Every so often Jamie Fraser will say something so Magical that Claire will have to tell us about it herself...


The Fiery Cross
"Seas ri mo lamh, Roger an t'oranaiche, mac Jeremiah MacChoinnich!" Stand by my hand, Roger the singer, son of Jeremiah MacKenzie. Roger stood stock-still for a moment, eyes dark on Jamie, then moved toward him, like one sleepwalking. The crowd was still excited, but the shouting had died down, and people craned to hear what was said.
"Stand by me in battle," he said in Gaelic, his eyes fixed on Roger, left hand extended. He spoke slowly and clearly, to be sure of understanding. "Be a shield for my family--and for yours, son of my house."
Roger's expression seemed suddenly to dissolve, like a face seen in water when a stone is tossed into it. Then it solidified once more, and he clasped Jamie's hand, squeezing hard.

Drums of Autumn

He took both my hands in his, then, and kissed them---the left, which still bore the gold ring of my marriage to Frank, and then the right, with his own silver ring.
"Da mi basia mille," he whispered, smiling. Give me a thousand kisses. It was the inscription inside my ring, a brief quotation from a love song by Catullus. I bent and gave him one back. "Dien mille altera," I said. Then a thousand more

From one of our many talented artists in the Outlander fandom

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We start with....

The 13 most ridiculous things Jamie from ‘Outlander’ has said during sex
What's this about a waterweed?


There are so many things that I, a hot-blooded American woman, find sexy about Jamie Fraser from "Outlander" — both in Diana Gabaldon's books, and on Starz's hit TV series. I admire his bravery, fall for his charm, swoon over his 18th century feminism, and of course, simply die for his strong, sexy arms.

BUT (and this is a minor "but," here, unlike Jamie's insanely chiseled, very major BUTT), sometimes the things that Jamie "honey pot" Fraser says between the sheets are so Shakespearean — so ripped from the pages of a middle-aged mother of two's dream journal — that I can't help but chuckle. Like, if you ever meet a guy that rattles off soliloquies before he finishes feel free to call my bluff, but I would reckon most dudes, by nature, spend more time grunting and less time coming up with creative metaphors for your honey pot like Jamie does.

Unrealistic or not, however, these creative sexual metaphors are Jamie Fraser's thing — and thus, I have learned to love them. Especially these 13, which made me laugh out loud but also kind of turned on at the same time? Whatever, you get it.

" I’m sorry. I didna mean to hurt ye. But I do want to be in you, to stay in you, so deep. I want to leave the feel of me deep inside ye with my seed. I want to hold ye so and stay wi’ you ‘til dawn, and leave you sleeping and go, with the shapes of you warm in my hands."

"Aye, beg me for mercy, Sassenach. Ye shallna have it, though; not yet ... "

"And I mean to hear ye groan like that again. And to moan and sob, even though you dinna wish to, for ye canna help it. I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break, and scream with the wanting, and at last to cry out in my arms, and I shall know that I've served ye well."

" Look. Look down. Watch while I take ye. Watch, damn you!"

"Lord ... it's slippery as waterweed!"

"I didna say I wanted an apology, did I? If I recall aright, what I said was 'Bite me again.'"

"When I come to ya fierce and wanting, and ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it's only that you're struggling to come closer, and I'm fighting the same fight. Or when I come to you needing, and ye take me into you with a sigh and that quiet hum like a hive of bees in the sun, and ye carry me wi' you into peace with a little moaning sound."

"I am your master … and you're mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own."

"I want to hold you hard to me and kiss you, and never let you go. I want to take you to my bed and use you like a whore, 'til I forget that I exist. And I want to put my head in your lap and weep like a child."

"When I hold ye between my two hands and feel you quiver like that, waitin' for me to take you ... Lord, I want to pleasure you 'til ye cry out under me and open yourself to me. And when I take my pleasure from you, I feel as though I've given ye my soul along with my cock."

"I want to hold you like a kitten in my shirt, mo duinne, and still I want to spread your thighs and plow ye like a rutting bull!"

"Ride ye I will!"

"I feel like God himself when I'm in you."

Even Claire laughed at this one. Never change, Jamie Fraser.


"All right," he whispered. His eyes bored into mine, daring me to close them, forcing me to hold his gaze. "All right. And ye wish it, I shall punish you." He moved his hips against me in imperious command, and I felt my legs open for him, my gates thrown wide to welcome ravishment.
      "Never," he whispered to me. "Never. Never another but me! Look at me! Tell me! Look at me, Claire!" He moved in me, strongly, and I moaned and would have turned my head, but he held my face between his hands, forcing me to meet his eyes, to see his wide, sweet mouth, twisted in pain.
      "Never," he said, more softly. "For you are mine. My wife, my heart, my soul."


