do me aye

8

One band
ᴛ Nightwish
ᴛᴛ Nightwish was, in many ways, the most
ᴛᴛ important band in my life. Objectively they
ᴛᴛ were the first metal band I actively listened to
ᴛᴛ after I was introduced to the genre.

One album
ᴛ Once
ᴛᴛ ‘Once’ was the first and for five months the
ᴛᴛ only album of theirs I owned. Listening to it
ᴛᴛ changed my life forever. I began appreciating
ᴛᴛ the true beauty of music, and ‘Once’ saved me
ᴛᴛ in every way a person can be saved.

One song
ᴛ Dead Boy’s Poem
ᴛᴛ This song was included on the compliation
ᴛᴛ CD that introduced me to Nightwish and I
ᴛᴛ remember strongly disliking it. I was afraid of
ᴛᴛ it, maybe because I did not understand.
ᴛᴛ However, as time passed, my feelings towards
ᴛᴛ the song changed. It is so incredible deep, sad,
ᴛᴛ personal that it touches the bottom of my soul
ᴛᴛ with every listen.

A/N: Wait one more before I go. Sequel to this.

★★★★★ 

Originally posted by truelovexv

When you saw Noctis step out of the truck with Talcott, you had nearly forgotten how to breathe. You choked—that was him. There was no mistaking it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him. There wasn’t a day you didn’t think of Noctis and you hated how your love for him had never left. 

The flames died down to quiet embers, but they still burned. It never went out.

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  • Me: I will never improve on my art it looks like shit I hate it so much why the hell am I even drawing?!
  • Also me: *Proceeds to draw more art for my pent up frustration*
Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8 – Master of Me

Edinburgh, Present day

Find me.

Find us.

There is only so much time a person can spend in equilibrium on a minuscule wire above an abyss. Soon enough the pull of gravity and the useable forces of the body will act towards an ending – may it be the fall to the crushing void; or the decision to risk taking a step forward, eventually coming as a victor on the other side.

Claire stood still, listening to the plea in Jamie’s voice, her breath coming superficial and laboured, as she had been running away from him for the entire duration of ten years. His eyes were hooded, preparing themselves to be denied. The skin of her forehead, where he had kissed her, tingled and throbbed, like the makings of a new heart, exposed and hopeful under her weak surface.

Not knowing if she was falling – or indeed starting a journey to the end of her crossing – Claire closed the space between them and kissed Jamie’s lips. The taste of him was almost the same, as she had just kissed him goodbye on the airport moments ago – inebriating and sweet, as apples coated in cinnamon and rich, dark, brown sugar. He kissed her back, offering her the gift of restraint, allowing her to go as deep as she wanted; to take only a parcel of him or everything at once. His tongue mastered Claire’s secrets - for it had been used to speak the truth in her heart for so long - and soon enough she was pressed against him, desperate and wanting.

Jamie took a step back, momentarily parting their mouths, so he could look into her eyes, his hands entangling on her unruly hair. Claire nuzzled his neck and kissed him there, her tongue darting to taste the salt and essence of his skin - sun and mist, like Scotland’s hills - relishing on the formed trail of goosebumps, testimony of his arousal.

“I want you so much I can scarcely breathe.” She whispered, her fists grabbing his shirt in demonstration, as their bodies gently swayed together. “I feel I’ll die without your touch, Jamie.”

“Then have me.” Jamie breathed out, almost choked. “Do with me as ye wish, mo nighean donn. Show me.”

Claire might be falling, for her entire body seemed reversed - her heart pumping outside her chest, drawn to him; her fingertips breathing like small greedy lungs, with the solidness and realness of him underneath them as saving air. But this was the only decision left – she could let go of anger, pain and resentment and help him find a pathway to redemption, where she could meet him with her nakedness; or she could turn her back on him, punishing him but tearing herself apart again, sole victor of a battle with no survivors.

Slowly but surely, she started to unbutton her blouse, her eyes never leaving his – she saw desire and fear there and knew it reflected her own. They had been lovers for so long, experts in what made the other scream and dissolve – but that knowledge too had been buried in boxes, locked away as useless, for there could never be another to make sense of it again. As she slid down her jeans, noticing how his eyes watched her appearing skin as a revelation of something holy, Claire realized that time and circumstance made strangers out of lovers – but the path still existed to be followed in reverse, possible to find again that common ground of shared intimacy.

Standing only in her underwear, Claire started to undress him. He barely moved and his breathing came shallow, as a drowning man welcoming the bliss of the last gush of cold water. His fingers brushed her neck, where a delicate silver chain had been revealed – hanging from it, and nestled against her heart as a secret lock ready to open it, was her silver wedding ring.

“I thought I’d never see it again.” He said in a quivering voice, bending to kiss the top of her breast next to it.

“I have been wearing it since the day I found you in the hospital.” Claire confessed, caressing the powerful muscles of his chest, taut and beautiful. “I had to.”

“Why?” Jamie asked, helping her as she struggled to free him of his trousers, his arousal ardent and evident between them.

“You know why.” Claire framed his face with her hands, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Jamie. I was so angry – couldn’t wear it or even bear looking at it, because it reminded me of what I lost. But I’m as married to you now as I was the day you gave it to me. I wanted it close to me – I wanted you close.”

Jamie growled as a possessive animal, taking her on his embrace, as he ravished her mouth. His skilled hands, trembling but practiced, managed to free her of her bra. He roughly grabbed her by the buttocks and she held on to him, as he carried her to their old bedroom.

The room was bathed in shadows, as the soft moonlight filtered through the slightly opened curtains – blue as Jamie’s eyes, the colour Claire had picked. The intense blue that filled her dreams, where she could sleep and rest protected, where she could build her home.

He sat on the bed, taking her with him. They kissed thoroughly, famished like wild beasts, demanding retribution in a second for years of lost touches. Claire traced the pinkish lines of his recent scars, tender and salient as blooming mountains, and kissed the knuckles of his bandaged hand.

“Lay down.” Claire asked in a murmur and he obeyed, observing in adoration as she straddled him. Air hitching in her throat like a sob, she moved and he invaded her – or she invited him in, welcoming and ready, her body moulding to him like blessed and fragrant clay.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips, grounding her against him, but she swiftly took them away and trapped his wrists with her fingers, imprisoning him to the bed.

“You won’t touch me.” She commanded, their eyes locking. “Not until I say so. Do you understand me?”

“Aye.” Jamie moaned, as she rolled her hips on top of him in defiance of his self-assurance.

“I need you to understand, Jamie.” Claire closed her eyes, struggling not to allow the sensation of him inside her, hot and pulsing, to overwhelm her at once. “You have to surrender to me. To know that I am your master – and you’re mine. You have to leave this bed knowing that you belong here, with me. That I have your heart and you have mine – neither of us can live apart from each other.”

Yours.” He agreed, clenching his teeth as he fought the will to touch her, to have her pinned under him, dissolving and screaming his name. “Ye are the master of me, mo ghraidh. Command me – heal me, Claire.”

“No more lies, James Fraser.” She demanded with her voice and body, twisting herself in such a way that made him moan a faint “Ah”. “You can’t lie to me, ever again. Do it - and I’ll cut your balls out with the sharpest scalpel I have.”

Jamie’s hand raised from the sheets, escaping her control for a moment. His palm delicately covered her breast, shielding the place where her wedding ring touched her bared skin.

“Ye have my word. No more lies, Claire.” He vowed in a husky voice. If he was making a solemn promise over her beating heart or over the metal that had been forged in their love, Claire couldn’t say. But once upon a time they had been one and the same – precious to him beyond possibility of breaking.

“Come to me, Jamie.” She urged him, wildly rocking against him, as evanescent galaxies began to form on the periphery of her vision. “I’m here. I found you. I found you.” Claire repeated and his fingers finally entwined with hers, offering her his release as endless rain in a stormy sea.

****

Claire suddenly opened her eyes, immediately alert. Her heart – amazingly able to beat in such a frantic rhythm, after the demands of the last few hours – was hammering, the knowledge of Jamie’s absence from their bed haunting as an appearing ghost.

She rolled on her stomach and saw him, standing by the window like a statue carved in graphite, his hands bracing the window sill. He was naked, his ancient and newfound scars glowing like kisses of moonlight – and on his face tears shone like droplets of liquid wax from luminous candles, running freely as rivers rushing to the delta.

“Jamie.” Claire called his name softly, trying not to frighten him. She untangled herself from the crumpled sheets and walked to him. “What is it?”

