jenny are you sick of me yet

Reign || Pt 08

Reign Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5k

Groups: BTS, EXO, Blackpink, Twice

Au: Royal

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Smut | Au

Warnings: Crap writing

Previously:

“I hope you understand that once your wedding is announced, I am leaving.”

“Leaving?” You ask, quickly turning around to see Lisa and Rosé, who were keeping look out for the two of you.

“Yes,” Baekhyun said, “Prince Yoongi offered me a position as captain of the guard in the kingdom of Min. I said yes.”

“I will visit you,” you say, as he takes your hand.

“No, you won’t,” Baekhyun says, “You will love Prince Jungkook, I can’t see you after that.”

“There’s still a chance-”

“I need to talk to your brother, if you’ll excuse me,” Baekhyun says, and he walks past you.

Your eyes turn glossy, tears trickling down like rain on a window. Lisa and Rosé quickly come to your side, catching you before you fall to the ground.

“It’s really over,” you say.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you please rec me some of your favorite stand-alone novels? thanks :D

yeah dude! i don’t read too many standalones because i’m really greedy when it comes to books and am always chasing sequels like “noooo 300 pages wasn’t enough, give me more” but these are a few of my faves:

  • dark places and sharp objects by gillian flynn
  • dangerous boys and dangerous girls by abigail haas
  • on the jellicoe road by melina marchetta
  • you against me by jenny downham
  • the secret history by donna tartt (are you guys sick of me rec’ing this yet b honest)
  • living dead girl by elizabeth scott
  • forgive me, leonard peacock by matthew quick
  • vicious by v.e. schwab
  • the coldest girl in coldtown by holly black
  • crank by ellen hopkins
  • unteachable by leah raeder
  • we all fall down by robert cromier (i read this in high school and it’s so fucked up it’s actually been banned in most schools but it’s a must read, same with tunes for bears to dance to and the chocolate war, actually most of cromier’s books are banned so you should probably just read them all anyway)
  • deathless by catherynne m valente
  • in cold blood by truman capote
  • where you are by j.h. trumble
  • the dreamers by gilbert adair
  • some girls are by courtney summers
  • the hollow dolls by m.t. dahl
  • middlesex by jeoffrey eugenides
  • the truth about alice by jennifer mathieu

upside down sad face:

  • my friend leonard by james frey
  • a monster calls by patrick ness  (imagine mufasa, beth greene, dobby and the dog from i am legend all dying at the same time and that is this book )
  • the god of small things by arundhati roy
  • wasteland by francesca lia block
  • speak by laurie halse anderson
  • white oleander by janet fitch
  • the song of achilles by madeline miller

booklvr4  asked:

Hi, I have a prompt not sure if its any good but I would really like to see one where Willie lives and kind of has to compete with Jamie for Claire's affection. Can you imagine?!

Hope you like it @booklvr4 and everyone else! It was such an amazing prompt that it propelled a multiparter ficlet. <3

My Brother’s Lass (Part One)

When I was sixteen years old - about to leave my home to go live for a time at Castle Leoch, in order to learn the ways of a great Clan with the MacKenzie - I asked my father how I would ken which was the right woman for me. The thought had come to me for the first time during the time I had spent fostering with Dougal MacKenzie; the first time my balls ached thinking of a lass – and had been caught by my vigilant and violent uncle in the process.

We had been standing in the barn, gathering fresh hay to feed the beasts, the Scottish sun gracing us with one of those rare true summer days. My father had stopped, cleaned the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand and smiled to me. It was like he was seeing me for the first time, a man finally made, right next to the fence where he had trashed me not six months past. “When the time comes, you’ll have no doubt lad.” He said. His eyes drifted from me and the wrinkles around his eyes softened – I knew he was seeing my mother, the fierce and lovely Ellen MacKenzie. The love of Brian Dubh’s life.

Those words stayed with me the next few years, and more so than ever when I was enthralled with the ladies of the French Court. Even when I was fighting a foolish duel for the honour of courting Annalise de Marillac, there was this persistent voice in the back of my mind. “Ye have doubts, don’t ye?” The voice said. “She is not the one.”

