man if i had a penny for every time they held hands

Natural - Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: Natural

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Imagine Bill seeing you interact with little Jackson on set and realizing he wants to have kids with you.

A/N: (Y/s/n) = Your Superhero Name, Y’all little Georgie is everything! And I’m not the one to easily find kids adorable or say I’d want a kid like that but oh dear!

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Bill asked with an adorable frown as he looked down at you and you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Bill you don’t have to worry about me, I already have an amazing company!” you grinned, turning to look at Jackson who was barely able to hold all of the comics in his small hands.

“You two will get along perfectly fine.” he breathed out with a small chuckle and you giggled after looking at your small fan and then back at your boyfriend.

“We already are.” you winked “Come on now, go be a big scary clown and don’t get all messy with the blood, children are not like eating chicken and you know it. Bones are bigger and there usually is a whole lot more blood, cause you practically eat them alive and yeah.” you leaned in and pecked his lips as he laughed at you.

“You’re so weird.” he made a funny face but still looked at you with adoration.

“But that’s why you love me.” you breathed out, your hands resting on his chest “And if you need any tips on red lipstick I am always here, baby.” you winked with a giggle and he chuckled.

“You are… amazing.” he breathed out, cupping your face before fully kissing you on the lips.

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Pennywise & Child Reader Imagine

Warning: Contains child abuse, family death, mild gore, and the reader being a cinnamon roll with a sad ending…for now.

Note: This is my first ever post. Pennywise is a bit canon at first but once he warms up to you (the reader) he is OOC so be warned if you don’t like characters not being canon. Anyways enjoy!

The…It, didn’t exactly know how to explain his relationship with the human girl. The little girl should’ve been digesting in his stomach a very long time ago, yet he couldn’t.

Just less than a year ago it was mid morning when the clown-alien-thing heard screams of a child calling out for help. Pennywise had grinned thinking, it was time for lunch and stalked from the sewer drain to watch and plan an attack. A little girl only 7 years old was running like she was running from the clown himself.

Pennywise grinned imagining what he could do to lure her in. Maybe transform into whatever she was running from—if it was truly anything. He had seen children screaming before out of joy and pure amusement but the closer the girl got he noticed she was truly scared covered almost entirely with bruises and cuts.

The clown continued to watch curious now, as a man ran in holding a knife. Judging by shabby clothes and the way his gait was uncoordinated and tipsy the man had been drinking too much of what the humans called alcohol. Penny’ had tried the drink once many, many, many, years ago but found the burn unpleasant and it didn’t affect him at all except make him feel nauseous.

“Someone help! Please!” The little girl cried.

Maybe if he let this show continue out just a little bit longer the child’s meat will tenderize even more. Then he could eat the man for later after all the disgusting alcohol is out of his body, ugh, it ruined the flavor just as bad as humans who smoke. He heard a shriek and saw the man had the little girl pinned to the ground by her neck holding a knife over his head.

“You! You are the one that killed her! Devil spawn!”

“Daddy! Stop!” The little girl sobbed.

Pennywise couldn’t help but feel…interested in a strange way. He narrowed his eyes and stepped a few feet closer as the little girl continued to cry for help.

“You killed my wife Lisa!”

“Daddy no!” The man lifted the knife higher and the girl shrieked, “DADDY!”

The girl closed her eyes expecting agonizing pain, but instead she felt nothing except her father loosening his choking grip on her neck. She refused to open her eyes, even after she heard a loud thud. The girl finally cracked one teary eye open and saw a clown with a grinning smile was standing by her feet.

At first she felt a little frightened until she noticed that he was the one who had killed her abusive father. He outstretched a hand and the girl trustingly took it smiling shyly, “Thank you.”

“Your welcome my dear.” The clown said before doing a magic trick revealing a bright red ballon out of nowhere made just for you.

You wiped your eyes with your sleeves before taking the string smiling. You had never really gotten a ballon. Your father never took you to a carnival or fair before so you were excited.

“Thank you Mr. Clown!” You smiled running up and hugging Pennywise tightly.

The clown was used to the gesture from his victims but for some reason this one caused a strange feeling inside of him. Penny raised his hand and gently stroked your head unsure of really anything. Why was he doing this?! He should’ve grabbed you by the neck and taken a bite already.

“Bye Mr. Clown. I hope I’ll see you soon…will I ever see you again?”

Wrong question to ask kid.

“Yes kiddo, in the near future.” He answered grinning.

You were too innocent to understand and ran off. Pennywise growled frustrated with himself. Why didn’t he….?! The clown heard the wail of police sirens and grabbed the dead carcass before dragging it back into the sewers with him. At least he has a bigger dinner now.

A few days later Pennywise heard an all too-familiar voice calling for him.

“Mr. Clown! Mr. Clooown! Mr. Clown I have a gift for you!”

The clown growled knowing he should’ve let the man kill you but put up an act and stepped out. You were standing there holding a big box in front of you that was bigger than your head poorly wrapped with colorful wrapping paper. The clown stepped out and made sure to stalk out to try to cause fear but you didn’t seem to be scared.

You more saw him as a saint than a killer.

“What do you want child?” The clown asked.

“Well I came here to give you this!” You explained holding out the box.

The clown took it and easily tore the wrapping paper off watching your excited face. He opened it and reached inside revealing a small stuffed animal. From Pennywise’s knowledge it was a (favorite animal).

“I hope you like it. It’s my favorite so please be good with it. You can name him or her whatever you like!” The girl explained bouncing in place.

“How generous of you child.” The clown grinned, “I have something for you as well.”

“Ooh ooh I wanna see! Can I see it now? Please, please, please, Mr. Clown?”

“Close your eyes.” The clown grinned.

You giggled and closed your eyes continuing to bounce on the balls of your feet awaiting for your surprise. Penny grinned and stepped forward about to take a bite of your neck but for some reason he stopped when you said, “I’m so happy Mr. Clown that we can be friends!”

Friends?

The clown pulled away surprised by that. Friends? Many kids we’re usually afraid of him or were too stupid and innocent to understand. He had been asked if they were friends from his good plenty of times before but it never affected him quite like this. This child was certainly different. He went to bite again but found he couldn’t.

“Mr. Clown are you done yet?” You asked politely still keeping your eyes closed.

Pennywise knew it was hopeless and decided to just let you off the hook until he figured things out. With quick thinking he blew up a ballon and shaped and twisted it until he made a ballon animal of your favorite one.

“You may open your eyes now, child.” The clown said.

You slowly opened your eyes and blinked until you saw the ballon animal being held out to you. Anyone who knew the animal would easily guess it was a (favorite animal). You squealed and took it before nearly tackling the clown in another tight hug. That feeling returned again and the clown wanted to rip you off by your neck and taste your internal organs. Yet he couldn’t.

His hands were hovering over your shoulders tempted to dig his sharp nails into your flesh. But he couldn’t. His hands were shaking. Why was this happening?!

“Are you okay Mr. Clown?” You asked looking up at him with those adorable puppy eyes.

God prey should not be so cute! Especially this one! He had more than enough chances to kill you yet he didn't—couldn’t! Why?!

“Mr. Clown? Do you have a name?”

The clown cleared his frustration and knelt down to gently boop your nose, “Pennywise the Dancing Clown.”

“Pennywise? Can I call you Penny?”

“Whatever you wish child…”

‘Afterall it won’t be long until your dead!’

"I’m (Name)! I don’t really have friends so you can just call me whatever you want Mr.-um, Penny.”

Whatever I want? Like breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, livestock, food, prey—Pennywise’s train of thought stopped when you wrapped your arms around his neck. This was a new experience; he could feel your heart beating…and it wasn’t in his hand.

“Mr. Pennywise?” You asked pulling away. Yet you were so close he could stick his neck out an inch or two more and bit your nose off.

“Yes kiddo?” He asked.

“How come I can’t feel your heart beating? Or your chest breathing?” You asked a worried and curious look in your eyes instead of fear.

“It’s a trick my dear. I am able to stop my heart and lungs for a long time. I’m currently practicing it.” He lied.

’“Oh.” You giggled, “I have never been to the circus or a carnival. I hear there’s cotton candy and you can win prizes and all these fun rides I wanna go on! Maybe if I ask my nana enough she can take me! Oh no! My nana thinks I’m home cleaning my room! I gotta go Mr. Pennywise.”

You ran off and the clown felt cold again. When you were no longer in his sights Pennywise growled and ripped apart the stuffed animal you gave him watching as the stuffing fell. That’s what he wanted to do to you but he couldn’t! At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He stormed back into his sewer drain hungry for more human flesh.

Late at night Pennywise followed you to your house where your “nana” was. He used a ballon to bend reality and bring himself onto the overhang where your bedroom was. The light was off and sure enough you were sleeping soundly in your bed. Your room was surprisingly clean with only a few dolls laying around and an open castle for your princess dolls.

Penny was once again able to bend reality and passed through the window until he was on the other side. You were sleeping soundly on your bed surrounded by stuffed animals well holding a stuffed duck in your arms. Your chest was rising up and down at a steady pace. Penny stepped closer until he noticed the drawings on the wall over your bed.

They were scribbled on with crayons but he could easily tell most of them had him drawn on. Some were of you too. Penny ignored you for the moment scanning every one. There was one of him giving you the ballon, you giving him the present, and even a drawing of him with a cape with messy writing that said “My Hero”.

Hero?! An alien human flesh eating clown?! Penny wanted to laugh hysterically but instead lightly chuckled at it. He was rather amused than angry or anything else. The clown heard you stir and froze looking down to see you were awakening.

