i had to slow mo it

a summary of my experience at the nashville “markiplier’s you’re welcome tour.”
  • there was a fight to the death to see whose show we were gonna do, and i was chosen to pick between ethan and tyler.
    • …and by pick, i mean i had to kill my “least favorite.” i’m so sorry, tyler. :c
  • out of nowhere, bob couldn’t bring himself to accept this and tied ethan up (while claiming he tied himself up). cue tyler and wade coming out on stage in the most ridiculous costumes ever (tyler dressed as a guy taking a bath, wade dressed as a cowboy).
    • did i mention that mark clung to me, pretending to be scared?
  • mark and i fought them in slow-mo. i managed to kill wade and free ethan.
    • but then bob held mark at knifepoint and i had to save only one of them. i then killed ethan in a panic and immediately hugged mark.
    • mark: “well, you didn’t have to kill him, but okay!”
    • me: “i don’t do well under pressure, i’m sorry!”
  • then, the guys pulled out this fancy-looking dinner for two, and mark invited me to sit with him. he then gave me a mic and asked a bit more about myself. as he put it, “we’ve been through so much together, and yet i know so little about you.”
    • i told him about being a college sophomore, working for my university paper, and aspiring to become a professional writer one day.
    • he asked me if i brought any friends/family with me, and i pointed to my mother in the crowd. “tell me your least favorite thing about your mother.” *beat* “do you want me to get killed?” “yes.” (my answer: her stubbornness)
    • he then asked what my favorite thing about her is, and i turned to her and said, “she’s always there for me.” cue a bunch of awwwwing from the audience, followed by mark saying, “stubbornly always there for you. okay.”
    • he also asked a bit about some of the people i work with on my university’s newspaper staff. i dragged my editor a bit for making me review the recent mlp movie, and mark said that we’re all non-silently judging him for it. as we should.
    • however, i did vouch for him by mentioning how he comforted me during a severe anxiety attack i had while researching for my first features story. people in the audience awww’ed a bit when i described feeling like i had already failed, and even mark looked a touch crestfallen. i mentioned how he encouraged me to pursue my dream because i have a lot of potential, and everyone on stage and in the audience were very supportive.
  • mark and his friends ended the skit by singing a “musical about my life.” tyler and ethan played both a paper boy who wanted a new bike and a supportive friend named andy (my editor’s name). then mark played an exaggerated version of my mom, portraying her as a little hovering, but always caring for me. he even sang a song about how he’ll always be there for me (“even when you’re taking a poopoo, i’ll be there for you.” who knew mark singing about defecation could still be enchanting?)
    • but the first thing he sang was, “juno, i love you.” anything awful people have ever said or done to me is forever invalid.
  • i then got an autographed water bottle (as anyone who participated in the skits did), i got to hug mark one final time, and i hugged ethan and tyler while asking them to forgive me (they did lol).
  • at one point in the post-show Q&A, a woman said that she was inspired to become a blacksmith because of mark. someone remarked that she should make swords, and mark leaned over and said, “no! juno would kill you!” i then vehemently agreed that me using real swords is a bad idea, and ethan and tyler were smiling and laughing the whole time. 

@markiplier @lordminion @crankgameplays @muyskerm @thetrueapocalypto12: i cannot stress this enough. thank you for such a wonderful show. i’m so thankful to have been on this journey with you all since 2012. you all have gotten me through very tough periods in my life, and no words in the english language could ever fully express the happiness and joy i felt upon meeting you all at this event. you guys make life worth living, especially for folks like me.

thank you again,

juno. ♡

p.s. ethan, tyler, if you’re reading this…I’M STILL SUPER SORRY. I HAVE NO LEAST FAVORITE, I PROMISE. D:

anonymous asked:

Pls bullet point what you liked about the video

A post shared by Dan Howell (@danisnotonfire) on Mar 3, 2017 at 8:36am PST

  • it’s such a random slice of d+p’s day-in-the-life
    • like seriously… what lead up to this meme-y encounter?
    • i just like how this takes place in their house that they share together
    • like it just makes you think this ain’t the only shit they get up to
      • so many bants and lil pranks 
        • it’s so cute
  • there’s no explanation as to why they are holding hats
    • dan’s on the stairs to the gaming room.. but?
      • what video would they need the hats for????¿
      • is that the cowboy hat from the fanfic moment in tatinof lol
  • wait …is phil holding… a sombrero 
    • why does he have a sombrero…? ??
  • the anticipation before dan throws the hat 
    • like, you can just feel him go ‘>:D here’s my chance!!!’
    • how long was he waiting at the top of the stairs for
      • he must’ve given himself time to set up his camera and like, turn around .  
        • unless he had it all planned and ready
          • for some silly contribution to a meme ffs dan omg
            • did he practise throwing it or
  • phil totally oblivious as to what is about to happen
    • he’s just in his own world before the hat reaches him
      • he was totally fine and dandy 
        • he doesn’t deserve this
          • save phil 20k17
  • dan saying ‘what in tarnation’ really quickly before it turns into slow motion
    • gtg fast
    • how ironic
  • the Slow Motion™
    • i feel like it needs some classical music
    • like, it reminds me of this video too much
  • dan’s booming laugh? in slow mo? 
    • amazing
  • the hat’s impact 
    • it like bounces all around phil’s head but doesn’t land
      • it like dances around that beauty wow
    • i love the tufts of phil’s fringe that go everywhere
      • and then just fwoosh’s downwards
  • phil’s recoil in slow mo
    • at first he’s just frazzled looking down/around/behind him
    • but then he sees where the hat actually came from
    • and immediately aims his gaze @ dan
      • he has to live with this lil shit jfc
      • save phil 20k17 x2
  • as phil looks up his fringe follows  behind
    • it’s so LONG
      • i didn’t know his fringe was that long
        • it looks like it’s just gonna fly off his head
          • first dan’s eyebrow in the horse selfie and now this
  • he’s still looking around at this point 
    • he’s like ‘? ?? ? ?  where??? what??’
  • the 😟 look he gives dan
    • it’s as if he’s saying ‘why’
    • it feels like this isn’t the first time something like this has happened
    • save phil 20k11o01029432348 x3
  • the quiet lil snort before dan talks
    • i lov u
      • idk if that was d/p but i lov u
  • THE Z O O M IN ON PHIL’S LIL FACE
    • HE’S like STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT JUST HAPPENENDN FKFKKFDSFKDSSDK
  • dan saying ‘almost’
    • u can hear the lil chuckle in his voice 

overall, pure wholesome content funny banterful interaction 10/10 would watch 5 more times i hope phil gets his revenge soon


i probably missed some things but that’s off the top of my head
thank you for giving me the chance to share this break down of the video

feel free to share reasons why u loved it too

i remember when the wonder woman trailer came out and it just showed a glimpse of her climbing that ladder, you know The One, anyways like it just had this feeling that it was leading up to something important and then when watching the movie and the no mans land scene happened and right when she gets on the field theres a slow mo explosion behind her and its not the typical “cool guy walks away from explosion” moment, instead shes walking into a hail of bullets and its the most fucking next level bad ass shit i’ve ever fucking witnessed with my own two eyes like holy shit what a Game Changer what a way to demolish that trope and create something beautiful 

Typical JiKook stare. So I had to make a close up and slow-mo.

