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aquadestinyswriting · 1 year

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Role Reversal

Summary: Set in a vague time around 2-3 years after the end of the campaign. Meredith has to resort to desperate measures to escape a group of bounty hunters.

Words: 1,033

Warnings: some mild fantasy violence, otherwise harmless fluff is fluffy.

Notes: Merri gave up correcting people with regards to her relationship with Elowyn. The bards were a bit too effective with their songs to bother. Also, let's assume Auri is off visiting her family at this point, hence the lack of a very angry dragon.

tags: @druidx, @strosmkai-rum, @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm

Meredith swore loudly at the wall at the end of the supposed side street she’d just run down. OK, so her sense of Toreguarde’s geography was way off, now how to get out of here and back towards help? Moradin’s High Inquisitor turned awkwardly, trying not to catch the unconscious woman in her arms on the walls of the alley. A group of tall, hooded figures blocked the entrance,

“There you are.” one of them growled, “Looks like we got you and your girlfriend cornered , so why don’t you hand yourself over and maybe we’ll call someone to take care of her?” Meredith snorted, gently placing Elowyn on the ground behind her and drawing her mace,

“No’ bloody likely.” she growled, “D’ye ken how much grief I’d get if I did that? An’ no’ just from her either.” The apparent leader of this particular gang of thugs chuckled darkly,

“Have it your way. Harykk!” he called. Another figure stepped forward, muttered an incantation and threw his hands forward, a fireball launching towards the two women. Meredith pulled out her holy symbol and shoved it in front of her with a snarl. A shockwave of divine energy shot out from the glowing necklace, neatly dividing the fireball in two and unmaking the spell mere feet from its target. Meredith glared at the sorcerer who had been haranguing her and Elowyn for most of the afternoon, not even flinching as the embers of the fireball wafted past her head. A lance of pain shot through her temple, a painful reminder that she was running on magical fumes. Another figure stepped forward, twisting his arms and wordlessly tossing another spell at the dwarf. Meredith quickly brought her holy symbol to her chest and prayed. The magical missiles bounced off the shield that suddenly surrounded the woman. Meredith panted, sweat now beginning to drip down her nose. Where in the Pit were Snotgrut and Yoruk? While there weren’t any timekeepers around, surely it was well past the time that the four of them were to meet up again.

“You can’t keep that up forever. Give up.” the gang leader jeered. Meredith grunted as another barrage of magic assaulted her shield spell. She needed to incapacitate these guys, and quickly. At least she’d managed to get a Sanctuary on Elowyn. Dim memories of being caught in an alleyway with goblins either side came back to the cleric. It was probably a monumentally stupid move, but why fix a plan that had never been broken?

The gang leader shook his head and held up his hand to stop his fellows from casting, sending an annoyed glare at the dwarven woman when he saw that she was still standing, resolute and defiant. He also noticed that she was breathing heavily and was sweating profusely. He smiled,

“Last chance.” he called, “Contract was to bring you in alive. But if you’re gonna be stubborn about it…” He gestured to someone on a rooftop above him. Meredith snarled and swung her mace, gathering up as much divine power as Moradin was willing to grant. She cocked her head as she heard a muffled thump from the rooftop on her right and smiled,

“How about I help even the odds a bit for my friend up there.” she retorted, quickly muttering a prayer and cast. Meredith hissed as she felt fire course through her body with the action and closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness and nausea quickly followed suit. The sensations felt vaguely familiar, she noted, dimly aware of the yelled swearing as the mass Blindness and Deafness spell took effect on her assailants. The last thing she was aware of was the sound of dwarven and gnomish warcries before unconsciousness finally claimed her the moment she hit the floor.

~*~

Edwin heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he finished casting a Heal into the prone dwarf below him,

“I swear on the Garden, it must be a curse on the women of this family to continuously over-exert themselves like this.” he muttered. Elowyn gave her uncle a guilty glance, her hands still running fretfully through Meredith’s hair, while Yoruk stroked her hand,

“Thanks Uncle Edwin.” she said quietly, “I know this is getting old.”

“Least it’s only the…what is it… second time I’ve done this to myself?” Meredith groaned, blue eyes fluttering open to gaze first into green, then amber. Elowyn suppressed the urge to laugh as Felix piped up from a seat next to the window,

“What about the time you fell over after sealing up the Hellmouth? Or the time you ressed Deep Sachellas? Oh, or what about the time-?”

“Thank you, Felix.” Meredith ground out as Elowyn finally gave into a chuckle,

“Sorry Merri, love, you’re just as bad as the rest of us I’m afraid.” she said. “At least we’re not nearly as dramatic about it as Auntie Selene?”

“No, you’re worse.” Edwin stated flatly, “At least Selene has the sense to, mostly, avoid heroic last stands.” Meredith pulled herself up and huffed a sigh,

“I think paladins, in general, seem to think it’s some sort o’ requirement.” she groused, glaring at both her cridhe-dàime and her husband.

“Then they’re clearly a terrible influence because they’re obviously rubbing off on you.” Felix chirped, effortlessly dodging the pillow that was thrown in his direction without even looking up from his darning. Meredith huffed moodily and looked around the rest of the room she ow found herself in,

“I take it Snotgrut’s ‘having words’ with our assailants?” she asked. Elowyn nodded,

“Yeah, he was pretty upset that there’s yet another bounty out on your head that he didn’t know about. I’m not sure if he was offended that there wasn’t one out for me on my behalf.” she said. Yoruk snorted, his armour clanking as he crossed his arms,

“I’d rather there weren’t any bounties out fer either of ye.” he sniped, “As it is, ye’re lucky we showed up when we did.” Meredith smiled and cupped her husband’s cheek,

“I ken, love.” she turned to Elowyn, “Sorry, hen, but I dinna think we’re gonna be getting any time to ourselves for a bit.”

#writing #aquadestinyswriting #mild fantasy violence #titan fighting fantasy #meredith gruksdottir #elowyn o'toreguarde #edwin goodwin #felix parker-tinker

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fuckyeahtx · 3 years

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By Mimi Swartz

Ms. Swartz is an executive editor of Texas Monthly

HOUSTON — A law school classmate of our governor once insisted to me that Greg Abbott was more dangerous than his predecessor Rick Perry because he was smart. I would say that the events of the past few months lend considerable support to the first part of the sentence.

Maybe you heard that Mr. Abbott tested positive for the coronavirus? One day before the news broke, he appeared at a crowded campaign event, maskless, shaking hands and posing for pictures. It was nice of him to let us know that he was feeling fine after getting the kind of care President Donald Trump received when he tested positive — those nifty monoclonal antibodies and all. Yet for years, Mr. Abbott has denied federal funds toward a state expansion of Medicaid, which could help many Texans get access to health care (and, polls show, has the support of a majority of residents).

Mr. Abbott’s announcement also took place against a battle over mask mandates for school districts in several Texas cities — my own, Houston, among them, as well as Dallas, Austin and San Antonio. The governor and his attorney general, Ken Paxton, banned mask mandates, but local leaders were defiant, and on Thursday night, the Texas State Supreme Court came down on the side of school districts trying to fight a spike in cases involving children.

Simultaneously, new census data shows how population shifts over the past decade in Texas, like other Sun Belt states, will strengthen big cities and their suburbs.

This fascinating coincidence made me wonder how far we are from open rebellion among many Texans. Mr. Abbott is reportedly setting the stage for a potential presidential run in 2024, but first, next year, he has to win election to a third term.

In his statement on the mask-mandate ban, he said the state should rely on “personal responsibility.” I agree with him. In the past few weeks, the dangers to Texans — most acutely from the Delta variant of the coronavirus — have increased exponentially under his leadership. He has made it abundantly clear, in his mishandling of recent calamities, that voters should exercise “personal responsibility” and find a better person to run their state.

I’m reminded of an old sign outside the Austin restaurant and local institution El Arroyo. A photo of the message made the rounds again on Twitter in response to the outrage many citizens felt with news of the governor’s illness. “Well, well, well,” it read, “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.”

Mr. Abbott and his Republicans won’t go away without a fight — or tilting voting laws in their favor as much as possible. (Democrats and Republicans are evenly split in the state on approval of the governor, but Democrats have grown increasingly unhappy with the governor’s handling of the pandemic, with now over 80 percent expressing disapproval, up from 59 percent in April 2020.) Republicans can and probably will also stymie future efforts to make for a fair fight, thus keeping themselves in office unless a moderate Republican or any kind of Democrat can pull off a miracle.

With the return of some Democratic state lawmakers from their quorum-denying self-exile, Republicans in the Texas House will surely pass a sweeping voting bill that would undo last year’s expansion of ballot access during the pandemic in places like Houston, as well as empower partisan poll watchers.

Even so, the refusal of Democratic House members to roll over and play dead was performative in the best sense. Their protest made international news, which means that some people here might also realize that Republicans are bound and determined to take certain rights away.

There is also residual anger over the big freeze of February 2021, a reminder of which comes in the form of a monthly gas bill. Recent investigations — by The Texas Observer and The Texas Tribune — show just how many of the energy companies profited from soaring gas prices while ordinary Texans were shivering in their boots. The reports also raise the question of whether a gusher of campaign contributions (so far Mr. Abbott’s campaign alone received around $4.6 million) was a form of gratitude for what was seen as favorable treatment by the governor and some lawmakers.

And then, yes, there is the pandemic.

At about 46 percent, Texas — the nation’s second-largest state by population — has a relatively low vaccination rate. Some hospital I.C.U.s are overflowing with new Covid cases just as public schools are opening. Huzzahs to the elected officials in the state’s most populous cities and counties for fighting back in defiance of the governor.

These fights reflect the one that has been going on since Mr. Abbott took office: the war between the conservatives in the statehouse, supported by rural voters and some wealthy Republican donors, and the more liberal leaders in the cities and metro areas who reflect the will of much of their more diverse voters.

The new census figures show that the growth in Texas since 2010 is in the cities — fully 87 percent of new residents have opted for life in our biggest metropolitan areas, while rural communities remain stagnant, according to Steven Pedigo, the director of the Urban Lab at the University of Texas at Austin’s Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs, in a CNN report. Our four biggest cities now account for 68 percent of the state’s population, up from 64 percent in 2010.

It is possible to hope — because it always springs eternal — that what we are seeing is not just a series of isolated battles but the beginning of a sustained backlash, at least among energized Democrats, against the Republican bullies. That includes but is not limited to Mr. Abbott, who seems to have focused on his own political fortunes while telling a majority of Texans that they can just go hang.

#by hang she means go fuck themselves #fuck abbott #call your reps

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lady-o-ren · 4 years

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THE BRIDE

A/N: Ok. I lied. I thought I had to sacrifice the Jamie and Claire threads but really I just chopped the St. Germain one (much heavier in the disciples du mal thingy and witchcraft). Anyway this is a pinch of acotar and some bits from DOA too at the end. There will be mistakes!

______

The bride paces anxiously in her windowless chambers, trampling over the ripped and scattered remains of a once delicate veil. She wears no wedding gown. Has fed it to the hearth fire where the gold silk threads and embroidered pearls ignite the stonewalls in a hellish glow.

She is betrothed to the notorious nobleman The Comte St. Germain. A man of exquisite elegance and roguish charm that many girls can only dream of marrying. But she isn't fooled.

She knows the depths of treachery that dwells in his breast and of the company he keeps that terrorize the dark corners of the city streets of Gaul. That all he wants from her is a woman to serve him on hand and knee, a body and soul to own.

And he has tried to. Bruising her throat and ribs. But she too has marked him ugly and bloody - gouging him from face to chest, her knee rammed between the crux of his thighs. It brings a half grin to her face.

But then she hears the ominous sound of a key sliding into the lock of the lone arched door. She stiffens like a hunted doe, bleeding her bottom lip in wait, until she hears the key jamming, breaking in two.

She shrieks with hysterical laughter if only to know that she can breathe again, clutching her aching sides as she does so. The Comte hears her and pounds the door with his fists as his threats fall loud and rabid.

He wants to bind her arm and foot. Shatter her bones beneath his boots. He wants to belt her flesh raw, slap and bite her pretty face. Wants to -

Her laughter chokes with bile, and her lily-white hands press painfully hard against her tender lips, as she wills herself to calm.

She'll be faster, smarter, more ruthless than he. She'll throw him in the fire to roast black like the swine he is, herself too if she must. She'll -

She's barely caught her breath when the fire in the hearth dwindles to sapphire embers, illuminating the chamber like the belly of a twilight sea. The bride's heart leaps to her throat, throbbing with every skittering, piercing beat, as the stones of the hearth quake and unravel, parting for a cloaked figure to step through the impossible opening.

A silky mist whispers over him coming from the dark chasm behind and he lifts the dark green hood from his face revealing, undoubtedly, by the soft curve of his ears, a Fae Lord.

He looks as if he's flown on a thundercloud to find her, his mane wild and dark as elk's blood that ripples down the broad strength of his shoulders like the great tides of the sea. His eyes like the sickle moon are near black with ire as they linger on the iridescent bloom of bruises on her flesh and the thinness of the chemise she wears. But when his gaze meets hers they glimmer with startling tenderness and passion, and a love that burns brighter than the blue flames now writhing at his feet.

The Lord's voice is low and ragged from unbridled emotion when he speaks yet he manages to smile wryly, "Should'a bride of such beauty be mournin' on her wedding day?"

She'd forgotten how deeply she could hate him. Love him. All at once. That - That -

"You - you - Oh, Jamie!" She throws herself in her only beloved's arms that grip her just as fiercely, and he cries, "Claire, mo chridhe," into her curls, long and lovely as a willow's leaves.

