Based on someone else's high school au, I like to think that zenyatta is the school's guidance counselor and because of his issues at school Jamie gets sent to his office a lot. His office is decorated with a mix of asian meditational items and cheesy, lame, motivational posters
since zeny is a student in this au consider him wanting to help other students so much that he makes his own office in the janitor’s room where he does the job of a guidance counselor
GUYSSS. It’s my fanficiversary! A year ago today, I posted my first fic over on A03 (The Stables) and it has been such a positive and wonderful journey. I have met so many amazing people and got to share so much Outlander joy all around!
So, in honor, I’m giving you this really strange Outlander/Hamilton crossover. But if you don’t know/like Hamilton, never fear! Just think of it as an AU where after Jamie gets flogged at 19, he flees to Revolutionary America and meets a daughter of a wealthy man and falls in love. And for all my Hamilton lovers out there, you’ll notice some of Lin’s famous lines! And this is a one-shot! It won’t be continued. Yes, it’s kinda random and strange. I wasn’t gonna publish it, but why the hell not ;)
Thank you all so much for supporting my fics and giving me such encouragement! *hugs*
The air was cool and crisp as Jamie stepped off the boat at last. The journey had been most arduous, with his Godfather not even knowing if he would survive the first week of the voyage as his stomach refused to keep down any sustenance.
But here he was. The colonies. The new world.
And though he knew this would be the best thing to happen to him, he still held Scotland and its people dear to his heart. The reason he could afford the ship to bring him to New York. The people had passed a plate around, his people, moved to kindness at his story.
Outlawed in Scotland, he no longer had a future there. Flogged near to death and forced to either hide or flee. Though, his heart still throbbed for home, his fingertips tingled with excitement that the war fought in America. He knew it was the only way to rise up. He could make it in America, he knew it.
He was a trained soldier with a hatred for the British as much as any angry colonist. Perhaps, even more. As he stepped his first step off the boat, he remembered his now past and he put a foot into his future. In New York, he could be a new man.
Jamie had never experienced such heat in his life as the war raged on around him. Thousands of soldiers were dying in the sweltering humidity as the had little to eat or drink. After Jamie had impressed General Washington with stealing British cannons with Murtagh and a few other Scots, he had commissioned him to write his correspondents and fight with him.
Congress tells our army to attack yet supplies us with little food and many shops were now only accepting British money. The outlook was abysmal. The only hope was that France continued to support their efforts of rebellion.
“Fraser! There ye are, we’re going to ball tonight! Dress in yer finest coat,” Duncan roared with laughter as Rupert pretended to twirl around like a top. Jamie shook his head in amusement. As much as they got on his last nerve, it was nice to have fellow Scots fighting along side him. It made the place seem less foreign and more his own.
“A ball, ye say? What are we? A bunch of dandies?”
Rupert slammed his mug on the table in objection at this. “No dandies! Rebels! And who knows, Jamie lad, ye may just meet a fine woman to warm yer bed.”
Duncan made kissing noises as Rupert made obscene gestures. Jamie’s cheeks reddened and he turned before they could tease him once more. He had let it slip one night deep into drink that he hadn’t lain with a woman and ever since, they have pushed trollop after trollop into his lap to entice him.
But Jamie still remembered his father’s voice in the back of his head to only sow his seed where he was willing to take responsibly. And he wasn’t going to take a chance of getting a whore with child.
Murtagh came over and slapped him on the shoulder as they walked back to Washington’s tent.
“Ye should go lad and I’ll be by your side. Even if ye don’t wish to touch the ladies, ye can always have a wee peek.”
His godfather’s beard grew as a wry smile stretched his face and his bushy eyebrows rose in suggestion. Jamie reached over and patted his shoulder.
Perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a bad evening after all.
The fiddler danced around in circle while playing his instrument as couples twirled around in hypnotic circles to the tune. It was another hot night, where the rebels out numbered the ladies by a lot, but Jamie was content to sit back and watch his fellow soldiers have some fun.
He was enjoying watching Murtagh woo a fine lady when a tap on his shoulder got his attention. He turned to see a pretty lass of fine breading, if her clothes were any indication.
“Excuse me, soldier,” she dipped in curtsy and he bowed formally in return, the stiff uniform constricting his movements. “James Fraser, miss. At your service.”
She nodded her head impatiently as she looked him over, her gaze lingering at his worn shoes and dirty shirt. He shrugged his shoulders self-consciously.
“Louise de Rohan, sir. I’m sorry to trouble you, but my friend wants to meet you.”
They were a very wealthy family as he recalled, but Jamie’s mind was already turning as to how to politely decline whatever woman it was. As much as his cock hardened at the thought of a pretty young lass in his arms, he couldn’t break his father’s promise.
But she grabbed him by the elbow and turned him to the corner where the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing, clutching her skirts as she gazed at him.