“Mr. Penny. I had a bad dream.” You said softly.

The clown sat down on the end your bed and you crawled out from under your blankets to curl up on the clown’s lap leaning against his chest. The clown put his hand on your back noticing tears forming in your doe like eyes.

“What was your dream about child?”

“You had disappeared and I was alone again.” You choked.

“I would never leave you my dear.” The clown chuckled trying to make himself believe he was putting on an act.

He didn’t understand why he even brushed a tear off your cheek with his finger. You smiled and curled up closer letting your eyes drift shut. For once, Pennywise didn’t feel the urge to kill you. After a few minutes you were fast asleep leaning on him heavily. Penny never wanted to let you go but he could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. The clown gently but quickly, put you back in bed and pulled the blankets up to your chin before hurrying out the window and closing it shut softly as the door knob twisted.

Your nana poked her head in and smiled when she saw you were sleeping soundly. The woman was very old and fragile looking like she was turning into dust. She sighed sadly and closed the door before heading back to her office.

Laying on the desk was a will form.

The new couple of weeks everyday you’d meet Pennywise who more and more lost the urge to eat you with each visit. He’d give you a ballon or show you a magic trick and even made your favorite ice cream appear out of thin air! The number of kids disappearing slowly dwindled and you gradually began to make friends. It was nice for once.

Then one day you were doing another drawing of Pennywise and you until you heard a loud thud coming from upstairs. You jumped surprised and ran to where you heard the noise. You finally arrived to your nana’s bedroom where she was laying on the floor having a heart attack.

“Nana!” You screamed.

You knew what to do and ran to the phone calling 911. A few minutes later the ambulance arrived and you watched sadly as your nana was wheeled away on a stretcher. A police woman was trying to ask you questions but you couldn’t stop crying and asking if your nana was okay.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don’t know.” She said sadly.

That night you stayed at the hospital wishing you could talk to Pennywise. Your nana was stable but she had to stay in the hospital from now on. No other relatives were in Maine except her so she and a man was talking in hushed voices about sending you to the closest relative.

You were in a corner of them room playing halfheartedly with your stuffed animal when you heard about it. The closest relative who could take care of you was your Aunt Sam in the southern portion of New Hampshire. How could you tell Pennywise this? Were you even going to have a chance to?

There was a hard lump in your throat choking you. Maybe you should just run away. However your nana called you over and you came taking her bony hand. She sighed and said, “I’m sorry sweet pea. I’m getting old so your Aunt Sam is going to come up tomorrow and take you to the house to grab all your belongings.”

“B-But what about Penny?”

Your nana smiled thinking Pennywise was just a figment of your imagination, but he wasn’t. How was he going to react? He was your bestest friend! After a long sleepless night at the hospital your Aunt Sam came. Your nana overnight had gone into a coma so you kissed her cheek and whispered goodbye before your aunt picked you up and took you to her car.

“A-Auntie Sam?” You said timidly.

“Yes sweetie?” She asked.

“I was wondering if I could visit my friend Penny before we leave.” You said softly.

“Of course. Where does she live?”

“A-Actually he and I can walk there by myself. He doesn’t feel comfortable around other people.” You replied.

“Oh. Well okay then. Let’s stop at the house and grab our things first then I’ll let you go say goodbye.”

You nodded feeling your heart sink. Your Aunt brought a bunch of boxes and helped you put stuffed animals, clothes, and any other belongings into the boxes before labeling them with sharpies. In an hour your room was stripped bare till at that was left was your mattress, bed post, night stand, and empty closet.

Eventually everything was packed into your aunts car and your heart broke realizing this was going to be the hardest part. Saying goodbye to your closest friend. You said goodbye to your other friends already by phone but now came the hardest one to say goodbye to.

You eventually convinced your aunt to let you walk alone to where you usually found Pennywise but for some reason he wasn’t there. You called for him but he never came out. With tears streaming down your face you shouted, “I’m really sorry Penny! I promise I’ll come back and see you soon! I swear I will! Please don’t be mad…”

You looked down at the ground sobbing until you felt something raise your chin. You looked up to see Pennywise was looking down at you with a frown. You held out the last drawing you did. It was you at a carnival with the clown, riding a ferris wheel.

“I’ll miss you.” You said giving him a tight hug.

“It’ll miss you too.” He replied back before disappearing.

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve knowing it was useless before heading back to your house where your Aunt was waiting by the car. She didn’t say anything since there was nothing she really could do.

“Goodbye Mr. Pennywise.” You muttered at the window as you passed by the Derry, Maine sign.

Epilogue: I know I’m a horrible person I’m sorry. After I edit the next chapter a little hopefully things will be more happy. Thanx for reading! =3!

Perfect Just the Way You Are*

AU Bucky x Reader Fic

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Reader  |  Word Count: 3781
Warnings: It’s about a porn star… if you need me to tell you it’s NSFW and full Smut then you probably shouldn’t be on my blog.

For @this-kitty-has-claws, my tumblr wife. Yes, you finally wore me down. Here you go. *whiner* The gif she wanted me to use is under the cut.

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anonymous asked:

For the drabbles (if theyre still open!) #18, Jungkook, and either Jungsh00k Au or Fuckboy!Jungkook 😍 Whichever one you think fits it the best. Also I have to say that your writing honestly makes me so damn happy okay oml ❤️❤️ Dont push yourself, and stay healthy!

hello thank you so much for asking! i hope you like it! it’s a continuation from my previous fuckboy!jungkook drabble, hope that’s okay!

18. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

WORD COUNT: 1,515

part one 

Originally posted by b4ngt4nboys

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“Buried” (Chapter Two)

Welcome back!
This chapter is pretty heavy on the Tony/Pepper feels, we get to learn more about Tony’s relationship with Howard, and how he has been living his life. Sorry if it is a little boring?

If you would like to be tagged in upcoming chapters please drop a note in my ask box!!! I’m legit the worst about checking private messages/comments and remembering who asked! Also, if I missed tagging you… so sorry, just let me know!

MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy :)
******************

Present Day

“Tony.” Pepper knocked on his office door as warning before pushing it open. “I’m assuming you’re decent because you didn’t say anything, so please quickly correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Pepper, darling, when was the last time you walked in on me in a compromising situation?” Tony asked without even looking up from the paperwork on his desk.

The pretty redhead opened her mouth to list off all the times she had walked in on her boss doing something indecent– but then stopped when she realized she didn’t have a single incident that was sooner than six months ago.

“I stand corrected.” She said cautiously and made her way around the desk to feel his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? When was the last time you ate?”

“Um, yesterday.” Tony set the file aside and leaned into her touch a little more. “Just trying to slog through all this crap. I had no idea… no idea what Dad did everyday in this office. I wish I would have been paying more attention when he tried to show me. Wish I would have been doing this all year instead of… instead of doing what I did.”

“What you did?” Satisfied that Tony wasn’t sick, and after texting a quick order for delivery so he would have food to eat, Pepper perched on his desk, rubbing at his shoulders comfortingly. “Tony, no one blames you for reacting the way you did to losing your parents. First your sweet mother in the accident, and then Howard only a few months later? Honey, no one blames you for going a little off the rails.”

“A little off the rails.” Tony laughed bitterly. “I spent six months partying and drinking and high as hell, Pep. Everyone should blame me for that. I blame me for that. What was I thinking? I had a company to run, and instead I was doing body shots off of girls named after…colors.”

“Colors?” Pepper asked, even as she told herself not to, because it had never worked out in her favor to ask for specifics about Tony’s women.

“Yeah.” Tony groaned. “You know. Ruby. Sapphire. Tangerine. Um… one called Peaches?”

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3

A/N: The Tom Holland Royalty!AU with a bit of Fairytale aspects thrown in.

Part 2

Excitement was coursing through the air as the royal messengers announced in the surrounding villages that the King and Queen were organizing a festival lasting three days. It wasn’t specifically mentioned, but the townspeople knew that Prince Thomas has yet to find a wife. They believed that his parents had set this up so he might talk with a few princesses that were invited.

The royal family was very closed off from the villages, excluding the King and Queen. Neither Prince Thomas nor his younger brothers have set foot outside the castle boundaries due to what had happened to the neighboring kingdom’s princess all those years ago. She had been curious and wandered out of the castle. Her parents searched every end of their kingdom, but could never find her. It had been years since, so the princess would have been Prince Thomas’s age.

The villagers gathered around the messenger and began discussing what they might wear or, among the younger girls, what Prince Thomas might look like. You, on the other hand, had no time to even see the messenger. If you were anyone else in the village, you might have been pondering over what gown to wear while seeing the royal family, but you were a poor orphan.

Without a penny to your name, you found yourself stuck in the town that didn’t seem to want you. They whispered terrible things about why you had no parents. You had been called a bastard child by a few drunken men. You were reminded of your lack of position, wealth, husband, and worth daily in the town. As you grew older, you were too beautiful to be ignored, yet with no dowry to offer any suitors, you remained an unmarried maiden.

As the messenger announced the shocking news, you were cleaning the house that had paid for your service. They offered you a little money and a place in their servant quarters for you. The family who lived there were not as cruel as the townspeople could be to you, but they knew the importance of reputation in the town. Even the other servants didn’t willingly talk to you, in fear that someone would see.

You had heard about the festival from the other servants. They weren’t talking to you, but you could hear them as you cleaned the floors. Most of them didn’t plan on actually going since they didn’t have a fancy gown or anything like that. After they left, you were alone with your fantasies of dancing under the colorful decorations at night. A beautiful gown adorned your frame, making people forget of your reputation.