She soaks in his warmth and strength that wraps around her like a shield, breathing in the scent of him - balsam trees and dewy grass, sun-warmed skin that tastes of woodsmoke and spring rain, and the pungent muskiness of exhaustion as he trembles to the bone with relief.

"How?" She mouths against his chest heaving strong as a bellow beneath her cheek.

He nuzzles softly at her crown, hands soothing warmth down her back then shoulders, holding her slightly away.

"Our hearts are forever bound to one another, I've told ye so before."

The night they met when he first made her laugh and she dared to kiss him along the glittering Seine.

"I could feel yer despair, thought maybe ye were feeling the same pain as I. Regret for how we parted when ye told me ye loved me nae more." He squeezes her shoulders, knowing how she lied but not why. "But I felt it grow weaker day after day, and kent it must be something more. I ken ye told me to leave ye be but I thought ye were dying, my love. I couldna keep away."

Tears gloss her eyes as she bows her head ashamed, so quietly she says, "I thought you wouldn't. I meant to make you hate me."

"Never," he affirms, lifting her chin. "I shouldna have let my temper get the better of me, to keep me from yer side. If I hadn't -"

His mouth tightens as he brushes his knuckles down her cheek, gently thumbing her swollen bottom lip.

He wants to kiss the blood away, the blight that colors her skin. Wants to love her till there's nothing left of them but a single soul. . .

But the door is finally forced open and he comes face to face with the Comte St. Germain.

The Fae Lord erupts with rage violent and luminous as a lightning bolt, cracking the stones that encircle them all, as he claws at the air and twists his wrist. The Comte stupidly, desperately, reaches for the iron forged rapier strapped to his waist, beseeching the protection of the wickedly divine that he's pledged his soul to, but instead of deliverance, he's sent flying into the far wall.

His bones shatter with a sickening crunch as blood and strangled screams sputter from his mouth.

"That's enough," Claire says in a moment of pity to her Lord, and with tremendous effort, she pulls him away, leaving the wretched Comte St. Germain gasping for air alone in the cold dark as the walls that he imprisoned her within collapse.

Claire's brought to a small clearing just as dawn slowly breaks across the big sky, a hazy plume of dark grey and lavender, and the barest hint of golden sunlight. The wind is chilly and tugs at her hair but she savors its biting caress that shudders down her spine, intoxicating her lungs. She walks enjoying the feel of the tall grass tickling her fingertips and the dirt soft beneath her bare feet, but she finds a gaping absence at her side.

She glances over her shoulder where Jamie trails behind, watching her with trepidation as an aching question whispers from his mouth.

"Will ye run off again, mo nighean donn? Is this the last I'll see of ye?"

She wraps her arms around herself, curls whisking like dandelion seeds across her lashes and cheeks.

"I didn't run, Jamie."

"Ye did," he reproaches softly, not wanting another fight. "Like a thief in the night with my heart. I gave ye all of me gladly and forever will -"

"But I can't promise you the same." Her bleeding heart lodges thick in her throat and the truth of it all comes pouring out. "Maybe a few decades, a blink in the eye to you, before I wither to decay, and you still beautiful as the day we met."

"That's what's been troublin' ye?" His face is serious, but one corner of his mouth curls up irrepressibly.

"Don't you laugh!" She says furiously.

"I think I will," Jamie smiles widely, and takes a step toward her meaning to kiss the foolishness from her vexing mouth but she takes a step back. He raises an auburn brow daring her to move away from him again and she thrusts her defiant chin high and kicks her left heel back.

What comes next is a flurry of limbs and grunts that leaves Claire breathless with her slender wrists pinned above her head and chrysanthemums crushed in her hair. Her eyes dark as black amber glare into his.

"God's, you are a stubborn wee thing," Jamie admires through his mounting frustration, himself mangled with dirt and grass.

"And you weigh more than a bloody damn bear!" She pants and wriggles beneath him, trying to ignore the spikes of heat rushing through her veins where he's pressed solid and unyielding against her.

"Now get off!"

"Not until ye hear me out, wee besom!"

"What more can be said? Nothing can be done! Love isn't magic, it won't keep the years from taking me from you."

Jamie's face catches fire in the growing morning light, and moves their hands to press hard on the swell of his breast beating the same raw rhythm as hers.

"So long as my body lives, so will yours, mo ghraidh. Though I think ye'd look just as bonny touched like starlight, the years no matter how few, around yer golden eyes. But ye must know," his words fall heavily and he feels her pulse at her wrist give a lurching thump. "That when my body shall cease, yours will as well. It could be this day, tomorrow, maybe centuries or more. The only consequence when ye make a blood vow with a fae."

She blinks up at him, thrumming like a viola. "A blood vow?"

His lips curl shyly and his breath warm as melted butter brushes hers. "It's done when my kind find their mates. A sacred, unbreakable vow that binds two souls in this life and after."

"Like marriage?" She blushes and smiles, the first in so very long, looking lovelier than she ever has to Jamie.

"Aye." He answers simply, low and husky, and finds his courage in three soaring heartbeats.

"My Lady, my Claire, will ye have me as your husband? To serve ye, worship ye, wi' all that I am?"

Tears begin to fall again though she's beaming with joy, tangling her fingers in Jamie's mane as he claims a loving long kiss down the trail of each one.

When he hovers above her lips, they brush his in answer.

"Well I am wearing white."

"Ye won't be wearing a thing if ye say I do."

#...i tried writing something a little different #jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #the bride

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khaosgaming22 · 4 years

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Date Night

Hailey walked uptown to the restaurant she had selected, most of the time her and Bee would just go to the Stardust Tavern but personally she wanted something a little more romantic this night. The tavern was alright but the stories that she had heard about the parties her mom and dad had there definitely prompted her to find another option. She checked the time on her watch, 7:00 on the mark, which meant Bee would be here in exactly five minutes. It was something that always made her laugh, Bee always felt like she was late but Hailey didn’t mind. It had become routine at this point, she just found it funny because Hunters were usually the most mobile of the classes, but she supposed that Warlocks were the most punctual too.

She sat down on the bench outside the place and waited the extra five minutes when she saw a sunflower yellow blur come dashing up the street. Hailey wore a nice orange skirt and a black top, she admitted she was never very fashionable. Her mother never really passed that trait down, and when you go shopping with Aleina that many times it kinda knocks any enjoyment out of nice clothes early on. Hailey however, was not expecting to see Bee in that.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! She apologized quickly as she usually did and straightened her purse back to her side. “Couldn’t figure out how to walk in these stupid deathtraps...” She scorned looking down at her black high heels and when Hailey said nothing she looked at her. “Are you okay? You look like you just saw a Ghost, not like a Ghost I mean like a y’know.” She made a motion with her hands that was supposed to mimic one.

“No no yeah.” Was all Hailey could get out of her mouth, in truth she was absolutely speechless. Bee had dressed up a bit before but this? This was a new level, and the Titan liked it. “W- why don’t we head inside?”

“Okay.” Bee shrugged still a little confused at what was wrong with her date. They walked into the classy restaurant and immediately knew this place was very different from their usual hangout. The tables and booths had red cloth over them, the waitstaff was all dressed up in suits and the lighting was mostly by candlelight save for one crystal chandelier. Bee didn’t know how to feel about all this, it was a bit overwhelming but it was what Hailey wanted for tonight so she’d go along with it until she couldn’t.

Hailey pulled a chair out for Bee before sitting down in her own across from her still being quiet. There was light chatter around the restaurant as they both looked at the menu. The selections were all expensive but then again she expected that from a place like this, she decided on a pasta dish with marinara and went to look at the selection of cocktails. They were all too fancy for her liking so she decided to ask for just a simple glass of Vodka and Orange Grenadine.

Bee was stuck as well, this place hadn’t even been her idea in the first place and Hailey was being awfully quiet. Granted Bee was usually the talker even she had to admit that but still, it was strange for her to go this long. She wanted to break the ice a bit. “So uh... that’s a nice um dress you picked out, it really matches your hair.”

“Th- thanks.” Hailey responded smoothing out a wrinkle on her top. Well that was a fail, she barely talked. A waitress got to their table soon after.

“So what will it be to start off you two ladies?” She asked cheerfully taking out her pen, this place got guardians and civillians alike so it was a bit hard to tell who was who. Bee thought she was probably a civilian.

“I’ll have a Vodka with Orange Grenadine and a splash of lemonade thanks.” Hailey said opening up more to the waitress then Bee, what was going on? She jotted down Hailey’s drink order and turned to Bee.

“Oh. And uh I’ll have the... um I guess I’ll have what she’s having actually.” She said giving up on looking at the menu at all the fancy sounding drinks. If you asked her for tea or coffee she would know right away but alcohol was more Hailey’s area. The waitress walked off to get the two drinks and Bee focused on getting her Sunbreaker back.

Hailey didn’t really know what to do, she picked out this place to add to the romantic aura not snuff it out. It just made her wish they were back in their cozy, rustic tavern. Bee’s outfit didn’t help either, for a strong and defiant Titan let alone Sunbreaker, Hailey was melting inside with every glance of her she allowed herself. She figured alcohol would help her chill out so she asked for something that would help with that.

As for Bee she was still trying to figure out what was going on. She put a hand on the table as descrete as she could so Hailey would hold it but she still wouldn’t budge. She was pretty much looking everywhere around her but her. Finally Bee couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Alright, come with me.” She demanded and motioned for her to take her hand getting up from their table.

“Wh- why?” She stammered and looked up at Bee’s face for a second, it looked a bit annoyed. Something the Titan had never really seen before out of her.

“Just- cmon.” She crossed her arms and walked off toward the restroom while Hailey followed close behind. This was new, she had seen Bee sad but never angry. She followed her into a stall and Bee locked it behind them. Hailey didn’t really have anywhere else to look but her now as her heart pounded in her chest.

“Okay. What is your problem? You wanted to have a date together here and now you’ve been avoiding me all night what is going on!” Hailey looked down at her shoes blushing red that matched both her hair and outfit. Finally she spoke.

“I- I’m sorry. I thought this place would be nice but it’s so... I dunno suffocating? No that’s not the word- You get what I mean.” She explained and Bee nodded.

“O...kay but that still doesn’t answer why you’ve been avoiding looking at me all night.” She pushed and Hailey put her hand up to nervously tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Th- that’s just because... well the way you’re dressed-“

“Why? What is there something wrong with it? I wanted to dress up since this place was so-“

“No no no! The dress is fine... it’s more than fine is the issue, you just look so... hot in it.” She blushed more and Bee’s optic shutters widened.

“Oh.” Hailey smiled sheepishly red still painting her cheeks as she moved a little closer.

“The moment I saw you in it my heart just stopped and I couldn’t look at you without blushing, so I didn’t... sorry.”

“Just blush then!” Bee laughed. “I like seeing you blush, it’s something Exo’s like me can’t do... plus it’s really cute.”

“Oh don’t you dare start talking about who’s cute now missy.” Hailey giggled with her putting her hands at her hips. The two stayed in the stall together for a bit like that until Hailey finally spoke.

“Hey if we both hate this place so much why don’t we get outta here?”

“And ditch the waitress? That seems a little mean.” Bee said concerned.

“We’ll pay and leave her a big tip, would that help your soul?”

“You know I don’t physically have one silly.”

“Oh shut up you absolutely have a soul.” She leaned in to whisper into her audio sensors where her ears would be. “You got a heart too.” She pulled away and smiled.

“Sh- shut up no I don’t.” She said flustered proving she did indeed.

“Mmmm we’ll see about that when we get outta here.” Hailey winked. Out of the two of them she was definitely more smooth and seductive, Bee had tried a few times before but Hailey always just laughed at her being cute.

“I have one condition.” Bee said determined which made Hailey giggle.

“And what’s that my darling Bumble?” Oh yeah, nervous Hailey was long gone.

“You have to carry me with your big Titan muscles.” Bee smirked and Hailey answered by opening the stall door and sweeping her off her feet in a princess carry.

They paid for their drinks and Hailey downed hers making it clear to everyone that she was indeed a Guardian cause only they could take that much alcohol at once. Bee took a sip but immediately hated it so she left hers for the waitress. True to her word, Hailey carried her all the way back to her house. Ken was in the living room playing a video game from the Golden Age where you collected and fought with adorable little monsters. He heard the door open and was not expecting who walked in.

“Hailey? What are you doing back so early it’s barely nine o clo-“

“Where’s mom’s stuff?”

“Uh....”

“Never mind, we’ll find it cmon my little pollenator let’s go to my room.”

“Hehe, okay.”

“Hey dad?”

“Y- yeah?”

“Don’t come up.” She kissed Bee as she walked up the steps and Ken went back to his game with a shrug. Bee ended up staying over.

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny oc #fireteam stardust #bungie #destiny the game #destiny exo

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mo-nighean-rouge · 5 years

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Gone- III

Jamie Fraser prepares to send Claire and Faith through the stones. A last-minute interference puts them all at stake.

Part I | Part II | AO3

A/N: Yes, this story still exists. Super shout out to @phoenixflames12 for being a pro beta and helping me shape this part up. Keep in mind that the following selection includes graphic depictions of violence.

Previously:

Jamie strained his eyes to see the rows of white tents visible through the trees ahead. Even from far away, their supply of men, ammunition, morale, highlighted the utter foolishness of the Scots marching into battle that day.

The hopelessness of Jamie marching into their camp right now.

But somewhere in its maze of red, his future laid unprotected.

There was no other solution. No other outcome he could live with. That he could die with, today. Je Suis Prest.

