#about why he's this annoyed by any woman trying to hit on fraser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

one-boring-person · 3 years

Text

A Game Of Numbers. (Part 6)

Marion "Cobra" Cobretti x reader

Warnings: death, corpse description, swearing, injury detail, blood detail

Context: When a string of seemingly connected murders and kidnappings break out in LA, Cobretti is called in to figure out what is going on. He is, however, not alone in his investigation. Lieutenant "Hawk" (Y/l/n) is deployed to help him, though it quickly becomes clear that the crimes taking place are not as random as they first thought, but rather a little more personal than either of them would hope.

A/n: I am slowly but surely losing interest in this story, but I'll try to stick it out 😅

Masterlist

"So, Miss Lloyd. You say you witnessed the abduction of the two victims?" Hawk starts off the inquiry, not choosing to use the names of the victims, given that the press has somehow managed to weasel its way into the case and spread news of the investigation.

"Yes, I did. It was horrible." She confirms, casting a very brief look at the lieutenant she is speaking to.

"Any chance you could elaborate on that?" Hawk pushes, trying to keep her irritation out of her voice as she observes the woman across from her.

"Oh, yes, of course." Lloyd settles herself in the chair, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, "Well, I was out after work, last week, and I was passing by one of the clubs near my house, called Eclipse, I think. I was going to take a shortcut home, when I saw three people in an alleyway nearby. One of them was a woman, and the other two were men, but one of them was pushing the other two around. Their voices were raised, and the pair were fighting back, but then the other guy made some threat, and they went quiet. I didn't stop to figure out what happened after his, I just wanted to get out of there. It was very scary, you know."

"I can imagine." Hawk mutters as she takes some notes on a scrap of paper, "What time was this?"

"Oh, about five o'clock? Maybe a bit later? I didn't check the time." Lloyd casts her gaze back to Cobra, "You don't say too much, do you, handsome?"

At this, Hawk bristles a little, an inexplicable feeling flaring to life within her as a pang goes through her heart. Cobretti only shrugs, chewing his matchstick.

"My colleague is doing a good job, there's no need for me to talk." He responds evenly, sending his partner a look of appraisal.

"If you're sure." She frowns, appearing a little put out by this.

"I am." Cobretti nods, leaning on his hand as he waits for the interview to continue.

"So, Miss Lloyd, is there any chance you can describe the people you saw in any more detail?" Hawk questions, ignoring the disappointed look on the other woman's face.

"The woman was small, and was quite skinny. The man that was being pushed around wasn't so easy to see, but I'm pretty sure he was also very skinny, and quite tall. The other guy was very tall, and had a very muscular build. He was intimidating to me."

"And that's all you can remember?" Hawk probes, looking thoughtful.

"Well, in pretty sure I also remember the strong man pulling a big knife on them, like a kitchen knife, and cutting the girl with it."

The two lieutenants exchange a glance, going to continue the conversation until they're interrupted by the door slamming open. Snapping round, Hawk and Cobra instantly frown as they see Monte standing there, the detective red in the face, breathing heavily.

"What do you want?" Hawk snaps at him, annoyed that the interview is being interrupted.

"We need you both now." Monte pants, catching his breath.

"Why?" Cobretti questions, suspicious.

"We've found them. The two kidnapped people." The detective goes to continue, only to notice Lloyd still sitting at the table, "Can we take this outside?"

"Yeah, let's go. We apologise for this, Miss Lloyd." Hawk briefly says to the woman, before the lieutenants duck out of the room, both anxious to hear what's happened.

Once outside, Monte leads them a little way down the corridor, before he stops.

"Someone called in this morning, said there was a horrible smell coming from the flat upstairs and that they hadn't seen anyone come or go for a little while. We sent an officer, and he found the bodies of the two missing people." He explains, pulling at his tie, "We've left them exactly as they are, and we need you two down there immediately."

"Ok, what's the address?" Cobra inquires, already walking off down the corridor.

"Just follow my car." Monte rolls his eyes and strides past, Cobra and Hawk following after him after exchanging a look of exasperation.

Once in the parking lot, the three cops go over to their respective vehicles, climbing into them in silence. Pulling out onto the road, they start the journey to the apartment.

In Cobretti's car, both he and Hawk are mostly quiet, until the latter suddenly speaks up, body tense.

"What did you think of Lloyd?"

Cobra frowns and looks over at her.

"What do you mean?" He questions, confused.

"Well, what did you think of her? Do you think she was telling the truth?" Hawk muses, picking at her hands.

"She seemed very enthusiastic, but I'm not sure where you're going with the last question." Cobretti responds, watching his comrade curiously.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, resting her elbow on the door of the car as she lays her head in her hand.

"I think she's lying."

"Why?"

"Because," Hawk looks at him, jaw set, "None of what she said matches up with our other evidence. The descriptions of the victims were off: Fraser isn't short, and she isn't skinny, and neither is Wheaton. In fact, I'm pretty sure we've got a statement somewhere saying that neither of these people were particularly thin or easy to kidnap, in that respect, so what she's saying doesn't fit. And the knife doesn't fit, either. The PM said all the wounds on the bodies were made by a serrated knife, so the kitchen knife idea doesn't work."

"But why would she lie?" Cobra points out, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure she is. I can feel it."

Silence falls on the two of them as she comes to a halt, neither saying a word as Cobra processes what she's said to him, knowing that her points are valid.

"You sure you just don't like her?" He eventually jokes, hoping to diffuse the tension Hawk seems to have picked up over the past few days. Thankfully, he gets a grin out of her, the lieutenant chuckling softly.

"That too."

Amicably, Cobra and Hawk lapse back into comfortable silence, a little more relaxed now as they follow after Monte, who has now activated the sirens on his car to clear the traffic for them to get through. It only takes them a further five minutes to pull up in front of a shabby apartment complex, where a police car is already parked up. Drawing up alongside it, the two lieutenants get out of the car and go into the building, Monte leading the way.

A rising sense of dread slowly fills Hawk as she trails after the two men, an eerie sense of deja vu accompanying it as she swallows back her nerves. The halls are quiet, no one around to investigate yet, though they will be soon, given the influx of press that will likely flock here.

Taking them to room 45, Monte waits for them to stop beside him, before he opens the door, swinging it open to reveal a gruesome scene before them. Eyes widen, bodies stiffening uncomfortably as a strong odour hits them, making their eyes water somewhat. Reluctantly, they step further into the room, observing the place with some disturbed curiosity.

It's pretty plain: a table sits in the centre of the room, a sofa pushed to the far wall, a kitchen counter opposite it. In another room, a bed can be seen, as well as a toilet, but other than that, the place is sparsely furnished. At the table however, are the two things that will stick with both lieutenants forever.

The two bodies have been propped up in chairs opposite each other, arms positioned in a way that mimics a card player, a set of cards placed in the bloodied hands of each corpse. Slashed faces stare down at their cards, matted hair hanging into their view from the hunched positions that they've slowly acquired, blood having dripped into thick puddles on their lips and the table in front of them. Wounds litter their naked bodies, gashes adorning their skin in macabre patterns, some appearing more deliberate than others, though none are any less painful-looking. On the table itself, a knife has been thrust through a pile of papers, the top one being a note, written in a beautiful, elegant hand, a vase set up with a sprig of heather alongside it.

Going over to it, Cobretti solemnly pulls the note from the table, noticing now the three photographs below it: more victims. He reads the note, only to find out it's in another language.

"I can't read it, it's not in English." He says to the other two, noticing Hawk's ashen face suddenly, her terrified expression new to him. Frowning in alarm, he goes over to her.

"What's wrong, Hawk?" He asks her, approaching her carefully.

"The note...it's in German, isn't it?" She mumbles looking at the paper in his hand.

"Yeah, maybe." He says, handing it to her.

"Nein, Nein, Nein! Das kann nicht sein!" She hisses, putting a hand to her head.

"What? What is it?" Monte asks from behind them.

Hawk is silent for a moment, before she finally reveals what's wrong.

"I know who killed these people."

#cobra #cobra 1986 #marion cobretti #Marion cobretti x reader #Marion cobretti imagine #cobra imagine #Sylvester Stallone

23 notes · View notes

three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

If After All These Years, You’d Like to Meet

note: I am about to be pretty busy so I wanted to get this chapter out before that happens! I hope you all enjoyed it! Your support on this fic has been so wonderful and so encouraging. This was my first fic for this fandom and it's been an incredible experience. I don't think I'd have written 21 chapters and over 100k words on this story if it hadn't been for the response I've gotten. So truly, thank you!

That being said, we're in the home stretch on this one. There's one chapter left!

master list - AO3

Chapter Twenty-One

Claire opened the door to see Jamie still sitting on the couch. “Well someone must be enjoying unemployment. I’m fairly certain that’s the same place I left you in this morning,” she teased.

Jamie leaned his head on the back of the couch to meet her for a kiss as she walked by. “Aye, I am in the same place, but I’ll have ye know I did get up and move occasionally. Mainly to piss.”

Claire laughed as she set her stuff down at the kitchen table. “You lazy bum.”

Jamie looked over at her and scoffed. “Hey! This is the first time I’ve gotten to be truly lazy in eight years. I’m milking it! I won’t start the new job for a few weeks.”

Claire threw herself down on the couch next to him, her legs spilling over his lap. “Honestly, I’m just teasing you because I’m a bit jealous.” Jamie grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’m surprised you didn’t go for a run.”

“Oh, I did. Light 10k,” he informed her, running his hand along her arm. Claire rolled her eyes at him. “So I was going to call ye at work but then I looked at the clock and figured ye’d be leaving soon. Do you think ye’d be able to take off the weekend of the 12-14th?”

“Of July?”

“Yes, of July,” Jamie clarified.

“I already took it off. Do you think I don’t know what that weekend is?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He grinned, kissing her on the nose. “Nah, I figured ye would.”

“So what are you thinking? I’m imagining if you asked, you’re thinking something.”

“Well, aye. I thought we’d go to Scotland,” Jamie offered.

Claire watched him for a moment. “Are you sure you wouldn’t just rather stay here?”

Jamie frowned. “What do ye have against Scotland, Sassenach?”

“Well nothing. You know I love it there, but we’ll already be there this weekend. And that’s only two weeks later. It’s just a lot of up and back,” Claire said, standing up to go get some water.

“Perhaps I’m missing something. Why are we going up this weekend? Since when are we going up this weekend?” Jamie asked, staring at her as she returned to the couch.

“Jamie, it’s your niece’s -”

“You can just say our niece,” he interrupted.

Claire grinned at him with a shake of her head. “Fine. Jamie, it’s our niece’s first birthday. Don’t you think we should be there?”

“Ye ken what I jus’ realized?”

Claire rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “What did you just realize?”

“That wee Janet will no’ know ye as anything other but her Auntie Claire,” he informed her with a fond smile on his face.

“That’s sweet,” Claire agreed. “But let’s get back to her birthday. Why do you think we’re not going? Jamie, did you forget about her birthday?”

“No, of course I didna forget. I suppose I forgot to tell ye that Jenny said we shouldn’t come,” Jamie said. “She figured we’d come up for our anniversary and so they planned a birthday for wee Janet that was just the Murray family. No Frasers allowed, apparently.”

Claire frowned at Jamie. “She doesn’t want us there? But we’re family.”

Jamie shrugged. “I dinna ken. Perhaps she’s planning to tell the children there’s to be another one.”

Claire smacked Jamie on the arm. “You’re terrible.��

“What do ye expect of me? Ye’re the one I’ve been making bets with on when it’ll happen!”

“So we’re really not going?” Claire asked. “It’ll be that weekend instead of this weekend?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye, if ye like.”

“I guess that’s better. I don’t want to pack this week anyway,” Claire remarked, relaxing into the couch against Jamie.

“Perfect.”

