“Too bad Sasha wasn’t here, she would’ve loved watching me shoot a thing in the face.”

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times (Tommy Shelby x OC)

Hello everyone! Here is a way too long Tommy Shelby x OC one-shot. I’m planning a multi-chapter fic and wanted to experiment with some ideas - so feedback on this would be much appreciated!

“What’s that?” 14 year-old Thomas Shelby asked as he approached her. The boy had been playing a match of football with his brothers and a few friends when he noticed her sat beneath a tree. He recognised her as the sister of his friend and current team-mate, Charles Anderson.

The girl raised her head to look at him. She seemed startled by his arrival, almost dropping the object in her hands, but quickly covered her surprise by lifting it toward him, “It’s called a book.”

Tommy was taken aback by her patronising tone. Did she really think he didn’t know what a book was? He was on the verge of confronting her about it when he caught on to the playful glint in her eye. She was teasing him.

He held back a grin as he rolled his eyes, “I know it’s a book. I meant, what are you reading?”

She smiled up at him and turned the cover to face the boy, “’A Tale of Two Cities’.”

“Charlotte Brontë, right?” he prompted, trying to impress.

The girl giggled at his undoubting and somewhat cocky expression. She shook her head, “Dickens.”

“Oh,” the boy’s face fell in defeat, causing her sniggering to escalate. He moved to sit beside her and attempted to change the subject, “What’s your name?”

“Maggie. Or Margaret if you want to get cut,” he raised a brow at her bluntness, though he could tell she was still just taunting, “Yours?”

“Tommy. Or Thomas if you want to get cut.”

The pair exchanged an approving smile as she extended her hand, “Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

“And you, Margaret,” he replied as they briefly shook hands.

“You’re a friend of Charles?” Maggie asked the boy beside her.

“Yeah, he’s your brother, right?”

She nodded, “And you’re a Shelby?”

“I am. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” she shrugged, “You have that way about you.”

“What ‘way’?”

“A pompous walk. Your brothers have it too.”

Tommy’s brow creased in confusion, “What the bloody hell does ‘pompous’ mean?”

“Arrogant, egotistic, boastful-“

“Excuse me?” Tommy shot her an incredulous look.

She continued, “Conceited, flaunting, pretentious-“

“Alright, I get it.”

She ignored him, “Flatulent, selfish, ostentatious-“

“That’s starting to get annoying.”

“Imperious, overbearing, supercilious-“

“-Ok you made that one up. That’s not a word.”

She then began to giggle again, laughing at the astounded expression on the boy’s face. Tommy guffawed at her nerve. Even at 14, he wasn’t used to people being so direct with him –especially a girl. He just stared at her, watching her laugh. Her cheeks had reddened and her eyes were creased shut. She had placed a hand over her stomach as she bent forward, her curls falling into her face. Eventually, despite his attempts to resist, Tommy found himself laughing too. The way her eyes glistened as they reopened ignited something within him. Pure joy seemed to invade his senses, making him forget, even just for a brief moment, all the misfortune his father was causing with his reckless antics. It had been a while since he had laughed like this.

Through his blurry eyes, Tommy noticed the book had fallen from her lap. He picked it up and studied it. Noticing his movements, Maggie turned to face the boy, still beaming. Her breath caught slightly as his eyes lifted from the book to reach her own. Just as her books would describe, they were a cloudless blue. Or perhaps they were azure whirlpools that she wished to dive into and drown in - she was certainly experiencing a similar spinning motion as he gazed at her. It was as if all the novels she had read were manifesting into reality and creating her own romantic hero.

“Read to me.”

His voice broke through her reverie. She blinked as she noted his arm outstretched, motioning for her to take the book back.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she looked at him, perplexed, “What?”

“Read to me,” he replied. Tommy nudged her upper arm with the corner of the book.

She let out a short chuckle and hesitantly took the novel from him. As they passed it, their fingers barely brushed– but they certainly felt it. Their eyes snapped to lock onto each other’s. Tommy’s heart clenched. Maggie’s skipped several beats. Both unknowingly held their breath. This was definitely something she had read in a novel. Frozen, the book remained held between their two bodies-


A football flew toward them at a powerful force and hit the tree above them, instantly destroying the moment. Their gazes broke to watch as the eldest Shelby brother ran toward them.

“Sorry, Tommy!” Arthur yelled as he retrieved the ball. He turned to throw Maggie a quick, apologetic smile before turning around and resuming the match.

Maggie released a long breath, almost grateful to have been distracted. The boy beside her cleared his throat and looked back to her, “So…read to me?”

She dropped her gaze to the book before offering him a soft smile, “Sure.”

Tommy struggled to keep himself from grinning at his victory. He shuffled slightly to lie back in a more comfortable position on the grass.

“Just don’t think I’m going to re-read the first 67 pages just so you can follow what’s going on,” she sneered, cheekily, “If you get confused, read it yourself.”

“Maybe I will,” he found himself smiling at her, “It’s no problem. Just pick up from where you left off.”

He watched eagerly as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and opened the book to the correct page. Quietly clearing her throat, she began, “’For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything. I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. And when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you…’”


The years progressed and the pair grew closer.

After the war, Tommy was not the same. No one was. He became riddled with nightmares. Blood, wires, mud, the damn shovelling. He hardly slept. The increasingly dark shade beneath his eyes was a clear indicator of that. The headaches too. He would not reveal any of this to the others, of course. No matter how much he craved comfort, he could not ruin his image. And so, he kept his torment to himself.

But Maggie knew. She worked it out for herself. He allowed her to. Maggie volunteered as a nurse. She was in France. She saw the horrors too.

