#jamie continues to fucking break my heart jesus christ

[redshoes-blues]

Oh we were FED

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 14 ~The Element of Surprise ~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Reunion

They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ!  Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

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  Six Days Later

Claire's heavy eyelids fluttered open, her brain still addled by sleep. It took her a while to gather her thoughts and remember how she'd made it to bed last night. She shifted slightly in bed, but there's a two-hundred-fifty pound of hard-muscled, naked male restricting her movement. Jamie's arm was draped across her waist, securing her against his chest, her legs confined under his heavier ones. She could feel his soft, steady breathing blowing warm air on top of her head, reminding her how well he'd been sleeping the last few nights. There had been no night terrors or unpleasant dreams interrupting his sleep, and she put it down to his workload during the day and their physical activities between the sheets at night.

Today was Friday, and the realisation caused a huge smile to spread across her face. Last night she'd worked late until past ten, and Jamie had found her fallen asleep in front of her laptop in her studio shed. He'd scooped her up in his arms and helped her get ready for bed, and just before sleep claimed her, he'd whispered he had a surprise for her today. 

She wondered what the surprise was and guess it would probably be a long lie-in for them and breakfast in bed. Looking back, the past few days had flown by in a blur, packed with work and catching up with her uncle Lamb during nights. Ever since her emotional reunion with Jamie, her work-related things had gone from a shamble of mess to running smoothly. It's as if the universe had decided to grant her reprieve as everyone went out their way to appease her. Even her boss John seemed to have given her space and was allowing her to work in peace. Somehow, deep down, she had a sneaking suspicion Jamie had something to do with it. 

It had all began at the start of the week when Jamie had been at work. Tom had stopped by the cottage to hand her a signed contract agreeing to his book's publication. By the time she'd told John the good news, he'd been in his element detailing his main point plan for getting the word out and announcing the book deal to Tom's adoring followers. She'd thought her boss would demand to get her and Tom on the next plane to London, but instead, John had told her he'd arranged a team to fly to Inverness for a formal meeting with their new author. As if that wasn't enough, two days later, Mary had produced enough drafts for Claire to work on and promised there would be more on the way. Her uncle, sensing work was piling, would occasionally stop by either to whip up something to eat or bring food while she'd been ensconced in her studio shed. Not that it was unusual for her uncle to perform domesticated pursuits; however, it's still surprising that he was going the extra mile to help around the house when he had the Highlands at disposal for his adventures being an outdoor person that he was.

It's becoming clear this week was proving to be a period of many turning points. She had no idea what the future had in store for her and Jamie, but she knew something had shifted in their relationship, and it was definitely for the better. Though she's still the same girl who's still trying to find her place in the world and fit in, she knew she'd changed, too. A few months ago, she would have probably backed down from any forms of conflicts, citing life as complicated enough without adding more complications. But she'd learned how to respond, choose fights that are worth fighting for and cast aside that wasn't deserving of her peace of mind. She'd also learned that once in a while, it's good for her sanity to give propriety and rules the middle finger when a situation called for it. 

It's hard to believe she's planning her life in the Highlands, the place where her parents had met and found love in each other. In her quest to get to know them more, she'd spent her holidays here to be closer to their memories and live that adventure they'd so craved. Now, she was involved with a man tormented with demons. If her parents were still alive today, she wondered how they would receive Jamie. Would they have been like Jenny or her uncle, suspicious and sceptical of their relationship? Or would they have been happy with her choice just like Willie, Brian, and Ellen have been with Jamie's?

Deep in her heart, she knew that her parents would have taken one look at them and understood that Jamie was special and meant to be her life adventure. From what Claire had surmised from uncle Lamb's stories, her parents have been that kind of people, magnanimous of spirit and always saw the best in others. Jamie was like that too. He'd taken a gamble with her despite their differences and the geographical challenges ahead. Though it seemed she was helping him with his condition, unbeknownst to Jamie, he too was helping her heal the part of her that became an orphan. In some invisible way, he was repairing something in the fabric of her world that had been torn down the middle when her parents passed away. She absorbed that thought and was reminded of what Uncle Lamb once told her, that her father always had a peculiar sense of humour. With that in mind, she'd like to think that just maybe her father had sent Jamie her way on purpose. His way of telling her to let go of the past, not over-think, embrace the Highlands as much as he had and just love.

Lying next to Jamie in bed, she felt totally at peace. They might have had a crisis of faith, but she was confident they'll find their way through whatever path was laid before them. Their love wasn't and probably never going to be easy, given their journey had been emotional, tangled with roadblocks, denials and self-preservation. Still, she wanted to find her way with him. She'd just discovered this strength she didn't realise she had, and Jamie continued to surprise her with his single-mindedness purpose to be cured. Someone once said there's no fulfilment without a bit of struggle. Just like in the stories she hoped to publish one day, the heroes had to break down first and bleed before earning their happy ending. Well, if that's the rule, she couldn't envision facing life's trials and tests with any other person to stand beside her other than Jamie.

Her smile was still in place when her thoughts were suspended by a rush of heat as Jamie's hand coasted over her hip to disappear between her thighs. A sudden thrill shot through her, making her breath catch in her lungs. He shifted the leg holding her thighs down and deftly opened her to his touch, stroking the sensitive flesh in between. She felt his shaft stir against her bottom as she scooted closer to him, eliciting a guttural sound to escape his lips.

"I can practically hear the cogs turning in yer head, Sassenach," he muttered thickly, his breathing turning shallow at the back of her neck. He nipped her earlobe between his teeth and tugged. "What's going on in that mind of yers?"

"Oh, this and that and how you've been sleeping soundly ...these last few nights." She gasped out loud when he rubbed her nub with a calloused thumb. She tilted her head back to look at his face, and her lips were met by a long-drawn, possessive kiss. By the time their mouths parted, she was panting for air and squirming against him mindlessly. 

"Christ, ye're ready for me. Why did ye no' wake me up?" He thrust his finger deep inside her, fondling the spot he knew drove her wild and frantic. "Next time ye want me, wake me up."

"I-I couldn't. You were sleeping so peacefully." 

He paused his ministrations. "That's no' the answer I was hoping to hear."

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! "Y-yes, next time, I'll wake you up!"

"That's my lass." He sank another finger into her entrance. But as she tried to clench around him, his fingers slid out, using her wetness to coat her nub and gently rub her aching flesh. She wanted to scream at him for teasing her, but he only softly chuckled against her neck. At that moment, she needed to come more than she needed air. She hoarsely whispered his name in a plea for release. "Ach, no' yet, Sassenach ... ye listen better when I'm touching ye." She yelped when he suddenly yanked the covers away and flipped her on her stomach, the crisp morning air caressing her heated skin. "Let me see first that beautiful arse of yers." He shoved a pillow beneath her hips, putting her in a highly arousing position, her face mushed against the mattress and her bottom in the air. "Such a beautiful bum."

"Jamie ..." 

He kneaded the curves of her buttocks as he let out a frustrated male groan. "Let us talk first. This is the only time I'm pretty sure ye're no' gonnae argue with me with what I'm about to say. Ye listening?"

"Yes, yes ...get on with it, damn it!"

He laughed out loud just before his lips travelled along the path of her spine, kissing and nibbling her flesh. One hand slid around her belly and down the apex of her thighs, slipping blunt fingers into her folds as his mouth moved to her neck. He lingered there, biting hard and then soothing the sting with a lick of his tongue. Anticipation pulsated within her body, and goosebumps erupted on her skin as the weight of his erection slid against her upturned bottom, and Jamie positioned himself behind her. When he hefted her higher with his forearm, she let out a squeak. "Ye'll no' be working this weekend."

"Jamie," she whimpered. "B-but I can't."

"Oh yes, ye can." Skilled fingers stroke her sensitive nub, and with one thrust of his hips, he completely filled her, taking her by surprise. She nearly screamed, pressing her mouth against the mattress, suddenly mindful of nosey neighbours. She remembered what Jamie had told her about Mrs Fitz and muffled her moans on the covers of the bed.

"Oh, God, this is not fair," she breathed on an uneven exhale.

"I told ye last night, I have a wee surprise for ye. Ye've worked long enough this week. Ye're taking a wee break this weekend." When she didn't respond, he stilled his hips and took out his fingers from inside her. "You need a break, Sassenach. Now, for the love of God, just say yes, Jamie."

When Jamie drew out his hardness and plunged deeply back into her, heart-stopping sensations coursed through her whole body. Something about how he positioned her, the fluid, smooth drives of his movement made her mad with need. She wanted to urge him to go faster, but she clamped her mouth shut. He was deliberately torturing her and forcing her to agree with him. So she decided she was going to get her own back. Contracting her inner walls, she clenched around him. From experience, she knew the more he had to work to push into her, the wilder he would become. Just when she thought she finally got the upper hand, he paused and dropped his weight, stopping just short of squashing her. "No, no, no! Please don't stop!" she wailed.

"Oh, aye." He pushed his lower body tight to her bottom, his erection throbbing inside her. When she tried to wriggle her bum to urge him to start moving again, he firmly gripped her hips in place. "Ah, I ken what ye're up to," he whispered hotly in her ears. "I'm no' taking no for an answer. Ye owe this break to yourself."

"You don't play fair."

"Neither do ye."

Thinking she could compromise later after spending the whole morning with him, she finally conceded. "Fine. Just keep moving, for God's sake!" she hissed.

He let out a pained laugh and pressed his lips on the crook of her neck. "Good lass, ye ken it makes sense." Then cursing under his breath, he moved all the way out in one smooth slide before deliciously gliding deep back. "Christ, I can feel ye want to come, but ye're going to stay with me a little longer. Ye fell asleep on me last night, leaving me with a painful cockstand." 

"Jesus, Jamie."

"Aye," he rasped hoarsely into her hair. "I said the same thing when ye wriggled that pert arse against me and fell asleep immediately."

The way his thickness was invading her from an angle almost sent her hurtling over the edge. And it gave her a new appreciation for math. The thought almost made her laughed out loud if it wasn't for the pulsing pleasure between her legs.

"Christ ...look at ye," Jamie gritted, his voice sounding raw and almost severe. "So bloody perfect." 

He nudged her legs wider and changed his movements to short, strong strokes, increasing his pace with primitive energy that left her gasping for breath. With the sound of their slapping bodies, the earthy scent of arousal, the sweaty slide of skin, her belly began to tighten and coil.

"I just want to make ye happy, Sassenach," he groaned, bearing down his upper body more, his hips relentlessly pounding into hers. "So just say yes to my wee surprise, aye?" 

"Yes, yes, yes." Their voices sounded so far away, and her initial hesitation about taking a break from work almost forgotten. Not entirely, though. She tried to grasp that mental note about emails to be sent, but the hand gripping her hips moved, and fingers slid to rub her nub, stroking and pushing her further towards her peak. She gave in and widened her thighs to let him fill her more. But it left her no time to prepare for the release that shattered her apart, her love for him and the physical pleasure fusing to intensify the sensations blasting through her. It threatened to overwhelm her, but Jamie's presence anchored her as he followed her over, groaning her name, gripping her hips with a fierceness as he claimed her for his. 

Moments later, he pulled her boneless body in his arms and tucked her into his chest, tugging the covers over them and curving his front to her back. He held her tightly as the morning light streamed through the windows. 

Battling to keep her eyes open, thoughts of work slithered in, but it kept flittering away with her consciousness before she could dwell on it. Maybe just for a minute, she thought. But Jamie smelled so good, and his tender strokes enticed a hazy sleep to claim her muscles, dragging her down into the dark. Just one minute. 

As she eased into sleep, his whisper drifted toward her unconscious. "It's still early, Sassenach. Sleep a wee bit more. Your wee surprise will come soon enough."

..........

Claire woke for the second time that morning with an unladylike shriek when the mattress dipped and moved. Muddled, she jackknifed into a sitting position, eyes scanning wildly around the curtain-dimmed room for a trespasser. Claire knew someone was there, her gut instinct telling her it wasn't Jamie. Summoning her eyes to refocus, she collapsed with relief when she realised who it was sat at the foot of the bed.

"Surprise!" Annalise squealed, clapping her hands.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" She swiped her bedraggled hair out of her face. "You scared me bloody witless."

"Bloody hell, you're jumpy." Annalise shifted a hip on the bed. "Jamie's bad dreams rubbing off on you now, are they?"

"That's not something to joke about," she glowered at her friend, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Annalise' smile waned a bit. "Hey, what's up? I'm not making fun of Jamie's nightmares, and you know that." Her shoulders slumped. "In case you don't know, bad dreams can happen to anyone. In fact, I had a bad dream a few days ago. I was being chased by a pirate."

Suddenly feeling bad for snapping at her friend, she mentally dispersed the sleep fog in her brain and gave Annalise an apologetic smile. So this was her surprise, she thought. Not that Claire wasn't happy to see her friend, but she'd expected Jamie's surprise to be a romantic weekend with him. She let out a sigh. "Chased by a pirate, huh? Let me guess ...sunken chest and no booty?"

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed. 

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?" 

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

"Plane?" Claire dropped her face in her hands. "Oh, God, I can't believe I agreed to this. Jamie never told me anything."

Annalise stood up from where she was sitting and crossed her arms across her chest. "Hmmm, you don't look too happy to be spending time with me."

She puffed out a breath. "It's not that ..."

"We haven't had girly time in ages, Claire. Jamie thought it would do you a world of good to have a bit of fun."

"So now what? You and Jamie plotting and ganging up on me behind my back, is that it?" Claire accused. "What about Willie? Surely, you miss him more than me. When was the last time you saw him?"

Annalise grinned. "Don't worry about Willie. We have been doing a lot of catching up all night last night, and you want to know what he did?"

Claire's face crumpled in disgust as she held up a hand. "Oh, gross! Too much information. I don't want to hear about your sex life."

Annalise laughed out loud. "Fine, I won't discuss our sex life if you start packing now. Besides, you wouldn't want to waste the tickets Jamie worked so hard for, now, do you?"

Oh dear Lord, save me from well-meaning friends! She didn't really want to leave, but if Jamie had spent money organising this trip, she wasn't about to let it go to waste. But ... "How about uncle Lamb? He came to see me, and I can't just leave him."

"He knows all about the trip, and I've been told he's got a few excursions planned around the Highlands." 

"Oh, well ...if that's the case, I need to call Mary and John and let them know what I'm up to this weekend."

Annalise grinned. "Jamie's sorted it already."

"Wot?" she exclaimed with disbelief, her hands landing onto her hips. "Jamie's been planning this with you all along, hasn't he?" She shook her head. "I-I can't believe it!"

"You better believe it."

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation. "Fine! Grab my suitcase. It's in the airing cupboard."

"Yay!" Annalise whirled on her feet and pumped her fist in the air. Claire couldn't help but smile as enthusiasm began to wiggle its way through her system. Maybe Jamie was right. She owed it to herself to have a break, and probably a change of scenery was what she needed. After Mary had delivered the goods, Claire had worked herself to the bone all week and sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. She was already in her second round of edits on the extensive manuscripts Mary had submitted and must admit they were indeed making progress. As for Tom, her job with him was done, and the team organised by John should be arriving next week. It was definitely time for a bit of fun. 

On second thoughts, though it was generous of Jamie to arrange the trip, it would have been nice if he could come along too. But the idea of Jamie's condition worsening with something as simple as weekend trips away brought a feeling of melancholy to descend upon her. She had no doubt Jamie would be cured, and they'd be able to travel together one day, so she forced herself to shake off the momentary bout of wistfulness when Annalise came bounding back with her small suitcase.

"So ...you talked to Jamie. Where is he, by the way?" she asked, grabbing clothes from the dresser and throwing them in the bed. "He left early this morning."

"Oh! Jamie said he needed to be somewhere important, and he'll see you when we return. Willie will be driving us to the airport." When Claire frowned, Annalise came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll only be away for two days, and you'll see him again Sunday night."

It was apparent to Claire she'd been at a disadvantage waking up to the news of the weekend trip because if Jamie had suggested it a few days ago, she would have definitely put her foot down and refused. Unfortunately, Annalise and Jamie knew her too well; hence they'd planned this trip in secrecy.

Claire absorbed that for a few heartbeats and felt a tad of guilt. It had been a while she'd spent time with Annalise, and once her job was done in London, she'd be living with Jamie. Plus, who knew when she'd have another chance to hang out with her best friend ...just the two of them and in the Isle of Harris at that. Besides, they always had a great time together. There was no sense in spoiling their spontaneous weekend with her stubbornness. She might as well make the most of it.

Claire turned to face her friend and smiled. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Plenty of time," Annalise beamed. "While you get ready, I'll make some coffee. I know what you're like without your cuppa first thing." And with that, she danced out of the room, whistling, leaving Claire to shake her head in amusement.

Later that morning, as they drove past the motorway exit for the airport, Claire shifted restlessly in the backseat of Willie's car, watching the familiar structure pass by in a blur outside her window. She frowned. Willie must have forgotten to take the turn. Uh oh! But before she could say anything, Willie veered to a different dual-carriageway. She tried to relax back into her seat, thinking there was probably a different route to the airport she didn't know of.

Eventually, they pulled to a stop in front of a building that didn't resemble a terminal, but there was an airfield and a charter plane coming out of the hangar. When Willie stepped out of the car, a man with worn jeans, a black leather jacket and a pair of aviators waved. He looked kind of familiar, but Claire was unsure.

"Who is that?" Claire asked quietly.

Annalise followed her line of vision. "Oh, I thought you knew that guy." She frowned when Claire shook her head and squinted to get a better look. "I was told the guy flying our plane was the soon to be famous Highlands' ultimate guide to Scotland." As if on cue, the man removed his aviators and started walking towards their car, a smile plastered to his unshaven face. When he waved at them, Annalise giggled, and Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "You probably can't recognise him from afar ...it's your author, Tom Christie," Annalise announced with a satisfied smile and to her utmost shock. "He's flying us to Stornoway."

What the bloody hell? Jamie arranged this?

 Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your readership and the feedback from the previous chapter. I'm super thrilled a lot of you enjoyed it after what I put you all through with Jamie and Claire's roller-coaster journey. I hope it was worth it all in the end.

Speaking of the end, the next chapter will be the last for this arc, and after taking a break, I will start arc three of the WONDERWALL series. I'll keep you updated here. Meanwhile, feel free to speculate what the next chapter will be. Until my next update, wishing you all good health and vibes. X

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Thistle & Bloom (CH7)

Jamie and Claire end up in Claire's shop. More revelations, a mysterious phone call, and exchanged promises. SO sorry about the gap between chapters! I've been pretty sick over here, and just needed a break to get better. I'm feeling better and glad to be writing again!

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER SEVEN

Claire Beauchamp’s front porch, a late October night, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d verra much like to kiss ye. May I?”

Words had never failed Claire before. She spent her free time letting sentences flow around her, wrapping her in warmth and comfort. Words were her solace and succor. When Jamie’s eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes in question , in longing , any word she thought of failed her completely. She nodded quickly, for it was all she could manage in the moment. Whatever she had been expecting from Jamie, whatever she expected a first kiss to be like with the stranger who had enchanted her from their first meeting, whatever she expected failed in comparison. Jamie leaned forward, and steeled himself with a slow swallow. Claire watched his throat bob with the effort, and for the first time, wondered to herself how much power he was holding unchecked in the moment. There wasn’t time to think before he had regained his composure and moved closer into her. His clear blue eyes had darkened to the color of Claire’s favorite coastline, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she met his eyes, everything faded away. There were no words, no chill in the late October air, no more spiraling thoughts… there was just Jamie. His woody cologne swirled together with the scent of fallen leaves on wet, worn bricks; their air mingled together, and it was happening. His mouth found purchase with hers, softly, tenderly. He tasted like a smoke-filled whisky and something so inexplicably him. Had she been sober, she might have had the thought to hold back some, to not devour this man before her… but she wasn’t sober, and couldn’t have been with the intoxicating feel of him against her body and in her mouth. Her hands moved from his chest up his neck and into the curls at the nape of his neck. He moaned when her fingers moved upwards into his hair. “God, Claire…” His hands roamed around her waist and up the expanse of her back, down her ribcage and almost to her arse, but pulled back to crush her to him instead. She moaned in protest and he laughed breathily as he whispered, “Ye have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss ye like this.” Claire smiled through his returning kisses. An arm snaked around her waist while the other ran up the length of her spine. She was being greedy, she knew it, and couldn’t stop it. Her tongue softly ran along his lips and he nearly spasmed at the contact. Apparently one little tease was all the invitation he needed -- a hand was in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, her body was crushed against the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. They were playing a dangerous game, the two of them, and she was ready to explode with the fire he set in her.

“You’ll stay…?” He moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling her earlobe just a bit. “God, Jamie…”  Hot breath from a small chuckle made her skin erupt in shivers. “You’ll stay? Tonight?”

Stubble scratched her neck, soothed by wet kisses. “Hmmmm?”

She drew his face back to hers in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Come upstairs with me, Jamie.”

Navy orbs met dark gold ones in the glow of lamplight. He made for their mouths to meet again, but didn’t close his eyes. He released her finally, but kept a tight grip on her waist. “Yer so beautiful, Claire.”

She felt her cheeks burn at his compliments. How did he do that to her? Just a few words, a pointed look, a whisper in her direction and she was absolutely melted. She reached for his hand and moved to open her door, but Jamie stayed rooted to the spot.

“I cannae go inside wi’ ye tonight, mo nighean donn.” Surely she hadn’t heard him right. Was he rejecting her? She dropped his hand and stepped back, turning toward the door to turn her key in the lock.

What the fuck happens now? Claire turned, stood up straight, and outstretched her hand. “Well, this really has been a great night. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She tried to keep the hurt off her face, but knew she was failing.

Jamie looked at her hand like it was a foreign object, and stepped forward. He took her small hand in both of his and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Claire, ye have to know how much I want tae go inside with ye. God, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want ye in this moment. But lass, I don’t just want this moment… I want so much more with ye. The way I feel about ye, I know ye feel it, too. I’m not willing to let this get out of hand. Ye mean too much to me. This, means too much to me. I’m going to do this right, mo chridhe.” Claire’s whole body had felt warm with adrenaline moments before, but now it surged with affection for Jamie. “If ye wanted to kiss me like that again though, I wouldna complain one bit, though,” he added with a smirk breaking through his serious facade.

Claire laughed in earnest and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Her hand rested on his heart and it pounded faster with the seconds shared in their kiss. Before she was lost in him once again, she pulled away and he let out a strangled cry at the loss of her. His eyes hadn’t opened before she had completely extricated herself from him and had her front door open. “Goodnight, James!” she laughed.

---

“You’ll be the death of me, Sassenach!” The door was closed before he had time to recompose himself. He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed curls. He absolutely stood by what he said about wanting to honor what they had, and he had not planned on following her to bed tonight. He wouldn’t treat this like it was disposable or quick. Then again… no lass had ever kissed him the way Claire Beauchamp did. Before he could knock on her door and beg her to let him in, he forced himself off the porch and down the sidewalk. One more look at her windows, one more second in place thinking about her, and he’d end up back in her arms tonight. One day, lad. One day.

Jamie had mentioned he had to be at the bookshop the next day, and Claire had every intention of not bothering him at work. She had planned to answer a few emails and do some administrative work with a coffee and then head down to her own shop to work on propagating some of the rarer plants. She loaded her leather messenger bag with her laptop, notebook, writing notebook, an assortment of her favorite pens, and headed down the street. Twenty minutes and a large chai later, she aimlessly strolled toward her shop on Garden Street. She found herself drifting a few blocks south of the direction she should be headed in and a few blocks closer to Fraser Literature. Surely there was no harm in working at one of the tables in the courtyard at the bookshop, right? She wandered through the streets with a new purpose and was soon setting up shop at one of the familiar cafe tables outside her favorite shop. Had the store not been open today, she would have wasted the morning away there in the courtyard, letting the sun glow around her, warming her chilled surroundings. Alas, being a business owner was not exactly as freeing as someone may think and she had work to do. A while later, Claire was zoned-in on an email about variegated monstera deliciosa orders when a voice behind her nearly made her fall out of her chair.

“Whatcha working on today, Sassenach?” She clutched her chest and turned to see Jamie arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly pleased with his startling announcement of arrival.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Are you trying to give me a heart attack over here?”

“Ach no, jes’ reveling in the fact that ye clearly can’t get enough of me. Getting me drunk at dinner, encouraging puir decisions, the way ye kissed me last night, trying to get me into yer bed, and now, I find ye waiting for me outside my shop. I jes’ find it interesting , is all.”

“I was doing no such thing! This is just were I work! I’d been working here long before I knew this was your shop!”

“Likely story, Sassenach.” Claire assumed he was trying to wink, but in much the same way an owl does, he just blinked both clear blue eyes at her and scrunched up his nose, making Claire snort in laughter at his attempt.

“I do actually have to work, though, and now that I know you’re distracted, I should go so we both actually get something done today,” she said, and began to pack up her bags.

“Tis a timely distraction, actually!” Jamie handed her a yellow notebook and raised his brows when he gestured throwing her empty drink in the trash.

Claire nodded in response to the cup and continued to pack up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“We’ve been getting some feedback from customers lately that they’re very much enjoying the ‘atmosphere’ of the store, and more and more people at checkout say they like all the plants hanging around! The boys and I were discussing taking that idea and running with it… kind of an arts experience, ken? The music, the books of course, and bring nature into it all. I’d like to add in some more plants, but dinna ken what would work best. Is there any way ye could help me figure it out? Maybe I could stop by your wee shop sometime and we could talk it out?”

Claire swung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at Jamie’s nervousness in asking her for something so… chill . “Of course you can stop by, Jamie! Actually, I’m headed there now, if you’d like to join?” His smile could have rivaled the sunshine for brightest thing in the courtyard. Claire waited inside the store’s entrance while Jamie told Angus and Rupert he’d be back in a while and noticed the way Jamie’s ears pinked at the tips when Angus leaned in to whisper something and Rupert playfully punched Jamie in the arm. She pretended to fuss with something on the bookshelf, but smiled to herself nonetheless.

