yer husband

yellowfeather84  asked:

Shifted ficlet prompt: can we please have some Claire and Murtagh fluff. Maybe Claire helping Murtagh as he's getting older. Discussing their shared concern about Jamie or the bairns. Or even reminiscing about Paris and Murtagh escorting Claire to l'hopital everyday. Their relationship in the show is so close and caring that it would be wonderful to see more of that during happier times.

For the next few weeks I’ll be writing one-shots in the Shifted universe, filling in the blanks that we don’t see in the main story, before we resume the main action with Part 7 - The Visitor.

If there is a particular scene you’d like to see, send me an ask and I’ll see what I can do!

In Shifted, 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?

Previous installments…

Interlude – The Injury

Lallybroch, Autumn 1756

Murtagh hissed as Claire splashed the wound with raw whisky, muttering several very filthy words in the *Gaidhlig*.

Three-year-old William Fraser gasped from the doorway of Claire’s surgery.

“Out!” Claire ordered, head still bent over the deep gash that had sliced the top of Murtagh’s hairy foot nearly to the bone, drawing the lantern a bit closer over the smooth wood of the table Jamie had made her.

“Ye heard yer Mam! Out!” Murtagh echoed weakly, gripping the sides of his chair, bobbing his uninjured leg up and down.

Jenny appeared in the doorway and softly swept William away to the kitchen.

Claire rose from her crouch and quickly crossed the room, taking her tray of needles and the earthenware jar of sutures – the long, delicate strands of catgut Murtagh himself had helped Jamie prepare (based on Claire’s instructions) not so long ago – from the cabinet Brian had made Ellen when Jamie and Jenny were small. As stubborn as the Fraser who had made it, the cabinet had seen many uses over the years – from Ellen’s dishes, to Jenny’s linens, and now Claire’s medicines.

“It’s a miracle you didn’t slice your bloody foot off.” Claire’s voice was even, methodical. From years of practice, Murtagh knew better than to crack a joke when she was like this. “Weren’t you watching what you were doing? And hasn’t it *ever* occurred to you that we’ve already got a number of able-bodied men on the estate who should be doing that kind of work? I daresay your reflexes aren’t as keen as they used to be – ”

“What will ye have me do, then? No’ help Jamie wi’ the harvest?” Murtagh shifted uncomfortably in his chair – keeping his injured foot steady – and glared at the chignon pinned at the back of Claire’s neck, watching her carefully thread the needle. “Ye ken that Ian canna do it. Young Jamie is still too small to do much in the fields. Fergus can help, aye, and so can Rabbie MacNab – but it’s no’ enough.”

“You can stay here in the house – God knows there are enough children running around to keep you busy.”

“So ye want me to be a *nursemaid* then? Hmm?” Were he able, he would have pounded a table in frustration. “Is that all I am, now? Is it no’ enough that my clan and plaid have all been taken away from me? I must give away my *manhood* as well?”

Claire carefully brought the fully prepared tray to her work table and set it down beside the lamp.

“You *know* that’s not what I mean.”

He felt her gaze burning on him – and defiantly matched it.

“What, then? I am getting auld, yes. But must ye remind me, Claire?”

“I want you to take care of yourself.” She paused, pursing her lips. “You – you can’t just do anything anymore. You *must* be more thoughtful. I’m not saying you don’t think – of course you do. But I certainly *don’t* want happening to you what befalls most men your age. Or what happened to Brian.”

Murtagh physically recoiled. “That was due to shock – ”

“Of course it was – but he *had* to have had an underlying condition. Farming is hard. I’ve come to appreciate that so, so much since I came to Lallybroch. And of *course* accidents happen.”

Now she turned to retrieve a needle, the suture trailing behind like a long, shiny trail of dew. Then took the lantern in her other hand, set it on the floor beside Murtagh’s foot, and knelt before him.

“I can’t lose you,” she said finally. “You’re the only father I’ve ever known. And if I have to keep you bloody locked up in this house to keep you safe from yourself, then damn it that’s what I’ll do. You’re too important to me – and to Jamie – and to the children – and to Jenny and Ian and bloody everyone else in this house.”

She splashed more raw whisky on his foot. This time he didn’t – couldn’t – flinch.

“This gash is just an inch from your anterior tibial artery. Had that artery been severed, you would have lost an incredible amount of blood. And I wouldn’t be patching you up – I’d be amputating your foot. And where would that leave you?”

As gently as she could, she inserted the needle and made her first suture.

“I – suppose – wi’out a leg – to stand on,” he hissed.

Claire lay her left hand on the back of his ankle, bracing the foot to help with the stitches. Her face was still turned away from him – but he watched her shoulders shake in a silent laugh.

“Ye ken I’d never purposely put myself in harm’s way. I *do* always have ye and yer wee family on my mind.”

Claire pulled another suture through the two sides of the wound. “I know that. And I appreciate that. I should tell you more.”

“No need, lass. I ken it, and ye ken it, and yer husband kens it. That’s all that matters.”

She worked in silence then, pausing to collect the other suture she had prepared – but not before pouring the rest of her raw whisky in a beaker and handing it to her patient.

“Here – this should take the edge off.”

Murtagh sniffed the glass, then inhaled deeply. “Aye. It’s better than when we first made it – but it’s still enough to knock ye flat on yer back if ye’re no’ careful.”

Claire pressed the sides of the wound closer together. “So, will you be a bit more careful from now on? For me?”

He took a swig, exhaled, and then belched.

“Aye. Ye ken I’d do anything for ye, Claire.”

She nodded absently.

“Hey.” Now he nudged her side with the toe of his good foot. “That’s no’ the drink talking. That’s crabby old *me* talking. Aye?”

“Aye,” she echoed. “You’ve proved that often enough.”

Two more minutes, and then it was all done.

And Murtagh’s whisky was all gone. He handed the empty glass to Claire with a smile so wide that it reminded Claire of the Cheshire Cat illustrations in the book Uncle Lamb had given her for Christmas one year.

“Ye do mind me of Ellen, now and again.” He tilted his head, studying her as if with new eyes. “Foul mouth. Kind heart. Staggering to look at. And a heart so beautifully full of love that she doesna ken what to do wi’ it all.”

Claire flushed. They hadn’t spoken of Ellen since that night in the cave on the beach – a lifetime ago.

“So why would I no’ pledge myself to yer service? Why would I no’ heed every word ye say, Claire?”

Clearly he was waiting for an answer. All she could do was lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and kiss his sweaty brow.

“I’ll be right back, all right? Let’s get you settled in to bed upstairs. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

And when she returned with Jamie, who helped his godfather stand up and offered his shoulders for support to walk out of the room and up the stairs, Murtagh blessed Claire with another beatific smile.

“More whisky?”

“Now?” Jamie’s brows rose skeptically. “Ye smell like the still house – God kens why Claire thought *that* was a good way to fix yer foot.”

“First bed. Then we can talk about more whisky.”

Then Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser blew her a kiss, and for once in her life Claire Beauchamp Fraser was at a total loss for words.

A Wild Night in Vegas -- Part 13

Here’s the next installment! This is a new record for myself and @outlandishchridhe - 14 PAGES!! I’ll put it below a cut so it doesn’t take up vast amounts of space on all your dashes. If it doesn’t work, as always, let me know and I’ll see if I can get it to you somehow. 

We always have so much fun writing this story and adore all the comments we get from you guys. Writing this is always a source of peace and rest from our hectic lives. Thanks for following along with us in this crazy journey!

Part 12

Fraser Bairn Watch: Month 7

“Miss Beauchamp? A word please?”

Keep reading

Mac Ruaidh - Part Two

Part One

Despite her initial reluctance to relinquish her grandson to Jamie, Lady Dunsany wound up taking the lead in making the necessary arrangements for the sake of appearances. A wet nurse was engaged to take the infant for up to a fortnight; none of them would know precisely when the infant would be brought to Helwater. Ellesmere’s servants (with a few exceptions whose discretion could be trusted) were informed that like his mother before him, the child had died. Ellesmere agreed to let the Dunsanys take Geneva and her child home to Helwater for the funeral and burial. A few days after the funeral, the baby would be brought to Helwater and left for Jamie with a scribbled note and he would make sure the Helwater servants saw him making an appeal for assistance to the Dunsanys.

Letting William go was painful and he had to remind himself it was only for a few days, that he would see this child again. Still, he lay awake each night on his pallet in the loft waiting and praying that that would be the night one of the maids came to fetch him.

Jamie was working through a daze re-shoeing the horses in the yard when Major Grey arrived. Though his bags were brought inside right away, Major Grey lingered in the yard watching Jamie at his work. Jamie bowed his head back to the task at hand and refused to look up again until he was confident Major Grey had gone inside to see Dunsany.

He shouldn’t be so surprised that Major Grey had shown up; he was an old friend of the Dunsany family, which was part of how he’d managed to arrange Jamie’s parole at Helwater in the first place. But Jamie’s mind couldn’t have been further from Geneva’s impending funeral as he crouched with the horse’s foot clutched between his legs and the cold tang of the metal nails clenched between his teeth. He was wondering where on the road between Ellesmere’s estate and Helwater the wet nurse and whoever her escort might be were; whether the journey was making William fussy and irritable or if he was cooperating and sleeping a lot; how many hours it would be before the tight knot of anxiety in his chest would loosen.

Jamie didn’t see Major Grey again until Geneva’s funeral. Jamie attended the funeral along with most of the estate’s staff, standing towards the back of the crowded chapel; he had no difficulty seeing the proceedings. Under normal circumstances, he would have followed along with the service adding his own silent prayers and making note of the differences between this Protestant service and the Catholic ones he knew better. There were more than enough similarities to make up for the differences.

A young mother dead in childbed; her child gone with her; a grieving husband and family mourning her publicly. A heavy feeling of disgust settled in Jamie’s stomach; aside from the first, Geneva’s funeral was both echo and mockery of what his own mother’s had been. William lived though only a handful in attendance knew. Her parents’ and sister’s grief was real enough but Ellesmere sat stone faced, staring at the coffin and undoubtedly judging the soul that used to belong to the body within. Guilt swept through Jamie for he had been so quick to do the same with regards to Geneva. He would try to forgive her for his son’s sake and would beg her forgiveness for the fact the boy could not know her or even know of her. He hoped that made them even.

I’ll raise him as best I can, he promised her silently, and I’m sorry, but there’s only one way I ken how. It’s no the way ye would have wanted, but he’ll be loved. And someday… someday I’ll try to bring myself to tell him the truth. And with the minister’s final prayers, Jamie tried to set Geneva Dunsany aside for good.

Major Grey found Jamie in the crowd after the service had finished when everyone was lingering, uncertain what to say to the grieving family, unwilling to be the first to leave.

“It was good of you to come,” Grey said, making an awkward start.

Jamie grunted his agreement as he moved to find a way out of the crowd, the rest of the servants and staff having drifted out before the service had finished in order to prepare the house for the gathering of guests who would linger for hours or––in some cases––days.

“Are you feeling all right?” Grey asked, his eyes narrowing as he took in Jamie’s haggard appearance.

“Tired is all, sir,” Jamie responded with a curt politeness intended to remind Grey of the company around them. “Ye’ll have heard of the storm we rode through to reach Ellesmere. The carriage was stuck often and it was cold and weary work dislodging it. I’m still recovering and actually ought to be getting back for a rest while I can.”

“Of course,” Grey relented. “I will speak to you sometime before I leave.”

“How long are ye to stay?”

“Just a day or two. I want to be sure the family don’t require anything of me before I return to London.”

Jamie nodded but an acquaintance of Grey’s appeared and struck up a conversation with him assuming Grey had simply been giving instructions of some sort to Jamie.

Relieved to be free of the large group of mourners, Jamie slipped away to the stables where there were a multitude of guests’ horses that needed to be tended before their owners could begin departing. It was the kind of busy work that distracted a person from their thoughts and Jamie relinquished himself gladly to the monotony of movement that exhausted his body so that come nightfall he lay on his pallet in the loft and finally fell into a light but restful sleep.

The following afternoon Jamie was returning with the line of horses from one of the distant paddocks when he noticed the horses increasing restiveness as they drew closer to the house and stables. One of the kitchen maids emerged from the stable with her hands on her hips and crossed to Hughes with a question. Hughes started to shrug then spotted Jamie and the maid’s head spun in his direction.

His heart began to pound and his palms to sweat as he continued toward her at a steady and reluctant pace, all his energy focused on maintaining an air of ignorance, all his mind in chaos as he yearned to have the charade over with so he could be alone with his son in his arms.

“You’re needed in the house MacKenzie,” the maid called when he was closer. Hughes trailed behind her already reaching for the horses’ line while Jamie headed for the nearby trough to wash the dirt from his hands. She followed him with growing impatience. “There’s a message along with a uh… well, you’d best just come and see.”

The maid was close to running but Jamie’s stride was long enough for him to keep up without looking worried or in a rush.

Silence fell in the kitchen when Jamie finally appeared on the scene. A space had been cleared on the table; meat, herbs, and a few vegetables pushed aside in various states of preparation so that a large basket could rest in the middle, away from the edge.

The housekeeper stood beside it wearing an authoritative posture. She held out the opened envelope for Jamie to take as soon as he was close enough. He frowned at the broken seal and peered over the edge of the basket to see William wrapped securely in several layers of blankets, his face barely visible and his nose rosy from the chill in the air outside.

Turning his back on the basket, Jamie pulled out the note and skimmed it, already having a vague idea of what Lady Dunsany would have written for the wet nurse to copy before delivering the child to Helwater. He was pretty sure the housekeeper could read and wondered how deep into the household the note’s contents had already managed to spread.

Setting the note aside, Jamie reached into the basket and pushed the blanket aside so it was clear of William’s face. Relief washed through him as he saw that the infant appeared to be in good health; he wasn’t pale or feverish or clammy and his face had lost the squashed appearance of the recently birthed. Jamie slipped his hands around the tightly wrapped body and lifted it out. Jarred by the sudden movement, William’s eyes flew open and Jamie could feel the baby’s limbs fight against the blanket that kept them tight against his body. A startled cry escaped the bundle and the housekeeper reached instinctively to take the child and calm him but Jamie moved William out of her reach and settled him in his own arms.

Reassured by the solidity of resting in Jamie’s arms and against his chest, William’s cry weakened to a whimper and then faded as Jamie began whispering to him in soothing Gaelic, the vibrations of his low voice radiating through his body. William looked up at Jamie with wide eyes, his mouth forming a startled ‘O’ that made Jamie chuckle.

“What’s happened here?” Lady Dunsany asked as she followed a maid sent to fetch her into the kitchen. She paled for a moment when she saw Jamie holding the baby but quickly recovered.

“I believe I’m goin’ to need to have a word or two wi’ yer husband, my lady,” Jamie said in a way he hoped didn’t sound two practiced.

“What’s this?” Lord John asked coming in behind Lady Dunsany.

Jamie felt a nervous chill creeping up his spine as he watched Grey’s eyes widen momentarily with shock; his features remained unaltered as he looked into Jamie’s defiant face.

“May I see that?” Grey asked indicating the note.

“Lord John, please,” Lady Dunsany said with quiet firmness as Jamie yielded the slip of paper. “This is not the place to be doing this and it’s a matter for my husband to deal with, at any rate.”

Grey looked up from the note and at Jamie again then to the child in his arms. William wriggled a bit and grunted before passing a bit of gas. Jamie struggled not to smile at what appeared to be the babe’s opinion of such scrutiny.

“You are right, of course, my lady,” Grey finally said. “Please, allow me to help you carry your things into the library while your mistress fetches her husband.” He reached over to the table and lifted the basket.

“Thank you, sir,” Jamie said with formality before following Grey out of the kitchen.

He wanted to reach out and take Grey by the collar, push him up against the wall of the hallway and lay into him for interfering; point out that no one beyond Dunsany was supposed to know his full background and that Grey’s assumption of authority in the kitchen threatened what anonymity using the name Alexander MacKenzie gave him. But having William in his arms was more than deterrent enough.

The babe was starting to squeak and grunt again, this time clearly with hunger behind it. How long had it been since he’d eaten? How long would it take till Lady Dunsany could get a wet nurse to the house? What was it Jenny used to give the bairns to tide them over if she couldn’t nurse right away?

Grey strode into the library with Jamie a few steps behind him and dropped the basket on the floor by the desk before whirling around and shutting the door.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” Grey asked, his voice a harsh whisper. “I don’t for a minute believe that you got some random local woman with child the way this note suggests. Not without the household servants knowing about it and if they had suspected something and were gossiping about it, Tom would have heard and informed me.”

Jamie remained silent, turning his attention to William and walking towards the light of one of the windows, swaying as he did and calming the hungry child. William blinked against the light then sneezed.

“What makes ye so sure he’s no mine?” Jamie asked quietly.

“I know you, Jamie. You wouldn’t take advantage of some unfortunate or… or misguided young woman like that,” Grey insisted. “You’re too noble… too noble for your own good,” he added, under his breath.

“There’s much about me ye dinna ken,” Jamie murmured letting William take the end of his finger in his hand. The babe shifted his head towards the finger, mouth gaping, ready to feast. It took a few tries for him to get the finger in his mouth. Jamie hoped the brief washing he’d given his hands on the way inside had gotten that finger clean enough; he could hear faint echoes of Claire scolding him about how sensitive infants could be to those germs of hers.