Often she would stay late to clear up the betting shop for the boys. She would hear the whimpers and muffled yells coming from his room. Knocking gently and waiting for his approval, she would unobtrusively close the door behind her and sit beside him on the bed. After handing him a glass of water and placing a cool, wet towel on his head, she would reach over to his small bookshelf. After choosing a book, she would open it and begin to read. No other words would be spoken before or after. All he needed was reassurance that he was safe and not alone. He didn’t need to explain himself. She understood. She was there for him.

In a complete contrast to his hot, heavy illusions, her serene tone created a calm, content atmosphere. The words would drip from her tongue into his hear and instantly numb his senses. Eventually, this ease would allow him to drift into unconsciousness.

He would wake to find her gone. However, the book would always be placed on the table beside him as a reminder of her visit, like a notification that she was genuinely present. It would become a regular occurrence. They had silently agreed to never discuss what happened the next day. It was their private, almost nightly ritual. They wanted to separate the War from their civilian lives. There was no need for it to distract them from their day-to-day lives.

On this particular day, Tommy knocked on her apartment door. She opened it with a warm smile, “Tommy! What can I do for you?”

“There is a family counsel at 6 this evening. Be there,” and with that, he began to walk away.

She called out, “But, I’m not family. What’s going on?”

He stopped on the street and turned back to her. There was a hint of playfulness in his eye as he spoke, “’Family not only needs to consist of those whom we share blood, but also for those whom we would give blood.’”

Maggie stood bewildered in her doorway before a grin brightened her features. He had to suppress his own smirk.

“Thomas Michael Shelby,” she drawled in astonishment, “Did you just quote Dickens to me?”

Tommy turned from her confounded expression and sauntered down the street without a word.

Maggie let out a short laugh as she watched his retreating form. Once he had turned the corner, she closed her door and reflected on what he had said. Their relationship had now gone beyond acquaintances. Beyond friendship, in fact. He considered her family.

That night, Tommy stopped by Maggie’s apartment. She had not been present at the family meeting and he came to find out why. Knocking on her door, he called out for her. No response.

He knocked again. No response…except for the small sound of female weeping.

His heart began to beat wildly. His mind became frenzied and swam with endless disastrous scenarios. Before he could consider any other action, he ran to her back door she always forgot to lock and barrelled into her front room. His heart shattered at what he saw.

As a victim himself, he recognised the symptoms almost immediately. Maggie was sat in the corner of the room. Her knees huddled to her chest. Her arms gripped onto them so fiercely that the nails seemed to be breaking skin. Pale tear marks streaked her dark red cheeks.Her eyes were sore, wide and staring straight at him. Her cries had quietened.

As if realising he had caught her, she suddenly struggled to her feet and wiped at her wet cheeks. She looked guilty. Her eyes remained glazed as she tried to avoid his.

“T-Tommy?” she spoke, her voice timid and almost inaudible. It was not the smooth and confident voice that read to him every night. That’s when he realised; she was broken. Like him, the War had ruined her.

“Maggie,” he greeted, attempting to keep his voice strong and assuring.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” she sniffed.

“You weren’t at the meeting. I came to see if you were alright.”

“Oh,” she wiped at her eyes with her sleeve again and attempted to smile at him. She failed.

“Maggie?” he called to her, gently.

“I’m sorry about the meeting, I completely forgot,” she quickly replied, as if trying to avoid the question he would no doubt ask.


“I was just…cleaning the apartment,”  she avoided his gaze and looked behind him, “Did you break my door?”


She made to move to the door, “Because if you did, you know you’re paying for a new one, right? Because I don’t have the mon-“

He reached out for her arm as she passed. The touch made her freeze and turn to him suddenly. Tommy almost flinched as her red-rimmed eyes locked onto his.


She knew what he was going to ask. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Are you alright?”

There it was.

“I’m fine,” she tried to say as convincingly as possible. It didn’t work.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking,” she almost spat.

Tommy simply continued to looked at her, unconvinced by the bravado she tried to portray. His gaze seemed to snap something in her and she burst into tears again, shaking her head frantically.

Tommy reached out for her. She felt his cool palm press against her burning cheek. The other hand found its way to the back of her head and cradled it to his chest. Easing into his arms, Maggie allowed herself to sob. This was the first time she had cried in front of someone else since she was young. Even after the news of Charles’ death, she refused to let others see her this way. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was scared people would see it as a weakness. Being a nurse on the front line did not allow for tears. She had a job to do and she had to get it done. There was no time to grieve. But without the War, there was nothing to distract her from thinking of what she had witnessed.

Her hands gripped onto his upper arms, as if to stable herself.It was then that he noticed her legs were shaking uncontrollably. Tommy was worried she would fall. Removing his hands from her face, he reached down and picked her up behind the legs. Once she had wrapped her arms around his neck, he led her to the bed and lay her down. Once she had manoeuvred under the covers, he knelt beside the mattress.

Reaching out for her hand, he looked at her sincerely, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright. I understand. Just don’t lie to me and tell me you’re ‘fine’.”

She just looked back at him for a moment with those red eyes before slightly nodding her head. Tommy nodded too and made to move away, but she tightened her grip on his hand.

“Stay,” she whispered.

Maggie watched as Tommy looked down at her before gently removing his palm from her hold. He began to walk away. He was going to leave her in this state. Maggie wasn’t angry with him for that decision. He was a busy man with things to do. Also, seeing her in this state may awaken his own trauma. That’s the last thing she wanted.

Closing her eyes, she saw the haunting images. Maggie allowed more silent tears to leak from beneath her eyelids. They only re-opened when she felt a pressure on the mattress beside her. Fluttering her eyes open, she saw Tommy had returned…with a book.