Of course, the fantasy ended. You could never get a dress in time. Even if you did, you were sure that people would be embarrassed by just being in your presence. You always had some sort of dirt on your face, no matter how many times you washed it during the day. Your hair didn’t shine like the young girls in the village. Taking care of a house had taken its toll on you.

The first day of the festival seemed like every other day. You woke up before dawn to start your duties and made sure to kept your head down when you walked through the village. All the women of the town were preparing for a magical night under the stars while the men were working so their women could afford to dress and perhaps catch the royal family’s eye. Despite the distraction, some townspeople still took it upon themselves to remind you of your place in society by whispering among each other.

Each whisper made you curl up slightly more into yourself, until you could barely see where you were going. You just wanted to get back to the house and hide away. As you hastily turned a corner, you ran into an elderly woman and tumbled onto the ground, getting more dirt on yourself. “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” you immediately apologized. 

“It’s fine, child,” the woman replied with a shaky voice. She waited until you were on your feet to ask, “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the festival?”

You offered a small smile. “I’m not going. I haven’t got a dress and I’d make a fool of myself if I showed up.”

The old woman’s eyes held a mysterious glint in them and she smirked knowingly. “I wouldn’t be so sure. One must remain optimistic in these troubling times. No one knows when their life could be turned upside down.” With that, she excused herself, ignoring your confused glance. You turned around to look at the unfamiliar woman again, but she had disappeared in the crowd.

By the time you were done with your tasks of the day, you were alone in the house. The family had left a little while ago for the festival while the servants had gone back home. You entered the little servant quarters you got to call your own and almost screamed at the sight. Hanging by the window was the most spectacular dress, suited for a noble woman. It glimmered in the moonlight and you hesitantly prodded it, wondering if you were hallucinating.

The dress fit perfectly and was made of silk. Woman in the town would die for a silk dress. When you looked in the grimy mirror in the room, you couldn’t help but notice that wearing the dress had made the dirt on your body disappear. It was like you had a proper bath with soaps that you couldn’t even imagine. You could barely recognize yourself. 

After putting on the slippers that came with the mysterious dress, you heard a slight commotion from outside. You left the house from the front door to see a carriage stopped. The man complimented you on your outfit and hurried you in the carriage since you were “already late”. You were in an absolute daze, thinking that you must be dreaming. All you knew is that you didn’t want this dream to end.

Even before the mysterious girl appeared, Tom was utterly enamored with the festival. He was shielded his whole life due to the missing princess and he was taking advantage of the brief freedom he was granted. He loved socializing with the townspeople, enjoying the pleasant conversation that rarely happened in the castle. Wanting to interact with as many people as he could, Tom couldn’t stay still. That is, until he saw you.

You, in a stunning gown illuminated by the lights, had made Tom stop in his spot, gazing at you with wide eyes. He found himself slipping out of his cloak, displaying his family’s coat of arms. For some reason, he didn’t want you to know him as the prince just yet. There were two other days for those sort of details. Without another thought, Tom approached you effortlessly and asked politely, “Miss, might I be so fortunate to steal a dance from you?”

After years of being the dregs of society, you graciously met the man’s outreached hand and allowed yourself to be led out to dance. At first, you were nervous to dance, but if you were truly awful, the handsome gentleman didn’t appear to notice. “I do apologize if I’m not very good at dancing,” you mentioned with a slight smile.

“I don’t mind at all,” he answered without hesitation, “I’m willing to dance if that means I can be in your presence for the night.” 

“If I don’t find someone that interests me more.” You had no idea where this coy behavior had come from, but you relaxed at the man’s laugh.

“I can assure you that I’m rather interesting.”

“Then, interest me.”

You and the man danced for hours, while talking. For some reason, certain girls were glaring at their direction, but you ignored them, not wanting to even consider that they knew who you actually were. The handsome stranger surprised you with his charm and wit, since the attractive men in your town rarely had any intelligence to talk about anything substantial. He, on the other hand, kept you laughing, which had been foreign to you lately.

The festival was meant to go on well into the night, but you saw the clock and knew if you didn’t leave now, you would be too tired to properly perform your duties. Despite your wish to act like the noblewoman that you knew you weren’t and dance with the gentleman until the first night of the festival ended, you couldn’t lose the job you had. When the man left to receive a drink for you, you subtly left the festival in the carriage that brought you.

Leaving almost made you mourn the life you could never possess, but you reassured yourself that there were two more nights. Two more nights to enjoy yourself before going back to your tragic reality. Still, you thought about the handsome stranger that you had danced with. You forgot to ask for his name, but you also didn’t want to reveal yours, in case he found out who you really were.

Tom managed to find two glasses of wine and returned to the table where he left you. To his surprise, you weren’t there. You hadn’t given the impression that you were leaving so early in the night. Perhaps you were visiting the garderobe and would be back soon. Tom took a sip of his wine as the minutes passed by. He considered asking if anyone knew you when he realized that he hadn’t even asked you for your name.

After his father had found him, still sitting at that very table, Tom put his cloak back on, as his father had asked him to, and resumed socializing. Although he still found excitement from talking to people, he couldn’t get you, the woman who spoke vividly to him without knowing his place in society, out of his head.

gingerharmony  asked:

Hi loving the new stories I would really like to see a Jamie Claire story where they actually break up, in fic it always seems their relationship is so perfect and I would actually like to see how they deal with a breakup and actually come out the their end, of that would be possible? Live all of you xx

Mod Note: I think this level of angst is a first for me…I hope you all enjoy it (if that’s the right thing to say <3 )


Curling up on the small single mattress, Claire twisted her feet between the damp sheets that lay sloppily on the hospital on-call bed. It was lumpy and uncomfortable but she was used to the unpleasurable nature of it. She liked working nights and odd hours, they kept her mind focused on the task at hand instead of on the sombre bleakness of her own life.

She’d been settled in Boston for a good while now but still the distance from her native home of Britain tugged at her sometimes, calling her back to the place she’d left some four years ago. It was on the really quiet nights that the memories came unbidden, creeping up on her like the shadows of the trees as they swept across the only window in the room. Shuddering, Claire pulled the blankets further up over her shoulders and hunkered down.

Darkness surrounded her, the chug of the train through the tunnel the only sound to penetrate her senses as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold glass. It was only a short ride to the car impound but every clunk of the train against the tracks sent her heart racing.

Arrested.

Again.

Her heart beat slowly against her ribs, pounding out a similar rhythm to that of that train as she crawled slowly towards her final destination.

Careless driving, she’d been told, albeit briefly in the phone call from the police station. Reckless driving and arguing with an officer of the law.

Again.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Claire pulled herself back into the present. Dragging herself out of the small bed, she slipped her feet into her slip-on work shoes and grabbed her lab coat before heading back into the fray. The night had already been long, Boston General was a well known, busy hospital and even five years into her career, Claire still found herself double checking, and even triple checking her decisions.

Everything had to be right. Just in case.

There couldn’t be any errors in judgment, lord knows she’d been there before but her work life was something she wasn’t willing to risk. That was sacred and precious and, although her heart was locked away safe, her head was clearly and inextricably linked to the job she adored.

Claire had trained hard to work her way through the junior surgeons in Boston to become one of the more prolific doctors in the state and she was prepared to keep it that way for the foreseeable.

The scrawl of the pen against her cheque book as she wrote out the cost of the impound charge seemed so loud, the room behind the irritated looking Scotsman assisting the morbid echo of the biro.

“Affiliation to the owner, miss?” He asked in his deep Highland brogue.

“Partner,” she whispered, her cheeks heating with embarrassment at the whole situation. She couldn’t wait to be out of there, well on her way home where she could hide from the knowing glares of those who obviously knew the reasons behind her visit.

“Aye, thank ye. Follow Mac, he’ll take you to yer boyfriend’s vehicle. Careful on your way home, miss.” He added with a kind glint appearing in his eyes.

Claire followed the scrawny attendant through the shadowed garages towards their little beat up Polo. It’s blue hue seemed to shine brighter under the spotlights in the impounds sealed garages and the dint in the side told more of a story than Claire wished to read right now.

Passing her the keys without a word, the youngster scratched his head nodded once and turned on his heels leaving Claire to stare mournfully at the car. She needed to leave as soon as possible but she knew the minute she left the garage she was heading to the station, yet another place she wished to avoid.

“We close soon, miss,” the young man hollered back at her from a darkened end of the lot, “better get ye gone, aye?”

“Y-yes,” Claire stammered in return, “thank you.”

“Doctor, I think there’s a new admission arrived in. Forster is dealing with the pre-op if you want to prepare yourself for the surgery?” Nurse Davies broke in, bringing Claire out from her memories of the past. Those weeks leading up the end of her previous life were painful and yet still vivid, even now, four years on.

“Thank you, Gemma. I’ll go and collect the paperwork from reception and head down there.”

The corridors seemed darker than usual as she made her way to the hospital entrance, the strip lighting flickering overhead as she wandered the familiar halls. Some unknown thing fluttered in her belly, a feeling that didn’t sit all that well with Claire as she pulled her pristine lab coat tighter across her chest. Something had awakened her demons and the niggling sensation of being watched wafted over her.

Goosebumps rose on her arms and she tried to shake off the foreboding that filled her as the dim halls spoke of the same eerie emptiness that seemed to encase her daily. He nose tingled, the cold nipping at her extremities as she marched closer to the hub of the hospital. All of a sudden the frigid air seemed to dissipate and warmth surrounded her once more, the general hum of the emergency room entrance springing to life as she entered the reception.

Thrusting the key into the crooked lock, the desk sergeant’s brow drew together in consternation as he shook the metal about in an attempt to shimmy the door open.