April 16, 1746 | Redcoat Camp – Culloden Moor

Jamie crept through the underbrush, Fergus hot on his heels. They stepped lightly, their trail discernible only to a trained eye like Murtagh’s.

Their teamwork reminded him of another early morning mission that they’d completed together — a day that now felt like it had occurred in a different lifetime.

If only he had focused on keeping his family out of the line of fire rather than falling into bed with the enemy… Jamie brushed off the darkening thoughts crowding his mind. He had plenty of present worries to bide him for now.

The camp was still awakening in the clearing beyond, about a hundred yards from their concealed path. The soldiers’ boastful remarks traveled over the wind to Jamie’s ear. Their morale was clearly high, unlike the spirits of the ill and weary men whom he’d left behind just last night.

The shuffling of tent canvas increased as Jamie and Fergus rounded the corner of the encampment. General Wade’s men were putting the finishing touches on their uniforms and moving off to seek nourishment before facing the trial to come.

Jamie motioned for Fergus to follow as he took a roundabout turn back to the north end of the camp. Crouching behind a boulder, they studied the ramshackle cabin. He knew that the commander of the bloody dragoons would not settle for the harsh conditions of a tent when greater accommodations were possible – meager though they still may be.

The soldiers guarding the back door of the cabin were the last barrier between Jamie and his defenseless daughter. Jamie spied the moment of decision in Fergus’s eyes as his expression transitioned from cowed, to slackened, to enraged. He had no doubt that these were the men that had ripped Faith from her godfather’s arms.

Jamie said nothing, nor did he inhibit the lad as he charged the redcoat closest to him. The men’s defenses were slow at the end of their night watch, allowing Fergus to cut the first down in one silent swoop. Jamie took care of the other in similar fashion, leaving no survivors.

He regretted this necessity, particularly for Fergus in his youth and inexperience. The handful of soldiers that they had encountered in the wood had been simply knocked out for the time being, but no personal vendetta was held against those men.

Jamie’s heart grew heavier at the sight of the gouge marks in the cabin’s doorframe and the cracked window to its side. He crossed himself in memory of the fate of the family that had not long ago made an honest livelihood on this land.

Inhaling sharply, he exchanged one last nod with Fergus before pushing through the door.

“Fraser!” Randall’s voice was a sneer as he turned toward the sound of their disruption. “You’re just in time!”

Much as Jamie expected, Randall was not straggling to start the day like many of his subordinates, but seemed to have been up for hours. A feast of stale scones and preserves was set upon a table in one corner; Faith’s chin barely cleared its surface from her position in a high-backed chair, a napkin tucked into the collar of her homespun dress.

“Da!” she squeaked, suddenly animated at the sight of familiar faces.

“Not to worry, Fraser. I’ve explained to her how close I am with her parents, and that we’ve simply been waiting for you for the fun to begin.” Randall’s eyes gleamed darkly, his mouth set in a subtle smirk.

He crossed the narrow space to stand behind Faith’s chair, gripping the back of it. “After all, there was no mistaking these beastly curls and wild blue eyes.”

Revulsion choked Jamie at the sight of the vile man’s hand caressing his child’s cheek luridly as she looked back and forth between them in confusion. But he couldn’t move, not yet.

“Though it seems that perhaps you’ve brought me a trade?” Randall tilted his chin toward Fergus, considering the boy. “I’m nothing if not negotiable.” He scooped Faith up and placed her on his hip. Her lower lip puckered out at the unfamiliar touch as she began to quiver in his arms and struggle against him.

Fergus, who had been quaking in his boots but nevertheless standing his ground, lunged forward at this, leading a startled Faith to cry out. “Oui, for mon sœur –”

Jamie pulled the tense lad back to him, his voice cold and steady in the silence. “Ye ken fine it will not be either of these weans that stay behind today.”

Randall’s mouth split into sly smile, his dirty laugh ringing out. “You’re an easier sell than I expected!”

“Hold on, ye mad bastard,” Jamie could not stop his voice from shaking with badly suppressed rage. “Ye’ll ensure the children’s safe exit from these grounds first.”

The Englishman shrugged, releasing his hold on Faith as if she were nothing more than a rag doll, letting her drop to the floor with a cry.

Fergus lurched forward to gather her into his embrace, tucking her face into his shoulder. She continued to howl, struggling in his arms. “Da,” she grunted, gesturing toward Jamie.

Randall walked through the front door of the cabin to confer with the next ranking officer.

Jamie listened carefully to discern whether he held his word. It was all he could do to resist the tug on his heart from ignoring Faith’s squalling.

Fergus swallowed audibly as he kept a hold on Faith. “Milord...” He nodded in farewell just as Randall re-entered the cabin.

“We don’t have all day, Fraser. As I’m to understand it, my life hangs in a balance today.” He jutted his chin sharply toward the narrow cot situated in the corner of the room.

Fergus took regretful steps toward the back door, turning the knob much more carefully than Jamie did before. He trudged back into the chilly April morning.

Randall turned to face Jamie, greed in his eyes.

Before the door had time to swing shut, Jamie’s wame dropped to his feet as Claire appeared behind Randall, cloak billowing in the breeze admitted through the open space.

She gathered Randall’s neck in the crook of her elbow and slit his throat in one swipe. His eyes widened as he choked on his own spurting blood, but the last expression to cross his face was a defiant smirk as he fell to the ground.

Jamie’s breath came easily for the first time that day. A healer she may be, but Claire also knew where to strike to do the most harm.

As she wiped her dirk clean, Jamie guided her out the door with an arm around her waist. Claire stopped just long enough to collect a distraught Faith from Fergus.

________________________________________

Claire held her little girl’s chin between two unsteady fingers as their eyes met for the first time in months. Her face was red, cheeks splotchy and eyes flooded, but she appeared to be in one piece. Before Faith could react, Claire whispered shakily: “We have to be very quiet, do you understand me? Like the mice in Auntie’s root cellar!”

She ran her thumb over Faith’s cheek. Attempting a strained smile for her daughter, Claire tried to spark some joy into her words – as if it was just a game and their survival was not on the line. As if they all had their whole lives to spend together, and not just the next few hours.

Faith, still sniffling, nodded tersely, tucking one tiny hand under Claire’s kerchief, the other wrapping around the back of her neck. Claire cupped the back of her daughter’s head, noticing her subtle changes and growth during their time apart.

It was hardly the reunion she had dreamt of for her family since hopelessly marching away from Lallybroch, but it was all they would have now.

Leaving the carnage of the cottage behind them, the party dashed away, the wood growing thicker as they continued on. Faith’s inevitable jostling against Claire as they ran made her long for the days when her baby’s tiny form could fit in a sling against her chest, safely tucked away from the world.

But Claire knew of no other way to keep her safe from the danger she’d brushed with today.She had stood outside the back door of the cabin for countless agonizing moments, fear unceasing that some element of their plan might fall through.

But they had finally beaten Black Jack Randall at his own wicked games. His gross obsession with pain had been satisfied for the last time in his own bloody death.

Claire fully expected, still, to be scolded by Jamie for her own definitive decision. The original plan, formulated quickly when she and Murtagh had caught up with Jamie and Fergus as they had observed the camp from afar, had been for her to wait with the horses as Murtagh followed in his godson’s footsteps to infiltrate the camp.

But Donas had been particularly skittish as Murtagh had hobbled him, likely detecting the pent-up anxiety that had plagued those around him. The other horses had followed suit, obstinate against the orders commanded to them. There was simply no way that Claire, at least 8 weeks gone, would have been able to keep them safely under control.

She still doubted that Jamie would see the situation in the same light.

Claire noticed Faith slackening in her arms, as she often did upon becoming more relaxed. While a calm – or even sleeping – child would be easier to navigate today, she knew she couldn’t carry them both the rest of the way to meet Murtagh.

“Jamie…” She panted, breathless from exertion.

He turned from his position directly to her left, eyes terrifying and himself poised to cut down any man, woman, or coo that threatened her.

Claire bounced Faith once in a final effort to maintain her hold, but she still unstable in her arms. “Would you take her?” she pleaded to her husband, only loudly enough to be heard over the wind. There was still no telling how soon soldiers might find Randall’s body and pursue them.

Jamie bent toward her, still in motion, and lifted a stiff Faith from her arms. The caress of his fingers left her skin chilled as soon as their warmth left her.

As they carried on, Claire felt the effects of their brisk pace in her underfed and overtaxed body. The stitch in her side grew almost unbearable, her belly rolling violently.

At last their horses were visible in the distance. They made it the few more yards to their rendezvous point; Jamie and Fergus kept pace with her, though she knew they could move faster if they wanted to.

Claire dashed to the shrubbery just as Murtagh spotted and approached them. This time the vomiting felt much worse, as there was nothing left in her belly to come back up. Big hands tugged through her hair as Jamie gathered it up and held it away from her face, one palm resting on her hip to support her, then help her up as she stood.

She leaned into her husband as they walked back to the group, spotting Faith asleep against Murtagh’s shoulder, and Fergus already mounted on his steed.

Jamie boosted Claire into Brimstone’s saddle gently, then cuddled a tartan-swaddled Faith to his chest after accepting her back from Murtagh.

Claire’s heart tugged as she studied the downtrodden group as they set off. They had all just been through Hell and back for her, only to still face a tragic outcome.

Murtagh and Jamie navigated an extensive path back to the base of Craigh Na Dun. Though they prayed that any nearby redcoats were on the battlefield rather than lurking in the woods to detain traitors to the crown, they still made every effort to avoid commonly traversed areas.

The sharp set of Jamie’s shoulders revealed not only his heartache over what was to come, but guilt for evading the fateful battle to which he had resigned himself for months. He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, interrupting them only to lean forward and leave soft kisses in Faith’s windblown curls.

Claire longed to rub the tension out of his back, then run her fingers through his red curls until he grinned like an oversized cat, eyes crinkled in pleasure.

But they would have no more quiet moments, whispering in the dark and moving together in the shadows of a single lit candle as Faith slept soundly on her cot in the corner of the Laird’s bedroom.

Images of a life with Frank flashed into her mind, but soon were drowned out by her last memory of Jack Randall. The sight of him lying still on the ground, features frozen in a disturbing smirk, would likely never leave her mind. Even in death, the likeness to Frank’s appearance – though dirty, ill, and vile – was haunting.

How she would be able to look into Frank’s face every day for the rest of her life without seeing Jack, she didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine passing Faith off to Frank to tuck her into bed. Her hand drifting to her belly, she shuddered to think of sharing this child with Frank. She couldn’t feel anything yet, but the nagging idea of something being there had finally shaped itself into a confirmation of the future in her mind. This baby would only ever know Frank, rather than the man that had laid down his life for the child to have a chance at one.

It was dark by the time the stones became visible in the distance, and the ache in Claire’s heart sharpened. She watched Jamie halt his horse as they approached, glancing back and forth between the crest of the hill and the cabin at its foot. After turning to meet Claire’s eye, he guided Donas in the direction of the cabin. One more night.

With only a glance between the two, Murtagh acquiesced to Jamie’s silent plea to seek out their supper, while the rest filed into the cabin forlornly.

They ate their meagre supper in silence, saving the important words for the next morning. The pressure of the day soon caught up with them, and they arranged themselves for sleep in the small space.

Fergus curled up to Claire before laying down, reminding her of the young boy who dozed on a Parisian couch, many sleepy mornings ago. She pulled him to her and tangled her fingers in his hair. Her own son.

Faith, whose eyes had popped open just before supper to warily survey her surroundings, snuggled into Claire’s other side, gesturing to her father and patting the space next to her with a huge yawn.

Jamie complied, sliding one arm under his daughter and curving his opposite hand over Claire’s hip. Claire doubted either of them would sleep that night.

Claire’s gratitude brought tears to her eyes as she watched Murtagh set himself up just beyond the doorway to guard his clan one last time.

________________________________________

As dawn greeted them, Jamie rose once more, supported his wife as she stood, then swung his dazed daughter into his arms.

Claire’s kiss to Fergus’s sleeping head felt like a knife twisting into Jamie’s wame, but it was her extended hug with Murtagh and the tears shining in his eyes as he whispered into her ear that broke his heart.

Jamie took Claire’s hand and led her through the doorway, then helped her keep her balance as they advanced up the steep hill. Before Claire or Dhia, Faith, were inhibited by the unearthly sounds the stones emitted, he stopped them and hung his head.

“Da loves ye,” he whispered to Faith in English, then repeated in Gaelic, the words a haunting lullaby on his tongue. “My strong, bright, beautiful lass.” He passed her gently to Claire even as she wriggled, then looked deep into his wife’s eyes.

Her lip was already quivering as she swallowed, eyes streaming. She held onto the side of his neck with her free hand. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive you.” Her voice shook. “But I’ll miss you more every day that passes.”

Jamie nodded, thumbing the tears from under her eyes. “I’ll find ye,” he promised. “I’ll wait the 200 years. Wherever you are, I shall be.”

Their mouths met once more, teeth crashing desperately. He held onto Claire’s waist and Faith’s wee back as he walked them to the stones beyond.

Faith vibrated in Claire’s arms, reacting to the all-encompassing terror of the sounds surely engulfing her. She burrowed her face into her mother’s arasaid, trying to muffle the noise.

Jamie placed an open hand at Claire’s belly. “Name him Brian?” he whispered. “After my Da.”

Claire nodded as he lifted her right hand and kissed her ring, followed by each finger, then placed it on the tallest stone. “Until we meet again.”

They faded away before his eyes, just as Claire had nearly done on another bleak morning, years ago.

They were gone.

To be continued.

#Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #faith fraser #murtagh fitzgibbons fraser #fergus fraser #Gone #canon divergence au #Outlander #outlander fanfic #my fic #cw: violence

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whiskynottea · 6 years

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An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Previously, Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

AO3

@theministerskat, once more, thank you love, for beta-ing this story! ❤️

Chapter 39. The Exams

Biology.

Cell structure and genetics, homeostasis and synaptic neurotransmission. My first exam, just a week after Jamie’s birthday. A week after that perfect evening; the last time I removed school completely from my thoughts, free of the impending challenge of the exams that would shape my life.

Murtagh had disappeared after we cut the cake – supposedly to leave us alone, although we knew exactly where he was going – and the four of us had decided to make popcorn and watch old Disney movies, to keep the child in Jamie alive.

As if he wasn’t a child already, blowing out his candles with such wonder and fervor, as if a whole new world had opened in front of him.

Ian had declared that one of the movies we had to watch was Finding Nemo, since it had become our party’s unofficial theme. Jenny and I picked Hercules, already giggling over the lines of Hades and the Muses’ songs. Perched on the two couches of the living room – Jamie had stated we were to have the largest one because it was his birthday – we’d sang, laughed, and recited almost all the dialogue of each movie. When Murtagh had come back – whistling a happy tune that made the smiles on our faces broader – I’d given Jamie the longest goodnight kiss in the history of the world and went to sleep in Jenny’s room. After approximately two hours of talking and giggling, Jenny and I had eventually fallen asleep, smiling, celebrating our victory over Jamie’s grief, with his full, belly laughs still echoing in our ears.

When I left their apartment the next morning, I tried to memorize the feel of Jamie’s arms around my body, the softness of his lips, warm and inviting on mine.

We saw each other much less over the following month, and even though we had both agreed that this was the best strategy to follow, it still seemed like the stupidest idea we’d ever had. But we had a goal and we had to achieve it.

Not that many miles south of Edinburgh, lay our future.

Oxford.

Every time I was ready to give in and call Jamie to meet me for a walk, I refocused my mind on that single word, imagining us both strolling around in that fairytale city, hands linked, feet feeling the uneven cobblestones under our shoes. My life was already divided into the pre- and post-Oxford era, and that was enough motivation to make my eyes and my thoughts return to the notes laid out on my desk.

I just had to excel in my exams.

I had been planning, studying, and preparing for more than a year, and it felt surreal that the time of the exams had finally come. I was trying to remain calm, to remind myself that I was ready, that I had done the best I could. It was the truth, after all. Since the beginning of the year I had gone over the content of my subjects more times than I could count. I had even organized my time during the exams; what questions I’d approach first, what I’d leave for the end.

But I knew that my textbooks wouldn’t be enough this time. There was always something more to learn, some new information I could fit in with the knowledge I already acquired. Something that would make a difference, that would demonstrate how hard I had worked, how serious I was about my choice.

When I’d read everything I thought would be relevant, I started watching YouTube videos and reading scientific papers. It was then that Lamb started teasing me, saying if I’d continue like I was I could just skip going to medical school altogether.

Lamb, who kept saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I failed my exams, that life always offers new possibilities, some of which I probably never fathomed beforehand.

I couldn’t even listen to him talking about failure, about a future different from what I’d dreamed of. I wouldn’t let that happen.

But… What if I had missed something important? What if I hadn’t paid attention to a significant detail?

“Will ye stop before ye go completely crazy, Sassenach?” Jamie asked me when I voiced my thoughts. “Ye ken everything! Ye’ll do great tomorrow!”

I sighed dramatically and he pressed me tight against his body with a strong arm around my shoulders. I pulled his face down towards me for a kiss, to drink in some of his optimism, to feel the auburn locks cold between my fingers and his lips warm on mine. He had come straight from the swimming pool and had almost dragged me out of my house to prevent me from going through the previous years’ exams one last time.

“Just for a wee walk, Sassenach,” he’d said. “To decompress before the big day.”

It was impossible to say no to Jamie, so I’d tried to silence the little voices in my head, crying that I should stay at home and study, instead of walking around Edinburgh the night before the exams.

“Ye wee nerd,” Jamie said, when I told him I felt bad for going out. I huffed and I nudged him on the ribs, pulling away from him.

“I’m not a nerd!” I protested, in a voice that was more high-pitched than I’d have liked.

He kept silent but raised an eyebrow, while I could plainly see the corner of his mouth curling up in a suggestive smile.

“I’m not!” I repeated, and then crossed my hands across the front of my chest, pouting. Seeing that he still hadn’t said a word, I relented. “Okay, maybe just a bit.”

That made him chuckle. “Come here, my nerd,” he said, curling his index finger repeatedly in a come hither way, broadly grinning.

“Your nerd…” I murmured, thinking, but didn’t move towards him. “So that makes you my jock?”

“I’m not a jock!” he said in a nasal voice, and I could hardly contain my giggle. Following his lead though, I just shrugged and looked at him. “We’re not playing in a rom-com,” he continued, defiant. “First of all, you weren’t secretly in love with me from the beginning.”

I wanted to cackle, but I did my best for a serious voice instead. “No, I wasn’t.” It was a lost battle, trying to keep a straight face, and I knew it, but continued nonetheless. “I could never fall in love with you, the swoon-worthy swimmer... All muscle and no brain… No, not a chance.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at me and pursed his lips, as if deciding what was the best way to take revenge. “Like that, is it, Sassenach?”

“Mmm, you were sae repulsive, ye ken.” I tried my best to mimic his accent and burst out laughing.

“Ye’re dead, Sassenach,” he said and came towards me with long strides. I ran. He ran, too, and I hadn’t even reached the next block when he caught up with me, capturing me in his arms.

I was dead. I was sure my heart would stop beating at any moment, overwhelmed by a euphoric feeling that made happiness seem trivial.

“You do know I wanted you from the very beginning,” I whispered to him, my breath brushing against his lips. “Jock.”

“And I, you,” he said, his voice utterly sweet, and swallowed my sigh with his kiss. “Nerd.”

The next day I sprang out of bed listening to my alarm clock, with blurry images of cell membranes still fogging my thoughts. I had dreamed of the exams, again.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone, finding a text from Jamie.

Scot: Show them how it’s done, Sassenach.

Scot: ILY ❤️❤️

He had set his alarm clock just to text me.

Sassenach: ILY TOO! 😘

I couldn’t imagine a better way to start my day.

An hour and a half later, I was at school, sitting at my desk, waiting for the paper. The moments before we were handed the exams were the worst. I had quickly found that looking around while waiting was the worst thing to do, so I focused on my desk instead, feeling the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. I fidgeted with one of my two pens, swirling it around and running my nail over the carved letters, to hear the reassuring scratching sound of their resistance. Not having much more to do, I took deep breaths, waiting.

The room was quiet, but there was a tension hanging low over our heads, filled with dreams and opportunities, stress and hope. It felt so heavy and real, that I was afraid I would accidentally breathe it in and it would close my throat, linger in my trachea, to end up in my lungs and keep the oxygen out. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, and we could almost capture it between our fingers. The same fingers that minutes later, gripped the pens and started writing.

The moment the paper was in front of me everything around me disappeared. It was me versus myself – my favorite competition. My brain was on the verge of being burned with overthinking, my hand hurt from holding the pen too tight, but I continued to write the answers. I knew them all.

I almost danced in the middle of the street when I met Jamie later, success making me deliriously happy. Jamie had one more week before his English exam, which was his favorite subject, and the only one he wouldn’t need in his application for a business management bachelor’s degree. He wasn’t anxious at all, the bloody Scot, and I couldn’t understand how he did it.

Not anxious about the exams, that is. Because every day I watched him become more and more worried about the Scottish National Championship. It seemed absurd to me that he would care that much about swimming, right in the middle of the exams. Especially after all our work, to make his grades in math descent again. “You do realize that you have to finish the exams first, right? That we have more than two months until you’ll swim at the Nationals?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I do.” His voice was rigid, and it made me feel like a mother scolding her child. “Ye dinna trust me now?” he asked, and I kept silent, guilty, because the thought that he overestimated his preparation for the exams had crossed my mind more than once. Jamie exhaled loudly and took my face in his hands. “Claire,” he said, “I do study and I will get the grades I need. I’m no’ a fool.”

His eyes were so serious and sincere that I couldn’t but nod in agreement. Jamie kissed my forehead and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Tis just…” he started, but trailed off.

“What?” I mumbled, and nuzzled against his neck, breathing him.

“I think it’s more difficult to win the National Championship than it is to write an A+ in math and business management. My personal best needs so much improvement.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with the statement, but I decided to trust him. “I know you’ll make it,” I said, and kissed the hollow between his clavicles, that little part of him I had declared mine, months ago.

It’s sometimes difficult to realize, incomprehensible almost, how things you’ve been waiting for so long come to pass, like fast breaths taken after a long run. And the air I breathed in, leaving the testing hall for the last time, had the taste of accomplishment.

Math was our last exam. When I saw Jamie waiting for me with his red curls falling over his forehead totally disheveled from all the times he ran his hands through them, my heart stopped. But then I saw the huge smile on his face, and it told me everything I needed to know.

We had more than a month before the results would be announced, but we had done well. We had made it.

Oxford was waiting for us.

I walked towards him, grinning, and I felt like flowing above the shiny floor, my feet inches away from the surface.The moment I came to stand in front of him, Jamie hugged me tight, lifted me up in the air, and asked me if I would be his date at the prom.

“We’re going to the prom?” I asked, uncertain.This was the last thing I expected to hear at that moment.

“Aye! Of course we are! So, will ye be my date, Sassenach?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, teasing him. “This is really on short notice, and I might have plans for that night.”

Jamie shook his head, lowered me to the ground and bent his head to kiss me. “Cancel yer plans, mo ghraidh. Ye’ll be all mine that night.”

Chapter 40

#thermodynamics #The first law of thermodynamics #high school au #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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renee-writer · 5 years

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Jamie and Arabella Chapter 2 Fergus

Fergus, who's last name is unknown by all but God and possibly his long absent mam, stands defiant, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, staring at Jamie. They are in the hall outside the door to the courtroom where Fergus will soon be entering.

"I don't care! What does it matter? The boy's home or kid jail, I am still confined."

"It matters, ye wee rattan, because confinement in the boy's home won't keep ye from going to uni or getting a job!" His worry for his daughter made his tone sharper then it would normally be. He is frustrated though. Fergus, just ten and three, seems content to throw his future away.

"Me uni? Come Jamie, you know that isn't happening?"

"I ken no such thing. Ye have the brains Fergus. If ye just apply them to the right thing. Which is not changing the locking codes at the boy's home and locking the staff out." This is the reason he and Jamie are in court today. "Look lad. I ken this judge. He is tough but fair. Ye admitting ye did wrong and promising to nae use yer power for evil again, may keep this off yer record and yer bum on this side of the bars."

"Alright." He lets his shoulders down and he is once again the sweet but tough lad Jamie had rescued off the streets five years ago. He pushed his black curles off his face and lifts his black eyes to Jamie. "It was funny though."

It takes everything in Jamie not to laugh. "Come. Ye are up."

"Fergus, what you did shows a quick mind. I would like to see it used for the right purpose." Judge Murtagh Fitzgibbon looks down at the lad before him. He tries to be tough but he was shaking in his skin.

"Yes sir. I know it was wrong and apologize sir."

"A good start. I would hate to see your mind corrupted behind bars. So, this is my sentence. You will write out and deliver personal apologies to everyone effected by your little stunt. And, you will enroll in the dual uni courses when ye return to school in a week. When, after the first year, I see you maintaining high grades, I will expunge this little incident from your record. If, you get in trouble in the next year or fail to follow my directives, I will place you behind bars and your record will stand. Do you understand?"

"I do sir. Thank you sir."

"I am giving you a big chance. Don't blow it."

"Dual uni courses!" Fergus complains to Jamie as soon as they are free from the courthouse. "I will be a freak." Jamie stops him and turns him around.

"Do ye ken what he is offering ye? By the time ye finish yer 12th year, ye can ave two whole years of uni. Ye will be far ahead of anyone else when ye stand to receive yer diploma. With the right courses, ye can have a degree."

"What does it matter? I will have no family to congratulate me. No mam or da cheering. I do it. But, just to stay out of jail. Let's go." He stomps towards Jamie's auto. He follows slowly.

#my writing #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fanfic #the single daddy one #jamie and arabella #fergus #jamie's job

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caitbalfes · 6 years

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He Who Waits for Something Good (9/?)

Jamie & Claire | Modern AU | At forty-five, Jamie fears he will never meet someone that measures up to the woman of his dreams. (AO3)

Sorry for the wait everyone, I suck at updating my stories. Funnily enough this was the very first chapter I wrote for the story (who has time for writing in order ??) but it needed some tweaking before I could post it.

Also, if you want to keep up with the timeline without having to go back to each individual chapter you can check out my new masterlist/fic page here: caitbalfes.tumblr.com/fics (the page is still a wip, but you can at least see the timeline for HWWFSG)

I. Woman of His Dreams • II. Fragments of Memory • III. Dreams of Old • IV. Eye of the Hurricane • V. Days of Joy • VI. Thoughts of You • VII. The Day Before… • VIII. Anniversary of Silver

IX. ... The Night We Met

February 25, 1997

He had been watching her for some time—ever since she stormed into the pub, nose red from the cold (it made her look all the more endearing.) She’d sunk down on a bar stool and pulled off her hat, causing her curly hair to stand on end.

He had tried his best not to look at her. Her demeanour was in no way inviting. (If he squinted he could almost see the steel armour she wore to protect herself from unwelcome attention.) Jamie wasn’t so foolish as to try and break through that wall, nor was he so disrespectful.

