#outlander fic

[anon-argentine]

Hey, outlander fanfic writers, I have a proposition for you.

Genderbent Claire and Jaime.

WW2 Army Physician Clarence Beauchamp is on a trip with his friend Frank in Scotland, to celebrate the end of the war. Druids, stones, he finds himself in the 18th century. Enter a group of Scots that save him from Randall (who uncannily resembles Frank), and with them a fearless red-headed Scottish woman named Jenny. (Yes, in this AU, Jenny is Jaime laird of Lallybroch while his rebel sister is thought to be dead).

Jenny McTavish seems to have the respect of all the men that surround her, they treat her like one of their own. Clarence later learns of the bounty on Red Jenny’s head, etc, etc.

Plot goes along essentially the same. Clarence is taken to Castle Leoch, he wins their tentative respect due to his prowess as a healer. Jack Randall is trying to get him, Dougal still has him marry Jenny so that Clarence has some legal clan protection. Any other changes to characters and plot are up to you.

Someone tag me when they write this, I’d love to read it.

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Soften Every Edge - "Second"

December in their small corner of France was never quite so biting and brusque as a Scottish winter, but the days grew shorter and the temperatures dipped low just the same, and Jamie was loath to leave Claire and their warm bed each still-dark morning to see to the chores. The rhythm of a farm life was the same in that way too as it was at Lallybroch.

He had finished tending to the horses and had moved on to his recent project in the light of late morning when he heard Claire’s careful tread entering the barn. He glanced over his shoulder to see what had brought her out here, but there was no urgency in her steps or concern lining her expression, so he relaxed a bit. Perhaps she had a patient to visit. “D’ye need Atlas saddled?”

“No,” she said simply, and he turned back to his work, certain she would tell him her reason for being here if she wished to. And then he felt her arms slip around him from behind, her body pressing into his.

“Came to see you.”

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[theawkwardterrier]

All the Ways Home, epilogue

Between his home and Jenny's, there are photographs of nearly every Hogmanay of Jamie's life. He recalls quite a few of them too, although he isn't entirely sure which memory belongs to which age, blurred as they are with the happiness and excitement of the occasion. There's the flash of Willie's face caught through fluttering eyelashes as he placed a piece of shortbread on the cushion near Jamie's head where he'd dozed off long before midnight, and the feeling of warmth and safety even as his friends laughed and teased when they saw his parents kissing, his mother's hands cupping his father's face and the tight way he held her to him. There was the way his fingers slid, still careful but with growing comfort, between Claire's the first time she'd celebrated with them, and the wash of love, even hazed as it was with exhausted celebration, as he checked on a dreaming Faith or Brianna before finding sleep himself.

These memories take place on familiar ground: Lallybroch, as it had once been, for the earliest, then their house in the village, which later became Jenny and Ian's home. His sister has been a scrupulous hostess and maintainer of the traditions for years now, and so it is a complete shock when she suggests that he and Claire take over the job this year.

"Just this time," she says. "To celebrate yer first year wi' everything finished, and with yer family...Well, it'll be good to have all the extra space, after all."

"Just this time, then," he'd agreed, not mentioning the sentimental brush of tears beneath the sternness she was trying to sustain, but resting a hand on her shoulder and kissing her head anyway.

It is less of a shock when she continues to insert herself over the next months, including surprise reminders at the end of text conversations or between courses at Sunday dinner to buy several bottles more of whisky than they think they need and to select their first foot ahead of time (and make certain that he's still sober enough to do the job).

The latter, at least, Jamie feels he has well in hand. His father had often played the role in Jamie's childhood, or his godfather before he left for the States. There had been various dark-haired neighbors from Broch Mordha over the years, and Jamie still remembers meeting Fergus's eyes and seeing the true and tugging pride beneath the jaunty grin the first time his son had been given the honor as a teenager.

There is, however, only one choice for this year.

Read the rest on AO3

[lara-frasers]

seven sentence sunday

Thanks to my lovely friends @frasers-of-my-heart and @flyinghome-againstthewind for the tags ❤

Here's a new bit of my au wip featuring Faith (adopted by Claire before they meet Jamie). It's the first time Jamie is at Claire's house. If you've read the previous snippets I've posted, this is the scene right before Jamie reads to Faith:

Faith ran to the sofa, sitting next to Jamie, just as the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizza,” Claire grabbed her wallet and on her way to the door and added, “Faith, why don’t you show Jamie where the plates and glasses are?” She promptly got her feet (covered with fluffy slippers) on the floor, and motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen, which he did, with a look of amusement on his face, due to her command. “There,” she pointed up the cupboard for Jamie to reach everything. “You’re so tall.” “That’s because I’m older than ye,” he laughed and placed three of each on the table at the same time Faith folded napkins for them, which she had reached easily from the kitchen counter. Claire was back promptly, putting the two cheese pizza boxes on the table.