“I was dreaming of ye.” He said, his voice a deep rasp. “I could hear yer voice in the house, but couldna find ye – I knew ye were drifting away from me, but I was powerless to stop it. I couldna force myself to open my eyes – so afraid it wasna a dream after all.”

She nodded - her heart aching with the knowledge of his pain and guilt – and touched his hand, squeezing his fingers in reassurance.

“It was just a dream, Jamie.” She told him. “I’m here now.”

“So many nights I wept in front of this window.” Jamie smiled tentatively, sadness and tenderness battling on his features. “I mourned the loss of what we had. I cried for I knew I wasna a whole man - and had lost all faith of ever becoming such a thing again. But now, my Sassenach…” He hugged her, bringing her closer to his still-warm body. “I weep of joy. I weep because I have a chance to redeem myself; to love ye and prove ye that ye alone hold all my heart.”

“It won’t be easy, Jamie.” Claire swallowed hard, her voice rough after their lovemaking. “We have a long way to go to become what we once were. It will take time and patience.”

“I ken that, Claire.” He caressed her cheek, his eyes fierce and intent. “And I’m willing to do as ye wish, until all my debts are paid.”

“My entire life I was so many things, Jamie.” Claire whispered softly. “Daughter for a short time. Niece for longer. Friend to some – Healer for many more. Student. Lover. Wife. Doctor. Surgeon.” She kissed the hollow of his throat, her lips coming alive with the intensity of the pulse that ran there. “But I was never as happy as I am here, in the darkness, with you – nameless.”

His fingers traced her, from brow to neck - learning her again, shaping her from his dreams - and he held the silver ring, the hope and longing in his voice caressing her in time with his hands.

“Will ye wear it again, Claire?” Jamie asked in a whisper.

He was offering her the choice he had denied her all those years ago. She had loved him once, with all her heart – and he had decided to abdicate of that love for her sake. Claire could still reject him; could still decide the past was too much to bear, even together. And there was the alternative - daunting and bright as the sky after the end of days - to accept the ring and all that went with it.

Looking through the glassed doors to the balcony, she saw it – a different vase, filled with blooming forget-me-nots; gently swaying on the night’s breeze, whispering to her of beginnings and promises. With astonishing clarity, she knew Jamie had took a seedling from her vase before he gave it to her in Boston – keeping it secure under his eyes, hopefully alive for her to retrieve it someday. Remembering her. Hoping.

Wordless, she took the chain from her neck and slid the ring back on her finger.


Note: After so much heartbreak, I’ll write a small Epilogue because I think you guys deserve some happy! :)

Hail Mary, Part VII

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate in those early days, and 2) not *had* to get married?

Part I  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V Part VI


Hail Mary: Part VII

“No, no, no, wait, hold—HOLD ON—” I wheezed, laughing so hard I could feel tears forming. “I WILL get this right, damn it!”

I could feel him shaking with laughter (his AND mine) his head bobbing like a cork on my lap. “Sixth time’ll do it, aye?” 

“FIFTH, you ginger arse!”

We were heaped on a pallet of old blankets and feather mattresses in a garrett alcove high in the castle eaves, the kind of place where odds and ends tended to get thrown and then forgotten; the kind of place two lovers could easily be forgotten, too.

Lovers. I still couldn’t believe it, any of it: the pain and aching of the weeks of silence between us; then that furious night in his room—the fury of his pain, the agony and release of my revelations, the exquisite joy of taking him into my arms and knowing all was well. This man, strong and kind, gentle and deadly in one, still loved me, and he wanted to spend his life with me. I ached now from happiness, from the unreasonable perfection of the life that I’d been granted; ached with happiness that there was now utter truth between us, nothing held back. Not even silliness.

“Alright, ALRIGHT, here goes.” I took a deep breath, my lips still quivering with laugher, and looked him in the eye, ticking off each word on my fingers. “JAMES….”

“Aye,” he grinned, blue eyes sparkling, “ye’ve got that one well down.”  

I stuck out my tongue at him before continuing intently. “James…ALEXANDER…” Here’s the tricky one. “M—Mmmmmm—?” I screwed up my face, raising my eyebrows as I said slowly, “Mmmm….acccK—?”

He grinned and gave the tiniest shake of his head

“—K-ALLLLLCOLM MACKENZIE FRASER!!” I finished in a slur of triumph.

“Well done, lass,” he laughed and turned on his side toward me, his cheek on my thigh. “Now ye ken who I am, we can be marrit!”

I did know who he was, no matter what name he went by. And if I’d been a little hazy on trivial details before, we had spent the last hour learning each others’ histories and families. Still, it was certainly good to know the true name of my husband-to-be. I smoothed his cinnamon curls back from his face, reciting more softly. “James….Alexander… Malcolm….MacKenzie….Fraser.” He had his eyes closed, following my touch with small, contented hums. “It’s a beautiful name, Jamie.”

He smiled. “Common enough, but it’s served me well, thusfar.”

“Fraser,” I repeated. “Claire Fraser.”

He opened his eyes, such feeling and joy written there. “Now, that is a beautiful name.”

“I rather like it too. Though, you know, in my own time, some women are starting to keep their own last names after they marry.”

He blinked. “Is….If that’s what ye wish—”

“No, no,” I said quickly, squeezing his shoulder with a laugh. “I don’t. I want to share a name with you.”

He smiled, that sweet, sleepy, boyish smile. “Then I shall count it a gift. A gift from my beloved, who is, herself, the greatest gift of my life.”

Bloody charmer. And the remarkable thing was, he meant it. “Do you wish to know more about it?” 

“More about what, Sassenach?” 

“My time. Where I come from” 

He straightened a bit at that. “Aye, I do. What it’s like, what’s changed, what hasn’t.” 

“Anything you wish to know, Jamie, you have only to ask.” 

He nodded. “In time,” he said simply, stroking me gently. “I’m curious to learn from ye; but we’ve a lifetime for it, aye?” 

I bent down to kiss him. “Yes. Yes, we do.” 

We sat in silence for a long, peaceful time, the weight of him warm on my lap and legs. We did have a lifetime for talking, and yet so little time now. We’d had scarcely two hours alone, in fact, in the day and a half since I’d crept shamelessly into his chamber. My restriction to the castle walls and Jamie’s duties at the stables had left us with few opportunities to see one another without rousing suspicion, and that was paramount. We had to tread carefully until Jamie had the chance to speak with Colum, to give an explanation of how the apparent ice between us had transformed so swiftly into betrothal. No small task, that, and Colum had been detained in meetings with the visiting Grant delegation all of the previous day. 

And so, we’d been discreet: a stolen moment in an alcove, here; a shared glance across the great hall, there; Jamie’s lips on mine, his hands cupping my face as he bade me goodnight at my chamber door with a husky, “Goodnight, mo chridhe;” this blissful hour of solitude in lieu of the noon meal, an hour with Jamie (Murtagh standing sentinel at the end of the corridor, Lord bless him). Even a moment with Jamie was beautiful, like….like…Yes: like he was my first love—the passion, the sweetness; the inability to keep from grinning foolishly whenever I was with him. 

“Christ, this is NOT proper,” Jamie said suddenly, loosening his grip and making me just as unexpectedly aware that his arms had been around my waist, his hands gently cupping my arse, his face mere inches away from my nether parts.

“Proper-SHMOPPER,” I shrugged, bending down to kiss his temple. “And it’s fairly damn proper from my point of view, since you insist on keeping me an honest woman.” 

Because the ‘passion’ we’d shared in our hour together, despite my best efforts to have my way with my new fiancé, was all of the fully-clothed variety.

“Believe, you me, Sassenach, I want ye…” He sighed and his hands spasmed as though to grab onto something. “Want ye so badly I have to catch my breath from it, sometimes… ”

“If it’s what you wish, darling, so be it. It’s rather sweet, actually—Just as long as it’s not stemming from some fool notion about my virtue.” I gave him a wry grin. “I was married before, so I’m no more a blushing virgin than you are!”

“Aye, well….” He gave a sharp cough and shifted to sit upright against the opposite wall of our alcove. He had a strange expression on his face. 

I stretched and rested my back against my own wall, my legs parallel to his. I gently touched his foot. “What’s the matter, Jamie?”

“This is truly what ye want, Sassenach, aye? To be wed to me?”

“Yes,” I said at once, squeezing his leg. “You’re what I want.“ I ran back through my words for an explanation. “And I’m sorry I alluded to Frank, I just—”

He shook his head. “Dinna ever apologize for that. It’s part of ye.” 

But it was clear enough that mention of it had brought a shadow over his heart. 

“I love you.” I tried to meet his lowered gaze. Did he still doubt. “Do you believe me?

