my eyes are as sore as my heart

Save Me Pt.2

An:This technically isn’t a series. I just add things on as requests come in or ideas come to me for it. There won’t be a regular update schedule or anything like that. 

Warning: Abuse mentioned. 


I laid on his chest, the steady thumping of his heart still just as soothing as it was hours ago. We’d slept well through the night. My eyes focused on the orange and blue hues of the sky as the sun began to rise. My entire body was sore but most of all was my face. I didn’t dare move for fear of waking Ethan.I found myself wanting to go to the beach to stare at the ocean. Ethan shifted beneath me hugging me a little closer. 

I couldn’t fight my smile. A whole year with this amazing guy in my life. How could I ever not smile? I gently rubbed his side and he squeezed me again. I didn’t want to wake him but the ice had long since melted, I was hungry and I wanted to thank them. As slowly as I could I began to wiggle away from him. “Where you goin’?” He mumbled cracking an eye open. His voice was rough and husky making my cheeks color themselves a deep red. “Bathroom..” 

He sighed and leaned forward. His lips brushed against my forehead, “Come back..right here..I mean it (y/n)” I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Yes Sir Mister Ethan.” I whispered. I was rewarded with a small chuckle as he released me. I moved as quickly as I could despite the way my body screamed in protest. My muscles from my arms, my legs, my stomach but most of all was my face. I was terrified of actually seeing the damage this time. 

I was actually thankful Ethan hadn’t opened his eyes all the way to see the bruises. I could tell that this time they were really bad. I fished around in my pocket for my phone as I walked towards the bathroom. The sun was starting to rise a little more and I knew the rest of the world would come alive soon. 

50 missed calls

Voicemail Full

20 Text messages

I shuddered hoping they weren’t all from my father or I’d be hearing an ear full later. I hadn’t thought about grabbing my bag but as I got to the bathroom I wished that I had. The bruises were beginning to turn a nasty indigo color from my father’s shoes. The other side was a light blue from the slap I’d received. I grimaced as I tugged my ripped shirt over my head hissing as each muscles screamed once again. 

I stood in my bra and pants staring at the different bruises that were slowly beginning to shift into different colors. I could feel the nausea starting to take over just looking at them. One of the bruises looked particularly bad and that was the one on my left side. I’d just poked it timidly when the door opened to reveal a groggy Ethan.

He yawned as he moved to stand behind me. His arms wound around my waist as he pressed his chest to my back. “Took too long.” He mumbled as he studied me in the mirror. As his eyes trailed over each and every bruise he held me just a little tighter. He settled his chin over my right shoulder and continued to stare. 

This would normally light a fire within my stomach for him, but instead I was left with a cold ache within my chest. I didn’t want him seeing my bruises, the scars that were left over from years of this abuse. “Some of these are old (y/n) How long has this been going on for?” His eyes were becoming more and more alert making me tense within his hold. I didn’t want to answer his question. How could I? How could I tell him this had been going on since my sister had been in the world? 

How could I tell him that it started with just yelling and screaming when I was younger and steadily became worse? The words, the tone of voice. I could tell he was becoming impatient. My eyes met his in the mirror and he sighed. “A while then.” His gaze became a bit distant as he began to think. I drew small circles on his thumb as I tried to move away from him. He chuckled and pressed himself close to me. “You’re still the most  beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He whispered as he pressed his lips to my neck, my jaw and then my cheek. 

“Ethan..” I whispered as my eyes began to water. “Don’t do this right now..please..Don’t give my heart hope. Don’t remind me what I can’t have. Don’t tell me it’s okay then turn around and do this to me..”

He looked hurt, “I would never lay a finger on you!” His grip around me tightened and I shook my head. “ Do you honestly think you have to put your hands on me to leave these same bruises on my body on my heart?” 

I could tell he understood now. We’d talked about this, about us becoming a thing for a while now but he was afraid. He was afraid of his fans. He was afraid he’d lose me. He was afraid they’d hurt me. He was afraid in general. Ethan wasn’t a man of many words to begin with. He wasn’t a man that expressed himself freely.

I pushed at his hands to free myself. “Don’t, alright I get it. You want us. You want me.” His voice was a whisper, “With you living here…”

“Ethan I never agreed to stay..” 

