#outlander series

[sassenach77yle]

Outlander 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"

I COULDN’T GO to sleep. I’d given Fanny her tea, provided her with suitable cloths—not at all to my surprise, she already knew how to use them—and talked gently to her, careful not to raise any more of her personal ghosts. When Fanny had come to us, Jamie and I had agreed that we wouldn’t try to question her about any of the bits of memory she dropped aloud—like the bad men on the ship and what had happened to Spotty the dog—unless she seemed to want to talk about them. I thought she would, sooner or later. Bree and Roger had agreed as well, though I could see how curious Brianna was. Fanny had mentioned Jane now and then, offhandedly, but in a way designed—I thought—to keep a sense of her sister alive. Seeing her distress tonight, though … Jane was much closer to her than I’d thought. And now that I’d seen Jane’s face … I couldn’t forget it. Knowing only what I did know about the girls’ lives in the brothel in Philadelphia was upsetting; I really hadn’t wanted to find out how they’d come there. I still didn’t … but I couldn’t keep the worm of speculation at bay; it had burrowed into my brain and was squirming busily through my thoughts, killing sleep. Bad men on a ship. A dog thrown into the sea. A pet dog? A family—if Fanny and Jane had been with their parents on a ship that encountered pirates … or even a wicked captain, like Stephen Bonnet

… I felt the hairs rise on my forearms at thought of him, but with remembered anger, not fear. Someone like him could easily have taken a look at the two lovely young girls and decided that their parents could be dispensed with. Faith. Our mother, Fanny had said. I’d looked more than once at the miniature in the locket—but it was too small to show anything more than a young woman with dark hair, maybe naturally curly, maybe curled and dressed in the fashion of the times. No. It can’t be. I rolled over for the dozenth time, settling on my stomach and burying my face in the pillow, in hopes of losing myself in the scent of clean linen and goose down. “It can’t be what, Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice spoke in my ear, sleepily resigned. “And if it can’t, can it not wait ’til dawn?” I rolled onto my side in a rustle of bedding, facing him. “I’m sorry,” I said, and touched him apologetically. His hand took mine automatically, warm and firm.

“I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. I was … just thinking about Fanny’s locket.” Faith. “Ach,” he said, and stretched himself a little, groaning. “Ye mean the name. Faith?” “Well … yes. I mean—it can’t possibly … have anything to do with …” “It’s no an uncommon name, Sassenach.”

His thumb rubbed gently over my knuckles. “Of course ye’d … feel it. I did, too.” “Did you?” I said softly. I cleared my throat a little. “I—I don’t really do it anymore, but for a time, just—just every now and then—I’d think of her, of our Faith—out of nowhere. I’d imagine I could feel her near me.” “Imagine what she might look like—grown?” His voice was soft, too. “I did that, sometimes. In prison, mostly; too much time to think, in the nights. Alone.” I made a small sound and hitched closer, laying my head in the curve of his shoulder, and his arm came round me. We lay still, silent, listening to the night and the house around us. Full of our family—but with one small angel hovering in the calm sweet air, peaceful as rising smoke. “The locket,” I said at last. “It can’t possibly have anything whatever to do with—” “No, it can’t,” he said, a cautious note in his voice. “But what are ye thinking, Sassenach? Because ye’re no thinking what ye just said, and I ken that fine.” That was true, and a spasm of guilt at being found out tightened my body. “It can’t be,” I said, and swallowed. “It’s only …” My words died away and his hand rubbed between my shoulder blades.

“Well, ye’d best tell me, Sassenach,” he said. “Nay matter how foolish it is, neither one of us will sleep until ye do.” “Well … you know what Roger told me, about the doctor he met in the Highlands, and the blue light?” “I do. What—” “Roger asked me if I’d ever seen blue light like that—when I was healing people.” The hand on my back stilled. “Have ye?” He sounded guarded, though I didn’t know whether he was afraid of finding out something he didn’t want to know, or just finding out that I was losing my mind. “No,” I said. “Or not—well, no. But … I have seen it. Felt it. Twice. Just a flash, when Malva’s baby died.” Died in my hands, covered with his mother’s blood. “But when Faith was born, when I was so ill. I was dying—really dying, I felt it—and Master Raymond came.” “Ye told me that much,” he said. “Is there more?” “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But this is what I thought happened.” And I told him, about seeing my bones glow blue through the flesh of my arms, the feeling of the light spreading through my body and the infection dying, leaving me limp, but whole and healing. “So … um … I know this is nothing but pure fantasy, the sort of thing you think in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep …” He made a low noise, indicating that I should stop apologizing and get on with it. So I took a deep breath and did, whispering the words into his chest. “Master Raymond was there. What if—if he found … Faith … and was able to … somehow bring her … back?” Dead silence. I swallowed and went on. “People … aren’t always dead, even though it looks like it. Look at old Mrs. Wilson! Every doctor knows—or has heard—about people who’ve been declared dead and wake up later in the morgue.” “Or in a coffin.” He sounded grim, and a shudder went over me. “Aye, I’ve heard stories like that. But—a wee babe and one born too soon—how—” “I don’t know how!” I burst out. “I said it’s complete fantasy, it can’t be true! But—but—” My throat thickened and my voice squeaked. “But ye wish it were?” His hand cupped the back of my head and his voice was quiet again. “Aye. But … if it was, mo chridhe, why would he not have told ye? Ye saw him again, no? After he’d healed ye, I mean.” “Yes.” I shuddered, momentarily feeling the King of France’s Star Chamber close around me, the smell of the King’s perfume, of dragon’s blood and wine in the air—and two men before me, awaiting my sentence of death.

“Yes, I know. But—when the Comte died, Raymond was banished, and they took him away. He couldn’t have told me then, and he might not have been able to come back before we left Paris.” It sounded insane, even to me. But I could—just—see it: Master Raymond, stealing out of L’Hôpital des Anges after leaving me, perhaps ducking aside to avoid notice, hiding in the place where the nuns had, perhaps, laid Faith on a shelf, wrapped in her swaddling clothes. He would have known her, as he’d known me … Everyone has a color about them, he said simply. All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin’s cloak. Like my own. One of his. The thought came out of nowhere, and I stiffened. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” What if—all right, I was insane, but too late for that to make a difference. “What if he—if I, we—what if Master Raymond is—was—somehow related to me?” Jamie said nothing, but I felt his hand move, under my hair. His middle finger folded down and the outer ones stood up straight, making the sign of the horns, against evil. “And what if he’s not?” he said dryly. He rolled me off him and turned toward me so we were face-to-face. The darkness was slowly fading and I could see his face, drawn with tiredness, touched with sorrow and tenderness, but still determined. “Even if everything ye’ve made yourself think was somehow true—and it’s not, Sassenach; ye ken it’s not—but if it were somehow true, it wouldna make any difference. The woman in Frances’s locket is dead now, and so is our Faith.” His words touched the raw place in my heart, and I nodded, tears welling. “I know,” I whispered. “I know, too,” he whispered, and held me while I wept.

