fanfiction

Are You Fucking Kidding Me? - Bucky x Reader x OlderBrother!Steve (4/?)

Request from @bxckytrxsh : Hey :) I have a request for you! I think a fic where the reader is Steve’s sister so she is at the tower and develops a crush on Bucky could be cool, especially if you wrote it! Could be protective Steve and flirty Bucky idk? PS I love all of your stories

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

Warnings - swearing? crying!reader, depressed!reader, sad!Bucky, angsty? sharing a shower with Bucky, concerned!Steve. - That’s all I can think of, if I’m wrong please notify me!

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these are spirit fingers

or the 1D Bring It On AU drabble no one asked for. [insp.]

18

Harry hates Golden Boy Louis and he’s pretty sure the feeling’s mutual. It’s too bad they’re forced into parenthood together during the home ec baby project.

Featuring accidental fathers, an improv performance gone wrong, and an altruistic game of spin the bottle.

give me more

After one year of waiting for more in the Give Me Truths verse, finally it’s here. Featuring an epilogue, brief character bios, deleted scenes, and timestamps from the boys’ futures.

NOTE: all chapters of this work are intended as a sequel to my previous work, Give Me Truths. You’ll need to read that first for these to make sense! :)

orange canvas

Few can handle Louis Tomlinson on the dance floor, much less match him in skill and fervor. Louis has obviously met his soul mate; he just never expected him to be wearing a red snapback and to chew gum like an entitled Mercedes owner.

or

A spring break (kind of) fake relationship AU

take my breath away

There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.

Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

highway to hell

It’s their anniversary and Harry is running late. Louis is done waiting.

been together since way back when

Louis Tomlinson is a law student with a simple but effective four step plan: 1. Finish law school. 2. Get hired somewhere awesome. 3. Marry his best friend and boyfriend of two years, Harry. 4. Live happily ever after.

Harry Styles doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, where he wants to go, who he wants to be, or if he even wants the college degree he’s almost completed. All he does know is who he’ll be with forever, as long as Louis wants to keep him around.

Or: the painfully realistic college au where everyone’s poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

green in the morning and blue afternoon

“Harry,” Louis whispered beside him.

Harry hummed, his hand coming up to stroke Louis’ back. Louis was still on top of him, his body sagging against Harry’s, heavy and warm, and Harry loved it.

“I don’t think it was a one off.”

“Me either, Lou.”

or

a Friends AU.

ache to know the song he sung

Ogling hot men is a part of his job that Louis thoroughly enjoys. That is, if the ogling hadn’t been reduced to a bare minimum the second DJ Harry Styles set foot into Funky Payno and ruined every other man for Louis, ever.

Or: Louis is a bartender and Harry is a DJ in a club in Barcelona. All they really need to do is get their shit together. Of course, that’s not what happens.

put your hands on me in my skintight jeans

Harry is a popstar who –according to the media– does a lot of cocaine and fucks a lot of boys. Louis is a waiter at a gay nightclub who finds it hard to believe that anyone who wears a straw hat to a bar can be the party animal Harry’s made out to be.

(Famous!Harry meets non-famous!Louis in a club and things progress from there… in the direction of Louis’ bedroom.)

“Don’t cry Skippy”…Jack could hear his Mother’s words echo in his ears; he tried to block it out but he could still hear her, and every time he heard it he felt the burns and scars on his back blazing with pain.

Here’s a amazing piece of Art by the great @ky-jane she’s done a really wonderful bit of Art here. This is for my fanfiction Take a Stand, this scene is gonna happen in a few chapters so stayed tuned folks.

If you want to read Take A Stand here’s the link https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12105029/1/Take-A-Stand

And please check out and follow @ky-jane ‘s page she is a terrific artist and you need to check her work out

Balance (Request)

Can you write about Harry having trouble adjusting to being a new dad and his girl being frustrated? He’s still recording late and taking meetings early… He loves his family but hasn’t found the balance yet?

Have I mentioned that I love writing Daddy!Harry? Because I really LOVE writing Daddy!Harry.

——————————————————————————————–

“Harry…Harry!”

Harry let out a muffled groan and rolled over so his arm slung over your waist.

“Mmmwhat?”

“The baby.”

The silence of your room was currently being broken by the sound of crackling cries coming over the baby monitor next to your bed. A look at the clock told you it was just past three, and this was already the fourth time your daughter had woken you up tonight.

“I have a seven o’clock meeting in the morning, babe,” Harry moaned, “Can I owe you one?”

Typically, Harry had no issues getting up with the baby, except before mornings where he had to get up early. Unfortunately, that had been happening a lot more recently as of late and, as a result, you were getting no sleep at all.

You sighed and sat up, pushing the covers off your body and stumbling in the darkness toward the door.

“Thank you,” you heard Harry call from behind you.

You let out an incoherent mumble as you switched on the hall light, closing your bedroom door behind you so Harry could sleep, and made your way to the baby’s room.