“Ready, Sassenach?” Jamie was waiting by her side a few moments later. It was Claire’s turn to beam up at him.

“Always.”

---

Thistle and Bloom was Jamie’s second-favorite place in all of Boston. It was the word “thistle” that had originally drawn him into the shop shortly after moving to the city. It reminded him of home, of the Highlands, and of all the things that just felt like home. He had met the redhead behind the counter a handful of times, always hearing the owner was out back working, or gone searching for herbs, or otherwise occupied. He and Geillis had become friendly over the years, and the other lads had become more than friendly with her on more than one occasion. It was Geillis that had invited them all out to karaoke, and he would forever be grateful for how fate had worked in his life. Geillis, this shop, his bookstore, Scotland… all of it played a part in getting him here today, with Claire.

They approached the storefront and Claire absolutely beamed with pride. The outside of the shop was ornate for Boston, but beautiful. The building was brick, with a white-washed wood first story with large arched windows. Painted with forest green on the arches of the facade, a heavy naturally-stained wood had the name of the wee shop painted in gold lettering, and a heavy carved thistle painted in gold sat as the crowning jewel in the signage. English ivy crawled and sprawled up the planters on the sidewalk and up the white wood over the green arches and up the antique brick. Whisky barrels sat in front of the windows exploding with blooms in modern arrangements, like they had truly come to life in the most whimsical and elegant way. Now knowing it was Claire behind it all, everything made sense. He thumbed a rogue branch of the ivy, it’s Englishness not lost on him. Inside the store, Jamie saw it all with fresh eyes.

Jamie was a fair gardener -- truth be told, he hadn’t needed explicit help in finding the right plants for his store, but he’d near say anything to spend time with Claire. She nervously showed him around, occasionally muttering the scientific name of a houseplant or remarking about the rarity of another under her breath. Only once did she catch one yellowing leaf on something that trailed up the wall, and she plucked it off and shoved it in her jeans pocket. Jamie shook his head in exasperation at her -- didn’t she know, everything she did was perfect? They continued their little tour and examined every plant in the store for Jamie’s needs. Jamie occasionally hummed or nodded in agreement of Claire’s assessment of the plants, but he knew she really wasn’t talking to him. Sometimes, she’d look at Jamie or ask for his opinion on a plant, but otherwise, she existed in her own little world. Claire had amassed a collection of medium-sized plants on the counter she assured him wouldn’t be too much work but would flourish with his attention, and turned the most brilliant shade of pink when she caught sight of him watching her work.

Seeing that the shop was empty for the moment, Jamie moved in toward Claire. Watching her like this, in her element, so happy, he just wanted to kiss her again. Just steps away from her, she turned to him, smiling. One more step until bliss…

Jamie jumped. His phone rang loudly from his pocket. Rushing to silence it, he pulled it out of his pocket to a blonde woman’s smiling face on the Caller ID. He shut off the ringer and looked for Claire. She was shuffling plants at the counter, not really rearranging anything but trying to make herself busy nonetheless. Ifrinn. She saw the damned phone.

“So, Claire…” he was interrupted by a voicemail notication. He ignored it. “I was wondering if ye grow these plants yerself, or…” another loud beep followed by another indicated he was getting texts at a rapid pace. “Jesus, fuck!”

“If you need to get that, it’s really fine, Jamie!” Claire was trying for a breezy tone and failing miserably. She’d seen the beautiful woman on the phone. They never said they were exclusive or anything, it was awfully presumptuous of her to assume that in the two days they’d known each other, that he didn’t have any other ties. She was spiraling but a warm, steady hand brought her back down to reality.

“I dinna need to do anything, Sassenach. Nothing matters to me now except for being here with ye.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and with only the briefest hesitation to make sure she was caught up with his feelings, he kissed her chastley. “Now, I was asking how ye came to amasse such a small jungle.”

Claire smiled adoringly at Jamie, pushing any nagging thoughts about the mysterious caller to the side. “I’d like to show you something, if you can be away for a little while longer,” Claire said. Jamie nodded and followed her when she went out the back door of the shop.

Instead of finding a back door leading to an alleyway or a small yard, Jamie stepped into pure light. A white wooden door with paned glass led the way into the most beautiful greenhouse Jamie had ever seen. It was a few small rooms, each terraced with a few cement steps leading into the next. Slowly walking through, Jamie noticed each tiny room was a different biome: one for tropical plants, one for houseplants, one for cacti and sand-dwelling plants, and one with plants he’d never seen before. The windows were probably once crystal clear, but now the glass was clouded with condensation and moss in the corners. The cream paint on the window and door panes was chipping away in places, and the floor was covered in loose dirt and a few errant leaves. Everything was diffused light and shades of green and white and warm air. It was warm inside and Jamie wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. He turned to Claire, who stood in the far corner, awaiting judgment like a child. She smiled shyly, hugging herself and leaning against a potting bench. Her hair was conspiring with the humidity to add more curls to her head at an alarming rate, and she looked like the queen of her own personal Jumanji. Jamie had never seen a more ethereal sight in his life.

“Ye know, I always come here when I miss home,” he held a leaf the size of his own head in his hand and made his way along the rows of flora as he continued. “Scotland is so green, ken? I think it’s the thing I miss most. The traditions there are so old but it’s so green and fresh and new out in the moors and the lochs and munros. This shop, yer shop,” he smiled at her, “it always felt the way I felt about being home in Scotland.”

“Have I told you I grew up in Scotland?”

Jamie’s head snapped up at that. “Ye said ye were from Oxford?”

She nodded. “Yes, originally. I went to school in Oxford, and Oxford was where I thought I’d build my life. Actually though, in between travelling with my uncle, we’d always end up in Scotland. My uncle had a place in Glenfinnan?” Jamie’s jaw dropped. “I take it you know the place?”

“Aye! I’m from Inveraray!”

“I’ll jot that down in the list of things we have in common!” She laughed. “Anyways, he had a croft up there and we’d go all the time. It’s mine now, but I haven’t had time to make it back there after opening up shop here in Boston. Scotland holds a very special place in my heart, though. All the important moments in my life happened in the Highlands: my best birthdays, my first kiss, my biggest adventures, it’s where I went when I left my ex, when my uncle died…” Jamie came to her, stroking her arm when he saw her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The highlands always felt wild and peaceful and magical to me. I wanted to have a slice of that here. It’s obviously for work, too, but this… this is my favorite place. My oasis. It feels…”

“Like heaven,” Jamie finished. The moment he said it, he almost wished he could take it back not because he didn’t mean it, but because it really did feel like heaven here with her.  

“Like heaven,” she repeated. He found her staring longingly at him, and he couldn’t help it then. He kissed her with as much admiration as he could possibly muster in a kiss, and it still didn’t feel like enough when she drew back for air.

“Having you here with me, in this place… This is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Make me a promise, Sassenach?”

Claire was puzzled. She brought him into her very favorite place, and he’s asking for random promises right now? “Yes, Jamie?”

“Promise me we’ll end up in Scotland together. I’ll take ye up the munros and down in the lochs and we’ll laugh and drive and get caught up in sheep herds together. We’ll drink ‘til we cannae walk we’ll talk about how the universe conspired to get us here. Me and you, mo nighean donn. Promise ye’ll let me follow ye around the world and back to the place we both love. Promise me that one day, we’ll get back there together.”

Despite knowing Jamie for such a short time, despite the day that was supposed to be a fun, non-committal one picking out plants, Claire found herself swimming in the depths of his ocean eyes with no plan to get out and dry off. Despite the rational part of her brain telling her she should not be making plans so soon, she saw an entire lifetime in his face. Maybe it was the ethereal atmosphere, maybe it was that he made her drunk on his presence alone, maybe it was magic that made her match his eyes and say, “Scotland it is. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[let-the-dream-begin]

When the World is Free Chapter 4: Feels Like I’m Stuck in the Valley of the Shadow of Death

Chapter 3

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It was a frigid November afternoon, and the first thing Claire was conscious of was a dull ache everywhere, particularly her lower back. She’d been cramping since the wee hours of the morning, and both of the men she lived with had insisted she get back to bed after breakfast. She’d put up a bit of a fight, but then she’d fallen right asleep the second her head hit the pillow, and she thought begrudgingly that she’d definitely needed the rest.

The second thing she was aware of was a deep, calming rumbling from behind her, a noise she quickly deduced to be Jamie muttering in Gaelic. God, after months of going without it and thinking she’d never hear it again, it was music to her ears. She felt her lips curl into a smile before her eyes fluttered open. She craned her neck to look at him without having to heave her body into a new position.

“Are you alright?” she muttered.

“Aye. Just wanted to watch ye sleep in peace fer a bit.”

She craned her neck a bit further but then winced, feeling a pinch at the base of her skull. Jamie did not hesitate to get under the covers with her and help her roll over onto her other side, not without much heavy breathing and groaning from Claire. She exhaled heavily when she was finally facing him.

“Ye alright?”

“I’m fine,” Claire said, embarrassed at how winded she was from just turning over in bed. Jamie pecked a kiss to her nose, then lower down to her lips.

“What was it that you were saying?” Claire asked thoughtfully.

Jamie shook his head, his brow wrinkling between his eyes. “Nothin’.” He smiled sheepishly. “There’s no’ much I can say waking wi’out it sounding daft and foolish, Sassenach.” He delicately ran his fingers down the length of her face with all the tender reverence in the world. “I can say things while ye sleep, and yer dreams will ken the truth of them.”

Claire’s heart melted, and she kissed him soundly. She then laced their hands together and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“D’ye feel refreshed after yer wee catnap?” Jamie said, a hint of teasing to his voice.

“I do…but something tells me it wasn’t so wee,” Claire said.

Jamie chuckled.

“What? What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

“What?” Claire’s entire body stiffened, and she made to sit up, but Jamie put both his hands on her shoulders to stop her. “You let me sleep for five hours?”

“Relax, Sassenach. Ye clearly needed the rest. Growing a Fraser baby is no small feat.”

“Well that’s the truth. I feel like I’m carrying a fucking ball of lead.”

Jamie laughed.

“But really, Jamie. I had so much to get done today. He’s going to be here any day now, and I needed to go to the grocer’s — ”

“Already did that.”

“You got all the cans of soup? Chicken noodle? And the crackers? And the apple juice?”

“Aye, Sassenach. I can read, ye ken. I saw yer wee list on the counter.”

“What about the tea — the tea that John likes, I didn't put that on the list — ”

Jamie grunted in apparent annoyance, but he nodded. “Aye, I got that too. Noticed it was missing when I did a sweep of our supplies, and I kent the wee fusspot would be grumbling if we ran out.”

Claire swatted his arm. “If that makes him a fusspot, then I am, too. I’d be upset if we ran out of my favorite tea. Especially right now.”

“Dinna fash, lass. I stocked up on everything ye could possibly be craving these last few weeks.”

“You don’t understand; when I’m at the grocer’s, I see things I wasn’t thinking of before, and I say well, thank God I saw it because if I went home without it I’d be raging later — ”

“Would ye relax, Sassenach?” he said again, exasperated. “I swear, if ye go through the mountains of shite I got ye and ye find something missing, I’ll go out and get it myself.”

Claire sighed, more of a huff than anything else. “Fine. What about the nappies? I wanted to count them today — ”

“Thirty-six,” Jamie said. “And there are twenty clean towels. Ten blankets. All folded nicely in that drawer wi’ his wee clothes.” Jamie gestured to the top drawer of the dresser, the closest to the cradle and rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom.

“The pram! I was supposed to take home the pram and put it together — ”

“Did that as well.”

Claire gaped at him for a brief moment before releasing a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “This was your master plan all along, wasn’t it? To get me into bed so that you could do all of this for me?”

“Aye, ye could say that,” he said, chuckling.

“What about your job search? I hate that you couldn’t do that today because I was lazing about — ”

“Christ, ye’re right. I’ll have to start calling ye fusspot as well.”

She glowered at him, but he just leaned in to kiss her. “Stop worrying yerself. Isna good fer wee Brian.” His large hands spread over the swell of their child. “He’s moving less today,” he said fretfully.

“Don’t worry. It’s likely because he’ll be coming out soon. That’s what happens.”

“Did Geillis say that?”

“I’ll have you know I already knew that, but yes, the midwife also agrees.” Claire rolled her eyes. “Now who’s being a fusspot?”

Jamie grunted in annoyance. Claire allowed a small silence to pass between them, Jamie rubbing his hands up and down her belly, staring into her eyes.

“Really, Jamie…” Claire began tentatively. “I’m worried that you haven’t found work yet. I know that you need…you like feeling useful. Do you miss the farm? Is that it? Do you want to move somewhere you can work the land? Go back to Lallybroch?”

“Dinna fash yerself about all that,” Jamie said softly. “I feel plenty useful taking care of my wife as she grows my child inside her. You are my purpose, mo nighean donn. You and the bairn.”

Claire had to physically restrain herself from visibly wincing at the word wife.

He did this a lot, referred to her as his wife. She wondered if he did it without thinking, being that handfasting was a very serious commitment to him, or if he did it out of spite to John. She always told herself it was the former, not wanting to believe that Jamie carried the contempt necessary for it to be the latter.

But sometimes she wondered.

“Besides, John makes enough for rent at the moment,” Jamie continued. “As much as I loathe no’ being the one providing for my family, I think such things can wait after I’ve been away from ye so long.”

Claire could not argue that point.

“I willna need employment until John moves on and you and I are married proper,” Jamie reasoned. “I’ll start looking in earnest once John finds somewhere to settle.”

Claire felt a sinking uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.

It was the most natural thing in the world to Jamie. It only made sense. John had been looking for somewhere else to live. He couldn’t very well sleep on the couch for the rest of his life. It had already been almost a month.

“Don’t you think it’s…a bit unfair that John has to leave…?” Claire said tentatively. “This is his flat, after all. He’s paid for everything inside it.”

“We’ve talked about this, Sassenach. All three of us, if ye recall. It was John’s idea that he leave. He said it would be unfair to us to have us move all of the things fer the bairn to a new flat. He’s one man, we’re an entire family now. He said that.”

“I know, I know…” Claire said. “It’s just…I don’t feel right. He…John paid for everything in this flat, Jamie. That drawer full of nappies and blankets and towels…that rocking chair, that cradle. All the bottles. All of Brian’s clothing…”

Jamie’s face darkened immediately. “Aye, Claire, go on and keep reminding me that I havena been able to provide fer my child’s basic needs before he’s even born.”

“No! That isn't what I mean, and you know it.” Claire heaved herself into a sitting position, cheeks puffing with exertion. Jamie shot up as well, trying to help her, but she put her hands up to stop him. After taking a moment to adjust to the new position, feeling Brian shift inside, and waiting for her back to stop throbbing, she continued.

“I mean that it…it feels so wrong to just throw him out. It isn’t a slight at you for me to say that he has been providing for this baby. It’s just the truth.” She adjusted the pillows behind her, this time allowing Jamie to help, and then she leaned against them. “I’ve been…he’s been Daddy all these months, Jamie. He watched me go through catalogues of clothing and furniture and told me that he’d get whatever my heart desired for our child.”

“It is not. His.” Jamie growled.

“I know! Jesus H. Christ, Jamie! I know! Every single day I was reminded that your son would be raised by another man, and every single time it killed me from the inside out. But that’s just it! For eight months this baby was John’s. You were dead, Jamie. To us…to him,” she put her hands on her stomach, clutching the baby, “you were dead. John lived for eight months as a father. He was prepared for an entire lifetime with a son. Do you understand…? It’s…it’s going to break his heart to take that away from him.”

“What about breaking my heart? What about all the months I spent away from ye, missing all the time ye were carrying my bairn?”

“Could you stop being so selfish for just a minute?” Claire spat. “You really don’t understand! Jamie, when you came home after all that time, you gained so much. You got me back, you got a child you didn’t know you had. You have an entire life to look forward to now. But when you came back, John lost everything. And of course, he mourned you. His heart was just as broken as mine, I know it. And of course he’s beyond overjoyed that you’re alive. But just…imagine being in his shoes, for even a moment! Everything he thought he had for eight months is just gone now.”

Jamie sighed in frustration. “There’s something you don’t seem to understand, Claire.” He looked at her pointedly. “Ye’re a woman.”

She huffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest. “How dare you imply that he can’t feel any sort of loss because we’re not romantically or sexually involved.”

“Well…”

“Don’t you dare even say it,” Claire snapped. “I’ve explained that to you enough times. What I’m saying now is that he doesn’t need to be in love with me to be heartbroken over losing me. And the baby. There are other kinds of love, Jamie. Surely you know that.”

It was her turn to stare him down, brows raised, and he melted under her gaze, understanding exactly what she left unsaid.

Surely you know that, Mister I’m-going-to-kiss-my-best-friend-on-the-mouth-out-of-friendly-affection.

“You know, John told me once…” Claire continued softly. “He was…he was certain that he’d never have children because of...who he is. But he’d always wanted them. He thought maybe he’d be lucky to marry a woman who wouldn’t mind an…arrangement between them, but he couldn’t do it behind her back. So he’d resigned himself to the life of a childless bachelor.

“He said he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten to have…married somebody who knows what he is and accepts it. And who was to give him the child he’d always wanted. He was…he was in tears, Jamie. He loves this baby so much.” Claire sniffled, briefly overcome herself. “I can’t…I can’t send him away. I can’t.”

Jamie’s jaw hardened. “What’re ye saying, Claire?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know what the answer is.” She sniffled again and wiped her eyes with her hands, cursing her hormones as she did so. “He can’t just keep sleeping on the couch and paying rent for two — soon to be three — freeloaders. But I can’t in good conscience just…make him leave…”

She was weeping in earnest now, and despite his obvious rage, Jamie enveloped her in his arms as best he could given the size of her. 

“It’s alright, mo ghraidh. Everything’ll be alright.”

“I’m sorry…” she blubbered. “I didn’t mean to completely derail the entire conversation by crying like a baby…”

“Dinna fash about that, lass.” Jamie caressed her hair, kissing the top of her head. “Get it out now, it’s alright.”

“Everything is just a bloody mess…”

“Everything is fine, mo nighean donn. I’m here.”

As he rocked her gently, Claire wanted to believe him.

Yes, everything was alright now that he was there. Of course. Jamie’s return from the dead was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

But she could not shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

Then Jamie’s fingers gently grasped the hair at the nape of Claire’s neck, an innocent gesture of pure comfort and affection, and she felt all of her nerve endings light afire.

She craned her neck up to kiss him, teary face, snotty nose and all. She collided with his mouth harder than she meant to, and he groaned in shock. He pulled back to look at her, bewildered, but she just sniffled and kissed him again.

“I feel like I'm going mad,” she gasped between kisses. “But I need you. Now.”

Jamie was powerless to deny her, growing hard beneath her immediately. She undid his belt with an expert quickness, and he lowered his trousers just enough to spring himself free as she pulled her nightgown over her head. She hoisted her leg over to straddle him, feeling completely un-sexy as she did so, but Jamie’s groan of satisfaction suggested that perhaps that was relative. She reached down to unbutton his shirt so she could roam her hands over the planes of his hard, beautiful chest, and he moved her hips back and forth, so that her slick heat was grinding against his hardness pressed against his stomach.

She quickly lost patience with this of course, and it wasn’t long before Jamie was grabbing himself to line up with her, and she lowered herself onto him with a shuddering groan of relief.

Of all the ways they had tried to make love around her enormous middle, this was by far Jamie’s favorite, and Claire could tell. Sometimes he entered from behind her, laying down, lifting her leg for access; that was perhaps his second favorite, since he could easily fondle her belly or her breasts from behind. They’d also tried propping her up with pillows as he slammed into her standing up. It got the job done, but was nowhere near as enjoyable for either of them. He’d also taken her on her hands and knees, which Jamie enjoyed since he could squeeze her arse to his heart’s desire, but Claire quickly grew tired holding herself up like that, and they would switch before either of them finished.

But this; this was heaven.

Claire could see it in Jamie’s eyes; he absolutely loved watching her ride him to oblivion, absolutely loved reaching up to squeeze her breasts, even stretching up to take them in his mouth, or to kiss her belly. And she loved it, too. No matter how much she felt like a beached whale, when she sat astride Jamie, filled by him as she was, she felt like a goddess in control of the greatest destiny.

Jamie’s grip on her hips became bruising, and she rode him with increasing fervor, her voice reaching new heights in pitch and volume.

“You are mine, Claire.”

Her head was tossed back, her eyes squeezed shut. She almost didn’t hear him over her haze of pleasure. She forced her eyes open and picked her head back up, looking down to see his eyes burning into her, so much so that she almost felt fire in her own eyes.

“You are mine, mo nighean donn,” he said again, squeezing her arse roughly, causing her to whimper. “Mine, now and forever.”

She returned his burning gaze, struggling to keep her eyes open through the intensity of what she was feeling.

He was not just saying it. He was waiting for an answer.

And why was she hesitating? She was his. Completely and totally, she belonged to him, body and soul.

She belonged to no one else.

“I’m yours, Jamie,” she gasped out, leaning forward as much as she could to brace herself on his shoulders. “Yours.”

He growled hungrily, and he began lifting his hips to meet her every thrust.

“Mine,” he said again, his eyes wide, his face strained with need.

“Yours, Jamie,” Claire squeaked. “All yours.”

She came around him perhaps harder than she ever had in her life, crying out hoarsely, digging her nails into Jamie’s shoulders.

“Yes, Jamie, I’m yours, I’m yours…”

No one else’s.

Perhaps if she said it enough, she’d actually start to believe it.

——

Claire’s eyes fluttered open again, and she moaned sleepily. She reached behind her and felt nothing, so she sat up groggily. It was much darker than it had been when she was last awake.

“Jamie…?”

“Coming.”

His voice came from outside the bedroom, and she sighed in relief. She still was not convinced that she wouldn’t wake up one day to find him gone, that he’d never actually returned.

He reentered the bedroom then, wearing nothing but his pajama trousers, and Claire envied his ability to be warm enough to traipse around shirtless in November.

“You let me sleep again?” Claire said.

“Aye,” Jamie said, eyes full of mirth as he flipped the lights on. “I thought I’d up and killed ye wi’ our lovemaking, Sassenach. Ye passed out on me while ye were still screaming to the heavens.”

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” Claire rubbed her eyes roughly. “Well that’s never happened before.”

“Aye, canna say it didna scare me shiteless,” Jamie smirked, sitting on the bed in front of her. “But neither can I say it wasna extremely pleasing to my masculine pride.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Claire said. “Well, no more than usual.”

“Aye, go on, keep blaming those wee hormones.”

“It’s true! They heighten everything, including sexual release.”

Jamie hmphed with amusement, and then Claire noticed the wooden box in his hands.

“What’s this?”

“Wee gift. Fer the bairn. Been in my family fer generations. I phoned Jenny as soon as I was able after I found out about the bairn. I was waiting fer the right moment to give them to ye.”

Claire’s gaze softened, her lips unconsciously curling into a smile.

“After I explained the circumstances, Jen was a wee bit more understanding. But she’s still cross wi’ ye, most of all now because ye didna tell her about the bairn. But dinna fash. Once she has a wee nephew to hold she’ll forget all about that.”

Claire laughed sadly. “I hope so.”

Jamie undid the latch on the box and opened it, revealing two rows of glistening silver.

“What are these…?” She reached in and picked one up.

“Apostle spoons,” Jamie said, his eyes warm. “One fer each of the twelve apostles. Christening gift.”

Claire felt tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. “They’re…they’re beautiful, Jamie.”

He leaned in and kissed her sweetly. “I’m glad ye like them.”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Because I was thinking we’d have one fer each spoon.”

Claire scoffed in surprise. “You’re mad.”

His eyes danced with mirth. “Perhaps.”

“You would certainly not want twelve children if it was you carrying them.” Claire shifted in her spot, wincing with another strong cramp. “You’re lucky if I ever want another again.”

“Aye, aye,” Jamie obliged. “Fair’s fair. It’s yer body he’s wreaking havoc on.” He shut the box and crossed the room to sit it on the dresser, right above the drawer where the rest of baby Brian’s things lived.

“Havoc indeed,” Claire groaned. “Speaking of, if I don’t get out of bed, I’m going to develop sores. How long have I been out this time?”

“Only two hours.”

“Oh! John will be home soon,” Claire said fretfully, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “I need to start supper…”

“Already done, Sassenach.”

Claire froze, looking up at Jamie in awe.

“Dinna ken why ye look so surprised,” he said. “I havena let ye cook since I’ve been home.”

It was Claire’s turn to hmph. “Well, it isn’t because I’m incapable. You’re just stubborn.”

“Ye were exhausted, mo ghraidh. Is it such a crime to feed my wife while she rests?”

“I suppose not. Either way, I do not want to be in bed anymore. Though perhaps I should get dressed.” She smiled sheepishly.

“Och, ye’re no fun,” Jamie teased. “I was looking forward to ye parading around naked.”

“Please.” Claire rolled her eyes. “As much as I’d love to eat dinner completely naked, I think I’d freeze to death before I got to the table.”

With that, Jamie rushed to help her dress, insisting on sitting her back on the bed and putting her stockings on for her. As he pulled the stockings up her legs, he left a trail of kisses above them, higher and higher.

“Jamie…” Claire whimpered. “Dinner…”

“It’ll bide,” he whispered against her thigh. “Let me spoil ye while I can. Remember what ye said about needing time after the bairn is born.”

Claire could not argue with that, so she let him spoil her with his mouth until she was gripping his hair with both hands and screaming his name.

By the time Claire regained her senses and they made their way to the kitchen so Claire could sit at the table while Jamie continued cooking, the front door was opening.

“That smells heavenly,” John’s voice floated in from the living room, and then there he was entering the kitchen. “Good evening, Claire, Jamie.” He nodded curtly.

