#me finally figuring out Jamie’s taste in ladies like YES

[impossible-rat-babies]

oh now I’m upsetti thinkin bout jamie and julia now : /

[sirisuorionblack]

James the mother hen

James Potter x Hufflepuff!Reader

Requested - dude hi!! could you maybe do james potter x hufflepuff reader where the reader plays quidditch and gets hurt during a gryffindor v hufflepuff game and he feels really guilty about it and is really overbearing because he wants to help her feel better? or maybe just a sick day fic where james is helping her lol i’m just a sucker for mom friend worried james. thank you!!

Warning - Minor injuries

Authors Note - This is my first time writing in second POV so, sorry if its not great. Hope you like @riddikulusweasleys! 

“Hey, prongs, look who is coming,” Sirius dragged his syllables at the last word, looking at his best mate with a wide smirk on his face. 

James looked up from his single piece of toast - healthy breakfast before quidditch, he said when the rest three of them gawked at him - to Sirius, who was wiggling his eyebrows then across the great hall to spot you in your mustard quidditch robes, grinning as you walked toward him. 

Remus chuckled at his best friend whose hand immediately flew to his hair, making them even messier and adjusting his glasses, “Your drooling, mate,” 

“Well, I have every right to drool seeing she is my girlfriend,” James said cheekily, his focus slightly faltering from you towards his best friends rolling their eyes. 

“Hello, Mr Potter,” you greeted him, smirking.

“Hello, Ms (L/N),” he said, chuckling. 

“You two are weird,” Sirius muttered, looking between the two of you in disgust although his eyes held a shine.

“You're just jealous, pads,” Peter mumbled. 

“Hey!” Sirius glared at him and soon engaged in a nasty conversation that may or may not have cost the pumpkin juice. 

“You ready for the match?” you asked James, raising your eyebrows and smirking slightly.

James’ stomach suddenly churned anxiously. Now the matter is - he loved quidditch, he loved it more than anything but it was particularly hard for him to play against Hufflepuff ever since you became the captain of the quidditch team a year ago. You had always been a part of the reason why James loved quidditch, your moves and flexes made him much more drawn to you -smitten as Sirius would say- and one of the multiple reasons he finally mustered the courage to ask you out the start of the term.

You knew it, you knew how James felt playing against you, it was rather tough to play against...loved ones? Never have either of you actually muttered those three words to the other.

“Yeah,” James said, his voice cracking in between. 

You smiled softly, and winked, “Your gonna rock it,”

 The two of you after the conversation in the great hall only met at the quidditch pitch. 

“Shake your hands,” Madam Hooch said, motioning you and James to do so.

 A smile on both of your faces as your handshake was more than friendly compared to any other handshakes on the field. 

 The Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor teams were high up in the air, clenching the broom handles, waiting for the quaffle to release because this, after all, would determine the quidditch cup for the year.

Madam Hooch’s whistle echoed through the air as the quaffle was thrown to the players. The whistles and hollers of the crowd were so much that it almost made the players anxious. 

 “The Gryffindor captain first caught the quaffle. You're doing great Jamie boy!” The commentary was given by, of course, Sirius. He was appointed as the temporary commentator after the previous one had a major injury after very strict instructions given by Professor McGonagall. 

“Mr Black,” McGonagall warned. 

“Alright, alright. Minnie is getting mad,” he quickly added, “Oh, look at that. (L/N) has the quaffle, she is flying to the goal. Now, come on, let your boyfriend win, will you?”

You flipped him off with one hand as you flew through the forthcoming Gryffindor team players, diving and serving. 

“Woah! Hufflepuff scores one goal!” Sirius glanced at the parchment before him, “1-0, Hufflepuff to Gryffindor, very bad performance lions, I expected more,” he shook his head as though in pity.

“Mr Black, you're demotivating the players!” McGonagall warned.

“Sorry, Minnie,” Sirius apologized, not so apologetically, “Now, the quaffle is back with the Gryffindor chaser! Yay!”

You dashed to the chaser, circling around them and with one calculated, gentle push the waffle was back to your hands.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman can we give a big round of applause to my best friend’s one day, to be wife,” Sirius asked looking at the crowd expectantly and for his satisfaction, the crowd roared. 

Both James and you came to a halt on your brooms, a dark pink blush on your faces as the crowd roared even louder. But someone in the Gryffindor team had realised it was the best time to knock the quaffle out of your hold.

It was a great idea, you must give that to the red flash that passed by you but the way execution was worst. As the player swished past you, there was a harsh gush of wind and the player missed and had hit you on your elbow evidently knocking you out of your broom. Holding on the broom with one hand you dangled off it, trying to climb back on. 

As though it all were perfectly timed, a loose bulger was aimed at you by Merlin-knows-who and you lost the only balance you had that held you in the air.

The air around you felt colder as the blank spots danced dangerously before your eyes. Your boyfriend’s terrified face was what you saw last before losing your consciousness. 

 “Mr Potter, please stop fretting,” Madam Pomfrey said to James who paced before your bed nervously in the hospital wing, “Nothing is wrong with her,”

“Except?” He insisted.

“Except her ankle is broken,” She said calmly. 

“Broken!?” 

“Her ankle, Mr Potter!”

“It's still broken!”  

“Potter, if this continues I might ask you to leave the room,”

“When will she wake up?” James asked, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's threat. 

“‘M wake,” You mumbled and coughed. James rushed to your bed with some water. Madam Pomfrey sighed and left James to take care of you. 

“You alright?” James asked, taking your face in his hands and scanning every inch of them for him to admire and memorize your beauty with the reason as “checking for injuries”. 

“Yes, James, calm down,” You chuckled. 

“You scared me, did you know that?” James asked, sighing, "I'm sorry,"

"Why are your sorry?" You asked, placing your hands above his.

"I should have caught you or done something instead of Dumbledore at the final moment doing the spell," he looked down, pulling his hands out of your grip and holding your hands.

"James, you couldn't have done anything and it's okay. I am alright now, look," you pointed to your ankle that was heavily wrapped in gauze. 

You heard through your half consciousness Madam Pomfrey say to James that although Dumbledore had performed the charm to stay you afloat but you had hit the ground and broke your ankle.

James winced, "I'm going to ban whoever did that from the team,"

"James," you warned, "This is a game and that happens,"

He sighed, "I feel guilty, you know." He leaned towards the bedside table, fetching the blue potion Madam Pompfrey instructed him to give. 

“Mhm, figured it out,” you smirked.

“Drink,” James said, seriously and rolled his eyes.

You scrunched your nose in disgust looking at the blue semi-liquid potion, “No, that's-”  

“I don't need to hear it, just drink,” James said, looking at you pointedly. 

“Later?” You knew it wouldn't work but it was worth a try nonetheless.

“No,” he narrowed his eyes, “Come on, love, just gulp it,” 

With your nose still scrunched, you glanced at the potion warily. James sighed, moving closer to you and pressed his lips to yours, “Please,” he mumbled against your lips.

You huffed but obliged. Downing the nasty drink and trying not to distract yourself from the bitter taste, you pulled James once again into a kiss. 

After pulling away, James chuckled and blurted, “I love you,”

Both of your eyes widened in shock. You were the first one to regain your composure and grinned at him, “I love you too,”

“Well, it's about time!” They heard a voice very much like Sirius yell, crashes, grunts and then three people running. 

You chuckled, pulling James closer to you, “You're not gonna walk for another month with that broken ankle of yours,”

And true to his words, James carried a blushing yourself to the classes almost every day, you werent complaining though.

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch3)

AO3

Even after years of friendship, of seeing each other through some of the best and some of the hardest times of their lives, Jamie Fraser would still need to catch his breath at the sight of Claire Beauchamp when she really laughed. With her head thrown back, her whisky eyes would screw shut and she would run her long fingers into her beautiful hair in comedic exasperation.

If watching her laugh was a sight to behold, making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

They were sat across from each other surrounded by a pungent cloud of smoke, both of them situated on plush sofas of green leather that was cracked and worn from use. With each passing minute, Jamie felt like the sofa was beginning to swallow him. He made the mistake of voicing his concern to Claire.

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, obviously, and told him so before taking a bite out of the space cake that she had cut down the middle to share.

“Edibles are stronger, you’ll only need half anyway,” she had said in her matter of fact way that she had, taking charge of the situation from the minute they’d stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Jamie Fraser, being the good catholic boy that he was, had never been inside such a place and he certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the Red Light District that they had just walked through. Of course he had heard of Amsterdam’s relaxed laws when it came to sex work and drugs but seeing it first hand was something entirely different. When he caught sight of the first woman in the window, her long blonde hair tumbling around her bare shoulders, he felt the blush rise to the very tips of his ears as Claire just laughed and dragged him by the hand, deeper into the belly of the beast.

The plan had been for them to spend two days in the city before they said goodbye. Claire was following her heart (which took the shape of one Frank Randall, the same bastard who’d stood her up the night that Jamie and Claire had kissed for the first and only time) to Boston where she’d managed to get a placement in a surgical programme while Frank would teach at Harvard. It had taken everything in Jamie not to break when she told him, the smile that she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she surveyed his reaction over her coffee cup. He had swallowed the rising panic in his throat and felt as it soured in his stomach but he managed to calm himself long enough to take a deep breath and tell her the truth — that he was proud of her and he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

Jamie knew that she was lying about not being able to book a more straightforward trip from London to Boston and he strongly suspected that she had orchestrated the two day layover in Amsterdam for the sole purpose of asking if he’d like to join her, a mini break that they both sorely needed after an arduous final year at university. He hadn’t even needed to think about it before he agreed and in the week leading up to it, he had struggled to think of anything but watching her as she wandered around the Rijksmuseum, oblivious to the art hanging on the walls when he had his own masterpiece right in front of him.

“I canna believe I’m in such a place wi’ ye, Sassenach, and for breakfast no less,” he said, hearing a laugh that didn’t sound quite like his own. Frowning at himself, he looked across at her as she chuckled kindly at him, her index finger dabbing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. The lips that he had tasted just once years ago in what had been agreed as a funny drunken lapse of judgment in a grubby old pub on the edge of their college campus.

“You just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she said. It had been her idea to get high first thing in the morning and then spend the remainder of their final day together strolling around the museums and parks of the city, allowing themselves to get into the spirit of the place and cut loose for once.

He watched her waggling her eyebrows suggestively, looking to him like furry brown worms, “You seemed to enjoy the ladies outside well enough.”

He went bright red and tried to sit up straighter amongst the sofa cushions that were trying their best to swallow him, “Dinna be daft, ye ken I wouldnae pay a woman to do that sort of thing.”

“A lot of people pay for sex, Jamie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Two consenting adults and all that.”

He had always known that Claire was a very liberal thinker and she spent a lot of time and energy educating herself on things to broaden her perspective of the world. Jamie admired her for it even if he did enjoy poking fun at her sometimes, just to watch the spark catch fire in her eyes as she told him precisely why he was wrong.

“Aye well, that’s all fine an’ weel but I winna be dealing wi’ it myself, thank ye.”

“Oh, live a little, Fraser. How long has it been since Annalise? Seven months?” She asked him directly as he made a very Scottish noise in the back of his throat in an attempt to dismiss the conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll thank ye to leave her out of our weekend,” he warned her jokingly, delighting in the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, “Besides, Lise and I, we never…”

He watched as Claire’s eyes almost burst from her skull as she leaned forward, her beautiful mouth gaping at his revelation. Why the hell had he told her that? They never spoke about the personal details of their respective relationships, it was the unspoken rule between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Jamie could think of nothing worse than sitting and listening to Claire regale him of her sexual exploits with the uptight historian. It also meant that Claire didn’t know exactly how much sex Jamie wasn’t having.

“Never?! You were together for a year!” The amazement in her voice was evident and Jamie flopped backwards in the sofa, raising his hands to his face. He cursed the effects of the marijuana that had relaxed him to the point where he was divulging information that he would usually keep behind his teeth.

“Never, okay?”

“Wow… okay… not sure what to do with that but okay,” she mirrored his body language, collapsing back onto her sofa and tucking her legs up underneath her. “So you’ve not had sex in what, just shy of two years? Good God, you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled into his palms, refusing to remove them for the fear of her gaze seeing the truth that he was trying desperately to keep hidden but that was on the tip of his very stoned tongue.

“Longer than two years?” He heard her whisper in disbelief.

“Try 24.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before it became too much, he had to look at her to gauge her reaction to his honesty. He had expected her to laugh or to yell in surprise but he realised that she mostly just looked curious, like she was trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle that was sat opposite her.

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded in response and watched as her shoulders dropped slightly, smiling kindly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we dinna talk about things like this,” he sighed. He could see all the questions that were threatening to slip past her lips.

“Have you not wanted to? Because that’s okay, maybe you’re just not into the thought of-“

“Christ, no! No, I’m definitely into the thought of it,” he laughed. “From the age of thirteen to seventeen, I barely thought of anything else. Besides, I said I was a virgin, no’ a monk. I’ve done stuff.”

She laughed at that, “So why not? I’m sorry, you absolutely do not have to tell me but I- just… how? Why?”

“Was just waitin’ on the right woman,” he shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. Whether she was buying it or not, he couldn’t tell but he was certain that if she listened hard enough, she could hear his heart beating out a rhythm in time with the syllables of her name.

Because that was the real truth, wasn’t it? That he had been waiting for her.

She didn’t say anything in response, just leaned to cut the remaining space cake in half again, offering the larger half to Jamie that he almost snatched from her, anything to distance himself from the conversation that they were having.

He was grateful when she left it at that, being able to intuit that he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning. That night, when the effects of their morning had worn off, they rented bikes and attempted to navigate the city like the locals did, getting horribly lost and ending up drinking a beer by the canal as the sun went down. Jamie watched as the rays painted her pale skin gold and the wind caught the folds of her sundress, settling the material delicately against her bonnie wee shins. It had been the perfect day and Jamie didn’t want it to end. But he knew that it had to.

In the morning, she was getting on a plane.

“Shall we head back, d’ye think? It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, pulling her out of the daydream that she was sat in. She turned to face him with a dreamy smile on her face as she nudged his shoulder with her head.

“The best day,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, neither of them needing to fill it with words as they just existed in each other’s company. When they got to their hotel room, he made light work of pulling off his hoodie and collapsed onto his twin bed with the remote in his hand as she shut herself in the bathroom, the lock gently clicking behind her. Jamie ran a hand over his tired face and tried to concentrate on the tv. He had an ear for languages, being the proud new owner of a First in Modern Languages and Linguistics from Oxford, but the rules of Dutch seemed to be far removed from that of the French and German, and a little Italian, that naturally clicked together in his brain.

He strained to listen in an attempt to isolate some of the sounds, let his mind create patterns and try to fill in the gaps but he was tired and gave up quickly, punching the pillow that was under his head to prop up his neck a little further so that he could look out of the window. He heard the bathroom door unlock.