Jamie pressed play on the show he was watching before Claire walked in. She snuggled in next to him, her arms coming around his waist. He’d breathe easier when all the secrets were out. But for now, he felt guilty lying to her. He also felt guilty for making Jenny lie to her, as Claire would no doubt call to confirm these plans with Jenny. But she’d understand in the end. Big things were coming, she just didn’t know it.

~~~

It was odd to Jamie to be waiting outside his own flat, but he didn’t feel right just letting himself in. John should be there any minute. Checking his watch, he started to get irritated that John was late. He had to get home before Claire did.

A loud set of footsteps signalled John’s arrival. “Sorry I’m late!” John yelled as he ran towards the door. “My therapist would not stop talking today! It was like I did my part and then she needed to do an hour too.” He shook his head in annoyance. “Anyway, sorry.”

“Ye’re fine. I just need to make sure I get home before Claire.” John nodded, opening the door for Jamie. “So how is therapy going? If ye dinna mind me asking.”

“I think it’s going well. Even when I don’t want to talk about dark stuff it’s nice to just talk to someone,” John commented.

Jamie frowned at him. “Ye ken ye have friends to talk to for free about yer daily life.”

John laughed. “Oh I know. But sometimes it just all links back. I’m doing good though. I mean it’s been five months since the attack and three months in therapy. My therapist says I’m making good progress which is always nice to hear.”

Jamie walked back out of his old bedroom and nodded at John. “Aye, that is nice to hear. I’m proud of ye, John. I ken it was hard to take that step.”

“Thank you,” he said, a touched look on his face. “Probably wouldn’t have done so without you and Claire.”

Jamie nodded, choking back some emotion. “We’re always here for ye.”

“That’s why they call you my parents,” John joked. He looked at Jamie’s hand. “Got what you needed?”

Jamie held up the fist clenched around the object he’d come to claim. “Aye, I do. Thank ye for keeping it.”

“Not a problem,” John waved off, walking Jamie toward the door. “Talk soon?”

“We will. I’ll see ye,” Jamie said with a clap on his back before walking out the door.

~~~

Jamie and Claire had arrived at Lallybroch and were putting their bags down in the room they always shared. Jamie threw himself down on the bed with a sigh. “Wow, to think that one year ago today, we were just two fools who thought we’d never work it out.”

Claire laughed as she rifled through her bag. “I think we’ve done a pretty good job,” she mused.

Jamie jumped up off the bed, walking up behind her, and putting his arms around her. “I’d say would have to agree, mo nighean donn,” he whispered in her ear. She turned with a grin, meeting him for a quick kiss. “If it hadna happened here, when do ye think we’d have finally confessed our deep dark secrets to each other?” Jamie wondered aloud.

Claire laughed, her arms holding his. “You know I’ve wondered that before.” She turned around in his arms, her hands clasping at his neck. “I feel like we both just hit a breaking point and couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

Jamie nodded thoughtfully. “I’m fairly certain if it hadn’t happened any sooner than it did, John and likely the rest of our friends, would have locked us in a room until we could figure it out.”

Claire laid her head on his shoulder as she laughed at that mental image. “You know, I could definitely have seen them doing that. God, they were so annoying.”

Jamie kissed her forehead. “I dinna ken about that. They were on to something.”

Claire smiled with a hum. “You might be right.”