“MacKenzie,” Dunsany said as he and his wife slipped into the library. “Lord John,” he added, clearly startled. “Thank you for keeping MacKenzie company just now. I think––”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I think you and I both know that whatever is happening with this child concerning MacKenzie is my concern as well,” Grey interrupted with the clear intention of taking charge and a brief glance to Lady Dunsany, uncertain how much she knew of how and why Jamie had come to be a groom on the estate. “Now, as I’m sure your wife informed you, the note claims that MacKenzie is father to this child but it’s clear that he can’t possibly raise the boy here under these circumstances. If you require assistance, I can help arrange for the boy to be sent to his family in Scotland. Presumably he has family who would be able to care for the boy until such time––”

“No,” Lady Dunsany interjected. She had already drifted to Jamie’s side. “That won’t be necessary. MacKenzie can stay here with the baby so long as he’s in our employ. I’ll send to town to inquire after a wet nurse and you can be moved into the house; the child cannot be raised in the barn.”

Grey turned a confused look to his hostess as she reached for William and brought him to her shoulder, a hand caressing the back of his head.

Understanding dawned in Grey’s face and he looked first to Dunsany and then to Jamie for confirmation.

“Ah, yes. Well… I suppose that changes matters… I’ll leave you to your arrangements,” Grey stammered, heading for the door but throwing Jamie a look that indicated there were still matters the two of them would be discussing later.

But the reluctance Jamie felt over the prospect of that discussion faded as he watched Lady Dunsany with tears in her eyes cradling her grandson. He couldn’t begrudge the Dunsanys for the comfort they found in the child but neither was he blind to the difficulties that lay ahead as far as drawing boundaries for how William would be raised and their role in his life. Grey could be an important ally for him when the time came for him to take William home to Scotland. He hoped for all their sakes that a balance could be struck that would enable them all to live in peace for some years to come.

anonymous asked:

Shifted prompt: I would love to hear more of baby William. Just common daily activities, maybe Jamie helping take care of the fussing baby so Claire can get a job done.

anonymous asked: In the Shifted AU, can we have something where Bree bonds with baby William. Something when the kids are young. :) Thanks!

For the next few weeks I’ll be writing one-shots in the Shifted universe, filling in the blanks that we don’t see in the main story, before we resume the main action with Part 7 - The Visitor.

If there is a particular scene you’d like to see, send me an ask and I’ll see what I can do!

In Shifted, 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?

Previous installments…

Interlude – The Assistant

Lallybroch, Autumn 1753

“…and if the wound continues to be all red and puffy in the next few days, add water to this powder and apply it generously to the area. And don’t hesitate to come back for more, if you need it. All right?”

Rosie MacNab, married to one of Grannie MacNab’s army of sons, enthusiastically nodded her head in understanding. “Aye, I understand. Thank ye so much, milady!”

“*Claire,* please. And I’m not the milady, you know that – ”

“Och, that doesna matter to me!” Rosie’s kind, yet weather-lined face creased into a smile, flashing a set of teeth that (despite Claire’s best efforts) had already started to decay. “We all ken weel just how much yer husband has had to sacrifice, just to keep us all safe on the estate. It doesna matter that it’s Young Jamie’s now – yer Jamie will *always* be the laird to us. As long as my mother-in-law walks the earth, anyway.”

Claire pressed her lips, still so uncomfortable at such outbursts of praise. Even seven years after Culloden, some wounds still felt so fresh. Jamie had never regretted deeding Lallybroch to his nephew – but she wondered if that choice ever grated on him. Especially now that he had his own son.

Said son chose that exact moment to squawk awake in his basket at Claire’s foot.

“Oh! That must be the wee laddie!”

Claire flashed her own smile as she bent to gently lift four-month-old William Fraser to her shoulder. His cries immediately stopped, and he looked around her surgery with wide, bright eyes.

“There, there. You just *had* to join in on the conversation, didn’t you?”

“Isn’t he the most handsome wee bairn! Looks just like ye, too!”

Claire wrapped William’s blanket – knit so lovingly by his aunt – tighter around his tiny shoulders, smiling as he shoved his fist into his mouth. “Well – since my daughter is the spit of my husband, it’s only fair that my son can take after me a bit, hmm?”

Rosie impulsively bent to kiss William’s soft hair, before pocketing the handkerchief in which Claire had wrapped the dried herbs and then standing. Claire rose as well, and the two women exchanged a quick hug.

“Thank ye again! I can see myself out – no need for ye to give the lad a chill!”

Brianna poked her bright, inquisitive head around the corner just as Rosie departed. “Is he awake?”

William jerked in excitement at the sound of his beloved sister’s voice, squirming against his blanket.

“Sshh. Yes, sweetheart – Bree is here!” Claire cooed, turning so that he could watch his sister skip into the room.

“Can I take him?” Brianna, aged six, doted on her brother like nothing her parents, aunt and uncle, godfather, and the Lallybroch staff had ever seen. Caring for him gave her a great sense of responsibility – and she never tired of showing him off, either.

“Of course. But – ”

“But be gentle and keep him warm. Aye, Mama – I ken fine,” Brianna huffed, extending her arms. Claire carefully lay William against her shoulder, swaddling him in an extra blanket from his basket, and Brianna lay a steadying arm against her brother’s small back.

“Aye, *a bhailach*. All comfortable, no? Let’s go see what Da is up to…”

Softly, carefully Brianna padded out of Claire’s stillroom and toward Jamie’s study down the hall.

Claire’s heart soared – so happy to see further proof of the profound love between her children – and happy to finally have some time to herself. She opened her journal to a fresh page and began entering the details around Paul MacNab’s injury – and just how dedicated Rosie was to fix him.

“…barley perhaps? Of course we’ll have the potatoes, but I’m thinking we get that fallow field back into production now, so that we can harvest in the late winter?”

Ian Murray settled a bit deeper into his high-backed chair, rubbing the stump of his leg, thinking. “Aye – I suppose we could. It’s always good to have the variety – and Young Jamie is old enough to really help you out this time.”

Jamie crossed his left leg over his right, balancing a ledger on his knee, forefinger tracing down a long column of figures scrawled in Ian’s spidery hand. “The last time we planted there, the yield was fifty bushels. I think we could definitely – ”

“Hi, Da! What are ye doing?” Brianna burst in, William cradled to her chest, his wee dark head resting comfortably on her shoulder.

“*Ciamar a tha thu, mo nighean ruaidh*?” he greeted her, extending his free hand. Mindful of her brother, Brianna gently settled against his side. “As happy as I am to see you, it isna verra considerate of yer uncle for ye to just barge in wi’out knocking.”

“Oh, it’s nae bother,” Ian kindly insisted, already reaching for his wooden leg to strap it into position. “Might as well let Jamie ken he’ll be expected to help ye till the field. Canna have him grumbling like a bairn to his Mam again.”

William stirred a bit. Jamie closed the ledger, set it on the floor, and in one smooth motion picked up Brianna and set her on his lap. She snuggled, her back to his front, and he lay a gentle arm around them both.

“When will I be old enough to help Jamie wi’ the planting?”

Ian positioned his stump into the wooden leg and looked up at his niece. “Are ye sure ye want to help, then? It’s no’ an easy job. And ye’d have to do *exactly* as yer Da says.”

“I’d love for ye to help me, but ye’re too small to guide the horses.” He felt Brianna inhale a deep breath to protest, but lay a hand on her wee knee. “No – dinna say ye ken how to make them work. It’s verra different than when we go riding – the horses need to focus. And ye must ken what to ask them to do. Otherwise it’s a lot of work and ye dinna get anything out of it. And we dinna like anything to go to waste, aye?”

Brianna sighed against him, but nodded, resigned.

Ian stood – shaky for the first few seconds, but then slowly regained his balance. “It’s verra kind of ye to ask. But does yer Mam no’ need help wi’ the surgery? I thought ye liked doing that.”

“She does need the help – but she doesna let me do everything yet!”

“Ye need to be patient. Enjoy being a girl. Dinna grow into a woman quite so fast,” Jamie said quietly. Thoughtfully. “And did ye no promise to care for yer wee brother? To see him grow safe and strong?”

Brianna nestled her brother closer, feeling him go all boneless with sleep. “Aye, I did.” Her voice was soft – dreamy – far away.

Ian nodded and quietly took his leave of the three Frasers.

Jamie held his miracles – his world – in his lap.

“Can ye tell us a story, Da?” Brianna whispered after a while, turning to rest her face against his shoulder. “I think William enjoys the one about the laird and lady who were living in Paris.”

Jamie shifted in his chair so that Brianna and William – sound asleep now – could get more comfortable.

“Of course. One day, the laird and lady were invited to the most fancy dress party you could dream of. The laird wore his plaid, of course, but the lady wore a red dress that was so beautiful, all the other men at the party couldna help but stare at her…”

anonymous asked:

(part1/?) your post of your dream reminded me of my dream I had a few weeks back of me getting married ? Like I was standing aat the altar of whatever, idek who I was getting married to, so I look down into where the guests were sitting and alex and Matt were there?

(part2/2) anyway I went down to talk to them and Matt was wearing the prison uniform he was wearing in the black treacle video, and alex told me to marry Matt, I said no and alex started like shouting at me to marry him and I kept saying no (idk why I would I woke up and I was hitting myself) anyway he started chasing me around the parking lot with a knife, and that’s when I woke up

You had me at “Alex started like shouting at me to marry him” oh my god 😂😂😂  “ ‘ow could you not marry sooch a fine candidate to be yer husband?? Joost because he’s a murderer tha’ ran away from prison? Fuck’s sake!!” I mean, how COULD you, Anon? 😂😂😂  Glad you woke up before Matt got you, jesus christ. That was a wild ride from beginning to end 👌

Dollies and Promises

The reader takes care of a toddler found on a run,when Daryl goes on a run he bring backs tots or clothes for the child. One day the reader say to Daryl he would make a father and Daryl replies with “Only if you will have me as your husband.”

The little three year old I had grown to love as my own gripped her hand around one of my fingers as we walked around Alexandria. We waited for Daryl and Aaron to return from a run and I tried my best not to worry.

We sat down by the water and she ran around in the grass with not a care in the world. She understood nothing that was happening which made me feel good, because if she knew, she’d be afraid.

“I tired.” Little Danielle whined after about an hour of playing. I smiled and picked her up and carried her back to the house. I laid her down for her nap and went to start on dinner while I still waited on Daryl.

I didn’t want to be nervous because usually that made things worse, I just kept telling myself he’d be okay and back before dark.

Time went on and when I heard the door open and close followed by grunts I was relieved.

“Hi babe.” He said in his low scratchy voice as he walked in the kitchen and placed a kiss on my cheek. He set his bag down on the counter and leaned back.

“I missed you, find anything good?” I asked as I leaned against him.

“We found a little bit of food, not much, but I did find some things for Dani.”

“Really? Like what?” I ran my hands up and down his sides and I felt him wrap his arms around me.

“Clothes n stuff.” He gestured towards the bag. When he let go of me he moved to open it. Out came these cute little outfits and a few dolls he had managed to find.

“Daryl, she’s gonna love these!” I exclaimed as I held the small purple shirt up that was sure to fit. I ran my fingers over the dolls he had found and smiled remembering how my dad used to play with me for hours. “You’re amazing.” I whispered and smiled.

“It’s nothin’. Now what’s to eat?”

“Food now go get Dani up so she can eat too.” I said as I made my way to the cabinets to set the table.

The three of us sat there like our own little family and enjoyed each other. Dani talked and talked and told stories that Daryl and I laughed at. She was a little entertainer. As we finished Dani was ready to go in the living room and play.

Daryl and I sat down on the couches and watched her run around giggling.

“Guess what Dani!” I exclaimed to get her excited.

“What?!” She jumped up and looked at us.

“Someone got you a surprise!” I smiled and she bounced and clapped her little hands.

“What is it!?” Her eyes were the size of golf balls and she couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Come sit on my lap and close your eyes.” I said and Daryl got up to retrieve her gifts he brought.

“Here ya are sunshine.” He said and placed them in her lap.

When she opened them she gasped in excitement and she smiled from ear to ear.

“DOLLY!!” She said picking one up and giving the Barbie a hug.

“And look some little clothes for you to wear, you’re going to look so pretty.” I said holding the shirts up.

“I LOVE IT!” She says jumping out of my lap and straight onto Daryl. She wrapped her little arms around his neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Good.” He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Now let’s play dolls.”

Hearing him say that pulled on my heart strings and I wanted to cry, this is just a whole side of Daryl I’ve never seen before. I didn’t even think he had a side like this.

I left the two of them play until Dani was too tired to go on and practically passed out on the floor.

Daryl scooped her up in his arms and we took her to bed together, each of us placing a kiss on her cheek.

We walked to our bedroom and changed and laid on the bed.

“I’m happy ya know.” He said as he looked up at the ceiling.

“So am I.” I said.

“No like real happy, the kind I thought I’d never be again, before the world went to hell. Ya brought me back.”

“I love you.” I said and kissed his neck quickly.

“I love ya too babe.” He said kissing the top of my head.

“You know, I think you’d make a great father someday.” I said as I looked over to him. I saw a little smile form and he turned to look at me. He moved one arm from behind his head and gestured for me to come lay on him. I cuddled up against his chest and let his arm go around my back.

“That’s only if ya have me as yer husband.” He started moving his hand in circles and rubbing my back.

“What?” I said unsure of what else to say, not sure if he was serious.

“Ya heard me darlin’.” He said and kissed my head.

“Are you serious?” I whispered and I knew he could tell I was smiling.

“Couldn’t picture it with anyone else in the world.”

“Tomorrow.” I stated.

“Tomorrow.” He said right back.

I thought this one was just too cute and it made my heart tingle. Thank you for the request, let me know how I’m doing, and keep them coming! Thank you guys I love you! (:

anonymous asked:

I was so excited when I learned you accept prompts again!! So here's mine: Imagine after Claire saved Jamie from Wentworth and gone to the abbey, somehow Frank goes through the stones and finds them, believeing what Mrs. Graham had told him. With Jamie being in a bad shape both physically and mentally, he thinks Claire went back with Frank, for she disappeared from the abbey for a day. But really I just want to see a jealous Jamie :D Happy Holidays!

Hi Anon. Since I already have an AU started in which Frank goes back through the stones, I hope you don’t mind if I use this prompt for that AU. It began with Frank traveling through the stones when he finally goes back to Craigh na Dun in 1x08 (so pre-Wentworth) but there is definitely a lot of angst and jealous Jamie in this installment, so I hope it’s a suitable substitution for you.

Mod Lenny

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Collision Course - Part Five

The repairs to Frank’s hands and wrists were accomplished in near silence, Frank refusing to let more than a sharp gasp escape him while Murtagh kept his lips pressed tight together and his eyes on Frank.

Following the procedure, Claire gave Frank a sizeable dose of whiskey and left him to sleep a while, going outside to join Jamie and Murtagh by the fire.

“He should be ready to move again in a day or two––might be a bit longer if he takes fever,” she announced as she planted herself on the ground next to a wet Jamie. And he well might, she chose not to add, since he made me wait so bloody long to start. 

But she wasn’t entirely fearful at the prospect that Frank might develop a fever; she was confident that he would be able to fight something like that off in a day or two and if she was being completely honest with herself, she wasn’t ready to go anywhere, wasn’t ready to leave Jamie.

It was warm enough that she didn’t need to get closer to him to keep warm but the impulse was there. Still, she would rather not suffer through him pulling away from her again so she kept enough distance between them to prevent it happening.

“Good,” Jamie muttered, poking at the fire with a stick.

“Jamie…” Claire said quietly, her gaze flickering to Murtagh.

“I think I’ll just go see about setting that line of snares,” Murtagh offered.

Before he could get to his feet though, Jamie was already up and several feet away, fiddling with one of the packs and retrieving a ball of twine. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly.

“Jamie,” Claire objected with more force, struggling against her skirts to get back to her own feet again. “Jamie, please. I want to talk to you.”

He moved easily along the craggy cropping near the cave and down into the thicker forest but Claire was determined she wouldn’t rest until she had said what she needed to say.

“I’m sorry,” she called to Jamie as his form disappeared into the underbrush. “I want you to know that I never––” She only just avoided tripping over him as he crouched to bend some branches and twine into a rabbit snare.

“Ye’ve nothing to apologize for, Sassenach,” he responded in a strained tone of voice. He kept his eyes on his hands rather than look up at her––he couldn’t trust himself to look at her just now. “Ye explained everything well enough the first time and I dinna need to hear it again. Go. Go watch over yer husband and care for him. He needs ye.”

She wanted to smack him, to scream “stop saying that,” but she knew Jamie didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

“So what you’re saying is you don’t need me… you… you don’t want me…” she stammered instead.

Jamie’s jaw clenched as his hands stilled. “Aye.” It wasn’t more than a whisper and his voice still broke over saying it. “I dinna… I dinna need ye to do any more than go… go back where ye came from and leave me in peace.” He had finished with that snare and so rose and stomped off again, startling Claire.

“So that’s it then?” she sputtered following him again. The branches pulled at her skirts as she pursued Jamie through denser brush. “I’m just supposed to stroll with Frank back to the stones, go back to 1945 and pretend like nothing happened––pretend like I… like we…”

He had stopped and turned on her, his face red and the lines of his face drawn somewhere between pain and anger.

