“I wanted ye from the first I saw ye—but I loved ye when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you, that first time at Leoch.”
I undressed slowly, standing by the bed, looking down at him. He had turned onto his side and curled himself up against the cold. His lashes lay long and curving against his cheek; they were a deep auburn, nearly black at the tips, but a pale blond near the roots. It gave him an oddly innocent air, despite the long, straight nose and the firm lines of mouth and chin.
Clad in my chemise, I slid into bed behind him, snuggling against the wide, warm back in its woolen nightshirt. He stirred a little, coughing, and I put a hand on the curve of his hip to soothe him. He shifted, curling further and thrusting himself back against me with a small exhalation of awareness. I put my arm around his waist, my hand brushing the soft mass of his testicles. I could rouse him, I knew, sleepy as he was; it took very little to bring him standing, no more than a few firm strokes of my fingers.
I didn’t want to disturb his rest, though, and contented myself with gently patting his belly. He reached back a large hand and clumsily patted my thigh in return.
“I love you,“ he muttered, half-awake.
“I know,” I said, and fell asleep at once, holding him.”
“I didna think I should ever laugh again in a woman’s bed, Sassenach,” he said. “Or even come to a woman, save as a brute, blind with need.” A note of bitterness came into his voice.
I lifted his hand, and kissed the small scar on the back of it.
“I can’t see you as a brute,” I said. I meant it lightly, but his face softened as he looked at me, and he answered seriously.
“I know that, Sassenach. And it is that ye canna see me so that gives me hope. For I am—and know it—and yet perhaps…” He trailed off, watching me intently.
“You have that—the strength. Ye have it, and your soul as well. So perhaps my own may be saved.”
“It’s a wonderful gift. However did you find it?”
He smiled then, in return. The sun blazed low, a brilliant orange ball glimpsed briefly through dark treetops.
“I’d seen the box when I went to the goldsmith’s shop—it was the goldsmith’s wife who’d kept it. Then I went back yesterday, meaning to buy ye a bit of jewelry—maybe a brooch—and whilst the goodwife was showing me the gauds, we happened to speak of this and that, and she told me of the Doctor, and—” He shrugged.
“Why did you want to buy me jewelry?” I looked at him, puzzled. The sale of the ruby had left us with a bit of money, but extravagance was not at all like him, and under the circumstances—
“Oh! To make up for sending all that money to Laoghaire? I didn’t mind; I said I didn’t.”
He had—with some reluctance—arranged to send the bulk of the proceeds from the sale of the stone to Scotland, in payment of a promise made to Laoghaire MacKenzie—damn her eyes—Fraser, whom he had married at his sister’s persuasion while under the rather logical impression that if I was not dead, I was at least not coming back. My apparent resurrection from the dead had caused any amount of complications, Laoghaire not least among them.
“Aye, ye said so,” he said, openly cynical.
“I meant it—more or less,” I said, and laughed. “You couldn’t very well let the beastly woman starve to death, appealing as the idea is.”
He smiled, faintly.
“No. I shouldna like to have that on my conscience; there’s enough without. But that’s not why I wished to buy ye a present.”
“Why, then?” The box was heavy; a gracious, substantial, satisfying weight across my legs, its wood a delight under my hands. He turned his head to look full at me, then, his hair fire-struck with the setting sun, face dark in silhouette.
“Twenty-four years ago today, I married ye, Sassenach,” he said softly. “I hope ye willna have cause yet to regret it.”
Yet what he felt now was not lust—not quite. Nor was it even the need of her, the wanting of soul’s company. He wished to cover her with his body, possess her—for if he could do that, he could pretend to himself that she was safe. Covering her so, joined in one body, he might protect her. Or so he felt, even knowing how senseless the feeling was.
He had stiffened, his body tensing involuntarily with his thoughts. Claire stirred, and reached back with one hand. She laid it on his leg, let it lie for a moment, then reached gently farther up, in drowsy question.
He bent his head, put his lips behind her ear. Said what he was thinking, without thought.
“Nothing will harm ye while there is breath in my body, a nighean donn. Nothing.”