“Aye,” he said at once, giving a genuine but troubled smile. “There is a truth and a trust between us now. I believe it. And I love you too, mo nighean donn. It’s only…” 

I supposed if he could believe I came from the future, he could believe what he’d so vividly felt between us on the road. Still… “What’s troubling you, Jamie?” 

“I just wish to say that I’m sorry, about Frank. That ye couldna—that the way back to him was barred.”

I wanted to make it into a joke, but couldn’t. “I can’t see why you should be sorry, to be perfectly honest.”

“Frank wasna cruel to ye, aye? He was—is a good man?”

“Yes. A very good man.”

“And ye loved him.”

“I did. I—do, still—in—in a way—”

“Aye, I suppose ye must. And that’s why I’m sorry, in a way, because it’s still a loss for ye, one that ye must bear.” 

I nodded, a lump in my throat. He was right: no matter how quickly or wholeheartedly I’d decided to come back to Jamie, Frank would always haunt me, in some way. I hoped he could start over—that I wouldn’t haunt him

“If ye find ye ever—need to talk about him,” Jamie was saying, his brows furrowed so sweetly in concern, “dinna hesitate, aye?”

“That’s very gallant of you,” I laughed, a little hoarsely as I swallowed. 

“Well,” he laughed, gleaming with that lively energy I adored so greatly, “mind, ‘tis easy for me be magnanimous, seeing as how the man willna be born for two hundred years.” He sighed and looked me in the eye. “But suffice it to say, for the love between you and me, I couldna go further wi’out saying that I understand this is all verra complicated. I wish us to be…partners, to share our hearts wi’ one another, as my parents did. So, just know that whatever it is ye might be feeling is alright—and I shall do my best to understand—and help, if I might.”

“I almost wish that the stones had worked.” 

It was out of my mouth before I truly considered it, and I saw a ripple of pain pass through him before he marshaled himself with a gruff, “Why’s that?”

“So that I could have chosen you,” I said frankly.  He smiled in relief, a genuine, broad, glowing smile, but I went on. “If I could have felt that the stones would have worked, and stopped myself, thought of you and truly chosen you…Lord, I don’t know. Perhaps my guilt over Frank would have been greater, but I can’t bear the thought of you, now, thinking you were…. second choice.”

He beckoned to me. “Come here to me, mo chridhe.”

I crawled over until I was sitting curled sideways on his lap, the two of us heaped together in the sunlit window. He laid a warm palm on the side of my cheek and gently stroked my hair back from my face, murmuring into the top of my head. “Even if I was second choice,” he said firmly, “t’was a second choice because of your duty, and that’s no shame to you or to me. If I’d known the truth, I’d have taken ye there to the stones myself; no matter how painful it would have been to deliver ye back to the arms of another man.”

“You…really would have done that?”

Aye. Couldna have done otherwise. Ye had to try. It was your duty, and ye discharged it. And now, your conscience can be clear, as can mine.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling the trickles of absolution flowing over me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and soaked him in; his scent, his warmth, the cadence of his voice. “We’re lucky. We’re so very lucky,” I whispered.

“We’re blessed.”

A sun-soaked eternity later, he gave my back two quick taps and made to rise.

“Oh, don’t go,” I moaned playfully, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. “I’m so COLD.“ I made a dramatic pout that would have impressed any Hollywood director. “Stay and keep me warm, Mr. MacTavish!”

He snorted, laughing fondly, remembering. “You’re blazing as a wee coal, Sassenach,” he said, extricating himself only to lean overtop me, pressing me gently back into the nest of blankets. “But as much as I’d love to stay and let ye light me up a bit, I’ll be late if I dinna leave now. ‘Tis an important meeting, aye?”

It bloody well was. “Are you nervous?”

“Of marrying you?” he asked with a grin, nipping my neck.” Aye, terrified, feisty wee beastie.”

“No, not me,” I laughed, though the anxiety gripped my gut. “Of your talk with Colum.”

“Oh aye, a bit. He willna be best pleased at my choice—” He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “But surely it canna come as a complete shock to him that taking over the clan hasna been my ambition, particularly wi’ Dougal looming large so near at hand.”

“So, you think he’ll give us his blessing?”

“I have my hopes set on cold acquiescence, myself,” Jamie said, frankly. “If he puts up a skelloch, my argument is that wi’ the Sassenach spy in my bed, I can more easily keep my eye on her; keep her from doing anything too treacherous.”

“Treacherous? Heavens, no.” I rose with him and kissed him chastely, then cupped him in a way that was anything BUT chaste, relishing his moaning gasp. “Wicked? Oh, most certainly.”


“Thank you for meeting wi’ me, uncle.”

The Laird of Clan MacKenzie was resplendent, as usual, in his furs and frock coat. In addition, though, his manner this afternoon was uncharacteristically bright, his eyes twinkling and a smile playing at his mouth from across the broad desk. “So, nephew: I assume you’re here to ask permission to return to your estate.”

“How did ye ken that, uncle?” Aye, and that was part of it, was it not ? Jamie was free. He could go home. To Jenny. To Lallybroch. Aye, and he would. Just not alone.

“It’s been clear enough from your manner these last few weeks that you could no longer be happy at Leoch wi’ Mistress Beauchamp about.” 

Jamie flinched at her name, but Colum didn’t seem to notice, steepling his fingers and looking on with seemingly kind approbation.  

“Well, uncle, she isna so—”

“It was good of ye to come to the lady’s aid, lad,” Colum said gently, “Has she been pestering ye?”

“No,” he said emphatically, “Not at all, though I thank you for your concern, uncle.” The time has come, Fraser.  “The thing is—”

Colum held up a hand. “Ye dinna need to play so near the chest, lad. I ken it’s been hard, and it would be better on ye were she to be gone.” He beamed. “And I’m happy to say I’ve a solution.”

Jamie’s wame clenched.  A solution? Involving Claire? 

Colum gestured to a servant in the corner, who came forward with a decanter of whisky. To Jamie’s astonishment, Colum was heaving himself out of the chair and hobbling to come around the desk and stand beside him. 

He rose and held out staying hands. “Uncle, sit, please, ye dinna have to—”

“Nonsense, it’s an important occasion, lad.” The laird took a glass from the tray and handed one to Jamie. The noble kinsman raised the whisky and sighed in a wide, proud way. “A toast: to my dear sister’s son and his wife-to-be.” He drank. 

Jamie followed suit, for no other reason than to hide the shock that must be visible on his face. WIFE-TO-BE?? How did he know?? 

Colum, in another surprise, seemed pleased by Jamie’s stunned silence. “Och, so ye did piece it together, then?” He roared with laughter and inclined his head with a fierce pride. “That’s why you’re fit to lead this clan, lad. Clever and cunning, and it does ye much credit. Slainte.”

His uncle drank again, but it was Jamie’s head reeling. Had someone overheard him and Claire in the last day and a half and reported back to the laird? Was this kind, approving performance naught but a game? Was Jamie about to be castigated for having the audicity to suggest wedding the sassenach?

And yet the laird seemed so genuine in his congratulations. He positively glowed as he set his glass back on the tray and clapped Jamie on the arm. “Now, you’ll see soon enough for yourself that Edina is a fine lady, if a wee bit—”

“Who?” Jamie blurted, though the realization was already plummeting down upon him. 

“Edina Grant, your—” And like a stormcloud over the sun, Colum’s expression darkened to a deadly, steely grey. He all but growled it: “Your betrothed.”


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Can’t Wait (Victuuri)

Author’s Note: I gotcha covered, nonnie~ Though this is kinda shitty because it’s like 5 AM and I haven’t slept and my inspiration is just not. working. but I still wanted to get something out for you guys! So I hope this is enough for you..? Thanks for the suggestion! ^^

Description: Those bored days that we all have can be made much more fun with just a bit of tickling

Word Count: 882


“Yuuri.”

“…”

“Yuuuriiii.”

“…”

Victor stood up from his chair and walked across the room to the couch, where Yuuri was sitting, reading a book, and draped himself across his lap. “Yuuuurrriiiiii!”

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anonymous asked:

When can we get more Renewed?

The light blinded Claire as Murtagh pushed the door open, the sunshine streaming through the gap as she took her first steps towards the church, her heart thudding in her chest.

“Are ye truly ready, Claire?” Murtagh muttered as the pair stepped forwards.

Claire’s eyes saw the back of him before he’d even turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Uncle Lamb?” She whispered, almost in disbelief, “is that you?”

The greying older man turned, a wistful smile alight on his face as he took in his niece, his arms open as Claire bolted from Murtagh’s side and thrust herself against his chest.