“Aye! Go and make yer life with the man ye chose to live it with. Ye didna choose me when we wed and ye didna choose to come through the stones to this time. So go and make of yer life what ye will and stop disrupting mine.”

He blurred before her as tears welled in her eyes. She looked down and pressed her lids closed, willing them to stay put, for him not to see but she felt one slip along the ridge of her nose and fall.

“I’m sorry,” she said again with what resolution she could muster. She couldn’t tell if he sighed or if it was just the light breeze in the leaves.

“Dinna be sorry.” His voice was softer, gentler. “I’m not.”

Claire’s head jerked up. “You’re not?”

He stepped closer to her and she thought he might pull her to him, might embrace her or rest his warm hands on her shoulders but he stopped himself before getting that close.

“No. I’m only sorry that… No. I’m no sorry at all. I’m glad… I’m glad to have been yer husband… even if it wasna meant to be for long.” He reached down and took her right hand in his left, his thumb rubbing against the ring he’d put on her third finger less than a fortnight before, causing it to turn until the raised joint in the iron was on top. “Ye’re a good woman––a kind and gentle woman. I couldna have asked for a better one…”

Claire wanted to comfort him, to tell him he would find someone else. The images of Laoghaire waiting for him after he took her beating, of her in his arms that time Claire had found them in alcove together flashed through Claire’s mind and made her blood run hot, her fingers tighten around Jamie’s hand. “I’m glad it was you, too,” she told him instead. “Thank you for all… for everything…”

She took a step closer to him, eager to melt into him, to look up at him and kiss him. But he took a step back and raised her hand to his lips, kissing the ring he had given her.

“Can I keep it?” she whispered. “I know I should give it back to you…”

“It’s yers. It was made for ye and I… I’d like ye to have it. But ye really need to go back to the camp now… please.”

She nodded, letting go of his hand and turning to go back the way she had come. She knew she ought to remind him that she didn’t know the woods as well as he did, that it would probably be best if he showed her the way. But there was a begging in his voice beyond just the ‘please’ and there was a need in her body to be alone for a little while herself.

Jamie turned and started further into the woods rather than watch her walk away from him again. It was impossible to focus on tying snares so he just clenched the ball of twine in his fist and moved through the familiar trees of Lallybroch.

He had envisioned bringing Claire to Lallybroch a thousand times since he’d met her. She would have been an odd and unexpected but wonderful Lady Broch Tuarach. There were hundreds of little places about the house and grounds that he had planned to share with her over the years they should have had together; the barn where he’d been sat on his first horse and where he would have taught their children too; the yard where he’d played with his brother, his sister, and his friend, Ian; plenty of glades where no one would interrupt them as they made love in the grass.

The rough twine bit into his palm as he clenched it tighter, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. If that fool Frank of hers hadn’t come for her… And what had taken him so long, anyway? More than six weeks after she had gone missing and he’d only just come to find her. Claire wouldn’t be gone more than a few hours without word before he would be rousing anyone and everyone to help him find her again. And the way he spoke to her…

With his hand still wrapped around the ball of twine, Jamie pulled his fist back and then swung at a thick but low hanging branch on a tree. The impact shuddered through the bones of his hand and scraped his fingers even as it caused the leaves on the branch to rustle with their neighbors. He looked down to see a few places where the skin had scraped away and blood was beginning to rise to the surface. If Claire saw it when he returned she would insist on tending it. There would be some sort of salve in her little medical box and a clean strip of linen; her hands on his, rubbing the ointment in while she rambled about inflammation and being more careful not to get his hand caught while setting his traps.

Jamie’s knees went weak and he leaned against the tree for a moment. He couldn’t bear the thought of not feeling her hands on him again, of not having her warmth to turn to in the night. He could still remember the details of each and every time he’d lain with her––so many in such a short marriage and yet nowhere near enough to satisfy the way his body yearned for hers. The way her skin flushed when he played with the soft curls at the nape of her neck; the goosebumps on her chest and arms that multiplied every time his thumb passed lightly over her nipple; her hips rising off the bed, off the ground as his hand slid slowly up between her spreading thighs.

She had wanted him. She had enjoyed lying with him, had thrilled in the pleasure he gave her and perhaps even more so in the pleasure she gave to him. None of that had been a lie.

And now none of it mattered.

She didn’t belong to him; she belonged to that man with Black Jack Randall’s face––with Black Jack Randall’s blood in his veins.

He didn’t feel the ache in his fingers as he clenched them tight again and pushed back from the tree.

How much could that bastard possibly take from him?

He swung at the trunk this time.

He’d shown up at Lallybroch and accosted Jenny after rendering Jamie powerless to stop it––worse, coaxed her into going with him willingly and trading more than just her virtue to him; Dougal said she’d borne the man’s bastard child which meant she’d given all hope of a future to him as well.

Then there was his father, dead before his time having watched his last living son flogged near to death for crimes he hadn’t even committed. At least his father died ignorant of the bastard’s abhorrent proposition and the lies that had put a price on his head, effectively stripping him of his inheritance.

And now Black Jack’s issue was taking the woman he loved from him as well.

Jamie screamed as the bones in his hand yielded to the solid mass of the tree but he kept on swinging.

“Bloody hell!” Claire exclaimed when she saw Jamie emerge back into their camp with his hand a twisted, bloody mess.

“I had a wee accident,” Jamie said, his voice hollow.

A kiss never forgotten

Chap 1:  A drunken night.

The night was cold as it usually was, Konoha’s leaves rustled in the constant passing wind. Naruto sat at the edge of the bed, tired, overworked and overall depressed. His life had become stacks of paperwork, late nights, loud children and a lack of joy. He often looked back at his younger days, wondering if he could take back the time when he was free to enjoy his youth and lack of responsibilities as the new Hokage and father of 2. Naruto saw himself getting more drained as the days went by; he dreaded coming home to a noisy house full of people wanted his attention, when he himself needed attention and love. He was overall not ecstatic with his relationship with Hinata, but he never hated it either. In a way he kind of felt dead inside, or didn’t really feel much emotion, he blamed this on his constant work schedule and intense house life.

“Naruto are you done changing? We are going to be late”. Naruto tied his shoe laces and started making his way out of the room, “coming Hinata”. He hated going to these reunions, he loved seeing his friends again, but it’s never been the same since everyone got married and Naruto became Hokage. He sensed his friends becoming more formal around him, which really ticked Naruto off, he missed how chilled out everyone used to be. Deep down inside he was screaming for things to go back to the way they were, everyone making jokes and being silly around eachother. “Huh”, this was going to be a long dinner.  

*At dinner*

Naruto stares at his salad and chicken, like his having some sort of glaring competition. Not paying an ounce of attention to the conversations around him, just twirling the lettuce with his fork, wondering when he can go home and sleep. He suddenly springs to life when he feels a tap on his shoulder. “Ohh Sasuke I’m sorry I didn’t see you standing behind me, did you need something?” Sasuke’s eyes seemed so full of love at that moment or maybe it was pity, fear or respect? Naruto wasn’t too sure, but all he knew were that his eyes where quite hypnotizing, a thing he automatically believed had to do with the ‘perfect Uchiha genes’. “Naruto, I was wondering if you would like a drink? Me, Choji, Kiba and Shikamaru where going to have a few beers seeming as the girls are talking about clothes, if you would like to join us.” “Oh, uh I do have to be up in the morning, but to be honest one beer wouldn’t hurt, plus I’m kind of zoning out anyways.” Naruto let a surprising happy Sasuke lead him to the restaurant’s bar area where he found the other guys chatting in a friendly manner. Naruto realized the minute they saw Naruto coming in their direction they all straighten up, and acted less loosely as they use to. He wished they could relax, Naruto knew drinking would help loosen his friends up.

*At the Restaurants bar*

“Oh hey Naruto, how is work?” Choji’s voice sounded so formal Naruto nearly chocked whilst chugging down his beer surprising fast. “Choji and everyone else, please stop being so formal around me, I am Hokage now, but it’s okay you are my friends. No need for all these formalities, please let me buy you all another round and we shall celebrate and talk about the good old days, huh?” Everyone slowly released a tensed breath, but overall seemed happy to admit they were acting to formal, and soon after 3 drinks Naruto was laughing and talking to all his friends like he was 18 again.

*5 drinks of beer later*

Naruto was started to have blurred vision, slightly loosing balance whilst he laughed hysterically at Choji’s jokes. Naruto felt his heart race a thousand miles per hour. He doesn’t know the last time he was so relaxed. The weird thing is Naruto was finding himself constantly looking back and forth at Sasuke when he smiled, the guy never smiled, so seeing Sasuke so relaxed and happy made Naruto swell up with joy. He never knew how much he valued Sasuke in his life, but having him here in Konoha it had seemed to Naruto that a part of his soul finally had returned. Naruto tipsily walked over to the girls announcing the movement of the group from the restaurant to an actual bar, so that the people eating here won’t be annoyed at how loud the boys where getting. Naruto also knew he couldn’t be seen in public getting too wasted so he managed to pull a few strings and get a private room in this fancy bar only 5 minutes away from the restaurant. He knew there he could relax, have as many drinks as he wanted and not worry about being caught getting wasted. Funny enough after 6 beers Naruto had completely forgotten about work, he was embracing this rare moment of joy with his friends.

*At the bar*

“Hey everyone! I would like to thank you for all coming out tonight, it has been really great to loosen up and enjoy the company of real friends and loved ones”. “Cheers to that Naruto”. As everyone rose their glasses in the air, Naruto could see Sasuke in the corner of his eye smirking straight at him with the cutest grin possible. And for a second the whole world had stopped, Naruto’s heart skipped a beat and Sasuke’s eyes seemed to glow amongst the commotion of clinking glasses of beer and wine.  Shikamaru started laughing so hard at the other end of the table, Choji following straight after. Naruto’s curiosity got the best of him and he had to find out what was so funny, “hey guys what are you laughing about over there”? “HAHAHAH, Naruto are you sure you want to be reminded?” “Remind me of what”, “what is it”? Naruto started revaluating his most humiliating moments, and seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary. He had no idea what they meant, nor did he know what was coming for him. “Well Choji over here, was just reminding me of your first kiss”. First kiss? Hmm who was his…Oh Fuck. Naruto started turning bright red, as the whole table roared with laughter. Sasuke was suspiciously quite during this outfit of laughter, which concerned Naruto a little bit, but he was too drunk at this point to think. “Hey guys come on, Sasuke was a great first kiss, I’m just saying Sakura you got a good one there”, the whole table laughed and being the drunken mess they were started having crazy ideas. “ Hey Naruto, me and Sakura have a crazy idea, seeming as your Hokage now and we will probably not be able to get you in an embarrassing situation for a while, we thought we would take advantage of your drunk state”. “Oh god Ino, what the hell do you have in mind, and if it’s that crazy I demand we all take a round of shots”.

*After 2 rounds of shots and a couple of more drinks later*

“So Ino, Sakura what is this crazy idea of yours”? “Well we are thinking we might recreate your first kiss, but this time let us record it, so we can use it as black mail, in case you make us do terrible assignments as Hokage”. Naruto drunkenly started to think this over, he didn’t see why not, he obviously had Sakura’s approval all ready and by the smile and joyous laughter of Hinata it seemed she didn’t mind as well. He looked over to Sasuke who was weirdly taking another 2 shots of tequila after the last set of shots. Naruto thought he might just be nervous, because who gets this lucky they get to kiss their hokage. “Hahahah, okay I’ll do it, only if Sasuke and of course my wife don’t mind”.  Hinata gave him the okay in two seconds, though the minute Naruto turned around to Sasuke he saw his eyes drop straight to the floor. Naruto could have sworn he saw Sasuke’s cheeks turn crimson red, but thought that might be due to the 2 shots of tequila he just had. “Well Sasuke, what do you think, want to relive the old days”? “Hmm, if it has to be done dobe then I’ll do it”. With that statement Ino and Sakura started pulling out their phones with an evil glare on their faces; Naruto couldn’t believe how drunk everyone had gotten to get to this state. “Okay Naruto and Sasuke on 3…1..2..3”. Naruto leant in and heard flashes go off in the distance. But something was strange; he couldn’t really sense anyone in the room, it kind of felt like they were alone in this room full of people. He wondered if he had reached his alcohol limit and was going to pass out or something. But there he was kissing Sasuke, strangely it felt like heaven, Naruto completely blamed it on the Alcohol, but dam could Sasuke kiss. Time had stopped at this point and Naruto could have sworn he felt Sasuke dig his lips into Naruto’s, which Naruto strangely loved. Though soon enough time had to restart and they were forced to pull apart. The world came back to life and the roaring of laughter and flashes came back into Naruto’s hearing range. “Holy crap that was kind of hot” “Ino that’s my husband, but yer, I’m going to keep that one for later”. The room was lit with laughter, and everyone started to settle down from the show. Naruto was light heartedly trying to blend back into the group’s conversation, but everything in his entire body was pulling him back to Sasuke. When he finally decided to look over, Sasuke was slouched over and completely inattentive of the world around him. Naruto’s arms nearly bolted on their own when he saw Sasuke stand up. “Guys, thank you for a nice night, I’m going to head off first, I think that’s enough alcohol for one day, Sakura I will see you at home”. As Sasuke quickly left Naruto turned to see Sakura, who had a concerned face, Naruto wondered what the hell just happened. Why would Sasuke just leave like that, he didn’t even take his wife, or say good bye properly to the group. Naruto wasn’t left with much time to really think about it, Hinata had grabbed Naruto’s attention back into the conversation with Choji to her right.

(Ps: Chapter 2)

anonymous asked:

Companions react to Sole finding out that they were a synth the hole time. Created by the institute and plugged with artificial memory's of Nate who never truly existed?

*bites fist* *clenches table* *shakes violently.* I hope you know that I have not been able to stop thinking about this request since you first submitted it. I was so blown away. I bet you write some stellar fanfiction anon. 10/10 plot twist. Warning: This will get dark.

Ada: She didn’t say anything when Sole told her at first. Lights blinked on her automatron head indicating she was thinking. “I think that sometimes life takes us all in unexpected directions that make you question your existence. Just because you are operating on someone else’s consciousness does not negate the permanence of your life in this very moment. The present belongs to you. That’s what I’d like to think.” Then she turned her head and started clunking away as Sole watched. Ada struggled with grasping her own consciousness too and whether her self-awareness meant she was a being or not. Sole’s story stuck with her for many many days later as she pondered the perplexity of the very concept of consciousness and its implications.

Cait: She folded her arms. “Bullshit. I saw the human popsicle you took me too back in yer vault. You’re trying to pull the wool over me eyes.” It seemed too crazy to be real. She’d been around tons of people to tried to pull their tricks on her and this story just sounded to unbelievable. There wasn’t even any damn logic behind it! At least not that Sole knew. But Sole seemed utterly convinced of what this ‘Father’ had told her so Cait just rolled her eyes and went with it. “Yeah yeah, and you just full on believed this Father fellow didn’t you? He was probably all pissy you didn’t come get his arse immediately for all you know and pulled a mean practical joke on ya. But anyway, if you’re so damn hellbent on believing this crap then who the hell cares if it was implanted or not? Who cares if that guy really was yer husband or not? If it felt real, it was real. Simple as that.”

Codsworth: “Wait, then… then who am I?” Sole and Codsworth had been searching for a back way into the Institute through some old laboratories. They stumbled upon a dusty old terminal in a room full of dissected gen-3 synth parts. In no time Sole hacked it and found out much more than they ever intended. This was the first laboratory where the Institute perfected the gen-3 synths. The first gen-3 was designed as an experimental model transplanted with fake memories and no knowledge about the Institute, just to see how they fared on the surface. Sole stared wide eyed at a picture of themselves as Codsworth gasped horrified. That still didn’t answer why he had false memories too. Who was he? He and Sole scrounged the lab for any hint of Codsworth’s origins but all they found was a brittle signed piece of paper detailing a financial partnership between the Commonwealth Institute of Technology and General Atomics.

Curie: “Zat seems very bizarre zat they would not tell you. Doesn’t ze Institute pride themselves on keeping their synths under control? Why would they voluntarily give you your own autonomy? Zis does not make sense to Curie.” Sole was so caught up with their whole life being a lie that they were overwhelmed. Curie however made very valid points about the whole situation that really didn’t seem to add up. She grounded Sole, she always did. Curie’s ability to remain calm and logical in all situations is why she is the only person Sole trusts to go to for sensitive issues. She was their voice of reason. Sole and Curie went into a room with some large paper and pencils and drafted a hypothetical timeline of the events that Father had told Sole in sequential order. They plotted everything they could, dates, places, people, etc as they could. Curie was right. Something didn’t add up… Curie had them analyze their past few interactions with Father to see if there might be some reason for him to have told them this. Well Sole had knowingly continued to help the Railroad despite being advised against it. Wait… Did Father tell them that to make them more obedient? To make them believe that they were servants of the Institute to dissuade them from independent thought?

Danse: [Reversal of Blind Betrayal] Elder Maxson called him to the command deck, informing him that Proctor Quinlan had recovered the data retrieved from the Institute. Sole was a synth. Danse’s blood ran cold. How? How could he have not noticed he had been travelling with a synth the whole time? And he was the one that brought them on board. The implications of his wrongdoing weight heavily on his conscience. His mind raced with what they might have done. Had they stolen classified information? Were they a seed from the Institute? No matter. They were on the run now and Danse was mandated to kill them. He ended up cornering them at Listening Post Bravo. They were done running. Danse was so ready to kill the dirty synth that lied straight to his face but the second he saw their familiar eyes looking back so sadly at him, all of his bravado fell. They accepted their death, told him it was okay. Danse raised the gun to their head and they thanked him. Sole’s eyes never left his. He couldn’t. He was weak. Sole made him feel ways he never felt before and even though everything he had ever learned was screaming at him to kill them, his arms hung limply at his side. He couldn’t pull the trigger. He was in love with this synth.