AKA, following all the steps today again:

1. random stare
2. wait for the other to notice
3. meanwhile be whipped
4. stare at the lips
5. small, immediately hidden smile, glittering eyes
6. look away like nothing happened and calm your beating heart

Just look at the shifting expression on Jimin’s face. His lips and eyes when Jungkook looks back. And then look on Jungkook, looking out of it, pretending the butterflies are not trying to explode in him.

my two pence regarding the “inshallah” clip:

  • mikael, once again, is the most visible in the balloon squad, right next to yousef, dressed the same (adam has a white top too but his back is to us and we barely see him)
  • carrots are phallic
  • we have a gentle clash of generations with sana and her mother followed by a radio show talking about extremists (if i’m not mistaken?) so it’s showing us, in a very short time again, a lot of different opinions within islam
  • yousef coming into the kitchen with the song and the moment he passed behind sana had me think this was a daydream/fantasy sequence for a minute: the way time seems to slow down when he passes behind her (i had to make sure it wasn’t another slow-mo, but no, they just made yousef physically slow down and sana almost stop moving, it’s “just” the acting) + the music
  • on a side note: people have compared the moment when yousef passes behind sana to the almost kiss between even and isak in s3: the tension is there in both, but in s3 even and isak are facing each other. here, yousef and sana are not and i think that’s important
  • the parallels with the kardemomme clip were so blatant everyone picked up on them immediately. there are a bunch of giffed comparisons on tumblr. yes SKAM likes its parallels. but it doesn’t do copies. copies are boring and SKAM is a clever show. at this point, it’s not paralleling evak anymore it’s copying it and that should make us all suspicious. 
  • the talk about kids and football, to me, could be another play on our expectations. again, it’s so cliche and straight. we get a wedding mentioned, “my husband will cook”, talks of kids, and football. it’s very heteronormative and i think that could be a good tool for julie for whatever she has planned if yousana isn’t endgame. it’s playing with what we’re used to seeing: straight couples talking marriage and how many children they want and football practice.
  • the evak storyline ended with them being happy together but for the longest time people thought even was playing isak, that the love was unrequited. so them ending up together was not as obvious and straightforward at the time. it was really not obvious to a lot of viewers.
  • but here, because people now know to look for parallels in SKAM and are familiar with some writing tricks, a lot of folks see the paralells with evak as a confirmation yousana is headed to the same ending. “they love each other, it’s blatant, they’re going to end up happy together!”
    my, and other people’s, point is not “just” that they’re “too obviously” perfect for each other. it’s that the seemingly requited love is set up extremely soon, with nothing obvious making us doubt it (like even revealing he’s dating sonja at the end of s3e2), and very blatantly paralleling famous early evak scenes.
  • the way elias comes in is making me 👀👀👀; @darker-sooner is the one who made me notice that the way he interrupts is…first he comes in looking for yousef and asks him why he is still in the kitchen with this kind of fake casual look (also why would he notice and worry enough to come and look for him when it’s only been a couple of minutes?) and then yousef’s voice gets a bit quiet while he says he was helping sana and elias’ smile seems to falter and he changes the topic and says that the guys are waiting for him (for what? they were just playing ball?)
  • and so now i’m not sure what to think but remember that everything in a good story must serve a purpose. why this whole exchange between yousef and elias if we just needed elias to interrupt the yousana moment and nothing else? what informations this is giving us?
  • and now i’m thinking about when sana caught yousef dancing and he and elias thought they were alone in the house, and how when elias said flammemoji in the youtube vid the emojis went from him to yousef and…idk

thoughts?

creep. pt.1

pairing: g-dragon/kwon jiyong x reader
rating: m (language, sexual content)
genre: angst, smut
pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, final

playlist

Originally posted by rep-lay-ed

i don’t care if it hurts. i wanna have control.

“This movie is way too cheesy, Ji.”

“Shh.”

“How can you watch this crap? Let alone enjoy it! You already know she’s going to end up with mr. fancy pants from the get go! They already had a slow-mo kiss scene!”

Keep reading

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Nine)
  • The first section of this story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?
  • The second section will explore the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together.
  • Section Two {A Hundred More}: [ (Eight) ]

(Nine) 

A kiss in my hair and a murmured, “Good morning, Sassenach,” brought me out of my stupor.  

“Is it?” I croaked. I made a bleary-eyed reconnaissance, but could ascertain only that I was a) on a horse, b) in front of Jamie on the saddle, my head lolling on his shoulder, and c) blissfully warm against his chest.

…d) quite unbelievably happy. 

“Is it good?” He tightened his arm around my waist, and I could hear the smile in his voice as he leaned his head against mine. “Aye, never better.”

No,” I laughed sleepily, snuggling back into him and squeezing his arm, as it was the only bit of him I could reach. “Is it morning?

“Nay, quite a few hours to dawn, still; but we’ve arrived in good time.”

The cloak—tucked around us both like his plaid might once have been—slipped a little, and the chill rushed through my clothes as I peered out into the darkness. Inverness. The streets were quite dark and it was hard to discern much of anything other than that we were making our way down a reasonably wide street or avenue. To be frank, though, I couldn’t have given a fig for sightseeing at the moment, in any case. All that mattered was that we were in a reasonably modern town with an inn, meaning a hot meal and a warm bed were mere minutes away. 

Jamie kicked up the horse and turned down a sidestreet, his hand instinctively coming up to keep me from getting whiplash as we made the turn at speed. I don’t know why such a practical movement should touch me so, but there came a sudden lump to my throat, and I clutched him back as tight as I could, closing my eyes to savor him. Jamie. 

God, it still hardly felt real. It was like…

…like trying to sleep after you’ve spent the day on seaboard, or swimming in the ocean. Even if it’s hours and hours later, lying on the mattress that night, you still feel the rise and fall of the water in your body, the memory of it, something within you triggered into perpetual motion, no matter how much you might have hated the waves nor how many miles your bed may be from the sea. There, then, on the horse, in my body and behind closed eyes, I still felt the physical sense of running up that terrible, screaming hill. I still was being eviscerated with every heartbeat in the knowledge that I had to let him go forever, again; that I would never see him again; that it was the end

But it was all over. He wasn’t happily married; I wasn’t making him choose between me and his own children. His life was ready and waiting for me. Thank you, I whispered silently to whomever might be listening. Thank you, thank you, a thousand times more, *thank you.* 

Jamie had slept in my arms, there on the hill. Not for very long, certainly no more than an hour, all told. But oh, how I was glad of it, of the chance to just hold him in peace, to hear the steady rise and fall of his breathing, counting every rise and every fall against my chest, knowing he was safe and mine (How many times had I held his daughter in just that way, in just that peace?) …and beyond that, to immediately cement the intimacy between us.

It was that, I think, that kept either of us from suggesting a move down the hill into the relative warmth of the cottage. At face value, it was an excellent and obvious plan. While the snow had tapered off to a mere scattering of flakes here and there, it was bloody well freezing, and the wind was not gentle.  And yet such a notion had felt to me an enormous risk, one I wasn’t willing to take. 

We were afraid not to be touching, I think; fearful of any gap, however momentary, that might form between us if physically separated. Something would snap out of place, a voice within me had screamed in warning; hesitations or fears or the awkwardnesses resulting from TWO DECADES of separation. If we weren’t touching, those things might so easily slip into the still-gaping cracks—gorges—that existed between his life and mine.

For my part, even if he had suggested moving down to the cottage— I felt an icy chill come over me at the very thought. There were just too many ghosts in that place, both of twenty years ago and of mere hours. It’s where I had said two devastating goodbyes to the love of my life, and even under these ecstatic circumstances of our reunion, I didn’t think I could bear being under that roof again. It would have reminded me too viciously of the loss and regret and wasted time that lay beneath the surface of our joy, and those were raw and throbbing enough as it was. 

No, that cottage could not be a house of joy for me, again.

And so, when he’d awoken, temporarily refreshed from his hellish ride, we’d taken care to always stay linked—even if only hand in hand—as he located satchel and horse (he’d whistled, and the beast had bloody appeared! A veritable John Wayne!), and got us on our way toward Inverness. A few hours’ ride, we’d decided, was well worth having a good meal and a warm bed awaiting us at the end, and the method of travel allowed us to stay holding each other the whole way.

A warm bed.

A warm….husband

Before my mind could fully articulate the anxieties underpinning those two words in relation to this evening, there came a Gaelic command rumbling richly against my back and we slowed to a halt.  

The dingy public house was torchlit and reasonably inviting-looking, I was surprised to find. A stable-boy came promptly up and Jamie exchanged a few words in Gaelic while hopping down from the saddle, swiveling his satchel to the back, and reaching up to help me dismount. 

I swung my leg over and made to slip down into his outstretched arms, but then froze dead like scented prey. “What? For God’s sake, WHAT??” I wanted to crawl out of my skin. He was looking—staring—up at my face as though in horror.  “Jamie,” I croaked in dread, “just bloody say—”

“—most beautiful woman…I’ve ever seen.”

The breath left me in a whoosh. I smiled down at him, but—nervously. “That’s very sweet, Jamie.” 

He was being kind, and I didn’t doubt he was happy to see me, but I was staunchly middle-aged, and no two ways around it. My face—however much I took care of it—had been weathered by time and parenting and more than a decade of a punishingly-demanding job, and in that moment,  I wanted to bloody crawl into the ground to hide from him and never ever come out

“Truly kind, love,” I repeated tightly, trying to move things along, “but you really don’t have to say—”

“I do,” he said at once, his eyes never once leaving mine as he lifted me slowly down. “I must, for it’s the truth.” 

