thank you glasgow

takemeawaytocamelot  asked:

It's been a while since we got some Modern Glasgow love. So what if Jamie and Claire need a holiday, away from their frantic lives for a bit. We know they love their kids, but sometimes a break is needed. Maybe a nice wee date or a weekend getaway? Thank you Gotham!!

Modern Glasgow AU

“Will ye look at that? The postman is here!”

Faith Fraser – aged almost two – let out a wee cheer and scampered from the couch to the front door of the flat. Her sister Brianna – aged almost one, and at that stage where she mimed almost everything her beloved older sister did – let out her own confused wee cheer, and speed-crawled across the carpet, keeping up the best she could.

Murtagh knelt to help Faith into her bright blue sweater, then lifted Brianna to his hip, wrapping a worn Fraser plaid arisaid around her wee shoulders – knowing that Claire would have his head if she heard that her daughters had so much as stuck their wee noses outside without proper covering.


Faith enthusiastically nodded, and Murtagh carefully opened the door, let Faith run out to the landing, and then turned to lock the door behind him, balancing a suddenly squirmy Brianna.

“*Seas, a ruaidh,*” he hushed her. “Ye’ll be chasing after yer sister soon enough. Faith! Dinna go down the stairs until I’m there!”

Faith theatrically froze at the top step – one small leg poised to take the first step down – waiting for her godfather.

And then Murtagh was there, taking her hand, guiding her down the three flights to the ground floor and unlocking the entry door.

Chilly, damp air – unusual for July – blasted through the open door – and Brianna suddenly snuggled against his neck, seeking warmth.

“Sshh,” he soothed. “I ken it’s almost yer naptime.”

Swiftly he unlocked the mailbox, and allowed the cards, letters, and magazines to spill out.

“Muwta!” Faith admonished. “Ye haf to clean up the mess!”

“Weel – can ye help me, Ms. Faith? I have my hands full wi’ yer wee sister here.”

Gleefully she bent to stuff her arms full of mail – and one particular piece caught her eye.

“Issa coo!” she exclaimed, holding the postcard out to Murtagh for his inspection. “Just like Bwee’s toy!”

“Aye – it’s a bonny coo,” Murtagh agreed, smiling at the blasé picture. “And look – it’s from the Isle of Skye! Who could possibly have sent it?”

“Mama and Da!” Faith exclaimed.

“Mama?” Bree briefly perked up, craning her neck to see if her beloved parents had suddenly returned.

“No, *a leannan* - they’re no’ back yet,” Murtagh soothed, running a gentle hand up and down Bree’s wee back. “They should be back tomorrow – come then, Faith. Help me wi’ the post and then we can go back upstairs, make some tea, and read their postcard – all right?”

“All right!” Suddenly engrossed in her task, Faith scooped up all the pieces of mail and darted back up the stairs – stray letters fluttering behind her.

“Mama?” Bree asked again, voice filled with sleep.”

“Hush now – lay yer heid. Mama and Da love ye so much.”

Bree settled back against him – and blessed his neck with a small, wet sneeze.

“And Murtagh loves ye and Faith more than he can ever find the words to say,” he continued, turning back to the stairs. “Though God kens it’s trying sometimes.”

“Dear Faith and Bree – we saw so many coos today! And sheep and goats too. The weather is bonny and we wish ye were here with us. Mama says we can come back once the baby comes, and take a proper holiday. Hope you aren’t giving Murtagh too much trouble. Lots of love, Mama and Da.”

Jamie looked up from the desk at the corner of their hotel room. “What do ye think?”

Claire stretched, naked, amid the soft duvet, rubbing the five-month swell of their bairn. “I think we’ll need to get a nice bottle of whisky, for Murtagh. And of course a coo for Faith, since she’ll be jealous that Bree has one and she doesn’t.”

“I’m glad she won’t take it for herself, then – God kens it’s what I would do,” Jamie smiled, finishing the last of his tea.

“Well - *I* like to raise my children to have manners,” she teased, rolling over to one side, watching him. “This one, too.”

Jamie rose, crossed the room, and slid over her on the bed, pushing her to her back, holding himself up on his arms above her. Feeling their bairn dance under his belly.

“God bless women like you for bringing more Frasers into this world,” he breathed, rolling them to rest on their sides, still skin on skin.

“It means I’m going straight to heaven,” she teased. “For putting up with you.”

“I hope you’re willing to do a wee bit more than just put up wi’ me,” he whispered against her lips. She closed the gap in a long, heated kiss.

“Happy anniversary, Jamie.” She rolled on top of him. His fingers skimmed all over her beautiful, glowing skin.

“Six years,” he breathed, swallowing with want and emotion. “Holy God, Claire – we have forever together. Do ye ken that?”

She smiled – and took him, gasping, inside – and he kent it weel.

Claire and her little ladies (a Modern Glasgow AU contribution)

Note: So, Miss Gotham is God’s gift to this fandom… And she gave us the greatest gift of Modern Glasgow. Being the great person and friend that she is, and after all my mad fangirling over it, she not only motivated me, but also helped me sort out everything I had scrambled, to put together this wee contribution for an idea I prompted. I am #1800blessed for this lady and the wee fools. Thank you for letting me in on your universe @gotham-ruaidh. Hope you all enjoy it. 