“I don’t want to see you here again, young man,” he muttered, fatherly disappointment lacing his tone. “Do you hear?”

He nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Claire hung back as she waited for him to emerge from his cell. His face was a picture, deep fatigue lined his cheeks, his eyes glazed and unseeing as he shuffled along the empty police station halls. She couldn’t bare to see him so sad, but she was angry. How had he managed to get himself into this position, again?! Swallowing back her ire, Claire held out her hand, taking his as she rubbed her warm fingers against his cold ones.

Angry or not she could still lend him her support.

This had all started a few months back. Jamie had caught the eye of a local police captain…and not for the better.

He’d been arrested and cautioned for brawling and foul language, much to Claire’s disapproval. A drunken night out with the boys in Inverness had led to this unimpressive turn of events and Claire had been called upon to fetch him from the station in the wee hours of the morning.

“I fetched the car,” she whispered, trying not to let the frustration of the situation colour her tone, not now at least. “I paid the fees, but we’ll need to transfer some of our savings around to make sure the cheque doesn’t bounce.”

“I’ll do that. Monday, first thing. I promise, Claire.” It wasn’t just the costs he was promising to deal with, she realised as they walked out into the cool night air.

“Yes, I know Jamie,” she returned, her eyes welling with tears as she stuck the key in the side of the car, opening the doors.

Driving out of the city neither spoke, the weight of the newest arrest hovering over them both. They’d been saving for the wedding. Scrimping every penny to make sure that they could afford every little detail, just as Ian and Jenny had. Not only that, they wanted to buy Jenny out of her share of Lallybroch, leaving them with a home to raise their children in. Now, with their savings dented with the bail costs as well as the impound fees, Claire was beginning to see those things slipping away. The wedding she could do without, but the house was something she knew Jamie wanted desperately.

“I wasna speeding, Claire. You ken I wouldn’t,” Jamie said, his fingers nervously bouncing against the rough material of his jeans. He’d been in them for hours now, she thought, he couldn’t be comfortable.

“It’s alright, Jamie,” she soothed, fatigue stealing her anger, “it’s ok if you were, I just– can we just get home?”

“Aye,” he replied, defeated.

The files were missing and Claire rolled her eyes at the incompetence of the night staff. “I’m sure they don’t have to put up with this shit on days,” she mumbled under her breath as she went in search of the reception staff who were decidedly absent just when she needed them.

Strolling through the desolate halls, Claire searched high and low for the desk secretary, yawning and scratching her head as the distinct scent of disinfectant wafted from the empty private rooms on the first floor. It wasn’t an unusual smell, but today, for some strange reason, it forced her to think of events best left forgotten.

With tears stinging in her eyes, Claire clenched her lids closed and swallowed back the bile that had begun rising along her throat.

Damnit, Beauchamp, she castigated internally, pull yourself together now.

The memories hadn’t been this bad in a long while and the fresh stab of guilt, pain and fear were tangling slowly into her blood, winding their way cruelly through every fibre of her being as she coughed, biting her lip to keep her mouth glued firmly shut. She wouldn’t shut down. Not now, not after all this time.

Her fingers dug painfully into the rough sanded wood of the doorframe to an empty room as Claire tried desperately to regain control of her senses without too much luck. This time the power of the past was too great and she had to let the memory flow over her as she paled, leaning her head against her shaky hand in order to keep herself upright through the agony of it.

Racing through the halls of Glasgow A&E, Claire followed a familiar route. Only this time she wasn’t trussed up in her scrubs ready for the latest casualty to be wheeled in from whatever misadventure they’d wound up in. This time she was running towards a more worrying scene.

“W-where is he?” She choked out, the air catching in her throat as she rested one sweaty hand against the tarnished hospital walls.

“Third door to the left, Doctor Beauchamp,” one of the on-call nurses replied, her eyes wide and worried as she pointed Claire to the room in question. “He’s in good hands, I promise.”

‘I promise…’ The word shook her to the core. Only weeks earlier, Jamie had *promised* her that he wouldn’t get himself into any more strife. With the accident fresh in her mind, the call from the police first at the scene still running through her mind with amazing clarity despite it all, she couldn’t bare to hear anyone else utter that phrase and she gritted her teeth in annoyance. It wasn’t Nurse Creerie’s fault, she had to remind herself.

“Thank you,” she sighed, forcing the tears and anguish away as she bolted for the room in question.

He was lying on his side as she entered the room, his back bandaged with such precision that she knew it must have been a state. The heart monitor beeped, the red dot gliding across the screen and jumping rhythmically in time with the high-pitched tone. Claire clenched her hands into fists as she skirted around the bed with slow, calculated movements. Her footfalls were silent against the ancient linoleum.

Jamie moved in his sleep as she approached and the reason there wasn’t an off-duty policeman at the door became clear. He’d been handcuffed to the railing at the side of the bed, his wrists bound so that if he woke he wasn’t going anywhere with ease.

“Shit,” Claire cursed, her heart plummeting at the sight of him bound in such a way. She knew it had been serious, the account she’d been given had told her as much but seeing it was worse.

Drunk driving, they’d said. Wreckless and prolonged, Jamie had been speeding along the tourist road up near Drumossie moor. The road was a popular route with scenery hunting holidaymakers on their way back to Pitlochry and Edinburgh and it was a road Jamie took often to collect supplies from a friend who lived up past Culloden Moor.

Drunk, though? Claire found that hard to believe. But it had been logged, not only by the police, but members of the hospital staff too. Jamie had arrived in such a state that he’d been unable to provide a breathalyzer, but his blood tests had solidified the judgement. Claire was bereft. As a doctor it went against everything in her, she saw the horrific effects of those poor decisions time and time again and Jamie knew better!

He’d been plagued for weeks by the new chief at Inverness. Captain Jack Randall had arrested him all those weeks ago and Jamie was convinced the man was out to ruin him. Claire, her trust and faith still battling to believe Jamie, had found it difficult at first. She saw the annoyance turn to fatigue and, finally, into fear as Jamie succumb to the paranoia that Captain Randall was watching his every move, just waiting for the perfect moment to have him at his mercy.

Having met the captain on several occasions, Claire had only those few encounters to go on and although there was *something* about him she couldn’t quite nail, he had always been the perfect gentleman. Calm and understanding, he had seemed helpful and astute. However, Jamie was her priority. If he felt something was amiss with the man, Claire would stand by him.

Even if it meant sacrificing their wedding and their home.

Sitting by his bedside, Claire wrapped her unencumbered hand around Jamie’s bound ones, running her fingers softly over his boiling digits. He was running a fever, from the severity of the accident no doubt. His lips twitched into a familiar smile as Claire edged closer and she felt herself give in to the sobs that had been threatening to consume her from the moment she got the terrible call.

Letting the tears fall down her cheeks, Claire let her chin drop to her chest as she kept her eyes stubbornly on Jamie’s sleeping face as he rested, the fresh batch of painkillers keeping him unconscious.

“Oh…Jamie,” she whimpered, her mouth trembling as she said the words, “what happened?” Knowing him incapable of an answer, Claire sucked in a jagged breath and leaned forwards splaying her long curls in the space beneath his bruised chin. She was careful not to jostle him as she snuggled closer, eager to soak in the warmth of him whilst she still had the opportunity.

Snaking her arm around his waist lightly so as not to disturb the mess of bandages on his back, Claire let go, her wracking sobs shaking the bed as she cried herself to sleep curled against Jamie as his broken body began to heal.

Praying, she begged to anyone that would listen for the strength to weather this particular storm, her unspoken pleas swirling around her head even as she dozed on the small hospital cot.

“Please…whatever happens,” she pleaded quietly, “please just keep him safe.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt CHRIST!” Claire cursed, her feet squeaking against the tiled floor as she paced the halls. Her heart was racing, sweat gathering on her brow as she tried not to fall foul of a full blown panic attack. It would do her no good now, she needed to be fit and ready to attend to her patient…once she tracked down the incompetent jobsworth who’d misplaced the paperwork.

“Claire?” A familiar voice called out, his tired voice reverberating down the corridor, making her heart almost stop in her chest. “Is that you?”

Turning slowly, Claire turned to face her ex-brother-in-law-to-nearly-be-who-wasn’t, her eyes misting at the last memories she’d had of him.

Ian Murray stood with his hands flopping lazily at his sides. He looked truly worn out and Claire smiled slightly in understanding. I know how you feel, the twitch of her mouth said. Blinking slowly, Claire stepped forwards, her chest tightening as the lights flickered, dimming just a little before returning full force to blind them both.

“Hello, Ian,” she started, her polished English accent sounding foreign even to her ears. “Yes, it’s me. What are you doing here?”

The pain meds the hospital had Jamie on made him sharp and irritable. His usual calm patience had been depleted. Whether it was solely the result of the pills or the stress of the impending trial combined with evidence stacked against him *and* the medication, Claire couldn’t tell. What she did know was that their fighting had reached new heights. Now, not only had all of their savings been spent on lawyers and the build up to his court appearance but his neurosis in relation to Captain Randall and his intense interest in seeing Jamie punished had skyrocketed.

It had affected Claire so much that she’d been to visit the man. Fiddling with the zip on her coat, Claire had made the trip to Randall’s home for an informal chat. Jack, as he’d insisted she call him, had been nothing but pleasant. His slick charm should have been the first indicator that something wasn’t quite right with the man, but in her worried state, she hadn’t picked up on any of those warning signs. Instead she’d found him apologetic and sincere.