“To you,” I started to say.

“To any man that’s the eyes wi’ which he was born. Claire, mo chridhe, ye are….you…You’re the same.” 

And even the scattered snowflakes seemed to slow as we looked at each other, there in the flickering torchlight. 

We’d both been so frantic on the hill. I personally had spent tremendous energy in trying specifically NOT to look at his face, and by the time we’d finally fallen into each others’ arms, it had been full-dark. That time held close under my cloak had kept us in darkness, too, meaning that this was the first time we’d gotten the chance to truly study each other at length. And God…even filthy and matted and half-dead with fatigue, he was unspeakably beautiful; he was Jamie. 

So slowly, he lifted both hands and cupped my face between them, drinking me in still deeper, shaking his head wordlessly. 

“Dear holy God…” he whispered after a few endless heartbeats. “So ye are a witch, then?” 

He said it with the exact same expression on his face as back on the hill when he’d first gotten sight of my face. Is that what had made him stagger back?  My smile back to him was genuine, playful, almost. “If you like.” 

But there was no jest in his own eye. “Claire….Jesus…” And he could say no more.

I was fairly well speechless, too, and could only pulled him down to me, taking his lips softly and slowly. 


But then, the distance did wedge between us, and fast. 

It happened quite naturally, likely without a thought, on his part. He simply let go my hand as he passed through the tavern door to go speak with the proprietor, and I felt a cold emptiness fall between me and him, like a sudden eclipse. In that darkness, the doubts assaulted me in great, unrelenting barrages, one after another, after another. 

You need to guard your heart more carefully, Beauchamp. The other shoe will drop any moment. 

You and Jamie are just riding the high of being together. This isn’t real life—this is only the honeymoon. This might fall apart in weeks. 

Even if everything with Laoghaire goes right, WE might go wrong. 

What if we can’t stand each other after a time just like happened with them? 

Beauchamp, that’s poppycock, and you know it. You wouldn’t have come back for him—left BREE for him—if you weren’t certain. 

That was so. That was comfort, at least; and everything we’d experienced thusfar since crashing together on that hill had felt right, had felt true. 

But GOD, the anxieties had the upper hand, now, and I felt as though I were the only person for miles, alone in some wasteland in my heart. Fear. So much fear. 

I had thudded down onto one of the long benches, apparently, for I blinked and was looking at my hands before me on a table. Claw-like, they seemed. The hands of an old woman. 

He’d spoken true when he had looked into my face and proclaimed beauty, for I’d seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice, but it wasn’t him I was worried about, so much, but me. Us. It was truly occurring to me for the first time that it had been a long, long time since I had been actually intimate—fully intimate—with a man, and that perhaps it had been too long. I could feel the truth of that fear in my very bones: that perhaps I wasn’t capable of such an intimacy any longer. Yes, I acknowledged, feeling a vice tightening around my chest, something in me would certainly have been lost. 

There had been sex in my years with Frank, yes, plenty of it, but not passion;  need and urgency, of course, but never anything coming even remotely close to that sense of one-ness that Jamie and I had shared so naturally, so instinctively from the beginning. Frank…Frank was….

I felt my body seize up, a great weight pressing down upon my face to smother me. So many years ….So many long years in which the very concept of being touched by a man (….my only experience with being touched in that way by another human being…) was inextricably linked with having hurt him, being resented by him, resenting HIM right back. Sex meant sensing the other women on his skin and not being able to say a damned word (because of the other man—THE man— that still lingered in mine!). It meant wanting—needing—so badly to touch and be touched, and yet being unable to get true relief, nor seek it elsewhere or ANYWHERE, and being left only with this writhing, seething, screaming —


Jesus. 


Yes. 

Time was not the only thing that had been lost. 


Those aging hands were shaking and my entire body jumped in panic when a steaming platter appeared on the table. “The cook was awake, thank God,” Jamie said enthusiastically, taking the seat across from me and tucking into the bread and cheese and honey with gusto. 

There was a savory broth as well, making it an excellent meal in any century, but I couldn’t seem to taste or smell anything. That didn’t keep me from fixing my eyes carefully on the food, though. It was something to occupy my hands and my attention.  

Warm bed. 

Warm husband. 

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, I screamed weakly into nothing. What if I couldn’t do this anymore? What if I could do…that anymore? The way it ought to be done? The way I wanted to be with him? The way—GOD, the way I’d craved for twenty fucking—? 

“Are ye quite well, mo nighean donn?” 

I started and the piece of bread I’d been pinching and balling up rolled away off the edge of the table. “Yes, I—Sorry, just—” I smiled, though it could hardly have been convincing. “Lost in thought.” 

“Aye,” he said, graciously not pressing me. “Is it enough food? Shall I get more?” 

I shook my head and demurred, feeling as though I would vomit or faint from the dark storm roiling within my heart. 

He went back to his food, inhaling it at lightning speed. 

Just take my hand, I begged him silently, but couldn’t get my lips, my lungs to comply, nor my own fingers to move. Just grab onto me, Jamie, and then everything can be alright. Everything *might*….God, Jamie, please… 

But I could see that he was already preparing to leave the table, sopping up the last of his broth with bread. “You go on up to the room, mo nighean donn. Top of the stairs on the left. I need to go directly to talk to the keeper (while he’s still awake) about buying a shirt off him, and perhaps a mirror to shave, and then I’ll be up to join ye presently.”

The room.

The expectations—his AND mine—

No, it was mine. My own expectations were the ones making the room spin, along with the knowledge that I almost certainly couldn’t meet—

“You don’t need to shave for my sake, Jamie,” I said hastily, not meeting his eye, trying (failing) to sound casual. “I’m sure you’re bone-tired.”

He caught the implication immediately and only nodded. “I am, and I thank ye, but I’ll be shaving all the same. I want to—to be presentable for my wife,” he said formally, not meeting my eye either. He started to say something else, but then stood quite suddenly and brushed crumbs off his hands as he walked around the table, making for the kitchens. “I willna be long, I swear it.” 

I jumped to my feet, violently enough that my head spun. “Jamie, wait, I—” but I stopped, my mouth working vainly before I shut it again. He was looking down at me expectantly, with a hint, I thought, of a keen anxiety in his own eye. 

My mouth was slack. I didn’t bloody know how to say it. Well, no, I did

You don’t HAVE to have sex with me tonight, Jamie, if you don’t want to. 

I DO want to have sex with you—want it a great fucking deal, in fact— 

….but I’m also TERRIFIED of it—Almost more terrified than I’ve EVER been at the prospect of going to a man’s bed…And it will be next to impossible to explain why and it will likely make you angry or sad or both and so I shall avoid it like the plague…

….and even though I just said you don’t HAVE to have sex with me, on some ridiculous, vain level, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do if somehow you DON’T want me, or if you can’t find me sexually attractive or—

Before I could voice any of this, he stepped directly in front of me, took my face in his hands and kissed me. I’m here, the kiss said. 

And then he dropped a hand to my hip and pulled me tight—gently, but nonetheless firmly—against him, so I could feel— 

…Oh…

He nodded and gave the tiniest smile.

I blinked, taken aback. “How do you bloody do that? STILL??”

“I’m none so verra decrepit, Sassenach.” The corner of his mouth twitched in that way that still drove me wild. “And as for how, if ye dinna ken the process by now, I’m none so verra—”

“Not that,” I groaned, laughing but completely serious. “How can you still know exactly what I’m thinking?”

He quieted and took a pace back, studying me, though thank God he didn’t let go my waist. “Ye think just because we were apart these twenty years, I stopped thinking of ye?” 

That startled me. “Well, no, Jamie, of course not, but—” 

“Not just about ye,” he clarified. “Thinking of ye as though we were speaking to one another, throughout the day, throughout the years…..What ye’d say in a conversation that was wearying to me….What your face would have done in seeing some sight or other at my side…..When—whether—ye’d laugh or only roll your bonny eyes when I made a joke….” He cupped my cheek. “… And picturing always how your truth would ever be in plain sight on that face for me to find. Ye’ve kept me company, these twenty years, Sassenach, whether ye willed it or no’. Naught but a lonely man’s pitiful longings, true, but ye stayed wi’ me.” He swallowed, his voice going still more hoarse as he finished, “And I’ve been given a gift this day to learn that my pale imitation was a true image, Claire….for you’re exactly as I recall. I ken ye like I ken the sound of my own voice.” The last was a whisper. “STILL.

