#;mod wheel

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Hello you wonderful people! Could you please write a scene where Jamie painstakingly writes the Grandfather Tales while Claire works on her medical journal? I would love to also see continuations of the stories. Jamie's love of his family always hits me hard. Please and thank you! Thank you so much for all the work you guys put into these. I adore you all!

It was a time two hundred years ago, he scratched onto the page in his slow, painstaking way.  Every story began two hundred years ago.

He glanced up to see his wife’s head bent over her own writing, curly hair spilling down across her shoulders to veil her face from him.

It was a time of kings and wars.  Of men who stood on opposite sides of the battlefield and knew that they fought for the right.

Men always believe, no matter on which side they fight, that they fight for the right.

In that time, two hundred years ago, there was a man who stood on neither side of the fight.  

There are wars that are just, child, and wars that are honourable, and this one might have been both, but in all wars- just or not, honourable or not- men die.  This man did not want to die but, more than that, he did not want his men to die- those men who depended on him to lead and feed them day in and day out.  One king or another, it makes little difference to those things that truly make up a life, my child, my heart: to the growing of crops and the breeding of animals, to the raising of children and the burying of the dead, to marriage, to birth, to love.

And yet, it is love that makes a man go to war- love for his country, his king, his countrymen, his family.  He goes to protect them because he thinks it right, or he stays to protect them because he thinks it right.

He stopped writing again, his quill having gone dull, and thought of wars.  Wars of honour and wars of duty.  Wars fought on battlefields, wars fought over dining tables, and wars fought nowhere but in the heart.

Only one thing in all the world can disrupt a man’s life so much as a war my child, and that is a woman.  So, naturally, into this man’s life came a woman.

This woman was beautiful and wise, as good women are.  The man wanted her as he had wanted nothing else in his entire life, and he loved her with all of his heart.

It is the nature of war, however to rend asunder, child of my heart.  Even the deepest kind of love cannot change that which is immutable.  His wife- that source of wisdom and goodness and beauty- was taken from him by the war.

For an ordinary woman, and an ordinary man, this might have been the end.  Another casualty of war, as so many have been in the past.  She was not ordinary, however, and the love they shared was not ordinary in the slightest  It was, in fact, my dear child, a source of power greater than time itself.

The man’s wife made her way back to him in spite of war and death and immutable things, and by his side she stayed.

Jamie looked up to see Claire looking at him, though she didn’t seem to really see him.  She had a small, distracted smile on her lips and her eyes were hazy with unspoken thoughts, and she was very beautiful.

And they were happy together, even to the end of their days. 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I *want*!! More of "Secret" please!!!

anononymous said: Well now that there’s some amount of tension between J/C after their admissions as to why they kissed one another, will we be seeing what happems next between these 2 crazy kids? Happily ever after?

a secret told to the mouth instead of the ear

“I’ve another question for you then,” Jamie said, his blue eyes as hot as flames.

“Yes?”  Had it been any other moment, I might have felt ashamed at how breathy and desperate my voice sounded.  As it was, I could think of almost nothing but those eyes.

“Where are we going?”

It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me with those words.  I remembered, suddenly, that I was still married.  That I could not be for this young man what he wanted me to be.

And, if I were honest, what I wanted to be.

I dropped my eyes from his and answered, though the words tasted of acid in my mouth.

“I must go back to where you found me,” I said, softly.

“You would not have me take you to France?” he asked, and I could hear the ironic smile in his voice.

He had, of course, guessed that I had no one waiting for me in France, as Colum and Dougal had.

“No,” I said and confirmed what he already knew.  “There is nothing for me in France.  No one waiting.”

“We found you in the wilderness, Lass.  I would see you safe, and you’d let me.  I would take you wherever it is you’d go.”

“Do you recall where it was you found me?”

He pursed his lips as though unwilling to say, then changed his mind.  “Murtagh said he found you at the base of the fairy hill outside Inverness.  Is that where I’m to take you now?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He hesitated another moment.  “Is it true what they say about you in the village then?  That you’re a witch or... or a fairy?”

“I...” I hesitated.  Surely not every person could do what I had done: fall through the stones into time.  If it were something that everyone could do, you’d hear of it all the time, but you don’t.