24 Alarms by Night~GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE

[lilpotatjj]

I'm so NOT sorry for adding some thoughts from Cait..about Sam's ramrodding down at Caitriona🤭 wify felt a little caught and couldn't believe hubby said things like that AGAIN in front of an interviewer🤣

[fernvehx]

on your feet soldier, take me home to Lallybroch

[always-outlander]

Cracks in the Armor - William's unseen trust in Jamie

Over on TikTok, I received a comment from a follower insinuating that William must trust Jamie if he asks for his help with Jane and her sister, Fanny at the end of season 7.

I wanted to reply with a long-form explanation because there is an interesting passage in ‘Go Tell the Bees’ that leans into this idea of William not necessarily realizing his trust in Jamie until later on.

But first, I need to remind everyone of the differences between the book and the show when it comes to Jane's death. In Chapter 134 of ‘Written in My Own Hearts Blood,’ Jane’s burial scene takes place in Savannah, GA. Jane’s body is retrieved for Fanny and her burial is arranged with the help of Lord John Grey, not Jamie. John knows a family with a small private cemetery where Jane can be buried. To take one's own life is a sin, and so she cannot be buried in a churchyard. Jamie grapples with this in the books and he prays for Jane’s soul multiple times, despite his faith saying he shouldn’t.

At such time, John also has a conversation with Claire, where he learns that William sought out Jamie’s help. He had thought that William might but hoped he wouldn’t for both their sakes. When Claire asks where William is now, John tells her that he has left on an errand outside of the city and will return that night. 

John tells Claire to plan for the burial to take place the next morning, early, and Clare tells John about Ezekiel Richardson. In the books, he had recently paid a visit to Claire in her surgery in Savannah and asked Claire to spy on John and his family. This scene takes place earlier in the show while Claire is married to John.

Claire warns John that Richardson is with the Continental Army, and that [Richardson] “knows about you, what you are, I mean.” John asks Claire if she has any idea of how he came into the information and she does not.

The next day at the burial, William stands at the entrance to the cemetery while the rest of the group carries out the burial services. John is there, along with Jenny Murray, Marsali, Fergus, and their children, Rachel, Ian, and Fanny. This scene also takes place after Marsali and Fergus lose Henri-Christian, so it is a very sad moment for everyone in the books.

This chapter takes place in Claire’s POV, and she spots William holding the reigns of a very large horse, whose name is Miranda. He presents it to Fanny and tells her that it is hers now and that she ‘will need her.’ William looks up at Claire and asks “Will you look after her, mother Claire?” and Claire says of course they will.

Jamie and William have the talk about Geneva that we see on the TV series a day or so later before William leaves Savannah. It takes place on the docks where Jamie is working, and William does not say “I will never call you father” during that scene. In large part, I believe this to be a plot device used for a payoff in season 8 where William does call him father. 

In Chapter 12 of Go Tell the Bees, William is at Mount Josiah plantation in Virginia and is paid a visit by a man named John Cinnamon, and Manoke, the Indian Scout from Quebec that Lord John Grey told Claire about in their morning after scene. William is still in the midst of his crisis of identity and doesn’t know if he will stay at Mount Josiah or not. He wants to find out what is happening with his cousin Benjamin Grey. Ben had been reported dead of goal fever in New Jersey. This is later disproved when William discovers his grave and determines that the man in the grave is not Ben. 

William begins to think about how to make things right in his life before going on the quest to find Ben. He thinks about Rachel and Ian, and how nothing can be fixed between him and Rachel now that she is married. Then he thinks of Jane, and how that situation cannot be fixed (or removed from his memory).

Neither can his true paternity. After spending the night with Jamie on their mission to rescue Jane, there was no possible way for William to deny the truth.

He recalls Jamie telling him “Ye’ve a claim to my help for any venture ye deem worthy,” and how Fraser did help, at once and without question. Not just for Jane but also for her little sister, Francis.

There’s a lovely passage in Chapter 12 of Bee’s where William recalls Jane’s funeral, where he was unable to speak and full of grief. He had thrust Francis into Fraser’s arms and walked off, and William wonders why he had done that. He could have had Lord John help Francis, he was there, but William hadn’t even thought about giving her to John.

‘No. No, I am not sorry’ echoes in William’s ears and he recalls the touch of Jamie’s hand on his cheek. William chokes on his fish, coughs, and chokes again before the thoughts leave his mind.

I always interpret this scene as the first sort of crack in the armor for William. As he continues to have anxiety over who he is and the obligations that come with that, it is at this moment when he thinks of Jamie that provides clarity on the scene between them in the season seven finale. The show’s use of the line “I will never call you father” makes us believe that William has no appreciation for Jamie, but we can see in the books that he might be starting to view Jamie differently after all. 

What are your thoughts on William and Jamie’s final scene together in season 7?

[inlovewithquotes]

"Claire," he whispered. " Please. Let me give ye comfort."

"Comfort?" I said. "And how will you do that? Can you give me back my child?"

He sank to his knees before me, but I kept my head down, staring into my upturned hands, laid empty on my lap. I felt his movement as he reached to touch me, hesitated, drew back, reached again.

"No," he said, his voice scarcely audible. "No, I canna do that. But....with the grace of God....I might give ye another?"

-Dragonfly In Amber

[alannacouture]

Murtagh: The #1 Jamie & Claire shipper since S1

[performarie]

My first ever Outlander fanart. Hope you like it!

[ros64]

OK, here's the excerpt I mentioned yesterday. (For those who may not have read GO TELL THE BEES or don't remember, "Wounded Lady" is the name of a blue spring, high in the mountain above the Frasers' New House. We left everyone at the wedding festivities for Bobby Higgins and Silvia Hardman at the end of BEES, and this is the morning after.

[EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - well, frankly, any excerpts you read from this book will contain spoilers, but there are always a few people who don't realize that and become disgruntled (isn't that a neat word? <g>) - anyway, at the end of GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arrives suddenly at Fraser's Ridge, and tells Jamie, "Sir, I need your help." Indeed he does...]

Jamie made it as far as Wounded Lady, where he called to the dog and sat down on the big stone, more abruptly than he’d intended.

