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hiswhiteknight · 4 months

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Unbelievably Outlandish - Part 12

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: It has been a super long time since I've posted, like a year or more. I'm going to try to post weekly, but it depends on my schedule. As for a tag list, I'll be starting a new one – please send me a message to be added to the tag list. I don't always get to look through comments, so please message me.

Note Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2700 (SO LONG)

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

It turned out, in Angus's mind, the dog turned out to be a good distraction for you. It kept you from running around because you found yourself always training the dog. She was an angelic thing, who always got into some kind of trouble along the way. Your whole life you've been much of a rule follower, but as of recently you were finding you had a lot in common with the dog.

With this being said, you have yet to find a name you'd like for her. Often you found yourself filling the boredom by naming old fictional characters you loved when you remember the character Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables. Outside from being incredibly charming, he was intelligent, kind, and had patience and devotion for the ones he loved. You imagined you had a lot in common with Anne Shirley or you hope you did. And with that thought, you named the dog Blythe.

Jamie enjoyed watching you work with the mischievous creature. He could tell this was the first time you were filled with joy since you arrived in Scotland, "Why don't you go over and talk to the girl," Murtagh said from next to him.

He shook out of his daze, acting like he wasn't doing anything weird, "I like my bullocks, thank you."

Murtagh shook his head, "She wouldn't have that mutt if it wasn't for you, you know."

The men continue to work around and pack things away, "You and I both know she is a stubborn woman, if she wanted that dog enough she would have got it without myself or Ned mentioning a word."

"Coward," Murtagh whispered to Jamie.

"Damn right," he chuckled back.

You were working on the pups reactivity and word commands. While growing up you didn't get to have a pet, but your mother told you about when she raised dogs as a child. Your family moved around a lot, so having a pet wasn't in the cards. "Don't get too comfortable girl, we're going to be off soon," Angus barked at you from afar.

You turned around losing the smile on your face. With the time being away from the castle, you still hadn't earned much trust and you most definitely didn't give the men much energy. Outside of the pup, you were like a empty soul and it was coming to be more evident with every passing day. The dog plopped herself next to you watching Angus with her tongue out. Even Blythe was better respected and well liked by the men, even Angus though he'd deny it if anyone commented. Their acceptance of the dog made you more tolerant to their attitude and patriarchal manner. "Yes master," you bow.

"It's nice you are starting to learn your manners," he smirked back while making gestures towards the men.

With a deep inhale and low tolerance of attitude today you started to trudge towards your horse, "It was sarcasm, idiot," you grumbled.

He appeared to have the same tolerance of my attitude, "Watch your tongue girl or you'll get it cut off," Angus advanced forward while gripping his dagger.

Jamie and Murtagh were about to make a move when another man's voice appeared, "Everything alright miss," a British voice caught your attention.

Angus directed an aggressive response to the man. You turned to look at the man and in your daze started to register things about this man. He had a proper accent, boots, and his hair read a gentleman. He was clearly a British soldier and he could mean serious trouble. You turned to look at Jamie for a split second before charming a smile, "Excuse me sir," you asked, ignoring the comments from the other man to rile this man. This was not the time and place.

You could tell the tension with Dougal increased. He didn't trust what you would say, "I was asking if you were alright," he stepped forward again, ignoring the men behind you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you had to hear all that, sir. You shouldn't have had to hear a lady speak out of tune like that. It was very unbecoming of me," you looked embarrassed. Let's hope your acting skills are up to par. You ignored Murtagh mutter unbecoming to make fun of you, "It's just Angus here is a very, very, very," you paused to look at him, "Very distant cousin." You turn back to smile at the officer, "I sometimes gets so overwhelmed by his voice and tone I just lash out. I apologize," you put you hand on your heart. The dog looked up at you oddly, not recognizing your behaviors.

He smiled at you, not acknowledging the grumbling Scots behind you, "Not necessary, my lady I understand quite well actually." He bent down to scratch the puppy sitting in front of you, "I'm sorry your accent."

You scratch the back of you neck, "Right, I must sound so improper. I'm Y/N O'Mulligian. I came to visit some family here from the colonies at my brother's request. He said I could use some real life hard work. He likes to call me a debutante," you sent him a teasing smile.

Responding well to your story, he rises and smiles at you. A relief was lifted off your shoulders, you were almost past this moment when Dougal interrupted, "Enough," he shouted, "She is the guest of the clan MacKenzie and her business is none of yours." You clearly spoke too soon because the officers defenses shot back up.

"So off you go," Angus finished.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, "Are you sure you are alright, miss," he looked unshaking at you. He clearly felt so much privilege he did not care remotely about the strapping Scottish men standing around him. You wanted to smack yourself in the forehead how stupid these men had to be to not recognize the importance of this one man.

Dougal looked as if he was going to fight the man. You put your arm on his bicep to stop him, "Of course, good sir," you smile, "It's nice to know chivalry is not dead. I have more hard work to learn as you can see, it was very nice meeting you."

"Pleasure is all mine," he smiled back before frowning around the man watching this moment. He backed away into the blacksmith area to continue his work.

A minute passed by and you felt a firm grip on your arm drag you towards your horse, "It's best you didn't speak," Dougal scolded in your ear.

Anger surged through your body and it took every fiber of your being to say nothing. But as you were shoved onto your horse, you looked in the direction of the soldier and back at Jamie. You knew if you yelled it'd bring attention to Jamie, a fugitive to the English Army.