Now he was tense. He released me almost immediately. “Where else do you have to go?Where else are you going to go? You can’t go back there! He’ll kill you!” His words were fierce. His words were correct. Probably more so than he actually realized. “ I can’t just leave my sister there alone with him Ethan.” 

“Has he ever hurt her? Has he ever put his hands on her? Has he ever made her black and blue? Hell what else has he done to you?” 

I clenched my teeth my heart pounding as memory after memory ran through me. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be so damn angry, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t be angry but I could be hurt. “It doesn’t matter Ethan. You’ll leave, I’ll still be stuck here with him. You’ll go and live your life and I’ll still be trying to keep my sister safe.” My voice cracked belying the tears I was fighting. 

“I’m not going to just leave you. You’re my best friend (y/n)” He stepped forward and my butt pressed against the bathroom counter. “Don’t okay. You don’t get to do this right now..You don’t.” 

“You don’t either. This has been going on for a while and you didn’t think to tell us so that we could hep.” 

“No I didn’t because it’s My  problem Ethan. You have fans that depend on you  and Gray to get those videos out. You have fun making those videos. You enjoy life and I refuse to be the reason any of that changes. So no I didn’t tell you no I didn’t plan on telling you. No I never wanted you to know. Just like you can’t accept that you’re afraid that you’re falling in love with me. Everyone is running from something.” I snapped before I pushed passed his frozen body. I left my shirt where it was as I continued through the apartment. I snatched my bag off the floor just as Grayson left his bedroom rubbing his eyes. 

“(Y/N)?” His voice was raspy, his hair was all over the place and his sweats hung low. “I’ll talk to you later Gray.” 

“Wuh..?” The confusion on his face was adorable but I turned and slipped my shoes on. This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. I don’t even know why I came. Right, my best friends, I wanted to be with them. I thought it would be okay. Instead my heart gave a painful stutter and my hands flew through the locks as I tried to make my escape. A warm hand however covered mine. “ S’wrong?” Grayson asked softly making me tense and shake my head. “ I have to go Gray Bae. I have to go. Right now..” I could hear Ethan making his way towards the front room and looked at Grayson pleadingly. 

He sighed and shook his head as he moved away from me. I pulled the door open and slipped out. These movements were reminding my body of the abuse it’d taken but I couldn’t think of that right now. In my bra and pants I ran down the hall of the apartment complex hoping to get as far away from here as possible. The tears I’d been fighting in the bathroom began to fall as my chest seemed to fill with ice. 

My entire inside was starting to grow colder by the second. Ignoring the elevator I took the stairs jumping to skip steps. As I got to the first floor I stopped and opened my bag. I fished out a hoodie and slipped it over my head hissing in pain. Though now I couldn’t tell if it was emotional or physical that caused the hiss. 

You’re worthless! You’re useless! It’s your fault! 

 I could hear the echos of my father’s words ringing inside my head making me start to shake as I grabbed my bag once more. I took several deep breaths, pulled my hood over my messy hair and did my best to walk calmly out of the apartment complex. 

“Please God, help me. Help me be stronger. Help me help Chasity. Help me save myself.God please save me.” I prayed over and over as I made it out the apartment complex and into the morning air. It was a little chilly but the sun was still rising making it a little brighter outside. 

If there was one thing Ethan had been right about, I had no where to go. Living with them was truly not an option. I should have realized that when I woke up on his chest. I turned left and began walking with no particular destination in mind. I wasn’t going to be able to stay there and be around him all the time. Him treating me the way he was and then reminding me that we were just best friends. 

Before I could stop it a sob ripped through me and suddenly I was angry. I started jogging. “I’m not some damsel! I’m not weak. I’m not. I’m not..” I began repeating to myself even as my vision blurred. Even as I felt the tears cascading down my cheeks. Especially as I felt my emotions swirling dangerously between hopeless and angry. 

My phone started to vibrate but I ignored it. Not in the mood to deal with others I continued jogging. The feeling of my feet hitting the pavement, the feeling of my bag swaying on my back seemed to drown out the pain of the bruises. It wasn’t until I came across the Docks that I slowed. I stared at the water and then I started screaming. 

“Why don’t you fix this!? Why won’t you help me?! Why won’t you heal me?! Why won’t you save me?!” I shouted my anger bubbling and boiling dangerously high. 