“Hello, John,” Claire said. She waited for Jamie to greet him in return, but he just grunted, not looking up from the stove. “How was your day?”

“Fine, fine. Nothing to report.” He sat down across from Claire. “And how about you? You look quite well rested.”

Claire scoffed. “Well I only just got out of bed. I slept the day away, I’m afraid.”

“I fail to see how that’s a bad thing,” John laughed. “You’ll need all the rest you can get. Brian will be here any day.” He reached across the table to squeeze her hand, and Claire, nearly forgetting they were not alone, squeezed it back.

Claire heard Jamie clear his throat, and she and John quickly pulled away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren caught holding hands on the playground.

“Ehm…Jamie gave me the most beautiful gift today,” Claire said. “Well, it’s for Brian, but he isn’t exactly ready to receive anything himself.”

John laughed softly. “What is it?”

“Silver apostle spoons. They’re really something. I’ll have to show you after dinner.”

Jamie grunted again, still keeping his back turned to them, and Claire very briefly flared with rage. It would appear that Jamie did not want Claire sharing that moment with John, and to her, it seemed grossly unfair. John had been bestowing gifts upon her and the baby for months. Claire swallowed that feeling and took a deep breath.

“He also checked on everything while I was sleeping, the nappies and towels and blankets and such,” Claire went on. “I wanted to take inventory myself, but I was exhausted.”

“Good. I’m glad everything is in order.” John smiled. “Did he also pick up the things you need to eat after the labor?”

“Yes, he saw my list and got right to it while I slept.”

“Good, good.”

Jamie wordlessly put down two plates, one in front of Claire, the other in front of John. Claire noticed that Jamie withheld the string beans from her plate, giving her more potatoes instead.

“Thank you for remembering my green aversion, love,” Claire said lightly.

“How could he forget?” John teased. “You only remind us every day.”

Claire rolled her eyes, cutting into her roast beef. “Oh, it’s very tender Jamie. Cuts like butter.”

“Yes, fine job, my friend,” John echoed.

Jamie just grunted, sitting himself between them with his own plate. This was usual behavior for Jamie. He would act completely normal while John was at work, and it almost felt like it used to be between him and Claire. But the second John was either brought up or he walked in the door, Jamie was reduced to communicating like a caveman. It was beginning to wear on Claire’s nerves. She knew it was not sheer pettiness; she did not forget the darkness that Jamie spoke of within him. She could see the small ways this war had changed him, moments where he seemed far away even though he was right there, whimpers in his sleep, small jumps of fright at seemingly nothing at all. She knew he was struggling to communicate what pained him, and she knew he was taking it out on those he loved, including herself, including John. Nonetheless, it was becoming more and more difficult to cope with.

They ate in complete silence for a long while, the only noise the clinking of silverware on ceramic.

“So…” John broke the silence after a long while. “I, ehm, looked at a flat today during my lunch break.”

Claire swore that her chair was pulled out from underneath her. Thankfully, neither men seemed to notice how she swayed.

“Aye?” Jamie spoke for the first time since John had arrived home. “How was it?”

“It was quite nice. Roomy enough, but not too much so for only one person.”

Claire swore she felt her heart crack.

“That’s good,” Jamie said, putting a piece of meat in his mouth.

“Yes, I’m only sorry it took so long to find,” John said sheepishly. “I hate to have imposed on you both for so long.”

“It’s no bother, John, you know that — ”

“Dinna fash, John. What’s done is done. I’m glad ye have somewhere to move forward to.”

Claire felt hot tears building up behind her eyes. Had Jamie not heard a single word she’d said all afternoon? How could he be so callous about this?

“I’ve…also been in talks with that lawyer I spoke of earlier,” John said quietly.

Divorce lawyer.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Claire said softly, but firmly. “I just…want to eat.”

“Then when?”

Jamie’s voice startled her.

“What…?” She looked up from her plate, gently setting her fork down.

“Then when, Claire?” Jamie said, more roughly, slamming his fork down. “When will ye want to talk about it?”

“Please, Jamie…” Claire said. “Don’t do this…”

“I mean it, Claire! What are ye playing at?”

“Perhaps I should…”

“No! You stay right here!” Jamie barked, freezing John in his spot.

“Jamie!”

“D’ye want to stay married to him forever, Claire? Is that it? D’ye no’ want to spend the rest of yer life wi’ me? Wi’ the father of yer child?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

“Then what, woman? What is wrong wi’ ye, every time we speak of this?”

“Just…just until the baby is born,” Claire pleaded. “Please, John, don’t do anything until the baby is born.”

“I — ”

“Why?” Jamie roared. “Tell me why!”

“I want him to be here!” Claire shouted, her angry tears spilling over. “He’s been planning to be here for it!”

“It is not his child!” Jamie stood up.

“A point you have made several times; I do understand!” Claire spat back, standing up as well.

“I really think I should — ”

“Stay!” Jamie and Claire both barked at him, and John froze again, standing in front of his chair like the other two.

“No, Claire, I dinna think ye do understand,” Jamie continued as if there hadn’t been any interruption. “There’s something ye’re no’ saying to me, and I want to hear it. Now.”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t what, Claire?”

“I just…I can’t!” She looked desperately at John, tears streaming down her face.

“Can’t divorce him?” Jamie challenged.

“Yes! No!”

“Are ye in love wi’ him, Claire? Ye’re in love wi’ a man who buggers other men?”

“Stop!” Claire shrieked. “Just stop it!”

“Ye didna answer me!”

“I can’t take this baby away from him! I can’t do it! I can’t, I can’t!” She was fully sobbing now, feeling weak in the knees. Her back was screaming, her womb was contracting with a never-ending onslaught of cramping, but she could hardly feel it over the breaking of her heart.

“Claire…” John’s voice cut in above her anguish, and she felt a trembling hand on her back. “Perhaps you should sit…”

“D’ye intend to remain his wife just so he can play Daddy to a bairn that isna is?” Jamie said cruelly.

“Jamie, that’s enough,” John cut in.

“Dinna tell me when I’ve said enough.” He was not shouting. His voice was low and gravelly, dangerously so.

“We…we made promises to each other…” Claire sputtered.

“What about the promises, the vows ye made to me? Did that mean nothing?”

“It means everything to me, damnit!” she howled, and John grabbed her upper arm, clearly afraid she was going to fall over. “But we had to create this life for ourselves without you, and I can’t just abandon it because you’re back. I can’t, Jamie. I can’t do it.”

“Ye canna be wife to us both, Claire,” Jamie’s voice rose in volume again. “So who will it be? The man ye vowed yerself to out of love, or the man ye made a legal arrangement with out of convenience?”

“It was a hell of a lot more than convenience!” Claire spat.

“Oh, was it now?” Jamie’s eyes became wild. “Oh, that’s right! I forgot! Ye fucked him, didn’t ye? That’s a ways beyond convenience, is it no’?”

“That is enough!” John shouted, raising his voice more than Claire thought he was capable of. She gritted her teeth in pain, from her back, her head, or her womb; it was anyone’s guess.

Claire watched in horror as Jamie picked up his plate, raised it above his shoulder, and then slammed it back down on the table, shattering it thoroughly, marking the table, and sending food flying all over.

“Dinna fucking tell me — !”

And then Claire screamed.

She was overcome with cramping more intense than anything she’d felt thus far, and she clutched her belly desperately.

Then she felt it, sure as anything. Hot liquid trailing down her legs.

“Claire?” John gasped out, grasping her with both hands now. “Claire, what’s happened? Are you alright?”

She heaved breaths through puffed cheeks, terror seizing her chest.

“Sassenach…?” Jamie’s voice was thin and cracking, like a sheet of ice on a pond about to swallow an unsuspecting skater.

“My waters have broken.”

[tirednotflirting]

happy prompt to cut in with the angsty ones! a rewind on bachelor host ashton when he was still hosting, of michael and luke watching the show and giving commentary? no pairing I guess, just guys being bros watching reality tv together

hey meghna ily. and i hope this is what you meant kfdlsjfkls <3

this is dumb and very silly but vaguely includes one of my favorite non-couple story lines that happened on Bachelor in Paradise. 

also this is a prequel of sorts to this

also here it is on ao3 bc why not

“What’s the drinking game rule with the bartender guy? Jack?”

“Okay so anytime Alex, remember that’s the guy in the purple shorts there, starts flirting with Jack, you have to take a sip. You take another any time Jack is ignoring another person trying to ask for a drink to flirt back,” Luke explains while pointing at the men he references before taking two sips from his wine glass.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael groans before lifting his can to take the sips as well. “These two alone are going to get me wasted and one of them isn’t even a contestant. Why did I let you talk me into this?”

Luke drops a piece of popcorn into his mouth and smiles at Michael’s entirely fake glare. “Because you love spending time with me and I love trash TV.”

“It’s definitely for the wine and snacks but just keep telling yourself that.”

Their attention drifts back to the screen then as the theme song for this week’s episode of Love in Paradise starts playing. It’s some corny intro sequence, this version of the reality show much more self aware than the other iterations that play throughout the year. Michael and Luke laugh at the silly poses and actions this season’s cast have picked to do and throw in random comments about different people as they pop up on the screen.

Luke loves Saturday reality TV night with Michael. Loves that he has a friend willing to watch week old episodes of Luke’s favorite show just to spend time with him. He had been worried when he took this night job that he started recently that he would lose contact with all of his friends that worked and went about their lives during normal times. Though he supposes that Michael doesn’t exactly go about his life during normal hours despite working during the day. Honestly he avoids ever thinking about it too hard because then he gets worried about whether or not Michael is sleeping at all, really. And Michael hid all of his hair-ties last time Luke called Michael’s mom worried about his health.

Luke’s pondering his best friend’s sleep schedule still when the theme song is wrapping up, the final person shown before the show’s title being their ridiculously good looking host. Luke really prides himself generally on not having too much of a crush on TV personality but ever since he got stuck on this show after watching the previous few seasons on Hulu with the girl who works the graveyard shift with him at the hospital, he’s been drooling over Ashton Irwin. Honestly, it’s a damn shame that Ashton is the host rather than the lead on the show. That would get Luke to sign up to be a contestant in a heartbeat and him and Michael both agree that Luke would make excellent TV on a program like this.

“You know,” Michael says while grabbing a handful of popcorn. “They’re totally only bringing this Niall guy on so they can make all of us swoon over him before breaking his heart and making him the lead on the next season. There’s no way that him and Harry make it to the end of this thing.”

Luke takes another sip of his wine while making a disappointed sound. “See that’s what I think they’re doing with this Alex situation.” He gestures toward the screen where Alex is once again batting his lashes at Jack. (Which prompts Michael to groan before taking another sip. This week’s drinking game really wasn’t messing around.)

“Like I’m telling you there is no way they would give up having Jack as the bartender, he’s fucking hilarious. Plus then we get a whole run of promo ads for the next season with Alex’s pouty face. Which, hate to break it to you, dude, is much cuter than Niall’s.”

“Take that back, Niall is adorable.”

Luke raises his hands in surrender. “Not saying he isn’t cute. Just saying he’s not as cute.”

Michael shakes his head. “Goddamn, what are you turning me into?”

They watch for a while with minimal comments back and forth. Jamie and Damon get into a fight over what he decides to eat for breakfast (he’s spent the season attempting to convince her he’s a vegan and she caught him red-handed with both bacon and cheese). Harry and Niall write songs for each other on the beach (“musicians have the best break-ups there is no way that’s not what’s going to happen, Luke”). Luke continues to make heart-eyes every time Ashton Irwin comes on screen to welcome a new contestant to the beach house or to address the audience about the structure of the show. Michael suggests that they make a drinking game rule for every time Luke zones out when Ashton comes on screen shirtless. Luke blushes and flips him off.

The episode is winding down, and Luke and Michael are slumped against the back of the couch (very well wine drunk at this point in the two hour episode) when an ad from the network sounds out providing details on how to sign up to be a contestant or how to nominate someone for the next season. 

“Hey,” Michael starts, his head rolling to the side to meet Luke’s eyes. “we should sign each other up for the show. That way I can actually meet a man and you can attempt to swoon the host. Their ratings would go nuts if a contestant rode off into the sunset with that god of a man.”

“As if either of us would ever have the energy to be a TV personality,” Luke scoffs. “Like everyone on this is totally expected to be an influencer once it’s all over and I just don’t think I could stand myself if my job was to try to get people to buy essential oils and supplements.”

Michael laughs as he stands to collect their empty glasses and snack bowls while the preview for next week’s episode plays. “Just saying, man, like with this new schedule you’ve got, what are the odds you’re able to date anyone?”

Luke rolls his eyes, though if he’s being honest, it’s definitely something he’s been thinking about. “Whatever, that’s a problem for another day. Now, what are your official finale predictions? Because I’m willing to literally put money down on a dramatic scene of Jack and Alex calling whatever they have off, sunset in the background and that new Selena Gomez song playing before camera cuts and they announce the new lead.”

Michael marches back into the living room and throws a $20 bill down on the coffee table. “Harry and Niall make it all the way to the overnight date before Harry gives some shit like ‘the music just isn’t there anymore’ and then they play that new Julia Michaels song while Niall cries.”

“Deal.”

*

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Metamorphosis AU: Ch. 24, Pt. 2, Convalescence.

Huzzah! Finally an update!! Thank you all for your patience.

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie?

You can find previous chapters here or over at AO3.

Its a bit of a long one, so everything is below the cut.

January 22nd, 1744.

“Jamie, this is amazing,” I sighed, trying to take in the wonder my husband had just introduced me to. Rows upon rows of books surrounded us, bookshelves housing tomes of history, poetry, and — the section I was standing in the very midst of — medicine.

My fingers reverently brushed across the spines of the books before me. English, French, and Latin titles bespoke of anatomy and physiology, the beginnings of cardiology and the cardiovascular system. They were far from what I considered the latest break in medical advancement, I was sure a good portion of the information they held within would be entirely incorrect, but the value of such a collection in my day would be priceless. 

“Aye,” he grinned proudly, professing, “I thought you might like it. Murtagh brought me several to read before I found my feet again and now I find myself coming here often… ‘tis soothing, somehow.”

I nodded, knowing the feeling well, but he continued, his focus shifting to the tomes in front of us. 

“Micrographia… Institutiones Medicae... A Directory for— Sassenach look a’ this!”

Jamie eagerly snatched the book from the shelf, rattling off its name and contents as fast as his lips could tout them. 

A Directory for Midwives or a Guide for Women in the Conception, Bearing, and Suckling of their Children. 

“The Anatomy of the Vessels of Generation, The Formation of the Child in the Womb, What Hinders Conception, What Hastens Conception… Christ, everythin’s in here!”

I peered at the open page before him and scanned the rest of the table of contents. 

A Guide for Women in their Labour. 

A Guide for Women in their Lying-In. 

Jesus H Roosevelt Christ

My gut clenched and nausea threatened to over take me at the antiquated phrase. 

Their bloody fucking lying-in. 

This phase of a woman’s pregnancy — the one I was now in the very midst of — often spelled her demise. What, with weeks spent confined to her bedchamber and doted on by the backward practices of an uneducated physician, mothers dropped like flies in this century and their infants soon followed, if not predeceased them. The thought of the entire book being filled with monstrous diagrams made my head spin as I pushed it against Jamie’s chest and staggered out of the row of bookcases. 

“Claire?”

My husband’s voice floated over my head as I careened towards the large fireplace at the other end of the room. I heard him follow me, but didn’t acknowledge his presence as I reached my destination and grabbed for the back of a sturdy wooden chair before the fire. My knuckles turned white as I gripped it, my chest tight as I gasped for air. 

“Are you alright, mo chridhe?” he asked from somewhere behind me. 

“No,” I bit out, my jaw clenching as my head gave a decided shake, “I’m fucking terrified.”

Jamie paused only for a moment before stepping around and coming to stand before me. His face was awash with complete understanding, his eyes alight with his own fears… for he knew first hand the dangers involved in the travail ahead of me. 

“Aye,” he murmured softly, my frantic heartbeat evening out beneath his steady gaze. 

“Forget about the book, mo nighean donn.”

I shook my head as sanity and coherent thought slowly began to creep back in, his nearness steadying me. 

“No, you should read it,” I swallowed hard, tramping down the bile rising at the back of my throat. “We should read it… go through it together.”

Jamie offered his hand over the chair and I took it gladly, continuing as he guided me into his arms. 

“I need you to know what’s going on… I need you to protect me… protect us, should the midwife try any funny business.”

“Funny business?”

“Yes,” I muttered emphatically, albeit muffled by the front of his shirt as I buried my face in his chest. 

He contemplated this foreign phrase for a moment, his whole body rumbling in good humor as he asked, “Did the midwife a’ Lallybroch try any funny business?”

“No,” I shook my head against him as I reckoned back to that fateful day at Lallybroch. 

“No, she knew what she was doing… so did Jenny.”

What I wouldn’t give to have Jenny here. 

Jamie’s sister had been confident in her midwife, in her own capabilities, and in the knowledge that should the worst happen — a very real possibly as her baby had been breach — her young family would be safe in the care of their father and secure in her ancestral home. 

I had no guarantees of any of these things. 

I was incredibly wary of anyone in this century who claimed to have any sort of medical knowledge, unsure of my own body’s limitations — say nothing of strength of those who lived within me — and entirely unwilling to let myself even think of what would happen to Jamie and our children should I die in childbirth. 

A shiver ran through me and Jamie’s embrace tightened, his head tipping forward to rest atop mine. His lips moved amid my curls and his voice brought me out of my thoughts. 

“You liked the midwife a’ Leoch, aye? Mebbe we can find one in France who isna sae bad.”

The bitter taste of dread filled my mouth as I contemplated our impending voyage and subsequent overland journey to Paris. It would take weeks and I wasn’t sure just how many of those I had to spare. 

What if my time came before we reached our destination?

I moved in Jamie’s arms, twisting until I could see his face. I needed to see the surety in his eyes, the strength that somehow still remained after all he’d been through. 

“And if she is?”

His lips hovered above mine, his blue eyes true as he promised, “I willna leave your side, mo chridhe… not for a moment.”

I kissed him soundly, taking him at his word, needing his presence and support more than any guidance a midwife could give me. 

Jenny’s labor had been almost instinctual, a dance orchestrated by the movements within her… I knew myself best while I was within my husband’s arms, intune to the inner workings of my womb and that of my heart. I could let the world and its worries fade away and focus on him… on us. 

Maybe mine could be the same.  

He kissed me again, making my heart soar and my head spin. His good hand slid down my back, settling on my hips for a moment before dipping even further to firmly grasp my bottom. He lifted me ever so slightly as he pressed himself against me and revealed a need as mighty as my own. 

Electricity ran up and down my spine and I took hold of a fistful of his hair as his tongue slipped between my lips. I moaned around his intrusion, my hips bucking against his, and I felt his lips smile around mine as he slowly retreated. 

“Jamie,” I hissed. 

“Aye,” he purred, “I ken.”

Another, foreign voice echoed my husband’s name from somewhere in the distance, completely interrupting the first truly intimate moment I’d had with him in months. 

“Jamie?”

“Go the bloody hell away,” I muttered and pulled Jamie’s lips back to mine. 

He chuckled at this and the deep vibrations of his delight sent me reeling towards the point of no return

“Jamie?” The voice tried again, “Are ye within?”

I plunged my hands between us, tugging at his shirtfront and entirely untucking as I groaned, “Not just yet, but he will be in a moment.”

Jamie’s smile spread into a full on grin as he kissed me quickly, but then — to my complete dismay — he broke away and settled me back onto the ground. I blinked up at him in confusion as he called out to our disturbance. 

“Aye, over here, lad,” he guided, tucking his shirt neatly back into its place. 

Guilt overwhelmed me as I back peddled, letting him move towards the general direction of who I assumed to be Willie. 

He isn’t ready, you bloody fool. Do you really expect him to hop right back into your pants now that he’s regained basic function of his extremities?! Give him time!

Jamie took hold of my hand before I could move away much farther and pulled me back to his side, murmuring low, “We’ll see wha’ news he has, then send him on his way, aye?

I nodded without comment and he squeezed my hand. He tipped my chin up with one finger to look at him and his eyes communicated all I needed to know and then some before he kissed me once more. 

Soon… I promise. 

I sighed as he pulled away and forced a smile for the unofficial go-between to Jamie’s uncle Dougal. I refused to speak to the bloody man and as he and my husband were at constant loggerheads over our flight from the Highlands, Willie had stepped into the position with gusto. 

“A good evenin’ to ye, Mistress Claire,” his genuine and warm greeting was soothing, even as his presence was the last thing I wished for right now.

“And to you, Willie.”

Jamie’s stance shifted, unable to stay still as he anticipated the news to come, “Did you find him, then? The captain of the Demeter?”

“Nae, I didna,” the boy’s face fell. “It sailed wi’ the tide last morn… but the innkeeper thought it’d be back in three weeks time.”

“Nothin’ before then?” Jamie sighed.

“No’ that I could find… but I’ll keep lookin’.”

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, having to accept this. “I thank ye, lad.”

Willie stood a little straighter at his, his admiration for my husband growing by the day, and insisted, “‘Twas nothin’. We’ll find one yet.”

The boy made a move to leave, but then remembered something.

“Oh, Mistress Claire, Father Anselm asked if ye’d come to the kitchens… Brother Josef has a wee burn tha’ needs a bit of tendin’, if ye’re up to it.”

His face was expectant, knowing my answer before I said it. These men of faith had done so much for me and my own that it would be incredibly rude of me to not see to the wound, say nothing of unethical.

“Of course,” I tried to smile.

Jamie saw my reticence and grinned as he fanned the flames within me, picking up the book we’d found and giving me a dismissive whack on the behind with it, “I’ll bring this back to your rooms, then, Sassenach.”

“Wait for me, mmm?” I gave him a look before moving away, telling him exactly what I thought of that.

“Oh, aye,” he grabbed my hand, bringing me hastily back to his side as he dipped his head, purring a directive for my ears alone. 

“Hurry.”

…

The act of caring for Brother Josef’s minor wound had cooled my head, but the heat of what awaited me in my chambers still burned deep within me as I bid the small gathering of monks goodnight. I assured them I could find my way on my own, not wanting their celibate presence along side me as I wrestled with what this stage in Jamie’s recovery would mean for the both of us. 

Was he really ready?

Physically, my husband was certainly healthy enough for intercourse — provided he was smart about the use of his right hand — but it was his emotional state that I was worried about. 

Jamie had remained silent over much about what had happened in that hell hole, but I knew for certain that the sadistic bastard hadn’t kept his hands to himself. The psychological scars were plain for me to see, even with my untrained eyes, and I had no idea how to proceed. 

Would my touch echo his?

I sighed, making the executive decision to let Jamie’s needs guide my own, and turned my thoughts instead to my own physical state. 

I hadn’t been with Jamie in eleven weeks and I’d be blatantly lying if I said I hadn’t kept track… or that I wasn’t self-conscious about my pregnant form. I was swollen and stretched to my breaking point, yet my hormones had me strung so high that I was ready to jump him at any and every possibility. 

It wasn’t long before I reached my destination and was forced to face quite another reality. 

Was I ready?

My hand hesitated on the knob, my lower lip tucking between my lips as I chastised myself. 

Pull yourself together, Beauchamp. 

I opened the door before I could think of a reason not to and stepped through. I found Jamie in my favorite chair before the fire, reading the book we’d found together. 

His head lifted at my entrance and I found all of my doubts disappearing into thin air at his smile. It warmed me to my toes, setting the dull throb between my legs into fine frenzy as he set the book aside and rose to his feet. 

He reached out his hand, taking mine as we met in the middle of the room and greeting me with a kiss that took the very breath from my lungs. 

“Do you ken what I just reading about, mo chridhe?” Jamie purred, his lips hovering just above mine. 

“What’s that?” I hedged, any coherent thought blissfully drowned out by his intoxicating presence. 

“Your anatomy.”

“Mine specifically?” I found myself grinning like an idiot as I settled more comfortably in his arms, “Or female genitalia in general?”

“Genitalia,” he tested out the word, rolling it around in his mouth with great satisfaction for a moment before pronouncing, “You have verra fine genitalia, Sassenach.”

His hips shifted against mine and a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine, but still I found myself hesitant. I gave a wordless response, neither agreeing or disagreeing, and he caught this, intuitive as ever. His brow furrowed as he studied my face, moving his away as his head tipped to one side in contemplation. 

“Do you think I’d find you anythin’ but beautiful, mo nighean donn?”

I shook my head slowly as one shoulder lifted in a feeble shrug, my gaze flicking away.

“Ach, mo gradhe,” he murmured, completely deflated. 

My jaw clenched as tears burned at the back of my eyes and I slid them shut as his warm hand lifted to cup my cheek. 

“You’ve taken such care of me,” his thumb gently wiped away my tears. “Will you let me care for you?”

I sighed, turning my face to place a kiss in his palm, but he stopped me, slipping his fingers beneath my chin and tipping it up. 

“Claire,” he coaxed, kissing me gently.

His right hand lowered to the obvious presence between us, his good arm siding around my hips as he pulled me closer. 

“Do you remember what I told you a’ the first?” he murmured. “When you were beginnin’ to show an’ worrit I wouldna find you attractive?”

I shook my head, but opened my eyes, unable to speak and yet needing to see my husband’s face. A warm smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, remembering back to those early days of my pregnancy. I was sicker than a dog, unable to keep much of anything down, but his care for me had been devoted and constant, never wavering. 

“I said that I loved the glow you seemed to have about you… tha’ the more our children needed of you, the more beautiful you become.”

His eyes were bright, the faint sheen of his own tears making them sparkle in the low light. 