He had gone to the shelf in the next room and picked up ‘Great Expectations’. How could he leave her in this state? Especially after all she had done for him. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. Tommy wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to dealing with emotions. So, he decided to start by trying out her technique. Besides, it worked for him, didn’t it?

He climbed onto the bed and sat beside where she lay. He crossed his legs, opened the page she had marked as her current place and cleared his throat.

Tommy began to read, “’love her, love her, love her. If she follows you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her.’”

He paused when he heard her sniffs cease and breaths even out. Looking down beside him, Tommy saw that Maggie was asleep. Her face, although still blotchy, was showing signs of returning to its regular pallor.She looked at peace.

Gently sliding from the mattress, he placed the book on her bedside table, as she always did for him. Looking back to her, he could not resist reaching out to brush the hair from her forehead. He found his fingers tenderly caressing her cheek for another minute, before he leaned over and placed his lips delicately to the side of her mouth. Without a word and cautiously avoiding making any sound, he picked up his cap, angled it on his head and left the apartment.

The words he had read resonated as he made his way home: love her, love her, love her.


Summary: After a tense mission, you catch Bucky in a weak moment, giving you the chance to remind him why you love him

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1613

Warnings: general angst, argumentatively fluffy

A/N: Okay, I’m not too happy with it, but the end is cute and I just really wanted to write something :) 

Originally posted by natpekis

It was a lazy day at Stark Tower for you, having taken the day off from your work to wait out Bucky’s return. You’d both been dating for six months now, a milestone you didn’t necessarily expect reaching.

He was shy when he first met you and it took several months to squeeze a few minutes of small talk out of him. He always seemed to dodge you at first, trying to avoid conversation because he knew you’d bring one up.

Keep reading

Lifeline (2/?)

Jamie & Claire | AU | Claire doesn’t have a husband to return to. Jamie doesn’t have a price on his head. Seems like smooth sailing … right? (AO3)

I’d almost forgotten about this story … sorry !! But since there was no new episode yesterday, I decided to get my shit together and give you chapter two (yes, I know this is a poor substitute for THE reunion episode, but this is all I have!) Also thank you all so much for the lovely comments on chapter one!

Aaand a special shoutout to @bonnie-wee-swordsman who helped me with this chapter, she’s a lifesaver !! (or, at least a ficsaver) (It took some restraint though not to add “cue jaws theme” in the fic based on Bonnie’s comments …)

Also tagging @mibasiamille 😘

I. An Escape

II. The First Misstep

There can be danger in the lack of a purpose. When you no longer have something to give your life meaning, it’s awfully easy to throw caution to the wind and embark on a dangerous—and often foolish—journey.

Some people thrive in danger; they are hardwired to seek it out. For those people, the real danger is being idle, for boredom eats away at their very soul. They need a purpose like they need air to breathe, or food to eat.

Frank had said once he feared I loved my patients more than I loved him. He had said it half-jokingly, but he had been right.

I had always had a drive, though I had not always known towards what. But I kept moving forward, knowing I could never be content standing still. I had the tendency to seek out those dangerous environments other people would rather avoid, but I liked to think I didn’t have the fatal foolishness that some did. If I did, I would quite possibly find out soon.

On our way to Castle Leoch, Jamie regaled me with stories. He had told me about his uncles and Clan MacKenzie, after I’d shown quite a bit of enthusiasm for learning more about the place and its inhabitants. In truth, I had been to the castle once before—or would come there once more?—but at that time, it had been merely a ruin, inhabited by no one.

Foolish or not for putting myself in this situation, here I was, and I did think trying to learn something of the place to which I was headed was a good idea. Information would allow me to prepare, and preparation I definitely needed in order to lie effectively about my origin, for no one could know where I truly came from. Such was life for one with the misfortune of being cursed with a face of glass.

Jamie’s tales provided more than information, though. They were entertainment. He certainly had a gift for storytelling, and I enjoyed listening to him. Though his tales had initially unsettled me a bit, they were further confirmation that I truly was in the past—the eighteenth century—something I had realised when I happened upon Captain Randall, but still naïvely hoped to be a dream.

I hadn’t realised it then, but when Jamie asked me to come with him, I had made a decision to stay—for now, at least—in this time. There was little left for me where I came from, save that perilous boredom.

“I have to ask, Sassenach,” Jamie said, suddenly. “Why is it ye were lost in the forest in the first place? It seems unsafe for a lady such as yourself to travel alone, you could easily be—well, you know what could happen.”

I did. My unfortunate encounter with Captain Randall was not one I’d soon forget. It was only luck that had allowed me to get away unscathed. Luck in the form of a dashing rescuer, Jamie Fraser.

I tried to come up with a good explanation as to why I had wandered astray in the forest, but I had none. How could I tell him how I’d ended up here when I barely understood it myself?

I twirled the golden ring on my finger. I had told him I was widowed, mostly because I suspected the term divorced would be frowned upon, considering the times—even in my time, it wasn’t exactly something women would boast about.

I knew I had to tell Jamie something, even if I didn’t think he would force me to reveal something I didn’t wish to. He seemed to be a kind man, a gentle man, maybe even a loving man. He hadn’t talked extensively about his home, but he had mentioned a sister and of her, he’d talked very fondly. Family, it seemed, he valued greatly.

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” I began slowly, mentally berating myself for the, at best, clichéd opener; at worst, seeming attempt to stall or avoid answering altogether. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you why, but … I ran away.” That was partly true. With an ever-revealing face like mine, it was always better to stick closer to the truth than to outright lie.

That’s what I thought, at least, until Jamie, genuinely worried, said, “Are ye in danger? Are ye being chased by someone who wishes to do ye harm?”