And suddenly he was helpless to her gaze. A force unknown to him propelled his feet to walk towards her. She was even more bonnie the closer he got, the blue silk of her dress illuminating her skin in the most beautiful way.
His heart pounded in his chest like a hammer as he stood in front of her. Gulping, he nervously tapped his fingers against his leg as his mind went blank at her dizzying gaze.
She smiled at him with a set of beautiful white teeth, her whiskey eyes lighting up as she curtsied. “Claire Beauchamp. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Her eyes reminded him of home and the dram he would have with his father after an evening working in the fields.
“James Fraser, at your service, milady,” he said as he watched her face flush with pleasure as he bent down and kissed her hand.
“Thank you for all your service.”
She smiled kindly at him and she rubbed the sides of her dress. His eyes locked on hers and he felt the power pulsing between them. Unlike he had ever felt.
“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”
And as he gazed at her ivory skin and curly hair, he knew that was the future before him.
He wrote her day and night. Sometimes when he was alone in his patch of grass as the war raged on or sometimes he would write her when the the other soldiers were taking pleasure with women and drink. He wished he could see her face as she read the love letters in front of the fire. A stunning smile would break out on her rose-pedaled lips and her eyes would glisten with happiness.
He would win this war for her. He would bring her pride. The desire to die on the battlefield in glory left him as he thought of her face, his now heart. Jamie no longer wanted to die. He wanted to live.
Lambert Beauchamp stared at him a long while as he twirled his glass around in a hypnotic fashion. The dark browns furrowed in thought and Jamie wished he knew what was happening in his mind.
“My niece is quite taken with you.”
Jamie cleared his throat as he rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. How could this wealthy and powerful man want his beloved niece to be married to a poor immigrant? But he did have some fame from stealing the British cannons and being Washington’s right hand man. And he had his words and there was nothing that his mind couldn’t do.
Jamie stood, placed his glass down on the table and began.
“Sir, I may not have money or a family name here, but I do have a few things. I have my mind and my honor and my ambition. And I swear to you, I will bring you niece pride and love. And I will cherish her all my days.”
The man’s eyes appeared black in the firelight and he looked down for a moment. Jamie tapped his finger against his legs anxiously as he waited.
Lambert put his own glass down and crossed the room to him. He looked into Jamie’s eyes and reached for his hand.
A week had gone by since he had gained the blessing to marry his Claire. But his mind was troubled that he couldn’t provide for her. He lived a soldier’s life and could die at any moment.
But as he voiced his worried to her, she dismissed them.
“Claire, I don’t have a dollar to my name! All I have is Washington’s favor and a troop to command. Are ye sure about this…about me?”
She smiled and took his hand in hers as they walked through the vast gardens of her Uncle’s estate. A place he would take her from and instead bring her to a little place in Harlem. Shame flooded through him as he pictured her in such a shabby place.
“You have love also, right?”
Her voice brought him out of his gloom and he smiled at her and brushed his hand across her cheek. “Aye, aye I have that.”
She brought her face close to his, so close his heart raced and he began to sweat through his thick navy coat. “Then, that will be enough.”
And she kissed him.
The church was stuffy as Jamie waited by the priest at the front. The organ played in the background as the crowd waited for the bridal procession to start. He saw his friends in the crowd and for a moment, he took pleasure in the fact that he could give them fun for one evening and not war. Even if it wasn’t out of his pocket.
A drop of swear rolled down his temple as he waited. A hand reached from behind him and held out a small handkerchief.
Turning slightly, Jamie gratefully smiled at Murtagh as he stood as his best man. He blotted his forehead discreetly and saw some of Claire’s relatives cringe in disgust. His eyes glanced at the floor in embarrassment, wishing they could have married in secret.
Her family hated him for the most part, aside from her Uncle. They whispered about how he had no noble family, how Claire was disgracing herself by marrying a poor soldier. A Scottish immigrant who came from nothing, they said. If only he could tell them he was once a Laird. To see their faces shocked and humbled. But he couldn’t. Not without having to explain why he wasn’t currently fulfilling his role. And the idea of him being an outlaw would surely make things worse.
His hands shook slightly and he felt a little ill. He hoped that his face wasn’t green.
But then the music changed and he looked up to see Claire walking towards him. She took his breath away and he would never forget the sight of her walking towards him. Her form was encased in ivory and blue and a pattern of flowers that matched the ones woven in her hair.
She clutched her Uncle’s arm as she carefully made sure not to step on her dress. But then her face looked up and her eyes met his own.
Jamie knew he would never forget the way she looked at him and the way her expression cut through him like glass.
It seemed to take an eternity and no time at all for her to reach him. Suddenly, her hand was being held out to him in a gesture as old as time and he accepted the gift for what it was.