My phone began vibrating once more. I snatched it out of my pocket and hit answer. “ What the hell do you want? To bruise and batter me some more? To abuse me? To push me to the edge?! It’s too late I’m already there. Leave me the hell alone!” I screamed into the phone. It was silence as I breathed heavily my mind finally catching up with my words. 

“I called to see if you wanted an extra shift today…but I see you’re not ehem.” My boss cleared her throat. “ Is everything okay (y/n)?” Her voice was soft and I could tell she was trying to keep her voice down so that no one would over hear. 

“No Sam, I’m so sorry..” I took a shuddering breath. “Nothing is fine..My father…abuses me.. My best friend seems to think my heart is his punching bag. I have no where to go. I need to protect my sister. “

I listened to her shuffling papers a moment. “ Come by the office. I’ll get you straightened out okay? I promise things will get better. It will be okay. Don’t do anything rash. We’re friends remember? You’re a beautiful intelligent woman and I won’t let you fall.” 

It was like she knew just what I needed to hear because the dam broke. “Sam..” I sobbed and she shushed me, “No little bit. Come in. I’ll see you in a bit.”  And with that she hung up. 

I didn’t know what was worse…the fact that I left Ethan and Grayson with the knowledge that I was and have been being hurt for years. I didn’t know if it was worse that I’d just screamed at my only other friend and my manager Sam. I also didn’t know if telling her everything was the best bet either. 

I clutched my phone and dialed my sister’s number. It rung twice before she answered, “(Y/n)?”

“Meet me at Dolly’s. Pack a bag.”

She sighed, “ Okay…have you talked to Ethan or Grayson? They came by…”

My breathing hitched and I shook my head then released a great sigh. “Yeah…I stayed over to theirs..last night.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can..” She told me as she began moving around. Things had to change and soon. I quickly wiped at me eyes. Maybe this talk with Sam would help..Samantha had a way of making everything brighter. 

I leaned against the railing as I glanced at my phone. It began vibrating, I watched his name flash across the screen but I refused to answer it. Instead  hit ignore and pulled up Twitter. 

I blinked slowly as his tweet came up first. 

It’s time I was honest with u guys. -@ethandolan 5:45 am

A year ago my life changed at starbucks. I met this girl.-@ethandolan 6:00am

She became my best friend aside from Gray. I’ve been afraid to tell her that I love her..now I’ve lost her. I don’t know where she is- @ethandolan 6:10am

I’m not sorry I fell in love with her guys. She was right though I was afraid. I was running.But I’m not anymore. I’m in love with her. Can you guys help us find her?- @Ethandolan 6:20am

Then he posted a picture I’d completely forgotten about. I stood on the dock with a giant grin on my face with Ethan beside me looking at me with the widest grin showing all his teeth. 

Suddenly my phone vibrated with another tweet. 

Let me Save you. I love you-@ethandolan

Hang on To That Feeling

MASTERLIST

A/N: This is a planned post. I’m going to put a trigger warning on this just in case. This one is a bit different, so feedback would be lovely. 

Word count: 3,278

”Hey Brian, I don’t have much time. What is it?” I asked, struggling holding the phone to my ear using only my left shoulder. 

My fingers moved across the keyboard on the computer without my eyes gazing down once as I continued to type. 

Multitasking had never been my thing and talking on the phone while typing in corrections for the next meeting at work, wasn’t really working out for me. 

“It’s Shawn” he stuttered and then the air in my lungs what punched out entirely. 

Keep reading

Why are You like this?

Hi friends! 

Plot: Y/N feels overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to let her Harry know.

I combined my own idea with a request about H hearing Y/N admit something over the phone. 

Hint before reading: Take a moment and think of that one thing that’s overwhelming you right in this moment, the one thing that makes your stomach feel sick and the one thing that keeps you up at night. Okay now you can read it.

Pic isn’t mine but I like to think that it is.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” 

My throat dried when I allowed my eyes to meet with his sparkling green orbs and the pure worry in them made it difficult not to tear up. With a deep breath I forced myself to smile. 

“Everything is fine, Harry,” I promised him, my tone just sweet enough for it to cover up the lie, “It was a long day.”

“Again?” Harry inquired quietly. 