His worry both warmed my heart and troubled me. Had he cared less, he would’ve asked fewer questions. It was unlikely that he’d be satisfied until he knew I wasn’t in any danger.

“No,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster, “I promise, no one’s looking for me.”

I couldn’t see his face as we were on horseback, him sitting behind me, but I could imagine the look of concern that refused to leave his face.

“Did you know him?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Captain Randall, that is.” I had seen how he’d looked at the captain when they fought, something that suggested there was more to his fury than seeing a stranger about to take a woman by force.

“Aye. I ken him.”

I glanced back, startled by the brevity. His gaze was fixed somewhere far off, his posture stiff. Whatever he was looking at, I couldn’t say, but then I thought neither could he. He seemed lost in thought, reliving a memory.

I was undeniably curious and wanted to ask how their paths had crossed before, what Randall had done to make this man hate him so. I didn’t ask, though. Whatever it was, if Jamie’s expression was anything to go by, it was not a pleasant topic of conversation.

While I understood that he might not wish to speak of something that seemed to pain him, I found myself a bit surprised seeing as he’d been so unusually, yet pleasantly, forthcoming with information about himself during our ride.

He had told me a number of things about himself. He had told me that, not too long ago, he had been an outlaw, and only recently had he been pardoned.

He’d said the price on his head had prevented him from returning to Lallybroch, as his ancestral home was called, and that was why he stayed at Leoch. What he hadn’t told me was why he, now a free man, chose to remain there, instead of returning home.

When we arrived at the castle, a woman rushed out to greet—or rather, scold Jamie. She eyed Jamie with disapproval and me with suspicion.

“What do ye mean by disappearing like that, lad? Gone all night! People have been askin’ for ye, not to mention—”

“Mrs Fitz,” said Jamie, as he helped me dismount. “This is—”

“And what do we have here?” asked Mrs Fitz. She surveyed me from top to toe. Her eyes lingered on my once-white dress with particular curiosity and not a little disfavour.

“Claire Beauchamp,” said Jamie. “I brought her here for protection.”

“Is that so?” Her face softened, the initial suspicion towards me subsiding.

“Aye. Would ye make sure she has some proper clothes? I should speak to my uncle.”

“Aye, and then there are other people who’d like to speak to ye as well, as I’m sure ye ken. I wouldna advise ye to wait too long.”

“Wait!” As Jamie was about to walk away, I reached out a hand, putting it gently on his arm, prompting him to stay. “Your wound. Unless you want it to get infected, you should let me clean and dress it properly.”

Having earned Jamie’s trust in my medical abilities after helping him with his shoulder the day before, he agreed without objection.

Mrs Fitz kindly showed us to a room where I could tend to my patient. The room was dark and cold, and the many shelves that adorned the stone walls were crammed with jars that clearly hadn’t been touched in a while; they were covered with dust.

Upon entering, I had turned my questioning gaze to Mrs Fitz, who explained, “’Tis the surgery. It hasena been used in some time, no since Davie Beaton passed.”

The temperature problem was soon remedied by a fire, and Mrs Fitz left us alone.

I hadn’t been prepared for the sight of Jamie’s bare back when he removed his shirt so I could tend to his shoulder. Scars covered the expanse of his back.

“The Redcoats,” Jamie explained. “They flogged me twice in the space of a week. They’d have done it twice the same day, I expect, were they no afraid of killing me. There’s no joy in flogging a dead man.”

“I shouldn’t think anyone would do such a thing for joy.”

“If Randall was not precisely joyous, he was at least very pleased with himself.”

I understood, then. Or, at least I thought I did. His hatred towards Captain Randall, the painful memory he hadn’t wished to speak about. This was it.

Much to my surprise, Jamie did speak of it now though. His earlier reluctance to do so had apparently dissolved. I wondered why. Was it something I’d done to prove myself more trustworthy? Was it that I’d now seen the scars, so I might as well know the story behind them? Perhaps he worried I would misjudge him for his scars if I didn’t know the full story.

He recounted the event whilst I dressed his wound. This was a far less cheerful tale than those he had shared with me on horseback, but his storytelling was vivid as ever.

I met his eyes, trying to show him the same sympathy and understanding he had shown me the day before. Since the moment we met, Jamie had been nothing but kind to me. He had shown more compassion than any man I’d ever met.

I stroked his arm to comfort him, and his lips curved upwards in reply. He looked younger when he smiled; there was something boyish about it. I realised that he must, in fact, be younger. That thought hadn’t occurred to me when he’d acted as my rescuer and protector. While I appreciated his heroic side, what drew me in was the vulnerability he had shown me, sharing his scars.

Hand still lingering on his arm, I leaned in slowly, my eyes not leaving his. I could feel his breath hot against my lips. An inch, and I would touch his lips—

He pulled back.

I didn’t quite know what to feel. Confusion hit me first, followed by shock that was soon replaced by embarrassment.

My eyes sought his, to ask for an explanation, or see if I had misinterpreted the situation, but he turned his head away, hiding his expression.

Mrs Fitz could not have returned at a better time. She helped me escape, as she was to fulfil Jamie’s request that I be given proper attire.

Before our departure she reminded Jamie once more to seek out his uncle Colum.

I followed her to a guest bedroom where she helped me change into a more appropriate dress, and sometime thereafter came a dark-haired man by the name of Murtagh to inform me that The MacKenzie wished to speak to me.

Mrs Fitz gave me an encouraging smile before I departed.

My escort, by contrast, didn’t speak another word to me, let alone smile.

Jamie had told me about Colum MacKenzie, Chief of Clan MacKenzie, but not in great detail. He had had more to say about his other uncle, Dougal, the war chief. Despite our awkward encounter, I found myself wishing Jamie was there by my side as I entered the tower room where the MacKenzie was waiting.

