ay oh let's go

Dawning in Dust: Part XII

See Master List here

Thank you to everyone who has sent asks and messages about this story. I wish I could promise regular updates but my life is just too improv for that LOL. Love you all!

The large dining room table was filled to capacity thanks to the unexpected visitors. Claire entered the room and caught Jenny’s gesture to sit down between herself and Jamie, who was at the head of the table. Dougal unfortunately sat directly across from her on Jamie’s right. Claire met his eye as she sat down, not giving him an inch. She felt Jamie’s knee brush hers in acknowledgement as he watched his uncle.

“So, Jamie lad,” Douglas said, eying Claire in an appreciative sort of way. “I heard tell that my nephew had been overcome by bloody Sassenachs and came as soon I could to lend aid. We met yon French lad on the road and found out ye’d been rescued already.”

“Aye,” Jamie responded, shoulders shrugging slightly.

Claire belatedly wondered if his bandages were bothering him. She hadn’t had the chance to change them today in the chaos of preparation.

“I wasna up to helpin’ o’ermuch but they did brawly and got me home. Why did ye keep comin’, if ye kent things were well here?” Jamie asked, taking a bite of roll and chewing. Dougal looked amused.

“Weel, I was halfway here at any rate. Didna want to pass up a chance at seein’ my favorite nephew. Imagine my surprise, though, when I found out there’s an English lassie stayin’ at Lallybroch. A healer, to boot.”

Jamie’s passive mask faltered, but only for a moment, then he inclined his head toward Claire.

“Dougal, this is Claire Beauchamp. Claire, this is Dougal MacKenzie, my uncle.”

“Pleasure,” Claire replied sardonically, taking a drink of the whisky in front of her.

The warmth of the alcohol slid smoothly down her throat, sending calming tendrils of heat throughout her body. She caught Jamie’s slight smirk out of the corner of her eye. Claire also noticed that Jenny, while seemingly engaged in listening to the boisterous telling of a tale from the end of the table, was very well aware of the conversation happening near her.

“Dougal happened upon my surgery when he arrived here. We were in the middle of a very interesting conversation, were we not?” she said.

“Oh aye?” Jamie asked. “What was the subject matter?”

Jamie turned toward Dougal at this. Claire felt Jamie’s thigh brush hers and she relaxed. Murtagh must have relayed what had happened. She nudged him back and took another sip of whisky, looking at Dougal over the rim of her glass. Dougal looked at her for a moment, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I was just curious how a lass such as she happened to find herself in Scotland. Especially considering the Sassenach problem ye’ve encountered the past year,” he said, eying Jamie now. “I wondered if she might be a spy.”

Above the table, Jamie stayed relaxed. Below, Claire felt the muscles of his leg stiffen with tension.

“Claire came here at the request of my sister, to aid me. She’s a verra talented healer and offered to stay at Lallybroch until Ian and Jenny’s bairn arrives. She is my guest until she chooses to part wi’ us,” Jamie added, implication subtle, but clear.

Claire took a bite of mutton, unsure if her flushed cheeks were from drinking too much too fast or from Jamie’s words. She pressed the length of her thigh against his, but this time didn’t pull back. She watched Jamie’s throat move as he swallowed.

“I see,” Dougal replied lowly. “Well, then..”

He lifted his glass in toast then sipped as he gazed at her. Claire looked down at her plate again, appetite completely gone. So, he thought she was a spy. Clearly Jamie did not, which was a comfort. She could also feel something else in the undercurrent of their conversation. Privately, Claire hoped Dougal and his entourage would make a quick and quiet exit. Jenny nudged her elbow and gave her a brief but encouraging smile before turning back to her other conversation.

Am I really that bloody easy to read? she thought, taking another drink.

Apparently so, for thirty minutes (and three glasses of whisky) later Jamie leaned toward her. His arm brushed hers. She could smell the scents of woodsmoke and whisky coming from him, feel his warmth through his shirt.

“Sorry to ask but could ye come wi’ me? My bandages are chafing..”

He shrugged, like his shirt was too tight. Claire didn’t think Jamie the sort of man who would admit to being in pain in front of these men even if his arm was falling off. She had a reason to know. Suspicious, yet grateful to leave, Claire nodded and rose with him. Bidding everyone good night, the pair moved to the hallway.