They stood there for a long moment in the quiet of their room, holding each other, both mentally reflecting on the past year of their shared life. After a while, Claire pulled back, looking up to meet Jamie’s gaze. “I love you,” she said simply. With a quick kiss, she parted, the need to feel helpful growing too strong.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Jamie told her as she walked out the door. Once the sound of her footsteps disappeared, he turned to his suitcase and grabbed the one thing he wouldn’t let her see. He hid it in their room before going down to visit with his family.

~~~

They’d spent the rest of Friday and up til the afternoon Saturday just spending time with the kids. Claire had been surprised that Jamie hadn’t asked for any of her time alone. But as she also enjoyed spending time with the children who Jamie already called her nieces and nephews, she didn’t mind. Jenny and Ian had been very busy with projects they wouldn’t let Claire or Jamie anywhere near, so it helped to entertain the kids. Claire tried to think of the silly games she and Jamie had played as a child. There was a definite chance that Jenny would kill them if they taught her children some of their rowdier games.

The evening was rolling in on Saturday and Claire strolled into the kitchen, ready to help Jenny. Her head snapped up at the sound of Claire’s arrival. “What are ye doing here?”

“I came to help with dinner.”

“Do I look like a woman who needs help making dinner? Are ye saying that I’m insufficient on my own?” Jenny seemed heated and Claire had no clue why.

“Look, Jenny, I’m not trying to start anything. I just wanted to be helpful,” she said, her hands raised.

“Well let me tell ye how ye can help,” Jenny offered. Claire nodded for her to continue. “Ye can get the hell out of my kitchen!”

“Jenny, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Claire, I dinna want ye in here. Get out of my kitchen!” she nearly screeched.

Claire was staring at her friend and nearly sister, completely confused. She was about to press the issue when Jamie walked in. “What’s going on?”

“Get her out of here,” Jenny demanded. “I dinna want her in my kitchen.”

Claire looked to Jamie, hoping he’d set his sister straight. His face bore no expression. He simply shrugged and gestured for Claire to follow him. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“Jamie, what was that?” she asked as she followed him out of the kitchen. “I’ve never seen Jenny like that.”

“Eh, sometimes she’s jus’ no’ a great hostess. It’ll be fine. We can just go for a walk before dinner,” Jamie suggested again. Claire shrugged and followed him out of the house.

They started walking across the vast Lallybroch lands. Jamie’s hand quickly took hold of Claire’s, lacing their fingers together. The sun was getting lower in the sky, but not low enough to set just yet. Even if Claire was still distracted a bit by Jenny’s outburst, she couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful evening.

Jamie slowed down as they approached a big tree near the back of the house. “Do ye recall this place?” Claire smiled fondly at the memories with a nod. “We’d all dare each other of who could get highest in the tree.”

Claire laughed loudly. “Ian was the winner for the longest time until he fell from a lower branch and then was afraid of heights.”

“How he only managed to break his arm and no’ his neck is still a miracle,” Jamie recalled.

“And then your mother wouldn’t let us anywhere near this tree for months,” Claire added, giving the tree a pat. “Should we climb it now?” Claire asked with a devious grin.

Jamie looked down at Claire’s sandals on her feet and her loose top. “Ye’re hardly in climbing clothes, Sassenach.”

“Spoilsport,” Claire muttered, taking his hand again as he started to walk from the tree.

They kept walking, stopping occasionally as Jamie pointed out spots on the estate from their past. It was a nice little stroll down memory lane. Most of the memories made Claire smile, if not laugh outright. Each time they moved onto a different place, she tucked herself a bit closer into Jamie’s side.

Jamie turned to start going up a steep, uneven hill. He held out a hand to stop Claire, instead having her climb on his back. He carried her up the hill and set her down once they reached whatever destination he was hoping to find. “Do ye remember this place?” Jamie asked.

“I’m not even quite sure where we are,” Claire admitted. Jamie pulled back a curtain of foliage, revealing the cave they’d hidden in as kids. “Oh my god, I’d forgotten about the cave.”

“I thought ye might have,” Jamie said, pulling out his phone to shine a flashlight. Claire took his offered hand and followed him in there. They both ducked down, afraid to hit their heads. Both of them were significantly taller than the last time they’d been in there.

Claire sat down on the floor at the back of the shallow cave. Jamie plopped down next to her. She wrapped her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You know the last time I was in here?” Jamie leaned his head against hers. “It was the day after my parents died. Uncle Lamb started talking about how we’d have to go back to England for a bit before we moved on to India. But I didn’t want to go,” Claire recalled. “I ran out of my parents’ house with my backpack and I found myself here.”

“I recall,” Jamie said. “Uncle Lamb came to the house hoping to find ye and my parents had no clue where ye could be. I wouldna tell any of them where I thought ye might be, but I came to find ye here.” A silence hung between them. “Twas when ye told me ye’d be leaving.”

Her hand squeezed around his arm. “I believe I told you that they wanted me to leave, but I’d decided I could just live here and you could bring me food three times a day.”

Jamie laughed at the memory. “That sounds about right. I’d have done so.”

Claire breathed out a laugh, turning her head to plant a kiss on his shoulder. “I know you would have.”

“Twas no’ long after that day that I started begging Uncle Lamb and my parents to let ye stay here,” Jamie remembered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before they stood and made their way from the cave. Walking back down the rocky hill, they continued on the walk down memory lane.

Jamie had slowed in the middle of a big field, his eyes narrowing. Claire turned around and watched him. He stepped a couple of paces closer to her, looking around critically. She had no idea what he was doing. “Aha!” he said suddenly, gesturing for her to join him. He grabbed her arms and made her stand right in front of him. “Right in this spot, one year ago, tomorrow, was where it all began,” he said with a broad grin on his face.

Claire looked around, trying to see if she recognized their surroundings as well as he did. “How can you even tell? It was so dark that night.”

Jamie shrugged. “I just do.”

Claire rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, an amused smile on her face. “Well, seeing as you didn’t bring a blanket, I’m afraid we won’t be having a repeat of those events. I refuse to have sex straight on the grass.”

Jamie pulled her close, whispering against her lips. “What if I let ye be on top?” His lips met hers for a long, heated kiss. The thought lingered on Claire’s mind as Jamie’s hands roamed across her body, landing firmly on her behind.

“We can’t,” she decided, pulling away from him just a bit. “We’ll miss dinner.”

Jamie shook his head. “I kent ye’d say that.”

“Well your sister is already mad at me for something stupid,” Claire reminded him. “I don’t want to make it worse by missing the dinner she cooked.”

Jamie laughed and took her hand again. “I see yer point.” Together, they started walking back towards the house.

There had been a couple more points Jamie had pointed out from their childhood adventures. It amazed Claire how sharp his memory was for that time so many years ago. She loved listening to the stories he told of them as kids, especially the ones she’d forgotten.

The sun was getting even lower in the sky, ducking behind the tall home, throwing the courtyard by the front door into shadow. Jamie led Claire under the archway and paused in the middle of the courtyard. “I think of all the spots, this is the most important one,” Jamie mused.

“Why’s that?” Claire asked.

“Because I was standing right about…” he backed up a few paces, “here the first time I ever saw you.” Claire smiled, a tilt to her head as she stared at him. “I remember thinking ye looked nervous to be here. My mam told me that ye were going to be my new friend and that we’d get to spend a lot of time together. And even then, even at four years old, I was excited about it. If only I’d known then what awaited us…”

Claire smiled at Jamie. She was about to reply when a sudden burst of light came from above them. Looking up, she saw several strings of lights, hung criss crossed above the courtyard, suddenly lit and twinkling at them. She stared at them with a confused laugh before turning to look at Jamie. But he wasn’t in the same place she’d last seen him.

He was down on one knee.

She laid a hand over her heart as tears formed behind her eyes. He hadn’t even spoken yet and she was already going to cry. She didn’t used to be such an emotional person.

“Claire Beauchamp,” he started, seemingly choked up as well, “ye’ve been one of the most important parts of my life since we were kids. Our mothers may have forced us together at first, but I believe it was fate that brought us back together last year. I canna imagine spending my life wi’ anyone but ye. Ye’re the perfect match for me and I like to think that I’m yers as well.”

Claire wiped away a tear, nodding insistently at him. “You are,” she whispered.

“Each day I wake up and I find I love ye more than I did the day before,” he continued. “Ye’re a rare woman, Claire, and I still canna believe ye’ve chosen to be mine. But I promise ye, I’ll do everything in my power to make ye as happy as possible.” He took a deep breath, holding his left hand up higher, a ring glinting between his fingers. “Will ye marry me?”

She cleared her throat, afraid she’d have no voice. “Of course I will,” she rasped. Jamie jumped up off his knee, closing the distance between them immediately. They met for a passionate, yet messy kiss full of emotion and promise. When they broke apart, Jamie took the time to slide the ring on her finger. “God, I love you,” she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.

They were interrupted by the sounds of pots and pans banging together accompanied by a cacophony of cheers pouring out of Lallybroch. Claire turned, expecting to see Ian and Jenny. She was shocked to find all of their friends standing behind the Murrays, all cheering for the two of them. Claire looked over at Jamie, completely shocked. “What on earth? How are they all here?”

Jamie grinned. “I’ve been planning this for a bit now,” he admitted.

The two of them walked closer to the group waiting for them on the stairs. It was at that moment that Claire noticed Joe and Gayle among the group. “You two are even here?” she cried.

They bore matching smiles as they nodded. “Jamie asked me back in Boston,” Joe told her. “When he said what he was planning, we couldn’t miss it.”

Claire stared at all of them, truly touched by all the secrets they’d kept and all the planning that had gone into such a special moment. To have all of their friends there made it even better.

“You’re engaged!” Louise cried, wrapping Claire in a hug.

Geillis hugged the both of them, rubbing a hand up and down Claire’s back. “I’m so happy for the both of ye,” she said, also looking over at Jamie.

“Claire, I have to ask,” John started, “did you see it coming?”

Claire separated from Louise and looked at John. “Honestly, not at all.” She grinned, wrapping an arm around Jamie’s waist. “I guess it’s to Jamie’s credit that he’s sappy and sentimental all the time. I wasn’t suspicious by him wanting to take a walk down memory lane.”

Jamie laughed, placing a kiss on her temple.

“Congratulations, ye two,” Jenny cheered as they walked toward the stairs. “There’s a bit more waiting inside, so perhaps we should all go in.” The group turned to go back in the house. Jenny pulled Claire from Jamie’s embrace, giving her a hug of her own. “I’m sorry I yelled at ye earlier. Twas all part of Jamie’s plan to get ye out of the house.”

Claire laughed, hugging Jenny tighter. “I knew something was off with you! Now it all makes sense! If you yelled at me like that in front of Jamie, he’d normally tell you off for it.”

Jenny laughed, wrapping a hand around Claire’s shoulder as they moved into the house. “Aye, usually he would. Except when it’s his idea.”

Jenny led her into the living room where Jamie was grinning broadly at her. She looked past him and noticed the multitude of decorations strung across the room. Her jaw dropped as she took it all in. There were pictures of her and Jamie all hanging in the room. The biggest one was placed on the mantle. It was a blown up version of the picture of their childhood fake wedding. Claire burst out laughing, walking over to look at it closer.

Ian pressed a glass of champagne in her hand. “That’s there to remind ye that this is no’ yer first wedding to Jamie,” he said with a grin.

Claire laughed harder, hugging Ian. She turned and faced the room. “I truly can’t believe this. I can’t believe that you’re all here. I can’t believe you all apparently kept this very large secret from me for a long time.” They all laughed. Jamie walked over and stood next to her. Her next comment was just for him. “And I can’t believe I get to marry my best friend.” He leaned his forehead against hers, sharing a sweet moment.

“I thought you were marrying Jamie,” John interrupted, “not me.”

“I’m sorry, but are ye saying ye think ye’re Claire’s best friend?” Geillis asked. “I’m afraid that post has been filled since her first year of uni.”

“Yeah, by me!” Louise interjected, her hand raised.

“Oh boy,” Claire sighed.

“Picking your maid of honor is going to be really fun,” Hector commented before taking a sip of his champagne. The others laughed.

“Tis a good thing Jamie already kens who his best man is,” Rupert stated, winking at Jamie.

Jamie looked nervously at Claire before he faked a smile for Rupert. “Sure I do,” he lied. Claire didn’t miss Ian’s glare at Rupert.

Jamie leaned in, whispering to Claire. “Perhaps we should elope.”

Claire laughed. “Ooh, or perhaps we should just go with outsiders. Strangers. That would really throw them all off.”

Jamie laughed, holding her closer. “I like the way ye think.”

Thankfully the conversation shifted as everyone started eating and celebrating Jamie and Claire’s engagement. They sat around telling their favorite stories from before and after they’d become a couple. Jenny and Ian had particularly funny stories about them as children. Claire felt so surrounded by love and friendship and was truly amazed by it.

“I just feel the need to state, for the record, that I called this from the first night,” Louise exclaimed for the room. “I called it!”

“No you didn’t,” Claire scoffed. “You just accused me of falling for Jamie.”

“I was there,” Joe said, “and Claire’s right. That was what you said.”

“Okay, then I called that you’d fall for Jamie,” Louise corrected.

“Well then you should have put that on the record a full year ago, Louise,” Willie pointed out. “Tis no good now.”

“Aye, we already all ken that Claire obviously fell for Jamie. Yer news isna groundbreaking,” Angus agreed.

Louise rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I think we all saw this coming, Louise,” John stated. “Anyone with eyes, really.”

“Okay, we can stop now,” Jamie said before taking a sip of his champagne.

In true fashion, their friends carried on well past when they should have. But nothing could dampen the pure joy between Jamie and Claire. Even if they’d already known it in their hearts, their futures were now officially with the other. Claire wiggled her ring finger, watching the ring sparkle in the light. She looked up to see that Jamie had caught her doing so, an appreciative smile on his face. “I love you,” she whispered just so he could hear.

Jamie leaned in close enough to kiss her. “I love ye, too,” he whispered against her lips before sealing them.

As their friends started to leave, they left one last surprise for the couple. “Really, this is more a gift for Jenny and Ian,” Rupert explained, “but tis a gift for the both of ye as well.” John handed them a key.

“What’s this?” Jamie asked.

“We got ye a room,” Geillis explained.