Your daughter – just past two months old – was wailing in her crib. You knew she probably wasn’t hungry because you had just fed her an hour ago. She wasn’t teething yet, so you had no idea what was wrong.

“Hey baby,” you said, yawning as you picked her out of her crib, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why don’t you want mummy and daddy to sleep tonight, hey? What’s going on?”

The baby, of course, didn’t give you an answer but continued to cry against your shoulder as you walked around the room with her, trying to shush her. Nothing seemed to help; you tried to feed her again but she didn’t want it, you gave her a soother but she spat it out, you bounced and rocked and sang and soothed, but she still cried.

You were nearing the end of your rope for the night. You couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten more than an hour of sleep at the time and – as much as you loved your daughter and wouldn’t change a thing – you sometimes wondered if having a baby at this time of your life had been a good idea.

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Rucas FANFICTION Week is for Rucas writers to let their writing juices flow and write anything Riley and Lucas. This will take place October 17th - October 23rd. The list below shows what prompts and what day to write them. There are two prompts for each day, one Angsty and one Fluffy. You can choose one prompt OR do both prompts for that day if you would like! If you have any questions please send either myself OR Kat @katdvs a message and we will get back to you!
Please Hashtag everything #RucasFanficWeek2016. Happy Writing!

Rucas Writing Prompts
Day 1: Angsty-I got the first kiss and she’ll get the last
            Fluffy- “Your obsession with animals is going a little out of hand, don’t                               don’t you think?”     
Day 2: Angsty- With a kiss you can strip me defenseless
           Fluffy- All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you
Day 3: Angsty-I see the clock up on the wall and wonder where you are tonight
           Fluffy- “Your lips look so soft. I could kiss them all day long”
Day 4: Angsty- And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you
            Fluffy-“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice                                 cream?”
Day 5: Angsty-I put your picture away and sat down and cried today
            Fluffy- “Everything we do is weird to everyone else but us.”
Day 6: Angsty-No you don’t have to wear your best fake smile and you don’t                              have to stand there and burn inside.                       
             Fluffy- I look at you and see the rest of my life in front of my eyes
Day 7: Angsty- Waited for your reply here in the pouring rain
           Fluffy- “You are the best thing that happened to me.”

The Rebel and the Rose. Part 2, Chapter 4.

– – —- – – —- – –

Part One.

Part Two: One, Two, Three.

– – —- – – —- – –

Happy Friday folks. I just want to say a wee (MASSIVE) thank you to @lenny9987 and @londonerbecky who took a look through this chapter multiple times whilst I was cleaning it up. 

It’s gone through quite some alterations.

It was an incredibly hard chapter to write, but it has purpose. 

After this, things are going upwards, I promise.

But, after a LOVELY message last week, I do feel like I should send @anaspiringfuriosa some cake…alas, I can assure you that the boys are coming, I promise. 

This was going to be a couple of chapters, but because it’s the worst bit I’ve taken pity on everyone and lumped it all together. <3

——- —- ——-

The key clinked in the lock, the sound of the heavy door jolting Claire awake. She shook herself off, disorientated. She had no idea how long she’d been locked away, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of days. Her wrists ached from the sharp metal surrounding them, her soft skin irritated and sore from where she’d tugged at her bindings. The black fog cleared from her eyes as the sharp figure began to come into focus, his bright red coat a beacon in the darkness. 

“J-Jonathan?”  He stood only a few feet away from her, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him, his feet spread resting solidly on the cold floor. His face was a mask of arrogance. A deep aura of hate surrounded him as he narrowed his eyes and smiled down at her.

“I see we’ve dispensed with the formalities, Claire. How unfortunate that we should meet again under such –dire– circumstances.”

“I haven’t done anything…” She began to protest, attempting to stand and meet him eye to eye, but her chains weren’t long enough and she fell back to her knees, the hard stone jarring her kneecaps as she landed. The solid tinkling of her shackles almost drowned out the sound of his laughter, but not quite. Her head whipped up at the chilling noise.

“Oh, Claire. You can cease with the protests of innocence. We all know they’re false. Remember, I have proof of your treachery.” He took three long, measured steps, his footfalls echoing around her. “But I’m not here to discuss that. I’ve come to see you.”

The way he said ‘you’ sent fear rolling down her spine. He stood over her now, painfully close. He was a shadow of the man she’d known years before, even then he’d been cruel, but now she could sense something darker.

“What do you want with me?” Disdain dripped from each word, the image of Jamie’s scars vivid before her eyes.

“Careful, Claire, I’d watch your tone if I were you. Especially after all of the effort I’ve gone through to keep you well maintained here. It could have been much worse after all, couldn’t it?” His hand hovered over her head, and she looked nervously across the room, not daring to look directly at him. The chains held her firmly in place now, stretched as far as they would reach. 

He had her at his mercy. 

“They were going to hang you straight away, you know. But I saw to it that you got a trial.” He began, almost wistfully. “You know, Claire, when you first absconded back to that witless uncle of yours I was most displeased. Our union was something I was anticipating greatly. But now I see that you did me a favour, so I’ve repaid my debt to you; we are even.”