“I never even –I didn’t *think*…” she sobbed, her face buried into the hollow of her wayward uncle’s neck as she tried to vocalise her thoughts.

“I came as soon as I heard, Claire,” Lamb began, a hint of apology in his tone, “I’m only sorry I wasn’t here for you during, you know, the turbulence with Franklin.”

Coughing, Murtagh raised his bushy brows in the direction of the church doors, “I’m sorry, Claire, but I think he’ll be waiting for ye…”

Twisting Claire around, Lamb reached out his hand to take Murtagh’s, a large grin lighting his face. “Ah, Mr Fraser, it’s so good to finally meet you!”

“Ye too, Mr Beauchamp. But now, I think puir Jamie might want to see us enter,” winking in Claire’s direction, Murtagh nudged the reunited Beauchamp’s towards the entrance, “we dinna want him to think we’ve escaped.”

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face as Quentin slid his arm through hers and led her to the end of the aisle. The congregation was minimal, just a few of Jamie’s and Claire’s workmates (including Glenna) but the moment she stepped foot inside the building Claire had her eyes set on one person, and one alone.

Jamie stood side on, with Murtagh freshly to his right, looking more dapper than she’d ever seen him. Trussed up with a brand new kilt with his hair slicked back, he looked so handsome that she could hardly believe he was hers.

“He’s a lucky man, Claire, my darling,” Lamb whispered in her ear upon seeing her gaze soften.

Passing her over, Lamb made sure to bow formally to Jamie, a coy glint in his eyes as he did so.

Hearing the message loud and clear, Jamie bowed back, placing his hand over Claire’s as he did so.

‘Look after her,’ it said, ‘look after her and never let her go.’

-

The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. Soon, Claire and Jamie had exchanged vows, an excited lilt to their combined ‘I do’s’ and the newlyweds were on their way –in a horse-drawn carriage no less– to the reception.

Murtagh and Glenna had stayed up most of the night decorating the tiny hall that Jamie had procured for the occasion. Fiddling with the last of the placemats, Glenna added Lambert Beauchamp’s nametag to the small head table, a rather large grin on her face as she did so.

“Yer doing a braw job there, Glenna,” Murtagh praised, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he kissed her forehead, “how on earth did ye find the man, ye wee genius?”

“Ach!” Glenna returned, shaking her head at her friend, “it was nothing, truly. I just made some enquiries and there he was all of a sudden, listed in one o’ those journal things, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp,” elbowing Murtagh softly she clicked her tongue at him in satisfaction, “which is why ye and Jamie couldn’t find the lad. He isna simply listed as ‘Lambert’.”

“I told ye, Mrs Fitz,” he replied, using the name the bairns gave to her, “a wee miracle worker!”

“…and don’t I ken it weel,” she joked, her hands running over the cream tablecloth, smoothing out the remaining ruffles, “what would you all do wi’out me, eh?”

-

Outside the hall, Jamie stood watching as Claire twirled *his* wedding ring around her middle finger, a tiny red mark appearing as she pushed it against her skin.

“Ye look so bonnie today, Claire *Fraser*,” he cooed, his eyes tearing a little at the memory of their wee ceremony.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, Jamie Fraser.”

Her smile was radiant as he plucked her from the carriage and placed her down on the tarmac drive leading into the hall. Balloons decorated the outsides, their names plastered in big, bold letters on the biggest banner Claire had ever seen.

“How on earth did they pull all this off without me knowing?” Claire sighed, her voice full of awe and wonder. “*And* to have my uncle here! I’m…well,” she stammered, her cheeks burning red with happiness, “speechless.”

“Weel,” Jamie whispered, nipping at her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “I think it might have had something to do wi’ me, aye?”

“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you…” Claire returned, a light jest to her words as she swayed to and fro in the evening air, her eyes closed and her head leaning back against Jamie’s shoulder as she enjoyed the peace.

Standing in her wedding gown, Claire couldn’t help but relive those early moments over and over again in her head.

All of those nights, frequenting that same coffee bar with no knowledge of Jamie’s investment in her presence. So many cups she’d drained with a heavy heart, paying no mind to the stranger who would eventually pluck up the courage to make the first move, the move that had brought them here.

Realising the motions she’d set in place with the removal of her wedding ring that fateful night, Claire reached a shaky hand towards her face and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“What’s wrong, mo nighean?” Jamie crooned, his voice low and sweet.

“I just realised how much I owe you, James Fraser.” She whispered in reply, her lips quivering as she spoke, her throat dry as she tried not to ruin her precise make-up with yet more tears.

“Ye are a daft one, sassenach,” Jamie continued, his arms gripping her tighter now as he began to walk her closer to the reception hall. “Do you not know? It is I who owes you, Claire Fraser.”

Smiling, Claire twisted herself, turning to face Jamie.

His eyes were the most vibrant blue, the sunlight catching them, causing the faintest glimmer of yellow and green to merge in the middle where iris met pupil. He was stunning.

Jamie blinked slowly, allowing Claire her calming moment as he tilted his head to the left, cementing this moment in his brain as accurately as he could. She had fallen into his life a mess of curls and warm words. A broken lass just desperately in need of something on he could provide for her. And she, in return, had blessed him with the type of companionship and love that was present only within her.

“Should we…?” Claire broached, tipping her head towards the door in an almost silent gesture that suddenly pulled Jamie from his thoughts.

Remembering where they were –finally, both Jamie and Claire took one deep breath and readied themselves for the welcome that would await them inside.

“Aye, my bride,” he replied, squeezing her hands gently, “I think we should make an appearance.”

Slamming the hotel door behind them, Jamie had Claire at his mercy in seconds, his lips fused to hers as he held her hands over her head and kissed her into submission.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, Mrs Fraser,” he gasped, pulling away for only a minute as she pulled herself forward, aching to have his mouth on hers, not caring too much about what he was saying.

“Me too…” she returned, her fingers twitching against the painted wood. “So don’t make me wait, Mr Fraser.”

The party had gone on into the wee hours. The DJ had played the setlist as instructed and the guests had all danced the night away, their hearts full of love and their bellies full from the buffet.

In those few short hours, Murtagh and Lamb had become fast friends.

Claire smiled as Jamie’s lips bruised hers, a punishing kiss that had her straining…and wanting. But those few glimpses of their wedding party crept through the building lust, making her chest tight with gratitude.

“Come back to me, Claire,” Jamie begged, sensing her lapses in attention as he rocked his body softly against hers.

Fluttering her eyes open, Claire panted as she filled her lungs with air once more, her mind solidly on Jamie now. Her heart raced as she saw how enamoured he was, his gaze dark as he rested his forehead against hers, taking the chance to breath himself.

Suddenly the prospect of seeing Jamie fully naked hit her and she gulped in a large breath of air.

Jamie smirked, watching intently as her pupils dilated and her hips swayed slowly closer to his. No matter the temptation they’d been accosted by, both Jamie and Claire had decided to wait until this night before actually *sleeping* together, choosing instead only to indulge in –heavy petting–.

Pulling herself back into the present, Claire’s mind, overwhelmed by the myriad of images currently pummeling her, chose to focus in on her last sexual encounter. Immediately her cheeks flooded, the redness spreading down her neck as she tried to force the memory away.

“Not here.” She whispered, the subtle twinges of careless embarrassment gaining purchase, uninvited and unbidden.

“Ye didna think…” Jamie returned, his brows creasing as he noted her sudden change. Biting his lip, he refrained from making comment on the blush that had taken root across her face.

“Claire, I said come back to me…no’ reappear briefly and then go away again,” he joked, thinking the unthinkable name, his smile coaxing Claire forward, away from the door and towards the bed. “I love ye, Claire, mo nighean donn,” he murmured, holding his hand out to her and bringing her slowly onto his lap, “yer my wife, we have one another…we will always have one another.”

Leaning her forehead against his, Claire expelled all of the stale air from her lungs.

Jamie. His clear blue eyes bore into hers as she pulled at the buttons along the side of her dress. The shoulder of her dress slid along her smooth skin, revealing the long line of her neck as she shimmied out of the delicate fabric.

Jamie held his breath as the silk fell, watching and waiting as her pale cream bra became exposed.

“Beautiful,” he sighed, his eyes flickering from her face to her chest as he slipped his fingers along the soft planes of the sides of her and up along the ridges of her spine. Clasping the latch of her bra, he pulled together his thumb and finger, freeing the metal that held her breasts captive…freeing her of so much more than simply cotton, lace and metal.