“Yeah, there’s this sweet bed and breakfast in the village,” Louise told them. “You’ll be staying there.”

Jamie and Claire exchanged similar touched looks before glancing back to their friends. “That’s so thoughtful. Ye truly didna have to do that.”

“Well, like I said, tis more a gift for Jenny and Ian,” Rupert repeated with a wink.

Claire wrinkled her nose at him. Though she couldn’t deny that in the hours since Jamie’d proposed, she’d silently lamented that they were staying in a house with five children and two other adults.

Their group parted, congratulating them again, promising to celebrate again in London.

It wasn’t too much later, but not soon enough, that Claire and Jamie were walking into the bed and breakfast where their friends had gotten them a room. “It was such a nice thought to have them all there,” Claire mused, noting Jamie’s planning. Jamie looked over at her and grinned as they walked up the stairs. “I can’t believe Joe and Gayle came all the way here for it.”

“Joe said they wouldna miss it. But they also are going to be spending the rest of the week on vacation here in Scotland. It wasna just for the weekend,” Jamie informed her. “I gave them a list of places to see.”

“Oh good,” Claire replied. “Coming all the way here for a weekend would have just been insane.”

“Oh aye,” Jamie murmured, pausing his steps as he found their room. “Are ye ready, Dr. future Mrs. Fraser?”

Claire laughed loudly. “Just going to blend all the titles in there, hmm?”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking.”

He opened the door, motioning for her to go first. Jamie had barely gotten in the room when Claire met him in a heated embrace, pushing him back against the door, closing it with their bodies. One of her legs was already wrapped around his hip as they kissed sinfully, their hands everywhere on the other. Before they even left the door, both of them started relieving the other of their clothes. Jamie’s kisses, like his hands, were everywhere. Claire moaned under his attentions. They were too far from the bed. She tried to direct them that way. Jamie’s hands slid down her back and under her arse as he bent to pick her up, meeting her for another long kiss.

Claire broke away from him before he could lay her on the bed, looking down at him earnestly. “I am so excited to spend the rest of my life with you,” she breathed. “I love you so much.”

Jamie’s mouth flicked up into a grin as he laid her down on the bed, quickly climbing over her. “I love ye, too, mo nighean donn. So much.” He began kissing his way down her body, stopping in the places he knew she enjoyed. “Ye’re going to be my wife,” he said into her neck. “How did I get so lucky?”

Claire wrapped her arms and legs around him, moving to flip them over on the bed. “We’re both lucky, my dear. Also, I believe you promised earlier that I’d get to be on top,” she reminded him with a sultry grin before she bent down to close the distance between them.

He clutched her closer to him, their hips grinding against each other before she finally reached down and guided him inside her. She cried out, her head bent back. They moved together, rocking, grinding, sliding against the other. Jamie’s hands squeezed her hips so tightly, she was sure she’d have bruises in the morning. She couldn’t find the energy to care about it when he was still thrusting into her madly.

“Sassenach,” he called out, “give me yer mouth.”

She followed his request, laying herself against him, meeting him for a long, languid kiss as they continued to race closer to their climax.

They laid spent next to each other, still basking in the afterglow of their private celebration. Jamie’s arms held her against him, his fingers running up and down her arm.

Claire held her hand up in the air as they both looked at her left hand and it’s new addition. “You know it’s got a good ring to it.”

Jamie kissed the side of her head. “What does?”

Claire looked back at him, an excited smile on her face. “Claire Fraser.”

Next chapter

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #my writing #if after all these years you'd like to meet

149 notes · View notes

rochibolettieri · 5 years

Text

Thoughts on 4x10 “The Deep hearts core”

Hello! Anyone still reads this? I’m so sorry, I barely had time to sit in front of my computer to write something and yesterday I had no electricity, internet or battery in my phone so...awful day

Well, there’s something with this ep that can’t decipher even now, I mean, I like it but at the same time I didn’t and the writer’s decision to change parts of the book and put more drama than is necessary bothers me a lot. I hate to be negative but I just want to yell at them WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY FAVORITE SHOW??? There were so many beautiful moments that were missing and we won’t get the opportunity to watch them right now. But well, its already done so there’s no use in complaining, I just wish they listen to the critics and do something about it, maybe read the books for one.

Now, about the ep:

I loved the first parts, honestly live for the Fraser’s in the Ridge spending time together, Jamie/Bree bonding their relationship, this is the kind of content I want, from the little chats between them, to Claire/Bree folding clothes, the whole family eating together, tending to the animals etc etc etc. I LOVE IT and I wish there will be more.

Claire/Bree

How difficult it must be for Claire to advise her daughter in the matter of what would she do about the baby, if she wants to have an abortion or not, and more important if her daughter isn’t sure about the paternity of that child. And how difficult to offer herself of being the one who has to perform any decision Bree wants, being the abortion or the birth. For a mother who already had to say goodbye to her once, it must be terrifying to affront the possibility to let her go forever, I mean, what if something goes wrong? (It won’t, but let’s suppose) she would be blaming herself for not being able to care for her own daughter. But Claire let her make a choice, whether it would be going back to the future, or staying there and affront whatever happens.

Now I want to talk about the decision of involving the abortion thing into the episode. I know this is a subject that tends to bring a lot of discussion and don’t want to offend any of you but I honestly think is a clever decision, and putting Cait, a person who fights for the rights of woman is interesting. It wasn’t a wow conversation but at least is how it’s supposed to be. And with this I mean mother and daughter really talking about that possibility, and not making her experience a pregnancy she doesn’t want just because someone else made that decision for her, being Claire or anyone else. I know not everyone thinks like me, but in the last year, with the abortion movement here in Argentina, I realized about a lot of things, but the most important is that there always were abortions and most of them under horrifying circumstances, most of the times the woman who aborts does it in secret, with the fear that if they tell someone, they can exclude them from society, as if it were something bad, a big sin. And that is why it is marginalized, and becomes a taboo. I think it's great to talk about it, make it visible, so applauses for that scene 👏🏻👏🏻

As I said before, the scene when they’re folding clothes was a beautiful moment between them, so intimate, sharing things they miss of the 20th century, eventually missing a part of them they had to leave behind, and things they have in common after all, a relief for having someone who really understands what the other is talking about. For Claire, I think she has Jamie and can talk to him about how things are in the future, but they’re things he hadn’t experienced, but Bree had, and understands for example how modern music sounded, or the pleasure to have a proper toilet. I hope for more of these scenes in the future, is always a pleasure to see them sharing a pleasant moment/chat/whatever.

Jamie/Bree:

I’m still sensitive with how in awe Jamie is over his daughter, he loves her so much and is eternally grateful for having her there. The first scene, when he shows Bree she couldn’t fight against Bonnet and comforts Bree afterwards, was imo really special, but difficult to watch. Jamie knows the feeling of being raped, used as some other wants and without even resisting, and to have his daughter experiencing the same thing as him breaks him into a million pieces. So provoking her and then making her fight, it must be a difficult moment for him, I mean, he doesn’t think like that, he doesn’t want her to remember the incident, but he has to, so he can make her understand that even if she fought, it was in vain and wouldn’t make any difference if she kills Bonnet. Another bonding moment that I will treasure, even if is a hard one.

Another beautiful moment was the one when they look at Claire. Even if it hurts me when Bree refers to Frank as “my father” in front of Jamie (I won’t lie, I hate that. I know is his father for her and maybe isn’t on purpose but seeing Jamie’s face reacting to that breaks my heart into a million pieces), the change of his face when she says she went through the stones for him too is priceless. Again, he loves her so freaking much ♥️

Although, Bree’s reaction about what Jamie did to Roger was a lot. And that’s when the mixed feelings comes to me. I know she has all the right to react as she pleases, after all she was the one raped, and what Jamie did wasn’t good either. I mean, yes Jamie, you are a furious dad searching for vengeance after realizing what happened with your daughter, but beating a man nearly to death? Mmm I don’t think so babe.

The thing is that everything was a huge chain of misunderstandings that ended with Roger being sold to the Mohawk. I repeat what I said last week, it’s a part of the books that I never liked, even though I’m still angry with Roger he didn’t deserve it.

But let's get back to the big fight. I understand both bells, Bree's and Jamie's. He reacted by pure impulse wanting to defend his daughter, and she reacts by getting angry obviously because he sent an innocent man almost to death. Although I still believe that Bree's reaction was exaggerated, disrespectful and very demanding. In other words, hitting everyone, yelling at them and giving them orders about what they have to do is a lot. I don’t know, I was taught to respect the elderly, and however angry I am, I don’t behave that way. And it broke my soul when (again) she mentioned Frank to make him look like the hero who always treated her well but to Jamie like a savage who doesn’t know how to control himself 😔

Jamie telling Bree that she went to bed with someone for lust then faked the rape because she got pregnant was also overstepping, but once he finds out that the rape was real and with a different man, he gets really stunned, and really regrets having said what he said before. I won’t justify what he did, but the man fell into a misunderstanding, trap, however you want to call it, and once he learned the truth he can’t do more than ask his daughter for forgiveness and feel like shit.

We know that both have a strong character, they are stubborn and they want to be right, but so much drama makes me upset and the only thing I want is to skip that fight and go back to the first minutes of the chapter, adding that making Jamie the bad guy and having everyone against him breaks me (I think I already said it) and I only want to hug him and say everything will be okay 😭

I also read a lot of criticism of Claire for not taking sides with anyone. Come on, her daughter is on one side and her husband on the other, and for that matter she loves both, so I understand that it may be difficult for her to side with either of them. Could she have said something? Yes, but she did not. I remember reading in the book that when the two Frasers fought in that way it was preferable to let them get all the fury and not interfere. If I remember correctly, it was what Ian told her in the first book the first time J/C went to Lallybroch and Jamie and Jenny started fighting.

Although, I can only think in my mom. Even if she loves my dad, she always (or almost always) gets on my side. I don’t assume that Claire does it but for that matter she knows the true story. Perhaps also empathized by everything her daughter went through, I don’t know, nobody will know what was going through Claire's head in that moment, and because of this I am annoyed with the writers, if things are not clear there is something that doesn’t work, it’s supposed that the viewer doesn’t have to assume a character thinks one thing or another 🤷🏻‍♀️ But well, I do think she knows Jamie is really sorry and won’t get mad with him for that, at the end of the day, none of them wants to see their daughter hurt.

Roger:

I've already said it many times, and I'm going to repeat it: I don’t like Show!Roger, and at the moment that won´t change. That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel bad seeing the man walking days and nights tied to a horse without the possibility of eating, having a drink or resting, and to that let’s add that he has been beaten. When I saw the ep for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about 3x03 when LJG took Jamie in the same way and I thought, maybe when Jamie deigns to talk to Roger and mend fences with him, and finds out what he suffered, he feels sorry for that man, maybe remember those moments, that weren’t nice for him either.

I also though, how in hell does he have so many energy to be running in the middle of the woods trying to escape? I can’t run like that even if someone pays me for it, haha. But seriously, that scene was dense, like a lot of screen time just between a man escaping and a bunch of natives following him, with what purpose? It could have been used to add something else.

And the scene with the stone, well I’m still confused. I really though there wasn’t any standing stone in the book but in a post of a few days ago, some people clarified that I was wrong (thank you tho!). The only way I found of why he is so hesitant to leave or not is because he is really tired, that he has no strength to continue at a time when (maybe) he doesn’t belong. Maybe it's the only way he finds so that he doesn’t get caught again. But…what about Brianna? Wasn’t it that he wanted to escape to get back to his wife? It is obvious that he won’t return to the future, but that cliffhanger disoriented me. Anyone who likes Roger and explains to me what his thoughts may be?

OH, I ALMOST FORGOT! Murcasta omg. Have you seen that flirting? I’m already aboard of that ship and ready for that relationship to happen 🛳♥️ Sorry @boyneriver-fraser 🙏🏻

I know I'm complaining a lot about this chapter, but I really don’t know what to think. I always try to look around and understand why the characters do what they do, but idk, maybe it's a problem of the writers, of the editors that cut scenes that prevent the story from being fluid, maybe it’s just me. Anyway, let me know what you think and sorry for any grammatical mistakes, it’s 3:30 AM here and i’m sleepy 😴

PS: gifs by Giphy

43 notes · View notes

betweensceneswriter · 6 years

Text

Second Wife-Chapter 14: The Crowded Bed

Second Wife Table of Contents

Second Wife on AO3

Previously - Chapter 13 : Letters and Lallybroch The Balriggan Frasers take a trip to Lallybroch.

‘I could feel her hand on him,’ she whispered. ‘In our bed. Lying there between us, wi’ her hand on him, so he would stiffen and cry out to her in his sleep. She was a witch. I always knew.’” (Drums of Autumn 479.)

In the kitchen, Jenny was looking at Laoghaire with a knowing smile. “Well, Laoghaire,” she said. “Jamie looks well. He was like a ghost, roaming the halls here at Hogmanay. But I was watching as he arrived, and he and Joanie were laughing as they climbed off their horse. I know Joanie is Simon’s, but she nearly looks like she could be his own.”

Laoghaire smiled mildly. She was mixing up the crust for Marsali’s birthday dessert, a rich tart filled with fruit and nuts, and she didn’t want to mis-measure any of her ingredients. Mrs. Fitz had drilled that into her mind, that’s for certain.

When yer baking, lass, ye canna be distracted, Laoghaire could almost hear her gran talking. Making a stew, dinna fash, you can throw in anything in any order, long as you don’t triple the salt. But wi’ bakin’, the measurements matter.

When she’d finished measuring, Laoghaire began pinching together the butter and flour, rubbing the ingredients between her fingers until the butter was evenly worked in, and the crumbly mix was ready for adding cold water.