That was when he saw her. Really saw her for the first time. And it wasn’t because he could see more of her skin than he had ever seen before but because of the look that was painted on her face. Her beautiful face radiating a vulnerability and softness that he had never seen the depths of before, never as unguarded as she was in that moment. She smiled shyly at him and her hand came to cover her bare stomach slightly. Panic clutched at Jamie’s chest as he watched her wall build itself back up.

He was on his feet before he even knew it, pulling her hand back down to her side and lacing their fingers together.

It was always easier if they touched.

“What are ye doin’, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice soft, to not let the need he was feeling flow out in every word. She blushed and ducked her head, as though looking him in the eye would break the spell.

“I just thought…” she trailed off before defiantly bringing her head up and fixing him with a stare. “I can’t stand the idea of you having your first time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

She had sounded strong and sure but Jamie’s head was birling. He took a step closer to her, so close that he could feel her breath on his chest and looked down at her body, barely an inch of space between them. The swell of her breasts were contained by a lace bra, a lilac so soft that it made her pale skin look like ivory against it. She was wearing matching underwear, just a scrap of material really, and his cock twitched at the thought of what she must look like from behind. The amazing arse of his best friend that he had shamefully lusted after for so long.

He raised the hand that wasn’t tangled with hers to hover over her heart, not quite touching the skin but watching as the goosebumps appeared anyway. She let out a shaky breath through perfectly pursed lips and he knew then what she was doing, the gift that she was giving him. Because she knew or at the very least suspected how he felt about her. She’d have to be blind not to see it.

She was saying goodbye.

“Claire… lass, we dinna have to do this. You dinna have to do this for me,” he whispered but he barely managed to get the words out before she popped up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

For a moment, they stood still. Neither of them moved a muscle for fear of breaking whatever magic had been cast over them. But then his mouth moved instinctively, applying pressure to her lips in an attempt to open them so his tongue could reacquaint itself with hers, so many years since they first kissed. He heard her, felt her, sigh softly and that was all the proof that he needed to wrap his arms around her and pin her to his chest, his mouth greedily seeking hers. Her hands found his face and thinking that she meant to push him away, he immediately let her go and took a step back from her, breath bursting from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry, lass, I didnae mean to get carried away-“

“Jamie, stop. You’re overthinking this,” she interrupted him by pressing her body back to his and put a steady hand on his cheek, his face leaning in to press a kiss to her open palm. The reality of the situation filled him. When the sun came up the next day, she would pack her things and they would travel to the airport to say goodbye. His chest tightened and he exhaled heavily, trying to take a steadying breath but it shattered in his throat and he tried to suck another in. Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Claire urged him to look at her. “It’s just me, Jamie, it’s us. Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Their mouths snapped back together and all was right with the world. He couldn’t stop touching her, desperate to elicit sounds from her that she had kept hidden from him for so many years, ones that he thought he’d never have the privilege of hearing. An errant thought passed through his head, that maybe he should feel nervous about his first time, about not satisfying her, but the way that she was reacting to his kiss put his mind at ease. He would take everything in, commit everything to memory and be attentive to what she seemed to like and not like. She was terrible at lying, his Sassenach, and he was secure in the knowledge that he already knew her better than anyone else on this earth.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of her hands on his zipper and he groaned into their kiss as her hand brushed against his painfully hard cock through the thick material of his jeans. Everything was happening too fast and at the same time, not fast enough. He wished to be utterly consumed by her, to share something that neither of them would ever be able to take back. Something that he knew he would carry with him until the day he died.

Claire’s skilled fingers divested him of his jeans and he refused to break their kiss as he wriggled out of them, swallowing her giggles when she realised what he was up to. He ran his hands from her hips up the soft planes of her body, feeling her delicate ribs under her skin and brushing around the lace of her bra to where it joined in the back. Whether it was intuition or he fact that he practically ripped the clasp apart in blind need, he had no idea, but his fingers fumbled less than he had anticipated.

“I want to see you too,” she whispered against his lips, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one quick movement before she fixed him with a stare, licked her tongue down the palm of her hand as Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief before her hand disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ,” he shuddered, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to contain the feel of her warm, wet hand on his cock. Her grip was firm on him as his jaw hung open and she greedily claimed his mouth once more as she quickened the pace.

When her mouth disappeared from his, Jamie opened his eyes in confusion to see that she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, her index fingers taking the fabric of his boxers on the same descent. The sight alone nearly undid him but it was nothing compared to the heat that enveloped him as she took him inside her mouth. Fingers immediately threaded through her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp as she took him as far back as she could, which was no small task given the size of him. His mind betrayed him with a memory of Annalise trying her hardest but he was never truly convinced that she had wanted to do it, suspecting that she felt like it was an obligation which meant that Jamie could never really enjoy the act. As though she knew that his mind had wandered, Claire’s fingers gripped him tightly as her mouth kept a steady rhythm and his hips jerked forwards instinctively. An attempt at a stuttered apology was on the tip of his tongue but she beat him to it, moaning around him and sending delicious vibrations down his length. Knees buckling slightly at the sensation, Claire’s whisky eyes peered up at him, her lips plump and wet and with a hollowing of her cheeks and a hard suck, she sent him crashing over the edge, moaning her name as he did.

As the stars that had burst into his vision began to fade, he fought to get his breath back, feeling the brush of her body as she got up from her knees.

“Did that feel good?” She whispered as he nodded furiously, bumping their noses together in his enthusiasm. She laughed quietly and went back to kissing him, the feeling of her smile on his lips.

“It was amazing,” he told her. “Thank you.”

She laughed at his earnest gratitude, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Taking his hand and leading the both of them towards her bed, Claire didn’t allow for too much space to come between their bodies as she lay back and pulled him down with her. Jamie’s mind raced as the sight. How many times had he imagined this? And how pitiful his imagination had been when conjuring it, missing the exquisite details like the way her her skin trembled at his touch and the softness of the sole her foot trailing up the back of his calf as he lay on top of her.

He knew that he was the luckiest man alive as he kissed down her body and a found a freckle on the inside of her thigh. To know the secret parts of her, to have her share them with him when she kept everyone else at arm’s length. How could he not be in love with her?

“Touch me, Jamie.”

He knew that those were the words that would wake him in a sweat for the years to come as he revisited this moment in his dreams. Hearing them fall from her throat was a blessing and he wasn’t one to squander such an invitation. He was trying to be gentle with her so as to not scare her off but in that moment, his trembling fingers became sure and shredded through the thin lace of her underwear, ripping them from her body with a deep growl that he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He felt her body melt into the mattress as his middle finger found her wet centre, her legs quivering in response.

“Oh, my Claire… how beautiful you feel,” he whispered as she moaned loudly, pushing her hips towards him in an attempt to receive more attention. His warm hand left her and closed around her hipbone as he kept her at a distance, blue eyes blazing into whisky ones with so much love that it made her mouth water. Not breaking eye contact, his fingers flexed around her hip, holding her in place as he brought his mouth to her core.

Claire threw her head back against the pillow, mouth agape.

“What the fuck,” she gasped. He had told her that he wasn’t entirely green behind the ears but it was nice to hear the shock in her voice as he set his tongue to work. Within minutes Claire’s body was writhing, one hand fisted in the bedsheets like she was holding on for dear life. It still wasn’t enough and so he shifted his arms underneath her, running them up the length of her back and pulling her closer into his mouth. She squeaked with surprise as she settled her weight onto her shoulders, trusting that Jamie’s strength would hold her steady as he relentlessly licked and nipped at her.

“Jamie, I’m-“

Claire was unable to finish as her words were replaced by a loud moan, Jamie’s growl indicating that he was not willing to let her go without knowing what it felt like for her lose herself on his tongue.

Fingers gripping his curls, Claire pulled slightly and he felt her entire body go rigid as she tried to control the feelings that were coursing through her body. Jamie slid two fingers into her and lightly flicked his tongue against her, holding her steady as she began to convulse in his arms. He was fascinated to learn that she didn’t make a sound, only screwed her eyes shut and let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips against him, riding out her orgasm.

When he felt her shy away from his tongue, he gave her a final kiss and moved up towards her, delighting in the way that she curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips.

“Not a monk indeed,” she laughed breathily as she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes shutting slightly as the aftershocks ran through her.

“I’m a man of many talents, if I do say so myself.”

“I wonder what else you’re good at,” she raised a single eyebrow above a pair of seductive eyes and Jamie took the opportunity to press his renewed erection against her thigh.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Her hands sought out his body again, as though they were always meant to be touching and she moaned a little when she felt that he was hard so soon after his orgasm.

“We can stop here, Jamie. This is your choice. Whatever you want.”

“I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

“Yes,” she sighed deliriously, “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Come here to me, Jamie,” she whispered as she took him in hand and lead him to her opening. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and basking in the look of wonder on her face, soon replaced by a quiet, exquisite joy as he pushed himself home for the first time.

She was like velvet. Impossibly soft and hot, wet with her need and it was all he could manage not to immediately race to his finish, to take her with a force and a desperation that he knew was painted on his features. With the strength of an army, he stilled himself and raised his face to hers, nearly coming undone when their eyes met.

Claire had never looked at him like that. Her cheeks were flushed from her pleasure, her pupils blown wide and stunned. His soul was laid open to her and hers to him. And he knew that his face showed the unfathomable depth of his love for her, incapable of hiding it when they were joined like this.

Jamie could have stayed that way forever but his physiology had other ideas, his hips responsively snapping into hers. She moaned and tilted her hips to meet him, raising a knee upwards to cradle his side and deepen the angle of him inside of her. Jamie was completely unaware that something could feel this good and he lowered his head to capture her lips as he began to rock his hips against hers.

All worries that he may have had left him when he watched the way she responded to his body, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his biceps until he was sure that they would bruise. She was panting and moaning beneath him, making tiny movements with her body that produced huge waves of sensation in his. He was so distracted by his own pleasure that the first time she clenched lightly around him, he wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Looking down at her, he mimicked the movement with his hips and earned himself another wonderful contraction coupled with an urgent moan that ripped from her chest.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to be undone before she reached her peak and moved his fingers to her mouth which she accepted greedily. Screwing his eyes shut at the sensation, he trailed his hand down her body to the place where they joined and lightly found the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She convulsed, eyes snapping open in pleasure and he wished for the hundredth time that he could drown in them.

As his fingers began to stroke her, he watched as her body changed from pliant and soft to frantic and needy. Her hands moved to his arse and pulled him into her, keening at the feeling of his cock coupled by the pleasure that he was seeking in her from his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come, Jamie,” she sobbed in surprise and he doubled down his efforts to find it for her, to let her chase her pleasure before he gave in to his own. What a gift to be able to feel the way her body reacted to his, to know how it felt when she came close to her orgasm. Her tight muscles fluttered around him as he watched the flat plane of her stomach clench in an attempt to control the pleasure that was crashing through her body. It was all too much.

“Give me your mouth, Sassenach,” he gasped as he sealed his mouth to hers, their tongues hungrily seeking the other. It was the moment of combustion when they finally met and her body convulsed once more before she began to shake uncontrollably, noises coming from her that he never thought he’d hear. It was everything he needed in that moment as he began to pour himself into her, unable to stop the frantic jerk his hips as he experienced a blinding white pleasure that he’d never felt before.

Only just managing to shift his body so that he didn’t collapse his entire weight onto her, Jamie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for his heart rate to slow. He was hyper aware of Claire’s body beside him, of the rise and fall of her chest as she descended from waves of pleasure that he had elicited in her. He’d expected for his mind to be running a hundred miles a minute but all he felt was serenity. In that moment, the world was exactly as it should be.

“Christ,” Jamie huffed, unable to stop the air bursting from his lungs. The question fell out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Is it always like that?”

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t force his eyes to look at her face in case he didn’t like what he saw. But his eyes began to drift closed at the feeling of Claire curling her naked body around his, bringing a bent leg to rest over his abdomen and her hair splaying on his chest.

“No, it isn’t.”

[mediocre-writerr]

supermarket flowers [jamie taylor]

Jamie Taylor x fem reader

Requested:  We all know flowers are one of Jamie’s love languages so she likes giving the reader flowers as gifts to tell her things and to mark points in their relationship (bonus if one time it’s the reader that gives jamie flowers)

*not my gif*

Saying that Bly Manor is beautiful would be an understatement: the amazing architecture, the people, but especially the gardens. 

But you maybe a little bias on that front because of Jamie...the beautiful beautiful gardener and your beautiful wife. 

And it all started when your sister Dani got the au pair job. Obviously, you had to get a job there as well, you couldn’t live in Bly without having a job. So you took up an apprentice job with Owen as his little chef in training. That’s how you two met. 

“You see we don’t use a hand mixer in this house because of the glucose levels in the dough. They need to be in tip top shape or else they won’t taste as good.” Owen explains and you’re about to respond when a beautiful brunette walks into the room. 

Your eyes never left her figure as she walked into the kitchen, barely acknowledging your assistance, “What is that?” she asks. 

“We’re making dough for our pizza tonight!” Owen exclaims, “I was just giving Y/N here a quick lesson dough chemistry.” 

She finally locks eyes with yours and you’re drowning in them. Her beautiful brown eyes were captivating. And it was up to you if you decided you wanted to sink or swim. There was a spark there and she had to have felt it too. 

“Although, I’m sensing this dough is not the only thing that has chemistry.” Owen says with a little smirk on his face. 

You laugh nervously, speechless as what to say, “I’m Jamie,” the gardener says extending her hand out and you gratefully accept it.

There were sparks, electricity coursing through your body at this point and Jamie releases a deep breath, “Y/N Clayton, Dani’s little sister.” 

“Oh so you’re Little Poppins.” she says with a smirk and you chuckle at the nickname, “Or should I call you Chef Poppins?” she adds on.

“Either one is fine with me thank you.” you smile at her and she nods her head.

“Alright then, I have some more flowers and bushes to tend to.” Jamie says and leaves to go back to the garden.

You turn back to look at Owen and he’s smiling at you, “Awe you’re still blushing.” he says poking your cheek before getting back to kneading the dough. 

Flash forward to five years later and now you’re married as happier than you ever thought you could be despite everything that happened. 

Bly was an interesting case to say the least. The whole Lady in the Lake situation was quite a scary scene. We lost Hannah and day by day Dani is losing herself. But you still have her here, your sister is still here with you and that’s all the matters right now. 

You found yourself at the farmer’s market. Jamie was back at The Leafling helping everyone who wants flowers. You had big news for her and wanted to give her a flower to show your love. You just had to find the perfect one. 

All of your relationship Jamie has taught you so much about flowers. The most intriguing part of it to you was all of the various meanings. 

You stood in the kitchen as you began to cut the pizza you and Owen made for everyone into slices. Owen was tossing all of the salad together as Hannah was making the tea. 

Flora, Dani, and Miles were setting the table up. Jamie comes walking in with a handful of different colorful flowers. 

“Flowers for delivery!” Jamie announces and Flora squeals in excitement, “Here ya go Flora.” 

Jamie hands her Flora’s own flower before giving one to Miles. You though it was sweet that she was giving the children flowers. But your joy turned into a quick confusion when you realized that she was giving everyone one. 

