jamie-jaing

Flood my Mornings: Plymouth Trace

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

PLYMOUTH TRACE

Later that same afternoon
September, 1950

“Daddy!!!” 

I parked Penelope’s car at the curb in front of the house, and got out quickly to see Bree pelting down the front stairs toward Jamie, who had stepped out of the ‘49 Ford he’d pulled carefully into the driveway. He’d been doubling back to come greet me, but hearing his daughter’s squeals, he turned and crouched down in the grass for interception.

Bree, however, was far more excited about the new car. Instead of flinging herself into Jamie’s arms, she made a sharp left and thudded herself into the front passenger door with both hands. Liking the sound immensely, she began pummeling the door further, jumping up and down and shrieking with giggles as she did so.

“No-no-no, a nighean,” Jamie said sharply as he reached her and grabbed both her hands away.

Bree jumped, startled and horrified by his harsh tone. Jamie was so unfailingly gentle with her, always, that for a moment, I thought she was going to burst out into tears. Jamie realized this, too, and quickly released her hands, laying one of his own against the gleaming paint of the car door. “Now, wee Bree, ye mustna hit our Bonnie. Ye wouldna wish to hurt her feelings by thrashing her about, aye?”

Bonnie?” I laughed, incredulous as I came to stand with Mrs. Byrd, “Is that its name??”

“‘Tis her name,” Jamie said with dignity, though I could see the corner of his mouth twitching. To Bree, he encouraged, “Can ye say ‘hello’ to Bonnie Blue?”

Without missing a beat, Bree took a step back and waved at the car. “Hiiii-lo, Bobbie bloo!”

We all laughed and Jamie kissed her cheek. “Aye, that’s right, cub. We all must be verra gentle and sweet to Miss Bonnie so she lasts a good long while.”

Bree looked pensive for a moment, considering, then walked forward to lay an unutterably delicate kiss on the driver’s door. 

“‘Inna laff-me!” she scolded as we all did. She pointed a stern finger at Jamie, then the car. “M’kissie, Da.”

Jamie opened his mouth to decline, then removed his hat and laid a soft kiss on the handle. “How’s that, cub?” he asked Bree with a grin. 

“’S’okay,” she said with a curt nod, rising on tiptoes to peer in the side mirror.

Jamie laughed, standing, “She’ll keep a man verra humble, one day, that one.”


Jamie was like a bronze statue behind the wheel, impeccable and sure in his movement. It was the deliberateness, the same steeled concentration in his eye that he’d used in battle. At the wheel, he used it to be cautious, careful, erring on the side of slowness for the sake of accuracy. Still, while we were puttering along at about the same speed as an octogenarian on foot, the set of his jaw made him look so…

“Damn me, but you do look sexy doing that, Jamie.”

“Oh, aye?” he said, not taking his eye from the road, but the corners of his mouth crooked downward: a suppressed smile.

“Indeed, you do,” I confirmed matter-of-factly, scooting closer to him on the wide seat and reaching out a delicate finger to trace his arm. “Positively rakish.”

“More so than when I’m about other activities?”

“Oh, in terms of sexiness, this is ranking in your top five activities, to be sure,” I said, with mock solemnity. 

He snorted. “Not that I’m no’ sensible of the compliment, but I canna quite see how turning a steering wheel should be at all rousing to ye.” 

“Welll….” I kept my face intentionally composed, tracing the tendons of his right hand, feeling the strength in them as they grasped the self-same wheel. “Do you…happen to know what the kids do, when they ‘go for a drive’?”

“Other than getting to their intended destination, ye mean?”

“The destination is everything,” I said dramatically, walking my fingers up his arm. “They find a secluded spot to park the car…” I leaned forward and breathed in his ear, “…and then set about to…. not enjoy the scenery.”

He shivered at my touch and his fingers tightened a bit on the steering wheel but he didn’t seem in the least bit shocked. “Aye, seems reasonable, there being fewer cow byres and springhouses to which the youngsters might secrete themselves.”

“Oh-ho! And just who was young Jamie Fraser secreting with in cow byres, might I ask?”

“And I might just as easily inquire with whom it was that ye *didna* enjoy the scenery, Sassenach…” he said sardonically. 

“Oh, really!” I swatted him, making him laugh and playfully swat me back. “Teenagers didn’t have cars when I was at the cavorting age, you oaf! Movies,” I drawled, seeing his puzzlement. “Lovers’ Lanes are common spots for young people to—” Ahah, how to explain this one? “—get murdered in gory films.”

“Jesus CHRIST, Sassenach,” Jamie said in alarm, taking his eye from the road a moment to give me a look of deep revulsion. “Folk enjoy seeing young couples getting—killed?”

“They’re not all about people getting—Oh never mind, I will get you to the cinema eventually, but anyway, I also happen to know more about driving dates than I’d wish because I have the joy of being a compulsory member of the debriefing committee for Della O’ Malley’s courting escapades.”