No... it must be something else.

“To tell you truly, Jamie,” I said, thinking hard, “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t have said so but... I do not really know.  Perhaps I am.  Would it matter?”

For some reason, this seemed to dispel much of his tension.

“No,” he said with a small smile.  “If you were contracted to the Devil or from the otherworld, I would want you all the same.  But if you dinna know what you are, then you canna have bewitched me, aye?”

“I don’t think so.  I didn’t do it intentionally if I did.”

If I hadn’t known any better, I might have thought him the sorcerer, for he moved so quickly from across the fire to my side that there seemed no intervening time.

“And yet, bewitched I am,” he murmured, his hand already burying itself in my hair.

And then he was kissing me and, for all that I knew I must return to husband and duty, to time and place, I kissed him back.  I kissed him because there was honesty between us.  I kissed him because I did not want to go back at all.

His sharp ears picked up the sound that the rush of blood in mine drowned out and Jamie was on his feet, dirk drawn, while I was still gasping.

He growled something in Gaelic, directed at the dark.  I did not know precisely what it meant, but the threat was clear.  Someone had found us.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Yea, ask box is open! Imagine Jamie giving claire a massage after a long day on horseback. Surely her legs and lower back would hurt, ye ken? This could be outdoors or indoors... U pick. First or second book, plz!

For all that my mind was in a fog, my body recognized the strain of a full day’s worth of riding and my back ached from both the movement of the horse and the lash that had been laid across it.

On our second day out of Cranesmuir, Jamie slid off Donas with his usual grace, leaving me wincing and slow, unsure how I’d make it off the horse.  He looked up at me and, seeing my discomfort, reached up to help me off, allowing me to fall into his arms and steadying me when my knees would have buckled.

“Can you walk on your own?” he asked, solicitous.  “I should start a fire before it gets too dark, but it would help if you could walk.”

“I can walk,” I said, and realized- with the rough, rusty sound of my voice- that it was the first thing I had said all day.

Jamie supported me for the first few steps and then, once I seemed to have my feet beneath me, allowed me to move on my own as he set to work on the camp.  Twenty minutes later, I was able to limp about without stumbling every step, and Jamie had a fire built, and our bedroll laid out.

“Lie down then, lass,” he said, taking my hand to stop me making another circuit of the camp.

I practically collapsed into him, and he helped my lie on my front on the bedroll.  The ground was hard, but it wasn’t a horse and I couldn’t have been more pleased with the situation.

Jamie placed one large, warm hand on my lower back, and it acted there like a hot water bottle, soothing the ache gently from my muscles.

Without my saying anything, he began gently to massage my lower back, careful to avoid the lash marks across my shoulders, but with fingers that seemed, preternaturally, to know where to press and where to knead.  I felt the pain begin to recede and felt my mind calm.

I had told him the truth, and still he was there.  Still he was taking care of me.  Still he-

But I could not face that.  Not yet.

Instead I felt myself slipping toward sleep as Jamie chased my pain away.

My calm somnolence was interrupted when he took his hands from my back and pushed my skirts up to my waist, baring my legs and bottom to the cool air.

“Jamie?” I said, wondering what could possibly have gotten into him.

“Hush, Lass.  Lay your head,” he said as his large hands circled one of my calves and began to massage there as well.

I had hardly noticed the pain in my legs when compared with my back, but the feel of his hands unknotting muscles that had grown so tight with strain and riding over the last several days was pure bliss.  

I was so lost in sensation and exhaustion that I hardly noticed Jamie’s hands inching their way up my thighs, lighting a fire inside of me.

“Jamie?” I said again, feeling as though I were speaking through honey.

“Mmmm?”

“I want...” I began, then trailed off.

“Shhh, not now.  Later, mo nighean donn.  When you’re less tired, perhaps.”

I wanted to argue that I wasn’t tired and that I wanted him, and I’d never sleep unless he obliged me, but I fell into blackness in that moment and never did.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine the scene in book one where Jamie tells Claire to come to the stables at midday. We the end of it but let's get the beginning and middle please!

I had seen Alec stumping up to the castle for his luncheon before I risked going down to the stables to meet Jamie, as requested.