“Is this still a gerbera daisy?” Flora asks putting her flower in a vase. 

You saw small little vases lined up along the window sill with everyone’s names on it. You didn’t notice until now that both you and Dani have your own little vase. A small smile started forming on your face. 

“Yes it is, do you remember what it means?” Jamie asks staring at Flora intently.

“Of course I do! It means innocence, cheerfulness and joy!” Flora exclaims and she smiles at the young girl before giving a nod.

“Nice job little rascal.” she says booping her nose before handing you your flower. 

You are presented with a beautiful flower they were pink and very swirly in the middle of it, “What kind of flower is this? And what does mine mean?” you ask realizing that everyone had different flowers probably all meaning different things. 

She smiles to herself before putting a bite of salad in her mouth and eating it. After she finished eating she clears her throat, “It is a ranunculus, also known as buttercups. It symbolizes charm, radiance, and attraction.” she whispers the last part, but everyone at the table heard.

You smile to yourself looking into those beautiful brown eyes before looking down to take a bite of pizza. Dani nudges you and mouths the words ‘Oh my god!’ as you smile at your sister. 

“Seems like Jamie pepper-only has eyes for Y/N.” Owen murmurs and the whole table groans in response, but as you catch Jamie’s eye she sends you a wink. 

You’ve searched this whole farmer’s market twice to try and find the flower you’re looking for. But none of them seemed to be the right match. How hard is it to find daisies? It’s not that hard they’re in season and they’re all over The Leafling, but I can’t take it from the store. 

However, you did come across pink carnations. A flower you know very well and is embedded deep into your heart.

You and Jamie have been dating for about six months now and each day your relationship is growing stronger and stronger.

“Someone looks excited for their date tonight!” Dani teases as she walks into your shared bedroom.

You look over yourself in the mirror and show her your outfit, “Yay or nay?” you ask as you do a little spin.

“You look beautiful Y/N!” she says as she embraces you in a hug, “Well you always look beautiful, but Jamie is gonna love it. If she breaks your heart, I’ll end her.”

You pat your sister on the shoulder, “Dani I love you, but we all know that she will beat the living shite out of you.” you say trying mimick Jamie’s British accent.

She laughs and nods, “Yeah you’re right! But still!”

There was a knock on the door and Dani let out a little squeal. She opened the door and revealed the beauty that is Ms. Jamie Taylor. 

“Hello Poppins, is Little Poppins here?” she asks and you smile at the nickname. 

“Yes she is right here.” Dani opens the door a little wider and Jamie steps in with a bouquet of flowers in her hand. 

She looks at you up and down before smiling at you, “You look absolutely beautiful. These are for you.” she says and you smile taking them from her.

“Thank you. What’s the story behind these?” you ask sniffing them before placing them in a vase that you always keep by your bedside now. 

“The story is for a later time, in more private.” Jamie says sneaking a glance at Dani who was still standing there with a big smile on her face. 

“Oh me! Right! I’ll see you when you get back!” Dani exclaims as she pushes you out of the door. 

You get into Jamie’s car as she drives you into the little village of Bly. She knows a nice little restaurant that she has grown to love. As she parked the car she leans over the middle console and places a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Wait here, I’m gonna grab our food.” Jamie says.

Before you can ask her what the plan was for tonight she left the car and went into the restaurant. Your head was spinning from the kiss. It may have been a short and sweet kiss, but it was still intoxicating. 

Every kiss with Jamie no matter how short or soft it was, it still had so much passion and love behind it. Every day you find yourself falling more and more in love with the gardener. You haven’t told her yet, but gosh you loved this girl more than life itself. 

Jamie came back into the car with a bag full of food. She placed it into the back seat and started the car back up again, “Where are we going love?” you ask her.

“Back to the manor of course. I know a little spot we can eat there.” she says before intertwining your fingers together. 

The two of you made it back to Bly and you went to the greenhouse. You meet there every morning and share a small coffee before you have to get to work. You placed yourself on the couch as she sat down next to you placing another kiss to your lips. 

The two of you started eating as you embarked on the most simple yet beautiful conversations. As you two finished eating you look at her with a smirk on your face.

“What?” she asks smiling back. 

“The story behind the flower you never told me.” you say sitting criss-cross applesauce on the couch and turning to face her. 

She laughs nervously, probably the first time you’ve ever seen her nervous, “Carnations, a lot of people don’t like them and I don’t know why. In my opinion, they’re beautiful. But they mean fascination and new love. Which is what I feel about you. However, it’s not new love. It’s love that I’ve felt since the first time I laid eyes on you. I love you Y/N Clayton.” she says and you smile at her widely.

“I love you Jamie Taylor.” you whisper back.

You didn’t think her smile could widen even more, “Fuck yeah.” she whispers. 

She crashes her lips onto yours as you thread your fingers through her hair. You place your hand on the back of her neck pulling her as close to you as possible. Her body pressed against yours and you were drunk off of her love and kisses.

Your big brick of phone began to ring from your purse. You took it out and answered it already knowing it was one of two people, “Hello?” you ask as you pull out of your parking spot in the farmer’s market.

“Hi darling,” you hear Jamie’s voice fill the phone. 

“Hello my love, what’s up?” you ask as you begin your drive to your little apartment about The Leafling. 

“Are you still at the farmer’s market?” she asks.

“No why? Do you need something?” you answer. 

“Yes unless you got more cereal at the farmer’s market.” Jamie replies.

You chuckle slightly at the sarcasm, “I’ll stop at the supermarket and grab a couple boxes. How’s Dani?” you ask.

Dani has been living in your guest bedroom of the apartment. Jamie doesn’t mind knowing how much she means to you and how much Dani means to her. Whatever the hell went down at Bly was really taking a toll and you just want to be there to take care of her and keep an eye on her as much as you can. 

“She’s having a good day today. She has helped out with the shop, there was a little jump when she looked into the window, but I helped her out.” she explained and you nodded sighing a little bit, “She’s gonna be okay.” Jamie reassured you already reading your mind.

Your sister mentioned that something was gonna take over one day. And it already started back up again. She’s scared and so are you. She was the only family you have ever known and you don’t know what you’re gonna do if she goes. 

“I hope so. I’ll see you when I get home.” you say.

“Okay love, drive safe. I love you.” she says and you smile at those three little words.

“I love you more.” you respond before hanging up and making your way to the supermarket.

“Jamie, baby, where are we going?” you ask as her hands covers your eyes guiding you to a small little place in the gardens of Bly. 

“Shh-it’s a surprise love. You’re not supposed to know that’s the whole point of a surprise she expresses and you internally roll your eyes, “I can sense that eye roll.” she says and you giggle lightly. 

“How did you know?” you ask laughing.

“Y/N, we’ve been dating for three years now. Of course I know when you’re rolling your eyes.” she explains and you laugh even more.

She releases her hands from your eyes to see a beautiful secluded area with a beautiful flower growing on the bush. The moonlight hitting it just right causing to have this sort of glow effect. 

“That right there is a moonflower. It’s a lot of effort, but it’s worth it.” she explains from behind you as she’s sitting on a small bench. 

There’s a nice little picnic basket set on the ground in front of her. You go and sit down next to her, the cool air brushing against your skin causing goosebumps to form on your arm.

Jamie immediately notices your chilliness and wraps her arm around your waist. She pulls you deep into your side and you smile softly, resting your head on her shoulder. Jamie reaches down slowly to open the picnic basket revealing another bouquet of flowers.

“Hey I actually know these ones!” you exclaim as she pulls out the bouquet of tulips. 

She laughs before handing them to you, “Yeah a little too cheesy for my taste, but I thought it was fitting for this.” 

“For what?” you ask and she smiles shyly.

“This.” she says softly before getting on knee in front of you and pulling out a ring.

You release a small little gasp before a huge smile breaks out onto your face, “Tulips mean true love, never in a million years Y/N did I ever think I’d find someone like you. My life has been filled of exhaustive people, but you made all this effort and time worth it. And I want it to last longer. I want this feeling to last a lifetime and even after. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Small tears were falling down both of your cheeks. Nothing sad, but everything happy. You cup her cheeks wiping away the falling tears and smile at her. 

“It would be my honor.” you whisper to her and she nods. 

“Yeah?” she asks smiling so wide and it’s so bright you think you might go blind.

“Yeah.” you let out and she immediately crashes her lips onto yours. 

When you pull apart she slides the ring onto your finger. The two of you rest your foreheads together, the smile never fading. 

You reach the supermarket and immediately go to the cereal aisle. You reach up getting Dani’s favorite cereal and Jamie’s favorite. When you’re about to check out your eyes are caught by a bouquet of flowers. 

The white little daisies that you have been looking for were right there. Jamie always rants about how much she hates supermarket flowers since they have loads of bad things, but you need these flowers to surprise her. You also see anemones, something that would be perfect for Dani. 

You grab both of those bouquets and place them in your basket. After you checkout you make the drive to The Leafling. Opening the door of The Leafling you see Dani standing there, sweeping up the floors. 

“Hi welcome to The Leafling!” Dani says with some enthusiasm and you laugh.

“It’s me Dani.” you say and she laughs.

“Oh hi Y/N!” she says embracing you in a hug. 

She takes some grocery bags from your hand and helps you bring them upstairs, “Where’s Jamie?” you ask.

“She went to go grab something from the hardware store. Something about not having the right screwdrivers.” she explains and you nod. 

The two of you proceed to put all the groceries away. Once you’re finished you grab the blue anemones from the bag you had and gave them to her.

“These are for you.” you whisper and she smiles widely.

“Thank you Y/N! They’re beautiful! What do these ones mean?” she asks and you chuckle. 

You take Dani’s hand in yours and give it a small squeeze, “I know you’re struggling Dani. Everything that happened at Bly, what happened to you. You’re my best friend even if Jamie is my wife you will always be my best friend. I don’t want to lose you Dan.” you whisper tears glistening in your eyes, “These mean protection against evil. I can’t lose you.” 

She takes you into a big tight hug. Dani holds you close as she rubs your back, “I’m gonna be okay Y/N/N. I promise.” 

“Good because you need to be here to meet your niece or nephew.” you whisper and she pulls back from the hug staring at you. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape in shock, “Jamie and I tried the IVF thing that came out. It was a lot of money, but it was worth a shot. I went to the doctor’s before the farmer’s market and it worked Dani.” 

Dani immediately hugs you again before letting out a squeal, “No way!” she exclaims, “I am so happy for you!” 

“Thank you!” you say smiling and letting out a small chuckle. 

The front door unlocks and you know that Jamie is home. She notices the two of you sitting on the couch as she proceeds to wave at the two of you. Jamie puts away her bag of department store gear into the respectable places before noticing the supermarket daisies on the counter.

“Love, how many times do I have to tell you about supermarket flowers?” she asks finally coming over to sit with you guys.

She gives you a chaste kiss and you smile into it. Then she makes her way to Dani before ruffling her hair, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find them at the farmer’s market. Plus I couldn’t take them from the store. They are for you.” you mention and she smiles. 

“For me?” she asks intertwining your hands together and you nod, “What’s the story?” 

“Well I remember you telling me that daisies mean innocence, purity, new beginnings-” you begin before she cuts you off.

“And motherhood.” she whispers barely audible and you nod a huge smile on your face.

“I’m pregnant Jamie.” you say and she looks at you like her eyes are about to pop out of her head. 

“Baby really?” she asks her voice breaking a little and her lips quirk up into a smile.

“Yes really. You’re gonna be a mom Jamie.” you say nodding and she immediately kisses you deeply and passionately. 

She places her hand gently on your stomach before leaning down to talk to him or her, “Hey little fella. I’m your other mom. I can’t wait to meet you.” 

8 - m o n t h s - l a t e r

You found yourself at the farmer’s market yet again, your baby bump now visible and you were due any minute now. 

Your phone began to ring and you immediately answered, “Hello love?” you ask.

“Y/N...” you hear from the other line, Jamie’s voice was somber and you can tell that she has been crying. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” you ask. 

“I think we need to drive to Bly.” she whispers into the phone.

“What? Why? Jamie what’s going on?” you ask frantically making your way straight to the car, whatever you needed to buy was long forgotten. 

“It’s Dani.” she whispers on the other line and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. 

So the two of you found yourself at Bly once more. The lake looking more and more ominous as you stared at it. Jamie kicks off her shoes and starts making her way into the lake. 

Jamie shouldn’t have to do this. It’s you. You’re the one who needs to do this, but you can’t. The lake is far too cold and the weather outside wouldn’t help the baby’s health either. 

A few moments later Jamie resurfaces from the water. She finds herself on the shore as you immediately wrap a towel around her. Tears flowing down her eyes before she shakes her head. 

You let out a sob as she hold you tight. Your sister was gone. 

Two weeks later you found yourself at the cemetery in Bly. It was small, but the two of you thought it was fitting. Owen, Henry, Flora and Miles were all there with you. 

All six of you stared at the grave before placing flowers onto the tombstone. Jamie thought we should put crocuses onto the grave. It means hope after darkness. After struggling for so long, hopefully this allows her to find rest. 

She was buried right by Hannah. Two people you lost to weird place that is Bly Manor. 

1 - m o n t h - l a t e r

You sat on the hospital bed holding your newborn baby in your arms. Jamie is standing there smiling at you widely. 

After all the darkness and craziness that has been happening, this was the first time you felt hope in a long time. Even though your sister isn’t here physically, you know she’s always here. 

“Welcome to the world Danielle Hannah Clayton.” you and Jamie whisper. 

The name seemed fitting and you couldn’t help, but feel lighter. She leans over and gives you a small kiss to her forehead. 

White jasmine flowers in a vase by the window sill. It means unconditional and eternal love. Jamie picked out the flowers yet again.

It had to be your favorite of all.

The unconditional and eternal love that you and Jamie felt towards each other. The unconditional and eternal love you felt towards your newborn daughter. And the unconditional and eternal love that you, Jamie, and now your daughter Dani felt for the two people you lost. 

They aren’t here physically, but you know they’re always here besides you. 

[lady-o-ren]

THE BRIDE

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

______

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

"I didn't run, Jamie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Now get off!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well I am wearing white."

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

[kkruml]

I don’t even know your name Chapter 19

@smoakingwaffles there are words- 10 versions and 10 rounds of feedback that resulted in a sing song of my favorite Grease song. YODA YE ARE AND LOVE YE I DO.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 2.5 | Chapter  3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11| Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

AO3

Previously

“Those ‘things’ Lady Jane, they are there- now, With Jamie. All you have to do is take them.” His eyes softened; his voice low. “The question is- do you want to?”

A small smile formed as my hand wiped away my tears. I paused, letting his words settle under my skin, feeling their full weight. My voice was shaking, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do, LJ. You’re just afraid of it.” His voice had a trace of humor in it, and he sighed as his eyes slowly closed. His hand tightening around mine.

He was right, I knew the answer. I was afraid. Afraid of the life I had envisioned for so long and the flashes of a life that could be lived. I needed to reconcile who I was with who I wanted to be.