He had touched her arm kindly, offering her a tipple before sitting her down to discuss the details of his findings with her.

Jack had condemned Jamie, Claire realised as she read reams and reams of data collected from the few short months that he’d been positioned in Inverness every page setting Jamie in the worst possible light. Even with all this evidence, Claire knew the man she loved wasn’t capable of such blatant disregard. But nor could she see how Jack had managed to compile and falsify *all* of it.

Claire returned home conflicted.

Heart and head fighting for logical dominance, she climbed the Lallybroch stairs with heavy footsteps her feet feeling as if they were filled with lead.

Two cups of coffee sat cold between Claire and ian as they waited for the nurse to fetch them from the desolate canteen.

“How have you been, Claire?” Ian said, breaking the silence.

“Fine,” She lied, her eyes focusing on the uneven pattern that coated the cheap paper cups. Tracing the swirls up and along, Claire sniffed and pulled the drink towards her, “busy but alright. How’re you? Apart from stuck in this place,” she asked, avoiding anything meaningful in her question.

“Weel, yer right, it could be a better end to our holiday, but aside from that– we’re…as well as can be expected, I guess.” He replied, his response loaded.

We.

He had said ‘we’. Not ‘I’. Not ‘me and Jenny’, *we*.

Ian meant the whole family. Ian meant not only he and Jenny but Jamie as well. Part of her ached with the great need to know, but the other (more pressing part) felt that she didn’t deserve to be told.

She had left. One final intense blow out, ending in screaming, shouting and crying had Claire fleeing from Lallybroch never to return. Jumping in the car, she had driven all the way to Glasgow, rented a hotel room and sobbed painfully until morning. Claire had hidden there for another day, checking her phone periodically, but refusing to call Jamie or make first contact. When he hadn’t phoned or text her, Claire had check out and driven away from Glasgow and Scotland altogether. Getting on the motorway, she soon found herself sobbing on her Uncle’s doorstep with only one suitcase to call her own.

It was there she waited, phone never far from her hand as she haunted her Uncle Lamb’s small cottage. The date for the trial had approached with no word from Jamie, Jenny, Ian or Murtagh, causing Lamb to step in. He had suggested the one thing Claire didn’t want hear, but had needed to.

Maybe it was over. Done. Finished. Jamie had not called. There had been no contact, he knew where Lambert lived and nobody had tried to follow her there.

She had called her boss shortly after that. There had been an offer of a job stateside, one that she had disregarded only weeks before. Why would she move when she had a solid base in Scotland? But, with nothing left to lose, she had given it all away and fled.

Sat in the tepid staff canteen in Boston General, shame filled Claire at her cowardice. She could see the disappointment in Ian’s eyes, even all these years later. Before she’d been able to ignore it, but now with this physical reminder right in front of it, she could avoid it no longer.

“So,” Claire coughed, clearing the lump from her throat, “what dire misfortune sees you in the emergency room?” Steering clear, yet again, of any important details or questions. She hoped, probably in vain, that given a few moments she could escape and return to her simple life without the reminder of Scotland; of Lallybroch.

“Jenny,” Ian answered, causing Claire to swallow audibly. Jenny Fraser Murray wasn’t known for her easy temperament and she knew that if she had to deal with Jamie’s sister she was certain to feel the wrath of her sharp tongue.

Ian knew it too and he smiled sheepishly as if in apology. “She slipped on some jagged steps. We’ve been waiting for our insurance company to O.K. the op, hence why we’re still here…hours later. Jenny willna let them fix her until she’s sure we willna be landed wi’ a huge bill.”

“I understand that,” Claire whispered, tears gathering in her eyes as she tried to will them away with all her might for the second time that night.

“Oh, there you are Dr!” The elderly receptionist called, breaking Claire and Ian’s intense eye contact as she waddled over to the pair, flapping a pile of ragged papers in above her head. Her hair curled around her ears, falling from the loose bun that she’d obviously tied in haste before her shift and Claire’s lips curled into a kind smile at the sight of her. “I’ve been searching high and low, I think you might need these.” Winking, she placed the surgery papers on the plastic table and scurried away.

Glancing down, Claire saw the name etched on the top corner in thick black pen and she knew that she wasn’t escaping the Murray’s as easily as she’d have liked. “I guess I’m prepping Jenny for her op,” Claire sighed, biting her lower lip as the nerves kicked in - nerves that were nothing to do with the delicate nature of the operation she was about to perform.

“Good luck, Claire,” Ian chirped, his smile verging on apologetic as she pushed the chair away from the table, the file clutched tightly between her fingers. Claire nodded, her face serious as she brushed aside any personal feelings, preparing herself for the job in hand. It didn’t matter that Jenny would pounce on her the second she walked into that room. She was the doctor and she would simply complete the task to the best of her ability and take the verbal beating she was sure to get.

Whatever had happened to Jamie in the months after she’d left she was sure to hear about now, and whether he’d been found guilty or innocent she had abandoned them all in their hour of need and that was certain to have caused Jenny no end of distress. Ian followed silently behind as she wandered the halls back into the hub of the hospital and around to the small private room that Jenny had been assigned with her newly accepted international insurance.

She looked the exact same, not that Claire had expected a massive difference. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail and the bags beneath her eyes made her look incredibly tired.

“Hello, Jenny,” she began, speaking before Jenny managed to catch sight of her.

The look of fatigue changed in an instant and Claire readied herself for an explosion. Jenny’s face took on a vaguely sickening red hue that had Claire’s stomach plummeting to her feet. Her palms instantly became sweaty and she had to fight not to run them anxiously against her scrubs to try and remove some of the excess moisture.

“Oh no!” Jenny began, her jaw twitching in anger as she tried to slide herself from the bed.

Ian leapt forwards, gripping her arm in the most gentle yet powerful way Claire had ever seen. He wasn’t hurting her, but he was keeping her from hurting herself. Had Claire been a lesser woman, she would have turned on her heels and fled in fear. But she was a professional. A highly commended doctor and she wouldn’t let anything keep her from performing the job she’d trained and worked hard at for so many years.

“How *dare* ye show yer face here, you wee…you…you,” Jenny spat, struggling to come up with a word that wouldn’t have her kicked straight from the hospital.

Claire could see her holding back, her eyes wild as she bit her lip painfully, almost drawing blood as she flopped back against the sturdy mattress.

“Tell them I’ll wait, Ian,” she said finally, her tone more calm now she’d actively processes Claire’s arrival. “I willna have her anywhere near me, aye?”

“There is nobody else, Jenny.” Claire sighed, her eyes dropping to focus on the soiled linoleum at her feet. “I’m the only on-call surgeon tonight. It’s me for the duration of the evening. Take it or leave it, but you’ll have to wait twenty-four hours or more to get another slot and even then it could be longer should an emergency arise.”

Jenny hissed, the sound piercing Claire’s eardrums and sending a shot of fear down her spine as the small Scotswoman squared her shoulders and stared menacingly at her. “You,” she spat, pointing her finger directly at Claire’s chest. If Jenny had had access to a weapon, Claire thought nervously, she’d have been in grave danger. “You broke him, Claire. You did. And I hate ye for it.” Claire could see the hate twined with sorrow for her brother as Jenny twisted uncomfortably in the hospital cot. “He was vulnerable and low and you *left*. You walked away wi’out so much as a word.”

Claire nodded and hung her head. She had left. Fear had gripped her and she hadn’t the energy to smash through it. She’d been scared. Anguished at the mere thought of watching Jamie get sent to prison. Unable to see any way out of the whole sordid affair she had done the one thing she’d never done in her life. She had run. Jenny was right, and Claire simply had to stand and accept the judgement even if it meant the pain was reignited, set aflame by Jenny’s brutal words.

“He was innocent, you know?” Jenny whispered, the fight slipped from her as the tiredness seeped in once more. “We spent all we could on lawyers and investigators because we trusted in him, Claire. The man we *kent* he was, aye?” It wasn’t accusatory now, only factual and Claire had to nod in agreement. Jamie was a good man, an honest man. He wouldn’t do anything to endanger anyone but the information as it had been presented to her at the time left very little room for argument.

“Captain Randall certainly was a canty one,” Ian continued when Jenny seemed not to have it in her anymore to continue the tale. “He covered his tracks well…but we found one wee bit of the case that he hadna thought to cover. One witness statement that he failed to destroy and it gave us all we needed to prove Jamie’s innocence in it all. Even the drunk driving.”

“Fuck,” Claire muttered, her eyes squeezing shut as the tears began to fall down her cheeks in earnest. “He told me. He said Randall was framing him. But–”

“But ye didna see it fit to trust him, did ye?” Jenny seethed, her fingers gripping the bedsheets with such force that Claire thought her nails might penetrate straight through the thin cotton. “We got him off the charges Claire. All of them quashed. But we couldna fix his heart. No. No’ even with time, because you broke that, ye wee bitch!” Jenny roared, her words slapping Claire directly as if she’d stood from the bed and struck her physically.

“I’m so sorry, Jenny…Ian,” Claire hiccupped, her heart hammering in her chest as she took one measured step backwards. “I r-really am…”

Turning, she couldn’t bear to look at the pair any longer. Hitting her shoulder against the thick wood of the doorway, Claire flung herself into the corridor and skittered off towards the on-call room once more, her right hand clenched solidly over her mouth as she tried to waylay the gasping sobs that threatened to destroy her. Slamming the door, she thrust her back against the glass pane and slid to the floor, letting the blackness of the small doctors quarters envelop her as grief, pain and loss surged through her once more.