My silent escort was still waiting for me when I exited, but he wasn’t alone. Jamie was with him.

I couldn’t help but smile in relief at the sight.

“What did he say?” Jamie asked at once, excitement in his tone.

“You ask as though you don’t already know! You talked to him about me,” I said, crossing my arms, “you told him I was a healer.”

“Aye, I had to say something so he’d let ye stay, didn’t I? He was verra suspicious at first when I said I’d brought a Sassenach here.”

“I’d say he was still verra suspicious when we spoke,” I said in a poor imitation of his accent. Colum had been suspicious, but he had let me stay nonetheless, thanks to Jamie. He had gifted me the late Davie Beaton’s surgery, in return for my serving as the castle’s new healer, for the duration of my visit.

“He did invite me to the hall tonight, though,” I continued, “there is to be a Welsh singer apparently—”

“JAMIE FRASER!” The voice came from somewhere farther down the stairs. Rapid footsteps that likely belonged to the voice echoed loudly as they neared.

Jamie, having tensed up at the high-pitched shriek, looked over at Murtagh, wordlessly asking for counsel.

Murtagh raised his eyebrows so as to say, “What did I tell you?” making me wonder just what Murtagh had told Jamie and why.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and facing us was now a young, round-faced girl with her arms crossed over her chest. Her pale eyes narrowed as they noticed me.

“Jamie Fraser!” she repeated. It was less of a shriek this time, but no less angry. “Where have ye been!?”

Jamie opened his mouth to explain, but the girl cut him off.

“And who is that!?” Her voice was venomous as she jerked her head rudely at me.

“Ah … this is Claire Beauchamp,” he said, “she’s a guest of the MacKenzie and the new healer of the castle.” Evidently explaining me was easier than explaining his whereabouts since yesterday afternoon.

The girl was still waiting for further explanation. Jamie sighed and said, “I was out riding.”

“RIDING!? Ye mean to say ye’ve been out riding all night?”

“Laoghaire, perhaps we can have this conversation in private?”

The girl—Laoghaire—muttered something, then turned and started walking down the stairs, Jamie following her.

“Who was that?” I asked Murtagh after they had left.

“That was his wife.”

Once Upon a Time: Meet the New Cast

(Part 2: Returning cast)

Once Upon a Time’s New and Returning Faces

The ABC fairy tale drama is undergoing a major reboot heading into its seventh season. To keep track of the new and returning characters, EW turned to executive producers Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis to get the scoop.

Cinderella (Dania Ramirez)

We’ll meet this new iteration of the glass-slippered princess — who is Henry’s wife and Lucy’s mom — in the midst of her iconic fairy tale story, but there’s a twist. “We’ll find out she’s not necessarily looking for her prince,” Kitsis says. Her cursed Hyperion Heights counterpart, meanwhile, is named Jacinda. “We see a single mother who is struggling to keep her family together, keep her life together and keep her head up against many ostacles. So she’s finding herself once again being Cinderella to the world where she feels like she is constantly cleaning up her mess, but yet she can never get ahead.”

Lady Tremaine (Gabrielle Anwar)

The new big bad is Cinderella’s evil stepmother, “who wants to get to the top and will use any means necessary,” says Kitsis, teasing that her Hyperion Heights counterpart takes the form of a developer named Victoria trying to gentrify the neighborhood and push out the fairy tale characters. But there’s more to Lady Tremaine than we may yet realize. “Lady Tremaine doesn’t like Cinderella very much and she’s got an agenda,“ Horowitz says. "But there is something broiling beneath that’s personal and painful that is driving all of this.”

Drizella (Adelaide Kane)

Cinderella’s step-sister is “deliciously evil,” says Kitsis. “She presents herself to be as evil as the evil stepsisters promise to be, but like everything in Once Upon a Time, you never know what’s underneath it.” Viewer, beware: She may even rival her mother, Lady Tremaine. “She takes a lot of abuse from her mom,” Kitsis says, “but I wonder how long that will last.” Horowitz adds: “There’s a lot going on inside of Drizella, and she earned the evil moniker.”

Alice (Rose Reynolds)

Another new iteration of a familiar face, Alice from Wonderland fame “is a character in the vein of Rumplestiltskin in that you don’t really quite know what she’s up to, where she’s going or where she’s been,” Kitsis says — a fact Rumple, in particular, will find curious.

Tiana (Mekia Cox)

The Princess and the Frogheroine will take center stage in episode 5 when viewers get to see her origin story, but it doesn’t necessarily follow the film. “We’re not redoing the movie,” Horowitz says. “We’re taking it as a jumping off point. We want to honor the character and make sure we’re true to it, but we have a Once Upon a Time spin.” In Seattle, Tiana’s counterpart Sabine will play a vital role. “Her relationship with Cinderella is like Snow and Red’s,” Kitsis says. “They’re roommates, they’re good friends.”

Lucy (Alison Fernandez)

The daughter of Henry and Cinderella has the unenviable task that her father also faced as a child. “Lucy, right now, has to bear the burden of the truest believer because her father no longer does,” Kitsis says. “It is up to her to get people to remain hopeful. You’ll see a lot of Henry in her, and I think you’ll see a lot of her grandma, Snow, in her.”

Henry Mills (Andrew J. West)

After leaving home to find his own story, Henry finds an epic romance with Cinderella, but eventually ends up cursed in Hyperion Heights. No longer a wide-eyed believer, Henry is now a cynical author-turned-Uber driver. “Henry had the heart of the true believer and when we meet him he no longer believes, and it’s up to his daughter — who he doesn’t even realize is his daughter — to help him find his belief again,” Kitsis says. “He is a Uber driver. He wrote one book called Once Upon a Timethat we’ll realize has all the stories from the first six seasons, but it did not do well, no one bought it, and he’s a guy that’s down on his luck looking for his place in the world.”


