Perhaps the ale I’d had with dinner was a little stronger than I’d expected.

All eyes turned to me and I scooted closer to Jamie.

“Pre… what?”

“Ah… Never mind.”

Jamie laughed and handed me the cup he’d been drinking from. Were it anyone else, I would have shaken my head and not had anything to drink. But sharing one glass between us was almost nothing compared to other things we’d shared.

“Did ye bend er o’er?” Angus asked.

“I am right here,” I said, glaring at Angus.

He winked at me.

“I’ll no’ speak of my wedding night!” Jamie said with finality.

Dougal sat down with his own cup of ale.

“Was it that bad, then lad? Did ye no’ finish?”

“Aye! I did!”

Jamie was getting testy.

“Ye certainly looked the part when ye came down,” Dougal continued on. “Like ye didna get a wink o’ sleep the whole night.”

“He didn’t,” I said quietly.

Again, the whole group around the fire barked out in laughter. I could feel Jamie glaring at me.

“Did he prove himself then, mistress?” Rupert asked eagerly.

“Oh… He wasn’t sure of himself at first, but…” I looked up at him and smiled. “He’s rather a quick study.”

“If he’s no’ ready for more,” Angus said, his voice serious. “I promise to take care of ye as best I can.”

Rupert rolled his eyes.

“Like she’d take you to bed afore me. She likes me better, ye ken.”

I laughed. As I did, I looked around the men gathered by the fire. These people were beginning to feel like my family.

Top 5 Movies - 2014

So a video is going out on my channel this evening about my Top 5 games but I consumed so much media this year looking for inspiration and the sort, that I have a list for Movies, Music and TV too!

None of these lists are in any kind of favourable order :)

Maze Runners was easily the biggest surprise for me of 2014. I had no interest in seeing the movie as, like most people, it struck me as a very Hunger Games audience feeder. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The original Horrible Bosses was in my Top 5 in previous years because of its comedic wit and the way everything intertwined at the end which going back and watching for a second time, you totally see but it was a pleasant surprise!

Motherfucker Jones (Jamie Foxx) was present again but I love that the writers understood they got the initial surprise and laughs of that character from the first movie, thus, not pushing him too hard at the screen.

I would pay good money to see more Sudeikis / Day movies their shared hysteria and goofiness shone brighter this time around and I’m so glad it did. Bateman is bateman, he’s in comedy movies all being the grumpy fuck. But he grumps so well!

How To Train Your Dragon 2 thankfully came through as a great continuation story after what already was a fulfilling conclusion the first time around.

Anything Pixar / Dreamworks is always a treat on the eyes and the 3D in this movie didn’t dissapoint, even on a home setup the depth to detail and the vibrancy of the world had me in awe.

This movie had a lot of heart and a belly full of laughs too, ESPECIALLY from Ruffnut with gems like this:

NOW THESE LAST TWO DIDN’T COME OUT IN 2014 BUT I SAW THEM FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR SO SHHHHHHH

Rachel McAdams is a good'ne isn’t she. Somehow in a prominently British cast she somehow blended in perfectly and paired with Gleeson it was a surprisingly wonderful match.

Someone was definitely cutting Bill Nighy shaped onions in our apartment as we watched this movie. The scenes between Tim and his Dad really hit home and held an almost scary immense emotional power that completely overwhelmed me..

As great a movie as it was, it was its message and outlook that made it stick with me. If given the chance to live a day over, the first time you’d blunder through, the next time you could stop to appreciate the wonder and beauty of everything. As of January 1st I’m now trying to live every day like it’s a 2nd. That’s one of my resolutions.

Another epic for the Dreamworks collection. I picked this up to watch over the winter period upon the recommendation of lots of you via Twitter.. Thank you!!

This movie puts a nice spin and in some cases a face to some of the worlds most cherished childhood myths from the Easter Bunny (voice by bloody Wovlerine!!!) and a tattoo clad Santa Claus haha

I really appreciated the minimal use of Santa’s elves in this movie for physical humor and cheap gags. It’s so easy now days for small spritely characters to distract from what’s actually going on in a bid for viral success like Despicable Me’s Minions. Less was actually more.

So there you have it, some old, some new, all watched for my first time in 2014 and all thoroughly enjoyable. Happy new year :D

TITLE OF STORY: Whoops! Wrong Door
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One shot
AUTHOR: the-fiction-portal
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: College Student AU
GENRE: Romance
FIC SUMMARY: Angela accidentally knocks on the door of Tom Hiddleston while on her way to her friend’s room in an attempt to escape being Sexiled
RATING: T
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES:  Inspired by one of the college au prompts. 
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Feel free to tell me what you think


“I can’t believe this,” I grumbled as I stormed down the hall. I had a very busy time in the library working on a last minute paper. I knew if I stayed in my room I wouldn’t get it done in favor of doing other things. I was mentally drained, and I skipped dinner to do this assignment. All I wanted to do was to go to my room, eat some of my snacks and reward myself with a bit of Netflix. 

Unfortunately my roommate had other plans for me tonight, there on our doorknob was a red hair ribbon tied around it. The sign that she was with a guy, meaning they are about to, or in the mist of doing the do. The ribbon was a way to avoid embarrassment for everyone involved. Seeing the ribbon on the door I decided to visit my friend Jamie in an attempt to kill time.

I walked down the long hallway that connected a series of dorms together separated by large double doors. Leaving my dorm to the dorm where Jamie stayed I walked down the hall and gave a knock at the door, three knocks, always three.

