jenny's in the kitchen

sobriquet [ jungkook ]

noun : a descriptive name or epithet; a nickname

he’s declared himself your honey bunny chunkie wunkie and who are you to deny him?

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
genre: fluff, comedy
type: college au
word count: 3,075 words
warnings: none
author’s note: i actually wrote half of this while completely drunk and had no recollection of it, but rochelle @gukstudio filled me in, so she’s the real mvp and here’s my take on #rochkook ♡ — based on very recent, very true events that consisted of too much liquid courage, one and a half frat parties, the boys next door, rosebushes, grilled cheese, and a whole lot of pizza rolls.


Eighteen years of living and at the cusp of youth, with one foot prematurely stepping over the line to the adulthood, you bask in the moment, abandoning all thoughts of midterm exams and looming due dates and instead, choose to dance wildly around in the crowded room with Yuna and Lisa. The harsh glow of the strobe lights cast weird shadows over everyone as the blaring music shakes the fraternity house to its core. With too many people spilling out onto the pavement, several boys now stand at the doorway, blocking the entrance and allowing only females to enter. Typical.

A game of beer pong has been haphazardly set up on the cramped kitchen counter, and you can see Jennie over there, tossing back her third cup, as several of the guys whistle at her. Still not feeling the effects of alcohol, she looks over and winks at you, a sly look on her face contrasting the confused one on yours, before a familiar pair of arms loops their way around your waist, and you suddenly understand.

You almost stumble as the person clinging to you sways forward, nearly taking you down with him. You quickly steady yourself before whirling around to meet the large, brown, doe eyed, but also glassy eyed, gaze of your boyfriend. Even drunk, with his dark hair messily swept around and a lazy smile quirking on the corners of his pink lips, he looks beautiful with a white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders and exposing his collarbones while his ripped jeans accent his legs very nicely if you do say so yourself.

“Hello, my schnookums pumpkin bunny boo,” Jungkook manages to slur out, planting a rather sloppy kiss on your cheek with a loud smack.

Ah, yes. And the cringe worthy pet names have started to make its appearance, and you know exactly what that means.

Time to take your clearly very intoxicated boyfriend back to his place.

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unforgettable

Originally posted by sugutie

◇ You’ve just waged war on renowned fuckboy Jeon Jungkook.

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fuckboi!au + college!au

◇ based off unforgettable by french montana just because i could lol

◇ ahsjksks I’m not dead my dudes don’t worry im just studying which is the same thing but!!! Anyway i made this because of procrastination so don’t expect another one right away lol ❤️❤️❤️💟💖💖

•••

You were proud to say that college wasn’t kicking your ass as much as it probably could. You finished three of your four essays due, completed a project that was 35% of your final grade, and managed to study for at least 10 minutes in the passed week.

And now, here you lay, your laptop perched on the bed in front of you with Netflix pulled up in the screen and a large bag of Doritos beside you. Your well-earned reward — and you’re enjoying it, too. Well, until—

“Hey!” The bubbly brunette you fondly called your roommate plummets onto your bed before you register her presence, and the presence of her red headed girlfriend who trails in after. “Guess what?”

“You and Rose decided to take a spontaneous trip to Hawaii and leave me to watch Luke Cage?” You try with a wishful smile, knowing damn well what she was about to propose as soon as she pulled up her Twitter. “A party? Really?”

“Yes!” Jennie grins brightly, shoving the screen in your face. A tweet from the man himself, Jackson Wang, is on the screen, and you barely catch the words party and insane before she yanks it back. “Jackson is throwing another party this Friday and since there’s nothing too important coming up, I demand that you attend—”

“I don’t think so,” you laugh in disbelief, turning back to your relaxing setup. “No more parties for me—”

“Oh, come on,” Jennie’s face drops as she groans, slumping her body over your back dramatically — it was times like this that her fine arts major really came out. “The last party you went to was weeks ago! The last guy that you slept with was ages ago and it was terrible and it’s making you cranky—”

“I am not cranky!” You interrupt in indignation, eyes wide. At the pointed look that’s shot at you from both girls, you deflate. “That guy wasn’t that bad. What’s your point?”

“Our point,” Rose speaks with a furrow of her eyebrows, “is that since you slept with You-Know-Who—” Her eyes narrow warningly when your mouth opens to make a Voldemort joke— “You’ve been in a slump. And it’s making you angry at everything.”

“So you think I should go to a party to get wasted and fuck someone?” You retort, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to get wasted,” Jennie whines, tugging at your arm. “Look, me and Rose are going too. We’ll stay with you until you get some nice piece of meat to play with—”

Ew—

“And then you can be happy and we’ll be happy because you’re happy!” She concludes with a cheeky grin.

You ponder her offer, swimming between whether or not you should listen to your ultracrepidarian best friend. Your hesitance shows obviously on your face, and Jennie pouts. “Please? I haven’t been to a party with my best friend in weeks—”

You sigh, pulling your arms from your grip and wriggling your body to roll Jennie off of your back. “Whatever, whatever. Can I watch this in peace now?”

Squeals and whatnot ensue, but you can only roll your eyes and push your earphones in further, grabbing another handful of Doritos.

•••

Nothing had ever irritated Jeon Jungkook as much as this particular thing was.

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Coming Out

Characters: Uncle!Dean x Niece!Reader, Father!Sam x Daughter!Reader (Reader is a teenager, age not stated but arounbd 16 or 17)

Words: 1180

Summary: The reader talks to her uncle about figuring out her sexuality. Once she figures it out, she tells her dad that she’s bi-sexual. 

Warnings: talk about sexuality, crying, bi-sexuality 

Hey guys. This is a special story to me, very special. I wanted to write and post it this month because it’s Pride month, and it seems more than appropriate. I’ll talk more about it all at the end of the one shot, so enjoy. 

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A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Three)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?
  • Links to past installments:  (One) (Two)

(Three)

Jenny

I’d run upstairs the instant Claire was gone through the door—first to the bedchamber overlooking the road, then up still further to the upper floors, so I could see her for just a moment longer. For, damn me, but I couldna take my eyes off her…just kept—watchin’ her— until the last.

And even when the shape of her had long vanished over the horizon, I was still watchin’, staring into the spot where she’d been, the last place she’d inhabited before she’d gone away….just as she’d promised. 

The letter—God, Claire’s letter—was clutched tight in my hand and heavy on my heart. But it was also heavy in my hand, I realized. There was more than paper, therein, I’d swear to it; firm, whatever it was, but not rigid, exactly, for I could still bend it easily.  

I had the nail of my finger under the edge of the wax before somethin’….somethin’ stopped me—or could it be someone?—and I shivered. 


“Jenny?” 

Claire was in the doorway of the kitchen, cloak on, the letter clutched to her breast. 

I stood, awkwardly. “You’ve finished?” 

She nodded, and her eyes closed, of a sudden, and she looked so very young, like one of the bairns in a thunderstorm, all scared and—small—So sad, and—

—and I wavered. 

But before I could say anythin’, Claire was there right before my face, pressin’ the envelope hard into my hands. She didna let go, just kept—holdin’ on to me, eyes boring into mine so I couldna even blink. 

 “Whatever hurt there is between you and me, Jenny—” Those whisky-colored eyes were shining wi’ feeling, ready to spill over wi’ it. “—I beg you to see that Jamie gets this.” She added her other hand and squeezed me so hard that own hands were shakin’ along wi’ hers. “Please don’t wait too long to give it to him.” 

My voice cracked, and I couldna look away. “Why’s that?” 

“There are things in here, that—” the paper crinkled, loud and violent, that bitty sound, “—that will give him peace….I hope.” A small, broken breath. 

Peace…Peace for Jamie…

“Please, Jenny—PLEASE—promise me that you’ll give it to him.” Those wildcat eyes begged, and I could do nothing but nod. She heaved an enormous sigh and closed them, nodding, herself. “Thank you.” 

She released me, then and made for the door, pulling her cloak tight about her. Her eyes were on the handle as she said, “Goodbye.” 

And then before I could blink, she’d come back again and thrown both her arms ‘round me. Unnaturally tall as she was, my arms were trapped down at my sides, so I couldna have hugged her back, even had I wished to. 

Her voice was a ragged sob of a whisper. “I do love you, Jenny.” She kissed my cheek.

And then she was out the door, gone. Forever.  

And it was only as she was far, far gone, a vanished speck through a frozen windowpane, that I realized….

I *had* wished to. 


“Mam?” 

I nearly leapt out of my skin as I whirled like a guilty bairn to the door behind, where Maggie stood wi’ her own babe on her hip. 

Ye’ve been up here for an age and a half, Mam. Did…” She gave me a significant look, “….something give ye a turn?” 

“I’m fine, mo chridhe,” I promised, flustered-like, bustling past her down the stairs to resume my work and hide my face. “Perfectly fine, nothin’ to—”

“But who was she, Mam?” Maggie’s voice, her footsteps, chased me down the stairs. “The dark-haired Englishwoman? Why was she here?” 

“She was a traveler. No one ye need be worrit about.” 

“Mam, I’m no’ a wee bairn. We all heard the great skelloch the two of ye were makin’. Clearly she was someone ye kent well, and it sounded as though she had come were wi’ a purpose, and  “ 

“Maggie, do not— ” 

“But what was it she wanted of ye, Mam? She stayed hardly an hour, and we  “

I dinna wish to DISCUSS it, Margaret.” 

From the look on her face, I’d shouted it, violently. She went all meek-like and left me standing alone on the stairs landing without another word. I started to go after her, but—I let my hands fall back to my side, clenching into shaking fists.  

What was it the Englishwoman had wanted of me, Maggie, love? The woman who saw ye delivered into this world? Only to come make peace and to mend your Uncle Jamie’s heart…and I… 

*I*….

Hands of guilt seemed to shove me toward the door, toward the stables. 

Janet Murray, go after Claire. Go after her right this moment. There’s still time to catch her up! 

“Aye, and WHY should I?” I muttered under my breath, stormin’ to the pantry and busyin’ my hands, furiously flyin’ from task to task. 

WHY? Because it was doomed from the start! 

Dinna lay the troubles of their marriage at my feet. It was GOOD for Jamie to be marrit. He NEEDED a woman.

You saw her fetch at the wedding. Jesus God, woman, THAT was your warning. THIS is the test. 

I wasna going to see my brother die alone, and I couldna have dreamed that she’d saunter in one day after—

No one could have supposed Claire was alive; but now that you know, you MUST make this right. 

Go and stop her…GO!

She had no right —No RIGHT to just vanish as she did. God, the —the arrogance of it — I threw an old jar against the wall, the crash of the pottery against the stone some kind of satisfaction amid the storms of rage and of shame within me.  not to even CHECK !—And ‘complicated,’ she says…COMPLICATED! 

She said she’d be able to explain. 

All can be made right, Janet Murray. Go after her, beg her to  

I'll no’ beg that Sassenach witch for anythin’. The rage was boiling up within me, and suddenly even the promise of delivering her letter seemed like the vilest of insults. ‘Will bring him peace,’ she says…How could she POSSIBLY ken what can bring him peace, having been gone from him for twenty

YOU would know, just fine, if it were Ian. Separation couldn’t change your knowing of him, could it? 

I ignored that pleading, reasonable voice and stormed back up the stairs. The only sensible thing was to pretend as though the letter had never existed. 

Jamie need never know. If he wasna precisely at *peace,* now, he’d at least settled into a living, and found a certain

He hasn’t. 

NO sense at all in opening up old

And since when were love or mercy about *sense*?  

What he doesna know canna pain him, and that’s all there is to it.

I stormed upstairs and threw the letter resolutely into the back of the drawer, coverin’ it over wi’ old underthings and rags where Ian wouldna find it. 

But all the rest of the day, that stern voice haunted me, warred with me. 

Go after her. 

Leave me be. 

What’s done is done. 

No, it isn’t. 

GO AFTER HER.

Claire let him suffer. 

She stayed away for TWENTY—

She doesna DESERVE  

That was Jamie’s judgment to make, woman. Not yours. 

I told her only the bare facts. 

No. You lied to her. 

He DOES have a wife!

He DOES have two daughters that called him Da!

You told her all the difficult truths and made them as painful to her as you could. 

And you told one lie.

 That Jamie is happy.

Is he?  

No…

The guilt shuddered through me, a fist wrapped around my throat. 

He’s broken…

He’s still hurting…still raw….

From want of Her. 

And you sent her away. 

The look on her face as she begged me to give him that letter—

But the THINGS she did to  —

What you’ve just done is worse, still For you did it from spite, Janet Murray; of your own pride and

Across the house a door CRASHED open and I reeled back from the spice cupboard as though shot, my blood poundin’ in my ears as footsteps came thunderin’ in from the front door. “What in GOD’s holy name—???” 

“I dinna need to WASH to see Mam,” a grumpy voice protested from the foyer. 

“Oh Mary, Michael, and Bride—IAN!!” I’d forgotten—completely FORGOTTEN to be sick with worry for my wee scoundrel who’d run away. Lord forgive me, what sort of mother FORGETS

I flew across the house, my guilt over Claire momentarily replaced by outrage at myself and fury at my son and RELIEF. “Ian!!” I sobbed as I threw my arms around his thin frame. “Ian you –YOU–oh—!” I swore violently, a great string of things, but all grateful, all emphatic with love as I squeezed him tight, wetting his shirtfront “—I’m so glad you’re safe, a chuisle.

“I’m fine, mam,” he said with a sigh, though he returned the hug. 

I pulled back and slapped his shoulder, hard. “Well ye WILLNA be by the time I’m done wi’ ye! What were ye THINKING, Ian Murray, runnin’ away like that wi’ no word???”

“I DID leave word, Mam!” 

“Oh, ye think a wee note is enough? Not in this house, Ian. God, I’m so fashed and so happy in one single moment—” True enough; I was panting with the rush of the relief and the fright of the last two weeks. I hugged him again, then pushed him toward the stairs. “Off wi’ ye—we’ll deal wi’ your punishment later.” 

I turned from one Ian (well, the back of one, as he sulked off) to sigh in relief at sight of the other. “There’s my sweet lass,” he said, grinnin’ that bright, warm smile that I loved so well and holding out his arms to me.

All but fell into them, I did. “Mo ghraidh, ye found him.” I pressed my head against his chest, so happy to have him close; so happy for the relief of havin’ him hold me. There, against his heart, all could be well; all the voices and the shame and the rage could be silent. 

He kissed me, touched my cheek, then turned for the study. “I didna do much.“ He thudded into an armchair and pulled me into his lap. “In fact, I didna even get to Edinburgh.” 

“No?” I grinned, kissin’ his dear face. “Was he making such puir time? Chasin’ after lost pups and rabbits, again, aye?” 

“Nay, he’d already been to Edinburgh. When I came upon him, it was head on, already on their way back to us.”

I jolted back. “Their?” 

“Aye, Ian and Jamie.” 

JAMIE?”

Go after her 

“Aye, who else?” Ian kissed me, blithe as ye please. “Said he didna trust Wee Ian to come back unescorted, and rightly so.”

Go after her

“Well, and — it’s good ye were able to meet Jamie on the way.” I brushed my hands nervously down my skirt, tryin’ not to give in to the feelings risin’ up in my gullet. “He’ll have needed to be back in his shop as soon as possible.”

“Oh, nay, he left Fergus in charge. Said he was past due for a visit. No sense in him making the journey twice, now, is there?” 

“Jamie’s — He’s — ?” I felt as though I were going to faint. 

Go NOW

What if he finds out? 

You MUST tell him. 

I canna — I CANNA —

I screamed it at my conscience, but it wasna like the rage of before: a scream of panic. The weight of what I’d done—it was fallin’ down all around me and over me, smashin’ apart my anger and my stubbornness and my pride only to reveal beneath all my darkest shame and regret and 

“Jamie’s gone to Balriggan, then?” 

“NO, a nighean,” came a grinnin’ voice that paralyzed me as surely as the bolt of a crossbow in my spine, “he’s behind ye.”

Lord, help me, 

I canna


Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 10

Alright my lovelies! @outlandishchridhe is still busy doing her awesome nurse-y things, so we haven’t had a chance to plot anything for Vegas. But… I’ve got a bit of Red Jamie written, so I thought I’d spoil you all. Just remember, you asked for this. You’ll get 10 today and 11 on Thursday. But then you’ll have a full week to wait for 12. @diversemediums is a total rockstar and I love her brain. We’ve come up with some really great plans for the future of this series. Enjoy!