Deacon: “What?” was all he said when Sole approached him saying “I won.” He could instantly tell something was wrong. Every semblance of their body language basically screamed they was upset. They had this game, kind of like comparing scars. Neither one took offense, but rather found it fun. They both had seen some pretty fucked up things. Sole explained how they had the biggest lie of all: their whole life. Deacon’s heart fell as they failed to fight back the tears that were streaming down their face. “Geez, Boss it never was a competition. I mean to me, you… aww shit what am I saying? Get over here.” He couldn’t take just standing there like a douchebag as the one person that ever truly made him feel like himself desperately needed someone. He fit their head into the crook of his neck and rubbed their back. He told people he wasn’t a hugger because he wasn’t comfortable with people being close to him. But now, he was more at home than he ever had been before. What they had; that was real. No Institute could have implanted that.

Dogmeat: *whine* Sole stared off into space in a catatonic state in their wheelchair. The intern at the State Mental Health Hospital wheeled them around the skilled nursing facility grounds away from the other patients. The residing psychiatrist approached her “How are they doing?” he said with his clipboard out, ready to take notes. The intern gave a weary smile, remembering the eventful past few minutes. “They’re doing much better now. Sorry the alarms called you on your day off doc. I don’t know what happened. They were fine one minute, and the next they were acting all paranoid saying something like we implanted memories in them or something and we faked their husband too. Then they started throwing things and it was really upsetting the other patients.” The doctor nodded knowingly, pushing his glasses an inch up his crooked nose. “Did you use operation Dogmeat?” he asked. Again the intern nodded. “Yeah. 5mg of Haldol. The nurses did it. Calmed ‘em right down.” The doctor nodded once more before clicking his pen shut. “Good. Sole’s been having increasingly severe episodes. Perhaps we’ll try another medication. Thank you for your help.” With that the psychiatrist walked off and the intern kept wheeling Sole’s chair as they stared off in an immobile state thinking about the comforting glow of the irradiated wasteland.

Hancock: “Wow. That’s some heavy stuff right there sister/brother.” Hancock looked down in pensive thought as Sole explained to him everything they had learned at the Institute. He knew something was wrong when they came to him, legs and hands trembling so badly they couldn’t keep still. So he brought them up to the roof of his state house. No one had ever been up there before besides him. Not even Fahrenheit. It was his place to go to when he needed time to think, to calm down, to cool off. But now, Sole needed time to think. That was the most important thing right now. He placed a gentle arm around Sole. “Hey, I know this isn’t exactly comparable, but I understand the feeling of never being able to return to the life you once had before. Believe me. But that’s what this place is y’know? This whole city collects all the misfits that don’t fit in anywhere else. Now me? I don’t give a damn what you are. You’ll always be my sunshine.”

MacCready: “Woah boss… okay.” He rose his hands up and started backing away. Sole had their back turned to him as they spoke calmly and softly. Somewhere deep down MacCready knew they didn’t look back on purpose because they knew what he was going to do. A synth? Are you freaking kidding me? He slung his sniper over his back and took off down the road without looking back. Boss had lied to him the whole time. He hated being lied to. He-he had traveled with that synth. He had laughed with that synth. He had kissed that synth. He had made love to that synth. Days passed as he almost made it to the border of the Commonwealth. The nights seemed colder. He became more irritable. More anxious. He missed that synth. Loneliness turned into sadness and as the decrepit signpost with ‘Welcome to the Capital Wasteland,’ came into view and he stopped. What was he doing? After a few moments he let out an irritated sigh and turned around to make his way all the way back to Sanctuary because he loved that synth.

Nick Valentine: They had tailed a courser to a military compound. Nick and Sole did a good job of tailing him stealthily until the courser stopped at a far room only visible though a small window. He held out a holotape to someone and a man i a lab coat grabbed it. Nick felt Sole stand up beside him, their face as white as a sheet. “Nate” they whispered. “Kid don’t!” He hissed, but it was too late. They’d already stepped out into the clearing. Sole took both the men by surprise, the courser immediately taking up arms but Sole only looked at Nate in a way that made Nick feel uncomfortable. He didn’t trust this man. Nate started smooth talking Sole who seemed to be sucking it all up like a dream. That was until he started saying a designation number. Nick shot him with a tranquilizer dart before he could finish and he and Sole finished off the courser for the sake of their own survival. Sole was all forms of confused and so Nick felt like he had to stay strong for them. He grabbed the holotape out of their not-so-dead spouse’s hand. Nick snatched away their hand that was smoothing down the collapsed Nate’s hair and popped the holotape in their pipboy, muttering something incoherent. What they saw was a report on the synth…Sole. That tape detailed everything. About their implanted memories and the fake body they implanted. Sole ran out of the building so quickly that Nick was stumbling to keep up with them. “Kid! Hold up…” He wheezed. When he caught up with them he saw tears where threatening to fall from their frightened eyes. “Having a life that doesn’t belong to you, not knowing where the fake ends and the real begins, that’s something I can empathize with more than you know.”

Piper: “H-hey Blue, calm down-” *crash!* “JESUS! Put that down you’re going to hurt yourself! And destroy my house!” Sole was never meant to find out they were a synth. Father went to great lengths to hide it. However a comment a scientist made in Robotics rubbed Sole the wrong way. How dare they implicate them as a synth? They were obviously Father’s parent. Sole was a truth-seeker, just like Piper, which is why she loved them. That night, Sole snuck into Robotics and hacked into their terminals, searching for what that could have meant. That’s when Sole found out. The first place they went to was Piper’s house. They quickly drank themselves into an angry stupor, throwing things and yelling about the life they never had and the person who they weren’t. Piper propped her hands on her hips, looking at her big baby Blue. “Look! I love the person I see here right before my very eyes. I don’t care if your past was fake, I know the you right now isn’t fake and that’s all that matters.”

Preston: He passed Sole the bottle of whiskey as they were explaining their story in front of the campfire they had made. He tried to imagine what it was like having your whole life all of a sudden be fake like that and he shivered at the idea. Sole downed the rest of the bottle in one go (which was ¾ths full!). Preston grimaced knowing that couldn’t have been tasty never mind healthy. He scooted closer to them, rubbing their back in small circles as they leaned up against him. Sole threw their hands up in frustration. “Hey General, your place if right here so don’t you ever feel like you don’t belong somewhere because you got me and all of us at Sanctuary to help you.” He placed tender kisses along their cheek but then abruptly stopped. “Wait… If Nate never existed then… does that make me your first love? That makes me kind of happy.” Sole didn’t look as happy as they play socked him in the arm. Preston stood up, taking their hands in his. He raised them up until they were at eye level and rubbed noses with them. “Babe, I’m really sorry your life was fake and all. But I promise, I am going to give you something real that only the person standing here before me could experience.”

Strong: “WHA… HUMAN NOT HUMAN? HUMAN IS METAL MAN? STRONG NO UNDERSTAND!” Sole grew red in the face trying to explain every little detail to Strong who seemed to kind of get it but not really. Venting at him actually helped them calm down a lot as they eventually adopted a ‘fuck it’ attitude and continued to do what they did. Strong now refers to Sole as ‘robot’ instead of ‘human.’

X6-88: He knew. X6′s boots slammed on the floor as rain pelted his shades. Who knows how long he had been running. The whole time, he knew about Sole. Sole was an experiment designed by Shaun to see how receptive an unsuspecting gen-3 model was when their origins were revealed. It was a test of internal fortitude. X6 knew they weren’t ready. He’d been assigned to protect them, to watch over them. He knew them. When they went AWOL, he was the first to volunteer for their reclamation. There was no way he was ever going to let any of the other coursers near them. He was going to do it. So now he ran. The Institute could track your locations of teleportation so he had to lay low. This was what he was trained for: hunting down synths that disobey. Sole was just another one. But as he searched every place that ever meant something to them, his convictions started to sound superficial to him. The more he thought of these troubling thoughts the more he began to think that he might become the very first courser in history that went rogue.


Maxson: Sole took him aside privately, hoping to confide in the leader of the Brotherhood. Big mistake. “Synth!” He yelled, smacking them across the face, knocking them out. When they came to, they were in a cage, the molerats having been moved, and surrounded by all the heads of the Brotherhood staring at them with cold eyes. Maxson stepped forward and Sole glared as he began a grandiose speech of how they were an Institute spy and synth filth that was sent to infiltrate them. After all they’d been through they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. When he finally turned to address them, Sole spit on him. The air filled with roars as Maxson stripped off his jacket and entered the cage. Sole did their best to put up a fight but he still beat them. He always won. This sick ritual of torture and humiliation continued for days. What the other heads didn’t know what that Maxson came back to their cage in the middle of the night and fucked them like they were going to ‘fuck the Brotherhood.’ They had known Maxson once had feelings for them and so Sole decided to take advantage of that. One night they kissed him hard, which stunned him enough for them to escape. They didn’t make it very far though before Maxson caught them by the hair and threw them forward into the sharp metal corner of a table, splitting their leg open. Sole yelped in pain, clutching their synthetic bleeding leg. Two large arms draped around them. All they heard was the faint whisper of “I’m sorry” as they tried to grasp the situation. What the fuck?

Father: “Take them away” he sighed with a wave of his hand, motioning to the door. He rose his cup of tea to his lips as two gen-2 synths came and dragged away Sole’s lifeless body off the floor. Both of his parents died that fateful day he was plucked out of Vault 111. Ever since rising into power of the most technologically advanced faction in the Commonwealth, Shaun sought to restore what he had lost: his family. With every prototype, each approximation got closer and closer to a real human. Unfortunately, this one was unable to handle the intense emotional stimuli of such a revelation. Shame. Perhaps the next one will do better.

Desdemona: She held Sole’s head to her chest comfortingly when they started to hyperventilate while talking about it. “Shh, hey there. Sorry this happened to you agent. The Institute likes to play all these kinds of cruel jokes on their synths just to see what happens sometimes. Can’t say it’s the first time I’ve seen something like this but I’m sorry it had to happen to you.” Des opened her arm to motion to the rest of HQ. When Sole finally looked up she saw everyone: Deacon, Glory, Drummer Boy, Tinker Tom, PAM, even Carrington surrounding them with sympathetic looks in their eyes. They were silent but united. Desdemona squeezed Sole’s shoulder. “You see? We are all here for you. We are your family now.”

Glory: She found out the hard way. One day the classical radio station had been jacked by the Brotherhood but when they all tuned in to listen to the strange broadcast, the sound of Sole screaming filled the room. The chilling discord of Sole’s voice turned her blood to ice. The Brotherhood said they found their little “synth agent” spying on them and that if the Railroad didn’t cease and desist, then they were going to kill her. Glory wanted to riddle every single one of them with bullets from her minigun but Des convinced her to wait for more information instead of running into a trap. A few days later, Tom’s terminal wigged out and a message slowly appeared on the screen: ‘Escaped. Help - Sole.’ That was enough sign for Glory. She grabbed her gun and ran to the only place she knew Sole would go: The Randolph Safehouse. Sole’s messy hair came into view as Glory called out to them as she approached but what she saw when Sole turned around twisted her stomach into knots. Sole had a gaping hole shot in their stomach which revealed a gory mix of blood, sparks, and protruding wire. Those motherfuckers. Glory ran to Sole’s side and took their shaky body in her arms. She was going to make the Brotherhood pay for what they did to Sole.

Daryl x Lucy.

Request: Can you do one where a girl name Lucy and Daryl are married and they’re in Alexandria but they have an argument. So Deanna is having her welcome party but then Lucy is worried about Daryl so she goes to go look for him and when they meet in the street, they admit that they were sorry to each other and they have make up, passionate, rough sex?
Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut.

“Lucy?” Daryl yelled as he walked up the stairs.
“In here!” You called from the bedroom. You were getting ready for the welcome party that Deanna was throwing and you were still a little miffed that Daryl refused to go. He walked in the bedroom and stood in the doorway staring at you.
“The fuck ya got that shit on yer face for?” He frowned as he watched you applying some make up. You glared at him before continuing.
“I’m going to the party and I want to look nice.” You explained without looking at him. You heard him scoff from the doorway.
“Don’t see why ya goin’, should just stay here with me.” He sulked.
“Because we have to make an effort and play our parts here Daryl, you heard what Rick said. It’s a good chance to meet everyone.” You sighed. You had already argued about this when you were first invited and you were sick of him being so difficult.
“What so ya’d rather spend ya night with a bunch of assholes ya don’t even know than with yer husband?!” He snapped, he didn’t know why you were bothering with the party, to him it was stupid.
“Just because you can’t be assed to make an effort doesn’t mean I have to do the same! Quit being a little bitch about it!” You yelled frustrated. He stormed up to you narrowing his eyes.
“The fuck ya just say to me woman?!” He seethed. You could feel his anger rolling off him in waves.
“You heard me Daryl. I’m doing this for the group, you need to man up and get the fuck over it.” You snapped. He glared at you with his jaw clenched, he took a deep breath and stormed out, making sure to slam to front door as he left. The fact he didn’t argue back like he normally would just annoyed you more, who the fuck does he think he is?! You continued to get ready in a bad mood and then walked to Deanna’s house slowly.

You weren’t there long before you wanted to blow your brains out, these people were annoying as fuck and you just wanted to leave. You ended up drinking a few glasses of wine to calm yourself down and stuck by Michonne the whole time. You started to feel bad about what you said to Daryl, you’d let your temper get the best of you, and for what? Because your husband wanted you to stay with him? You knew Daryl wasn’t a social butterfly and the most trusting person but you still married him, for better, for worse. Fucking shit. With your guilty conscious eating away at you and the annoying idiots surrounding you, you found yourself slipping outside.

As you reached the porch you saw Daryl sat there with his crossbow, he looked up at you and he looked angry.
“I’m sorry Daryl.” You sighed as you sat next to him. He looked at you a little surprised, you rarely apologised even if you knew you were wrong. He just grunted in response, still pissed off.
“I was a bitch, I let my temper get the best of me again. I should have stayed here with you, you’re my husband and I love you. My place is always by your side.” You admitted.
He eyed you out of the corner of his eyes, in your skin tight dress, pouting at him slightly. He stood up abruptly.
“Get up.” He commanded. You looked at him confused and his eyes were dark, you stood up slowly and he backed you up until your back hit the front door. You couldn’t help but get excited, you knew that look in his eyes.

“Ya been real naughty baby, tellin’ me to man up. I’ll show ya what a real man can do.” He growled at you as he gripped your jaw. Your knees went weak and your heart was thumping. He crashed his lips onto yours in an aggressive and heated kiss, as you moaned he took the opportunity to invade your mouth with his tongue as he dominated your mouth. Even though you were married to the man, every time you kissed it was like the first time, yours stomach filled with butterflies and you’d go lightheaded. He was like a drug to you and you could never get enough.
He unzipped your dress with his free hand and you suddenly felt the cold air on your bare skin as the dress fell to your ankles, leaving you in just a pair of lacy panties. You instinctively covered your breasts with your arms but Daryl gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head, exposed for the world to see.
“Daryl! People will see!” You gasped.
“Nah, they’re busy. Ain’t gon’ see nothin’.” He smirked as he started kissing your neck. He nipped your soft spot causing you to moan and he pushed his hips to yours. He kept one hand pinning yours as his other slowly trailed down your body, stopping at your breast, palming it and rubbing his thumb over your nipple. He then took it in his mouth and started to suck on it and nip it with his teeth, causing you to whimper. He brought his lips back to yours and his tongue explored your mouth as his hand continued its trek down your body until it reached your panties, he slipped his hands into them as he teased your wet folds with his fingers.

“Fuck, yer so wet baby.” He moaned into your lips. He started rubbing circles around your clit and you moaned loudly at the pleasure. You could feel his hard dick pressing into your hip and you wanted to touch it, but your hands were still pinned above your head. He removed his hands from your panties and you whimpered at the loss of contact.
“Bedroom. Now.” He growled into your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. As you turned around to open the front door he smacked your ass causing you to squeal.
“Better run.” He smirked as he went to grab you. You dashed through the door and ran up the stairs giggling, you could hear his boots pounding the stairs behind you as he chased you. As you ran through your bedroom door he caught you, grabbing your waist and throwing you on the bed. He kicked off his boots and threw off his clothes in record speed and before you knew it he was hovering over you. He started kissing and biting your neck again, then got lower and lower until he reached your now soaking panties. He ripped them off and flung them across the room and lowered himself off the bed so he was on his knees. He hooked his arms around your legs and yanked you so your ass was at the end of the bed. He started kissing your thighs slowly, teasing you, then without warning he licked from your core to your clit, making you squirm and moan. His grip on your thighs tightened as he started sucking your clit and you were trembling with pleasure. He removed one of his hands and inserted a finger into you, making you gasp. Then he inserted another, nearly pushing you to the edge.

