but i wonder what he's hiding from her

Comfort Inn Ending | 4

“It was you who Jungkook gave his heart to- that is, until the day you broke it. And it is you now, hoping that some faultlines can be repaired, and that some broken hearts can be put back together again.”

pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: angst, smut
wordcount: 8.3k
inspiration

part one | two | three | fourfive | six | seven


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Stay Away | Zach Dempsey x Reader (ft. Monty Dela Cruz)

Genre: Angst, Romance
POV: Reader’s/First Person
Warning: Containg swearing, violence and sexual harrasment!!

A/N: This was personally hard for me to write, but it was requested. It’s a bit heavy and it’s not the usual fluffy write-up you guys often get from me. Nonetheless, I will be posting a new fluff piece tomorrow, so stay tuned! Meanwhile, I hope you guys like this for now.

Request: Hai, I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Zach and his girlfriend (the reader) are hanging out and he despite her trying to hide them he sees a bunch of bruises on her and gets really worried and mad asking her what happened only for her to tell him that Montgomery had beat her up in a drunken state because she refused to sleep with him. This causes Zach to get mad and go beat him up and threatening him to never go near the reader again.

—–

Zach and I were watching TV when he suddenly said he was hungry. I pout at him and sigh as a response as I got up from the sofa and make my way to the kitchen to quickly cook something up. Zach was feeling a bit hungover after yesterday and he loved being treated like a baby whenever he was sick. I took out 2 bowls of instant ramen to satisfy his hunger.

I held onto the sleeves of my sweater while leaning on the kitchen counter as I waited for the water to boil. The incident from Jessica’s party last night replayed in my mind once again. Zach would flip if he knew and I didn’t want to ruin Zach and Monty’s friendship. Besides, Monty was just drunk, I think to myself, he was just intoxicated and didn’t know what he was doing. But it still wasn’t an excuse, I continue to think. The incident scared me, Monty, scared me.

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The end of all things (Pt.1)

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Taehyung X reader

Fandom: BTS

Summary: BigHit thought it would be a good idea to have someone else be your boyfriend’s girlfriend. As in she walks around him and takes pictures with him for social media but he was all yours when he came home. That’s what you thought until he admits you’re actually the other woman and he’s been in a relationship the entire time you were dating. He’s just now telling you he wants to break up after you tell him you love him for the first time.

Pt.2 // Pt.3

Originally posted by the-rap-man

The restaurant was filled with people sitting around the two of you. Across the table was the man you’d fallen in love with but he had yet to say anything since you arrived. You watched him face to get a read on him but all you ended up focusing on was the details of the face you loved so much. He long eyelashes became apparent as he just stared down at the table. You focuses changes to look outside the window and across the street you see a sign about a movie night. Your lips curve into a smile and you look back at Taehyung.

“There’s going to be a movie night tonight. We should go together-”

“Y/N, Stop it..” He says with his deep voice.

Your smile begins to fade and you grow quiet. 

“I don’t want you to make this harder than It already is. We both know why we’re here….” Taehyung adds.

You look down into your lap, trying to push down the overwhelming feeling to cry.

“I know. I just Don’t believe you.”

He finally looks at you.

“You’re lying when you say you don’t love me. You’re lying when you said you never loved me..You-…..We spent all that time together so don’t tell me that none of it meant nothing to you. I don’t even care if you’re still going to see her! I just want to be with you. Please, Tae.”

He sighs, knowing you wouldn’t just give up.

“I don’t love you. What did we do for the most part?”

You looked up at him, meeting eye to eye. He serious expression was a little intimidating but you had to respond. 

“…What are you implying?”

Taehyung stood up from the chair, getting his wallet out of his back pocket. He paid for your meal.

“Let’s not do this here. Come on, let’s go.”

You grabbed onto his arm, turning him around.

“Just answer me!” You finally cracked. 

The whole place got quiet and people turned their heads to see what was going on. When they took notice of the two of you people started to recognize Taehyung and they took pictures. You knew this would be bad publicity for him but nothing else matter to you than the fact that you were going to lose him. He pulled his arm away from you slowly, leaving the restaurant alone. You stood there in the middle of the place all by yourself. Before you could stop yourself you chased after him. 

“Wait! Just give me one week!”

He stopped walking on the sidewalk to turn around and look at you.

“What?”

You ran over to catch up, looking up at him.

“If you stay with me for a week I’ll make this easy for you. No strings attached and we can have a clean break-up….Please. I don’t know if I can just get over you this easily otherwise.”

A look of pity swept across his face and he sighed once more. 

“Fine. One week but Y/N. I love her and one more week with you isn’t going to change that.”

You nodded. “I know…but can you at least act like you love me for this last week?”

Taehyung looked down as if he was contemplating it but eventually agreed. You had him for one more week and it didn’t even bother you that it would be filled with fake love and meaningless sex. If you got to hold his hand for just a little bit longer or see him smile at you one more time you were happy. That in itself was sad but you were blinded from the stupidity of it. The two of you went your separate ways home and you found yourself in your bed checking twitter. Not to your surprise were pictures of you two at the restaurant from earlier and people wondering who you were. You sighed knowing this would cause slight drama for him but also felt he deserved it. You kept replying the memories of you two that you cherished. You refused to believe that he was using you for sex when he was always so sweet to you. Afterwards he’d turn on the TV for the both of you and cuddle you until you fell asleep. The night he thought you’d fallen asleep he kissed your head and whispered something you knew was a lie.

“I love you…what bullshit…” You mumbled to yourself.

Then you started to think about all the times he invited you over with the boys and how well you all got along. He’d sneak up behind you and scare you, making you both laugh. The thought of him laughing back then feels so strange now. Why would he try so hard to just hide the fact he never loved you? What did that girl have that you didn’t? She never once interacted with the other boys, unlike you. From the one time you met her she was high maintained and awfully stuck up. You couldn’t help but wonder why someone as sweet-well who you thought was sweet, would end up with someone like her. You reached for your phone off the night stand, dialing the number and placing the phone up to your ear. You took a deep breath.

“Hey Jimin…are you busy?”

“Y/N I don’t think I should be talking to you right now.” He stated, sounding sorry for you.

“P-please, just wait. I wanna know what I did wrong and I know for a fact he won’t talk to me about this. If you don’t know anything it’s okay…”

Jimin sighed. “It’s really not what you think and it’s not my call to talk about this.”

“Did he really never love me?”

Jimin grew silent on the other end.

“I think it’s best if you just let him go. He can make his own decisions and he made it clear to us what he chose. I’m really sorry. Things will get better, okay?”

“No, I get it. Thanks anyways.” Your voice was starting to shake.

As you hung up the phone you realized you couldn’t hold it back any longer, sobbing into your pillow. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted when you finally ended up crying but you also felt weak. Normally you wouldn’t be so hung up on a guy who cheated on you but technically he was cheating on someone else with you. A text notification went off, penetrating your train of thought. You wiped your eyes, checking to see who it was.

TaeTae ♥:

  “I’m coming over soon so be ready.”

You sat there trying to figure out what he was talking about until you remembered what you had said earlier about the movie night. You jumped up and rushed to get ready before he showed up. If you had one week left you were going to make the most of it.

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Five)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

My own Jamie,

Almost six months ago, I learned that you survived Culloden. You made history, my darling! Q.E.D.

As many nights as I’ve lain awake in those months cursing myself for not having looked soonerI know I shall thank God every day of my life for the series of events that led me at last to the right pages, to you. When I fully realized what it meant— that you had been spared the death you faced so bravely that April morning, the death that has haunted my thoughts and my nightmares for so long— It was like a wound, the oldest and deepest scar ripped back open, inch by inch. I was completely laid bare from it, from the storm of emotions warring within me: such joy, such anguish for the lost time (how many more years could we have had, Jamie, had I looked?), such fear—and then joy again, because the years of grief could now be ended, and *against all reason!* I could see you again.  

Likewise will I thank God every day for the small voice in my head that nudged me at the very last moment to go first to Lallybroch, rather than to your shop in Edinburgh. Please thank Jenny for me. She explained everything. 

It is for the best, that it happened this way; easier, I think, for all concerned. Perversely, despite the shock, I find myself smiling in this moment: for we promised there would be no lies between us, remember? It is a promise I make to you again, today. You can know, then, with absolute certainty, that it can be no lie when I tell you that I am glad glad and on-my-knees grateful to Heaven that you have found true happiness. 

After all the pain and the loss, the war and the hunger and the suffering you’ve endured, to know that you have a wife with whom you’ve found something new and wonderful; that you have had the joy of holding your own children in your arms, to have seen them be born and grow? It is a balm, Jamie, a comfort to know that despite all the cruelty fate has dealt you—dealt us— you have been blessed with such great and abundant joy. Never would I wish anything less for you, just as I know you would not for me. 

It is my deepest prayer that as you read these words, you will know the truth of them, will be able to feel my heart through the page, and KNOW that from its very depths, I wish you every happiness with your wife and your daughters. 

And yet I couldn’t leave, couldn’t go back from whence I came, without telling you about another little girl, who was born the 23rd of November the year of Culloden. 

I hope the contents of the brown packet, here enclosed, tell you more than any words could about your daughter—our daughter—Brianna Ellen.

Jamie was shaking—no, he was — crumbling

Every breath wrenched through him, agonizing, and the tears were falling, blurring his vision. He had to sit back on his haunches to keep them from dropping onto the page and blurring her precious words. 

Her words

CLAIRE’s

His hands were quaking with

November

with EVERYTHING

Jesus, GOD in 

Couldn’t

He COULD NOT think

Thoughts, words, they were—

They failed him, simply abandoned him as he shook on the study rug. Only his body seemed to know the way, for he was snatching for the parcel, tearing at the string binding the paper. There was an oily, unidentifiable wrapping within, then a layer of soft flannel, and then —   

The sound that escaped him—He didn’t even know there existed such a sound within him. It was terrible and beautiful at once, and though it was in no language, what he felt, his lips over and over formed a word, the only word he could muster: “No….NO….” 

For as though a great knife had cut through those terrible, looming stones on the accursed hill, Jamie held his infant daughter, newly-born, sleeping there in the palms of his hands. The portrait—picture?—painting?—was all in shades of grey, and yet somehow lifelike as a true bairn in miniature before him, like peering through a spyglass straight into that distant life.

He had not a single thought to spare for how, or by what means…

He could only trace the bitty wee fists curled on the blanket, the sweet wisps of hair on the tiny skull.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” 

He couldn’t look away, could not even blink, though tears were coursing downward. 

God, the child —this very child — 

—delivered safely into the world and into the arms of her mother—her mother.

The babe had lived—LIVED.

The pad of his thumb caught slightly as he caressed her cheek, and the portrait slid upward just enough to reveal — “Ohh…Jesus…”

She was grown to a toddling child, eating a cake that was smeared all about her face. And damn him if he didn’t LAUGH amidst the weeping to see just how pleased with herself she looked for it, a cuddly toy raised in triumph like a sword, four wee teeth visible as she giggled out a victory cry.

There she was again, older, standing in a great snowfall, naught but wee cheeks and grinning eyes visible under the great padded suit she wore against the cold. 

Older, still. Three? Four? Sitting proper-like in a pretty frock with her hair combed smooth. 

Such a sweet face—

Older, still, standing with a wee box in her hand beside a giant something with wheels, proud and eager, eyes bright.

And then he was gasping as the spyglass world ignited into blazing, brilliant colors. He saw his daughter’s hair, red and victorious and shining against the black coat of the huge dog she hugged tight; saw the pink flush of her cheeks, spread down her neck as it always did his, when he was happy and exuberant.

On and on flashed the paintings, these captured moments of his daughter’s life.

Going fishing and doing a damn fine job of it. 

Playing uproariously in the sea-surf, splashing and laughing with complete abandon.

Absolutely lovely as as she grew out of girlhood, and God, how vividly he could see Claire in her, as she did—in the lines of her, the way she held her mouth, tilted her head—that broad, clear brow that begged to be kissed, reverently—

Laughing, carefree, safe

Braw and strong as she chopped wood. Good lass!

Gazing softly out a window, seeming not even to notice her image being captured. 

On 

and on

and on 

until he was gasping and looking at the last portrait, of an achingly beautiful young woman sitting on a rock before a fire, making camp for the night, perhaps. Her face was cast in the same golds and red as her hair; the dreams of her heart seeming to dance across her eyes—as they always did her mother’s. His daughter…grown.  

The paintings were strewn all around him on the carpet, a tableau of her; her life. On his knees he bowed over them, overwhelmed and shuddering with great sobs as he looked, and looked, and looked.

She was—

She would be

…..she was well.  

The child HAD been safe.

It hadn’t been for naught. 

He fell, then, and sheltered her like a cloak, keeping his child, his daughter, safe and shielded from the world for just one moment; safe…his….

Brianna


It was only sudden, ripping, screaming panic that yanked him out of the quiet calm, searching wildly, fumbling with desperate hands—

But relief tore from his throat just as suddenly as he found a second page: 

Not everything can be captured in a photograph, of course (that’s what they’re called. Did I ever tell you about them?), and there’s so much I long to tell you about this wonderful person.

Will you believe she’s been taller than me since the age of thirteen? She carries it like a queen, though, like I imagine your mother did. She doesn’t slouch or try to hide. Not Bree. 

Oh, yes: most people call her Bree, for short. 

She bites her nails, when she’s thinking hard. I don’t even think she notices when she’s doing it.

She’s absolutely brilliant, Jamie, studying at one of the top universities in the world to be a historian. You would be so very proud of her. 

She’s not perfect, of course. Perhaps her biggest flaw as half-Scottish is that she HATES whisky, haha. I’ll do my best to win her over, though, don’t you worry. 

She’s a spectacular artist, another way in which she takes after her grandmother. She captures you, completely. 

That statement, actually, is true in more ways than one. Our Brianna is captivating, in every way. 

She’s an absolute wonder with maths and figures —as natural to her as breathing, it seems, just like they are for you. 

She smiles in her sleep, just like her father. 

She’s so like you, Jamie, it breaks my heart. 

After Frank died—But Lord, I haven’t said anything of him. 

It was two years ago. He had a good, full life, and he loved Bree more than anything in the world. He could have been cruel, could have taken out his anger upon the child, the very breathing manifestation of the ways in which I’d betrayed him—but he didn’t. From the moment he first held her, Frank loved her as his own, and while things between he and I were tenuous, to say the least, I will always love him for the father he was to her, for the sacrifices he made for her. I hope that is a comfort to you, and not a blow. 