The Frasers needed a day off from the daunting task of packing and labelling their belongings. That’s what Claire thought first thing that morning, opening her eyes to her husband’s red mane right beside her. They were preparing to move to Lallybroch and the summer was coming to an end.

The next thing was that she needed to get to the bathroom. The wee bannock was very excited in the early hours of the day, as had been its sisters and brother, but Claire would never got used to that queasy feeling, even in her fourth pregnancy. Aside from the physical discomfort, she didn’t really mind… If it happened, the baby was there, and moving, and everything was alright.

“Yes, we are happy today”, she whispered to her little one. “Let’s get everyone out of bed.”

Waking Jamie up with a kiss on the lips and another one on the cheek (to which he responded with a lopsided smile and a stray arse grab - his palm seemed to be drawn to it), Claire woke up the little Frasers. First the boys… Fergus was already awake, checking his phone. Willie responded with grunts at his mama’s request, and Fergus assured her he would take care of the rest. Faith was half awake already, as Claire opened the blinds to the girl’s room. There were unpleasant grunting sounds from the copper head buried beneath the covers. Wee Faith proceeded to come down from her top bunk bed, jumping on her sister and coercing her to wake up. The day would be filled.

It was Saturday, no school, but Claire had some exciting plans for the day. Mother-daughter plans, to be exact. Claire, Brianna and Faith kept little traditions: a tea date for 9 year old Faith, a field trip to a bookshop for 8 year old Bree… But today, the boys were off to help Uncle Murtagh and Aunt Suzette with their own packing. They were also going to move to Lallybroch. Murtagh would help Jenny and Ian (and Jamie) run the estate, but the truth was that they would move because neither the sweet grumpy old man nor his sweet French wife would want to stay far from their wee Fraser godchildren.

So, Claire took her little ladies to brunch.

Faith and Brianna were both quite tall for their age, not a surprise if you looked at their father, and were almost as tall as Claire at this point. She admired the wild curly copper head of Bree and the stray brown curls coming out off of Faith’s braid and her heart swelled with pride. To think that she once thought she would never be able to be a mother… She remembered the scare of Faith’s birth, the sleepless stressful nights when she was pregnant with Brianna, when everything from medical school exams to the worst birthing scenarios came to her in dreams, and only Jamie’s soothing words, promises and skilled touch could calm her down and ease her into sleep again.

But they had made it work. And along came William, and the blessing that was Fergus. Claire thought that yes, that was her life. She had never had sisters or brothers, but watching Jamie with Jenny and Ian (and her own relationship with Jenny), proved her the incredible joy of having siblings, the moments of deep tenderness, those of fiery fights and the bond that united them. Brianna and Faith were so much alike and so different at the same time. They shared a fierce nature and were always ready to protect each other, even when they wanted to rattle each other’s ears. They were thick as thieves.

As they sat in a cosy Glasgow coffee shop, ordered the brunch menu, and began munching on mini sandwiches, steamy porridge, buttery scones, eggs benedict, tea and orange juice, they talked about school and how excited every young Fraser was to start the year in a brand new school, and a special one to that - the same schoolhouse their Da had attended. Not to mention living closer to their cousins. In the midst of the conversation, the wee bannock decided it wanted a bit of the fun too, and Claire winced a bit.

“Mama, are ye alright?”

“Yes darling, just your little sister.. She wants to be a part of the conversation, of course.” *How very Beauchamp of her.*

“SISTER?” Brianna and Faith screamed, scaring the waitress passing behind them with a tray of pastries.

“Now, calm down… We are not sure, Da doesn’t want to know, like we didn’t with the both of you actually,  and I agreed. But I have a feeling, and I haven’t been wrong yet.”

“Yes, we know how Da just wanted to hear about number three to see if it was going to be a boy… And it was. He convinced you to find out early, Mama. He may do the same again!” Faith rolled her eyes, but giggled.

Claire thought to herself that Jamie’s methods of convincing her to do certain things were not a suitable topic… at that specific moment… with her daughters.

“Mama, what would her name be, if it is a girl?” demanded Bree.

“Well, I haven’t thought about it yet…  What would you like to name your little sister? Or brother?”

“Edward for a boy! Or Henry like your da… Since we already have a Brian in myself.”, Brianna added with a beam of pride in her eye and lifting her little chin in a very Fraser-like manner. She was very proud of her name.

“Meh, because everyone thought you’d be a boy.” Faith said mockingly, just meaning to tease her little sister, who responded by sticking her tongue out to her.

Faith simply rolled her eyes and continued. “Mama, I have auntie Jenny in my name, Bree has grannie Ellen, I think a good name for a girl would be Julia… That was your mama’s name, right?”

Claire felt the sting of tears and smiled at her eldest daughter. Of course she had thought about it before… As soon as she felt she was pregnant again, after the initial panic and Jamie’s comforting words.