“I d-don’t understand?” She shuddered as he shifted one step closer, the material of his trousers brushing against her shoulder as she tried her hardest to pull away.

“I have somewhat odd tastes, you might say. You saw a glimpse of that at Fort William, but you didn’t see what I’d in mind for him before that, did you? No; you were a pawn, a mask as it were. Something to keep my public persona intact. But now, knowing that you have similar…proclivities, well, I may have some use for you yet.”

The blood turned to ice in her veins. Her stomach, though empty, felt as though it’d been filled with lead. She didn’t move, and neither did he, but she could feel him, the starched fabric of his breaches leaning closer to her. Her teeth chattered together, the cold mingling with dread as she prayed he’d leave her be.

He shifted his knee and panic shot through her, the feral warmth of him seeping into her skin. “No!” She yelled, the cry falling from her lips unconsciously, anticipating what was to come. She knew begging was probably useless but, unable to twist herself away from him, she had to try calming him. Anything to stop this —this, whatever it was. 

Her heart pounded in her chest. 

“Oh, Claire. Do you not know? I’m not a slave to my desires.” His palm kept her head still, lingering as it was above her head. Her breathing started to hitch as she tugged her wrists harder and shook her shoulders.

She yelped as he turned himself towards her. Her feet scraped and pushed against the filthy stone floor, all the while trying to gain purchase, trying desperately to break the bindings holding her to this place so she could run, run far away, out of his wretched presence. 

She fought, and all the while he laughed at her efforts.

“Let me go, please. Please. Jonathan, just let me go.” She pleaded as she pulled at her wrists, twisting and yanking the manacles. Everything she did was in vain; he had her trapped.

“It’s Captain Randall to you! Remember that, Claire, and this is me. You cannot barter with me, beg me or appeal to my better nature. I do not have one. I dwell in darkness, it does not possess me, I possess it!” 

He snorted as he turned on his heel, aiming for the door. 

His footsteps halted for a moment as he finished. “You’d be wise to remember what I’m capable of, Claire. You are here at my pleasure, and I will take what is mine. I can hurt you anytime the mood strikes me, anytime. If you wish to see daylight ever again, you’d better start cooperating.”

She heard the loud boom of the lock as he prepared to leave, she held her breath, her chest pulsing with the pressure of it.

“It’s so freeing, isn’t it Claire, to unleash your true nature; to show someone your true face.” He laughed, the sound of it low and serious. “You let a barbarian take you to his bed, have his way with you. You’re as depraved as I, aren’t you?”

The door slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the cell as Randall’s footsteps faded down the long corridor. The moment silence surrounded her she lurched upright and lost the contents of her stomach, bile rushing up her throat and spilling out into the muck at her feet. She gagged, her hands shaking relentlessly as she held them against her lips, trying to stem her sobs. The steady chinking of the chains rattled around her as she wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked. Having never been mistreated before, his threat of brutal physical assault buried a knife deep within her, tearing apart the modicum of safety she’d felt only moments before.

She’d prepared herself for their rough hands, for torture even, she’d practically expected the noose. But the actuality of it had shaken her. "Please,“ she whispered into the blackness, before finally fading into unconsciousness. 


"I see you’ve stopped protesting your innocence, that’s something at least.”

Claire had been curled up on her side, dozing a little when the voice rang out from the doorway behind her. She jumped, startled that she hadn’t heard anyone enter. She pushed herself to her feet and turned to face her visitor.

Captain Randall stood tall and proud in front of her, she smiled a dark smile, seeing the dead look behind his eyes.

“I have nothing more to say.”

“Oh, but I think you do. I certainly think you have more to say about a certain, James Fraser. Someone we both know quite intimately, wouldn’t you say?”

She shook her head, keeping her mouth shut on the matter.

“I don’t know who you mean.” She turned her back on him then, afraid her face would give away her reaction. The mention of his name caused her heart to crack even more, the pain of his leaving renewed within her.

“Now that’s where you’re lying, isn’t it Claire. I have an exact description of him from a resident close to you. He said he saw this man leave your door and follow you out and back again. I’m inclined to believe you had him locked away. The evidence he presented to us is enough for us to hang you.” He shook the keys in his hands, rolling them in a measured manner as he took one step forward. 

“But you knew that, didn’t you, Claire?”

He walked closer still, his pace slow and measured.

“Well, if it were to come to light that he’d been holding you against your will. That would become a different matter entirely. Tell me, Claire. Did he force you? Did he hold you captive, make you take him to your bed? You could certainly make a compelling argument.”

She turned, her cheeks bright red. 

She was angry.

“I do not know what you mean!” She spat, knowing full well that nothing she said now would save her from her fate.

He walked straight up to her, his breath hot against her face. She stood firm, after their last terrifying encounter she’d had time to prepare herself. He fed on her fear and she wasn’t planning on giving him that satisfaction. No, if it was Jamie he were after, he wouldn’t use her to do it.