And not surprisingly the voice was right. I lost the duel – and Annalise’s delicate hand, seductive smile and entire body to boot – but while my ego was sorely damaged, and my male anatomy proceeded to have a mind of its own about my losses, my heart came out of it unscathed. I felt none of that brokenness poets wrote so extensively about; no little death in some private place inside me. I was sad but thoroughly alive and certain of my continued survival.

In Paris I learnt that ye dinna have to love a lass to want to bed her; mind and cock are not always in conformity. But once again I had my Da’s wisdom to guide me when I struggled – I wished to be more than a reckless farmer, sowing my seed in a soil that was not mine to plunder. I couldn’t yet envision a woman with a child of my own blood in her bosom.

I was finally heading home again, not only to Lallybroch but to the simplicity and earthiness of Scotland. After a year spent immersed in the complexities and frivolousness of the Université I longed for Mrs. Crook’s bannocks in the morning, quiet nights by the stoned hearth and the silence of the moors.

In spite of the letters I often received, I missed my family – Jenny, Da and Ian. And above all, my elder brother, Willie.

Willie was older and wiser (or so he insisted to say); I worshiped at his boots when we were wee lads. I used to think him the fastest; the brightest; the more skilled of all. When we both achieved manhood that enchantment faded a bit, for I saw him for the flawed but fundamentally good man he had become – and found a new camaraderie between us, less of constant adulation and more of a friendship thicker than blood. He was my best friend, mo brathair.

Jenny used to say we looked verra much alike, yet not quite the same – both with the red hair of the MacKenzie’s and the slanted blue eyes, but I had inherited the astonishing height and by my thirteenth birthday I towered over him. She said we were like two droplets from the same pond – the same water, only shaped differently.

Another noteworthy difference was that Willie carried some marks of the smallpox that almost killed him as a child, mainly on his left cheek where they aligned like constellations in the dark sky. They had made him self-conscious in a way and he became easily annoyed when he thought folks were staring at them. But it was the common opinion amongst the lasses in Broch Mordha that the scars only contributed to lend him a certain charm, a reminder of strength and survival, like a talisman that could spread good fortune to those around him. And when he smiled he warmed a woman’s backbone, his flaws turned invisible.

I remember the letter I had received from him just a few days before leaving Paris.

“Jamie,

I am not sure this letter will find you still in France but I write you in the simple hope that it will. Jenny demands that I tell you not to forget the books she commissioned from you in her last letter, “or else”. You will find our dear sister just as violent in her nature as the last time you saw her – and every bit as delightful and caring. Da asks that you bring a small casket of Jared’s best claret, “please and thank ye”.

But what keeps me awake tonight to write to you is something else entirely. I met a lass, mo brathair – a fine lass. She came wandering into our lands and stayed to heal people. She is bonny (you’ll see for yourself, but even Jenny says it is so) and I find her most intriguing. She speaks her mind with directness and her knowledge of the herbs fascinates me. There is joy in her; yet a sad strangeness that places her out of reach. I find myself thinking of her night and day. I feel feverish in a moment and chilled right after; yet it is not sickness that consumes me, but the thought of her. I shall ask her permission to court her, as she has no family to speak of, and hope ardently that you approve of our match and the happiness I find in her.

Jenny, Da and Ian send their love. I do no such thing – but I’ll admit that I miss you something fierce, a balaich.

See you home,

William.”

My brother was right. She was beautiful and unique; her spirit threw me out of course like a fast river scattered on the rocks. I knew nothing of her when I saw her first and yet it hadn’t mattered.

My mind, heart and body came together against the force of her hands. She had the power to crush me and yet I knew she wouldn’t. I wanted her; craved her; relished in her existence.

She was the one. The right one. Nothing could have prepared me to the sudden feeling of utter vulnerability and amazing strength her presence offered me. I was capable of everything and could never lose because she existed; I had everything to lose because she existed. She was – and that filled me with endless wonder.

I had found her – or rather, she found me. The only problem is, that this woman I was meant to love, was my brother’s lass.