*It’s a girl, and her name will be Julia.* These were Claire’s thoughts, as she lay with legs intertwined with her husband’s, as he held her and played with her hair. She had just told him about the pregnancy news, crying, and of course, Mr. Fraser almost cried himself. Basking in a warm Glasgow sun, without notice, Jamie just said, “I feel like I knew it before ye told me, Sassenach. And if it is a girl, and let’s be honest, we are very good at making them, her name ought to be Julia… What do you think, mo nighean donn?” Claire looked at him in awe and that was settled. Now, they just had to peacefully wait…

“Yes, I think Da will like it… We shall see, when we get to Lallybroch and this wee bannock is  ready to come out of the oven, ok?”

Claire winked at the little girls. She knew they’d be great older sisters to another girl, and started wondering whose eyes would she have, which colour would her hair be… Started looking forward to seeing her husband holding another baby again, her favourite sight in the world. The pregnancy had scared her, and she knew now it would be the last one, but the connection of deep intimacy she already shared with this little baby overshadowed anything else. Everything would be perfect, even in the wee imperfections. She - and Jamie - would see to that.

As the meal came to an end and Mama listened to her little ladies chatting about the bookshop they were going to visit after (“one more Harry Potter book? But William ripped some pages out of Goblet of Fire!!”), and talking about who would take which room at Lallybroch, Claire asked for the check and took a little blue silk bag out of her purse.

“I have something for you two, and for myself. Close your eyes and give me your right arm.”

The girls obediently did so, squirming in curiosity. “Brianna, close your eyes”, scolded Claire as one deep blue eye was trying to peek. In each of the girls’ wrists, Claire placed beautiful silver bracelets, very simple, adorned with one pearl and one gem stone. Faith’s was purple, Brianna’s was red. As she told the girls to open their eyes, she placed another one in her own wrist, this one with a blue stone. In the bag stayed one with a green stone, waiting for its owner.

“Mama, it’s beautiful, thank you!”

“We all have, or will have…” added Claire caressing the little bump that was starting to get noticeable, “the same bracelet. Think of it as your lucky charm. It’s to remind you that you come from a family that loves you, that you each have your sisters that love you and will protect you… And you come from great women.”

Taking Faith’s wrist, she touched the pearl on the little girl’s bracelet and added, “The silver  comes from me and da, my wedding ring is silver, right? The pearl is from grannie Ellen’s necklace, and each of your gems come from some of my mother’s jewels. From a pair of vintage earrings and a ring. Two of the few things I remember her wearing, clearly, as she gave me a goodnight kiss. Take good care of them and each other, no matter where you are, do you promise?”

The girls nodded and smiled proudly at their mother, caressing their bracelets, forever carrying the legacy of the extraordinary women who gave them life, and their parents’ love… That one was for the ages.

Glasgow or Edinburgh?

I need some help deciding! Me and hubby are going on a road trip though England, Wales and Scotland next year. We pretty much have our route planned but we’re debating on whether to stay in Glasgow or Edinburgh. We don’t have time for both (maybe a quick visit to the city we’re not staying in).

What we’re looking for most is architecture, history, museums, food, parks, theatre, some unique sights, …
Things we’re not looking for is nightlife or pubs.

We’ve heard good things about both cities and the people I’ve asked so far have all given us different answers. So I’m asking it on here too, anyone who’s ever been to these cities, if you had to choose which one would win?

Thank you in advance ;)

iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight  asked:

For Modern Glasgow AU, please! Jamie and Claire shopping together... Baby things, groceries, normal clothing! Just a domestic thing!

anonymous asked: How about a Modern Glasgow AU where Jamie and Claire take the kids on a day of running errands including a trip to the grocery store where chaos ensues!!!  Please and thank you!

Modern Glasgow AU

Jamie glided the battered Range Rover to the last free space in the car park, put on the brake, and shut off the engine. The Corries were cut off in mid-song, and silence echoed in the car. Jamie turned back in his seat to address his children - eight-year-old William sitting beside ten-month-old Julia in her car seat in the middle row, nine-year-old Brianna and ten-year-old Faith lounging in the back row.

“All right, Frasers. We have exactly thirty minutes until we need to be back in the car. Yer Mam needs us all to get home on time so that she can help Mrs. Crook make the special welcome dinner for Fergus.”

“What time does he get home?” Brianna twirled one long red lock around a finger.

“Uncle Ian is picking him up from the train station at four o'clock. It’s noon now. Mam wants it to be all special for him, because he hasn’t been home since he went away to university all those weeks ago.”

“It feels like forever,” William huffed, wriggling under his seatbelt.

“Aye, weel. We’ll all see him soon enough. But I need everybody to help me get all the things on the shopping list, all right?”

“All right, Da,” Faith sighed, clearly annoyed at being made to do boring chores on a Saturday.

“Good. Girls - get yerselves out. William, can ye help wi’ Julia?”

“Aye, Da.” William turned to unbuckle Julia from her car seat and gently lift her into his arms. Jamie and the girls slid out, and Brianna held the door open for William as he slid off the seat and into the car park. Julia instantly reached for her Da, and he locked the doors before settling her on one hip.

“All right. Stay close to me, aye? I dinna want to take one of ye to Mam’s clinic because ye werena careful crossing the road.

William’s hand slipped into Jamie’s, and Jamie made the girls walk in front of him as they neared the entrance.