“Here, Sassenach,” Jamie chuckled, pulling her closer as she stumbled up the stairs a bit.

“I’m not drunk,” Claire said without preamble.

“Oh aye?” he asked, not letting go.

“Aye,” she quipped, smiling up at him. “Are your bandages really chafing or are you just being a gentleman and escorting me to my room?”

Even as the words slipped out, the heat in her cheeks, and in her belly, deepened. Jamie’s grip tightened briefly, but he let her go as he opened her bedroom door for her. They stepped inside. Jamie, after a moment’s hesitation, shut the door behind him. Mrs. Crook had lit the fire at some point; the light from the flames lit his face.

“What’s the matter?” Claire asked, seeing his troubled look. He exhaled.

“I want to apologize for my uncle’s behavior and assure ye that I’ll have a word wi’ him.”

“Oh,” she said, looking away and fidgeting with her hands. “Yes, well..”

“Claire, I promised ye that ye dinna need to be scairt. I dinna make false promises. I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Touched, Claire reached for him, squeezing his arm. He met her eyes then, the look in them enough to melt any inhibitions that may have been left. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but his mouth was on hers, his arms coming around her back to pull her tight to him. One hand gripped his waist, careful of his scars, and the other tangled itself in his thick, ruddy hair. Opening her mouth to him, her tongue skimmed his lower lip before meeting his. She could taste the whisky and mutton from dinner; and something else that was just him.

Jamie groaned into her mouth, turning to press her against the rough stone wall. The bricks were cold on her back while Jamie was warm as a furnace on her front, flushing his hips with hers as his thumbs found the skin just under the hem of her shirt. He bit her lip lightly and Claire gasped, grinding into him, wanting more. Wanting him.

Suddenly, Jamie pulled his lips from hers. He was gasping, looking at her in a way she’d never seen before.


He made a small noise, shaking his head before pressing his forehead against hers. He was shaking with restraint as he brought up a hand to cup her cheek.

“Claire, I’m sorry. I dinna ken..”

He shook his head again, tucking her under his chin and burying his nose in her hair. Claire slowly brought her hands up to hold him, more than a little bewildered, her breathing evening out as her senses came back to her.

“Christ,” he said, pulling back again. “I’m sorry. I swear I didna mean for this to happen. I..”

“Shush,” she whispered, stilling him. She cupped his cheek and traced his lower lip with her thumb. “Don’t be sorry. Please.”

She said the last word shakily, inwardly cringing at this display of vulnerability. Jamie took it for the token it was, kissing her forehead softly and gently pulling her in.

“I’ve wanted to do that from the first moment I saw ye,” he whispered, after a little.

Claire smiled softly, pulling back and meeting his eyes.

“What stopped you?” she asked.

“Jamie! Ye’re needed downstairs,” a gruff voice hollered, earning a groan from Jamie.

He exhaled, looking her over. Claire thought her hair must be ridiculously mussed, her lips kissed red if the tingle she felt was accurate.

“Ye’re so beautiful, mo nighean donn,” Jamie said, divining her thoughts as he brushed a curl behind her ear.

“James!” the gruff voice yelled again.

“Aye, hold off, I’m comin’” Jamie hollered back, earning a soft giggle from Claire.

“Himself is needed.”

“Aye,” he replied, smiling self deprecatingly. 

“Talk tomorrow?” she asked tentatively.

Jamie nodded then bent to kiss her once more, tenderly.



Lots of cuddles. L o t s.

Requested by nathanprescottfucker-offical

anonymous asked:

I'm not sure what books it from but could you post the passage when Jamie and Claire are walking back from a wedding and they are joking about giving the newlyweds advice and they talk about all the times Claire has made Jamie say oh my god. Thank you!

Perfect timing, I was going to share this passage today since it happens to be the chapter right after Ian and Rachel’s wedding that I posted yesterday.

We hadn’t gone back to the printshop but had wandered down by the river, enjoying the coolness of the night air and chatting about the young couples and the excitements of the day. 

“I imagine their nights are bein’ a bit more exciting still,” Jamie remarked. “Reckon the lassies will be sore come morning, poor wee things.” 