“Again.” I tried to laugh but got up to walk to the kitchen when I failed.

Ever since the beginning of this week there had been a heavy and uncomfortable feeling settled at the bottom of my stomach making me feel so sick at times I believed I would vomit. 
But I couldn’t let it show. 

“Do you want some tea?” I called towards him.

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, beautiful.”

With trembling fingers I reached for the kettle and I closed my eyes in hopes of calming down enough to keep my distraught emotions a secret. And what better than a hot cup of tea?
There was nothing I loved more than spending time with Harry and if I could I would have him near me at all times. I felt myself long for him when he was gone, fantasized about being in his presence when I wasn’t and when I had him I felt at peace. Momentarily. Harry made me feel warm and without knowing it he’d become the only person who managed to decorate my face with an honest smile. We hadn’t been dating for long, only a couple of months, and it was true that we were happy. Never before had I felt this close to another person, never before did I trust somebody with my whole heart and no one had ever understood me the way that Harry did.
Harry was my everything. 
And still I couldn’t find it in me to trust him with my worried mind. 

It wasn’t that I thought Harry wouldn’t be kind. I knew if I were to tell him that I couldn’t find any peace and that not even the nights provided me with rest, he would try all he could to be supportive. 
What held me back from confiding in him was how utterly ridiculous I felt. Harry had so much going on in his life, he was under constant pressure and given even more from all sides and all at once and still he never uttered as much as one word in complaint. 
Me? I felt like crying when dealing with what was so minor compared to other people’s problems. 
How could I possibly admit this without making a fool of myself?

“Y/N?” I heard Harry’s voice call for me. 

My breath hitched and I quickly finished both of our teas. “Coming!”

Hearing my friend’s voice over the speaker of my phone relaxed me. At least a little. Kat hadn’t had the time to talk properly in a while due to her job taking up a lot of space in her life and selfishly it felt good to hear that I wasn’t the only person who wasn’t having the best week. 

“So anyway,” Kat spoke, “Things took a turn to the better when the guy I told you about showed up again. I think he recovered form the flu or something.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

She chuckled. “I bet your day gets better the moment you have Harry around to comfort you.” 

“Well,” I sighed, “Having him around does bring me joy.” 

When my voice quivered I knew I messed up.

Kat cleared her throat. “What’s the matter? Does he not understand or what?”

“I’m sure he would,” I muttered. 

“Meaning?”

I didn’t reply. Kat laughed breathlessly. 

“You seriously didn’t tell him? Y/N, he’s your boyfriend! And if I receive text after text about how shitty everything is going for you then something really must be up.”

A lump formed in my throat and I let out a small whine. “I don’t know how to talk to him about this thought.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged even though she couldn’t see. “Harry has so much going on in his life. Never does he get a break not even on his days off. How could I burden him with my stupid and silly problems when his mind is full of much more important things?”

“Because he’s your boyfriend!” Kat repeated. 

“Is that your answer to everything?”

“In a relationship it’s about being there for each other,” Kat lectured, ignoring my words, “You support him constantly. It’s time you let him do the same for you.”

My head snapped up at the noise of my front door opening and then falling shut. 

“Y/N? You home, baby?” My heart fluttered at his voice.

“That’s Harry,” I quickly informed Kat, “I got to go.”

With fast steps I walked further into the bedroom and away from where I could hear Harry moving closer towards me.

“Of course,” Kat said and I could hear the smile in her voice, “Just remember. You have to be honest with Harry and tell him how you feel. Otherwise you’re being unfair to him.”

“I know,” I agreed lowly, “I know you’re right.”

Harry’s knuckles lightly knocked onto the wooden door and I turned around to look at him with a smile growing on my face. He looked insanely good. His hair was tousled from the clod wind I knew was tormenting outside, his upper body adorned a thick jumper and his legs were forced into much too tight jeans which to my benefit left little to the imagination. 

“Hey,” I breathed.

“Hi.” His voice was quiet and I shuddered when the smile on his face didn’t reach his beautiful eyes. 

I walked over to him and reached for his arm. “I’m just going to finish this call really quickly, okay? Then I’m all yours.”

“S’okay,” Harry said and shrugged off my touch, “I just came over to return the shirt you left at my place the other day. M’actually bit busy so I’m just going to head out again.”