You continue to seethe on the ride. Blythe sat up, doing her best to see over the horses head to look ahead. "What's the dog's name," Jamie trotted next to you.

"Blythe," you muttered directly.

"What a cute English name," he emphasized on one word of his sentence.

You pulled back on your horse and halted, "Excuse me?"

He chose to stop with you, trying to not say directly what he'd like to say. It's been odd between you and Jamie. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away out of anger or fear, but none the less at this moment it appeared to be anger, "Nothing, it's a cute name."

A sarcastic laugh left your mouth, "No, no, you had a tone," the man halt to watch another scene unfold, "You clearly have something you want to add, some hidden message you feel you want to hide. Say it."

"Nothing, you seem to just like the English a bit more than an Irish Woman from the colonies I thought would," he said like his words meant nothing. It didn't matter the fact that maybe he felt jealous or he had a right to comment on any intention or likes you have. That comment engulfed your whole body into volcano, hell fire fiery.

Heat was written all over your face and Murtagh didn't have enough time cool down your fire with rationality, "The boy is just saying, you were awfully chummy with the Brit," Angus chimed in, "like a girl in heat."

And there goes Mt. St. Helen, "Un-Fucking believable, do you know how fucking dumb you are, like every single on of you are just egg head fucking dumb," you scream enough to make the echo quake the woods around you.

"Lass," Ned sent a warning your way.

Tears started to brim your eyes and Jamie knew he'd set you up to fail again. You point to Ned, clearly a man of reason, "That man back there," you continued to yell, "Was an English Officer out patrolling." You looked to Jamie and everything deflated in you. Everything from the past and the reality of your new world just collapsed in your soul, "I was trying to save you."

A sigh leaves your lips and you talk lightly while using your hands to emphasize your point, "Men are idiots and will always fall for charm, so I used mine to protect you all," you continued to go on, "Call me a hussy, I don't care. And that plan to charm the officer actually worked until you opened your trap, my lord," you bowed your head at Dougal. Something than broke in you, in that moment, you were exhausted at being angry. You had no more fight in you. You gave Jamie another look, "I was scared. I was trying to save you," you whisper.

Taking a deep breath, you dismounted from you horse, "Now where are you going," Angus shouted at you.

The anger stirred up again, spinning around to look at him, "To relieve myself, thank you," you speak loudly while stomping into the woods.

You knew what Dougal did to Jamie in the pubs and you weren't sure why. It wasn't much of your business, but you could see it chipping into Jamie. You were stuck again in your thoughts, give into this new world and let these people in or continue to bury who you knew you were inside a dark cave and never leave.

The ride to the next village was quiet, especially after finding Scottish men hung out on display. You wanted to vomit at the lack of humanity in the cruel act. If this was the normal the British did to Scots, I'm not all shocked of their lack of kindness and trust towards me. I'm sure I wasn't helping the matter either.

When you got to the pub, you chose to join in with the drinking. The owner made a bee line as Blythe trotted behind you and laid at your feet, "Lass, we do not let do-," he stopped mid sentence from the look you were giving him. You were sitting up straight, dead face.

"You were saying, sir," you answered curtly.

"What can I get for you miss," he finished instead.

"A pint of whatever, I am not picky," you said, resting your feet on the chair in front of you.

The men went a distance away from you, you imagine to process the thing they just witnessed. A man approached you with a smile on your face and you shake your head putting your other foot on a chair and shoving it away from your table. He quickly turn around, "You'd make more friends if you weren't so prickly."

Murtagh patted at the dog, "My expression and acts are nothing but kind, sir." He shook his head, "Plus, I don't need any more friends when I only need you."

He chuckles, looking at Jamie, "It was a kind thing you did with the soldier. I'll be the only one to admit, that was a good eye you have."

"Don't think much of it, it was also self preservation because I'm not a exactly the kind British soldiers have a keen sense to protect," the man brought you your pint and you started to drink while you viewed in your surroundings.

He pointed at you, "You like everyone to think you're this cold hearted she witch."

"Maybe I am those things," you said like it didn't bother me to have that reputation.

Murtagh shook his head, "You are quite the opposite lass and the only person you are hurting are you." You roll your eyes sighing as he looks at your with a smirk, "And maybe a red headed boy who I suspect would do anything to see you smile once again." You sit up straighter as Murtagh stands while looking at you, while gesturing to Jamie. He lifts his eyebrows speaking you the truth, "Don't think I only talk to you because your good company. I get sick of seeing the boy mope around with his worry for you. A single smile from you can set his day."

You glare at him as your cheeks warm red, "Mind your business."

When he walks away, you sit and continue to process your reality and options. Every now and again you catch a glance at Jamie. You could see his expression and the change in him over the last few weeks. You stand walking your glass over to the bar with Blythe walking behind you. You could tell Dougal was about to start his speech. He wouldn't need Jamie today if you guessed right. Those hanging men were part of this community they didn't need to see Jamie's scars. You leaned against a pillar near Jamie, "You alright," you asked him catching eyes with Murtagh.

You shake off his knowing look. Jamie stood up straight looking at you bewildered from the sudden change in your demeanor, "Are you talking to me?"

"Don't make it a thing, just answer the question," you whisper.

"Aye, I'm fine," he whispers back, glancing at you for a second too long into silence. He clears his thoughts, "If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind with speaking to me?"

You smirk, "Murtagh paid me."