Yet, he couldn’t look away. It wasn’t just that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, he felt inexplicably drawn to her. He wanted to talk to her, he really did, but he didn’t want to disturb her.

An hour went by. The woman hadn’t moved, and neither had he. She’d had a few drinks, as had he.

Eventually, people started to leave. His sister and Ian left first; they had Wee Jamie to get home to. The rest left one by one—or two by two—until only Jamie was left. He was about to leave himself, when he heard someone sniffling.

Instinctively, he turned towards the sound. It was her.

He thought at first it might have been the cold that made her sniffle, but he noticed the sadness in her eyes. Gingerly he laid a hand upon her shoulder, asking, “Are ye all right?”

She turned around, facing him. She regarded him for a moment. Then, “No. But I will be.” She lifted her glass to indicate her chosen remedy.

“Whiskey is comfort for your mind, but no for yer heart.”

“And how would you know what ails me, Mister?”

“I can see it in yer eyes, Sassenach.” He really could. Her face was exceptionally easy to read, and heartache was written across it.

She pursed her lips. “I know what that means, you know. Sashenack—that’s not a very nice word to use. Is that how you comfort women? Then I think I’ll stick to the whiskey.” She took a long sip, then looked up at him with a defiant smile, like a naughty child doing something she knew she shouldn’t.

“I didna mean it as something offensive, lass.” He hoped she realised how genuinely he meant it.

“Well, it really doesn’t matter how you meant it, my lad. You’re not seducing me tonight, so you can leave. It’s no use trying. I’m not having sex with you,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

His jaw dropped. “I-I—what?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight—or any night.”

“Aye, I heard ye, Sassenach. I just wasna sure I was hearing correctly seeing as I canna remember propositioning you, or saying anything to that effect.”

“You didn’t yet, but I know what most men do. They walk up to the sad, lonely woman at the bar. They compliment and comfort her, they offer to take her home, and then they think themselves entitled to a reward of their choice—and that’s always sex.”

“Perhaps I am pretentious in saying so, but I would like to think that I am not like most men, and that I dinna necessarily place my behaviour at the lowest common denominator.”

She laughed, genuinely. “Very pretentious, but I kind of like you. Have a drink with me?”

“I dinna ken, Sassenach,” he teased, “yer no planning to take advantage of my vulnerable state?”

“Your vulnerable state?”

“Aye, this lass bruised my ego when she mistook me for the vile sort of man that would take advantage of a bonnie lass—”

She swatted his arm. “Stop it,” she giggled.

Jamie took a seat next to her and ordered another drink for himself.

“I’m Jamie, by the way.”

“Claire.”

“Should I walk ye home—or to wherever you’re staying?” he asked, partly because he wanted to see her home safe, and partly because he wanted to spend more time with her.

“No,” she said, insistently, shaking her head. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Jamie unconsciously clenched his fists. What awaited her “back there”? She’d been heartbroken when they’d met earlier that night, and she’d been drinking to soothe the ache. They’d spoken about a number of things, but Claire hadn’t revealed just what—or who had caused her broken heart. Hence, Jamie was weary. Her reluctance to go home had him worried an abusive boyfriend or something of the like was what awaited her.

“All right, lass. You can come wi’ me to my hotel room. You can take the bed.” He was in town for a friend’s engagement party. Normally he would’ve stayed with Jenny and Ian at Lallybroch, but they were renovating an old part of the house, and they also had a newborn baby, so Jamie was staying at a hotel in Inverness instead.

Claire took hold of his hand and squeezed it gently, smiling at him. “Thank you, Jamie.”

It was a short distance from the pub to the hotel, so Jamie and Claire walked the entire way. Claire hadn’t let go of his hand—which was probably a good thing, as her balance wasn’t great.

It wasn’t until they entered Jamie’s room that she released his hand, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Jamie . . .”

“Aye?”

She stood on tiptoes, her arm snaking around his neck, and placed her mouth on his, not quite kissing as much as breathing him in.

Alarm bells went off in Jamie’s head. This was very, very bad. And yet he didn’t pull back, couldn’t bring himself to.

Her lips moved against his experimentally, and his couldn’t help but respond. His hands found her waist to hold her to him. She felt small and fragile—and warm, and soft, and just right in his arms.

Claire brought her other hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer. He ran his hands down her hips, feeling her soft curves. God.

Her lips were demanding, her body enticing, and he was intoxicated, drunk on her—

Then he remembered.

And before he stepped off the edge and flung himself into the abyss, he tore his mouth from hers. “I thought ye said ye wouldna have sex wi’ me tonight—or any night.”

“That was before I knew you,” she said, running her hands through his hair.

“But—” Her lips chased his in an attempt to shut him up, but he took hold of her shoulders to force her back. “No,” he said. “We’re drunk.”

“It’s all right,” she said with conviction. “I believed you when you said you weren’t like most men, but now—now I’m asking you. Can’t you see that? Jamie, I’m asking you to fuck me.”

“Claire, I can’t.”

She took hold of his hand and pulled the reluctant limb from her shoulder and placed it on her arse. She looked at him intently, biting her lip.

A Dhia!

She was truly the most alluring woman he’d met, and God how he wanted her, he was achingly hard with it, but—

He smelt the whiskey on her breath and saw its effect in the gleam of her eyes. He wanted her badly, but more than anything he wanted to do right by her.

“Claire, you know we canna. Neither of us would feel right about it in the morning. You’re drunk, heartbroken . . . and ye came here to sleep, aye?”

Her giddiness was replaced by reluctant acceptance in an instant. She nodded tiredly. “You’re right. Take me to bed, Jamie—but not for that, just . . . tuck me in?”

“Of course.”

He took her hand and led her to his bed, where he tucked her in. He stroked her curls away from her forehead before placing a soft kiss there.

Claire smiled at him, her eyelids drooping. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Sweet dreams, Sassenach.”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fic #jamie x claire #outlander #fic: he who waits for something good #ff #jc ff #ina writes #i'm still not pleased with this #even after all the tweaking #but whatever #i should probably get a beta #also i'm posting this at a bad time #but if i don't post it now i might never post it #so here we go

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written-rebellion · 6 years

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Perfect Distractions

Claire gets a bail out, Jamie gets to the root of Jenny’s problem, and as always, all the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1]

Part Six: Unspeakable | Chapter 2

Jamie Fraser had a lot to be thankful for.

Glancing at Claire from across the table, he watched the long, fine lines of her fingers as she ate and – before he could stop himself – remembered how those same fingers pressed into his bare chest, smoothed along his back, curved into his shoulder and left tiny crescent indents in his skin as she—they—

A swift nudge against his foot had him sputtering into his drink and, across from him, was Claire glaring.

He didn’t have to look to know Jenny was rolling her eyes at the head of the table, about to open her mouth and say something.

“So, Claire,” Ian piped up. “Jamie says you’re in medicine?”

Jamie was extra thankful for his brother-in-law.

“Oh, yes.” Claire nodded, and Jamie saw some of the tension leave her shoulders. “Studying to be a surgeon, actually.” Her eyes shifted to and away from Jenny.

“Maybe ye could help wi’ the pain in my leg,” Ian said with the same humour he always used to accompany talking about his prosthetic. Jamie knew Ian had meant it as a joke, but he saw the gold in Claire’s eyes flare at the chance.

“Actually,” she said, bristling with excitement. “I thought I saw some herbs along the courtyard that might help with that ah, if you—” Another tentative glance at Jenny. “—If you don’t mind.”

“I dinna mind much, no,” Ian nodded. “I’ll take anything ye got.”

“That’s kind of ye, lass,” Jenny said evenly, and Jamie felt a chill blow through the room; the air had changed. Both he and Ian looked at her, then at each other.

“It’s no trouble,” Claire said, humbly inclining her head as she turned in her seat to face Jenny completely. Jamie watched her roll her shoulders back, as she did when she was about to begin studying. “I’d like to help any way I can.”

“How’d you and Jamie meet again?”

“I sort of… ran into him in the library.”

“I heard ye tackled him to the floor.”

“I didn’t think Jamie would willingly offer up that information,” she said, holding her glass up to obscure her mirth to everyone except the man in question.

“Och, ’willing’ had little to do wi’ it,” Jenny said, waving her hand dismissively. “I also heard ye kicked him in the shin.”

“Well, that was only so he would pay for breakfast,” said Claire with a matching dismissive tone.

Jenny arched one eyebrow up and took a long sip from her glass.

Ian and Jamie exchanged glances. Was there another conversation happening that they weren’t invited to? If so, Jamie wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it anyway.

He did hope Claire was winning though.

“Hang on,” Jamie said suddenly. “I dinna remember tellin’ ye about the shin-kicking, Jenny.”

The calm, vaguely amused, scrutiny on Jenny’s face transformed into the glare Jamie was more accustomed to as she turned to him.

“Oh and ye think there are secrets between me and my husband, aye?”

“Ian!”

At his name, he stood abruptly.

“Claire, would ye mind helping me with the dishes?”

Claire’s face brightened as she followed suit and helped Ian clear the plates in a flurry, the two shuffling into the kitchen without so much as hasty cheek kisses and pats on the shoulder to their respective Frasers.

“Traitorous shite,” Jamie grumbled.

“Interesting woman, a graidgh.”

“Och, dinna start, Jenny.”

“I’m no’ starting anything, Jamie.” She shrugged. “Ye’re the one who thinks he can just make decisions wi’out asking anyone else.”

“Aye, maybe so.” He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “But don’t bring Claire into this.”

“Oh, so you agree that ye shouldna have sent yer adopted boy here after all?”

“I didna ado— Ugh, Jenny, what would ye have me do? The lad would’ve froze to death in that bus terminal.”

“Afraid he would freeze, so ye sent him to Scotland? Aye, that’s a fine plan there, brother.”

“And ye would’ve just left him there alone?”

“I dinna ken Jamie, but I’d have given it more thought than just chucking the lad on a train. And then to have a stranger just appear on our doorstep—”

Jamie exhaled sharply.

“Aye, so this is about Claire, after all.”

“It’s about yer muckle brain thinkin’ ye can go and decide for other people. Did ye just tell the lass to disregard whatever she had planned and pack her bags wi’out warning?”

Not entirely. “Jenny—”

“Or did ye just bring her here so ye could sleep with her?”

The force of Jamie standing shook the table and sent his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

“I’ve bit my tongue long enough to let Claire settle things between the two of ye. But, I’d thank ye not to make assumptions when the lass is no’ here to defend herself.”

“Christ,” Jenny said, suddenly quieter as she stared at him. “I havena seen that look on any man since I married Ian, and never once on yer face, Jamie.”

His mouth clamped shut.

“So it’s love, then?”

He felt the heat of something decidedly not anger rise in his cheeks as he broke his gaze from Jenny’s. She stood slowly and walked towards him.

“Aye,” he said softly, staring at the floor. He’d said it yesterday, his heart had been singing it since then, but telling Jenny – someone other than Claire – made it feel real. His hand twitched with a sudden and overwhelming ache to hold Claire in his arms.

Jenny lifted his chin to bring his eyes back to her.

“Then why on earth did ye bring her here, Jamie?”

What?

“What?”

“Ye love her, fine. Did ye wait a whole day to decide to bring her along, or did ye just show up at her doorstep ‘afore ye were meant to get on the train, ye dimwitted wee fool?”

“It wasna like that, Jenny, she—”

“Did ye no’ think she had plans of her own? Nay, ye just brought her to an unknown place and left her to sort herself out. For God’s sake, she looks like she’s treading thin ice where e’er she steps.”

“If she looks that way, it’s yer own fault, ye auld cow! The lass didna have anywhere else to go!”

“Oh and ye ken that’s a fact?” Her voice was getting louder, but the tremble he heard in it must have been his imagination. “The world doesna bend to yer will James Fraser, ye canna make choices for everyone else.”

No, he definitely heard it again.

“For Christ’s sake, ye’re not Da!”

There.

Jamie straightened his back, rising to full height to tower over his sister. That caught her attention. He took a deep breath and tried to force his anger back down, imagining Claire’s sleeping face this morning.

“Her uncle just died,” he said softly, in case Claire and Ian were listening from inside the kitchen. “But he was a father to her, ken? She lost her father, and this is the first time she’s wi’out him on Christmas. Ye ken the feeling, aye? We both do.”

Her head fell forward, hiding her eyes from him, and – for once in her life – she was silent for a moment.

“That’s cheatin’, brother.”

She looked up again and her lips were pulled tight together, defiant tears just starting to form. All the anger flushed from Jamie as he pulled her into his arms and rest his chin atop her head.

“Hush, a graidgh, it’s all right,” he whispered.

“Three years he’s gone and ye’re still getting him to win arguments for ye,” she chuckled weakly into his chest.

Pulling back, she wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and Jamie smiled at her for the first time since arriving at Lallybroch.

“I’m home, Jenny.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Welcome home, brother.”

A sudden quirk at the edge of mouth. Jamie braced himself.

“I canna wait to go to Father’s grave and tell him ye finally popped yer cherry.”

Read Chapter 3

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #perfect distractions au #wr writing

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yellowfeather84 · 7 years

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“Is he dark or fair?”

Jamie asked suddenly, rising on one elbow beside me in bed. “I counted his fingers, and I didna even think to look.”

“You can’t really tell yet,” I said drowsily. I’d counted his toes, and I’d thought of it. “He’s sort of reddish-purple, and he’s still got the vernix—the white stuff—all over him. It will probably be a day or two before his skin fades into a natural color. He’s got just a bit of dark hair, but it’s the sort that rubs off soon after birth.” I stretched, enjoying the pleasant ache in legs and back; labor was hard work, even for the midwife. “It wouldn’t prove anything, even if he were fair, since Brianna is; he could be, either way.”