After he was gone, after giving her time to grieve, it felt important that Bree should know about you, about the stones. It took—well, it frankly took a bloody lot of luck and a jolly good miracle to get her to believe, *but she does.* She loved Frank with all her heart, but she knows now that Jamie Fraser was her father. IS her father. 

You should know that she was instrumental in finding you. She persisted when I would have faltered under the doubts and the fears. As ecstatic and overjoyed as I was at the news that you were alive, I was so afraid Jamie, for you, for me, for Bree. 

Even though I know she, too, was plagued with fears, she remained strong; and she kept ME strong. Even at the very stones, when I was so wracked with guilt over leaving her forever that I would have stayed, for her sake, she was there to strengthen me, to tell me not to look back. She said that she was giving me back to you, and that if I didn’t go, *she* would. ‘Someone has to find him and tell him I was born,’ she said, and she meant it. 

THAT is the kind of person your daughter is growing to be, Jamie: determined, and brilliant, and selfless for the sake of those she loves; *and that includes you.* She asked me to give you a kiss, just from her. I’ve left it here, on the page, for you to keep, always. 

Brianna has been the greatest joy of my life since we parted, a joy that would have been richer only if I had been granted the grace to raise her with you at my side. Thank you for her. THANK YOU for making me go on, for her sake. Despite everything, it has been a good life. Even in those long years of grief, I had the joy of seeing you every day, of seeing your spirit, there in the child of our love. And I’m so very grateful. 

I’ll keep telling her about you. There wasn’t enough time, before I left. She’ll be able hear everything, now. I promise. 

Jamie shook his head hard, fast, feeling for a third page that wasn’t there. “No…” 

Be happy, Jamie Fraser, and LIVE. 

“No,” he moaned. his eyes clinging to the fleeting words, even as he begged them not to stop. “Claire…”

Love, always

“Mo nighean donn, don’t —  

Claire


Those next seconds were everlasting, each terrible, catastrophic truth echoing in his soul like the toll of a great bell, over and over. 

She had been here

Claire had been here

She left

Claire left

Because Jenny—


She was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, crying hard into Ian’s shoulder. When the study door crashed open, her head shot up and she jumped to her feet, her face pure terror. “Jamie, mo ch—”

“When?” He snarled it, and Jenny convulsed with a deep sob like a swallowed scream, and covered her face with her hands. 

Jamie was thundering toward her, a veil of red over his vision as he demanded, “WHEN?” 

Ian—in a shockingly deft and smooth movement given the leg—shot to his feet, shielding Jenny from Jamie’s rage with his body. 

In all truth, the rational parts of Jamie’s mind were glad for Ian’s presence, for that was the only thing keeping the blood rage from taking control, from taking revenge. “WHEN was she here, woman?” he bellowed over Ian’s shoulder,  “How fucking long did ye see fit to keep—”

Ian shoved him, eyes blazing. “You’ll NOT talk that way to—” 

Mor—ning—”Jenny sobbed, her voice a strangled whisper, “—gone before—Jamie! Oh, JamieI ken I’ll—never for—give mys—for—” 

HOW MANY MONTHS?”  he roared, overtaken by despair, overtaken by rage, becoming a nameless beast under it. “HOW MANY YEARS, JENNY?” 

“This morning—” she wailed, “To—TO—DAY—” 

Nothing. 

Silence. 

And then a great wave, tall as a mountain, rose up within Jamie, blasting out everything within him in a single cataclysmic moment of clarity. 

Today

T O D A Y

Then she was—

She could be no more than—

He vaulted up the stairs four at a time, paying no heed to Janet and Wee Ian and the others who were gathered at the top of the staircase, wide-eyed and pale and gaping.

Less than a minute later, he thundered back down past them all, breeks only half-laced under his boots, traveling bag on his back. 

“No,” Jenny moaned, grasping at his sleeve as he passed and trying to hold him back. “Jamie, ye canna—Ye CANNA catch her, she's—GONE—she’s—”

He shook her off, hard enough to knock her off-balance, and ran to the kitchen, shoving what food he could lay his hands on into his sack and moving straight to the door, so crazed with determination he could barely see what it was he took. Food didn’t matter. Fatigue, already tugging at him, didn’t matter. Claire was— 

“Jamie, she’s nearly a day ahead—” Jenny caught the handle just as he did, eyes absolutely wild. “Ye dinna even ken where she’s bound or—” 

He spared his sister one look, and let all the hate and contempt, the rage and the betrayal show there as he growled, “I ken precisely where she’s bound.” 


Perfect - A Remus Lupin Imagine

A/N: This was mostly written as a personal / cathartic piece. I considered keeping this private, but then I realized someone else out there might need this as badly as I did. This is by far the most emotionally taxing piece I have ever written. The content is heavy and I cried while writing it, so be careful if you choose to read on. Please do not read if you are triggered by self-hate, (self) body-shaming, or similar themes. I would hate to upset anyone else…if you ever need to talk, I’m here.

Originally posted by nellaey

She trudged down the stairs, praying that her book would be right where she left it. She had little patience for side quests today. Thankfully, there it sat. On the table she’d been sitting at hours prior. Still opened to the page she’d been memorizing on Draught of Living Death. 

Hustling toward it, she scooped it up into her arms and turned to head back up to her room. Incredibly eager to fall into her bed and ignore everything for a while. Perhaps forever.

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So is no one else wondering what Zack and Trini did to get themselves in detention???? Like I bet these idiots teamed up together and decided to use some of Billy’s explosions and put them somewhere in a teachers room and purposefully came out laughing from their hiding spot, pointing fingers, and high fiving. Billy gets mad cause they took one of his explosions without asking, Jason laughs along with them cause he was in on it, and Kimberly is worried about her smol girlfriend.

August Fluff Month - Day 30: Unmasked

@miraculousfluffmonth

Marinette was still in shock that Adrien had asked her out. Her brain could hardly comprehend the possibility.

And the fact that she had agreed wasn’t helping with the frying of her brain, or rather, it was helping to ensure that her brain fried. She could scarcely believe herself.

Marinette lay on her chaise lounge, dreaming about their first date, which would ultimately lead to a second, and third, which would be followed with a proposal and marriage and a pet hamster and children and growing old together. They could go on all sorts of dates; café dates, movie dates, shopping dates, sunset dates, picnic dates, walks through the parks in the evening dates.

Her mind was arrested by the memory of her evening patrols.

She had to tell him. She had to tell Adrien. If they were going to be together, she had to tell him. But how to do it.

The day she approached him was a lovely one. The whether was perfectly acceptable and it was not too warm to too cold. That being said, she could not enjoy a single thing about it.

“Adrien, I need to be honest with you,” Marinette began, sitting down on the couch beside her boyfriend.                              

“Alright.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening.” He turned to face her, his expression as serious as he could muster.

“And, you can’t laugh. Or think that I’m lying. Or tell anyone. Or think that I’m crazy.” The worry in her eyes seemed more serious than he expected and his brows furrowed at the sight of them.

“I won’t do any of those things.” She took a deep and long breath.

“Do you know, Ladybug?”

“Ladybug? The superheroine that goes around saving Paris almost daily? The one in a red suit with black polka-dots?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do know Ladybug.”

“Right, and do you like her?” Adrien flushed at the statement and did his best not to blubber as he spoke.

“Well, she’s amazing. Of course, I like her,” he replied, trying his best not to look like he was confessing his love and admiration to Ladybug in front of his new girlfriend. Marinette reddened deeply and closed her eyes, bracing herself for impact.

“I’m Ladybug.” Adrien blinked.

“What?” Confusion had not yet surprised his initial wave of shock.

“I’m, Ladybug,” Marinette repeated, having gone from bracing herself to grimacing.

You’re Ladybug.”

“Yes.”

“You’re the woman behind the mask.”

“Yes.”

“Ladybug that fights crime with Chat Noir.” Marinette winced at the topic she had most wanted to avoid.

“Yes.” She looked at him cautiously. He didn’t believe her. Or at least, he was having a very difficult time believing her. He stared at her intensely, making comparisons as best he could, eyes fluttering to different points of her face.

Marinette stood, and called forth a transformation, having decided this was what she wanted to do from the beginning. Her heart raced as she allowed the magic to course over her, imagining the look on Adrien’s face when she opened her eyes.

It wasn’t exactly what she had expected.

There was a mixture of shock, awe, excitement, and familiarity.

“You’re Ladybug,” he whispered to himself. Marinette reached up to the mask on her face and willed it to slid off at her touch, to which it obeyed.

Adrien’s heart felt like it could explode.

He leaned back into the couch, settling into reality, and unable to peel his eyes off of the girl standing before him in spandex. A hand reached up to his forehead, holding his head in place lest it fly off.

“You’re Ladybug,” he repeated, a grin beginning to form on his face. This caused her a great amount of confusion, and she wondered if he had snapped and gone mad. Eyes no longer on her, he wasn’t present in their current world for a moment.

“I am. I’m really sorry for hiding this from you. And I know I’ll have to see Chat Noir every evening and I can understand if you’re not comfortable with that and want to break up with me.”

“What? Why would I break up with you?” he said hurriedly, brought out of his fantasies.

“Well, I-.”

“No, no, I was just thinking about how much easier patrols are going to be from now on,” Adrien explained.

“What?” Coming out from his hesitancy and confusion, he took hold of Marinette’s hands and brought one to his lips.

“Patrols will be easier, saving Paris will be easier, and professing my love to you will be easier, My Lady.”

holt siblings hc
  • they loved animals and had so many pets
    • they had a pet dog named sparky in the hopes it would someday evolve into jolteon
    • they also had a pet caterpillar pidge named chicken nugget and when it metamorphosed, she named it chicken wing
  • hide and seek was pidge’s favorite game growing up
    • she would always hide under her blanket and each time, Matt would always pretend not to notice her and sit on her sometimes
      • [matt] oh what a comfy pillow i wonder where pidge could be
      • [matt lays down] i guess i’ll just lay here until she comes out of wherever she’s hiding oh why is the bed giggling
  • already canon that matts good at comforting pidge but-
    • there’s one time she was excluded from her neighbors’ games on the basis of “girls are girls and girls should stick to dolls”
    • matt bought nerf guns so they could have a shooting match and chase each other across the lawn
      • whenever pidge got him, he would make such a scene
      • [Matt] I’ve been shot! Alas! You have bested me! 
      • [neighbors stop playing to watch]
      • [Matt pulling out red streamers from his sleeve, faking a cough] Blood! The fluid of mortals! The.. light.. is.. approaching..
      • [neighbors gasp in awe]
      • [pidge continues to shoot matt] WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER IN YOUR FACE MATT HOLT THERE IS NO PLACE FOR THE WEAK IN THIS HOUSEHOLD
  • matt supports all her wild ideas with no question whatsoever
    • she goes to a tea party dressed as superman and when matt picks her up to go home pidge is like wait matt matt do the thing 
    • he lifts her off her feet and carries her as she mimics superman flying with her fists in front of her
      • [matt] Look up in the sky! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! Why no…it’s Superman!
    • her friends marvel and the next tea party is a bunch of girls dressed as superman in ballgowns with tiaras on their heads
Worried Sick

Originally posted by violet624

A/N: This has taken my absolutely ages to complete.

Tags: @sofuckingchuffed, @sonnshineandrainbows. Thank you for your help @writefasttalkevenfaster and @minidodds


It took you a few moments to realize what had woken you. Your eyes flew open as the sound of Rafael retching reached your ears. Throwing back the bed covers, you rushed into the bathroom to find him throwing up in the toilet. You knelt down behind him, rubbing his back in soothing circles, feeling terrible that there wasn’t anything more you could do at that point. After what seemed like forever, he let go of the toilet bowl and sank back on the floor.

“Want some water?”

Rafael nodded mutely and you rushed into the kitchen to grab him a glass. When you returned, you found him curled up on the floor, clutching his abdomen.

“Rafael!” you cried, dropping to your knees. “What’s wrong?”

He groaned, face plastered to the cold tiles on the bathroom floor. Placing the back of your hand gently on his cheek, you grimaced at the burning heat emanating from his brow, not to mention the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead.

Keep reading

phaxhalfelven  asked:

Oh my goodness wonderful request...Loved this...one question what is this letter from? You said it's from a book? And can I get my hands on it? Okay so it was three questions...

Hello! Thank you! Yes, it was from a book called Doctor Who: The Companion’s Companion. Clara wrote it full of quizzes and other information on the Doctor’s past companions. She then hid it all in the TARDIS. He found the book and added in a page addressed to her, and then put it back in her hiding place.

Here’s photos of the book cover, the page Peter read out loud, and then two YouTube videos of him on stage. The P.S. got cut in the first one, so I added it in from my original video.

anonymous asked:

What if Jamie wasn't an outlaw when he met Claire and Jamie could court her properly? How would Claire react to that when if she was still trying to get home?

Anon asked: what do you think it would have happened if Jamie and Claire didn’t have to get married? Do you think our hero could have find a way to marry the Sassenach or at least, make her fall in love with her without all the amazing sex?

Mod Note: I genuinely did not intend to continue this story (despite many requests), but I am finally bringing one of my first Imagine pieces out of the archives to explore these intriguing prompts! A bit of a slow burn on this one, but hang in there with me! -Mod Bonnie


Hail Mary

Part I  Part II


Part III

The canteen hit Jamie’s jaw squarely with a sharp THWOCK.

“A mhic an diabhoil!” he snarled, looking wildly around and finding the culprit at once. “Damn you, Murtagh, what in God’s name was that for?!”

“To see if I could get yer gob to close all the way,” the usually-dour clansman said with a smirk, arms crossed. “A wee brown-haired lass seems to have broken your hinge this morning.”

Murtagh saw the canteen coming and ducked, laughing as it clattered against the nearby tree. “Careful, ye wee smout—that’s the good whisky!”

Despite Jamie’s annoyance, the corners of his mouth were twitching as he returned to finish unlashing the bundles from his saddle; and, conveniently, returning him to the sight of Mistress Beauchamp carrying a bedroll to the place she’d claimed for her lean-to.

The man was right: Jamie hadn’t been able to stop looking at her all day: sidelong as they rode; catching her eye as they stopped for water; training his gaze on back of her head when she nudged her mount past his on the road to speak with Ned. Always and completely: she was all he saw, this day.