He shook his head, "Sure," he was trying to hold back a smile. Something appeared to pop up in his head, "Look Deoiridh, I'm sorry about."

"No," you stopped him, "Jamie, I'm stubborn and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not from a place like this, so."

You noticed a change in his eyes when you said his name instead of Mr. MacTavish. This is where he stopped you, "I only want to help."

"Does that mean you agree I'm stubborn because Murtagh implied I was prickly earlier and that's why I don't make friends," you say while trying to hold back a grin.

He shook his head making his red hair shake with it, “You see comments like that are a trap and I will not be stepping on that one.”

“Smart man,” you say to him.

“And now a compliment, I might think you are wanting to be my friend again,” he whispered back with a smirk.

You see Dougal getting ready to do your speech, “I should be getting out of here and up to my room. I shouldn’t be down here when,” you stopped to look at Dougal, “Well good night.”

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered back.

“And Jamie, just for transparency sake, the jury is still out if we are friends,” he paused appearing to hold his breath. You offer a small smile, “I need you to walk over to Murtagh and tell him I was nice then I'll consider being your friend. You know for the sake of proving Murtagh wrong. It's the price you have to pay for my friendship.” And before he can respond, you and Blythe make your way upstairs.

#outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #jamie fraser imagines #fanfiction #outlander #jamie fraser x reader #jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader #unbelievably Outlandish

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walkinginland · 4 months

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when my time comes around

five times Jamie Fraser nearly dies, and one time he does canon-compliant 5+1 for Outlander part of my hozier song fics series; this one's based around "Work Song" aka the most JamieClaire song ever written.

one

Boys workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

Jamie Fraser is almost twenty years old the first time he truly comes near to death. Now, there had been no shortage of foolish boyhood accidents, and the illness that took his brother from him had not left him unscathed. But he is almost twenty years old, barely more than a child, the first time that he stares into that darkness, and feels it staring back.

The last few days have been a blur interspersed with sharp moments of startling, scarring clarity. Anger and shame and hurt and fear. He can’t comprehend how he had gone from pitching hay in Lallybroch’s fields to laying in a prison cell with his back flayed open and a burning infection creeping up his spine and into his limbs.

The fort physician has been kind, at least. Had let him cry, had set his hand gently on his shoulder, and done what little he could for Jamie’s shredded back. He had offered water and a bit of bread, said that it was important for him to keep his strength up. Jamie had taken some water, shook his head at the bread. He can’t imagine holding anything in his stomach when his whole body feels so hollow, carved out as cleanly as a hunted animal.

The physician’s best hadn’t been enough to prevent infection or erase the memory of the last time he saw his sister’s face, but it was something. He had handed him a worn out book, a worn-thin Bible with the smudged ink of fear-dampened hands.

“Here you are, lad. This belonged to another prisoner, but I reckon he knows the truth of it now better than any of us here do. Mayhap it’ll bring you some comfort.”

Jamie lays on his stomach on a creaking cot in a prison cell, trying to calm his spinning mind any way he can. He blinks at the tiny print of the Bible from an awkward angle, head tilted to the side and book resting on the edge of the cot, and tries to turn a page without pulling the muscles in his back. He had had no idea that the tips of his fingers were connected to the back of his shoulder in such an intimate way, but he is learning it now with every twitch in his hand.

He's not sure he is actually reading any of the words in front of him, couldn’t tell you which book or passage he has open before him. He could do without the chastisement of Saint Paul. Perhaps one of the Prophets, calling out doom and hope in the same breath. It feels fitting, somehow.

He steers far away from the whipping of Christ. Some things feel far different from a prison cell than they do in the pews in kirk of a Sunday.

His fingertips feel numb and the words in front of him blur, from tears or exhaustion or just the poor typeset and smeared lettering, he can’t tell.

The fingerprints and tear tracks that lived on these pages long before he opened them won’t judge him for the drops that find their way out of the corners of his eyes.

keep reading on ao3

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #jamie fraser #my writing #hozier fic series #when my time comes around #i haven't posted a full outlander fic in over two years 💀#who am i hello i guess i'm back??#anyways this is pretty heavy at times please take note of that before reading #but no main character death tag!!#because despite the summary this is canon compliant so jammf is not really dead. yet.

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smashing-teacups · 11 months

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It is done.

Okay. It is done. To my deep irritation - fucking AI 😖 - I've now gone through and made all of my fics AO3-user-read only. Evidently they don't even SHOW UP on AO3 unless you're a user. You can make sure you're logged in by testing this Atonement link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666136/chapters/44267092

If it prompts you to login and you already have a user name and password, go ahead and do that and check the “remember me” box so you don’t have to log in every time! If you DON’T have a login, you will be unable to read any of my works. There is a link to join the waitlist for an account on that login page. Current wait time is for 6/14, and then they will send you an email with permission to create an account.

Thanks, y’all! ❤️ Really bummed that I have to do this.

#smashingteacups #outlander fanfiction #AO3

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lady-o-ren · 5 months

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FROM THE EDGE OF THE BLACK SEA

After a deadly confrontation with the Laird and Warchief of Clan Mackenzie, the last son of Lallybroch goes on a frantic search for his one true love, praying he isn't too late . . .

Jamie's found his runaway heart in the ruins of an old abbey by the sea.

He swings his long leg from off his great stallion's back and crosses what's left of the crumbling stone archway to the back where the wall of the abbey has collapsed.