“You’re biased,” she retorted, a hint of humour in her voice as she bounced gently, her knees digging further into the mattress. The inside of her thighs shifted the course material of his kilt as she pulled herself free of the restraint.

“Biased I may be,” Jamie replied, his head falling forward, taking advantage of Claire’s new position, “but, sassenach…I amne wrong, aye?”

HIs tone was low, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling through her from head to toe as he spoke quietly but clearly.

Opening his mouth at the opportune moment, Jamie slipped his tongue along the ripples of her pert flesh, taking her nipple into his mouth as he listened to the faint mewling sound that fell from her lips at the sustained contact.

Scrunching her eyes closed, Claire let her head loll backwards, her hair falling in waves over Jamie’s hands where they lay clasped behind her back – holding her chest against his lips.

“You still have far too many clothes on…” she moaned, licking her dry lips as her shaky fingers ran along the length of the collar of his dress shirt, “I want you, Jamie, I really want you…naked and beneath me.”

Clutching his fists together, Jamie exhaled a jagged breath before flipping Claire onto her back and hovering over her prostrate form.

Running his fingers along the front of his shirt, he toyed with the buttons, teasing as Claire watched through hooded lids. Her hair had fanned out naturally above her head during the move and her curls lay tangled across the hotel pillows, silver and brown combined, glinting delicately in the pale evening light as it filtered in through the curtains, the wind keeping them eerily afloat.

“Sae beautiful ye are, Claire.” Jamie crooned as he stripped, throwing his shirt and kilt into a pile with her wedding dress.

Smirking, Claire reached up. Dragging her finger along his chest she tried her best to keep her eyes level with his, but the sprinkling of hair that dusted the lower half of his tummy called to her. She’d felt him, they’d been close…but seeing him was another matter.

Taking her hand, Jamie massaged her palm delicately as if to encourage her. Seeing the want in her eyes as she blinked slowly, he urged her on with a nod.

One glance was all it took, one short longing look downwards, and Claire was lunging forward, her hands coming up to grip Jamie’s bare arse as she forced him forwards.

Latching his mouth onto hers, Jamie caught himself just in time, his hands pushing deep into the soft pillows as his hips fell naturally between hers.

She really felt him then, the hard length of him nestled against her as he kissed her into oblivion. Feeling like she had her first time, Claire clenched her toes and wrapped her trembling thighs around his waist, anchoring him to her.

“I’m so grateful,” she gasped, angling her hips in preparation, eager to consummate their marriage as soon as possible.  “That I found you, Jamie.”

“Same,” Jamie returned, his kiss stained lips breaking from her neck for just a moment, “Claire.”

Matching her movements, Jamie twisted himself a little to the side. His heart pounded out a maddening rhythm against his chest, the feel of it reverberating through every inch of him as if he were a livewire, sparking as it hit water and flaring before slapping against the cold, wet concrete.

He felt alive.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, feeling his damp skin against her own, “are you scared, love?”

“No…yes,” Jamie sighed and laughed lightly, “I might be a wee bit scarit…o’ disappointing ye.”

“That won’t happen,” Claire soothed, urging him forward, her thighs pulling him closer and closer. “You could never *do* that.”

Gasping, both Claire and Jamie squeezed their eyes closed as Jamie thrust himself inside her, the feeling of it causing his hands to grip the pillows painfully as he arched his back, the droplets of sweat dribbling along each ridge of his spine.

“A-ah…” he half-whispered, half-moaned into Claire’s mouth as she lifted her shoulders from the mattress, eager to have his lips against hers.

Using her tongue, Claire drew intimate patterns against Jamie’s lower lip as he moved ever so slowly against her, the fine hairs on the base of her belly catching his thicker ones as they moved together. She could feel the muscles of his stomach tighten as he lowered himself against her, the plateau of his usually sculpted abdominals even more defined now as he hovered over her.

The intense pulsating feeling between her legs grew as Jamie inched his legs further apart, lowering himself so that he could push himself directly against her and then hold himself still for a moment, his eyes half open as he gasped and took her in. She could feel his gaze over every fibre of her, as if her body knew he was memorising every goosebump-covered particle of her flesh.

Smiling, she raised a shaky hand up to cup his perspiration coated jaw. Her eyes, glazed and half closed, glinted in the dim light of the room as she tightened her legs around his hips and ground herself against him.

Wordlessly, Jamie shuddered, almost launching forwards on his knees as he flopped his head backwards. His mouth fell open, but no actual sound fell from him

Claire could tell from his short, sharp movements and the position of his tense shoulders that he was close. Leaning herself backwards, she gently began to roll her hips, her soft motion causing the most delightful friction to begin to build between the two of them.

Understanding the silent messages of her body, Jamie steeled himself, forcing the almost instant need for gratification to the back of his mind as he mimicked her movements.

A sea of calm covered them both, lying cautiously over the thin sheen of sweat that covered them head to toe as the world suddenly stilled around them, almost as if time had come to a complete stand-still.

“You don’t have to…” Claire mumbled, his tone breathy and light,

“I do,” Jamie returned, answering her unspoken remark. Gripping the pillow, his fingers turning white where they delved deeper into the plush pillows at her head. Locking eyes, he nodded as she did as they felt, simultaneously, flashes of uncontainable carnality rush through them both.

Blinking, Claire felt her cheeks flood with heat as her heart picked up pace, her ribs vibrating with the pressure of it. She was almost certain that Jamie could hear the pounding beat as he lowered his forehead to hers and slid his hands across the slick fabric of the comforter to link with hers as the pressure built within them.

Boiling over, Jamie tensed and moaned, jerking himself against Claire until he could barely hold himself over her. Shaking, Claire waited, inhaling jagged breaths as his hips began to slow, resting just where she needed them to and pushing her over the edge as she cried out and slumped back against the aired sheets.

Rolling himself to the side, Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shifted them both below the sheets, tangling his feet with her as she slowly but surely joined him in their love-drunk haze.

“I want to wash you,” Claire whispered, her hands roaming once more over his humid skin, her eyes barely open as she nuzzled against him.

“Aye?” Jamie replied, licking his lips as he shifted his weight, the idea sending a shot of pleasure through him.

“Yes…” she mumbled, “right after we nap…”

“Alright, sassenach,” he sighed, watching as she began to doze in his arms, “first sleep, then bath.”

Lying in the bath, the water swished gently around them as Jamie slowly washed Claire, his hands roaming across her submerged belly.

Leaning forward, Claire leaned her arms onto her elbows, letting him run the sponge over her back, washing the sweet perfume from her skin. Out of nowhere, two cold droplets ran down her spine causing her to sit up a little straighter. Ignoring it, Claire wrote it off as her imagination.

Jamie’s hands seemed to moved slower as more cold drips hit Claire’s warm flesh. Holding herself still, Claire took an internal breath, keeping her ribcage steady as she breathed through her nose and out again.

“Jamie,” she whispered, her lips shaking as she massaged the back of his hand with her own. Feeling his muscles clench beneath her palm, Claire twisted her head a little to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

Swallowing, she saw a stray tear roll down his cheek as he dipped his head closer to the top of her exposed shoulders.

“I love ye, Claire,” he sighed, his heated breath fanning over her, ruffling the damp locks of her hair.

Slowly, turning her hips as carefully as she was able, Claire moved to face him, her legs sitting either sit of his in the tub.

Silently she reached her hand out and laid her palm against his wet cheek, the warmth of it seeping through her already heated skin.

His face was red, a bright crimson that wasn’t solely indicative of the hot water surrounding them.

Claire’s eyes softened as she took in her husband.

Husband. The word sent a jolt of pleasure through her as she bent forward to kiss away Jamie’s tears. Salt coated her mouth as she sighed softly against him, her heart thudding dully in her chest.

“I’m here Jamie,” she soothed, her fingers brushed lightly against the thin smattering of hair that had grown along the bottom of his jaw throughout the day. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed as she spoke, her touch causing his fears to dissipate. “I love you too.”

For a moment they say quietly, the water cooling around them as Claire held Jamie close. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to tell her how much her commitment to him meant but the words simply wouldn’t come. His ‘I love you’ was all he could vocalise for the moment.

Thoughts of his sister swirled around him in the damp mist of the hotel bathroom as his imagination brought her back to life. Apart from Murtaghs’ companionship, he had been alone for such a long time that now that a small part of him harboured such a deep-seated fear of loss. In the space of a few months all of his family and been taken from him, and now, since he’d been afforded a second chance, there was a tiny voice that suddenly lived inside of him –mumbling a number of incredulous ideas. He knew they were unlikely to occur, he’d been tested for the cancer gene that had been present in Ian. But since Ian wasn’t in anyway a direct relative, both Jenny and himself had been cleared.