“Aye … but if he were dark, we’d know for sure.”

“Maybe not. Your father was dark; so was mine. He could have recessive genes and come out dark even if—”

“He could have what?” I tried without success to think whether Gregor Mendel had yet started messing about with his pea plants, but gave up the effort, too sleepy to concentrate. Whether he had or not, Jamie evidently hadn’t heard of him.

“He could be any color, and we wouldn’t know for sure,” I said. I yawned widely. “We won’t know until he gets old enough to start resembling … somebody. And even then …” I trailed off. Did it matter a great deal who his father had been, if he wasn’t going to have one?

Jamie rolled toward me and scooped me into a spooned embrace. We slept naked, and the hair on his body brushed against my skin. He kissed me softly on the back of the neck and sighed, his breath warm and tickling on my ear.

I hovered on the edge of sleep, too happy to fall completely over into dreams. Somewhere nearby, I heard a small stifled squawk, and the murmur of voices.

“Aye, well,” Jamie’s voice roused me, some moments later. He sounded defiant. “If I dinna ken his father, at least I’m sure who his grandsire is.”

I reached back and patted his leg.

“So am I—Grandpa. Hush up and go to sleep. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’ ”

- Drums of Autumn

#outlander #book quotes #drums of autumn #jamie fraser #claire fraser

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gotham-ruaidh · 7 years

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Shifted - Part 7, Chapter 9

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…

Part 7 - The Visitor

Lallybroch, Autumn 1762

Roger had helped out with a fair number of chores while he’d stayed with the family in the village, but that was nothing compared to how much work was required to maintain a farm of Lallybroch’s size.

Woken at dawn by Young Jamie, Roger had followed the laird as he carried out his morning chores, trying desperately to keep up – and asking questions the whole while. Young Jamie had been very patient with him, though he clearly hadn’t understood why Roger seemed to be learning all these things for the first time.

“Were ye truly raised in a city, then?” he asked as they closed the sheep pen after feeding Jenny’s prized lambs.

Roger wiped his grubby hands on the seat of his breeches. Not even mid-morning, and he’d already sweat through his soiled shirt. “Aye. I was raised by my mother’s uncle – he was a minister, and his day-to-day life focused on tending his flock, so to speak. We had a housekeeper who took care of most of the chores.”

Young Jamie rolled his shoulders, face softening as his joints loosened. “I canna imagine growing up in a city. I’ve only been to Inverness a few times, and once all the way to Edinburgh with my Da. Too many people for my liking – I missed the openness and wildness of the Highlands.”

Slowly they walked past the sheep pen to the stable – checking on the horses was next on the list.

“Does your family leave the estate often?”

Young Jamie shook his head. “No, and if we do it’s always my Da. Uncle Jamie canna leave Lallybroch, ken? It’s in the terms of his pardon that he canna leave the estate for twenty years. So he minds the farm while Da leaves – though I know it kills Uncle Jamie that he has to stay here.” He paused. “Will ye know about Uncle Jamie’s role in The Rising, then?”

Roger nodded, sighing in relief as they reached the shade of the stables. “A bit. Enough – ” He stopped as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the stables to see Jamie and Ian standing on either side of a mare. Jamie tiled his head in greeting as his hands swept up the mare’s sides.

“Aye, she’s verra close,” he said to Ian. “Shall we leave one of the lads to stay wi’ her, then?”

Ian scrubbed one hand over the back of his head. “Aye, I suppose so. We canna afford to lose her.” He looked up and smiled at his eldest son. “Should it be you and Fergus then, Jamie? To sit wi’ the mare until it’s her time?”

“Aye, that should do.” Young Jamie glanced over at Roger. “Will ye have other chores for Roger, then? I’ll stay here wi’ her until Fergus comes.”

“He can come wi’ me,” Jamie said quietly, stepping closer to his namesake. “Ian, will ye mind fetching Fergus? I’d like to take a wee walk wi’ Mr. MacKenzie here.” He inclined his head, indicating the open door. “After you,” he said evenly.

Roger had enough sense to not swallow in nervousness, though he clenched one fist behind his back. A bead of sweat trickled down his back as he kept up with Jamie’s long strides. They weren’t heading for the main house, but rather the ancient stone tower perched halfway up the hill to what Young Jamie had told him were the potato fields.

Fraser’s silence unnerved him – and after several minutes, Roger couldn’t bear it.

“What is it ye wish to discuss, then?” He hoped he sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

Fraser paused and turned to face him. “Oh, a good many things. Ye’ve caused quite the stramash within my family since ye arrived.”

They had reached the broch, and now stood in the shade it cast in the late morning sun.

Roger stood up a little straighter. “Jamie didn’t mention anything to me this morning, and it seemed all was right at supper last night.”

Fraser’s eyes narrowed. “I meant my own family, wee Roger. My son. My daughter. My wife, especially. Ye’ve brought some bad news, and caused her to re-live some painful decisions she made almost twenty years ago. She is hurting inside. And because I am her husband, and the Church says we are one flesh – that means it’s me who’s hurting. Because of you.”

Oh, Christ. Had Fraser taken him out to the broch to kill him? If he screamed, could they hear him in the main house?

“So. I’ve two questions for ye, Roger, and I want ye to consider your answers verra carefully. Can ye do that?”

Roger pursed his lips and nodded. What else could he say? What else could he do?

Fraser glanced over his shoulder toward the house, then settled his piercing blue eyes back on Roger’s. “Well then. The first is, how long do ye intend to stay? You can earn your keep here on the estate for as long as ye wish, but times are still lean. We canna give ye charity when we’ve tenants that are struggling.”

Roger nodded. “All right. And the second question?”

Fraser smiled. Coldly. “The second is – what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

Damn. Roger flushed, suddenly tongue-tied. “My intentions?” he croaked.

Fraser glanced down at the back of his weathered, work-scarred hands in a pantomime of casualness. “Anyone wi’ eyes in their heid could see ye swooning over her at supper last night. She’s sixteen, lad, and she kens her own mind weel – but she’s no’ as worldly as I’d like her to be, so we’re talking of sending her away to university. I dinna want anything to get in the way of that. I dinna want ye breaking her heart, especially if ye decide to go back to your own time. Do ye understand?”

Roger nodded. “And when do ye want yer answers, then?” he croaked.

Fraser smirked. “The second answer, now, if ye will. The first – ye can wait a bit, but I want it soon. I dinna like seeing my wife in distress – I dinna like seeing her question her decisions, again. I already lived through that wi’ her, many years ago. I dinna care to do that again.”

Roger sank against the cold, ancient stone of the broch. What were his intentions? He’d barely spoken with the lovely Brianna Fraser – though the few times they’d locked gazes last night seemed to say everything that had been necessary.

Now that he’d seen Claire – and met Jamie – his original “mission” was over. He could stay until the autumn equinox in September, when the passage through the stones would be open again, biding his time learning folk songs and writing down dialects and learning as much about the eighteenth century as he could.

But Brianna Fraser. Would he leave his past – his future, really – behind, in order to stay with her? To build a life with her, in this strange time? Could he leave all that, for the sake of a person he barely knew?

Claire Randall Fraser had.

In a flash, Roger was crushed by all the horror and fear and guilt Claire must have felt when she realized that not only had she fallen through time – but that she had fallen in love. That her life’s true anchor was a person here, in this time – for whom one would gladly sacrifice all the conveniences of modern life.

Was he willing to make that sacrifice, for a woman he barely knew?

Suddenly he realized that Fraser was waiting for an answer. Roger swallowed. “I want to court Brianna. Properly. Will ye allow me to do that?”

Fraser crossed his arms. “Does that mean ye’re intending to stay, then? Ye’re willing to give up your time, all the things you’re used to there?

Roger sighed – belatedly realizing that Fraser had gotten him to answer the first question through his answer to the second question. “I’ve not much to offer her at the moment, but you know that. I promise you that I’ll respect her, and be respectful of her wishes. And I would never, ever ask her to do anything she did not wish to.”

Fraser scuffed the toe of one boot into a tuft of grass, considering. “Aye, well that’s a good thing – considering she’s helped me geld the horses since was nine. One wrong move and she knows exactly how to separate a man from his ballocks. But that would be the verra least of your worries, lad, were you to ever hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d never do that.”

“Aye?” One red brow lifted in question. “Ye barely know her. And ye’re already pledging to protect her, then?”

Roger raised his chin, defiant. “Didn’t you do the same? With Claire?”

Fraser’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed I did.”

“And did you mean it?” Roger fought the urge to fidget as a bead of cold sweat trickled down his spine.

“Yes. I still do.”

“Well then. I won’t break her heart.”

Fraser’s blue eyes fixed his for a long moment.

“Mmphmm. Will ye come help me wi’ the second cellar, then? I’ve been asked to bring some things back to the house.”

Roger paused, then nodded his head slightly. “Lead on.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #shifted #jamie and claire

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soutasnotebook · 7 years

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Suzuhan/Pocahontas

Anonymous asked: After that Mulan-Mutsurie mashup, I dare you to write Disney-film mashups for: Ayahina, Touken, Takirona, Akiramon, Uihai, Nishikimi, Tsukikana, Arieto, and Shiraiko. Ty and good night.

Anonymous asked: Can you also do saikohsiao utaren and suzuhan for the fairytale Disney mashup? Bless your heart I’ll be posting these once a day (probably) until the list is done!

Mutsurie/Mulan: here.

Ayahina/Sleeping Beauty: here.

Uihai/Tangled: here.

Akiramon/The Hunchback of Notre Dame: here.

Tskukikana/The Little Mermaid: here.

Nishikimi/Snow White: here.

Takirona/Frozen: here.

Shiraiko/Beauty and the Beast: here.

Arieto/Cinderella: here.

Touken/Aladdin: here.

Utaren/Hercules: here.

Battle rages around, and Suzuya Juuzou is bored.

He’s seen enough slaughter. Right now he’d prefer to see the returned Mr. Shinohara - life restored - rather than witness demise after demise.

“Retreat!” shouts Furuta, and the squadrons begin backing down the tunnels.

Kirishima launches towards him, and Hanbee Abara gasps. She’s the one who left Mr. Shinohara flowers. He remembers her.

“Kill her!” screams Furuta, but Hanbee can’t. This is more than hesitation; this is refusal.

Before Suzuya can think, he hurls himself before Hanbee. He tries to hurtle a knife, but Hanbee knocks him back. “I -”

Suzuya stares at him, and Kirishima pauses.

“Go!” Hanbee cries.

Suzuya begins to shake. Why -

“Arrest him!” spits Furuta, and Hanbee is knocked to the ground before Suzuya. His arms are twisted behind him, and to Suzuya’s dismay, tears stream down his cheeks.

Now Suzuya hesitates, but Miyuki Mikage runs up to grab him.

Suzuya stays, head hanging, as the ghouls flee and Hanbee is shackled. First Mado, now Hanbee.

Was he too soft a leader? Is this all his fault?

------------------------------------------------------------

Suzuya feels ill. He ought to give up. Mr. Shinohara has been chosen to carry out Hanbee’s execution before Tokyo, and he can see the pain in the dead man’s eyes, but that won’t stop him.

“Suzuya, if Hanbee were here right now, he’d tell you to avoid being like him. To say what you’re thinking,” Mizurou Tamaki says.

“You know Hanbee had a reason. He only acts for you, after all.” Mikage stares at Suzuya.

Suzuya stands. For once in his life, he knows what to do.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“We’ve got to rescue that investigator,” declares Hinami later in their crowded conference room. They held off an invasion, so now it’s time to go on the offensive.

“How?” Touka scowls. It’s all her fault - she knows he recognized her. “That’d be stupid.”

“We’ll mount a rescue. For him and Yoriko. That’s her name, right?” Tsukiyama eyes Touka. He skims Suzuya’s note one more time. The little Arima seems sincere. How quaint.

Kaneki Ken draws himself up. “Prepare for another battle.”

But Kaneki doesn’t really want another battle. Is the death of all I love carried in the drumming of war?

-----------------------------------------------------------

Shinohara Yukinori does not want to kill Hanbee. He loves the tall, awkward man who follows his son. He didn’t come back from a coma to kill humans.

But Hanbee has violated CCG - violated humanity. Life demands his blood.

Hanbee is tied to a post, helpless but defiant. He only concern is the effect this will have on Suzuya.

Across the square, masked ghouls appear. Their kagunes spread wide across the street. The Centipede leads them.

Shinohara raises his quinque.

“No!” Suzuya leaps forward from the crowd to wrap his small body around Hanbee as best he can. “If you kill him, you’ll have to kill me too.”

“Suzuya.” Shinohara is terrified for him. “Stand back.”

“I won’t! I love him! And I love them!” Suzuya points at Kaneki. “Look around you - this is the path that hatred has brought us. The path of Big Madam and the arena. Look around you. You gave me a second chance and now you have yours; you can do differently.” Suzuya’s voice breaks.

Shinohara stares at him. His eyes moisten, and he sees the child he raised. He raised Suzuya to this moment of defiance. Suzuya is everything he wanted for him, and more.

Shinohara’s voice rings out. “From this day forward, if there is to be more killing, it will not start with me.”

Furuta leaps forward and aims Rotten Fellow.

“No!” Hanbee will not let Suzuya’s father die again. He launches himself in the path of Rotten Fellow.

“Hanbee!” screams Suzuya, and he hears Kaneki scream, “Suzuya!”

Both men fall atop Shinohara, their abdomens split open.

“You rotten fellow!” Itou Kuramoto yells at Furuta.