“I thought I meant it then,” Jamie’s voice deepened into a sensual purr, his nose a breath away from mine, “but, now… a dhia, Sorcha, the very sight of them thrivin’ so within you…”

He kissed me then, long and hard, until we were both gasping for air, desperate for more of each other. His fingers clumsily tugged at the fastenings of my skirts, but effectively reached his goal, sending them into a heap at my feet. He paused for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as they lowered to frame the growing swell of our children.

I brought my own to rest atop his as I kissed him once more, moving his left hand to the place where they stirred within me, eagerly responding to their father’s greeting. 

“They’re safe,” he murmured hoarsely, burying his face in my neck. 

I nodded, slipping my arms around him, my fingers splaying wide across his back. I could feel the raised scars against my palms, stirring up memories of their infliction and the more recent injuries he’d experienced at the hand of the same sadistic madman. 

“So are you,” I echoed.

Sliding my hands between us, I deftly unbuckled the belt around his waist, sending his kilt cascading down on top of the heap of my skirts before taking hold of great bunches of his shirt. I pushed the material up and he eagerly tugged it over his head, entirely willing to be the first to bare himself and stand naked in the middle of the room. 

His eyes found mine after surfacing from the swath of fabric, deep pools of arousal echoing that of his firm stance below, and I quickly began to melt under his gaze. The warmth in my cheeks quickly began to spread as I loosened what constituted as my stays, my bodice gaping open. I moved to shrug it off, but he stopped me, his hands keeping my sleeves on my shoulders. 

Jamie’s good hand slid between my shirtfront and thin shift, his palm savoring the fullness of my breast. The other soon joined it and his thumbs began to gently caress my sensitive nipples. They stood on end in an instant, but he kept up his coaxing repetition, making me squirm as I struggled to get closer to him, the bulk between us entirely getting in my way.  He acquiesced with a smile and lowered his mouth to mine as he stripped me down to my final layer. 

This done, he took my hand and led me towards the bed. My head spun with emotion and arousal, but, still, I stopped halfway there and dropped his hand. Jamie paused with me, concern growing between his brows as he tried to gauge my thoughts. 

“Wait,” I murmured, biting my lip for a moment as I fought indecision, but then brought my hand to the drawstring at my neck. I quickly loosened it and let my shift slip off my shoulders, sliding it over my belly and decisively discarding it on the floor. 

A low rumble of delight started at my husband’s toes and rose up the length of him, morphing into a growling moan as it hit the back of his throat. He had me in his arms again before I could register his movement, swiftly guiding me to sit on the edge of the bed and then lying against the pillows a moment later. 

I blinked up at him in surprise — such activity usually requiring quite a bit more time and effort on my own — and let out a rather undignified giggle. 

Jamie’s prideful smile hovered above me for only a moment before his mouth got down to business, finding my own again first off, then lowering to the base of my neck as he settled himself over me. I slipped my fingers into his curls, taking hold of a fistful and inhaling sharply as he once more found my sensitive breasts. 

A low rumble of delight sounded from deep within him and I groaned, trying to pull his lips back up to mine. He only grinned, brushing a kiss across my sternum as he moved from one breast to the other.

This addressed, his hands drifted down to my belly and he took a moment to greet his children. His fingers skimmed across my skin as his lips placed a reverent kiss just above my navel, then traced a direct line to my pubic bone. He shifted then, leaving his good hand between my legs while returning his lips to mine. 

“The wee book says ‘tis the clitoris tha’ gives you pleasure,” he purred. “Delight in copulation, I believe were his words.”

A wordless moan escaped my lips as he gave the area in question exquisite attention, my hips bucking as I demanded more of him. 

“Tis true, then?” Jamie cheekily asked, knowing full well the answer. “Tha’s one thing Culpepper’s got right.”

“Damn the bloody book, Jamie!”

He kissed me once more before removing his hand and settled himself into position. I lifted my knees, gripping him tightly as my arms slipped around his neck. His brow pressed against mine and his eyes slid shut, his lips trembling slightly as he hesitated. 

“Come find me,” I crooned softly. “Come find us.”

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

[ Okay, so I don’t even know why I’m posting this since I have only two followers and I’ve never uploaded any of my fanfics before, but I feel like I’m ready to share a story with the readers. I have no beta, I’m also not a native speaker so I presume there might be mistakes but I thought let’s try, see if at least somebody likes it. I love writing and this story definitely would continue no matter if anyone reads it or not. 

* This is Modern AU (Outlander) Claire x Jamie

* Mature content is on the way (definitely)

* This story is about established relationships with flashbacks

* Angst. Yep, angst. But dinna fash, some fluff will be there (of course)

So if you’re willing to take a risk and read this attempt at writing Outlander fanfiction then buckle up for a long journey :) ]

________________________________________________________________

                                         CHAPTER 1: The beginnings

It was the little things that Jamie loved about Claire. Small, perhaps, insignificant things in the eyes of strangers, but they created her, bits and pieces of the way she was.

 The way she was cursing under her breath 'Fuck' and 'Jesus H.Roosvelt Christ' whenever she found herself annoyed, stressed or angry.

The way she was getting ready for work - always organized, calm and quiet.

The way she always mumbled her sleepy 'thank you' to him for the cup of steaming coffee he'd make her in the weekends, her face still slightly puffy and creased from a deep sleep. 

The way her unruly mass of hair made something steer deep inside his belly, wanting to cradle her into his laps and hold there forever.

It was the way she would laugh so hard that she snorts and he would follow her, laughing as well, till his eyes water.

The way she smelled after the shift at the hospital, sterile and clean, with a slight scent of her perfume (musk and honeycomb), which imprinted on the bedsheets forever in their bedroom.

The way she sighed and came alive under his touch in the darkness of the night, stilling everything around them.

The way she would snuggle next to him on the couch, pressing her body into his, almost curling into a ball, covering them with a quilt, falling asleep sometime later lulled by the noise of TV they'd watch.

The way she would get annoyed at their cat Adso for biting off the wee herbs she planted on their kitchen windowsill, deep crease appearing between her perfectly shaped eyebrows as she made a hissing 'shush' sound.

 Quiet rustling of the sheets on his left made Jamie open one eye, abandoning his thoughts as he watched her silhouette sitting down, her long arms rising to the air and then slightly behind her head, as she stretched muscles, shaking off the remnants of her sleep.

Normally he would run his hand on the expanses on her back, letting her know he's awake. Claire tended never to wake him up knowing he had troubles sleeping. But now he silently watched her, his mind registering all the things she did in the room (pulling her sleeping t-shirt over her head that had been discarded to the floor evening before as they made love, her feet making the wooden floor squeak on the way to the hall, where she would switch IKEA stand lamp, never using the table one on her side, worrying the light might wake Jamie, he would hear the bathroom door softly closing and the water running, as she took shower for five minutes strictly, later she would curse quietly trying to find a fresh pair of knickers in the drawer)

All those things Jamie knew by heart, that was swelling with the feeling, he thought it would burst. Same little things that made him like her, want her, love her. The things that had imprinted upon his heart since the first time they met.

                                                                    * * *

I knew that Geillis's idea of weekends getaway to Highlands would not end very well and I was bloody right. I grimaced at the loud sound of a car door closing when we finally stopped, the loud thump made my headache harder, and I moaned reaching for the second Ibuprofen pill in my purse. 

" Ye ken, yer face looks like chicken arse like that?" Geillis clicked her tongue, the car keys ring swinging in loops around her slender finger (she was my long-time friend from college, who despite her reckless character was an exceptional pharmacist).

" Yer never get laid with that look, love"  She unceremoniously grabbed me by the elbow, marching towards colorful market stands. " Let's get some food, I'm starvin'".

I mumbled incoherent 'mmmmh' not being able to move my dry tongue. Hangovers started to catch up with me in my late 20s and with each year it got worse and my drinking less and less harmful. A dram or two of the whisky, couple of gin tonics, or maybe red wine was fine but student-like parties were big No for me so now I regretted very much our yesterdays late night activities. Walking from pub to pub, mixing up all alcoholic drinks imaginable, eating greasy kebab on the street and staying up till 4am did not do me much good. I was dying, listing each step of alcohol intoxication in my head when Geilli interrupted me by suggesting to go to the local farm market for some fresh groceries. Though any mention of food made my mouth water with bitter saliva, my stomach growled at the prospect of fresh bread, eggs, and some ripe vegetables, along with a strong cup of coffee.

So now we were heading towards noisy farmers of Lallybroch (the name I had troubles pronouncing, apparently, as Geillis made fun of me every time I said it).

With each passing stand of colorful fruit and veggies, various types of pastry, fresh meat, and fish, Geillis's backpack was filling with the promise of our breakfast, my eyes stumbled upon a bright blue van with bold letters saying " Coffee, tea and homemade biscuits". Hoping that fresh roasted black liquid will make me feel less awful I tugged my ginger-haired friend on the sleeve, pointing to the van. With her approval and request ( cappuccino with double espresso shot, soy milk) I wiggled between mass of people, the glance of my look ( tangled hair in a top knot, treating to escape the elastic band, raccoon dark circles under my eyes, chapped lips, oversized jogging pants, tucked into old Uggs, and Geillis's beige parka) reflected in the puddle as I finally stood in front of the van, inhaling rich coffee aroma. Feeling a bit more cheerful, with two paper cups warming my cold fingers, I turned to head back.

As my nose bumped into a soft woolen coat that smelled slightly of hay and something else I could not recall, I felt my eyes began to water at the impact of my face meeting a broad chest and through my blurry sight I saw rainbow of vegetables running away from the fabric bag that said ' Take me with you, I am eco-friendly!'. 

I cursed (louder than intended to) and tried to sniff, feeling snotty now.

" Jesus. H.Roosevelt Christ! I think I've broken my nose". I blinked twice when my eyes finally could focus on the obstacle on my way.

"Nay, lass. When ye break yer nose it makes this nasty crunchy sound and ye bleed like a pig. Yer fine". He said to me, inhaling swiftly, lips curling into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I didna mean to hurt ye though".

I shot him a look that probably made him feel even more confused as his cheeks blushed deep pink, almost matching his red hair. I sighed and then my attention returned to his discarded tote bag. Not wishing to create more tension with a stranger, I bent, wanting to collect his groceries. That moment he decided to do the same and leaning at the same time, he punched my side with his elbow, by accident of course, but my hand shifted, coffee spilling on the cream-colored fabric of Geillis parka.

" Oh, fuck." I growled, now feeling really annoyed. Someone from behind called " Uncle Jamie!" stealing his attention from the brown stain on my coat and before he could apologize again, I raised my hand and mumbled " I'm fine" walked away followed by his guilty gaze.

Later that day I felt slightly guilty by snapping at this Jamie, thinking that hangover clouded my better judgment but soon enough forgot about it until the Thursday evening. I was just changing into my clothes, getting ready for home, when Joe opened a door. " Claire, just this last patient, nothing hard, he needs stitches. Please?" I sighed but nodded, remembering that he had a booked restaurant for a dinner with his wife. Then James Fraser stepped in. 

[jack-andthestalk]

Our Son, Arc II, Acceptance, Chapter 6.

My thanks as usual to @balfeheughlywed who really had her work cut out with me on this chapter. I in my own words was a nightmare. She didn’t give up on me and guided me towards the light! I sound like such a drama queen!   Thank you to @missclairebelle    who brought the much needed pizazz  to a plot point I am struggling with. Thanks to@ladyviolethummingbird​ who always checks and has an amazing relaxing presence that is the Australian in her! It is tough to write when one of the things that inspired you to, is lacking and season 4 was definitely lacking for me. But I love the books and the fanfic on here, so I decided not to stop just yet. 

Reverently Jamie put us back together. His hands lingering on my hips and stomach a moment longer than necessary. Picking up his coat from the floor, he wrapped me in, arms reaching around me back he held me to him for a time, burrowing his head into my hair.  He pulled back slowly to meet my eye. Reticence had replaced the madness which caused are frantic joining. Reaching down between us he grasped my hands and brought them up to rest above his heart, an anxious moment where we both went to speak, and I nodded my head to indicate he should go first.

  “I’m sorry Claire” he started haltingly “I have never taken ye like that before” he bowed his head, focusing on the ground, “– in anger” he finished quietly.

    “Hey” I tilted his head up to look at me, “I was angry too, remember?” Jamie’s concerned eyes searched mine, and I squeezed his hands once before letting go.

  “Jamie –“, my voice was deceptively low and calm.

  “There are some things I need to say to you” I continued slowly.

  Jamie nodded grimly and backed up against a workbench letting it take the weight of his legs, his head poised ready to listen. A beautiful auburn curl dangled on his forehead, freed by our earlier excursions. I took in his dishevelled thoroughly fucked state, and my stomach tightened, and a weird sense of pride ran through me, as I remembered his groans in my ear, that I pulled from his mouth. Pull yourself together Beauchamp!

   “Do you remember when I came for Jenny’s wedding, the first night I arrived?” his eyes narrowed in concentration and he nodded. “You got annoyed with your father and told me that you didn’t want people to know that Willie was the result of a one night stand?”

  “Aye”, his brows furrowed curiously.

  “You wanted Willie to grow up to think he came from love?” I continued.

  The Adam's apple below Jamie’s strong chin moved up and down with effort, and he cleared his throat before omitting a raspy “only because I knew he did” Jamie replied earnestly.

  “Yes but I can understand now why it hurt you for people to think he didn’t.”

  A sudden surge of loneliness ran through me remembering that night. I had gone to bed thinking Jamie was ashamed of what had happened between us.

  “Up there – at that party I have never felt more like the weight of a dalliance that went too far, the outcome burdening you with a child.” The words came with difficulty and had an instantaneous effect on Jamie, who rose, unfolding and outstretching his arms to me. “Claire –“. My hand waved him away. “Let me finish,” I said firmly.

  “And not only did I feel that way, but I was also left alone by you to work my way through it.”

  “I can explain" he held his hands up in surrender, "I dinna mean to leave ye or to be gone for so long, there was something I had to see about.” He blurted the sentence in one breath.

  I crooked one eye at him, “Have you any idea how hard it was for me to go tonight –knowing that this whole engagement is not even a certainty given what you told me this morning?”

A mocking smile curled my lips. Something like recognition passed over Jamie’s face, taking a moment I glared at him, challenging him to disagree.

  “Christ Claire I can see now…I shouldha thought”, I could hear him trying to keep the air of desperation out of his voice, but he was moving nervously, trying to meet my eye. “Its to do with the Dunsany’s I dinna want to tell ye in case…”

    “Stop,” I said firmly, pointing a finger straight at him, “I have heard enough about the fucking Dunsany’s, you just listen now.” My tone brokered no argument and Jamie rucked a hand through his hair and exhaled dejectedly

.

“It has been so hard since I arrived, giving up my life, career, friends – I never really had a home until I had Willie, always moving about with Uncle  Lamb, but when Willie came along, I built it with him in Boston.” A pause “on my own” I said each word clearly and pointedly.

  “Claire –“Jamie interrupted again, which caused me to hiss “will you just fucking listen first, then you can talk.”

  Another breath to still myself, “but it was ok because no matter how hard it was, I came for you and that was enough”.   Jamie rucked a hand over his jaw. I could see the quiver that ran through his body in anticipation of what I was leading to, how I felt he had failed me. 

  “A man joked about you getting ‘caught’” at that party I curled my fingers into air quotes at the word “-you walked away and left me, by your actions alone you confirmed what people already think.” I spat angrily.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. “An obligation,” I said clearly, but once the word had left my lips, the lump in my throat melted into hot angry tears and I wiped them away furiously.

  Jamie’s eyes snapped open, “Jesus Claire-ye are no an - “seeing the tears streaming down my cheeks he reached for me, his own face broken, “god Claire” he said in one even exhale of breath “ye are the furthest thing from an obligation.”

  I put one hand up to stop him, “just listen”, I said sighing “I listened to every single word you spoke last night.”

  The rain was pelting against the flat room of the stables, and I vaguely wondered if people would notice us gone but decided I didn’t care.

  “You came to Boston and proposed, and I got wrapped up in the dream, moving here, expecting you to fit your life around me, and not considering what our lives would look like here in Scotland.”

  I threw my hands up to heaven and laughed “God saying it out loud, I should have known.” My tone was bitter now and I consciously altered it when I spoke again. I tilted my head confidently, my mind decided in what I had to say.

  “Jamie, you signed a contract as a single man even though I wore your ring on my finger?” He put his head in his hands, capturing the need to blurt something his reasons by biting down on his lip.

  My heart hurt at the sight of him, he was expecting me to chastise him on not getting legal advice but it wasn’t even that, he still would have made the decision independently of me.

  “It’s completely unfair what they are doing, that goes without saying, and I am angry on your behalf that they are taking advantage of your honesty.” He looked slightly taken aback at my reasonability.

  “Willie wouldha had more sense”, he hissed under his breath. Something tore beneath my rib cage hearing him slate himself, while I was already doing a good enough job.

  “I know at the core of it, your reasons were to protect your home and your parents, you made a rash decision, and you’re paying for it now.

Jamie stepped forward suddenly, eyes pleading.

  “I did it for us too, Claire”, it was for our future”.

  “For our future?” I shook my head incredulously “without discussing it with the person whose future is entwined with yours?” He faltered now, stopping in his tracks before he reached for me.

   “Jamie -”, I sighed resignedly, placing the palm of my hand to my forehead, exhaustion and wretchedness seeping through my bones. I needed to make him see this was not about the contract, it was us, supposed partners.

  “I am terrified of what ye are about to say to me, Claire?” His voice was husky with emotion, I fidgeted nervously with my fingers, and pledged myself to continue.  “Neither of us expected what happened when I came the last time, it was sudden and passionate and I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

  Claire…” he whispered while closing his eyes, he knew where I was headed. 

  “When I asked ye to marry me, I meant every word.” His words were choked, halting.

  Reaching his arms out in front of me, he beckoned me to him. I went, loving Jamie was not going to change but living my life with him was. My heart beat painfully beneath my ribcage.

  I struggled for a minute to form words, and Jamie took the opportunity.

  “Claire I will not let this go without a fight, I will not give up what we have, I don’t know how yet, but I will find a way, I am asking a lot, but I am begging ye not to give up on me just yet.”

  His eyes beseeched mine, the last thing I wanted was to give him up, he was mine, but I wouldn’t spend my life waiting for him to sort out this deal, nor could I pretend that none of this would have happened if we were truly ready to marry.

  “I didn’t act like a wife or partner, when I moved Willie and I over here without even telling you,” I said honestly. “We could spend the rest of our lives trying to change each other.”

  “We will learn – Claire..please -I may be able to get out of the contract.” His voice was full of desperate hope.

  “Jamie no matter how angry I am, you know I wouldn’t want you or your parents to lose their business, I couldn’t have that on my conscience.”

  His long eyelashes swept down his cheeks as he took a moment to think.

   “I am afraid to promise ye things I might not be able to fix, but I would lie or do far worse to keep ye. I have thought a lot today about just giving it all up, as selfish as that may sound” His voice broke on the last word, and I found myself making a shushing noise to soothe him. “I would do that Claire if it meant I dinna lose you or Willie” he swallowed hard. “I dinna ken what kind of a man that makes me, that I would risk my parents future either, but I would.”

    “I wouldn’t be able to cope knowing I had done that to Ellen and Brian, nor would you if it came to it.” I ran a hand over his face, “you are a good man, its why I love you.” my voice breaking with each word.

  Jamie’s head shook over and back in disagreement but I kept talking, for his sake, I had to make him see that there were too many things stacked against us, not only Hellwater.

  “I walked and walked this morning trying to work out what was hurting me most, and in the end, I knew”, I failed to control my shaky breath, and I bit my bottom lip to stop it trembling.

  “You aren’t ready to be a husband Jamie, tonight alone showed me that…there is too much of a bridge between us.”

  His eyes were frantic now searching, “Claire I am…I”

  I stood firm now, a determined face, stop drawing it out, Claire.

  “Jamie, please tell me if the roles reversed here, you wouldn’t be in the slightest bit doubtful at my commitment to you?” steel in my tone, shoulders straight I glowered up at him.

  Something resonated behind his eyes, suddenly he took me firmly by both arms, and he returned my look of determination. “Claire I can see how all this might look”, he waved his arms around him vaguely, releasing me for a moment before grasping me again.

  “There is nothing I want more than to be your husband? Surely you ken that?”

I looked away rather than answer him, and his eyes widened in panic.

“I am not sure you understand what it means to be one though”, the words sprang out of my mouth and part of me wanted to take them back when I saw the wounded expression hit Jamie’s face.

  “Not understand?” the pitch of his voice had risen incredulously.

  “I want a partner Jamie; I want a team, a family”, look at your parents! Brian would never have signed that contract without Ellen beside him.”

  Jamie looked at me now shamefully, “Claire I am so sorry, I can see how I have failed ye, but ye must believe me you and Willie are my world.”

  I lowered my head and shook it slightly, Jamie slipped a finger under my chin gently, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes softened, and his voice was filled with such honesty that I wouldn’t have been capable of looking away when he spoke.

  “Do ye remember” he began softly “when ye came for the wedding, and we slept outdoors with Willie. I nodded, not able to answer him coherently.

  “Ye put yer small hand in mine” he smiled wistfully, and ran his hand down my arm, placing our two palms face to face, a small hand mirroring a larger one.

  “I thought my heart would burst with happiness that night because I kent then ye dinna hate me.”

  “Jamie –I” my voice cracked.

  He put a finger to my lips, “and when ye let me kiss you, in Inverness?” I couldn’t help my lips curl up at the memory, but a tear escaped down my cheek remembering the burst of complete happiness I had felt that night.

  “It took all my strength to get my shaking legs down to the bar,  Ian thought I’d taken drugs or something, I couldn’t stop smiling.”

  Jamie’s lips turned up into a wide grin, and his own eyes glistened with tears. He brushed a lone curl behind my ear, “and then mo ghraidh” Jamie’s head tilted to the side slowly, drinking me in. “Ye let me take ye to bed, and I am fairly certain my heart stopped there with you.” He whispered “because I have never gone to bed with a woman and been made to feel the things you made me feel that night”, a blush ran from my neck colouring my cheeks.

“I love you so much Claire, and I want to be your husband, I have wanted you to be my wife for a vera long time, even at a time when I couldn’t say ye were mine.”

Jamie’s fingers trailed a path from my eyes down along my cheeks to cup my chin and turn my face to him. “ye are right, I dinna act like a husband, but don’t ever believe that it was because I dinna want ye” he said finally.

  I bowed my head, and he caught the tears that fell from my cheeks with the side of his fingers.

  “Jamie, I love you, but I have to go back to Boston, my home isn’t here without you.”

“yer home is with me and mine is with you, I can’t lose ye Claire” Tilting his head to the side so he could look up at me.

  “Jamie, stop,” I said quietly, “you don’t know what the future holds with all this, and we need to think of Willie too, he will be broken when you go to Hellwater, at least back in Boston he has his old school, friends, things he is used to.

  He nodded slowly, “I don’t want them near our son,” he said haltingly, an embarrassed flush ran up his cheeks, and he licked his lips nervously. “But I thought that maybe ye could stay here until I could manage to see what can be done about this?”

   A sudden flash of anger strengthened my resolve, I drew away from him. “So you expect me to wait here patiently while you try and dig yourself out of this whole?” I asked incredulously.

  “No…well…I mean…it may not take much” he stammered out.

  “Jesus Jamie you are unbelievable, I have left my job, my home and now you want me to live here while you move to Hellwater, in the vague hope that you might” I staggered my voice exaggeratedly “you just might get out of it?”

  “I ken that might seem unreasonable, but if you are here, it gives me hope…I canna lose ye.

  I breathed heavily through my nose, “I will stay with Willie, to give you time with him before you go but I am going back to Boston.” I said with finality.

  “Ye are saying you dinna want to marry me then?” he asked hotly, his eyes narrowed.

  “Jamie,” I said through gritted teeth. My patience was waning considerably “Of course I want to marry you! I fucking love you!

   I breathed in and out controlling my temper

“ But can you tell me what kind of a future we would have? You in Hellwater, me here – not even sure of how often you will be able to come home?” Maybe if we had years together, we might be strong enough, we haven't been able to live under the same roof for longer than a month, and you’re leaving again!!

  He bowed his head shamefully I thought he wasn’t going to reply until I heard a hair-splitting roar come from him and an overlying bucket went flying through the ground as he growled the word “FUCK.”

  He knew.

[everyonesawhoregrace]

Employee of The Month - Thomas Shelby Imagine

“Stephanie!” A voice pulls me away from typewriting. Turning my head, I face the smiley faces of Rose, Jamie and Olivia, three girls who I have been lucky enough to call my fellow employees.

“What is it?” I ask, looking at each one of their excited faces. Why are they excited?

They rush over my desk. “Tommy’s comin’ in today.”

“Get out.” I roll my eyes. Tommy Shelby, our boss, never comes into work. I’ve been here a month, a bloody month and he hasn’t showed up. Sure he resides in Birmingham and this office is in London, but regardless, even when he visits, he doesn’t come into the office for anything.

“Seriously! He’s coming in today and you know what that means-“ Rose, a pretty brown eyed doe wiggles her eyebrows at me.

I don’t follow. So I move onto looking at Jamie, who cannot help herself from blushing. She giggles. Losing all hope, I turn to the eldest of the three, Olivia who almost looks to pity me.

“You gotta sleep with the boss.” Olivia rattles me with a voice so cold hearted, I nearly faint.

“What!?” I gasp, letting out a fearful chuckle. “You’re joking right.”

“Wish we were, love.” She pulls away. “I had to fuck Arthur.”

“I had Michael” Jamie sighs. “Rough little thing.”

“And I had to open my legs for John.” Rose looks up and smirks. “I still miss him burried deep in-“

I let out a frustrated yell. One that brings me to my feet, I stand up and put my hands on my desk. “I am not having sex with anyone!” I exclaim. “No!”

“It’s not like you have a bloke at home,” Olivia says.