I seriously wonder if I'm gonna post the whole fic in posts like this one before I have time to write more🙃

I'd tag you back girls because I want to read your wips 😭 but that seems unfair, so anyone who sees this and wants to share their own "seven sentences", be my guest 💖

[rhaenella]

As Luck Would Have It – Stephen Bonnet x Brianna Fraser

└▸ Summary: Brianna just broke up with Roger and she finds herself drinking alone, in a crowded pub on St. Patrick’s Day, trying to drown her sorrows in solitude. But when a downright creep starts harassing Brianna and won’t seem to leave her alone, a charming Irish stranger comes to her rescue. ❦

Masterlist

My first Stephen Bonnet x Brianna Fraser fic is here… :) @xeresmalfoy I hope you enjoy this smutfest little thank you / Christmas gift 😉😘

[jamiemackenziefraser]

Hey— remember me?? Remember my faerie Claire and her sweet-as-a-cinnamon-roll Jamie?? Well I just posted an epilogue to All That Was Fair that I’d written years ago. Here is one last glimpse into their happily ever after!

I told you never say never ;)

[pxnsneverland]

Autumn Roses | Young Ian x OC (part 1)

plot summary: As a half black half white slave in colonial North Carolina, Rose has struggled with her place in the world. After her mother's death in childbirth and finding out that the recently deceased River Run plantation master was her father, the mistress of River Run, Jocasta Cameron, took her in treating her as more of a daughter than a slave. Jocasta educated and raised Rose with no one outside the house ever being the wiser. But the arrival of Jocasta's nephew Jamie Fraser and his wife Clare threaten to turn Rose's world upside down especially when they bring along their bright haired, blue eyed nephew Ian Murray.

pairings: Young Ian x OC

fandom: Outlander

word count: 2286

warnings/notes: Hey guys! I've had this Outlander fan fiction idea for awhile and I finally put pen to paper so to speak. I hope you all enjoy it! And those of you that know me from my Elvis fan fiction, no worries. I'm still writing it and will be updating soon :) 

Chapter 1: The Fateful Meeting

               River Run was not a locale where one could expect to encounter a plethora of thrilling events. Each day followed a set routine, a carefully crafted plan. Each individual was aware of their designated position. All but myself, I presume. There wasn't much of a place for negros in North Carolina society. They were considered slaves or possessions by the affluent white individuals who possessed the financial means to acquire them. I, too, followed in the footsteps of my mother, as countless others have done before me. From the moment of my birth, I was thrust into the cruel and inhumane world of slavery. Yet, despite my lowly status, I was afforded a modicum of respect and deference that set me apart from my fellow slaves. The circumstances surrounding my birth were shrouded in mystery, as my mother had passed away during delivery. It was not until years later that I was able to uncover the identity of my father, and the reasons behind my unique position as a lighter-skinned slave who resided within the household rather than toiling in the fields alongside my peers. Upon the passing of Master Cameron, I was summoned by his wife, Jocasta Cameron, at the tender age of eight. It was then that she imparted upon me the knowledge of my origins - a child born of a man who wielded his power over his possessions. Devoid of any offspring to call her own, she developed a fondness for my company. From that moment forward, my status shifted from that of a mere slave to that of a ward, receiving a different kind of treatment. Under the veil of secrecy, within the confines of River Run's protective isolation, Mistress Cameron imparted upon me a wealth of knowledge and skills. She taught me the art of reading and writing, the importance of proper speech, the intricacies of chess, the melodies of the piano, and any other subject that she would have typically taught her own flesh and blood. Tears streamed down my face as I contemplated the plight of my brethren who toiled ceaselessly in the fields and within the confines of the main house. For I, too, was akin to them - a mere possession adorned with precious jewels. In due course, I succumbed to the monotony of everyday life, much like the masses. However, my place left much to be desired, and the apprehension of never discovering my rightful place consumed me, as if such a haven was merely a figment of my imagination.   

On a stunning autumn day, I made the decision to settle beneath the grand oak tree in my front yard. With a book in hand, I whiled away the hours in peaceful solitude. Mistress Cameron sat on the porch, accompanied by her attendant Ulysses. He was a slave who assisted her in all her endeavors, given her blindness. Despite residing in the house slave quarters, he was treated almost as well as I. However, I had been granted my own room years ago, located in a separate wing of the house, far from any visitors who might chance upon it. I sensed the unwavering gaze of Mistress Cameron upon me, despite her lack of visual confirmation. Her admiration for me was so profound that I made every effort to avoid disappointing her. With my head bowed and my lips sealed, I remained hidden as instructed. The stakes were high, for if anyone were to discover that Mistress Cameron was imparting her knowledge upon me and treating me with her customary kindness, both she and I would face certain death.