It was time to make a choice.

Claire

A knock on the door stirred me as I heard a figure shuffle into the room. The familiar sound of medications hitting the paper dispensing cups caught my ear as I took mental stock of my surroundings. I heard the familiar beep of the monitor and the smell of hand sanitizer stung my nose.  

My eyes were dry, and it took a second effort for them to open. When they focused, I was faced with a blank wall, save a familiar framed print of a vase- brimming over with flowers.

A blank wall.

A vase of thistle and heather.

Unmarked canvas.

Jamie.

Bare wall.

Boston.  

My thoughts swirled as I lifted my head- my neck was stiff and the deep ache of exhaustion lingered in my bones. My hand was still intertwined with Joe’s, his pulse slow and strong under my fingers. He was fast asleep, likely put under by the steady drip of morphine in his IV. I blinked hard and saw the clock hanging on the wall. It was nine o’clock- I had fallen asleep in Joe’s room, my head on the side of his bed for the last few hours.

 Jamie

His eyes stayed on the door to Joe’s room. Fingers drummed against his thigh incessantly as he tried to keep his breathing under control. He could still feel her tongue against his, taste her need and feel the urgency as he pressed into her. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus.

If there was one person who could set her straight, it was Joe. He could almost hear the hum of Joe’s voice through the wall, stern but kind. Joe would tell her to go to Boston, and he would be right to do it.

The hands moved around the clock at a painstakingly slow pace.

He made a quick call to Murtagh- letting him know he wouldn’t be in Glasgow in the morning, asking for a few days off. As soon as the words left his mouth he abruptly ended the call, before his ears caught a string of Gaelic swears he knew were coming.

He knew the timing was bad, with recent developments ahead of schedule, but he could not think about work or all that he had planned- with her. He was going to need time, space, and to cut himself off from anything that reminded him of them.

He had hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his hands locked together as his chin rested on his knuckles. He waited, eyes locked on that door- barely risking a blink.

His eyes followed the nurse as she methodically knocked on Joe’s door, not waiting for a response before entering. The door swung shut, clicking behind her. More seconds ticked away on the clock as he waited. When the door finally reopened, Claire emerged slowly from the darkness. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders tense. Her eyes were unfocused- red and drowsy. She moved as if in a fog- desperately searching for refuge.

He all but jumped out of his chair, using every ounce of restraint not to run to her and gather her into his arms.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” the last word hitched in his throat and he swallowed hard.

“Please Jamie,” she sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping, “take me home.”

The walk back to their flat was slower than usual, Claire’s feet shuffled against the pavement as she meandered slightly. His hand hovered at the small of her back, ready to steady her or steer her should she waver.  

With the door locked behind them, they were alone, safe, and timid with each other. His eyes scanned her as she stared at the two mugs still side by side on the dining room table.

There was so much to say, but tonight they were both hollow. The rush of intertwining her world with his to the gutting realization of Boston- trying to hold their world together amidst the backdrop of her birthday and Joe’s accident.

No. Tonight, they needed whisky and the promise of sleep. He needed her beside him.

She looked fragile, a breath away from crumbling. He stepped carefully around her towards the liquor closet. He eyed her closely, seeing her hands shaking slightly. “That bad, is it?”

“And worse,” her voice wavered as her eyes opened, meeting his gaze.

He nodded slowly, taking two glasses and filling them with her favorite whisky. Handing her a glass, he raised his own. “To Joe.”

Her chin trembled slightly; he could see the fear and anxiety wash over her as she tipped hers in response before downing the liquid in one motion. Her eyes closed again as she swallowed, her jaw clenched but her eyebrows slowly relaxed. He caught a flicker of relief in her breath as it steadied, and her eyes opened to meet his before lowering to the floor.

“Come, Sassenach,” he reached out a hand to her, “Let’s get ye to bed. Ye looked fashed and ye need sleep.”

She paused for a moment before nodding and took his hand, eyes not lifting from the hardwood floor as he led her down the hallway to their bedroom.

He couldn’t sleep.

His body was attuned to hers, feeling every muscle twitch as she tossed from side to side. She had been restless all night- entangling her limbs with his and fidgeting with the sheets before abruptly searching for solitude.

He had felt her weight leave the bed more than once, and each time he fought the urge to follow her. Instead, he locked his hands together against his pillow, ears perked to each sound from the kitchen. He had heard the clink of glass, the flow of water from the tap, and deep breaths as she emptied the cup before her feet shuffled back towards him.

He breathed in the scent of her body and the mass of curls dripping in lavender, listening to her every sound, taking in her nearness. Their bed- his bed, would not feel the same without her; there was no relief from the pressure in his chest as he soaked in every moment she lay next to him.  

Claire

His heat was too close, I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts could not focus with the promise of his touch one breath away. I turned my head to see the outline of his cheekbone, kissed in moonlight. His eyes were closed but his breathing was shallow; he was just as restless as I was. My eyes stared at the clock- 4:00am.

I let out a heavy sigh and pulled myself out of bed once more, my eyes not leaving his face. His eyebrows creased and his hand flinched but he did not open his eyes.  

I dressed silently in the dark, grabbing for the nearest shirt I could find- Jamie’s. I sighed and it felt hollow. I slipped it over my head; the scent of honey, almond, and body wash encompassed me as I breathed in his aroma. Finding my jeans and his sweater, I padded to the door. Looking back once more at his form on the bed, my eyes traced his sculpted muscle, intertwined with cotton sheets. His red curls were tussled against his forehead as his hand rested on my pillow.

The streets were quiet, with whispers of daylight just creeping up from the horizon. It was only a few blocks, and I needed to think.

It was time to decide.

The hospital came into view. I needed sanctuary, and at this time of morning the gallery of the operating theater would be empty. I picked up the pace, looking for solitude and clarity.    

Jamie

He had felt her stir, heard the shuffle of clothing as she moved through the flat. The click of the door lock hit his ears with a deafening sound.

He counted the minutes she was gone. Every muscle in his body ached and his head throbbed. A thousand thoughts swirled around him as he waited; he fought sleep but his body surrendered to sheer exhaustion as his mind conjured the exact amber of her eyes.

The sound of the door latch shook him from his sleep. His ears followed the familiar cadence of her feet against the floor, and he felt his shoulders relax slightly. He slowly opened his eyes enough to see a soft glow peeking through the window against the curtains. His eyes came into focus as they caught the time on the nightstand- 5:35am.

Her weight shifted the bed slightly as he turned his face to hers, a small curl of her lip formed as she whispered, “Hi.”

He blinked slowly, taking in every angle of her face and committing that sound to memory. His voice was low, thick with fatigue, “Mo chridhe.”

“Are you awake?”

“Aye, a restless wee billy goat lay next to me last night,” he with a half crooked smile. “Dinna ken where the wee creature went.”

It was enough to elicit a small laugh, and he smiled in response.

“Jamie?” Her voice was small, barely leaving her lips.

He almost broke at the sound of his name on her lips. His hand tentatively moved towards hers, breathing deeply before gently closing his around hers. “Cla-” He paused, the thought of her name made his heart constrict. “…Sassenach?”

Her fingers pressed softly against his, her eyes watching his as she asked, “C-Can you take me somewhere?”

“Aye.” He cocked his head slightly against the pillow, eyebrows creased. “Where do ye wish to go?”

“Just...” she started, waving her other hand towards the glow from the window, sounds of traffic softly humming from the street below. “Away from here.”

The air was crisp as they slowly made their way up the footpath. He could walk this path with his eyes closed. But today, his eyes were locked on the horizon, yearning for the clearing awaiting them, needing air and space to think clearly. But every footstep was closer to their farewell and his feet were heavy, grazing the dirt and finding uneven ground.

He had brought her here before, all those months ago. His heart almost burst with the possibilities then, now he felt it crack, sinking with every movement forward.

He pulled his eyes from the first colors creeping across the sky and turned to see Claire, her eyes locked on him. Stormy blue met golden amber and he stopped. Her cheeks were gently kissed with a soft pink, a few curls floated around her face as the wind swept through the valley.

He wanted to remember her just this way, and without another breath one hand touched her face and his lips searched for hers. His breath mixed with hers as her mouth opened to his, and the warmth of her tongue sent a current down his spine. His other hand wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him as he searched for absolution, finding only endless waves of heat as her arms locked around his neck and he drank in the taste of her.  

Breathless and drowning in her touch, he broke their contact as his hand held onto her face, fingers locked into her curls. He felt a rush of calm as he stepped back from her, turning towards the peak as his other hand found hers, lacing his fingers with hers.

Together, they crested the top of the Graham. Plumes of vibrant violet and a burning red flashed across the sky as he led her to his spot- a ledge of granite well-worn by time and softened by a thick cover of moss.

This place was the same, but felt so vastly different. Effervescent colors had streaked the sky before, painting the horizon in a vivid watercolor of light at sunset- seemingly just for them. That was the first time his heart had formed the words before he could find the courage to speak them.

Tha gaol agam ort.

I love you.

He meant it more now than he ever had. He needed to speak the truth of his soul but could not find the words.  Being here again with her- now- his heart was all but splintered as he knew this is where they would say goodbye.

He took a deep breath before he unlocked his fingers from her and took a step back, memorizing her face as the sunrise warmed her face.

“Jamie,” her voice was soft, her eyes focused on an unknown spot in the distance. “We need to talk about Boston.”

Fuck.

“Aye,” he sighed deeply as he fought the urge to look away. “We do.”

Please. Just one more moment before this all shatters.

His eyes traveled every curve of her face and soaked in the exact color of her curls, the furrow of her brow and every spec of gold in her eyes. He felt the words coming, both conjuring and cursing them as they formed on his tongue.

Her eyes finally shifted to him, her fingers locked together in her lap.  “Jamie-”

“Claire-,” he interjected, unable to hear the words that would ruin him. If his heart were to break, he would be the one to strike the crushing blow.  

She sat silently, lips slightly parted but she said nothing. Her eyes were wide but soft, curls sweeping across her face as she cocked her head to one side, listening.

Christ she was beautiful.

“You are going to Boston.” His words came out slowly, tasting sour as each syllable burned his tongue.

This is it, man. Ye canna stop now.

“Ye need to do this. I am sae proud of ye- ye’ll be a gifted surgeon.” His words tumbled out as his voice shook, “I mean- to say… ye already are. But Boston, ye said it yerself- anyone would be lucky.”

His eyes closed as he tried for air, his accent thick in his throat as he slowed down enough to focus as his eyes opened to meet hers once more. “But yer no’ lucky. Yer gifted in healing. Ye’ve earned it. Ye must go.”

Her face contorted slightly as she shook her head slightly, her brows pressed together, and her lips pursed. Her cheeks were flushed and tendrils freed by the wind swirled around her face.

His very own tumbleweed.

No. Not his.

“Are you finished?” Her tone verged on amusement as one eyebrow rose as she looked at him.

He breathed heavily, having spent all his air saying the words he’d dreaded over the last forty eight hours. His head crooked slightly, running his hands through his curls as he nodded, “Aye.”

He stood, facing her, feeling unsteady. His hands shook with adrenaline and anticipation. His eyes shifted slightly to the space next to her. It would be easier to keep his distance, but he needed to feel her touch against his skin. He swayed slightly as he heard her voice cut through his thoughts, “Jamie, will you sit with me?”

It wasn’t a question, and he did not hesitate. He felt the pulse between them strengthen as he eased onto the ledge, back straight and shoulders square. He took a final breath to steel himself before he turned his face to meet hers.

“I love you… you know that, right?” A ghost of a smile flashed across her lips before it vanished.

“Aye.” His heart was pounding in his ears and his jaw clenched as he forced himself to hear her words.

Her hand lightly traced his, her fingers slowly nestling between his. “And you love me enough to want what’s best for me.”

Christ.

His eyes shifted to their hands, the final moments of their lives linked. His hand tightened around hers as he tried for deep breaths.

“But what if what I want…” she trailed off, as she took her other hand and slowly lifted his chin, tilting his face to meet hers, “is right here?”

“Claire-” He started as his hand rose to his face, grasping for hers as he tried to pull it away. She ignored it as she pressed her palm into his jawline.

“No. Jamie. This is my life. My choice.” Her voice was steady as her thumb lightly grazed the skin against his cheekbone.

“But ye canna-”

“I bloody well can!” Her voice was strong now, almost forceful as she pulled her hand away. She rose and took a step back, shaking her head as she turned to face him again. “What good is a career in Boston if I have no one to share it with?”

His pulse quickened as he dared to really hear her words and he felt a pang of hope as he shook his head, trying to keep the trembling pieces of his heart from crumbling.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “My life is here. It’s Joe, Gail- it’s you.”

“Sassenach-” he was unwilling to hope. He dropped his head, shaking it slightly as his eyes closed. “I canna be the reason ye stay.”

“Jamie. Look at me.”            

He slowly opened his eyes to see her kneeling in front of him, eyes level with his. He moved to lean back but her hands clasped around his neck, holding him close.

“I’ve never known home, until you. It’s not England, Scotland, or Boston. But you.”

He could not find words. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers as his shoulders tensed.

“Please- don’t push me away,” the veil of calm had cracked, her voice shaking as her fingers pressed into his neck. “The sum of my choices is my life, and this is the life I choose, Jamie.”

“Mo nighean donn…” his voice was raspy, his heartbeat quickening as he struggled to keep his thoughts from scattering.

“I want this, Jamie. I choose us.” Her eyes burned into his like an ember.

He took one final breath, his arms slowly wrapping around her, holding her in place, not letting her go.

“Besides,” she said with a curl of her lip, “I bloody well can’t live without you.”

The sun caught the flecks of gold in her eyes as the smile spread across her face. Her lips slowly found his- tender and gentle. The moment he felt the heat of her skin, his arms pulled her tighter, his tongue sought hers. Her chest pressed into his as her hands traveled from his neck to his shoulders and locked into his curls. His hand cupped her head as their mouths moved together, a rhythm that matched the pulse of his heart. Every ache and throbbing pain of the last few days was slowly washed away as he breathed in her kiss. He moaned into her mouth as the words came into focus. You are my home.

She wasn’t going, she was staying.

Home.

Both breathless, she sighed as her face dropped from his, resting her forehead against the crook of his neck. He held her close; her arms were securely locked against his back, their breath slowly steadying as he felt a hum vibrate against him.  

“Jamie?” she asked, slowly tilting her face up towards his.

“Aye?” His nose trailed hers as every sense filled with her.

“What does ‘mo nighean donn’ mean?” Her voice was soft but he caught the distinct Scottish lilt she always tried for and a giggle settled deep in her chest.

His eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. His voice was warm and calm, “My brown haired lass.”

Her head tilted slightly, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she sighed. “Yes. I am.”

She was. And she always would be.

Moments in time not yet lived flashed before his eyes, and he rested his cheek against her curls. All these months away from her- late nights, weeks in Glasgow and London, secrets, and half-truths. He was ready.

It was time to tell her the truth.