When Laoghaire had finished mixing up the crust and was pressing it into a ball to roll out, she realized Jenny was standing, looking at her.

“Laoghaire,” she said. “You arna happy. What is it?”

“Jamie may not be a ghost anymore, but there’s another spirit haunting our marriage.”

“I ken we like to joke about the faeries, but are ye speaking of a real ghost?”

“Feels real enough,” Laoghaire responded, but then at Jenny’s confused silence, she continued. “She’s been dead and gone for 18 years.” She dusted the counter top with flour. “Eighteen years, and yet she’s still here.”

“She?” queried Jenny. “D’ye mean Claire?”

Laoghaire winced at the name, and nodded.

“Then ye’ve seen her, wandering about?” Jenny’s eyes were wide. She hadn’t told anyone what she had seen at the wedding, the apparition of a dark-haired woman standing between Laoghaire and Jamie as they made their vows.

“No,” Laoghaire shook her head as she deliberately began rolling the crust as evenly as possible. She took pride in never having to re-roll her crusts, which would make them tough. She shook her head again. “No.”

“Then what can ye mean, Laoghaire?”

“I canna explain it. It was so many years ago at Leoch that I loved Jamie, and she came between us then. And she might have died at Culloden, but in Jamie’s heart, she’s still alive. He cries out for her when he sleeps. He isna mine.”

“Does he not…” Jenny hesitated. “Want ye?”

Laoghaire looked around for children or eavesdropping servants. Finding none, she continued, “Well, he did, but it felt so wrong. I was used to Simon’s ways, and Jamie was touching me as if what he did should please me, like he was waiting for something from me. But it wasna really for me. It was for someone else’s body. I dinna ken what he’s waitin’ for, and I canna help but think of her.”

Jenny frowned thoughtfully. “Well, having only been wi’ Ian, I canna truly understand what ye are saying. But I guess it might be like nursin’ someone else’s bairn. I’ve done it before, to be kind, or when the mother couldna make it back in time for the next feeding. But it doesna feel quite right.”

Laoghaire folded the thinly rolled circle of dough into fourths, then gently lifted it into the pan, unfolding it again to line the bottom and sides of the tart tin.

“’Tis not the only thing in marriage, though,” Jenny said reassuringly. “Are there some things that are good?” Her brow was wrinkled in concern. She had been an advocate of the relationship from the beginning, and she felt responsible.

“Oh, aye,” said Laoghaire. “We are provided for, and I feel safe. There is money for meat at the market, and I’ve been able to sew a new dress for each of the girls. Everything that used to be broken is repaired, and the goats and cows have never produced more milk, nor the chickens more eggs. Our fields are planted, and it already looks like ‘twill be a good crop.”

Jenny sighed in relief. “I’m glad to hear it. And he’s good with the girls?”

Laoghaire smiled. “That he is. Reads to them, prays wi’ them at night. But I just wish he needed me; that he loved me more.”

“My brother…is a passionate man. But he’s a man. I dinna think he knows how to love without touchin, as well.”

“The girls like it when he pets them, but it isna something I like. I’m not a cat.” Laoghaire said irritably, eyeing the well-fed mouser that had wandered in the open door of the kitchen.

“Is there anything that might make it easier for ye to come together in the bedroom?” Jenny didn’t ask in a nosy way, Laoghaire thought. She asked like a friend or sister who wished to help solve a problem.

Again, Laoghaire looked around the kitchen, fearful of eavesdroppers. “Well, there is one thing,” she answered. “The last time Jamie took me to bed, I had been thinking about us when we were young. And my…well…down there…it was wet. When Jamie came to me, it didna hurt like it always did wi’ Simon and Hugh. And I wondered if there was a way to make that happen again. I dinna like it when he puts his hands on my body, though, or touches me there.”

Jenny’s face lightened with understanding. “Oh, I ken. Ye can just use an oil. If you put it on yerself, or he puts on himself, if ye prefer, it makes it easier.”

Laoghaire blushed furiously. “But then, well, when I had Joanie, I tore badly, at the front. And the scars cause it to hurt.”

Jenny moved in closer to Laoghaire. “Now, ye will never tell my brother I said this to ye,” she insisted in a serious whisper.

“Aye,” Laoghaire agreed, nervously.

“Ye might…” Jenny struggled to find her words. “Ye might try it from behind.”

“Why?” Laoghaire exclaimed. “And how?”

“It presses on your body differently. It might not hit the scar tissue the same. And how?” Jenny flushed furiously. “Stand on the floor, and lean yer elbows onto yer bed. He’ll figure it out quickly enough. He’s grown up watchin’ horses; that’s probably how he thought it should be done from the first.”

A bunch of chattering interrupted their conversation, to the great relief of both women, and soon they were surrounded by children begging for “just a wee bite” of the shortbread cookies cooling on the counter.

They had begun their journey at daybreak, and after the long trip and helping with the baking, Laoghaire was quite weary. She withdrew to the guest room where Jenny had put her and Jamie; Marsali and Joan would be sleeping with Kitty and Janet. As she lay on her bed, snippets of memory came to her, moments that changed the course of her life, moments that tore Jamie away from her.

☆☆☆☆☆

When the shout first came out that the rents party had returned, Laoghaire was incredibly nervous, but deliriously happy. Her hands were shaky as she untied her apron and rushed to the dull mirror in the kitchen. She straightened her hair, tying it back neatly. She pinched her cheeks to pink them, and then joined the procession of clansmen and women, servants and maids, that were heading toward the hall. Colum would be greeting the returned travelers, and she would be greeting Jamie.

When she first saw him, her heart leapt. His hair had grown in the time away. He looked older, more manly, stood more confidently. Och, he was gorgeous. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, that deep longing to have him near her. She hoped they would be able to slip away again. Surely after several months, he would be eager to reacquaint himself with her body. She felt her abdomen involuntarily clench inside at the thought of his body, his lips, and his hands on her. How long would he wait to ask for her hand?…Why wasn’t he looking for her?

But then she saw that the Sassenach was holding his arm. When she heard her grandmother’s voice exclaiming joyfully, “They’re marrit !!” she thought she was going to vomit. Or faint. Or both. The blood had drained from her face, and she was breathing shallowly.

That witch. He had married that witch.

As people began to understand what it meant, that Jamie had married a Sassenach, a wind of whispers began. “Jamie canna be laird now!” “Dougal must be happy, but d’ye see the look on Colum’s face?” “Why’d he marry her? Didna we think he should be with one of the lasses from the castle?” “I thought I’d seen him with the bonny blonde-haired lass whose beating he took.”

Shaking with fury, Laoghaire considered the expressions she saw on three faces. Colum looked grimly angry. Jamie was white-faced, particularly when Colum acknowledged Lady Broch Tuarach, but not Laird Broch Tuarach. And the Sassenach looked bitter and annoyed, as if she couldn’t stand for Jamie to be touching her.

They weren’t happy, that was obvious. And she was miserable. Laoghaire couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing.

The story circulated quickly enough. The Sassenach had been captured by Captain Jack Randall, the fierce Redcoat captain whose name was feared the Highlands over, and it sounded like he had beaten her. Good, thought Laoghaire bitterly. Because Mistress Beauchamp was an English subject, she could be compelled to turn herself in to the British, and Dougal didn’t want her witnessing against him, so he decided to make her a Scot by having her marry a Scotsman. It was complex, but at least it explained why Jamie would have done such a thing.

Her quick conversation with Jamie in the hallway left her with more questions than answers.

But during the wee hours of the night, she began to form a plan. And the next day, before she could dissuade herself, she had laced up her corset over her bare skin, pulled her cloak on, and with one last look in the mirror, she headed to the river. She knew she would find Jamie there.

But it had all gone wrong. Laoghaire had run blindly away from the river, sobbing and struggling to pull her cloak over her shoulders. She was mortified, humiliated, furious, devastated. That witch got Jamie to make a vow, and he was so noble, he was keeping it, no matter how unhappy he was to be married to that cold English bitch. No matter how much he wanted her. She had seen it in his eyes, the way he had looked at her body, had put his hand on her willingly, had caressed her with his long, strong fingers. Why had he denied himself? How could he deny his feelings for her?

She couldn’t go to the castle. She couldn’t risk seeing the Sassenach, or she’d be likely to commit murder and go to prison, so she turned toward the village and home, blinking away the tears and trying to control her sobs.

“Lass!” The voice was deep, husky, and gentle. “Are ye well, lass?”

Laoghaire wiped her eyes, one with the back of her hand and the other with the heel of her palm.

“No,” she answered, not yet able to see clearly. Before she knew what was happening, she was pulled in to a firm embrace, two long arms wrapping around her. He was murmuring comforting words to her, and when her shoulders stopped shaking, he took her by the arms and held her away from him to look in her eyes.

“You!” she said.

“Jamie Fraser’s lass,” he said, smiling.

“No,” she said. “He isna mine. He…is…married!” She burst into tears, and John Robert put his arm about her again.

“Now, now, aonan milis,” he crooned. “He doesn’t deserve such a beauty. How can he not see what is right before him?”

“It’s that Sassenach witch,” Laoghaire managed to blurt out, burying her cheek in his chest again. He was strong, and warm, and he smelled of woodsmoke and herbs.

“Aye, I told ye, he isna good enough for ye.” John Robert said. He was beginning to walk with her, one arm around her shoulders, in the direction of her house.

They were passing the tavern, when John Robert stopped her. “Wait here,” he said. “I’d like to buy you some tea, but I dinna want to be surrounded by a crowd. I’ll rent a private room, and you can rest and have tea like a real lady.”

Laoghaire stood in the street in front of the tavern as she waited, nervously pulling the edges of her cloak more tightly together. She knew she should keep walking—her house was only a few blocks beyond the tavern. But John Robert’s handsome face, the way she felt when he held her, and her dismay over Jamie convinced her to remain anyway. In the future, she would say that she could see where the road was leading, and Jamie’s rejection hurt her so thoroughly that she chose the path anyway

“Your parlor awaits,” John Robert said, gallantly offering her his arm. It did seem somewhat strange that he led her into the alley and up a narrow staircase before they entered the prettily decorated parlor, with a tea table and two chairs, as well as a fainting couch.

“May I take your cloak?” he asked. Laoghaire blanched. But then, eyeing him critically, she gently opened the front of the cloak, exposing her corseted torso.

John Robert gasped. “Oh, lass. Did he refuse you? In all this beauty?” With no hesitation, he was in front of her, asking permission with his eyes.

It was what she had wished for with Jamie. It began the same way, with John Robert pulling her onto the couch to sit on his lap, kissing and caressing her lips and face, stroking down her back. When he gently pushed the sides of her cloak off her shoulders and saw her bare neck and bosom he was overcome, pupils dark with desire.

“Mo chraidhe,” he whispered. “Aon àlainn, my beautiful one. Ye are so sweet and lovely.” Swallowing hard, he had gently undone the laces, gasping when he was finished and she was released from the pressure, and her breasts, full and heavy, were revealed.

He laid her back against the couch, then, and traced the circles of her nipples with his fingertips, then lips, then tongue. She was breathless, astounded, overcome with the sensations. This time, when a hand traveled up her thigh, she did not stop it. When he parted the hair and dipped his fingers into that place, it stunned her. It felt like she was floating above her body, the sensation so otherworldly.

“Are you a maid, lass?” he had asked. When Laoghaire nodded yes, he had taken one of the napkins from the table and laid it on the couch beneath her. He had barely disrobed—just unbuttoning the front of his breeks. And as he entered her, as he gently took her maidenheid, John Robert continued to whisper words of affection, extolling her beauty, assuring her of his undying admiration.

Traveling the rest of the way home, she had been floating on air. Jamie Fraser could go hang. She was going to be married to John Robert MacLeod, who loved her as none other had. She felt beautiful, desirable, vindicated, hopeful.

☆☆☆☆☆

John Robert MacLeod, Laoghaire thought bitterly. John Robert MacLeod, the married man from Killiecrankie.

Chapter 15 : By the Ballocks Jenny’s always been good at putting Jamie in his place.

#Jamie fraser #Laoghaire MacKenzie #CanonCompliant #Why did Jamie marry Laoghaire?#Why did their marriage fall apart?#Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

23 notes · View notes

mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 4 ~The Road Trip~

Jamie retreated to his own private thoughts as they drove further away. He must have surmised she needed the space and Claire appreciated the gesture. Looking out of her window, she watched the world move in a blur of green, blue and white, the hiss of the tyres lost under the pounding bass of music blasting from the speakers. Perhaps, though being left with her own ruminations wasn't the best of ideas as the full horror of what of she'd done sank in, the festering guilt making her want to throw up.

Better to talk about it, Claire. Too much thinking is bad for ye, Geillis would have said with a soft cluck of disapproval. How many times had her friend said that leading to her wedding day when she'd been caught staring into space more often than not? She'd withdrawn to herself more and more and had snapped at people for noticing when she should have been a picture of happiness. Not one to beat around the bush, Joe had simply gone straight to the point and had asked her if she was having any second thoughts about marrying Frank. Of course, Claire had brushed off the insinuation as ridiculous, excusing her mood for fatigue from work and wedding jitters. Looking back, she must admit her friends were more perceptive than she gave them credit for. The signs must have been quite obvious, but it was only now she realised she had been living in denial, believing Frank was the love of her life. Not that it mattered anymore as there had been no love lost between her friends and Frank.

Chalking up the acid taste of guilt, she stole a glance at Jamie. Although she couldn't see his eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses, his body language screamed confidence, forearm muscles flexing as he worked the steering wheel. He was clean-shaven today, revealing a well-defined jaw and angular cheekbone. Taking advantage of his full attention on the road, she allowed her eyes to drift, and it wasn't until when he hit the brake did she realised she was staring at his mouth like a charmed snake stares at a pocket watch. Mortified at nearly being caught, she snapped her head forward, mentally cursing herself for behaving like a lovesick loon.

Oh, how Joe and Geillis would laugh when they find out her getaway sidekick was James Fraser of all people. She remembered how they used to tease her mercilessly about her infatuation with Jamie. Regardless of the attraction, she'd declined Joe's offer of an introduction, that practical side of her knowing already he was far out of reach. But, it hadn't stopped her from admiring him from afar. She'd loved his brilliance and skill on the rugby pitch and his enthusiasm for the game. She could only envision his countless hours of training, perfecting the craft, every manoeuvre from the opponent covered, every detail examined and re-examined. His fans had loved him, and so did the media. He oozed an effortless charm, whenever he'd spoken about his passion for the game, holding the audience's and interviewer's rapt attention. It was an impossibility not to admire him, cockiness and arrogance notwithstanding.