I dipped my head so he couldn’t see that I was trying not to cry. 

He brought my chin back up and kissed me softly, kissed my closed, tear-straining eyes and my brow and my temple, before whispering in my ear and pulling me once more against him. “And aye, Sassenach…I want ye.”

And that meant a great deal, I reflected, watching his long hair swishing behind him as he disappeared down the corridor to the scullery. It was one great weight off my mind, the weight of vanity and fretfulness over the body. While I chided myself for its foolishness, it had NOT been a meaningless burden in honest reality. Hadn’t getting Joe Abernathy’s sworn statement regarding my sexual attractiveness been (absurdly, I grant you) one of my pre-requisites for deciding to find Jamie at all? 

Yes, Jamie wanted me, and Lord knew I wanted him back. 

But could we truly be one again, in that way that had changed everything all those years ago? We might, in some abstract sense, yes, for whatever it was between us it was still there; but in looking at the bald facts and making a clinical assessment, was I still able to supply my half of us, and all that it entailed? Was I still ‘me’ enough to love him, truly love him, body and soul?  

I honestly don’t know. 

That honest admission had the seams of my heart—so new, so fragile—aching. Anxiety and dread and shame in myself dogged me in every lonely step up to our empty chamber.  

Just touch me, Jamie. And forgive me if I fall apart. 


Idyllwild: The One with the Broon Coo

The Concept: FLUFF. Just fluff. Each “chapter” is stand alone, without an over arching plot to the fic other than 1. Jamie and Claire meet, 2. Jamie and Claire marry, and 3. Jamie and Claire have an abundance of children and live happily ever after together in the modern world. No one’s dead or dies. (both sets of parents are alive, Faith lives, HAPPILY EVER AFTER PEOPLE)


June 2010

“Here, let me change her, Sassenach,” Jamie gently lifted his fragrant daughter from my shoulder and cradled her against his bare chest. Faith squirmed, letting out a shrill cry of displeasure at this change.

“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly as I moved to the side of the bed, “I don’t mind. You know how much she hates it.”

“Oh, I ken,” he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, ushering me back to the cozy cocoon of blankets and pillows before stepping away.

He paused in the doorway between our room and the nursery, just in front of the picture window. The rising sun was just beginning to peek thru and painted father and daughter in an almost ethereal, golden light. Jamie looked down at the tiny, three week old bundle in his arms, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face.

“But we’ll do just fine, won’t we, mo nighean bheag?”

Tears sprang to my eyes as he left my field of vision.

So many of my twenty-seven years were lonely. I had thought that I would never have a husband or a child of my very own, but now I had both. I had a husband who ushered me into a life that I would have never dreamed was possible, who made me fall in love with him a little bit more everyday. I had a daughter of my own flesh and blood, who’d grown within me, the product of an unshakable love. I had a son who continually chose Jamie and I to fill the gaping void in his life that was left by his neglectful, abusive parents.

Faith let out a wail of anguish that would have made her Viking ancestors proud, pulling me out of my thoughts and prompting Jamie to begin one of his lullabies. He couldn’t tell one note from another, but the tuneless, rhythmic crooning of her father’s voice was the one thing that could soothe her when all of my motherly attempts failed.

Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,
The broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,
The broon coo’s brooken oot an’ eaten a’ the neeps,
Did ye ever see sich an ill-trickit beast?

I smiled as the tone of her cries settled into a resigned annoyance and Jamie started into his favorite verses, exaggerating his hint of Scottish accent to the point of depravity.

Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,
The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,
The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the corn,
Haud her in aboot, or she’ll dae it ‘gain the morn.

Oh, the broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,
The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,
The broon coo’s brooken oot, she’s in amang the strae,
She’s fleggit a’ the hennies an’ she’s ca’ad them off the lay.

The lid of the diaper genie shut with a dull thud just as the squeaky middle drawer of Faith’s dresser opened and shut. She’d leaked into her sleeper then, too. I sighed and mentally fit yet another load of laundry into the long list of activities for the day.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Jamie soothed, the proud smile evident in his voice. “It only took us to the hennies this time, a leannan!”

I held my breath, listening to see whether he’d settle her to sleep himself or if he’d bring her back to me. She’d had her fill at my breast before soiling her nappy and I knew she’d not be able to keep her eyes open for long. The nursery fell into a hushed calm for many moments before I caught the almost imperceptible whirring noise of the glider tucked into the corner of her room.

He was rocking her.

My eyes slid shut as I sank beneath the down comforter, murmuring, “Bless you, James Fraser.”

Jamie chuckled. I hadn’t said the words with the intent for him to hear me, but wasn’t entirely surprised that he caught it. His hearing would shame a hawk and he often woke before me when Faith needed attention in the night.

The low rumble of his voice lulled me into that blissful calm between slumber and wakefulness, suspended in consciousness by the effort it took to decipher his Gaelic murmurings. Jamie had started teaching me the language of his forefathers soon after he proposed and I had a fair understanding of the sweet nothings he often whispered into Faith’s ear as he cared for her.

I cooed them to her myself when I missed his presence beside me through the day, now that he’d gone back to work full time. His schedule was wonderfully flexible, though, and he’d be able to care for Faith two of the days I’d work when my maternity leave was up. She’d go to his sister Jenny’s for the third, who was home with her own two children, the youngest being just six months older than Faith. I hadn’t any siblings and only one, bachelor uncle to call my own, so the knowledge that my daughter would grow up with a large extended family surrounding her and supporting her was an incredible blessing.

You’ve gotten so big since we brought you home, sweetheart.

I beamed, a warm euphoria settling over me at the familiar term of endearment that he used on the both of us, as well as his comment. We’d brought Faith home from the hospital just over a week ago, but he was right, the preemie clothes Jenny had found for us were finally beginning to fit her properly.

Will you keep your red hair, like me? Or will it darken to brown like your mother’s? I wouldn’t mind, you know, if you had her beautiful brown curls.

Faith sighed in that drowsy way. She was a goner, if she wasn’t asleep already. The pace of the glider slowed, then stopped all together. Soft footsteps brought Faith to her crib and my husband back to me.

“Thank you,” I murmured as Jamie climbed onto the bed.

He kissed the top of my head, nuzzling his nose in my hair, “You shouldn’t have to thank me for caring for my own daughter.”

“I know I don’t have to,” I murmured as I curved into him, “but I want to.”

Jamie’s arms slid around my waist and nestled me under his chin, his tender strength encircling and sheltering me.

“I can’t nourish her like you can, mo nighean donn. I couldn’t carry her within me or bear your pain at her birth, but changing her diapers and rocking her to sleep… that I can do. It’s my special time with her, in a way, like nursing her is yours.”

I lifted his hand to my lips, gently kissing it as I fell back asleep in my husband’s arms.

Never Again (Evan Hansen X Reader)

TW; Suicide attempt, suicide note, a lot of angst

WC; 1,667

A/N; Forgive me in advance for this sad fic. I almost cried. Please don’t read this if you’re in a bad state of mind where you could do something dangerous to yourself from reading this. Love y’all. Message me if you need someone to talk to, please. <3

Your chest was heavy and tears fell from your eyes as you walked through the forest. You had choose the longest hiking trail to walk alone, and the silence was killing you. Stumbling over tree roots and rocks, your eyes were focused at the top of the trees.

‘Maybe the the world is different from up there’  You thought to yourself, heading to the largest tree nearby. You wiped the tears from your swollen eyes and took a deep breath. Shaking, you placed your hands on a tree branch and hoisted yourself up as best as you could. Your hands somehow found the next branch and pulled you up again, and again. You took a deep breath and sat down carefully, your whole body shaking as you looked down.

‘Even from the highest branch,’ You thought, your sobs slicing the silence. ‘The world isn’t different.’


Your father frowned, hugging you again. “I’ll be home late again, tonight, okay? There is some money on the table for you to order pizza.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, clearly worried about how quiet you were.

“Okay, dad. Thanks. Love you.” You muttered, looking at your computer. Your dad sighed and closed the door, leaving for work. He barley had time for you, since you were all low on money. He loved you and tried his best, but he knew it was never enough.


You held onto the branch tightly, thinking about the days events. How you screwed everything up. The one person you relied on had been too busy, but that was okay. It wasn’t his fault.


‘Jared?’

‘Are you there?’