I felt young and carefree, like a girl sneaking out to meet a lover, or like one of the sweet maids who swooned and sighed after Jamie still, in spite of his marriage.

It pleased me absurdly, however, that since our fight about Laoghaire on our first night back, I had never seen Jamie look back at the girls.  His eyes were always on me.

I had, on occasion, noticed that Frank looked.  I had told myself that, so long as his hands did not wander, his eyes could do as they liked, but it wasn’t true. My heart had tightened every time I had seen it, as I wondered if this was the time his body followed his eyes.

I shook my head to dispel thoughts of my husband (my other husband) as I ducked into the warm, dim-lit stable where Jamie waited for me.

~?~?~?~?~

His eyes had lit flatteringly when I’d arrived, and he’d been playful and sweet, sweeping me into a long, toe-curling kiss.  He’d then indicated the hay loft and bowed me up.

He followed me and, as soon as I had crawled into the low space, he was behind me, pushing my skirts up as I knelt four-square.

“Jamie,” I said, as quietly as possible as he lifted his kilt and began to probe.

Something about the nearness of the horses seemed to have affected him, for he took me hard and fast then, like a stallion, with his teeth sunk delicately into the skin at the join of my neck and shoulder.  This assault made me arch against him, the instinct to pull away battling the desire for more.

“Dinna be so loud,” he whispered in my ear, taking his mouth away from my neck for a moment.  “You’ll unsettle the horses.”  He then turned his mouth to the other side of my neck and bit hard enough that I knew there would be a bruise which could not be covered by any of my gowns.

His big hands unlaced the bodice of my dress so that my breasts were free, and cupped them through the thin fabric of my shift, thumbs grazing the nipples to raise them to hard, wanting peaks, then pinching them slightly, making me push back against him, desperate for release.

“Aye, Sassenach,” he whispered into my ear.  “Like that.”

He picked up speed and force and, with a final nearly-painful pinch of my nipple, I shattered around him, the motes of dust in the golden light of the stable becoming stars before my eyes.  I could feel him stiffen behind me as well, but noticed very little until he fell to the side, into a pile of hay, pulling me beside him to curl against him in pleasurable somnolence.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Sorry for being naughty with two asks, but I canna help it! Imagine the butter churning incident Jamie confesses to the priest in TFC, and some domestic/married Frasers living that scene and what leads to it. Thanks for the amazingness!

Jamie leaned one shoulder against the jamb of the springhouse door, settling himself for one of his greatest pleasures- watching his wife when she was unaware of his scrutiny.

She was working her barrel churn assiduously, which bent her slim form into interesting and evocative positions, half bent with her fine round arse pointed at him enticingly.  She had removed her stays and was working only in her shift, which was thin and clinging, but which also left her breasts free to bob with her movements, swaying beneath the loose linen.  Her back was toward him, but he could see the shadows of those breasts and knew (for he knew every part of her body as well as he knew his own) the shape and softness of them- their heft in his hands and the inviting rose-coloured nipples that would rise to a peak under his attentions.

His fingertips itched to touch, but he remained where he was, watching.

The heat of the day and the sweat of her work not only caused her shift to cling and become slightly transparent, but it sent her hair curling into mad tangles about her face.  He remembered once- a thousand years ago, when he had been another man, but she had been just the same- telling her that her hair was like the water in a burn, dark and light in spots.  Now there was as much light as dark in the wild curls of it, like beechwood streaked by the rain- dark and light and all the colours of a Scottish wood.

He wanted to twist the mass of it up in his hands and bite the back of her neck like a horse in rut, but he remained still.

She stood a moment and brushed her hair back from her face, then bent and took a sip of water from a bucket she had nearby before resuming her work.  She hadn’t seen him, even as she had half turned, but he had been able to see the entire length of her in profile, backlit by the sun, which lit through her chemise and made her look naked.  She stood tall and straight, not bent as some women became as they passed 50, but she was as stubbornly unbowed as she had been at 26, when he’d met her.

She bent to her work again, and the memory of the years without her suddenly washed over him, as it sometimes did, and he could not stay away a moment longer.