“You’re the real scourge!” Yonebayashi Saiko joins in.

“They’re traitors!” Furuta protests.

“Are they? Or are you, Washuu?” Kaneki Ken strides across the square to hold Suzuya and Hanbee’s stomachs shut with his own kakuja.

Kirishima Touka fires an Rc bullet into the director’s head.

When he doesn’t die, Kuriowa Iwao raises his voice. “He’s a ghoul! Capture him.”

“Suzuya, hang on.” Shinohara’s blurry face looks down at him. “You are both important.”

Suzuya winces. “I’ve had worse.”

“I haven’t,” Hanbee mutters.

“Why did you save her?” Suzuya whispers. His heart shudders. Is this what it means to die?

“Because she gave Mr. Shinohara the flowers,” Hanbee says. His hand reaches out to squeeze Suzuya’s.

“They’ll live,” Kaneki assures Mr. Shinohara as Suzuya loses consciousness. “With Banjou’s Rc treatment followed by suppressants.”

“They better, sir,” says Shinohara.

#suzuhan #suzuya juuzou #hanbee abara #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul scenarios #shinohara yukinori #kaneki ken #mizurou tamaki #furuta nimura #keijin nakarai #miyuki mikage

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lady-o-ren · 5 years

Text

The Witch and the Red Man

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

Chapter Five

The air within the oakwood chamber was damp, cool and richly lush with the fresh, clean, fragrance of wild mint and lavender that overlapped the twisted bark above as the knotted walls bellowed like the rise and fall of a creatures ribs moaning hauntingly so.

Nevertheless, the creeping night had been a gift of peace for Claire, who laid enveloped in the healing depths of slumber of which she had been without for so long. Where anguish momentarily lifted from her heart steadying it to a calming rhythm, spreading warmth in a glowing blue of harmony that mended not only her bruises and scrapes but also the painful strain of another's cursed psyche that had been consuming her mind, tainting her blood.

And it was that link so quiet as not to stir her from the sanctity and unbothered bliss of a dreamless sleep that had Claire waking with a sense of unease, questioning if the damned red man had absconded stupidly into the night.

Throwing off the muslin sheets where she was bared to her stippled moonlit skin, Claire dressed hastily in clothes unfamiliar but wonderfully clean, even as the thundercloud of her own accursed curls and low-hanging ivy slithering as snakes, blinded her in the rush.

Out the room where she crushed soft pennytops springing through the crackled stone floors, past the clustering white hemlock still curling wildly with infatuation that she slapped away, Claire was met with the oddest of sights that had her palming her eyes.

There sat Jamie, hunched forward on his elbows over the clawed table that was dotted with piles of acorns and pebbles, across the raven known as Boromir and glowering like an adolescent over what seemed like a simple game of draughts.

"You wee fowl of a cheat," Jamie grumbled, causing the accused to ruffle feathers so black they lustered blue and glinted green, while throatily voicing a declaration of his innocence which was simply that of an offended caw.

"Dinna give me any of yer beak, beag suid,or I'll have yer feathers plucked 'till yer fleshed pink." Jamie then continued to argue with Boromir, who practically molting from his rapid flapping, which is when Claire interceded with a clearing of her throat.

Loudly so. Then another. Causing Jamie to flinch from ruddy brow to cornered lip in mid verbal assault, keeping his back decidedly turned knowing he'd find a mocking grin pinching her cheeks.

"What exactly am I interrupting here may I ask? Other than the obvious threat of a full grown man towards an innocent bird."

"Innocent?" He grunted, narrowing his eyes at the percieved guilty. "This bastard was the most decent thing I've met in years, apart from a hare roasted over fire - that is until he defiled our friendship with dirty underhanded play." The accusation was emphasized with a hard pointed finger to the tabletop.

Hand on her hip, "How?"

"I dinna ken, but his mistress is a dark one and I shouldna see why a soul eater as he canna be as well."

"Or just possibly his thumb sized intelligence is greater than yours."

Claire was met with a sideways glare meant to melt her spine down to it's marrow yet, it only prompted a fervent press of her hand to the delightfully spasming muscles of her belly. The first she had felt since her days with Raymond.

"This genius here as ye so believe tried to swallow an acorn whole. Had to pinch his throat for him to caw another day." Boromir denied such a humiliating mishap by chancing a pecking at the broad back of Jamie's hand that he in turn waved in a warning smack to his beak.

"So you're telling me you've lost to a bird that you yourself have given a lowly opinion of intelligence to. No offense to you Boromir," Claire was quick to add, looking over Jamie's burning thatch curling as his annoyance peaked. "I think you're the one with sense."

Jamie then muttered underbreath a garble of something surely belittling in gàidhlig towards her, which was a grand deal better than him directly saying so in words she could understand. And before he changed his mind on that, Claire decided (with sharp insistence of her stomach) she needed sustenance better than a laugh, no matter the small flickering warmth it brought her.

She sought the great iron pot gently steaming and spouting a bubbly croon over the black sooted hearth and stirred it's contents (what looked to be a delicious concoction of bobbling mushrooms, potatoes and other bountiful delights, spiced strongly with cloves of garlic and herbs that crossed enticingly under her nose), wondering where Geillis could be and for that matter the time of day it was. The light that sneaked through the crevices of the saplings glowed rather darkly like the haggard setting of the day and those hours lost ticked away in Claire's mind.

"Is it sundown already?" She asked with a furrowed brow to Jamie, who had been pawing at Boromir's loot of acorns before getting nicked by his beak.

"Aye," Jamie mumbled roughly past his lips where the injured finger was being nursed. "Of what day I canna say. One - two may have past that I've noticed. I suspect something in the water, even the air that's made a blur of it all and it must be something mighty to do us both in. Especially me."

"What makes you think so?"

Jamie's finger glistened with a small drop of blood near black that he smeared against thumb and forefinger before speaking again.

"I woke somewhere between the last we spoke to now, my mouth thirsting. I looked to that pitcher there beside ye as our fine feathered lad here deemed it well enough to drink. Next I knew I was on my face pooled wet in senseless dreams with Boromir pecking at my heid, clawing at my cheek."

Abuse Jamie welcomed as the dreams were nightmares echoing the past that threatened to choke him as the hangman's noose. The pool that drenched him his sweat from a brewing fever of fright with the black bird trying desperately to rouse him from his minds relentless torment. Jamie reluctantly lowered his head in gratitude to Boromir whose guarded stance relaxed to that of a dove.

"I dinna trust the water and that extends to the food. Been eating acorns and black currants from the vine that grows above us since noontide and no misfortune has befallen me yet."

While Claire knew Geillis had a perverse penchant for playing tricks, it wouldn't explain her own sedation as she was immune to all earthly poison. Pondering possibilities she deduced the most obvious.

"While I can't say Geillis isn't capable of doing such a thing, I think it was simply our bodies meeting their limits. Exhaustion overtaking us." Claire reasoned, spooning soup to two bowls crudely shaped from black walnut that sat purposefully aside for her and Jamie (Had Geillis been back since she left them that night?). She placed one in front of him that he wrinkled his nose to, then took her seat at Boromir's end who was ever the gentleman and shuffled aside.

"Even if I were inclined to believe ye, I'm no' touchin' food made from that woman’s baneful hand." Jamie shoved the bowl away, broth dripping down the rim as he reached instead for a large handful of acorns to gorge on without the squawking scorn.

"If we are ever to leave this place and never see one another again - which you've made quite clear is your desire as is mine, you will need your strength, Jamie. The faster you eat the better for us both."

Jamie fixed a single unblinking stare to Claire as he popped the acorns to his mouth, one after the other. Each louder than the last in stubborn emphasis.

"You child." Rolling her eyes, Claire left him to his chosen meal fit for bushy-tailed vermin and tucked in to hers. Lapping up a veggie stacked spoonful that swam hot across her tongue, a peculiar expression fell upon her face that had Jamie's brows pitched high.

"Poison." The word was spoken with an odd tone of smug validation.

"Pepper." Claire retorted flatly, with the heat of it catching in her throat. "Quite a lot too. Still, I'd wager it's a grand deal better than what you're having."

While Claire continued to eat, the steamy aroma relentlessly teased Jamie's fortitude that crumbled with every writhing lurch of his stomach, groaning so like a feral shriek it startled even himself.

Uttering, "Shit," Jamie grabbed for the spoon, provoking a smile that warmed Claire better than the soup. The heat of it spreading to her cheeks when her glowing amusement was mistaken for gloating and was met with a firm press of his boot over the tip of hers, 'Dinna say a word.'

She didn't.

Instead the whizzing and crackling fire did the talking with the nervous rustling of summers last verdant creation sneering back. Boromir's gurgling kraa filled the gaps between as he joined the feast at Jamie's urging. Bickering forgotten, forgiveness granted.

Time would have passed pleasantly, the silence preferable over a chancing of another snide remark taken farther then a jest, more cruel than a bite, if not for the entrance from the brisk outside of one who could see to the center of a man if evil be found there and relished in it so.

"Keep on wi' yer daggers stag and I'll tear yer eyes to crush beneath my shoon." Her white teeth gleaming in the dusky light, Geillis chuckled darkly at Jamie until Boromir shrieked in his defense, fingers tensing at the clasps of her cloak.

"Bleeding devil's, yer getting a mouth on ye. And the state of ye," she clicked her tongue sharply as she chucked her cloak to hang on the roots protruding from the walls. "Mussed as a drowned rat."

Despite his less than kind proclamations earlier, Jamie gently stroked his knuckle to Boromir's feathered back, softly speaking most sincere. "Ye've a most handsome feather about ye, lad. Dinna mind yer Mistresses foul withered tongue."

Defiant eyed, Jamie shrugged his shoulders dismissively as Claire hushed him, fingers curling in her lap as if to strike the words from his mouth but little too late.

Her unnatural feral eyes became entirely devoid of white, but upon hearing the hitch in Claire's throat pleading gaze, Geillis sighed and curled her lovely mouth so wide that it sent a chill through the three.

"Och, sweet on each other are ye now?" Her voice sopping with mockery. "Beware my kinsman, the glutton will shit on ye when his gullet is filled to the brim. Vomits when he dips his pecker in the drink too. But at the very least he swallows his own sick."

Amused with herself, Geillis walked to the hearth and raised her chilled palms to the fire, kindling bright as the flame. Her blonde lashes flicked nearly flittering closed when Claire asked where she had been.

"The sleep steal yer memories as well, mo calman geal? I shouldna be surprised what wi' the both of ye still-bodied as death when I shuffled about these days past." Her mossy eyes crinkled at the corners. "And ye ungrateful pair are welcomed for the clothes and food."

"You have our gratitude, Geillie. Immensely ," Claire's voice rose in appeasement, looking over her shoulder to Jamie who stared just as hard back. Geillis however hummed in appreciation.

"I've been asking around the wood to find ye both passage past where my name willna help ye. I conversed at great length wi' every spirit I have favor wi'. Exhausted me so." Her face flushed unabashed to the roots of her hair, giggling like a youth.

"But it was mo Aloisia, who held the way." She said fondly. "A nymph from the very waters of Iona, practically drowned me to do so. Had watercress in the crack of my arse."

Before she could detail any further where reeds and lily pads had caressed her, Claire hurriedly interrupted her. "So it's by the river we journey?"

"Aye, a wee boat long abandoned is drifting our way now to quickly set ye to Le Havre before the butcher can find ye. And he is searching mo leannan, the trees whisper it. Water is the answer."

"What do you think, Jamie?" Claire turned to Jamie who had been silent through it all to find his hands clapped to his face where he had gone green as the briny sea.

"Jamie?"

"Damn all ye soulless woman." He wretchedly groaned looking to retch right on the spot.

___

A/N: Thank you to all who continue to read this story.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #weird stuff #weird writing #wrm

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owlish-peacock36 · 7 years

Text

Seek, and You Shall Find: Chapter 8

STORY TIME

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“His name was Frank…”

“Frank.” Jamie tested the man’s name, weighing the worthiness of it. It was a fine name, but too English in his opinion.

Well… Claire was an Englishwoman after all…

“Yes. After my parents died, I moved to my Uncle’s estate outside Edinburgh. Frank’s family owned the neighboring property.”

“And that’s how the two of ye met?”

Claire hummed in assent. “We were the same age. We were both a bit lonely, I suppose. He was the youngest of four brothers. And I had no siblings to speak of. So, we just… we gravitated towards each other.”

Jamie couldn’t help the jealousy that rose within him, an ugly beast that pounded on the walls of his chest. He shouldn’t have felt this way; he had no claim on the woman. And, yet…

“Anyway, we married, lived a comfortable life. He was a tutor. I was a healer.”

“Is that what ye use those plants for? I didna ken that…”

She blushed a bit, just a light pink coloring her cheeks. “Oh, um, yes. It’s a bit of a… passion of mine, if you will.”

“Ye know, we need a new healer here at the castle. Perhaps ye could speak to Colum about that.”

“Perhaps…” But she didn’t seem convinced.

“Hmmm. I’m sorry, though. I interrupted ye.”

“Oh. No, it’s alright. I… um…” Her chin dropped to her chest. She watched as her fingers deftly pleated her skirt. And a small, shimmery droplet caressed her cheek.

Though Jamie’s mind was a bit dumbfounded, his body reacted immediately. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her closer to him on the rock until she was secured at his side.

“Shhh. It’s alright, Claire. If ye dinna wish to speak anymore…”

“No!” Her tone was defiant, almost angry. “No, someone needs to know the truth. Others think they know, but they don't…”

Jamie waited silently for her to continue. If that’s what she wished.