“Ah, our wee Della,” Jamie sighed ruefully, turning right. “She must get herself marrit, soon, or she’ll end up so entangled she’ll need to be pruned,” he laughed.  “So…whereabouts is the ‘Lovers’ Lane’ in these parts, then?”

“Oh, there are many, I’m sure. But Della’s favorite was in a huge copse of willow trees near the big creek off of Plymouth Tra—”

And before my eyes, not two seconds later, the car rattled merrily onto none other… than Plymouth Trace.

“What was it ye were saying, Sassenach?” 

“Why, you presumptuous wee bastard! How the bloody hell did you know?”

The wee bastard in question grinned devilishly, chancing a glance away from the road. “The lads at Fernacre as about as eager to crow about their escapades as Miss O’Malley. I figured it would be fitting to take our Bonnie here on her first trip.”

“You talk bout her like she’s our child,” I giggled.

Dinna listen to her, Bonnie,” Jamie crooned, patting her (“HER!” pah!) fondly on the dashboard. “You’re part o’ the family now.”

We pulled into the arbor, carefully, slowly and came to rest between two of the trees that stood close together. I couldn’t help gasping as I opened the door and tripped out between the fluttering curtains of yellow-green. There were perhaps twenty willows, scattered around a lazy bend in a wide, sweet creek; tall ones, with their fronds waving gracefully in the late-afternoon breezes. 

Della liked this spot, I knew, for the seclusion it provided in the dark of the evening. In the afternoon, with sunlight dappling between the leaves, though, it was—

Breathtaking…”

“My thoughts exactly,” came a soft, low voice at my shoulder as his arm came around my waist. 

“Flatterer,” I grinned. 

“No,” he whispered, pressing me back against the side rear of car, his eyes dark with feeling.

I melted into him, reaching hungrily for his mouth as he reached for mine. I could feel the sun-warmed panels hot through my skirt as he pressed me into them, his mouth, his hands, his entire body insistent against mine. 

I could feel my body rising to his, my blood pounding furiously in every vessel, crying out to him. 

Jamie. My Jamie. 

“Does it ever stop?” I panted, “the wanting you?” 

“No,” he whispered with a soft laugh before taking my mouth again. “Never.”

A long, fevered string of moments later, Jamie’s hand left my neck (though the other continued to roam freely. A moment later I heard the springing CLONK of the rear door latch releasing. “Get inside,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ve got to have you now.”

“In the…? I thought we were supposed to ‘be gentle to Bonnie.’”

“Oh, aye, wi’ Bonnie I’ll be gentle…. Wi’ you—” He latched his mouth into the crease of my neck and chuckled darkly as I groaned with the rush of sensation. “Now… get inside.”  

I had his trousers down around his ankles in a jiffy, leaving him exposed. “Kick off your shoes,” I whispered urgently. He tried but got tangled up, and had to bend down to extricate himself. I took the opportunity to spread our picnic blanket over the back seat and clamber in. 

Jamie joined me a minute later, bare-arsed, pulling the door shut behind him. He knelt before me on the floor, running his hands up under the skirt of my dress. He was smiling, but I could tell he was done with kidding around. 

“You’re wearing far too many clothes, mo nighean donn,” he whispered, nuzzling my thighs, “far too many.”

While my vision was obscured by my dress flying up over my head, he set to work between my legs, eliciting a moan that surely shook the vines surrounding us. “Oh….Jamie….”

I heard—no, felt—him laugh against me, not slowing his pace one bit. It seemed hardly moments before I cried, “Ja—Jamie—I’m going—to—”

And I did, my vision going lilac with energy as i melted under his touch.

He didn’t wait long. With remarkable economy of motion, he pulled me down against him and whirled us around so that I was sitting astride him on the seat. My head almost brushed the roof but that hardly mattered. I was dizzy, spinning  as I was curling my entire body around him, bending my head to him, needing more even as I throbbed.

We slid together with a sigh that seemed to emit from us both. I could feel the car rocking softly back and forth with us as I rode him, hard and desperately.

“Sassenach….” he moaned, his head pressed hard into my shoulder as he gripped my hips so hard I knew I would bruise and moved me harder, deeper, faster. One hand slid further down and used his thumb to bring me to the brink again and we were crying out together, pulsing against each other to get one more moment, one more bolt of our common magic.

When we were both spent, he let his head fall back and I slumped against him, wrapping my arms slowly around his neck, both of us one sweaty, quivering heap. The sun beamed through the rear window, bathing our still-one flesh in blissful warmth and light. I took the opportunity to study him while his eyes were closed. His hair was short and arranged, and his clothes, wherever they were, were different, but he was still the lad–the achingly sweet, caring lad–who had slept outside my door to keep away brigands in the night. So pure and loving…so…exquisite. The lines of his face; the hollows of cheek and temple; the smile that tugged at his lips even as he heaved with exhaustion. Glowing in the sunlight, he looked so beautiful, I truly wanted to cry.