Claire sits there amongst the rubble and weeds with her knees pulled up to her chest, transfixed by the rhythmic rise and fall of the black ocean waves. Was she longing for them to sweep her away?

Jamie couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even as guilt gnawed away at his guts for being the one to have selfishly brought her to this savage place.

For failing to keep her safe.

He can see the bruises on her neck with the lifting of her long dark curls by the cold misty wind and can only imagine what other marks hide beneath her cloak and crumpled dress, making his blood burn black with rage.

As if she's heard the mad thrashing of his heart, Claire looks over her shoulder and her eyes that could bewitch a man into giving up his soul widen in a burst of golden surprise.

"You idiot!" She cries to Jamie's horror. "You damned stupid fool!"

Seizing a rock, Claire hurls it at his head, followed by another and another after that. She then attempts to run when Jamie makes a move to grab her and becomes trapped against his chest.

"Let go of me!" She shouts, jerking violently in his arms wrapped ironclad around her.

"Sassenach! Claire! I'm not here to hurt ye!"

"Let go of me, damn you! Let go!"

The desperation in her voice tears at Jamie's very soul making his arms drop like lead at his sides.

Claire stumbles forward but doesn't run off like he feared she would. Instead she turns to face him, glaring fiercely, with her breath coming out in hurried white puffs around her flushed and freckled cheeks.

"Why did you follow me?" She demands.

"Why the hell did ye leave the castle wi'out telling me? Surely ye must've kent I'd search night and day for ye," Jamie fires back, shuddering with frustration and exhaustion from his tireless pursuit of her.

"It doesn't matter why. You weren't supposed to follow me anyhow." She waves her hand to the trees beyond them that blanket the hills. "Now Dougal will send the entire clan after us thinking you've betrayed him. "

"He won't. I made sure of that," says Jamie, voice cold and unrepentant as the tide crashing against the cliff side, eyeing her bruised throat.

Claire clasps her hand to it.

The same one she slashed Dougal's face and bare chest with in the shadows of her bedchamber, drawing blood that she can still taste like poison on her lips.

"You didn't have to - he didn't -"

Blood rushes to Jamie's face, furious as a thundercloud.

"I did what needed to be done to protect ye, Claire. "

"Jamie, that's all you've ever done for me. That's why I didn't tell you about Dougal. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"You think I care about myself? He hurt ye dammit!"

Jamie slams his fist against a standing stone.

"The one I've waited all my life for. Who holds the whole of my heart . . ." He takes a step closer, voice low and thick with passion. "The one I love."

Claire takes a step back, not daring to believe. Her voice a quivering whisper.

"You can't mean that."

Jamie fixes her with a searing blue gaze and says -

"Have I ever lied to ye?"

The tears come hot and fast down Claire's cheeks and Jamie does his best to thumb them away, lifting her face that's ethereal as a star in his big hands. Oh, how lovely she is.

"Since when?" She murmurs tearily. "How long?"

"From the moment I gave ye the breath of my body while you struggled for air on the shore, when ye weeped in my arms for what was lost to ye that first night at Leoch, my heart and soul have belonged to you. Even in death when I'm nothing more than dust in the wind and far beyond the hereafter, my love for you will never waver." He rests his brow against hers, bowed as if in prayer. "This I promise you wi' all that I am. Will you have me?"

Claire reluctantly pulls away and looks up at his face beaming with devotion she's never known, could never dream of, hands grasping at his chest.

"More than anything I want to say yes -"

"Then say yes!" Jamie sings, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he says so, clutching her waist to his.

"But the clan -" Claire pleads, cupping his stubbled cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "They'll kill you because of me."

Jamie lays his hand on her wrist, feeling her pulse throbbing hard against his palm and squeezes it.

"My uncle had many enemies and a great many of them are drinking to his death right now not knowing who gave their laird the final blow nor caring. And as for us," a shy and hopeful smile illuminates his face that gives Claire's heart an ache so sweet. "They'll think we've eloped just like my mother and father did. That damned fool James Fraser, they'll say, bewitched by his silkie bride."

And then there's no longer a need for words or even air as Claire once more takes Jamie's breath away, this time with a joyful, heavenly kiss.

Backstory: Jamie finds Claire on a rocky shoreline thinking she's a dead seal. But when the seal starts to move he thinks there's a pup trapped inside. He slashes the belly open and out comes Claire. Bloodied. White as bone. And her first gasp of human life leaves her choking and breathless hence Jamie giving her the breath of his body so that she may live.

Also I couldn't think of a better name for this drabble nonsense so I went with the first thing that popped into my head. The song by The Cure - The edge of the deep green sea. That song has a totally different vibe than what's conveyed here but damn what a great song.

Forgive the stupidity of the drabble pls

#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander

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adsosfraser · 10 months

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Chocolate, churros, scarves, and princesses

A modern au one-shot of Jamie and Claire

“Claire, mo ghraidh, mo Sorcha, I love ye so verra much-” Jamie gulped, the bob of his throat catching Claire’s eyes. “Will ye-”

The yes was on the tip of her tongue. And she was hoping more things would be on the tip of her tongue after an enthusiastic yes and vigorous round of celebration in their flat.

The light of the candle flickered in his blue eyes, darkened by the ambient lighting of the restaurant. His hand reached to hold hers, unsatisfied with just holding the one. She hadn’t felt a hard imprint in his pants or his suit jacket when they were pressed up against one another earlier, well other than the one she was intimately familiar with for almost two years now. But there was something about tonight. It was their first anniversary. Well, officially. Her cheeks flushed the entire day with thoughts of their more than adequate remembrance of it that morning. Being almost twenty minutes late to her shift was well worth it. There was a ring somewhere. She was sure of it.

