slow rider

Collision Course - Part Ten

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,
Part Eight, Part Nine

This is the last installment save for the Epilogue. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. - Mod Lenny


Ian insisted Jamie ride out with him to look over the fields and give his opinions.

“Ian, I ken ye know what ye’re about wi’ runnin’ the estate,” Jamie finally interrupted as they sat on their horses looking out over a field of flourishing barley. “And it doesna matter that ye brought me out here away from the house and Jenny––I’m no tellin’ ye about what happened. I said I didna want to talk about it and I’m no goin’ to. It doesna matter anymore anyway. Murtagh will be back today or the next and then I’ll be off again.”

“And will ye be sending us as little word of where ye are or what ye’re about as ye did before?” Ian asked with a scolding edge that would have left Jamie feeling ashamed if he weren’t still so numb. “Whatever it is that’s happened to ye this last… it doesna excuse yer silence the last four years.”

“I told ye what Dougal told me about Jenny,” Jamie objected.

“That explains it; it doesna excuse it,” Ian clarified. “Jenny and I will take care of Lallybroch as if it were our own and ye ken that well; it’s been her home longer than it’s been yers. But I think we both deserve a bit of honesty from ye, aye? A bit more respect than what ye’ve shown.”

“Ye’re startin’ to sound like Jenny,” Jamie remarked, the corner of his mouth ticking up a fraction.

“No, Jenny would have called ye a stubborn and ungrateful arse.”

“She already did. Ye were off dealin’ wi’ Ross the smith, gettin’ him to reshoe my horse.” Jamie reached down to pat Dóchas’ neck and the horse stamped her foot and raised her head, shaking it like a nod.

Ian sat straighter in his saddle, squinting in the direction of the house. “Ye said Murtagh ought to be back today?” Ian asked, settling down again.

“Aye.” Jamie peered in the direction Ian had been looking, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Was he off to fetch someone for ye?”

There were two riders slowing on the road as they approached Lallybroch’s main yard in the distance.

“Claire?” Jamie breathed, his heart breaking into an excited gallop as he turned Dóchas back the way they’d come and spurred her forward.


As soon as they entered the yard, Claire began calling for Jamie.

Murtagh dismounted and walked over to help Claire down from her horse while her eyes scanned the windows of the large stone building––Lallybroch.

“Jamie!” Claire called heading for the door.

A young boy darted out from it in front of her soon followed by a woman about Claire’s own age, shorter and her hair darker and sleeker.

“Get back inside ye wee––” Jenny scolded her son before spotting Claire and stopping abruptly in her pursuit. “Oh… And… who might you be?” Suspicion lay heavy in her voice and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m looking for Jamie,” Claire said quickly, her attention flitting from Jenny to the child to Murtagh where he had already unpacked her medicine box and had the horses by the reins, leading them toward the stables. “My name is Claire… Claire Fraser.”

“Fraser?” Jenny’s suspicion visibly turned to bewilderment and her focus shifted from Claire to Murtagh.

“Are you Jenny? You are. You’re his sister, aren’t you?” Claire said desperately and with relief as she stepped forward. “Where is he? Where’s Jamie?”

“And you, Murtagh,” Jenny said loudly, ignoring Claire and getting Murtagh to stop and face her. “Where do ye think ye’re sneakin’ off to? Is this lass… is she sayin’ she’s  Jamie’s wife?”

From the other side of the yard came the sounds of two horses approaching and Jamie’s loud cries of, “Claire!”

“Jamie?!” Claire screamed trying not to trip over her skirts as she ran towards the noise.

“Claire!” Jamie cried as he was off Dóchas before the horse had come to a safe stop.

As Claire threw herself into Jamie’s arms, the rest of the world fell away. Tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks and soaked into his coat where she buried her face. She could feel him murmuring her name in disbelief into her hair as they took a few moments to just soak each other in.

“Why, Claire?” Jamie finally asked pulling back from her to look at her face. She could see the wetness in his eyes, the confusion and the relief. “Why did ye no go?”