“I know,” she said. Her limbs went slowly slack, her breathing eased, and the soft round of her belly swelled under his palm as she melted into sleep
“It’s a great comfort,” he said at last, “to see the sun come up and go down. When I dwelt in the cave, when I was in prison, it gave me hope, to see the light come and go, and know that the world went about its business.”
He was looking out the window, toward the blue distance where the sky darkened toward infinity. His throat moved a little as he swallowed.
“It gives me the same feeling, Sassenach,” he said, “to hear ye rustling about in your surgery, rattling things and swearin’ to yourself.” He turned his head, then, to look at me, and his eyes held the depths of the coming night.
“If ye were no longer there—or somewhere—” he said very softly, “then the sun would no longer come up or go down.”
He turned and reached up his hands, and she leaned to him, tried to climb down, but lost her footing and half-fell, landing in his arms in a fluster of clothes and loose hair. He laughed and turned her round to look, but kept his arms around her.
He was loath to surrender the warmth of her and held her like a shield against cold memory.
She was still, leaning back against him, only her head moving as she looked from one end of the cave to the other. It was barely eight feet long, but the far end was lost in shadow. She lifted her chin, seeing the soft black stains that coated the rock to one side by the entrance.
“That’s where my fire was—when I dared have one.” His voice sounded strange, small and muffled, and he cleared his throat.
“Where was your bed?”
“Just there by your left foot.”
“Did you sleep with your head at this end?” She tapped her foot on the graveled dirt of the floor.
“Aye. I could see the stars, if the night was clear. I turned the other way if it rained.” She heard the smile in smile in his voice and put her hand along his thigh, squeezing.
“I hoped that,” she said, her own voice a little choked. “When we learned about the Dunbonnet, and the cave… I thought about you, alone here—and I hoped you could see the stars at night.”
“I could,” he whispered, and bent his head to put his lips to her hair. The shawl she’d pulled over her head had slipped off, and her hair smelled of lemon balm and what she said was catmint.
She made a small hmp noise in her throat and folded her own arms over his, warming him through his shirt.
“I feel as though I’ve seen it before,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “Though I suppose one cave probably looks a good deal like any other cave, unless you have stalactites hanging from the ceiling or mammoths painted on the walls.”
“I’ve never had a talent for decoration,” he said, and she hmp’ed again, amused. “As for being here … ye’ve been here many nights wi’ me, Sassenach. You and the wee lass, both.”
“Are ye no coming to bed, Sassenach?” Jamie was already lying down, having found a remote corner behind the bar counter and spread out our cloaks.
“I’ve broken a fingernail trying to get this bloody thing loose, and I can’t bloody reach it with my teeth!” I said, on the verge of breaking into tears of frustration. I was swaying with weariness, but couldn’t bring myself to sleep in the clammy confines of my stays.
Jamie reached up an arm out of the darkness, beckoning.
“Come lie down wi’ me, Sassenach,” he whispered. “I’ll do it.”
The simple relief of lying down, after twelve hours in the saddle, was so exquisite that I nearly changed my mind about sleeping in my stays, but he’d meant it. He squirmed down and bent his head to nuzzle at my laces, an arm round my back to steady me.”
“Dinna fash,” he murmured into my midsection, voice somewhat muffled. “If I canna nibble it loose, I’ll prise it wi’ my dirk.”
He looked up with an inquiring noise, as I’d uttered a strangled laugh at the prospect.
“Just trying to decide whether being accidentally disemboweled would be worse than sleeping in my stays,” I whispered, cupping his head. It was warm, the soft hair at his nape damp to the touch.
“My aim’s no that bad, Sassenach,” he said, pausing in his labors for an instant. “I’d only risk stabbin’ ye in the heart.”
As it was, he accomplished his goal without recourse to weapons, gently jerking the knot loose with his teeth until he could finish the job with his fingers, opening the heavy seamed canvas stays like a clamshell to expose the whiteness of my shift.
I sighed like a grateful mollusk opening at high tide, plucking the fabric out of the creases the stays had made in my flesh. Jamie pushed away the discarded stays but remained where he was, his face near my breasts, rubbing his hands gently over my sides.