Read on AO3

#outlander #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #modern au #fraser children #jamieclaire #one shot

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writtenthroughtime · 2 months

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Long time no see…

Hello to my 2,000+ followers! It’s been a long time since I’ve logged into tumblr let alone posted. Life is crazy busy so I won’t be on often.

I wanted to make a PSA regarding my fanfiction works. I have never and will never own the characters I’ve written about, they are the sole and exclusive property of D.G. With the sudden rise of newer fans of multiple fandoms selling PDFs and/or bound copies of fanfiction I wanted to make it known I do not endorse this behavior and actions. This is illegal and could mean the end of fanfiction as we know it.

On top of that atrocity, AI bots are scalping fanfiction to feed into their algorithms. And with a recent update, it appears this platform is also allowing AI bots to scalp our content to feed into this system. As a creative professionally, I abhor AI generated content.

Because of the reasons above, I’m currently debating on whether or not to pull my fic from all platforms. In the coming days, your favorite fics of mine may be gone forever.

Until next time,

WTT

#wtt writes #wtt #writtenthroughtime #important psa #blog psa #PSA #fanfiction announcement #outlander #outlander fanfiction #fanfiction

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treasurethelittlethings · 2 years

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WHICH WILL IT BE — JAMIE X CLAIRE❤️

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

#outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #Jamie and Claire #Claire and Jamie #Jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #my writing #which Will it be #which Will it be fic

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xeresmalfoy · 9 months

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THANK YOU @kimazuiiii for this wonderful fanart of my fanfiction The Clover and the Tartan 😭😭😭😭

I am a big fan of your Naruto art, you're the best Deidara and DeiSaku fanartist I've ever seen and I feel truly blessed that you took time to draw Brianna and Stephen for me 😭😭😭😭

I would also like to thank my dear friend @babybinxxx for introducing me to the Naruto fandom and to this incredible fanartist and I can't wait to read your joint DeiSaku project ❤❤❤❤ I know it's gonna be incredible !!

Please my followers, give these two all the love they deserve! If you love the Naruto universe:

1) Check out @kimazuiiii 's wonderful art, her portraits of Deidara and Sakura are absolutely stunning 😍😍😍

2) If you're into the GaaSaku pairing check out @babybinxxx stories and especially Words That Tie, Ties That Bind. She also wrote a Stephen/Brianna Modern Days AU that is absolutely lovely : The Steel Horse Cowboy and the Lonely Traveler.

#stephen bonnet #outlander #brianna fraser #naruto #deisaku #gaasaku #fanart #naruto fanfiction #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanart

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fraserstanclub · 15 days

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Sutures

Chapter 8: Rumors, Part 1

I was in what I was starting to consider “my'' room, attempting to make notes on the last few patients I had seen in recent weeks, when Jamie unsettlingly burst through the door and said, with all the confidence of a man in his stature, “if yer tae stay here, Sassenach, we’ll need tae get the surgery built as fast as possible, and the weather’s good. If what the Lindsay brothers are saying is correct, this coming winter willna be kind to us and it’ll make it much harder fer ye to travel to yer patients. So, starting tomorrow morning, I’ll need yer help getting started.”

As if a complete afterthought, he looked around the room, seeming to notice my things scattered about for the first time. There were clean stays and shifts being aired out to dry by the open window, sheets of paper and used quills that I hadn’t quite gotten around to picking up off the floor, and a stray stocking laying on the chair by the bed. He nodded to himself and said, “ye can keep this room as yer own if ye like.” And then he was gone as fast as he’d come in.

It had only been a few weeks since I had healed his leg and back, and it was like he’d never been hurt in the first place. He either had some kind of knack for healing quickly, or was just too stubborn to stay down for long. Probably the latter, I thought with amusement.

Read on AO3 New here? Read from the beginning!

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #claire x jamie #jamieclaire #fanfiction love #posted on ao3

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onlytomyhusband · 1 year

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Caught in a Storm

A canon divergence where Jamie and Claire weren’t forced to consummate their marriage. They dance around their feelings and desires until…

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35889274

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamieclaire #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #my fic #12 days of OL ficmas

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callmechrisssy · 1 year

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‘cause we’ll hold each other soon

She is not left unmarked, no matter how lovingly and carefully her husband has worked to stitch her back together, for old scars are never fully healed.

A/N It’s been a while ❤️

She pauses from her work and swipes a shaking hand across her forehead, smoothing back curls, now tinted grey, that have fallen from her loose chignon. Gripping the edge of the exam table’s smooth surface, her eyes squeeze shut and she calculates her breathing. One, two, three. In, pause, and out. Small beads of sweat begin to dust her temples. The hole in the center of her chest cracks open without warning; the wound carved there over twenty years ago flaying and bleeding.

It happens on occasion, unexpectedly during routine chores, preparing her instruments for the day’s patients…in the middle of the night. She will gasp awake, bottom lip trembling as the tears well, and rub the center of her chest with the palm of her hand; an attempt to quell the physical ache there.

She is not left unmarked, no matter how lovingly and carefully her husband has worked to stitch her back together, for old scars are never fully healed. She recalls sharing this information with a handful of her patients complaining of phantom pain months, years, after surgery.