“I couldn’t,” she said simply, raising a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into her touch.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered.

“What? No, I didn’t mean… I meant I couldn’t leave you––I didn’t want to. I was there with Frank at the stones but when the moment came… I couldn’t make myself do it. I chose to stay here… I choose you,” she murmured, her hand slipping back into his hair, taking a firm hold.

“Me? Ye mean…”

She swallowed hard against the butterflies crawling their way up from her stomach. “I love you,” she whispered.

There was a flicker in Jamie’s glistening eyes that might have been surprise before he bent his forehead to hers. “And I… love you,” he whispered back, then rubbed the tip of his nose down the length of hers before kissing her in a way that made every hair on her body stand on end as it shivered through her down to her toes.

They gradually became aware of Murtagh clearing his throat loudly. He gave Jamie a nod towards Jenny and Ian before turning to continue bringing the horses to the stables, his beard barely concealing his satisfied smile.

“Would ye care to introduce us?” Jenny suggested with unveiled impatience. Ian made a noise of embarrassment or rebuke beside her.

“Right,” Jamie started out of his reverie. He gently slipped his hand into Claire’s, twining their fingers together tightly as he led her over to his family. “Jenny… Ian… This is Claire… my wife. I told ye about Jenny, Sassenach; Ian is her husband. We were lads together––and fought in France just after my Da passed.”

Claire reached a hand towards Ian who glanced briefly at Jamie before shaking it and nodding a welcome to Claire.

“And you’re expecting,” Claire nodded down to Jenny’s belly where the subtle swell could still easily be overlooked. It quickly became apparent that Jamie hadn’t noticed. “When are you due?”

“No till after the harvest comes in,” Jenny admitted, flushing under Jamie’s stunned gaze. “Come inside wi’ ye then. Ye’ve been on the road some time, I can see. Will do ye good to be able to wash and get something warm in yer belly. When ye’ve had a chance to settle, perhaps you can tell us a bit about where ye come from and just how ye come to be married to Jamie here.”

Jamie showed Claire up to his rooms and stayed with her while she tidied herself and they devised a story that would hopefully satisfy Jenny and Ian. Over an early supper and with Murtagh contributing through nods and grunts of confirmation, Jamie and Claire fumbled their way through as much of the truth as they dared share. The circumstances of Claire’s arrival at Leoch and surrounding their wedding remained intact.

“We stumbled on some Red Coats––likely those searching for the deserters I’d… disposed of,” Jamie explained, looking to Claire for support. “It was chance as much as anything that Captain Randall wasna among them when we met them but we figured it was likely just a matter of time before word reached him of meeting us and the bodies of the deserters were discovered.”

“We were afraid that the Captain would see it as an opportunity to be seized––pin more crimes on Jamie and take me in as well as some sort of accomplice,” Claire said, her nerves making her talk faster than usual.

“I told her she go to her late husband’s family, that they’d likely be better able to protect her than I could if the price on my head grew… So I left her behind wi’ Murtagh to see her off. I thought it would be safer should I go and perhaps draw the Red Coats after me.”

“But when it came down to it… I don’t know them to trust them and… Jamie’s my husband now. Where he goes, I go,” Claire explained, her focus rooted in Jamie’s eyes.

They were too absorbed in each other to notice the looks Jenny and Ian exchanged across the table. From the set of Jenny’s mouth, it was obvious that she didn’t believe a fraction of the tale they told. But glancing back from the Laird and his Lady to her own husband, Jenny’s expression softened to match Ian’s.

Jamie was an entirely different man from the one he’d been that morning. The cloud that had hung about him since he’d reappeared was gone; there was a light in his eyes and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him smile so much––possibly not since their brother had been alive. There was a similar light in this woman’s––Claire’s––face when she looked at Jamie. Whatever they were hiding, Jenny decided it didn’t matter; what mattered to her was that her brother was home and happy, even if he would be leaving again soon.