“Could you be carrying his child, Claire?” He spoke clearly and without malice. She refused to answer.

She’d crumpled to the floor before she’d even realised he’d punched her. The air flew from her lungs in shock and she curled up at his feet gasping and panting, unable to breathe.

“You’d better hope not, hadn’t you.” One swift kick to the ribs rendered her motionless. Her shackled wrists stopped her from pulling too far away but she managed to hide herself from any more vicious attacks.

“I’d give it some thought if I were you, Claire. I’ll be back, don’t get comfortable.”

The door closed behind him with such force that the walls shook. Claire choked out a sob as she massaged her swollen tummy, the pain throbbing up her ribcage. Finally she let the pain drag her under, the silent tears rolled down her face as she fell into oblivion.


He circled her, a menacing presence looming over her as she lay curled on the floor her fetters rattling as she tried to keep herself hidden.

“So, you still refuse to talk? Well. So be it. Twice daily you’ll be subject to dousing. Maybe that will change your mind.” His voice stirred a mixture of fear and anger and she pursed her lips from spitting her vitriol at him, knowing it would do her no good to bite back.

“Did you know him all along then, Claire? Is that it. Have you spent all these years hiding under false colours?” His voice held no anger, only curiosity. A general disdain that coloured his whole being. Still she remained silent. He knelt down and grabbed a fist full of her hair, forcing her eyes to meet his. She cried out a little at the shock, but kept her glare fierce. 

She would not allow him to bully her.

“Have you been taking that filthy Scottish brute to your bed, Claire?” Randall’s voice was low, sinister and she shook with the force of his touch. Still she kept her mouth closed, her breath coming in uneven pants. “It is of no matter now, of course. But what would your uncle Lambert say?”

“D-did you send for him?” Her voice was stunted, a quiet rasp that fell from her without warning. She needed to know. He looked at her with such mockery in his eyes, a slight smile lifting at his lips. But it wasn’t a friendly one.

“…and risk his coming here to save you? No, Claire. We wouldn’t want that, would we? Nobody is coming for you. Not him, nor your lover.”

He dropped her hair then, his hand pushing forcefully at her curls, so hard that she nearly fell, but she managed to stay on her knees. Curled up once more she allowed the tears to fall, hidden as she was once again from him. Her hands clenched and the chains clinked together sending the sound ricocheting off the brick.

“No, Claire. Here you will stay, alone. Guard!” His brusque tone chilled her to the core as she awaited her punishment. She kept her head down, her hair covering her tear stained face as the soldier marched in and placed something at her side. She had no idea what dousing might entail, but she feared she was about to find out.

The cold hit her like a blast of ice. The water covering her already frozen body. The thin blue robe that covered her shift, prison uniform, clung to her filthy skin as she gasped and jumped. Every muscle in her body clenched and her teeth slammed together.

“So now you see. I’ll make sure, personally, that you’re subjected to this once in the morning and once in the evening until you decide to talk.” He paced up and down alongside her as he mused over her fate. His tone light, as if he were merely discussing the weather.

She heard his footsteps get closer once more, her body still wracked with cold, her hair sodden and dripping as it clung to her face. He knelt at her side, pushed the wet hair away and ran one solitary finger along her jaw line. She had to hold herself still lest she jerk herself away from his vile touch. He laughed, a dark sound that penetrated her to the core before he gripped her chin forcefully.

She didn’t even attempt to conceal the fear in her eyes now, too numb to try.

“Oh, Claire. You don’t have to worry about that. Lying with a dirty Scot certainly saved you from that fate. Nobody will touch you now.” He pushed her face away before standing once more and walking towards the door. Without turning back to face her he spoke his last. “Twice a day, nil by mouth until she talks. I’ll be down to check.”

“Yes Captain!” The guard parroted back, slapping his feet together as he saluted Randall before escorting him out.

The door slammed shut and clicked as it locked, the sound rebounding around Claire for seconds after it should have ended. She buried her head in her manacled hands now and wept. The fabric of her garments turning her skin to ice as the frozen air swirled around her. The cell already held the cold, she knew she’d never dry. 

Claire curled in on herself more now, trying her best to keep the shivering to a minimum. Trying so hard to warm up. The chains constant clinking and echoing the only presence now.


She’d refused to talk. 

She’d endured. 

The corners of her lips were blue, her skin constantly twitching and shivering as they threw cold water over her day and night. She could tell they were beginning to lose patience with her, but she was unwilling to give in.

“This is getting old now, Claire. If you don’t start to communicate with us I’ll be forced to use much less civilised ways to get you to talk.” Randall slapped the two sides of his leather belt together sending the sound spiralling around her.

 Half conscious as she was, she noted the warning, but paid little attention. If Jamie could endure it, she would. She remained silent as they stripped her and held her down, her eyes trained solely on the filthy brick beneath her.