            The day was a delight, with the gentle autumn breeze causing small ripples to form along the river nearby. The season of autumn had always held a special place in my heart. The leaves underwent a stunning transformation, displaying a vibrant array of colors. The fruits of one's labor were bountifully harvested. Perhaps I could have continued to relish the moment, were it not for the gradual approach of a boat traversing the river, its sound growing ever louder. With haste, I rose from my spot and sought refuge behind the towering tree, ensuring that I remained concealed from the body of water. The boat glided past me before coming to a halt just a stone's throw away from the walkway leading up to the house. I cautiously poked my head out, curious to catch a glimpse of the unexpected visitor. Anticipating the arrival of esteemed guests at River Run, I envisioned the likes of the governor, a soldier, or a lord, among the customary high-ranking individuals who graced us with their presence. In lieu of that, my gaze fell upon a towering, robust Scottish gentleman in the prime of his life, boasting locks of hair so fiery that they appeared to ignite in the sun's rays. He gallantly assisted a slender woman, who appeared to be slightly senior to him, in disembarking from the vessel. Her hair, pinned to the back of her head, was almost as curly as mine. Her skin was as pure as freshly fallen snow, unmarred by any imperfections, unlike that of so many other women. As she emerged from the boat, her gracefulness was striking.

Mistress Jocasta had risen from her seat, bringing Ulysses along with her. She now stood before them, a smile adorning her countenance. “Jamie. Welcome to River Run.”

            Jamie respectfully nodded his head. “Auntie Jocasta.” With a gallant gesture, he removed his hat and bestowed upon her a graceful bow.

            With open arms, Mistress Jocasta welcomed him into her embrace. Accepting her invitation, he embraced her tightly, conveying through the hug the length of time that had passed since their last meeting. “Blessed be,” she whispered softly, “You’ve grown to be a giant. That’ll be the Mackenzie blood flowing through ye.”

            A soft smile graced Jamie's lips. “I was no more than a bairn when you last saw me. Had nowhere to go but up.”

            So, the individual in question was Jamie. Mistress Cameron had devoted considerable time to recounting to me the tales of her family's history in Scotland and her formative years. Jamie, the youngest son of her sister Ellen, had been a name that had reached my ears. Mistress Cameron spoke of him in a manner akin to how she conversed with Ulysses about me, as if he were her very own offspring. Finally, I had the pleasure of putting a face to the name.

             “I recall ye had a most gorgeous heid of red hair,” she remarked, “Oh, how yer mother adored you.”

            “She adored you as well. Always spoke of you wi’ love.”

            “I miss her still.”

            “As do I,” he replied. Jamie hesitated for a moment before proceeding, “Ah, Auntie, may I present my wife Claire?”

            With a confident stride, Claire advanced towards Mistress Cameron, who lowered her head in deference. A smile appeared on Claire's lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Cameron.” Her English heritage piqued my interest slightly. The union of a Scotsman and an English woman was a rare sight indeed.

            “Oh, I hope you’ll call me Auntie, dear. We are kin after all.”

            “Of course,” Claire replied with a soft chuckle, “Auntie it is then.”

            “It’s lovely to meet you, Claire.” Mistress Cameron enveloped her upper arms with a warm embrace.

All of a sudden, a boy emerged and began to make his way up the path, catching my attention as I had not previously noticed his presence on the boat. He appeared to be no older than myself, perhaps even the same age of 16. With his lengthy blonde locks neatly tied back, his complexion, which was of a light hue, glistened with perspiration from diligently transferring their possessions from the vessel. With a wide and sincere grin, he drew near. The sight of that smile was enough to elicit a reciprocal grin from anyone who caught a glimpse of it. His striking good looks caused my heart to flutter uncontrollably, and I desperately willed it to cease its erratic beating.

            Ian. His name perfectly complemented his countenance - unassuming and charming.

            Ian clutched a bushel of wildflowers in his hands. “I’m very pleased to meet ye, Great-Aunt Jocasta.” He extended the bouquet of flowers towards her.

            “Ye’re welcome, lad.” You are most welcome, young man. I realized when she didn't take the flowers that Ian probably didn't realize she was blind. After all, he had never laid eyes on her.