“I’ll get the cart!” Brianna dashed toward the entrance and pulled a shopping cart from the long row.

“Can I push the cart, Da?”

Jamie settled Julia into the basket at the front of the cart, carefully pulling her stubby legs through through the gaps at the front. “It’s still a bit to tall for ye, lad - but do ye want to hold the list?”

William beamed, and Jamie fished the crumpled list - written in Claire’s neat script - from his pocket. He bent to kiss the blond curls at the top of Julia’s head - and she giggled - and he smiled as he pushed the cart through the entrance.

Produce first.

“All right, William - are there any fruits or vegetables on Mam’s list?”

William frowned, trailing a grubby finger down the handwritten rows. “Mama wants potatoes, and leeks, and strawberries.”

“I’ll get the strawberries, Da!”

Faith turned on her heel, but Jamie quickly reached to grab her shoulder.

“Hold on - stay wi’ Brianna, now. Can the two of ye get the leeks and strawberries? William and I will find the potatoes.”

Brianna nodded and the sisters darted off.

“The potatoes are over here, Da,” William pointed to the other side of the store. Jamie pushed the cart down the aisle to the potatoes, and bent to toss a five-kilo bag into the cart.

“All right, lad. What else?”

And so it continued - William read each item off the list, and Jamie divided the items between his children, making sure that Julia didn’t try to stick anything within reach into her mouth.

The market was safe for the bairns - they had been here many times before - but he never let them out of his sight. They were all so precious to him - all such a vital part of him - and he wanted them to be safe, as much as he also wanted them to be independent and self-sufficient.

All went well - until they reached the snack aisle.

“No,” he said for the fourth time as Brianna casually tossed a large bag of crisps into the cart. “Ye ken how yer Mam feels about those things.”

“But they’re so *good*, Da. And Rabbie’s mam lets him have them, so why can’t our Mam?”

“Please take it out of the cart, Faith, and find  the walnuts. Ye ken that Fergus likes Mrs. Crook’s cookies to have the walnuts in them.”

“Yes, Da.” She sighed theatrically, removed the item from the cart, and pulled Brianna down the aisle.

Jamie turned to his son. He had stuck out his lip and - were those tears in his eyes?

“Come now, William. Dinna do that. Ye ken I willa let ye buy them - and I dinna give a fig for what Mrs. MacNab serves her bairns. She’s no’ yer Mam, the last I checked.”

Julia rocked back and forth in the cart. Jamie lay a gentle hand on her back to steady her.

“But Da - not even the one bag? Fergus likes them.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed at his son - who gazed back at him with his own eyes.

He sighed. “Just the one bag, then. We’re running out of time.”

Jamie pushed the cart down the aisle to meet up with his daughters. Faith clutched the bag of walnuts - and Brianna held a bag of frosted biscuits.

“Bree -”

“These are Fergus’ favorite, Da,” she insisted. “He loves the different animal shapes, ken?”

William ran up from behind and tossed two bags of crisps into the cart. Faith’s eyes went wide, but she wisely said nothing.

Jamie shook his head. “I canna argue wi’ anyone today, it seems. Come now. Put it in. Anything left on the list, William?”

William patted his pocket - but in the excitement over Da allowing them to buy snacks, he had somehow lost it.

Jamie ruffled his son’s hair and peered in the cart. “I suppose this will do. Brianna - can ye help me steer the front?”

Checking out and bagging the goods went fairly smoothly - after all, he had three very enthusiastic assistants, and Julia absolutely charmed the cashier.

Faith had conveniently kept the bag of frosted biscuits separate from the bagged groceries, and opened the bag to share with her siblings before they even left the store. They wiped sticky fingers on their trouser legs as they helped Da load the groceries and buckle in Julia before pulling out of the car park and singing “Flower of Scotland” at the tops of their lungs on the way back to Lallybroch.

Once they arrived home, they tore out of the Range Rover and ran into the house like fiends. Jamie shook his head and looked back at Julia, who was gumming the side of her carseat.

“I’m going to be in so much trouble, *mo nighean òir*. I canna say no to any of them - and God help me, I’ll have no hope with you, either.”

She snorted happily, reaching for him.

Two minutes later he was carrying three bags of groceries in one hand and balancing Julia with his other. Claire appeared at the door, and he bent to kiss her.

She pulled back.

Oh no.

“What did you feed them? They’re full of sugar. I can’t afford to have their supper ruined, not when Mrs. Crook has been working so hard - ”

He dropped the grocery bags with a loud clunk on the paving stones, wound an arm around her hips, pulled her close, and kissed her hard.

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

Finally Julia squealed - having patted her Mama’s shoulder, to no avail - and Jamie released her.

“I couldna help myself, Claire. I wanted to get back in time, and I didna feel like getting into an argument there in the middle of the market - ”

She pulled Julia onto her hip and held her close as the little girl rubbed her face in her Mama’s shoulder.

Claire sighed, resigned. “If we had more time, I’d give you a talking-to.”

Jamie’s eyes darkened - and then narrowed. “If we had more time, *mo nighean donn*,” he whispered, voice low, hand still tight on her hip, “I’d take ye around the corner to the barn, push up that skirt, and give ye a proper talking-to of another kind.”