[bee-kathony]

NEW AND FINAL CHAPTER! This was one of my first tries at the @outlanderrarepairs challenge and I look forward to writing more rare pairs this summer! Thank you for reading :)

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander (TV), Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV) RPF Rating: Explicit Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Annalise de Marillac/Jamie Fraser, Claire Beauchamp/Annalise de Marillac Characters: Claire Beauchamp, Jamie Fraser, Annalise de Marillac Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot, Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, Lesbian Sex, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Married Sex, NSFW, Voyeurism

I didn’t see Annalise for many weeks after our rather… enlightening evening. While I was working at le Hopital or drinking tea with Louise, I would have flashes of Annalise’s tongue somewhere on my body. Every time I excused myself and went to the loo, my skin would be flushed red and my nipples would be positively aching to be touched.

I told Jamie one night after he came home from another night spent with Charles Stuart at Madame Elise’s, that I wanted to invite Annalise to our home again.

“Once wasna enough to quench ye’re thirst Sassenach?” He smirked, lying next to me in bed, arms folded over his stomach.

“Well I won’t ask her if you don’t want her to come, I know it is still odd to invite another woman into our bed. But Jamie…” I paused, I could almost feel her small hands stroking my skin.

“Aye, Sassenach, if you want to invite her here again… I willna object.” He kissed my cheek, “Actually, ye’ll find I dinna object at all thinking of my wife, stretched out next to another beautiful woman.” He guided my hand down between his legs, I could feel his excitement at the impending future. “The first time nearly made my heart burst, ye ken this time might just kill me.”

I moaned against his mouth, “Oh is that so?”, my hand was moving his appendage in a slow motion, earning soft coos from its owner. “We can’t have that now can we?” He laughed as he rolled on top of me, spreading my legs and sliding home in one quick movement.

__________________________________________________________________________________

I was walking out of Master Raymond’s shop when I spotted a blonde-haired woman turning the corner. I waved my hand at Murtagh to wait and I rounded the same corner and followed Annalise.

“Annalise!” I shouted to her, not able to keep up, my pregnant belly now inhibiting my running capacity.

She turned to face me, “Oh Claire! Bonjour!”, she said, walking back to me and kissing both my cheeks.

“How are you dear Claire? Since our… evening?” She winked and I held out a hand to her, giving it a light squeeze.

“Very well Annalise, I was actually hoping to run into you.” I braced myself for a ‘no’ this time, how could I be so lucky to have her twice?

“Oui, have you been thinking about continuing that evening Claire? You and Jamie both of course?” She asked, her accent thick, eyes twinkling.

“Yes Annalise. If you would like to that is. We would be very honoured to welcome you into our bed once more.” I bit my bottom lip and turned towards the direction I had entered the alley. “We could go now in fact, Jamie will be home in an hour but I’m sure he won’t mind us starting without him.” I said bluntly, what point was their in being shy now?

“You are very bold Claire,” She wrapped her arm around mine and walked with me back to the carriage, where Murtagh was waiting. He quirked his eyebrow up at me at the sight of Annalise but I ignored it.

We couldn’t discuss our further plans in the carriage, with Murtagh sitting beside me. But I was able to think of all the possibilities that awaited me and Jamie. By the time we returned home, I felt a wetness between my thighs. Annalise de Marillac would be the end of me, I swear.

__________________________________________________________________________________

I stood in the middle of the room, nerves returning, palms sweating. Annalise closed the door behind her and came up behind me, her petite hands resting on my waist.

“Your belly is much bigger than the last time Claire.” She slid her hands around my stomach, holding on to mine and Jamie’s creation. “That means that something else…”, her hands inched up my stomach to just under my breasts and cupped them, “has grown no?”, she held my full breasts; I had surrendered my body over to Annalise the moment the door had closed, there was no turning back.

I leaned into her body, careful not to make her fall, I was much taller than her after all. “When did you say Jamie will be home?” I could barely bring forth a coherent thought as her fingers traced the outline of my nipples over my dress.

“Um, it should be within an hour. He knows you’ll be here.” My God, her hands.

“I always wondered what it would be like to sleep with Jamie,” her hands moved to untie my dress, loosening the bodice and pulling out the stomacher. “And now I know what you must feel every night Claire, and I also know what Jamie feels.” She slid the dress off of my shoulders and walked around in front of me. I helped her pull off the rest of my many layers, piece by piece until I stood naked in front of her.

She bent down on to her knees, her mouth planting a warm kiss on my stomach, hands on either side of my hips. “Mmmm what a miracle.” She left a trail of kisses from my belly button, making me squirm, all the way to just above my pubic bone.

“Annalise”, I sighed, letting my hands tangle in her blonde hair curled perfectly on top of her head.

“Shhh mon amie, I will take care of you.” I could barely see her head underneath my belly but I felt her tongue lick slowly up my mound. A sound escaped my mouth I didn’t recognize.

Annalise’s hand rested on my hips, her head moving in a circular rhythm, tongue slipping in and out of my pussy. “Oh Annalise”, I moaned her name once more and shrieked when she slid two fingers inside of me.

“You taste so magnifique Claire, I cannot get enough.” She continued to lick, her tongue bringing me to the edge several times, but I finally came when her third finger entered me, the rhythm she had created making me almost topple over her body.

She led me to the bed and helped me lay back, I was light headed from my orgasm and only realised Annalise was now naked when she climbed on top of me.

I felt her pussy against mine and I settled my hands on her waist. She bit her bottom lip and began to gyrate her hips in lewd motions. The friction against my pussy was almost maddening. Her hands caressed my breasts, thumbs resting on my pointed nipples. I reached for her and pulled her down to me, begging for her mouth to be on me. Her tongue moved in a figure eight pattern over my breasts, first the left then the right. “Oh Annalise, I need you.” I needed to feel something inside of me.

“I think I hear Jamie downstairs Claire, he is coming up. Be patient and he will fill that need.” She said from pausing to suck on my breasts. The thought of Jamie walking in to witness this almost made me cum right then.

Annalise slowed her movements against my pussy and focused on biting and massaging my breasts. I had my head turned towards the door and saw Jamie appear in the door frame.

“Christ.” He whispered and shut the door quickly behind him.

“I dinna think you would have started withou’ me, but dinna let me stop ye ladies.” Jamie smiled and walked over to the bed, leaning down to kiss me and then Annalise.

“Take off your clothes Jamie, I need you.” I sighed, my hands tracing patterns on Annalise’s back.

“Oui Sassenach, give me a moment to collect myself.” He chuckled but began to undress, first his shirt and vest and then his shoes and breeks. Annalise was positioned on top of me still, cradled around my belly, sucking from my breasts.

Jamie stood at the end of the bed and ran his calloused hands up my legs making me shiver. “Christ Jamie”, I muttered.

I felt hands touch my inner thighs and knew they were Jamie’s, much larger than Annalise’s. He parted my legs a little more and then his cock pressed between my legs.

“Mmmm Jamie, your cock is so hard.” Annalise cooed, she felt him pressing against me, her pussy still directly on top of mine.

“Mo nighean donn, I will try and be gentle, with the bairn and all.” He moaned, sliding into me with ease, his hands resting on Annalise’s back, helping move her body in a slow rhythm on top of mine. Jamie was pushing deeper inside of me, taking his time. Too much time.

“Oh Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ” I moaned, Annalise’s hand reached back and rubbed my clit as Jamie pulled out of me and thrust back into me hard, shaking Annalise on top of me. My hands found her breasts and I twist her nipples,“Merde Claire!” She cried out, sighing into my body. I gave her nipples another flick with my fingers, watching them turn red and then purple.

“Jamie, please” I begged for him to take me, and he did. He held my ankles and slid out of me briefly to push back in with such force I saw stars. “Ohhhh Jamie” I moaned loudly.

“Sassena-“ Jamie said and I opened my eyes to see him lying on Annalise, his cock still joined with me, he was breathing deeply and I then felt his warm seed in me.

Annalise kissed up my neck to either cheek, and then licked my lips.

I tried to collect myself and began to sit up, pushing Jamie out of me and then Annalise moved her legs so they were wrapped around my waist.

“Annalise…” I began, “Will you have sex with Jamie… while I watch? If you’re okay with that Jamie?” I asked him, now sitting on the edge of the bed, red faced.

“Aye, I’ll do anything ye say Sassenach.” He gave me a smile that reached his eyes, I took notice of his cock, growing harder by the second.

“Oui, Claire, of course I will do that. I want to.” She giggled and turned her face to Jamie and winked.

“I suppose I better get out of the way then.” I said and Annalise detached from me and I decided that I would lie on the lounge, just opposite the end of the bed.

Jamie ears were bright red, he walked over to me on the lounge and bent to kiss me, pausing just before reaching my mouth, “If ye see me doin’ anythin’ ye dinna want me to do wi’ her, ye can stop me Sassenach.” I cupped his face in both hands, “I don’t think there will be any stopping you Monsieur Fraser, and I don’t think I would even want to stop you.” I whispered, slightly embarrassed at how aroused I was feeling.

“I love you mo nighean donn.” He kissed me quickly and I watched his buttocks clench as he walked over to the bed. Annalise was sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed facing the door so that I was seeing their profiles. A much better angle for me to see when they finally joined together. Jamie was cautious, wanting to savour the moment and also I thought from sheer nerves. It wasn’t the first time he had been inside Annalise but it was the first time I was watching them like this.

I settled into the lounge, from my position I could see Jamie’s cock twitch as he sat across from Annalise, legs spread out on either side of her small body. “I want to ride you Jamie, like when we used to ride horses in the countryside.” She said, making Jamie mutter something in Gaelic.

I rested my hands on my breasts, holding their full weight and lightly tracing the areola. Jamie reached for Annalise’s hands and she took them, intertwining them with hers. She lifted off her legs and placed them over Jamie’s, his cock now resting in between their stomachs.

I heard moans and only realised they belonged to me when Jamie looked over at me and smiled softly. I blushed but didn’t try to keep quiet, watching my husband like this was turning me on completely.

Annalise held Jamie in her hand and I watched her spread her legs, sliding him into her with a deep sigh. He placed one hand on her waist but she controlled the movement. Grinding in an upwards motion, slow and deep and then a quick thrust. Her hand let go of Jamie’s and she place it on his chest, pushing him down to lay back.

I trailed one hand down my body, goosebumps raising all along my skin. “Christ” I whispered. I moved one hand to the wetness in between my legs and touched myself in the same rhythm that they moved.

Annalise stared down at Jamie, riding him like the horse she said she would. Gasps and moans came from the bed, Jamie’s hands on her arse. She lifted up slightly, almost letting Jamie slip out of her but then she slid down hard, “Mhac na galla”, Jamie cursed.

I sped up my fingers and entered two inside me, my thumb on my clit. This was the most erotic thing I had ever done, watching Annalise bounce on top of my husband. Annalise cried out in French and Jamie in Gaelic, it was like the United Nations in here.

I came whenever Jamie sat up and forcefully pressed his mouth against Annalise’s, tongues caressing and bodies shifting to better take one another deeper.

They rode out their orgasms, slowing their speed to a slow grind until Jamie kissed her one last time and fell back against the bed, utterly spent. Annalise giggled and leaned down, planting kisses against his nipples. I stood and walked over to the bed and helped Annalise lift off of Jamie, pulling him out of her.

“Mmmm, I dinna know if I can move.” Jamie sighed, staring up at us through hooded eyes.

“Don’t you worry about moving,” I crawled on the bed and slid in next to him, “we can lay here as long as you like.” I kissed him deeply as Annalise found the empty spot on the other side of Jamie. We linked hands and lay them across Jamie’s stomach, this time just above his cock. We all looked from one another, blushing and then burst out in laughs. I couldn’t imagine a better ending to mine and Jamie’s experimenting. Since I first invited Annalise to join us in bed, Jamie had been able to find his way back to me.

“Thank you again Annalise” I said quietly.

“Je vous en prie Claire… and you too Jamie. I think this was our last time together like this, I will always treasure it.” She smiled, moved her head to kiss Jamie and then leant over his body to kiss me.

I fell back against the bed and thought of how Jamie and I would never be the same, we were forever changed by our evening… well evenings we had spent with Annalise de Marillac.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 21

Still blown away that ANY of my works have reached 20+ pages. This story is so much fun, though, and such a challenge. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have without @diversemediums and her amazing brain. (We seriously had a long brain-vomit text match the other day and it was amazing.) I cannot wait for all the spinning pieces to come into play and get all worked out.

Catch up on chapter 20 HERE

Finally a week had gone by and Claire was ecstatic to see Jamie again. Murtagh left a short, vague note for Raymond informing him that they’d be back within twenty-four hours.

Much as she’d rather be in the cottage with Jamie, locked in their room for a day, Claire agreed they should stop for supplies first. With Jamie on full lock-down, he couldn’t leave to get food or other necessities. So she and Murtagh stopped to shop for a little bit before they made the rest of the drive to the cottage.

Just seeing it come into view gave Claire a thrill of excitement. Jamie would be waiting for her, just inside the door. She could almost smell him, could almost feel his soft hair sliding through her fingers, almost taste the salty sweat on his neck.

Instead, she restrained herself and helped Murtagh with the groceries, waiting while he unlocked the door. They looked at each other with worry when they heard multiple voices coming from somewhere in the cottage.

“No no!” chirped an unfamiliar voice. “It is naughty!”

“How is it naughty? It’s a game!”

“Oui, a game! But the club has games too and sometimes I play with them.”

Jamie, the other voice floating down the hall, scoffed.

“You’re only a wee lad. Ye dinna play those sorts of games.”

“Just look at it! Even without being carved it looks like a cock and ball!”

“Ye… Ye mean, they… Christ, lad! Ye canna be serious!”

A clack of wood on wood echoed toward Claire and Murtagh.

“Oui, I would not lie about something like that! One of the girls, Daphne I think, had one carved to look like a-”

“What the hell is this?!” Murtagh barked, staring at Jamie and a young boy.

Both figures shot up from the floor like cats caught in a trap. Claire had a moment to think that if she wasn’t so shocked, she might have laughed. That impulse quickly left as questions and worry entered her mind. Murtagh was already striding into the room.

Jamie stood and met Murtagh face to face. Claire started. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so angry. The young boy backed away, pressing himself against the wall.

“This is Fergus. Weel, his name is really Claudel, but we both agreed that wasna verra manly.”

“Ye broke yer word!” Murtagh shouted. “Ye promised ye’d stay here while I took yer woman to get training! Ye canna be leavin’ the house, ye fool! Do ye even ken how many people are after ye? What would they do if they saw ye just putterin’ about in the open!?”

"I dinna need ye ordering me about like a wee lad!"

"Perhaps I wouldna need to if ye pulled that thick skull out o' yer arse. What the bloody HELL were ye THINKIN' lad?!"

Jamie’s fists clenched at his sides. Young Fergus began backing away from the group.

“Murtagh, really,” Claire snapped, bringing the attention of all three males to her. “Why don’t you run to the kitchen, Fergus? You’re welcome to anything you can find. We’ll be back soon.”

The boy scampered off, leaving the adults to argue in relative peace.