            Ulysses came to the rescue, his voice a soft whisper in Mistress Cameron's ear as he spoke of the flowers that Ian had presented to her. As the realization dawned on her, her eyes widened with a sudden spark of understanding. Without hesitation, she reached out and took hold of the bushel, her fingers curling around it with a sense of purpose. “Thank you kindly, Ian. Forgive me. It is a long time since my sight had left me, though I still see shapes and shadows.”

            “I’m sorry to hear, Great-Auntie.” His countenance reflected the genuine distress he felt upon receiving the news. His kindness was palpable.

            “Oh, fear not, lad. It has been a blessing. I am now gifted with hearing that would be the envy of many a gossip, and the ability to sent truth from lies, if ye catch my meanin’.” His face lit up with a smile. Mistress Cameron spoke the truth. Throughout the duration of our acquaintance, she had consistently refused to regard her lack of sight as a hindrance. She navigated her surroundings with remarkable ease, almost as if she possessed perfect vision. Ulysses, her trusted companion, provided only sporadic assistance. I held great admiration for her actions. In that moment, a canine hastily approached Ian, positioning itself by his side with an uncontainable wag of its tail. With a joyful bark, he bid farewell to Mistress Jocasta and sprang off into the distance. “Oh goodness. Who have we there? Another acquaintance to be made.”

            With a quick movement of the eyes, Jamie stole a glance at Ian. “Young Ian’s…mongrel, Rollo. Take hold of your beast, lad.”

            With a nod, Ian chased after Rollo. No matter how hard he attempted to seize him, the dog darted beyond his grasp. A chuckle escaped my lips as I observed the comical sight of their cat-and-mouse game. Lost in my own amusement, I remained oblivious to Rollo's presence until he gently nudged the hem of my skirt from behind the tree. With a grin adorning his face, he patiently awaited my reaction. However, I found myself unable to respond. As Ian drew near, my heart nearly ceased beating, until he finally caught up to Rollo. “Rollo, you mangy beast, you can’t just go running off on Great-Auntie’s land.” He lifted his head to meet my gaze, his blue eyes widening as if he had just seen a ghost. Despite his pleasant demeanor towards Mistress Jocasta, I couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the potential harm he could inflict upon me. With a swift kick, I sent the book I had been engrossed in hurtling behind me, out of sight.

A lump had formed in my throat, impeding my breathing. Nonetheless, I persevered and managed to bow to him, my gaze fixed on the ground. “I’m sorry, Master Murray. I dinna mean to have any association with yer pet. Please forgive me.” At no other moment had I been as cognizant of the Scottish lilt that had been adopted from Mistress Cameron as I was presently.

Ian remained silent, leaving me on edge. I braced myself for any possible outcome, whether it be a physical altercation or an attack from his canine companion. My jaw tightened in anticipation. With a look of astonishment in his gaze, he uttered, “Ye’re the bonniest lass I’ve ever seen.”

My gaze was irresistibly drawn upwards, away from the ground. “What?”

Ian shook his head, as if to snap out of the current stream of consciousness that had been occupying his mind. “I’m sorry. I shouldna have been so forward. I’m Ian, Ian Murray.” In a swift motion, he grasped my hand and pressed his lips upon it with the grace of a chivalrous protagonist from a timeless tale. He bestowed upon me one of those smiles that had the power to make my heart flutter even from a distance. But now, as he stood before me, my heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

            As I was preparing to respond to him, my attention was diverted by the sound of my name being called out, “Rose!”

            With haste, I withdrew my hand from Ian's grip as Mistress Jocasta, accompanied by Jamie, Claire, and Ulysses, approached our vicinity. Mistress Jocasta's countenance betrayed a hint of displeasure, yet it was overshadowed by an air of apprehension. “I thought I told you to stay out of sight when we have company.”

            With a subtle movement, I placed my hands behind my back. “I was, Mistress Cameron, but Rollo…he found me…”

            “It was my fault, Great-Anutie,” Ian interjected, “I should have caught up wit’ Rollo before he went sniffin’ around.”

            Her fingers tightened around his shoulder. “It’s alright, lad.” A deep sigh escaped her lips. “We should all go inside. If you all are going to stay here awhile and since ye’re family, there are some things ye must know. I hope ye’ll keep an open mind.” Thus, we trailed after her as she led the way towards the main house. Ian strode alongside me, even though his legs surpassed mine in length. Every now and then, he cast a fleeting glance my way, but I refrained from reciprocating.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[frasers-of-my-heart]

Castle Leoch Jamie POV today for Wednesday100 🥰

Love my season 1 babies 😍

Jamie laid on his back in the hay and closed his eyes, picturing Claire’s face as he crossed the hall to Colum. He thought about her whisky eyes catching his own as he made his decision to take the girl’s punishment. He’s not sure he would have done it if he hadn’t seen her at that moment.