She blushed prettily, and he smiled, and she shook her head.

Considering that my photo with him is everywhere… 

“Camminavo col mio cestino tra i reparti di un supermercato di Glasgow, con la maglia di Rumplestiltskin, il ciondolo del pugnale al collo e l'anello di Mr. Gold nella borsa, quando, arrivata alla fine del corridoio, giro l'angolo e… BOOM. Me lo trovo davanti. Robert Carlyle, con i due bambini e un carrello pieno. Rimango impietrita. "Oh my God” dico. Lui, occhiali da sole, gira la testa. “Robert? Sei… sei reale?” - “Beh, lo spero!” dice sorridendo e mi stringe la mano. Continuando a dire “Oh my God” gli chiedo una foto, accetta di buon grado, poi gli dico che sono italiana e lui mi dice “Ciao bella!”. Mi raccoglie la foderina dell'ombrello, caduta a terra. Lo ringrazio. Gli dico che lui per me è praticamente un Dio e lui scuote la testa, sorridendo. Mi stringe di nuovo le mani, dicendomi che è un piacere. Gli chiedo se possiamo fare la foto anche col cellulare e lui accetta di nuovo di buon grado. Dico che non posso fare io il selfie e lui nota le mie mani che tremano all'inverosimile, così dice lo può fare il bambino. Ci fa due o tre foto (identiche, perché non ne avevo idea), poi gli dico di guardare il pugnale e la maglietta. Lui abbassa lo sguardo sul mio petto e apre la bocca. Prende in mano il pugnale, lo guarda, ride… Poi vuole vedere la maglia: gliela stendo, gli dico che c'è scritto “Evil isn’t born, dearies” e lui è sconvolto. In senso positivo. Mi chiede dove ho trovato tutta quella roba e mi dice qualcosa del tipo “Cosa ti ha fatto entrare in questo negozio, oggi?” io allargo le braccia, come a dirgli “Non so cosa dirti!” Gli dico che ho anche l'anello, lo vuole vedere. Lo tiro fuori e glielo porgo. Lui ride. Se lo prova. Non gli sta. A me sta grande, a lui piccolo. Me lo rende.
Mi prende la mano, mi ringrazia per tutto quel sostegno. Non smette di sorridere.
Poi arriva il colpo di grazia. Una cosa che non mi sarei mai aspettata. Una cosa che avrei voluto fare io, ma ero troppo impietrita e tremante, la mente svuotata, per farlo. No problem, lo ha fatto lui… come se fosse commosso - non vedevo i suoi occhi, ma l'impressione era quella. È stato un attimo. Si avvicina, allunga le braccia mi prende, mi bacia su una guancia e mi abbraccia forte. Io lo stringo. Potevo morire tra le sue braccia in quel momento. Si stacca di nuovo, mi guarda e mi ringrazia ancora e ancora per il supporto. Mi dice che è stato davvero un grande piacere incontrarmi. Mi ringrazia ancora. Cioè, capite? Lui ringrazia me? Lui abbraccia me? C'è qualcosa che non torna in tutto questo. Io devo ringraziarlo per tutta la sua carriera, per essere l'attore che è, per essere l'uomo che è… per essere stato fantastico con me… Alla fine ho avuto la forza di ringraziarlo per tutto il suo lavoro.
Anyway, ci salutiamo e ognuno prosegue il suo shopping.
È stato incredibile. Non poteva andare meglio di così.
Thank you, Robert. Really, thank you. You’re amazing.
Ps: nella foto sono venuta malissimo, come al solito, dunque non fate caso a me.“

Imagine solving a case before Sherlock

So I haven’t written anything since like 8th grade but my little sister wanted an imagine so I figured I’d just post it here I guess. 

Summary: You solve a case before Sherlock and it doesn’t go over well.

You slapped the case file down on your chief’s desk, and he lazily looked up at you.  “What’s this supposed to be?” You didn’t even hesitate.

             “That case that’s been floating around the precinct. The double homicide.” His posture straightened, and he started flipping through the file. “I heard there was a PI on the case, but it seemed like it needed solving so I just… did it, I guess.”

Keep reading

Girl Friendships Project: Call for interviewees in Scotland/UK

Hello all!

I’m a photographer and Communication Design student at the Glasgow School of Art making a photographic series about women’s relationships (familial, platonic or romantic) with other women.

I’m looking to hold a number of interviews with women - this is where you come in!

If you’re an LBPQA+ woman (trans or cis) or non-binary person who is feminine-identified (not necessarily feminine-presenting; just if you feel in any way “female”) some or all of the time who would feel comfortable speaking to me about a relationship you have with another woman, please drop me an email at

If this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea but you think it might appeal to someone you know please reblog!

Thank you!! <3

Sam and Cait’s lovely pic from The Glasgow Girls at the Bafta

Look at his arm around her back! Those faces are so happy when Sam’s arm is in its usual place. Thank you to the New Glasgow Girls.

anonymous asked: I love Modern Glasgow, thank you for it! Imagine the Frasers having an eventful night with hungry babies, sleepless children, small emergencies etc.