You read over the messages you had sent to your cousin, worried you were being needy. He was probably at Summer camp, anyways. He was the only one who knew you struggled. He probably wouldn’t call you when he saw your messages. You two got into a huge fight the week before. He only hung out with you because he was your cousin, and his parents offered to pay for his car insurance if he hung out with you. You shook your head and stared at the contact “Evan H.” on your phone. You considered texting him but decided against it when you remembered how you freaked him out by telling him you liked him. Tears gathered in your eyes as dark thoughts swarmed your mind and actions once again. You reached for your coat and stopped, quickly writing a note on a napkin before leaving.


You swung your legs over the tree branch and looked down, your tears falling to the ground.

‘Just let go.’ You shook your head, your eyes glazed and blurred with tears. ‘Nobody would even notice you were dead.’

“Nobody would care.” You said aloud, trying to convince yourself. “Nobody would care.”

You started panting and panicking, looking all around to see if anybody was even here. You didn’t want to do this. But you had to.

You looked up at the sky and slowly slid off of the branch until you couldn’t hold on any longer.

The fall felt so good, it felt like you were flying. It was peaceful, but you swear you could hear voices screaming.  You closed your eyes as the world went slow-mo and your body went limp. You crashed into the ground and felt a burning pain everywhere. You had somehow landed on your back, with your arms spread out. Your whole body shook as you sobbed, and the shaking hurt.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” A voice screamed, diving next to you.You turned your head as best as you could.

“Hey, Evan.” You smiled, tears running down the side of your face.

“I’ll-We’ll get you to the hospital,” Evan started crying. “Jared! Connor! I-I found her!”

Twigs crunched as you heard people running towards you, more than just two. Evan gently slid you into his arms, which made you wince.

“Oh my, oh my god.” Jared started panicking as he bent down to try and help Evan pick you up.

“Oh goodness, I’m-I’m calling an ambulance!” Alana pulled out her phone while Zoe stood next to her crying and traumatized.

Connor shook his head and spoke with a shaky voice. “Guys, put her down. She’s obviously in pain. We-we can’t carry her out, this is a two mile hiking trail!”

“He’s-He’s right, oh gosh, what do we do?!” Zoe shouted, sobs erupting from her mouth.

You coughed, a bit of blood coming up. Evan held you in his arms while Jared was kneeling next to you. Evan’s face was red and blotchy, and he was holding back sobs. Jared had silent tears running down his face, and even Connor was teary eyed.

“Y-You’ll be alright, I promise. We’ll be alright.” Evan whispered, letting his head hang by your shoulder.

You smiled, your eyes flickering opened and closed.

“Love you, Evan,” You whispered. “All of you,”

You faded out of consciousness, only hearing the sound of a helicopter and people begging you not to close your eyes.


      ‘Dear person who finds this,

 I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry I can’t do much right, and that I hide away from the world. I’m sorry I’m alone. I’m sorry I told Evan I love him, and that I ruined our friendship. I’m sorry I can never hug or help Connor again. I’m sorry I can never joke around with Jared again. I’m sorry Zoe, Alana and myself will never have a sleepover again. I’m sorry dad, for not talking to you about this. I’m sorry for being a screw up. This was my choice. It was nobodies fault except for mine.

  With much love, (Y/n) (L/n)’

Evan read the letter over and over. He would glance up at you, hooked up to the machines in the hospital. He tried not to blame himself, but he had known he was the last straw when you had told him you loved him and he just walked away. You told him because he was the last person you thought you had left, and you needed him to hold you and kiss you and tell you everything will be alright.

He knew you hadn’t seen your father all week. He knew you had fought with Jared and Connor that week, and that Zoe was ignoring you. He knew Alana was too busy with school to even speak to you. He just let himself walk away from you, even when you were in such a fragile state.

Your father had been in the hospital only two times in the four months you were in a coma. He had taken extra work hours to pay off the medical bills you needed. He was angry, and he thought you were selfish. He hadn’t read the note.

Evan took it when he called the others to search for you. Evan didn’t know how he knew where you were, but he thought about how over the summer he had tried the same thing in a much smaller tree.

He was going to your house to tell you he loved you back when he found the note taped to the door.

“Evan?” A raspy voice whispered in the early morning light, making Evan shoot up,

“(Y/n)?! Oh my, oh my god, you’re-you’re okay!” Evan shouted, hugging you as best as he could without hurting you.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, tears falling from your eyes.

Evan quickly shot the group chat a text, not caring it was only 6am on a Sunday.

‘She’s awake.’

He got a various responses of ‘OMW’, ‘I’m coming’, and ‘See u in 10′ from everyone. “I love you, I love you so much. Please, please, don’t apologize. I love you.” Evan whispered, crying into your shoulder. You let out a small whimper and hugged Evan. "I love you, Evan, I love you too.” You and Evan stayed there in each others arms for about 10 minutes when there was a knock on the door. A face peeked around the door and Evan waved them in. "I’m so, so glad you’re okay, (Y/n), I-I don’t know what I would’ve done if..” Jared sighed, his eyes gathering tears. Evan backed up and let the others get a look at you. ”“I’m sorry, we’re all sorry.” Zoe whispered, a smile on her face and tears dripping down her face. Alana nodded and quickly hugged you, as well as Zoe. Connor took one look at you and bursted into tears, dropping onto his knees next to your bed. He held your hand and cried silently into it, his actions speaking louder than his words could. Evan pushed your hair behind your ear and you noticed the cast on your left arm. You raised your eyebrows and saw that all your friends had written their names with little messages and hearts. Connor had wrote his name the largest, just like on Evan’s old cast. ”“I-I love you guys, I’m so sorry I tried that.” "We’re sorry we let you feel so alone, and like that was the only way out.” Alana whispered, wiping tears from her eyes. "Never again.” Evan whispered, sighing quietly. "Never again.” The rest of you promised, one after the other. And never again did any of you feel alone. There was a happy ending for you, for once and for all.
Beautiful- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: The four times Tom was utterly in awe of your beauty. (Based on ‘Never Seen Anything Quite Like You’ by the Script)

Word Count: 1400

A/N: There are a lot of time jumps, so I apologize for that in advance. Also, I feel uncomfortable writing wedding scenes, especially when the character is a real person, so I am sorry for how terrible the last one is.

~~~

“So, Tom, I heard that you have a celebrity crush-” Ellen stopped herself to laugh at the embarrassed Tom. He ran his hand through his hair as his face became red, “Look at you! You’re all red and flustered.” She exclaimed. She placed her elbow on her armrest and leaned into Tom on it. “Would you look to tell the audience?”

“No, no, no. Please no.” Tom begged.

“Okay, well, then Tom from two weeks ago- was it?- can tell them.” She replied, pointing up to the screen and a clip from a different interview with Tom popped up.

“Who is your celebrity crush?” The interviewer asked. Almost immediately, Tom answered.

“Y/N Y/L/N, definitely her. She’s absolutely beautiful and she’s killing it right now with Divergent and Cinderella.” On-screen Tom eagerly replied as present day Tom hid his blushing face behind his hands.

“Aw, Tom, why are you embarrassed? It’s cute.” Ellen teased as the audience laughed and cheered, “Y/N even agrees.”

“What?” Tom asked, looking at her in confusion and slight excitement.

“Y/N was on the show yesterday and she said she thought you were cute.” She explained.

“There’s no way.” He replied in disbelief as a clip started to roll on the screen.

“So congratulations on Pirates. It’s a brilliant movie.” On-screen Ellen told you and you smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Tom Holland also agrees.” Ellen added and you laughed lightly.

“So I’ve heard.” You nodded.

“Have you now?”

“Well, when you’ve got a massive comic book fan as your best friend, you tend to know when the new Spider-Man actor admits he has a crush on you.”

“If Tom was to be watching this right now, what would you say to him?” Ellen asked. Tom’s focus was on the screen, on what you might say to him; his attention was anywhere but behind him, where you currently stood silently shushing the audience.

“Tom, I find you to be very cute and very talented. Good job on Civil War and good luck with Spider-Man.”

“Isn’t that nice?” Present day Ellen turned to Tom as the clip ended and he reached for his mug.

“Yeah, but, uh, it’s still embarrassing.” He replied, drinking some water.

“Oh well, you’re about to be even more embarrassed then.” She chuckled.

“Boo!” You exclaimed from behind him and he spit out his drink, bolting to his feet.

“Oh my God!” Tom shouted, covering his mouth.

“Hi.” You laughed.

“I told you, Tom. That was hilarious.” Ellen couldn’t help her laughter as a slow-mo replay of Tom’s actions was shown on the screen.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” You smiled, holding your hand out to Tom.

“Y-yeah, I’m so sorry. My brain is trying to process all of this. Wow, you’re even more beautiful in person.” Tom said, making you laugh. As he shook your hand, he made eye contact with you and it quite literally felt like time had stopped for both of you.

“You’ll thank me one day.” Ellen said, breaking your trance and making both of you laugh.