In three silent steps, he was behind her, his hands on her wide hips, molding her arse.

“Jamie?” she said, quick and sharp with just the tiniest edge of fear that it wouldn’t be he.

“Aye, Lass, hush,” he whispered, already beginning to ruck up the skirt of her chemise as he ground himself slowly against her arse, just for the pure joy of the feeling.

“Jamie, I’m-” she began, but he covered her mouth with the hand not excavating under her skirt.

He leaned forward, his body pressing her into the barrel of the churn and spoke into her ear.  “Hush, mo nighean donn.”

He could see from the side of her face that she was seriously contemplating biting his hand, but his other- his dexterous left- had found what it sought, and he had two fingers inside of her before she could decide.

She let out a squeak, then a sigh as he began to move, finally relaxing against the barrel, content to let him seek his pleasure.

Jamie grinned and took his hand from her mouth.

So many things in his life had changed since he had met her, lost her, and found her again.  So many things had been lost, and so many had been gained, but the sounds she made as he plumbed her depths were just the same, and that fact comforted him.

He had her mewling in incoherent want before he drew his hand away to loose himself from his breeks.  She had just made a low moan of irritation at his having left her when he returned to her, his cock between her thighs making her groan low and deep in her throat.

“Brace yourself, Lass,” he murmured into her ear, biting it gently. “I think this willna take very long.”

It didn’t.

She was keening within three strokes, pushing back against him and giving as good as he was giving her.  Within ten strokes, she had stiffened around him, the flutter of her channel bringing him to a quick, almost painful conclusion, his fingers sunk deep into the muscle and flesh of her thighs.  He knew that she would have bruises there in the morning, and the thought pleased him obscurely.

He stroked down her sides as she shuddered slightly under him, like a blown horse, until she had her breath back.

He saluted the back of her neck with a kiss, smoothed her skirts back down over her arse, then vanished into the woods again to resume his neglected chores, thinking that, for all the firewood might not be finished before dark, he had done his work well.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Will there be more of "a secret told to the mouth instead of the ear" I'm invested and and at the moment it seems open ended with lots of potential.

a secret told to the mouth instead of the ear

“Why did you kiss me the night we left Leoch?”

Jamie shifted uncomfortably on the rock he’d chosen as his seat for the night, not meeting my eyes.  I was charmed to see that his ears had gone red.

Suddenly, however, he stilled and looked at me carefully.

“Why did you kiss me that day when I brought you back from the village?”

It was my turn to go red with embarrassment and not be able to meet his eyes.

“I’ll tell you why I kissed you, if you’ll tell me why you kissed me.”

I looked up at him, and he was watching me very seriously.

“But I’d ask you one thing.  If you canna tell me the truth, I would prefer that you told me nothing.  There can, I think, be secrets between us, but we canna lie to each other, not when we’re forced to trust each other with our lives as now.”

It was a fair request he made of me, and one with which I thought I could comply.

“In all things, or just in this?”

He blinked, looked away for a moment, and then met my eyes again, his blue eyes seeming to see straight through to my heart.  I thought, perhaps, I did not need to tell him any truths, for he could see them already.

“I’ll no lie to you, and you’ll promise me the same.  You needna tell me every one of your secrets- I think we have room enough in what it is between us for secrets- but I’d have honesty of you.”

I couldn’t tell him everything- if for no other reason than because he would never believe it- but I could be honest with him in those things I could tell him, including this.  He deserved that of me.

“I agree.  So why did you kiss me?”

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth.

“I think you should go first, as you kissed me before I kissed you.”

That was true enough, though not what I’d had in mind.  I had, however, agreed to the rules of the game, and sighed, thinking of what I must tell him.

“I did it because you were kind and brave, and because I have been very lonely since my husband...” I glanced up in time to see a flash of pain in his eyes and hastened to clarify.  “It wasn’t because of him though.  I didn’t- I don’t- think of him when I think of you.  You’re... you’re very different.”

It was true, what I’d said, but not the whole truth, and I took a deep breath to continue, girding myself against it.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.”

“Because you wanted me?” he asked, softly.

I looked up into those fathomless blue eyes and nodded silently.