I sighed again at his touch; he’d done it by habit, but it was a habit I’d missed for the last four months, and a touch I’d thought never to feel again.
“Ye’re too thin, Sassenach,” he whispered. “I can feel every rib. I’ll find ye food tomorrow.”
I had been too much preoccupied in the last few days to think about food, and was much too tired at the moment to be hungry, but made an agreeable sound in response and stroked his hair, tracing the curve of his skull.
“I love you, a nighean,” he said, very softly, his breath warm on my skin.
“I love you,” I answered just as softly, taking the ribbon from his hair and loosening his plait between my fingers. I pressed his head closer to me, not in invitation, but out of the sudden urgent need to keep him close to me, to protect him.
He kissed my breast and turned his head, laying it in the hollow of my shoulder. He took one deep breath, one more, and then was asleep, the relaxing weight of his body against me both protection and trust.
“I love you,” I said, almost soundless, my arms wrapped tight about him. “Oh, dear God, I love you.”
Outlander Books “Sweetest Moments” As Requested by Anonymous
He spent the next five days retracing his victims’ steps. He talked to so many people. Devoured past interview transcripts. Phone records. Tried to think of every damn stone he could turn over. His efforts finally provided a link between the two men.
Both had a history of domestic abuse.
After conducting some interviews of his own, he was pretty sure he could rule out the wife and girlfriend as suspects.
He found one more commonality though. But he needed to talk to Claire about it first.
It had been five days since they’d had pizza and wine together. Five days since he’d taken her hand and watched her flinch as if burned. It didn’t take his detecting skills to figure this out. He was certain now. The evidence was too convincing.
Claire Randall saw things. Visions. Premonitions.
Claire Randall was a Psychic.
He wasn’t innocent. He knew the signs of an aroused woman. Pupils dilated. Cheeks flushed. Breath short. Every time he touched her, she reacted.
When they parted five days ago she was furious. Twisting her hand from his she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, and brought him to within mere inches of her face. She cursed him. Hard.
“You fucking bastard!“ Then she shoved him out of way, and disappeared inside her townhouse before he was able to make it to the bottom of her front door stairs.
He could hear the music before he reached the basement of the building. The pounding of the drums loud and jarring, the words coming fast and hard.
This doesn’t mean I lost my dream,
It’s just right now I got a really crazy mind to clean.
Can you save
Can you save my
Can you save my heavy dirty soul?
Jamie stopped at the double doors and watched her through the window. She was laying bones out on a table from a box.
He watched her hold each piece of the skeleton for a moment. Internalizing. Listening. Then lay it out in its correct spot. She did this with each and every vertebrae. Solemn, Respectful. She pulled out a humerus. She smiled as if remembering something special. Whimsically. Fondly. What had Claire Randall held in her arms to make her smile like that? She pulled out the skull. Ran her long, delicate fingers over the cranium. She closed her eyes, and he saw her shake her head sadly. What did she see?
Down here, hidden away, the music drowning out the world around her, Claire was free to be herself. To let her gift flow without fear. The bones spoke to her. A good woman. Her death was peaceful, of that Claire was sure. And she had loved, and been loved.
Jamie watched with fascination. Heavy dirty soul. What was it that weighed her down? Why did such a beautiful woman, eyes that could shine with golden light, choose to lock herself away in solitude?
The song was still pulsing. He pushed the door, and felt the resistance. He reared back.
Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit.
He banged on the door. The music prevented his intrusion. So he waited. Man, those drums. They were relentless. He didn’t understand how she could concentrate.
The song finished. He knocked and watched her head snap up.
Their eyes locked for a moment. He could see the war raging in her mind. So, she had been avoiding him. He held up the file in his hand, and shouted, “I think I found something!”
The next song kicked on and she jumped. More drums, heavy bass. She set the skull down gently, and came over to unlock the door. She hit the button on her sound system as she passed it drenching the sterile room in silence.
The lock slide free. She didn’t bother to open the door, just turned and walked away. Jamie stepped inside the cool room and let the door whoosh closed.
“Thanks for yer time.” he said by way of hello. “I have a couple of connections in the poisoning cases, but one needed yer expertise.”