“_A Màthair Dhè_.” He sat still and breathed for a bit, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He’d escaped the house before Claire discovered that he was walking about unencumbered by splints or bandages—and without a stick, forbye. He should have brought a stick, and wished he had, but he’d been feeling feisty, impatient with infirmity.

“Aye, well, I admit it’s no as bad as bein’ crucified,” he said apologetically, addressing the Mother of God whom he’d just invoked. “Besides, it’ll be horseback for the most part, it’ll be fine,” he muttered unconvincingly to himself, and grasping the paper-white trunk of the big aspen, hauled himself to his feet, whistled to the dog, clenched his teeth, and set off up the mountain, wondering why the devil he hadn’t given Young Ian land closer to the Big House.

Occupied with the pain in his knee, he hadn’t been looking out for the lad, and was surprised to come in hail of the cabin and find Rachel alone. She _had_ been looking out for Young Ian, and for some time; that much was clear from the anxious look of her, which increased when she saw Jamie and Skennen.

“Down, beast,” she said to the puppy, who paid no attention. “Has thee met Ian on the trail?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head, slightly disquieted.

“I didna see hide nor hair of him, anywhere between New House and here, lass. Nor yet the lads,” he added, forestalling her next question. “_Sàmhchair, a cù_,” he added to Skennen, who considered whether to heed this command for half a second, and then subsided meekly, lying down at Rachel’s feet.

“Why does he not do that when I tell him to?” she demanded of Jamie. “I speak to him in what I am sure is the Gaelic, and he merely laughs at me.” Skennen widened his doggy grin, tongue lolling out as though in appreciation of the joke.

“He doesna think ye mean it,” Jamie said, giving the dog a firm look. “And he kens I do. Don’t ye, _a cù_? ” He toed the dog gently in the ribs, whereupon Skennen rolled onto his back, barked and pawed the air, tail madly wagging.

Rachel cleared her throat.

“Will thee have some buttermilk, Jamie? Or perhaps some garlic pickles?”

He was beginning to be hungry from the climb, but declined the kind offer in favor of a cup of cold water, and likewise declined Rachel’s offer of her rocking chair, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the porch.

“Sit, lass,” he said, noticing the rush basket. “I’ll finish the peas for ye.”

She laughed, sat down, and pushed the yellow bowl toward him with her bare foot.

“How does one say, ‘like father, like son’ in the Gaelic?”

“Ye don’t, usually, but ye might say, “_coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod_”. ‘Like as twa peas in a pod.’ Have ye seen William, then?” He didn’t look up at her, but pressed the seam of the pod with his thumbnail, and scooped the peas out with a practiced flick.

“I have. He told me something of his situation—and that of...John Grey...” He caught the momentary hesitation in her voice and looked at her sharply. She raised one dark brow. “I suppose thee has come to tell me more?”

Jamie told her. Everything, after a moment’s hesitation. Rachel was well aware of William’s paternity already, and as the rest of the Ridge would shortly be similarly informed, there was nothing to hide. As to the shape of Lord John Grey’s personal circumstances…

“D’ye ken that his lordship is—” he began hesitantly.

“What is commonly known as a sodomite?” she interrupted. She’d brought out a stool and sat down upon it, by him. “Yes, or at least I supposed so. Denny told me he thought it was the case.”

“And how would your brother ken a thing like that?” Jamie asked, surprised. Granted, Denzell Hunter was a physician, but…

Rachel lifted a shoulder.

“For a time when we lived in Philadelphia, Denny had a…it sounds quite wrong to call it a friendship, because it was…well, it wasn’t.” She smiled at him. “He had an acquaintance, though, who was in the habit of visiting a nearby molly house; I imagine thee knows what that is? Of course thee does. Well, on one such occasion, the man was involved in a fight and was seriously injured—he was drunk, and lost his balance while attempting to strike another man, and fell face-first into a marble mantelpiece, breaking his nose, three toes—he’d attempted to kick his opponent, but missed and kicked a rather solid oak table, which accident is what propelled him toward the mantelpiece—and his left arm, which was broken and also rather singed and blistered, as there happened to be a fire going when he knocked himself insensible on the mantelpiece and fell into the hearth.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, indeed,” she assured him. “His…I suppose you would call them friends?”

“Aye, well, common interests…” Jamie muttered. His face felt warm.

“Indeed. His friends, then, sent for Denny, who came and re-assembled his acquaintance’s nose, set his arm and taped his toes. This so impressed all the onlookers—which included the house’s proprietor—that Denny became the _de facto_ physician for them all.”

Jamie was—against his will—fascinated.

“Did…you…?” He began, then broke off.

“I never accompanied Denny to the house,” she assured him. “But a number of the…patrons?...would call upon us, in time of need. I have met several slightly damaged sodomites. They are, on the whole, much like other men.”

“Aside from—”

“Well, yes. Hence, I gather, the danger to his lordship. I take it thee means that the man holding him is not merely physically restraining him, but also threatens his…”

“His life,” Jamie finished. His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. “In all respects.”

She nodded, her face troubled.

“What will thee do?”

Jamie sat up and stretched his back, cautiously straightening his legs as he did so.

“Aye, that’s the question we’ve been wrestling wi’, as soon as we heard what William had to say. The first thing, o’course, is to find John Grey and get him free.”

“I fear that getting him free may be the easier part.”

“So do I, lass.”

His knee had stopped feeling as though it was being repeatedly stabbed with a pen-knife, but it was still throbbing, in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t touch it, but gave it a surreptitious glance, along with its fellow. The bad one had turned a sort of purplish-red, like a ripe plum None so bad.

“We’ve the two things, to start with,” he said. “Shipping ports and a man named Denys Randall.”

Rachel’s dark brows lifted.

“I—we, that is—know a man named Denys Randall,” she said. “Does thee think there could be two of them?”

“I don’t, ” Jamie said, startled. “but just to be sure—is the one you and Denny ken a soldier? And is he known sometimes as Denys Randall-Isaacs?"

She stared at him for a moment, her hand resting gently on her belly.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “and yes. He is and he is.”

She might have said more, but a shout from the path brought her at once to her feet.

“_Mama! Mama!_”

Jamie stood up at once, gesturing her back.

“Sit, lass, I’ll see to it.”

She gave him a quick glance and a raised brow that suggested he surely knew better.

“That’s Totis,” she said, her foot already on the top step. “Something’s wrong.