Rose sits on my desk. “Come on, Steph, it really isn’t as bad as you think. Just close your eyes real tight and it’ll be over before you know.”

“Shut up!” I shout, paralyzed with fear.

“Take one for the team.” Jamie presses.

Olivia sighs. “It’ll definitely go towards a Christmas bonus, love.”

“I’m not fucking my boss!” I bite on my bottom lip. Fuck. I can never catch a damn break in life. I’ve been looking for a job for months before finally landing something as decent as this one.

“Christ.” I sit down in my chair and feel my shoulders drop. I want to sob. “What do I do?” My voice breaks.

But before any of them can tell me, the door to the London branch of the Shelby Company Limited opens and a man walks in. Everyone stands up, and slowly, do I rise to meet as well.

“Morning ladies,” he says.

Rose rushes to his aid, takes off his coat. Takes his hat.

“Morning, Mr. Shelby.” They respond in unison. I fall short. Trembling really.

He walks down the hall, passing Rose, passing Olivia, passing Jamie before meeting me at my desk. Fuck fuck fuck.

“You’re the new typewriter.” He stares at me. “Stephanie?”

Fuck. I nod. Fuck. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“My names Tommy.” He puts out his hand. “I hear you’ve been an asset to the company.”

I blush. His eyes are so blue. “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you.” He says, before sighing. “May I have a word with you in my office?”

No no no no no no no. I look at the door that has been locked shut since the moment I began working here. I swallow. “Now?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Is now a good time?” He retorts.

I nearly faint. “Sorry. Yes. Okay. I’ll follow you in.” I’m in shambles. “I’ll come in, I mean you can go in and then I’ll come.” Fuck!

He smirks. Smirks! “Alright.” He croaks before disappearing into his office. He shuts the door behind him.

I sink back into my chair, sighing loudly.

The girls giggle. My face burns hot. I get on my feet, knowing that I’ll be facing Mr. Shelby soon.

“Hopefully he’s gentle.” Rose chirps.

“Fuck off.” I hiss.

Olivia rubs my back for moral support, I swat her away. “You better be paying for drinks tonight.”

“Oh sweetheart, after this, you’ll be the ones treating us!” She says before mentioning the amount of money I’ll be getting. “Tommy is quite the giver!”

“Ha. Ha.”

I’m being walked to the door to his office by the girls. They continue to encourage me. But all I can think about is how badly I do not want to do this. Fuck it, I can’t go through with it. But before I can turn around, Jamie twists the door and someone pushes me through. I stumble into Tommy’s office, I want to scream but before I can, the door behind me is shut. And it’s Tommy and I. Alone.

“Stephanie, please sit.”

Jesus Christ is there really going to be unnecessary angst to this? I stand there. Looking down at my button up dress. Fuck it.

“We can do this quick, and I promise it’ll be discrete.” I begin to unbutton my dress. He sits there, pondering.

I watch as he stands, I am almost going to reveal my breasts when he says, “What are you doing?”

I stop, “huh?”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, ey?”

Jesus. “The girls they-they told me-“

“God,” he sighs. “It’s a joke they play on new employees here. I’m sorry-“

“What!”

“About loyalty.” He rubs his eyes. “It’s immature and I told them to stop doing that a long time ago.” Thomas walks over to the door, leaving me alone. “Girls!” He shouts, keeping the door open for me.

I stand there shocked. “So, wait, Jamie, Rose and olivia never slept with-“

“No,” he laughs. “We might be awful men but we have a little class-“ that side smile. Oh. “Come on.” He nods to the hallway.

“Oh.”

“I told you lot to stop!” He shouts. “Enough is enough, when you listen?!”

Pushing my hands through my hair, I let out the biggest sigh before marching back to the office. I’m embarrassed, but Tommy gives them a good talking to, and I still expect a bloody raise. Or at least an employee of the month award.

*

This was just a fun little imagine, no harm nor foul. :) cheers to 1,000+ followers. Love each one of you so much, my cheeks hurt.

[sassenachbydesign-blog]

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

Before you all get lost in the chapter I want to say @abbydebeaupreposts a enormous THANK YOU for being the best beta! You're are an inspiration and truly great!

Guys keep in mind this is my first fanfiction so forgive some mistakes ok? English is not my native language.

The fic also have been updated on Ao3!

Chapter 3 - "Can't ignore the way I feel when I see you"

There comes a turning point in intense physical and physiological response where one abandons oneself to a profligate usage of strength and bodily resource.

Some say your life passes if front of your eyes when you're dying, others that  it feels as if the world is falling down all around them, the lucky ones see blue skies swallowing  their souls.

Claire never formed  an opinion on the subject.. Until now.

What were the odds of her one-night stand-- the best climax of her life--- turning out to be the newest hire at her hospital  More than that…. an integral part of the very team Claire was part of.

Well, it did explain where he’d come by his exceptional knowledge of human anatomy. The way his hand moved along her thighs... the way his fingers pinched her nipples with just the right amount of force…

All of these  thoughts passed through her mind in a matter of seconds-- as if her life was passing before her very eyes and while she might pray she could disappear in the blue sky above her, what she felt was her world crashing down all around her.

Claire extended her hand  dumbstruck.

“Outstanding indeed” Jamie smirked and refused to give her hand back.

The room seemed to get about 10° warmer to her.

Joe noticed Claire's awkwardness to Dr. Fraser and asked, “Do  you two know each other?”

Feeling the blood rise to her checks she answered at the same time as the Viking.

“No”

“Yes”

Her friend looked like she had an extra limb or transformed into some faerie and after a few seconds looking between both he said “Well I see Dr. River calling me, if you’ll excuse me” and with that Joe left without further adieu.

The first thing Claire could come up with was  “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! What the hell you're doing HERE??!!” She hissed at him as he finally gave her her hand back.

Jamie's heart was beating like the drums of the military tattoo he used to see every August in Edinburgh.

His faerie, standing in front of him,  in the most amazing red dress, fitting her body perfectly . And if he counted right, he could see her third rib from where he was standing over her cleavage.

“Well Sassenach, if you had stayed a while longer this morning, we might have had a moment to talk and introduce ourselves. ” he looked at those whiskey eyes that had grown even more beautiful  since this morning and couldn't help but smirk at her.

Claire's panic attack was having a panic attack for sure. Tonight she wasn't quite sure which of the men in her life was getting on her nerves more, Fraser or Frank. Also, one thing was certain, Frank and Fraser couldn't meet. Not happening. Impossible. Inconceivable.

Nope, this is not happening she repeated to herself.

As if it couldn't get more annoying Fraser asked her own mind, almost like if he was reading her… “Well whatever happened it did last night… All night if the memory serves me right… and it does” another smirk “and it's James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, something-something-something for Joe and Jamie for you”.

Charming bastard. Damn charming bloody Scottish bastard.

Claire turned on her heel and went to get a drink. Champagne to start as nothing stronger was being served.

Just has she grabbed her drink Geillis appeared like a ghost on her left.

“So tell me me wee English rose… Who was that fox look-alike you're hissing at? And by hissing it's more like you wanted either to slap him or to having fuck you… Or both” her friend considered fixing her dress again.

“Geillis! Seriously?? Can't you think about anything else?? Like, for example, work? Friends, drinks… Even Dougal?” Claire put her third glass of champagne down.

“Ye know lov’, it was with that amount of drinking you got that bite on you neck” she said pointing out the amount of champagne Claire was drinking while pulling a mirror from her clutch and passing it to her friend to hold while she fixed her lipstick. She  continued “And well if there is a thing or two I've learned since I've met you its that you work better after coffee and sex. Not necessarily in that order though.

As for Dougal he couldn't come… Well not to the party at least.”

Claire rolled her eyes… Deep down knowing her friend's comments where partially true. Yet she couldn't say anything of sorts. Geillis was a cocky woman and proud of it.

“I just feel like I have definitely seen that man before” lipstick done her friend took her things and twist her head staring at “Though I can't quite pin down where…”

Claire panicked and tried to control her glass face. “Well you must have seen him around Glasgow… is not that big of a city”

Her friend snorted “Oh nae! Not at all, just around 600.000 inhabitants, 2.3 million if you count the area around and third largest in the UK… But obviously nae a big city.”.

She heard what Geillis said… Well partially. The other part of her brain was wondering  how this night would go if Jamie and Frank were to meet each other.

***

Jamie looked from afar as his Goddess talked to another woman. He wondered how she knew the woman he saw every now and again with his uncle.

He also wondered what his Sassenach was thinking… More especially what she was thinking of him.

The night before at Leoch he was dumbstruck when she arrived. It was like as if he stepped outside on a cloudy day and suddenly the sun came out.

He did saw what it looked like a engagement ring on her finger… but that was nae wedding ring. He wouldn't normally hit at a woman like this, she did seem to be out of his league.

But the way she moved around the bar, how her curls framed her face, her eyes the colour of the finest Whisky her ever drank  and how her arse tempted him in ways he never would've thought made him change all of this rules and go for it.

She affected him in ways no woman had before in just a matter of minutes.

After the night they had it seemed like a joke played by destiny their meeting today. Or the fact that they were to work at the same team… Every day. Either this would be glorious or pure torture.

Deep down he also wanted to punch the brown haired bloke  that arrived with her. By the simple fact that he had is hand with too many fingers around Claire's hip.

While he squeezed his glass as if it was almost to a breaking point and had a sip from drink when Murtagh came to his side.

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 13 ~The Conditions~

Bracing her jaw with one hand, Jamie cautiously brushed his lips over hers and then slightly drew away. He'd half expected her to deck him but gazing down at her face, her eyes were half-closed, and her skin flushed. She looked so damn beautiful even with her makeup smeared and her hair wild and messy. It took every ounce of his self-control not to pull her hard against him and kiss her thoroughly, torturously taking his time to give her a chance to push him away. But when she moved closer, and he caught the tiny whimper of pleasure escaping her throat, his blood roared in his ears, the feeling of triumph that she'd be his almost bringing him to his knees. Until he felt her hands slide up from his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him in and realised he'd belong to her just as completely.

"Sweet Jesus, Sassenach, please tell me ye want this as much as I do," he whispered hoarsely, pressing their foreheads together. "I need to hear it. I must hear it."

"W-want you ...need you." Her words came out slurred as she licked her lips and swayed.

"This better not be a rebound," he growled against her mouth.

"Call it whatever you want, Jamie. Just kiss me already."

The demand in her voice made his cock swell, and his skin grew hot and tight. With a pained groan, Jamie obliged, sinking his tongue into her mouth, the taste of her turning him into a ravenous beast, making him wonder what mediocre high he'd been chasing all these years when this woman was out there. Unwittingly, the weight of the many meaningless one-night-stands bore down heavily on his shoulders, catching him off guard. They slithered in to haunt him because nothing and no one had ever felt like Claire. His soul yearned to be reborn again and purge for his past sins, purifying himself in the clean smell of her skin, the tentative strokes of her tongue and featherlike fingertips sliding up his back.

Seconds ticked while he teased her with what was to come, noting her responses to every exploration of his hands. He wanted to know her secrets, coaxing them out with his kiss, subtly pushing her to reveal herself. Her mouth moved under his, eagerly, and so perfect. He adored the little sounds vibrating up her throat, ending where their lips met, but it was too damn much as lust pumped in his veins. He needed more. 

Unable to contain himself any longer, his fingers gripped her hips to lift her up. Satisfaction and relief surged through him when she wrapped her legs around his middle, her fingers tangling in his hair and holding on tight. Without releasing her mouth, Jamie walked them out of the kitchen and towards Claire's bedroom. He felt her hands grabbed at his back, frenziedly trying to yank up his shirt, her dress hiking higher above her thighs with her movements. His erection pushed painfully against his jeans. Knowing she wanted him as badly jarred his centre, and he fought for restraint as she pulled him into the current of raw emotion and need he'd never experienced before.

The next thing he knew, they were tumbling onto the bed, flattening her underneath him on the mattress. Still wedged between her thighs, he started to rock against her, her scent and the fragrance of her room surrounding him, a heady mixture of candles, wildflowers and freshly washed sheets.

"Christ," he rasped, breaking the kiss before his mouth coasted down the side of her neck for a taste. "Ye sure about this? I dinnae want ye having any regrets."

"Damn you, Fraser." She writhed beneath him, her ankles locking behind the small of his back. "You're asking me that now? What do you think?"

Bracing himself on one elbow, he gingerly unbuttoned the front of her dress with concentrated effort and a shaking hand. He was acting like a horny teenager, but it couldn't be helped when his cock was growing fuller and aching harder by the second. "I want to do this right, Sassenach. For ye. Exactly how ye wish it to be." 

"You're worried about that?" she gasped. "I'm concerned about whether it's feeling this good for you too." She let out a breathless laugh as she unbuckled his belt.

This lass who'd appeared during the lowest moment in his life and yelled him back into existence had bravely poked his sore spots and offered herself as bait to help him get a job at the network. She was innately a giver in all sorts of ways, but right now, he needed to convince her to be the taker. "I've never had my heart and mind in this before, Sassenach. I'm normally a million miles away, but with ye, I'm right here. Ye hear me? Right here with ye." Heart knocking wildly against his ribs, he dragged his open lips along her jaw, still fumbling with her buttons. "Ye're anxious it doesnae feel good for me? I'm trying my hardest not to bust like an eejit."

"Really?" she breathed, boldly unzipping his jeans and sliding a hand over his erection. Her sigh washed over his chest as she squeezed him, nearly making him shoot out of bed.

Jamie groaned at her touch. "Christ, ye're killing me. I just want it to be perfect for ye." He pressed his face against the crook of her neck as he continued to grapple with the last button of her dress, this time more impatiently.

"If you must know ...in my fantasy, I'd be wearing a red baby-doll nightie and serving you a dirty martini. So let's be over with the bathwater, alright?"

Laughter rose from his chest as he rid finally of her dress, drawing it from her body and throwing it on the floor. He found it endearing how she could make him laugh when his balls were on the verge of revolt. "Is that right? I dinna ken what a baby-doll nightie is, but it sounds verra interesting. Ye'll have to show it to me another time," he murmured, his eyes hungrily skimming down the length of her body. 

Unable to resist, he trailed a finger over the hollow of her stomach and around her belly button, biting his lip in satisfaction as her alabaster skin quivered under his hand. Her full breasts were restrained in cream coloured bra, and the juncture of her thighs barely covered with tiny transparent lace panties. "Gorgeous as ye are now in yer knickers, I want to see all of ye bare."

"Y-yes, Jamie."

"Yes, Jamie," he echoed, slowly sliding his hand in the inside of her thigh, making her squirm. "Why weren't you agreeable all those times I told you faking a relationship wasnae a good idea?"

"If you paid attention, you would have noticed I'm selectively agreeable."

He tamped down the urge to smile. "Smart-ass! Look where it got us. Ye had to be exactly what I need, stubbornly reminding me it was all for the show. Then driving me out of my nuts from wanting ye. Look at ye half-naked, and here I am with an ache, only ye can ease. What are we going to do about that, huh?"

"I-I don't want to fight it anymore."

"Neither do I." He kissed her hard then went back to being serious. "I tried hard to ignore it, but I can't stop myself from wanting ye." He groaned against her mouth, cupping his hand between her thighs. "I need to be inside this so fucking bad but ..."

"...you don't do relationships," she finished off for him, making him stiffen.

"Christ!" he muttered. "Ye certainly do cut to the chase, don't ye?" He ignored the odd lump in his throat and swallowed hard. Even though it pained him, he needed to tell her the truth. "It'll be more than a fling, Sassenach and even if it lasts only a few weeks or months or a year, it'll be the longest I've ever been like this with someone. I-I can't promise a happily ever after ...I don't have a family gene in me. I can't be that for ye, but I'll be damned before ye regret this."

"I understand. Our futures look different, and it could never work. I don't suppose I'll marry again so soon but if one day ..."

"... I won't stand in yer way of a chance for happiness. I will let ye go." He said the words earnestly and with conviction, but how come he didn't feel convinced he would do just that? But before any further train of thoughts could gather steam, he shut the laughing voices in his head. "Are ye in, Sassenach?" Jamie's heart rapped violently in his chest.

"Y-yes, let's do this," she whispered, her hands impatiently skating up and down his back. 

Gladdened by her answer, he pulled her against him, his tongue travelling along the curve of her lower lip before diving back into her mouth. "And one more selfish demand ... while we're together, there will be no one else but us until we decide differently. That work for ye?"

"Yes ...yes, it does ..." 

Before she could finish, he laid his mouth on top of hers, brushing his thumb back and forth across her sensitive spot between her thighs, making her stomach hollow and loins twist. "Christ ye're so wet for me."

"Oooh, yes ...feels so good." Her words emerged choked as her hands began to tug and dig at his shoulders. She needed him badly, and the proof was in every lick of her tongue inside his mouth, and the rushed exhale onto his skin.

Pulling away with a grunt, he sat back on his heels and hooked his fingers into the flimsy band of her lingerie, gently working it down her hips. Then he dropped the lacy scrap on the floor and stood up, divesting himself of his clothes and placing a condom on the bed. With anticipation, his eyes feasted on her exposed flesh, and it took a mammoth of self-control not to throw himself upon her and take her there and then. Pure amusement took over as Claire shut her eyes, refusing to look at him. "Sassenach, look at me."

Claire groaned as she slowly took a peek, her bright amber eyes pools of lust and doubt warring together. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, and she swallowed audibly as she viewed his naked glory. "A word of caution," she whispered. "I'm not like the glamourous women you date or sleep with. I'm afraid I'll be a disappointment to you."

His heart twisted, shredding his voice to fragments. With Claire's insecurities and her feeling of uncertainty, he knew she needed him to be confident enough for both of them. "No, ye're not like any of the women I've been with, Sassenach," he said truthfully. "Because I've never wanted anyone this bad. I lived with the knowledge and torture during these last few weeks ...ye ... within reach, will never be mine to have. And yet here we are." He knelt between her thighs, gently spreading her legs wider. And then he took his cock in one hand and fisted it, causing her to blush even more. "Trust me when I say, I've never come close to a fraction of this kind of want. Ye can never be a disappointment." 

He leaned in, watching her eyes widen even more as he took her mouth in a slow, thorough kiss, pressing his erection against her heat and expertly undoing her bra and discarding it with a quick flick of his wrist. He keened out loud as their bodies locked together, her breasts and softness pressed against him almost robbing him of his sanity. Their breaths became loud and laboured in the quiet room, along with the sounds of their bodies shifting on the soft mattress, the springs beneath them sighing with their movements. 

Cupping her breast, his thumb circled her nipple until it puckered to a hard point. He felt her chest heaved for gulps of air, and her pulse beat wildly at the base of her neck as he prolonged their kiss. He relished the taste of her but never quite getting enough, wanting desperately to bury himself deep inside her. Although he was aching badly, he took his time wanting to commit every second and the feel of her to memory. When she tried to reach for his cock, he snagged her wrist. "No, Sassenach. I cannae allow it," he muttered too gruffly. "Not yet, anyway."

"P-please, now, Jamie. I'm ready." She seemed almost flustered by the lift of her hips as if she wanted to play it collected, but her body wouldn't allow it.

But Claire's sweet plea did it. Dragging his open mouth over her breast, he sucked her nipples hard, his tongue flicking restlessly, while he drove two fingers between her thighs. Claire's eyes rolled back in her head, her back arching and her legs spreading a little wider in an invitation.

Unable to hold on the sweet torture any longer, he slid down between her thighs until he was eye level with her swollen folds. He used his fingers to separate her flesh, lowering his mouth and licking her with the flat of his tongue. She twisted and moaned, her fingers gripping the sheets as he regarded her like a starved man, listening to her breathing go shallow and loving the taste and sight of her in the throes of passion.

"Oh, God, Jamie, it's too much. Please. Please," she sobbed loudly.

"So responsive, my wee sweet, Sassenach," he muttered between her thighs. "It's never too much,  mo chridhe ." 

Swiping her slit slow and deliberate, he tasted, nibbled and teased. He used one arm to pin her flailing body down, never hastening his pace, her cries charging the air with sexual desperation and frenzy. He inhaled her musky scent, rubbing the engorged nub, and pushing his finger in and out of her soaking channel. Her insides clamped down hard and tried to suck him deeper, but he continued to tease until she floundered and thrashed, like a senseless being on edge. 

"No more," she gasped, her amber eyes wild and past sanity. "Damn you, Jamie, no more. C-can't take ..." 

With a low chuckle, he took her throbbing nub between his lips and sucked hard, sensing her orgasm shimmering right there and so close. He cursed out loud, pumping two fingers this time and tucking a tongue alongside, in and out of her entrance. And then he drew back out, sliding up higher and driving in faster, her slickness making his mouth work.

And then she came, her body arching like a bow under his command. He absorbed all her sweetness in his mouth, continuing the suction motions so that she succumbed into another orgasm so beautifully, it made him wonder if he'd allow her to leave the bed ever again. She hung onto him with wild abandon and desperation he couldn't refuse. Sliding up her body, he worshipped every inch of her damp skin with kisses, pausing at her mouth to nip her lips and to cradle her face with his hand in the act of pure adoration.

Eyes unfocused, her head lolled to the side as she reached for his cock, once again, gripping it without finesse. "Want you now, inside me," she garbled. 

He let out a shaky laugh. "Easy now, Sassenach, otherwise I'll burst." Shoving back the reluctance, Jamie tore his lips away from hers and reached for the condom he'd left on the bed. He quickly covered himself in stretched latex and slid up her body, muffling her requests to hurry with a hard kiss. His cock was poised at her entrance as her tongue battled his and her legs locked behind him. Unable to wait any longer, he plunged deep inside with a single thrust and all the pent up emotions she'd awakened, immersing himself in her completely. 

He swallowed her cries as he stretched her with his width and length, her nails cutting through his skin, and her thighs squeezing him tight. He completely filled her, giving her no time to shore up defences and allowing no room for anything but the primitive demand to surrender. With every stroke, he claimed her while he drove inside her over and over. His hips rolling harder of their own volition with every smack of flesh and every whimper from her. And then just like that, with one perfect deep thrust, she convulsed underneath him in a climax. He listened to her moans of his name, treasuring the husky awe of them in his ears and around him. 

He tried to breathe and then tried to slow down, but there were too many emotions crashing over him to know anything but the need to make his mark. He'd never wanted anyone this bad and never felt wanted this much. Increasingly, a tightening began at the back of his neck and proceeded down his spine, curling at the base. Finally, letting himself go, he yanked her legs up and fucked into the storm for everything he was worth, chanting her name in reverence. 

His release was a flood that roared through him, creating a rush of white noise in his ears. His muscles tightened to the point of snapping before they unlocked. He shook violently, his lower body a battle zone of pleasure and pain and need and fulfilment. There's a harbour in the storm, though, and her body was already demanding him back, making the intense pleasure they've inflicted a beautiful thing they shared. With his insides razed and his mind blown, every cell in his body drifted toward Claire until they were wrapped together, arms and legs twined, mouths locked, their movements slowing little by little.

What just happened between them was the best everything in his life and nothing came close. Not even his glory days and triumphs in rugby.

In the past, usually, after sex came relief and it meant parting ways after the sweat had cooled. Jamie had never been anything but fine with that upshot because he barely knew the women to begin with. But now panic niggled at him, his chest throbbing painfully as his hand coasted over her body memorising her skin. If Claire asked him to leave now, he knew he wouldn't like it at all. 

Then her lips glided over his cheek, and he turned into them, inhaling through a lengthy kiss. His concern eased for a little while, a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth.

And then he realised something he never thought would ever happen - he'd never be able to touch another woman again without wishing for Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. He'd just made a pact with the devil, and now, he wondered, how in the world was he ever going to let this woman go?

..........

Claire slipped into the bathroom, careful not to make any noise. Jamie had spent the night and was sound asleep in her bed. He was facedown, spreadeagled, and his taut, naked arse a sight to behold. She put his sleepover down to him having too many drinks and leaving his car at the parking lot outside the bar where they had been in last night.

A sigh escaped her mouth, but she crammed it back up. She was a big girl and wasn't about to lose sight of reality and facts. Last night was nothing more than two consenting adults engaging in a temporary sexual relationship, and she reminded herself she'd agreed to it and any sticky feelings or thoughts of white picket fences had to be banished immediately.

Grabbing her toothbrush, she started to brush her teeth vigorously. She was beginning to sense like she'd set herself up for one epic downfall. What if Jamie suddenly realised that being in a permanent relationship wasn't a bad thing and found a different woman? Where would that leave her then?

Pushing all thoughts of the impending gloom away, Claire rinsed out her mouth and plonked her toothbrush in the glass. And then she laid out a spare for Jamie hoping that wouldn't cause an alarm and think she wanted more from him. But on second thought, maybe that was an unwise move. Muddled, she sighed and decided to wing it. It was just too bad she didn't have an example to look to.

She heard a deep groan from the bedroom, accompanied by the creaking of bedsprings. And suddenly, the memories of their lovemaking surfaced, making the inside of her thighs tensed, causing a twinge of soreness and muscle ache. Looking into the mirror, she found her face bright red and her eyes glowing. She looked   like an adolescent in puberty crisis.  Ah, fuck . Irritated, she fanned her cheeks with her hands, reprimanding herself for being silly and acting like a teenager.  So what if Jamie spent the night and he doesn't believe in happily ever after? You've always known the score! Suck it up, Beauchamp!

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Sassenach?"

"Yeah?"

Jamie's tone dropped. "Do ye mind coming back to bed?"

Oh!  She'd been worried he'd wake up panicking like a cornered male in the light of day, but as it turned out, she was so very wrong. Taking a fortifying breath, she opened the door and was greeted by a fully naked Jamie with an erect penis. "M-morning..." she croaked.

Holding her breath, she blinked twice and then gawked at the naked male marvel before her.  Oh, sweet mother of God , Jamie was lean, mean, and toned. There was not an ounce of softness visible on his body, from the breadth of his shoulders, abs, powerful arms, and bulky thighs. 