Claire went back to her work removing bones without a word. Jamie followed her over to the table. “What do ye have here?”
“Woman. Brought in for me to see if I could identify her, maybe connect her to a missing persons.”
“What did she die of?”
“Nat-” Claire stopped. “I won’t know until I examine everything.” Her hands gripped the edge of the box, and she let her head fall forward. She grit her teeth until she could feel the pulse in her jaw jump. Where had her guard gone? Where had her carefully constructed persona gone?
“What’s your question?” Claire kept working. Keeping it professional.
“The autopsy report said the stomach contents were the same. Can ye confirm somethin’ for me?”
Claire gave him the briefest of glances. “I can try.”
“Would ye say both men ate at the same place before they died?” He watched her eyes widen just a little before answering.
“I don’t really know for sure. I mean, it’s possible. If I remember correctly I indicated they had similar meals. I can’t confirm they were from the same place.” Claire turned back to the box and closed her eyes for a brief moment revisiting the impression that hit her during the second postmortem. Glass cases. Fresh, crisp vegetables. Bright blue floor. Small tables. Sunlight.
She grabbed a mandible. This one had been chatty in life.
Jamie leaned across the table at her, trying to meet her eyes. She did know. Instinctively. He wished she would trust him.
“Talk to me, Claire,” he said, soft, and caring. Pleading. A lover’s voice.
“That’s what we’re doing,” she said, clipped and hard.
“Yeah. How about ye tell me the truth. Without ye dropping yer head, or swearin’ at me?” He’d never met a woman so closed off.
“Look. I’m busy, and I want to get this done because I’m hungry.” She took out another bone, a rib, and laid it on the table.
“Here,” he said, stepping around the table and reaching inside the box, “let me help.”
“No!” Claire shouted, blocking his way with her arm. She would never get the whole picture if she didn’t connect with every single bone. She moved too fast and made a mistake. She accidentally placed a hand on his chest trying to hold him off.
Right above his heart. Laughter. Affection. Joy. So much joy.
She pulled her hand back, fast. Her breath was irregular. She grasped at the first excuse she could think of to cover her behaviour. “You don’t have gloves on.”
Now, Jamie thought. Now we talk about it. He stepped closer to her.
“Ye know what we could be. But ye don’t think we should be together.” He tried to catch her eye, but she was having none of it.
“That’s right,” Claire said. Another bone on the table. “I think I’ve been very clear.”
“Well, I need to be clear, too.” Honesty. It felt like the right way to go in this case. “I feel this. Just as ye do. I can’t ignore it.”
“Well, you have to.” She prayed the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
“I can’t. I dinna want to.” Jesus, Jamie thought. Am I actually begging right now?
“Not my pig, not my farm, Fraser.” She would not get into this. She was doing fine without another Alpha Male in her life. She dug through the box.
“Can you?” He asked her, his voice mocking.
“Can I what?” Claire was being purposely obtuse. It served her well, at times. A collarbone set in place.
“Ignore it.” His voice reflected his impatience.
“Yes. Quite easily” Which wasn’t exactly the truth, but Claire decided it would have to be her truth for right now.
“I don’t believe ye.” He would not give in without a fight. “Why do we have to ignore it?” Persistence. It’s what made him a good detective.
She slammed the femur down on the table with a crash. The clang of the metal table reverberated around the room. Jamie jumped back.
“Dammit. STOP.” She realized she wouldn’t get any peace until she spelled it out for him. Fine. He wanted her secrets, did he? Damn him. He had no right to them.
“Now you listen to me, James Fraser. I get how perceptive you are. I understand that you think you know me. But you don’t. I will say this once, and only once. Am I attracted to you? Hell, yes. You’re too damn good-looking by half, and smarter than the average man which makes you even more alluring in my eyes. But there cannot be an ‘us’. Understood? I like the men in my life to be like my cadavers. Simple. Silent. And dead. ”
“But that’s not what ye see.” Jamie’s eyes narrowed like a cat’s.
Claire threw her hands in the air, exasperated.
“Do yer visions ever not come to pass?” he persisted.
Claire counted to twenty before she answered. Fucking, stubborn Scot.