The sound of distant humming brought him from his morose thoughts and Jamie suddenly became aware of himself. He was sobbing, the force of his shuddering rocking the water in the bath so that some of it splashed over the edges and onto the tile floor.

“Hush now,” Claire sing-songed, breaking from her tune to calm him as much as she was able. “How about we go to bed?”

Running her fingers through the greying hair at his temple, Claire wiped the moisture away, once more, from his eyes, kissing him softly as she rose from the bath and offered him her hand.

“Let me care for you, Jamie,” she broached, trying to coax him back to her, “for once, let me look after you, yes?”

“Aye.” He returned, a distinct crack of emotion in his voice, “take me to bed, Claire.”

Pulling back the sheets, Claire led Jamie towards their marital bed, ignoring the faint drip-drop of the bath water as it slid from both of their skin as they padded across the plush carpet to the large king sized bed.

Tilting her head to the side, Claire indicated to Jamie to get in. He obeyed, curling himself under the duck-down duvet, the softness of the sheets allowing him to slide in with ease. Following suit, Claire folded herself around Jamie, twinning her legs with his and wrapping her arms around his waist as they settled themselves.

It was warm under the covers, almost too warm, but Jamie didn’t mind. Guided as he was by the position of Claire’s body, he didn’t much mind the heat as it set him alight.

Leaning her forehead against his, she quietly moulded her lips to his, kissing him softly as she turned out the bedside lamp. In the background, a gurgling filled the large master suite, the plug spitting back out the water it couldn’t feasibly drain.

Jamie laughed, the sound of the emptying bath disturbing the peace of the moment.

Claire smiled as she watched him, the years just dropping from his face as he finally shed the last of the tension he’d been holding in.

“Welcome home, love.” She cooed, nuzzling his nose with hers and pecking him slowly on the lips. His blue eyes shone in the dark of the room, the moonlight flooding the room as the pair drank in the sight of the other, reinvigorated from their busy day.

A spark of light glimmered behind Claire’s eyes as she ran the flat of her hand along the expanse of Jamie’s back, feeling every wee bump along the length of his spine as she slowly investigated every inch of his bare skin.

Jamie held his breath as she explored. Hair grew more prevalently now, thicker on his chest and thighs than it had done in his twenties and thirties. He liked it. He’d always felt a little scrawny in his youth, his shoulders not quite wide enough. But now, as he’d entered his forties, he’d filled out. The build up of muscle finally cementing itself over his ample chest. True, he’d put a little weight on his tummy, but if anything it just matched the rest of him.

Claire too was changed. Her hips were probably wider, her breasts a little fuller. Jamie glanced downwards, taking a wee keek at her as she looked back up at him, her lids half closed, her amorous gaze falling solely on him.

“You are sae beautiful, mo nighean donn,” he purred, his voice soft as the finest velvet, “the way the silver glows in yer hair wi’ the white light of the moon, takes my breath away.”

Claire blushed, his complement causing the blood to rise to the surface.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she returned, her hips meeting his under the covers as she cuddled up against him, skin to skin.

Jamie buried his nose in her wayward curls, inhaling the scent of the remains of her perfume as the slid together beneath the covers, the thick blanket shielding them from the world.

Together they fell asleep, Jamie’s faith in their union burning brighter than ever before as Claire rocked him gently. He couldn’t love her again just yet, their lust filled entrance to the bridal suite still glowing just under the surface of them both as their breathing evened becoming shallow in sleep.

“Dream of me, Jamie,” Claire sighed, her hushed whisper echoing around the room as she snuggled closer, “because I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Safe in the arms of the other, Jamie and Claire drifted steadily out of consciousness. On the bedside table, the ink of their recently signed marriage license dried slowly, its dark fluid staining the parchment and sealing their combined names; eternally tattooed onto the sturdy paper. A solid reminder of the vows they’d taken, of the future they’d secured for one another. More stable than the one Claire had signed before, Jamie was unconsciously convinced of its validity. His belief in fate –renewed.

anonymous asked:

It's stormy outside Jamie arrives home soaked to the skin ,Claire is at home waiting for him of course his clothes need to come off ,I'm sure she can help with that task

He should have been home by now. I’d begun pacing in the front entry of our house nearly an hour ago. The storm outside had turned our house black and I knew he was out somewhere in it. None of the lights worked and I was worried. Another crack of lightning and a roll of thunder had me pulling the ties of my bathrobe closer.

“Lord that he would be safe,” I mumbled. “And come home to me.”

Then the back door slammed open, sending a gust through the house. I ran, hoping it wasn’t the wind that had opened it. I hardly saw Jamie as I closed and bolted the door. Then I turned to him and gasped. 

He looked as though he’d climbed out of a pool, not just come inside.

“Christ Jamie!”

“S-S-S-Snch,” he muttered, jaw clenched tight against the shivers that racked his body.

We hadn’t had a storm this bad in years. He’d walked over to the manor house that morning to help Ian with some repairs, assuring me that he was a Highlander born and bred. A walk wouldn’t kill him.

I bit back my ‘I told you so’.

He was trying to speak again, but his chattering and the tenseness of his body didn’t allow it. Since he was puddling on the stone floor of the kitchen, I decided it would be best to start here.

“Can you strip?”

“C-c-cna f-f-f-feel… f-f-f-f-fngrs.”

Briskly, I peeled his wet shirt up and helped him stretch out his arms as I got it off. It slapped onto the floor where I dropped it before I moved to his boots. He lifted one foot stiffly and used me for balance as best he could before I got them off. Next were his trousers. The leather of his belt had swollen and I considered getting a pair of scissors. Just before I reached for them, it gave.

Carefully, he stepped out of the drenched denim and I got his boxers off. Of course naked and wet didn’t help anyone warm up, but it was better than standing in the wet clothes.

“Come on. Upstairs.”

I draped my robe around his broad shoulders, knowing it wouldn’t do too much. We took a long time to get up the stairs and to our bedroom. I wrapped him in as many towels as I could before shoving him beneath the quilts. I put a towel around his head to soak up the water from his hair before I lay beside him.

“F-felt l-li-ike a b-bairn,” he chattered.

“A grown man with grown children felt like a child being stripped by his wife in the kitchen?”

“A-aye.”

I rolled my eyes, holding close to him. Gradually, his shaking lessened until he was breathing and his body no longer tensed. 

“You decided to walk home in that weather?” I scolded.

“Aye, weel… It wasna so bad when I left. But then one of Jenny’s sheep was out, so I put it back in the pen. Repaired the fence that fell. Then I started home and, well… The sky tore open, ken?”

I glared down at him, helping him sit up to remove some of the layers.

“Yes, I ken. You bloody Scot, I was terrified something had happened to you.”

“I didna have a way to call ye, aye?”

“Yes I know that! I just kept thinking of that nightmare I had last week, and-”

He pulled me to him, cradling my head against his chest. His skin was still chilled, but I felt him warming.

“Shh. Dinna fash, a nighean. That was a bad dream, no more.”

“We almost went over the side of a cliff in a storm like the one we’re having tonight. So when you didn’t come home tonight, all I could see in my head was you crushed beneath a horse at the bottom of a cliff.”

“Aye. I’m sorry, Claire. I didna mean to frighten ye so. But I’m home now, safe and alive. No one’s fallen off a cliff. I promise.”

I pressed my ear against his chest, counting the beats of his steady heart. I let the rhythm of him settle into my bones. Once I’d calmed myself down, I sat up and took his face between my hands.

“Don’t you ever frighten me like that again, James Fraser. Do you understand me?”

“Aye,” he said, his face serious though his eyes glinted.

“Never again,” I almost shouted, shaking his head in emphasis.

I had very little warning before his mouth was on mine. I could feel him beginning to truly warm beneath my nightgown. It seemed he had his own ideas for driving out the last of the cold.

“I was frightened too,” he said, pushing me onto my back as he climbed above me. “I was worried that I wouldna come home either. Or that ye’d go out lookin’ for me, though ye canna track for your life.”

I hit his shoulder feebly. 

“I kent I had to make it back to you, no matter what.”

The pad of his large thumb circled my nipple, rubbing the flannel of my nightgown against it.

“I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

“Gi’ up? Not makin’ it back might have frightened me, but nothing compares to you when ye get in a temper.”

I raked my nails deliberately across his lower back, making him shudder and squirm.

“I’d have dragged you back by your thick red curls. And you wouldn’t have liked it one bit.”

“I expect not. But now…” the hem of my nightgown was pushed up above my belly button. Jamie settled himself between my legs, hot and hard with need. “Now I’m home.”