He wanted nothing more than to stand out to her. Well, that wasn’t honest—he wanted her, and knew he’d have a visit from her to look forward to after. He thought of being close to her now and started to feel a twitch…

[fraserstanclub]

approving all the lovely comments on ao3 yall really making me feel seen and loved coming out of fic writing retirement i love you guys so much

[lady-o-ren]

A NIGHT IN THE WOOD

AO3 link (HERE)

//

A thunderstorm lights up the sky above a cottage somewhere deep in the mountains, belonging to the lady of the wood.

Some say she can take flight as a raven, white of feather.  

Others, a witch who feasts on the fair and young. 

But those who seek her out know her as a wisewoman who can heal the sick from whatever ails them.

Be they man or . . .

And though the hour is late, she pounds her pestle into her mortar. Over and over again. It doesn't matter that her fingers are growing stiff from the repetition or that her eyes crystal with tears. She's still too angry, too regretful, to allow herself to stop.

But as the storm continues on, her cottage shaking with each bolt of thunder that disturbs the herbs hanging above to scatter down upon her,  the lady hears a strange noise coming from outside her door that makes her jump and drop her pestle. Something that sounds like -

Scratch, Scratch, Scratch. 

Hand at her heart, she hurries to lift the latch at the door and opens it wide, knowing it's more than just a gust of wind she hears and finds . . . An odd but familiar sight.

A fox has taken refuge on her doorstep, beaten from the rain and wind. His red coat is soaked and he's shivering so that the rabbit he offers to her in his maw seems to tremble as well. 

But his eyes are unwavering and gleam with love that knows no end. Along with great remorse for what a wretched beast he's been. A star-flecked blue that nearly smites her heart. 

If only she didn't think him so devious for trying to gain her sympathy by presenting himself in his furs. 

"Come on then, before you catch your death,"  Claire says. Her tone is not unkind but there's no tenderness in her words either. For all is not quite forgiven just yet.

So, with his ears pinned back and tail between his legs, the exhausted fox takes a few tentative steps inside, body slacked low to the floor. 

And then he sneezes. 

Once. Then twice.

A squeaky sound that nearly makes her laugh.

"No need to put on a show, Jamie," she says, making more of an effort to soften her voice as she moves to the corner to snatch the quilt off their bed. "I promise I won't go at you with the broom again. But I refuse to speak to you as you are. Now get to the hearth and shift from those furs so I can warm you properly." 

But when Claire turns back around she finds her dear fox lying lifeless on the wooden floor in a puddle of rainwater turning black with blood. 

"Jamie!"  The lady of the wood cries.

She falls to her knees beside him and presses her hand to his chest, her palm flickering with a blue radiant light that pulses from her inner being through him. Searching, searching for a beat . . .

//

The red fox wakes sometime later to the soft patter of rain and something savory cooking in the air.

He's been washed and mended and is laying beneath a heavy quilt atop the bed. He thinks he's maybe human now, but just to be sure, he wiggles his long toes and tries to speak.

"Claire," Jamie rasps, tasting the bitter tang of his lady's tonic on his tongue and lips. "Mo chridhe . . ." He tries again, this time opening his eyes, seeking the face of his heart who comes swiftly to his bedside. 

"Hush, love," whispers Claire, smoothing the thick mass of hair from off his brow, her touch infused with warmth and gentleness just as her voice. "You need your rest." 

Jamie grunts trying to sit up anyway, but only manages to push himself up on one elbow.

"What I need is you. Your forgiveness. I had no right to do as I did wi'out telling ye and then to speak to ye in such a way -"

She presses her fingertips to his mouth bristled dark red like his furs around the corners curled into a frown. 

"You're forgiven, Jamie. But I need you to forgive me too. There was no reason for me to be so angry with you, not when you were only trying to protect us. Like you always do. "

He sits up straighter and lays a big hand over hers, bringing it flat to his bare chest where the beat of his heart thumps the same fervent, aching rhythm as hers. 

"There's nothing to forgive, Claire. My heart has been yers since first I saw ye, and my devotion too for keeping my soul and body safe between these hands here. "

His mouth twitches.

"Though I will say I've learned to never cross a woman holding a broom. Ye ken my arse is still stinging like holy hell? "

Claire doesn't share his smile. 

"You're lucky it was only my broom. If that monster ever figures out who you are, where you've been hiding -"

Her voice suddenly breaks as her fingers curl like talons into the warm flesh of his breast.