We recorded an episode of the podcast last night and played a song by these dudes. And then afterwards, we got sucked into a YouTube rabbithole of Larry King videos. We recommend this one about the Chris Benoit tragedy and then this one with “Dave Dave” who, WAKE UP PEOPLE, is totally Michael Jackson. He’s alive.
Request from anon: Hey can i request a bellamy blake imagine where he and reader are together, and when raven is like possesed by alie and tied op in nylah’s house, she reveals to bellamy that the reader is pregnant with his kid? Raven and reader are friends btw.
meep idk maybe its okay maybe its horrible
Word count: 1263
Warnings: swearin and spoilers? idk i feel like i should say that
Raven had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You had met as children and instantly clinked and were never apart. After you had been arrested and she found out her best friend and boyfriend were sent to earth, she had tried her hardest to get back to you. You told her everything that happened to you and she was always the first to know when anything new happened. So, of course, when you found out you were pregnant, you told her. Although she knew you and Bellamy were sleeping together she had never expected this to happen, still, she kept quiet and understood you weren’t ready to tell him. Or anyone, for that matter.
Summary: Loki returns to see Y/N, only to be told some surprising news.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader (and Loki)
Warnings: swearin’, Loki being a little shit (I actually really love Loki, is it just me?)
A/N: this is just a lil one shot sequel for Brawling Love, I hope ya like it :)
It had been about eight months since you and Bucky got together and you were the happiest you could be. He was always so sweet, telling you how much he loved you and always cuddling up to you. You had him wrapped around your finger.
“Come back to bed.” Bucky whined, watching you slip on some pajama shorts. “C’mon we can go for round two.”
You smirk, shaking your head. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m hungry.” you pick up Bucky’s shirt and slip it on, not bothering to put a bra on. Bucky whines some more and you chuckle, walking out of the room. “Come join me when you’re ready.”
You walk down the hall, hearing Bucky sigh and you smile.
“Where is she?” a voice says from the living room.
“Why are you here?” you can hear Tony question as you near the room.
“For Y/N of course.” the voice replies, now sounding familiar.
“He won’t do any harm, I won’t let him.” Thor says.
“Yeah, and we won’t either.” Clint scoffed.
You enter the living room, being met with everyone - and someone who you haven’t seen in a while.
"Loki?” you question to the man who had his back to you.
He turns quickly at the sound of your voice and a smile takes place on his lips. “Darling.”
Loki walks up to you, arms wide open as he embraced you. “Uh, hi.” you hug him back, looking over his shoulder at the others who displayed confusion as well.
“Ah,” he sighed. “How I have missed you.”
You pull away from the hug and he smiles at you, his arm still wrapped around your waist. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” he responds. “It’s been so long.”
“Well that’s what happens when you try taking over the world.” you giggle.
“Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me of my mistakes, darling.” Loki smirks.
“Shut up.” you smile.
At this time, Bucky enters the living room, his basketball shorts hung loosely around his waist as a grey shirt clung to his body. He smiled upon seeing you but it immediately disappeared when he saw who was holding you.
“Loki.” Bucky grit, walking up beside you.
Loki smiled. “James, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother has told me about you.”
“That’s great.” Bucky says with no emotion at all. “Now can you get your hands off my girlfriend.”
Loki takes a step back, his eyebrows knitting together at Bucky’s words. “Girlfriend?” he looks at his brother. “I was not told about this.”
"You never asked.” Thor shrugged with a smug look.
“What am I supposed to ask for you to tell me she has a boyfriend?” Loki responds.
“Many things actually, for example: is Y/N seeing someone? Is Y/N still single? Does Y/N-”
“Alright, I get it.” Loki interrupts his brother then turns to you and Bucky. “Is this… thing serious.” he gestures between you and Bucky.
“Very much so, has been for eight months.” Bucky answers, the crease between his eyebrows now showing.
Loki gives you a hurt look. “Y/N… You were to be at my side as queen. I-I don’t-”
“Yeah well, looks like that’s not gonna happen.” Bucky cuts in, the jealousy becoming noticeable which was amusing for the others who were watching. “Come on Y/N, let’s go back to the room.” Bucky takes your hand, about to guide you back to his room but Loki held you back, causing Bucky to turn quickly.