[BRANO tratto da LIBRO DIECI (Senza Titolo), Copyright 2025 Diana Gabaldon]

[Spoiler Alert - beh, francamente, ogni estratto di questo libro conterrà spoiler, ma ci sono sempre alcune persone che non se ne rendono conto e si lamentano (non è una parola interessante? ) - comunque, alla fine di GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE, William arriva improvvisamente a Fraser’s Ridge e dice a Jamie: “Signore, ho bisogno del suo aiuto.” E in effetti ne ha bisogno…]

Jamie arrivò fino a Wounded Lady, dove chiamò il cane e si sedette sulla grande pietra, più bruscamente di quanto avesse inteso.

“A Màthair Dhè.” Rimase seduto immobile e respirò un po’, il ginocchio che pulsava al ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Era uscito di casa prima che Claire si accorgesse che stava camminando senza stecche, fasciature o anche solo un bastone. Avrebbe dovuto portare un bastone, e avrebbe voluto averlo, ma si sentiva combattivo, impaziente di guarire.

“Beh, ammetto che non è grave come essere crocifisso,” disse con tono di scusa, rivolgendosi alla Madre di Dio che aveva appena invocato. “E poi, starò a cavallo per la maggior parte del tempo, andrà bene,” borbottò poco convinto tra sé, e afferrando il tronco bianco dell’aspen, si tirò in piedi, fischiò al cane, serrò i denti e si avviò su per la montagna, chiedendosi perché mai non avesse dato a Young Ian un appezzamento di terra più vicino alla Casa Grande.

Concentrato sul dolore al ginocchio, non aveva notato il ragazzo, e rimase sorpreso di arrivare in vista della capanna e trovare Rachel da sola. Lei stava aspettando da un po’ l’arrivo di Ian; era chiaro dall’espressione preoccupata che si fece più intensa quando vide Jamie e Skennen.

“Giù, bestia,” disse al cucciolo, che non le diede ascolto. “Hai incontrato Ian lungo il sentiero?” gli chiese.

Jamie scosse la testa, leggermente inquieto.

“Non l’ho visto, né lui né i ragazzi, tra la casa nuova e qui, ragazza.” Fece una pausa per anticipare la sua prossima domanda. “Sàmhchair, a cù,” aggiunse rivolto a Skennen, che valutò per un istante se obbedire, poi si sdraiò docilmente ai piedi di Rachel.

“Perché non fa lo stesso con me quando glielo dico?” chiese a Jamie. “Gli parlo in quella che sono sicura sia la lingua gaelica, e lui ride di me.”

Skennen allargò il suo sorriso da cane, la lingua che sporgeva come per apprezzare la battuta.

“Non pensa che tu faccia sul serio,” rispose Jamie, dando al cane uno sguardo fermo. “E sa che io lo faccio. Vero, a cù?” Lo toccò delicatamente con il piede nei fianchi, e Skennen si rotolò sulla schiena, abbaiando e scalciando l’aria con entusiasmo, la coda che batteva furiosamente.

Rachel schiarì la voce.

“Vuoi un po’ di latticello, Jamie? O forse dei cetrioli sottaceto?”

Jamie rifiutò gentilmente, preferendo un bicchiere d’acqua fresca, e declinò anche l’offerta della sedia a dondolo, sedendosi invece con cautela sul bordo del portico.

“Sediti, ragazza,” disse, notando il cesto di vimini. “Finirò io i piselli per te.”

Rachel rise, si sedette e spinse la ciotola gialla verso di lui con il piede nudo.

“Come si dice ‘tale padre, tale figlio’ in gaelico?”

“Non lo si dice spesso, ma potresti dire coltach ri dà phòna ann am pod, ‘simili a due piselli in un baccello.’ Hai visto William, allora?” Non la guardò, ma premette la cucitura del baccello con l’unghia del pollice, facendo uscire i piselli con un movimento abile.

“L’ho visto. Mi ha raccontato qualcosa della sua situazione—e di quella di…John Grey…” Colse l’esitazione momentanea nella sua voce e la guardò con attenzione. Lei sollevò un sopracciglio scuro. “Suppongo che tu sia venuto a dirmi di più?”

Jamie le raccontò tutto. Dopo un momento di esitazione. Rachel era già consapevole della paternità di William, e dato che presto tutto il resto di Fraser’s Ridge lo avrebbe saputo, non c’era nulla da nascondere. Quanto alla situazione personale di Lord John Grey…

“Sai che sua signoria è—” iniziò esitante.

“Quello che comunemente si definisce un sodomita?” lo interruppe. Aveva tirato fuori uno sgabello e vi si era seduta accanto a lui. “Sì, o almeno lo supponevo. Denny mi aveva detto che lo pensava.”

“E come farebbe tuo fratello a sapere una cosa del genere?” chiese Jamie, sorpreso. Certo, Denzell Hunter era un medico, ma…

Rachel sollevò una spalla.

“Per un periodo, quando vivevamo a Filadelfia, Denny aveva una…sembra sbagliato chiamarla un’amicizia, perché era…beh, non lo era.” Gli sorrise. “Aveva una conoscenza, però, che era solita frequentare una casa di molly; immagino che tu sappia cos’è? Certo che lo sai. Beh, in una di queste occasioni, l’uomo fu coinvolto in una rissa e rimase gravemente ferito—era ubriaco e perse l’equilibrio mentre tentava di colpire un altro uomo, cadendo con la faccia contro un camino di marmo, rompendosi il naso, tre dita dei piedi—aveva cercato di scalciare il suo avversario, ma aveva mancato il bersaglio e colpito un robusto tavolo di quercia, e quell’incidente lo aveva spinto verso il camino—e il braccio sinistro, che si era rotto ed era anche piuttosto bruciato e pieno di vesciche, dato che c’era un fuoco acceso quando perse i sensi e cadde nel focolare.”

“Oh. Aye?”

“Aye, davvero,” gli assicurò. “I suoi…suppongo li chiameresti amici?”

“Beh, interessi comuni…” Jamie mormorò. Sentiva il viso caldo.

“Esattamente. I suoi amici, dunque, mandarono a chiamare Denny, che venne e gli rimise a posto il naso, gli sistemò il braccio e gli fasciò le dita dei piedi. Questo impressionò così tanto tutti i presenti—incluso il proprietario della casa—che Denny divenne il medico de facto per tutti loro.”

Jamie era—suo malgrado—affascinato.

“E…tu…?” Cominciò, poi si fermò.

“Non ho mai accompagnato Denny nella casa,” lo rassicurò. “Ma diversi…clienti?…venivano da noi, in caso di bisogno. Ho conosciuto diversi sodomiti leggermente danneggiati. Sono, nel complesso, molto simili agli altri uomini.”