Unwittingly, the memory of their kiss slithered in, and she was unprepared for the rush of conflicting emotions it evoked. One would think that at her age of twenty-eight years, she would know all there is to know about kissing. Not that she had kissed many in her life. The first time had been with a co-student while she was in the university, but the onion-smelling kiss had made her gag and given her a cold sore days later. The unpleasant encounter almost put her off kissing forever, well at least for a few years.

Then Frank came along. He'd taught and guided her in the art of love. There had been the odd spark here and there, but it never entirely lit the fire. Whereas Frank's lips tasted of liquorice and old wine and felt loose and spongy, she had been surprised to find Jamie's lips sweet as honey with a hint of whisky, firm yet soft and his breath warm as pie. And when he'd kissed her back, it was like the whole world opened up, and she'd fallen inside. He appeared to have enjoyed it at that time, but she wasn't born yesterday. Inexperienced as she might be, she knew a kiss like that took a lot of practice to perfect. Knowing he'd never been short of women's attention, she wondered how many he'd kissed like that. A betting woman in her would presume, a thousand perhaps?

Oh for heaven's sake, why am I even contemplating about that kiss? It probably didn't mean anything to him. Annoyed with herself for getting distracted at a time like this, she reined in her lascivious thoughts. She hadn't even figured out yet where she was laying her head tonight. Unfortunately, his presence buzzed around her like a fly that she could never swat, making her flustered with his every word, movement and breath. Damn him for looking so good!

She forced her focus on Frank and wondered how he was. They've only been on the road for forty-five minutes, and she was sure that by now, all their wedding guests already knew that she'd absconded. They were hardly going to think she was kidnapped when they find her engagement ring on the table and the window to her freedom open.

"Are ye hungry?" Jamie asked as he pulled the car into the Mark and Spencers parking lot.

"Oh ..." So deep she was in her thoughts, she hadn't realised they'd left the motorway. "I haven't really thought about food to be honest." In fact, she hadn't even thought about any plans either. All of her belongings had been moved to Frank's apartment the other day. She had no money, except for a pricey Vera Wang wedding dress she was wearing that Frank had insisted on buying, despite her protest at such extravagance. "But I'd like some water please."

"Okay. What's yer shoe size?"

"Size six," she replied, too mentally exhausted to asked what he was up to.

"Stay here and keep the doors lock. I shan't be long."

Claire nodded and watched him walked into the store. He was oblivious to the stares that followed him, mostly from women admiring his tall and muscled physique and maybe a few fans who'd recognised him.

She wondered why Jamie was helping her, and what he thought of her running away from her own wedding. Maybe he felt guilty for his behaviour at his nephew's party. Or perhaps he felt responsible because he had been the one to catch her when she fell from the window.

One thing was certain, though, no matter what other people thought, she didn't regret fleeing, but she did feel self-reproach for leaving Frank at the altar. But why oh why did she have to take that moment of all moments to decide to leave him? She could have saved him the humiliation if she'd listened to her guts. But then again, wasn't it Frank who dampened that trait from her? Frank despised impulse and decisions based on emotions, and he'd drummed into her time and time again to make judgements base on rational thinking. But of course, knowing her luck, this had to be the day she chose to reassert her independence and reclaim her intuitive reasoning. She thought about her job in the surgical unit at the Royal Infirmary, where her entire career was carved out, and Frank was the Chief Consultant. Oh, good, God! How is that going to even pan out when I return?

She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to soothe the headache that was beginning to bloom as more thoughts and images flooded in her head like a raging tsunami threatening to drown her. What a bloody mess!

Moments passed, the door to her side opened, and Jamie thrust a bottle of mineral water at her. "Here, Sassenach, drink this first. Ye look like ye're about to pass out."

Grateful, she took the bottle from him and drank greedily. When she had her fill, she watched him load several plastic bags into the backseat. "May I borrow your phone? I need to call my friends. I'm worried about my uncle, and I-I left my phone at the church."

"I spoke to Joe already," he replied. Pushing his sunglasses on top of his head, he gingerly reached behind her and started to tug open the pearl buttons that ran down her back.

Startled, she slapped his wrist. "Wot in heaven's name do you think are you doing?"

He jerked his chin toward the back seat. "I bought ye some clothes and shoes. I think ye'd be more comfortable in something less bulky."

"Oh! Sorry ..."

He nodded and gave her a tight smile. Up close, Claire studied his features and was surprised at how tensed he looked, as he resumed the task of unbuttoning her dress. This veritable ladies' man was trying hard not to look at her exposed shoulders but was failing miserably. Surely, she imagined it.

"So you spoke to Joe?" she asked, bringing her attention back to more crucial matters. Worry reared back up and nipped at her nerves as she waited for his answer.

"Aye. I told Joe everything that happened. He was baffled though when I told him ye were with me. So expect plenty of questions later," he answered, standing up and taking a step back once her dress was unfastened.

"Did he mention my uncle?" Not bothering to go out through the door, she clambered between the front seats and wriggled her way to the back. "How is he?" She peered into the plastic bags and started rummaging through them. There were shirts, denim shorts, a pair of jeans, undergarments, slip-on trainers, and sandals. And snacks and beverages! Wot the hell!

"Yer uncle Lamb, aye. He left the church immediately after he was informed that ye ran away. Apparently to celebrate at the pub. So yer uncle didnae approve of Frank?"

She couldn't help but smile despite the muddle that she was in. Her uncle Lamb thought Frank was too controlling and over-bearing. Pompous ass, he'd called him. "Well, my uncle didn't like him." Not wanting to speak ill of Frank, she instantly changed the subject. "And how about the guests and the press?" Clumsily, she tugged off her dress and quickly scrambled into jeans and t-shirt, yanking off price tags. The clothes were slightly too big, but definitely way better than walking around in a Vera Wang wedding dress.

"The guests were in shock as to be expected. But as soon as the press smelled blood, they stormed into the church. We were lucky to get out when we did." The thought of being photographed while running away from her wedding sent a shiver down her spine. "But dinna fash. Geillis is helping manage the guests and cancellations. It sounded like yer friends are happy to sort everything out for ye."

Relief coasted down her back, loosening her muscles. Finding a packet of makeup wipes in one the plastic bags, she scrubbed her face clean as if she was scrubbing the residue of that day's event. "And Frank?" She squeezed her eyes shut and gulped a lungful of air. "Is Frank alright? Did Joe mention him?"

"Nae idea how he is. Joe said he disappeared into a room and haven't come out. I dinna think yer friends were that fussed about him. They were more worried about ye. Joe threatened to snip my bollocks off if I didnae treat ye right and Geillis shouted she would feed it to the stray dogs."

Typical Joe and Geillis! "Joe is your mate, right? So why would he say such a thing?" Sifting through her hair, she worked out each of the pins that held her wild curls, and dug a small package of hair ties and scooped her tresses into a ponytail. Satisfied, she got out of the car.

A crease formed between his brows as he surveyed her. "Weel, it's a standing joke - I kinda have a reputation where the opposite sex is concerned. Maybe I've earned it."

"Don't believe everything you read in the newspaper about Jamie. Most are just tabloid nonsense." She remembered Joe saying long ago.

Claire saw a flash of resignation on his face and something else, but it was quickly gone before she could decipher it. "I don't think Joe meant it that way, Jamie," she said softly.

"Aye? Ye think so?"

"I know so. Joe had never spoken badly about you. Plus, you're not a joke. If it makes you feel better, I think I feel safe with you," she said, even though he looked like he wanted to spear-tackle someone to the ground.

His lips quirked. "I can assure ye, ye're a hundred per cent safe with me, Dr Beauchamp."

"Ah, so Joe told you I'm a doctor."

"He might have mentioned it." His face turned into a much deeper frown.

Looking down, she rubbed the palms of her hands along the sides of her jeans. Maybe he's worried he bought the wrong size. "Don't worry about them being too big. I wear a lot of baggy clothes all the time."

He shook his head and took a step forward, tilting her chin up. "Frank ... he didnae hurt ye, did he?"

The warm air suddenly turned cold, and her heart faltered. She understood what the question implied. "Jamie. I appreciate everything that you're doing here. Truly, I do. But now's not the time. I'd rather not talk about Frank."

Jamie remained silent and didn't budge, clearly he was waiting for an answer. She certainly didn't owe him one, but he didn't look like he was about to give up that easily. Sighing and too exhausted to argue, she threw her hands up in the air. "Look it didn't work out between us. And I was too much of a coward to tell him. But he didn't hurt me physically, alright?"

He didn't look convinced, but she wasn't in the mood to explain. Turning away from his deepening scowl, she made a move towards the front seat. But Jamie's hand appeared above her head and smacked down to stop her from getting in. "Hang on a minute, Sassenach. We're not done yet."

Claire spun around to find him standing too close. "Wot?"

His cheek twitched twice, and he licked his lips. "Listen. About the other day in Lallybroch, I'd like to apologise. As my younger brother said, I acted like a self-entitled prick waving that hundred-pound note in yer face." The sincerity in his eyes captured her still. "I'm verra sorry."

Bewilderment slipped in. "You don't need to apologise, Jamie. You've redeemed yourself a thousandfold. Those things you bought for me and calling my friends and checking up on uncle Lamb...you thought of everything. I don't think I could have managed on my own. Not to mention, you saved my life."

Jamie stood back and crossed his arms, a vein popping out at the side of his neck. "But I'm not sorry that the kiss happened."

Caught unaware by Jamie's admission, Claire didn't know where to adjust her focus. One minute he was thoughtful and attentive, and then self-effacing and apologetic the next. And now of all times, when life was not making sense, he just had to mention the kiss. Damn him! She felt her temper simmer on the surface, but with not much battery life left in her brain, she bit her tongue. As a doctor, she knew, that a certain level of tiredness could equate to momentary insanity and having a meltdown now in a public car park would only draw unwanted attention.

"I think we should go," she said hoarsely. It took a mammoth effort to turn away from Jamie's scrutiny, but she managed to get into her seat without any more further hindrances.

Suddenly conscious of time and place, he cleared his throat and headed for the driver's seat. "Aye. It's getting late."

"Where are we going?" she asked, as soon as he got in.

"Cullen. It's a village in Moray on the northeast coast. My godfather, Murtagh, has a cottage on a clifftop by the seaside. He's in France at the moment. We'll stay there until the news dies down and you figure out what you want to do next," he replied, as he reversed the car from the parking lot.

She closed her eyes and surrendered to that moment. She was too worn and empty. With a sigh, she resigned herself to letting Jamie take care of things, for now. Tomorrow, with a clearer head, she'd make decisions and clean up the mess she made.

Once on the road, they drove in silence for the rest of the way, as they headed further north, eating up the miles. She was asleep by the time they reached their destination.

Too groggy to appreciate her surroundings, she allowed Jamie to guide her to the cottage and into her room. He muttered something about going to the shop and getting some rest before leaving her on her own.

Once she was alone, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. She stared at the mirror and what she saw, shocked her. Her usual vivid amber eyes were vacant. The spark had died, and only a dull light reflected back at her. How did this happen? She'd always been driven and goal-oriented but basically happy. It's true, she worked long hours and took on a lot of responsibilities, always wanting to help, to heal and to comfort. She'd never stopped craving for knowledge beyond her profession, pushing to educate herself further. But over the past year, all she experienced was paralysing fear. The fear of knowing she wasn't good enough. Not good enough for Frank. Not for the world. Not even for herself.

Painful memories of Frank's words seeped into her heart and reverberated in her head.

Claire, must you wear those clothes? You look pudgy around the hips in it.

Aw, darling, I know you try your best, but this is just beyond your understanding. Here, let me handle things for you.

Sweetheart, you're a doctor now. Pick a hobby that isn't remotely childish.

Claire, stop cussing. You're embarrassing me in front of my friends.

Listen, dear. We're attending an important charity event here and not a circus. Please do something about those wayward curls.

Sweetheart, if you really love me, you'll suck my dick. No ...not like that, dear. A little bit more teeth.

Are you sure you want that dessert, darling?

You call this a steak? I'd be too embarrassed to serve this to a dog. Maybe you should attend a culinary school.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and then she turned away from the mirror. Turning off the light, Claire went to bed.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

0 notes

satc-revisited · 6 years

Text

season two episode eighteen: ex and the city

Oh my god. I absolutely hate how long it takes me to a.) come back to these and b.) write one of these. I never mean to be gone this long, but every time I do the world is completely different and I can't talk myself into writing one, until I'm doing nothing else but watching Sex and the City and scolding myself about not finishing this series. How effing hard could it be? The show is 30 minutes long for Christssake. I am going to make an effort to do these and complete these for no other reason than it should not be that hard to do so.

Anyway.

Some random flower market in NYC. As Carrie talks about life being about choices, they shoehorn in a metaphor about "big choices" so that of course we can segue to Big. Carrie is buying flowers and unsure whether to get the bouquet that lasts for three days or five days. Miranda doesn't care, so Carrie gets the cheaper ones. This scene is a cacaphony of color.

Suddenly Miranda spots Steve heading towards her down the street, in his workout gear and playing with a basketball. Miranda snaps the phone shut and panics, dragging Carrie away so that her money literally spins out of her hands and she doesn't buy the flowers, trying to drag her down the street before Steve spots them. Unfortunately he already did, and looks pained at knowing that Miranda would go so far as to run away from him on the street. Carrie turns back and mouths a silent apology before letting Miranda pull her away in a feign of calmness.