Twenty years.

Twenty years of unbearable loneliness, sleepless nights devoid of any sort of touch, arms curled around herself on her side of the bed, heavy tears streaming down her face, soaking her pillow; missing Jamie so badly it took her breath away, her sobs muffled into a fisted hand so Frank wouldn’t hear.

She was never allowed to grieve.

#jamie x claire #jamie and claire #outlander #outlander fanfic #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlander fanfiction #outlander canon fanfic

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imdonnalynn · 10 months

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SHIP SERIES

Jamie Fraser / Claire Fraser Outlander (series 2014 - )

These two have the ultimate fairytale romance. Who gets to go back in time, find a man that treats them better than the times, ends up marrying said man and having the perfect man? THESE TWO IS WHO! And I love how he calls her Sassenach it is so endearing so sweet on his part.

#outlander #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #jamie fraser x claire fraser #sam heughan #catriona balfe #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire fanfiction #imdonnalynn #imdonnalynn ship series

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smashing-teacups · 1 year

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A Breath of Snow and Christmas

Summary:

It is Christmas Eve, and Dr. Claire Beauchamp's third week on the pediatric rotation at Boston Children's Hospital.

One of her patients is a very special four-year-old named Claudel.

And his favorite nurse, Jamie, is intent upon making Christmas magical for the little lad.

A three part modern AU Outlander Christmas series.

“And last but certainly not least,” said Dr. Hildegarde over the flutter of shuffling notes, “we have our friend Claudel—”

A high-pitched squeal of laughter cut her off, and a dozen pairs of smiling eyes glanced up to watch the friend in question whirl like a tornado around a large redheaded man.

“Who is that? Who goes there?!”

The little boy let out another shriek of delight as the man’s booming voice added, with exaggerated indignation, “Heyyy, where did my— who stole my phone?! I ken I had it in my pocket jes’ a second ago!”

With a fond shake of her head, our attending looked back down at her clipboard. “Four-year-old male, admitted with cystic fibrosis exacerbation. Go ahead, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Lips still twitching with amusement, I cleared my throat. “Right, Claudel LaRue, direct admit from home for pseudomonas flare. Got his PICC line on the 16th, we are on day”—a pause to check my notes—“eight of zosyn and tobramycin, and as you can see, he appears to be feeling much better.” A collective chuckle rose from our team as the child bounded onto his hospital bed and began an enthusiastic victory dance, waving the stolen phone over his head.

“G-tube feeds going well?” my attending prompted. “How are we doing on hydration?

“Better,” I confirmed. “He actually surpassed his fluid goal yesterday, and his weight is up by half a kilo since admission.”

Dr. Hildegarde nodded, making a few notes on her paper. “Any word from foster mom?”

My face fell. “The nurses say she calls every few days to check in, but they haven’t heard from her since Monday.”

A humming, noncommittal noise, another mark on her paper. “Par for the course with this one. Be sure she knows he’s being discharged on the 30th. Last time, she forgot to come pick him up.” With a sigh, she clipped her pen to the top of the chart and tucked the file beneath her arm. “No changes to his orders, then?”

“No, nothing for today.”

“Very good. That’s it for the morning, then, everyone. Have a safe holiday, and stay warm out there. Call if you need me, Claire.”

I gave a small salute, exchanging goodbyes and Merry-Christmases with the other members of my team as they dispersed posthaste, eager to get home to their families. As the last of the clacking heels and Oxfords disappeared around the corner, little Claudel let out another squeal, smoothing over the needleprick of jealousy in my heart.

Drawn to the sounds of joy, I sauntered to the open door and leaned against its frame, watching with tender amusement as the Scotsman spun in circles, making a show of trying to find the thief who had stolen his phone. I’d only been on the pediatrics rotation for three weeks, but I recognized him as one of the nurses on the unit; at well over six feet tall, with a mop of russet curls and an unmistakable brogue, he was difficult to miss. His name started with a J, I thought — Jeremy? Jason?...

“Ah, Dr. Beauchamp!” he exclaimed as I rapped my knuckles on the doorjamb. “Thank goodness ye’re here.”

At once mildly (pleasantly) surprised that he knew my name and a bit ashamed that I couldn’t reciprocate, I tried to cover the deficit with a chuckle. “Having a bit of trouble in here?”

“He can’t see me!” Claudel crowed, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m inbisible!”

Catching on to the game, I gasped, jumping back. “Who said that?!”

The little boy howled with delight, flinging himself onto the bed and kicking his legs up in the air. I exchanged warm glances with the Scotsman — Christ, what was his name? — who blinked both eyes at me in a quick, owl-like movement that I only realized belatedly was meant to be a wink.

“He looks so much better,” I remarked, leaning in toward him to speak sotto vocce.

“Aye,” the man agreed just as softly, both of our eyes locked on the boy. “Really turned a corner in the last couple’ve days.”

“Did he get his breathing treatment already this morning?”

“No’ sure.” At my inquisitive look, he smiled a bit bashfully. “I’m, ah… I’m not actually his nurse today. Just here as a friend.” Keep reading...

#outlander fanfiction #Christmas fic #Jamie x Claire #smashingteacups

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lady-o-ren · 1 year

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Kiss The Blood From My Hands

For easier reading here's the Ao3 link (HERE)

Paris, 1756

Claire Beauchamp finds herself the target of Les Disciples du Mal, an underground cult that her Uncle Lamb had been investigating that ended with his murder. But she finds an unlikely savior in the darkly mysterious James Fraser who marries her to keep her from harm and just maybe to redeem his own tormented soul.