“Daryl, I’m gonna-“ You couldn’t finish talking as he inserted another finger and pushed you over the edge. You came undone moaning loudly and your legs were shaking. He lapped up all your juices greedily then crawled back up the bed.
“Taste so damn good baby.” He purred as he grabbed your face and kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself on him. He ground his hips to yours, pushing his throbbing dick on your wet slit, letting it rub and tease you.
“Please baby.” You pleaded as you thrust your hips trying to get him inside of you.
“Tell me what ya want.” He smirked as he bit your bottom lip making you gasp.
“I want you baby. Please!” You begged. He kissed you again and thrust into you, you both moaned as you felt him fill you up. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size and then started thrusting into you. He hiked one of your legs up onto his hip to get a deeper angle causing your moans to get louder and your back to arch.
“Fuck baby, ya feel so good.” He moaned as he pounded you faster. He reached down and started rubbing your clit and you felt your release getting nearer.
“Cum for me baby.” He growled into your ear, tipping you over the edge.
“Fuck! Daryl!” You cried as you came, waves of pleasure hitting you intensely. You gripped his muscular arms as you rode out your orgasm. You were a trembling mess but Daryl smacked your thigh.
“Ain’t done with ya yet. Turn ‘round.” He ordered as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over on all fours. He leant over you and kissed your back along your spine as he rubbed himself on your juices teasing you. Then he pushed into you again and gripped a fistful of your hair, his other hand on your hip. Your moans and his growls and grunts were vibrating off the walls as he continued to thrust into you at a fast pace. He pulled you by your hair, making you lift up a little and he bit and sucked your neck. You pushed yourself on him more, meeting his thrusts making him hiss with pleasure.

“Ain’t gon’ last much longer.” He gasped into your neck. He reached his hand underneath you and rubbed your clit furiously making you moan and tense up. He started bucking his hips wildly as his own release was near and you came, clenching your walls around his dick, milking him dry.
“Fuck baby!” He moaned as he wrapped an arm tightly around your middle, keeping you up as your were seeing stars from your own pleasure. You both rode out your orgasms and then collapsed on the bed. He rolled off you as you lay there, still on your stomach.
“I should insult you more often if this is what happens.” You chuckled as he lay gentle kisses on your shoulder.
“Don’t even think ‘bout it. Next time I won’t let ya cum.” He smirked, making you laugh. His hands lightly traced patterns on your bare back and you sighed contently.
“I really do love you Daryl.” You smiled at him.
“I love ya too baby.” He smiled back as he wrapped his arms tightly around you in a loving embrace.

Collision Course - Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Jamie pulled his horse up short as they crested the hill and the valley opened before them. They had only stopped twice to rest the horses and grab a bite for themselves. It had been a long and hard ride but they had made good time and Jamie was relatively certain they hadn’t been followed.

“Murtagh,” he called his kinsman who had been bringing up the rear and keeping a close eye on Frank who looked like he might drop off the back of Claire’s horse at any moment. “I want ye to ride back a ways just to be sure we were no followed.”

“Do ye want me to go up to the house on my way to meet ye at the cave?”

Jamie flushed red. “No. I’ll go when I’m ready.”

Murtagh nodded and bit his tongue. The lad knew the danger of being on the property without warning folk he was around. Of course if the rumors were true it could be dangerous for him to go to the front door too. But it wasn’t a fight Murtagh was ready to have yet. It would keep until they were tucked safe away in the cave.

As Murtagh rode back, Claire eased her horse forward slowly trying to keep Frank from falling off.

“Where are we going?” To the house down there?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Canna take him to the house––too dangerous, especially wi’ him looking like he does,” Jamie muttered. He hadn’t expected Frank to look so like Black Jack. Given that the last he’d seen his sister had been when Black Jack carted him away, the last thing he wanted was to show up again with a man in tow who looked exactly like him but had clearly been beaten and cut up. “There’s a cave no too far where ye can treat him properly and rest a bit. The soldiers from the fort will check the hill wi’ the stones first thing along with Leoch.”

“But you don’t think they’ll come here?”

“To Lallybroch? Eventually, perhaps,” Jamie admitted. “Randall kens it’s where I’m from and he certainly recognized me. But Dougal and Leoch will keep them busy for a time and they’ll no know about the cave. We should be able to get the pair of ye back to the stones safe.”

Claire looked about to continue the conversation when Frank groaned from his tenuous perch.

Jamie led them downward into the valley and toward the treeline.

It took some careful maneuvering to get Frank down from the horse and on his feet. The uphill climb and rocky terrain meant Jamie was forced to help Frank up to the cave itself.

“I’ll go fetch ye some water,” Jamie said, searching for an excuse to get away from the cave and the sight of Claire with Frank.

“Oh,” Claire muttered, clearly disappointed. “Uh… well, I’ll get started on checking Frank’s wounds but I think he’ll need stitches.”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded. “Ye have yer box there, no? Is there more ye’ll need?”

“A bit of drink for sterilization and to help him with the pain,” she reminded him. “And possibly someone to help hold him still––or at least to hold a light.”

“Ah,” Jamie responded, flushing. “Well… Murtagh shouldna be too far behind. I’ll go fetch him––after I bring ye the water of course.” He turned to go and ignored Claire’s attempts to call him back.

She groaned with frustration and worry. She wanted desperately to talk to him, to explain… but what was there to explain? It was Frank who had no idea what was going on. Grappling with her medical box she returned to Frank’s side.

“Now will you please explain who in God’s name these people are and what the hell is going on,” Frank snapped as Claire began peeling back the improvised bandages gingerly.

Keep reading

Secret Santa Ficlet: Claire’s 12 days of Christmas. Day Eleven.

Welcome to the penultimate chapter, day eleven. For you @captaingothgirl1996 from the genius of @moghraidhjamie

(This chapter is an homage to the ever beautiful and glorious @gotham-ruaidh from the bottom of my heart, you are so lovely and I’m grateful you’re at the forefront of my fandom life and real life too <3) 

Other chapters found: HERE.

On the eleventh day of Christmas: In which auld ghosts give fate a helping hand:

Claire surveyed her empty house. The floors sparkled and the whiff of bleach and lemon flash hung in the air as she rung out the mop one last time.

“Have ye finished in here, Claire?” Jenny sing-songed, prancing into the kitchen/dining room swinging the duster between her fingers. “I think I’m done wi’ the bedroom and the bathroom is shiny like a new penny.”

“Yes, I think so. What do you think?” she queried, unsure of her own cleaning skills, but trusting Jenny’s.

“Aye, beautiful job. Now though, Claire, I think we should be getting home. The dress fitting will be soon and ye dinna want to stink o’ detergent when the lassie gets to us, ken?”

Claire dipped her head and chuckled. Jenny had enough energy to support a whole army, and as well as her other many jobs, she had taken hers and Jamie’s wedding on. Nobody had slept for more than a few hours since she had accepted the proposal, all of them swept up in the excitement.

Feeling slightly nervous, Claire tapped her foot against the clean linoleum.

“Are you certain, Jenny? About the dress I mean,” she questioned, remembering the handful she had been presented with on their first visit to the bridal shop. “I’ve done white before. Isn’t it more *proper* to have something less…virginal bride?”

Taking the keys from Claire’s hands and sweeping her out of the door, Jenny rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“So this is what has been bothering ye all these days? Silly thing, ye are, Claire Beauchamp,” Jenny berated, a lightness to her *mild* castigation. “Ye ken Jamie is dedicated to his faith, aye?”

“Y-yes…” Claire returned, her cheeks tinting pink as they walked, arm in arm, back to Jenny’s wee car.

“Weel, I didna want to spoil the surprise, but since ye insist on being –Debbie Downer– in relation to the grandiose nature of yer nuptials, I think I should let you in on the secret.”

Brushing a loose curl away from her forehead, Claire gave Jenny a withering look. “Oh dear, what has he done?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Jenny started the engine and pulled away from the little house for the very last time, all the while trying desperately not to burst out laughing at Claire’s trepidation.

“Ye ken fine that to wed in a church ye have to attend for three weeks and have the priest announce the ceremony afore hand. Jamie, being a staunch Catholic, and in good relation wi’ our good friends at St Andrew’s, has managed to twist the arms of those concerned, Claire.”

“But, I thought?” Claire murmured, her gloved hands clenching in her lap as she tried to process this massive news.

“Aye, we were meant to have it at home. And he would have been happy to do it. But, considering, he thought he might –try.”

“Even though I’m…not?” Words seemed hard to come by, and so, Claire, her mind racing so fast she thought it might implode at any given moment, opted for as few as possible. Jenny knew what she was getting at.

“Yer to marry a Fraser, Claire. Ye will be, won’t you?” Jenny glanced sidewards as carefully as she could as she drove through the snow filled streets and out of the city. Knowing Claire for such a short while, the subject of religion had yet to come up. She might be a solid atheist for all she knew. Not that it mattered either way; she could see the love the pair had for one another, but it *was* a major part of Jamie’s life.

Biting her lip as she smiled, Claire lost herself in the view as the car skirted the edge of Loch Ness, Urquhart Castle coming into view as they approached Drumnadrochit. “I assumed as much when he braved these roads in thick snow to make an appearance that Sunday when we first met.”

“Dinna think me daft, Claire lassie,” Jenny broke in on hearing her side of their introduction, “because I amne. But…”

Twisting her head as they drove past the myriad of Nessie sculptures that lined the wee hotels through the village, Jenny paused and waited for Claire to nod before she continued.

“…whether ye believe in the Lord or no’, the man has a way of bringing the right ones together. Jamie wasne supposed to go to church that morning. Wee Jamie had been sick and I was filled wi’ cold too. Him and Ian were supposed to take the weans off to do the weekly shopping. I think we both could sense something.” Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, Jenny shook her head, a humourous lilt to her voice as she went on, “He came to me. I dinna think we even said anything to one another, but he came and I nodded and then he left.”

Claire’s mouth opened and closed, as if willing something sensical to come, but it didn’t.

“When he came home, he told me about you. He jokes about my feeling of our father in this house, Claire, but that day, I felt it, and he felt it too. Whether that be God’s work or Da, I dinna ken, but something played a hand in it…and now yer to be marrit.”

Taking her hand from the wheel for one moment, Jenny grasped hold of Claire and held her fingers tight.

“Whatever it is that ye truly believe, Claire, a large portion of Jamie’s heart and soul is rooted in his faith. In *our* faith. That’s why he debated yer first kiss for so long. It’s also why he willna take ye to his bed afore you take him as yer husband.”

Having been moulded by her uncle, an avid fact-finder and illustrious archaeologist, Claire’s thoughts on God had been limited and shallow. She had been taught to admire all of the articles found in relation to Christianity, but had failed to have a connection with anything deeper. Now, however, she had been forced to reevaluate her notions of religion…at very short notice.

She hadn’t even actively contemplated Jamie’s lack of sexual advances. Being an amorous youth, Claire hadn’t waited for marriage for her first sexual encounter. This internal admission made her heart skip a beat. Luckily, it wasn’t a topic she felt like discussing with Jamie’s sister, no matter how close they had become.

“Do you think they would have approved, your parents?” she asked, worry lining her tone as she swept away the stray bits of dust that still clung to her skirt.

“I have nay doubt about it, Claire. Mother would have loved ye. And Da, he kent that he loved Mam the moment he laid eyes on her. A trait, it seems, he kindly passed on to Jamie himself.”

Resting her now free hand on the thin band of gold that lay on her left hand, Claire shifted her knees together in the small footwell. “I would do anything for him, Jenny. He rescued me from crippling loneliness at a time when I didn’t even know that I needed saving.”

“He’s a special one, Claire. There arena many men around like Jamie Fraser…” leaning in to her nearly-sister-in-law, Jenny snorted and bumped shoulders with Claire, “…no’ even Ian, aye?”

Claire laughed, her chest lighter for the comedic injection.

“But, Claire, so are you. If he’s one in a million and he’s chosen ye as his bride, lass, then ye have to be something special too, ken?”

Before Claire could downplay Jenny’s high praise, the car pulled onto the long winding drive that lead up to Lallybroch and the women fell silent. As they rolled around the final corner, the big house came into view, it’s outer arch covered all the way around with tiny candles –all lit and flashing together in solidarity.

“A beacon in the dark, aye? A flame to welcome us home,” Jenny whispered, bringing the car to a standstill and watching as the men exited the house side by side and came towards them, twin smiles plastered across their faces.

“Dinna fash about the white, Claire. Ye are purer than ye give yerself credit for.”  Jenny breathed in the calm air of the heated car, patting her softly on the knee before bending across to give her the smallest of pecks against her flushed cheek. “Make it count, mo phiuthar. These are moments that auld ghosts have deigned important enough to gi’ fate a push wi’. Make them count.”

An Unexpected Visitor

This ficlet is part of the Jamie Through the Stones AU which starts with Third Time’s the Charm.

This ficlet is a direct continuation from Delinquent

My Fanfiction Master List

Available on AO3 as Written in the Stones

This is an Outlander canon divergence AU ficlet.

Let me know what you think.

Keep reading

The way out

Imagine Claire runs into Jamie in the garden after the teasing in the great hall

“Mistress Beauchamp?”

Claire straightened, quickly wiping the tears from her face, and turned in the direction Jamie’s voice had come from. She couldn’t see him for a moment, but then he shifted, stepping out into the light with a soft rustle of the bushes around him. His gaze flicked over her shoulder to where one of Dougal’s loyal guards was watching, then he stepped closer to her, forehead wrinkled with concern.

“Is everything alright, Mistress?” His voice was soft so that only she could hear, clearly not wanting Rupert to be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“I’m fine, Jamie. I- I want to apologize, for teasing you. It was inappropriate, and childish and I-”

“Aye, well, I canna say I appreciated it much, but ye dinna need to fret over it.”

“No, I’m not. Well-” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I’m happy for you, that you… have someone.”

“Have someone? Nay, Laoghaire… she’s a lass wi’ a crush, and I was perhaps a bit cruel myself, kissin’ her like that and allowing her to think I’d more interest than I do. T’was a moment of weakness, ye might say. Mind elsewhere, body doin’ what it wants.”

Claire blinked in confusion, then frowned and gave a little shake of her head. “Right. Well- I won’t tease you about her or… anyone else again. I promise.” 

“Oh, aye. It’s all right. It’s only- I wanted to apologize to ye, as well, for doin’ it where ye might see me. And I wanted ye to ken it meant nothing. That I’m no’ interested in Laoghaire that way.”

“So you said, Mr. MacTavish. You needn’t explain yourself to me.” What the devil was he going on about?

“Well, aye, I do, Claire. See-” He let out a heavy breath through his nose. “T’was you were on my mind, ken. When I was kissin’ Laoghaire. And then I saw ye there, and… it was a fair bit easier to pretend her lips were yours, if ye’ll forgive me sayin’ so.” 


“What I mean t’say is- oh, Christ. I’ve gone and made a mess of it, haven’t I? I shouldna be- ye’ve only just lost yer husband and here I am, rambling on about kiss-”

She didn’t bother to wait for him to finish his sentence. Claire threw herself at him, her body slamming into his, and slipped her arms around his neck to pull him down into a forceful kiss. If it was her lips he’d been thinking of, she would give him something to think of. Because, God, she was lonely, and she was trapped here, and she was never bloody getting back to Frank, and Jamie- His arms had gone around her so easily, his lips moving against hers as if it were the most natural thing either of them had ever done.

At last, she pulled back, let out a soft breath, brushed a hand over her hair, and smoothed her skirts. “Well. Ahem. I trust that will give you something to ramble about, Mr. MacTavish. Now, I think I’ll be off to bed. Goodnight.”

Jamie blinked in surprise and barely had a chance to say goodnight before she’d brushed past him. He turned again, glanced toward Rupert, who was gaping after Claire. So it had happened, then. He hadn’t just imagined it this time. He let out a long breath of his own, then shook his head. Maybe he ought to get some sleep himself. He nodded and took off striding toward the stables.

As if sleep were possible after that.

A Life Unseen - Part 9

Just incase you all haven’t caught up or forgot about the previous installments here are Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8.

Any and all feedback is welcome as are new prompts!

I wouldn’t let Jamie leave my sight after the close encounter with the Red Coats. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was all too happy to have me lean against his chest in one way or another—his arm around my shoulders with me turned in to lean on his side, or to have me lean back and rest on him, by head tucked neatly under his chin. I know the looks and the thoughts of those around us had to be judgmental, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. He was safe and that was all that mattered to me.

“Sassenach?” Jamie whispered into my ear as we sat at the dinner table.


“Thank-ye for caring so much.” I pulled away from his side and narrowed my gaze.  

“Did you think I didn’t care as much for you as you do for me? If that’s the case Jamie Fraser you have another thing coming to you! I love you, you, you foolish, insufferable, pig headed, careless Scot!” My breathing quickened and Jamie’s eyes were filled with mirth.

“Oh do ye now, Sassenach?” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing me flush to his chest again. I could feel myself slowly calm at his touch and level out to the rhythm of his heart. “Do ye realize that’s the first time you’ve told me that you love me?” He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me slightly tighter.

“I-I—” at a loss for words I let him drag me further into his lap and out of my chair.

“Mo ghraidh, is breá liom tú níos mó ná a fhios agat.” I only understood the first part of what he said, even then my translation may have been off.

“What did you just say?” I asked, nuzzling into his chest enjoying the rumbling vibration from his speech against my cheek.

“Mmmm, well I said, My love I love you more than you know. And I mean every word of it, mo nighean donn. I have loved you since the day I helped free ye from that mad bastard and I’ll no stop loving you even after I take my last breath.”