Catch up on part 9 HERE

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Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 10

Your heart is worth it.

Claire’s heart sank and stuttered as she stared at the ceiling in the gloom. Her shades were pulled down, allowing only a minimum of light to seep through the edges. Her fists were clenched tightly at her side, legs tangled in the sheets. 

So this is what heartbreak felt like. Fault lines with jagged edges carved into her chest. Dry heaving sobs, her eyes burning and red. So much worse than before. That hadn’t been heartbreak. This… this felt like the loss of life itself.

Her hair—the lovely, wild curls he had claimed to adore—were damp and plastered to her face. Tears had dried over and over in shiny silver tracks, sliding down her cheeks, across her temples, or onto her pillow as she tried unsuccessfully to sleep.

Joe had taken her home after the initial shock, where she had just sat on the couch. Her right hand had scrunched up the newspaper until it was  blurred and the strangled crying had begun. Joe had made her tea which had sat sullen and cold on the table. And so had she. Wrapped in her robe, she hadn’t attended classes or work, Joe calling in sick for her.

He knew. The unimaginable bastard had known from the beginning – she had been betrayed once. And she, stupid and foolish and trusting, had fallen for another liar. Again.

Her mind was weary and exhausted from going round and round in circles; dissecting every word, every kiss, every touch. Wondering if she had imagined it all—the gentleness of his hands, calloused and warm on her body. The gleam in his sapphire eyes when he looked at her…

Tha gaol agam ort.

Claire also wondered if that feeling would ever go away—that of being punched in the stomach, of a vise pressing on her sternum relentlessly and wouldn’t let her breathe properly since yesterday. The rage that snagged and clawed at her insides. A hand that was slowly but surely squeezing the life and blood from her heart. 

When she had gotten home last evening, supported by Joe up the stairs and through the apartment door, her mobile had rung. Without even pausing to see who was calling, she had thrown the phone at the wall. The screen had cracked and the phone lay there lifeless. Blessedly silent. No doubt she had been receiving calls and texts from many people – including him. But what was there to say?

Giving up on sleep, she struggled to her feet and wrapped a duvet around her shoulders. Padding slowly through the apartment, she saw the newspaper still spread on her small kitchen table. Like poking a bruise to see if it still hurt, Claire had practically memorized the image that accompanied the offending article. 

His red hair was perfectly rumpled, and he was wearing that damnable leather jacket. She was a petite blonde bombshell, stylish and indefinably French. They had been photographed walking down the street, sunglasses obscuring their eyes, holding hands. Lead singer of The Clan and the famous Parisian songstress were spotted canoodling in a popular Edinburgh restaurant, it said. The two had previously dated in 2012 and seem to have rekindled their romance. Whatever happened to Claire Beauchamp – was there trouble in paradise?

Disgusting.

Eyeing the newspaper askance (but why don’t you throw it out then?) she gave the table a wide berth and opened the fridge. There was not much inside however, except some expired milk, wrinkled apples, and a wedge of cheese. Her stomach gurgled in protest; she decided to test if it would keep down some toast.

And then the intercom buzzer rang.

Claire dropped the blanket, hands shaking. It had to be Joe. He had understood her need for space and privacy to grieve, and knew her mobile was not available. She glanced at the phone—still on the floor, useless. The buzzer rang again.

She pressed the button and through the static crackle heard his voice. “Claire, please, I—”

She took the finger off the button and backed into stove. It couldn’t be. He was cavorting in Edinburgh with Annalise-what’s-her-face. Her heart slammed away in the vicinity of her throat, fear and anxiety and fury swelling inside. Shit, what if he got in? He had an emergency key, as she had one to his London flat. Would he use it? 

Of course not, he respects you, doesn’t he? a voice in her head piped up. No, he doesn’t; he cheated on me verra publicly with a French trollop, so shut up, Claire retorted. 

This inner monologue was interrupted by the strident intercom once more. Claire wouldn’t let him in. She couldn’t. But like the time she heard the song for the girl with the whiskey eyes, again her heart of its own volition propelled her forward and she pressed the button– but said nothing.

“Claire, I ken ye can hear me. I ken ye can.” His voice tore her quietly to pieces. “I want 5 minutes and then—”

“Do you need to get in, dearie?” Old Mrs. Fitz from the second story was apparently on her way out. 

“Sassenach, I’m coming up. Thank ye, ma’am.” Shit, shit—she had let him in. Fuck! 

Her fist pounded the wall next to the intercom and she ran frantically toward the door. She could hear the thump of booted feet on the old stairwell, and she braced her hands against the door. Childish, but her feeling of righteous anger was stronger than logic at the moment. The bolt was locked, the chain in place.

“Claire.” 

Muffled by the wood between them, he stood beyond the door. There was no clinking of keys, no rattle of knob. She rested her forehead on the smooth, cool surface; her heart simultaneously skipped a beat at the knowledge he was here and unspeakable sorrow choked her words.

“Please.” His own voice sounded strangled and out of breath. “That picture isn’t what ye think, it was—”

“No,” she croaked, breaking through the tears. “I listened to you and every word out of your mouth was a lie. I should have known. You and me—” 

Mo nighean donn, that lass and I—we used to date, yes, but years ago. I havena seen her since, and that picture, it was meant to spite me. The only truth is here, between us. Always… tha gaol agam ort.”

Silence. 

She reached around her neck. Her fingers fumbled for the clasp of the chain that bore his ring, and exasperated, she yanked at it. The chain broke and lay crumpled in her palm with the cabochon ruby nestled in the middle.

Finally grateful for the wide and drafty crack under the door, she knelt and slipped the ring and chain through it. She heard him gasp and then a soft chink as he picked it up. A beat and a deep breath.

“Claire, I would never hurt you. Please, believe me,” he implored. 

“I did,” Claire whispered. “Not anymore.”


She had crawled back to the bedroom and finally slept for hours and hours.

Claire wasn’t aware of when he had left, but when she peeked under the door, there was no one there. No note either, nothing. The lack of food eventually got to her. Debating her choices, phone-less, she decided she had to leave the apartment to shop for groceries. Just around the corner. Then maybe e-mail her teachers. Get a bit of studying done. Stop thinking, stop feeling. 

Gathering strength she didn’t know was there, she dressed warmly and ambled over to the corner shop. No one talked to her, or even looked at her. Claire clutched her bags and trekked back to the building. And someone was waiting on the steps this time.

Tall, but not tall enough to be him. She hated to admit it to herself; her heart pounded, but it was Joe who turned around.

“Lady Jane! Finally! I’ve been here for fifteen minutes. Are you alright?” He took the bags from her while she fumbled for her key. 

“I will be,” Claire said grimly, “I promise. Come in.”

Joe helped her put the groceries away, watching her warily all the time. Claire finally exhaled in exasperation.

“Joe, what is it?” She leaned against the counter and waited expectantly.

“He came to see me at the hospital yesterday,” Joe said simply; he also seemed to know instinctively not to say that name.

Claire crossed her arms defensively. “He came here, too. I refused to see him.”

“I did not. I wanted to hear what he had to say—explain himself. You are my friend, Lady Jane, and it hurts me to see you suffer.”

“I don’t want to hear more lies, Joe. Twice in less than a year… I think it’s more than enough.”

“He put his sister on the phone for me. Jenny?” Joe sat at the kitchen table and gestured for Claire to do the same.

“Yes. What does she have to do with this?” Claire asked resignedly, plopping down on the chair.

“She said to tell you, it’s not in her brother’s nature to lie,” Joe said carefully. He pulled a newspaper clipping from the pocket of his coat and set it in front of her. It was from a different publication, where The Clan’s PR denied the relationship between their lead singer and Annalise de Marillac. 

“Please. Celebrities do this all the time. Damage control.” She ran her hand through her hair, tired of excuses.

“She also pointed out something in the picture that doesn’t fit. Did you look at it, really look? Beyond the obvious, I mean. Fucking gossip rags will do anything for money.” Joe stood up and pulled the old newspaper towards them. Wrinkled, but otherwise clear. He smoothed it out. “Here. See?”

Joe tapped at the right hand, swinging beside him. The left, enveloped in Annalise’s grip; Claire deliberately covered up the girl’s face. But the right hand… her breath caught in her throat. 

“It can be a bit troublesome when playing guitar,” he had said.

He was a left-handed guitar player. His right hand was always bare to enable him to press down on the strings and twist to play all the chords freely. 

He—Jamie—was wearing the ring in the picture. 

Escape:  the residency years

Claire returned to work.  She did rounds, ran labs, and even had a hand in a couple of surgeries, but she avoided the fourth floor at all costs.  If she had to go up, she used the stairs because she wouldn’t risk the elevator opening by accident.  She didn’t want to see the balloons, and teddy bears.  She didn’t want to hear the laughter, or the tiny cries. Not yet.  

Joe and Fiona had taken the time to fill everyone in, so there were no awkward moments.  The ones she was close to just gave her a comforting squeeze, the others, a polite yet heartfelt condolence.  No one spoke of it again after a week.  

It helped heal Jamie and Claire to be around family, so Claire began to accompany Jamie to Lallybroch for Sunday suppers again.  It was a balm to their battered souls to read to their nieces and nephews, play with them, and just wander around the estate hand in hand.    

Yet some wounds have a way of developing an infection under the skin when you least expect it.

“Oh, sure.  She’ll come for Sunday supper now.”  Jenny threw the utensils in the sink with a crash.  “I mean, why come before when yer pregnant.   Come now, after ye’ve lost the child.”  She turned on the water full force to rinse the dishes before loading the dishwasher.

“Jenny,” Ian admonished, “don’t judge.”

“Don’t judge?  Ian, listen to yerself.  She ran herself ragged!  And to what end?  Tell me!” Jenny spun around to face her husband.

And found Claire standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  


Monday afternoon Jenny presented herself at Jamie’s office with take away curry.  “Ye’ve fed me lunch every week for 20 weeks.  Figured it was time I returned the favour.”

Jamie flinched internally.  Twenty weeks.  “T’was not a favour, Janet.  Ye dinna need to do that.”  Jamie didn’t even lift his head from his desk to look at her.

Janet. Oh, yes, he was angry.  “So.  I’m Janet now, am I?  For how long?”  In true Fraser fashion she faced the conflict head on.

“Until I’m done being pissed at ye.”  Jamie set down his pencil, and leaned back in his big leather chair.  He shook his head, then raised his arm and waved her in.  She shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry, Jamie.  Truly.”

“Dinna apologize to me, Janet.  Apologize to my wife.”  Jamie was not going to make this easy.  He loved his sister, but what she did was not easily forgiven.

“What even possessed ye?”  Jamie said, incredulous, as he made his way over to the conference table, hand outstretched for the bag of food.  

Jenny raised her chin.  “I was angry.  Angry at the situation, and if I’m honest, angry at Claire for going to France when ye didna want her to, for doing too much, and risking the baby.”

Jamie sighed, exasperated.  “I explained this to ye.  I told ye on the phone from Paris, and I told ye when we got back home here.  There was nothing anyone could do.  Not Claire.  Not a doctor. No one.  And frankly, Janet, thinking a weekly Sunday dinner would have made a difference is madness.”

“It’s not just ‘Sunday dinner’ Jamie.  It’s our family tradition!”  She sat down hard in her chair.

Jamie stopped unpacking the food and leveled a look at his sister.  “No, it’s yer tradition. Ye started it after Da died.  That was yer choice.  I came because I had nothing else to do.  And if ye remember, when Claire and I first got together, I missed a few dinners. So, whatever that was yesterday,” he waved his hand in the air, “that lashing out at Claire, it wasna fair.”  He walked over to his small refrigerator, and pulled out two waters.  

Jenny sat and absorbed what her brother just revealed.  The dinners were a means to an end.  She needed something to keep them together after yet another family death.  Jamie, and Ian needed to heal together after the accident. Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of what she was actually trying to do.

“Maybe,” Jenny hesitated. “Maybe I just wanted her around more, to share pregnancy stories, and build a kinship with.  I never see her anymore.”  

“Ye’ve a funny way of building a kinship.”  Jamie pulled out his chair, and sat down.  “Would ye begrudge my wife her dream?  Hmmm?”  Jamie took a bite of his food.  

Jenny said nothing.  She poked around in her container for a moment.  Then, looked at her brother.

Jamie raised an eyebrow.  “What if it were wee Kitty, wantin’ to be a doctor? Would ye tell her no because it might take away from her family for a time? What if Maggie went back to school at the same time she was pregnant, wantin’ a career and a family?  Would ye turn yer venom on her?”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Jamie!  Venom, indeed.”

Jamie set down his fork, and wiped his mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Did ye ever think, Janet, that in all the ways it matters to a woman, ye’ve had it easier than she has?  Do ye ever think, period?”

“What does that mean?”  Jenny’s voice rose in indignation.

“Ye grew up on an estate, with parents who loved ye.  She lost her parents at five years old.  Dammit, she canna even remember her mother!”  He leaned forward to make his point, “Ye had siblings, she grew up alone.  Ye were given a place in the family business, and she’s still trying to find her place in the world.  Ye’ve had bairn after bairn, no problem at all.  And Claire and I,” he swallowed, hands braced on the edge of the table, “Claire and I canna manage to have one in our four years together.”

Jamie looked hard at his sister, voice controlled but quivering.  “I’ll never forget what Claire said after they took Faith away. She said, we didna just lose a child. We lost a lifetime with someone we’d never even met.”

Jenny reached across the table and laid a hand on her brother, squeezing his forearm.  

“I am sorry, Jamie.”  

Jamie covered his sister’s hand with his own.  “I keep tellin’ ye.  It’s no’ me ye need to apologize to.”


Claire walked out the front doors of the hospital hearing the swish of the large glass panes close behind her.  She heard a sharp whistle off to her left, and turned her head.

“Alec!”  She strode over to the black Range Rover happy to see the man who was both friend and protector.  He came around the back of the car, accepted her kiss on his cheek, and opened the back door for her.

“What’s this?” Claire asked.  “Where’s Jamie tonight?”  

Alec just inclined his head towards the interior of the vehicle.  Thinking Jamie was inside, Claire grinned and poked her head inside.

“Hello, Claire.”  

Jenny.  

Claire cut her eyes to Alec.  He stood stoic, looking over her head. “Coward,” she whispered.

“Aye,” he whispered back.  

Claire shoved her bag at him, hard, making him grunt in the process, and climbed inside.


They tucked into a pizza, both using the distraction of food to break the tension.  Two pints later the surface chatter was abandoned.

Jenny took a long swallow of her beer, fortifying herself.  “I’m very sorry for what I said, Claire.  I didna mean a word of it.”  Jenny looked her sister-in-law in the eye, hoping Claire saw her sincerity.

Claire returned the solemn gaze.  “That’s the problem, Jenny.  I think you did.”

Jenny’s eyes glistened. It seemed she would have to open up to Claire as she did to Jamie.  She took a deep breath. “A small part of me blamed ye for the miscarriage.  When Jamie told me what happened I thought ye must have done something to bring it upon yerself.  Worked too hard, not thinking of the consequences.  And then I thought, if I had made ye come to Sunday suppers so I could get ye off yer feet a bit, it may have made a difference.”  

Claire sat still, hands in her lap, letting Jenny work through her feelings.  The noise of the pub surrounded them with soft chatter, the clink of glasses, knives and forks hitting plates.  If there was one thing Claire learned as a doctor, it was to listen to patients.  

“I think,” Jenny continued honestly, “I think a small part of me is wanting to replace what I lost.  A brother, mother, father.  I want a big family, and perhaps that’s why.  When Jamie married ye, I was thrilled to have a sister.”  She wiped at her nose.  “Never had one of those,” she chuckled.  She was relieved to see Claire’s small smile.  “And I know my brother wants bairns.  I want them for him.  And for you,” she added hastily.  “So. So when Faith was lost, I got angry. Angry at the both of ye, but maybe mostly angry at God for taking yet another one of my family members away.”  

Jenny wiped her eyes, and looked at the woman who was sister and friend to her. “But since my parents always told me it was a sin to be angry at God, I got angry at you instead.”