“Oh, it may not be just the girls,” I said, and he sniffed with amusement. 

“Aye, well, ye may be right about that. I seem to recall wakin’ the next morning after our wedding and wondering for a moment whether I’d been in a fight. Then I saw you in the bed wi’ me and knew I had.” 

“Didn’t slow you down any,” I remarked, dodging a pale stone in my path. “I seem to recall being rather rudely awakened next morning.” 

“Rude? I was verra gentle with ye. More than ye were with me,” he added, a distinct grin in his voice. “I told Ian so.” 

“You told Ian what?” 

“Well, he wanted advice, and so I—” 

“Advice? Ian?” To my certain knowledge, the boy had begun his sexual career at the age of fourteen, with a prostitute of similar age in an Edinburgh brothel, and hadn’t looked back. Besides his Mohawk wife, there were at least half a dozen other liaisons that I knew of, and I was sure I didn’t know them all. 

“Aye. He wanted to know how to deal kindly wi’ Rachel, her bein’ virgin. Something new to him,” he added wryly. 

I laughed. 

“Well, they’ll be having an interesting night of it, then— all of them.” I told him about Dottie’s request in camp, Rachel’s advent, and our ad hoc session of premarital counseling. 

“Ye told them what?” He snorted with amusement. “Ye make me say, ‘Oh, God,’ all the time, Sassenach, and it’s mostly not to do wi’ bed at all.” 

“I can’t help it if you’re naturally disposed to that expression,” I said. “You do say it in bed with no little frequency. You even said it on our wedding night. Repeatedly. I remember.” 

“Well, little wonder, Sassenach, wi’ all the things ye did to me on our wedding night.” 

“What I did to you?” I said, indignant. “What on earth did I do to you?” 

“Ye bit me,” he said instantly. 

“Oh, I did not! Where?” 

“Here and there,” he said evasively, and I elbowed him. “Oh, all right— ye bit me on the lip when I kissed ye.” 

“I don’t recall doing that at all,” I said, eyeing him. His features were invisible, but the moonglow off the water as he walked cast his bold, straight-nosed profile in silhouette. “I remember you kissing me for quite a long time while you were trying to unbutton my gown, but I’m sure I didn’t bite you then.” 

“No,” he said thoughtfully, and ran a hand lightly down my back. “It was later. After I went out to fetch ye some food, and Rupert and Murtagh and the rest all chaffed me. I know, because it was when I drank some o’ the wine I’d fetched back, I noticed it burned the cut in my lip. And I bedded ye again before I got round to the wine, so it must ha’ been that time.” 

“Ha,” I said. “By that time, you wouldn’t have noticed if I’d bitten your head off like a praying mantis. You’d got it properly up your nose and thought you knew everything.” 

He put an arm round my shoulders, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear, “I’d got it properly up you, a nighean. And ye weren’t noticing all that much yourself, besides what was goin’ on between your legs.” 

“Rather hard to ignore that sort of carry-on,” I said primly. 

He gave the breath of a laugh and, stopping under a tree, gathered me in and kissed me. He had a lovely soft mouth. 

“Well, I willna deny ye taught me my business, Sassenach,” he murmured. “And ye made a good job of it.” 

“You caught on reasonably quickly,” I said. “Natural talent, I suppose.” 

“If it was a matter of special training, Sassenach, the human race would ha’ died out long since.” He kissed me again, taking more time over it. 

“D’ye think Denny kens what he’s about?” he asked, letting go. “He’s a virtuous wee man, aye?” 

“Oh, I’m sure he knows everything he needs to,” I protested. “He’s a physician, after all.”

Jamie gave a cynical laugh. 

“Aye. While he may see the odd whore now and then, it’s likely in the way of his profession, not hers. Besides …” He moved close and, putting his hands through the pocket slits in my skirt, took a firm and interesting grip on my bottom. “Do they teach ye in medical college how to spread your wife’s wee hams and lick her from tailbone to navel?” 

I didn’t teach you that one!” 

“Indeed ye didn’t. And you’re a physician, no?” 

“That— I’m sure that doesn’t make any sense. Are you drunk, Jamie?” 

“Dinna ken,” he said, laughing. “But I’m sure you are, Sassenach. Let’s go home,” he whispered, leaning close and drawing his tongue up the side of my neck. “I want ye to make me say, ‘Oh, God,’ for ye.” 