“Aye, well, and that’s why I kissed you as well.  I did it to keep you safe and help you run away, and to keep myself from being stabbed in the back by the Mackenzies, but I did it because I wanted you more than I’ve wanted anything in a verra long time.”

“Wanted?” I asked, wondering if I wanted to know the answer.

“Want,” he confirmed.  “And you?”

Even had I not given my word, faced with those blue eyes, I could not have lied.

“Want,” I whispered.

Jamie only nodded, though his eyes burned like flames.  He did not try to reach out and touch me, and yet his look burned like a caress.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

If you could, could you please continue older Jemmy and his bea, maybe even teenage Mandy? I could imagine Grandma Claire and Grandpa Jamie watching the couple from a distance and reminiscing ;)

Anonymous asked: Imagine Jamie and/or Claire giving advice on love to teenager Jem or teenager Mandy?

Pretty, hot, and fierce

Roger stood before the pair, his black hair swept back from his face, the threads of grey which had begun some years before at his temples lending him a distinguished countenance suitable for the minister he finally was.

“Dearly beloved,” he cried, bringing the meeting to order.  “We are gathered here among these friends and in the sight of God to join these two in holy matrimony.”

He smiled at the young people.  Jemmy was a picture of his grandfather at the same age, tall and straight and proud, with his Mackenzie tartan and his grandfather’s broach, and his own sword.

His bride wore blue muslin which had been embroidered all over with tiny violets by the women of Fraser’s Ridge over the last few weeks.  She was slim and blonde and, though she was facing away from me and I could not see them, she had huge green eyes that I was sure were looking up at Jemmy with adoration.

As his father continued the wedding service, I leaned against Jamie.

“Did you speak to him about... ehm... the wedding night?” I whispered.  Roger had asked Jamie if it could be he who took on that responsibility, as Roger would be standing minister and thought, perhaps, that might be inappropriate.

“I tried, Sassenach,” Jamie murmured.  “I was informed that I was much too late, and that bird had already flown, as it were.  Apparently it was Ian and Fergus and Germaine who gave him his tips.”

“Oh really?” I asked, diverted.

“Aye, really.  I dinna know what it is about young people these days.

There was no heat in Jamie’s statement, however, so I took his hand and brought his wrist to my lips.  I kissed the place that a dirk had scored him oh so many years before to allow his blood to mingle with mine as we had vowed to each other.

“Blood of my blood,” I whispered, my lips still against his skin.

“Bone of my bone,” he continued.

Before us, Jemmy and his Miriam were saying the same.

“I give you my body that we two might be one.  I give you my spirit until our life shall be done.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Yes!!! open to submissions is my favorite phrase this days!!! Please make a Jamie pov continue of the one where Clarie is freezing in the first episode and Jamie warm her up.

Follow up to this

Jamie held himself as still as possible, barely willing to breathe for fear of disturbing her as she slept.  

At first she had been like a block of ice- so cold it seemed that she was hot at first touch.  Then she’d warmed against him and melted like soft candle wax into his arms.

He’d never held a lass like this: warm and safe beside him as she slept so the he could practically see her dreams dancing through her head.

He’d slept beside men before- in the cold there was often no recourse but to lay close to with one’s fellows.  In prison, in army, and among the broken men with whom he’d lived for some time before.

This was different, though he couldn’t say exactly how.  Perhaps it was the smell- she smelled of artificial scent, overlaid by herbs and grass and leaves and blood.  Men always smelled more of blood and sweat.

Perhaps it was the smallness of her.  Jamie was a big man, and there were men who were smaller, but most of the men of his clan, his father, and his best friend Ian, with whom he’d spent most of his time, were of a size with him.  They were broad of shoulder and long of limb, and he’d never felt as though he could wrap himself around them, surrounding their forms with his protection like a suit of armour.

Perhaps it was the melting way she lay against him, as though her very edges were coming undone, and some essence of her was leaking into him, and she trusted him to care for it, and return what must be returned to her when she woke.  As though she trusted him to hold her boundaries together.

Whatever it was that made it different, Jamie knew that he had found something remarkable that night in the damp leaves as the moon rode high in the sky.  And it was something he would not soon let escape.