Murtagh jolted awake as his mobile phone shrieked on his bedside. Fumbling in the half-light of dawn - and knocking over his book (“Scotland: A Very Peculiar History”) in the process - he finally grabbed his phone and flipped it open.


“Do ye mind coming over to the flat today?” Jamie’s hoarse voice shouted over what sounded like two screaming bairns in the background.

“No - that’s fine. Is everything all right?”

“Just that Bree is teething and William has colic and Faith decided to stay up all night, too. And today is Claire’s early day, for that surgery rotation -”

Murtagh rubbed his hand over his face, tugging at his beard. Jamie and Claire sure had their hands full with three bairns under age four - he’d had his doubts, but they had more than risen to the challenge. They loved those lassies and the lad more than life itself - and the bairns were well-behaved, for the most part.

But then again there were times when all three Fraser adults just wanted to throttle the wee bastards.

“Dinna fash yerself, laddie. I’ll get dressed and head over. Just have the coffee ready, aye?”

“Claire just made our third pot of coffee since midnight. We’ll be ready.”

“Good. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

And he was - knocking on the battered door, a bag full of scones in his other hand. Jamie pulled open the door - hair matted to his forehead, an alert wee William strapped in to his carrier on Jamie’s chest, a sleepy Faith on Jamie’s hip.

“Thank ye,” his godson rasped. “It’s never been this bad.”

“These things happen - I remember a few times when you and Jenny gave yer parents quite the hard time.” He stepped into the apartment, hung up his ratty coat, and followed Jamie into the kitchen. “Ye probably dinna remember, but those loud noises carry far in that old house.”

Claire sat at the kitchen table, eyes blank as she sipped from the huge coffee mug he’d given her for Christmas - it read “Trust me - I’m a doctor!” with a small Dallek.

“Morning, Claire.”

She looked up at him, blinking slowly. “You’re a lifesaver. I just got Bree down - ”

Murtagh set the bag down on the table and extended his arms to Faith, who willingly came to his side for a snuggle.

“Ye get yerself ready, then - I’ll mind these three. Ye need a bit of time to yerself.”

Claire nodded slowly and rose, slipping past the Fraser men toward the master bedroom - but not before leaving kisses on William and Faith’s foreheads, Jamie’s mouth, and Murtagh’s cheek.

Jamie and Murtagh stood for a long, quiet moment in the kitchen, watching the two bairns finally fall asleep.

“Times like this I’m glad that Claire talked me out of more bairns,” Jamie said quietly. “Fergus is on his way - but he’s older. At least he won’t keep us up all night.”

“That’s what *you* think, laddie.” Murtagh shifted Faith closer to his side and sat on the edge of the table, reaching for a scone with his free hand and chewing it thoughtfully. “And the sleepless nights never end - if it’s no’ the colic, or the teething, it’s waiting up for them when they go out with other lads and lassies.”

Jamie caressed William’s wee legs over his tartan onesie, considering. “Oh God. I canna even *think* about that right now.”

Murtagh gently pushed Jamie to an empty chair. “Then sit, and eat, and give me the wee lad so ye can take yer rest. Rupert willna mind if ye are a few hours late, aye?”

Jamie sank to his seat and held his head in his hands. “Since when did ye get so wise, then?”

Murtagh pulled out another scone and placed it in front of Jamie on the table. “Since I was entrusted the care of ye, and yer passel of bairns. Now - time for breakfast, aye?”

Dublin, London, London, Manchester, Glasgow, thank you for coming to the Slumberparty Tour! Can’t wait to come back soon! (Look at these beautiful people I pulled up onto the stage during the show! Get tickets for North American & Australian dates here:

anonymous asked:

Imagine Jamie telling Claire stories and myths from Scotland's folklore because she can't sleep for some reason. (She's pregnant and the baby kicks don't let her sleep? :) ) thank you!

Modern Glasgow AU

Jamie shifted on his back, blinking in the darkness of their bedroom, sleepily reaching for Claire.

Cool, empty sheets.

He rolled closer to her side of the bed, extending his arm further.

Pillowcase a bit damp – but no Claire.

The digital clock on Claire’s bedside table cast a dim blue glow over the dog-eared pregnancy book she had dropped to the floor before bed.

2:43 AM.

Gooseflesh prickled his bare skin, now that his body was coming awake.

He stood, shivering, groping for his bathrobe at the foot of the bed and tying the soft terrycloth around his waist.

He and Claire had a matching set – a souvenir of the hotel where they spent their third anniversary. Jamie squinted at the hook by the door – her robe was gone.

Now almost fully awake, he padded out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, bare feet whispering against the worn hardwood floors.

Only the light over the stove was on – and the nose of the kettle still steamed.

Claire looked up as he came in, one hand caressing the modest but growing bulge of their bairn, the other methodically dunking her teabag in the mug Murtagh had given her for her last birthday – reading “THIS IS WHISKY.” She so delighted in absolutely every aspect of her pregnancy, except having to give up her two favorite drinks – coffee and whisky.

“Can’t sleep?”

Claire pursed her lips and shook her head, returning her gaze to her mug.

Tension crackled in the room.

This wouldn’t do.

“Claire?” Jamie quickly pulled back the chair beside her and sank into it, reaching out a big hand to join hers atop her belly. “Is it the wee bannock, then? Giving you the gas?”