“A parte—”

“Beh, sì. Da qui, immagino, il pericolo per sua signoria. Suppongo che tu intenda dire che l’uomo che lo tiene prigioniero non si limita a trattenerlo fisicamente, ma minaccia anche…”

“La sua vita,” completò Jamie. La sua voce era roca e si schiarì la gola. “In ogni senso.”

Lei annuì, con il viso turbato.

“Che cosa pensi di fare?”

Jamie si raddrizzò e si stirò la schiena, raddrizzando cautamente le gambe.

“Già, è questa la domanda con cui ci stiamo battendo da quando abbiamo sentito quello che William aveva da dire. La prima cosa, ovviamente, è trovare John Grey e liberarlo.”

“Temo che liberarlo possa essere la parte più semplice.”

“Anche io, ragazza.”

Il ginocchio aveva smesso di sembrargli pugnalato ripetutamente con un coltellino, ma pulsava ancora, seguendo il ritmo del suo battito cardiaco. Non lo toccò, ma gli diede uno sguardo furtivo, insieme all’altro ginocchio. Quello malandato era diventato una sorta di rosso violaceo, come una prugna matura. Niente di grave.

“Abbiamo due cose, per cominciare,” disse. “I porti di mare e un uomo chiamato Denys Randall.”

Le sopracciglia scure di Rachel si alzarono.

“Io—noi, cioè—conosciamo un uomo chiamato Denys Randall,” disse. “Pensi che possano essercene due?”

“Non lo penso,” rispose Jamie, sorpreso. “Ma, giusto per essere sicuri—quello che conosci tu e Denny è un soldato? Ed è noto a volte come Denys Randall-Isaacs?”

Lo fissò per un momento, con una mano posata delicatamente sul ventre.

“Sì,” disse lentamente, “e sì. È lui.”

Avrebbe forse detto di più, ma un grido proveniente dal sentiero la fece alzare in piedi di scatto.

“Mama! Mama!”

Jamie si alzò immediatamente, facendole cenno di fermarsi.

“Resta seduta, ragazza, ci penso io.”

Lei gli lanciò uno sguardo rapido e un sopracciglio alzato che suggerivano che lui sicuramente sapeva meglio.

“È Totis,” disse, già con un piede sul gradino più alto. “Qualcosa non va.”

[blink182times]

I’m not emotional I’m not emotional

[sassenach77yle]

Sutara Gayle plays Lord John's feisty housekeeper Mrs Figg in Series 7 of Outlander.

She will feature in the latter part of the series, in episodes 11-14. 

《Spent the best part of 2022 & 23 filming in Bonny Scotland! Looked after by everyone on set, especially gorgeous @samheughan and the super wonderful @caitrionabalfe Oh how we laughed! 😂

Icing on the cake is when Sam gifted me a bottle of his very own sassenach Whisky Woyoiii! Fyahh wata at its best. Smooth and tantalising like the man himself!

This was a great gig ✊Outlander is epic 🙌 watch it ☝》

[lilpotatjj]

Cait and Sam watching their own wedding night episode? Yes aaand no. We all know what these two lovebirds did...like come on who wouldn't? I escalated a wee bit. That's one of my longest Oneshots (almost 5000 words) and I'm gonna continue this with a hugh story about them. Living the forbidden lie in all his cuteness.

Warning: starts with super fluffy and lovely cuteness and turns into a soft 18+ hot mess. Sam beeing Sam and Cait beeing most of the time Cait with slightly cute shyness

(Credits to the Gif owners)

♡Chap.1-Directing their own happy hour♡

A crazy year is over. Filming has long since been completed and the premiere of the first season is over. Several interviews have been held and the first episodes are already on TV. It's September, cool and unpleasantly rainy in LA this year and the day before the premiere of the seventh episode. It's called 'The Wedding Night'.

Cait was out and about, drenched after a conversation with one of the co-producers. It was up in the air whether there would be a second season, but the prospects looked good. She didn't think to bring an umbrella. Why in LA, where it is usually quite warm, even in September.

She ran to her car, the newspaper just over her head for protection, and got in. 'Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ... What the hell is wrong with this weather?' she cursed and was completely soaked. She quickly switched on the engine and turned up the heating. As she drove off, her mobile phone suddenly rang in its holder on the dashboard of the car. 'Hey Sam,' she said simply and focussed on the road.

'Have you been bathing?' he asked wryly, obviously making himself comfortable.

'Very funny...the weather in LA almost reminds me of home,' she was finding it difficult to speak. She was shaking a little and had trouble concentrating. 'I'll call you later if it's unfavourable?' he asked and she said no, perhaps a little too quickly. 'Ah ok' he paused for a moment. 'Tell me what's going on, I'll be fine' she said with chattering teeth and he had to smile, sitting up straight again and looking thoughtful. 'What do you think about travelling to my place and I'll tell you what's going on when you've warmed up at my place?' he asked sincerely without any ulterior motives.

Her cheeks flushed, which wasn't just because she was cold. 'All right, I'm on my way. The same hotel as always?' she asked and he replied with a quick "Yes". The rain didn't stop, on the contrary, it even got heavier. She parked the car in one of the parkingslots in front of the hotel and dashed inside as quickly as she could. Once inside, she asked at reception for the surname Heughan. The servant nodded conspicuously. 'Ah yes, Mr Heughan, he had informed me. He's in room 0410,' he said and with a very friendly smile, he pointed down one of the corridors. Cait thanked him and walked towards his room. Once there, she knocked on his door without thinking. He opened it for her and looked her up and down briefly before she simply entered his hotel room. He looked after her, slightly amused, and went into the bathroom.

When he came out again, he found her standing by the radiator, shivering slightly. He went to her and put a towel over her shoulders. She looked at him gratefully and unconsciously smiled far too sweetly. 'Thank you,' she said quietly and his eyes stayed on hers for longer than he wanted. The reason why he grabbed her towel and started playfully rubbing her hair dry. 'You should bring an umbrella next time,' he said with amusement. 'It wasn't raining when I was out' she gave him an annoyed look as he then went to the wardrobe to lend her some of his own clothes.

'Here' He held the clothes out to her wordlessly and she took them hesitantly. 'It's not going to stop raining that quickly for now. You can spend the night if you want. I'll sleep on the couch,' he said as he looked out of the window. She gave him a look of disbelief. 'Oh come on, we slept anywhere on set where there was space and time. You can sleep in the bed with me' she said dryly without thinking about it and Sam turned to her with his typical look, eyebrow raised slightly, he nodded.