Oblivious to his erection jostling between them, he backed her into the bathroom, bringing her attention back to the present. "My shirt looks good on ye," he grinned, sleepily. "Why are ye up?"

As her back met the sink, she remembered the packaged toothbrush and casually pushed it into the basket. "I wasn't sure if you're an early riser or not, so I thought I'd make some preps for breakfast."

Without missing a beat, Jamie leaned past her and retrieved the toothbrush. Frowning, he popped the package open and slipped it into his hand. "It's seven in the morning, and we were up all night making love. Breakfast can wait a little longer." 

"Right, yeah ...umm."

Jamie applied toothpaste to his brush and stuck it in his mouth. "Why didn't I get a good morning kiss?"

"A good morning kiss?"

"Aye," He brushed his teeth and waited for an answer. 

"Ah ...well, I was going to. You were sound asleep, and you know ..."

He leaned over the sink and spat "No, I dinna ken. Are ye acting weird because I didn't leave last night as ye expected?"

"No, of course not!" Not wanting him to see the heat creeping up her face, she busied herself, looking for a towel for him to use.

He rinsed his mouth and placed his brush next to hers in the glass. "It's funny. I always thought morning afters consisted of cuddles."

"Y-yeah, it does."

He stopped and crossed his arms. "Hmmm. Why did ye chuck the toothbrush in the rubbish basket?"

Oh, fuck!  She laughed hysterically. "I think the jury of the court will agree it was an unfortunate mishap."

"Sassenach, I'm beginning to get annoyed. I still havenae received my good morning kiss, and ye intentionally discarded the toothbrush."

She couldn't help the giggle escaping her lips as she eyed his morning erection. "Aroused and annoyed, that's a first."

Her words still hanging in the air, he lunged forward and placed his hands on either side of her and leaned in. "Next time, Sassenach, I want proper good morning with a cuddle from ye. I dinna ken what one looks like, but still, I'd like to have one. Just so that ye ken, I wanted ye lying there when I opened my eyes." His mouth tugged in the corner, but his eyes were dark and serious. "Preferably, I want yer hands all over me and yer lips on mine. And next time ye get out of bed without giving me both, I'm going to turn ye over my knees and backhand that wee bum of yers ye had mercilessly wiggled against me all night. Am I making myself clear?"

"Jamie!" she gasped. "That's unethical!"

Jaws clenched, his eyes dropped down to the apex of her thighs. "Trust me, Sassenach, I wasnae thinking of ethics when I was kissing ye down there last night."

She gulped, her pulse racing a million miles per hour. "Ethics ...overrated anyway," she mumbled, not making any sense with her words.

"Weel, then, I'm gonnae take a shower. Ye can join me or wait, that's entirely up to ye. Either way, I want to see ye back in bed when I'm done because I'll still be wanting my good morning cuddle. Are we clear?"

Without another word, she nodded and did as she was told. And that morning they made love twice more and didn't leave bed until after midday.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Jamaica

Note from Mod Bonnie: 

I wrote the story below as part of the Candle for the Caribbean fundraiser last year. Now that the period to download the fanfic anthology has passed, I am posting the story here. I still hope you’ll donate to disaster relief! The need is great, and we can all do something! 

In any case, if you’ve already read this, I hope you’ll enjoy it a second time ;)

Jamaica

Drums of Autumn (Chapter 41), Diana Gabaldon

Her aunt's voice, coming from a great distance, saying, "The poor child is asleep where she sits; I can hear her snoring. Ulysses, take her up to bed."

And then strong arms that lifted her with no sense of strain, but not the candlewax smell of the black butler; the sawdust and linen scent of her father. She gave up the struggle and fell asleep, her head on his chest.

Later that night

River Run Plantation

Royal Colony of North Carolina

I fought. 

With fists and feet and every ounce of strength I possessed, I fought; against the man’s hands on me, against the sheets and blankets as I struggled to get free of him; against the panic—I had to get away. 

The next thing I knew was that my back was braced securely against the wall on the far side of the bed, cold and solid through the fabric of my shift. My chest was heaving; my hands were raised against him, ready to fight, and each breath was raw and ragged in my throat. I honestly didn’t know how long I’d been screaming, and that terrified me more than—

“I’m so—I’m sorry, lass.”

I jumped to see the man was on the other side of the bed—huge, the shape of him. His voice was— it was gentler than I’d remembered, and that made me tense still more, refusing to believe his cunning and lies again. Those eyes were wide and blazing. Blue…not green?

His hands were raised, too, nothing like my own shaking claws. His palms were facing me,  poised and braced as though against the charge of a wild animal.

“It’s only me,” the man said. “It’s—Da.”

And with that word, that tiny key of a word, my entire body unlocked and tried to sink to the floor. I kept myself upright only by sheer will as I closed my eyes and tried to breathe normally again.

Only a dream, Bree.

The green-eyed man was only a dream.

…this time.

“I heard ye cry out from the other room,” Jamie (because it was only him) was saying, urgently. “I ran in and ye were crying and shaking in your sleep and then I tried to wake ye, and—Jesus, lass, are ye alright??”

My eyelids felt unbelievably heavy, my heart still pounding, but the emotion in his voice made me open my eyes and look at him (really look at him) for the first time.

He was dressed only in his shirt, hair wild and blazing in the dim firelight. The eyes were red with sleep, still wide, terrified as his gaze continued to search me.

Even with the bed between us, though, I could see more written there—the quiet, underlying hunger in his eyes; that desire to connect; as palpable and real to me as if it had physical shape, but held carefully—so, so carefully—in check. I could see it so plainly because it had been the same for me, since we’d met; the exact same.

I was so absorbed in it, actually, that I forgot that I had been staring openmouthed at him, not answering his question. 

“I’m fine,” I blurted finally, smiling as best I could, both shaking and nodding my head like a complete moron (well done, Bree: poise and grace incarnate). “Perfectly fine.”

To my shock, Jamie Fraser laughed.

...And I experienced a sudden visceral impulse to throw something heavy at his fucking head.

“Forgive me,” he said at once, seeing my reaction, though he didn’t bother to suppress his grin. “Only—Christ, but ye sound like your mother when ye say that.”

“Oh, no,” I groaned, barking a laugh despite myself. “Shit, I DO! I mean, oh— um—yikes.....sorry.”

I fumbled for another less vulgar swear (don’t want him to think his daughter a complete heathen after less than twelve hours), but he snorted and waved me off. 

“I heard worse cursing from Claire within the first hour of meeting her, and it evidently didna put me off in any lasting way.”

We laughed, both of us this time; shy laughter, but real, and it blessedly eased the tension of the night a little further, bringing us another inch closer to connection.

We were careful with one another, Jamie and me—not just now, in this room still clouded by nightmare, but for the entire time since we’d met earlier in the day. For what it was worth, I thought we would keep erring on the side of caution for some time, months, or even years, even if all continued to progress well between us. If Jamie was feeling anything like I was (and I would have bet money on it), the last thing he wanted was to scare me off by showing (let alone expecting) too much overt affection between us or presuming an intimacy, of asking too many questions, no matter how much he wanted to.

It was a little awkward and more than a little bittersweet, but completely natural, from my point of view. As much as we both would have liked to pretend otherwise, there was a wall between us—a huge Hoover Dam of a structure, built to withstand, made of twenty-three years; of grief; of doubt; and of suspicion. Honestly, I hated myself for even admitting that last one, but it was the cold, hard truth. No matter what he was to me factually or what I hoped he’d be someday, I didn’t know this man except from stories, nor did he know me. It just wasn’t realistic to trust one another implicitly and ignore all our reasonable reservations and cautions; at least, it wasn’t for me.

Still….there was a spark there, in each of us; a look here, a joke there, a shared moment of understanding— gentle tugs pulling us toward one another, each a tiny chip falling away from that indomitable wall. It was the simple ease of it that had shocked me, getting to know him so far. Jamie had that genuine quality you couldn’t help but be drawn to, and I absolutely was. I would have liked him even without knowing our blood connection, I think, and more importantly, I could see why Claire had loved him; why she had come back for that love. That knowledge was worth quite a lot to a daughter’s heart, really, still scarred from the loss of a mother.  

“My bed is in the next room over, ken?” Jamie said, taking a careful step forward and—seeing that I wasn’t going to bolt or go into hysterics— settled onto the edge of the bed. “…And when I heard ye scream like that…”

He shook his head, and the rest was lost in a rushed exhale. One word I caught, though: ‘…terrified.’

I noticed for the first time the knife that had been dropped on the carpet behind him.

“It was a nightmare?” he clarified, after a moment.

“A bad one.” I sat on the opposite side of the bed, trying to put on my most assured, calm face, for his sake. “But only that.”

He nodded and his shoulders seemed to relax a bit further. “Do ye need anything? Water? A bit of food?”

“I was just thinking I’d go out to the balcony.” I jerked an awkward hand toward the glass door. “It’s, um, a little warm in here.” 

A lie. It was sweltering and I was sweating like a pig, still trembling from the aftershocks of memory and dream.   

“Oh. Aye. Well.” He stood up. “I’ll—ah—leave ye to it.” An awkward bow. “Goodnight, then, lass.”

He was almost to the door before I found my courage. “Would you stay? Just for a little while,” I added quickly, flushing even more, kicking myself for the asking almost as much as for being afraid enough to risk it—afraid of being alone in the dark, alone with my thoughts.  

The way his face lit up, though—it was like the morning sun breaking from behind a hill. There, right there, that was him: the lad Mama had seen all those years ago.

When he edged out onto the narrow balcony to join me a few minutes later, he was still barefoot but now wearing breeks with his hair tied back. He hadn’t come empty-handed, either, I saw as he settled onto the wicker loveseat beside me, carrying a bottle and two glasses.

“Oh, um—Sorry, I don’t mean to be—” 

(Please don’t be offended. Please, please don’t think me awful and ungrateful for shitting on your nice gesture). 

“I don’t really like whisky,” I said with the awkwardest of laughs.

He smiled. “Aye, I ken that. Your mother told me so, once,” he said with a shrug and a widening grin. “It’s brandy, in fact, but I can fetch ye something else, if—“

“No, no, that’s fine! Great!” I said hastily, hands flapping, reeling a bit from the thoughtfulness (not to mention the steel trap his mind must be, to remember such an insignificant piece of trivia about someone he’d never meet—good grief!). “I’ve never actually tried brandy before.”

He poured a large glass and handed it to me with confidence. “Nothing like it to calm an unsettled mind.”

The first sip was like a warm hug, spreading from my throat down my spine and into my toes. “That’s good,” I said with feeling, taking a long swallow. “Thank you—for thinking of me.”

“Thank your great-aunt for keeping a well-stocked larder,” he said, off-handed.... but his eyes were warm, I saw, glowing just that little bit more from the shared moment, however small.

It went quiet between us, then, but in a surprisingly comfortable way, like when Daddy—Frank—and I would ride through the mountains, enjoying the scenery and one another’s’ company in silence for long stretches at a time.

I do miss you, Daddy.

Taking a deep breath, I made a quick— but firm—decision not to feel guilty for comparing them. They were both my father; they both mattered; but Jamie was the one here, now, the one I had the chance to get to know.

The minutes passed like that, both of us breathing the warm air: grass and woodsmoke; the sharpness of pine sap; a musty sweetness I thought might be magnolia leaves. Despite the moonlight, the grounds were dark as pitch, so that every now and again, I could see the twinkling of a firefly down below.  

And it seems like it goes on like this forever

You must forgive me,

if I'm up and gone to Carolina…

“Do ye often have troubling dreams, lass?” Jamie asked, quietly so as not to startle.

“....I didn’t used to.....” I swirled the brandy in the bottom of the glass. “Since Mama left, though—Yeah, often enough.”

“I’m sorry. I think ye might get that from me,” he said, sounding actually sorry for it.

“It’s okay. I mean, it isn’t your— It happens,” I said firmly, huffing a bit in frustration at how ludicrous it was to be accepting an apology for such a thing. He saw it and understood and we both smiled. I shifted in my seat so that I was leaning against the armrest, facing him. “So, you have bad dreams a lot, too?”

“Strangely enough, my own have been less frequent since Claire returned. A talisman for the both of us, she must be.” 

He said this with a smile so pure that it plucked at my heart with longing to see her, and a tender (and, yes, a bit jealous) awe at his evident love of her. Maybe he did deserve her, too. 

What would it be like to see them together? To have all three of us together?

“But aye,” he went on, “I’ve always been prone to nightmare, when there are troubles on my mind. It isna at all pleasant.” He offered more brandy, which I gratefully accepted. He concentrated hard on the pouring, avoiding my eye. “If there’s anything ye wish to....If I can be of....” His sigh of frustration sounded uncannily like my own a few moments before. “All I mean to say is, I’m here. If ye want to talk about it. About…anything that might be on your mind.”

I managed to get out a smile and a genuine, “Thank you…” but my guts had clenched tight at the thought of exactly what had been on my mind. The blackness started creeping in, those horrific flashes, but also a newer stab of heartbroken dread:

Would you still want to get to know me, James Fraser, if you knew what happened on that ship? Would you be able to get past the shame of it? Of me? 

“They’re not always bad, though,” I said cheerily, choking down my panic and another gulp of brandy as I forced us down a less fraught line of conversation. “I’ve just always been a vivid dreamer, even besides the nightmares.”

He seemed to be as grateful for the shift of tone as me. “What are your happier dreams like, I wonder?”  

“A lot of times it’s about painting—the colors, you know,” I said, pulling my knees up close to my chest to lean my glass on them. “Other times, just about what I did that day. Sometimes the most ridiculously absurd things, too.”

He cocked his head, amused. “Such as?”

“Umm…..? Oh, okay, once—this is embarrassing—But one time last year, I dreamed that I was in a singing contest on the moon (no idea why the moon, but there was a huge audience there) and had to sing ‘Sugartime’ with President Nixon and Donald Duck. We didn’t even win!”

Jamie snorted into his drink. “Well, I dinna ken about Presidents, but ducks are no’ known for having braw singing voices….Though,” he added fairly, “likely this Donald availed himself better than could I, so I’ll no be casting stones.”

We laughed, and at his urging, I sang him a few bars, snapping my fingers to recreate a bit of the honkytonk feel that made the song so damned catchy that it had wormed its way into my sleep.

“It’s funny though,” I said abruptly, struck by a memory in the midst of our discussion (trying all the while not to giggle) of the likely metaphor behind the ‘sugar’ in question. “It’s because of a dream that I’m here at all. Why I came here from my time, I mean.”

“Oh, aye? How’s that?”

“I had this dream last year about you and Mama being in the tropics,” I explained, memory of it giving me goosebumps. “Roger and I—” (Oh, Jesus Christ, Roger....) “—had been looking in the historical records for months, trying to find something to confirm that she had found you and that you were both living well in Scotland, but with no luck. We’d all but given up, to be honest. When I had the dream, though, it got me thinking that maybe you’d emigrated, and one thing led to another, and sure enough, I found records of you being on Jamaica in 1767.”

“Well that was a piece of good luck,” he said with approval. “You’re verra determined, lass, a fact for which I’m grateful. What came to pass in the dream, then?” He raised an eyebrow and the opposite corner of his mouth. “Were we singing sweet songs wi’ Kings and Hippopotamuses?”

“No,” I laughed (Good grief, he was witty, too? Mama never stood a chance), “and actually, as helpful as it ended up being, this was one of the spooky dreams. Not quite a nightmare, but—“ I shivered. “Eerie.”

He was interested, ready to listen.

“It was at night and I was in a huge field of sugarcane,” I said slowly, trying to remember the details after so long. “There were fires burning in the distance, lots of them, so that there was this glowing dome of smoke overhead. I walked and wandered, turning this way and that, until I came to a clearing, and Mama was there. She was talking to a crocodile. So yes, it did have some ridiculous bits, too.”

I added this last part because I’d seen Jamie stiffen at mention of the crocodile, markedly, his eyebrows drawing together. Before I could study him too closely, he relaxed (though, I thought, not completely) and bade me go on.

“There were drums...” I said, still unsettled. “Beating loud and.....ominously, and I don’t know if it was them or what else, but somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something stalking Mama, wanting to hurt her, you know? I tried to call out to her, warn her. I was begging her to not to go after it, but she was—I don’t know— in a trance, or something. She couldn’t hear me…. but you could.”

“….How did ye ken it was me?” He was still as stone and his voice very tight—terse, almost.

“A red-haired man with my mother? I guess I just assumed.” I shrugged. “I turned to him—you—and I called for you to save her from whatever it was …or something like that….” I shrugged again. “ And you saw me. You heard m—Um….Are you okay?”

He had stood abruptly, setting down his glass and going to stand at the railing. Jamie didn’t have a rude bone in his body. Something I’d said had upset him, and my belly was crawling again, trying to figure out what it had been.

“What is it ye said?” It didn’t even sound like Jamie. He had a vice grip on the iron. “In the dream. Do ye remember the words?”

Baffled, but having no idea of what else I might say next, I closed my eyes, trying to remember. I could always recall colors, from my dreams; colors and shapes and movement and light, but words always slipped through my fingers like sand. I could almost remember, though. Don’t—something…Don’t—?

“Don’t let Mama go alone....”

My eyes flew open.

“That’s what ye said, aye?” Jamie still had his back to me, shoulders hunched. “We were in a cane field, your mother and I. On Jamaica. There was a crocodile.” He turned and looked me dead in the eye. “And we did hear your voice, lass.”

“That’s....not possible.” I heard glass shatter and I was on my feet, though I didn’t remember getting there. “You couldn’t possibly…”

“Your mother can attest,” he said, his face drawn and white, but his eyes wide. “I’d no’ have believed it to be anything other than base trickery, sorcery, only I saw her face—went pale as stone and just as still. It was your voice, Bree. Yours, in a wisewoman’s mouth. You go with her, ye said, I’ll keep you safe....And then ye said—” His voice broke, then broke off entirely as he hung his head.

I was shaking from head to toe and I couldn’t even blink. I had to hold my hands over my mouth to keep from exploding, because it was exactly as he described, the words verbatim, even down to the cadence and tone of my own manner of speech. How…. HOW—??

When he looked up at me again, he was weeping freely. “Ye said... I love you, Daddy.”

“It….” I moved my hands away enough to ask the unfathomable. “It was real?”

“I dinna ken how,” came the husk of his voice, “but—aye—in whatever way— It was real.”

Then I was throwing my arms around his neck. 

“Oh my God,” I kept saying, my hands and my jaw shaking as though it were freezing cold. “Oh—dear GOD—“

He was saying more or less the same, in the same tone, as he held me, or that’s what I thought at first. After a while, I realized what he was saying: Thank God.

“It terrified me so, and yet I treasured it,” he said against my hair, still speaking through sobs, kissing a spot just behind my ear. “I felt as though it were a sin to rejoice, for it was black sorcery that had brought it about, or so I thought—but yet—I couldna think otherwise except that—“ He broke off and held me tighter. “It was the only time this side of Heaven that I’d hear your voice….I’ve thought about it so often, since.”  

“I’m glad it wasn’t,” I choked out, hugging him as tightly as I could. “The only time.”

“Christ, so am I, my...my Brianna.” A big hand came up and cupped my head securely against him. He gasped for air. I could feel the genuine struggle of it in his chest. “I know I shall live my entire life—before I’ve done enough good—to deserve it... the gift of you, mo chridhe.”

“Oh..... Da…”

All my fears—of cane fields and wisewomen, of Irishmen, even of the possibility of being shunned—they all melted away into the night, and I let them. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the power of him, my father, a shelter against the paranormal, letting only the essential remain: the connection between us, those tiny, tentative sparks, protected from the wind and growing stronger. Maybe someday, it would tear down the wall entirely.

“It’s getting late, a leannan,” he murmured a long, long time later, kissing the top of my head, “and you’ve had a long day. A long many days, I think, and a trying night. Get ye back to your bed for some rest, now.”

He started moving toward the door, but I clutched at him, holding him back. “I can’t.”

“Another glass of brandy may help, if—“

“I don’t want to sleep again.”

His mouth twitched in a tiny smile as he put a hand tenderly on my cheek. “Ye might find that difficult to sustain, after a week or so.”

I was dead-serious, my fears wrenching out of me in a whisper, a raw plea, like the frightened child I was. “What if everything I dream is real?”

He could have told me not to talk nonsense; that I was a grown woman and obviously dreams were dreams, excepting the one event in question.

What he did, though, was to squeeze my hand and draw me back down onto the loveseat, putting his arms around me. “Lay your head, lass,” he said, bringing my head gently to his shoulder. “We’ll bide together, you and me.”

I felt the words stirring on my tongue as sleep began to settle around me, knew it would be the truth of my heart to say them aloud, but I couldn’t speak even one word in my present state, let alone those.

Besides, I’d said it before I even knew him.

I love you.

… Da.

[sincerlyyme-blog]

Group Therapy (CONNOR MURPHY x READER)

AUTHORS NOTE: hello!!!!! i am back!!!!!!! i wrote this little thing, in hopes of making it a multiple part series. so this is just part one! but if you guys dont like it, let me know and ill just leave it as it is. I also want to take a moment to say that i am back to UPLOADING A FIC OR HEADCANON ONCE A DAY!! when i first started this blog, that was my uploading schedule. life got in the way, but im back baby!!!!! 

Word Count: 2.4k ish

TW: suicide, suicide descriptions, swearing, therapy groups , etc

PS: i have been to many group therapies, so this is all just based purely on personal experience. so if this is triggering to you, please dont read any further!!!!

           Connor Murphy was special. Not special in the way you would describe a rare artifact or gem. He was special like the waves in the ocean, the colours in the sky, or oil paint on a canvas. He was special because you knew what to expect. Like a wave in the ocean, you expected to crash. Like the colours in the sky, you expected to fade out after hours of daylight. Like oil paint on a canvas, you expected to dry and harden after creating something beautiful. Connor Murphy was a synonym for beautiful; only the rarest of poets could find in a dictionary. He was the sound that rolled off of the tongue of a politician. He was the feeling of warm laundry, draping around your body. Connor was all of these things—which is why his downfall was to be expected.

           You had tried numerous group therapies in the past. None of them seemed to improve your feelings or behaviors. But they stabilized your health, which is all you could really ask for. There was something equally pleasing and eerie about joining group therapy. It was oddly satisfying to hear everyone bitch and complain, but also eerie that the painted beige walls would contain a group of kids who tried to kill themselves. Talk about a Suicide Squad.

           You drove yourself to group therapy. This one was named Youth Wonders: Group Therapy and Psychiatrics. The name was slathered on the brick building in bronze lettering. It looked ancient. Maybe it looked cool back in 2002, but it made you roll your eyes just at the sight. You were 5 minutes early. Your keys were still lodged into your car ignition. This was the hardest part: getting out of the car. There was always that part of you that was tempted to ditch, go eat some McDonald’s for the hour, and go back home to tell your dad that everything went well. The feeling of guilt spread over your stomach just at the thought. You have lied to your father many times before. He didn’t deserve to be lied to again.

           Finally, you slumped out of the driver’s seat and walked into the horrid building. It smelt like old carpet and candle wax. Kind of like a church. But nothing Holy grew an abundance to you whilst walking through the halls. A white, thick door was stood open with a brick. On the inside if the door, facing you, a pink slip of paper was taped up.

“TEEN YOUTH SUICIDAL THERAPY GROUP”

           They really don’t sugar coat anything here. Your footsteps grew heavier as you walked through the door. Plastic chairs were all set up in a circle. Inside there were only four teenagers, and a woman who had a strange resemblance to Whoopi Goldberg.

           “Name, please?” her scratchy voice echoed off the walls. Her dry hands where clutching a clipboard and her pink pen was held between her fingers, like a cigarette.

           “Oh, uh, Y/N L/N,” you frowned, taking a seat across from her.

           According to the amount of chairs set up, there were only six people in the group. You, an empty chair, Whoopi-Goldberg-lady, and an empty chair. The empty chair was to your left. You stared at it, feeling cold. The awkward tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You took this moment of silence as an opportunity to look around the room. All of the teens glared at their feet.

           The girl next to you had red hair. Her face was populated with cystic acne that looked painful to the touch. Her ginger locks were pulled into a low ponytail. She wore a large men’s sweater that hung off of her skinny body. Sitting to her left was a large Filipino boy. He wore a purple sweater and old hiking shoes. The toe of the boots were worn out and his big toe peeked out. His hair was greasy, and he looked in need of a shower. Down the line, in the circle, sat a Latina girl. Her hair was done perfectly and her ears were pierced. Big golden hoops dangled from the lobes, reaching her collarbone. She was chewing bubblegum, and wearing a croptop – even though the temperature was just above freezing. Finally, in the corner sat a very pale white boy. He was short and skinny. He looked like he was 12 years old. His minecraft shirt had large orange stains, and had blonde whiskers growing in on his upper lip.

           Whoopi-Goldberg-lady took a final sigh, clicking her pen. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, another person stomped in.

           “You finally decided to join us…” the woman looked at her clipboard before reading out loud, “Connor?”

           The boy grunted in response, throwing his body down onto the chair next to you. You winced at the sound. He had long hair. The ends curled into the collar of his denim jacket. Your eyes trailed up to his face. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he grinded his teeth together. The Whoopi-lady stood up, smoothing out the material of her chiffon blouse.

           “Welcome, everyone. My name is Liz,” she spoke above her gravely tone.

           Her name was Liz. Finally, you could stop referring to her as the Whoopi-Goldberg-lady, in your head.

           “I will be your counselor and guide for this group. Within our 9 weeks here, I expect all of you to hit a few goals. The first being: opening up. I want you to share your story, knowing that whatever is said in here, stays in here.”

           You could hear the boy next to you, practically scoff.

           “So the first thing we are going to do is; go around the room, say your name, age, and explain why you are here.”

           You could feel everyone tense up.

           “Let’s start with,” Liz glanced at her clipboard. “Jamie.”