Jamie and Claire retired to their room shortly after supper, pleading Claire’s need to rest and recover from her journey––returning from Craigh na Dun had taken half as long in Claire’s eagerness to be with Jamie again.

The door had only just closed behind them before they were in each other’s arms again, tugging at clothes and moving naturally toward the bed. The mattress was suddenly there pressing against the backs of Claire’s legs. She sat and hitched one leg up on the frame so that her skirts started falling away as she reached for Jamie’s belt. His arousal was already prominent beneath the soft, worn wool of his kilt. He took hold of her wrists and stalled her.

“No, Claire.” His voice was low and rough. “No like this. I’ll have ye naked.” Letting her wrists go, he set to work loosening the knot at the top of her bodice. She leaned back on the bed and succumbed to the feel of his hands working over her as he slowly stripped away each layer she wore.

As her last petticoat fell, she moved to stand reaching for the clasp of his belt once more. “Now you,” she told him. From the belt she moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, smoothing the fabric down his torso with her hands first.

At last, Jamie raised Claire’s shift up and over her head then reached up and pulled the pins and ties from her hair until he could bury his fingers in it. She caught his wrist as he traced the curl of one thick tendril from root to tip. Turning his wrist around, her thumb found the freshly healed scar from where Dougal’s blade had sliced the skin. The line it made was clean compared to the rough scabs of the scratches and scrapes from his accident in the woods.

“Blood of my blood,” Claire said quietly, tracing the fine line.

Jamie brought that same hand to her chin, his thumb running along the line of her jaw as her fingers continued to massage the flesh of his wrist and hand.

“Bone of my bone,” he whispered in response before bending to kiss her.

His hands were eager as they ran down the soft curves of her body before tightening around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She clung tight to his back as he bore her down on the bed, settling between her legs but keeping his weight on his forearms on either side of her.

She trailed her fingers up and down his spine, delighting as he shivered. The heat from his body––balanced so carefully above hers but barely skimming her surface––enveloped her and penetrated her, warming her bones as she was aware of the solid heaviness of him between her legs.

“I give you my body,” she whispered, spreading her legs wider and arching towards him, gasping as he pressed back against her and filled her. “That we two may be one,” she finished, her voice fainter than before.

Jamie caressed her cheek while staying still as long as he could within her. “I give ye my spirit,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers while tracing the shape of her ear and then from her earlobe down along her neck, “till our life shall be done.”

He started to move as he bent his head to kiss her again, capturing her sigh before it could leave her lips.

“Ye’re mine,” he told her, punctuating the statement with a deep rock into her. “Mine alone… mine forever.”

“Yes,” Claire panted in agreement, her fingers digging into the firm, tight flesh of his lower back, her legs twining with his.

“My wife… my Sassenach,” Jamie grunted, his pace increasing as he drove himself harder and Claire’s hands drifted lower to the flexing muscles of his buttocks, her fingernails digging hard enough to leave marks.

“Yes,” she panted again.

“Mo nighean donn… mo chridhe… mo graidh,” he continued in Gaelic.

“Yes… And what about… you?” she sighed. “Who… do you… belong to?”

“You, Sassenach,” Jamie said, pressing his forehead to hers as he bit his lip and changed his rhythm yet again, slowing himself to stave off his release until he could bring her with him. “I’m yers… for always.”

Claire cried out as her thighs suddenly clenched around his hips, trapping him deep within her as her self shattered and scattered, leaving her trembling next to the exposed rawness of Jamie’s shattered self. She saw only him looking deep into the very soul of her as the throbbing pulse of their bodies synchronized from the blood in their veins to the breath in their lungs.

The sweat began to cool on her breasts and stomach sending a shuddering chill through her flesh.

This was why she couldn’t go, what she needed so desperately it was worth sacrificing everything and everyone she’d known in her time. It couldn’t be explained, it could only be experienced, and she’d only ever experienced it with Jamie. The recognition in his eyes, the understanding…

Claire raised her head without taking her eyes off of him until her lips met his, tender and warm, a little wet as his tongue darted out to taste her.