The daylight stung her eyes as her guards escorted her out onto the balcony overlooking the hangman’s gibbet. Her legs felt like jelly and her shoulders ached, but she’d not made a sound as they’d come to fetch her at the break of dawn. Claire had heard from one of them that she was to watch the mornings hangings. 

They had been assured that her fate was sealed, the governor would see her in the next few days but she was certain to hang.

She stood as the condemned were paraded in front of the baying crowd. Murderers and thieves made up the morning’s entertainment. She couldn’t help but gag at the thought.

“There’s something incredibly invigorating about watching a good morning’s work, wouldn’t you agree Claire?” Randall’s voice cut through the silence. His eyes cold and hard against the side of her skull as she continued to studiously ignore him. He took hold of the back of her neck, his mouth level with her ear now.

“Watch the fear in their eyes, Claire. In a few days that’ll be you. What would your Jamie think of that?”

She sucked in a breath, the pain of it sinking deep in her belly. As the horn rang out, the creek of the wooden beams below echoed behind it. The only sound after being the slap of the rope as it released and tightened. Claire’s heart was pounding in her chest. 

If he wanted to scare her, he had. But there was nothing for it now.


It didn’t even take a few days for the governor to see her. Moments later she was carted off to his office and sat down in front of him. A portly man, he looked as if he hadn’t left his desk in years. He eyed her curiously at first, trying to get the measure of her, his deep-set brown eyes filled with disinterest.

“Have you any more to say, miss? I’ve been assured that you’re not a big talker. That’s just as well, really. It keeps it simple.” Claire’s eyes remained firmly in her lap. “The crimes levelled against you are serious ones, there is enough evidence to condemn you. The only course of action is hanging.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She made no sound, simply held her hands together in her lap.

“You’ll get two visits to church to see the priests between now and then, the first can be tomorrow. No use in wasting a precious cell on you, is there?” His tone was flat, monotone, as if he were doing a school roll-call rather than sentencing her to death.

“We can add her to Saturday’s execution role, it being Tuesday now. Guards! We’re done here!” He hollered, shocking Claire.

No sooner had they been summoned than she was back, chained and alone. The governors voice still rang in her ears. 

Five days. 

That’s all she had left.

N.B: I realise Claire probably wouldn’t have more than one opportunity to see priests before her execution, but for the purpose of fiction, I bent it to my will :D…

Another Life: Chapter 2, 1947

The Prologue

Chapter 1: Darkness


The smell was all wrong. I was warm and physically comfortable, but there were too many chemicals in the air. It was too oddly clean. Anxiety gnawed at my gut and kept me from opening my eyes. I was afraid of what I would see, so I tried to continue sleeping, to stay in the realm between waking and dreaming. I dozed, willfully ignoring the truth.

A ringing telephone shocked me out of my stupor, and when I cracked open my eyes, I was crushed by the sight of bright white drywall. No eighteenth century Parisian apartment, this, nor Highland cottage.

The ringing stopped, but it was too late. I was fully awake, and with consciousness came knowledge and rational thought.

I was in the twentieth century.

For a time, I lay in the bed, simply hyperventilating and refusing to face the truth of what had happened. I knew in my bones, in my body itself, but the loss was too much to bear, so I buried my face in my pillow and cried.

When my need for air finally eclipsed my despair, I turned my head to the side and spotted a framed picture on a nightstand. In it, I stood with the arm of a handsome man around my waist. We were both in full dress uniform, by which I could tell he was an Army lieutenant. He looked faintly familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place him. Tentatively, I pulled my hands from under the pillow, and to my horror, my right hand was bare. Jamie’s ring was gone. On the fourth finger of my left hand, there sat a diamond solitaire on a gold band. I could have sworn I’d never seen the thing in my life, nor the bedroom itself.

I froze, listening for any signs that I wasn’t alone. After a moment, I realized that, had anyone else been here, they surely would have appeared at the sound of my sobs. I wiped my eyes, carefully pushed down the bedsheets, and crept to the window. Before me was a residential street lined with automobiles and brownstones.

The sight of modern conveniences sent my stomach rolling with nausea, so I rushed into the hallway and barely found the bathroom before heaving its meagre contents into the toilet. Unwittingly, I clutched at my empty belly, which brought on a fresh round of tears, though I had already known what I’d find. The truth had come to me while I lay drowsing, and I had simply refused to admit it.

With shaking hands, I groped for the light switch, then looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was shorter than I had kept it in Paris, and tangled. I wore a simple white nightgown, which I immediately pulled off. No silvery stretch marks marred my skin, which was smooth and perfect. I didn’t bleed. No cramps gripped my womb. None of these things happened. It was as if I had never been pregnant at all.

I hadn’t lost the baby. The baby simply never was.


I don’t know how long I sat naked on the tile, arms wrapped around my knees. It could have been minutes, or perhaps an hour. I might have sat there until I passed out, and if I was lucky, I might never wake again, or so I wished.