Claire reached across the table to took both of Jenny’s hands in her own, and squeezed them tightly.  

“I am very sorry for what I said, Claire.  I didna mean a word of it.”

“I accept your apology, Jenny.”  The women gazed at each other in silent understanding.  They, just like Ian and Jamie, would have each other’s backs from this point forward.  

“Now,” Claire said, letting go of Jenny and lifting her glass, “Let’s get drunk.”


He heard her well before she arrived at the door. He heard her stumble and the backpack skitter down the stairs. “Fuck!”  

He opened the door to their flat and peered over the banister.  She was trying to turn around to go back down.  

“Leave it, mo graidh!  I’ll get it.”  He stepped quickly down the stairs, passing his wife in the process.  “Christ, Sassenach, ye smell like a brewery.”  He grabbed the bag, then strode up the stairs and tucked an arm around Claire, leading her up to their flat.  “Had a good time wi’ Jenny, then?”

“Oh, aye,” Claire said.  Jamie laughed loudly.  Aye?  She was completely sozzled.

He escorted her slowly up the stairs, catching her every slip.  Claire kept up a slurring commentary of her and Jenny’s evening.  When he finally got her in the flat, she turned and wrapped her arms around his waist.  

“You’re half naked,” she said, eyes unfocused. She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his chest.

“I’m ready for bed, that’s why.”  He breathed deeply.  “And you,” he said, pushing her away from him, “need a shower.”

“Too tired.  Too drunk.”  She smiled up at him, “But maybe if you helped me?  Washed my back?”  

Jamie smiled.  Vixen.  “It’s not been six weeks yet, Claire.”  

He locked the door, flipped off the light switch, and bustled his wife off to the bathroom.

But only two more weeks to go.  Not that I’m counting.

i loved you, then i lost you {1}

a/n: okay wow i did not expect so many notes on the intro holy shit

(if you see any errors please tell me so i can fix them, thank you <3)


pairing: taheyung x reader

genre: fluff + angst

summary: you watched and watched as taehyung suffered from his one-sided love, comforting him when he cried, comforting him as he threw up those fucking flower petals. it hurt you whenever he would stare lovingly into that girl’s eyes, giggling and playing with her hair. it pained you when he kept throwing up flowers, pushing the thought that his lover didn’t love him away; he was so dejected, yet he never saw how much happiness he brought to you.

Originally posted by tthyung


He cried and cried until he felt as if he had ran out of tears to spill from his fragile soul. You hated seeing him cry - it was like he was another person. His boxy smile would be replaced with wobbly lips, his sparkly eyes now dull and glossy from tears, his skin pale instead of his usual glowing light. You hugged him close to your body, squeezing your eyes tightly and whispering, “It’s not your fault, Taehyung,” over and over again in his ear. He only sobbed even louder, his nails digging deep into your back. “Calm down,” “You’re alright, I’m here,” you told those things quietly to him, although it would do nothing. Taehyung sat there, a sobbing mess, the two of you in the pile of flowers. 

Through the thin curtains hanging over your window, the sunlight was beginning to burst through the glass. You furrowed your eyebrows, sitting up from the ground and rubbing your eyes. You glanced at Taehyung, who was peacefully sleeping on the ground as well, your head quickly jerking towards your alarm clock. “Shit!” You shrieked, standing up and rushing to the bathroom, slamming the door and  brushing your hair frantically. You brushed your teeth quickly, running out the bathroom and stumbling to your closet. grabbing a random t-shirt and shorts, hiding in a corner to change into your clothes. Even though he was asleep, there was no way in hell he’d be seeing you half naked. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time before grabbing your bag hastily, sneaking a small glance at Taehyung. His hair fell over his eyes slowly, chest rising up and down slowly. You felt yourself smiling at him, crouching down next to him and running your hand through his hair. “Good luck on your date, Tae.” You whispered, running out your room and down to the front door, slipping your feet into black slippers, rushing out the house and sprinting down to pure hell; college.

You took a fearful stare at the clock on your phone, biting down on your lower lip. 9:30. Fuck. 

Slipping into the building quietly and into your classroom, you hung your head low as the others stared at you with mumbles falling out their mouths. “Welcome, (y/n). You’re two hours late. Sit down.” The professor gave you a small smile, motioning to the empty seat next to Yoni. 

“Thanks..” you sighed, walking up the stairs and plopping yourself down onto the seat. “Can I borrow your notes?” You nudged Yoni’s side, nodding at her almost full page of notes. 

“Sure, but don’t take too long. He’s gonna keep talking.” 

You grinned, giving her a short thank you and grabbed your notebook, sliding her paper towards yourself and taking out a pencil. You were halfway through the notes before Yoni poked your arm. “What?” You looked up from your paper, blowing away the hair from your face. 

“You have..um, flowers?” She blinked, her voice raising just a bit. 

“Flowers?”

“Yeah, in your hair.” She mumbled, gesturing to the back of your head. 

You widened your eyes in alarm, quickly fishing out the flowers from the back of your hair, staring at them in your palms. Jenny shot a sharp glare at you two, putting a finger to her lips and shushing the both of you. “Shh. The professor is staring.”

“(y/n), mind sharing what ya got in y our hand?” He asked, crossing his arms over each other whilst leaning against his desk. You shuffled around in your seat, feeling the eyes of the others burning into your back, holding up the flowers in your hand. “Flowers?” He blinked, squinting at the small flowers scattered around in your hand. Quiet giggles erupted from the back, causing you to jerk your hand back down. Letting out a sigh, the professor shot a nasty glare at you. “You’re already late. Don’t make me lower your grade too.”

“You can-” You slumped down in your seat, puffing your cheeks out in frustration, grumbling quietly under your breath and letting the flowers fall down from your hand.

“(y/n)! I did not ask for you to dirty my floor, clean that up!”


You waited for Taehyung to pick up his phone while you waited outside the college doors, leaning against the walls. Your feet began to tap the pavement as the phone call was answered. “Tae? Are you alright now?”

He breathed heavily in the phone, trying to catch his breath. “Y-Yes..you should go stay at one of your friend’s house to-today,” he said quickly, the faint sound of the bed creaking in the back. 

Your stomach churned as the thought filled your head. Taehyung was still in your house, having s- fuck. “Whatever. I’ll get snacks for you later.” You hung up, resisting the urge to throw your phone at the ground. “What the fuck, Taehyung!” You yelled at nothing, stomping yourself down the steps and dialing Jenny’s number. 

“What’s poppin?” Jenny asked, giggling behind her mouth.

You, physically cringing at the ‘what’s poppin,’ groaned out loud. “I’m gonna stay over. Can you bring Yoni too?”

“Oo, this is a rare occurrence. Why? You never come to my house anymore,” Jenny asked slowly, her voice showing obvious signs of confusion. “Is it ‘cause of that Taehyung dude?”

“Doesn’t matter.” You snapped, pushing the hair out of your face again. “Just get ready, okay?”

“Alright. Don’t be a bitch when you come over, I’ll make you drink again.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” You scoffed when she hung up, leaving you with a quiet beep. “Why does everyone wanna hate me some way?” You rubbed your temple with annoyance, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and making your way to Jenny’s house. 

Jenny’s house was quite big - well, big compared to the other houses in her neighborhood. You knocked on the front door, greeting her with a big smile on your face. “I have arrived!” 

Jenny snorted, bringing you into the house. Yoni ran over to the two of you, phone in hand and ice cream in another. “Did you see Suha’s new post?!” She practically screamed as you shut the door behind you, peering at her phone.

“On Instagram?”

“Yeah!”

“No, I haven’t checked.” You crossed your arms, staring down at Yoni’s phone. Jenny stared down as well, letting out curses of every kind tumbling out her mouth. There, in all it’s glory, was Suha with Taehyung. In your bed. No shirt. Sweaty. 

“They fucked in your bed?!” Jenny yelled, eyes wide and face slightly red. “(y/n)! How could you be friends with that dude?!” She scolded while Yoni shut her phone off, shoving it in her back pocket of her jeans. 

“Shouldn’t they have done it like..somewhere else?” Yoni sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

You glared at the two, grabbing your phone and texted Taehyung. Your fingers went flying across the keyboard.

“What the fuck, Tae. Don’t have sex in my bed.”

The three of you waited until three dots popped up. 

“??? what”

“I saw her post. Don’t do it again, or I’m not going to let you stay over.”

“nooo! (y/n), don’t do that! i promise!!!!!!”

Jenny snatched your phone away, cursing even louder as she typed back in response. 

“Give it, Jenny!” You murmured, grabbing it back. 

“Having sex in her bed? Fuck is wrong with you, little dumb shit? You have any idea we have respect for our own household items? Don’t do it again.”

Yoni stared up at Jenny with a wide jaw, her eyes following her as she entered the kitchen. “Je- I know you’re mad, you didn’t have to go that far..”  

You trembled with anger, grabbing the doorknob and yelling a, “Good bye!” at the two, exiting the house and sprinting away to your house - which we may label as Hell 2.0

You opened the door with a slam, shutting the door behind you loudly. Kicking your shoes off, you locked eyes with Suha. She had her shirt on, finally, and was looking about ready to leave. Her smirk wanted you to slap her, her haunting eyes trailing and burning into you as she left. Light foot-steps followed down the stairs until a man finally came about, peeking his head through the entrance. 

“(y/n)! You’re here!” Taehyung smiled, bouncing over to you. “Where are the snacks?”

“Don’t have them.” You snapped, dropping your bag on the ground and pushing past him to your room upstairs. 

“Wa-”

Almost stumbling back from the intense whiff of perfume slapping you in the face, you took a second to breathe. Taehyung inched closer slowly, hesitant to reach his hand out to touch your shoulder. “Come into my bedroom and sit on the bed, Tae.” You sighed, covering your nose and walking into the room, sitting yourself down on a chair. He followed after quickly, settling down onto your bed. “Alright,” you murmured. “How many times have you had sex in my bed and tried to cover it up?”

“Once!” He said quickly, clasping his hands together tightly.

“Truth.”

“I’m not lying, I swear!” He smiled nervously. 

“TAEHYUNG.”

He flinched from your voice, avoiding your piercing gaze. “Four times..” he murmured sheepishly, brushing the hair out his face. You leaned back in the chair, letting out a weak laugh.

“Now, tell me.” You crossed your arms, “How many times has she left you on your dates?”

Taehyung shook his head, looking at you with pleading eyes. “Don’t have this conversation again, (y/n)..I do-” He choked, covering his mouth. Your eyes widened when a faint hint of red fluttered through his slender fingers, his eyes also widening before he let out a hoarse gag, putting his hand on the bed. You stared at him with confusion. The flowers only came out when he slept, so wh-

You sucked in your breath. The relationship was getting worse. “Taehyung, tell  me how many times she left you!” You stood up quickly, eyebrows furrowing together as he cried loudly, his chest rising up and down quickly as the flowers tumbled out onto the floor. He shook his head again, bringing himself down on the floor.

“No- I c- (y-” He could barely make a sentence out of the pain he was experiencing, clasping his hands around his throat. “Ca- br- br- brea-th,” he gasped, staring at you with teary eyes. Your eyes widened while you stared at his face which was slowly turning red, rushing over to him.

“Can you not breathe?” You asked quickly, concern splattered all over your face. Taehyung nodded, his shaky hands clutching onto your arms. Panicked, you looked around the room. You didn’t know what to do - your mind went completely blank without a trace of anything to help him. “J-Just try to, um..cough it out, Tae,” you rubbed his back in reassurance, biting down on your lower lip while he heaved on the ground, struggling to get that damned flower out his throat. You sprung up and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and sprinted back to your bedroom, setting the cup down on the floor next to you. By now, luckily, Taehyung had gotten the flower out. You felt yourself let a sigh of relief, bringing him close to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, squeezing him tight in your embrace. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” He hiccuped in your shoulder, his tears yet again soaking into the material of your shirt. 

“It’s getting w-worse, (y/n)!” He trembled. “I-I couldn’t breathe..” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “I thought I was g-gonna die, (y/n).” You chewed on the skin of your lip, ripping it off in the process. “What if I do die?” Taehyung whispered, his words becoming more clear as he calmed down.

“You’re not gonna die, Tae!” You moved him away so he faced you, a bright smile plastered on your face. “I’m sure she loves you, and this’ll go away soon!”

Liar.

Every word that bounced up and down from your mouth and into Taehyung’s ears was a lie. Suha wanted his looks, she wanted sex. Every time you told that lie that involved “Suha” and “love” in the same sentence took a sharp knife and jabbed you in the heart, piercing it thoroughly. You wiped your clammy palms on the sides of your shirt while Taehyung frowned, his arm still latched on your arm. 

“I..I don’t believe you, (y/n).” He said with a shaky voice, bringing his hands up to his face. “It’s been two months, and yet, it’s just getting worse!” He looked at you through the slits his fingers made. You stayed quiet, toying with your fingers on your lap. 

“I promise it’ll be better, Tae.” You put your hand over his, patting his hand and standing up. “Go to sleep.”

You turned and faced the door, reaching your hand out to touch the doorknob before you felt arms wrap around your waist. “I’ll trust you, (y/n).” Taehyung whispered before pushing you out the room. 

He shut the door behind you, leaving you alone out in your house. Your heart beat increased quickly and your cheeks began to heat up - you put a hand to your chest, feeling your mouth becoming dry. “Fuck,” you whispered, giving yourself a weak chuckle. “I might be falling for him.”


Taehyung stumbled downstairs with a tired yawn, shuffling to where you were in the kitchen and hugging you from behind. “Good mornin’!” He giggled, placing his chin on your shoulder. “What are you making?”

Your heart thumped as you gripped the handle of the pan tightly. “P-Pancakes.” you replied shakily, clearing your throat and silently cursing at yourself for stuttering. Taehyung stared at you with a confused look, obviously taken back. 

“Did you jus-”

“Sit your ass down and wait for the food!” You yelled, shoving him away. He yelped playfully, laughing loudly and retreating to the couch. Hearing the television turning on, you sighed and flipped the pancake in the pan, shifting it over to a plate. 

“You know,” Taehyung called from the back, eyes focused on the TV screen. “I’m having another date with Suha.”

You poured more batter into the pan, gritting your teeth. “Really? So many dates, Tae.” You forced a very loud laugh, flipping the pancake up too high and barely catching it. 

“Don’t judge!” He huffed, turning around to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make sure I can make her happy so I won’t throw up any more flowers!”

You paused halfway in setting the food down, turning around to face him as well. The two of you stared at each other in silence before you smiled. “Good luck, Tae.” A pang of pain shot into your chest, causing you to flinch. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, go back to watching TV.”

“Okay!”

You quickly fixed the food arrangement and walked to the couch, sitting next to Taehyung and setting it onto his lap. “Thank you~” He grinned, cutting into the pancake quickly. You felt a laugh escape your lips as you ate your own pancake. The two of you kept quiet and watched the TV, chatting every once in a while when it felt too silent. You let out a happy sigh - it had been a while since the tow of you had hung out like this before. You were either too busy with college or he was too busy with Suha and going to buy groceries for their date. You bite into a piece of the pancake, smiling at yourself. 

“Oh, I have to go!” Taehyung jumped up abruptly, setting the plate down and rushing upstairs. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and cheeks full of pancake, swallowing them slowly.

“Don’t tri-”

“Ow!” He whined, rubbing his shin before continuing to run up the stairs. You groaned, setting your plate down as well. You heard the loud footsteps running all over the place before he finally went back downstairs.

“I forgot this isn’t my house,” he rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling your hair up. “Wish me luck!”

“Whatever, don’t trip again.” You responded quickly, gathering up the plates and returning to the kitchen.

“Hey, why so cold?~” He sang, humming loudly until he finally left the house. The sound of the news reporter echoed through the now empty house, the faint sound of the sink running accompanying the woman’s voice. Rubbing your eyes, you checked the time. 7:30. Damn, you were so glad it was Saturday - it felt as if all the bricks lifted off your shoulders. 

The rest of the evening was uneventful with you only walking around with ice cream and scrolling through Instagram. You chewed on the ice cream while answering a phone call, bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Is this (y/n)?” You froze, taking a moment to process who’s voice this was. 

“Suha? Why are you calling from Tae’s phone?” You snapped, setting the bowl of ice cream down. Suha’s breath quickened and talked quickly. 