Later at the coffeeshop, the girls are all splitting dessert in a way that makes me think they didn't actually have lunch first. Carrie is recounting how hurt Steve looked at Miranda's snubbing. Charlotte sympathizes, but Miranda doesn't think she should be expected to small talk with a man who has been inside her. She says when she sees former couples that are still friends, she has no idea how they manage to do it. Samantha, of course, says she's never been able to be friends with any man, because "women are for friendship, men are for fucking." Even though Carrie snits another SATC-ism at her that is a part of my normal vernacular ("sweetie you have got to learn how to form an opinion") I'm with them both. I've never been able to be friends with an ex. It took me forever to reject offers of monogamous relationships that I didn't want, and even LONGER to learn how to dump in relationships I was over, and I've barely even approached the idea of not hating and wishing death on exes let alone being friends with them. I've only just now had any ex that I ended on good terms with, and I think that's only because I'm still in love with him (kind of, not as bad as it used to be) and I was still the one who broke it off for practical (though still insulting) reasons. Although I disagree about women being for friendships. Women bore me. (Just for fun, look at me talk about that guy for the first time here http://satc-revisited.tumblr.com/post/50545556678/season-one-episode-three-valley-of-the-twenty, literally a million years ago. He was 22! Omg. A baby.)

Charlotte says, immaturely, that if the relationship doesn't work then the man doesn't get her as a friend. As if that hurts anyone at all or anyone even cares. Carrie goes along with this framing, asking whether Charlotte really thinks denying her friendship is a punishment, and Samantha corrects this perspective, because denying "friendship" after is letting them off easily. Definitely. A man no longer having to put up with you after he's no longer fucking you is a win for him. The punishment is making him still deal with your bullshit even though he no longer gets any of the benefits. Miranda says she'd love to be someone who breaks up and then is all "go, prosper," but she's much more "we didn't work out; you need to not exist." I have only a handful of years til I'm the same age as the actresses are supposed to be at this point in the series, and it no longer seems realistic to compare where they are to where I hope to be or not be when I'm that age.

Anyway, Carrie says this kind of post breakup behavior is childish, even though she acknowledges she isn't any better because she hasn't been able to be friends with Big, but she still laments that it has to be that way. Samantha says their vanquished love goes from your failed relationship to their next one with another woman, and Carrie disagrees, claiming that there's no way Big and Natasha's love is the same as hers and Big. Miranda notes that Carrie stopped calling Natasha "the idiot stick figure with no soul," and Carrie admits it's because she happened to see them in a coffeeshop holding hands and being lovey, and she finally understood that her ex has moved on and is happy. She says it was ok, but this causes a silence that is only broken when Samantha goes back to balefully bashing Natasha, and the others join in.

Later, Carrie is parlaying this into her column, wondering what needs to be present in order to be friends with an ex. How is it possible to transfer a formerly passionate love into something platonic?

Miranda is this scene of single domesticity when she randomly gets a knock on the door. It's Steve, having somehow gotten into the building past the buzzer that he'd need downstairs and is standing at her door. Miranda pauses but Steve knows she's there. She opens the door and Steve immediately starts condemning her from running away from him on the street. Miranda tries to explain that she wasn't expecting to see him and she doesn't do well with ex boyfriends. Steve gets all emo and says, "Miranda, this is me, Steve. I held your head while you were sleeping" which seems like a low blow. Miranda's eyes instantly fill with tears, and she turns away while Steve invites himself in. When Miranda starts freaking out, Steve starts to backtrack but it's too late. Miranda starts ranting about how she's a shitty person and Steve would never do anything that shitty to her. "What do you call showing up to your apartment [unannounced] and calling you shitty?" Steve asks, which breaks the tension. And probably this is the moment where it should be known that Steve and Miranda should be together, because being able to relate to each other this way and having this kind of pull over each other seems like the stuff of lasting love. Steve asks about getting together for dinner or something, and although Miranda begs off because she has a date, they hug and plan to get together again soon.

And in a massive return of the Subplot of the Week that I Absolutely Do Not Care About, Charlotte is on a run when she sees a horse and starts reminiscing about the horse she used to own that bucked her and scarred her for life. Blah blah blah.

Samantha is wearing red with leopard print. You know... can you imagine strutting around looking like this in every day life? Whenever my life (and body) is perfect and I can get away with wearing this kind of eye popping shit I'm always uncomfortable with it, because I live in a big city and I hate being catcalled and hit on by randoms when I'm just trying to go about my daily life; I've never gone out with any asshole annoying enough to try to get my phone number on the street or in the grocery store or something, so it's always awkward and irritating to want to look good just to have to turn down a bunch of jerks interrupting your day. Like if it's night time and I'm at a place, yes. If it's the day and even if I'm wearing something hot, please just leave me alone. Samantha crosses paths with some suit wearing guy who looks like a meathead Brendan Fraser, and gives a percursory stop in front of the Prada store to give him the opportunity to talk to her. He quickly asks her out to dinner and Samantha laughs at how direct he's being. "How'd you get to be so cocky?" she asks, and we are in for an ironic mirror of the last season finale. Samantha takes his number and agrees to think about meeting him for a drink.

Later, Carrie spots a crazy ridiculous looking floral print dress in her closet from the 80s and apparently this convinces her that if she can hang onto old bullshit clothes, she can be friends with an ex. She drops the dress and immediately calls Big (and in Carrie's world of finding crazy rationalizations to excuse her behavior, this one is an obvious stretch). Unfortunately Natasha answers the phone and Carrie rudely hangs up in her face. Then she remembers that this is the 90s (or whatever) and caller ID is a thing, so she calls back. This time Big answers, and Carrie somewhat coolly returns to normal, explaining that she accidentally hung up the first time, and asking him to apologize to Natasha for her. She tries to be an adult and ask about how his wife is doing and Big tries to go with the flow, even though he thinks Carrie sounds nuts. He's wearing a money green tie, which is an interesting though lateral change from the usual yellow gold one he's outfitted in.

Carrie makes a bit of a to do about how she's making the "first call," and pulls out a prepared speech, explaining herself: the speech asks about no longer pretending the other doesn't exist and trying to be friends instead. Big says neutrally enough that he'd like that, since he's wanted to call Carrie but didn't know whether she wanted to hear from him. She asks if he'd like to do lunch and he readily agrees.

We snap right into the lunch date, for which Carrie is wearing her hair loose and a plaintive carnation pink dress. She notes that she used to make their lunch reservations in Big's name, but this time she put it in her own. I don't get why that's supposed to be a big deal or anything... is it supposed to be a thing to make reservations in your partner's name or something? Anyway, Big sidles over from the bar and babbles nervously, tripping on a slick portion of floor, which amuses Carrie to see that he is so anxious. They are shown to their table and try to politely carry on as though there is no history behind this meeting. This facade quickly crumbles when they change their orders of water to scotch and a cosmopolitan respectively.

A short while later, the drinks have loosened things up to the point where Carrie thinks the simple expedient of alcohol is all you need to be friends with an ex. Carrie is complaining about Big's music choices that she apparently sorely tolerated, while Big chortles immoderately. They are reminiscing about shared mornings and other relationship memories that seem too intimate a dip down memory lane than I'd have thought would be a good idea, but whatever. I still haven't tried to be platonic non sexual friends with any of my exes so what do I know. Men ARE for fucking - why would I be friends with them without it?

Carrie stops and ceremoniously clanks her knife against her bowl and announces she wants Big to tell her about Natasha. "Really?" Big asks, spotting the gaping hole in this logic even if Carrie is going to pretend not to see it. And he only gets as far as calling Natasha "sweet" before Carrie has to cut him off, unable to deal with it. I know some day my ex is going to choose a girl, and it's going to be someone he wants in a way he never wanted me, and there's no way I could hear or even be anywhere near him existing and wanting this person in stark defiance of the way he was beaten down into giving into my persistent and mindlessly devoted desire. Like, I can't be anywhere near that shit. I wouldn't even pretend. My entire existence being shorn into such a forgettable annoyance in the face of seeing you actually choose someone else - no fucking way. Finally looking at the reality full on that he'd done it in the PAST was what finally insulted me enough to stop embarrassing myself; what on earth could I be expected to do with that as a current reality? It's what made me want to stop wanting him, stop the middle of the night texts, showing up for hard won trysts, all of it. My dignity finally reappeared, belatedly freeing me from all the realities my desire for him so effectively blinded me to.

Anyway, Carrie should have realized she was outpaced when she couldn't even stand to hear Big call his girlfriend "sweet," and obliviously asks that they not talk about relationships until they're really serious. Big pauses and informs her with pity in his voice that he is serious about Natasha. See? This. This moment here. I couldn't exist anywhere in the same galaxy as this. You don't choose and that's my shame; I won't let you rub it in by telling about someone else that you DID. As Carrie blinks disbelivingly, Big drops the bomb that they are engaged. Carrie claps her hands to her forehead, looking unseeingly through a sudden splitting headache. Big stammers through an explanation but Carrie reaches reliably for righteous rage - "how can you be engaged? You have a problem with commitment, remember?" Yeah, well, I can see that not being much of an issue when the woman is 27 and you are 42. I had a rebound with a man who was born in the 70s - I never asked exactly when - and even though that had to have been somewhere around possibly a decade plus of an age difference, it wasn't close enough to ever remove the daddy/daughter dynamic. Which, I ain't have a daddy. So I was naturally resistant to that.

Carrie points out that Big told her he never wanted to get married again. Big brushes this off, so Carrie clarifies that he just never wanted to get married to *her*. She then downshifts into dramatic anger and tells him not to even speak Natasha's name to her, after he wasted two years of her life only to marry "some twenty five year old *girl* after only five months." Heyooo. I wasted like four years of my life with my ex and he only just NOW admitted to stringing me along, despite my frequent and persistent overtures that he just tell me to fuck off if he really wasn't interested in me. It was the craziest thing... I'd been with men who acted *the same way* I was behaving, and I could see so clearly why it was wrong and why they shouldn't be doing it, yet when I was in the position of wanting someone that was resistent to me, I could not shut off the very same behaviors that I knew had pushed me away.

Carrie dramatically rises in front of Big and tries to ignore the fact that the entire restaurant is staring at her yell at Big and nearly trip over a chair on the way out. Check out this aggressively besuited crowd though lol. Literally everyone in this restaurant looks like they're having a business meeting.

Big tries to catch Carrie and asks her not to end things like this. Carrie continues to rant, somewhat disingenuously, that she was trying to be friendly. But, is that really true if you can only be friends predicated on your ex never moving on with someone else, or only doing so in circumstances that are acceptable to you? Like, if you're going to be friends with him, then you kind of lose the right to have conditions based on your failed relationship I feel like? At any rate, Carrie snits off in a huff leaving nothing but destruction in her wake.

The next day Carrie joins Charlotte who is trying to literally get back on the horse, bitching about Big's engagement the whole time. She's wearing cuffed jeans and a red halter with gold strappy sandals. Charlotte reminisces more about her old horse and I still don't care. Carrie rants that she was the one who broke in Big and made him ready for commitment and now Natasha "gets to ride him." As someone who has had two exes get married immediately after to the next person they dated, another get in a really long term relationship after and another date someone who looks just like her after, I no longer have any energy to complain about what I did or didn't provide for an ex's next moves. And to be fair that's probably an age thing. My exes that are still in their early/mid twenties didn't settle down after me.

Samantha took up "Mr. Cocky" on his offer of a "very friendly drink," ending with them back at her place. Samantha is explaining that she never picks up men off the street and bangs them (an obvious lie) and Mr. Cocky says he has to warn her about something: he has a really large penis. Samantha giggles giddily, but he corrects her that he's not just being cocky and it's a real problem; most women can't deal with it. Samantha thinks she's seen it all and nothing he is packing could scare her. Additionally, do you know what happened in this scene that no one talked about?

Mr. Cocky is married! That goes totally without any mention whatsoever. So I won't whine about it either. Mr. Cocky seems downtrodden and sad about his huge penis, but smiles when Samantha encourages him. However when he drops his pants, Samantha gives a small cough and looks increasingly alarmed as he walks over what can only be a fireman's hose closer to her.

The next day walking down another new york street with Carrie, Samantha recounts her surprise and dismay. She's also wearing sunglasses in her hair again, and this time she's wearing an entirely leopard print dress NEXT TO Carrie's red dress. As Samantha prattles on, Carrie reminds her that this time last year she dumped a guy whose dick was too small, asking "what are you, Goldicocks?" How long do you think the SATC writers were waiting to use that one?

Steve and Miranda are coming back after their friendly dinner; Steve wants his tshirt back and for some reason Miranda decides to give it to him. Please. This would be another downside of being friends with an ex. You ain't getting those tshirts back, homeboy. Steve tries to kiss her goodnight, and Miranda gives him the cheek. But Steve has something else in mind as he slowly wheedles her into a hook up. Maybe that was his plan all along... either way, another count against trying to be friends with an ex. So far they are 0 for 2 for trying, aren't they? Miranda and Steve sit awkward in bed after, discussing why they broke up. Miranda cites money, schedule, and goals, and Steve agrees halfheartedly. Miranda seems open to a FWB thing, which has never worked with Steve so I don't know why she'd think it would now. He clearly isn't behaving like he doesn't want her back.