She was right. Time on set was often pretty tough. Sometimes there was no time to sleep and filming often lasted well over 24 hours. Sometimes one of the props or simply a bench was a comfortable place to sleep for a short break. But now they are no longer on set, there is no one around to watch them.

'What did you want to talk about?' she asked curiously as she came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of his big hoodies. She almost sank into it and yet it looked great on her. 'Right, exactly... I wanted to ask you if you'd like to watch tomorrow's episode of Outlander with me' he said and she looked at him curiously. 'What episode was it again?' she asked, rubbing her face tiredly. 'The seventh episode,' he said, unconsciously tense. 'oh ok' came from her, benignly ignorant. 'What's the name of the episode, I'm just too tired to remember which one the last one left off at,' she said, pouring herself a sip of the wine on the table.

'The Wedding Night...' She choked and coughed for a moment. Now it dawned on her. It was that episode. She remembered all the scenes on set too well.

'Are you ok?' he asked without making any facial expressions. 'Yes... I'm sorry,' she apologised and put her glass down again for safety reasons. 'But we're going to need more wine,' she said with amusement and her grin was almost unpleasant. The mood was strange. He scrutinised her carefully while she just stared at the wine, motionless and thoughtful.

She looked slowly at him, his gaze still fixed on her. You would have thought he was burning every corner of her face. It made her nervous, but not in an unpleasant way. She felt the heat in her cheeks and stood up abruptly. 'I think I've spilt...I'll be right back' she disappeared into the bathroom in a flash. She was aware of what was happening, or so she thought, but she was still unsure. He was and is her co-partner. What would the media say, Starz or everyone involved in the big picture? She didn't realise she was breathing faster.

'Cait, are you all right?' he asked anxiously from behind the door. 'Y..yes...I'll be right back.' She splashed water on her face and then came out again. 'And you're sure we should sleep in the same bed?' he asked with raised eyebrows, almost admonishingly. 'That's fine, it's ok,' she said dryly and gave him a cheeky look. She stood in front of him. He was so tall that she always had to look up at him. 'But only if you change too...I doubt you want to sleep in those jeans...you already hated them on set' she looked at him challengingly and tugged at his collar. He enjoyed her closeness. It was clear that he had had feelings for her for some time. It was impossible not to, given the sight of her and her wonderful character. But whether she would ever be serious about him was an open question. He doesn't push her, gives her room to manoeuvre and is patient. Like a crocodile patiently waiting to snatch its prey.

He gave her a charming smile and went to his wardrobe, took out more comfortable clothes and looked at her briefly. She sat down on the couch and unconsciously inspected him as he disappeared into the bathroom. He didn't miss her gaze and when he came out again, he saw her sitting on the couch with her head resting on her hand. She grinned at him. 'Do you want to watch something or are you too tired and want to go to sleep?' he asked solidly, closing the curtains. He turned round and noticed that she already had jumped into bed. She snuggled into the big duvet. He laughed briefly and shook his head playfully. 'well...I take it you've had a full day today...want to talk?' he came round and lay down in bed too. They both looked at each other, snuggled together under a blanket, she was quiet for a moment and had to look at him. It's a completely different feeling alone without people from the set. Far away from all the other trailers, other people or cameras. There was no one here. The thought of it made her heart beat gently faster and she almost forgot to speak, let alone breathe, at the sight of him.

'Yeah...I had a call today and two other annoying appointments before that. I've been travelling all day...then there's the rain...I'm honestly glad to be with you right now' the last words came out of her innocently and unusually meekly. She is usually the type of person who says what she thinks, with consideration for the feelings of others. But it's easier with him. She can be whatever she wants, let herself go with him. He listened to her quietly and attentively.

'Sam... what is it between us?' She looked him in the eye and tried to understand the moment. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a wave of his hand, ignoring his own pounding heart. 'We're just lying here talking,' he replied briefly in a low voice. Jesus, can't he stop being cute for once? Struggling to concentrate from his voice and the sight of him, Cait swallowed with difficulty, unable to find an answer.

It was so quiet. Neither of them said anything. Her breathing was much faster and without thinking she snuggled up to him, hiding her face in his chest to hide her burning cheeks. She could hear his heart beating softly and realised that it was also much faster. Sam took her carefully in his arms and decided to remain silent for the time being, to savour the moment. He could smell her hair and buried his face in it a little, kissing it and noticed her smile. He did the same and had to smile. As always, no one needs to say anything to understand.

The sun's warm rays tickled Cait's cheeks and she moved slowly. A large, warm body lay close to her. You really don't need a heater when you're lying next to this 1.92m tall man. She grinned happily as she realised who it was. He was still asleep. She took this moment to observe his sleeping form. He looked so content and balanced, still holding her tightly in his arms.

His calm breathing was soothing, like a lullaby. It was nothing new, sleeping with him, hearing his breathing, feeling him against her, his embrace and yet this time it was completely different. She felt a tingling in her stomach at the mere thought of wanting to touch him. It made her nervous and she suddenly looked away from him only to look back at him again. Her gaze kept switching between his lips and the air she was trying to stare into. No Cait...you better not. Once you start, it will end badly... she thought to herself and thought back to their time on set. They often kissed away from the camera. Out of spontaneous situations to practise, of course...right? The heat rose in her face again. She tried to control her thoughts, but her heart was making it damn hard. She didn't even realise that she had come closer to him, her face close to his, her breathing as if she were climbing a mountain that was out of reach. However, with an unmistakable sound in her voice, she freed herself from his grip in a flash and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without realising it, she was sweating. She clutched her forehead and tried to get her breathing under control. Damn Balfe, a little more self-control! Her thoughts were waging a war she was in danger of losing. He opened one eye and watched her actions. She flinched slightly as he began to stretch and looked slightly to the side in his direction. He couldn't help but grin self-consciously. She was so cute. He didn't know her to be that shy or insecure. On set, they could both let Jamie and Claire hang out, kiss or touch each other however they wanted. Nobody would have thought it was anything serious, at least that's what they both thought.

She stood up abruptly and looked nervously at him. 'I'm going to freshen up,' she said briefly and Sam let himself fall into his pillow with a smile. He wanted the time to last. To savour this precious moment, just with her...just with Cait.