One word echoed through her haunted mind as she buried her head in her knees and wept. One solitary word that sent goosebumps erupting over her trepid flesh as she curled up into a tiny ball against the putrid beige carpet.

Innocent.

He had been innocent all along.

“Oh, Jamie,” she cried, the weight of the knowledge crushing her as she lapsed into unconsciousness, the sight of him despondent and alone, just as she’d left him all those years ago.

Innocent; not guilty.

“Jamie, I’m sorry,” she cried, the all consuming grief of knowledge striking true shame into her heart as she buried her hands in her thick hair and wept bitterly, “I’m so *fucking* sorry…”

.

Wasn’t Quite Expected

Word count:2,151

Discaimer: I’m broke, don’t own IT or any of Stephen King’s novels, don’t sue me!

Pairing: Pennywise x Reader

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, death and blood.

A/N: This is an AU Pennywise fic based off of @my-gunpowder AU so yeah! I hope you enjoy, be sure to like, reblog and comment what you think!




Pennywise.

The dancing clown, also known as the freak of freaks in Wyatt’s Amazing Wonders of the World. Born with many disfigurements, his mother had been blamed for giving birth to Satan himself and his father willingly sold his newborn son to Wyatt for less than a bag of wheat.

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the raven cycle masterlist of quotes/scenes (bold is faves)
  • it was a young man in slacks and a sweater, hair rumpled. he was not quite transparent, but he wasn’t quite there, either. his figure was as murky as dirty water, his face indistinct. there was no identifying feature to him apart from his youth. he was so young-that was the hardest part to get used to. 
  • is this how we make our way to death? blue wondered. a stumbling fade out instead of a self-aware finale?
  • She asked, “Will you tell me your name?” He faced her and she realized with shock that he wore an Aglionby sweater. “Gansey,” he said. Though his voice was quiet, it wasn’t a whisper. It was a real voice spoken from someplace almost too far away to hear. Blue couldn’t stop staring at his mussed hair, the suggestion of staring eyes, the raven on his sweater. His shoulders were soaked, she saw, and the rest of his clothing rain spattered, from a storm that hadn’t happened yet. This close, she could smell something minty that she wasn’t sure was unqiue to him or unique to spirits. He was so real. When it finally happened, when she finally saw him, it didn’t feel like magic at all. It felt like looking into the grave and seeing it look back at her. “is that all?” she whispered. Gansey closed his eyes. “That’s all there is.” He fell to his knees, a soundless gesture for a boy with no real body. One hand splayed in the dirt, fingers pressed to the ground. 
  • “You missed World Hist. I thought you were dead in a ditch.”
  • His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain. 
  • Some secrets only gave themselves up to those who’d proven themselves worthy. The way Gansey saw it was this: If you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look. 
  • “Fate,” Blue replied, glowering at her mother, “is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.”
  • Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didnt know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.
  • Gansey’s invented apartment was a dreamer’s laboratory…and everywhere, everywhere, there were books. Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed. 

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2

Boo ya! I actually love this story. It took me a bit of reworking to figure out how I could keep the OUAT elements whilst also keeping Loki in character, but I did eventually get there. If you want some soundtrack for this, play “Where’s Hiccup?” from the HTTYD OST at the line detailing the flower “gifting [Loki] a second chance”. Thank you to the anon who asked for this one; @chloecat48 also wanted to be tagged. Hopefully you all enjoy!

Prompt[s]: Can you write a Loki x reader where the reader is captured by an enemy of Loki’s and is put under a sleeping curse (OUAT style), Loki believes the reader to be dead and administers the kiss that saves the reader? 

‘I Will Always Find You’

They called it Witch’s Hollow. To some, the name was purely fictitious; a myth woven like cloth and strengthened by years of superstition to keep small children from wandering too far into its depths. However, a handful of people knew that the shadows in Witch’s Hollow held eyes of wicked green. The stories were not just to keep the children away…

On any other day, the glade would be calm. Nothing more than the odd bird song to fill the air. Today, however, brought change. A timid fox emerged from her den, raising a curious snout to the sun and sniffing twice. She pushed her head fully into the daylight and shook off the dirt behind her ears. Suddenly, those ears pricked upward, and her focus turned north, dark eyes narrowing as she felt a rumbling in the soil.

When the drumming hooves got louder, the fox turned and scurried inwards once again. The horse’s flanks rippled with every hoof and his breath huffed out in rhythmic bursts. His rider was cloaked in green, leather reins in one hand, and a compass in the other. They snapped the lid of their compass shut, and pulled the horse to a halt.

The oak tree stood proud and strong, roots firmly planted into the surrounding area. From the outside it appeared no different to any other oak tree. However, when the rider took their boot to it, the trunk tore like paper and they were able to climb inside, needing only to duck their head as they did so. The tree’s interior was bigger than it appeared outwardly, lanterns in each corner of the darkened room being the only indicator of the room’s size; dark magic was at work here, but there was no other choice…

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Duet- Bucky Barnes x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: Duet  By: Penny and Sparrow. I recommend playing this on repeat as you read. It sets the mood and tempo of the work and honestly it’s just a beautiful song and is worth hearing more than once. Italics are the lyrics. 

Notes/warnings: Anxiety, self-hate, mentions of scars, fluff, mentions of pregnancy. 

Originally posted by relationshipaims


I bet your shoulders can hold more than
Just the straps of that tiny dress
That I’ll help you slide aside
When we get home

 Bucky leaned against the bar and sipped on his scotch with a phantom smile on his lips. He watched as you mingled with patrons; smiling and offering gentle touches on arms and backs. The thin straps of your silk floor length gown pressed lightly into the soft flesh of your shoulders from the weight of the fabric and all he wanted to do was take you in his arms and slide them from your frame.

 His breath caught in his throat when you turned away from him and your hair brushed over your exposed back. How was it, that after years of being together, you still managed to make him feel like he was seeing you for the first time? How was it that you were able to shatter every wall he’d ever built with one look? How was it, that a man like himself, was with a woman like you?

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Like Father, Like Son

Part 3 of 4

Find the previous two installments here: Revelations, Discovery 


“MUM!”

In less than a blink of an eye, she was gone. I sprinted the rest of the way to the stone she had touched, the screaming intensified then stopped. The wind had been knocked out of me and I found myself laying on the ground looking up at the orange streaks of dawn.

I groaned and rolled to my side, shakily trying to stand.

“Mum?” I croaked, the roaring in my ears seemed to echo off the stones, drowning my attempt to call out to her.

“Mum!” I tried again. Again nothing but the screaming roar reverberating from the stones. I scrambled to my feet and took off at a run down the hill towards the car, except it wasn’t there. The car was missing, as was any visible sign of a road. Trees grew in sparse patches across the grass of the rolling hills toward the water.

“Mum?” I whispered realizing with a sickening realization, she wasn’t there.

“Christ,” I groaned dragging my hands down my face. “What to do now? Think Brian, think! Where would she have gone?”

The momentary sunshine quickly disappeared behind clouds of gray and white, a storm was brewing. My pacing turned into a single direction run to a small cobbled, dilapidated cottage situated at the base of the hill. I made it inside the shelter of the cottage just as fat raindrops solidified and turned into snow. The air held a wet chill that seemed to seep into every crevice of the room, even the heavy wool of the clothing didn’t seem to be enough to stop a violent shudder from enveloping me.

I searched the room for any source that could be used to create a fire and saw a broken stool crumpled into a corner. Sighing in relief, I scrambled to the roughly hewn fireplace and sent up a prayer in thanks that mum took the time to teach me how to start a fire without modern conveniences. ‘A necessary skill,’ she’d always remarked.

“Where have you gone, mum? We don’t even know where Jamie went, let alone if he was still alive in the time we’ve arrived.”

Staring into the fire a sudden epiphany hit me like a sledgehammer. “Lallybroch.”

I didn’t know how many days ride or walk it would be to get to Inverness, let alone Broch Tuarach, but I wasn’t going to get there freezing in a hovel. Looking through the cracks in the stone, I watched as the snow fell then melted as soon as it touched the ground. I may just have a chance of making it down to the village before nightfall. But how to pay for what I need? My pockets were empty, but I patted them down anyway, as well as the cloak. A small jingling noise came from a hidden inner pocket of the cloak.

“Mum, you think of everything,” I said to the crackling fire as a poured small battered coins from a black leather pouch and a small roll of paper fell on top them.

Brian,

I understand if you decided not to follow me immediately, but if you do find yourself going back, these will be of use to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t procure you more, but if we find your father and our family, we shouldn’t need to worry overmuch about funds.

I hope you decide to find us, my darling boy.

All my love,

Mum

My eyes burned with tears that were threatening to form. Why couldn’t she have waited just a few seconds longer for me to catch up to her?

The walk to Inverness was longer than I anticipated. Dark had fallen and if at all possible, it got colder thanks to the persistent wind. I hobbled into the first establishment I saw, hoping I could find something warm, a place to sleep, and a horse to make this journey easier.

A frail-looking hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing tighter than I believed possible, “Ain’t ye a wanted man?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sassenach filth!” The man spat, “Be gone from here!”

“I’m not English if that’s what you mean, I’m from Am–the colonies.”

“Yer as good as ‘em. Crooky won’t serve ye, so be gone!” He threw my arm back hard enough that I stumbled into the door frame.

“Gibbons! What are ye doin’ to my customers?” A menacing man yelled from behind a bar.

“He’s a Sassenach, an’ claims to be from the colonies.” Gibbons spat at my feet, glaring. “It’d be better if he was that bastard of a wanted man. At least then he’d be worth a pretty penny.”

“A sassenach! Is tha’ so? Do ye have coin, lad?”