He had been drawn to Mistress Beauchamp from the first—when she mended his shoulder; when he held her at Leoch; but now…Christ, he was all but consumed by her; and how could he not be? Having slept with her in his arms? Remembering the scent of her hair? Now knowing the shapes of her under his hands; what it was to hear sounds of desire from her lips as she moved against him, seeking?

And above all, to know that she had stayed. Aye, she had slept in his arms, but any lass might have done the same with any man, to save her own life….but upon waking this morning, she was flustered, had made to rise, and yet at the barest suggestion, she had stayed there in his arms for nigh on an hour, waiting for the rest of camp to awaken. They both had assumed pretense of sleep, but neither of them had allowed themselves to drift away. Her breathing had stayed quick; he could feel it, warm and shallow at the base of his throat. She surely had felt his heart thudding away, with her ear resting so near it.

No, they hadn’t slept; nor had they spoken. They’d held one another

And there, at the last, he’d brought one hand—shaking—to softly, gently, slowly come to rest on the curve of her head. She’d gasped and made as if to—say something? Move?  Christ, touch him back?

And just at that moment, the camp had come alive. Before he could blink, she had gotten to her feet and the day began as it always did. Boiling water; folding, packing; bannocks and whisky; back on the long road through the glens; all just as it was every day.

But today, he couldn’t stop looking at her.

At Mistress Beauchamp, who had slept in his arms.

But God, he had to stop thinking about her. She was the finest woman he’d ever met —but he could offer her no future, as a wanted criminal. None. He wouldn’t subject her to the dangers a life with him would entail. He had to stop thinking about her.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Ye did a good thing, Jamie, lad,” Murtagh said, yanking Jamie back once more from grim reverie, deep brown eyes watching him. “Keeping the lass last night as ye did. You’re the only one that could ha’ done it for her properly.”

“Aye,” he coughed, “well, I… she….” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, unfurling his tent canvas.  “I’m glad to’ve been of service to her.”

Murtagh made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a harrumph.

“And what’s that supposed to signify?” Jamie snapped, tugging at his stock. Hadn’t Claire nearly frozen to death last night? Then why, by Bride and all the saints, was the gathering evening so bloody HOT?

“Haud yer wheesht, lad,” Murtagh, now chuckling in earnest at Jamie’s discomfort. “Your secret doe-eyes are safe wi’ me.”

“Not doe-eyes…” Jamie muttered, feeling all of seven years of age.

“Hey.” Murtagh’s hand clapped warm on his shoulder, his eyes suddenly soft and unusually earnest. “She’s a fine woman, Jamie, Sassenach or no’.”

Aye, Jamie thought, watching the wind lift her curls into life as she rifled her wee medicine box, then made for the wood with a basket in hand, she truly is. And I can’t let myself want her.

And then the messenger rode into camp.


He waited until it was nearing sunset, when he knew she would be out gathering her wee herbs before the light went. He made for the loch under the pretext of needing a piss, seeing Murtagh watching him knowingly. Jamie knew without asking or telling that his godfather would keep an eye on the other men and prevent any from venturing in the same direction. He said a prayer, thanking God for the gift of this protector that had watched over him all his life, and continued down the path.

Sure enough, as the woods opened out into the waning crimson sunlight, he found her seated on a low boulder, looking out upon the loch, basket at her feet.

Seeing her, her unbound curls wafting sweetly in the breeze, his throat went instantly tight.

Christ, how could he do this?

Knowing her…. How could he not?

He cleared his throat and sang out with an attempt-at-cheery, “Take care no’ to fall in.”

Her head turned sharply, surprised, but a begrudging smile was already tugging at her lips. “Ned’s nowhere in sight—I think I should be safe.”

“Good,” he laughed—God, how it delighted his soul to laugh with this woman— “Best stay well shot of him.”

“But he’s such a darling!” She pursed her lips to hold back her mirth. “I’m not sure I can refuse him if he comes calling!”

“Well, do what ye must, lass,” he grinned, “I’ll be standing by to hold ye, anytime.”

She made a small sound of kind acknowledgement but looked away, suddenly shy.The silence rang between them so acutely, Jamie could hear the voices from camp, many yards distant.

“I’ve gotten some good news, Sassenach,” he said, feeling the letter in his waistcoat pocket. “I’ve…been pardoned.”

NO!” She leapt to her feet, mouth open and excitement dawning. “Oh, Jamie, that’s wonderful news!” She grabbed one of his hands in hers and squeezed it hard, practically bouncing with her enthusiasm. “God be bloody praised!!! I’m so thrilled for you! Whatever happened to bring that about?”

They sat on the boulder and he explained, grinning from ear to ear, the contents of Colum’s letter. Unbeknownst to Jamie, his uncle had been exercising all his considerable influence to get the accusations against him dropped. By some miracle, he had succeeded, and had sent a messenger at once to share the glad tidings.

Jamie read between to lines to gather that His Grace the Duke of Sandringham had been more than instrumental in getting the matter quietly resolved and Jamie’s outlaw record expunged. Jamie could just imagine the foppish gent drawling: “Anything for my DEAHHRRRR Jamie,” in those thick, unctuous tones, wet eyes glittering with anticipation.

The Duke’s predilections were well known, and such attentions had made Jamie supremely uncomfortable at the time of the man’s last visit. However, God bless him and all his house, if such affections had just saved Jamie from a life of flight and ultimately the noose. 

And ten times the blessing to him if it meant Jamie’s honor was now completely unhindered…that he was completely free to….

“What have ye been gathering, then?” he blurted, feeling his wame clenching in anxiety.

“Good Lord,” she laughed, startled, “you suddenly want to talk about herbs after such splendid news!?”

“My life is my own again,” he said, shrugging, “I want to talk about anything and everything.”

“Cress,” she said affably, nudging the basket with her foot. “Didn’t manage to bring back any last night, after all, what with one thing and another.” 

She paused suddenly, furrowing her eyebrows. She was leaning on her hand, the fingertips just inches away from his plaid on the rock. 

When she spoke, her voice was soft and full of feeling. “Thank you again for…for everything. You were so—wonderful about it all.”

Jamie felt his chest swell. “Think nothing of it, lass. You’ve saved my poor hide more times than I can count these past weeks. It was about time that I should do ye a service in return.“

“Did you get any real rest? I’m afraid I must have given you a dreadfully uncomfortable time. ”

“Och, dinna fash, lass. It was just fine.”

It was the best night of all my years, mo ghraidh.

“Mistr—”

No. Not Mistress.

Claire?”

Even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, facing forward as they were, he could see her straighten and stiffen at the tone in his voice.

“I find meself—” he said, trying to force his lips to move at his bidding, but finding them slow and wooden,  “—that is—”

Help me, woman. See what’s in my heart. Surely ye ken it already.

Thank the Lord it came out sounding calm and clear:

I care for you, Claire.”

She stopped breathing. The breath actually left her, for more heartbeats than Jamie knew. The absence of it—that rhythm of her that he’d memorized, he now realized— was like whisky thrown on the fire within him, the flames roaring instantly up in fear and anticipation. He wanted so desperately to take her face in his hands so he might look into her golden eyes while telling her all his heart…but his hands were shaking and he didn’t think he could get out the words if he moved.

“I care for you as I’ve never cared for anyone in my life,” he said, mustering his courage only by focusing only on the wonder of the person beside him. “Your wit, your courage, your pigheadedness,” he laughed, his whole body glowing with sudden warmth. “The–” He clenched his hands in his lap, staring at them as if they held the proper words. “– life in you Claire, is unlike anything I have ever encountered. I havena been able to get ye out of my head since the first day we met. And then last night…”  

He heard her lips part and a long intake of breath, then a soft, inscrutable, “Jamie…”

“I ken I’ve perhaps no business saying such things. Even though I’m no longer a wanted criminal, I’ve no great wealth, and perhaps I’m nothing you ought to trouble o’er.“ He shook his head, hard. “But surely…surely ye ken as well as I what there is between us, Claire.”

He screwed up his courage and turned to face her. She was staring down into her lap, hands clasped. Her lips were pressed tight, her expression, for once, unreadable.

“I canna believe I’m alone in feeling it…this…whatever it is between you and me.” He laid a hand slowly and tenderly atop hers, his heart pounding.

She jumped when his hand touched hers, and with a jolt, Jamie saw that she had been twisting her golden ring round and round her finger.

Jamie stood at once and raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “Forgive me,  lass….”

Fraser, you dolt, have ye no sense to spare a thought for what the lass is going through?

“I’m so sorry, Claire,” he repeated. “I—I ken—that ye still grieve for your departed husband.”

Her lips went tight and Jamie saw her blink several times, hard.

“It…. isna right that ye should forget him, or even try to. If ye loved him, he must have been a good man. But I–I should–”

Courage, man. COURAGE.

“…It would be my honor to see to the care of his wife.”

Finally, she looked up, sharply, her eyes wide. She spoke in barely a whisper. “What?”

Will you marry me, Claire?”

She simply stared at him, in utter shock.

He went to his knees in front of her in the oath-giving posture, relinquishing all caution and all fear. He exhaled heavily with the relief of letting the feelings for her wash over him. “I care for you—"

I love you, he wanted to scream.

“—and now that I’m a free man, I wish to give ye everything I have. My name—my clan—the protection of my body….Claire, they’re all yours, now and forever.” He reached for her hand, trembling, dying to touch her. “If you’ll have me.”

“No.”

Jamie felt as though she’d pushed him backward into the icy lake. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to find the words for the pain ripping through him.

“I’m sorry, Jamie. I can’t marry you.” She bolted to her feet, took up her basket, and made quickly back toward the camp.

“Claire—please wait—I–”

This couldn’t be happening. This just couldn’t be.

He rose on shaking legs and tried to follow, reaching for her arm. “Sassenach, stop, please—I’m sorry if I was too—I just thought we—”

She threw off his hand and faced him only long enough to say coldly:

You were mistaken.”


Mistaken.

It should have been a night of celebration; should have been the most joyous occasion of his life–to know he was a free man, could go home at last. 

But it was hell, every moment, her words tormenting him as he played each memory he held of her over and over in his mind, every time they had ever spoken, touched, laughed, or cried together, culminating in the breathtaking intimacy of the previous night. Was it lust deluding him? Was it pure, lecherous desire for her body that had colored these memories and called them love?

No.

NO, damn it all!

He knew his heart. And hers—Christ, it danced across her face so freely, that—No, he was not mistaken.

Perhaps she was frightened; perhaps it was too soon.

But he was not mistaken.

It made seeing her flitting about all evening, smiling and pouring whisky liberally all ‘round the fireside — the collective mood of festivity ostensibly in honor of his pardon — all the more galling. She laughed and joked with the lads, chatted at length with Ned Gowan over documents, and generally charmed the whole camp with her golden eyes and glorious smile…everyone except him.

She’d spoken to him only once, when she offered him drink— “For you, Mr. McTavish?”— but she wouldn’t look at him.

She didn’t even know his real name. She didn’t want to know his real name.

He had wanted to drink, but hadn’t—couldn’t allow himself the escape of oblivion. This was his penance, to survive the long hours of the evening, watching her; the longer ones of silence and desolation, seething, hurting, long after the rest had fallen into their deep whisky-slumber. He needed to think with a clear head—to feel this, to understand.  

Christ, if he could only understand why…! If she felt for him as he for her, why deny him so cruelly? Claire was shrewd, but he’d never known her to be that. Surely she had some reason. Surely, if he could only speak with her…

In the dead of night, the grief and the pain nigh unbearable, his ears pricked up. Someone moving surreptitiously about camp.

Clasping his dirk, he slowly sat up high enough to survey the clearing. Geordie, supposed to be on sentry duty, was sound asleep and Jamie gave a silent prayer of thanks to see Claire moving quietly in the direction of the loch.

Tomorrow, they would reach the crossroads and meet once more with Dougal and the rest; there would be more folk for her to tend; more folk to observe their behavior; to hear about their unorthodox night together. He HAD to speak with her tonight.

He followed quietly, but when they were far enough away to be out of earshot of the sleepers, he spoke. “Sassenach?”

She jumped and whirled, and he instantly raised his hands palms forward. “I’m sorry—” he whispered. He came slowly toward her. “I’m so sorry, lass, I didna mean to frigh—” 

He froze, seeing her clearly now in the moonlight. “…You’re running.”  

It was not a question. She was wearing her traveling cloak, and the bundle she clutched clearly contained her medicine box. Her eyes were wide and her nostrils flaring with deep breaths. She was pointed toward the road, in the opposite direction of the horses.

“And on foot?” His voice was flat. Dead.

She shrugged stiffly, tensed as though ready to bolt. “Didn’t want to risk waking the men.”

“Where?” he croaked. Why?, he wanted to scream.

Her eyes were defiant, wide with alarm and determination. “Back to where I came from—same place I’ve been trying to go since Dougal took me captive.”

“Ye canna just go, Claire,” he said, trying to sound dismissive.

Her face was stone. “I can. I will.”

“Claire, I willna let ye do this.“

“Didn’t realize you were my jailer. What are you going to do, clap me in irons?” She was backing slowly away from him and his desperation was mounting with every pace.

“It’s wild country out there! Wolves and—brigands, and—” He was petrified, heartbroken, grasping at straws to keep her from vanishing. “At least–let me accompany you to your destination—see you safe!”

A sob rising in his throat. Christ, dinna leave this way.

A hoarse gasping as he reached for her.

“Please, mo chridhe–”

Ice in her eyes. “I don’t need your ‘protection,’ Mr. McTavish.”

A knife in his gut.

‘…the protection of my body, Claire…
…yours, now and forever.’

The sound of his heart breaking.

She was leaning into her frenzied defiance. “I did have a life before I fell into your lap, you know!” She realized what she’d said, blushed, and stammered angrily. “I mean—into the–hands of the whole bloody clan. I had a LIFE,” she repeated, “and I’m far past due to return to it!”

“Aye,” he said, low and precise, shaking with anger. “you’ve made it exceedingly clear that there’s nothing whatsoever keeping you here.”

She had the grace to look abashed. “Jamie…” He saw the muscles of her face and throat working furiously; the regret in her eyes. She even took a step toward him and made to touch his arm. “Jamie, please, I’m so…so sorry for—”

He shrugged back from her touch and skirted silently around the edge of camp. She followed him, hissing out his name, but he did not slow his pace until he reached the horses. He located her mount and unhobbled it, leading it a hundred yards away from the others, picking up saddle and gear as he want.