"I will do what I must-"

"Aye, do what ye must to get captured and then where would ye-"

"Nothing. Happened."

"This time."

Jamie's eyes flashed a blue so brilliant it looked almost white.

"I wilna let-"

"Jamie, he's right."

Jamie swung on her, the fury on his face making her heart stutter.

"Are ye no’ my wife, Claire? Are ye no’ mine to protect for God's sake?"

"I didn't need protection, James Fraser, I needed you HERE waiting for me. Everything was in hand."

"Oh aye," Jamie said softly. "Aye, in hand. What would ye say when I tell ye that this lad was hired to trail ye?"

Everyone stopped.

“What?” Murtagh bit down on the single word.

“I was worried someone might have found ye both. So… I took a quick Look.”

"Ye used yer Sight? Despite everything that's happened over the last months? How many times ye came close to bleeding out and dyin' before our verra eyes?"

“Aye!” Jamie shouted back. “I did use my Sight! And it’s a good thing I did! I watched while Claire walked down the street and into a shop. The boy had been followin’ ye both. Studied yer faces so they’d ken ye no matter what.”

Claire’s heart skipped and began racing. They’d been followed and no one had known. Murtagh hadn’t known.

“Y… You’re sure?”

Jamie nodded, eyes still raging.

“Aye, I’m sure. I kent what was happening when I Saw it.”

“Ye mean to say a wee thing like that trailed me and I didna ken it?”

“Is that no’ what I just said?!”

Murtagh waved dismissively at him, which seemed to irritate him further.

“Wi’out yer healer,” Murtagh muttered. “I still have nightmares of the last time ye Looked wi’out her!”

“Look,” Jamie said, waving at himself. “I’m fine. No’ even a headache.”

“So let me get this straight,” Murtagh said, pacing again. “Not only did ye Look wi’out yer bloody healer about, but then ye left the damn house and brought the wee spy home?! Of all the bone-headed, stupid things to do!”

Jamie’s eyes sparked as he met Murtagh’s glare, both men one word away from killing each other. Claire exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm.

“Murtagh, could you leave please?” she asked, meeting Jamie’s glance with a cold one of her own. “I want to talk to him. Alone. Please.”

Murtagh made a scottish sound of derision and shook his head, muttering Gaelic curses as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The wee spy was in the kitchen, digging his grubby paws into everything he could reach. He sat on the countertop, legs dangling.

“Put that down! Ye canna be eatin’ out o’ the box wi’ yer hands!”

The boy gave him a flat look.

“Why not?” he asked, digging his hand back into the box.

“Because it…” Murtagh was temporarily unsure what to say. “It isna sanitary. When was the last time ye even washed yer hands?”

“Yesterday.”

Murtagh nearly yelled at the lad when he saw the glint in his eyes. Suddenly the voices from the other end of the cottage got louder. The boy flinched as Jamie’s shouts echoed from the room he shared with Claire. Murtagh sighed, exasperated with this whole damn mess. If the lad was here, it was for a reason. He knew Jamie would never have brought someone home that would have put him - or Claire - in danger.

“Come on then, laddie,” Murtagh said gruffly. “Let’s get ye somethin’ to eat.”

“Oui? You did not bring enough when you came today.”

Pursing his lips, he ruffled the boy’s hair and pushed him gently out the door.

“Aye, weel, I didna ken Jamie had brought home a stray. Christ, lad. Did ye eat at all?”

Fergus shrugged.

“Jamie said I could eat as much as I liked if I came back with him. He promised you would keep me safe.”

Of course he did, Murtagh thought to himself.

“Weel, so long as ye dinna prove to be a double agent.”

Murtagh drove the young man into town and let him choose where to eat. They would pick up supplies for the kitchen after.

“So, Fergus,” Murtagh said while the boy gulped down his drink. “How long have ye been followin’ us?”

“Since you arrived in Paris, I think. Maybe a little after.”

“How did you come to spy for these people?”

Fergus stuffed more bread into his mouth. It reminded him of Jamie at that age, constantly eating whatever he could get his hands on.

“I picked a man’s pocket. I’m a very good pickpocket. But he found out and here I am.”

“Do they know where we are? Do I need to get us out of Paris?”

He shook his head.

“No. I could not follow you out here. It was too far. And I could never follow you back to wherever you stayed in the city either. You move like a shadow.”

Murtagh smiled a little, taking pride in his ability to keep his godson safe.

“Have ye finished?”

Fergus pointed to the scraps on Murtaghs plate.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Once both plates were practically licked clean, Murtagh took Fergus to get more groceries. Again.

“If you do not want me to stay,” Fergus said in a very quiet voice. “I will go. I can disappear again. I do not want to make everyone angry.”

Murtagh sighed.

“It isna yer fault, lad. No’ really. It’s only that we’re worried about Jamie. His life is in danger if the wrong people find him. And he can be a bloody stubborn man.”

“Will she be angry with him for long? She sounded very angry.”

At that, Murtagh laughed.

“She’ll be angry as long as she needs, lad. Dinna fash o’er much. If I’ve learned anything about our Claire, it’s that she can be just as stubborn as our Jamie. But they love each other. They’ll be alright.”

Pulling into the driveway, Fergus helped bring in the groceries, already munching on something. The cottage was quiet and Murtagh smiled.

“Fergus,” he said. “What was that game ye had earlier?”

Fergus broke into a wide grin.

[rust-4-life]

is yellow pearl hot

ronaldo: you've got no taste harold smiley.

mr. smiley: oh, i do.

lars: what are you guys talking about?

mr. smiley: some gem, whether she's hot.

lars: who is the gal in question?

ronaldo: yellow pearl.

nanafua: ah, yellow pearl.

--

kevin: [everyone huddled around print out of yellow pearl, judging her hotness] not at all.

jenny: she's got mean eyes.

sadie: have you seen her with her bangs?

kevin: she looks like a monster.

jamie: guys, she is a beautiful performer, so maybe we should just go to work.

jenny: she /is/ an amazing actress.

kevin: that is not the question.

ronaldo: she's not hot.

kevin: yeah, thank you ronaldo.

jamie: okay, okay, okay. why don't we just put this to a vote, and then we'll be done with it.

connie: i'm not voting.

jamie: [snaps back] no one cares. who thinks that yellow pearl is hot, raise your hand. [half of them raises hand] okay, and who thinks yellow pearl is not hot, raise your hand. [other half raises hand]

kevin: [counting votes] five. five to five.

jamie: thank you, kevin.

kevin: so what do we do now?

--

lars: each side will have three minutes to prepare opening arguments. topic: yellow pearl is attractive.

everyone: hot!

kevin: the debate is whether she is hot.

mr. smiley: what difference does it make? attractive, beautiful, hot, we're talking about the same thing here.

kevin: huge difference. a painting can be beautiful, but i don't want to bang a painting.

lars: okay, tmi.

--

jamie: i think all of us have a tendency to view celebrities as sort of mythical figures, you know? we don't really see them as real so therefore we don't judge them as real people.

kevin: are you serious? jamie, just show us a picture.

peedee: kevin, c'mon.

buck: yeah, shut up kevin.

kevin: he's making all these fancy--...it's a gut thing.

jamie: kevin, you know what, why don't you close your eyes? imagine that yellow pearl comes onto this boardwalk for real and she walks over to you and says kevin, ...i just read your online profile and there is nothing i would rather do then make out with you /right now/. and now you tell me something... is. she. hot? [kevin gets up to join the "hot" team] does that end the debate?

kevin: [kevin sits down, gets right back up and heads back to "not hot" team] no, it's is she hot, not would you do her. respect the game.

connie: oh my God.

jamie: this close.

--

kevin: ladies and gentlemen, even though they are sexless, i was expecting a second plot twist where we found out yellow pearl was a boy.

sadie: kevin!

connie: ok, i wasn't going to dignify this discussion by getting involved, i don't even get the discussion, hot is a temperature people. but kevin deserves to lose for what he said, so, yes, she's hot, she's hot as heck, she's a female boris becker.

jamie: OH!

--

buck: No, no, no no. shes hot, okay? because if you are saying yellow pearl isn't hot, then you are saying that i am not hot. because OBVIOUSLY i am not as hot as yellow pearl! [buck runs away in tears]

--

sadie: ladies, are we prepared to let the kevins of the world decide anything for us? anything at all? we don't even give him full coupon access.

kevin: wait, what?

--

peedee: see that, the obvious symmetry of the face? that's a natural appeal of the scientific standard of koinophilia, features that are a composite average of many features. yes, she is attractive, but is not hot.

--

jamie: [entire office is chatting] all i'm saying is kevin is not necessarily a feminist, is all i'm saying.

--

mr. smiley: i am trying to be more optimistic in life. i've got what, 20 or 30 years left. and my family history says i have less. now, the old mr. smiley would have found something to joke about this gem.but that is no way to live life. look at this healthy sexy pretty strong young woman. c'mon people! she is hot.

--

lars: okay, it is time for the final votes. all of those in favor of resolution yellow pearl is hot? [half raises hand] okay. and all those opposed? [joins other half in raising hand]

kevin: this is ridiculous.

peedee: that's the thing about debating, you're just going to get people more entrenched in the view they had in the first place. [two sides of the debate start arguing]

--

steven: oh, hey what is this?

sadie: yellow pearl.

steven: oh, she is hot.

[cutshoe15-blog]

Game Of Thrones Power Rankings: Medieval ‘I Never’ And Cersei’s Superweapon

Alex Van Mecl for HBO

Boy, if you thought last week’s episode involved some questionable military tactics, this week’s episode must’ve really been a treat.

This episode went from feeling like slightly stilted, expository fan fiction (but funny) — turning “previously on” into a game of medieval “I never” was an interesting choice — to strong conflicts about how to recognize a tyrant, to an episode of Hitler’s superweapon, all while wiping their ass with basic physics. Now, you might say it’s silly to quibble about physics and realistic tactics in a show about dragons and zombies. And to that I say, if you can’t figure out a believable way to fill plot holes in a universe where shapeshifters, talking animals, and powerful wizards exist, what are you even doing?

Down: Daenerys

You know how sometimes you just want to Yaas Qween but the crossbros just won’t let you? Must we relitigate the 2016 primary again?

It’s weird, because this episode was so strong on the subject of trying to recognize a future tyrant and yet so weak on basic physics. I’m just saying, if a fleet of giant crossbow weapons just destroyed one of my dragons and my entire fleet, my first reaction probably wouldn’t be 1) fly my last remaining dragon directly at all of the crossbows while screaming, and 2) conveniently assembling the vanguard of my army well within crossbow range.

When Daenerys first started flying straight at the crossbows I thought, “Oh, maybe she’s drawing their fire, because crossbows are notoriously slow to reload. Or maybe she’s just wheeling around behind them because surely ships can’t turn as fast as dragons.”

But nope, turns out that was just Daenerys blowing off steam. To quote Hot Fuzz, haven’t you ever fired your gun up into the air and gone “aaaarrggh?”

Still, we have to give her a little credit. Things would be better in Westeros if only people would actually listen to Daenerys. Did she not tell Jon that he would ruin everything if he told anyone he was a Targaryen? So what does he do? Tells everyone that he’s a Targaryen, of course, and ruins everything. Way to go, dumbass.

So yes, Daenerys is about to go a little nuts, but can you really blame her?

TORMUND, slapping Jon on the back: What kind of person climbs on a dragon? A madman, or a fucking KING!

DAENERYS: [*angry Tracy Flick music plays in background*]

HBO

Maybe that’s the thing about absolute power. Maybe it only corrupts absolutely because the more power you have, the more dumb bullshit you have to deal with from idiots who drive you crazy. Oh, did you like it when the man rode the dragon? Did you not like it when I was doing it two seasons ago while freeing the slaves, you ungrateful proles!

VARYS: “Hmm, I don’t if we can trust her, she seems a bit nuts.”

Down: Ser Jorah

Helen Sloan for HBO

Dry ol’ Mormont, not even dying for his lady could get him a kiss on the lips. You hate to see it.

Down: Tormund Giant’s Bane

HBO

Poor Tormund, everyone’s favorite party animal, cockblocked by Jamie Lannister, the greatest fuckboi in all of Westeros. “Pardon me, m’lady, it seems I’m having trouble taking my shirt off.”

You hate to see it. Why don’t women ever go for nice guys instead of rich phonies? Then again, maybe Tormund saying “find the coward who shit in my pants” isn’t the greatest pick-up line.

“Women don’t like me here.” Yeah, well virgins don’t either. Know your audience, man.

Up: Euron Greyjoy

HBO

Euron’s collection of flowing scarves and devastating sneers are really helping tide me over while I wait for Young Pope to come back on. It looks like he’s really lucked into a good thing here thanks to Qyburn’s crossbows. And good on him for not snickering when Cersei brought up having a child. “Babe, babe, you’re an aging ex-dowager who’s had three children by her own brother and failed utterly at keeping any of them alive, and I’m considered a Tomcat even by the standards of the race of grumbly, bickering pirates who steal everything they own from which I come. But for sure, yeah, I think we’ll make great parents.”

My man looks like Pacey from Dawson’s Creek.

Way Up: Qyburn

Qyburn is quickly turning out to be the MVP of this whole conflict. You really have to give the guy credit for developing a giant crossbow thingy that can:

-fire massive, dragon-killing bolts thousands of yards. -be mounted on ships and fired at sea -reload almost instantly, despite the fact that the hand-held version are notoriously slow -snipe an animal no one has ever seen before out of the sky with deadly accuracy

…and are apparently light and portable enough to be carried up to the top of a castle’s walls via man and horsepower. Those things are a real game changer. Who knew a necromancer would be so damned good at engineering and organization? The Citadel really has egg on their face for kicking Qyburn out.

Down: Dorn

Hey, where the fuck are you guys? There are only a few episodes left, are you ever going to originate a substantive plot in this show? So far your most valuable contribution is as a place in a song where someone “slept with the Dornishman’s wife.” Cucked province.

Up: Cersei

HBO

I admit, I questioned the wisdom of shacking up with a weaselly, iron-born rebel, but between Euron and Qyburn, Cersei is fast beginning to seem like she has a real gift for staffing. Still, I have to question some of her choices.

For instance: When you take out your enemy’s fleet with giant crossbows and they wash up on the beach, you just let them run off home? Or did they just respawn back in their own lair like a video game? Either way, that seemed like an ideal time for host-crushing. Instead you… took a bed slave hostage? Interesting.

Also: if you dispatch a professional assassin to kill your dwarf brother because said brother is allegedly such a valuable asset to your enemy, and said brother just waddles right into arrow range unarmed, why wouldn’t you just kill said brother? Was it not elaborate enough? I feel like Cersei can’t stand to see her enemies die unless it involves wildfire, necromancy, superweapons, or elaborate schemes. Foolish Tyrion, invoking Cersei’s children. Clearly, it’s the drama that she loves.