He made breakfast and the rest of the day was relaxed. Except for a few little things Sam had to do this time, the day was uneventful. Cait spent the time in his room and fell asleep on his couch once again. She was far too tired from the last few days, not to mention the previous night. Snuggled up with one of Sam's woollen blankets, she slept peacefully. The blanket smelled wonderfully of him and transported her to dreamland far too quickly. When the Scotsman returned later that day, he saw her curled up on the couch. Still asleep. He put the key away and took off his shoes to go to her. With quiet steps, he stood next to her and looked at her without a word. She looked so innocent. He often did, watching her sleep. Her soft purring when she slept. Her soft smile when he always secretly snuggled up to her, just to be close to her unnoticed. He loved it.

Sam simply stood still for another moment and looked down at her thoughtfully, bent down and got very close to her face. He could feel her breath on him. The corner of his mouth twitched impatiently and he gave her a delicate kiss on her soft lips. His heart did what it wanted and almost ran away from him, but he didn't care. The kiss was short and so gentle that Cait didn't wake up, at least that's what he thought and realised he was wrong. The ball of blanket and the supposed Mrs Fraser inside it moved gently. She opened her eyes just a crack to somehow recognise what in God's name was happening. Sam was already scurrying about, unpacking a few things he'd been shopping for. There were a few bottles of wine and something to nibble on.

She sat up in a daze, her hair in a wild mess and yawned tiredly. 'What time is it?' she asked with a husky voice. 'It's already 7 pm. How long have you been asleep?' He brought two bottles of wine to the table and two glasses. 'Too long... Well, I don't think I'll fall asleep that quickly watching TV,' she said with amusement and ran her hands through her hair to fix it a little. 'Are you hungry?' he asked, unpacking a bag at the same time. It was Asian Food. 'Yes,' she replied curtly and watched the Scotsman without realising it. Her gaze was dreamy, as if she was looking at the jackpot she had won. He came over to her and set her something to eat. She had to smile. Of course he knew exactly what her favourite food was. 'Thank you,' she said and they both ate some of the food.

'Do you remember filming the episode?' he asked when he had finished eating.

'Yes, quite a lot. I'm curious how it was edited. Some days were so long and tiring,' she took a breath and looked at him. 'It was sometimes very difficult to stay relaxed and yet... You made it easy for me to shoot the more difficult scenes,' he said with a smile and looked at her in detail. She couldn't avoid his gaze and was caught up in it. She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a good sip.

Cait laughed softly as she remembered. 'Did you remember the scene when Claire said "go to bed"? God, how many times we replayed that just because our producer never liked the look in your eyes and then I said "to fuck" off camera, or so I thought? Your look afterwards was exactly what they wanted to see and it was recorded,' she laughed and took another sip. Sam did the same and poured the red wine down his throat. 'How could I forget?' his voice sounded ironic with an amused undertone. 'At least it wasn't too cold when we were naked for what felt like 24 hours,' he said and poured more wine.

She looked silently into her wine glass after his words, then raised her eyes and literally stared at him. He's like an accident... you don't want to look but you can't help but stare at him with curiosity and anticipation. Too mesmerised by his gaze, she once again couldn't get a word out. He could throw a bone now and she would run after it like a dog. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. 'The episode is about to start,' he breathed so quietly that she had to think for a moment whether she had heard him correctly.

Sam came closer to her, looked deep into her eyes and was tired of seeing her like this. She was literally begging to be touched. The Scotsman didn't hesitate a second longer and kissed her gently yet firmly. Cait was briefly surprised and yet she accepted the kiss without hesitation. As if they had kissed hundreds of times before, he brought her to him by taking her face in his hand. He stroked her cheek tenderly and was the first to break the kiss. Cait just looked at him. She could have sworn her heart was stuck one floor below. He smiled at her and she did the same, returning his smile with a blissful grin. He took the remote control without another word.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, but you could just feel the crackle. He switched on the TV and the episode started. She looked over at him expectantly, so he couldn't help but lean over and grab her, cuddling her right next to him against his chest. Cait took a contented breath and drank more of the wine as she savoured his closeness and warmth.

They both made comments here and there and had to laugh and shake their heads when Rupert and Angus burst in. 'I remember one of them fell badly once,' Sam laughed and they both grinned. Then came the scene where Claire asks Jamie to bed. Both the Scot and the Irishwoman watched the scene tensely and had to smile again and again. 'How many times we had to repeat that...but you did a good job,' she said contentedly to distract them from what was actually happening. Jamie grabbed Claire's breast. 'Christ, how many times you made me laugh, Cait...you kept making jokes about my breasts,' Sam said with amusement and Cait turned bright red. 'Well I was nervous as hell...we had to take our clothes off...I was afraid I'd ruin your view of naked women' she said sheepishly and he took her chin and forced her to look at him.

'my god Cait...how can you say that...' he whispered more and she looked at him nervously and slightly guiltily. Before she could say anything, Sam beat her to it. 'Your body is beautiful.' She stared at him and their gazes parted as the scene came where Jamie plopped on top of her and penetrated her. The situation couldn't have been stranger. It was weird for both of them to see each other like this. It looked a thousand times hotter on the screen than when they were both shooting that scene over and over again.

Sam grinned at Claire's sweet words when she said she gets crushed by Jamie. He noticed Cait's tension, she squeezed her legs tightly together and banished all her thoughts to the farthest corner of her brain cells. To no avail. Sam looked down at her and took the wine glass from her hand. How much had they actually had now? Both bottles of wine were empty.

Cait looked at him questioningly, but she knew the answer. Sam slowly stroked her legs and hesitantly approached her face. Her breathing increased, her lower lip quivering in response to his touch. She closed the gap and kissed him. But this time more demanding and with far less restraint. Gripped by what was on the television, Cait pressed herself closer to him and without thinking about it, she sat on his lap. He gasped briefly under the stormy kisses only to continue on her neck. She let out a sigh. A soft, pleasurable sound that he knew all too well. It had almost always driven him crazy when they gave their all during filming and he wasn't allowed to have her completely. Shooting a scene is one thing. Shooting naked is something else, but constantly filming wild sex scenes in the nude with such a beautiful woman is simply torture. With her playful but otherwise confident character, he would have liked to show how much he really liked her. He constantly had to touch her. On her breasts, her body and getting closer to areas with his face that made him want to seriously give up control of himself.

Meanwhile, no matter what was on the television, she only had eyes for her Scotsman. She looked at him dreamily, losing herself in his gaze. Everything about him is so attractive. His hair, which she now clung to in order not to lose her mind. His upper body, his beard and God damn his face, with his ice-cold blue eyes that almost robbed her of her will. She unconsciously moved onto his lap when she realised that he was already more than ready for action. Now she smirked cheekily at him, causing him to bite his lower lip. 'You little beast....now you're showing your true colours,' he said almost choking and his gaze didn't leave hers for a second. Somehow they knew it, but it was different here too. He took off her hoodie and just looked at her for a moment. As if he couldn't believe what he saw, he grabbed her breasts as if he wanted to make sure they were the same as usual. He kissed one of them gently and played around with the other.