I smiled and kissed his chest, melting into his warm embrace. I could not get over the fact this amazing man loved me. With everything we’ve been through and his sense that something isn’t quite normal with me, he still gives me all of him freely.

“If you two are done acting like the dining room is yer personal chambers, I’d like to hear what happened with the McNab’s and I’m sure ye would like to hear why the lobster backs were on our lands today.” Murtagh grumbled from across the table, a smile evident in his voice.

I went to pull away from Jamie, he wouldn’t allow it. He pulled me tighter too him and started to stroke from my shoulders to lower back in a soothing motion that was probably more to reassure or calm himself than me.

“Aye, Jenny ye said that the McNab’s were no too kind to the two of ye?”

“Och, they were kind enough to me alright, it’s your woman they were no so kind to. Ronald is going to be troublesome. We need to keep a watchful eye on him.”

“Sassenach, what did he do to ye?”

“He didn’t physically do anything to me.” Jamie gave me a pointed look. “He did threaten me and to an extent, you. Claims he knows me to be a witch and doesn’t respect any person who—” I took a breath and looked Jamie in the eyes. “Who would marry themselves off to a Sassenach whore.”

I watched as the fury cut through Jamie’s eyes like ice. A once fathomless, warm and inviting blue now steeled over, ready for a fight.

Hesitantly, I reached out and stroked his cheek. “Jenny stood up for me, us, your family. I still do not trust him or their family. It took everything in me not to scoop Rabbie up and bolt out the door. The man beats his child, Jamie. How could you beat an innocent child to the point of cracked ribs, broken arms, cuts and sores so badly inflamed I’ve had to be called out more than once in the last month to tend to them? Grannie McNab may seem strong and able but the looks she gave me today… It sent chills down my spine. I don’t trust them.”

Jamie squeezed my body tighter to him and looked from Murtagh to Ian. Only a subtle nod was exchanged between the three.

“If what the lass says is true, Jamie ye’ll be needing to have a word with the McNab’s.”

“NO!” I screamed. “You can’t go, please promise me you will not go to their home.”

“Claire, I canna sit by and let the threats be as though it were idle talk. He threatened you by calling you a witch. Christ, do you ken what people would do if they thought you were a witch and brought a trial upon you?”

I shivered knowing exactly what would happen if I were tried as a witch. No one ever survived, guilty or innocent.  I nodded but begged him not to go.

“Lass, do ye ken what ye’re asking of the lad? It’s his duty as yer husband to protect ye. He canna do that by avoiding the problems. As Laird he has a right to go anywhere within his borders and handle a problem the way he sees fit. Being a Sassenach is one thing, a whore another, but to be accused as a witch and in turn bewitching a Laird to marry ye can be considered serious a crime in these parts.” Murtagh shook his head, “Ye have to let the lad stand by yer good name and put a stop to it before rumors begin and yer being burnt in the dooryard!”

“Murtagh’s right, Claire. I was able to stop them temporarily, but Jamie is the only one that can ensure your safety.”

I turned to Jamie, “Even if you were able to ensure his silence for the time being, I don’t trust him. He’d probably turn you over to the Red Coats just as fast as turning me over to the witch hunters.” He nodded but didn’t say anything, which did not ease my mind.

“Speaking of Red Coats,” Ian began. “They were here looking for you Jamie and Claire. Seems ye didna kill Captain Randall that day after all. He’s on a warpath lookin’ for the two of ye.”

My stomach formed an icy lead ball that burst and spread through my veins like fire.

“We managed to convince the soldiers that were here that we had no seen ye since before last winter, hoping to keep them off yer trail. If what Claire and Jenny have said is true about Ronald McNab, we best pray they dinna venture o’re there, fore I believe Claire to be right—Ronald would turn both ye over if he thought it was in his best interest.”

Silence filled the room with an eerie dread settling overtop of us. We weren’t safe here with the McNab’s as unpredictable as they are, nor with Randall out for blood, no doubt. Where could we go? Do we stay and risk our family?

“Jamie,” I whispered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Ye’re not trying to get rid of me or cancel our plans to be married are ye?”

“No, but you might when you’ve heard what I have to say.”

“Not now, mo nighean donn. Tonight, we’ll share a bed and ye can tell me in confidence. Besides, I dinna think I can let ye out of my sight any time soon.”

I nodded and slumped back onto his chest knowing this may be my last time doing so.

Part 10

Fanfic - Bean sídhe (Chapter 15)

I think there will be (a lot of?) thoughts after this chapter and I’d love to hear them all. We have 2 (?!) chapters to go after this one, so we’re really close to the end. See you on the other side!

Previous chapters

Chapter 15 – Death

Claire and William rode hard the next few days. Even though every part of her body ached and she felt a permanent discomfort in her back and belly, she pushed relentlessly for them to continue, even beyond the hours after dusk.

She could feel Willie’s eyes always watching her, concerned, and sometimes he would open his mouth to start to speak. But inevitably something in her face prevented him from saying what was on his mind. She knew what his main fear was, though – he was anxious for the baby, concerned that their mad gallop would endanger her pregnancy. Claire was afraid too, but tried to suffocate the creeping thoughts of losing both Jamie and their unborn child in that hopeless journey. With each passing day the chances of finding Jamie alive and whole waned and the sickening feeling of despair grew.

Initially they tried to talk and maintain a sense of normalcy, but soon enough they were both immersed in their thoughts, too tired and terrified to have a proper conversation. One night Claire woke up amongst the heather, disoriented and screaming after a vivid dream where she shrouded Jamie’s handsome and graceful body, and found Willie’s arms around her. They hugged each other like castaways after a shipwreck, tears concealed by merciful darkness, aware of the loss that awaited them if they failed.

“Lallybroch!” Willie exclaimed one afternoon, standing on his stirrups to look at the distance. Their clothes and horses were soaking wet after a whole day being fustigated by rain and hail. Clare shared his relieved enthusiasm, patting Mary on the neck.

“Let’s go.” She said and they trotted ahead.

As they started to come down the hill, she saw Lallybroch for the first time. It was a beautiful sight, a solid manor in a beautiful landscape. Jamie’s description of his ancestral home was entirely accurate and Claire’s heart ached with the realization that he wouldn’t share with her the first glance of the house that still lived in his dreams.

They could see the encampment built in front of the house, tents popping from the ground like mushrooms in rainy weather. The Campbell’s and MacKenzie’s banners were flying in the wind above the biggest tents.

“Mrs. Fraser.” Gavin looked truly shocked to see them, as they were taken to his presence by a young looking soldier, cheerfully babbling about their great victory in the battle a few days ago. The Campbell was sitting in the best place by the fire, placidly munching a roasted chicken leg.

“Lord Campbell.” Claire acknowledged him with a small nod. “I’m glad to find you in such good spirits.”

“Och, aye.” He smiled with alacrity, pointing to the space near him for them to sit down. “Our Lord Jesus has been good to his most obedient sheep. A great victory was granted to our side, the Grants chased away to their stronghold, Castle Lovat. Lallybroch is ours!”

“You look like a healthy enough sheep, that’s for sure.” Claire responded with dryness. “Lallybroch belongs to Jamie and to nobody else.”

“I must give ye my deepest regards for the loss of yer gallant husband, Mistress.” Gavin said and he sounded sincere. “I can’t say enough of his courage and his value. If not for him, we wouldna be here.”

“I appreciate that, Lord Campbell.” She bent her head. “But he is not lost to me yet. What can you tell me about the circumstances of his capture?”

And so Gavin gave them an expanded recount of the ambush and the fight that followed it, even though he hadn’t been there. He was a good storyteller like most decent Scots, who knew when to make a dramatic pause and how to place his voice to ensure maximum effect. The other men present, mostly prominent tacksmen of the clans involved, had probably heard the tale more than a handful of times – but still they stayed, hypnotized by it, adding some details to guarantee the veracity of the story.

The charged looks which she received assured her that they knew who she was; fear, admiration and reverence the predominant sentiments mirrored on their faces.

“Do you have any idea where they could be keeping him?” She asked afterwards, trying her very best to ignore the glance of pity that Gavin gave her.

“Lass.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “It pains me to crush yer hopes, but ye must ken it’s a fool’s errand. Even if he survived a day or maybe two, Ivor Grant wouldna let him survive this long.”

“I canna speak for Claire,” Willie answered, putting a hand on Claire’s shoulder to steady her. “But I’ve been known to be a fool myself.”


Claire was staring at the flames, silence surrounding her after all men were asleep in the fields and inside the house. She was sitting by herself, slowly revolving the embers with a long stick, asking wordless questions to any deity available to listen to her.

“Claire.” A whisper came to her ear, as Willie sat by her side. She could barely see his silhouette under the new moon.

“What is it, Willie?” She asked, recognizing the worried tone of his voice.

“I’ve been playing darts, drinking and talking with men from the clans.” He said. “Trying to see if anyone had any information that might help us, ye ken?”

“Did you find out anything?” She asked, hope lending an edge to her voice. He gripped her arm in the darkness, as a warning to keep her voice low.

“Nothing that will help us find Jamie.” He answered. “But I ken now that the encampment has been on edge this past few days, men screaming at each other and brawling. I guess victory isna as pure and jolly as Campbell wanted us to believe.”

“Why is that?”

“MacKenzie and Campbell, MacAlister and Chisholm, Cameron and MacLeod…they canna even agree if honey is sweet. They followed Jamie and respected him. He kept them together.  They need Jamie to finish this.”

“Don’t we all?” She whispered.


Sometime during the night Claire must have dozed off, awaking when an owl called between the trees. Her entire body was rigid from bone-deep cold and she tried to flex her hands and knees to get her circulation going. Her arisaid had slipped off and she wrapped it around her arms, furiously rubbing to generate heat.

Bean sídhe.” Someone whispered in the dark, making her jump in surprise.

“Who is that?” She asked, her hand quickly searching for her knife.

“I’m sorry to disturb ye.” A man’s voice, talking near her. With the flames gone and without the glow of the moon, his features remained invisible to her. “I needed to have words with ye, but wanted to avoid others.”

“What do you have to say to me, that couldn’t be said in front of others?” She asked carefully.

“I’m a Grant, Bean sídhe.” He said quietly, surprising her enough that she didn’t make a move to run for help. “I have been infiltrated in the army for some time, sending word whenever I can to Ivor Grant about plans and strategies…about your husband.”

“You’re a mole.” She said, her mouth dry. “A traitor.”

“I’m nay traitor. I followed my Laird’s orders, as we all do.”

“Was it you?” She asked slowly, a bitter taste coming to her mouth. “Did you deliver Jamie to Ivor on a fucking silver platter?!”

“Aye.” He answered hesitantly. “It pained me…I had no hate for Red Jamie. He’s a good man and a born leader. Maybe in another place, another life…I’d follow him. I’d call him my Laird.”

“Have you come to finish the job?” She asked, putting her hand on her abdomen. “You fucking coward!”

Bean sídhe.” He repeated her nom de guerre and there was something about the way he said it that calmed her. “Ye saved my wee son, two years ago. He had the pox and nay physician nor healer would touch him. And yet ye came into my home and treated him like a mother would. He lived because of ye.”

“Ian.” She said, suddenly recalling with vividness the boy. He had been little and very weak, touch and go for a while. A lovely boy, with brown hair and gentle eyes, that she fought with every ounce of knowledge to save. Claire recalled some details of his father, an uncharacteristically caring and educated man, but the memory of his looks was smeared and blotted, like an old stained looking glass.

“Ye saved him.” He repeated. “I owe ye a life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to tell ye where ye can find yer husband.”


There was no pain now, not anymore. Maybe he’d finally hit the threshold beyond this life and he next one; or maybe his body simply wasn’t able to process more unpleasant sensations.

His left hand was crushed, he knew it. Crushed and maimed beyond repair – not even Claire could mend it, the bizarre angles formed by the shattered joints attesting the destruction. His back was a dramatic testament of fury and resistance – burns, cuts and welts from the lash marked on his skin.

Everyday Ivor would come and apply calculated force to ensure the message was being apprehended. Everyday brought another lash or another blow of the mallet. He wanted do break Jamie, to bend him to his will, to reshape him into something that no man would follow. Everyday Jamie would give him a wry smile and bore in silence his punishment. Everyday he would promise in silence to this father the justice that was due to him. Everyday he would hold on to Claire when the pain became unimaginable; he would lie next to her and be healed by her love; he would see them in a future that may never come to pass.

“I will conquer ye. I will put pain in yer every thought until there’s nothing else left.” Ivor promised him. “I will make ye beg, as yer father did before I cut his head.”

“I might beg.” Jamie retorted in a rasped voice. “For ye to shup up and let me sleep.”

A crushing blow to his face made it explode in searing pain, his nose broken for the second time in a few days. That was good – Ivor was angry. And that was a satisfaction that no one could take away from him.

“Maybe,” The man started to say, pushing Jamie from the floor and holding him by the neck. “I won’t wait any longer. The clans are ripe now, ready for the taking, reeking of discord and old feuds.” He gripped him a little, making him cough. “Once ye’re finished they will crumble like a pyre of grass in the wind, ready to kneel before me.”

“Ye may think ye own them.” Jamie whispered, through his clenched teeth. “But the clans remember. Even when I’m gone, someday another man will see ye for the pathetic thing ye are.”

Ivor was choking him for real now, this big hands like iron tweezers around his airway. He struggled, trying to hit him with his arms and legs – but he was so weak and the corners of his vision were already painted with black. He couldn’t breathe and was becoming blind, saved from absolute darkness by millions of incandescent dots inside his head.

I promise. But he was too tired to fight any longer and there was a peaceful place within his reach, a place without pain or fear.

Claire. He saw her then, as he had seen her for the first time, her wild hair like a cloud against the sky, the most alluring and terrifying thing he had ever imagined. I wish I could see her, one last time.

His throat was gasping in spasms, struggling to find saving air. His eyes bulged and for a moment he could see again.

She was cloaked and stood just behind Ivor. He hadn’t noticed her – he was too wrapped in the idea of ending Jamie. She was pale and beautiful, ethereal like Death herself.

Claire moved and leant behind Ivor, whispering in his ear.

“I came for you.” And in a graceful move her hand brought the blade in front of his neck as she slit his throat.

Ivor’s hands lost their strength and he let go of Jamie, who fell on the floor, droplets of blood warming his face. He laid on his back, looking directly at Claire.

“He really shouldn’t have cut my hair.” And she sat down beside him and wept for things lost.

Lallybroch Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Chapter 4: Anticipation

Summary: So the birth was all supposed to be one chapter, but this got a little long, the second part will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy!

It was sometime later in the afternoon, I was helping Jenny and the kitchen servants prepare dinner for the night. My mind was restless and I couldn’t help but think about how much I wanted to find Jamie and have him finish what he started earlier this morning. Ever since the morning sickness had passed, I found that my libido had increased much more than it did the first time around. My need for Jamie became almost insatiable, much to his delight, but every day now was becoming more uncomfortable than the last. My lower back pained me to no end, my breasts ached with the influx of milk, and it felt as though my stomach should be a mass of blue and purple from the amount the child kicked me. As much as I was hesitant about the upcoming birth for medical reasons, I found myself wishing to have the child out of me every hour.

I must have made some sound of displeasure, or perhaps it was just my face that prompted Jenny to give me a sympathetic and knowing glance. She chuckled and put down the knife she was using to chop the onions for the stew. She pulled up a chair, grabbed my hand and tugged me to plop down on it.

“Ye’ll sit down for a moment and gather yer wits. I ken what it’s like so far gone. Like ye want to peel your skin off and ye wish the child would come every minute,” Jenny said.

I sighed and let out a chuckle at her mind reading abilities. I put my hands on my massive stomach and let my head droop. I felt Jenny stop in front of me and she made a Scottish noise. I glanced up at her. She was appraising me, and I could tell she was coming up with some other idea. Content to let her think, I simply let my head fall back down again.

Suddenly, I felt her grab my hands off my stomach and she yanked me off the chair.

“Wha-“, I exclaimed at the sudden movement, which made the child strike a jab to my left kidney. Jenny grabbed the chair and took it across the room and then seemed to begin gathering things in a basket.

I eyed her, annoyed at being uprooted.

“Would you like to explain to me what you’re doing?” I said, hoping my voice sounded as sour as I thought it did to my ears.

I supposed it did because she smirked a little, and came to stand in front of me and handed me the basket.

“Ye need to be outside, Claire. Fresh air will do ye good instead of being cooped up in here like my brother wants ye. Go and pick some herbs or tend to the gardens, or even just walk about to get some fresh air. There’s some food to get ye through the rest of the day until supper.” She gave me a small push to the door, and went back to grab her knife.

I stared at her, dumfounded. “But don’t you need help with supper-“ I started to protest.

She waved the hand carrying the big knife in a dismissive manner. “Nay, we’ll manage. Get on with ye.” And she began chopping again. Clearly the conversation was over.

Seeing as though I had no option to object, I began to slowly shuffle towards the door, muttering obscenities under my breath. As I grabbed my shall from one of the ever-present servants, I heard her call, “Don’t wander off too far!”

As reluctant as I was to walk any amount in my advanced state, I had to grudgingly admit that Jenny was right. As I breathed in the fresh air, I felt more relaxed and at ease than I have in days. My steps became a bit quicker and lighter as the fresh, crisp Scottish air renewed me. It was quite a nice day out, blue skies for a change with only a slight chill to the air. Except for the aching in my back from my elephant sized stomach, I felt better than I had in days.