“I love you.”

Tha gaol agam ort.

She Who Wanders (Pharmercy)

-

Super freakin late, but happy birthday @hana-blogs ​!?!!?! You arty, you awesome, you so sweet I think you eat sugar for breakfast every morning. Also, borrowed your headcanon here ;p Hope you like it.

Stole Adelah from @spatialheather to use in this one. Thanks yo.

-

Fareeha Amari.

Or, as Hana once called her, “Fareeha ‘I like to wander Pharah way and give everyone heart attacks and then insist I was never lost’ Amari.”

“I’m not that bad,” Fareeha protested the first time.

“Yes, you are,” the entire squad echoed in response.

“Okay, maybe I am,” Fareeha finally admitted when she returned to their field base in Nepal, carrying an armful of kittens and covered in soot, having saved them from a burning building.

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Essays in Existentialism: Comfort

Clarke shows up at Lexa’s door in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face, sobs in the back of her throat. They had just broken up a couple of weeks prior.

She debated it for longer than she would readily admit, but when Lexa saw the red around Clarke’s eyes, she opened the door. She wasn’t sure why she would appear in the middle of the night, nor was she quite certain why it’d be at her apartment, of all places, especially following the break-up, but as cold as she wanted to be, Lexa could never deny the warm, deep feeling that she had when the blonde appeared. 

“It’s late, Clarke,” She said, monotone and dismissive as she opened the door. 

“I know,” the blonde nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that was all that kept her standing there. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“You broke up with me. So… anywhere else.” 

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Reverence - 14. First Dress

Summary: Dean x Reader: The reader doesn’t get out of getting a dress, not if Sam has anything to say about it. 

Word Count: 6107

Triggers: None

Y/N = Your name  Y/E/C = Your eye colour  Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Note: This is a slow burn type story, really slow, but I promise it’ll be worth the wait! The full story will be written in third person limited point of view with Dean as the main character.

Chapters: Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  
Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14 Part 15

— 

The rest of the drive was spent quietly enjoying the music with only small pieces of conversation as information trickled in from Bobby and other sources. Though no one could pinpoint a location or share much about the shifter they were hunting. As day slowly gave way to night, (Y/N) finally got a bit of sleep in the backseat and somewhere along the empty road Dean reluctantly gave up the driver seat of his baby to get some sleep in the passenger seat. Leaving Sammy to take the wheel. They needed to get there fast and get to work straight away, so it was the only option left to a tired Dean when he finally sank back into the passenger seat and closed his eyes.

With Slow Rider playing softly from the speakers sleep claimed him almost instantly after being awake for nearly two days. Most of which had been spent in the adrenalin fueled hunting mode that always took over when a hunt demanded attention and action needed to be taken swiftly.

Dean slept soundly, without nightmares plaguing his dreams, not waking until he heard the unmistakable sounds of town life outside the confines of his baby. His eyes opening slowly against the early morning light as he tried to figure out when and where he was. His neck ached from his bad sleeping position and his head buzzed with the small fractals of sleep that seemed unwilling to leave him. Suppressing a yawn he let his hand go to the back of his neck, hoping to massage away the worst of the stiffness. His eyes opening fully as he finally started getting used to the morning light.

“Morning,” Sam said from the driver seat, clearly ignoring (Y/N) as she groaned and protested about something from the back seat. Her more or less wordless grumbles left the older hunter with a less than perfect picture of the situation. Still, it didn’t take a genius to understand that Sam played a big part in her foul mood. The smile on his brother’s face enough for bring Dean the rest of the way out of his hazy post-sleep state as he looked from his brother to the pouting (Y/N) in the backseat.

“Morning, what’s up?” Dean asked as he tried to keep from yawning. The question not aimed at either of them, yet at both of them at the same time as (Y/N) stayed quiet through Sammy’s unsuccessful attempts at stopping himself from laughing. He’d clearly slept through another round of his younger brother teasing (Y/N). Probably about the dress again, he wagered as he settled on raising an eyebrow and silently repeating his question to his younger brother who threw him a triumphant smile before refocusing on the road.