I opened my mouth to tell him so, but just at that moment, he spoke. “There’s a good lass.”

I thought he was addressing me, so it came as quite a surprise then he thumped not my bare arse but the seat beside us. “If this be the time we conceive, we’ll keep ye in mind when we name the bairn.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I murmured against his mouth, barely managing it, widely as I was grinning.

“Aye,” he laughed, a little sheepishly, wrapping his arms snugly around my hips. “I’ll try to be more dignif—”

I stopped his ridiculous mouth with another kiss.


Skating- Jamie Benn

Originally posted by mattyymarts

(Ahhh!!! I found a GIF with his beard!!!)

I’m so glad you all are liking my writing! It’s definitely giving me something to do to keep me relaxed! So this is a cute little Jamie Benn one before I start on Andre again! I’m trying the queue for this one so hopefully it’ll work! Fingers crossed! Let me know what you think! Sorry anon, there’s not really teaching but they play!

Warning: none!

Anon request: Can you do a Jamie benn imagine where he is teaching your kids how to ice skate and play hockey

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              “Yay daddy!” Jake cheered as Jamie scored a goal in practice. You sat on the bleachers with your three kids and all of their equipment because Jamie, Jordie, and Tyler were going to take them skating and play hockey with them after practice.

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anonymous asked:

Junkrat asking his s/o, “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

You squealed happily, flailing and kicking your legs as Junkrat held you around the waist from behind, nuzzling the side of your face affectionately. One of his hands lifted, carding his fingers through your hair and tittering softly as he did a quick full circle spin with you. You couldn’t help the snorting laughter that fell from your lips, sending him into a fit of laughter as he covered your cheeks and neck and ear with light kisses and nibbles and raspberries. 

“Ja-Jamie!”, you gasped out as he finally placed you on the ground and ruffling your hair playfully and moving in front of you. You pushed your hair back, trying to hold the scolding look on your face before dissolving into a fit of laughter. His amber eyes glittered as he looked at you, unadulterated affection and fascination in his expression, your rapid heartbeat picking up. God you loved this man. 

“I know I’ve kissed you like ten times darl”, Jamison said with that wild grin of his, an open display of affection as he opened his arm. “But just like another ten, please!”

Giggles bubbled from your lips again as you nodded your head, screaming in delight as he  easily hoisted you up around the waist and kissing your lips and cheeks and nose and forehead.

Outlander Production Offices, Early 2013

(A Reenactment)

We open to: a white office, interior, Ronald D. Moore (executive producer) standing before a table set in the centre of the room. Seated at the table are Maril Davis (executive producer), Diana Gabaldon (consultant), Terry Dresbach (costume designer), Matthew B. Roberts (co-executive producer), Ira Behr (executive producer), and three hired writers (#1, #2, #3). Otherwise bare, the walls are adorned with one Battlestar Galactica poster and one framed head shot of Captain James T. Kirk.

Ron: Welcome, everyone, to the first of many Outlander production meetings. As you all know, season one’s been green lit  - and now it’s time to get to work.

*cheers*

Ron: So, we’ve all read the books …

*crickets*

Ron: Well, most of us have read the books …

*nervous shuffling*

Ron: Ok, well, four of you. Four of you have read the books at least once.

Maril, Diana, Terry, and Matt: Yes.

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It's Not Like That
  • *On the phone*
  • Shay: Wow, I'm surprised you picked up.
  • Ashley: What are you talking about? I'm the one that's been calling you non-stop and I guess you're too busy to answer.
  • Shay: When? When have you actually called me? You have time now to do so? Or you're too busy hanging out with Jamie?
  • Ashley: Ja-Jamie?
  • Shay: Whatever, Ashley. It hasn't been a minute and we're already fighting.
  • Ashley: Well, maybe because that's all we've been doing lately. Fight.
  • Shay: ....
  • Ashley: .... So, where are you planning your next vacay? We only have two weeks left of shooting and I bet you're gonna take with you that significant other that keeps sending you flowers.
  • Shay: What are you talking about?
  • Ashley: Don't pretend like you don't know. You post a picture of a different bouquet every other day on Instagram.
  • Shay: What does that have to do with anything?
  • Ashley: Nothing, Shannon. Forget it.
  • Shay: Why do you care?
  • Ashley: I don't! I was just saying!
  • Shay: Seems like you do care.
  • Ashley: ....
  • Shay: Why?
  • Ashley: Why what?
  • Shay: Why do you care?
  • Ashley: I told you I do not!
  • Shay: That someone could be you but you're too afraid of what people could say about you loving me that way.
  • Ashley: Shannon, that is not how-
  • Shay: That's exactly how it is.
  • Ashley: You think so? You think that is the only reason why I haven't made it official that I'm in love with you?
  • Shay: Yes. Because nothing is holding me back from telling the world I'm in love with you, Ashley. Nothing.