“Claire,” he said softly. “Oh, Claire. You gave me all yourself from the first time , and held nothing back from me. You never did. When I asked ye for honesty, I told ye then that it isna in you to lie. When I touched ye so—” His hand moved, cupping my buttock, and I flinched, not expecting it. “How long have I loved you?” he asked, very quietly. “A year? Since the moment I saw you. And loved your body how often— half a thousand times or more?” One finger touched me then, gently as a moth’s foot, tracing the line of arm and shoulder , gliding down my rib cage ’til I shivered at the touch and rolled away, facing him now. “You never shrank from my touch,” he said, eyes intent on the path his finger took, dipping down to follow the curve of my breast. “Not even at the first, when ye might have done so, and no surprise to me if ye had. But you didn’t. You gave me everything from the very first time; held nothing back, denied me no part of you.”“But now …” he said, drawing back his hand. “I thought at first it was only that you’d lost the child, and maybe were shy of me, or feeling strange after so long apart. But then I knew that wasn’t it.” There was a very long silence, then. I could feel the steady, painful thudding of my heart against the cold ground, and hear the conversation of the wind in the pines down below. Small birds called, far away. I wished I were one. Or far away, at any rate. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why lie to me? When I had come to you thinking I knew, anyway?” I stared down at my hands, linked beneath my chin, and swallowed. “If …” I began, and swallowed again. “If I told you that I had let Louis … you would have asked about it. I thought you couldn’t forget … maybe you could forgive me, but you’d never forget, and it would always be there between us.” I swallowed once more, hard. My hands were cold despite the heat , and I felt a ball of ice in my stomach. But if I was telling him the truth now, I must tell him all of it.
Dragonfly in Amber


“I am thinking that you’re verra beautiful, Sassenach,” he said softly.
“Maybe if one has a taste for gooseflesh on a large scale,” I said tartly, stepping out of the tub and reaching for the cup.

He grinned suddenly at me, teeth flashing white in the dimness of the cellar.
“Oh, aye,” he said. “Well, you’re speaking to the only man in Scotland who has a terrible cockstand at sight of a plucked chicken.”

I spluttered in my brandy and choked, half-hysterical from tension and terror.
Jamie quickly shrugged out of his coat and wrapped the garment around me, hugging me close against him as I shivered and coughed and gasped.

“Makes it hard to pass a poulterer’s stall and stay decent,” he murmured in my ear, briskly rubbing my back through the fabric. “Hush, Sassenach, hush now. It’ll be fine.”


“Take your shift off, Sassenach. I havena seen ye naked in nearly four months.”“Well … no, you haven’t,” I agreed , hesitating. “And I’m not sure I want you to.” One eyebrow went up. “Whyever not?”“Because I’ve been indoors for weeks on end without sun or exercise to speak of. I probably look like one of those grubs you find under rocks—fat, white, and squidgy.”“Squidgy?” he repeated, breaking into a grin. “Squidgy,” I said with dignity, wrapping my arms around myself. He pursed his lips and exhaled slowly , eyeing me with his head on one side. “I like it when ye’re fat, but I ken quite well that ye’re not,” he said, “because I’ve felt your ribs when I put my arms about you, each night since the end of January. As for white— ye’ve been white all the time I’ve known ye; it’s no likely to come a great shock to me. As for the squidgy part”— he extended one hand and wiggled the fingers beckoningly at me—“ I think I might enjoy that.”“Hmm,” I said, still hesitant. He sighed. “Sassenach,” he said, “I said I havena seen ye naked in four months. That means if ye take your shift off now, ye’ll be the best thing I’ve seen in four months. And at my age, I dinna think I remember farther back than that.” I laughed, and without further ado, stood up and pulled the ribbon tie at the neck of my shift. Wriggling, I let it fall in a puddle round my feet. He closed his eyes. Then breathed deep and opened them again. “I’m blinded,” he said softly, and held out a hand to me. “Blinded as in sun bouncing off a vast expanse of snow?” I asked dubiously. “Or as in coming face to face with a gorgon?”“Seeing a gorgon turns ye to stone, not strikes ye blind,” he informed me. “Though come to think”— he prodded himself with an experimental forefinger—“ I may turn to stone yet. Will ye come here, for God’s sake?”
Echo in the Bone