“Sign we just passed said there’s a dress shop right down the road. Heading there now,” He said, proving Dean’s assumptions to be correct as (Y/N) moaned in protest from the backseat. Her clear dislike only making Sammy’s smile wider. “(Y/N) needs to get a dress for the ball after all. So I’m kind enough to play the fairy godmother and drive her to the shop straight away,” Sam’s laugh almost muted out (Y/N)’s worst curses as he pulled in, in front of a small formalwear shop with a smile.

Clearly his younger brother was dead set on having her buy a dress. Considering he was making her shop for one before they even got to the motel. Dean twisted in his seat to take in the area around the shop before refocusing on his brother.

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the-squirrel-queen  asked:

How ya doin without your other half?

Thinking about her everyday
Just got to talk to her after a week tho, so it made things a lot better :’)

Besides that, I’ve decided to take a small hiatus~
I want to produce more quality artworks the next 2 months
And not rush any drawings for D&P’s tweets/videos unless I really get hyped for it because I feel like I am not progressing as an artist.
I still hope everyone will stick around even if I don’t update as much as before
Love you guys <3

So lately I’ve been slowly going through some of my older stories that never made it onto tumblr and editing them (Not their content or story at all… just their style/execution.)  

I came across this one which I wrote the last time everyone thought there was going to be a CS proposal!  Decided in honor of me taking my place up on CS proposal hill (I’m happily making smores with them…) I would clean it up and post it on here.  

This was a speculation fic, written long before the CS movie,  I guess not you would call it a canon divergence!  Enjoy.  

Read on FF


A Limited Engagement

“This is … really really … weird,” Emma said glancing around her.

“One of these days you’re going to realize that it’s not, as you so eloquently put it, weird… if it’s normal.”

“We are chasing the Wicked Witch through time because she’s decided to break up my parents, Hook… before I was born. Yeah, this is totally normal.”

He shrugged, “Sounds about right to me.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “I should have come alone. We’re not even sure If I am powerful enough to get us back. Rumpelstiltskin did all the heavy lifting to get us here.”

“That was never going to happen. I do believe I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’ve a vested interest in your continued existence, Princess.”

“Do I look like a Princess, Hook?”

“To me you do,” he replied without a moments hesitation.

“Yeah well to everyone else I’m wearing ratty dress,” Emma grumbled. “Come on we have to find my parents. We don’t even know what she changed…”

“Yes, I do believe we have a date at a troll bridge.”

Emma led the way down the road towards where she thought the troll bridge might be, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she planned on doing once she arrived there. Before they got anywhere near the bridge however the sounds of hooves from behind them made them turn. Hook reached for his sword but Emma put out a hand to stop him.

“Let’s not make a bad first impression?”

“Of course. We’ll have to come up with a story then, young lovers perhaps?”

“That didn’t take you long,” Emma grumbled.  The hooves drew closer and Emma finished hurriedly. “No, you stole from me and I’m not letting you out of my sight until I get it back.”

“How very … familiar.”

“Well, we are supposed to be relatable,” she responded, but before they could continue the conversation the rider came into view. The rider slowed as he drew near then stopped, jumping off the horse and sending the creature flying on down the road.

Before they could react the rider barreled into them pushing them out of the road. Hook was about to draw his sword when he realized Swan was not doing the same. She was staring at the figure mouth slightly agape. Redirecting his attention to the rider he saw none other than Snow White.

“We have to get off the road,” she demanded, “Now.”

Pushing them farther from the road they hid in the forest as more riders passed by on the road, chasing the now riderless horse.

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Frozen Fandom Month - What If Week: Day One (A New Plan)

What if the King and Queen second-guessed themselves about separating Anna and Elsa?

The sound of the horses’ hooves echoed softly through the forest. It was nothing like the trip into the woods, which was loud and frantic as the animals thundered through the underbrush. Now it was quiet and solemn, the pace slow and careful.

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