Keep reading

A Lightened Soul

Why, hello! It’s been a while since I updated, but my semester is finally over! So, I will update more regularly again. Hope you enjoy and as always let me know what you think!

Part 1, 2, 3


I drifted to awareness to find that Jamie was wrapped around me like a limpet. His arms both tight around my middle, chest pressed tightly to my back, and one of his legs wedged between mine.

I hummed lightly and settled back against him.  My mind wandered pleasantly, as it does when you first wake, unencumbered by the pressures of the day and was simply blank with the warmth of the sun flooding into my flat, a defense against the cold air outside.

It was a special pleasure today, not only because of Jamie, but because I am usually gone before the sun is up, off to the tub to get to class. I felt Jamie start to stir as something tugged on the edge of my mind and I tried my best to beat it away and focused on the feel of him behind me.

He lazily rubbed his nose on the back on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I opened my eyes to turn to him, but a flash of blue caught my eye first.

“SHIT!” I exclaimed and sprung out of bed like it was on fire.

“What!?” Jamie inquired as he jumped to a sitting position in bed, looking around the room frantically to see what upset me. In another time, I would have stopped to admire his red locks, fussed and messy from his sleep.

I ran into my bathroom, picking up clothes as I went, not paying attention to what they were.

“The time! My class starts in 10 minutes,” I said through a mouth full of toothpaste.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him slide to the edge of the bed and stretch, causing my brushing to slow as I saw his toned chest as his white t-shirt rode up in the morning sunlight. My throat went dry at the sight and it took all the effort I could muster up to look away.

He walked over to the bathroom door and leaned against it as he watched me. “Dinna fash. I can drive you.”

That stopped me in my tracks. “Drive? You have a car in the city?”

He smiled and I felt warmth simmer in my belly again at the sight. I tried to beat it back with the thought of failing grades.

“Aye,” he murmured with a small gleam in his eyes as he looked at me. I, for the first time, became aware of what I must have looked like. Hair a wild mess from sleeping, smudged mascara from the day before, and my nipples hard as stone, visible through my white tank I had slept in.

We stared at each other for a moment with perfect understanding before I regained focus.

“Right…erm well that would be wonderful if you don’t mind,” I blushed while putting my toothbrush back into place.

He nodded and pushed past me into the bathroom, nudging me out the door. “Get yourself dressed then and we can leave.” He then picked up my toothbrush and dotted a bit of paste onto. He turned to look at me, mouth hanging open in the door, and slowly raised it to his mouth without breaking eye contact.

I swallowed heavily. “Right.”


I didn’t hear a word of my professor’s lecture. I felt bad about making Jamie rushing to get me here when I couldn’t even concentrate enough to take even a few lines of notes. All my thoughts were of him. Of that red man who had shattered my reality in the best way possible.

Last night had been so wonderful, hearts and bodies twined together after the confessions of our hearts, both of us too tired to keep our eyes opened. We simply shed our outer layers of clothing and held onto each other as we both drifted into sleep.

I couldn’t get his face from in front of my eyes. His sleepy and heavy gaze as he watched me from my bed that we had slept on together. The feel of his hands lightly running down my back and that piecing look as he lifted my tooth brush to his mouth.

Even the though made my belly tighten.

“Get it together, Beauchamp,” I mumbled to myself, but couldn’t help the little smile that came to my face.

It was all entirely reckless and I knew that. But what is life without these risks, without these adventures? My heart called to him and his to mine. No matter the logic, I wanted him. And so I will have him, damn the rest.


I walked out of the door of the college with renewed purpose later in the day, each step was a step closer to Jamie.

A sudden blunt force knocked the pep from my step, along with all of my books. I looked down to see a pretty blond girl on the ground, frantically trying to gather her belongings back together.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wansa looking where I was going and…”the girl said in a soft Scottish voice as she stood back up to look at me.

She was about my age, a little younger perhaps. I smiled and picked up a book that fell from her arms.

“No problem,” I said as I handed her the book. “It was probably half my fault as well.”

She laughed and started to edge away. “Sorry again, but I have to run or my professor will skin me for bein’ late again.”

“I’ve been there. Have a good day.”

She scampered away and as she moved out of my line of sight, I saw a glimpse of red.

“Jamie!”

He looked over from where he was standing, leaning against the wall and a huge smile broke out on his face as he saw me edge my way towards him through the pack of students.

It wasn’t until I got closer that I noticed the beautiful bouquet of flowers clutched in his right hand. My heart squeezed at the sight.

He walked a step towards me and immediately used his free hand to twine in my hair and bring his face to mine. His lips tasted like mint and his face had a little stubble from not being able to shave this morning.

It gave me a secret pleasure that I knew this intimate detail. I smiled against his lips and he moved an inch back.

He shyly handed me the gorgeous red roses twined together with a little white lace. I reached out and took them with my heart in my throat.

He ran his hand down my arm as he peered closely in my face. “I dinna ken if ye would like roses or even if ye like flowers at all, but I wanted to-

I cut him off with a kiss.

“They are beautiful, Jamie. I love them.”

His face lit up as he looked to the ground and smiled.

“Come,” I said as I grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

Hands twined together, we walked away from the University. I turned my head a little just as we were about to cross the street, feeling someone looking at me. My gaze met the blue eyes of the late blond girl. Her eyes held an expression I couldn’t understand as she stared at me and Jamie walking hand in hand.

I smiled a little at her and turned back to Jamie, burying my face in his strong arm.

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