Were it not for the ringing of the telephone, I’m not sure I ever would have moved. But it did, though I had no intention of answering. Instead I took the glass on the sink, pulled the toothbrush from it, and filled it with cold water, then rinsed my mouth and drank. There was this, at least. Basic need. Unable to think of what else to do, I shut off the cold tap and turned on the other. Within seconds, hot water began to flow. Such a convenience. Such a luxury. So totally unnecessary. I held my hands under the steaming water until my skin turned a bright, painful red. This gave me the focus to pull my nightgown back on. I needed to figure out where I was, and when I was.

The next room was a sitting room, complete with small fireplace, two couches, a radio, and a coffee table. Bookshelves lined the wall, and there were two more pictures, one of the unfamiliar lieutenant, this time wearing a sweater and a big grin, and another with the two of us leaning together on a park bench. I wanted to smash the glass and burn the photos, but instead, I walked to the kitchen.

More modern conveniences greeted me. A small refrigerator, a gas stove, an electric mixer. None of these things held any interest in comparison to the open newspaper spread across the kitchen table. I picked it up and turned it to the front page.

The Times. The headline was large, proclaiming Princess Elizabeth announces her Engagement to Lt Philip Mountbatten. July 10, 1947.

I dropped the paper on the floor and sank into the nearest chair, finally admitting to myself the reality of what had happened. When Jamie had violently castrated Jack Randall, for surely that was what I had witnessed, he had erased Frank from existence. Never having met Frank, I had never honeymooned with him in Scotland. Never having travelled to Scotland, I had never visited the stones at Craig na Dun. Never having visited the stones, I had never fallen through time, had never met Jamie, had never… never… I curled around my empty womb and tried to remember how to breathe.

The phone rang, again and again. Had I the energy, I’d have ripped it from the wall.

Was it possible to lose something, someone, that had never existed?

So how did I remember? How did I recall the sensation of the child within me, the fluttering movements, the distinct motions and kicks? How could I remember Jamie’s hands on my belly, caressing tenderly, feel his breath on my distended navel while he spoke to our child? When I closed my eyes, how could I see his ocean blue eyes staring into mine, his wide mouth curving into a bright smile? How could I recall the sensation of his lips on mine, his fingers in my hair, his beard on my cheek, his very sex moving within me? How did I even possess the knowledge of such things, let alone long for them? How was it that I burned for someone who, by rights, I should have no knowledge of? Someone who was, at this moment in time, long dead?

The flash of the diamond on my finger caught my eye, and with it came the memory of the gold band that ought to be there. Oh, Frank! Jamie, at least, had lived a life, hadn’t he? A life without me and long ago, but a life nonetheless. But Frank? While I had made my choice the last time I stood at the stones, and I had let him go, I never wanted this. I never wanted his very existence erased from the universe.

But was that truly what had happened? Was there any chance, any chance at all, that I was wrong? And if I was wrong about Frank, might I be wrong about everything else?

One thing, at least, I could attempt to verify.

The next time the phone rang, I picked it up and immediately slammed it back down. Then, with shaking hands, I lifted the receiver and asked the operator to connect me. And I waited. The seconds stretched out in agonizing fashion until a secretary brightly answered, “Oxford University Department of History, how may I assist you?”

“Can you connect me to the office of Professor Frank Randall?” My voice was hoarse and low.

“Excuse me, who?”

I tried to clear my throat. “Professor Randall.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no Professor Randall here. Perhaps another department?”

I felt as if the very walls of the room were closing in on me. Maybe I mumbled a goodbye or a thank you, or perhaps I simply dropped the receiver. No Professor Randall. No. No.

Was this a nightmare? Was it the most vivid dream I’d ever had? Or was it the opposite? The entire life I remembered, was that the dream? Nothing made any sense. If Jamie had erased Frank entirely, how did I remember him? And I had obviously never travelled through the stones and never met Jamie. So how did I remember him? If we never met, did he remember me?

The thought brought me to my knees on the kitchen tile. The implications were immense, unknowable. What happened to Jamie? Had we actually met? Did he even know who I was? Did he have any idea that out there, somewhere in the vast stretches of space and time, there was a woman whose heart belonged to him, a woman who, in turn, cherished him with everything she was? When I disappeared, had his life reverted to whatever it would have been had I never entered it? Did he stay in Scotland? Did he ever go to Paris? And if he did, did anything happen as I remembered it? Had he dueled with Randall? Had he seen me disappear? If so, what had happened to him after the gendarmes had dragged him away? What became of him? Did he scream for me? Beg for me? Did he wait, locked in the Bastille, awaiting a wife who would never, could never come?

Never? Wait, why never?

I stood bolt upright, realization dawning. We had found each other once, against all odds, against the limitations of time itself. Could we find each other again?

Tie Breaker - Yoosung/MC Fluff Fanfic

@cluelessnutter​ it’s not precisely what you suggested, but it’s along the same lines so I hope you like it and thank you for the request! 

Spoiler-free, 10+, romantic fluff :) I used Cheritz’s naming convention of not-quite-the-brand-name, see if you can tell what games I’m referring to, haha ;)


“Seven! You’ll get sick if you eat the dough before I’ve baked it!”