Imagine Sandor Clegane catching your eye

(Got the gif off Google, if you made it tell me and I’ll credit you!)

The first time you had seen him you were with Arya, as the handmaiden of the rambunctious girl, you chased her through the crowd as she weaved herself in between the masses trying to catch a glimpse of King Robert Baratheon and his kingsguard, the thing that most intrigued her. When you finally managed to push your way to her she was atop of a carriage giving her full view of the knights as they began to ride past. The first two carried the sigil of the house Baratheon, followed by more knights, before the boy prince Joffrey himself rode past, however his sworn shield is what caught your eye. His armor was darker than the rest of the knights and his helmet was shaped like a snarling hound. He was larger than most and you, like most, had heard stories of the prince’s shield. The Hound with the burnt face. Terrible tales of how his face was brutally disfigured by fire, leaving him looking grotesque and monstrous to anyone who laid their eyes upon him. His helmet covered his face leaving his scars hidden which did nothing to lessen your curiosity in what he truly looked like, but before you had a second to truly think more about the man, Arya jumped from atop the carriage and sprinted back towards the Starks who were lined up waiting for King Robert Baratheon to greet them. You ran behind her and ushered her into the line next to Bran before rushing to stand behind her, next to Jon and Theon.

Just as you turned, the knights rode up in front of the Starks. The Hound came to a stop right behind Prince Joffery before pulling the teeth of his helmet and opening it, exposing his face. The helmet cast a shadow on his face which did not allow you to see the extent of the burns, but you caught a slight glimpse of the flame charred skin over his right eye. His eyes scanned the group of people in front of him before they landed on you. His eyes were brown and his gaze was steely, but you did not find yourself turning and looking away. His stare almost completely took your attention that when King Robert finally rode in, you almost forgot to drop to your knees as a sign of respect. After he allowed you all to rise up again, you once again looked back to the man to find that his gaze had been placed elsewhere.  As the king and Ned greeted one another you tried to shush Sansa and Arya who were murmuring about “the imp” and Jamie Lannister. Soon Ned and King Robert left to the crypts essentially dismissing all of you, you then preceded to drag Arya to her chambers to ready her for the feast which was to come later on that evening.

As you rushed out of Arya’s chambers to locate some water for the little wolf you collided into a strong body. The impact left you on the floor and the empty pitcher at the feet of the person you had collided with. “What’re you rushing about for, girl?” a gruff voice rang out. You looked up to see the same man, or rather Hound, from earlier. This time he had no helmet on, and the light from the torches on the wall allowed you to get a better look at him. He was large, much larger than many of the men in Winterfell, that was for sure. His hair was long enough to cover the marks on the right side of his face, but in this instant, they had been pushed aside which gave you a full view of the skin. The craterous, fire cracked skin ran down from his right temple to his right cheek. The scorch marks ended towards the middle of his cheek, where the skin was instead covered with a thick beard. “Are ya deaf or mute, girl ?” he called again to you. You realized you had been staring and started out an apology. “I’m sorry Ser, I was just going for some water.” He bent down to pick up the pitcher and then reached for your arm. He lifted you up with ease before passing the pitcher back. You looked back at his face and then took notice of his brown eyes, due to you now standing you could more greatly appreciate his features. If it wasn’t for the burns on his face you could have seen many women throwing themselves at his feet for he was quite handsome. You began to blush at the thought and soon looked down, away from his face. “Do I frighten you that much or disgust you so that you must look away from me?” “No,” you quickly called out, “I’m just..” you trailed off not knowing how to put into words what you thought. “In any case, watch out. A pretty little thing like you could get hurt from rushing around blindly in these halls.” You looked up to see him gazing down at you. You smiled bashfully at his words as your cheeks flamed even more before thanking him and rushing around him. You hurried down the hall and turned a corner before managing to catch your breath. The Hound had truly managed to catch your intrigue.

Note: This is the first fic I’ve written (and published) so some feedback would be greatly appreciated! I hope you guys like it and if you want more just let me know!

Once Upon a Time: Meet the New Cast

(Part 1: New cast)

Once Upon a Time’s New and Returning Faces

The ABC fairy tale drama is undergoing a major reboot heading into its seventh season. To keep track of the new and returning characters, EW turned to executive producers Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis to get the scoop.

Rumplestiltskin/Mr. Gold (Robert Carlyle)

Details about the trio of returning stars are being kept under wraps, particularly when it comes to Rumplestiltskin — his Hyperion Heights counterpart has been described as “menacing,” but we won’t find out his name until the premiere. “We warned you season 1 he was a difficult man to love, but at the same time, he did find true love last year and choose love over power, so we don’t know what we’ll be looking at,” Kitsis says coyly. “I would hope that the growth and everything he fought for wouldn’t be erased. But as we know, that’s the day-to-day fight.” To note: Both Emilie de Ravin and Giles Matthey will return as Belle and their son Gideon, respectively, in the Rumple-centric fourth episode.

Regina (Lana Parrilla)

When Henry finds himself in trouble, he calls out to his family for help and Regina comes running. But that’s also why she ends up in a cursed Hyperion Heights as a denim-clad bartender named Roni. “Roni is Regina with the wisdom of six years of the show,” Horowitz says. “She is a tough character, she’s a bartender, she is sticking up for the little people in the neighborhood against the bully who we’ll realize is Lady Tremaine. At the same respect, all the experiences she’s had going from Evil Queen to Queen [have led to] a mature character.”