Jamie holds her by both arms, unflinching. "He won't, Claire. I promise ye. Ye needn't worry for me or us."

"But if he did," she lifts her gaze, burning a fierce otherworldly gold. "I'd break my oath for you Jamie. To never harm nor kill."

 "Ye'll do no such thing," he snarls, tightening his grip on her and gives her a little shake. " I've blood on my hands already but you - I'd never forgive myself for having ye taint the purity of yer God given gift for me."

"You think I care more for myself than you? That I love you less?" Claire lays a hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the bold bones beneath. "I'd do it, Jamie, and gladly. "

He swallows thickly and leans his brow against hers. "I know ye would, mo ghràdh. Just as I would go to the stake wi ye."

After a long breathless moment, she nuzzles her nose against his and says softly against his mouth. 

"Thank you for bringing home dinner." 

Jamie smiles crookedly. "Least I could do for my lady when she patches me up." And intends to leave a trail of kisses down her neck when she pulls away, protesting. 

"I meant what I said, Jamie. You need to rest," she says, running the back of her hand over his jaw. "Or would you rather have a bit of stew?"

"Damn the stew. I'd rather take a bite out of you," Jamie growls, and falls back into bed with his lady in his arms to do just that. He nips at the soft skin of her neck while his eager hands ruck up her homespun dress, revealing skin more luminous than pearl and finer than silk beneath. There's even bitty leaves in her hair as if she sprouted from the earth for him to pluck and keep forever. 

But then she swats him away. 

"Jamie!" 

He groans, voice gruff with unfulfilled need as he rolls to his side, wincing a little from where she healed him, but keeps a firm grip of her plump backside. 

"I thought you were supposed to warm me? " He pouts. 

Claire sighs, brushing her curls from her flushed cheeks, having come undone. She knows how this will end, and the anticipation of devouring each other whole has her pulse pounding like a kettledrum down to her fingertips. But the healer in her just needs to make sure. 

"Are you even up to it?"

Jamie arches a ruddy brow, face so deadly serious that it's almost comical. 

"Do ye really need to ask?" 

The lady of the wood rolls her eyes yet smiles wide, biting her deliciously pink bottom lip. And untangles herself from her lover's embrace and very slowly begins to undress.

//

A/N:

I wrote two versions of this nonsense but couldn't decide on which one I liked better (not that this is outstanding writing or anything) The top part was version two. This bottom one is actually what I wrote first.

*There's also a loose quote in the version above from the book describing how Claire holds Jamie's life in her hands.

//

"You're forgiven, Jamie. But I need you to forgive me too. There was no reason for me to be so angry with you, not when you were only trying to protect us. Like you always do. "

He sits up straighter and lays a big hand over hers, bringing it flat to his bare chest.

"There's nothing to forgive. My heart has been yers since first I saw ye, and my devotion too for keeping my soul and body safe between these hands here. "

His mouth twitches.

"Though I will say I've learned to never cross a woman holding a broom. Ye ken my arse is still stinging like holy hell?"

"Well you deserved it, my wee fox," says Claire, tugging at the curly hairs on his chest.

Jamie snarls playfully and wraps his arms around her, bringing her close.

"I wasn't arguing any differently, vixen. But I could use a bit of your womanly sympathy. "

"Healing you wasn't enough?" She smiles coyly, running the back of her hand over his jaw. "What even took a bite out of you anyway?"

Jamie pokes his tongue out to lick the tip of her finger. She tastes of garlic and onions and meat with traces of her terrible tonic too.

"Twas my own fault. I wasn't looking where I was going, not that I could see really with all the rain, and came head to head with a mangy wolf. He wanted our supper. But I was faster."

"Not nearly fast enough," frowns Claire, thinking about the dark ugly bruise on his side, all that remained of the encounter. "I thought you died on my floor!"

Jamie shrugs, grinning cheekily.

"I wouldn't have died. Not wi' ye around, mo ghràdh. "

"Lucky you," she sighs, sounding rather annoyed, but nuzzles her nose against his. "But do try to avoid anything with sharp teeth next time. I've grown rather fond of you and your fluffy tail."

He chuckles warmly. "I promise, a nighean." And intends to leave a trail of kisses down her neck when she pulls away, protesting.

"I meant what I said, Jamie. You need to rest. Or would you rather have a bit of stew?"

"Damn the stew. I'd rather take a bite out of you." Jamie growls, and falls back into bed with his lady in his arms to do just that. He nips at the soft skin of her neck while his hands ruck up her homespun dress, revealing skin more luminous than pearl and finer than silk beneath. There's even bitty leaves in her hair as if she sprouted from the earth for him to pluck and keep forever.