Up: Bronn

HBO

Speaking of, how the hell did Bronn just show up alone in a room with the hand of the king and Jamie Lannister in the middle of their entire army? And shhh, quiet, I don’t want the explanation from you. That just seems like something it would’ve been cool to see, and/or have someone on the show question in any way. Instead, they were like “Oh cool, Bronn’s here! That makes sense, he’s definitely a character in this show.”

[*Tommy Wiseau voice*] Oh, hi, Bronn.

Up/Down: Tyrion and Varys

HBO

Thank God for these two, they’re the only ones keeping this show from going completely off the rails (or at least, the ones keeping it semi-watchable even as it leaves the rails far, far behind). It’s nice to watch them discover that perhaps the best person to lead Westeros is the person who’s least interested in leading Westeros. The same rules apply to taking kids on a camping trip.

Still, I have to question Tyrion’s strategy of appealing to Cersei’s better nature. And walking right into crossbow range. And assuming Bronn wouldn’t slap him around just because they had history. Honestly, for a clever character, Tyrion is starting to become a real dumbass.

HBO

Down: Jon Snow

Wow, man. Are you seriously going to pull a Lena Dunham on the dog who just lost an ear protecting you from the undead? Not even one last nuzzle and “who’s a good boy?” Also, way to just let your dragon die, you dumb asshole. Jon’s leadership favorability really starts to take a hit once you factor in pet ownership.

Up: Brienne Of Tarth

HBO

The former Maiden of Tarth got to have two men fight over her, finally got it in, and in the end learned a valuable lesson about thinking you can change the handsome charming rich guy who kills people and fucks his sister. You hate to see it. In any case, it seems like she’s better off. And there’s still time to run through the proverbial airport after Tormund.

Up: Starbucks

Excellent product placement, so subtle I barely noticed.

Still, my favorite Game of Thrones coffee tie-in has to be this one.

Even: Arya Stark

Between “I’m not a lady” and “I respect that,” Arya is getting the most consistently fan-fiction-y dialogue in this show. Still, she managed to make a full recovery from getting stabbed by the Night King in less than a day and made Gendry Baratheon fall in love with her after just one roll in the hay. What tricks did she learn from the Faceless Men? Or maybe Gendry was just smitten ever since he thought she was a young boy named ‘arry. Either way, it was probably smart not to husband that one.

What Will Next Week Bring?

Some Cleghane-on-Clegane action? Qyburn getting a taste of his own dark magic? Greyworm going John Wick on some fools? Dorn… well, Dorn factoring into this story in any way? Daenerys letting those Aerys genes shine through? Necromancy spells (Jon, The Mountain) beginning to wear off? Whatever happens, I just want Davos to be okay.

Vince Mancini is on Twitter. You can access his archive of reviews here.

Source: https://uproxx.com/tv/game-of-thrones-power-rankings-the-last-of-the-starks/

[ismael37olson]

As Soft and as Pink as a Nursery -- 13 Really Sexist Musicals

In this moment in our cultural history, in which we're finally calling out expressions of sexism, racism, and other bias, it's worth looking closer at the shows we produce. Maybe the Era of Trump has made it necessary. A while back, I wrote a blog post about musicals that are much darker than most people think. Now we're having debates about problematic content in older musicals, and whether or not some older shows should be largely retired. Sometimes people tell me -- apologetically, but not really --that they don't really like "the new musicals." They like Rodgers & Hammerstein because they "just want escape." You know, like the "escape" of World War II in the Pacific, or the "escape" of watching the King of Siam lose his culture and then his life, or the "escape" of watching Jud Fry buy pornography from Ali Hakim, then try to murder Curly and Laurie, then die in a knife fight... Escape is awesome. Some people (usually white straight men) are enraged that anybody would suggest that Annie Get Your Gun should be retired for good. But it should. Times change. We are no longer the people, the culture, or the country we were in the early and mid 20th century. A great many of the shows written before 1960 (and some since then) are no longer relevant, and many of them are embarrassing or full-out offensive.

Here are some examples...

My Fair Lady -- This is a story about a narcissistic misogynist who keeps a young woman hostage in his home, using psychological torture, including sleep deprivation, to break her will and brainwash her, in order to make her socially acceptable and marriage-able to other men. Although, to be fair, the original poster laid out the show's sexism pretty clearly. At the end of the show, we debate whether the ambiguous ending means Eliza loves Henry or not. Let's hope not, for her sake! Why the fuck did she come back...? Sure, you could argue this is a near-masterpiece in many ways, and like some of Shakespeare's plays, it should be kept in the canon even though it's problematic. But you can't call Annie Get Your Gun anything remotely like a masterpiece. Annie Get Your Gun  -- Like My Fair Lady, this show is about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Ultimately, Annie can only win Frank's heart by letting him win fraudulently, so his tiny male ego isn't hurt. WTF? And what's with that toxic song, "The Girl That I Marry"?

The girl that I marry will have to be As soft and as pink as a nursery. The girl I call my own Will wear satins and laces and smell of cologne. Her nails will be polished and, in her hair She'll wear a gardenia, and I'll be there; 'Stead of flittin', I'll be sittin' Next to her and she'll purr like a kitten. A doll I can carry, the girl that I marry must be.

Seriously, "a doll I can carry"...??? She is literally an object to him, a toy. This is twelve years after Reno Sweeney had told us that "times have changed." Carousel -- This is a show about a serial womanizer and abuser, and petty repeat offender, who dies in the commission of a violent crime and leaves behind a wife with PTSD and a fucked-up daughter who tries to find validation in the arms of other men. Of course, these days, this is most infamous for this exchange between Billy's widow Julie and her daughter Louise:

Louise: I didn't make it up, Mother! There was a strange man here and he hit me -- hard -- I heard the sound of it -- but it didn't hurt, Mother! It didn't hurt at all -- it was jest as if he -- kissed my hand! Julie: Go into the house child. Louise: But is it possible, Mother, fer someone to hit you hard like that -- real loud and hard -- and not hurt at all. Julie: It is possible, dear, fer someone to hit you -- hit you hard -- and not hurt at all.

Anybody want their daughter to see that scene...?

Kiss Me, Kate -- Another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. This story is literally about the "taming" of a woman. Animals are tamed, not people. The only way to make it work is by subverting the text, by suggesting through the staging, line delivery, etc., that Kate is "in on the joke." But even if you change the ending that way, it doesn't erase the abuse he has subjected her to, throughout the rest of the show. She's going to be happy with this guy?  No. Guys and Dolls -- Yet another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Adelaide is in a psychologically abusive relationship with Nathan. They've been engaged for fourteen years, in a time and place when women had to get married. There's no way he actually loves her. And Sky gives Sarah the 1950s equivalent of a date-rape drug. And notice in the song "Marry the Man Today," we discover Adelaide and Sarah don't really like a whole lot about their men. So why would they marry them? And Republicans want to return to the 1950s. No, No, Nanette -- Yet another show about the subjugation of strong women by insecure men. Surprisingly for 1925, one of the central plot lines is about how Nanette cannot enjoy independence without money, and all the money is controlled by men. It's an unusually honest and truthful comedy for 1925, though Nanette can't live Happily Ever After till she gets her man. Yawn. Camelot -- Not only is this another story of the subjugation of strong women by insecure men, but here, the woman's punishment is literally burning at the stake. She is to be killed for the crime of being sexually active and choosing for herself who she loves. The irony gets even uglier when you consider how much the serially adulterous JFK loved this show. And let's not forget that Guenevere is a truly fucked-up young woman who has been taught to be attracted to (and aroused by?) violence. The Sound of Music -- Here's one about a damaged young woman who falls for an angry, abusive, distant daddy figure, who has raised some monster children. Aw, isn't that sweet? What's that rule about workplace romances? Yeah, but the Alps are so pretty! Maria is never allowed to decide her own fate -- everybody tells us what to do, and then she does. And how about the treatment of the Baroness -- how did Georg's legitimate fiancee become the villain here...? It's not exactly the old "virgin vs. whore" scenario, but it's close...

Once Upon a Mattress -- This is a comedy entirely about how women have to be twice as good as men to get the same job. In the late 1950s! Tell Me on a Sunday (Act I of Song and Dance) -- This is a great show in a lot of ways, but it's about a woman who has learned to define herself only in terms of the men in her life. Yikes! We produced the show with New Line because as weak and fucked-up as this woman is, we did see a lot of truth in her, and ultimately, we think she will take control of her own life... Beauty and the Beast -- Sorry about this, Michelle, but this is a story about a young woman with Stockholm Syndrome, imprisoned by an insecure man... er, monster. It's creepy in a similar way to My Fair Lady. Why do we accept these stories? Why do women find them romantic? Miss Saigon -- Kim is a depressing, weak, Asian stereotype, who literally cannot talk about anything other than love, and who is helpless unless the White Savior can rescue her. But the White Savior has a White Wife, so the Asian woman is fucked. The Robber Bridegroom -- The story's hero Jamie Lockhart tells us repeatedly (most explicitly in the Act I finale) that he doesn't enjoy sex if it's consensual. Think about that. He only likes sex if it's rape.

I never was a courtin' kind of boy; Them flirtin' games ain't nothin' I enjoy. I hate a girl to give me goo-goo eyes; If she'd turn her back, I'd sneak attack, And get 'er by surprise! ‘Cause I like Love stolen from the cookie jar! I like love stolen on the sly! Oh yeah! I just love snitchin' what ain't meant for me; Oh the more forbid, The sweeter tastes the pie! A lot of girls are willin' to be had; The more I see, the more it makes me mad. You grab ‘em good; it doesn't faze 'em none. Well, that may be cool by the modern rule, But they're killin' all the fun!

You know, the "fun" of raping someone. How can anyone produce this show anymore? We did it in 2004, long before the #MeToo movement, and it was a difficult show even then -- which is the point. I'm told a recent local production essentially removed the rape from the story by making it all more playful and making Rosamund more obviously eager and compliant. That's fine I guess, but then it's a different show making a different point (if any) about different things. It's no longer about the intersection of violence and sex in American culture and in our American DNA. Yes, it's in our DNA. We can never forget that mid-century America was fine with Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, a freakish MGM romanticizing of abduction and rape; and also The Fantasticks, in which abduction and rape are ironic comic devices. So what do we do with this show? It's awfully hard to make a case right now for a comedy about rape. Women characters in many musicals are weak. That's partly because companies still produce a lot of really old musicals when our culture not only accepted that, but expected it. It's also because until the last decade or two, there were virtually no women writing musicals. And since lots of musicals center on a love story, it was almost always a love story from the male (fantasy?) point of view. When there were strong women characters, they were generally the secondary "comic" lead. Because after all, you can't take a strong woman seriously!

There were exceptions (almost always written by gay men) like Dolly Levi and Mame Dennis, but even they needed men before they could end their stories happily. Most disturbingly, since it opened in 1966, Mame is about a nonconformist who is repeatedly forced to conform. It's not an accident that a year later, the American theatre answered with Hair -- which admittedly, is awfully sexist in its own ways.

What's my point with all this? My point is not that we should abandon all the old shows. But I do believe we need to think more critically about work we're really familiar with. It took me a long time to realize what a dirtbag Harold Hill is, because I grew up watching him in one of my favorite movie musicals. It never occurred to me as a child to question any of it. And really, that's the genius of The Music Man, that Harold cons us (the audience) as successfully as he cons the River City-zians. We can be eassily seduced by our favorite musicals, by great songs, etc., and we have to be careful about that. In other words, just think about it. More than we have been. Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/11/as-soft-and-as-pink-as-nursery-13.html

[imagineclaireandjamie]

There hadn't been any chapters of the band au for a while, so how about Jamie and Claire meeting a certain Geneva, president of Jamie Fraser's fan club

We Live For Love 

Claire Fraser turned on her flashers and pulled on theparking brake.

 “I’ll be right back,” Jamie murmured in the passengerseat, ducking for a quick kiss before opening the door and jogging into theconvenience store.

 Claire stretched, sighing happily. It was just past sevenAM on the first day of a whole week off – and they were making the most of it.They had left their tiny apartment, picked up Jamie’s VW at the garage around thecorner, and made good time up the West Side Highway and into the Bronx. Somewherebetween two and three hours up the Taconic would land them in the picturesquetown of Rhinebeck – where a farmhouse dating from before the Revolution wastheirs, and theirs alone, for the next seven days.

 The tour had been going spectacularly well – sales of thelatest album were through the roof, earlier this year they had made their firsttour in Japan, and she and Jamie and the band had played to a sellout atMadison Square Garden last night. Any trepidation about their third album hadvanished with the first of dozens of positive reviews. Joe had encouraged themto be smarter with this tour – to say no to more dates, just because theycould. To build in days off and mini breaks. To stay sane.

 She watched a family of four pull up to the gas stationin a battered Buick stationwagon. The father got out – and so did a very littleboy, perhaps two or three. He hugged his father’s leg as he pumped the gas.

 Her hand drifted to her belly. Three months along – thankGod! – with their first child. More than three years of trying had led her toalmost lose hope. Only Jamie and her doctor knew – not even her manager, JoeAbernathy, let alone any of those suits at Chrysalis. One of the things that sheand Jamie needed to decide during this week was how to break the news – and whatthey would do, once the baby came.

 For they both craved a normal life. Stepping out of thespotlight. Not that the fans weren’t amazing – the countless girls who had huggedClaire during autograph sessions, eagerly describing how she had inspired themto make their own music; the dozens of up-and-coming guitar players that Jamiehad met and mentored since they had hit it big.

 But fame was a dizzying carousel. Fun for a short ride –but staying on too long made you sick.

 The hate mail. The death threats. The scantily-dressedwomen that local promoters in Detroit and San Antonio had had wait in Jamie’sdressing room – they always insisted on separate areas to prepare before aconcert. The man who had broken into their hotel room in London and waited,naked, on the bed until they returned from dinner.

 She smiled at the memory – at least *that* timequick-thinking Jamie had knocked him out cold before taking her downstairs tothe front desk. Times like that, it helped to have a famous name – the hotelmanager had profusely apologized, terrified of the negative publicity, andgratefully agreed to Jamie’s half-joking idea of the presidential suite.

 The fan club, on the other hand – those were more tame.Most of them, anyway – they devoured every issue of the fan magazine, snappedup the limited-edition copies of songs that she and Jamie recorded on a whim,had pressed privately, and distributed directly to the fans – to Chrysalis’constant consternation. Geneva Dunsany was the president – a perky, enthusiasticfan who at times appeared a bit too touchy-feely but on the whole seemedgenuine.

 It was Geneva’s idea – a rather good one, Claire had toadmit – to do the photoshoot for People magazine. Claire and Jamie Fraser –millionaire rockstars - home in the tiny apartment they had occupied in Alphabet City since before theywere married. Showing off their wall full of gold records, Jamie’s prizedguitars, the tiny upright piano he had bought Claire as a wedding present.Laughing as they crammed into Jamie’s 1965 VW Beetle to escape the madness ofthe city. Claire sitting on Jamie’s lap on the subway, both wearing sunglasses,kissing like mad.

 They were so, so happy.