"But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall mourn. "

Job 14:22

P A R I S

1 7 5 6

My husband was a stranger to me when we married some months ago.

All I had known was his name and that he'd been born somewhere in the Scottish Highlands ten years before myself in Oxfordshire yet had the look of a man twice his age, worn from a thousand wretched sleepless nights as I would soon learn.

We did not share a marriage bed nor did we have love for one another, but there were moments where we found a quiet kinship here in this foreign land not our own. Be it in a shared glance of amusement at the absurdity of the many rules of etiquette we were subjected and expected to follow to an unexpected turn of phrase that tickled the other to a fleeting smile.

He even indulged my interest in botany by giving me the run of his courtyard to grow a garden of my own, himself admitting to having lost the spirit to foster seed to green a lifetime ago. He never told me why, leaving me to wonder what sort of man he used to be that didn't shrink from the light.

Our conversations were sparse but cordial. Sometimes strained with awkwardness and an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite explain that resulted in his inability to meet my eye, suddenly at a loss for words, and avoid my presence for long stretches of time.

It was rather a lonely experience, our marriage, but I counted myself luckier than most.

My husband was neither cruel nor violent towards me and he certainly never forced himself upon me when he so easily could. He was a good man if more than a bit rough around the edges but it was nothing I couldn't bear.

Though his nightmares troubled me greatly.

They came infrequently. Loud and sorrowful, bursting with rage, waking me from bed with my heart a pounding, painful fist against my ribs. And the only way he could break the terrible hold these terrors had on his mind was to take to the streets of Paris only to return home well into the next day.

Sometimes I'd catch him coming up the backstairs to his bedroom much to his dismay. His eyes would be bloodshot, his knuckles bruised, reeking of alcohol and perfume that darkened his face with shame.

I didn't need to ask where he'd been.

Not that he would ever bear his heart to me.

Or so I thought . . .

I laid awake in bed, staring into the dying flames of the hearthfire, with a copy of Manon Lescaut left abandoned on my lap. I hadn't been able to read more than a few pages of the doomed romance as I was far too distracted thinking about where my own Des Grieux was this awful rainy night.

But then I heard a noise from downstairs that gave my heart a jolt and sent poor Manon flying to the floor as I leapt out of bed, reaching for my robe.

I hurried down the staircase in a flurry of yellow silk, guided only by the flashes of lightning that shone through the lone window, and called out -

"Jamie! Jamie, is that you?"

But only the howling wind and rain replied, provoking a frightful thought to mind.

What if it wasn't Jamie downstairs nor even a creeping servant?

What If . . .

I shuddered, unable to finish the thought, as I recalled the night Jamie and I had first met.

The night he had saved my life.

And I was no better prepared to protect myself than I was back all those months ago.

But just as I inched my cold bare foot backwards on the step, a thin beam of light shot out into the hallway, signaling who the rain had brought home.

I breathed a sigh of relief and followed the lighted path into the parlor where I stopped myself at the doorway. Struck by the sight of Jamie.

But it wasn't his imposing figure or striking features that caught my eye - though it did give one the impression that he was made of something more than simple mortal flesh.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with water puddling around his boots, holding his right hand against his chest, bloodied black to the cuff of his sleeve.

"Jamie," I gasped, crossing the room. "What's happened to you?"

Jamie snapped his head at me, sparking the red-gold flame of his hair like hellfire.

"Away wi' ye," he said sharply.

"But - "

"Damn ye, Claire! Do as ye're told. For once."

I flinched back as if I'd been slapped.

Jamie never spoke to me out of anger. And scarcely did he ever call me Claire. My name was reserved for formal occasions or as a token of profound gentleness that always made my heart sore right at the center where it bled most tender.

"I - I'm sorry - I -"

I saw Jamie's face twist with that familiar shade of shame and self-loathing as he bowed his head and thumped the mantle with his good fist, hard enough to disturb the hearth.

"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to snarl at ye. But I've the devil's temper tonight and canna bear the company. Now, get ye to bed . . . Please."

The last was said so pitifully that I didn't spare a thought to consider Jamie's plea. Instead I reached for him and took his maimed hand in mine.

"Push me away if you must but I won't leave you like this. Let me help you for once . . . Please."

I was met with grim silence and readied myself to be thrown out the parlor but then Jamie let out a brandy laced sigh, loosening the tension in his jaw and shoulders soaked from the rain.

"What choice does a wretched beast like me have when ye've my paw in yer hands. Aye, Sassenach?"

I felt a warmth spread over my cheeks hearing Jamie's name for me that was his alone to speak, and lowered my face, hoping he didn't see. I then carefully peeled the bloodied stiff cuff away from the back of his big hand and tried not to wince.

"I see no thorn here, you poor beast. Unless you pulled it out with your teeth." I meant it in jest, glancing up at Jamie's face, but I found it set in cold hard stone.

"Who did you hit?" I asked tentatively, imagining masked men in alleyways beneath the dark menacing glow of a blood moon.

The truth instead broke my heart.

"A mirror," he answered flatly. "I didn'a like what I was seeing."

After fetching some much needed dressings for his hand I came back to the parlor and found Jamie as I had left him - By the hearthfire in his wingback chair with a throw I'd taken from the settee in the corner wrapped around him. An improvement over the soggy coat he was wearing that was left to drip over the mantle.