“I don’t care what you think right now, come to the cafe down the street. Taehyung got hurt.”

“Excuse me?” You stood up, hurrying over to the kitchen and grabbing your keys. “Why?! How?!”

“He got in a fight!” Her whiny voice blared into your ear, making your cringe and bite down on the inside of your cheek. “If my dad finds out about this, I’ll be fucking burned!”

“I’ll have you know that Taehyung is hurt, stop worrying about your daddy issues!” You yelled into the phone, rushing out your house and running down the street. You weaved through the crowd of people, muttering ‘sorry,’ every five seconds before the small cafe came into your view. A crowd gathered around the opening as you pushed through the others, panting and refocusing your vision.

You felt your heart stop once you looked down at the two boys on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. One was a chocolate haired man who looked about in his twenties, bruises scattered all over his face and arms. Your eyes stared at the other man, recognizing Taehyung in a split second. He too, had bruises and cuts surrounding his porcelain skin, blood dripping down onto the concrete. Not but of course, not least, Suha stood there behind the two, dialing her father. You glared at the crowd, crouching down to Taehyung and picking him up, wrapping his arm around your neck. You stared at him with worried eyes, wondering why he was injured. The possibilities ran through your  mind; 1. He had gotten into a fight, which is probably the most accurate choice at the moment.

2. He got attacked by dogs.

3. This is a dream and an alternate reality.

You cursed under your breath, sending a sharp glare at Suha. “Hey!” You barked, walking over to her and dragging Taehyung with you. “Why didn’t you stop them?!”

Suha stared at you with disgust, putting a hand over the phone receiver. “Excuse me? I don’t wanna be hurt, and they should be the ones protecting me.”

“You have to be kidding,” the crowd gathered around the two of you, muttering beneath their breath. “That has to be the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” You took a step closer, and she took a step back. “Do you realize how much they care for you? Stop acting like you’re a queen, take responsibility and stop being such a bitch!” The words rolled of your tongue smoothly, as if it had been waiting to be released into Suha’s bubble. You smirked at the dumbfounded girl and shoved your way past the people, adjusting Taehyung’s arm. 

“You’re stupid.”


You sat on the couch, waiting for Taehyung to wake up. The whole event confused you - his date was only a few hours earlier, so why had he gotten into trouble already? Was he intimidated? Did he become agitated? The thought of Taehyung becoming angry was scary to you; out of all the years the two of you had been friends together, he had never gotten so angry where he would try to throw a punch at you.

Your eyes settled on Taehyung’s body, watching him slowly wake up. His eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times before he sat up. “Where’s Suha?!” He groaned, holding his jaw in pain and looked around. 

“Sit back down,” you murmured, pushing him back down lightly onto the couch. Taehyung looked at you with confusion, his fists clenched tightly. 

“I thought-”

“You thought wrong, Taehyung.” You snapped, crossing your arms. “What happened?”

“A dude was coming up to Suha and tried to take her away, so I tried to push him away, then..” His fingers pressed against each other, staring at you nervously. The explanation settled down into the depths of your stomach, you letting out a sigh and leaned back. He was so close to finally finding out what she really was, but was too ignorant to see. 

“I’m getting you food, I’ll be right back.” You stood up, freezing when Taehyung grabbed your wrist. 

“Can you stay for a while? I’m fine with just pancakes again, I just don’t like the silence..” He muttered, wrapping his bruised fingers on your wrist. Staring down at him with pity, you fell back down onto the couch and began to card your hand through your hair. 

“You’re so ignorant.” You whispered under your breath, staring at your own hands.

“What?” Taehyung’s ears perked up, staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, nothing.”

The two of you sat in silence again. The sound of the clock ticking in the background faded away when you both were lost in your own thoughts. You stared up at the ceiling, wondering when you’d break the news to him. Your original plan was to just straight-out tell him without hesitation, but you soon realized he would only think it was a joke and disregard the fact. New plans began to form inside your mind only to break with Taehyung’s special soul. 

“(y/n).” Taehyung whispered, sitting up and scooting over next to you.

“What?”

“You aren’t angry, right?”

“Of course not.” You responded, staring at his hand crawling over yours and intertwining his fingers with yours. You felt your heart begin to race, thumping wildly against your chest.

“Okay.” He let out a loud sigh, leaning his head on your shoulder. “I’m sleepy, bring me to beeeeddd~” He outstretched his arms towards you, making grabbing gestures with his hands. You smiled, laughing and standing up.

“You’re too heavy to carry, walk yourself!” You grabbed his hand, pushing him towards the stairs.

“I’m hurt!” He clutched his chest, walking up the stairs and into the guest room. 

You giggled to yourself quietly, sitting back on the couch. Grabbing your phone out your pocket, you began to text Yoni. Thumbs flying across the keyboard, you felt a cough bubble up in the bottom of your throat, covering your mouth and coughing quietly. 

The coughs became more and more frequent and painful - you grimaced, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. Falling to your knees, you let out a loud cough before throwing up. Fuck, you hated that rushing feeling that overcame your senses when you threw up. Rubbing your teary eyes, you gazed down and widened your eyes. 

Varieties of flowers piled up on the wood floor, it’s vibrant colors seeming too beautiful to be able to escape your mouth.

You rubbed your eyes again; this wasn’t..right? Looking up, you bit down on your lip. Taehyung was a deep sleeper, there was no way he could hear you. Your stomach churned as you stared at the flowers, tears dripping down your face.

“Why did it have to be him, out of all the people,” you whispered, hugging yourself tightly.

Kim Taehyung was in love with Suha  - and you were in love with your best friend, Kim Taehyung.


a/n: this is very short kill me, i promise ill make the length of the posts longer when more parts are added (also since i’m dumb and don’t know how to reply to things, the hanahaki disease takes place when you have a one sided love) 

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 8

Her feet creaked on the landing, the wood protesting. She could hear something behind the door, and she was afraid to open it, but she followed an unknown pull that drew her hand to turn the knob.

The sounds were unmistakable. Their bodies writhed and a pillow tumbled to the floor. Warm, sugary-scented candlelight flickered over their faces. She’d seen enough—she turned and ran out of the room.

Her legs didn’t seem to want to obey her. Rushing down the stairs her feet caught on the carpeting and she tripped, falling, falling, falling…

Claire jerked awake, breathing hard. Beside her, Jamie stirred and flung his arm over her. She placed her hand over her heart, willing it to stop hammering.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?” he asked sleepily.

“Yes. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Bad dream.”

“Weel, no wonder, I took all the blankets. Ye’re cold as ice—that’ll give ye the nightmare. Come here.” Jamie bundled her under the quilt; his own body radiated heat and she curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. Her heart was slowing down, and she closed her eyes, hoping to reclaim sleep.

Jamie’s hand stroked her arm lazily, while pressing small kisses into her hair. Claire was lulled, warm, the fear of her dream fading fast. After a few minutes, Jamie spoke.

“I’ll need to get up soon. I promised Jenny I’d help with the chores to free her up to get some Christmas things ready.”

“What time is it?” Claire mumbled. 

“Um… about 5, I think.”

“Oh God. It’s still dark out. It’s too early. You can’t go out there now. Stay. Here. With me.” She clung to him tighter, unwilling to let him out of the bed.

“A promise is a promise, Sassenach.” He extricated himself gently, pausing to run his fingers through her curls. “I like it. Looks like the bramble bush outside.”

Claire swatted him feebly, too tired to really try. She burrowed deeper into the bed, and Jamie kissed her nose. He dressed in the light of the leftover embers while she watched, and wanted.

“I’ll bring ye coffee. You don’t have to come wi’ me, Claire. I ken it’s yer vacation and up early the rest of the time. I’ll go milk the goats and pitch hay for the coos, they’ll be sufferin’ fer it.”

“Coos?”

“Highland coos. Beautiful creatures.”

She peered over the quilt. “I’ve never seen one.”

“Dress warmly then. Ye’re about to meet the herd.” He turned to leave, but stopped. “Oh, and Sassenach?”

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The mountain air was icy but invigorating. Claire touched her cheeks, the wool mittens warm on her reddened skin. She pulled her scarf up higher around her face.

She and Jamie leaned against the fence, watching Jenny’s merino sheep baa and butt each other. It was only noon, but her body was exhausted; not only from their efforts last night, but from fetching and hauling and working alongside Jamie.

They stood quietly side by side, watching the animals’ antics. Their breath mingled in cloudy puffs, and Claire couldn’t remember when she had last been this happy.

He was in her like a livewire, after only weeks of knowing each other. It was too much, too soon, too fast. Too right. And her heart… the kiss in the alley had given it to Jamie irrevocably.

Claire took his hand in hers and clasped it tight. He smiled down at her, and sang, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful…

She laughed. “It’s not so bad now.”

“There’s snow coming soon. We’re expecting the band fer Hogmanay. When are ye due back to work, mo nighean donn?”

“January third. And your recording sessions?”

“Few days after that. We can have some time in London.” He kissed her briefly and they started back to the house.

The ancient stones stood grey and silent as they approached. Claire could glimpse Jenny in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the family. At the door, Jamie stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Claire, I have something for you,” he said. With a shy smile, he pulled a gold chain from his coat pocket. Dangling from it, was a gold ring with a ruby set in it. Jamie held it in front of Claire, the weight of the ring causing it to twirl. “It belonged to my da, and his da before him, on and on back. I usually wear it, but it can be a bit troublesome when playing guitar so… I’d left it here in Jenny’s care.”

Claire swallowed thickly, understanding the implications of his gift. This had belonged to his father; it was a tangible memory of family and belonging. By giving her this ring, Jamie made it clear he thought of her as part of him, intrinsic and bone-deep. She reached out to touch the gleaming stone, and smiled in acceptance.

Jamie undid the tiny clasp, the gold links of the chain delicate as filigree. He fastened it behind her neck, fingers lingering on her collarbones. Claire touched the ring, nestled against her sternum.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and he leaned in for a kiss. Then she came to a realization.

“Oh my God, I feel so bad, I didn’t get you anything! What with the shifts and all—”

“It doesna matter. I brought presents for the children, from both of us.” Jamie opened the door and removed his dirty boots before Jenny could protest. Claire imitated him, carefully removing her coat and layers. She was very much aware of the presence of the ring.

“Besides.” He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her close enough for whispering.

“You gave me you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Jamie’s acoustic guitar playing Christmas carols and traditional Scottish songs reverberated with the myriad of voices singing along and laughing riotously. Everyone was absolutely soused, the drams flowing and never-ending.

The rest of The Clan had arrived, Rupert and Willy and Murtagh, to stay and celebrate Hogmanay and welcome the New Year. Rupert had cornered Claire and would not stop talking about Geillis. Claire lent a sympathetic ear and on the whole, rather liked the match between them; from the way Rupert talked about her friend, she suspected they were more serious than she had originally thought—and was glad for them. Willy was there, shy as ever, but joining in the loud choruses and tossing back drink after drink.

Murtagh joined Claire on the sofa by the fire, offering her a tumbler of Macallan. They toasted Christmas and Jamie and the Frasers in general. If he noticed Brian Fraser’s ring on Claire, he said nothing, but regaled her with stories of Jamie as a child and teenager. Every word Murtagh spoke revealed the tenderness involved in practically raising a child not his own. Claire wondered why Murtagh was single—deceiving surliness notwithstanding—when he clearly had so much love to give.

Jenny, however, was not blind. Her eyes had zeroed in on the ring around Claire’s neck the moment they stepped inside the house into her presence. Her eyes had widened but she said nothing outright. As the evening progressed and everyone’s inhibitions lowered significantly, now she approached Claire and sat next to her.

“That was my da’s,” Jenny said quietly, sipping from her own glass.

“Yes, Jamie told me.” Claire felt uncomfortable for a moment – Brian had also been Jenny’s da. Perhaps— “Do you not approve? Would you like me to give it back? Maybe you should have it for your own sons—”

Jenny waved her off. “I have my mam’s pearls and other things, for my daughters as well. This is Jamie’s to give as he will.” She reached out and touched a finger gently to the ruby, warmth on her face and in her voice. “And let me tell you—he could not have chosen someone worthier.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Claire ground her hips against Jamie’s, one hand holding her steady above him. Firelight cast them into molten gold as each found their completion in the other’s body.

Jamie groaned as Claire rocked to find more friction, more heat, more of him. He kneaded her breasts, traced a finger down to her navel, and settled on the pulsing point of their union. Claire clenched around him, dissolving into a heap of spent limbs and curly hair. Their foreheads touched as Jamie took his pleasure, gasping into her ear.

Tha gaol agam ort. An-còmhnaidh.” His hands gently traced patterns on her back as she lay spent on top of him, too lazy and sated to shift next to him. Her skin pebbled in goose bumps as she shivered in delight.

“You’ll have to teach me the Gaidhlig,” she said, smiling. She propped her hands under her chin, resting on his chest. “I think I can only translate about 5 words. Not fair.”

“I can teach ye, Sassenach.” Jamie pushed her hair behind her ears, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “Repeat after me. Tha gaol agam ort.”

Tha gaol agam ort.” Claire did her best to imitate his accent.

An-còmhnaidh.” Jamie caressed her face gently, tenderly.

“But what does it mean?” she insisted, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.

Jamie took a deep breath. “It means… I love ye. Always.”

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she considered bolting. Rising from the bed, giving up the warmth and comfort of his body. Dressing fast in the demi-dark, leaving him behind. And her heart ached at the thought. So she allowed the brief wave of panic to wash over her, and let it go.

Jamie’s eyes were still on her, steadfast and unwavering. Claire met them bravely, whiskey and blue fire, and kissed his honey mouth.

Tha gaol agam ort. Always.”

chapter 2

Mayday || Jinyoung

Originally posted by jackseunie

Reader (you) x Jinyoung

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: angry jinyoung ??

note: and once again, sorry for the really bad chapter. idk how many times i re-wrote this but heeey, it’s an update! I hope everyone is doing well and getting enough sleep, unlike your admin here haha! happy reading everyone and take care! -admin


“If you’re ever in need of a man to come save you, just shout mayday…”

Those words repeated itself throughout the whole night, making me toss and turn in bed. Usually I wouldn’t be bothered with this sort of stuff but last night, I just couldn’t get my mind off of Jinyoung. Those words didn’t even make sense. Why would I scream mayday to a guy I never met before? Plus, wasn’t mayday a word pilots use when they’re in need of help?

I stuck my fork into the pancake I made just a few minutes ago and let out a heavy sigh. It was close to noon and Jenny was still fast asleep in her room. After finding her drunk outside near the pool, I decided to drag her home before she does something she regrets. I, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at all last night thanks to Jinyoung.

“Ah shit.” I heard someone curse from behind. Turning my head around, I looked at Jenny as she slowly trotted her way into the kitchen.

“Morning,” I smiled brightly at her, “There’s a glass of water on the counter and advil next to it.”

“Thanks.” Jenny mumbled, picking up the glass of water. “By the way, we’re meeting picking up Yugyeom from the university so get dressed and let’s go.”

“What, you’re not eating my pancakes?” I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Jenny said before she turned her back on me and made her way back to her room. I sighed as I looked down at my plate that had a half eaten pancake. Deciding to stuff the rest in my mouth, I hopped off my chair and went straight to my room to get ready. Throwing on a simple outfit, I dragged Jenny out of her room and quickly got into our car. The whole ride was long and silent since I knew I shouldn’t bother Jenny and her headache. And so, my mind wandered off to Jinyoung. No matter how hard I tried, I can’t get him out of my mind. I was curious about him and his personality. Who was he and why was he so intriguing?

“Just park in the parking lot. We won’t get a ticket if we just leave right away after finding Yugyeom.” Jenny stated as we pulled up at the university. Listening to Jenny, I parked near a small cafe as Jenny and I hopped out of the car.

“You go ahead, I’m just getting a cup of coffee at the cafe. Do you want anything?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

“An iced americano would be nice.” Jenny smiled at me.

“Sure thing.” I smiled back. “Meet here in fifteen?”

Jenny nodded her head before waving me off and walked away in a different direction. Pulling out my phone, I opened up the doors of the cafe and was greeted with the smell of coffee. Students sat at tables, either studying or chilling with friends as I lined up. Just looking at the sight of people studying made me smile. I graduated from university last year and I was happy to be finally free from all the stress. But the real world was much more terrifying than school.