~~~

(One month later)

You were doing press in London for your latest film and finally got a day off, which meant you could stay in your hotel room the whole day in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt with absolutely no need to get dolled up. Around lunchtime, you rang for room service and a few minutes later there was knock on your door.

“Coming!” You said, standing up from your couch and heading over to the door. You opened it and you were greeted with, instead of a hotel employee bearing your lunch, Tom. You yelped and shut the door quickly.

“Y/N, are you okay? It’s just me.” your boyfriend said.

“I know. What are you doing here? I thought you had to be in Atlanta.” you asked, trying to steady your breathing. The last time anyone had seen you like this was years ago and you were not prepared to let Tom see you in jeans with no makeup on.

“Laura had a scheduling conflict, so she had to back out. I got another few weeks off while they search for a replacement.” He explained, “Why aren’t you letting me in?”

“I-I’m not decent.” You stated.

“Yes, you are. Just let me in.” He knocked again and you sighed.You slowly opened the door and let him inside your room.

“If I had known you were coming, I would have looked better.” You spoke as he closed the door behind him.

“You look beautiful.” Tom said in awe, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Not really.”

“Yes, really.” He stated, planting a quick kiss on your lips, “How has the press tour been?”

“Busy and today’s my day off. How did you know where to find me?” You asked, sitting on the couch and he sat beside you.

“I have your manager’s number.” Tom replied, “I would have called you, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“So Laura is gone? How will you find a replacement?”

“Well…” He trailed off, “I kind of told Marvel I knew a famous actress who’s schedule would be open soon and who would be willing to play my love interest.” Tom smiled at you hopefully, “So what do you say? After you finish up promo here in London, do you want to come back to Atlanta with me and be my Liz?”

“Did you ask my manager about that too?” You asked.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, making you giggle.’

“I’d love to be your Liz.” You smiled, kissing him.

~~~

(A couple weeks later)

The day you and Tom would be shooting the scene in which Peter goes to Liz’s house before Homecoming came around and Jon Watts believed the scene would be even more realistic if Tom hadn’t seen you at all that day or in your Homecoming look. Thus, you hadn’t seen Tom since the night before and he had no clue what your Homecoming dress would be like. You nervously stood behind the door, mentally rehearsing your lines, as you waited for Jon to call action.

“And action!” He announced. You opened the door and walked onto the kitchen set.

“Wow, doesn’t she look beautiful, Pete?” Your ‘dad’ asked Tom. Tom turned around to face you and he was speechless.

“Y-yeah, she does.” Tom nodded. Forcing himself to stick with the script, he turned back around to face your ‘father’.

“Good answer, kid.”

“Dad, don’t embarrass me.” You said, smoothing out your pink dress as you walked to stand beside Tom.

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Your ‘dad’ announced.

“Wait, wait, pictures first!” Your ‘mom’ said, pulling out a camera for the two of you.

Jon called cut and Tom turned to you in awe.

“You really do look beautiful.” He said and you blushed.

“Thank you.” You replied, kissing him quickly.

“Y/N! Peter can’t have Liz’s lipgloss on him.” The makeup artist stated, making you laugh as she gave Tom a napkin.

~~~

(Two years later)

You were nervous, you’ve never been this nervous. ‘Don’t fall, don’t fall’ you reminded yourself as your clutched the flowers in your hand.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Your best friend and maid of honor asked.

“Let’s do this.” You let out a shaky breath and she smiled at you. You watched as she left the room and you followed her. It was silent, all you could hear was your heart beating and the soft music. You slowly rounded the corner. Your eyes went up the aisle and straight to Tom’s. He smiled brightly at you. Everyone stood and watched as you walked past them.

You came to a halt at the altar, standing in front of Tom. You handed your bouquet off to your maid of honor and your hands fell into Tom’s…

“Mrs. Y/N Holland. I like the sound of that.” Tom whispered in your ear during your first dance.

“I quite like the sound of it too.” You replied with a laugh.

“You look so incredibly beautiful in this dress.”

“You say I look beautiful in anything.”

“Because you are beautiful. I’ve never seen anything quite like you. I love you so much, my wife.”