“Yes,” I said with surprising confidence. “Do you know where I can find something to eat, maybe a place to rest, and procure a horse? I will not be staying long, just ‘til morning.”

“Och, aye. I can help ye wi’ all of these, but it’s no going to come lightly.”

I pulled out a few of the Stirling pieces and handed them over. “Will this due?”

The barman’s eyes widened. “Aye, lad, tha’ll do nicely. What’s yer name, I didna catch it before.”

“Fraser.”

The man’s eyebrows disappeared beneath shaggy dark hair. “Fraser ye say? O’ Lovat?”

I nodded tersely.

“Yer a ways from Beauly.”

“I’m not headed to Beauly. My family isn’t too far off from here, Broch Tuarach?”

“Ach, yer wi’ the Fraser-Murray clan then. Good folk there.” He said, slapping a tankard down before turning around to snag a bowl of something from a passing barmaid. “Drink, eat. It’s no an easy ride in this weather to Broch Tuarach.”

I coughed at the sting of the whiskey, stronger and more bitter than I was accustomed. The warm burn met my stomach as the rich taste of meat broth met my lips. I wouldn’t be shocked if I fell asleep at the bar for all to see, nor did I care. My legs ached from the walk, my fingers felt as though they were frozen into a curl, and my head pounded from the whirlwind of events from today. Tomorrow would only increase the pain and unease.

The following morning, my head still pounded, but my body didn’t ache from the cold, yet.

“Here ye are lad.” Crook, said holding out a wrapped parcel and the reigns to a gorgeous brown mare. “Sorry I canna give ye my best stallion, but Butternut will get ye where ye need to go. She’s strong and hearty. This weather will no deter her.”

“Thank you, sir. For the hospitality and the horse.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, “Dinna thank me lad! Ye paid for the hospitality as ye say. I’m gaining a mighty better price than ye are wi’ my grub and horse.”

I shook my head and smiled back at the jovial man as I mounted the mare. “Thank you all the same.”

“Lad?”

I turned in question.

“If ye see a Gwenalin Crook, tell her Archie sends his love. Can ye do that for me?”

“Of course,” I said puzzled, he nodded then slapped the hindquarters of Butternut and we were off.

As the days wore on, I was struck by the landscape before me. The mountains and the sky, such contrasts to each other were something from the imagination. The size and beauty could not be contained with meager words or thoughts. I felt as though I had stepped into the epics of Tolkien, White, or even Lewis. I could fully understand the magical beliefs and wariness of these people, and the stories that the land inspired.

I was so lost in thought that I missed the sound of hoofbeats and a man’s call until he was right upon me.

“Can I assist ye?” The man, who couldn’t have been much older than I, said as he stared quizzically at me.

“Oh! Yes, do you know if I’m close to the place called Lallybroch or Broch Tuarach?”

The man’s face lit up in a laugh, “Aye, but what business do ye have there?”

“I’m looking for someone and I believe she may have come here.”

“Do I ken ye? Ye look familiar,” He said not acknowledging my statement.

“No, we have never met. Brian Fraser,” I said holding out a hand. The man’s face went pale.

“Brian Fraser has been dead longer than I’ve been born. So who are ye really?”

My eyes went wide this time, of course, he wouldn’t know about me but his knowledge of my grandfather meant he must be family as well. “Are you by chance Young Jamie Murray?”

He went rigid in his saddle. “Aye, and answer me now, who are ye?”

“I’m your cousin, Brian James Lambert Beauchamp Fraser.” I said reaching out my hand, “James Fraser is my father.”

Young Jamie’s mouth fell open as he grasped my hand in a handshake. “Damned if he isn’t! That’s why I thought I knew ye! Christ, ye have the look of him. I’m surprised ye weren’t stopped by the redcoats on your journey here!”

I laughed, “I was accused of being a wanted man at a tavern in Inverness.”

Young Jamie let out a bellow. “That doesna surprise me in the least. Come on, Mam isna going to believe this.”

We rode in companionable silence to the estate, and I gasped in awe. The house, no longer dilapidated and condemned, was full of life and movement.

“Come on,” Young Jamie said, nodding toward the stables. “Ye can leave yer horse there, but I’m sure ye’ll be wanting to ride again soon. Ye said ye were looking for someone, but no one but trouble has been through these doors in a while.”

“What–?”

He cut me off with the shake of his head. “Ye’ll see soon enough. I canna wait to see how this unfolds.”

He leads me through the house to a study where a woman, hair dark and streaked with gray sat beside a man with a wooden leg, pouring over papers on the desk before them.

“Mam? Da?” Jamie said. They turned, eyes wide, and mouth agape, as though they were looking at a ghost.

Whose To Blame

Request: Could u do an imagine where the reader is tommys teen daughter (like 15 or 16) and she gets jumped by a rival gang and just kind of how tommy and the family would react to that

A/N: Its super early in the morning and I havent been to sleep yet but i’m thinking a second part is necessary for this one. I don’t know, let me know if there should be a part 2. This also somehow became an Isaiah fic? And I didn’t mean for it to be???? But I’m okay with it??????

Warnings: Assault, allusion to Sexual assault

“Good night Mr. Compton. See you later Penny!” I said farewell to my best friend and her father as I exited their house, pulling my coat in a little tighter as the cool November air danced its way over my skin.

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Spiderboy

This is a gift for @itsallavengers because they’re wonderful and I love them and their work. You should read everything they’ve written, I’m not even kidding. :D 

Also, consider this a verse to request things for!! I am never done with cannon-esque trans!Peter. Never ever. 


Tony Stark was sat in his living room again.

The last time this had happened, he’d been dragged to Berlin, fought a man the size of the Chrysler building and stolen Captain America’s shield. He was a little more than nervous – especially since Aunt May had found out about that little escapade, along with all the rest. She hadn’t been pleased about the true nature of the Stark Internship, nor about the whole incident with the Decathlon… but she’d been proud. Of how he chose to use what he could do, and of his decisions afterwards. She’d ranted angrily about reckless endangerment, and threatened to storm up state to the Avengers facility and demand of Tony Fucking Stark just what he thought he was doing with her kid- but none of that anger (and it had lasted for days) was on her face right now. In fact, she looked rather emotional… good emotional.

Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look like that, not even when she’d been so proud of his trust in her that he felt safe in coming out.

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tomorrow never came (richie tozier x reader)

requested: yes (requests are open guys)

summary: richie stands up the reader, leaving town without any warning, and months later sends a letter explaining himself and what happened.

a/n: i tried but i really had no idea how to go about writing this and making it go along with the song (tomorrow never came- lana del rey) so sorry for this being sub-par. also, i had to shorten it a little bit in order to fit the text block limit.

reader uses female pronouns.

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Landslide: Part Two

                                            SUMMARY:

Dayton White (Logan Lucky) x Reader

When a tragic accident happens in the heart of your hometown - you’re forced to go back to the countryside you’d sworn to forget. In the midst of your world turning upside down you find yourself in a state of panic when the familiar face returns in your life, Dayton White. From the time you were young he was labeled in your mind as the man who got under your skin, with the past brimming to the surface - will you be able to fight off the landslide of love?

Word count: 4,142

Notes: Cursing, tension.

Let me know what you think! :) also my lady parts may have cried when I first saw this in the trailer

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Anonymous said Heyo so I wanted to request an imagine where penny is in mating season and the reader is really confused when he starts being super possessive? Just a lil fluffy with some smut pretty please :) love your writing Pennywise x Reader
Warnings/: Language, and as requested, SMUT!!

He walked back and forth, growling at himself. ‘It’s just a headache’ he thought as he kicked at the ground. He was lying to himself, the sore head wasn’t from a headache, the burning body wasn’t from some disease ridden child. It was that, it happened once every 1,000 years and he hated it, but he loved it but it made him sick but it made him feel energetic and alive. He scratched at his skin, the white make-up covered flesh began to peel with his touch. He screeched and howled, pulling the skin from his body like a snake. He fell to his sewer ground, hands in piss water as he shook the skin away.

You sat in the nearest, dankest, smelliest bar in town. Sipping on a rum and coke threw a red straw, VV brown - Shark in the water played on the nearby jukebox, you tapped you’re foot gently on the peg of the stool enjoying the moment while ignorance to two grown ass men wrestling at the pool table over one of them being a cheat. You laughed into your straw causing the drink to bubble, the ice clinking off the side of the glass making the smallest and quietest tinkling sound ever. You swung back in your chair, looking around for some ‘eye-candy’ but only found pre-puberty high school boys and sweaty gross older men. Your eyes tinkled as a man stepped through the door, unsure of his surroundings by the way he clinched his coat tightly around his tall slender body, his attitude suggested he was scared and timid but the way his eyes scanned across the room suggested something a little more suggestive. You leaned back to the bar when he caught you staring, caught you scanning tonight’s prized pig. You slipped the straw between your lips, feeling redder than the straws colour with embarrassment. Sure you came here for a night of entertainment, you did most weekends but never found anyone who even peeked your attention yet here is some stranger, walking in all shy looking but the ‘fuck me’ eyes had you on flames, he wasn’t your type. He wasn’t within your league but his slicked back brown hair and frown made you want to sneak another peek. You leaned back again, he was gone. He wasn’t within sight, you felt disappointment that he probably-. “Probably saw the place was a dive and left” you turned around to your left, the man who disappeared stood beside you. His right eyebrow was raised as he held his hands clasped together on the bar as he stared deeply at his own reflection between the gabs of bottles on the wall behind the bar. You bit your lip as he swung his head around to look at you, he looked bored and uninspired by his surroundings. “Do you always read the minds of strangers?” You asked, batting your eyelashes towards him as you picked your tall glass up and again, slipped the straw between your lips where you bit down on it gently, rolling it seductively. “You’d be surprised” he whispered coming in a little closer, you took the moment to smell him only to be confused by his lack of fragrance, he had no smell what’s so ever. Not even the slightest touch of woman’s perfume. “So, can I get you a drink?” You asked him, sucking in your lower lip as he stared at you seeming stressed for time as he stared between you and the outside world through the window. “Sure” he smiled at you wide, his eyes lit up and lower lip dipped as his cheeks swelled. You had ordered another rum and coke for yourself and a cold beer for the stranger. “I don’t even know your name” you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear and smirked as he slid his coat from his shoulders. You caught glimpse of his collar bones that stuck out and crossed your legs over tightly. He smirked to himself as he folded it over his lap. “I’m Robert” he spoke, unsure of what his own name was. “Is that a lie?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “Would I lie to you?” He asked. “Would you?” You asked back even quicker. “Only time will tell” he picked up his beer, smelling it from its rim before taking a swig and setting it down. “I actually came here for one thing only tonight”