“What happens to them? To the wild Indians?” Jamie asked curiously, peering into the dark as I was, as though trying to divine the future among the shifting shadows. “They’ll be defeated and driven back, will they?” Another small shiver passed over me, and my toes curled. “Yes, they will,” I said. “Killed, a lot of them. A good many taken prisoner, locked up.”“Well, that’s good.”“I expect that depends a lot on your point of view,” I said, rather dryly. “I don’t suppose the Indians will think so.”“I daresay,” he said. “But when a bloody fiend’s tryin’ his best to chop off the top of my head, I’m no so much concerned with his point of view, Sassenach.”“Well, you can’t really blame them,” I protested. “I most certainly can,” he assured me. “If one of the brutes scalps ye, I shall blame him a great deal.”“Ah … hmm,” I said . I cleared my throat and had another stab at it. “Well, what if a bunch of strangers came round and tried to kill you and shove you off the land you’d always lived on?”“They have,” he said, very dryly indeed. “If they hadna, I should still be in Scotland, aye?”“Well …” I said, floundering. “But all I mean is— you’d fight, too, under those circumstances, wouldn’t you?” He drew a deep breath and exhaled strongly through his nose. “If an English dragoon came round to my house and began to worry me,” he said precisely, “I should certainly fight him. I would also have not the slightest hesitation in killing him. I would not cut off his hair and wave it about , and I wouldna be eating his private parts, either. I am not a savage, Sassenach.”“I didn’t say you were,” I protested. “All I said was—”“Besides,” he added with inexorable logic, “I dinna mean to be killing any Indians. If they keep to themselves, I shallna be worrying them a bit.”“I’m sure they’ll be relieved to know that,” I murmured, giving up for the present.
Drums of Autum


“I’ll see ye safe marrit, and your bairn wi’ a good father,” he murmured to her. “I swear it to ye, a nighean.”“I can’t marry anybody,” she said, sounding choked. “It wouldn’t be right. I can’t take somebody else when I love Roger. And Roger won’t want me now. When he finds out—”“It’ll make no difference to him,” Jamie said, grasping her harder, almost fiercely, as though he could make things right by pure force of will. “If he’s a decent man, it’ll make no difference. And if it does— well, then he doesna deserve ye, and I shall beat him into pulp and stamp on the pieces, and then go and find ye a better man.”
Drums of Autumn

“I wish to say something,” he said, in the tone of one making a formal statement before a court. My heart had quieted while he held me; now it fluttered in renewed agitation. “What?” I sounded so apprehensive that he laughed. Only a breath, but he did laugh, and I was able to breathe again. He took my hand firmly and held it, looking into my eyes. “I don’t say that I dinna mind this, because I do. And I don’t say that I’ll no make a fuss about it later, because I likely will. But what I do say is that there is nothing in this world or the next that can take ye from me—or me from you.” He raised one brow. “D’ye disagree?”“Oh, no,” I said fervently. He breathed again, and his shoulders came down a fraction of an inch. “Well, that’s good, because it wouldna do ye any good if ye did. Just the one question,” he said. “Are ye my wife?”“Of course I am,” I said, in utter astonishment. “How could I not be?” His face changed then; he drew a huge breath and took me into his arms. I embraced him, hard, and together we let out a great sigh, settling with it, his head bending over mine, kissing my hair, my face turned into his shoulder, openmouthed at the neck of his open shirt, our knees slowly giving way in mutual relief, so that we knelt in the fresh-turned earth, clinging together, rooted like a tree, leaf-tossed and multi-limbed but sharing one single solid trunk.
Written In My Own Hearts Blood


"Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
"I said I was a virgin, no' a monk . . ."


"Dear God," he said still softly, "I couldna look at ye, Sassenach, and keep my hands from you. Nor have ye near me, and not want ye." James Fraser,


"I've seen ye so many times," he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear. "You've come to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes. When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely, I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face. But ye never spoke. And ye never touched me."


“I dar­e­say.” He edged into the room and cir­cled me at a cau­tious dis­tance, eyeing my nether limbs with inte­rest. “And what are those?”“Like them?” I put my hands on my hips, mode­ling the draw­string lea­ther trou­sers that Pha­edre had con­struc­ted for me — laug­hing hys­te­ri­cally as she did so — from soft bucks­kin pro­vi­ded by one of Myers’s fri­ends in Cross Creek.“No,” he said bluntly. “Ye canna be going about in — in — ” He waved at them, speechless.“Trousers,” I said. “And of course I can. I wore trou­sers all the time, back in Bos­ton. They’re very practical.”He looked at me in silence for a moment. Then, very slowly, he wal­ked around me. At last, his voice came from behind me.“Ye wore them outs­ide?” he said, in tones of incredu­lity. “Where folk could see ye?”“I did,” I said crossly. “So did most other women. Why not?”
“Why not?” he said, scan­da­li­zed. “I can see the whole shape of your but­tocks, for God’s sake, and the cleft between!”