My turn soon came up as I smiled at the girl behind the counter. I was about to order my drinks before the girl in front of me turned her attention to the door and gasped. Looking at her shocked expression, I turned my head around to face the man I couldn’t take my mind off of. Jinyoung was wearing a nice clean button up shirt with black dress pants. His fancy shoes and his hair pushed to the side made him look nicer than what I saw last night. I realized that I was staring for too long when his eyes suddenly made eye contact with mine.

“Two iced americanos please.” I quickly said, prying my eyes away from him and focused my attention on the girl. I paid for the drinks and stood off to the side as I observed Jinyoung order his drink. Was Jinyoung a still a student or was he a professor at the university?

Jinyoung slowly moved to side, standing right next to me, as everyone’s eyes in the cafe followed his movements. Taking my chance, I turned my head to look up at his expressionless face. Sure, Jinyoung had the looks and the perfect face but, I didn’t know what people saw in him. But someone how I wanted to talk to him just so I could get to know him and his personality. So, I took in a deep breath and opened my mouth.

“Hey, Jinyoung?” I slightly raised my voice in questioning acting like I didn’t know him. He turned to look at me, his eyes scanning my face. A sudden of change in emotion flashed through his eyes but was quickly washed away by his expressionless face. My heart started to race as the silence between us remained still.

“Jinyoung, right?” I said again, hoping he would answer me. But instead Jinyoung just turned his face away and looked at something else. I huffed out in annoyance and questioned why he wasn’t responding back. Does he not remember me? Like every other girl he has slept with?

“(Y/N) with two iced americanos.” The girl behind the counter called. “And Declan with a chai tea latte.”

I quickly walked over to the counter to pick up my drinks until I noticed Jinyoung following closely behind me. I stopped in front of the counter to observe his actions but realized he grabbed the chai tea latte. Confused, I grabbed my two iced americanos and looked at him.

“Have a nice day, Delcan.” The girl behind the counter smiled.

Jinyoung lifted up his drink and nodded his head, “Thanks.”

And with that, he turned his back on me and left. I stood there in shock on what just happened. I was one hundred percent sure that was Jinyoung who stepped inside the cafe, not this guy named Declan. I knew his face, the black hair swept to the side and that arrogant look on his face, he was definitely Jinyoung. I felt my anger boil up inside of me as I took my drinks and stormed out of the cafe. Looking around the area, I spotted Jinyoung slowly walking back inside the campus.

“Yah, Jinyoung!” I yelled, running after him with two drinks in hand. I continued to yell his name but he still didn’t look behind me to acknowledge me. Stopping to catch my breath, I thought of different things I could say to get his attention. And one word popped into my mind.

“Mayday!” I yelled loudly, watching Jinyoung’s every move. It was like that word was the only magic word that could grab his attention. With that, I watched as Jinyoung whipped around to look at me straight in the eye, his worried expression quickly washed away to a death glare. Smiling to myself, I ran up to him to give him a piece of my mind.

“You’re making a big mistake here, baby girl.” He growled as I approached him.

“What mistake?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Who are you and why are you doing this?”

“What are you? The police?” Jinyoung fired back at me, clearly not in the mood to talk.

“Who are you?” I asked again, with a mean tone in my voice. I wanted to know what Jinyoung was planning to do and why was he giving himself a fake identity. I wanted to know more about him and his mysterious charm.

Suddenly, Jinyoung grabbed me by the arm and led me somewhere more private. His one free hand pressed against my waist and pushed me against the wall. I gasped slightly from the sudden actions, gripping the two cups in my hand as I looked into his boiling eyes.

“Listen here,” He growled, “You can’t just go around calling my name carelessly like that. If I don’t answer back, just brush it off and get lost.”

“That’s not how you treat a girl.” I fired back, looking at him straight in the eye. I could feel my anger boil inside of my because of his arrogance. Telling me to get lost was not a way to get rid of a girl. I will not lose against this guy and his reasoning until I’ve figured him out.

“Are you a criminal?” I asked, pushing him to the side. “Because only criminals say that to cover their asses.”

“I am not a criminal.” He argued back. “You don’t understand so just leave and forget this ever happened.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me who you are!” I yelled quite loudly. The loud commotion I was making was drawing attention from students who were wandering by. But I didn’t care. Jinyoung needed to be exposed.

“You’re so frustrating.” Jinyoung sighed, as he ran his fingers through his hair, roughly. I crossed my arms and stood there, examining Jinyoung’s anger starting to boil up. I could tell he was thinking hard about his answer and what he should tell me to cover his identity. The few moments of silence of him walking back and forth made me anticipate his answer. Was he going to tell the truth or lie to me?

“Gosh,” I spoke up, breaking the silence in the air, “Can’t even tell me who you are. What a sh-”

“Declan!” A voice of a man called, interrupting my sentence. I turned my head to look down the hallways and saw a short man, whom looked like a professor, approaching us slowly.

“Ah, Mr. Son,” Jinyoung smiled, his anger suddenly washed away as he held out his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”

“Please, stop calling me Mr. Son. It’s Andy.” The man smiled at him, taking Jinyoung’s hand and shaking it gently.

“Nice to see you again, Andy.” Jinyoung said, taking his hand away. “Are your men here for the meeting?”

“Yes,” Andy nodded, “And who’s this lovely lady next to you?”

Jinyoung looked down at me with a smirk plastered on his face. I could see that he was already planning something that I wouldn’t even like. Jinyoung suddenly threw his arm around me and brought me closer to his side. I held my two drinks tighter in my hand, with a shocked expression on my face. And at this point, I didn’t even know what was happening anymore because of the lies Jinyoung spoke. But Jinyoung played it off and flashed me a smile before opening up his mouth to answer to Andy.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

anonymous asked:

Vietnam AU + 32 (caught in the act!)

Sweet Affectionate Moments Meme (send in more prompts for any of my AUs!) 

“How long does it take a person to wash the dishes?”

Jenny frowned as she turned the corner into the kitchen - to find her younger brother all but wrapped around Claire, lost in a kiss.

Neither looked up, or even acknowledged her presence. Blissful.

All Jenny could do was lean around them, turn off the tap before the sink flooded over, grab the half-eaten dish of coffee cake from the counter, and return to the dining room, where she could hear Murtagh and Ian clinking tumblers to toast yet another round of the ten-year.

After all, she thought with a smile - it wasn’t every day they could celebrate an engagement.

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 7

The rolling green dominated the landscape. The Range Rover came to a halt in front of a sprawling stone house, somehow managing to look older than the hills it stood upon.

“Lallybroch.” Jamie swept his hand, encompassing the house and the land and seemingly everything around them.

Claire gazed out of the windshield, entranced by the ancient feel of the very stones. “This is not a manor house, Jamie. This is a castle.”

“Ach, no,” he said, ducking his head modestly. “Truly, ‘tis only a farm. There’s a broch, but it’s old and crumbling now. We can visit it later, if ye like.”

“What’s a broch?” Claire unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car.

“A tower, of sorts. The auld lairds of Lallybroch would be called Lords Broch Tuarach, after the north-facing tower.” Jamie reached for their bags in the backseat and joined Claire, taking her hand as they approached the massive front door.

“A tower doesn’t really have a face, you know,” Claire teased.

“Weel, the door faces north. That’ll do.” Jamie smiled, and made to open the door.

“Shouldn’t we knock?” Claire felt nerves and trepidation, about to meet the famous Jenny and the rest of the Jamie’s family. She knew how much they all meant to him, and how big a step this was for them.

“’Tis my home. No need.” He stole a quick, soft kiss to quell her obvious nerves and then called out, “Hello the house!” He dumped the bags by the staircase. Claire stood next to him, taking in her surroundings.

Everything looked antique, but not in a museum-like way. Everything, from the furniture to the paneled walls, looked loved, cared for. Carved tables and tapestries mingled with a modern cordless phone and lamps. Uncle Lamb would have a field day, she thought.

Thundering footsteps broke into her reverie, and a tall gangly teenager came tumbling down the stairs. “Uncle Jamie!” In a blur, Jamie was rocked back in a fierce hug.

“Ian, lad!” Jamie squeezed and lifted the boy straight off the ground. They slapped each other on the back in a great show of affection before Jamie let him go, and slid an arm around Claire’s waist.

“Ian, this is Claire. Sassenach, this is Young Ian, my nephew and godson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Claire said sincerely. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so?” Young Ian grinned easily. “Welcome!” He picked up their bags and shot up the stairs two at a time. “I’ll just put these in yer room! Mam’s in the kitchen!”

Jamie and Claire held hands as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. They were assailed by the aromas of fresh baked bread and something delicious and steamy bubbling away on a stove. Claire half expected it to be an ancient cast-iron affair, but it was quite modern, by the rest of Lallybroch’s standards.

Jenny’s back was to them as she washed dishes at the sink. Jamie put his finger to his lips and blinked at Claire. He tiptoed (as much as a man his size might) and prepared to scare Jenny by tickling her ribs. His hands reached out but were stopped by a sudden, “Don’t even think about it, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”

Jenny craned her neck over her shoulder and gave them a wicked smile. “Hey there, little brother.” Her hands never stopped working, even as Jamie smiled abashedly and gave her a peck on the cheek. She turned off the water and wiped her hands on the apron she wore, engulfing Jamie in a warm embrace. “It’s been too long,” Jenny said, pushing back and smiling. She looked over his shoulder at Claire, who witnessed the encounter wistfully longing for family.

“And this is Claire, I presume.” Jenny stepped around Jamie, giving her a quick appraising glance—cordial, but guarded. Claire extended her hand, which was enveloped in Jenny’s cool grasp.

“It’s great to meet you. Jamie’s missed Lallybroch terribly, and all your children.”

Jenny’s eyebrows rose like dark wings. Her eyes had that slanted look identical to Jamie’s, resting on high cheekbones reminiscent of Viking royalty. “I’m sure he did. Weel, dinner is stew. ‘Tis something I can leave on the stove and no’ worry, since I’ve been tending the goats and sheep, and cooking for Hogmanay with Mrs. Crook.”

“She’s the housekeeper slash cook, but she’ll be off wi’ her own family for Christmas,” Jamie interjected.

“We can sit down to eat, now ye’re here.” Jenny squeezed Jamie’s hand and turned to the stove. “Young Ian, Jamie, Maggie, Kitty! Dinner! Come wash up!” She glanced at Jamie. “Could ye get Ian from the barn? He’s been tending to the hay now Rabbie’s gone home fer the holidays.”

There was a meowing at the kitchen door as Jamie approached it. He opened it to let a grey cat in, who pranced inside as though he owned Lallybroch. From the way Jenny bent down to coddle it, Claire suspected it might be the case.

“I see Adso of Melch is still alive, Jenny,” Jamie said, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“He is.” Jenny stood and toed the cat away from the stove. “Ye wee fiend, get on wi’ ye.”

Adso stopped in the middle of the kitchen, as soon as it spotted Claire. Jenny looked appraisingly at the cat, as though almost willing the cat to respond in some way. Claire decided to follow Jenny’s example and squatted, staring into its green eyes.

The cat slowly walked over to her, sniffing about her knees. It purred softly; Adso located her hand and pressed against it, enticing Claire to rub its ears. She obliged, marveling at the soft fur and turned to Jamie, who smiled down at her. “He likes ye, Sassenach.”

Jenny let out a contained breath, and the first truly welcoming smile bloomed on her face. “Never mind my bonny cheetie. Go fetch Ian, if ye please. And shut the door, before we freeze. Claire, we’re so glad to have ye.”

_______________________________________________________________________  

“Let me get this straight. If Adso didn’t like me, Jenny wouldn’t either?”

“Adso is held in very high regard around here, Sassenach. He’s an excellent judge of character. He led Jenny onto a nanny who would steal from her purse and a drunken horse handler.”

They trudged up the stairs after bidding the family good night. Dinner had been superb, Jenny and Ian and their children all gathered at the table. The babble and laughter of a large family tugged at Claire’s heartstrings, making her long for one of her own. The children’s ages ranged from Jamie’s namesake at 18 who attended uni at Glasgow, and Young Ian at 14; the girls Maggie and Kitty who were 12 and 9 respectively. Ian (the elder) had presided over dinner in his role of father—a far cry from the rock star life he led on tour with The Clan.

“And what is that Melch in his name?” Claire took Jamie’s hand as he led her around the dark upstairs hallway.

“Our mam always had a cheetie. They were all named the same, after a German saint. Adso of Melch, Adso of Milk, ye ken,” Jamie said with a smile.

They walked up to a solid wooden door. Jamie pushed it open, to reveal a bright fire set in the grate, and both their bags in the room. Claire swallowed nervously and glanced at Jamie.

They hadn’t slept together thus far, though they had participated in some hot and heavy (emphasis on the hot) make out sessions at Claire’s and at Jamie’s flat. Hands roving, breath panting, Jamie had given her space and time to express what she wanted and when she wanted it. Young Ian had plainly made some assumptions of his own.

And why not? They were both consenting adults in a relationship and what they did (or didn’t do) in bed was entirely their own business. Space and time—the continuum of which was grinding to a halt, as there was nothing Claire wanted more right then and there than to feel Jamie’s arms around her and—

“Claire. I can sleep elsewhere.” Jamie squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Or on the floor if I can have the quilt. Ye don’t have to—”

Claire stopped his words with a kiss her hands tangled in the ruddy mess of his hair. His hands gripped her waist as he walked her back towards the bed, kicking the door shut behind them. They tumbled together onto the carved wooden bedstead, the frame creaking slightly.

“Won’t they hear?” Claire asked breathlessly.

“The walls are made of solid stone,” Jamie mumbled, his lips on her neck. “We can be as loud as we like.”

His hand crept under her sweater; higher and higher, until she could feel it caressing the underside of her breast. It was only then that she opened her eyes and met his own, whiskey and azure, everything bathed in the light of the slowly burning fire laid in the hearth.

Jamie’s hand stilled, and he brought his forehead to hers. “Claire, I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

She almost didn’t recognize voice as her own, so high and gasping, “Yes. Yes, I’ll have you.” Permission granted, his hands were all over her body all at once. Skimming down her back, leaving tingling desire in their wake, gliding over her navel. Their clothes came off in a flurry of wool and jeans.

Slowly and reverently Jamie helped her shed her bra and underwear, his boxer briefs following suit. Completely exposed to each other, Jamie laid his hand on her bare hip, staring at her flush curves gilded by firelight.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo nighean donn.”  

Claire felt suddenly shy and made to cover herself, but Jamie stopped her. “No, Sassenach. I want to look at you.” Claire blushed but let him gaze, slowly growing bold enough to return it.

His body came closer to hers, with his own muted fiery glow. He kissed down her neck, licking here and there. His large hands, calloused from playing guitar, teased and nipped at her breasts. Claire’s hands drifted down his back, pressing and urging him ever closer.

As his touch strayed lower, his intentions became clear. Claire raised herself on her elbows, effectively dislodging Jamie’s head from her stomach. His eyes held a question even as they seared with want.

“Jamie… no one’s ever—I mean—” Her cheeks burned red as she gestured with meaning.

He smiled and stretched up to kiss her gently. “Do ye want me to?”

“I don’t know. Won’t it… will it—”

“Let me taste ye.” Jamie trailed fingers up her leg. “Tell me if I’m too rough, or tell me to stop altogether if ye wish.” He brushed his lips over her belly, eyes blazing up at her.

Claire surrendered, falling back on the pillows and putting her arm over her eyes. Her knees trembled as he settled between them, parting them open and his arms locked around her thighs. She felt a brief kiss (right there! she thought incoherently) before she was flooded with pleasure, his tongue working magic on her most secret of places. She gasped as Jamie anchored her body to the bed with his arms, desire shooting through her veins. There were sounds coming from her lips she had never made before. Fleetingly she thought of covering her mouth before the feeling climbed higher and higher until it broke over her, making her shudder in release.

“Oh Jamie…” Her hand traced his jawline, as he smiled at her and kissed the inside of her thigh. Jamie moved and rose over her, kissing her deeply. She could taste herself and found it arousing.

He ground his pelvis gently into hers, swallowing her moans as her legs wrapped around him. Claire could feel the length of him sliding against her, and she urged him to her, hands on the small of his back.