 Finally, Jamie breezed out of the convenience store –clutching a tabloid, to-go coffee, and paper bag. She leaned over the passengerseat to open the door, and he slid in gratefully.

 “Did anyone recognize you?”

 She turned to face him – and froze. For his eyes werewide – pupils dilated. His hands trembled as they clutched the newspaper.

 “Claire?” His voice was so rough.

 “Jamie? You’re scaring me – ”

 “You know I love you, right?”

 “Yes,” she replied automatically. “I don’t understand – ”

 “And that it’s only been you since the day we met, right?And that I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman? Right?”

 “Jamie! What – ”

 “Here.” He thrust the newspaper into her shaking hands.

 MY NIGHT WITH JAMIE FRASER!

 The headline blared in three-inch letters.

 FAN CLUB PRESIDENT GETS TO PLAY WHILE HIS WIFE IS AWAY.

 All the breath left her chest.

 “Geneva,” Claire choked.

 “I have no idea what she’s going on about.” Now his voicewas deep, fierce. “I *knew* she was up to something. That she had some kind ofulterior motive in getting close to us.”

 Tears sprung to Claire’s eyes. “I – I…”

 Jamie pushed the paper to the ground and grabbed Claire’shands. “Look at me. Please.”

 She did. His thumb stroked her wedding ring.

 “You know it’s not true, Claire. You *know* I wouldnever, *ever* play you false. You know that, right?”

 “Yes,” she hiccupped. “I know. You don’t even need to sayit, Jamie.”

 Then he crushed her in a deep hug – the parking brake diggingpainfully into his back – but he didn’t care one bit.

 “I love you so much,” he whispered. “You and the baby. Iam so, so angry.”

 “Me too.” She inhaled the skin of his neck – right in thespot where she would always taste his sweat, right after a concert. “I’m so angrytoo. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

 He sighed, and they held each other for a very long time.

 “We need to make some phone calls,” she said after awhile.

 He pulled back just enough to brush the messy curls fromher eyes. “I guess Joe, right?”

 She nodded. “Let’s find a payphone. And then we’ll keepon driving. There’s nothing else we can do today.”

 “It will blow over, Claire.”

 “I know. I don’t even want to acknowledge it. I want tokick her out, and sue her ass until kingdom come.”

 Finally he smiled. “Yes.”

 “And then,” she swallowed, eyes dazzling. “Then – I wantto wait until I’m a few more months along. And then I want us to get naked infront of a camera, and show off our baby in my belly. Would you do that?”

 “Yes.” His eyes glowed with love and want and pride andadmiration. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

 “Good.” She leaned over and he met her in a slow, sweet kiss.

 “Do you want me to drive?”

 “Hell no,” she teased, pulling on her seatbelt. “Let’sgo on a bit further. I think there’s a bigger rest stop not too far from here. Then we’llcall Joe – and then our vacation begins.”

 He buckled his seatbelt. “As my lady commands.”

 She turned off the flashers and put the car in drive. “Ilove you, Jamie.”

 He rested his hand on top of hers on the stick shift. “Ilove you, Claire.”

 Jamie turned the radio back on – and Van Halen’s “Panama”blared – and Claire pulled the VW onto the highway.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 3

First of all, I have to shout out a MAJOR thank you to @diversemediums and @outlandishchridhe for helping me puzzle this one out. This story is a fun challenge for me as I don’t have any idea where it’s going. I’m figuring out the bits and pieces as I go, but it’s as much a mystery to me as it is for you. Anywhoo. Here’s the next part. Hope y’all like it!

Catch up on part two HERE

Three days. It had been three days since he’d had that vision of Claire, since he’d seen and felt every part of her. Over and over he’d tried to study the vision, write down as many details as he could. It wasn’t an effort to be perverted, but to try and understand what the hell the vision had meant.

He hadn’t given Miss Beauchamp his number, or asked for hers, because he had a feeling she’d come around by the end of the week. She was far too curious about him and his powers to stay away.

Staring down at the journal, he traced the curve of her lower lip as she bit down on it. The words scribbled beneath it, he barely remembered writing.

Have I found her? Has the White Lady finally come to me? What am I to do now? If she is truly the White Lady, born of True Love, what does it mean? God, she is more beautiful than I could have imagined...

***

Five days after he’d met Miss Beauchamp, he prepared tea and biscuits. If his inkling was right, she’d be by right around tea time. Right on time, she knocked on his door. He opened it and tried to give her a polite, friendly smile.

“Miss Beauchamp. Pleasure to see you again.”

When her eyes met his, his smile faltered. That odd, golden color brought back sharp images of his vision. Glowing, glittering, wide with passion. Watching as the corners of those eyes scrunched as they squeezed shut. How they could hold his gaze like he was locked in a trance.

“I… I meant to be by sooner, but… you know. Life and such.”

Her eyes could only meet his for a moment. Before they darted away, pink coloring her cheeks.

“You came when I expected you.”

I want you to come with me, beloved.

He shook his head, that echo sending fire through his veins. She hadn't said that in the vision, so where had it come from?

“Right. Look, about what happened last time… I still don't really believe all this. I don't know why I'm here, to be honest.”

Holding the door open, he waved her inside. They went back to the same room as before, the tea and biscuits waiting.

“You're going to read my leaves again?”

“No, I don't think so. Your leaves were… complicated. I think today we’ll go with something simpler. This is just tea.”

Narrowing her eyes, she accepted the cup from him and took a sip. First, she stared down at the cup in shock, before taking another eager drink.

“This is-”

“Your favorite, yes?”

“How did you-”

With a smirk, he tapped the side of his head.

“Psychic, remember?”

They fell quiet as they had their tea. He noticed she'd pushed herself to the edge of her chair opposite him, her body language closed off. Something was different today.

“You don't need to be afraid of me, Miss Beauchamp. I mean you no harm.”

Her brows lifted as she put the cup down on the table.

“And how would I know that? Because you said so?”

“Fair point.”

While they'd been drinking, he'd been studying her, learning about her. His gift came in the form of seeing the past or the future. He couldn't read minds, though he was very good at reading faces, so people often assumed he could.

He only caught bits and pieces of her younger life. There was a car accident, which had a heavy impact on her. A nomadic young existence which left her in want of a permanent home. Something inside her was afraid, hiding away in a dark corner hoping never to be discovered.

“So?”

“What?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Prove to me you're a psychic and not some fraud Geillis hired to torment me.”

A deep breath, calming his thoughts, pushing all else to the back of his mind, he focused on her. Navigating his way carefully through memories, he followed a strong feeling until he saw what he needed.

She was there, sitting on her bed. Geillis giggled in the front room, still occupied with her latest catch. Claire took an envelope out of the drawer in her nightstand, pulling out the photos. For a long time, she just stared at them.

His eyes opened slowly, rising to meet hers. One of her eyebrows was lifted in question, clearly waiting for him to blurt out a vague idea she could confirm or deny.

“When Geillis is busy,” he said before he paused to clear his throat. “You sneak into your bedroom to be alone for a moment. There’s an envelope in your nightstand drawer with photos of your parents. The only ones you have left, I believe. You look at them every night, but you’ve never told your best friend.”

The echo of her memory sang through his thoughts still, fading as he let his concentration lapse.

“You used to hold a mirror beside your mother’s portrait, just to see how much like her you look. You haven’t done that in years, not since you started to really look like her.”

Claire’s mouth was hanging wide open, eyes bright with shock. She began to shake her head slowly back and forth, trying to deny what he’d just told her.

“You can’t possibly… No one even… That can’t be true… You can’t… How…”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well… No, but you must be. You can’t have known about…”

“Geillis doesn’t know about the pictures, so she couldn’t have told me. You’ve never seen me before the other day, so I haven’t been spying on you. How else would I know about them, and that you look at them every night, if I wasn’t a psychic?”

She suddenly crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her legs up onto the chair. Tears welled in her eyes, opened wide in fear. His heart turned over at the sight.

“You said you wanted me to prove it. I’m sorry if I took it too far, but it had to be something Geillis didn’t know about already.”

“Those… Those are the only photos I have…”

“It was a car crash, that took them from you?”

“Stop doing that!” she snapped, hastily wiping the tears from her face.

Jamie held his hands up, palms out in surrender.

“I’m sorry, Miss Beauchamp. Sometimes… This gift of mine gets away from me sometimes and I forget what it feels like to others. I apologize.”

Claire’s eyes were on the floor, glazed and unfocused. Had he just gone too far?

***

There was no way this man she’d only met once before could possibly know that. Not even if he’d been outside her window. But he knew. He knew that she had two photographs. He knew that she looked at them almost every night. That she’d held a mirror up when she was little. That she’d lost them in a car crash. How had he said it? A car crash that had taken them from her.

That loss, at such a young age, had started something in her. The first loves she’d ever had, her doting parents, had been snatched away from her. The man that had raised her had also been stolen away.

“Why?” she blurted, still not looking at him. “Why did you ask me to come back? Just so you could pry open my secrets?”

“No,” he said quickly, voice very gentle. “Not at all. I’m deeply sorry for causing you such distress.”

After hearing that deep, Scottish burr in her dream, she thought she could hear a hint of it in his English accent. She'd noticed it the first time they'd met and had wondered why he hid it. Now, taking in everything he'd just told her, Claire thought she now knew all too well. Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see him start to reach out for her, only to stop himself and sit back in his chair.

“So why? It’s obviously not because of Geillis.”

“I truly don’t know. There’s something that…,” he paused, as if rethinking what he was going to say. “What I said before is true. I’ve never read leaves like yours. Or seen such unique lines on a palm. And then the vision-”

He stopped suddenly and her eyes flashed up to his. Vision? She’d had an intensely erotic dream about him a few nights before, but she’d pretended it had been exhaustion and the wine at dinner with Frank. Her chest felt tight as her tears of sadness changed to tears of anger.

“What. Vision.”

“Miss Beauchamp, you have to understand-”

“Did you see my death!?”

“What? No! No, I rarely see someone’s death. No, I see snippets of the past, or vague notions of the future. That’s all.”

Now it was his turn to look away from her. The tips of his slightly pointed ears turned pink and then deep red. Her heart began racing as she watched the red deepen.

“What the hell did you see?”

“I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea of me. I have no control over these visions.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to walk out of here and you’ll never ever see me again.”

Jamie’s eyes fastened on hers again, their earnestness making her swallow. His brow furrowed in thought as he chose his words.

“It… It came in glimpses. Two people, waiting for each other. He watched her wander through a field, enjoying her freedom. Then… It skipped, not flowing clearly. Then they were together, him above and her below. They were desperate, lusting, like they hadn’t been together in some time. Married. They wanted a child. He wore a kilt. He… They…” he paused, taking in a shallow breath and letting it out again. “I could taste her, feel her quivering beneath me.”

Jamie opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. Claire found herself on the edge of her seat, her nails digging into the underside of the chair she sat on.

“And that's it?”

“I woke before they… Concluded their meeting.”

Claire swallowed, her belly tightening at the memory of that very moment she thought her body was on fire, lost in sensation, before she'd awoken next to Frank.

“He had blue eyes,” she whispered. “Like yours.”

“I don’t know that. But her eyes were… Very much like yours.”

“No, I mean… I saw him. His eyes. I… I felt something. Like I was there. Like it was real.”

Claire heard Jamie's breath hitch slightly; watched him gaze at her, his lips slightly apart. She knew without truly knowing that his mouth was soft and warm. His eyes dilated, and his breath came shorter. Claire barely had enough time to realize something was happening when he spoke.

*** He recognized the feeling, but was confused. It never happened during his waking hours.

Tears ran down her cheeks, flushed from anger or passion he didn’t know.

Claire was looking at him with wide eyes, concerned.

“Please,” she pleaded with him. “It must be tonight.”

The electric lights around him came into sudden, sharp focus.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely suppressing his Scottish accent. “I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Then everything around him tilted sideways and slipped away from him.

“Hush, mo nighean donn. I’ll no’ deny ye. Haven’t ye learned that by now?”

“Please! It has to be tonight!”

“Why?”

She hiccuped with a sob and met his eyes.

“It just does. Please.”

He smiled at her and checked around the corner. The rest of the castle was asleep, giving them a few precious moments to sneak out undetected.

“Come wi’ me. I’ve just the place.”

Jamie came back to himself with a sudden snap. Prying his eyes open, he looked at the tear-streaked face before him, golden eyes glinting.

“Mo nighean…” he croaked, reaching out as if to wipe the tears from her cheeks. But a mind-numbing pain seared through his head and he cried out, clutching his hair. “Ifrinn!”

Claire nearly launched off her chair.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Jamie, what’s wrong!?”

“Aaahhh!”

“Do you have aspirin somewhere?”

He pointed in the direction he hoped the bureau was. The drawer squeaked as she pulled it open. Rattling of pills against the plastic bottle sounded like a drumline in his head.

“Here,” she said, a cool hand beneath his chin. “Open up and drink. Careful… That’s it.”

Finally, the pain began to ebb away, slowly receding like the ocean’s tide.  

“Thank you,” he said after clearing his throat. “I apologize for that, Miss Beauchamp.”

Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that she’d moved back to her chair.

“That looked like a nasty migraine… lad.”

His jaw clenched and his heart began to race.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems that you know my secrets and I know yours.”

“And what secret of mine have you learned?”

“You’re not English. You’re a Scot. And I suspect you’re hiding it for a good reason, probably to keep yourself under the radar of whoever.”

Staring up at her, he felt the blood drain from his face.

“Please… You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. Like I said, we know each other’s secrets now. But… About that migraine of yours. If that gets any worse, I’d go and see someone about it. That can be a sign of something serious.”

“I will. Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve kept you longer than I intended.”

She stood and he carefully got to his own feet. He walked her to the door where they both hesitated.

“Will I… Ah… If that was a vision of yours, why did I have the same exact dream?”

“I’m not really sure about that. It was a rather strong one, for me, and it felt as if it had a connection to you, somehow. Perhaps that was why. I’m truly sorry it bothered you. I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

“Good. I suppose… Good day, Mr. Fraser.”

“Good day, Miss Beauchamp.”

Jamie closed the door behind her and thought about what had happened. He’d never had a waking vision before. That was new - and very strong. Perhaps he’d speak with Jenny or Murtagh about it, see what they thought. Jenny knew more about it than he did, she’d known Willie longer.

His heart clenched, thinking of his lost elder brother. No. No I must not think of that. For a moment, he allowed himself to contemplate Claire, to see when she might be back. But just as he was beginning to get a glimpse of her coming in the front door, his head began throbbing. Best wait a while before doing that.

Nearly two weeks later, Jamie finished preparing his afternoon tea when a knock came at the door. Smiling, he thought it might be Claire, come to see him again.

“Who’s that, lad?”

Murtagh came out from the kitchen, frowning at the door.

“It’s probably Claire. She’s due back soon.”

“And why’s that? She’s got a man already.”

“Curiosity, Murtagh. She’s a smart lass and I’m a mystery.”

Jamie pulled the door open and his smile dropped from his face.

“Iffrin! Murtagh!”

Continue to Part 4