She twined her fingers through his, and lay her other hand flat on the table. The silver of her wedding ring – Ellen’s wedding ring – glinted in the soft light.

“No – not that. Not this time, anyway.”

Her voice was soft – far away. Gently he took her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, and tilted her eyes to meet his.

“Tell me?”

Bravely she held his gaze, but swallowed.

He waited – would give her all the time in the world, if need be.

A long moment passed before she spoke.

“I had a dream.”

Jamie released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Did ye now? Do ye want to talk about it?”

She licked her lips. “It must have been because we were watching that programme before bed – the one about the ’45 and Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

“Aye? So?”

Claire shifted a bit in the high-back wooden chair – they’d been lucky to have found a matching set in a church’s rummage sale when they were furnishing the apartment two years before. She’d decorated the hodge-podge of chairs at their dining table with colorful, comfortable cushions – but her lower back was aching more and more as the bairn grew within her.

She was hesitating.

“Claire? Ye ken ye can tell me anything, aye? I’m here.”

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to hers – feeling hers clammy with sweat.

*A Dhia*, what had frightened her so?

“Breathe in wi’ me, all right? Just relax.”

He inhaled – and felt her do the same.

He counted to ten – and then exhaled. As did she.

Four more rounds – and finally she almost collapsed against him, throwing her hands around his shoulders.

“Sshh,” he soothed, rubbing gentle circles on the soft terrycloth covering her back. “Hush. I have ye. I’m here.”

She buried her face in his neck, hot tears slipping down to his torso.

“I dreamed you sent me away,” she murmured.

His grip on her tightened, anchoring her to him.

“Why would I ever do that, Claire? It was only a dream. Ye ken weel I’d never do that to ye. I canna survive ten minutes wi’out ye.”

Shakily she inhaled against him. “I dreamed you were a soldier, fighting for Prince Charles. I was accompanying you – serving as a nurse for your men. Following you to all the different battles.”

He kissed her forehead.

“And then – then I dreamed we were at the Battle of Culloden. Only – you refused to let me stay, because of the baby. You ordered me to go – to go to safety. To protect me.”

“I will always protect you, *mo nighean donn*,” he whispered.

“I argued with you,” she continued, not hearing him. “I told you no, my place is with you. My home is with you. But – you would hear none of it. You sent me away, and I was so afraid because I was all alone, and I knew you were going to die. And I felt my heart die within my chest.”

Wordlessly, Jamie hooked one arm under Claire’s legs – bare, freezing – and plopped her onto his lap, untying the belt of his robe and enveloping it around her. He undid the tie of her robe and pressed her bare skin to his.

Reassurance. Grounding her in the here and now.

“Sshh. I’ll never leave ye alone, Claire – ye must know that.”

Then he kissed every inch of her face – so lightly she thought she must have been dreaming.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So, so much. And I’m here wi’ ye, now. In this time – in Glasgow. In our wee kitchen, which ye turn into a study room half the time.”

She butted her nose against his, seeking. He captured her smiling lips in a long, slow kiss.

“Do ye remember how we passed the time on this table two days ago?” His voice was deep – breathy. Teasing.

“You let me taste you,” she purred against his neck. “Savor you. Hold you at my mercy.”

“Mmm. My place is wi’ you, Claire. My body – it’s yours. My heart – you own it, and keep it safe. My soul – it lives within you. I canna live wi’out ye – I will never, *ever* send ye away.”

She turned in his lap to straddle him, bracing her arms on his shoulders. Pressing her bare chest to his – sheltering the bulge of their baby between them.

“I know. It’s just – it was so *real*, Jamie. I could smell the damp earth of the moor – hear the cannon fire. See the light catch in your hair.”

One of his hands reached down to caress the sensitive, stretching skin of her belly. How he marveled at this miracle, every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry – ye’re right, it must ha’ been that programme we watched before bed.”

“Before sleeping, you mean.”

He kissed her cheeky grin. “Aye – if ye want to be precise about it. But I’m sorry if it upset ye – I ken I like to talk about how my ancestors fought for that daftie of a Prince – ”

“It’s all right, Jamie. Just – it was so *real*. Like it had truly happened to me. I’ve never had such a life-like dream before.”

“Mmm. Perhaps it’s the bairn? Yer wee book says that ye may have verra vivid dreams, now and again – ”

Now she kissed his chin. “I so love that you’ve been reading that book. I’m afraid I’ve read it so many times now that I can’t absorb anything anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t I read it? The bairn is as much mine as yours. I *was* present when we made it, after all.”

She laughed – small, but deep-throated. Slowly she ground her center against his belly.

Well then.

“Is the bairn still awake, then? Perhaps I can read some more fairy stories to help it sleep.”

“*She* is still awake – not as much as before, but definitely moving around. The chamomile tea soothes her.” And to prove her point, Claire took a long draught of her cooling tea.

Jamie’s brows furrowed. “*She*, is it? The bairn was male last week. We canna confuse the poor thing afore it’s born, Claire.”

“Mmm. She – or he – is still quite small. We could still do the test, you know – to find out whether it’s a lad or lass.”