Captain Hook (Colin O'Donoghue)

The one-armed pirate also comes running to help Henry, though we’ll find a very different Hook in Hyperion Heights, a despondent cop named Rogers — no, his name is not Polly Rogers, as some internet rumors have indicated. “He is a cop with a very specific mission and a case that has haunted him that he has not solved, and that will be what we’ll be teasing out in the first couple episodes,” Horowitz says. However, Kitsis adds: “He’s a good cop [with] a plate filled with temptation.”


Request: Last Words

Request: (i love your blog so much omg!!) imagine dean dying (in 9x23) and the reader is crying beside him and tells him he loves him (she is a good hunter friend of the winchesters and bobby and has been in love with dean for years, but never had the guts to tell him and she was afraid he doesn’t return her feelings). could you write how he confronts her about her last words to dean as demon!dean and cured!dean? :) i’d love you forever!!

Word Count: 1,681


He’s dead. Dead and gone, eyes as vacant as a burnt out shack and still as stone. You leave them alone for five damn minutes and this happens – you wish you could be angry. You wish you could cry. You wish you could feel anything other than this deep, dark numbness that has settled and made its home in every crack and crevice of your mind and soul.

Even now, in the earliest hours of the morning, sat in a room with the bloody, hollowed-out husk of your best friend since childhood; the love of your life, you feel nothing but cold inside. Even when you reach forward and take his hand in yours – he isn’t stiff to the touch, but he’s cold in an unnatural way that prickles its way down your own spine and rests as a deadweight in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t realise that the words are there until they’re out of your mouth and in the open air, into the infinite distance between you, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I was never there.”

Logically speaking, it hadn’t been your fault – they’d left in the earliest hours of the morning with their GPS off and no way of tracking them. They’re excellent trackers, which makes them better hiders – you’d tried to get your hands on them, but there had been no point in it – when the Winchesters didn’t want you to find them, there was no hope of you achieving it. So you’d given up and hidden in the bunker, researching and cleaning and tidying files and the next time the door opened it was Sam, tears running clear channels through the blood on his face, relaying a tale that began the infection of apathy in your heart.

It’s not like you expected a response anyway, but you go on nonetheless, “I hate myself. I hate that I let this happen, I hate that I wasn’t there. Why couldn’t you just let me be there?” They’d been excluding you from the big leagues for a long time – you know it came from a place of love, so you’d rarely objected – and look where it had gotten all of you.

“Why couldn’t you just see it, Dean?” You don’t realise that wet, hot tears are sliding down your face until they drop down onto your chest, making you gasp shakily, “I loved you. Love you. More than anything in this damn world and you still went and died on me, you asshole. Again.

“You’d never let me protect you. Not even from the things I could protect you from. I hated you for that – or at least, I wanted to. But I could never hate you.”

You pull your hand out of his, instead rubbing your hands over your face and raking them through your hair, “God. I hate saying it. I never wanted to – I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same. I didn’t see why you ever would. But I loved you, and I don’t think that’s ever going to stop, whether I want it to or not.”

After that, you let silence take control of the room again, but remain there with him for a few minutes longer, until you can’t bear it anymore. Only then do you stand slowly, releasing his hand for the final time and stepping back.

“Goodnight, Dean.”


The scream echoes through the bunker, reverberating through your bones even through the pillow you’ve buried your face in. It’s completely inhuman; perverse and wrong in every way – but it’s still Dean, and his pain still makes you want to run to him and take it on for yourself. You’re sure Sam feels the same, but you haven’t even been able to look him in the eye for weeks, never mind start a discussion about his brother.

Eventually, you have to give in – it’s late, and as exhausted as you are, Sam must be more so. It’s not like you’re going to be able to sleep anyway, so you shuffle out of bed – despite only being in your pyjamas – and pull an oversized hoodie over your head so the cold of the bunker doesn’t freeze you through during your excursion.

As soon as Sam catches sight of you coming down the corridor, his eyes widen, but he stands up a little straighter.

“What are you doing?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You take a deep breath, steel yourself, and offer the most blasé smile you can muster.

“I’m coming to take guard for a while. You’re the one bleeding yourself dry for this. Go get yourself some rest, I’ll come and wake you when it’s time for the next dose.”

Sam hesitates before nodding, but eventually has to agree – he looks ten years older, the bags beneath his eyes more pronounced than ever and his face gaunt and pale – but before he goes, he clasps your shoulder carefully.

“Y/N, be careful. That thing… it’s not Dean in there. Not the Dean you know. He doesn’t mean what he’s saying. He just wants to hurt you.”

“I’ve dealt with demons before. Don’t worry, Sam, I’ve got this, I promise.”

He nods, not bothering to elaborate any further before he squeezes your shoulder, then walks past you, heading for his room with a slump to his shoulders that would bring a lump to your throat if it wasn’t already full.

You hang around outside, battling curiosity versus courage for a few moments before eventually pushing your way into the room. Dean’s attention snaps to you instantly, and he grins, feral and wild. You swallow, pushing your hands into the pocket of your hoodie and standing before him, feeling oddly exposed.

“Y/N. I’d bring you a cup of tea, but…” He tugs at the restraints on his arms, then sighs melodramatically, “I take it Sam needed a break?”

“I told him to go for one. I figured you could use my wonderful company for a while.” You shrug, slowly walking over to the table Sam had laid out the syringes and holy water on, then sit yourself down on top of it, letting your legs hang down with your bare feet just barely brushing the floor.

“Bless your heart. Always were such a martyr, weren’t you?”

“I think you preferred to take that title, don’t you?” You hit back, perhaps too quickly, because he grins, rolling his eyes and blinking, to turn his gaze to obsidian. You struggle not to flinch at the sight.

“Only because you were too weak to do anything real.” He smirks, going in where he knows it’ll upset you, “Too weak and too slow. Never as good as us.”