He punctuated the last word by pushing fully into me. I cried out, back arching into him as my legs came around his hips. He moved with determination, his body holding close to my own. The heat in us grew until it consumed us, driving away the worry and the cold from the hours before.

Despite my urging, he didn’t move any faster or harder. His huge body pinned mine down, not giving me the leverage I needed to flip us over. I was about to ask him to let me up when his left hand snaked down to our connection. 

I jerked and squealed in surprise as he teased my swollen flesh. He was relentless, playing with me as he moved and I shook with a powerful orgasm.

“You,” he breathed. “You, mo chridhe, mo ghraidh, mo nighean donn. You are my home.”

“And you are mine,” I answered, even as he thrust me into another climax.

His head dropped to my shoulder when he came to the end of himself and I just held him. No part of him felt cold now, save his damp hair.

I got us under the quilts again, keeping our bodies tangled together. To have him home, safe in my arms, I couldn’t make myself stop touching him. I dropped my wrinkled nightgown over the side of the bed and sighed.

“Feeling warmer?”

“Oh aye,” he said, smiling as his eyes closed. “Ye always drive out the cold.”

Realising Fate

Continuing on from  womans-world I didn’t want to write a huge chapter about Claire and Laoghaire fighting it out because I don’t think it is a fight to be had, Claire has already won just because Jamie loves her, but based on a prompt I received here is a moment that I felt Voyager was missing - Laoghaire realising a little of what lies between our dear J+C. Thank you for reading, H xx

Laoghaire exhaled heavily through her nose and eyed Claire warily. Both women had sat quietly as Jamie explained the situation to Laoghaire. She had blinked away tears and flushed with anger in turn but at his urging had remained silent.

Claire for her part had maintained a firm grip on Jamie’s thigh beneath the table, a small token of her claim on him that she told herself was ridiculous, but kept all the same.

“Jamie, if ye wish to be rid o’ the Sassenach, I will support ye wi’ a divorce petition and …”

“No, Laoghaire, I thought Claire dead and would never have remarried had I ken the truth. It is to her that I was wed first and with her I wish to remain.”

Jamie had said the same thing in different ways more times than he could count and his patience was slipping.

“But ye love me, do ye not?”

“I …”

Torn between shame, guilt and frustration, Jamie hesitated and felt both women’s gaze upon him, Laoghaire’s blue eyes as damp and hopeful as summer rain, Claire’s a blazing inferno burning into him, a look that warned him to keep his silence at his peril.

Jamie squeezed her fingers gratefully beneath the table. His wife, his Sorcha, had never let him be a coward. She understood and respected the parts of him that Laoghaire either did not know were there or could not comprehend and so chose to ignore.

“No, I dinna love ye. I’m sorry Laoghaire, truly. The hurt ye must feel rests at my feet and I will see that you and your girls are seen right.”

When delivering bad news after a surgery, Claire had the often seen the fight go out of a person. Always after a long struggle and always when the latest verdict was final. She saw it happen again now as Laoghaire’s shoulders rounded and the tight lines around her mouth relaxed. Her worst fears had been confirmed and she could no longer fool herself.

“The money is a help but it isna a protection the likes of having a man…”

She shook her head slowly and looked very, very tired.

“All these years of loving ye, wantin’ ye and for this … I dinna ken why God would wish this upon me. The humiliation of it…”

She seemed to be talking to herself; her hands, rough and red from years of hard work, resting on the table palm up and Claire was overcome with an urge to take hold the younger woman’s fingers in her own. She realised that in her own poor and misguided way, Laoghaire had loved Jamie. Perhaps not the man he was but the man she saw in him and the realisation allowed compassion to overcome Claire’s jealousy and anger.

“You are not humiliated Laoghaire.”

Claire said softly and felt Jamie jerk beside her in surprise

“I am sorry that you are hurt, but you pursued something that not meant to be. You and I know the truth of how far you were willing to go to try and get it. Perhaps this is a chance to start again… to find something real.”

Laoghaire snorted and glared at Claire with sudden venom

“Do not dare to pity me, bitch. Aye, I did ye wrong once when I was a girl and ye have come back to pay me in kind all these years later, speak it plain and be done with it.”

“I haven’t come back to do anything to you! My God! Your arrogance!”

Anger bloomed in Claire’s chest afresh and she held Laoghaire’s gaze unwaveringly

“Arrogance? Ha! Ye sit there claiming a man ye long since abandoned, stealin’ him away from his bairns and yet ye speak to me of arrogance!”

“Jamie has just one daughter. My daughter. Do not throw your children before you as a shield for your own petty desires.”

“Speak of my children again and I’ll rip the throat from ye! I see no bairn at your side, most like as it is waitin’ for ye to return to it in the fires of Hell…”

Laoghaire screamed and stood with surprising speed.

“Do you mean to let her speak of Brianna that way?”

Claire demanded turning to fix Jamie with that same withering look.  Jamie opened his mouth to speak but with a noise of disgust, Claire was on her feet and heading toward Laoghaire.

“Claire! Stop it!”

Jamie caught his wife’s arm and pulled her back, the arc of her outstretched palm sailing past Laoghaire’s face, close enough to lift the hair from her neck.

“Enough! Both of ye need to calm down! This is not … Oof!”

The breath left him as Claire’s elbow found his gut but Jamie refused to relinquish his hold and half dragged, half carried her toward the door.

Laoghaire made as if to come after them, straightening her cap

“Dinna move another step!”

Jamie glowered at her and Laoghaire wilted beneath his gaze, sitting down obediently. Claire bit his wrist sharply and Jamie cursed, bundling them both from the room.

“Let me GO!”

“No! I have lost ye once and I’ll no’ lose ye again under the charge of murder.”

Jamie grunted, kicking the door closed behind them and placing himself bodily in front of it, releasing Claire and inspecting his arm, grinning.

“I think ye damn near broke the skin, Sassenach.”

“I meant to break the bone, you smug bastard!”

Claire snapped, swiping the hair back from her face.

“How could you let her speak like that? How could you let her think you LOVED her?”

“It was in the vows – love, honour … ye ken them, aye?”

His grin was gone but to Claire’s absolute fury he still sounded almost amused

“Oh and so you had no choice then?”

She demanded

“Should I have replaced the words with a diatribe of vicious ill wishes?”

Jamie’s eyes had narrowed and Claire could see that he was now close to losing his own temper and she didn’t care.

“YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE FUCKING MADE THEM!”

She screamed, the words ripping from her throat with a guttural rawness. She seldom shouted, unlike Jamie her anger was usually colder but she felt the heat of it now, burning her from the inside out.

“You are mine, do you hear me?”

“Aye Sass…”

“And Brianna is your child! Not those girls! BRIANNA!”

“Clair…”

“Do you hear me? I have not been through EVERYTHING it took for me to get here for you to sit, cowed in silence before that woman…”

“I wasna ‘cowed’!”

Jamie snapped, catching Claire’s wrist as she pointed an accusatory finger at his chest

“Get your bloody hands OFF ME! I will not be intimidated by you or her or anyone else!”

“Aye! Ye make that plain! Screaming the house down like a banshee! Do ye hear yourself, woman?”

“Oh! How awful of me! Of course a woman should be silent and meek in your presence! The great James FUCKING FRASER!”

“Careful Sassenach, I ken ye are angry and I am tryin’ to respect that but my patience has its limits…”

“HA! Don’t I know it!”

On the other side of the door, Laoghaire sat ramrod straight, eyes wide and mouth working silently in awe. She would never have spoken to Jamie the way that woman did. She simply would not have dared. It was not the way a wife spoke to her husband! A part of her saw it as further evidence that she was morally superior to the Sassenach but also …

To hear them rant at each other and be able to still hear the love that lay betwixt them reverberating over the raised voices and the curses was so strange and so beautiful that for a moment Laoghaire didn’t know what to make of it. She had led a life based on quick decisions and rash judgements that pride would not let her renege on but she began to suspect that she had been wrong about some things.

Wrong about Jamie loving the woman because she tricked him with her sweet musical voice and firm breasts. No such flimsy trick could stand up beneath the barrage of insults and squawking that was being thrown at him now.

Wrong about what made a man desire a woman because she could hear the wanting in his voice, Jamie’s beautiful, deep voice, raised in anger and frustration but filled with hunger for Claire despite it all.

Wrong about her own ability to drive the memory of his first wife away. Aye, she had so very clearly been wrong about that. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that what lay between the two warring people outside the door was a love like she had fantasised having her entire life, but she could admit that her place was not here.