But then she swats him away.

He groans, voice gruff with unfulfilled need as he rolls to his side, wincing a little, but keeps a firm grip of her plump backside.

"I thought you were supposed to warm me? " He pouts.

Claire sighs, brushing her curls from her flushed cheeks, having come undone. She knows how this will end, and the anticipation of devouring each other whole has her pulse pounding like a kettledrum down to her fingertips. But the healer in her just needs to make sure.

"Are you even up to it?"

Jamie arches a ruddy brow, face so deadly serious that it's almost comical.

"Do ye really need to ask?"

The lady of the wood rolls her eyes yet smiles wide, biting her deliciously pink bottom lip. And untangles herself from her lover's embrace and very slowly begins to undress.

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Beside the Seaside: Ch 12

Chapter 12

The sun rose on the morning of Claire and Jamie’s wedding completely shrouded by dark gray clouds that warned of rain.

“Dinna fash yerself if it does rain, lass,” Claire heard Ellen Fraser speak up from behind her, “it’s good luck if it does.” Claire was not usually one for silly superstitions, but the first thought that came to mind was that on the day she married Frank, it had been a beautifully sunny day…

“I’m not worried,” she promised, turning from the window in her room — the last day that it could be considered as such. “It’s not as though a little rain will make much of a difference anyhow; it’s a short drive to the registrar office in town.” She hoped she said the words without any hint of dismay. They couldn’t get married in a church on account of her divorce, and while that hadn’t really mattered to Claire, she knew Jamie’s faith was deeply important to him. And she wondered, not for the first time, what Jamie’s mother must’ve thought of all this; in the short time that she’d known the woman, Ellen Fraser had proved exceptionally hard to read. That’s where Jamie gets it from, she thought.

The door to Claire’s room opened then, and Faith swung it shut promptly behind her, appearing a little out of breath. “I didnae let anyone see me,” she said in a rush.

“What?”

“It’s bad luck,” Faith explained.

Read the rest on ao3

[theawkwardterrier]

All the Ways Home, chapter 13

The theme of his summer, Will reflects, seems to be that you don't know what you have until it's gone.

He hadn’t truly understood the simple certainty that he’d had just being William Ransom, going about his life being raised by his grandparents, knowing unquestioningly who his friends would be and where he would go on holiday and that his future was in the law, until he found the name James Fraser in Aunt Isobel's letter. He didn't recognize how much comfort he'd actually gained at Lallybroch until he finds himself unable to face the people here anymore, until the prospect of returning to the routines he's formed since he arrived seems impossible and even the person he'd thought he was feels like a lie — someone he can never return to being because he never truly existed.

He didn't recognize how much he wants to stay until he tried to go.

Read the rest on AO3

[lara-frasers]

For Auld Lang Syne

Here's a NYE one-shot I wrote, featuring an AU version of Jamie and Claire 🥰 I hope you like it!

You can read it here

Happy New Year! ✨🎉

[meditating-honey-badger]

First Line Tag Game

Thank you @chaotictarlos and @bonheur-cafe for tagging me.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

In order from most recent to earliest:

Pretty Penny (911 Lone Star)

TK read the name on the tablet three times, but still didn’t trust what he was seeing. Penelope Lane. He hadn’t thought of the name in years. It had to be a coincidence, though — Lane wasn’t an uncommon name, and surely a handful of them were either pretentious or idiotic enough to name their daughter after a Beatles’ song.

2. A Healing Touch (911 Lone Star)

“Are you cold?” Carlos asked as TK pulled a blanket up to his chin. They’d had plans to go out that night, but TK wasn’t feeling like himself, so they cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie instead.

3. Agape: A Composition in Three Acts (911 Lone Star)

TK hurt everywhere. Thankfully, his ass had gone numb, but his back, neck, and shoulders ached from the hard plastic chair he'd been sitting in for days. He could have solved all of this by getting up and moving around. He could even get some water to quell his pounding headache. But he stayed put. It didn’t seem fair to get up, not when Carlos was lying in a hospital bed, his life hanging in the balance.

4. Long Way to Get (911 Lone Star)

Carlos,

I’m sitting here in my room writing a fucking letter on some scraps of paper I begged off the nurse because they took my fucking phone. I’m a prisoner here, so I guess you got what you wanted. It’s probably better this way because I’m so mad at you, I can’t even think straight and if I could see your face, I don’t know what I would do to you.  I can’t see, feel, or think anything but white hot anger, and the fact that you did this to me is the worst betrayal I could ever imagine. 