When she at last caught up with him, he plucked the bundle from her arms, fastening it perfunctorily to her saddle.

“Jamie, wait—”

Her face was upturned to him, so white and so perfect it made the pain writhe within his chest. He marshaled his features into his mask of impassivity and gave a cordial nod. “I wish ye the best of fortune in your life, Mistress.

She reached for him, pleading. “Jamie, listen, I—”

He pressed the smaller of his dirks into her hand. “Goodbye, Claire.”

And without a backward glance—though he wished to throw his arms around her and beg her, beg her not to leave—he turned on his heel back toward the fires, listening first to the silence, then the jingle of harness and the sound of hooves going quietly off into the night.

He didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. He lay awake, breaking apart, wrapped in a blanket that still held the scent of her hair.


[to be continued]

What A Feeling - #1 Heart Rates & House Parties

*July 2017

“Good morning, good morning,” Nick Grimshaw said over the radio airwaves. “We have a full house in the studio this morning because Y/Band’s/Name is joining us. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves so our listeners know that you all are in fact here with us.”

“What’s up, London,” your brother, Mitch, said into the microphone. “Mitch is here.”

You laughed shaking your head. “Hiya, it’s Y/N, thanks for having us Grimmy,”

“Even though its a bit early, I’m here too,” Jeremy yawned.

“Can we get this lad some coffee?” Taylor laughed.

“He’s already had like four cups on the way over,” you laughed.

“It was a long night,” Jeremy laughed.

“Oh, was it now?” Grimmy smirked. “Anyway, since you lot are our guests, why don’t you pick the first song of the hour?”

“Uh, okay, lads what should we pick?” You asked. “This is a lot of pressure.”

“What’s your favorite song right now?” Nick asked.

“I can answer that!” Taylor smirked. “She’s obsessed with Harry Styles’ solo album.”

“No, I’m not!” You blushed. “But it is a great record, you have to admit that.”

“I don’t think anyone was denying that,” Nick laughed. “What’s your favorite song from his album?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you laughed. “Uh, why don’t we go with Only Angel? That’s like a good morning song, right? It starts off all nice and slow and then bam it turns into a jam.”

“Good god, never say that again,” Mitch laughed.

“Alright everyone, here is Only Angel by The Harry Styles requested by none other than the beautiful and talented Y/N,” Nick said before starting the song.

After the song finished up, you went into the actual interview.

“Okay, so you all are family, right? Mitch and Y/N, you two are brother and sister and then you Jeremy and Taylor are brothers, but you all are cousins?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, it’s just a big family gathering,” you laughed.

“So, how did that work? Did you all just decide to form a band one day or what?” Nick asked.

“Um, well, we grew up in a very musical family. Our Dad was a professional drummer and songwriter for many well known artists, so we just grew up surrounded by music. But as far as us becoming a band it literally all started in our garage,” Mitch laughed.

“Yeah, anytime we’d all get together, we would just go to the garage and start messing around with our guitars and other instruments. I’d say by the time we were about fourteen or fifteen is when we started taking it more seriously and writing our own songs and performing them outside of the garage and our families,” you said.

“And here are, almost ten years later with seven number one record breaking albums and countless awards,” Nick laughed.

“It’s crazy to think about really,” Taylor said. “That we’ve been doing this for so long and our fans are still wanting to hear new music from us and coming out to our shows.”

“We’re really thankful and grateful for our fans because if it weren’t for them, we  wouldn’t be here after all these years in the business, but honestly I think that it helped that our fans are sort of growing up with us. When we came out with our first record, I was almost sixteen at the time and now I’m almost twenty six, you know? So, as we were growing up and experiencing life, we wrote that into our music and our fans were experiencing similar situations,” you said.

“Well, it’s really a great record and we love it, we play your songs all the time. Thank you all  for stopping by today with your busy schedules, we loved having you,” Nick smiled.

“No problem, thanks for having us,” Taylor smiled.

Once you all were off the air, you took off your headphones and shook everyone’s hand.

“How long are you going to be in London?” Nick asked you.

“Um, we’re here all week,” you smiled.

“Great. I’m having a bit of a house party with close friends tomorrow night, would you want to come?” He asked. “All of you are invited.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” you smiled. “Need us to bring anything?”

“Just yourselves!” He smiled giving you a hug. “This is gonna be so fun!”

You laughed shaking your head at him before grabbing your things and leaving the BBC Studio.

**

“Hello everyone, we’re here with none other than movie  star Harry Styles, here to talk to us about his new film Dunkirk,” Nick said into the microphone.

“Hi,” Harry laughed putting his headphones on.

“So, how you doing? Last night was a huge night for you,” Nick said.

“Yeah, it was a great, I’m a little exhausted, but I’m good,” Harry said.

“Good, good,” Nick said. “Now, I saw Dunkirk yesterday at eight in the morning and it was rough. I was so emotional and it was just a fantastic film,” Nick said.

“Thanks, yeah I get a bit emotional watching it myself, which I’m not sure if that’s okay, you know crying during a movie that I’m in,” he laughed.

“Only if it’s in a cool way,” Nick joked.

“Always,” Harry laughed.

“Now, we know when you’re performing for shows, you have rehearsals and what not, but when it came to memorizing your lines, how did you go about it?” Nick asked.

“Uh, I mean I just had the script with me and ran my lines with some friends or as it got closer with some of my cast mates like Fionn or Tom, but yeah it’s a lot harder to remember lines than rehearsing music,” he laughed. “Although, I’m really glad there was very little dialogue as a whole.”

“Okay, so now we’re gonna play a little game,” Nick said. “I’m sure you’re wondering why there’s a heart monitor behind you.”

“Yeah, I’m a little worried right now,” Harry laughed.

“Too bad,” Nick laughed. “So, what we’re gonna do is the Doctor is going to hook you up to the heart monitor and we’re going to show you a series of images and some other things and see how you really react to them.”

“Oh god,” Harry laughed shaking his head.

The doctor hooks Harry up to the machine and they wait for his normal heart rate before beginning.

“It’s like you’re at a steady 65, so let’s begin,” he said. “The first picture we have here is of you and your Mum from last night’s premiere.”

“She looked beautiful,” he nodded.

“Okay, heart rate is still steady,” Nick said. “What about this one? Former One Direction bandmate Zayn Malik in a leather jacket and no shirt ensemble.”

“That’s a great look,” Harry said. “But personally for me a little too sweaty.”

“I agree and Harry’s still staying at a steady rate of 65,” Nick said. “Now, what about this one? This a photo of a Y/N from Y/Band’s/Name. What do you think of her?”

Harry started blushing and tried to hide back a smirk. “I’m sure she’s a wonderful person,” he said quickly.

“Have you ever met her before?” Nick asked.

“No, I haven’t,” he responded.

“Your heart rate has increased to almost 80,” Nick smirked. “Now, Y/N was actually on our show just yesterday morning and she’s quite the fan of you, why don’t you listen to this.”

“What’s your favorite song right now?” Nick asked.

“I can answer that!” Taylor smirked. “She’s obsessed with Harry Styles’ solo album.”

“No, I’m not!” You blushed. “But it is a great record, you have to admit that.”

“I don’t think anyone was denying that,” Nick laughed. “What’s your favorite song from his album?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you laughed. “Uh, why don’t we go with Only Angel? That’s like a good morning song, right? It starts off all nice and slow and then bam it turns into a jam.”

“How do you feel about that?” Nick smirked.

“I I-uh, I’m glad she’s a fan,” he said nervously. “I’m a fan of hers as well.”

“Uh oh,” Nick laughed. “Your heart rate’s rising. We’re almost to a 100 folks.”

“No, it’s not!” Harry blushed shaking his head.

“Yes, it is,” Nick laughed. “I think it’s save to say that you might have a bit of a crush on Y/N?”

“I just like her music is all,” Harry said.

“I don’t think so, your heart rate is officially over 100. I think this is a new record,” Nick joked.

“I hate you. I hate all of you,” Harry laughed. “You two are idiots.”

“Oi, who are you talking about?” Nick asked.

“Lou and Harry,” he said pointing to them behind the glass of studio.

“Well, we’ll let you take this one home,” Nick smirked handing Harry the picture of you.

Harry shook his head and Nick went off the air. The doctor unhooked Harry from the monitor and he got from his chair.

“Sorry about that mate,” Nick smirked.

“I hate all of you,” Harry repeated

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick laughed. “You’re still coming round to my party tonight, right?”

“Maybe,” Harry said. “I don’t think I should after that,” he smirked.

“Oh, come on,” Nick laughed. “You know you’re still coming and you can’t hate us forever.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be there,” Harry laughed. “But I still hate you.”

“After tonight, I don’t think you’re gonna hate me at all,” Nick smirked.

“And why is that?” He asked.

“Oh, just wait and see,” Nick said.

**

It was the night of Nick Grimshaw’s house party. You decided on a simple outfit of tight black jeans, a nice blouse, and some heels. You met everyone down in the lobby of the hotel before getting into a car to drive to Nick’s house.

“Hey Y/N, did you check Grimmy’s show this morning?” Jeremy smirked.

“Nope, I was sleeping,” you laughed. “Why what happened?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t know?” Taylor asked.

“Obviously not,” you said rolling your eyes.

“Harry Styles was on there today and he played some game with Grimmy involving a heart monitor and Grimmy brought you up, Harry’s heart rate rose to over a 100, supposedly,” Mitch said.

“Are you serious?” You laughed with a bit of blush on covering your cheeks.

“Yeah, I saw the video,” Jeremy said. “He was blushing so hard over you complimenting his album.”

“I bet he’s so embarrassed,” you said.

“I say he thinks you’re hot,” Taylor said.

“I highly doubt that,” you said. “He probably was just getting embarrassed or something, I mean that causes a rise in your heart rate too.”

“Even if that’s the case, it’s obvious that he’s not the only one embarrassed,” Taylor smirked.

“Fuck off,” You laughed pushing him back to his side of the car.

Truth be told, you did have a little bit of a crush on Harry Styles. You’ve never met him before, but there was obviously a physical attraction towards him and you were a huge fan of his music, even when during his One Direction days. Your crush though, was simply a crush and you were sure there would be no way he had a crush on you.

You all arrived to the party and walked inside. Since a few people from the radio and the music industry were there, you knew some people in attendance. You went straight over to grab yourself a drink and went through the crowd of people to mingle.

**

Harry arrived at Nick’s house with some of his close friends. When he walked inside, he got himself a drink and went in search of the host. He found Nick over by where the music was playing, of course, he thought to himself.

“Harry!” Nick said hugging him.

“I see you’ve had a few too many already,” Harry laughed.

“Eh,” he said. “I’m just a bit tipsy.”

“I can tell,” Harry said.

“I’m so glad you came! There’s someone I want you to meet here,” Nick said.

“Oh, really? Who?” Harry said.

“Y/N,” Nick smirked.

Harry almost spit out of his drink. “W-What? Y/N’s here?”

“Yep. I invited her yesterday when she was on the show,” Nick said.

“Wait? You knew she was going to be here tonight?” Harry said. “And you still went along with the heart rate shit?”

“Look, Lou told me about your little crush on her and she’s obviously a huge fan of you, so why don’t you just go and introduce yourself to her?” Nick said. “You never know, sparks may fly, music might be played…”

Harry shook his head. “I can’t. Not after what happened today. If she’s seen that, she’ll probably think I’m like obsessed with her.”

“You kinda are though,” Nick joked.

“No, I’m not,” Harry groaned.

“Anyway, just go talk to her mate. It’s a party, it’s what people do,” Nick said.

“I can’t just fucking walk up to her,” Harry said.

“You do it all the fucking time to people,” Nick said.

“I know, but I don’t think I could with her,” Harry said looking around the room.

He blushed when he saw you talking with your bandmates and some other people he couldn’t really see. You were laughing at something and he couldn’t help, but admire your smile. You looked really beautiful and he wanted to talk to you, he did, but his nerves were taking over. He hadn’t ever felt like that in his whole life and he doesn’t even know you.

“Fine, if you won’t go and talk to her, I’ll introduce you two myself,” Nick said grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him towards where you were standing.

**

“Oh, Nick, hi,” you smiled when you saw Nick making his way to you.

“Glad you were able to come Y/N,” he smiled hugging you. “All of you, really. So, I thought I’d introduce you all to my best mate, Harry. Y/N, Jeremy, Taylor, and Mitch this Harry Styles, Harry Styles this Y/N, Jeremy, Taylor, and Mitch,”

“I got that, thanks,” Harry mumbled.

“Hi,” You smiled holding your hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Harry blushed as he took your hand into his as he shook it. “Thanks, it’s great to met you too. I’ve been a fan for a really long time.”

“Oh, thank you,” you smiled. “We’re all big fans of you as well.”

“Especially, Y/N,” Taylor smirked wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Thanks,” Harry smiled as you blushed. “Um, can I get you another drink or anything?” He asked nervously.

“Uh, actually, yeah, I could use another,” you smiled.

“What are you drinking?” He asked.

“I could just come with you to the bar, if that’s okay,” you said.

“Sure, why not,” he smiled. “Does anyone else need anything?”

“We could use a few beers,” the boys said.

You rolled your eyes. “We’ll bring them back. Try not to move around too much, I’m not hunting your asses down just to give you your beers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mitch joked.

You and Harry pushed your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

“So, what brings you to London?” Harry asked.

“Promo for newest album mostly,” you said. “But we also planned a small show this week too.”

Harry nodded. “How long are you here for?”

“Just the week,” you said. “Then we head off to Paris, a few different cities in Italy, and then we’re going to Australia for a bit.”

“Wow,” he said. “The joys of promo season.”

“Yep,” you laughed. “But I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of promo recently with Dunkirk right?”

“Yeah, I’ll actually be headed to NYC soon for the premiere there,” he said.

“That’s exciting,” you smiled. “I love New York, although usually when we’re there it’s for work.”

“Yeah, I just recently bought an apartment there, so I find myself going there more for leisure time,” he laughed.

You both got beers for everyone along with drinks for you and Harry before making your way back over to the group. You handed everyone their beers and they ended up walking away and going to talk to other people, leaving you and Harry alone.

“So, I know your brother is the band, right?” He asked. “Which one is he?”

“Mitch,” you said.

“I can see that now,” he nodded. “You two look alike.”