The ceremony went by in a blur. He heard himself making vows and Claire making hers. Though, they spoke through their eyes the whole time. There was no crowd, no war. Just them frozen in their own eternity.
Taking a deep breath, Jamie slowly closed the door to their bridal chamber. Claire’s aunt had a lake house that she lent them for their brief honeymoon. Only a few days of peace before he would be back in the war.
It was a strange thing. To feel so alive in this moment but know he could not live to see the next week.
A groan broke his train of thought. He turned to see Claire removing her shoes and sighing with relief. The wee things dropped to the ground in a thud. He gulped at the sight of her ankle, so bonnie wrapped in a pure white stocking.
She looked up and smiled at his expression. He had told her that he was a virgin like her, but he still trembled with nervousness and excitement at the thought of sharing a bed with her.
But there was enough time for that later. Now, was time for talking and just being with each other without someone watching. They hadn’t been alone very much in their two-month courtship with him being off with Washington and her Uncle’s strict rules for visitation.
He had snuck into her room a few times, climbing up her balcony like he was Romeo. That was fitting because she was most certainly his sun. Speaking of, his sun was currently pouring whiskey into a few glasses and remained eye contact as she walked over to hand it to him. The heat of her hand sparking against his own.
His breath came in a strangled gasp and she smiled coly at him and sipped her whiskey. His hand tightened on hers and kissed it gently.
His pulled her gently to the bed to sit on the edge next to him. “Tell me about your family,” she breathed, so close to his mouth.
His mouth was dry and his cock throbbed, but he wet his lips and managed a decent answer.
“How many generations back?”
They had spent hours talking. The night was black and the candles burned low all around them, casting them in a warm, soft glow. They had shed layers as the night went on. First her overskirts and then his boots. Then, came her ribbon and his waist coat.
Now, all that was between them was a corset, shirt, shift and a kilt. And yet it was too much. He forced himself to stop staring at her as her collarbones beckoned to him and the graceful curve of her neck begged him for kisses. He wanted, badly.
But as saw her fight back a yawn after he came back from a trip to the camber pot, he felt that perhaps she would like to sleep and get on with their other business later.
“Are ye tired lass?” He said as he stood in front of her and gently grabbed her hand, brushing his fingertips across the soft skin. “Should we go to bed now?”
Jamie thought he saw a brief flash of nerves across her face before she stood, toe to toe to him.
“Yes, Jamie, I want to go to bed.”
And then her mouth was on his and he forgot everything but the live flame in his arms.
The heat between them was as sweltering as the air outside. He felt a slight breeze glide over his overheated, naked back from the open window.
A strange power had overtaken his being as his hips pumped rhythmically against his gasping wife. The first time had been fast and she had bleed, but after that, they took time to explore and learn.
A drop of sweat fell from his chest onto hers and he watched, fascinated as it rolled down the curve of her breast and onto the flat plan of her stomach. A queer, amazing feeling came over him as he thought that he could have already put a bairn into that quivering belly.
Claire whimpered against him and pushed her hips up into his, encouraging him, guiding him. He thought she wouldn’t be docile in bed, but he had no way of predicting her enthusiasm for his love.
His lips pressed against hers, feeling her cries and echoing them with his own. She made a small, breathless noise as he brushed a spot between her legs that one solider had told him about before his wedding.
Jamie froze, thinking that he had been a clumsy dolt and hurt her. Damn, he shouldn’t have listen to that daft man!
But instead of backing away, she wrapped her legs around his hips tightly, squeezing his arse.
Jamie’s whole body ached. His arm hurt, his back hurt, and he missed his wife. It had been almost two months since he had seen her. The week after their wedding had been bliss, but then he was swept away yet again to the agonies of war.
Claire had wanted to come with him and she stayed close to him for a little while. She used her healing skills on the wounded men and gave Jamie comfort.
But he had sent her back home after a stray bullet had grazed her arm. It left no more than a scratch, but it had left a lot more on Jamie’s heart. When he saw the blood, even no more than a drop, he knew she couldn’t stay here. She was his heart and he couldn’t have her this close to danger.
Claire had fought him, but eventually gave in after he promised to write her twice a day. Once when he first woke and once before he spelt. And the promise that he wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.
But the separation had been too long and he needed his wife. He had begged his generals and commanders to allow him leave and finally he was going home.
Claire had insisted on staying in their little place in Harlem, even after he begged her to stay with her family. But she said it was her home now, her home with him.
His feet dragged and his eyes fought to stay open as he got to the door finally.
But someone beat him to it before he could open it. The light coming from the candles inside made her figure look heavenly, as if something divine had come down from heaven to greet him.
His pain immediately began to ebb, but then disappeared all together when she placed his hand on her swelled belly. And the future was bright again.
Seriously, i’m on the verge of hitting someone. I cannot wait for this month to be over. On a side note, more art to come soon everyone, i’ve just been dealing with some personal and professional crap.