           The red-haired girl sat up straight. She removed her fingers from her mouth, as she was just chewing on her cuticles moments ago. Her bleeding fingers dove into the sleeves of her sweater.

           “Hi, I’m Jamie,” she spoke softly, almost like a robot. “I’m 15 and I’m here because I overdosed on sleeping pills.”

           Liz nodded, “Ok. Great. Thank you, Jamie.”

           Next in line was the boy in hiking boots.

           “Hi, I’m Leroy. I’m 16 and I tried to hang myself from a tree,” his voice was a deep baritone. But was quickly cut off by the Latina girl beside him.

           “Did the tree break, fatty?”

           “Andrea,” Liz warned. “This is supposed to be a safe space.”

           “Ok, yeah, whatever. I’m Andrea. I’m 18. This is my third time here. I took too much meth and blacked the fuck out. So I’m here,” she snapped her gum, fingering the golden hoop on her ear.

           “Daniel, your turn,” Liz looked at the small pale boy.

“Hi, um, I’m Daniel. I’m 16 and I, uh,” the boy began to sob violently. Your heart broke a little bit. The boy next to you, Connor, scoffed. You were almost in disbelief at his heartless gesture.

“It’s ok, hun. Take your time,” Liz spoke softly.

Daniel continued, hiccupping and telling the group how he tried to end his life just two weeks prior. After many tissues, Liz continued down the line.

“Connor?”

The boy next to you, shifted in his seat. He was now sitting up, straight. His long legs tangled over each other. His large, black combat boots looked heavy against his skinny shins. He was wearing a lot of layers.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Connor. I’m 17. I tried killing myself 3 weeks ago.”

“How? You have to say how,” Andrea twirled her hair around her finger.

“Why? Do you get off to people’s backstories or some shit?” he hissed back.

Liz waved the two of them off, gesturing that it was okay to keep those details private. Next was you. And you could feel your breath become heavy. All eyes landed on you.

“Well, uh, my name is Y/N. I’m 17, also. I tried killing myself last year, but I’m here because my therapist told me to,” you spoke softly.

“That’s fucking boring.”

“Andrea!”

 You were pouring coffee into a Styrofoam cup, rubbing the drowsiness out of your eyes. It was the half-way mark through group therapy. The group is given a 15 minute break between the two hours, and there is a small table full of shitty snacks and coffee.

“Coffee at 1pm?” a voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see that Connor boy offering you a lazy smirk.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”            “Well it’s shitty filtered coffee, and no one drinks coffee in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much,” you spoke while moving to the side, putting creamer and 8 packets of sugar into the small cup. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gaped at the amount of sugar you put in.

“It’s good, you should try it some time,” you mused, taking a small sip.

Connor shook his head, pouring some of the filtered brew into a cup of his own. “No, thanks. I’d like to live well into my thirties.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of why you’re here?”

“Touché.”

 The rest of the afternoon went as expected. Red-haired girl went on a rant about her dad never loving her, Daniel cried some more, and Liz gave us homework to complete for next week. The green folder full of worksheets will be added to the pile of therapy homework that you never do. You have other things on your plate. You have a job, school, and university to think about.

While walking to your car, you see the tall boy leaning against the hood of your car.

“Uh, hi?” you spoke, raising on eyebrow.

He jumped a little bit, not seeing you at first. “Oh, hey, can you drive me home? My dad is at work and my mom…” he trailed off, looking at his feet.

You scratched the back of your head, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry, I barely even know you. I should just walk home-“ he began to ramble, grabbing his messenger bag from between his feet.

“Get in,” you sighed, unlocking the car.

“Wait. Really?”

“What’s your address?”

The car ride was pretty silent. It contained the sound of your humming motor, and the small murmurs of directions from Connor. You had asked him what street he lived on, but he just told you that he would direct you there. He lived on the outskirts of the city. By following his directions, you drove into the suburbs. The houses were all parallel to each other. Each of them very large, big two-car garages, and nicely trimmed lawns. It was the type of neighborhood that would give out the good candy on Halloween.

“It’s the house on left, here,” he mumbled once again. Your eyes practically bugged out of your head.

“This one?” you took one hand off the steering-wheel to point to the house in front of you. It was gigantic. It was painted yellow with a dark blue door. It must have been at least 4 stories high. The backyard, from what you could see, was massive. Two large pillars on other side of the front door, reminding you of pictures in textbooks about ancient Rome.

As you pulled into his driveway, Connor picked at his nail polish. “What? Are you surprised?”

“A little,” you laughed, looking over at him.

He began to pick up his bag, looking over at you. The sunset in the sky casted a pink shadow in your car, making everything a rose colour.

“Well, uh, thanks. I’ll see you next week,” he spoke, stepping out of your car.

You watched as the goth boy walked into the giant, yellow house. It was a sight to see.

 Next week rolled around, and you were five minutes early. You sat in your car, rubbing your temples. Another night without sleep. It was beginning to take a toll. Sitting in your car became a ritual you had. It gave you time to mope, before having to put on a brave face for wherever you were going. You let out a large sigh. Your head was pounding. Placing your forehead in the palms of your hands, you laid them down on the steering wheel. Closing your eyes, you were grateful to have a second to decompose.

It was quiet until you heard your passenger door open and slam shut. You let out a scream, sitting back, looking at the man who just entered. It was Connor.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

“Chill the fuck out.”

“CONNOR, YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT.”

“What? Get in someone’s car? I know. I’m not an idiot.”

You began to go on a slight rampage, telling him about how many girls get abducted by leaving their cars unlocked. He responded by telling you to ‘lock your fucking car, then’. Before you could shout another witty response, he shoved a cup of hot coffee into your hand.

“Here.”            “What… What is this?”

“Coffee, you dumbass.”

“Yeah, I know. But why?”

He just shrugged, taking a sip out of his own cup, leaning back in the passenger seat.

“So, why do you sit in here?” he mumbled against the warm lid of his beverage.

“It’s just nice, I guess?” you spoke out softly, rubbing your eyes.

Connor nodded, drinking his coffee quietly. You did the same.

  Lunch time came around. Therapy had been going well. But you couldn’t help but find yourself staring into space every other minute. It was no group participation. It consisted of Liz telling everyone that how they were feeling is “okay”. It wasn’t anything that you hadn’t heard before.

You stood up the moment Liz said that your 15 minute break began. You walked over to the snack table, pouring another cup of coffee. Connor watched you from his seat, chewing on his bottom lip.

No one else had picked up on your caffeine habits. Rather, the rest of the teenagers fought over the sugar cookies that were lined up on the table. You walked back to your seat, sighing loudly as your butt hit the chair. You took a large gulp of the cheap caffeine, letting your eyes settle close for a moment.

“You know, I never got to hear your story last week,” you spoke softly with your eyes still closed.

“Well, same goes to you, I guess,” he mumbled back, slouching into his chair.

You cracked an eye open, looking at him. “Mine isn’t as recent.”

He shrugged back, watching you as your eyes flutter shut once more.

“My family is shit. My parents hate me. Some kid wrote a weird letter about my sister. I freaked the fuck out. It was just kind of the last straw, I guess?”

 It was quiet for a few more moments. You opened your mouth to speak, then Liz clapped loudly, asking everyone to return to their seats. Group began again, and Connor avoided your eyes at all costs.

[let-the-dream-begin]

When the World is Free Chapter 2: From My Sinking Sand to Your Solid Ground

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

The first thing Claire was aware of was the pounding of her head.

She groaned loudly, and even that sound made her head split. She roughly rubbed her eyes and tried to open them, then chickened out when the sunlight sent a knife between her eyes.

The second thing she was aware of was that she was stark naked.

Oh, fuck.

That was enough to shake her from her stupor. She sat straight up and searched the room blearily, but John was nowhere to be seen.

Thank God.

She didn’t think she could bear to do a walk of shame in her own bedroom.

She’d thought perhaps it had been a wild, alcohol induced dream. But apparently she really had stripped herself and her homosexual husband naked and ridden him into oblivion. And then cried herself to sleep on top of him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She pulled a robe out of the wardrobe and wound it tightly around herself, not bothering to dress since she most definitely needed a shower anyway. She emerged from the bedroom, already cringing. The smell of coffee wafted into her consciousness, and it was enough to draw her from the doorway and into the kitchen.

John was sitting at the table with his own cup, staring blankly at the wall in front of him until the pitter patter of Claire’s bare feet caught his attention.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice clipped.

Christ, he could barely look at her.

“The pot should still be hot.”

Claire forced a tight-lipped smile as she shuffled over to the pot of coffee and poured herself a mug. “Thank you.”

He hummed awkwardly in response. Claire sat down slowly with her cup, cringing at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor.

“That bad, is it?”

Claire groaned and rubbed between her eyes, carefully setting the hot mug down in front of her. “Indeed.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several agonizing moments, each quietly sipping their coffee.

“Claire, I want — ”

“John, I should — ”

They both snapped their mouths shut, then began stammering apologies over one another.

“I’d…like to go first. If that’s alright,” Claire said uneasily. John nodded, and she cleared her throat, setting her coffee down again.

“What happened last night…it was unforgivable. Me, I mean,” she added quickly. “That was despicable of me. To use your love for him against you like that.”

She felt her face flush hot with shame, and John averted his eyes, a blush creeping into his own face as well.

“I’m a nurse. I know that…arousal doesn’t always mean you…want to…go further.” She swallowed against a rush of tears. “I took advantage of you. I’m…so ashamed, John. I’m so sorry.”

John put his hand up. “It’s alright, Claire.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“If I’d wanted to stop you I could have.”

She stiffened in shock, her hooded eyes widening for a moment.

“I feel I took advantage of you as well, my dear. You were…quite insistent. But I should have stopped you.”

“John — ”

“So I am sorry. Truly and deeply.” His voice sounded pained, and he looked like he was about to cry.

She knew deep down she did not deserve to be apologized to, but to spare him any further pain, she acquiesced. “It’s alright.”

“I used your body for comfort just as much as you used mine. I admit it makes…far less sense to me than it must for you…but use you I did.”

Claire nodded. “I agree. We…used one another. In a way we shouldn’t have.”

John nodded as well. “I think we should…make an agreement while neither of us are inebriated. Something that we can refer to when one or both of us is in too much pain to stop ourselves.”

“I agree.” Claire straightened and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I have to say this to a homosexual housemate…” Claire tried her hand at humor, and immediately regretted it before continuing. “But I don’t think we should have any more sex. At all.”

“Agreed. And we must not…” He cleared his throat and sniffled. “We must not use Jamie to hurt one another.”

“Never again,” Claire vowed solemnly, reaching across the table and taking his hand. “I promise.”

“I promise, too.”

They gave each other’s hands a squeeze, but were both reluctant to let go.

“What happened…was not right. I shall probably feel guilty until the end of time,” Claire said. “But I think it was just…something we needed to get out of our systems.” John nodded in agreement. “And I think we can move past this, together,” Claire continued. “For Jamie’s sake.”

He nodded again, and gave her hand another squeeze. “And for the baby.”

Claire’s stomach flipped, and her free hand automatically came to rest on her abdomen. “Yes,” she said, and then swallowed thickly. “For the baby.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze before releasing her and standing up. She quickly swiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

“I’m going to make some porridge, it may help with your headache.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

——

They began a careful dance, a dance with no choreographed steps, but rather an improvised routine that they both fell into. Sidestepping where they needed, pushing and pulling to avoid stepping on each other’s toes in every sense of the word. At first, they stayed as far away from each other as possible in bed, to the point where Claire thought they would both tumble off if one of them so much as sneezed. She’d even considered pawning off the double bed and using the money to buy twin beds. Maybe then she’d be less tempted to ravage him in grief again.

But then, one night, she woke in the night to use the loo, as she’d started doing about a million times per night to empty her pregnant bladder. When she returned, she heard quiet sniffles and small whimpers.

The poor, dear man was weeping.

She crept back under the covers and faced him, his back turned to her. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not, so she reached out and touched his shoulder.

“John?”

He froze. He was awake then.

“Are you alright, darling?”

He continued sniffling, but the little sobs ceased.

“You can talk to me. It’s…what I’m here for. As your wife.”

Claire knew that her time to be married to the love of her life had come and gone. Love as fierce as her and Jamie’s was not meant to last for a whole lifetime, and she was lucky enough to have experienced it at all. Her time had come now to be something else for someone new. Though their marriage was devoid of carnal love and pleasure, she could not deny the growing tenderness for this sweet, thoughtful man.

She whispered his name again and gave his shoulder a light squeeze, and he finally turned to face her. In the glowing moonlight, she could see the tear tracks, the redness of his swollen eyes. Her hand fell on the pillow next to his face, and she waited.

“I…I dreamt of him.”

Claire swore she heard her heart break.

“It was…very real. And when I woke it was like…”

“Like losing him all over again,” Claire whispered hoarsely, understanding immediately. She’d had many a similar dream.

John nodded, blinking back another rush of tears.

“I wasn’t even…we weren’t even…”

Claire nodded; he didn’t have to elaborate.

“He was with you,” John said. “And I didn't even care. Seeing him smile at you was the greatest joy my heart has ever known. I didn’t even care if that…that look was never meant to be mine. I just…wanted him to be happy.”

Claire let out a tiny sob that seemed to echo until she realized it was John breaking down again.

“I wanted to see him grow old and have children…he wanted to so badly…”

Claire fiercely pulled herself right up against him, cradling his head at her breast and weeping into his hair as he clung desperately to her nightgown.

That was the first night Claire was grateful she shared a bed with someone; sharing a bed meaning something different than she’d ever imagined it could. She’d mused recently that to sleep, actually sleep with someone gave a sense of intimacy, as though her dreams could flow out of her to mingle with his and fold them both in a blanket of unconscious knowing. It was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring people closer together than the joining of bodies. She could somehow feel this with John, that just allowing her body to fall away into unconsciousness as he did the same, that building that mutual trust between them in this new way was bringing them closer. Especially since their particular joining of bodies had been the farthest thing from bringing them closer.

Some nights she woke to his weeping, or he to hers. They’d grown accustomed to just reaching for the other’s hand, and they would fall back asleep with several inches between their bodies and their hands clasped between them.

It was a comfort that Claire was quickly growing to depend on.

About a week after they'd been married, John took a job as an architect, the career path he'd been preparing for before the war. While he was gone, Claire taught herself to cook, failing miserably more often than not and serving her husband failed dish after failed dish. She went on walks, she read, she picked herbs and flowers in the park, she tended to a small pot of herbs that John had surprised her with in the window of the kitchen one day. She was a terrible cook, but at least her garlic, chamomile, and peppermint were thriving.

The peppermint quite came in handy when the morning sickness started in earnest. John was quite darling about the whole ordeal, never entering the bathroom until he could audibly tell that she’d stopped retching, but he was already prepared with a hot rag and a glass of water, peppermint tea brewing and nearly ready for her consumption.

It wasn’t right away that Claire began missing him during the day, not right away at all. In the beginning she’d enjoyed the alone time with her plants and any strays she decided to pluck from the side of the road or the middle of a field. She enjoyed the time alone to scream into a pillow and weep until her heart could no longer stand it. She enjoyed the time where she held onto Jamie’s old rosary and talked to him like he could hear her.

But the more weeks that passed, the more Claire realized that she’d grown fond enough of John’s presence to feel his absence when he was gone.

It wasn’t that she was never fond of him to begin with. The times she’d visited Jamie during the war and had drinks with John and laughed with him were truly wonderful. She’d always admired his intelligence, his wit, always respected him and appreciated everything he’d done for the man she loved.

But things had somehow changed in that she was truly beginning to see him as a companion. She was truly starting to feel lonely in the hours that he worked, truly starting to look forward to his return home like she supposed a wife should for her husband.

Claire had always sworn that she would not leave her entire life’s purpose to being a wife, even a wife to Jamie. She’d shared her far-off dream of medical school with Jamie, and he’d kissed her with joy for her eventual success; the memory caused deep pangs of sadness in her chest. So for her to find meaning in looking forward to her husband coming home, however amicable a companion he was, could have felt like a betrayal to her very character.

It didn’t, though.

It was an odd comfort, relying on John, and she supposed he felt the same. They read by the fire in their respective armchairs at night, John occasionally remarking on a particular passage to her. In the beginning, she’d only hum in amusement in response, but as more time went on, she allowed it to open discussion, and she’d even started doing it with her own books, engaging him like that.

After reading, they’d strip themselves of their guises of husband and wife. The only visible remnants of their marriage were shared smiles over books or meals (or lack thereof) or flowerpots. Without those, they were just John and Claire, frightened and lonely as they’d always been, hands entwined under the covers in the wide gap between them.

He actually brought home flowers on occasion, on two or three random days throughout the month. Claire found it incredibly endearing. He strode into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes for supper one night as Claire arranged bluebells in a vase, and she allowed perhaps the first genuine smile in months.

He’s trying, God love him.

Claire kissed him on the cheek as she put his plate in front of him that night at supper, and he kissed hers in bed before rolling away and reinstating the gap between them.

Always touching hands.

——

Before she knew it, Claire’s clothing wasn’t fitting anymore, her stomach finally showing true evidence of the life it grew after months of hiding.

And then she felt it, like a bubbly champagne stuck in her chest, like the flutter of butterflies.

Hello, little one.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Claire said that night over supper. She’d managed a fine beef stew that night, impressing both John and herself. “I don’t want to have the baby in the hospital.”

John comically appeared to choke on his stew. “Beg pardon?”

“Women do do it. Home births, I mean. I had a friend in the army who delivered babies at people’s homes.”

“Isn’t it…” He swallowed a lump of soft carrots. “Painful?”

Claire chuckled. “Well, certainly. But I’d…rather be awake. I can’t stand what they’re doing these days, putting the mothers under with God knows what. I wouldn’t be able to stand it, not knowing what was happening to me for the entire birth. If something were to happen, I would want to be awake.”

“But what if something were to happen?” John said, laying down his spoon.

“If something truly dire were to happen, the hospital isn’t far.”

“God, Claire! What if you died on the way there?”

“Please.” Claire rolled her eyes. “If I was at high risk, I’d go to the hospital from the beginning. Alright? But I truly think everything will be alright. I’d like to have a midwife start coming to make sure of that.”

“What about your friend?”

“Oh, she lives in Glasgow.”

He took up his spoon again, then got a gleam in his eye. “What if I could put her up here, in London?”

Claire put down her own spoon, the corners of her mouth twitching into a grin. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most simple matter in the world. “I can see you’re not to be argued with on this matter, and I’d rather have the woman in charge of your health and the health of our child be someone you already trust. She’s capable?”

Claire’s mind had momentarily gone blank at his casual utterance.

Our child.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Claire jolted a bit, shaking her head. “Yes, yes, just a small dizzy spell…” She cleared her throat. “Geillis is quite capable, I assure you. You won’t find someone more so. And it’s as I said: if she thinks it unsafe for me to not have medical intervention, then I will not argue. I promise.”

John nodded curtly, smiling widely. “Then it’s settled. Phone her tomorrow, won’t you?”

Claire took up her spoon again. “I will.”

Our child.

“What’s brought all this on?” John said, spooning more stew into his mouth.

Claire smiled wistfully, her hand resting on the tiny bump. “I felt him today.”

He almost choked again.

“You did?”

“Yes. It’s…too tiny to feel from the outside, otherwise I’d have shown you already. But he’s…he’s fluttering around in there.” She smiled down at her stomach. “It’s…wonderful.”

“That is…wonderful news, my dear,” John said, his eyes bright with joy. “I’m glad of it.”

Claire allowed a few moments of amicable silence to pass between them, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Did you…mean it when you said…our child?”

For the third time in one meal, Claire thought she had caused her husband to choke.

“God, Claire, I’m…I’m so, very sorry. I didn’t mean…I couldn’t ever…”

“It’s alright,” Claire interrupted gently. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s Jamie’s child. I know that.”

“I know. And I know you know that.” She held his gaze, and she could tell he very much wanted to melt into the floor with shame. “I can’t lie and say it didn’t catch me off guard. Because it did. But it’s…not a bad thing.”

She drew in a long, tremulous breath before continuing.

“Jamie is gone. The father of my child is dead.” Her voice only broke on the last word, and she sardonically congratulated herself in her head. “You are…for all intents and purposes…this baby’s father. And I…I want it to be that way. For the baby. It’s…what Jamie would want.”

John nodded, eyes watering.

“So it’s…it’s alright for you to call him…ours. Because he is.” She covered the small bump with both of her hands, cradling it as if her little child could feel it. “That was just…the first time you’ve said that instead of just ‘the baby.’ So I wanted to be sure you meant it. Or if it was just a slip.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, and she could swear she saw his pupils dilate. “I did mean it, my dear. I wouldn’t say something with that much weight so carelessly.”

Claire nodded, offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Good.”

Their spoons clattered in the thick silence between them.

“Him?” John suddenly said.

“Hm?” Claire looked up at him.

“You keep saying ‘him.’ That sure it’s a boy?”

Claire smiled and chuckled through her nose. “I just…have a feeling, that’s all. A feeling that I’m carrying my little Brian James.”

She could practically see his heart swelling, inflating his chest and causing him to sit up straighter. “For Jamie’s father.”

“That’s right. And for his father as well.”

“It’s…perfect, Claire.” He nodded in confirmation, his eyes wide with something that Claire could only describe as adoration. “Perfect for our son.”

——

John put Geillis up in a flat a few blocks away so that they could walk back and forth to each other with relative ease. Geillis determined that the baby was in excellent shape, and that Claire was a great candidate for a natural birth. Geillis was a bit flighty and slightly mysterious, but that was what Claire had loved about her when they met. She was very reliant on herbs and incense. Claire could tell that her witchy tendencies unnerved John quite a bit, and it often made her giggle to see him uncomfortable in her presence. He didn’t say anything, though, out of respect for Claire’s love for the woman.

Geillis was slightly better in the kitchen than Claire was, so she’d been sharing recipes (much to John’s chagrin; he didn’t trust that there wasn’t something supernatural in anything she fed them). They baked together in either of their flats when John was at work, went on walks together, enjoyed each other’s company. It was refreshing to have female company, and wonderful to have someone to spend time with when she would have otherwise been counting down the minutes until John’s return from work.

Two months after Geillis’s arrival as midwife and friend, Claire was nearly six months pregnant. She was starting to feel exhausted more often than not. She napped quite often, even in Geillis’s flat. Her feet and ankles were constantly sore and swollen, and John had taken to rubbing them for her, having asked her how to do it most to her liking. It was terribly endearing to her.

Claire left Geillis’s flat earlier than usual on one particular day, not wanting to fall dead asleep on her sofa again. She stopped for a few groceries on the way home, not sure if she had enough to prepare the recipe she’d decided on for the night. When she arrived home, she was pleasantly surprised to see John’s shoes and coat by the front door. She didn’t see him in the living room or in the kitchen when she put the brown paper bag down on the counter, so she shuffled into the bedroom to make sure he wasn’t home early because he was ill.

“John, darling, is everything — ”

Claire’s throat went dry and her eyes popped out of her head when she took in the sight on the bed. John was stark naked, cock in his fist, jerking his hips into his hand. He froze immediately at the sound of her voice, covering himself with both hands.

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink as she averted her eyes staring at a leaf fluttering by the window. “I’m…I’m sorry…” she stammered. “I saw your coat, and I thought…I’m sorry.”

“I’m…ashamed. Forgive me. I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“No, no. Please don’t be,” Claire said quickly. “It’s…perfectly natural.”

Claire had been very clear with John before they married that she would be perfectly alright with him taking male lovers. She knew she could never provide what he really needed, and she knew this marriage was not for love. He’d thanked her and said he would keep it in mind.

It would appear there hadn’t been any forward momentum on that front.

Claire had no conceivable idea why she was still standing in the doorway staring at the window. “I’ll ehm, just…” She cleared her throat and started to shuffle away, but then stopped herself. “Do you…” she began, only half turning to him. “Want help?”

She looked shyly at him, pointedly only looking at his face. He was beet red with embarrassment, and now looked terribly scandalized.

“The…agreement?” he said, his brow raised in questioning.

“I know. But we’re both sober at the moment, and it wouldn’t really be sex. I…I wouldn’t mind.” She flicked her eyes away from him and wet her lips. “But only if it’ll help. I know I’m not…you know.”

She saw him nod from the corner of her eye. “You, ehm, needn’t trouble yourself.”

“Alright. That’s alright.” Claire nodded curtly and then saw herself out of the bedroom, scuttling back into the kitchen to unpack her groceries.

She did not expect the strange thrill that coursed through her when she heard her name.

Her breathing went ragged as she put down a cabbage on the counter and walked slowly back to the bedroom.

“Did you…call me?” she asked timidly through the crack in the door.

“Yes…you can come in.”

She slowly pushed the door open, taking deep, trembling breaths.

“I’d…like your help. If you don’t mind.”

She blinked back her shock and swallowed against a sandpaper throat before taking slow, even steps across the room and sitting down before him.

He was not as well endowed as Jamie, but it was sizable nonetheless, and had still felt good in that drunken stupor all those months ago. She met his eye and cautiously brought her hand forward. He gave a small groan when her hand wrapped around the base of him. He was burning to the touch, and it fascinated her. She maintained eye contact as she slowly began pumping him, up and down, and he groaned again.

“Is this alright?” she whispered, rolling her thumb over the tip.

“Yes,” he choked out. “Quite…alright.”

Claire smirked and began pumping faster, but not maddeningly so. Not yet.

She had half a mind to ask him what he’d been thinking of before she’d interrupted, but she didn’t need to. She knew.

And she knew how painfully terrible it was to long for the ghost of someone’s touch.

So she didn’t pry, she just worked her hands as expertly as she knew how, until he was panting heavily and jerking his hips up toward her hand. Only then did she double down on the speed, her forearm burning with the effort. He came with a strangled cry, shooting his seed upward, landing on his stomach.