“I wasn’t finished talking to her.” Loki smiled.
“I didn’t ask.” Bucky responds.
“We were just getting started.” he says. “I mean look at her, dressed to impress, isn’t that right Y/N?”
Bucky looks over at you, noticing that you didn’t have a bra on underneath his shirt and quickly moved in front of you. “Doll, why don’t you go put something on underneath my shirt, yeah?”
You look down at your chest, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.
“Aw, come on, Bucky, she looks fantastic.” Loki smirked which made Bucky even more angry.
“I’m not letting you stare at my girlfriends chest the whole damn time.” Bucky says.
You knew what was coming next and you step aside, between Thor and Wanda.
“What, it’s not like I haven’t seen what’s under her shirt before.” Loki responds and Bucky looks at you.
“What’s he talking about.”
“It was an accident. I was changing and he barged in my room like he owned the place.” you say.
“So you lock the door, Y/N. Doors can do that, you know.” he responds.
“People can also knock.” you reply with a roll to your eyes.
“It was quite a sight, if I do say so myself.” Loki smirked over at you.
“Hey,” Bucky shoved Loki. “Eye’s off Y/N.”
Loki pulled a face. “Who are you to be shoving a god?”
“This will be interesting.” Thor smiled, bumping your shoulder.
You give him a blank stare and he wipes the smile off his face quickly.
“You’re not the best god if you ask me.” Bucky shrugged.
“Listen here, mortal-”
“No, you listen here,” Bucky jabs his finger into Loki’s chest. “You may be a god but I can still take you out.”
Loki smiled. “Take me out? Oh, where are we going? Please do tell.” he says. “I’m very fond of Italian food.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Bucky rolls his eyes.
Loki steps up to Bucky, so close to the point where it looks as if they were going to kiss but it was actually quite the opposite.
“Understand who you are speaking to.” Loki says lowly and intimidating, but not intimidating enough for Bucky. “I have killed many, you will be nothing.”
“I’ve killed many as well, know who you’re threatening before you miserably threaten them.” Bucky responds.
“I’ll have you know-”
You zone out of their argument and turn to the others who stood watching with smiles on their faces.
“Are any of you gonna stop them?” you question and they all shake their head.
“Thor?” you look at him and he smiles.
“James can handle Loki on his own.” he responds.
“They’re fighting over you, princess Peach. If anyone’s gonna stop them it should be you.” Tony says and you glare at him.
“Shut your iron ass up, Stark.” you snap before turning back to Loki and Bucky.
“That’s it.” Bucky grunts before his fists comes in contact with Loki’s face.
Loki doubles over, holding a hand to his cheek and he stood up straight again. He wipes at his lip, catching blood on his finger as well.
“You’ve made me bleed.” Loki says, glaring at Bucky. It all went by so fast, Loki swung at Bucky, punches were being thrown, grunts were being heard and that’s when Thor grabbed his brother, yanking him away from Bucky. Bucky on the other hand, walked right up to Loki and raised his fist, about to hit him again but you intervened.
“Hey, calm down.” you speak, standing in front of him with your hands on his chest.
His chest rises and falls under your touch, his brows pinched together as his eyes flickered between you and Loki. He put his fist down, wrapping his metal arm around you, still glaring at Loki.
“That’s enough, brother. You promised you wouldn’t cause commotion.” Thor says to the god.
“That was until the giant oaf attacked me.” he motioned over to Bucky, out of breath.
Bucky tensed up. “I’ll show you giant oaf.” he steps around you to assault Loki again but you pull him back.
“Stop it.” you say. Bucky looks at you and sighs. “Come on.” you start pulling him out of the living room.
“It was nice seeing you again, darling.” Loki calls after you.
“Nice seeing you too, Loki.” you respond. You make it to Bucky’s room and shut the door behind you.
Loki turns to everyone with a smile on his face as blood trickles down from his eyebrow. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”
A/N: Thought it’d be kinda funny to write this. Did you like it? I absolutely loved writing it :)