gif: books


He held me hard against him then, without speaking, and I could feel the pulsebeat in his throat, hammering like my own. His hands went to my bare shoulders, and he held me slightly away, so that I was looking upward into his face. His hands were large and very warm, and I felt slightly dizzy.

“I want ye, Claire,” he said, sounding choked. He paused a moment, as though unsure what to say next. “I want ye so much— I can scarcely breathe. Will—” He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Will ye have me?” 

By now I had found my voice. It squeaked and wobbled, but it worked.

Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“I think …” he began, then stopped. He fumbled loose the buckle of his kilt, but then looked up at me, bunching his hands at his sides. He spoke with difficulty, controlling something so powerful that his hands shook with the effort. “I’ll not … I can’t … Claire, I canna be gentle about it.” 

I had time only to nod once, in acknowledgment or permission, before he bore me back before him, his weight pinning me to the bed. 

He did not pause to undress further. I could smell the road dust in his shirt, and taste the sun and sweat of travel on his skin. He held me, arms outstretched, wrists pinioned. One hand brushed the wall, and I felt the tiny scrape of one wedding ring chiming against the stone. One ring for each hand, one silver, one gold. And the thin metal suddenly heavy as the bonds of matrimony, as though the rings were tiny shackles, fastening me spread-eagled to the bed, stretched forever between two poles, held in bondage like Prometheus on his lonely rock, divided love the vulture that tore at my heart.

1.09 The Reckoning

Winter Sounds | JK [S]

Originally posted by aestheticvbts


“Y/N -ah have you even been paying attention?”

Truth be told. You weren’t, you were too engrossed in finishing this -important- task at hand, to give one fuck about something your roommate was screaming about, again.

“If you would’ve listened to me once maybe you could’ve found yourself some good fucks” she huffed sitting beside you on the bed almost tipping the palette that you had placed ever so carefully atop your white sheets.

“You and I both know that’s not what I want” your response was nonchalant, picking up your brushes and paints, placing them on the other side of the bed.

“Yes miss ‘art is my only escape so I will give my all to it’ but for once I was being serious” she scoffs, “Listen to me” Yoojung exclaimed practically jumping on you in the process “ Jeon Jungkook is coming to our campus tonight. I repeat Jeon Jungkook”

If you were any less ignorant, you wouldn’t have known who he was. But the rows of books lined perfectly almost like a shrine, purely because it holds books by -the one and only- writer. Jeon Jungkook

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March has been kicking my ass with school work and I think the weather has been screwing up my head. I feel better now, so I’m going to turn anon back on. If you want so send me anon hate, then you might not get a response. I just think people that send hate anonymously are cowards, because if you want to tell people your opinions you should at least own up to them.

Also, I’m behind on the Kate book, but I’m gonna make a list of what I have so far and ask people to remind me to include their edits.