You laughed. “Unfortunately, yeah,” you joked. “But everyone knows I’m the prettier one of us.”

“I’d have to agree on that,” Harry laughed taking a sip of his drink.

You blushed a little and smiled at him. “So, what about you? You have a sister right?”

“I do,” he nodded. “Gemma she’s older than I am and she never lets me fucking forget it,” he laughed.

“Oh, I know! Mitch is the same way,” you giggled.

“Does he pretend like he’s your parent or something?” He asked.

“Always,” you said. “When we first started out, our parents were on tour with us, but once we got older, our parents stayed home while we went off on our own and that was when his Dad mode stepped in. Whenever I was around a guy or we were out drinking or just doing whatever, he’d be hovering around all the time.”

“He doesn’t seem to be hovering around right now,” Harry said.

“Oh, he is, trust me, he’s just learned to keep his distance,” you laughed.

“Should I be scared?” He asked.

“No, I think you’re okay,” you giggled.

As the party went on into the late hours of the night, you and Harry spent those hours talking and doing a little bit of dancing. By the time, you realized how late it was, you started gathering your bandmates to head back to the hotel. You said your goodbye to Harry and Nick before walking out to get your car.

Right as you were about to climb into the backseat, you heard your name being called.

You turned around and saw Harry practically running down the driveway to you.

“I uh, I wanted to uh, g-give, uh give you my number,” he said holding out a napkin with writing on it.

“Oh, thanks,” you said. “Um, I’d give you mine, but I don’t have anything to write it on.”

“That’s okay, you can just text me it, if you want,” he said nervously.

“Okay,” you smiled. “I had a good time tonight. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he smiled.

You gave him a wave before getting into the car and shutting the door. The entire ride back to the hotel, the boys were teasing you about Harry and getting his number, but you just let them because nothing was going to take the smile off of your face.

Unloved ; N. YUTA

nakamoto yuta prince!au

⇢ WORDS: 5.3k

⇢ NOTE: i wrote this orignally on another blog, in which i deleted. so if it sounds familar… that’s why. i just wanted to post something. 

also, i have a part two to this but i literally can;t find it. so if i ever do find it then i’ll post it. itf oot then sucks to suck.

⇢ EDITED? [✓]


Nakamoto Yuta was Prince of Japan in 1836, son of Emperor Ninkō and took his mother’s name since he has no place close to the throne. He was given a small area of land to rule when he was older and wife already set aside for when he was crowned prince.

Yoshida Y/N was daughter of noble Samurai Yoshida Daichi. She practiced under the sword for defense and was not allowed to show her talents off to the public. She was put into an arranged marriage at five years old and had fallen in love with her best friend.


Whoosh.

Crash.

“Spread your feet wider, Y/N,” Yoshida Daichi commanded his daughter calmly. He watched with lidded gray eyes, her feet slid an inch apart. Sweat dripping from her forehead as she glared in front of her, the wooden sword held between her fingers in a deadlock grip.

“Don’t be so tense, Y/N,” he told her, sighing softly to himself. How had he gotten such an emotional daughter? Whereas he was calm most of the time.

She gritted her teeth and let her fingers slip from the wooden sword. It fell from her fingers and clattered loudly, a group of birds outside flew off from their perch on a tree. She turned to her father, her teeth still clenched as she stared at him.

“Is this better?” she asked of him, tired of being pushed around.

“No, you’d be sliced in a moments notice with no way to defend yourself,” he told her, annoyed with her attitude. She was the one to ask for help, who asked to be pushed to her limits. He was tired of all of this, but the Prince’s coronation was nearing and her stress was rising more so than ever.

“Sorry,” she muttered under her breath as her father stood to his feet.

Daichi made his way to his daughter, putting a hand on her shoulder and sitting her on the floor where he sat behind her, braiding her hair back to relax her. She loved the gentle caresses he would give her, ones that reminded her of a mother’s touch although she was long gone. A lonely child and lonely father left together in a dojo to figure out life for the worse or the better.

“Thank you,” she whispered, when he had finished, handing him a tie to finish the braid off. He smiled, patting her head kindly and standing.

“It’s probably best for you to get dressed before the boys come. Taeyong will be here too,” he told her with a small smile, wary for his daughter. He knew of her feelings for the young boy but they also knew that she had been given to the Emperor’s son already. There was no free pass with the Emperor.

She smiled back, the same way as he, “Okay,” she whispered.

Y/N climbed the stairs in the small hallway from the dojo to their home on top. She made her way to the showers and cleaned herself off. Then went to her bedroom where she fitted herself into a nice kimono, splashing some color onto her cheeks for the boys.

Only Taeyong knew of Y/N unlady like demeanor under the nice clothes and makeup, the rest of the village barely thought of her more than property.

She sighed, twirling a strand of hair behind her ear before pulling her braid over her shoulder and setting a small flower clip where it was tied. She awkwardly smiled at her reflection, not recognizing the woman behind the mirror before standing to her feet.

She made her way down the stairs, hearing the loud sounds of teenage boys before their practice. She stepped out of the shadows and smiled at the boys whom all cheered loudly when she entered. Master Yoshida’s loud noise of disapproval made them all silence though, returning to their individual conversations.

Y/N walked over to Taeyong who was drinking a cup of water, smiling widely that he returned.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you?” he asked, bowing making her laugh.

“Stop that. You’re embarrassing,” she whispered to him, giggling behind her hand.

Taeyong smiled devilishly up at her, looking at her between his thick eyelashes that made her swoon slightly.

The other boys in the room stared at them in jealousy and admiration. They had barely been able to make her blink their way, less than swoon.

The crack of a wooden sword hit the ground made all of their heads snap besides the two lovers, who were used to Yoshida’s quick strikes to get the teenagers attention.

“Time for class,” Yoshida smiled.

The boys turned terrified at the look he gave them and quickly got into their positions, someone ended up dragging Taeyong with them. Y/N laughed at the sight of the scrambling boys, before picking up a basket and heading out. Waving goodbye to her boys.

In town, Y/N went stall to stall to pick up food for herself and the boys. They had worked hard for a while and deserved a treat after their class. She smiled to herself as she picked up a vine of grapes. She thought them over while a couple stood next to her, chatting loudly.

“Have you heard about Yoshida’s kid? Apparently she’s leaving soon to meet Prince Nakamoto Yuta,” the tall, skinny woman whispered to her short, plump friend. She snickered behind her hand. “Y’know I’ve heard he’s a real piece of work, nothing like any prince you and I have heard of.”

“Really? That’s too bad, she’s a sweet kid,” the other woman replied, picking up a fish for herself.

“A sweet kid? That kid’s never been anything but bratty to me!”

“That’s because you’re pretty rude yourself, Mina,” the woman replied with a hiss.

“That doesn’t give her any right to be rude to me! She needs to respect her elders before she gets herself dead, Hara,” Mina told her friend with exasperation, holding her hands up.

Y/N removed herself from the stall, pushing past the two women, making sure to bump shoulders with Mina. “Excuse me,” she seethed, walking with confidence back down the road, finished with her shopping.

“Good job, Mina,” Hara laughed behind the young woman.


Nakamoto Yuta awoke from a deep sleep by his brother jumping around on his bed, chanting “Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!”

“What?!” he groaned, turning on his side but Gin continued to jump around, especially close to his face. “What?! What is it?” he shouted, sitting up from his position and smacking Gin down onto the bed.

“Father is wanting to have breakfast with us all,” Gin panted, before jumping off the bed and down the hallway with a cheer.

Yuta groaned, thinking about having breakfast with his father and his twelve other siblings. He was seventh in line to the throne, Gin was the youngest at thirteenth in line. He didn’t seem to mind much, thinking about playing around with the ducks in the pond and trying to annoy Yuta to no end.

He stood from his bed and dressed before making his way down to the dining hall where his brothers sat around the table from oldest to youngest around their mother and father and mother. Yuta’s mother sat next to Gin while his father’s other wife sat next to the oldest. He took his seat between Akihiro and Hisao. He liked his brother’s for the most part but with twelve brother’s it was always hard to get close.

Gin was the easiest because he forced himself into hanging out with his brother. Although Yuta had things he needed to do, such as practice his sword, scout through town, go on missions he always had time for Gin.

“Yuta,” his father called and he quickly looked up to his father, setting his chopsticks down to listen to what he had to say. “Your coronation is soon, are you ready?”

“Yes, father. I’m excited and prepared for adulthood,” he told his father with a small smile.

“Good, I expect that you are prepared to go into adulthood as well as marry soon. We discussed at your fifth birthday that yourself and Yoshida Y/N would marry close to your coronation. Would you like her to come soon so you can get to know her?”

“Yes, father, I would very much like to, although I feel like I know her already,” Yuta replied. He did feel close to the young Yoshida, they had never met but stories he had heard of the fair woman were enough. Sometimes, when he was tired he would write her letters to help him fall asleep. All of them kept safely away in a desk drawer and hidden in a secret section of it.

He smiled to himself as his father nodded and started to speak to his other sons and wives, the group sitting for two hours before dispersing.

“Yuta-nii, are you really ready? I’d be so scared to meet my fiance,” Gin shouted, hanging onto Yuta’s arm as he walked.

“I think I am. Yoshida Y/N is the daughter of a high ranking Samurai, and even though I haven’t met her there are lots of stories about her around and I feel like I already know her.”

“What is she like?” Gin asked his brother.

“I’ve heard she’s the kindest girl in her district. She has a big heart and couldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Wow! I wonder what my wife will be like,” Gin wondered aloud.

“She’ll probably be as loud and annoying as you,” Yuta told him making Gin gasp loudly.

“How could you say that about, Hime-sama?” Gin shouted, shocked his brother could speak so vily about a woman he had no clue of.

Yuta smirked at his brother and shook him off his arm, “I can say anything I want!” he shouted, dashing down the hallway to hide from his younger brother who took off right after him.

“No you can’t! I’ll tell father!” Gin screamed, chasing after him.


Taeyong had been missing for the past week. No one was sure where he had gone, his family was worried sick and Y/N was terrified something had happened. Taeyong was a smart kid but not always the best. He got into trouble easily, whether it was his fault or not. He had that look.

A man appeared one morning, with a black outfit on and a hat to hide his face. Yoshida took an envelope from the man before he left quickly, without anyone seeing him. Yoshida turned back inside, the royal seal on the envelope, showing its importance.

Y/N noticed his worried looks and quickly stood to her feet from the dining table.

“What is it?”

“It’s from the Emperor,” he muttered, his voice cracking. They still had another month until Y/N was to depart to meet Prince Nakamoto Yuta. He worried something had happened at the capitol and she would be wanted immediately, with barely a goodbye.

Carefully, Yoshida broke the seal and took his seat back at the table.

My Dear Friend, Yoshida,

I usually do not carry out such formal letters of this degree but since you are a close friend, I would like to inform you of the death of your student Lee Taeyong. I cannot spare you any details, but please do not grieve for long.

I am excited to see you soon, please stay for some time with your daughter before the marriage so we may catch up. I will pay for the inconvenience since you do have a business to run.

Have a fair night,

Emperor Ninko

A tear slipped from Yoshida’s eyes and Y/N looked at him in concern.

“Father, what is it?” she asked softly, taking his hand resting on the table between hers.

“Taeyong… I’m so sorry,” he whispered, gripping her now slackened hands. Her face fell and she couldn’t believe what he was saying to her.

“What? What happened to him?!” she asked quickly, frantically.

“He’s been given capital punishment,” he told her, looking down so he wouldn’t have to look at that distraught look in her eye.

“Why? For what? He couldn’t have done anything so terrible that he would be… he would be… hung!” she cried, gripping her father’s hand tightly as she leaned over the table and cried.

He moved from one side to the other so he could hold her close, and let her grieve for their lost friend.


The news had spread through the castle faster than wildfire. First from the servants to the lower noble class and up to the Seventh Prince of Ninko.

“I heard that a young man named Lee Taeyong tried to sneak into the castle because of a lost love and was killed by a guard right before he could make it to his destination!” Yuta’s servant, Ara, exclaimed as he fitted the prince in his day clothes.

“Really? Do you know of where he was trying to go?” Yuta asked curiously, putting his arms up as the shirt went over his head.

Ara looked round the room before turning back to his master, “Here, sire. Apparently your fiance is in love with him and he wanted to try and win your favor and make you give up your marriage.”

Yuta looked at him stunned. “Here? Well, frightening me in between sleep would not make me want to give her up, it would just make me want to kill him.”

“Well, it’s too bad. Now when your fiance comes she will be disheartened rather than delighted to meet you.”

Yuta took a moment to think of this, and grew saddened at the thought that maybe his future wife would not feel the same way about him. She had more of a life than he had, most likely. This Taeyong must have truly loved her to die for her.


A few weeks later, the boys had rarely seen Y/N besides her passing every once in awhile to shop. She rarely made eye contact with them and would hurriedly run up the stairs. Although, she seemed to have grown kinder in some way, leaving them lunch afterwards for them to eat.

She practiced harder, the other boys learned of her training when they ran into her in the back training. She was good too. They were all so stunned they hadn’t realised she had turned to them with a scowl on her face. When they noticed, they scrambled away quickly.

During one of Yoshida’s classes, a loud knock made it’s appearance on the dojo door. Yoshida quieted the boys and made his way to the door. The boys stared, unable to see the mysterious person behind but when Yoshida bowed they knew he was important. They slowly crept to where they could see the Prince Nakamoto Yuta at their door.

“There’s no need to bow,” Yuta told the man nervously, scratching his neck.

“You’re royalty, your Highness. It’s only proper,” Yoshida told him, standing up straight.

“You are a friend of my Father’s. There is no need to worry about such trivial things,” Yuta told him with a small smile.

“May I ask what you’re doing here, sire?” Yoshida asked, stepping back to allow him and his servant inside. He looked at his students and quickly shooed them, telling them to go outside and practice.

“Sensei, Y/N is out there,” one of the students whispered to him, Yuta picked up on his words but didn’t show his excitement.

“Tell her to get dressed, we have special company,” Yoshida told him. The boy nodded and they all ran outside. “Would you like some tea?” Yoshida asked the Prince.

“No thank you,” he passed.

“And yourself?” Yoshida asked his servant whom looked surprised he spared him a look.

“Oh, um, yes please,” he muttered, happy to have something warm after their long journey. Yoshida smiled kindly and brought a teapot and three drinks, winking at Yuta.