I found myself so content to just be out of the house, I didn’t realize that I had walked nearly a few miles into the small, dense forest near by the estate. I was originally just going to try and find some rosemary, but my mind was too distracted with the joy at being unwatched for the first time in weeks. Perhaps, I could even convince Jamie to accompany me on a walk tonight. If he found out I was out I was on my own now, he would scold me for days. I sighed and decided to take a little rest in the shade of one of the big trees. It took me a few minutes to get to ground level without toppling over, and I finally found a somewhat comfortable spot with my back against the tree and nibbled on some bread and cheese that Jenny had packed me. Then, full and tired from the walk, I simply let my mind drift to the movements of the baby, ignoring the small ache in my back.

I must have drifted off for sometime, for I came abruptly awake when I felt a large pain in my lower back again. I thought this was probably a sign of false labor, but to be on the safe side I made up my mind to go back to the house. I was using the tree to help myself up on my feet as I felt another stabbing pain.

“Ah!” I exclaimed as the pain rippled down my stomach. I was still holding on to the tree catching my breath when I felt a gush of liquid run down my thighs.

My mind was rationally telling me that my water just broke and I was going into labor. The small back pains I was feeling all night and this morning wasn’t false like I thought, but the early stages of actual labor.

I let out a large breath as I leaned back against the tree, trying to decide the best course of action. I could risk the walk to the house by myself, or I could simply wait here until someone came and found me. With the breathtaking pains, I felt the best choice was to simply wait here. Jamie usually came back in the afternoon for food and to check on me, hopefully Jenny or one of the servants would inform him of my whereabouts.

I struggled back down to the grass to sit down and tried to breath deeply and not panic. It wasn’t too soon, two weeks early means a perfectly developed baby, maybe a little on the small side, but healthy. I tried to reassure myself of this fact to try and calm my mind. Anxiety and stress would be the worst thing for you now, I told myself.

I dozed on and off throughout the pains, trying not to think about how long it has been since they started. The contractions were about seven minutes apart, but that could change at any moment. I was focused on counting the seconds with my eyes sealed shut, when suddenly I felt a presence near me.

I opened my eyes and brought my head up to meet the eyes of a less than enthused Murtaugh. He was looking at me with dispassionate eyes. He shook his head at me, sighed, and stooped to help me up.

“What in Gods name are ye doing out her, woman. Yer husband has the whole farm looking for ye. He’s gone mad with worry,” he said with a very disapproving and exasperated tone as he helped me to my feet. I let out a cry as another pain gripped me. I clutched my stomach and tried to breath through it. I felt Murtaugh start and peered into my pained face.

“Christ! Is the bairn coming?!” he exclaimed and he suddenly grabbed me tighter to him and put a hand on my contracting stomach.

“I rather think so!” I said breathlessly. “Will you help me back to the house or are we to discuss the weather as well?”

I felt him chuckle and sigh and then he asked, “Can ye walk or should I carry ye?” I was about to answer before he made up his own mind and leaned down to grab me and hoisted me into his arms as if I was a log.

I heard him let out all of his breath as he began walking. “How many stones do ye weight?” He asked accusingly.

We finally made it to the house after some struggle. The contractions were about five minutes apart now and more painful than ever. As we came into view of the house, I saw one of the stable boys that Jamie must have deployed to keep watch catch a glimpse of us and yell out.

“My larid! The mistress is over here,” he yelled loudly as he took off running, presumably to wherever Jamie was hunting for me.

The pains were taking up most of my attention at the moment, but I did at least have enough awareness to ask Murtaugh one question.

“How mad do you think he will be?”

I felt him snort and squinted as the bob of bright copper hair appeared around the turn of the road, atop of Donas, and immediately swung off the beast when he got sight of me, tossing the reins carelessly to the boy would followed right behind him.

“Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing he’ll have a new son to distract him, it might be a good few days until he remembers to scold ye properly.” He said in his usually straightforward, honest manner.

He didn’t have time to say much else before Jamie was before us, running determinedly to where Murtaugh stood, still holding me in his arms. He was still a few yards away, but that didn’t stop him from the shouting.

“Sassenach! Do ye ken how worried I’ve been? Do ye have any sense at all? Jenny should have never suggested such a notion of ye to go out by yourself! And for you to venture so far out, while yer as big as a house, that I have to send the whole damn farm to search for ye because I coudna find ye! Do ye ken…,” he suddenly stopped his frantic, angry rant as he came close enough to see the pained expression on my face. This alarmed him very much and he sprinted the last few feet to me.

He came up to Murtaugh and took me gently out of his arms and into his own. I immediately became more at ease, even though the movement made the contraction worse. And then Jamie became tender as milk, which was his usually reaction when I was in pain. He began to make soothing Galeic sounds as he began to walk into the house.

“What’s amiss, lassie?” He asked as he walked through the door way. “Let’s get ye in bed, mo nighean donn,” he said, not waiting for me to respond.

I let out a deep breath as the contraction finally passed. My temples were damp and my fingernails were embedded into Jamie’s shirt.

I was working up the ability to speak when we passed Jenny on the way to the stairs with little Kitty on her hip. She took one look at my flushed face and Jamie’s unaware one.

“Ouch, the bairns’s coming then. I’ll tell Fergus to go get the midwife directly. I’ll give wee Kitty to Mrs. Crook and be up to help ye, Claire.” And then she was she a flurry of skirts as she turned.

I felt Jamie start and he

peered down to look at my face.

“The barin’s coming?” He asked rather dumbly in my pained opinion.

I let out an impatient breath, wanting to be in bed before the next contraction comes.

“Yes, I rather think so at this point if the shooting pain is anything to go by. Do hurry, please.”

I heard him swallow hard, but he finally began walking, taking each stair extremely carefully, calculating every step of the way up to the second floor and to our bedroom and at last, to large bed.

As he laid me gently on the bed, I glanced up at his face, which had gone white and stiff. I gently brought my hand up to cup his cheek. His eyes immediately looked down at me, and I realized just how terrified he was about what was about to happen. I was suddenly overcome with tenderness for him, a man scared out of his wits that his wife might die in the coming hours or at the least face a serious illness.

He didn’t let go of me once he set me down, and instead tightened his hold as though he must lay his hands on me or else I might disappear in that exact moment. His eyes searched my face for a long time, and I didn’t know quite what he was looking for. I stroked his cheek, gently brushing my thumb under his stricken eyes, which explained to me the depth of his terror without words.

Please, don’t leave me, they said, don’t leave me alone here, I couldn’t bear it.

My own eyes prickled with tears, and I tried to speak very soft, and in a comforting manner.

“Everything’s going to be alright, love. I’m going to be fine, I swear it.” I said, as I implored his eyes to understand the truth in mine. I could see a faint glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which made my heart break even more.

His hands gripped mine hard enough to rub the bones together. He bowed his head for a moment and nodded slightly while sniffling ever so quietly, trying so hard to keep his own fears from making my own greater.

He brought his head up after a few moments and attempted a small smile; I realized how much work it took to put it there, and leaned down to press a gentle but strong kiss to my forehead.

“Aye,” he whispered, “You’ll be fine. And soon enough ye will have our wee bairn in your arms.” He said, and I felt that the smile transformed into something a little bit more authentic.

“I’m always right, aren’t I?” I said, trying to ease him and myself.

He chuckled against my forehead and brushed my damp curls behind my ears.

“Aye. Sassenach, ye have-“ his response was cut short as I let out a small cry as the next contraction cam over me. I doubled over and clutched my stomach to somehow try and control the pain. This one was so strong, I barley noticed Jamie’s rubbing on my back, a little to fast to sooth. He pried one of my hands off my belly and let me grip it.

I let out a large breath a few moments later as the pain eased a bit. I became aware that Jamie was kissing the same spot on my temple repeatedly, which started to irrationally annoy me.

I leaned away from him and let go of his hand. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my heartbeat as Jamie continued to mumble Galeic to me. This was how Jenny found us some minutes later as she entered the room with a pitcher and rags. She walked over to the bedside table, pushing Jamie aside, and placed the items on the table. She glanced at her brother fleetingly.

“Ye can leave now, brother. Dinna fret, I’ll take good care of yer wife.” Jenny said with a conviction so strong that even I believed as she poured water from the pitcher into the basin.

Jamie glanced at her and then back at me, helpless, as she began mopping my sweat-ridden forehead with some of the cool water from the basin as another contraction ripped through me.

During the shuddering pain, I felt him let go of me and begin to start reluctantly edge closer to the door. My mind suddenly panicked, as if he disappeared, so would my grasp on the world. I couldn’t bear to see him actually leave, the thought of it bringing a sudden gush of tears down my cheeks and a gasping sob that didn’t have as much to due with the psychical pain than the emotional distress of my voice of reason leaving me in the time I needed it most.

“No!” I gasped hoarsely and reached out a hand to him as if I could will him to stay with my mind. “Please! Stay, Jamie. I can’t bear to have you leave yet! I need you, now,” I pleaded with him, making myself speak through the pain.

Jamie looked startled at this, but within seconds came rushing back to my side, moving past Jenny who had stopped her attentions to me, and brought his head down to kiss me gently and chastely. He looked into my eyes, not a inch from my own, and said in a very strong, authoritative voice, “I wilna leave ye ever, Claire. So long as ye wish me to be here, here I’ll be.”

The irrational tears lessened at his promise and I clutched his forearm as if it was an anchor to keep me from slipping away into the dark haze of pain.

Jenny looked down disapprovingly at me, clucking her tongue. She assessed Jamie and I, sealed together as if we were actually attached. She shook her head and handed Jamie the wet rag.

“Fine, ye can stay until the midwife gets here, but ye’ll be of use.” She said and then walked away to the door.

“I’ll go make some broth to keep your strength up, ye will need it.” And then she was gone.

Jamie glanced after her and said something under his breath, as he brushed the back of my neck with the rag. I laughed as the contraction finally eased.

Jamie looked back down at me, the tension in his shoulders easing as he heard my laugh. He brushed the rag down the front of my neck, water droplets running down into my bodice.

“Alright for now, lass?” he asked.

I heaved myself up into a sitting position and tried another deep breath.

“No, I need to get out of these clothes. Now.” I said, as nicely as I could under the circumstances.

“Aye, of course,” he responded quickly, grateful that there was something he could help with.

He supported my back with one arm as he grabbed my hand and helped me ease up with the other. I groaned as I became vertical once more, shocked that this felt much better now than lying down. Jamie untied my skirts and then unlaced my half-tied corset, leaving me in my shift and stockings. I relaxed a bit more when the cool air rushed on my skin, leaving it a mess of goose bumps.

Jamie put one hand on my shuddering belly, his facial expression a mix between fascination and awe as to what was happening now and what was going to happen soon.

I put my hand over his. “You’ve seen birth before,” I said, softly.

He looked up at me, a gaze of childlike blue. He looked back down at our hands.

“Animals, aye. But never a woman, and certainly never…my wife,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the word wife.

I squeezed his hand, hard. “I know that-“ I was going to continue to sooth him, but the sharp pain of another contraction stopped me. I squeezed his hand hard enough to break it, as I gasped to him, “I need to walk!”

“Walk?” He asked, confused as to what I was talking about. “Ye need to be lying do-“

“Walk,” I interrupted him, “Now.” I started to step away, placing both of my hands on my lower back and began to pace around the perimeter of the room. Jamie watched me, helplessly. He said something under his breath and came over to where I was panting, near the window. He grabbed my hand and put his other around my waist.

“Fine,” he said, exasperated, “walk, it is.” And we began to paced slowly around the room, stopping once every few minutes, when a contraction took me and left me bent over my stomach, gasping through the pain, with Jamie whispering soothingly in Galeic and rubbing my aching back.

This was the way Fergus found us some time later as he rushed into the room, too excited to knock.

“The midwife’s here! She’s just come around the bend in the road. I’ll bring her up as soon as she’s in the house!” He exclaimed and promptly rushed back through the door.

Jamie and I both looked at each other, every emotion displayed on our faces, unguarded. There was hope, fear, excitement, but most of all there was love. And we both knew this would get us through whatever happens next.

Chapter 5

the talk

@kalendraashtar asked Mod Gotham about the conversation where Modern Glasgow!Jamie and Claire decide to wait until their wedding night. So this story takes place on the night they get engaged - which is on the day after they meet on the flight from New York to Glasgow…and they share a bed for the first time…

Jamie sat up straight against the headboard, listening to Claire brush her teeth.

What in hell was he supposed to do now? He’d never shared a bed with anyone – well, sleeping with his parents or his sister when he was a bairn didn’t count. What did a man wear to bed with a woman he was going to marry? Was it too forward of him to just be wearing his sleep pants? She’d seen his chest and back before, but that was different…

Was she expecting anything? She’d shared a man’s bed before – what if he didn’t match up? Christ, was she already comparing him to Frank?

All thoughts left his head as she turned off the tap and strode into the bedroom.

Her pyjamas were conservative – a scoop-necked top that showed off her bonny collarbones, and loose knee-length pants. Her lovely hair was down, curling madly around her face. She smiled at him as she eased beneath the covers and leaned into his side. Automatically his arm rose to settle around her shoulders. She leaned into him, sighing. Jamie’s eyes saw right down the front of her shirt, eyes tracing the milky white contours of her breasts. He swallowed.

“This is nice,” she purred.

“Aye.” He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. So grateful to be here, in this moment, with her.

“I’ll give ye a proper flat,” he said softly into the clouds of her hair. “I dinna ken how much I’ll be making at the printshop, but I promise ye I’ll provide a home of our own.”

She sighed. “I make a decent salary at the hospital. Frank’s flat was provided by the university – so I’ve been able to save up a good deal. I can support us until you land on your feet.”

He held her tighter. “It’s my duty as yer husband to provide for ye,” he said softly.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “And it’s my duty as your wife to support you in whatever way I can,” she said just as softly. “Do you think I’ll need you any less, just because I can pay my own bills?”

He swallowed and shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t. I – Claire.”

She traced his cheek, so softly. “You said you’d provide me space to be myself. Let me provide you space to be yourself. It doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

He nodded, eyes captivated by hers. “We can stay here a while longer – but we should start looking for a place to live. A home of our own.”

She ran her thumb along his lips. “Yes. Though you should know I’m not much of a cook. Or a housekeeper.”

“Dinna fash yerself. We’ll make do.”

She sighed happily. “I so want to make a home with you, Jamie. It would be our –” she blushed.

He kissed her forehead. “Our what, mo nighean donn?”

She smiled. “Our – sanctuary. Away from the world. Just us. We could drink whisky, watch television, not make the bed.” She paused, thoughtful. “And – make love wherever and whenever we wanted.”

He swallowed, the long column of his throat bobbing up and down. “Aye,” he rasped. “Claire – I – I want to tell ye something.”

She nodded, encouraging.

“I – I dinna wish to lie wi’ ye until we’re wed.”

She traced his lips. “Are you scared of it?”

“No – no I’m not. Only – I want to do everything properly wi’ ye. I want to marry ye in a church, before a priest. I want ye to wear a bonny dress. I want to give ye a proper home. Because it’s what the men in my family do, Claire. We take care of our women, and care for them. And love them wi’ all we have.”

Touched, she rested her forehead against his. “You’re so traditional,” she breathed.

He laughed. “Aye, weel. It’s worked for Frasers for hundreds of years, ken? Why stop now?”

Thoughtfully he traced one big hand down her front to rest on her belly. Bravely his fingers pushed up the fabric to feel her sensitive skin there. His thumb settled in her navel, fingers cupping the small swell of flesh.

“Claire – I must ask ye. Do ye – do ye want children?”

Her eyes met his. This conversation had gotten very serious very quickly. But they needed to talk on these things – needed to discuss this.

“Honesty, right?” she asked softly. He nodded.

“Yes. But I never really considered it – it was never an immediate possibility. Frank, he – didn’t want children right away. So we – took precautions.” Her cheeks flamed.

“Like what?” Jamie’s voice was quiet.

She sighed, flustered. “Do you really want to know about my sex life with Frank?” she said tiredly.

His free hand cupped her cheek. “I willna ask ye about anything ye dinna wish to tell me. I only ask there be complete honesty between us, Claire.”

She nodded. “I – well. I’m on a pill. And Frank he – he used condoms. So.” She blushed scarlet.

Jamie kissed her forehead. “Ye’ve nothing to be ashamed of. I’m no’ embarrassed by it. I ask because I want to know what ye like – what ye don’t like.”

She sighed. “He didn’t want to – to finish inside me. He didn’t like how it felt.”

His heart raced. “When – when I lie wi’ ye, Claire – do ye want me to do that? Would that – would that please ye?”

She nodded furiously. Her eyes met his, so open and honest. It was probably the most honest conversation she’d ever had – and he was so patient and understanding. Dear God, he only wanted to understand her and please her.

His fingers traced her stomach, so brave, trembling. “I’ll give ye that gift, then. For as long as ye wish, Claire. And – ” he stopped, hesitating.

“Don’t you stop talking now,” she said quickly. “Don’t you start making me uncomfortable.”

He drew in a shaky breath. “Claire – I want children. As many as possible. As soon as possible. Is that – is that something ye’re willing to do?”

Would she give Jamie that gift? The gift of her love, the gift of her body?