“And I love you too, my husband.”

~~~ Tag List: @gray-rose13 @devan-d @flammy-whater @cutefluffy89 @ria132love
Hail Mary, Part XI

Premise: What if Jamie and Claire had 1) been more openly affectionate in those early days, and 2) not *had* to get married?

Part I  Part II  Part III Part IV Part V 

Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X



“I wanted to do that with you,” I sighed, nestling my bottom back against his hips, “for a very long time.”

“Oh, aye?” I could hear the grin in his voice as he kissed my shoulder and nipped kisses down my arm. “How did ye ken I’d be any good at it?”

“Who’s saying you were?” 

He heard the obvious teasing in my voice —calling a spade a spade: he’d been pretty bloody fantastic—and he gave it right back to me as he tsked with a mock-wounded, “Och, but she’s a vicious, cruel thing.” He slipped his arm under my head and brought the hand around to hold me close, whispering, grinning, “Cruel, cruel, cruel,” as he nipped his way up my still-flushed neck. 

I hummed a happy laugh. “I didn’t know. But…” I turned my head back toward him, and right on cue, he brought his ear down near my mouth, so that hot breath moved against him as I finished, “…I knew I wanted you inside me.”

I felt him shiver at that, and he moved his hips ever-so-slightly against me, tracing a slow, warm hand up and down my hip and abdomen. A devilish grin still in his voice, he murmured, “Have I married a wanton, then?”

“You’re going to have your hands quite full with me in your bed,” I laughed, giving ‘devilish’ right back to him, “whatever rude name you wish you assign to it.” 

“It’s wonderful, mo nighean donn,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “I never dreamed—I—I didna even ken what it could be like.” I melted as he kissed my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. “How….perfectly happy a person could feel.” 

I had known—

but to feel it with him…

It was a new kind of perfection. 

“When I’m inside ye, Sassenach….” My husband pulled me tighter, seeming to fix his entire being on surrounding me, pulling me into him. “….I feel like….God himself.” 

The laughter fizzed out of me before I could suppress it, which startled Jamie, but another moment, and the both of us were giggling uncontrollably. I had trouble getting the words out. “Is—that why you—took his name in vain so much??” 

“While you’re already laughing at me—” Jamie choked out, the whole of him quaking behind me “—shall I tell ye that I didna ken there—was more than one position for coupling?” 

“No!!!!” I gasped, feeling my cheeks would break from delight. “WHICH ONE??” 

“The—back way—” he groaned, his voice wobbling as absurdly as his belly against my back, teetering on the edge of hysterics, “—like HORSES—” 

Jamie—I moaned, coughing, a full two minutes later, “…hhhhhhhhORSES!!!” 

“So YOU’RE—” Jamie gasped between veritable sobs of laughter, “—a—w—wanton, and I’m—a daft—LOON—” 

More giggles. And hacking and coughing and still more giggles, until we were little more than a quivering puddle of flesh, our muscles absolutely spent from laughter.

I sighed a huge, deep sigh, exhausted from all the love and happiness. He did, too, and we settled back into each other, spooning close, snuggled under his plaid. 

“So, what will we do, now, love? Make for Lallybroch?”

“Aye,” he said, “taking a verra indirect route, so as to stay off MacKenzie lands, but we’ll begin heading that way, to be sure.”

“And…we’ll stay there? Indefinitely?” 

I hoped the raw eagerness didn’t show too obviously in my voice. I’d never had a real home, before—a place on the earth that was mine in some lasting way; and I’d never truly acknowledged to myself just how much something in my soul yearned for such a thing—a place to settle and grow—to fill with love and good food and memories. From what Jamie had said to me of his home, I knew Lallybroch could be that place; but I didn’t want to get my hopes up if we were going to be uprooted again. 

“Well,” he said, shifting at my back and sounding nervous. “I suppose it’s—something we must decide together, aye?” 

I smiled, touched. He was acknowledging my choice. That it might always be together.  

“’Tis naught but a humble farm estate, ken?” he was saying, his words rushed and clumsy. “If ye—think you’d be happier someplace more–”

“No, I didn’t mean—!” I rolled to face him and let the truth of it show in my eyes. “It’s only that I don’t want to fall in love with a place we might have to leave.”

Happy relief flooded his face. “I dinna ever wish to leave, truthfully. I do think you’ll love it, Sassenach.” A flicker of doubt. “But do ye truly think ye can be happy? It’s no’ an easy life, a farm. We’ve servants and laborers, but there shall still—”

“I know I can, Jamie. I know it.” 

And just as I vowed it, just as I savored the happy joy radiating from him, from me, the weight of history came crashing down around my shoulders. 

My face must have fallen, for he was turning it up to him. “Mo nighean donn?” 

And though it threatened to crush my heart into dust, I told him.  About the war to come; the ‘45, and Bonnie Prince Charlie. The doomed cause. The famines. The Clearances. The endless upheavals and hardships that would all but destroy the Scotland he knew in just a few short years. How our life together would almost certainly be shaped—friends and family destroyed, if not ourselves, and that only by the grace of God— by an utterly doomed cause. 

He said not a word while I spoke, but I watched his face harden into a mask of control, a sign of just how deeply he, too, felt the fear and dread of the devastation that loomed so close at hand. He had come to lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of stars as I prophesied doom over the perfect happiness of this night, our life. 

“Is there…” he said, long after I’d fallen silent, “…anything we can do against this?” I turned onto my side to face him, though he still stared at the sky. “Mightn’t we—” He ran a hand backward through his hair. “Since we ken what’s to come, might we take steps to change things?” The desperate hope in his eyes… “Prevent some of this tragedy before it can run its course?” 

My mind reeled. Intentionally change the future? 

“I don’t know how much two people could do, Jamie,” I said, giving him honesty. 

He set his jaw and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment as though committing some prayer upward.  I brought an arm up and across his chest, half-laying on him as I put a soft hand on his cheek. “But we will do what we can. We’ll take measures to keep Lallybroch safe, at the very least; to keep our family safe. I promise.”

A sigh escaped him, something like relief, and he pulled me close, my cheek on his chest. “Then lead us, wise woman,” he murmured, “and keep us from harm.”

There was no laughter in his voice—only feeling, and genuine supplication. “Perhaps, Claire….Maybe ye were brought back to this time no’ just to save me, but many in these troubles to come.” 

God, the weight of those words upon me—the burden of knowledge of what was to come. 

“I don’t—It still might not be enough—”

He put a gentle finger to my lips. “I trust ye, mo nighean donn. And whatever must be done, we’ll face it together.”

I kissed him, long, soft, and deep. Together.  

A long time later, my parched throat overcame coziness and I stood, at which he made the most adorable little needy sound of protest. “I’m only going to get the canteen, you animal!” 

Still, I made a little show of sauntering over to our bags by the adjacent wall, bending luxuriously over, and taking a long swallow with my back to him, nearly spitting out the water to hear his sounds of distress all the while. “You do know how to make a girl feel gratified, Jamie. Positively got it down to an ART!”

“No’ art. Sheer. *animal*. weakness.” 

We both laughed, but when I turned back to face him, on his side watching me, his expression was serious, sweet with love. “Ye ken…I loved you, Sassenach, since I held you in my arms, that first day we arrived at Leoch.” 

I could only beam with happiness at the memory. God, that fireside…

(…and given the evident solemnity in what he was about to say, I refrained from mentioning the rather vivid association in my mind between that encounter and HORSES.) 

 “I loved you, then…” he went on, grinning, “—but Christ, when you fell into that river–”

Pushed,” I couldn’t keep from correcting with a playful grimace.

“Oh aye, when Ned Gowan—may he be sainted for it—pushed ye into the river,” he amended with a flash of a grin before continuing, quiet once more “—and ye let me carry ye… undress ye… hold ye… Christ….” He sat up and stared at me, shaking his head. “Claire, mo chridhe: my entire life just—rearranged around me.”

“I wanted it to be you.” My throat was so tight, it came out in a pitifully flimsy whisper.  

“What was that, lass?” he asked eagerly, standing and crossing to me where I stood leaning against the cool stones of the wall.

“When you set me down by the fire, that night, I knew I needed body heat.” I splayed my hands across his broad, smooth chest, tracing the beautiful outline of him.  “I was so far gone I couldn’t get the words out, and Murtagh, bless him, he was on the right track, so I just curled up and let things take their course, but—Jamie, I so badly ached for it to be you. I wanted….I kept trying to pluck up the courage to just say it.” 

He brushed a curl back from my face. “Say what?” 

“‘Jamie! You. Me. Warmth Cuddles! Spit spot!’” 

We both laughed, but I felt my belly clutch in memory. “But I was afraid, for so many reasons.” 

He pressed me gently back against the wall and kissed me, giving me the gift of not having to speak aloud the main reason for my fear and shame over my feelings that night. “Well, if you were afraid, Sassenach,” he said against my lips, “I was fairly shitting myself.” 

Memory, sadness, shame: banished. I chortled rather gracelessly into his mouth. “Oh, yes, that was quite apparent, love.”

He rolled his eyes as he smiled, sheepishly. “Christ, I wanted ye so badly I could scarcely breathe. A green, virgin lad handed a naked goddess and asked to mind her through the cold, dark night??“ 

“I wasn’t naked, you oaf!!” 

“Ye should have told that to my cock. It couldna seem to tell the difference.” We nearly dissolved into another fit of giggles before he groaned ruefully. “Had to say my hail marys to keep from embarrassing myself. WELL, I did embarrass myself, did I not?—to keep from doing something lecherous.” He stepped a pace back from me, shaking his head with a kind of dark awe as he surveyed me from head to toe. “It certainly felt as if it should be a sin….to behold you, so.”

I gave a dramatic look backward at my posterior, then another conspicuously between his legs, raising my eyebrows in pleasant surprise at what I found there. “Makes one wonder whether sin is half so bad, after all.”

THAT fast. Fire burned in his eyes as he closed the distance between us, jerked me off my feet, and pressed me against the wall—NOT gently. I came alive for him, wrapped my legs around him in visceral, lightning-fast permission, and he entered me with a sharp thrust that sent a deep gasp wrenching from my throat. And he was moving deep, deep, deeper inside me as he growled into my ear:

 “Then give me my sin again, Sassenach.

THE END


Thank you all SO MUCH for your support of this story!

I’m leaving things open-ended on purpose, just in case there comes a prompt that fits nicely with this AU that compels me to open it back up (just like I did with this renewal!).  

But for the time being, I’m perfectly happy to leave the Frasers to ride off into the sunset. Thank you all again :) 

-Mod Bonnie

Auston Matthews - Weird Kind of Family

Originally posted by willynylanders

Request: “  Can you do one where you and Auston Matthews go to Disney World? It can be just you 2, with family, or with the team…you can choose!! Thanks 💙😊 “

A/N : I just had to do this request. So many of my friends have been going to Disneyland recently and I’m so jealous. Anyway, here you go!

Warnings: One suggestive comment

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Left at the altar but never unloved

I know you might hate me for this if you are still around, but I’m going to change your prompt a little and only write for Saeran and make it a ficlet instead. I think the whole prompt just fits him the best with the flowers – since he knows the language – the silent pining for MC and the revenge!