“I can see yours, too,” I poin­ted out, turning around to face him. “I’ve been loo­king at your backside in breeks every day for months, but only occa­sio­nally does the sight move me to make inde­cent advan­ces on your person.”His mouth twit­ched, unde­ci­ded whe­ther to laugh or not. Taking advan­tage of the inde­ci­sion, I took a step for­ward and put my arms around his waist, firmly cup­ping his backside.“Actually, it’s your kilt that makes me want to fling you to the floor and com­mit ravish­ment,” I told him. “But you don’t look at all bad in your breeks.”He did laugh then, and ben­ding, kis­sed me tho­roughly, his hands care­fully explo­ring the out­lines of my rear, snu­gly con­fined in bucks­kin. He squee­zed gently, making me squirm against him.
“Take them off,” he said, pau­sing for air.“But I — ”
“Take them off,” he repea­ted firmly. He step­ped back and tug­ged loose the lac­ing of his flies. “Ye can put them back on again after, Sas­se­nach, but if there’s flin­ging and ravis­hing to be done, it’ll be me that does it, aye?”


“Never,” he whispered to me, face only inches from mine. “Never,” I said, and turned my head, closing my eyes to escape the intensity of his gaze. A gentle, inexorable pressure turned me back to face him, as the small, rhythmic movements went on. “No, my Sassenach,” he said softly. “Open your eyes. Look at me. For that is your punishment, as it is mine. See what you have done to me, as I know what I have done to you. Look at me.”
Dragonfly in Amber


"Aye, well, ye may be right about that. I seem to recall wakin' the next morning after our wedding and wondering for a moment whether I'd been in a fight. Then I saw you in the bed wi' me and knew I had."


“Aye, well, perhaps. I've come close to death by hanging, and I didna like the waiting a bit. I've nearly been killed in battle a few times; I canna say I was much concerned about the dying then, though, bein' too busy to think of it. And then I've nearly died of wounds and fever and that was misery enough that I was looking forward verra keenly to being dead. But on the whole, given my choice about it, I think perhaps I wouldna mind dying in my sleep, no."
Drums of Autumn


"How in the name of God d'ye think I should do that Sassenach? ...Shall I fly to Scotland like a bird, then? And lead folk back behind me, walkin' on the water?"

"You'll think of something." I said miserably. "You always do."

"I hadna realized you thought I was God Almighty, Sassenach."


You are my courage, as I am your conscience,” he whispered. “You are my heart – and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do you not know that, Sassenach?”


Are you drunk, Jamie?”

"Dinna ken,” he said, laughing. “But I’m sure you are, Sassenach. Let’s go home,” he whispered, leaning close and drawing his tongue up the side of my neck. “I want ye to make me say, ‘Oh, God,’ for ye.”

“That…could be arranged.” I’d cooled down during our walk, but the last five minutes had lit me like a candle, and if I’d wanted to go home and take off my stays before, I was now wondering whether I could wait that long.

“Good,” he said, pulling his hands out of my skirt. “And then I’ll see what I can make you say, mo nighean donn.”

"See if you can make me say, ‘Don’t stop.’”
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood


My father told me never to take advantage of a woman who was the worse for drink," he said.
"I'm not worse, I'm better," I assured him. "Besides-" I executed a slow, sinuous squirm of of my own. "I thought he said you weren't drunk if you could find your arse with both hands."

He eyed me appraisingly.

"I hate to tell ye, Sassenach, but it's not your arse ye've got hold of - it's mine."


"I prayed all the way up that hill yesterday," he said softly. "Not for you to stay; I didna think that would be right. I prayed I'd be strong enough to send ye away." He shook his head, still gazing up the hill, a faraway look in his eyes.

"I said 'Lord, if I've never had courage in my life before, let me have it now. Let me be brave enough not to fall on my knees and beg her to stay.'" He pulled his eyes away from the cottage and smiled briefly at me.
"Hardest thing I ever did, Sassenach."


"I'm sorry," Jamie said. "I dinna mean to wake ye, lass."

"What are you doing? Why are you awake?" I squinted over my shoulder at him. It was still dark, but my eyes were so accustomed that I could see the faintly sheepish expression on his face. He was wide awake, sitting on a stool by the side of the bed, his plaid flung around him for warmth.

"It's only....well, I dreamed you were lost, and I couldna find ye. It woke me, and....I wanted to look at ye, is all. To fix ye in my mind, to remember while I'm gone. I turned back the quilt; I'm sorry you were chilled."


"I want to hold you hard to me and kiss you, and never let you go. I want to take you to my bed and use you like a whore, 'til I forget that I exist. And I want to put my head in your lap and weep like a child."
The mouth turned up at one corner, and a blue eye opened slitwise.
"Unfortunately," he said, "I can't do any but the last of those without fainting or being sick again".

Page produced by Dorianne Panich 


  1. Wonderful, James Fraser, an enigma of a man!

  2. I love every one of these bits of dialogue. We have missed some of it already in the television series, but I dearly hope that the rest will be included in the script in the seasons to come. I would give most anything to hear Sam Heughan say these lines as Jamie Fraser.

  3. Wonderful. Delightful to read those lines again. I thought this more than before: how in the world did Gabaldon make that man so so real? All of the characters actually. They step off the page and into my world.....and stay here.

    1. They live with me every single day. I'm so grateful for them.