You gulped down as he stared through you, his fingers ran up and down his bottle slowly. “What’s that?” You asked, leaning in closer and leaning your head on your hand propped on the bar. Robert leaned in, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “I have this throbbing sensation between my legs that I was hoping you could.. rub out” his teeth gently grazed your ear sending a shiver and goosebumps down your neck. You would have slapped a man for speaking to you in such a way but the lingering flash behind his eyes had you hooked. “Only time will tell” you winked, placing your hand on his thigh.

Back at your place, it didn’t take long for you both to get naked and into bed. He was like a fine wine, drunk on his smell.

“You want me baby?” Robert whispered into your ear with a shakey breath moving his hand up and down in small circular motions, “yes” you pouted in a sleepy tipsy voice eyes shut as he eagerly sucked on your neck.

You lifted up your right leg up settling it over his hip giving him more room. “Rob” you whimpered. As he slide his large thick tip against you, using your juices as a lubricant, “yeah, I hear you moaning for me. What you want? Tell me so i can give it to you” Rob nipped your earlobe with a growl as you arched your back to press into him more grinding your hips biting and biting your lip keeping back your pleading groans.

“You know what i want” You playfully laughed, lifting your hips gracefully so he could enter your in an antagonizing speed. Robert grunted outloud gripping onto your shoulders pulling you into his large inflated chest, You was alot tighter than he could remember from before, before it was the simple woman who didn’t know what her bits are but here you are, you know what you want and he’s enjoying this. “Call me penny” he whispered softly, you growled. “Okay” if you were sober you would have laughed but he was making you feel a certain way.

He wrapped his arms around the back of your neck, hands on your shoulders, locking his hands together keeping you in place as you both rocked your hips together as you pulled him forward he went backwards both pushing in together as the slow speed you both seemed to enjoy. The sweat was already forming in his forehead and lightly down your back sticking to the sheets.

Robert couldn’t keep this slow lacking sex going, he didn’t want it slow the animal the beast is rising. Robert doesn’t do passion, Robert doesn’t do patience neither. He felt that beast swell and need to be shown.

'Mmm’ the purring from your lips only set the spark inside his mind ablazing, adding fuel to the fire egging him on. You were taunting him by the way you lick your lips then slowly bite on them or by the way you bounced your hips with his movements.

“Roll over” his hands slip from down your shoulders to your waist gripping his fingers into your soft pudgy skin bruising under his tough, You giggled and let him guide you to how he wants still buried deep inside you. Robert rolls over so he is on his back and his hands hold your body up by the small of your back as you place your leg and feet firmly on either side of his legs and your arms holding up your weight bending at the shoulders, so you could press your breasts on his chest.

Once you were comfortable andsorted and situated not to fall off, Robert went all turbo dick on you, rocking his hips up and down bouncing on the bed back up towards you, the muscles of his arms bulged out holding your weight up trying not to shake from the pleasure.

“Oh God pen-penny” you frustratingly yell as Robert hits all the right spots and at same time by pulling away quickly before the proper electrical charge of pleasure wave could reach your nerve endings, You almost yelled out from the pleasure. “Rob-Robert” you are cut off by his rapid speed erupting inside you. “What?” he asks wrapping his hand around your neck pulling you down to him to kiss and suckling on you neck leaving his mark.

“Play with me” Robert almost whined at your begging of him to take you and play with you. He would have made a snarky remark but he could see your trembling legs and arms, Robert turned you around so he was back on top. You slipped between his neck and those collar bones you couldn’t stop thinking about since the bar.

He got up placed his knees between your legs spreading you wide to the bare all, “this what you want girl?” he asked snaking his left hand down rubbing against your hip bone with his wrist as his fingers slowly found your swollen clitoris (SIDENOTE: this is hilarious), all it took was a tiny flick before you came around him, shuttering like a wreck moaning his name while it got caught in your throat. Once you came down from you own high and breathing back to normal.

He wasted no time in pushing back inside you, you grabbed his hair and tugged it hard as you looked into his green eyes. You pushed your body up, taking him deeper. Robert began gnawing at his lip trying not to blink as sweat rolled down into his eyes, his hands gripped your hips as he slid out of you and turned you over so your ass was in the air. He slapped it harshly before slamming back into you.

“Robert” you tried to speak but he pushed your head into the pillow to shut off your complaining about him going a little to hard and a little to rough, But how can you train a beast to hide if something will always taunt it out?

'Why hide?’

Robert took no mercy with his speed and thrusting, banging hard until you screamed from the pleasure which was clear from the way you tightened around him or the sweet moans from yur mouth.

Robert may have a monster inside, but he is no rapist.

“Like that?” he asked going faster stroking the back of your head bunching your hair up in his first enjoying the feeling of it’s silk. “Mm, harder penny” you whimpered. Robert smirked into the back of your head as he leaned over you. If only you knew how much of a monster he really was, but he could smell you, you smelt of sheer pleasure and bliss, calming and soothing.

Robert grabbed at your hips, slamming into you as hard as he could trying not to break you at the same time. You closed your eyes and groaned loudly in pleasure. Robert had stilled his body, frozen in place. You turned your head around and screamed blue murder. Robert had changed, changed from a pleasure giver to a nightmare maker. “Get off me” you yelled, pushing him away as far as you could. He climbed off you, off the bed. You wrapped yourself in a seat finding it weird watching a clown walking around with his penis flapping about. “See you in your dreams” he winked and waved before disappearing in a flash leaving you cold and wanting, but scared.

'Did he wear a condom?’ You asked yourself with a groan.

Pennywise strutted around his sewer, happy to be home and back in a form he was most comfortable with. He shook his body with a shiver, his bells jingling and making echo music around the pipes. He smiled, no longer feeling sick or sore. Thankfully he won’t have to be back in the human form anytime soon.

Pretty Tears and Dead Soldiers

Author: AvengeSuperWhoLock

Word Count: 1883

Pairing: BuckyxSister!Reader (incest)

Summary: You and Bucky have been running around together for what seems like forever. Hiding your relationship from the world and appearing to everyone else as the perfect siblings with the perfect relationship. No one had seen a brother and sister be so close before. You spend your alone time together, making promises and breathing in each other’s skin. But what happens when Bucky enlists in the army? Decades of heartbreak, death, and a super-soldier with amnesia that can’t seem to shake his memory of you.

A/N: This will be a new series, so the summary above is a summary of the entire series, not just this part :) Let me know what you guys think! I can’t wait to go on my next break and play around with this one :)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

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The Worse Week - Request

Requested by anon: Could you write a sherlock one shot where the main character is having a terrible week. Final straw is when the person buying her house pulls out of the sale day of the move. He finds her and tries to cheer her up

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word Count: 1.644

Warnings: Un-edited.

A/N: I am not happy now, so this may not be as cheerful as expected.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by fandomlikeafamily

Friday, finally Friday. The expression “TGIF” was never as relatable as it was that day. Her whole week had been terrible, and all she wanted was for it to finish. Everyday had had something awful to add to the list; and that day, Friday – oh, glorious Friday! – She was finally having what she wanted.

She was selling her house. A house she had been trying to sell for so many months… At least, she was about to seal the deal. It seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel, the final breath of fresh air after being trapped in a sauna… It was a great release, and it made the rest of that awful week seem like it was worth it.

However, it’s the law of life, when something goes wrong it can AND IT WILL go even worse.

Sometimes people don’t understand that, when they give their word on certain thing, they are meant to keep it. Sometimes, people don’t understand that a simple piece of paper can cost even more than it looks like. Sometimes, people don’t appreciate other people’s time, and wastes them shamelessly. Sometimes, people are literal arseholes.

(Y/N) stormed inside her house, groaning loudly and slamming the door as she walked in. The person that was meant to buy her house ended up pulling back on the sale that exact day! (Y/N) was more than pissed off, she was burning her insides in her own anger, and she couldn’t think of anything but punching whoever appeared on her way.

That someone happened to be Sherlock.

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Sovereignty (for queennymeria)

commissioned by the lovely @queennymeria - her arianne cousland and alistair!
art by @noctuaalba - fic by me

The meeting had gone on far longer than expected. The sky was growing dark by the time the Banns took their leave, and there were many irritated whispers about the late hour as they filtered slowly out of the throne room.

Some dawdled, hovering around in the hopes of requesting some favour from the crown, but the royal steward dutifully ushered them out. Eventually he too departed, leaving the King and Queen alone in the high-ceilinged chamber.

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