I really hope you still enjoy it, even if it’s just Saeran :3

Fandom: Mystic Messenger
Rating: Teen and Up
Warnings: A tiny bit of smut at the end but not really
Categories: F/M
Relationships: MC x Saeran
Word count: 2225



Falling in love had never been something Saeran had considered for himself. In fact, his entire life had been a row of events proving him over and over that he was entirely undeserving of it. Not just being loved, he’d never known what that even felt like, but the notion of falling in love.

Falling in love was something for good and pure people to experience. He was neither. Tainted by his dark past and filled with rage and hate for the world and himself, Saeran didn’t dare hope that he’d ever get to experience such a feeling.

When the pain of loneliness threatened to crush him, he convinced himself that he loved Rika. The symptoms were there – at least from what he read in books – and when he was with her, he didn’t feel like he was drowning within himself. Of course he loved her. Or so he thought.

The moment you stepped into his life, Saeran realized just how wrong he’d been in that assumption. It had taken him years to so much as warm up to Rika and yet all it took you was your sweet, sincere smile and those heartfelt words he felt burn into his chest.

Loving you made him forget what it felt like to hate himself. It made his steps a little lighter and his laughter a little brighter. The center of his entire world shifted onto you and he would have done anything, anything at all, to be make you happy.

That is how Saeran learned the difference between devotion and love. He would have followed Rika’s last command, going as far as to read it from her lips. He would have died for her without thinking twice about it. For you he wanted to live.

What Saeran hadn’t anticipated, however, was just how all consuming love could turn out to be. All his life he’d mocked V for his blind devotion to Rika, his pathetic attempts to return to her when she’d shunned him in every way humanly imaginable.

It wasn’t until you announced your engagement to another man that he grew to respect V. It felt like his entire world had shattered to pieces, all purpose ripped from him. How V had managed to survive that feeling remained a mystery to Saeran.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he was capable of doing the same. Dreaming about seeing you in a wedding dress, overjoyed to begin a new chapter of your life – even if it was with a man other than him – was his saving grace as much as it was his downfall.

The year leading up to the wedding passed by in a blur. While Saeran was present for most of the important decisions and planning none of them really registered in his mind, not with him around. It felt too much like one of his nightmares he was still waiting to wake from.

The worst part was, he hated no one more than himself. Not even the groom to be. He was charming, handsome and well off. The man could offer you all those things Saeran couldn’t. He’d never been good enough for and it was his own fault for allowing hope to bubble within him.

It wasn’t until he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time, mere hours before the ceremony, that reality sunk in and Saeran felt like he was drowning once more. You were the most beautiful creature he’d even laid his eyes upon and he was giving you away to another man.

Saeran had never wanted to die as much as he’d wished for it in that moment. Until you turned to him, cheeks heated and lip worried between your teeth, shyly asking him whether you looked good or not. Despite how nervous you must have felt you were radiating joy.

The murmured of the guests waiting for the wedding to begin could be heard. You rested your delicate hand on Saeran’s arm, ready to walk down that aisle and marry the man you thought to be the love of your life. For a few short moments, all was good. 

All was good…until Zen came rushing in surprising the both of you. Saeran noticed the strange look in his eyes long before he was the flowers and that disgusting note he would have loved to have burned to ashes right then and there. 

Saeran had always thought he’d experienced all the pain there was to experience in the world. He’d felt it all, had his entire world shattered and every hope destroyed. He was wrong. Seeing your world shattered hurt a million times more.

Your fiancé had decided to leave you and on your wedding day at that. He’d send a bouquet of black roses and short, painful note explaining that he’d run away with another woman. Saeran promised himself that he’d make the dramatic asshole pay.

The events that followed once again turned into a blur, but for entirely different reasons. Saeran made sure that everything happened fast, trying not to draw it out and thereby minimize your pain. Well, minimize it as much as he could in the face of such tragedy.

He told Zen to inform the RFA. Jumin informed the guests and Jaehee escorted them out. Yoosung, Saeyoung and V cleaned everything up and Saeran somehow managed to get you home safely, staying by your side throughout the entire night.

The worst part was how little you cried. It would have killed him to see you cry but he would have gladly comforted you for however long it took you to smile again. You holding back and feeling numb was something he wasn’t equipped for.

You changed after that day. Your steps became heavier and your smiles dimmed. It was like someone had turned out the bright light that had shone within you. Saeran didn’t know how to turn it back on, but he knew how to make that person pay. 

And making him pay Saeran did…in every way non-physical and provable. Technically he could have tortured the asshole, he still had all the means to it, but Saeran knew that deep in your heart you still cared for the man and wouldn’t appreciate it.

Instead he opted for ruining his business by leaking the right information to the right people. Saeran also seduced the little wench the man had taken off with, effectively taking her from him as well and then made sure that his fortune was given to less fortunate people.

He took everything from the man and it still didn’t feel like it was enough. Not when you hadn’t logged into the messenger in a month. Not when you barely ate anymore. Not when your smile didn’t reach your eyes anymore. Not when you were still so broken…

He realized, that revenge wasn’t the answer. Not for you, at least. You weren’t Rika. You were good and pure and deserved all the love in the world to make up for everything that scumbag had taken from you. Saeran understood then, that it was time to return the favour.

He visited you every day from that moment on. He made sure that you ate at least two full meals, three if he managed to convince you. He sat beside you as you stared at the wall for hours, expression blank. He hugged you tight when you started to cry eventually.

He brushed your hair when you couldn’t motivate yourself. He helped you clean when you finally suggested it to him. He tugged you in every night and woke you up when the nightmares came. He became the anchor you’d once been to him.

A couple of weeks passed like that and step by step you started to open up again like a flower after a storm. Your nightmares ebbed away and the tears didn’t last anymore. You started to sing in the shower again and eat three meals you made yourself.

Saeran felt so happy his chest could have burst. Seeing you laugh at a joke he’d made after such a long time of sorrow would be a memory he would cherish for the rest of his mortal life and maybe even beyond. Making you happy was truly his calling.

However with joy often came sadness and while Saeran knew such thoughts were selfish, he was disappointed to note that you no longer needed his help. You were finally strong enough again to stand by yourself and he would only be dragging you down.

What he didn’t expect was to find you standing in front of his door a week later, wet to the bone from the horrible rain. You were shaking, skin almost sickly pale. He instantly rushed you in and wrapped a thick blanket around you before getting a towel to dry your hair himself.

You sat there silently, eyes wide as you looked at him as if you were seeing him for the very first time. It was a strange feeling, being stared at like that. Saeran’s hands slowed before coming to a stop still resting on each side of your head with the towel hanging down your face.

“It’s you”, you whispered, slowly reaching out. You carefully cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of Saeran’s cheek. You watched in awe as his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch like he was starving for it. It broke your heart.

“The entire time you were right before my eyes and yet I didn’t see you at all”, you continued. “I’m so sorry, Saeran. So, so sorry.” His eyes flew open, surprise written all over his face. He shook his head, turning it so he could press a kiss to your head.

“No, it’s my fault”, he replied, instantly continuing when he saw you were about to protest. “I loved you from the moment you smiled at me for the first time but I was too scared and broken to tell you as much. Well now you’ve fixed me and I am no longer scared.”

Your eyes locked for a long moment, searching for a reason to stop. When neither of you found one Saeran finally closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips met in an agonizingly slow kiss, the sweetest torture Saeran had ever experienced.

Both of you were tentative, slowly allowing yourself to explore each others mouths. You could feel Saeran’s tongue trace your lips and you gladly parted them, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He happily obliged, claiming your mouth in the most gentle of manners.

You could tell he was holding back, almost as if he was scared you would push him away. You did quite the opposite, burying your hands in his hand as you climbed into his lap. You’d doubted many things in your life but not this. Never this.

The two of you kissed for a long time, bodies grinding against one another as arousal began to rise within you. You could feel the beginning of an erection poking against your long wet sex, a low moan falling from your lips only to be swallowed by his.

He stopped the kiss then, only for the briefest of moment, before lifting you up and carrying you to his bedroom. There he put you down on the bed, spreading you out like a piece of art. He hovered over you, devouring you with his hungry eyes.

Never had a man aroused you as much simply by looking at you. Luckily, Saeran wasn’t done. Instead he undressed you, taking his time and admiring every bare inch of you that was revealing to him. He did not take as much time shedding his own clothes.

That night, Saeran took you apart. With his eyes. With his words. With his mouth and his body. He claimed you as his, whispering all the things into your ear he’d never dared to say before. He took you apart, worshipping every inch of you until both of you found your final release.

Hours later he was lying awake as he watched you sleep peacefully, Saeran was utterly blissful. He didn’t want to sleep, no matter how sated his body and heavy his lids might have been for reality had finally turned out to be better than even his wildest dreams.

It was during those tranquil hours of the night that Saeran realized another thing about love: It is dangerous. It makes you vulnerable. It opens your heart and your chest, allowing someone to march in and mess you up. 

But if the person is right, the reward will be worth all the pain you might have endured beforehand. For every time you felt like you were drowning you will feel like you are soaring. If the person is right, you’ll learn what it truly feels like to love and live.

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 19

Alright! Thanks for sticking with me last week and having no Red Jamie chapter. I’ve got the next two after this started so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up for a little while. Thanks so much @diversemediums for being an amazing helper when I get stuck and for playing in this fun story with me. As always, I enjoy all of your comments and thoughts on this story, so feel free to drop by and let me know what you think! Unless you don’t like it. Then you can choose to not tell me. ;)

Catch up on chapter 18 HERE

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