“I could tell you were just being polite,” he smiled. The door behind Yoshida opened and Yuta caught a glance of his fiance dashing up the stairs. She was truly as beautiful as he had imagined. “So, what have you come for? I hope it’s not too steal my daughter from me so early, we still have about a week,” he told the young Prince as he handed him a cup.

Yuta nodded, “Yes, I know. I came because I heard of what happened to her close friend. I wanted to give my condolences in person. I hope I can be of some help here,” he told the man whose eyes warmed slightly at the man.

“Well, thank you very much, your Highness. This means very much to me and will to my daughter, even if it doesn’t seem like it at first. I’m happy you came, maybe you would even like to join my boys in one of their lessons,” Yoshida smiled, taking a sip from his tea.

“I would love to,” Yuta replied, nodding his head.

The three sat at the table for a few moments in silence until Y/N appeared downstairs with a beautiful black and white kimono on, her hair twisted up and makeup more so than usual on her cheeks and eyes.

She began to bow but Yuta was quick to stop her, “Please, don’t bow,” he asked of her.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded, “Okay.”

They stood in front of one another awkwardly. “Would you like to go on a walk?” Yuta asked after a few minutes quickly, nervous to be in front of his future wife for the first time.

“I don’t see the problem with that,” she told him.

He smiled, holding an arm out for her and led her out of the dojo.

Y/N led him out of the dojo and into the woods that surrounded the place. She felt awkward and uncomfortable with him there, even if he were being somewhat kind. She had always heard of him as different from everyone else but she didn’t realize that different was in a good light. Everyone had assumed he was a destructive, rude, terrible teen that abused his crown but it seemed he was just gentle and kind and sometimes a bit too snarky.

She smiled softly to herself and he smiled at the sight of her smiling. Yuta looked away with his smile still on his lips. She rolled her eyes, taking him to a lake where she sat with no concern to her kimono.

It seemed he had gotten her all wrong as well. She was much less ladylike and rather manly. Her words were curt and unappealing, she had no regard of her appearance besides when necessary and if she had been outside before hand what could she have been doing?

“Are you going to sit or just stand there?” she asked him, not turning to look back at him.

He flushed red before sitting next to her, watching her skip stones across the water.

“So, why are you here? We shouldn’t have met until next week,” she told him skeptically, throwing one rock exceptionally hard.

“Oh, um, I heard about your friend…” he replied awkwardly, notcing that she stopped her skipping.

“And?”

“I wanted to give you my condolences, I know what he meant to you,” he whispered, taking her hand in his.

“What? Are you going to have me killed like him?” she asked with a hiss, ripping her hand out of his.

“I’m not that kind of person,” he replied with a hiss right back.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she rolled her eyes.

Yuta sighed loudly, “Listen, princess, I came out here to show that I actually care about your feelings rather than some other husband you could have who would have killed both you and him for having an affair outside of your arranged marriage.”

“We didn’t have an affair of any kind!” she exclaimed.

“It’s what it looks like to the public, or at least the public of servants in the castle,” he told her, making her eyebrows raise.

“What? What did he do? Why is… Why did he… leave me?” she asked softly, her eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Rumor has it that Lee Taeyong snuck into the castle to ask me to give you up but was killed by a guard before he could,” he told her softly in case anyone was around, although the town had no clue the prince was even in their small town.

She gasped, cupping her hands around her mouth to hold in her sobs. “Gods, why?” she repeated over and over as Yuta moved her over into his side and held her close to him.


Yuta stayed the week, the two becoming friends in the short amount of time they had known each other. There were no romantic feelings (for Y/N at least) for the time and they got along nicely. Much to the happiness of Daichi who had worried since she was three of the arranged marriage. Terrified that she would forever hate him giving her up.

Yuta travelled with them back to the castle where they were greeted famously, a small greeting from the twelve boys and the Emperor’s wives. They took the three to the dining room where the Emperor would join them for dinner any moment.

When he entered, they all stood, bowing to their leader before sitting when he did. The Emperor was happy to see his son getting along with his fiance and clinked his glass to get their attention.

“I would just like to say how happy I am to see my son so happy with the woman who was picked for him when he was five. So, I would like to announce that the wedding will take place in three months!” he cheered, holding his glass up. The room cheered with him except for Yoshida, Y/N and Yuta who were all stunned at the announcement.


Y/N stood in the royal gardens, crying besides the peonies that reminded her of Taeyong. She forgot she was to marry Yuta, he had become a friend but not a commitment. A person to take her mind off all the things happening but he was at the center of it all.

Yuta exited the maze and found her after an hour of looking. The sun was bound to set any minute and she was here, lost in the maze. He sighed, sitting beside her.

A few moments passed until he spoke, “Listen, Y/N, I’ll make a deal with you,” he told her, sparing her a look quickly looking away when she glanced at him. “Up until the wedding I’ll try to get you to love me, but if you don’t you don’t have to marry me. I’ll work it out with my father if it comes to that, but I hope it doesn’t. Just… give me a chance,” he asked of her.

She thought about his proposition for a good while, making him nervous and antsy. She nodded softly holding her shaking hand out to him. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he replied back. The game on.


Yuta tried his best to win Y/N over. She enjoyed his company and loved his attitude that wasn’t a spoiled rotten kid, but it wasn’t enough to have her stay.

He often took her riding into the woods. One fine day, he strapped swords to his horse and a bag full of stones on the other side, he raced across the courtyard where she sat in front of the garden. She was surprised to see Yuta on a horse and hadn’t realized he had pulled her up with him onto the horse. The two made their way into the woods and to a clearing with a lake.

“Like the one at your home,” he smirked, hopping off the horse, waiting for her too.

When she hadn’t moved, he turned back to her, seeing her stare idly at the ground. Her fingers itched around the hem of her dress in nervousness. He smiled at the sight.

“Are you scared?” he asked her with a smirk.

“N-No,  I just… don’t want to flash you. It would be indecent,” she told him, holding her head high.

“And at what time have you been decent?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, holding her arms out, “Please, just help me down,” she asked of him. He nodded walking over to her. She set her hands on his shoulders and he helped her slip off the horse. “Good, thank you,” she said, nodding her head and made her way to the lake.

Yuta smirked, running up behind her and lifting her skirt. “Looks like you flashed me anyways!” he laughed, making her turn bright red. “Now! Teach me how to skip a stone!” he asked her, holding up a bag of rocks, all different shapes and sizes.

She took them from his hand and rifled through them laughing slightly. “Well, first we’re going to sort through these and only have the flat ones.”

“What? Why? Then we’ll only have a few,” Yuta asked in confusion as she dumped the bag of rocks onto the ground and threw all the thick and awkward ones out, leaving only smooth, flat ones for them to use.

“If you use awkward or big ones they’ll just sink, they need to be able to slid against the surface and jump off it,” she explained, before skipping one across the lake.

Yuta nodded following her lead, throwing the rock into the water. Y/N started as the rock sunk immediately.

“You have to flick your wrist, like…” she stood behind him, “this.” She helped him flick his wrist from behind, the rock skipping two times before sinking. He cheered excitedly, taking her into his arms and swinging her around.

“Okay, okay, Yuta. Put me down. Put me down!” she shouted, in annoyance until he set her back down on the ground.

“Let’s go again!” he cheered, taking a rock and skipping it a few times across the water.


Three Months Later

“The wedding is tomorrow,” Yuta told her as they sat in front of the lake where she had first taught him to skip stones. Where they rode their horses and watched the sunset. Where Yuta really felt his heart going out to her.

Y/N looked up from her lap, wringing out her fingers, “I know,” she whispered.

“Have you decided?” he asked her softly. “I need to tell my father soon.”

“I know and… I have,” she whispered. He could hear it in her voice, the saddness, the distraught. He knew her answer even before she barely whispered it into the crisp weather. She started to talk about all the good times but he couldn’t get passed the thought that he’d never see her walk down the aisle to him. He would never wake up to her beside her. He would never have children with her and wither away with her. He’d have to stand for some annoying brat now.

“I can’t marry you,” was all that passed into his ears.


The main hall had turned into a wedding in the matter of three days. Yuta was prepared for marriage but the wife he had planned to have would not arrive at this moment. A woman by the name of Osao Nara was to marry him. A woman that was Japanese but her family had moved to Europe and returned to Japan not too long ago.

She was a thin, small thing. Pale and slightly awkward when she smiled. She liked power and already walked around the castle as if she owned it. Yuta wasn’t sure if she knew that they were seventh in line for the throne.

He sighed and walked into Nina’s room, forgetting to knock. The wedding was that day and the shrill screams from Nina was all that fazed him when he realized his mistake of invading. The young woman had been in a foreign dress, none like he had ever seen. It was white and sparkly and he hated it was on Nina rather than his one true love.

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress, much less the day of the wedding!” Nina screeched, slamming the door shut with ferocity.

“No, I’ve never heard that,” Yuta replied behind the door. Nina yelled in frustration, she wasn’t too keen to marry Yuta either. He was sarcastic and rude and had no respect for her. She barely saw him as her husband, she just wanted more power than she already had as a Duchess.

Yuta left the door and while walking around the castle was escorted off to get ready for the ceremony.


The ceremony started with Yuta at the front of the room, the people in the middle and the bride to be outside the doors. Music flooded the room and a young woman entered the room. A veil covering her face with the white head decoration holding it up. He could barely pull up a smile at the sight of Nara walking forward.

He liked the dress she wore then. She must not have wanted the bad luck to follow her because she now wore a formal Japanese dress as she made her way to him.

They sat before the priest, awaiting the first cup of sake as he purified the shrine they sat before and called the kami’s attention.

Yuta first took three sips, passing it to his bride who sipped it conspicuously. Nara was then given a cup, slightly bigger than the first and drank three times before giving it to her groom. The priest repeated his first action in a bigger cup and they finished the small san-ku-do ceremony.

They are then ushered to the altar where Yuta reads his quick written vows to her.

“We have not known each other long but thanks to Matsuoka Ji we can marry and find a love that would have never been found elsewhere.”

She listened, the tone of his voice dry and that love he spoke of was unheard of in the wavers of his voice.

The priest then offered evergreen to the altar, reflecting his gratitude to the spirits. The bride and groom following with their own objects. Yuta placed a folded piece of paper on the altar. Nara followed with a stone. Flat and thin that made Yuta look to her in confusion. He could barely make out the smirk underneath her veil. Family representatives followed after them with offerings while Yuta stared in confusion at the young woman before him. He wasn’t so sure it was Nara anymore.

The priest brought out the rings that had been presented and asked of Nara if she would unveil with help from her groom. She leaned her head forward and Yuta shakily lifted the veil in which to reveal Y/N instead.

He smiled from ear to ear at the sight of her and the whole room gasped.

“M-Master Yuta, this is not Nara. Would you like us to stop the proceedings?” the priest asked him.

“No, please continue,” he grinned, the whole room feeling his happiness. His father smiled, thankful the young woman returned to his son and let the wedding proceed, even as the priest stared at him in confusion.

Izanagi and Izanami were called upon in the final prayers before the reception was called upon.


“I thought you didn’t love me,” Yuta whispered to his wife as they stood at the reception smiling as people congratulated, even if they were slightly confused.

“I didn’t think I did, but as I left the city I realized that I couldn’t leave you,” she told him, looking up at him with a large smile. He smiled back, the two in love and married.

A tear slipped from Yuta’s eyes, holding her hand tightly in between his, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she told him, wiping the tear from his face.


© 2017 tenpioca  

So how about I talk about this wonderful scene in 6x12.

Killian acts so light-hearted, he laughs and tries to flirt with Emma, but it’s way too obvious and even without her superpower, Emma would realize something’s going on. She knows he’s hiding something but she can’t know exactly what, that he feels guilty for letting her father practically steal from her only to satisfy his need for revenge.

So he tries to flirt until Emma confronts him.

She’s still smiling, however. With that, Killian’s resolve breaks, and even the music shows that. Up to that point, the music is casual, almost comical even, but then it does an abrupt change when Killian mentions Archie, pause for a few seconds, and then a soft CS theme.

Killian: The truth is, I’m a bit out of sorts…

He doesn’t want to lie to her. He sounds like he’s trying to come up with something to cover it up, and luckily for him, he does have something.

Killian: … because of Archie.

Emma: Archie?

Killian: Yeah, I paid the Cricket a visit because I needed to talk to him about… about you.

Technically, this isn’t a lie. Killian wanting David’s blessing, in the end, had to do with him wanting to be a part of Emma’s family, which includes David.

And that surpirses Emma. She didn’t expect that.

Emma: Oh.

Killian: I thought you were gonna die. And that does something to a man. It changes the way he thinks about things… about us.

Now, if you have the video available (thanks, YouTube!) I’d like you to pay attention to how he speaks. His voice is low, soft, nervous and even breathy. It sounds like he’s forcing those words out of his mouth, as if he wants to keep his feelings safe inside the way he used to do for so long, and it’s so hard to let them out and it shows in how he acts.

Remember that he didn’t talk about that to Archie. But I know as much as the next shipper that this confession was anything but a lie or a cover. We know how much he loves her and how even the thought of her death terrified him. And it was just amazing, wonderful, absolutely fantastic that he confessed that to her, and look how hard it is for him! Killian Jones, the guy with all the bravado in the world, the one who knows the exact right words to say to someone to either scare them or comfort them, the guy who does the talk in his relationship while Emma does the doing, he can’t confess his fears to save his life. Remember how he was almost blushing and talking in big phrases when he first indirectly told her he loves her? It’s the same here, only this time he was telling her about a terribly negative feeling he had. And it’s so desperately hard for him to do that, he can barely voice his thoughts or keep his voice straight.

And when he says “about us” Emma grows even more worried. She doesn’t know how exactly her near-death experience affected his thoughts…

And really, it shouldn’t be her worry, she was the one who almost died, and that’s another reason why Killian was having such a hard time telling her that. Look how he’s trying to smile here, covering up his insecurities on that. As soon as Killian lets her know that things didn’t change in a bad way…

Killian: And he reminded me how important it was to share my feelings.

She smiles. Look at her cheekbones going up as Killian continues to be nervous as all hell.

And he breaks eye contact to look back where David just left from. No excuse to look there besides his nervousness on the vulnerability he just exposed himself.

Killian: And I didn’t want to let you in the shed without sharing them, so… feelings shared.

Emma: Well, I like feelings once in a while.