Jamie braced himself on his forearms, and aligned himself at her slippery cleft. With a final nod from Claire, he eased himself inside her, slowly but inexorably moving forward as she dug her fingers into his back. The sensation was intense as he withdrew and pushed inside, again and again. Jamie held Claire close, the hair on his chest tickling her as they panted and he groaned and she whimpered with pleasure.

Their bodies rocked together as though they had known each other for years, simply waiting for the chance to join. Claire lost herself in pure sensation; the weight of his body perfect on hers, the spicy scent of him mingling with the smokiness of the fire, the mixture of Gaelic and English words he poured into her ear as he thrust faster and faster.

Feeling surged as they both chased the illusive spark of completion. Jamie’s hand splayed on her hip, and hitched her leg higher along his body. Her back arched instinctively. As he shifted, he hit a spot deep within her from a new angle, and in a few quick motions Claire shattered, crying out against his shoulder.

Jamie followed soon after, the tension breaking free as every muscle quivered, his mouth a wide O of relief and wonder. Their eyes met, half-lidded with satisfaction. Claire smiled languidly, running her hands through Jamie’s red curls. He withdrew gently, kissing Claire over and over, his lips at the hollow of her neck where perspiration shone and her pulse raced.

The heady feeling gradually dissipated, and the winter chill stole back into the room, making Jamie and Claire shiver with something more than spent desire. Still smiling, they crawled beneath the covers; Jamie pulled Claire close to him, her back to his front as he settled behind her, his arm holding her tightly.

“Oh, Claire… tha gaol agam ort,” he breathed against her skin.

“What does that mean?” she asked drowsily.

“I’ll tell ye tomorrow,” he said, nuzzling the nape of her neck. “We have time. I want to show you the loch, and the village, and take ye on a tour of the farm. I think ye’ll like the wee beasties and…”

She drifted off to sleep, his voice murmuring in the dark, safe in the knowledge of love and safety in Jamie’s arms and in her heart.

Hogmanay pt.2

A wee snippet of Jamie and Claire whilst the Hogmanay preparations are well under way! Fluff and ALLLLL the feels because it is Monday and we need it!!!

Claire could hear the children chattering amongst themselves as they bunched the juniper and picked off any berries that had been missed, Bree’s accent standing out starkly amongst her cousin’s softer Scottish brogues.

The pot Jenny had left beside her was nearly full with pealed potatoes and the water on the stove had reached boiling. The room was becoming uncomfortably hot and Claire could feel the sweat gathering beneath the cloud of hair at the nape of her neck and trickling intermittently down her neck. She placed a hand against her back, readying for the task of standing upright.

“Alright little one, on three … one … two …”

Claire clenched her teeth and heaved just as the baby pushed a foot up under her ribs. The air went from her in a sharp breath and Claire sat down heavily, giving up on the two inches of elevation she had gained.

“You bloody little … Scot!”

She scowled, arching her back a little to encourage the baby to move, which it obligingly did, coming to rest in a much less uncomfortable position. Claire let her breath out again, this time with a sigh and passed the back of her hand over her brow. She had a few more weeks to go but felt like she was ready to burst. She didn’t remember feeling quite so huge with Brianna, though that may have been in part due to the near starvation she had suffered in the run up to Culloden and then the miserable cocoon she had wrapped herself in after her return to the twentieth century, a cocoon in which she only forced herself to take food for the sake of the baby.

Claire pushed thoughts of that time aside and steeled herself to stand once again. If she simply sat and waited for Jenny to come to her rescue she could be stuck in the sweltering kitchen for quite some time as the Hogmanay preparations were well underway and Jenny was bustling from room to room overseeing it all. Claire had tried to help but her swollen size had made her something of a hindrance to the process and when she had suggested preparing the vegetables instead of stringing garlands, Jenny had looked rather relieved. However, if preparing vegetables was what Claire was in charge of then she would bloody well be in charge of it and no one was going to put those potatoes in the cauldron but her!

She was half-way up when she felt a hand on her lower back and another take a gentle grip on her upper arm. She blew the hair out of her face and looked up into an amused sapphire gaze.

“I can manage.”

“I know.”

Jamie smiled but didn’t relinquish his touch and moments later Claire was on her feet. She raised her finger to wipe the perspiration from her upper lip but Jamie stopped her, catching her hand in his and ducking his head to gently kiss along the bow of her lips, his tongue gently tracing the curve of her smile.

“Ah Dhia! Mo nigheann donn, mo Sorcha …”

Claire lost the last of his words as he buried his face in the curve of her neck

“What was that?”

“I said …”

Jamie surfaced, smiling with the glazed eyes of a man singularly minded,

“That each time I sniff at ye I discover a new wee scent and I want ye more than before.”

Claire sniffed at her sleeve and wrinkled her nose

“I never considered onions and parsnips to be particular aphrodisiacs.”

Jamie’s lifted one springy curl from her collar bone, pulling it gently straight before letting it bounce back into its spiral and inhaling dramatically.

“I can smell cloves, rosemary and a wee hint o’ plum.”

Claire leant forward and sniffed his shirt lightly

“Horses and hay and … what is that?”

“Peat most likely.”

Jamie grinned and waved away the question before Claire could ask it.

“I brought a few blocks in from the shed this morning and changed my shirt but ye ken how the scent clings.”

Jamie lifted the pot of potatoes from the table

“Ye want these in the water?”

“Ye but give them here, I’ll do it.”

Claire reached for the pan but Jamie shifted, keeping it out of her reach

“It’s fairly heavy Sassenach. I dinna ken how many pounds ye peeled but if Jenny is still feeding the pigs peelings, we’re likely to have the fattest hogs in the Highlands.”

“We’re going to have a lot of guests…”

“And food enough to feed generations of them yet to come.”

Jamie grinned and crossed to the fire

“Wait I can …”

Claire began and then stopped as Jamie upended the pan with ease and deftly stepping out of the way of the water that splashed over the sides as the potatoes went in.

“I told you I could do it!”

Claire snapped, feeling absurdly like she was about to cry. She blinked twice and glared at the splashes of water steaming on the flagstones.

“For God’s sake, Jamie! You’ve got water all over the floor! I suppose I have to clear it up, do I?”

She snatched a cloth up from the side and stormed toward the small pool of water but Jamie blocked her path, expression carefully neutral as his hands came up to lightly clasp her shoulders.

“I apologise Sassenach. If ye hand me the cloth, I’ll mop it up for ye.”

His voice was gentle, consoling even and Claire felt the tightness in her chest clench and her throat began to burn. Claire looked around him and saw the gentle wisps of steam rising from the floor a second before her vision blurred.

“No it’s fine … It’s already drying. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Dinna be lass, I interfered and upset the system you had in place. I’m sorry for it.”

Claire snorted wetly and hastily mopped her eyes and nose with a handkerchief.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so irritable!”

“Nothing. There is nothing wrong with ye, but ye are exhausted and your body feels like it’s betrayin’ ye at every turn. It’s enough to make anyone irritable.”

Jamie’s arms encircled her as he spoke, his cheek resting lightly on the top of her head

“I feel like a fat, silly fool!”

“You are magnificent, Claire.”

Jamie spoke simply, rubbing small circles in the middle of her back

“But upon my word, Sassenach, the smell of ye and the feel of ye against me is makin’ me think verra wicked thoughts.”

“Perhaps you should confess them to me upstairs.”

She murmured and felt the shiver of a thrill run through him

“Confession, eh? Will ye forgive my sins?”

“Eventually.”

Claire allowed the word to fall from her lips and the considerable firmness that has been building against her stomach hardened further.

“Can ye get one of the girls to mind the food a while? I dinna think I can wait for your benediction.”

Jamie whispered in her ear and as he bent toward her Claire imagined a willow tree, tall and graceful, arching as its branches dip toward the water’s surface, reaching until even the petioles and stipules are submerged deeply.

*

It felt like hours but could only have been minutes later, as Claire ran her fingers through the sweetly curling hairs of his chest, she realised that Jamie had done what she could not do for herself, he had centred her.

He had let her play the role of the saviour, dubbing himself the wicked one who was dependent on her for his redemption. He had made her feel wise and beautiful and in control, he had guided her to see herself as he saw her.

“What are ye thinking, Sassenach?”

His voice was heavy with satisfaction and Claire delighted in the small sigh of contentment he gave as she kissed the bud of his nipple.

“I was thinking that you still, after all our years, just let me be myself and how much I love you for it.”

She smiled and looked up as she felt the bed shift to see him propped up on his elbow, looking down at her curiously.

“I fell in love wi’ ye for who ye are Sassenach. I canna see what benefit it could be to either of us if I were to try and change ye now.”

“You might have a wife with a sweeter temperament?”

She teased, stroking the length of his nose with the tip of her index finger.

“I doubt a sweet wee mouse could make my balls fizz the way you do.”

Jamie’s tone was even and as he blinked solemnly at her, his face serene, Claire burst into laughter and laughed until the tears streamed down her face and her ribs ached with the force of it.

“Oh my God! Jamie! I did not expect that!”

“Well neither did I, a sweet wee lad o’ three and twenty and you and older woman takin’ me in hand…”

He was grinning too now, his mirth held back only barely

“It was my mouth actually…”

Claire retorted and the room filled with the sounds of their happiness, of memories and shared knowledge of love and the comfort of one who knows you so very well and they clung to each other until the last of the humour left them when, still smiling, they touched their foreheads together.

“In truth Sassenach, I dinna care what ye do to my balls as long as I get to hear ye laugh like that often and plenty until my dying day.”

Jamie raised her hand, clasped in his own between them on the bed and kissed her skin, just above the warm silver of her wedding ring.

2

Save me… part 1


You were late for work. You parked your car at the parking lot and you ran towards the door. When you entered the restaurant you saw it was full of people. You walked towards the bar and settle your stuff on one of the corners. Jenna, who at moment was having a longer shift because of you, gave you a look of tiredness. 

You walked towards her. “I’m sorry Jenny.”

“No problem,” She says giving you the orders of the tables. “Good luck, it’s packed.”

You gave her a small smile and you began right away, making your way to the kitchen to get the orders in that Jenny gave you and take the orders out who were already ready. 

John was as normal in the kitchen. “Hi Y/N.” He says to you with a smile on his face. 
“Hi John,” You said to him laying the new orders down for him. You walked to the other side of the kitchen. You got the order that was ready and you entered the restaurant floor again.  You look at the paper to see which table you had to bring the food. 

You walked towards the table. There were two men sitting at the table. The men were very different from each other. the way they clothed each other but also how they moved and talked to each other. 

You came closer to the table one of the men saw you and they both eminently stopped talking to each other. They looked towards you. 

“Here you go…” You said reaching the table. “The cheeseburger.” You look towards the guy with green eyes,  light freckles on his face and short-cropped hair that is dark blonde. He had this big smile on his face. I put the cheeseburger in front of him. “and a chicken salad.” You said last looking towards the other guy. He was taller than the other men and has light green-brown eyes and long brown hair. 

Putting the food in front of him you noticed a few books on the table. All the titles had something to do with vampires. That’s weird you thought to yourself. 

“Thank you.” the man with long brown hair says looking towards you. You gave him a little smile and you walked away from the table. 

The rest of you shift was going as planned running from the kitchen to the tables and back. After 4 hours your were happy it was over and the restaurant was getting empty. The two man you served at the begin of your shift were still there. They were both drinking a beer and one of them was still eating his 3rd pie. They were talking and looking through a few papers and the books you saw on the table at the begin of your shift. 

You watched them carefully when cleaning a few tables. John comes towards you with a burger and a few fries. “Here you go.” He says to you.  And puts the plate in front of you at the table. Sandra who was standing behind the bar walks towards the two of you and sits down at the table.

“OW fries.” She says taking one of the fries of the plate. 

After the three of you have eaten. You were ready to close the restaurant. You looked towards the table and the two men were still sitting there. 

John looks at you and you know exactly that he was waiting for you to go up to them and ask nicely to leave. You walked towards the table of the two men. They both stopped talking and looked towards you. 

“I’m sorry to inform you but were closing.” You said to both of the men.

The man with short dark blond hair looks you in the eyes for the first time and gives you a smile.

“Hi..” he says giving you a wink. 

“Hi,” You said giving him a smile. “We’re closing, but you guys can come back tomorrow.”  

“I’m sorry.” The man with longer hair says. “We will just pack everything and  leave.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a smile and you walked away from the table.

In just a few minutes the men were walking through the door. You were also living after them a few seconds later, you said your goodbyes and you walked outside. 

In the parking lot, you saw both of the man sitting in a black impala. 

You walk towards your car and made your way out of the parking lot. On to the highway, you look in the review mirror when you see a black shadow in your back seat and before you could react everything went black. 

I Can’t Go On If You’re Not Here

Originally posted by nochuie

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

You have been in love with Jeongguk since freshmen year of college, but you never had the courage to confront him about your feelings. A new girl pushes you to admit to him finally what you both were waiting for.

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

masterlist


Light filtered in through the pale beige linen curtains. It was too early to be waking up. You were sprawled on your bed in a very unladylike fashion with your legs sprawled, but you didn’t really care. Waking up was the hardest part of your day and when you did wake up you would think about your nap when you came home. It was a never ending cycle of sleeping and waking up. You stretched and you felt something that definitely did not feel like a plushy pillow. Opening your eyes you see Hoseok on your bed.

“Hobi, what are you doing on my bed,” Hoseok wasn’t suppose to be sleeping in your bed, it was barely big enough for you. All you got in response for your question was a grunt and he just ended up snuggling into your blankets.

Aish this lazy sack of shit. You had to get ready and get to class, he needed to get out. You tried poking at him with your foot but to no avail. You grabbed the Ryan Plushy Jeongguk got you for your birthday and started to smack Hoseok. Sleeping Hoseok was harder to wake up than a bear in hibernation. He only wakes up when he smells food. Fatty.

You decide to get up from your warm soft bed and go make coffee in the kitchen. You were still wearing the clothing from last night but now in a more crumpled version. The apartment was quiet and empty. You went across the hall to Jeongguk’s room, you wanted to knock but you refrained from the last moment. You didn’t want to know if he came back with her or if he didn’t come back at all.

Jeongguk barely brought girls home because he knew that you hated the noise. He had brought a girl over in the beginning of sophomore year. It was an understatement to say that you were angry. You were furious. After the girl had left and Jeongguk emerged from his room at noon, on the search for subsistence. You knew he always became very hungry after sex, so you being you decided to lock up the refrigerator and the pantry doors. Petty but you couldn’t help yourself. You heard the sounds that Jeongguk had elicited from the girl and the uneasiness of your standing with him continued to shift. The girl had made some pretty loud pleasurable sounds that traveled wretched airways across the hallway separating your rooms. You were ready to break into his room and wrangle her to death.

But instead like a proper college student, you hit him where it hurts, his stomach. You grabbed all your locks that have accumulated from your brief experimentation with riding a bike to school. Jeongguk had come out of his sex hole and was mildly surprised to say the least. He begged on his knees and promise that he would have to buy you dinner for forgiveness. Let’s say after that incident he very sparsely brought girls back to our place. It gave you brief peace before you realized that it would have been better if you knew what he was doing than you constantly guessing where and who he was doing.

Jeongguk’s room was still silent as you pressed your ears to the solid wooden door frame. You wanted to open his door and lay on his bed and envelope in his unique cotton scent. He probably was still at Jennie’s, snuggling with her. You felt your eyes tear up, he had promised that he would come back after their date. But you couldn’t dwell on that, this was just a minor setback to your whole plan. The school year was quickly coming to a close and it was about time after waiting four years. You padded towards the living room, your stomach rumbling with anger.

To your extreme surprised, there was a girl in who was using your stove. A girl who was wearing only a white shirt with her brown hair in a messy bun precariously placed on the top of her head. Her back was still towards you, she was humming. You quirked your head to the side. Who was this girl?

“Um, hello?” You made yourself known to the random girl who had invaded your apartment.

“Oh my. Who are you?” The girl whipped around, her bun bouncing around. She was holding your red frying pan with an egg cooking in it.

“I live here? Who are you?” You were really hungry. You didn’t have time for this girl, whoever she was.

“I’m Jennie. Jeongguk and I just got in a few minutes ago,” The girl introduced herself and went back to cooking. She didn’t seem to grasp the situation. You were sure that steam was rolling down your back and up into the air. “Are you Jeongguk’s little sister? I don’t remember him mentioning that he lived with his sister.”