“That … could be arranged.” I’d cooled down during our walk, but the last five minutes had lit me like a candle, and if I’d wanted to go home and take off my stays before, I was now wondering whether I could wait that long. 

“Good,” he said, pulling his hands out of my skirt. “And then I’ll see what I can make you say, mo nighean donn.” 

“See if you can make me say, ‘Don’t stop.’ ”

Ghosts of Relationships Past

Summary: There’s no one right way to celebrate your first wedding anniversary, but Emma’s pretty sure that bumping into your asshole ex-boyfriend is a wrong way. Another piece in the With Affection/Give Me Love universe.
Rating: M
Notes: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @optomisticgirl​!! This ended up way more serious than you and I had discussed, but I hope it still works. Anyway, thank you for being such an amazing friend, and I know that we’re just going to keep being spectacular in the new year!

This story is another bonus from With Affection/Give Me Love, and requires that you have read both. Additionally, please note that I had planned to write this for B for a while, and that I am not accepting any requests or prompts for WA/GML stories.


“Happy first anniversary, Mrs. Jones.” Killian raised his Bloody Mary for a toast as they were finishing brunch.

“Happy first anniversary, Mr. Swan,” Emma replied, toasting with the remains of her coffee. It was much too early, in her opinion, for booze or for chastising her husband about her last name. She’d wait till dinner for both.

“I know, I know,” he said after taking a sip. “I just couldn’t resist.”


“Your last name. You know it doesn’t bother me that you kept it, right?”

“That’s good, since I love you more than anything in this world and still couldn’t care less if it bothered you.”

He grinned in reply. “I know. Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t change your name. You’re my Swan Princess—it just wouldn’t be right if you weren’t Swan anymore.”

It was hard not to smile at the mention of the letters; sometimes, she’d reread some of her favorites, and her heart still fluttered when she’d read his sweet greetings. My dearest Swan, my beloved Princess. “Which is why it wouldn’t do for you to be promoted to commodore or anything like that.”

“Oi!” He pulled his pirate necklace out from under his shirt. “Pirate, love. Captain’s the highest rank.”

“Oh, stop, it’s not like I was suggesting you’d be demoted.”

“Fair enough. How’s your Belgian waffle? Or what’s left of it, I suppose—you demolished it. ”

“Fucking amazing, as usual. What did you get again?”

“Crab cake Benedict. Would you like to try some?”

“Sure.” She waited for him to set aside a couple of bites for her to grab; she knew better than to just eat brunch food off his plate. “Oh wow, that is great.”

“Aye, it’s stupendous.”

“Want any of what’s left of my waffle?”

“No offense, love, but I’m not sure how you can eat something so sugary for breakfast.”

“No wonder you can’t handle breakfast cereal.” He chuckled with his mouth full of Bloody Mary.

And then, into the restaurant, walked Walsh. Emma froze.

Keep reading

Grimes- Flesh without Blood LYRICS

Live as yourself

[Verse 1]
You claw, you fight, you lose
Got a doll that looks just like you
Remember when we used to say
“I love you” almost every day
I saw a light in you
Going out as I closed our window
You never liked me anyway

Hey, hey, hey
I don’t see the light I saw in you before
And now I don’t, and now I don’t
And now I don’t care anymore
(And now I don’t care anymore)

Baby, believe me
I don’t know how many times
You destroyed everything that you love
If you don’t need me

Just let me go

[Verse 2]
You hate, you bite, you lose
After all, I just don’t like you
It’s nice that you say you like me
But only conditionally
Your voice, it had the perfect flow
It got lost when you gave it up though
Cause you want money
You want fame

Hey, hey, hey
I don’t see the light I saw in you before
And now I don’t, and now I don’t
And now I don’t care anymore
(And now I don’t care anymore)

Baby, believe me
I don’t know how many times
You destroyed everything that you love
If you don’t need me
Just let me go

Ay, ay, oh, no

Baby, believe me

I don’t know how many times

You destroyed everything that you love
If you don’t need me
Just let me go
Baby, believe me
I don’t know how many times
You destroyed everything that you love
If you don’t need me
Just let me go