Seven guiltily removes his hand from the bowl and licks the dough off his fingers. “It’s really good, though~” he says, smiling. You move the bowl farther away and motion with your fingers for him to back up.

“You’ll ruin your appetite if you keep eating,” you say. “And after I’ve put all this work into the meal, too!”

Yoosung returns from the living room and gives Seven his best withering glare. It’s not terribly effective. “Are you bothering her?” he asks.

Seven grins and holds up his hands in mock surrender, then notices there’s still a bit of cookie dough on his finger and licks it off. “Nope~” he says.

Keep reading

Nameless

******

Draco barely knew her. He had noticed her only that night after the Quidditch match as everyone was celebrating him and the rest of the team for their triumphant game. People of different houses, crowded the Slytherin common room, but he saw her.

Her hair shone a beautiful y/h/c as she threw her head back laughing. All Draco could think about was her laugh filling the room. Just when he thought he had lingered for far too long, she met his gaze. Her y/e/c eyes were clear and seemed to reflect all the light back to Draco. Draco coughed and brought himself to her.

He rubbed his neck anxiously, “I’m Draco.”

She smiled, “Hello, Draco, I’m y/n.”

Draco decided then he preferred the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue.

******

Keep reading

I’ll Be Good - Part 3

Masterlist  -  Part 1  -  Part 2

Summary: Series – You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Solder on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – Still captive in Avengers interrogation, you finally get your chance to negotiate, but really with you, it’s more like manipulate.

Warnings: swearing, still captivity, really this one’s pretty tame.

Word Count: 2057

Author’s Note: This one was a lot of fun to write! What can I say, I love the mind games. As always feedback is welcome! I LOOOVE hearing from you all. I’m genuinely addicted to writing this stuff right now. I have abandoned all other hobbies entirely. My book group has forgotten about me, I haven’t touched a piano in weeks, I haven’t taken my dog anywhere fun in days and he threw coconut shavings all over my living room floor in protest. That is how much I love you.  So enjoy while I go get the vacuum! Am I the only dog person on tumblr?


Damn. This is disorienting. I’ve played this all wrong. You thought seeing the mistrust and anger play across Steve Rogers’ face as his best friend pulled away from you. Others saw Bucky Barnes as Captain America’s greatest weakness but you knew better. Steve watched Bucky like a hawk, and all of the hero’s self-righteous inhibitions fell away when it came to his best friend. That made him all the more dangerous. And he had just caught you red handed trying to manipulate Bucky.

Shit. Your damsel in distress routine would come across thin and reaching now. New tactic, you thought shifting quickly back into the careful predator. Captain Rogers had entered glaring at you, immediately paused, and turning pointedly, gave his best friend a harsh look. A warning. You could swear you saw Bucky return it with equal ferocity before he looked at you with a gentler expression, and slipped out.

Alright, you want the villain, Captain, I’ll give it to you. I’ll let you have every dark thread you can get your hands on. Your best hope now was that honesty would catch him off guard. Your options were severely limited when Nat had followed him in, you knew she would see through anything less than the truth. You didn’t think she would truly give you up to these strangers but then again they weren’t strangers to her. She had exposed so many of her secrets after the events in D.C. at this man’s command, you just couldn’t be sure. It had been unnerving to see her exposed like that. And here you were tied to a chair, watching her sharp green eyes watching you over an interrogation table. This was why you preferred anonymity when you worked. Natasha was a dangerous friend to have but an absolutely lethal enemy. You knew you had to take control fast.

Keep reading

!!!!

Kittythecopycat1977 has been plagiarising a lot of ML stories to Wattpad, so if you write ML fics please check it to make sure you’re not one of them, or if you recognise the story please alert the real author!!

The ones I know of are:

  • Le Chabanais by Makahadoma
  • Confidential: Too much information and Manda as in A-Manda by @lollipop1141
  • Vampires, smut and other delusions by Matsuo_yuki
  • Cat Tendencies (from Marichat May) by @miracujess
  • Finding out the Hard Way by Darbinator1101
  • this drabble by @fullmetalpotterhead
  • I’m here to dance by kisstheprincessofpurewhite
  • Lucky Strike by @runningoutofink
  • this story by @miraculyss
  • On her balcony at midnight by @panda013
  • Oopsies by KseniaLynn
  • Chat Noir n'est pas un Ange by biteymadangelofthelord
  • It had to be you by @mercy-angel-09

I’ll edit this as I figure out more

anonymous asked:

Ohh please can we have the scene where Gabe caught a certain doctor and ninja making out, please :)))

Well since you asked so kindly <3 here ya go doll!


Careless

ShimadaClan!Genji AU. Gency. Fluff. 

Dr. Ziegler is never described as careless. She is precise and careful and on top of everything. Careless has never been a word used to describe her.

Yet, she forgot to lock the lab door. Genji’s hand tugging at hers as they go farther in the back. His scent of musk and water driving her thoughts insane. Then, she was kissing him, and he picked her up easily without parting their lips. Seating her on one of her lab tables, and they were still kissing.