“Yes,” she breathed. How she wanted everything with this man.

He swallowed. “So – the pills. Ye’ll stop taking them?”

She nodded.

“How long until it washes out of yer body?”

She considered. “About two weeks.”

He nodded. “So that’s when we’ll marry. Even if it’s just in the registry office – we can have our church wedding later.” He paused. “Now do ye understand why I want to wait to lie wi’ ye until we wed?”

Overcome with emotion, he eased her back into the pillows and climbed on top of her. He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, looking straight down at her. His pelvis rested in the cradle of her hips. He closed his eyes, lost in feeling. Then opened them. His eyes shined into hers.

“Just think on it, Claire – the first time I lie wi’ ye, finish inside ye – we could make a bairn. Because ye want to, and because I trust ye. And the bairn would always know – it was made during a moment of such love and honesty and commitment.”

She burst into tears and wrapped her legs around him. “Jamie – ” she rasped. “Jamie – I –”

He kissed her tears away. “Hush,” he said softly. Gently he ground his pelvis into hers. She gasped against his lips. “I know, mo nighean donn. Ye feel the same way, don’t ye?”

She nodded, holding him tight. She wanted to give this man everything.

“Will you still want me when I’m fat and pregnant?” she whispered into his ear.

He groaned. “Ye canna say those things to me,” he whispered. “I think I’ll want ye even more, when I see ye all swollen wi’ my child.”

He drew back and butted his nose against hers. “So I’ll want to keep ye pregnant as much as I can, aye?”

She stole a kiss and bit his lower lip. “We’re going to have so much fun together, Jamie.”

He rolled off her but kept his arms locked around her side, their legs tangled together. “Do ye truly want the bairns, then? Not just because I want them?”

“I do, Jamie. I – I never thought I’d meet a man who would want the same thing.”

He cupped her belly once more. “I canna wait to feel a bairn move inside ye.”

“Not so fast, laddybuck,” she smiled. “I canna wait to feel ye move inside me first.”

He groaned. “Is two weeks too long?”

She sighed happily. “I need to get a dress. That should take a good week at least.”

He kissed her nose. “Murtagh thinks we’re mad.”

She kissed his chin. “Murtagh also thought he could best me at the pub.”

He laughed and rested their foreheads together. “What do ye want to do tomorrow?”

Her hand rested in the hollow of his chest. His heart beat strongly under her palm. “Hmm. Do you need to do anything before you start at the printshop? I don’t want to keep you from getting ready.”

He nuzzled her nose. “No, I dinna need to do anything. Just a wee phone call. I want to spend every moment I can wi’ ye, before ye go back to the hospital and I start my job.”

She nodded. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, then?”

He rose to switch off the bedside lamp and returned, gathering her to him. She nudged even closer so that they shared a pillow.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Jamie.”

anonymous asked:

I would like one of you to write a huge jealous scene between them. I mean Jamie is blind by his jealousy from someone in the French court (I haven't read the 2nd book yet if it is in the book please imagine another scenario with the same players). Please take the fight by the river as your guide. Thanks in advance, girls. You do an amazing job here :)

Modern Glasgow AU

“Jamie, please – ”

His grip on her wrist tightened as he pulled her across the dance floor, away from the man at the bar, closer to the exit.

“Jamie – ” But her voice was drowned out by the thumping bass as they wove through the crowd. He turned to make sure she was all right, but his iron grip did not relent until they reached the vestibule and he had to fish around in his pocket for their coat check stubs. Claire awkwardly rubbed her bare arms as they waited; Jamie wordlessly glowered at the attendant as she placed their coats on the counter. He helped Claire into her coat before winding the tartan scarf around his neck, shrugging into his own coat, and almost dragging Claire into the cool autumn night.

Claire’s ears rang in the sudden quiet – and she whirled to face her husband, yanking away from his grip.

“I cannot believe you did that.”

His brows shot up almost to his hairline. “What else was I supposed to do, Claire? The man was coming on to ye verra strong and his eyes were staring right down your dress and he didna give a damn about that ring on yer finger.”

Claire shoved suddenly cold hands into her pockets to prevent herself from slapping him. “I was doing just fine, Jamie. You know I can handle myself – I manage perfectly well with all those handsy doctors at the hospital. There was no need for you to threaten him with violence.”

“No need?” Jamie exasperatedly ran his hands through his hair until the shorter pieces stood on end. “No need? Am I to just stand idly by and enjoy watching another man try to get your attention? Watch him ogle ye, and then watch ye laugh at something he said?”

Furious now, Clare stepped closer to him. The mist of their breaths came fast in the chilly air. “What are you saying? Do you think I was encouraging him? Christ, Jamie – his brother was treated at the hospital a few months back and he was telling me about – ”

“I dinna care one bit, Claire.” He stood nose to nose with her, breathing hard. “He had this look about him – he wanted ye. And you’re mine.”

Claire narrowed her eyes, jaw set. “Oh, really? So I’m not allowed to make conversation with men I’m not married to, then?”

He huffed, frustrated. “That’s no’ what I mean, and ye ken that well.”

“Well, what does it mean? You can’t dictate what I do and don’t do. You left to go to the restroom, for God’s sake! He just started talking to me. I was being polite, Jamie.” She hesitated, but continued. “I swear, sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

That set him off. “What are ye saying, then? Ye ken fine that we’re still getting to know each other – but I know you, Claire. Ye can be a bit foolish when ye’ve had some drinks, and I didna want him to think – ”

Claire slapped him. The smack of flesh echoed in the quiet street, and Jamie could only blink at her, stunned.

“What the hell, Claire?”

She raised her hand again, but this time he caught her wrist. “Claire – ”

“Foolish? Foolish? You have no right to say that. Don’t talk down to me.”

“I’m no’ talking down – ”

“Yes you are. You can’t stand the thought of me enjoying myself in the company of other men. Because only you, James Fraser, have the right to do that.” Her voice was livid, and she struggled against his grip. “Just like you can’t stand hearing about anything to do with Frank.”

“Dinna mention his name to me,” Jamie seethed. “I’m yer husband now. And how many times to I have to say that it’s the other men I don’t trust? I trust you implicitly, Claire. I trust your vow to me, I trust what’s in your heart.” He paused, and when she made no attempt to interrupt or strike him, he continued.

“I ken we may have rushed into marriage – we didna truly date or take time to really get to know each other. But Claire – ” He swallowed. “Claire – you are my life. I so worry about ye – working wi’ ill patients, or wi’ male doctors who only want to get up yer skirt, or taking the bus home by yourself late at night. Because if something were to happen to ye – ”

His voice broke and he released her, quietly turning away. Claire watched his broad shoulders heave up and down in a tremendous sigh.

Touched, she rested a tentative hand on the scratchy wool of his coat. “Jamie – ”

“I panicked tonight, Claire,” he said quietly. “I saw ye talking to that man, and laughing wi’ him, and I felt my own heart’s blood leave my body. Because I saw him, and I thought he’s the man ye deserve. He’s no’ a bumbling lad of twenty-four – he probably has a nice car and a well-paying job and he was wearing a nice watch. I canna support us in the way ye deserve wi’ my salary from the printshop. We live in a two room flat wi’ spotty heating and ye had to pay for yer own wedding ring. I have no idea how we’ll afford yer medical school but I’ll do whatever it takes for ye to achieve yer dreams.”

Claire softly spun him around, but still he refused to look at her.

“Jamie?” Her heart clenched at the tears shining in his eyes. “I know you’re looking out for me and protecting me in your own way. I know you trust me. I know I can get a bit ridiculous when I’ve been drinking. But you just need to relax – I’m not going anywhere. I want you. I want what we have together. Nothing else. Nobody else. We married quickly, yes – but we didn’t rush into it.”

Gently she rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs, tangling her fingers in his thick curls. His eyes – open, fathomless – bored into hers.

“You’re mine, too – you know that, right?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry for what I said, Claire. I know I need to think more – ”

“Shh.” She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted in the way I did. Forgiven?”

“Aye,” he rasped. She tenderly grasped his chin – rough with the day’s stubble – and pulled him close for a kiss.

“Take me home, Jamie,” she murmured against his lips after a long while.

He exhaled, feeling the dark knot of jealousy loosen in the pit of stomach – to be replaced with joy, and something a bit headier.

“I love you,” he whispered.

He felt her smile against his lips. “God help me, I love you,” she breathed.

lostinthefanasy  asked:

I'm not sure if you've already done this, but in the Modern!Glasgow AU I was wondering if you might possibly consider writing about Claire and Jaime's first major fight?

anonymous asked: Modern Glasgow Au: Imagine Jamie and Claire first *major* fight like not just a little bickering.  The first time they realize it might not always be smooth peaceful romantic sailing.

Modern Glasgow AU

Claire swirled her ankle, absently watching the water fold and bend on the far side of the bathtub, desperately trying to feel numb.

How *could* he? How did it come to this?

“Claire?” Murtagh’s worried voice filtered through the thick door.

“I’m still alive,” she murmured. Not wanting company. Watching her fingers prune.

“Ye’ve been in there for two hours, lass. Can I get ye anything?”

*Just a sensible husband.*

“No – I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

She didn’t feel it.

Damn him.

“As ye say. I’ll put the kettle on just in case.”

Rudely, she said nothing. Not caring, for once in her life.

Murtagh’s steps shuffled away from the door – and she was alone again.

Claire sat up, water cascading down her shoulders. Past the love bite Jamie had left on the side of her right breast. Last night? Forever ago.

It had been a long day. And it would be an even longer night.

The second day of medical school orientation had seemed to be longer than the first. The introductions had been made, the campus tour had been provided, the courses had been selected. And today, in between lunch with the dean and a trip to the bookstore and a meeting with Geillis Duncan, the second-year student who would be her “buddy” – she had received her first tuition bill.

She knew roughly how much it would be, of course – but seeing all the zeroes with her own eyes had been a bit…overwhelming.

So she’d brought the statement home, and laid it on the table, intending to discuss it with Jamie during dinner.

And they had – just not in the way she’d expected.

“We willna be touching any of yer money, Claire,” he had insisted. “My salary can cover it – ”

“What do you mean?” she’d interrupted, speaking around a mouthful of curry. “You *know* your salary can’t. We’ve talked about this, Jamie – I have more than enough money to pay for this year at least. What else is the money for, after all?”

“What’s it *for*?” he’d hissed, gently pushing aside his plate and resting his elbows on the table. “It’s for our future – that’s what. For the bairns we’ll have, God willing. For a better flat.”

“So I just sit on it, then? Even though spending it means we’ll live a little better?”

“Ye’ll keep it in the bank, because it’s my job to provide for ye, Claire.”

She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “Jamie – not that I don’t appreciate it – ”

He sighed. “I can hear a ‘but’ coming…”

“…But we both know it’s foolish to not dip into that money. It means a lot to me that you *want* to cover the expenses – but it’s just too much, and you know that.”

“I dinna *want* to cover it, Claire – I *need* to cover it. I’m your *husband,* damn it. It’s my job to provide for ye.”

Claire sat up a bit straighter, eyes narrow. “Oh – so I can’t provide for myself, then? All that work I did at the hospital, all the saving I did – it’s not as good as *your* money?”

He leaned across the table, ruddy brows furrowed. “I didna say that, Claire. I ken weel ye can provide – ”

“Can I? Isn’t my money as good as yours? Or better, even, since I was making a lot more than you until I quit?”

That stung. Jamie blinked in shock. His mouth wordlessly opened and closed, struggling to find the words.

“Ye dinna need to remind me how poorly I’m paid, for all the hours I put into that job,” he hissed, voice deadly calm. “Ye dinna need to remind me how I came into this marriage with barely any money. I ken ye’re no’ used to living this way, wi’ a man who can barely afford the clothes he wears to work every day – ”

“We are so *not* talking about Frank right now!”

“We aren’t? Ye dinna think the thought never crosses my mind that the only reason why ye have that money in the first place is because ye were living wi’ him? Because ye were sharing his bed?”

Claire reeled. “This is all about you, isn’t it, and your bloody pride! You *hate* the fact that I had those years with him, don’t you? You *hate* that he was my lover! You *hate* that there are pieces of me that you’ll never have!”

Jamie sprung to his feet, and his chair crashed to the floor. “Aye! I do, damn me! And damn *you,* Claire Fraser, for making me feel that way!”

Now Claire rose, hands shaking with shock and rage. “You make *yourself* feel that way, you bloody jealous bastard. It’s *my* money. I worked for it. I can spend it however I damn well please – there’s no use in saving it for children that may never come.”

“What the hell does *that* mean, Claire? Is that a threat?”

His chest was heaving with adrenaline – his pupils dilated – his face flushed – his hair messy.

God, she wanted to ravish him right there on the table.

God, she wanted to smack him.

“It’s not a threat, you fool. It’s a reality – we fuck twice a day, never use protection, and I haven’t gotten pregnant. At this rate I probably never will.”

When had the tears started falling down her cheeks?

“So I don’t care about saving the money – I’m probably barren, and if I don’t have a family at least I can have a career to fall back on.”

And just like that, Jamie fell back into his chair, deflated. Wordless.

Except for the one word that mattered to him above all else.


She couldn’t bear it.

In slow motion, she walked across the kitchen, gathered her blue coat from the peg and her keys and phone from the cut glass bowl that Murtagh had given them for a six-month anniversary present, and slipped out the door.

Where else to go on a damp Glasgow evening but Murtagh’s flat.

He’d answered her knock, seen her tear-streaked face, and shook his head.

“Do ye want me to kill him?”

Claire could only sigh. “I need – space.”

Murtagh had taken her coat. “Whatever ye need, lass. Yer old bedroom is empty if ye need a wee rest.”

“Thank you, but I think I’ll take a bath first.”

Anything to cleanse the poison from her mind, body, and tongue.

It hadn’t quite worked – but at least it had calmed her down.

Clad in the fluffy spare pyjamas she kept in a drawer in the bedroom where she and Jamie had lived for the first six months of their marriage – the bedroom where they’d spent their wedding night, and dozens of hours of lovemaking and sharing promises and secrets in the dark – she finally slept.

And nearly screamed when someone opened her door, deep in the night.

“Claire?” Murtagh’s sleepy voice rasped.

“Hmm?” She reached out to Jamie’s side of the bed by reflex – and remembered it all in a flood.

“He’s outside.”


A sigh. “Yer husband. He’s banging on the door and probably waking up all the neighbors.”

Now she sighed, flicking on the tableside lamp.

Murtagh rested in the doorway, wearing a faded University of Glasgow t-shirt and sweatpants.

Then she heard it – three loud bangs on the door.

And rose, slipping past Murtagh in the doorway and silently padding toward the door.


Jamie’s voice was hoarse – rasping. Broken.

“Let me inside. I’m sorry, Claire. I’m sorry.”

Something in his voice shattered her heart. It was the sound of a man who feared he had lost everything.

“I’ll beg ye on my knees if I have to, Claire. I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Do ye want me to kick him out?”

Murtagh was at her elbow, ready to protect her.

She lifted her chin. “No. No – I’ll let him in.”

And so she unlocked the door – and saw Jamie, damp hair plastered to his forehead, wearing only his undershirt, teeth chattering in the cold.

His face contorted in physical pain as he felt his heart die in his chest.

His eyes red and puffy. And fixed on her.

He dropped to his knees before her in the doorway.

“*Mo nighean donn. Mo chridhe.* I am sorry. I ask your pardon, for what I said. I said more than I meant. Will ye forgive me?”

He would wait for her, cold and uncomfortable, for as long as it took.

And she knew it.

So there was no question.

“Forgiven,” she breathed. “Always.”

So she extended her hand – her left hand, the one that so proudly wore his ring – and helped him to his feet.

And then in the doorway he crushed her to him, and held her and held her and held her. While Murtagh kept the door open.

And then they slowly, automatically made their way down the hall to the room where it had all began. Claire shut the door, helped Jamie out of his damp clothes and into the soft, worn pyjamas that lived beside hers in the drawer of the spare bedroom. And then they lay down in the dark together, her head tucked under his chin.

“I ken there’s so much we need to say to each other, Claire – but let me speak first.”

She hummed against his neck, holding him – her anchor – so tight.

“I want ye to use the money in whatever way ye want. I only want to make sure we have enough to spare us, in case something goes wrong. Enough put aside to plan for our future – because I want the best future with you, Claire. And the family we will have. And the house we will have, God willing.”

He swallowed. She kissed his Adam’s apple.

“I had thought it would be a certain way, now that ye’re no’ working. I had thought that it was time for me to take care of you, like a husband ought to care for his wife. Because that’s what I thought would be expected of me. But now I see, for you and me it has to go a different way.”

He kissed her forehead.

“And that’s no’ such a bad thing, is it?”

“Mmm. It’s not.”


A long beat. Jamie’s thumbs traced the curves of her shoulderblades.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispered in the dark. “What I said was completely unfair and uncalled for. Forgive me?”

“Ach, nay bother. Truth is, I’d forgiven ye already - for this, and anything ye could ever do. Because I thought I’d lost ye, Claire. And wi’out ye, my life is nothing.”

“Sshh. Rest now,” she soothed. “I’m here. You’re tired. I’m tired. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thank God.”

*Thank God,* she echoed over and over in her mind, feeling him fall into sleep, still holding her tight.

She tangled her legs with his, so happy that this traditional, stubborn man was hers. All hers.

Thank God.