Across town, Samantha has decided to give Mr. Cocky another try. She puffs on a blunt after having taken "two advanced yoga classes," and tosses her leg confidently on his shoulder. She starts breathing exercises and he plays along. I mean, if you're gonna fuck a guy with a ridiculously huge dick, you probably shouldn't go for legs on the shoulders, right? He starts to push in and Samantha is both capably accepting and pleased. But then he says "ok, here we go," and Samantha is alarmed that they're not already there yet. Yeah, I don't know. I don't sleep with black men anymore, so this kind of thing doesn't come up. Long story short, we get the waka-waka-waka payoff that this was how Samantha made her first male friend.

Charlotte successfully got back on the horse. Moving on.

Big is hanging out in a yellow polo and those old man house slippers and decides to call Carrie. He gets her machine and starts to leave a message, calling to apologize and manages to do so sincerely enough. It turns out Carrie is standing there in her nightgown screening.

("Screening" probably isn't in the average millennial vocabulary because answering machines weren't a thing when we might have been using them.) Big says he didn't want to hurt Carrie and she hurried picks up, effusively agreeing with this sentiment. Dude... if I made an ass of myself shouting at my ex in a restaurant and got a splitting headache at the news that he was engaged to someone else, I wouldn't be eagerly awaiting some sign of contrition and an apology. This would be beyond the point where I'm fervently wishing for an ex's violent death. Carrie apologizes for her behavior as well, acknowledging that she needs to move on. She tries to be a bigger person and wish him the best with his life with Natasha; she doesn't mean it but she wants to eventually. Ugh. She and Big have had these dramatic breakups like three or four times now, which is uncomfortable for me to acknowledge. Those suck. Carrie managed to hang onto this positive outlook until one day she gets an invitation to their engagement party in the mail. She drops it on the bed and silently kicks it away with her foot without even opening it.

Later, Carrie is at that one bar they like to go to, ranting about how Big is six blocks away at an engagement party. Charlotte offers incredulous solidarity, but Carrie maturely begs off; she was kidding herself thinking they could be friends because they never were that. Yep. Each girl has a different brightly colored martini glass and I wonder if that's a real thing that restaurant did, or something that was just affected for the fact that this is television.

Samantha orders another round while Carrie continues to bitch. "Why her?" she whines, which translates to "why not me?" Miranda says, "one word: Hubble" which Carrie gratefully seizes upon as the answer to all her problems. Apparently something something something The Way We Were which I've personally never seen and probably never will - the Casablanca school of romantic film is not ever going to be my jam, sorry, blame the generation gap - which from what I can gather is like... Barbara Streisand as an Othery Jew in love with a generic bland white man who chooses a classy brunette which makes Carrie draw the helpful parallel that she is a fellow wild and crazy curly haired woman that gets overlooked for the safe choice. The other girls are appalled that Samantha has never seen The Way We Were - "chick film," Samantha explains. Carrie may have curly hair, but it's not that she's too complicated to love. She's just a delusional overdramatic fuck up. Even if the world were boiled down into "the simple girls and the Katie girls" you still have to acknowledge that "complicated" often means "fucked up" and/or "crazy." I'm not easy to love and it's fully because I'm a can of worms, not that I'm "complicated." The difference, I think, is that I recognize this makes me a difficult partner; I'm not trying to pass it off as men not being strong enough to deal with my particular brand of baggage. Generic girls are more malleable. It's not the epiphany Carrie righteously attempts to grasp. Also: if this really was an Othery Jew parallel, which Barbara Streisand is, I gather, famous for being, that's kind of.... shitty of this show to do.

The girls start loudly/drunkenly singing in the restaurant which the other patrons abide placidly enough. It's a classic SATC scene and while I don't begrudge Carrie looking for an ego-softening explanation to why she was rejected for a more easygoing partner, at the same time... what's wrong with just accepting that you weren't chosen and that's all there is to it? You don't have to make the other woman a "simple girl" and yourself an enigmatic type to complex for ordinary men. You weren't good enough. Really. Sometimes it's just that simple. You weren't good enough. And it annoys me that a lot of people see no problem with rejecting others based on capricious, small, and tenuous flaws, but have to do Dominique Dawes level mental gymnasts to avoid accepting that anyone could reject them, too, the same way.

To that end, Carrie struts over to Big's engagement party at the plaza, bursting with the overflowing arrogance of her enlightenment of being too much for Big. She's wearing another timelessly simple dress which is flattering.

A plain white dress for her ex’s engagement party, I guess, geddit? She isn't planning to go in but can't stop herself from swinging by anyway. She happens to catch Big and Natasha as they are leaving, and Big spots her, leaving Natasha waiting in the limo with Raul. He walks over and smarms about being speechless. "The party's over," he says. "I'll say it is," Carrie retorts. She hoists up a huge heaping helping of hubris with vulnerability and asks baldly why it wasn't her. See, you can't rationalize that you were the better choice if you're going to fucking ask the guy why he didn't pick it. Like, that oxymoron is everything that's wrong with Carrie's perception of herself and her relationships. Which is why this scene always annoyed me. The lengths that Carrie had to go to, to end up at the conclusion that she's some wild mare that couldn't be tamed and that's why Big walked away from her. Listen. I don't say this unkindly. I fully acknowledge and would admit that I am often too much for most men. But like... THAT'S NOT A FUCKING GOOD THING. lol. At the end of the day there's something about you that prevents you from being able to come down to the same frequency that everyone else prefers to operate on, and while you personally can choose not to view that as a flaw, that that doesn’t make you inferior to anyone, it doesn't mean it's a good way to be, when the rest of the world doesn't accept it. You can like that you're different without scolding others for not being accepting of your differentness, I guess, is what I'm saying. And Carrie not being able to come to that conclusion doesn't make her a unique and interesting person, it makes her someone wounded that is scared to truly look at herself. Someone who’s been rejected but never troubles herself to think there’s possibly a legitimate reason why.

At any rate, Big soft pedals this entire conflict and tells her "it just got too hard," which Carrie eagerly clutches to, since it allows her to continue to think of Natasha as "simple." Again, I ask. How is that a bad thing when Natasha got the guy in the end? Carrie saunters off, coddling her bruised ego with her massive rationalizations, and tells herself a bunch of bullshit single women everywhere have been telling themselves to make themselves feel better about the fact that they never get chosen in the end.

#sex and the city #hbo #sarah jessica parker #carrie bradshaw

5 notes · View notes

ghezalplusmovies · 7 years

Text

For roughly the entire month of August, my brother and I traveled all around Japan seeing the sights and scarfing down on some incredible food. While staying in Okinawa for a few days, we decided to venture to the local theatre to see what was cooking. Unfortunately, the two films I would be into rewatching, Wonder Woman and War For The Dawning Of The Rise For The Planet Of The Apes, weren’t out yet so we had a choice between The Mummy or the latest Pirates movie… We chose The Mummy and quite honestly, any bit of enjoyment I felt for it was due to the fact that I was vacationing in a foreign country.

(For those interested in my Japan adventures, scroll down to the end of this review!)

The eye thing was cool | Universal Pictures

[63]

The Mummy strove to kick start Universal’s Dark Monster Universe by featuring Tom Cruise doing all the things that make Tom Cruise Tom Cruise. The end product results in Super Cruise teaming up with Jane Seymour after they’ve had sex once (and apparently fallen madly in love following it) and fighting an ancient force who I kept referring to as “Imhotep.” The film also stars Jake Johnson and Russell Crowe doing his best Dr. Strangelove impression. It is directed by Alex Kurtzman (People Like Us)

So I have certainly seen worse things in my life. Universal’s attempt at getting into the modern cinematic universe game unfortunately falls flat which is truly a shame because the premise of The Mummy is actually pretty interesting. I’m obviously aware that the iconically classic 1999 Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz-led film of the same name bares no cinematic connection with this one, however if there was some way to harness even half the fun & heart featured in The Mummy (1990) and shove it down the throat of 2017’s, I would’ve enjoyed it much more.

The Mummy | Universal Pictures

As I mentioned, 2017’s The Mummy is not the worst thing in the world to spend an afternoon watching. I can certainly tell the $125 million budget went toward the action set pieces and Tom Cruise’s attempt at being a roguish lovable scoundrel. These set pieces were visually pleasing and featured occasional bouts of humour which caused some nice sharp air being blown out of my nose. Sofia Boutella is easily the strongest aspect to the film, her performance as the mummy Ahmanet contained a (somewhat) clear motivation and during the sequences which asked for more out of her emotionally, she definitely went there. Virtually every other aspect, however, was a jumbled, cringey mess with an overabundance of expository flashbacks and so many goddamn jump scares the Paranormal Activity franchise probably sued.

I understand why Tom Cruise is cast in this, but for the love of Gods, I hate that he is cast in this.

We are beaten over the head with the idea that he is a character type I despise: the roguish and brazen wacky rascal who throws the rule book out of the window because RULES ARE FOR NERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDS. Listen, if you’re in an ancient cave thing where you’re unsure what anything is or how valuable it has the potential to be, why not just take your weapon out and shoot at something… We don’t have time for being safe, damn it! Just shrug your shoulders and whip it out! While I love Cruise’s early works and actually enjoy the Ethan Hunt character in the Mission: Impossible films, The Mummy becomes unbearable at parts because of Tom Cruise. I get the foreign market appeal he brings and honestly, the film performed as well as it did because of Cruise’s name so I do not place any blame on the studio for making that creative decision… I can rightfully hate them for that decision but hey, studios gotta eat.

The secondary characters are serviceable but are really not that great either. Jake Johnston’s comical sidekick character from American Werewolf In London became mind-numbingly annoying as the film progressed and Russell Crowe who actually isn’t a terrible Jekyll/Hyde – He just kind of sleep walks his way through until the moment where SPOILER Hyde comes out and his constant need to beat himself out of it reminded me of a shitty impression of Peter Sellers’ legendary portrayal of Dr. Strangelove. END SPOILER

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb | Columbia Pictures

Annabelle Wallis… Man. She was given absolutely nothing to work with. I actually love her performance as Henry VIII’s third and most beloved wife, Jane Seymour in the Showtime series The Tudors. It wasn’t the most arduous of roles to prep for, however the chemistry she shared with Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and most importantly, the sheer elegance she brought to that role still sticks with me even years after her character… departed (history spoiler: he didn’t behead Jane). Ever since then, I’ve been waiting for her to nab a role that showcases and challenges what she’s made of and this role as Dr. Damsel In Distress is simply not it. I don’t need every female character in an action movie to remind us that she’s an independent woman who don’t need any assistance because regardless how sharp your skills are, you may eventually need some form of help whenever a difficult situation arises. What I do need is for her to be treated like a human being whose hair and makeup become just a tad disarrayed when they’re in a car rolling down a hill.

If you take her character out of the film completely, virtually no form of story progression would occur because she’s used as that classic damsel who gets into trouble and oh look! Thank God our trusty handsome rogue is here to save her and progress the story! The entire final act comes slumping along because she consistently finds herself in need of assistance from Tom Cruise. You know, I do appreciate that her character was seemingly not having any of Tom’s shit during the beginning of the film, it stunned me when she actually stood up for herself when this dork of a man was running his mouth rather than her finding it endearing. Here I go, bringing up 1999 again but Rachel Weisz’s character of Evie in that film served a purpose beyond being O’Connell’s love interest. Their bond gradually developed as the film progressed, her intelligence was as vital a part to her as her beauty was and holy hell, was that beauty beautimous.

Side note: If you’re familiar with the Roanoke season of American Horror Story, you’ll know that one of the common complaints to come out of that season was virtually every scene where Queen Sarah Paulson‘s character would scream out “MATT! MAAAAAAAAAAATT!” Since her character was seemingly in danger at every turn. We’d constantly be hit with a screaming “MATT!” which eventually turned into a meme itself. The Mummy does a great job in containing its own MATT with Wallis’ character screaming out “NICK! NIIIIIIIIIICK!” at every single turn.

Alright let me wrap this up here, there were moments when I had to plug my ears a bit because the fast paced music suddenly slowed down and I knew a jump scare was imminent. I don’t want shitty jump scares in my action movies. I don’t want shitty jump scares in my horror movies. I think every film should be allotted one shitty jump scare and then it tries to find a way of making the movie scary without thrusting its erect audio into my ear drums. There are also some logical inconsistencies toward the final battle I couldn’t shake and if the Dark Universe is going full steam ahead with their already planned slate (STOP DOING THAT, MOVIE STUDIOS. STOP PLANNING YOUR 10 MOVIES WHEN THE FIRST ONE HASN’T EVEN GONE INTO PRODUCTION) they must try to do as much revamping as they can to avoid another gorgeously empty shell of a picture.

[Credit: Universal Pictures]

If you’re looking for a film with a great performance by Sofia Boutella and want to roll your eyes while watching CG porn, check out The Mummy (2017).

The Mummy receives 2/5 Matt Damon heads.

featured image credit: Universal Pictures

Japan 2017

As mentioned, my brother and I visited the amazingly stupendous country of Japan for about 29 days. The cities we visited included Tokyo, Osaka, Okinawa Island, Nara, Kyoto, Kobe and I’m pretty sure that’s all. Major highlights ranged from feeding deer at Nara Park to feeding our faces with some of the finest cuisine I have ever had in my life.

The quick slideshow below shows a few pictures taken throughout our visit. Among the captivating places we visited, we journeyed to where Bob whispered a final goodbye to Charlotte at the Shibuya Crossing and also endured a sweltering day at Universal Studios Japan. If you have the means and are interested in stepping into a world of pure inebriation, make your next vacation be Japan.

6/5 Damon heads.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Mummy (2017): Brendan Fraser Deserves Better Than This (Review… In Japan!) For roughly the entire month of August, my brother and I traveled all around Japan seeing the sights and scarfing down on some incredible food.

#Brendan Fraser #movie reviews #Movies #Rachel Weisz #tom cruise

0 notes