She didn’t register the soft swoosh of opening lab doors as her hands were getting tangled in his green hair.

She did however, register the Spanish words reverberating off the walls.

They jerked apart in the same moment, and there stood Reyes. Blood immediately rushed her face as she pulled her arms away from Genji. He on the other hand, grew quite pale as he quickly but gently pulled her off the table and set her down.

“Shimada—Angela—” He rushes forward, the rest of his words lost in his native tongue. Their meaning all too clear. Mercy positions herself in front of Genji as a shield. Genji immediately tries to step around her but Mercy blocks his path, knowing that as heroic as he can be, this is not the time to be the hero. She is literally the only thing keeping him alive at the moment.

Careless. Completely careless, Ziegler.

“Reyes, just let me explain—” She tries gently at first, but is swiftly cut off

“Shimada, you complete idiot. Where’s my shotguns—I’ll find them. Do you really think you can screw around with Anglea? You think you can play with her? I knew you’d try something like this.” He’s towing over them and Genji is still behind her but she can feel his body tremble.

“I’m not—This isn’t—” Genji tries but fails horribly.

Another string of Spanish swearing leaves Reyes mouth as he attempts to grab Genji. Mercy blocks his path, finally shouting his name.

“Reyes! Genji isn’t trying anything.” This causes the Blackwatch commander to at least slow down. “He… I really like him.”

He stops to stare down at her, his hard expression lightening for one moment.

“Angela, you don’t know how people like him work. He’s just trying to—”

She stops him right there, saying “I know how Genji works, and he’s genuine and real. He brings me hot chocolate late at night and leaves little star origami on my desk to find in the morning. He’s kissed all my fingers and asked what I thought of the stars. Reyes…” He’s still at this point, his face a complete mask. “I know how Genji works.”

Familiar finger slip into hers from behind, and she tilts her head back to find him staring at Reyes with a calm but sure expression. He waits, and Reyes glances between the two and their clasped hands.

Reyes looks away for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh that sounds like a growl. Then, he’s jamming a finger in Genji’s face.

“I’m watching you, muchacho. If one thing is wrong, one thing with Mercy. In any way shape or form, you’ll be dealt with silently and quickly. Understand Shimada?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

He drops his hand, now looking at Mercy.

“You know Morrison is going to kill him, right?”

Genji stiffens behind her, but she laughs softly. The worst is over with for now.

“No, I won’t let him.” She says lightly, squeezing Genji’s hand.

Reyes glances over at Genji, “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Then he’s disappearing back through the doors.

Five Times Ellie Queen… 6/6 (FICoN ‘verse, Olicity, Mature)

Five Times Ellie Queen Had The Worst Timing In The World (and one time it was pretty perfect)

by @dust2dust34 and @so-caffeinated

Summary: Oliver and Felicity’s daughter has an uncanny ability for things to happen at the most inconvenient time possible. But, every now and then little Ellie Queen gets it exactly right.

A/N: An important note about this story - five of the six parts of this story are set before FICoN, which means it’s set before Ellie time travels, and technically in what we think future canon should be.

Additional important note, thank you to @fallingmeleth for the gorgeous cover art! We were blown away and we love it. And thank you yet again to @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername for being our amazing betas. I cannot overstate how wonderful and important you two are to this process.

Excerpt:

The second he sees her beautiful face on the other end, his entire being aches even more to hold her in his arms. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying, and her usually-slick ponytail is haphazard. An involuntary smile pulls at her lips, her shoulders falling in a sigh - like the mere sight of him is enough to make things better, even for a few seconds.

He knows the feeling.

When she whispers, “Hey you,” it only highlights how much she’s carrying on her shoulders and he wants nothing else but to not have to add to it.

“Hi,” he says, smiling softly. It’s the first smile away from the kids that feels real in days. “How are you doing?”

“Oh…” She pauses. Her voice is shaky and her eyes grow wet as she admits, “I’ve been better.”

(read on AO3)

Keep reading

Temptation

A hand lands ferociously on his shoulder, shooting him with tingles and shock waves and everything unearthly that he can think of. It slides down just above the corner of his clothed chest as it spreads its dizzying heat in the brick of a second. He glides it down with might and aggressiveness, which are the sides of Baekhyun that he tries to keep himself unhinged from, until his slender fingers wrap around Chanyeol’s wrist and tug him down forcefully. His heart is now victim to the mad drumming going on in his rib cage, and he thinks that it’s unfair. Baekhyun leaves him so dazed, so breathless, and so needy. He hates that feeling of need, that feeling that just latches itself onto his being whenever Baekhyun is around. And he thinks that he’s going to have to give Baekhyun a taste of his own medicine, whether he likes it or not. _____________________________________ Author’s Note: Just a short scene from inspiration that struck me because of the gif down bellow xD Lol who am I kidding, I’m struck with Baekyeol feels everyday.

Originally posted by lcmusic00