“Ye ken weel that I want it to be a surprise – so much else is planned out, aye?”

Claire finished the last of her tea and set down her mug, drawing Jamie’s hands away from her arse and toward her belly.

“Tell us a story, Da. And then you and Mama can play for a bit, hmm?”

Jamie licked his lips, thumbs caressing Claire’s luminous skin, eyes boring into hers.

“Well then. Have I told ye the one about the woman who climbed the fairy hill, walked within a circle of stones, and was transported to a magical, faraway land?”

anonymous asked:

I love the Jamie/Claire modern Glasgow AU. Can you write a story about why they got married so fast? Or just them getting to know each other. Thank you!

Modern Glasgow AU

The skin on his back was so fair that the burn looked much worse than it likely was. She had rubbed him from nape to tail with the aloe gel and helped him into the spare button-down shirt packed in his bag – “Just in case,” he had grinned at her.

Now they faced each other directly, cross-legged, the armrest still up between them. Any sense of awkwardness was long gone. They were three hours into the seven-hour flight – and if he never saw her again, he wanted to cherish every single moment he had with her. Every single moment God had blessed him with.

“You need to get some aloe cream as soon as we land,” she said softly.

He nodded. “Aye. Any particular kind?”

She paused, head down, considering. “Well – ” She hesitated, then drew in a deep breath. “I’ll be on duty tomorrow. You could come by the hospital and I could see to it myself.”

Jamie’s heart, already thundering in his chest, almost stopped. “Ye’d do that for me?” he said in a small voice, so full of promise.

She nodded, shyly. “I feel responsible for what happened to you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Dinna fash yourself,” he said quietly. “I’ve been hurt much worse, and by people much less pretty.”

She blushed prettily and held back a smile, eyes still downcast. Jamie watched her idly twist the diamond around her finger.

“You’re a kind woman,” he said gently. “Wi’ a good touch.”

He paused. What the hell.

“He’s a verra lucky man, your professor.”

She swallowed, and he hoped desperately that he hadn’t crossed a line – that he hadn’t severed the so very fragile connection between them.

He watched her slowly remove the diamond ring and hold it between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m leaving him,” she said softly.

“What?” Jamie said stupidly.

She licked her lips. “I came to New York to surprise him – his sabbatical is for a year, and I haven’t seen him for three months. I didn’t tell him I was coming, so I showed up at his flat without warning. Just in time to see him kiss his research assistant goodbye on the landing.”

Overcome, Jamie reached across the space between them – where their knees nearly touched – and softly, gently took hold of her right hand. He twined their fingers together, hoping she couldn’t feel how badly his hand was shaking.

“I’m so sorry.” And he was.

She nodded absently and gripped his fingers. “I confronted him. He couldn’t deny it, so he told me everything. About how – how he felt we’d grown apart. How I had my own life, separate from his. I decided not to move with him, you know – I fought so hard to rise to my position at the hospital, and I wasn’t going to give that up.” She sniffed. “He didn’t understand – he thought that I could just pack up and find another nursing job in New York. But I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. So.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t even make it inside the flat. I couldn’t stay. So I hailed a cab, came right back to the airport, and got on the next available flight.”

He reached his other hand to tilt up her chin. Her tear-filled eyes met his.

God, she was beautiful. Trusting him with her vulnerability. It stirred something protective, deep inside him.

Softly, gently he traced her cheekbones with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry. I don’t normally break down, but - I gave him six years of my life. And now it’s all gone,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

She was ashamed. His heart clenched to see it.

He wiped away one tear with the pad of his thumb. And then before he could think, he gathered her into his lap and held her tightly against him, pressing her face into his neck.

She shook silently in his arms, gripping the front of his shirt. His heart surged with feeling. What kind of man would do that to a woman? Do that to this woman? What he wouldn’t give to protect her, to love her in the way she deserved…

So he did the only thing he could – offer her comfort, and whisper his feelings in a language she wouldn’t understand.

Hush, my heart. Be still. No one can harm ye. I’m here,” he murmured over and over in the Gaidhlig.

She sighed deeply. He nuzzled his nose in the clouds of her hair. This was what Heaven must be like, he thought dimly.

“What are you saying?” she said, almost soundlessly, against his neck.

He swallowed. “Ach – just some silly things. Like what my Mam used to say to me when I was a bairn, and needed comfort from her.”

She sniffed. “She must be a remarkable woman.”

Jamie grit his teeth and breathed in deeply. “She’s dead,” he said softly. “My father, too. That’s why I left home.”

She sat up straight, face level with his. Even with smudged mascara and reddened eyes she was so beautiful he almost couldn’t breathe. Slowly she cupped his cheek with her right hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “Dinna fash,” he said, voice thick. “I can mind myself.”

“I don’t doubt that. When was the last time you let someone take care of you?”

His heart rose to this throat, a witty rejoinder dying on his lips. He opened his eyes and met hers, squarely. God, how he could lose himself in her…

No. Not while she still wore another man’s ring. He could never do that.

“I let you take care of me, just now,” he said softly. Teasing.

She sighed and shook her head slightly. “You Scots. Bloody effing heroes, the whole lot of you.”

His smile echoed hers.