“I know.” You shrug, obscuring your hurt with nonchalance, “But you still kept me around for some reason.”

“I cared for you.” He spits, “God only knows why, but I liked you. Loved you, even. I liked having you here.”

“But not now?”

He shrugs, “It’s fun to watch your little mind screaming in there, but other than that you’re a bit of a good-for-nothing. You’d understand if you were me, Y/N: you’re pretty much worthless.”

You narrow your eyes at him, carefully standing from the table and taking a tentative step backwards, towards the door – you can keep watch from outside just as easily.

“Goodnight, Dean.”


Sam wobbles out of the room, just barely able to support his brother – his human brother. Cas keeps watch too, just a pace behind them, whereas you’ve spent the last half-hour making sure that Dean’s room is just right. You’re not out of the woods yet, but… he’s human again. As long as he makes it through the night, you’ll be safe.

You volunteer yourself for first watch – you’d managed to evade his rampage by being out getting food at the time, so you feel like it’s only fair. You pull up a seat by his bed, and read while he sleeps, looking up every minute or so to make sure he’s still breathing.

He sleeps for a full twelve hours before even stirring, but when he does, he groans, turning onto his back and squinting against the dim lamplight the room is bathed in.


“Y/N?” He peers at you, and immediately his face clouds with guilt and his eyes fill with tears, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that.” You assure him, reaching out and taking his hand in both of yours, “We’ve all done it, Dean. Said things we don’t mean while under the influence of something nasty.”

“It wasn’t true.” His voice is scratched and broken, and you nod, trying to get him to relax and be quiet.

“I know. I knew you didn’t mean it.” You promise him, offering a small smile, “Sleep, Dean, it’s fine. Get rested, and we can talk later.”

“I don’t want to sleep until you promise you’re fine.”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

A long pause hangs between you for a few moments, and then he finds your hand, twining your fingers with his, “I meant some of it.”

“Which part?”

“About liking having you around. About loving you.” His voice snags on the word, but he continues nonetheless, “I’m sorry I never told you. I just-“

“Shut up. Stop apologising.” You insist, moving from the chair to perch on the bed beside him, “Listen to me. There is nothing I’d like to do more than have this discussion – Dean… I like you too. Love you. Whatever. But it’s a complicated thing, and one I’m not willing to have until we’ve slept, showered, and had a greasy-ass BLT. How’s that for a plan?”

He smiles, albeit weakly, “That’s my girl.”

“Absolutely. Now sleep, Dean, you’re exhausted.”

He nods, not bothering to protest it, but shuffling back a bit on the bed and pulling the cover open.

“Stay with me?” He requests, and you don’t have the willpower to say no. You slip into the bed beside him, allowing him to wrap an arm around you protectively and nestle his face into the hollow between your neck and shoulder.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Everything is dark
It’s more than you can take
But you catch a glimpse of sun light
Shining, shining down on your face

Winter’s Tale - Sansa doesn’t know when things have started to change between her and Jon. Was it when Bran had first said the words? He is not our brother, Sansa. All she does know for sure is that he is promised to a Queen and that right now he is standing in her room, looking at her like maybe, just maybe… he’s feeling it, too. [cover for a story I’m never gonna write 🗸]


Further than I’ve been before 
Touched your hand but nothing more 
No one’s ever looked at me that way

                                                    Traced the lines upon your face 
                                                    They tell a tale you can’t erase 
                                                    No one’s ever looked at you that way

Can you imagine a Tomarry Labyrith AU? Like, where Harry lives with his horrible aunt and uncle and escapes reality by reading fiction and acting out scenes in the park with his dog Sirius to cope, where one day a snowy owl that looks suspiciously like Hedwig is watching as Harry pretends to be the good guy in the fairy tale who faces off with the antagonist, but he can never remember the last line (’…and I feel sorry for you.’), and at home Vernon and Petunia force him to cook and clean and most of all take care of his baby cousin (maybe Dudley is less hate-ble as a baby, or maybe it’s Teddy, idk), and so Harry accidentally says the ‘magic word’ to summon the goblin king  so he will take the baby away (Morsmordre), and then whoa, look at that snowy owl that just flew through his window and turned into a super hot guy, and it’s The Dark Lord or the Goblin King or Voldemort but NO YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT HARRY ITS A SCARY NAME and he is all suave and shit, and he’s like ‘yep that baby will make a fine goblin/Death Eater monster thing, thanks Harry’, but Harry says ‘wait! No! You can’t just take my cousin like that, i want to go on a whimsical adventure through a maze filled with Riddles and drama and sexual tension so thick I could cut it with a knife!’ so King/Lord/What the fuck ever Voldemort says ‘cool, you have twenty-four hours’ and then they do exactly that. And the castle in the middle is Hogwarts (It even has moving staircases!!) and the obelisque is a ‘Chamber of Secrets’, and Dumbledore could be that guy with the bird-hat thing (Fawkes ofc) and Hoggle could be Griphook and those two obnoxious upside-down card guys are the Weasley twins and basically I am just throwing this prompt out there to the world of tumblr because I have had this idea in my head since I have had ideas in my head and I think someone should write it because I can’t justify writing it atm because life but you should all THINK ABOUT IT !


I’m so sorry this is such a ramble. But one can dream, right?

Originally posted by meseszerelo

“Excuse Me”

Summary: Soulmate!AU where first words are tattooed on wrist- Y/N hates the words on her wrist knowing that she may never meet her true soulmate. If fate didn’t want to give her a perfect, neat, assured happy ending, then she would be sure to raise a little hell on her way there.

Pairing: Preserum!Steve x Reader 

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1895

Originally posted by yikesevans

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