You raised your eyebrows at her. Jeongguk’s sister? So this was Jennie, the girl that has Jeongguk so enamored. She was really pretty, no doubt with long legs and a delicate face. She was dressed in Jeongguk’s shirt and prancing around your kitchen.

“I’m Jeongguk’s roommate, Y/N. Where is Jeongguk? I have to go talk to him,” You were about to smack Jeonguk five ways to hell. What was he thinking bring Jennie back to your shared place? He knew how much you hated being disturbed in the morning by his friends.

“Oh he’s in the shower. We had a long night, if you know what I mean,” Jennie turned on her heels to look at you and winked. You were taken aback. You didn’t know what to do, either to cry or yell.

You spun around and started to march towards Jeongguk’s room. You were about to rip Jeongguk’s heart out of his chest. Before you could, your bedroom door swung open and Hoseok came bumbling out. His stature dwarfing your door frame. He was still dressed in last night’s clothes with rumpled hair, eyes bleary. But he was missing his shirt, Hoseok didn’t like to sleep with his shirt on. He said it constricted him when he slept. His eyes weren’t even completely open before he registered that you were standing there.

Jeongguk’s door also opened and the man himself stood there. He had just come out of the shower, his body wash still fresh and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second and let the fragrant wash over you. He was wiping his wet hair with your blue towel.

“Hey-”

Before Hoseok could finish, Jeongguk was on alert. His wet hair forgotten.

“Excuse me, what are you doing here? And why did you just come out of Y/N’s bedroom, shirtless?” He started to grill Hoseok. His eyes darting to yours in a silent accusation. Jeongguk had no right to accuse you of anything. He had brought Jennie back to your place and she was cooking for christ sake.

“Hoseok, get back in my room,” You started to shove him back into your room, trying to minimize the damage. Hoseok didn’t fight with you and landed his fat self back onto your bed. You took a blanket and covered him, he could catch a cold. Jeongguk was still waiting outside the open door with an indescribable look on his face. Hoseok never slept over when Jeongguk was here. He always came when Jeongguk was visiting his parents or brother. You closed the door behind you, obscuring Jeongguk’s view from Hoseok’s sleeping form.

“Y/N, why is Hoseok half naked in your room? Can you explain?” Jeongguk ran his fingers through his wet locks that stuck to his forehead. His face radiated a youthness that you couldn’t describe. He always looked so fresh after washing up. It was your favorite look on him, it gave him an innocence that you adored.

“Tell me why Jennie is cooking in my kitchen first then I’ll answer you about Hobi. Also please explain why you didn’t come home even though you promised you wouldn’t stay out more than two hours,” you leaned against the wall where picture of you and Jeongguk were displayed.

“Okay I can explain I promise. I got sidetracked. Jennie had taken me on an adventure. I finally fulfilled my dream of breaking into a museum and looking at the art uninhibited and with no people around. She took me around the city to show me her favorite places. Y/N I’ve never met a girl with a sense of adventure like her. I think I’m in love,” Jeongguk dropped, shyly looking down.

You couldn’t keep the frown off your face, “Jeongguk, you promised you would come back to me in two hours and you ditched me for a girl because you were having fun? I get that I do but couldn’t you just have shot me a text telling me that you weren’t going to come home? I was so worried, I didn’t know where you were and what you were doing. And Jennie isn’t the only one with a sense of adventure.” The last part slipped out. You couldn’t help yourself. Jealously was clawing at you. Jeongguk was an adrenaline junkie. He loved to do and experience new things. You were always a little on the safer side, you never really like the venture outside of your comfort zone. You would watch him from your little safe bubble and cheer him on.

“I’m sorry, my phone ran out of battery. I was going to call you I swear. And I know you’re fun, but Jennie is a different kind of fun. I promise I’ll make it up to you today. I’ll treat you to your favorite raspberry sorbet today after dinner,” Jeongguk begged with his puppy dog eyes, he reached for your hands and brought it to his chin. You couldn’t resist. He was just too cute. You knew you had to tell him your feelings tonight before he could entrench himself deeper into Jennie. She wasn’t right for him, you were.

Jennie eventually left, still wearing Jeongguk’s shirt. You tried to ask Jeongguk about it and he just chuckled to himself with his little secret. Hoseok had snuck out after hearing your conversation with Jeongguk. He crawled out onto the fire escape and him being the little cheeky bugger he is, sent you wink as he went down the ladder.

It was noon when the apartment settled down. Jeongguk was napping on the sofa after you watched Friends together. It was his favorite show. He had said that his friend, Namjoon loved it and recommended it to him one day and he has been hooked ever since. You began to tidy up the apartment as he was taking his little cat nap, doing the laundry because it was your turn. The feeling of domesticity had really hit you as you started to unfold Jeongguk’s trousers. You were living the relationship but you weren’t in it.

It was four o’clock when Jeongguk had finally come around, “Hey, do you wanna go out for dinner or stay in?”

You were craving Japanese so you guys went out eat, “You have to pay today because you surprised me when Jennie this morning. You know she ate the rest of my bagels and cereal? I expect to be reimbursed for this.”
Jeongguk let out a loud laugh, the laugh where he would tilt his entire head back and laugh with his whole body. Your favorite. As you two strolled down the street to the little quaint sushi restaurant around the corner from your apartment. He slid his hand down and interlaced your fingers. You couldn’t help but blush a little every time he would take your hand. The concentrated bundle of nerves in your stomach started to act up again. It couldn’t be that hard to admit to Jeongguk that you had basically loved him since you’ve known him.

“You and your food. I’ll buy you some later when we get ice cream. Now let’s get food, I’m starving,” Jeongguk quickly dragged you into the dim lit restaurant. The waitress seated you and him in the cubby corner. The restaurant was having a slow night, there were only a few customers littered around.

“It’s been so long since I been here. You’re always so busy,” Jeongguk said as he picked up the menu. He didn’t even bother reading it. He picked at the fraying edges of the cover.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who’s busy. You barely been around the house. Do I have to remind you that is your turn to pay the water bills. I hope you didn’t forget,” You quickly scanned through the specials and motioned the waitress over.

“I’ll get the udon with beef and he’ll get the miso soup, the spicy tuna rolls, and udon with chicken and pork with no soybeans,” you smiled at the waitress and handed her both your menus.

“I never forget. I always pay the bills. I’ve been busy with dance, in which you haven’t shown up in,” Jeongguk leaned back into the deflated leather seat.

“I’ve been meaning to go, I’ll stop by tomorrow. I missed dancing, Hoseok keeps pestering me to go. The new student, Jongsuk also wanted to check it out after I mentioned it to him. We need more recruits.”

“That reminds me about this morning, why was Hoseok in your room this morning? Did he come after or before you found out I wasn’t coming home yesterday. You know he used to like you. What if he pulled a move and I wasn’t there to deflect it. I heard from Jimin that he was planning to ask you out. Jimin never lies,” Jeongguk said with a straight face. You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“C’mon Jeongguk. You know that Hoseok doesn’t like me or ever have. He’s one of my oldest friends. Hoseok is also very straightforward. If he ever felt any of those feelings towards me, he would tell me right away. He had come after I knew you weren’t coming home. We just drank and talked. That’s it. He didn’t try anything on me nor will he ever in the future. I mean, look at me? Remember when Hoseok dated that model, I don’t even hold a candle to her,” You shook your head at him. What was Jeongguk thinking?

“Y/N, you should know by now how attractive you are? I don’t know why you don’t haven’t had a boyfriend for such a long time already. You’ll see when I say Hoseok has a thing for you. If he didn’t why would he always stick around you? Why did he try so hard to convince you to join dance? So he could show off his moves to you and make you fall in love with him,” Jeongguk was hilariously stuck on his point. He was sadly misinformed.

“I can promise you, he doesn’t like me. He also knows that I’m interested in someone else. I really like him but he doesn’t know. It’s been so long and I’m so ready to tell him,” You tried to hint to Jeongguk but he was oblivious as always.

The waitress set down two ice waters and you couldn’t help notice that she was staring at Jeongguk. He was dressed in a plain black t shirt with black jeans, piercings lined his ears. He was too hot not to look at. He reached over and puckered his mouth and sucked on the straw. Both of you stared at him, unable to take your eyes off of him. The waitress finally snapped out of her daze and scurried away.

“You always tell me about this guy that you like but you have no guts to admit to him you like him. Just tell him, how long has it been? Once you tell him it’ll be all fine. I don’t know you could hold this all in,” Jeongguk continued to sip from his straw.

You wanted to tell him so bad, but the words couldn’t come out of your mouth. You didn’t know to formulate the words. All you had to say is , “it’s you,” but it didn’t come out.

Divine Intervention

So this little plot bunny wouldn’t leave my head so I finally wrote it out. Some context is that this takes place two weeks after Jamie forced Claire to go through the stones before Culloden. The only catch is they didn’t work and Claire is at Lallybroch when Jamie arrives wounded from the battle. As always let me know what you think!


It had been two weeks since my heart was torn out of my chest. Two weeks since that fateful moment at the stones. On the eve of death and desperation, my heart had tried to be noble. My love tried to sacrifice, to send me away to ensure the safety of his wife and child unborn. To ensure he would live on in some form and all wouldn’t be completely lost to the darkness of war. And by god, I had listened to him. But I now found myself at Lallybroch, instead of the future where I came from three years before.

The stones hadn’t worked. They had swallowed me up and spit me back out. When I woke from the horrid noises of the lost, from the trapped souls trying to steal my own, I expected to be back in my own time, in the forties. But I found myself in the same war-torn world I had tried to flee to ensure the safety of the baby in my belly. 

But Jamie was gone. Gone to face his death on that dreadful field of Culloden. I had sobbed harder than I ever have upon not finding him on the hill, harder than even when I was a little girl finding out I would never see my parents again. I clutched the stones of the ruined cottage where we had spent our last night together, trying so desperately to tear a piece of each other off to patch onto our weeping hearts in order to keep them from shattering entirely.

If it had only been me, I would have laid down on the ground where we last loved one another and slowly drifted off to the darkness of death, where I hoped I could see my heart once more.

But it wasn’t only me. I carried a piece of Jamie inside me, the last piece of him always, and I needed to keep it safe. He had trusted me.

So, I summed up the courage and somehow found myself back at the farmhouse that I had grown so found of. But now it was a constant reminder of what had been lost.

Jenny and Ian watched me with pitiful eyes, while I gazed at the road everyday with a sad broken piece of hope I was clutching onto. I knew he was mostly likely dead and I knew that they wouldn’t bring his body home, that he would be laid to rest on that retched moor.

But to not watch, to not look at all, was all too final. It would be throwing myself off a cliff without the knowledge if there would be water to break the fall or if I would break into a million pieces of heartache, scattered until I disappeared. That would mean I would have to accept that my other half was gone and the constant gapping wound in my heart would forever bleed with want for its missing piece.

The days went by in a blur. I ate little and slept little. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep on the bed we had shared so many nights together, instead sleeping on the lumpy chair by the hearth each night. Jenny, god bless her, tried to get me to play with the little ones and to help with the gardens, but I didn’t have the state of mind to do anything but stare at that blasted, empty road.

“Claire!”

I tore my gaze from the desolate, lonely road to see Jenny clutching a limp Mrs. Crook.

I ran over immediately to the kitchen and laid my hand on her throat, looking for a pulse. It was quite fast but beat strong enough against my fingers.

“Only a faint most likely,” I said, feeling her forehead for a fever.

“Let’s get her upstairs where she can rest for a bit.”

Jenny and I carried her weak form up to the servant’s room, laying her down on the small bed as her eyes fluttered with awareness once more.

“I’ll tend to her Jenny, don’t worry,” I said with a weak smile, reaching for a rag and wetting it in the basin to wipe the elder woman’s brow. Jenny looked me over and nodded slightly, then walked out the door.

Perhaps, I could still be of use here. Until the baby came, I could travel from house to house, tending to the sick or simply giving them advice for staying healthy. It would allow me to escape the memories that haunted me every minute I stayed in the main house, every item reminding me somehow of my lost husband.

I was still wiping Mrs. Crook’s forehead when I heard the wheels of a cart faintly from the distance, the wind carrying the sounds through the open window. I shook my head, damning myself for even thinking it could be any good news. My palms started to sweat and my heart thumped like jack rabbit in my chest.

It could be someone bringing his body back, or worse just informing us the news of his death and that he was buried on the dreadful field. Tears ran silently down my face as I thought of him being dragged through the blood-stained grass by a British solider that may have well been the one to stop his heart.

I pressed my hands hard against my head, trying desperately to stop thinking, to stop the images from flooding my mind. But I couldn’t stop them, pictures flashed without permission.

Jamie laying lifeless on the field, surrounded by his fellow slain country men. Jamie falling down after being shot. Jamie cold and pale.

Sobs tore through my chest, as I pressed even harder against my temples in despair. At least he would have been buried with his clan, with the Frasers. I felt the pressure of a hand lightly on mine and looked up to the sympathetic gaze of Mrs. Crook.

“Claire! Get out here!”

I heard Jenny yell from downstairs and my feet responded before my mind did, flying down the stairs at the tone of her voice. Not of despair, not yet. I raced through the house and out to the front door where Jenny stood, gazing anxiously at the cart coming down the road, manned by two red coats and what it appeared to be a person in the back.

Jenny reached out and clutched my hand hard. I gripped it just as firm back, both of us drawing strength for whatever news may come of the man that we both loved.

The cart slowly pulled into the arch of the front yard and I stood frozen as the British glanced at me and Jenny.

I pressed my finger hard against my silver ring, taking a deep breath to steady myself. And then I saw a flash of red in the cart and I was flying once more.

“Jamie!” I screamed, breath caught in my chest.

I ran over to the back of the cart, seeing a dirty and bloodied man with red hair in the back as I approached. I climbed into the cart, no mind of the solider who was glaring at me from his horse. I fought my way to the front and my heart stopped.

It was him. And he was alive.

A broken, strangled noise came from deep within my chest as I moved to where his head lie among the hay.

His eyes were closed and he was so still I would have thought him dead, but his chest rose and fell in a reassuring manner. He was filthy and covered in blood, his skin stained with sacrifice and endurance. His hair looked more brown then red from the dirt, but I thought he never looked more beautiful.

I continued to cry as I leaned down to kiss to forehead and brush the dirty hair away from his eyes, picking a piece of hay from his curls.

“Jamie, Jamie…love, can you hear me? I’m here, Jamie. I’m right here.”

His eyes fluttered open and if I had been standing, I would have fallen to my knees at the sight of his eyes, filled with despair and the haunting of war.

His breathing hitched as his face twitched up into a small attempt of a smile.

“I kent it woulnda be long, Sassenach. Thank ye, god,” he whispered as his hand tried to reach my face but fell back on the cart with not enough strength to find me.

I picked it up gently, as if he was a small child, and brought it to my cheek and held it there tightly.

He looked so weak and so frail, which finally set off alarms in my head to look for a wound. I gently ran my hands down his bruised body. Gently lifting his shirt to peek under it and to be met with nothing but a pattern of black and blue.

I faintly heard Jenny and Ian talking to the soldiers a few feet away as I continued to search.

Internal bleeding? I thought it could be a possibility and if so, there was nothing I could do. My hands shook as I moved down to search on his blood covered legs. I lightly ran my fingers under his kilt only to be met with sticky, congealed blood.

I held my breath as I carefully peeled the plaid from his thigh and was met with a nasty, bone deep wound in his upper thigh, inches away from the femoral artery.

I gently lowered the kilt and scooted back up to sit by his head, which was pressed against the hay once more. He was barley conscious and I could hardly blame him under the circumstances, the pain must be excruciating.

I brushed his cheek, rough with weeks of no shaving, and brought his head to look at me.

“Jamie, you’re home. You are safe.”

I patted his cheek gingerly, trying to bring him to me. “Jamie, I’m here. I love you and I’m here. It’s over now.”

His eyes rolled slightly, appraising her, blue eyes blinking into awareness. He moved his cheek so his lips rested against her palm.

“Sass…Sassenach? Claire…you…why are you here…you should be…”

Tears formed in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks, washing away some of the dirt and pain of the days past.