His eyes were closed and his long legs were stretched out in front of him and for a moment I thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then he cracked one dark eye open to scowl at me.

"Ye're going to enjoy this, aren't ye, Sassenach?" His mouth twitched at the corner and I felt my own do the same. He was only teasing me.

"No, but I'll try not to laugh when I douse your hand in vinegar," I said, taking my place by his knee, and saw his eyes, circled by shadows and glossy from a night of drinking, twinkle like sapphires in the firelight.

I set myself to work washing the blood from Jamie's right hand, taking particular care around his battered knuckles where the ugly gash stretched across them. Luckily, it looked worse than it was and would only need a suture or two.

Here and there I'd glance up at him, watching me with a sort of quiet fascination as I worked, tired as he was. This time he caught my eye and murmured something drowsily, almost longingly, in gaelic.

"What are you saying up there? Something beastly?" I asked, as I finished bandaging his hand.

Jamie looked startled, maybe not realizing he had spoken aloud and quickly adjusted his features, cocking his stubbled chin down at me.

"I said that my hands afire with all yer poking and prodding and I'd like to have it back in one piece - Not that I don't appreciate yer mending," he amended, and twitched his nose at a damp forelock that hung low past his brow.

"Well I'm all done here - I just . . ." I hesitated and bit the inside of my bottom lip.

It must be now, I thought. For I didn't think I'd ever have the courage to be so forward with him again.

"I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Jamie," I said softly. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, that keeps you up at night, you needn't suffer alone."

He stiffened and his right hand would've curled into a fist if I hadn't taken a hold of it.

"I have to," he said in a tone barely above a rasping whisper, looking down where our hands were linked. "Ye'd never be able to look me in the eye again if ye kent the truth of what haunts me. I couldn'a bear it, Sassenach. "

"Try me," I dared, giving him a little shake by the arm so he'd raise his gaze to mine. " Or do I have more faith in that gallant heart of yours than you have in mine?"

His eyes narrowed with seriousness and no short amount of pain.

"You have no idea what little faith I had before I met ye, Claire. Tis why I fear losing whatever care ye have for me."

I leaned forward across his knees, my heart in my eyes. "Then trust me Jamie as I've trusted you unequivocally with my life. "

After what seemed a long silence, where I thought I could feel his pulse hammer against my palm, he spoke again.

"There were things done to me against my will that haunt me still," he began, and I saw a tremor ripple down his throat as he swallowed. "Whether I'm awake or when I dream, I feel the touch of the devil himself on my soul. My fear in hell is all that keeps me from taking a knife to my gullet and sometimes even then . . ."

"You don't mean that," I said half choked, feeling the pinprick of tears at the corner of my eyes threatening to fall as I shook my head.

A sad smile tugged on Jamie's mouth as he gently touched my cheek with the back of his good left hand.

"Aye, ye're right. It was true before but now my life is bound to yers. For as long as ye need me, I'll always be at yer side, mo bheannachd."

I grasped his hand when I felt him pull away. Held it nearly to my throbbing heart.

"Promise me then or I swear I'll drag you from the pits of hell just to strangle you."

Jamie blinked at me, wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard. Then leaned back into his chair and laughed deeply from his belly. I never heard such a sound from him before.

"Christ, Sassenach! Only you would seek vengeance on a puir man pouring out his miserable heart to ye." He laughed again, bringing out a much needed flush to his face and clasped his other hand over mine.

"Aye, I promise. I'll not leave ye. Not until ye find someone worthy of yer heart."

He meant it too. And I felt the truth of it pierce my breast.

I hadn't given much thought to our arrangement. Our marriage was in name only and would only last for as long as my safety was in jeopardy or if I asked for a divorce.

I never once considered that Jamie might ask one from me if he were ever to find an attachment elsewhere.

"What about your heart, Jamie?" I asked around a hard knot lodged in my throat.

An extraordinary look of tenderness bloomed across Jamie's face that seemed to breathe life back into his soul that beamed bright through the shimmering blue of his eyes.

"My loyalty is to you, mo ghràidh, and no one else. Not a Laird nor King. Even God would be jealous of such devotion."

I blushed not knowing what to say. I remembered the smell of perfume that sometimes clung to him whenever he'd come home from one of his ventures.

Jamie then cleared his throat where I saw a red flush arise and carefully flexed his hand in front of his face.

"Thank ye for my hand, Sassenach. Ye've earned yerself a good lie in."

" And you? " I asked when I saw him slouch back into his chair.

He gathered the throw tighter around him and shrugged. "Dinna fash. I'll stay here till the fire goes out."

I sat stubbornly back on my heels and pulled my own robe tighter around myself. "Then I'll stay here with you. Maybe it will help."

"Help what? "

"To keep your demons at bay. That's why you don't sleep. Being alone makes it worse, doesn't it?"

I immediately regretted what I had just said as I watched Jamie retreat into himself. Before I could apologize, he said with a bit of gravel to his voice -

"Do as ye wish, but not on the floor. And I'll put another log on the fire for us."

I didn't remember falling asleep but I obviously had and woke up in my own bed. Still in my robe. With the faintest impression of something lovely pressed to my cheek.

Not a kiss.

But warm breathed words, indecipherable, yet spoke to my heart. That swelled and overflowed with love.

A/N: The notes for this are long so hit up ao3 if you're curious.

#outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #outlander

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