And this is absolutely wonderful. Such a short scene that barely contributed to the plot, but it was usually Killian who helped Emma get comfortable to share her feelings, the opposite is rare. And while I understand why that is, I also really cherish the fact that we got that scene. Where Killian, being absolutely nervous as if the end of the world was coming for him, confessed his fears and worries and Emma told him she appreciated it and kissed him. And it was just amazing and wonderful and everything good and pure in the world.

Originally posted by disneyandthefamilybusiness

Spit It Out!

Summary: John tries to make Sherlock accept that he likes you. Will he do it?

Request: 

Can u do a Sherlock one shot were everybody keeps saying Sherlock and the reader are meant to be and one day he gets so annoyed he randomly snogs the reader and admits his feeling just so everyone would stop? - @thefandomfairy567

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Title: ‘Spit It Out!’

Content: Fluff

Warning: Lines from “The Hounds of Baskerville” / Mild swearing

Word count: 1.658

A/N: Tried to keep Sherlock’s essence the best I could. I always try to base the one shots on the childish and ‘arrogant’ detective that we all know. Hope you enjoy it!

*gif not mine

Masterlist // Requests // Prompts


It was half past ten in the morning, and the flat was silent. Sherlock and the army doctor were sitting on their armchairs.

As John turned the page of the newspaper he was reading, Sherlock heavily sighed. “Problem?” He inquired without turning his gaze to the detective.

Sherlock leaped over the back of his armchair from behind it, and then perched on the seat as he wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m running out of patience, John,” he said and the doctor glanced at him. “Oh, John. I envy you so much,” he continued as he sighed.

John slammed the newspaper down, turned his gaze up to Sherlock and frowned. “You envy me?”

“Your mind: it’s so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine’s like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad,” he replied but his friend was still confused. “I need a case!” He shouted frantically.

Before the sociopath could shout again at him, John equally loudly yelled. “You’ve just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!”

“That was boring!” He stated. The detective jumped up in the air and landed in seated position. He started drumming the fingers of both hands on the armrests of the armchair while he stomped his feet on the floor. “I need something more challenging.”

John stared at Sherlock as he took his mobile phone and handed out it to him. “Call her.”

Sherlock peeked at the phone quickly. “Sorry, what?” he inquired.

“I said: ‘Call her’.”

“Why would I do that?” he frowned.

The doctor sighed, looked away for a second and then returned to the detective to resume the talk. “Because she, unlike me, is the only one who doesn’t keep you bored,” he stated. Sherlock rolled his eyes, stood up and headed to the kitchen. “Sherlock…” he said as he put the telephone back in his pocket. “You know,” John, looked over his shoulder to check out if Sherlock was really listening to his words. “You both…uhm…” the detective glanced at him before putting the kettle on. “…you both seem to get on well,” he commented hoping a reply coming from Sherlock’s mouth. He yearned and stood up on his feet. “In my defence, I told you.”

Sherlock turned his gaze away from the kettle to look at the doctor. “Defence?” He said perplexed.

“I’m warning you, Sherlock,” he assured and then he heaved a sigh. “Look, I know you always say you’re married to your job,” he paused to roll his eyes. “And I know that you’ll deny this but it seems that you want this to go further.”

The sociopath was about to fill his cup with tea but as he heard those words it fell to the floor and broke into pieces. John looked down to the floor and then went back to the detective with a ‘what was that?’ look in his face. Sherlock froze for a couple of seconds but as he saw his friend looking at him he reacted. “I-I-I don’t…I really don’t know what you’re talking about, John. If you’re going to make deductions, please make sure that what you’re saying it’s true otherwise…” he glanced at the broken cup. “…things like this can happen.”

Sherlock tried to look as if he didn’t understand the fuss as John walked closer to him, scowling. “You dickhead.“ he stated. "You’re such a dickhead! You’ve definitely fallen for her and all this time you’ve been trying to hide it from us.”

Sherlock glowered at John for a moment. He was wondering whether answer to him or let him continue.

“Come on, spit it out! You are in love with her!” Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation once more, tried to say something but retracted. “Oh, bloody hell! You moron!” He shook his head.

"For God’s sake! I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement is nonsense, John. It’s nonsense,” he defended himself unable to accept it.

Sherlock Holmes could be the coldest, feeling less, arrogant or strange person in the whole nation, but he definitely had some interest in you. He liked spending time with you, there was no doubt about it and John knew it. Actually, everyone knew it; even Mycroft. Since he met you, you were inseparable. The detective loved going to crime scenes with you or talking about the possible reason why the victim was murdered, though it was not your forte. You were a loyal friend, always there for him. You were like a female version of John.

“You know what?” he looked at Sherlock disappointed. “You might not be capable to admit it but that doesn’t mean that there…,” he pointed to Sherlock’s heart. “…there is a heart and I bet you, Sherlock, that it beats for her,” he said firmly, emphasising each word. Sherlock lowered gradually his head as John moving away from the kitchen. Sherlock thought he finally got rid of him but no, John stopped and turned around to him. “I saw you Sherlock. You’ve been texting her more than once, adding the fact that you smile every time she texts you back. So, let me tell you, Sherlock. Just let me tell you that if you don’t tell her that you feel something for her, she’ll be gone and trust me, Sherlock, there’s no second chance.”

The detective had a sad face by then as he realized that he did. He loved you. He didn’t have words to answer to that true statement. John was right, he felt something for you but he was afraid to tell you. Who would say it? Sherlock Holmes was in love, though it was hard to believe.

“So, you are not to give me a damn clever answer?” He inquired but Sherlock didn’t moved at all since he was processing his state. He was not a machine anymore, well, he had never been a machine but he was close to be one. He was a man who had a crush on one of his best friends. “No answer, then. Great!”

“John…” he finally opened his mouth. “I-I…” he was interrupted when he heard someone open the door. They both thought it was Mrs. Hudson until they heard your voice.

“Hello?” You said as you looked around the living room. “Sherlock?”

“She’s here,” John muttered as he smiled in amusement since Sherlock blanched.

The doctor walked to the living room to greet you but Sherlock didn’t leave his place. Instead, he put his tea cup on the table and then reflexed about the words John has just said. Sherlock was not planning to tell you about his feelings for you at all. But the idea of being in love with you and not having you by his side was killing him.

Sherlock took a deep breath and headed to the living room with no expression on his face. “Hello,” he said without looking at you as he sat down on his armchair and took his violin.

“Hey! How are you? How’s the case?” You asked him since you haven’t seen him for five days. “Mary told me you were both busy with the new case.”

“It’s already solved,” he quickly said and began playing with the bow as he thought.

“Oh, good,” you muttered. “So…there’s no case?” you asked but Sherlock did not answer.

“Uhm..yeah, there’s no case,” John answered in Sherlock’s place as he glanced disappointedly at him. “Mary? I mean, she was with you, wasn’t she?” He tried to change the subject so you would not feel as uncomfortable as he was.

“Oh, yes. She’s downstairs,” you said as you finger pointed to the staircase. “Mrs. Hudson wanted to talk with her,” you added as Sherlock looked at you for a second, though you didn’t notice. “Hey, you did not text me back yesterday,” you randomly said to Sherlock. John looked surprised. “I find it odd coming from you. You always do,” you commented.

“I was busy,” he lied.

“Sherlock, if I’m not wrong you were watching the telly. Am I wrong?” John asked knowing that he was lying.

“I don’t watch telly. Why would I be watching the telly?” he turned his gaze up to you both and frowned. “I was doing my daily research,” he stammered nervously and then put away the violin so he could stand up on his feet and stretch his jacket.

“Well, according to Mrs. Hudson you’ve been watching,” John nodded trying to make his friend tell the truth. Why didn’t he tell you the truth? Why didn’t he text you back? Sherlock rolled his eyes. “No, seriously. What have you been doing yesterday, Sherlock?”

“I told you that was doing my research!” He answered loudly as he gestured.

“No. You were not,” the doctor said firmly as he pointed at him.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” He exclaimed exasperated as he marched over to you, took your head in his hands and kissed you deeply for a couple of seconds – or a minute, to be fair. You reached up to hold his head.

John folded his arms, looked down to his feet and smirked.

When he released you, you looked at him right into the eye unable to understand what had just happened. Sherlock’s face was pale and his eyes were jumping up and down. He pulled back as he mumbled, though nobody could understand him. His hands were sweating and his heart beating fast as a train out of control.

Mary, who came in just when you snogged, couldn’t resist but to ask what happened. “Wow! What did I miss?”

Sherlock, not knowing how to react, looked at the three of you and then back to John. “Happy?!” He asked John.

Instead of replying to his friend, with his arms folded he put his palm on his face and chuckled. The detective glared at him and heaved a sigh. Meanwhile, you glanced at Mary, who shrugged and grinned to you.


This Is Us- Chapter 15

Like on A Date?

Catch Up On Previous Chapters Here Chapter 14, Chapter 13, All Chapters


Thank you everyone for comments and questions –for your patience as I learned enough to stop dropping my head to the keyboard in Tumblr ineptitude and most of all for caring about the story enough to want more!

FWIW their first kiss – in rough form–was drafted awhile ago and I couldn’t let go of how that unfolded.

Having Faith popping into my head and demanding her due– to which I agree she is quite entitled– changed the pacing and several of the beats came as surprises to me.

Who knew Jamie was going to invite Claire to Lallybroch (originally he went alone) and who knew she was going to be so damn adorable when she got there?

Readers of this story have stuck with it, cheered it on, loved and at the same time decried the slow burn. You have continued to like the story, to find it funny and sweet, tender and touching and sexy through 33,800+ words of a love story before the first kiss. I’m very grateful for everyone letting it breathe and season so it could take on a life of its own.

For all that this chapter does end the UST, it is in the next chapter that you’ll be appropriately rewarded for all your patience (that is my goal, at any rate).


“How is she doing?” Claire asked as she dropped her keys on the table near the door.

She had been delayed waiting for an open surgical theater. Jamie was the one who came to relieve Mrs. Crooke after work.

Now that Claire was home, he knew he should get going but he didn’t. Jamie was enjoying the sight of her. He’d missed her the past few days, their schedules hadn’t aligned to spend any time together.

Jamie also couldn’t stop thinking of their long weekend at Lallybroch. His mind skipped over dozens of moments.  

Large ones: watching her save the lives of Geneva and Geillis. Geillie had needed an epi shot, which Claire had in her wee kit. And small: stumbling on Claire surrounded by all the bairns in his study, blinds pulled tight, lights off, sitting under a makeshift tent of sheets and blankets, making shadow puppets on a pretend camping trip. And life altering: looking down at his lass, laughing as he pretended he couldn’t reach the candles and the expression of determination on her face when she decided it was up to her to blow them out. The feel of Claire in his arms floating under the fairy lights as he breathlessly waited for that kiss that never was.

He badly wanted to talk with her about it all but sensed they’d both needed a little time to think about things since returning to the city.  

So instead he talked of the mundane, the routine.

“Och, the wee lassie was plumb worn out from feeding the ducks. The new construction around the park started. They are rerouting the foot traffic. Ye have to go through that alley. They havena put in a crosswalk yet so ye need to hold her hand and remind her to look both ways. Oh, and there are all kinds of performances lined up in the park over the next few weeks. She’ll tell you all about it tomorrow I’m sure.”

Jamie started reaching for his coat.

He hesitated though and Claire noticed. She noticed everything about him these days.

She’d been grateful, in a way, that her work schedule had been brutal since their return. She’d hoped it would keep her mind busy, that a little distance would help her think more clearly.  When he was near, he filled her senses completely; but, lately, even when they were apart, Jamie had become her constant companion.

Claire couldn’t stop thinking of the Jamie he’d shown her at Lallybroch. Like an awakening of his soul the second his feet knew they were home. His joyful step taking her through the gardens, inviting her to rootle to her heart’s content, his laugh of delight coming upon her a lost couple of hours later, reaching down to help her up, not caring that her fingers were covered in dirt. Listening to him have a heart to heart with his namesake on the intricacies of clan relations, the importance of tradition, and wee Jamie’s duty to set an example as the first of the next generation of Frasers, no matter that last name was Murray. Stumbling upon him in his mother’s art studio with Kitty and Faith, their hands covered in finger paints and working on what had to be the ugliest group art project she had ever seen. It now hung on her fridge- it’s mustard, brown and gray swirls made her grin every morning.

If she let her mind wander, Claire could feel the heat of his palms gripping her backside. The graceful rhythm of his glide as they danced, his arousal when she pinned him, and the aching need she felt, after that half second where her tongue touched his, to complete their kiss.  

They had somehow crossed a line at Lallybroch. Immersing herself in his world had released something inside of her and she couldn’t contain it, not now, not if he felt the same.

The longer they didn’t talk about it the harder it became to start. It was a risk, and she’d feel foolish if she had misread the situation but unless she was prepared to prod him, they’d be grandparents before he’d make the first move.

Remembering his hesitation, hoping she was right, she inquired,

“Something you wanted to ask me, Jamie?”

She watched as his body relaxed itself a little bit, she hoped in relief.

“Sassenach, would ye–”

Jamie’s ears turned bright red. She flushed herself, her skin itching to touch him.

“Would ye want to have dinner some night?”  

“We have dinner rather often, did you have something special in mind for Faith?” Claire had to be sure she knew what he’d meant, this was too important.

Jamie’s heart was pounding, did she not feel the same? Did she not understand?

.“What do ye think about, I mean…. dinner ….wi’ just the two of us… you and me?”

Jamie’s eyes darted away.  Claire felt her insides quiver and squelched the bubble of laughter that threatened to spill over.

“You and me? Like on a date?” She teased.

Jamie misread her playful tone and suddenly the perils of asking Claire out while they were still learning how to support one another as parents seemed all too real. Had he seriously miscalculated?

Stupid, wee fool!” he thought; he could kick himself. God, the last thing he wanted was to make things awkward for them.

“Och, nevermind, Sassenach, I ken ye think the notion foolish. I’m sorry to have asked. I’ll see you tomorrow night. You’ll come get Faith around 6?”  

He turned and brusquely packed up his belongings, using more energy than necessary in his haste to get out of there before he made more of an ass of himself.

He had the door open when her hand on his arm stopped him.

Claire leaned across his body, brushing her breasts against his forearm as she reached forward closing the door to prevent his leaving.

Jamie wished he hadn’t noticed, distracting before Lallybroch, it was all consuming now. You’ll start aching even before ye can touch her.