She slowed her hand until she felt him go soft, and then she rested her hand on his thigh, smiling shyly at him. He was laying back, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath. Claire got up and returned from the bathroom with a towel, and by that time he had seemingly regained his senses.

“Thank you,” he said warmly as he took the towel in his hands, but Claire felt that he was perhaps thanking her for more than just the towel.

“It’s alright, isn’t it?” she said nervously, sitting down. “You don’t feel as if we’ve broken the agreement?”

“No, not at all.” He got up and dressed himself again, though he remained shirtless when he turned back to her. “You were just…helping me finish a job I’d already started.”

Claire nodded, smiling self-consciously, her cheeks blushing fiercely. “Right.”

“You don’t have to blush, my dear.” He closed the distance between them and sweetly kissed her forehead. “You’re my wife after all.”

She nodded again, painfully aware of the heat that had gathered in her stomach and farther down.

“You’re quite warm,” he said, ghosting his fingertips over the apple of her cheeks. “Is it…because…?”

She nodded.

“Ah.” He sat down next to her. “I’m afraid I…wouldn’t be much help. Your knowledge of male pleasure far exceeds that of mine concerning female pleasure.”

“It’s alright,” Claire said gently, covering his hand with hers. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

He smiled gratefully at her, holding her gaze warmly.

Claire had no idea what prompted her to blurt: “You could watch me.”

His mouth popped open a bit, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Women can do it themselves too, you know.” She smirked, though she was still blushing fiercely. “I wouldn’t mind if you watched. It may…help.”

He swallowed again, drawing his hand away from hers.

“But you don’t want me to…”

“You don’t have to.” She pushed herself higher up onto the bed and unbuttoned her dress, then slid it over her head. She wasn’t sure how John would feel if she got completely naked, so she left her slip on. She reached under it to remove her underwear.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” she said, a warning. Before she really began.

“I…I do. Want to.”

She smiled at him and set her underwear aside, away from him. She let her legs fall apart and ghosted her fingers over the slick, wet folds.

“When a woman is aroused…” she said breathily, taking a stuttering breath as her fingers reached the source of her moisture. “Instead of a cockstand, she gets…wet.”

She withdrew her hand to show him, and he stared at the glistening wetness on her fingers with vulgar curiosity.

Smiling devilishly, she returned to her task, gathering more moisture and setting to work on her clitoris. 

“I…aroused you?”

John’s voice brought her out of a haze of pleasure, and she met his gaze with hooded eyelids.

She heard what he left unsaid:

I did…not Jamie?

“You did, John,” she breathed out. “It makes me feel…very good to give a man pleasure.”

It was the truth, really. Jamie was, of course, the subject of her every thought, her every fantasy. In her moments alone, when Geillis was not around, it was thoughts of Jamie’s hands, Jamie’s tongue, Jamie’s cock that roused her to the point of no return. And it was those thoughts that had her weeping in grief after she’d climaxed. But this was different. For the first time, she wasn’t aroused by a fantasy, but rather by the sight of a real man coming right in front of her. By her hand. Did she think of her love in that same position? God, of course. Was she imagining his touch? Certainly. But seeing John, sweet, gentle John, in the throes of pleasure had flipped a switch in her fevered mind.

It was different.

John swallowed hard again in response to her words, and she redoubled her efforts on herself. She did not hold back, allowing her eyes to fall shut and for her desperate keening to get as loud as it would naturally get without restraint. She laid back, neck arching as she moaned loudly with ecstasy.

She picked her head back up when she felt she was close, and made deliberate eye contact with John as she slipped a finger in, still keeping her maddening pace on her clitoris. John’s lips parted and he swallowed again, and with the insertion of a second finger, curling them in and upwards, Claire let out a ragged gasp. Her hips jerked off the mattress, thrusting into nothingness as she continued her rapid assault of her clitoris, her fingers frozen inside her as her walls clenched around them. She let out a sweet sounding moan as her hand finally slowed, and she gradually lowered back onto the mattress, her head swimming and her back slick with sweat.

She kept her eyes closed as she came down from her high, her chest heaving. When she opened her eyes, John was still staring at her, his mouth hanging open. She was still breathing heavily, and she smiled up at him shyly.

“Do you, ehm…” He cleared his throat. “Do you feel better now?”

She nodded lazily, feeling her eyes slide shut again.

“I can finish with your groceries. You seem tired.”

She nodded, eyes still closed, and curled into the pillow, draping her arm over it lazily. She felt like an infant, drugged with sleep after breastfeeding, having satiated herself.

Consciousness was just beginning to slip away from her when she felt a blanket drape over her shoulders, and a gentle peck on her temple.

“Sleep well, my dear.”

[bookloversreviewer]

"Absolutely SWOON-WORTHY! Sweet and sexy and so romantic! Prepare to be swept away by Andrew and Grace!" - A.L. Jackson, New York Times bestselling author

Unexpectedly Yours, an all-new sizzling hot office romance from USA Today bestselling author Rebecca Shea, is available now!

One night of unbridled passion.

It was the only thing Andrew McPherson and Grace Morgan could afford.

Intense.

Sexy.

Unforgettable.

They promised they would never see each other again, but fate had other plans. Andrew’s entire life has been spent working toward one goal—to own the top advertising and public relations company in the world. He’s driven, ruthless when it comes to business, never letting anything stand in his way…until Grace.

Grace has worked hard to build her advertising career. She’s fiercely talented and dedicated to her clients. Grace has no interest in getting involved with a man when she knows her focus should be on her career and paying off her mounting debt.

Andrew knows better than to get involved with a woman who is completely off limits, but he never backs down from what he wants, and he won’t stop until Grace is his…only this might cost him more than he’s willing to give.

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Excerpt

There’s a loud knock on the conference room door that startles both Jamie and me. She jumps up and opens the door, just as Eddie pops his head inside.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies,” he starts. “We have the conference room reserved for a client meeting in five minutes.”

I glance at my watch and see that it’s almost nine o’clock. Jamie and I have been in here for almost an hour.

“Shit,” I mumble, grabbing my empty coffee cup. “I have to get to work.”

“Me too,” says Jamie, following me from the conference room back toward our desks.

I stop abruptly, causing Jamie to run into my backside when I see Drew standing in my cube, staring out my window over a cloudy, rainy Manhattan. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his dress shirt is rolled up to his forearms. Tan, muscular arms stick out from under that crisp dress shirt. Even casual, he looks like the powerhouse CEO that he is. My heart rate kicks up a notch at the sight of him.

As Jamie nudges me forward, I clear my throat as I do my best to look unaffected by his presence.

“Mr. McPherson,” I acknowledge him, but don’t look at him. I slide into my desk chair and enter the password to my computer, bringing the screen back to life.

“Good morning,” he says from behind me and I still keep my eyes trained on my computer. “And good morning, Jamie,” he says, acknowledging her.

I glance up at Jamie and see her smile at him knowingly. Dammit, Jamie.

“Morning, Mr. McPherson. Busy weekend getting to know New York City?” she asks him with the kind of innocence only a skilled liar could pull off. I’m going to fucking kill her. I narrow my eyes at her and she winks at me.

I spin around in my chair to look at Drew, whose eyes jump back and forth between us, and I can see he’s picked up that I’ve filled her in. I hang my head in shame and shake my head.

“It was a wonderful weekend,” he tells her honestly.

“Do anything exciting?” she asks, her tone snarky and her questions intruding. “Or anyone?” she says under her breath and I choke.

“Are you okay?” Drew asks me.

“Fine,” I cough out, tossing a glare at Jamie, who giggles and slides into her desk chair. I pick up a pen off my desk and throw it at her. It hits her back. She bursts into laughter and Drew shakes his head in amusement at us.

He leans over my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “I missed you last night.” His warm breath causes me to shiver and catch my breath. “I didn’t like waking up and you not being there,” he continues, knowing the effect he has on me.

I shift in my chair and sit up straight, trying to drown out the throbbing that has started between my legs.

I spin slowly toward him and stop, his face mere inches from mine. “I slept remarkably well,” I tell him.

He smiles. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” I whisper.

“You are.” He brushes a knuckle over my top lip and my skin breaks out in goosebumps. “When you lie, your upper lip twitches.” Jesus Christ, this man has me all figured out.

I hold his gaze and my heart stammers in my chest. Looking at him, I can’t help but feel that I’ve missed him too.

“I’d like to meet with you later to go over a few things,” he says, standing up. “How does eleven thirty in my office sound?”

“Sounds fine,” I muster out.

“See you then, Gracie.”

Drew saunters out of my cube and down the hallway. I can’t help it as my eyes follow him as he walks through the rows of cubes until he reaches his office. I notice Jamie watching him too before she spins around in her chair and faces me.

“Holy fuck,” she hisses. “That man has it bad for you.” I look back at Drew’s office and watch the door close before I look at Jamie again.

“I know.” And sadly, I have it just as bad for him.

About Rebecca Shea

Rebecca Shea is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Unbreakable series (Unbreakable, Undone, and Unforgiven), the Bound & Broken series (Broken by Lies and Bound by Lies) and two stand alone novels, Dare Me and Fault Lines. She has also co-written two books with her friend, A.L. Jackson, The Hollywood Chronicles: One Wild Night and One Wild Ride

​

She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her family. From the time Rebecca could read she has had a passion for books. Rebecca spends her days working full-time and her nights writing, bringing stories to life. Born and raised in Minnesota, Rebecca moved to Arizona in 1999 to escape the bitter winters.

When not working or writing, she can be found on the sidelines of her sons football games, or watching her daughter at ballet class. Rebecca is fueled by insane amounts of coffee, margaritas, Laffy Taffy (except the banana ones), and happily ever afters.

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Website: https://www.rebeccasheaauthor.com

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 6 ~Confessions~

She thought about Jamie's kiss, and she couldn't decide whether she was enlightened or confused, excited or frightened with his actions. One thing for sure, she was caught off guard. Not having any previous kisses to compare it to, as far as she was concerned, it was a kind of kiss that made her see fireworks behind her eyelids. She tried to picture Frank kissing her the same way as Jamie did, but the image failed to form in her mind, which made it even harder to comprehend.  Wasn't it Frank she was supposed to be in love with?  It's true, she was infatuated with him, and she carried that belief right through adulthood, convincing herself to this day that she was in love. Until Jamie's kiss. 

Claire had always loved Jamie  as a brother  and more than once, long ago, she had fantasised what it would be like to be with him, only to shove those thoughts to the back of her head as she felt it wasn't right to indulge in such fancy.  What would ma and da think?  All those years, she had vehemently convinced herself that whatever was between them was nothing more than a brother-sister bond, and it had become a mantra she religiously repeated over and over again until she had come to accept it as reality.

"Claire? Ye in there?" The doorknob rattled.

It was Geillis. Claire stood up from her dressing table to open the door. She had locked the door earlier in case Jamie came in. She wanted some alone time after their kiss. "Hey, how was your outing with Willie?"

Geillis brushed past her and plonked herself onto the bed. "Ne'er mind my outing. Sorry to leave ye earlier so abruptly..." She stopped mid-sentence and looked at her friend. She thought Claire looked odd. "What happened Claire? Did Jamie give ye a hard time now did he? I shouldn't have left ye behind earlier but..."

"I had my first kiss..." Claire announced trying to sound indifferent as she sat in front of her dressing table, trying to tame her unruly locks. It was useless hiding anything from her friend because she knew Geiliis would have found out before the evening was over.

"Whoa! Weel, weel... that was rather quick. What did ye dae after I left? Call Frank for a trial run or what? Did ye say to Frank...hey, let's dae a preliminary test and see what needs tweaking."

Claire laughed. "Don't be daft. Yeah, yeah Frank stopped by to handover my phone that I accidentally dropped in the parking lot. But the kiss happened before he came."

Geillis looked momentarily confused, but as the dots began to connect, her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and her dimples deepened. "Noooo! Jamie?"

Claire nodded as heat crept up her face. She was glad her friend was there to confide to since it was hardly a topic she could share with Jenny or Willie. "Erm, as a matter of fact, he continued where you left off. You know...French kiss lesson and all...It happened so fast, and before I knew it, we were kissing."

It was Geillis turn to laugh. "Aah, not so much brotherly now, eh? I'm no' surprised at all. I've seen the way he stares at ye when ye're no' looking...I'm wondering now what took Jamie so long. I think he's in love with ye. I ken the look of love when I see it."

Claire's heart was spasming like a dying fish. "Jesus, Geillis...I haven't had time to wrap my head around what happened earlier, and you're talking about love already. Damn it, why did Jamie have to complicate things?"

"Complicate things?" Geillis leaned back on her elbows on the bed and raised an eyebrow. "Claire, hen, Jamie might have done ye a favour. If you were really into Frank, we wouldnae be having this discussion and that kiss wouldnae mean a thing."

"Of course, it means something. We grew up together, and I've always loved Jamie. He's the best thing that ever happened to me growing up here in Lallybroch. It makes it complicated because of our circumstances."

Geillis snorted. "It's no' complicated. Ye're making it complicated! Ye're in denial because in yer mind ye think Brian and Ellen will be disappointed. Christ, Claire, why don't ye just stop overthinking things and enjoy the ride? As they say, no pain, no gain!"

There was truth in what Geillis was saying, but Claire had a lot of disappointment in life. What she had with the Fraser family was too precious, so why rock the boat to indulge in some curiosity? Although she was well travelled, anything that had to do with matters of the heart was unchartered territory. "Look, let's not discuss this any further. We have a dinner to go to. Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Aye, I should," she replied, jumping off the bed. "But before I go, tell me this, did ye enjoy the kiss?"

She smiled secretively. "As a matter of fact, I did enjoy the kiss, and that's what I'm afraid of," Claire admitted shyly. "I'm just hoping it wasn't one-off."

"Listen, Claire...you and Jamie need to talk. I can only give ye possibilities of what it may all mean, but only ye and Jamie have the answer to what ye're looking for. And for fuck sake, let me remind ye again...he's not yer brother, just in case ye have the mind to try to convince yersel' of something that's not." Before Claire could reply, Geillis left the room, leaving her to her own thoughts. She knew Geillis was right...she needed to speak to Jamie.

.........

Putting aside the axe, he headed towards the house. Jenny had booked them a table at the Italian restaurant, and he had a couple of hours to wash and change. He made a mental note to lock the bathroom door before taking a shower. " Or maybe not?"  Jamie thought, smiling to himself with a shake to his head. He was just about to go up the stairs when he noticed the TV room door was open. They had always kept that room shut to keep the warmth in.

Jamie was about to shut the door when he noticed Claire was inside by the drinks cabinet, pouring herself a good measure of whisky. She was dressed in a short grey turtle neck top, and a high wasted black cropped trousers.  No danger of her walking into the bathroom then! Pity!  

"Sassenach? Ye drinking already? Don't ye want to wait after ye've eaten?" With her back to him, he couldn't help but admire her arse, her trousers fitting snugly to accentuate her curves.  Christ, when did she start to have hips like that?  He was so used to seeing her with oversized sweatshirts that it blew his mind to see her wear something that fitted like a second skin.

Claire spun around too quickly, almost flipping to her side. In three strides, Jamie caught her by the elbow, steadying her feet. "Ooh, it's you, Jamie," she murmured. She straightened herself up and offered her glass to him. "Want some?" She rolled her lips inwards, leaving them twice as full when she freed them, reminding Jamie of what it had looked like after kissing her thoroughly earlier.

Damn it!  He took the glass and downed the whisky. "Christ Sassenach, are ye bevvied or what?"

"Of course not, don't be silly. Ummm... actually, I needed a bit of Dutch courage," Claire answered, smiling, pink spreading across her face.

"Seriously, whatever for..?" he rasped, thinking the whisky had to be the reason why he sounded like a wrench scraping the concrete.  A Dhia, she's so beautiful...I need to tell her! It's now or never.

"I wanted to ask why you kissed me earlier," Claire whispered, lowering her voice in case someone might hear, as her eyes darted to the open doorway.

He took a step nearer gazing at her face for the longest time. Claire was no longer a lass on a cusp of womanhood but had grown up to be one damn sexy woman whether she was aware of it or not. "Ye really want to know, Sassenach?"

"Uh-huh, I do," she replied thoughtfully, her eyes crossing as she lowered her gaze to his mouth.

"I don't want to be yer brother nor yer friend any more," he said in a very rough voice. His heart thundered in his ears as he noticed where her eyes were cast.

"Why not? Don't you like me?" she asked softly, her breath warming his neck.

"Och Sassenach, you have a beautiful soul - one that shines out of you from within. How could ye think I don't like ye?" he mumbled gruffly, fascinated at how her amber gaze was fastened to his mouth. "You're beautiful inside and out. And I've told ye that a thousand times before." 

"Then tell me why you don't want to be my friend nor my brother anymore."

Caution crawled his back. He could hear his family going about their business, and anyone of them could walk right in any minute. If he was to confess his feelings, he didn't want anyone walking in. He quickly turned around and closed the door, locking it before turning his attention back to Claire, putting both his hands on her shoulders. "Because there's something I've always wanted to tell ye and I'm tired of keeping it a secret. I haven't wanted to be yer brother for as long as I can remember because..." He stopped, trying to catch his breath. "Because I'm in love with ye Claire. I've waited for a very long time..."

Claire's mouth formed an "Oh" as he cradled the underside of her jaws between his large hands and lowered his lips. After a brief kiss, he raised his head a little to look into her eyes as he waited anxiously for her response.

"Oh, Jamie, why didn't you tell me?" she asked after a moment of reflection.

"Maybe I was waiting for the right time...or maybe I was waiting until ye were old enough."

Her brows furrowed. "Old enough for what? Old enough so you could tell me what you feel?"

"Old enough for this."

His mouth slowly lowered down upon hers, giving her time to step away. But instead, without prompting and to his surprise, their lips touched as she kissed him, her hands clasping behind his neck, pulling him down closer. All those years waiting to pour his heart out that seemed to encompass a millennium suddenly seemed as though it had been no time at all. She tasted of whisky and of something sweet, and it wasn't enough. Jamie wanted more.

Not breaking their kiss, he lifted her up, and her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. Excitement shot through him with the knowledge that she wanted him too. He had been for too long making an effort trying to keep his feelings in check, protecting her from what he desperately wanted to do - until she was old enough to want it and not be terrified by it. But it's not nearly enough, he needed to know.

With a groan, Jamie dragged his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes.

"Don't stop Jamie...kiss me some more," she pleaded, her eyes glazed.

"Under one condition...cancel yer date with Frank," he said huskily, as he teased her by brushing his lips against her cheeks.

"Hmmm, I will, now kiss me...again," she said, tilting her head and offering her lips.

He became undone and kissed her deeply, their tongues engaged in an ancient dance. She met his movements, surprising him with her unexpected enthusiasm. Gently kneading her through the fabric of her clothes, he purposely brushed a hand on the side of her breast, her moans nearly pushing him over the edge.

It's too soon!  Panting heavily, Jamie broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. "I thought I'd go mad waiting for this to happen," he breathed, his eyes shut tight, trying to exercise tremendous restraint. He waited for his heart rate to return to normal before continuing. "But what I need to know is...what are yer thoughts about us, Sassenach? I need to know..."

Claire lowered herself from Jamie but kept her arms around his neck. "Jamie, you've always known that I love you...I said it often enough, have I not?"

"Aye ye did, but it always sounded like..." he winced, "like ye're talking to me as if I'm yer brother...and I'm not."

"No, you're not my brother, I get that now. I don't think I could look at you the same way again after today." She whispered as her eyelids fell to half-mast. "I do love you, Jamie. I think I was using my childhood infatuation with Frank to hide what I felt. I thought I would be betraying your family's trust if I acted on my feelings towards you," she said so low, he almost didn't hear. "I'm scared Jamie...I've never done this before. And I'm most especially scared about what your family will think if ever..."

He tipped her chin up and kissed her nose. God help him, he didn't expect that reply. "Christ, I've loved ye for so long, Sassenach. I never thought ye'd see me in any other way than a brother. Don't worry  mo nighean donn,  my family has always been your family, and they love ye. I don't see why they would think it's wrong for us to love each other."

She reached up to kiss him lightly on his chin, threading her fingers in his coppery locks. "I hope you're right, Jamie. I love them so much, and I wouldn't want to hurt them."

He smiled, releasing his hold and moving back. Jamie didn't want to let her go, but there's a dinner they had to go to. "We'll worry about it later. Come on, we don't want to keep Jenny waiting. I'll just go for a quick shower and change. Later, after dinner, I have something to show ye. A surprise."

..........

Although Italian cuisine was one of Jamie's favourite, his discerning tastebuds as a chef couldn't fault his  Osso Buco Alla Milanese  even when it arrived cold at their table. The  Barolo  red wine Willie ordered, which was his least favourite because of its astringency, tasted fruity and soft. He was too happy to care even if the service was slower than usual. Jamie didn't care either if Willie, Jenny or Ian noticed his attention was focused on Claire for the most part of their evening meal. They would have probably put it down to not having seen her for the last six years. Though he had his suspicions that Geillis might have an idea. He didn't care either way.

All he could think about was Claire, blushing the whole evening whenever he leaned close to her or tried to feed her with  Tiramisu . Surely everyone would have noticed since her face was like an open book, but he didn't care. He wanted to shout out to the world, she was his girl, at last.

Finally, when dinner was over, he excused himself and Claire from joining them for a game of bowling, even though it had been Jamie's idea in the first place. To his surprise, they were both dismissed without much resistance and nagging from Jenny. No doubt, because they both hardly joined in any of their conversations during dinner.

Once they were in a cab, and after Jamie gave the address to the driver, Claire slapped him on the thigh. "Jamie! I was looking forward to bowling. Why did you do that for?"

He grinned. "Quit asking questions and come over here. I was looking more forward to this." Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her closer and kissed her slowly until she relaxed in his arms. "That's better, Sassenach," he chuckled, breaking the kiss but still holding her close.

"Where are we going, Jamie?" she asked, ignoring his teasing and trying to determine the direction they were going as she looked out the window.

"It's a surprise! I've been meaning to show it to ye ever since ye arrived."

Claire smiled and snuggled closer, his arm holding her tight against him.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Claire couldn't make out where they were as it was very dark and it felt like they were in the middle of nowhere. After paying the cab, Jamie took her hand and led the way down the path. Once they were in front of a house, he withdrew keys from his pocket and instructed Claire to close her eyes. After slipping the key to the door and nudging it open, he guided her through a room, and once he was satisfied, he told her to open her eyes.

Jamie watched as Claire took in her surrounding, a smile spreading across her face. "Oh my God, Jamie, this fireplace is gorgeous. Whose house is this?"

"Mine," he stated proudly. "I bought it a month ago after my mortgage application was accepted. There is still a lot of work to be done, but I'll get there eventually. Da, Willie, Ian and I have been working on it, but I need to wait for other materials to arrive before I can resume work on it." He walked towards her and hugged her from behind. "Do ye like it Sassenach?"

"Are you kidding me? It's gorgeous! Was this a former croft house?" She turned around to face him, her face beaming with pride. 

"Aye, it was uninhabited for three years; hence I got a bargain. It's no' like Lallybroch...it has only three bedrooms, but it'll do for now," he whispered in her ears, nibbling an earlobe and pulling Claire closer to him. "I was hoping, when ye're ready, you could move in with me."

Claire's eyes widened. "Jamie..."

"Weel, it's no' like we haven't lived under the same roof. We're used to each other living in the same house. But like what I said whenever ye're ready. There's nae rush. I doubt it if it will be finished anytime soon. And I promise I wouldna mind ye barging in the bathroom when I'm taking a shower," he grinned wickedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Claire sighed. "It's beautiful, and I do love it. You finally have your very own traditional house..."

Their conversation was interrupted by Jamie's phone. Pulling away slightly from Claire, Jamie pulled his phone from his pocket. "It's my ex. I won't answer it," he explained, showing her the screen of his mobile. It was Annalise, his ex-girlfriend from France. They had broken up amicably a few months ago, and he hadn't heard from her since. Jamie wondered why she was calling now.

"Who? Annalise? Answer it, Jamie...I don't mind. I can go to the next room if you wish."

Before Claire could move, he pulled her to him, insisting she stayed before answering the phone. And so she did.

"Annalise, est-ce que tout va bien?"

..........

Claire watched Jamie as his face went through different emotions from surprise to sadness and then to shock as he spoke rapid French with his ex-girlfriend. She had known about Annalise as Jamie had mentioned her before, but had never met her in person. 

As Jamie's face went white, Claire became worried, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. But he pulled away, walking towards the window, one hand massaging his neck as he looked out into the dark. When he finally switched off his phone, Jamie just stood there in silence.

"Jamie, what is it? Talk to me!"

"Annalise was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and it's terminal. She doesna have long to live," he said slowly, unsure whether to continue talking. But when he finally did, his voice stammered. "Sassenach, she's pregnant, and she's not sure if I'm the father or no'. She admitted to having a one night stand after we broke up. She's very frightened and said she needs me."

Claire swallowed hard. She knew Annalise was an orphan like her, but she wasn't fortunate enough with her adoptive family who was abusive and cruel. Trying to be brave, she approached Jamie and touched his cheek. "You need to go to her Jamie. She has no one. I know that much because you told me her story awhile ago. She needs you."

Jamie hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. "No...I need ye Sassenach..." he muttered against her neck.

"No Jamie...she needs you more than you need me. We have to be adults about this. Ma would say the same thing," she said as firmly as she could muster, even though tiny pangs of jealousy were stabbing at her heart. "You go to her, and I'll be waiting for you here."

"Christ Sassenach, come with me, and both of us can help her..."

"No Jamie, da needs me remember...the hotel will be opening soon. And I can't let him down."

Jamie had no words as he knew she was right. The only thing Claire could do as a way of comfort, was to embrace him and try to be strong, hoping and praying for a miracle for Annalise's health and fortitude for Jamie.