Gathering herself, she marched forward and opened the door, swinging it hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back, slamming shut again, but not before she saw Jamie kissing Claire with the sort of fierce passion she had always imagined him capable of, but had never seen before.

It settled the matter. She seized the door and wrenched it open again, striding out, forcing her way bodily between them with a mighty push. For the first time raising her voice to Jamie Fraser she squared her shoulders and said

“Have each other then! But ye will pay my rent and my girls dowry and no’ argue it!”

Before storming out of Lallybroch for the last time.

Claire blinked as if waking and looked up at Jamie. With all the turmoil between them, she had rather forgotten that Laoghaire was still in the room.

“Oh.”

“Aye.”

Jamie puffed out his cheeks and shrugged

“No a verra dignified moment but it seems to have solved any lingering issue there.”

“Yes, yes it rather has.”

Claire wiped a hand across her lips and reached up to touch a graze at Jamie’s temple.

“We should probably try not to savage each other for a day or two …”

“I make no promises, Sassenach.”

Jamie smiled, placing a gentle kiss on the bridge of her nose

“Bed wi’ a vixen, ken?”

I wrote a cute kili X reader story. It gets kinda fluffy but gets very smutty, quite fast. This was my second story written regarding the Hobbit so let me know what you guys think. Send me some requests too if you would like. love u guys 💛

warnings: smut + fluff and a SUPER hot dwarf.

“Y/N, Kili, go look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” Thorin trudged off, giving orders to Oin and Gloin, leaving Kili and me to secure the ponies. He glanced at me, revealing a smirk.
“For goodness sakes, Kili. What is it?” I bickered.
“Well, after the constant state of stress, and well, Thorin is finally not around-” He pleaded.
“Kili, I know what you’re up to and it’s not happening.”
He simply looked at me amused.
“I have no doubt you’ve flirted with every lass you’ve met. You exasperate me.” I threw the luggage down, emphasizing my stress. His face fell somber,
“You truly think that, Y/N?”
Caught off guard by his sudden grave state, I replied, “Well- yes. You’re incredibly flirtatious and you have this attitude which I find atrocious. You don’t take anything seriously and I find your arrogance vexing.” I stated briskly. His demeanor withdrew and silently tied up the ponies. Guilt washed over me. “Kili,-” I put a hand on his shoulder.
He removed my hand. “No, you’re right. I simply act like this because- well, because I’m scared.” He sat on a large, gray rock and pulled out his smooth stone and began fiddling with it.
“Scared of what,” I breathed, dumbstruck.
“I don’t know what we’re going to find in that mountain and I have anxiety for the dilemmas we will face on the way. I also-”
“What?” I approached him, kneeling down so I was face to face with him.
Kili’s eyes ignited, terror stricken.
“I fear for Thorin.” He exhaled. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I sat in the grass, as he fiddled with his stone, feeling burdened.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I understand. I shouldn’t have judged you like so. Forgive me?”
“Aye, lass. I must apologize for the way I was acting. It’s was not good form.” He winked. I beamed at him, grateful to see him in a more content state.
He looked intensly in my eyes, it caught me off guard. “Time for dinner!” We heard Bofur’s voice proclaim over the distance.
“Aye, time for dinner.” He smiled at me, sweetly.
Dinner was a joyous occasion. There was a plethora of food, that even Bombur ate to his fill. Evening fell, and the dwarves sang a good deal of merry tunes.
I attended to the dishes, listening to the fine music, pleased with how everything was going.
“Let me help you,” Kili ran over next to me, leaving an earthy, spicy scent.
“Oh, okay-” I stammered nervously. My hands shook and I dropped the plate. He picked it up an handed it to me. His rough hand brushed mine and I quickly pulled my hand to my side. This would never had bothered me before. Thoughts swelled in my head.
“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just feeling a bit off.” The corner of his lip tugged into a smile. We continued washing dishes, silently, to the music. When we were finished, I heard his charmed voice, “May I have this dance?” I looked up and met Kili’s eyes. His hand was held out, and his eyebrow lifted.
“My lady?” He urged.
“I am not your lady, Kili.” I teased, drying my hands.
“Surely, you owe me this dance.”
“And what for?” I challenged.
“Well, you were infact a bit impolite to me earlier. I only ask for one dance.” He held his hand forward once more, and I thus took it.
Kili walked me out to a more secluded area, where the music was heard but the dwarves were not seen. The air was chilly and refreshing, as the stars glistened above our souls.
“It’s beautiful,” I commented.
“Yes, she is.” He looked at me like how a writer would look at a sweet and serene poem. I felt special. Something in the pit of my stomach tugged, when I looked in his eyes, so I glanced away.
“Are you okay?” I smirked. He held my waist with one hand, and his other hand interwined with mine.
“You know, Y/N? Since we’ve talked, I don’t feel any form of fear that I discussed. I sense no such feeling lingering… except one.” We swayed to the music, gently and slowly.
“And what is that?” I questioned.
“That you might leave.” He breathed. I dropped my hands and scrunched my brows.
“Kili-” I stammered.
“No, Y/N, please-” He begged.
“You- you love me?” I demanded. He stood, dumfounded. “Kili, do you love me?”
“Aye. I do.” My stomach felt as if it were being pulled in different directions then melted, all at once. I grabbed his shirt and crashed my lips to his. He pulled in further, resulting in a tender, sweet kiss. My hands found their way to his hair, and his to my waist. It felt amazing and- so right. His lips collided with mine. I could tell he had wanted this for a while. His hands traveled to mine, then he stopped kissing.
“Your hands are freezing,” Kili commented. He removed his jacket and placed it gingerly around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I breathed. He layed me down in the grass and we simply stared at the stars.
“You know, this dance isn’t over.” He mentioned.
“What do you mean?” I laughed, smiling.
He sat up and leaned so close from my face. I felt his warm breath on my skin.
“Kili,” I chuckled.
“Shh,” He leaned in which seemed quite slowly. The earth stopped spinning and I didn’t breathe a breath.
“Kili-” He quieted me by outlining my lips with his tongue. He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue in discretely. He tasted wonderful and I found myself craving more. He pressed his face to my neck and kissed gently.
I moaned, “Oh, fuck, Kili,” He laughed, “Sit up, dear.”
I sat up immediately. “Good girl,” He rasped as he slipped off my shirt. I found myself getting very wet for him. I did the honor of removing his shirt. I grabbed the fabric and ever so gently pulled it over his head. It got caught on his arm, and he chuckled and smiled, “Come here,” And pulled me in a kiss. I felt his warm hand unclasping my bra against my cold skin. I tried to help remove it but he demanded, “No, don’t move.” I remained fixed. He withdrew my bra and analyzed my body. I felt self concious. My arms moved to cover my breasts but he caught my arms.
“Y/N, you’re so fucking beautiful.” A timid smile became of my face as he wrapped me in a hug and kissed my forehead. Kili’s hands moved up to my wrists and he forced me down on the ground, his weight on me. “Stay, sweety,” He ordered. His heat radiated and his scent drifted over me. He crawled his way down my body and I didn’t dare move a muscle. He slid off my pants, gradually. Kili kissed my hips and trailed his tongue down to my entrance. I jolted in pleasure.
“Don’t move,” He repinned my wrists. His lustful eyes burned into mine.
He placed his finger in my entrance, deeply, and began stroking on my walls, gradually building up speed.
“Oh, fuck, Jesus Christ, Kili” I sobbed. I rocked my hips into his hand and released.
“Good, darling,” He sat up and licked his fingers.
“I want more, Kili.” I stated, practially breathless.
“ Beg,” He ordered.
“Oh fuck, Kili, please.” I frantically kissed his neck. He kissed my collar bones, then sat up, removing his pants. My heart skipped a beat.
“Would you like this?” He purred.
“More than anything.” I whispered.
Kili separated my legs and slid into me. He felt heated and his sweat trickled onto me. Kili began rocking back and forth. There was a tugging sensation in my gut and it made my chest burn and my brain go hazy.
“Faster,” I moaned. He developed speed and continued pounding into me. I glanced at his face, and I knew that during that moment, he wouldn’t have known how to count, hell, he didn’t even known his own name. Kili moaned, “Ah, fuck,” I felt a wave of pleasure rock through my muscles. I tensed up then completely went limp, unable to move. He went slack on top of me, his head on my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, “Wow,” Was the only word going through my head.
“Do you still find me annoying?” Kili laughed.
I giggled, and kissed his forehead. “Yes.”

2

Yup rather weak performance this time too lmao. But I just really wanted to draw suits and and and…. *deep sigh*