Jamie could not look at her, cheeks burning, ears bright red.

Claire got her hands up on both his shoulders and physically turned him then dropped her hands down and reached for both of his. He squeezed them in encouragement, hoping she could salvage the mess that he thought he’d made of it.

“I would like dinner with just the two of us, Jamie.” She told him honestly and he could see she meant it.

“Can you stay a minute so I talk with you about something?” She asked.

“Of course, anything.” That came out in a breath.

Claire guided Jamie to the living room couch and they both sat.  But she picked up his hands again immediately.

“Do you mind…” she held up their joined hands.

Jamie shook his head, he dinna mind a bit.  

“I meant what I said.” She watched him intently. “But I’m also scared.” Claire’s courage abruptly fled and she looked away. This was so much harder than she had imagined.

Could she really tell him her troubled thoughts?

Dinna hide, lass, Jamie thought as he watched her struggle.

He had no idea what to say to her at this moment. He settled for squeezing her hands.

She turned back to him and he saw her draw in a deep breath.  

“After I sent that letter and didn’t hear back from you, I wondered. And then, suddenly your face and name were popping up everywhere with the Slainte launch. But still I heard nothing.”  Claire had been staring at their joined hands but looked up as he made a little sound of distress.

He opened his mouth to remind her why he hadn’t, but she released a hand and shot her fingers to his lips to quiet him.

Jamie groaned softly, it could have been a further sound of entreaty on his part but he knew the truth of it– his was in pure reaction to the frisson of heat that shot down his spine with her intimate touch.

“I know, Jamie, you don’t have to say it.  But I wanted you to understand why I–” She was looking at their hands, not meeting his eyes.

“I thought you didn’t want to get involved, that you might not have wanted anything to do with Faith or perhaps you thought I was being opportunistic because of the timing. And Faith, well, having spent time with her, you can see…..I knew if her father would only give her a  chance, just get to know her, he’d love her, too. I think Frank might have, if he’d just waited a bit.”

At this Jamie could not help a derogatory mmphm conveying his judgment of Frank’s actions. Claire’s lips tightened briefly then she continued.

“But he wouldn’t. I was powerless in that situation. I couldn’t say anything to convince Frank to give us a chance. So before I met you, when you were a name on a piece of paper, I tried my best in the letter to explain to it to that, James Fraser, whoever he was, hoping if I used my words to paint a picture of what she was like and if he knew I wasn’t the kind of person who would make it difficult, then that man, her biological father, would want to meet her.  But he never called. I built up a negative opinion of him –that unknown, faceless Mr. Fraser because I was heartbroken for Faith. First Frank and then, I couldn’t help but think….” She blinked hard and didn’t look at him.  

Jamie grabbed her hand which hadn’t reconnected to his and held it hard against his thumping chest. But waited her out, wanting to hear everything she needed to say.

“I told myself that it didn’t matter, what happened with Frank. He didn’t want us and I told myself that I didn’t need him. When Mr. James Fraser never called, I told myself that was fine, too. I didn’t need him either, I didn’t need anybody. I’d done fine on my own. We’d just soldier on as we had done all along.”

Claire’s voice grew soft, hesitant.

“But then…. Jamie, I discovered–” she sighed, out with it, Beauchamp, she mentally cajoled herself.  

“I haven’t had anybody to share this with.” Claire made a grand circling gesture with her hand meaning to encompass all of it, learning how to be Faith’s mother, raising her on her own.

“I could have been content, you know.”

She looked up sharply, almost glaring, defiance in her tone. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded in agreement.

“I could have continued to fool myself into imagining I was ok on my own…. until that James Fraser ended up being you. Everything changed when you came into Faith’s life.” She admitted.

Jamie could not remain silent. “Sassenach, I came into your life, too.”

“I know. That’s it, exactly.”

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, as if the truth of the statement made her heart break.  

Would he never, ever be on solid ground with this woman? Jamie thought as every muscle in his body seized in sympathy with his churning wame.   

“Jamie, I didn’t know, before I met you, I had no idea. I watch you day by day falling more in love with Faith.”

A grunt of acknowledgement from him.

“I am overjoyed for her and for you. Jenny and Ian, the kids, even Fergus and Murtagh knowing them now, I–”

Oh God, Claire thought, am I really going to confess this?

“It’s alright, Sassenach, whatever it is, say it.” Jamie encouraged.

“Oh, Jamie, I envy you. If Faith does something you have a whole phone book of family to share it with. Then they will tell you all about you or one of their kids at that age. Lallybroch.” The word drawn out on a sigh of longing he felt in his bones.

“Ever since being there I realize what is it to belong not just to a family but to a place, to a people, a way of life that goes back generations. No one in my life knew my family or remembers me from Faith’s age. I didn’t really understand just how…alone I had been until…”

Claire paused to try and gather her thoughts. Jamie made a sound of distress. But she shook her head forestalling anything he might say.

“I didn’t have anyone to call, not in that way. But now there is you.”

Aye, there is me, and I’m not going anywhere.

Her eyes locked on his.  “Your clan, your family, Lallybroch will always be there for Faith and I am so grateful for that but right now, for this time I have you, too and you…. Oh Jamie, you always take my calls and ask questions.”

Jamie, unable to stop himself, moved so he could cradle her face in his large, warm hand, moving his fingers back to cup her behind her ear.

“You cannot imagine– I cannot tell you— how different it is. You make me feel….”

Claire cleared her throat, took in a breath and looked him dead in the eye. “I know it’s selfish of me but now that I know what it is to have it, I’m….I don’t– want to be so alone again.”

Claire couldn’t hold his gaze, she acted as if she had revealed a painfully shameful secret.   

He was overwhelmed, feeling so much love of her and for her. It wasn’t only Faith he was falling for day by day; and he could feel himself fall a little harder as she exposed the bruising on her heart.

Then she swung her focus back to him and Jamie was spellbound, he didn’t dare blink.

“But on top of being selfish, Jamie. I’m greedy too. For even though I know what I risk, when I look at you, I- I burn Jamie. For a little while I told myself that what I felt was just our connection as Faith’s parents. Then I told myself my feelings were those of a friend. But that isn’t true. There is another feeling that comes up from this place inside of me and suddenly I don’t care what could be lost. It’s a wave of heat rolling inside me and I can only think how much I want to throw myself into the flames.”

Jamie watched it all play over her face– the fear and the hope, the desire which seemed to flare between them the instant they saw each other.

Helpless, Jamie called her to him, called her as his body demanded, as her body ached for him to do. The deprivation of weeks welled up and spilled over.  Emotions brutal and gentle, all mixed up inside him, and the only thing he knew was that he needed to take her pain into him and give her all the tenderness that filled his heart.

He hovered over her lips and flicked his tongue in and out, along the edge of her lip, feeling its softness as he lowered his mouth onto hers. She sighed as their lips slid over one another’s and their tongues met in hesitation.

Jamie moaned, an embarrassingly loud noise of gratitude that transmitted its longing to her core. No longer gentle, he poured all the desire he felt for her into that kiss. His senses rejoiced as Claire met him with equal need. She set his whole body tingling.

She made a sound like a hitching sob as her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair. The slight tug of pain answering lower down his body had him groaning in response. He changed the angle of his head and deepened the kiss.

Tongues no longer uncertain but joyfully exploring one another.  The smack of their lips almost as erotic and their breathy moans. She made that noise deep in the back of her throat again, it was making him desperate.  

She pressed her whole body harder to him, his hands splayed across her back urging her to rub more of herself against him. He needed– oh God! How he needed. The sounds she made enflamed him. His only thought: more more more.  

He felt her hands spasm in his hair as she gripped him harder. He’d never been this in sync with anyone. It was hard to say who was leading anymore. They were moving together, anticipating, meeting, joining, moving apart, thrusting back together. Jesus, what would it be like to have her naked and panting against him with those wee noises she was making?

Starting as comfort, it would end as something else entirely.

But some shred of recognition remained and he knew they couldn’t leave the conversation where it ended. He needed her to know she was safe with him, that he would protect her heart.

On a groan he pushed her back from him.  Dazed confusion in golden eyes as she slowly came back to awareness.

“Lass, if ye continue wi’ that, I’ll no be able to stop.” His voice impossibly husky.  “And as much as I want to carry on wi’ it, we need to figure this out before it goes any further.” He was breathing hard, so was she.

Claire nodded in shaky agreement.  She moved off his lap with an increasingly awkward awareness that let him know that, like him, she’d had no idea she’d been sitting in it and grinding up against him. His body wanted her right back where she had been but his mind was thankful that she had broken contact. He waited a moment for his blood to cool so he could gather his thoughts.  

When he was ready, he turned his body to face her and reached out for the hands she placed in his. She nodded in encouragement. 

He smiled at her, he couldn’t help it, for the joy of being well understood.

“Sassenach, I ken yer scarrit, but ye needn’t be. There’s the two of us now.” His eyes raced over her face, unable to stop looking at her.

The intensity of his feelings had nothing to do with Faith. Yet, everything they did impacted her so she needed to be their guiding light.

“Do ye think we can strike a bargain, the two of us?” He asked, feeling his way slowly. She nodded.

“I dinna know where this, what lies between us, will lead, but I feel it too. God, ye must ken that much?”

She smiled at that as Jamie pressed her hand hard to his heart. It was beating very fast, almost kicking her palm in its intensity.

“I am thankful you feel like ye can talk of such matters wi’ me.” He kissed her hand as he held it. “I hope I am always the first person you want to call and I will always make the time to talk to you. Always.”

Claire saw something shift in his eyes, a look of resolve came over his expression.

“Claire, I make you a vow and to a Scot a vow is no’ just words, ‘tis a sacred oath and I’d ask ye to do the same if ye feel ye can.”

Claire nodded and he continued.

“Faith is the blood of our blood and bone of our bone. Can we pledge that we will remember her and do honor to one another as her parents? That when it comes to our lass, we will help each other be the best parents she can have? For whether you and I are together, she will be ours together ‘til our lives shall be done.” The intensity of his stare gave truth to his promise.

“Oh yes, yes I agree!” Claire breathed, relieved because he did understand.

Jamie dove in for a hard, hot kiss that melted her insides and left her dizzy.

“Thank you, Claire.” Jamie kissed her hands still held in his and gave a small relieved chuckle.

“Sassenach,” he said leveling a look of pure desire at her, “by chance do you ken if Mrs. Crooke can babysit Friday night?”

Unknown Parts (Gaston)- Part Two

Pairing: Gaston/OC

 Warnings: Idk, Gaston should come with a warning for being so damn smooth. Amirite?

A/N: Here’s the second part! I’m honestly not sure how many there’ll be…I’m thinking three or four? Enjoy, lovelies!

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Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock

Part One  Part Three

Much to my great annoyance, Gaston was the first thing on my mind when I woke up the next morning. Even as I stood in front of my easel, at the kitchen window, I found myself distracted from the one thing I usually lost myself in so easily. Every one in a while, I’d snap to attention, paintbrush paused in my hand and a dopey smile on my face…remembering the way his touch had felt as he brushed paint from my cheek the night before.

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J2 Gold Panel at NashCon 2017

It’s time to take a look at the morning panel from Nashville, my tinhat firmly in place.

This panel was a lot of fun. Jared seemed extra silly and hyper and Jensen appeared to be in good spirits as well. There were some really noteworthy moments - here are a few of them I spotted!

(0:40) Jared suggests he wasn’t present at SNS, although some claimed he was. I wonder what the truth is? And if he was really there, why hide it? Perhaps the fans would be disappointed to know he was around, but hiding from the audience.

(0:55) Okay, I’m awake. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

(4:09) Jared breaks out with the Richard Marx again, playing “Right Here Waiting” while Jensen responds to a question…

(4:23) … and seems to be a little embarrassed by his romantic gesture.

(13:37) Jared didn’t hear the fan’s question due to providing her with background music, so he asks Jensen what she said. Is this a married couple thing? I think it’s a married couple thing.

(20:02) A fan asks which movie Jared and Jensen would like to place their families in (what?) and a fan tries to help Jensen with yelling “Ten Inch Hero.” Jared reacts with “Whoa, take it easy!” Protective, much? ;)

(29:58) Jensen has died and Jared soothingly slaps his… butt? Side? Crotch? I demand a better angle for this!

(29:59) Mm-m, mm-m, mmmm… Ooh la la, Jared! That just got real dirty real fast. Carry on with your wicked ways, sir!

(30:40) Jared has just faced a very emotional fan with a serious question about how to become happy and Jensen is ready with some water. It quickly turns into a joke about Jared not being able to catch bottles, but the sentiment is not lost on me (nor Jared, if I can read him right)

(31:16) Jared tells the fan how he cheers up on a bad day. Do I need to analyze this? You’re seeing this, right?

(31:35) Jensen can’t resist offering comfort to his boy. Of course they make it into a joke, but the sentiment doesn’t go anywhere. Aside the obvious, I think this is Jensen’s subtle way of showing that Jared has a hard time talking about these things. Notice how Jared leans into his hand slightly before putting up the front?

(33:18) Is this an “I’m okay, baby” butt slap? Jensen ends the panel very quickly after Jared has dealt with the question, marching off. If I may guess, he got angry with how once again someone put his boy in a tight spot and used him like a therapist. This has to end, people. Conventions should be fun for Jared as well!

Overall, I thought the panel was extremely enjoyable. The lads seemed to have a good time before the unfortunate anti-climax at the end. Some other interesting points in the panel:

  1. (21:56) Jared praises Jensen’s performance as Dean.
  2. (25:50) Jared jokingly celebrates the moment where he gets to kill his wife in season 4.
  3. (32:15) Jensen corrects that Jared wasn’t listening to Hendrix at his one-man dance party, but Britney. (Were you there, Jensen, or just teasing?)

PS: Main panel review here!

Love is... a concerto in A Major - K622

By: @thegirlfromoverthepond

My deepest thanks to @titaniasfics for her help in betaing this story :) thank you so much, lady :)

the awesome art is done by the so gifted @akai-echo.

She comes every Friday afternoon, taking the girl with curly hair to her flute lesson.

Every Friday I watch as she passes before the windows of my class, talking to her daughter, laughing.

One day in September, I heard her laughter through the now-open windows, and I swear, i’ve never heard music so pure.

I know it’s pitiful. I know that i shouldn’t be completely infatuated with the mother of one of the kids we teach to, but I can’t help it.

Her husband is the luckiest man alive.

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