5. The Measure of a Man (911 Lone Star)

“You’re going to have to answer that sometime,” Carlos said as TK tossed his cell phone onto the coffee table.

“I need to ignore him for at least as long as he ignored me.” TK was not in the mood to talk to his father or discuss the fact that he wasn’t talking to his father. All he wanted to do was cuddle up on the couch with Carlos and fuss over him.

6. Out of the Cold (911 Lone Star)

TK arrived at the fire station ten minutes before the agreed upon time, only to find Carlos leaning against his police cruiser, sipping what TK assumed was coffee out of a large thermos. He was wearing plain clothes, rather than his uniform, but he still looked impeccable in a button-down shirt and dress pants, his hair carefully gelled so there wasn’t a flyaway to be seen.

Of course he’s early, TK thought. That boy scout has probably never been late for anything in his life. And why is he dressed like we’re going someplace nic

7. Candy is Sweet, But I'd Rather Have You (911 Lone Star)

Carlos looks around at the newly renovated 126 fire station. He’d driven by more than a dozen times since it reopened, but he’s never taken the time to really look at it. The make-shift memorial for the fallen firefighters is gone, replaced by updated landscaping. The large doors are wide open — the engines temporarily parked around the block — and a mere glance inside shows the improvements made by the fire department went well beyond a fresh paint job. It’s obvious that everything was planned meticulously and with obvious care.

8. John Grey's Anatomy (Outlander)

Exhausted, I opened my locker and pulled out my wallet and cellphone. It was four o'clock on a Friday and I was at the end of a twelve-hour shift at Boston Memorial.

9. Every Impossible Move (Outlander)

Jamie Fraser stood outside the stables, surveying the scenery before him. He'd been indentured as a Groom at Helwater, a sprawling estate in the English Lake District owned by the Dunsaney family, for the past eight years. His friend, John Grey, walked out of the stables and stood next to him.

10. Off the Only Path I Knew (Outlander)

"I invited a few guys from the shinty club over for beers tonight," Jamie Fraser told his roommate. "Ye're welcome to join us."

Tagging @lord-jen-grey @mistresspandorawritesthings @noxsoulmate @lightningboltreader @tailoredshirt (sorry if you've already been tagged).

Anybody else feel free to join in!

[marsalimackimmie]

Outlander Vampire AU

All the Randall men are Legacy Vampires, which means they can age if they want to, have children, and generally go out into the sun without harm so long as they stay well fed on blood. The Randall line in particular is very ancient and very proud of/obsessed with its own history, despite the fact that they also obsess over keeping it secret.

Captain Jack Randall���s military career is an especially good way to feed without raising suspicion, but he’s reckless and enjoys the fear that comes when people discover him too much. He often reveals himself on purpose to prisoners before they “die mysteriously” under his care.

However, one prisoner named Jamie Fraser was hardier than Randall expected– by all logic he should be dead after being flogged AND drunk from all on the same day. But Jamie is stubborn, and survived just long enough to be rescued by his kinsmen. So Randall let him go. Even though he knew he just accidentally created a new vampire.

Oops.

Years later, Jamie has learned how to deal with his new… condition. Sticking to the shadows and night suits him just fine as an outlaw. 

Still, when he’s invited to stay at Leoch after returning from France, he knows he has to go. For Murtagh if not for himself.

Along the way, he meets a woman named Claire. And aside from her beauty and mysterious identity, there’s something about her that calls to him. Something familiar.

Claire feels it too, but unlike Jamie she has to know-how to understand what it is. Because back in the future, Claire knows all about her husband Frank’s curse. He explained it to her the night before their wedding, so she'd have all the facts before vowing to be his wife forever. 

Ever since that night, she has let Frank drink her blood to sustain him. He’s always very careful to only take what he needs, and what she can give. This constant feeding developed a psychic bond between them, which Claire cheekily calls their 'vampire bond'.

Their bond grew weaker during the war, but Claire can still feel him in the back of her mind no matter how far apart they are.

Until she time travels, that is. Two centuries before he was born, the spot he usually occupies in her head has been filled by something else, something much more sinister. She knows it must be Frank's ancestor, the current head of the Randall family, but that doesn’t explain why she feels connected to Jamie, a random highlander who should have no connection to the Randall magic. 

Once they get to know each other a bit more, Claire decides the “why” doesn’t matter so much. Jamie is a good man, and he’s clearly struggling as a vampire. One night, in exchange for protection, she offers him her arm to drink from. And Jamie is shocked as fuck.

[treasurethelittlethings]

WHICH WILL IT BE — JAMIE X CLAIRE❤️

CHAPTER 8: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37252006/chapters/103253463