She leant her head back with pleasure and let him do his thing. 'Sam....' she breathed and looked at him, slightly dazed. 'You too....' she whispered excitedly and took off his shirt too. She looked at him with red cheeks. It didn't matter whether it was the alcohol or Sam's fault. No matter who she drank from, she would be intoxicated by both. She touched him on the shoulder and ran her fingers down his neck to the area below his belly button, from which a few hairs flashed out. Sam's eyes were fixed on Cait with an expression as if she were made of glyphs and he was trying to decipher them.

She grabbed his belt with her hand and tried to open it, but this turned out to be difficult when sitting. He grabbed her ass and literally threw her on the couch, took off his pants only to stand completely naked in front of her. Her gaze was discreetly surprised and looked at his best piece. She was not prepared for that now. They always wore protection on set, which didn't help much when Sam had a hard-on, but it covered everything. She swallowed and for a second a shy shadow could be seen in her eyes. "We want to stay fair, my dear," he pointed to her pants and came closer to her playfully. She looked at him nervously and had to smile to cover up her nervousness.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked as a precaution and in answer she nodded and looked at him with a cheeky, innocent face. He grinned confidently and helped her undress. There she was, completely exposed with a red glow on her cheeks. They had both played through this position so many times before, but this one moment now belonged to the two of them alone.

He grabbed her by the hand to pull her up to him. Cait stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye anything but uncertainly. She literally felt his heartbeat, as if the two were synchronously forming a unit. She took his hands and intertwined her fingers in his. "Caitriona you are so beautiful" proudly sounded in his voice and she smiled happily at him. "Just you and me" she whispered lovingly, looked at him longingly and Sam couldn't ask any more questions, because she had just answered them.

He kissed her, longing and greedy, clawed at her ass to lift her up and faltered briefly. There was no cut, nothing that interrupted them despite the swaying and could stop the lust of both. He let himself fall back a little on the couch, with her on his lap, without even thinking about breaking the kiss.

Now nothing went according to the script. He was the director of this scene and decided how to proceed in accordance with his Irish beauty. She enjoyed every touch, every second and breathed heavier as he caressed her breasts. Cait became more impatient and looked at him almost begging. He grabbed her ass again to lift her and positioned her so that Sam could penetrate her without any problems. He smiled... She was more than ready. A groan on her part indicated that the tackle would continue as he was into her completely. The Hugh Scot didn't want to slow down, not to be careful that something unexpected happened.

Cait moved and he adjusted to her. This time he couldn't help but moan quietly. She rested her forehead on his and continued moving. Regardless of the hotel neighbors, neither of them cared how loud they were.

He had to smile at the sight of her. She moaned subtly differently than when they were filming. It sounded the same as always, but there was a hint of honesty in the sound of her lovely voice. The sound that makes his bones tremble and underlines the pleasure he is really giving her. Flowing through the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline that they both experience and that made them both sweat, he felt how aroused she already was. He concentrated on her to give her the moment of happiness, but had great difficulty enduring it, especially with her moaning. She really deeply enjoying it.

'Sam...' damn it, he tried so hard not to lose control, but moaning his name like that almost pushed him over the edge. He gasped heavily and bit her shoulder. Finally, she felt a wave rushing deep inside her and completely flooding her. She moaned louder and let him feel how much he loved her without ever having said it.

'Sassenach!' He gasped at the same time as her and let himself fall completely as he came inside her, clawing a little too hard at her round ass. She sank exhausted onto his shoulder and gasped for air. Completely out of breath, both of them tried to understand the situation they were in.

'Everything ok...Mo Chridhe?' He hesitated at first, but he had to say it. He loved her and had no doubt that this would ever change. She was too perfect, her temperament, her way of dealing with him and her laugh. God, how much he loved her laugh. The Scotsman lovingly wrapped the wool blanket around her and let her get some air, but it was starting to make him nervous because she was still hiding into his chest. 'Is everything ok, Cait?' he asked nervously. She turned her head so that her face was directed towards the crook of his neck and he could feel her breath. He got goosebumps.

'I love you...' she whispered softly to him. Three words that could throw him off balance and almost made his heart stop. A smile twitched across his lips. 'I love you too... Sassenach...' he said lovingly and playfully and felt her smile. 'What do we tell the producers?" she asked, quite worried. 'Nothing at first. It will be difficult to hide it... at least partially. Maybe they'll let us do it and accept the unspoken facts. Filming should be easier for both of us,' he tried to explain and stroked her back. Suddenly he looked at her with a Jamie expression, as if he had traveled through time in just a second. 'Could you now...' he paused briefly.

'What?' now she looked at him confused. 'I mean we didn't use protection...' he got nervous and the Irish woman had to giggle. 'No...that's out of the question, don't worry' she said. He smiled in relief. 'We missed half the episode,' he said and she snuggled up next to him. 'It doesn't matter...we'll watch it again then" she said with a cheeky undertone and he kissed her extensively.

[fernvehx]

so happy we have a second version of these selfies, I love these two ❤️

“Nothing is lost Sassenach, only changed”

[bookishfreedom]

so, i went to scotland. yes, it was life changing

the entire trip felt straight out of a fairytale. we swam in the fairy pools. we frolicked with sheep. we spent hours wandering castles, museums, and bookshops. we ate many scottish breakfasts. and yes, merry of soul, we sailed on a day, over the sea to skye

and during the hours we spent driving through the gorgeous scottish highlands, we also played that song ad infinitum.

although originally inspired by outlander, this trip was about so much more. it was about stories and magic and history and falling a little bit in love with the world at every turn.

until next time, Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Sláinte

[inlovewithquotes]

"I will find you," he whispered in my ear. "I promise. If I must endure two hundred years of purgatory, two hundred years without you--then that is my punishment, which I have earned for my crimes. For I have lied, and killed, and stolen; betrayed and broken trust. But there is the one thing that shall lie in the balance. When I shall stand before God, I shall have one thing to say, to weigh against the rest."

His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper, and his arms tightened around me. "Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well."

-Jamie Fraser

[alannacouture]

Watching their baby get married 😢❤️

Source: Craighnaduns IG

[hacked-wtsdz]

penelope odysseus

Jamie and Claire + twenty years apart (part 3)

Based off of the poem: twenty years across the sea

Part 1

Part 2