I sent a silent prayer to god and leaned down an inch away from his eyes, my tears mingling with his.

“They didn’t work, Jamie. The stones didn’t work and I thank god in heaven for making it so,” I whispered through a thick throat.

Jamie started to sob as he came to the realization I was really there and not lost to him. He shook his head slightly, shaking as I smoothed his hair.

“Love…my love. You’re here, you didna leave me,” he cried as he gathered the strength to move his hand to my heart.

“No, Jamie,” I wept, “I will never leave your side again.”

I leaned down to gently kiss his lips, the only part of him that wasn’t bruised. His lips pressed against mine with such little pressure, to weak to move but an inch.

I clutched onto him in that filthy cart for what seemed like an eternity, until someone coughed discreetly behind me. I reluctantly lifted my head from my husband’s chest as I looked at the solider leaning on the cart, the brightness of his scarlet uniform blinding my eyes.

“You’re his wife, I presume?”

I said nothing, simply glared at someone who was originally my fellow soldier now turned enemy.

He cleared his throat and took off his hat.

“Lucky man, he was about to be shot but someone saved him. He has a nasty wound as you can see, but my fellow soldier and I will help bring him into the house.”

I hesitated. I knew how badly it would hurt him to move but the was no other option.

I moved to kiss his brow. “Jamie, were going to move you, love. Alright?”

Jamie mumbled something under his breath and I took that as agreement.

It was a struggle, the two soldiers and one tenant, trying to navigate their way into the house with a large Scotsman in their arms. I hovered almost on top of them, watching Jamie’s face every agonizing step, cursing all the way.

His pain literally hurt me to see. With every grimace, I felt my heart squeeze.

At last, they got Jamie on to the bed where I could tend to him.

“Gooday, mum,” the soldier said, and turned on his heel and marched out the door.

“Good riddance,” I mumbled under my breath.

I sat on the bed as softly as I could beside Jamie, who immediately grabbed for my hand as if to reassure himself that I was real.

He cleared his throat. “The stones, the didna work ye said. I looked after…and ye werena there.”

I brushed his hand with my fingers. “No, I touched them and I went into them and it was even worse then the first time, but when I woke, I was still in this time.”

He closed his eyes in either exhaustion or relief, perhaps both.

“Jamie,” I started softly. “I’ll need to tend to your leg.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.  “I ken that, but before,” he licked his dried lips. “Kiss me once more, Claire.”

I moved over to him, careful not to jostle him and leaned down to meet my lips with his as his hand grazed my belly which held our future.

A kiss that told all the unspoken truths we didn’t have the words to say aloud.I don’t know what I would have done without you. You are the heart of my soul. The breath in my body.

 And so we were, two pieces of one divine creation. Ripped and torn with chunks of us missing from past demons, but stitched and sown back together into one imperfectly perfect soul.

recipe | jensoo

She hated parties. The loud music and many people just weren’t really her thing. Yet she had decided that being a good friend also meant sacrifice. That’s why she came to the party in the first place, to be a good friend; after all it was her best friend’s birthday we were talking about.

It was March 27, Saturday morning and the birthday of Lisa, her best friend. Jennie had just woken up and stretched her body as the thought hit her. She sighed and made herself some breakfast, thinking about how she’d survive this day. While she was sitting at the counter eating her oats, she checked again if she had all the presents for her friend. The unicorn pillow, the little notebook with quotes in it and the pink brush set- now the only thing missing was the cake. Jennie loved baking or cooking in general, that’s why a birthday cake was a big must for her, regardless of whoever birthday it was. After putting the used dishes away she went through the recipe again, checking if all the ingredients had been bought. As she had made sure that everything she needed was there she started on making a strawberry cake which happened to be one of Lisa’s favorites. She’d sometimes spend hours in the kitchen experimenting with flavors, creating new dishes or simply letting her creativity flow. Time would always pass by so fast that in the end she was almost running late for the birthday party. Shit, Jennie thought to herself as she quickly got dressed and carefully placed her masterpiece onto a cake transporter to carry it to her friend’s house. She took a final look at her cake, smiling in content before she left the house and made her way to Lisa’s place. She arrived at a little after 8 PM but the place was already crowded. Loud music was playing and and some people would sing karaoke in the living room while others were outside talking or smoking. Jennie took a deep breath before entering the house and started to look for Lisa. When she had finally found the birthday girl she excitedly ran up to her hugging her tight and congratulating the girl who had just turned 19. The younger one was happy and squealed when she saw the cake and together they’d make their way to the kitchen to get plates. Some people would follow them to also get a piece and while they were eating Jennie watched them with a pleased smile which turned into a shy one whenever someone complimented her skills. By the time it got darker she had found herself on the couch, simply watching everyone having fun. She then looked at her phone which told her it was only a few minutes before midnight. Jennie yawned and stood up and squeezed herself through the crowd to get into the kitchen. She eyed the last piece of her strawberry cake which was solely standing on the plate. Jennie didn’t feel like eating it at all, she felt sick and had gotten a headache from the loud music. The moment she wanted to put the lid onto the cake transporter a voice stopped her from doing so. “Aren’t you gonna eat this piece?” As she turned around she looked into the brown eyes of a petite girl. Her eyes were almost black and in the gloomy light she thought she could see stars in them. “Huh?” Was the only thing that she got out of her mouth before actually understanding that the girl meant the remaining piece of cake. While she was looking at her with a shy smile and rosy cheeks Jennie’s face lightened up a little. “Oh, no but you can have it,” she exclaimed and quickly grabbed a plate and placed the piece onto it before handing it out to the girl she really had never seen before. What a perfect timing, Jennie thought to herself. Now she could take the empty container and quickly make her way home. She smiled at the girl who just took the first bite of the cake, letting out a content “hmm” and then thanked her for the cake. “No, I thank you”, Jennie smiled even more. “Enjoy your cake and the party, I’ll get going now” with that Jennie left the girl behind in the kitchen before she could even say anything else. Jennie looked for Lisa and when she had found her quickly said goodbye to her, excusing herself with having a headache. The younger one smiled with an empathetic smile before hugging her tight, thanking the older one for coming and the great presents. The other moment Jennie was finally out of the door and made her way back home. There, she was greeted by Kai and Kuma her dogs. She simply removed her make up before falling onto her bed in exhaustion. She sighed in relief and curled herself up in her sheets falling asleep almost immediately.

When she woke up the other morning she was in a good mood. Since it was Sunday she’d only study a little, maybe cook some meals for the upcoming week. As she got ready in the bathroom she heard her phone beeping in the other room. With a toothbrush in her mouth she went over to check who had texted her, it was an unknown number.

Hey, do u happen to have the recipe of that strawberry cake ?

 it was seriously so good and I feel like I need more of it

 oh I’m jisoo btw the one you gave the last piece of cake at Lisa’s party yesterday

 I got ur number from her too I hope it’s okay

A smile flashed onto Jennie’s lips as the picture of Jisoo eating the cake popped up in her head. She hesitantly texted her back.

I’m glad you liked it and ofc I can give u the recipe. How about meeting at the lil coffee shop near the park at 2 PM?

Almost immediately she got an answer

yes I’ll be there ^^ 

The smile remained on Jennie’s lips as she got ready, rewrote the recipe in neat handwriting and made her way to the coffee shop.

(1037 words)

On Ghostwriting, Celebrity and That Guardian Review.

Yesterday, some of you may have noticed this review in the Guardian. It’s a review by Jenny Colgan of The Secret Lives of the Amir Sisters, by (according to the title page) Nadiya Hussain and Ayisha Malik.

Now, being one of those freaks who doesn’t watch GBBO, I have only limited knowledge of Nadiya Hussain is. I do know of Ayisha Malik, though. She’s a writer, a good one: and from that it’s pretty easy to guess that she’s Nadiya Hussain’s ghostwriter.

So what? Becoming famous in one area (be it sport, politics or baking) does not magically transform someone into a writer. Of course celebrity authors need ghostwriters to help them: that’s why their novels and autobiographies are generally clear, interesting and competently-written. And Nadiya even credits her ghostwriter; not all celebrity authors do. (Some even make them sign non-disclosure agreements, in the hope that the general public will really believe they wrote the book.)

However, having noticed all that, Jenny Colgan (whom I’ve met several times; she seemed like a nice person, though even nice people can be wrong, and in this case, I think she is) still proceeds to make her review all about her dislike of celebrity novels, and how this somehow cheats “proper writers” out of the shelf space they’re entitled to.

She begins with a description of two little girls, one in a library, dreaming of being a writer, and one in a kitchen, dreaming of cakes. You don’t have to be a great brain to understand that the little girl in the library is Jenny Colgan, and that the girl in the kitchen is Nadiya Hussein, who somehow in real life gets to be a baker and a writer too, thereby (it implies) cheating the first little girl out of her dream; as if baking and writing were two kinds of cookies, with limited numbers to go round.

Does she really need to put her name to a novel, too, (writes this successful writer of the first-time author) when there’s only so much shelf space to go around?

It feels greedy.

Well, maybe it would, if writing and baking were cookies. It might be, if we lived in a world in which someone who was good at baking wasn’t allowed to write books. It might be, if publishing were a charity, fairly and evenly distributing its attention to everyone who needed it.

But as it is, no. It doesn’t feel greedy. It feels as if someone is feeling insecure and resentful, and that comes out as sounding plain mean.

Don’t think I don’t understand: I do. Being a writer is a risky business. It’s getting harder and harder to make a living as a professional writer. And now we seem to be overwhelmed by politicians, and TV chefs, and comedians, and musicians, and actors, and pop stars and people from reality shows all wanting to be authors, hogging the limelight and making it look as if anyone can write a book…

Yes, it sometimes feels unfair. It can sometimes seems as if being a celebrity comes with a special, free “bestselling author” card: a card that most authors never get to play. And yes, authors often feel jealous, resentful and scared that their livelihood is being eroded by people whose status as celebrities earn them special privileges. I’m as guilty of this thinking as anyone. You’ve heard me rant about Morrissey, who used his special status to get his ridiculous novel published by Penguin Classics – Penguin Classics, for pity’s sake, next to Shakespeare and Homer. I’m still dismayed that Penguin could do that – to themselves, and to us – for the sake of a piece of piss-a-bed prose that even his fans couldn’t read. And for what? Sales. So I get it. Yeah.

I’d also like to take a moment to mention the editor who commissioned the Guardian piece. My strong suspicion is that he or she knew perfectly well that Jenny Colgan’s review would raise hackles (and, of course, sales). Clickbait is synonymous with journalism nowadays: but if they’d had any kind of integrity, they would have given Jenny Colgan a kind and quiet warning, telling her just how badly she was exposing her prejudices, instead of throwing her under the bus. Because that’s just what the Guardian did, in encouraging her to voice her ignorance and insecurity in a way that would provoke debate. She got the flak: they got the sales. That word again. Sales. Hm.

However – let’s get to the review, and why Jenny Colgan and the Guardian ought to think long and hard about the toxic and damaging messages they are putting out.

First, let’s start with the fact that the book is “perfectly competently-written.” As well it might be; it’s by a perfectly competent writer. It will sell “like hot cakes”. As well it might: it looks like it might be fun, and lots of people have heard of Nadiya Hussian, whose TV presence (by all accounts) is delightful, warm and appealing. But, for some reason, we still shouldn’t buy it. Why? Because it’s ghost-written? The reason for this becomes increasingly unclear and illogical.

If you want to read warm-hearted sagas about second-generation immigration, Meera Syal is a wonderful novelist. If you want to read a brilliant book about four sisters, Little Women is still in print. If you like sisters and cooking, try the marvellous Like Water for Chocolate. Or read Ayisha Malik’s book: it’s huge fun.

Hang on – isn’t The Secret Lives of the Amir Sisters Ayisha Malik’s book? Or does she mean a different book, with Ayisha Malik’s name on the cover? In either case, we know that the book would be perfectly competently-written. So why does it really matter to Jenny Colgan which one of Ayisha Malik’s books we read?

Surely it can’t be just because the book is ghost-written. Ghost-writers are excellent writers, and they work hard for their shelf space. Their work is the reason “celebrity books” meet the high standards readers expect. No, it’s because the book will “sell like hot cakes”. Sell better than books by other, less visible authors, who also write about relationships, and families, and baking.

This surefire seller, promoted at every literary festival you’ll attend this year, just feels like yet another chance snatched away from that kid whose library is closing down.

Except we know who that kid really is. It’s little Jenny Colgan, working hard to write her books, while TV celebrities are ushered past her on a red carpet that’s cordoned off from ordinary people.

But here’s the thing. Jenny isn’t a little kid. No-one’s snatching anything. She’s a high-profile, well-established white author, begrudging a Muslim woman “shelf space.” And that sounds pretty greedy, coming from someone with 27 books already in print. In fact, it sounds not entirely unlike “foreigners stealing our jobs.”  or “get back in the kitchen.” Not a great moment for Jenny (or indeed, for the Guardian).

Moving on to the actual book review part of the piece, we encounter my next problem. Having pointed out the cosmetic similarities to Little Women, Jenny says:

I was hoping for insights into a culture I don’t understand as well as I’d like, but the main thrust… is that big noisy religious families are all more or less the same, which, while undoubtedly true, didn’t add much….

Now whether she meant it or not, that reads as if she is complaining that the Muslim family in this book isn’t different enough to be interesting. Muslims in fiction should be exotic. They shouldn’t try to be like the rest of us. They shouldn’t take inspiration from Little Women. (Remember how Monica Ali was lambasted for daring to write about Princess Diana, instead of staying in Brick Lane?) Reading about people of other cultures should add something (to the experience of white people). It’s a perspective that fails to take into account the fact that a book authored by a Muslim woman, ghosted by a Muslim woman, about Muslim women may not be aimed at white people at all.

So hang on, I hear you asking. If Jenny Colgan didn’t like the book, is she not allowed to say so?

Well, yes. Of course she is. But in her review, she didn’t suggest that she disliked the book. Instead, she used her review platform to make a statement about “greedy” celebrities. Again, she had every right to do this. But was it really appropriate for her to do it as part of a review (and therefore target one writer only), rather than write a general piece, in which she could have mentioned any number of (white, privileged) celebrities?(Morrissey, I’m looking at you.)

And at best, it sounds as if this white author doesn’t understand how little representation Muslim girls have – in the media or in publishing. It sounds as if she has allowed her personal insecurities to cloud her objective judgement. A book reviewer reviews the book, not the author photograph. And in a world dominated by white celebrities, white authors, white reviewers, is it really too much to allow Muslim girls this one successful role model?

Muslim women have little enough of a platform – be it on TV or in publishing - as it is. They do not need to hear that one of the few Muslim women recognized as a success outside of the Muslim community is taking up too much space. And in the past, Jenny Colgan has given glowing reviews to books by (white) celebrities (who didn’t happen to be writing about women, and love, and baking).

Now I’m not a great fan of celebrity novels either, although I do think ghost writers do an excellent, and very underrated job. But in some cases, the value of giving a high-profile role model to (for instance) Muslim girls is more important than literary snobbery, or even the hurt feelings of an author who feels threatened.

Books are a zero sum game, she says. If you’re reading one, you can’t be reading another. 

Not so. Books are stepping-stones. One book leads to another. People reading Twilight sometimes go on to Wuthering Heights. People reading The Secret Lives of the Amir Sisters might well go on to read Little Women. And people being told not to read it may just end up not reading at all. Whether we like it or not, there are people who never read books unless they have a TV or a celebrity connection. Those people feel so disconnected from the world of literature that, unless given permission to read by someone they know from TV, they may never reach for a book at all, let alone Little Women. Are we to ignore them, just because we, as writers, happen not to understand?

Books are for readers, not writers. And if even one non-reader reads a book because of a TV show about baking, then that book will have served its purpose. And if one Muslim girl sees Nadiya Hussain on the cover of a book and tells herself “I could do that,” then once more, it will have served its purpose.

As writers, we are all subject to fears and insecurities. But we’re not in this business to score off readers, or sneer at their choices, or deny role models to those who need them. That kid in the library needs to learn that no-one owes her shelf space, or column inches, or sales, or cookies. As writers, we ought to care about literacy, and empathy, and the good that books – that all books – do. And that means looking at what readers need. Because we’re not children any more, even though sometimes, we feel that way.