“I went into town one day this past winter. To get medicinals and such. I tried to get back home, but… the snow. It was too heavy, too thick. I had to stay at an inn.”

He felt her body expand and contract next to him, breathing deeply. Preparing herself.

“When I returned home the next day… Frank… he… he was just on the floor. Just lying there. He… he died in the night. I didn’t even get to… get to say goodbye.”

He felt nothing but sympathy for Claire. Death was never easy for the living. “I’m so sorry. To lose such… such love. To have found a true, passionate love, and have it all disappear. It must have been… I dinna ken….”

She smiled then. A small smile, but a touch of humor gleamed in her eyes. “I think you misunderstand. When I tell you I loved Frank, I mean… I loved him as my own blood. A brother, of sorts. There was no… romantic feelings. For either of us.”

Jamie felt the confusion evident on his face. “Was your marriage arranged, then?”

“No, no. Our marriage was one of… protection.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “I’ve had an affinity for healing, plants, nature… for as long as I can remember. As a girl, it was not a huge problem. Just a girl playing. By as I grew older, grew past the prime marriage age, people talked. For, surely, I was a witch.

“People in the countryside can be a bit closed-minded. So, we married. Because, don’t you know,” she drew sarcastically. “That a man steals a witch’s powers away?”

“What about Frank? Did he no have any other lassies that caught his eye?”

Claire tilted her head from side to side. Jamie could see her thinking, choosing her words carefully. “Um, no. Frank has–had– a certain… preference for those he… entertained.” She saw his bewilderment. She smiled wryly. “Lassies were not a part of that…”

Astonishment. “He preferred the company of other men?”

Claire scoffed. “Indeed. So, we protected each other. I kept him from prison, he kept me from the pyre. Because that’s what friends do… they protect each other.”

“Why are ye telling me all of this? I mean, I ken I told ye that ye could, but… this is more than I was expecting.”

He felt her shrug. “I guess I trust you.”

“Weel, that’s good. So… ye’ve never been in love?” He must have become possessed. By an angel or demon, he wasn’t sure yet.

But, she turned to him, eyes wide and melting. “I… I don’t know.”

He bent down, confidence surging through him, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

She molded to him, mouth wide and pliable. She didn’t pull away, didn’t shimmy out of his grasp.

When they finally pulled away, Claire spoke first. “Did that kiss mean anything?”

She was teasing him again.

“Aye.” He smiled, and bent down to continue. But she stopped him.

“Wait. There… there’s something else I need to tell you. I… I need to be completely honest with you.”

Jamie’s forehead crinkled. “Okay…”

“Frank… he… I… Frank’s full name is Frank Randall.”

“Randall?”

“Yes. Exactly what you’re thinking. Jonathan was his brother.”

“He arrested his brother’s wife? Beat his brother’s wife?” He was angry. Red and hate filled.

“He never liked me much. I was never good enough for Frank. And when Frank died… Well, he… he blamed me. That’s how it all happened when you found me. Arrested me for murder. I… I should have told you sooner. I should have–”

But Jamie silenced her with his lips.

He grinned wryly. “Dinna fash, Sassenach. The Redcoats say I killed a man too.” She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s no true, though. After I was flogged–”

“You were flogged?!”

“Aye. They flogged me twice. For obstruction and theft. A few friends helped me escape prison. I could barely hold on to a horse, let alone fire a pistol to kill a man.”

“Jamie!”

“Hmm?”

“That’s… that’s just awful!”

“Dinna fash too much. It does no pain me anymore.”

He watched as Claire’s eyebrows creased. Many emotions flitted across her face. Concern was the most prevalent. “Did… did Jonathan flog you? Is that what you meant when we first met? That you knowing him was a ‘long story’?”

“Aye. Though, I suppose it isna so long now that I tell it. What are ye doing?!”

As he spoke. Claire began loosening her fichu, exposing the long column of her neck and chest. Though Jamie wasn’t particularly angry about it, he didn’t appreciate the temptation in front of him.

“Another thing we have in common. He… Well, he didn’t flog me. He whipped me. With his riding crop.”

She turned away from him, showing her newly exposed upper back. Though far less gruesome and quite a bit smaller, her scars were evident in the sunlight. Thin and silvery, like a spider’s web. Barely visible against her pale skin, but there they were, hardly raised from the skin.

Jamie felt his features twist in disgust. Not at the scars themselves, but the reason they were there.

“I never understood why he hated me so. Especially on the ride to Wentworth… I didn’t understood why he did those things to me. I was a prisoner, not a dog. I was to be killed anyway. Was that not enough? But…” She sighed heavily, tucking her fichu back into her bodice. “Perhaps I know now. Jonathan was… sick. A sickness that cannot be cured. A sickness in the brain.”

“Nay doubt about that, Claire.”

“Well,” she sighed. “Aren’t we a pair?”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #seek and you shall find #chapter 8 #jamie x claire #exposition y'all #claire's past

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sakurajimahigh · 5 years

Text

Quarter: Zero

"How do you like that, sports fans!? It's a tie going into halftime here at Sakurajima High's Zone Amphitheater. And, man, has it been a brutal match so far! I dare say that the number of fouls today has been unprecedented in the Kamigami Junior League’s High School Division ! Especially the ones that have gone on right under the ref's nose, Ken!"

"Indeed, Mark! But it's so hard to prove those to be fouls and not the accidents that they seem to be. Tsuyosa has a reputation for powerful, forceful plays. But, recently, the rumour mill’s been talking about a new style which is both dangerous and crooked."

"Right you are. But there's no way to substantiate those claims. Though, a review of past games might be in order... Now, let's look at these numbers! Tsuyosa's monster of a Power Forward and Second Year ace, Setsuden Kenta. True to his heritage, he is the very essence of strength, working on a double-double in field goals and rebounds. He is 10 for 15 from the paint and has 9 rebounds so far. Sakurajima's own starlet, Par-...."

"Hold on, Mark, there seems to be a commotion at the referees' table! A player from Sakurajima just walked over and suddenly EVERYONE's on their feet! What agitation! Managing teachers, coaches and players from both sides are mobbing the table! Oh, wait, looks like Setsuden is getting in the Sakurajima player's face!! What is going on!?"

"A table referee is holding up a sign... Oh. My. Gods! Could it be? Oh, yes, Ken! YES! Looks like there's going to be a halftime JAAAAAAAAAMMM!!!"

"For the first time in three years, Mark, in Sakurajima High, there's going to be a JAM at Halftime! AMAZING!!!"

"For those watching from home, a Jam is a one-on-one match using the full court. It's like a duel, but with Basketball! And, like a duel, Ken, there's always something at stake, varying anywhere from favours to consorts! Anything could be at stake!"

"Especially with the players being the Scions of the Divine! But who's the challenger!? Wait, wait, wait! The announcement's on the video screens! Looks like it's...”

“... Sakurajima's number 13, Akihito Konamo'i?”

“A relative nobody against Tsuyosa's current ace, Setsuden!!? Who in the Nine Hells is this kid!? Mark, do you have anything on Sakurajima's new number 13!??"

"Well, Ken, for starters, we don't have much to go on, paper-wise. He's a transfer student from the States, starting his first year of high school here. Plays as a Center Forward, but his stats are non-existent!"

"He's a FRESHMAN!? He MUST be INSANE to challenge one of the best, if not the best, Power Forwards in the Kamigami Junior Leagues!"

"Hold on, Ken, something's not right here. That kid looks too intense. Too confident. Can you scope that aura!? More info is required! We need the ORACLE!"

"Right then, Mark, I've got you covered. The mob and furor around the refs' table has dissipated, but can you feel that tension in the air? The stakes are on screen now: a female player from each side has been laid down on the outcome of the Jam! Whoever wins the Jam has the wagered player transfered to the winner's school!? On a best two-of-three Jam!? Incredible! Unbelievable!"

"The first player to score two baskets out of three attempts in a 1 minute and 30 seconds or under of playtime WINS. If Sakurajima's number 13 wins, Tsuyosa will lose their talented and pretty - she has a small following in Tsuyosa - Shooting Guard, Tetsubara Rinata-chan! If he loses, he will leave Japan and Tsuyosa will receive Sakurajima's star player, Anika Wickramasurya!! AMAZING!!!"

"The Sakurajima bench is strangely quiet while the freshman has a quiet word with their coach. Akihito steps out on to the court, cool as you like, and waits, seemingly unconcerned, at the refs' table."

"Seems like some harsh words being exchanged between Setsuden and Tetsubara. Was that a flicker of anger from Akihito? Or was it just my imagination??"

"Now, the two players have moved to center court... Referee Tomokawa Daisen hefts the ball... TIP-OOOOOFF!"

"Akihito grabs the ball ahead of Setsuden. My gods, what a leap! And such height! But, wait! The whistle's been blown! What, Akihito touched the ball before it hit its highest point!? UN-BEE-LEE-VAH-BEL!!! Let's see that in a quick replay!"

"Ladies and gents, Akihito's height and wingspan may become a pain for other teams in future! This is crazy!!"

"Returning to the Jam at hand, Setsuden has possession and moves in at a quick jog after a quick bounce check from center court. Akihito is crouched between the three-point and free throw lines, arms out. Wait, he's straightened up! His posture's become very relaxed!? His head is even tilted to the left! What is he DOING!? Setsuden dribbles, here comes his signature double cross-over and then, suddenly, dashes in, cutting past on Akihito's left!"

"But, Akihito is suddenly right in Setsuden's face! How did he move so fast!? Setsuden has been stopped in his tracks, almost right back at the free throw line! The snarl on Setsuden's face is fierce! What is he goi-..."

"WOAH! WOAH! A STEAL, A STEAL! AKIHITO HAS STRIPPED SETSUDEN OF THE BALL! HE'S GOING COAST TO COAST!! SETSUDEN'S CHASING!!! THE CROWD'S ON ITS FEET AND ROARING LOUD!!! SETSUDEN HAS ALMOST COMPLETELY CAUGHT UP!!! BUT!!! AKIHITO SUDDENLY LEAPS FROM JUST PAST THE THREE POINT LINE!!!! A LANE-UP FROM THERE, WHAT THE HELL!?!!!!"

"OH! MY!! GODS!!!"

"SLAAAAAAAAAMMMDUNNNNKKK!!! 18 FEET LONG AND 13 FEET HIGH AIRWALK A LA MICHAEL JORDAN!!! UN-FREAKING-BELIEVABLE!!! AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!"

"Look at this kid! So composed, so focused! Just a small fist pump after his dunk! And Akihito calmly backpedals towards the free throw line. And there's the bounce check! Setsuden is powering down woodwork. He's really pulling out the stops, he's so fast that he's almost a blur!!"

"But Akihito is keeping pace! Seriously, Mark, who is this kid!?"

"Still checking, Ken, gimme a few!"

"O-kay, Mark, and... WHAT A MONSTER OF A BLOCK!!! Took my eyes away for only a few seconds and the Jammers already made it to the hoop! But! An impossible block on Setsuden's clutch dunk!! Akihito slipped in between him and the basket!!! And Akihito is acting like it's a normal day at work!!!"

"Both benches are stunned! BOTH! I don't think that Sakurajima was expecting this level of output from Akihito!!"

"Bounce check from the sideline for Setsuden. You can almost taste the aura pouring off of him. He. Is. Pissed."

"And, yet again, Akihito is already up in Setsuden's grille on defence! He's quick, I'll grant him that, his speed has been beyond expectations so far."

"Less than 50 seconds on the countdown and 18 on the shot clock to go."

"WHAT!? THE BALL'S KNOCKED LOOSE! THEY'RE CHASING IT AS IT BOUNCES UPCOURT TOWARDS TSUYOSA'S BASKET!!"

"AKIHITO SCOOPS IT UP AND HEADS TO THE BASKET! A CUT-IN FROM THE LEFT, A JUMP, SETSUDEN'S SUDDENLY BETWEEN AKIHITO AND THE BASKET!!"

"AKIHITO IN MID-JUMP, MID-AIR, DOUBLE CLUTCHES, SPINS OUT A 360 AROUND SETSUDEN AND SLAMS IT HOOOOOMMME!!!"

"THIS JAM IS OVER! AKIHITO WIIIIINNNS!!!"

"Akihito offers a handshake but Setsuden slaps it away and walks off. Ooooooohhh. But he suddenly stiffens mid-stride. Did Akihito say something?"

"Ken..."

"Yes, Mark?"

"Sakurajima has gotten their hands on a MONSTER."

"Sorry, Mark? You mean he's not a Scion??"

"No, no, Ken, NO! Just read this!"

"Just a moment, let's have a look at this..."

"Akihito Konamo'i, born October 1997 in Hawai'i, USA. Moved to New York on the mainland in 2009. Last measured 2014 at 6 feet, 9 inches tall with a wingspan of 6 feet 10 and a half inches wide. Played for Ticonderoga High School, the Defiants, junior high through to his sophomore year in high school as their Center Forward. Drafted to the Dark River Ferrymen of the Olympean Basketball Association in the Spring of his sophomore year to play in their Junior Division. Played 6 games as a first stringer, averaging approximately 20 points a game with a number of assists, blocks and rebounds, racking up double-doubles. Then took an unexplained leave of absence from February 2013 onwards for an undefined period of time. Transferred here to Sakurajima in the Fall 2014."

"He's 17!? No. Freaking. WAY!!! AND A JUNIOR PRO!?"

"I KNOW, KEN, IT'S INSANE. Sakurajima has a MONSTER of a player and I don't think that they’d realized it! Though that just might have changed now!"

"But, let's get on with the Halftime Report, Ken, before we run out of halftime!"

"Right you are, Mark!"

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