My heart sank. “I thought you would stay tonight?” 

Harry nodded towards the phone in my palm. “You should’t let your friend wait, Y/N. Wouldn’t want you to be unfair to anybody, right?” 

And with that he turned around, out of my reach and towards the exit. The shirt he’d brought me was carelessly thrown onto the mattress and I watched him leave with tears already burning my eyes. What the hell had just happened?

“Y/N? You still there?” 

Kat’s voice ripped me back from my thoughts and I quickly told her that I was fine and needed to go. Then I hung up. 
Great. Now not even my relationship was something I could find comfort in. There was no point in running after him as I new Harry moved fast and since he’d arrived by car I was sure he must be long gone. With my palms ice cold, my legs weak and my stomach in knots I sat down on the bed I’d thought I would be spending the night with Harry on, feeling the most uncomfortable and unhappy and in in general at a low I hadn’t reached before.
There was no way I could hold back the tears from burning my cheeks and soon I was a sobbing mess, laying alone on the cold fabric of my bed.

From Harry, 7:20pm.
I’m sorry I left like that, love. How about I come back over and we spend the night together like we planned? x

From Harry, 7:22pm. 
Don’t ignore me now. I know I was being harsh. A bit of a dick actually and I wanna make up for that. Please let me, baby. xx

From Harry, 7:23pm. 
I heard your conversation with Kat. 

With puffy eyes I stared at the three messages. I breathed in shakily and shook my head before picking up the device to reply. There was no way I could face him when I was like this. I felt ashamed enough as it is and couldn’t bear the thought of letting my boyfriend see me in this weakened state.

From Y/N, 7:30pm.
It’s okay, Harry, no worries. I’m a bit tired though. Don’t think that hanging out tonight is a good idea. I’m sorry. x

From Y/N, 7:33pm.
If you want we could meet up tomorrow?

Teardrops smeared the screen and I brushed them off quickly in order to read Harry’s reply. My heart sank even further upon reading it.

From Harry, 7:34pm.
If that’s what you want.

It was what I’d wanted. Still, my chest crumbled and the room filled once more with desperate and loud cries as I let it sink in that I’d successfully driven Harry away. A shaking palm clasped over my mouth as I attempted to somehow quieten the noises of my breakdown as I didn’t want to alarm my neighbours. 
What was I supposed to do? What was I to tell him tomorrow? That was if he even wanted to see me.
My eyes were sore, my throat dry and slowly but surely everything began to hurt. Really ache. 

My entire body froze and I forced myself to calm down long enough to make sure I hadn’t heard wrong. No. There was once again the distinct sound of somebody knocking on my front door. Oh god please no. I scrambled to my feet with hurried movements and came to a tumbling stand. With harsh movements I brushed the tears from my smeared cheeks. 

“Y/N.” It was quiet but I heard and my heart began to pound heavily in my chest. What was he doing here?

“Harry?” I asked, my voice small and trembling weakly. 

I sniffled noisily and tried to steady my breath. 

“Course it’s me, love,” Harry hummed, his voice gentle, “Mind opening the door for me? Letting me in, sweetheart?”

“Harry, I really don’t think-”

“I hear it, baby,” he spoke softly, “You’re crying.” His voice sounded so sad, so empty of the anger it held earlier. 

The pet names spoken with so much affection, the gentleness in his words and tone… I couldn’t fight any longer. 
With uncertain fingers I unlocked my front door and before I could turn the handle I had Harry’s arms wrapped around my waist as he forced his way into my apartment. 
Breathing in his scent as I nestled my face into the warm space between his shoulder and his neck, one of my hands wound itself into his short curls while the other clasped the back of his neck. Harry’s arms tightened around my body, bringing me impossibly close to his chest as he pushed the both of us further inside. I didn’t see but I heard him shut the door with his foot. 

“Harry,” I whimpered, trying desperately to step away from him, worried that the endless stream of tears would mess up his jumper. 

“No.” Harry’s embrace was tight. He ignored my protest and instead hoisted me up higher so that he could carry me to the couch in my small living room. 

I was full on sobbing by this point, my desperation only increasing when he let go of me after making me sit on the couch. My arms were taken into his hands and I turned my head away when he crouched down. 

“Y/N, look at me.”

I shook my head, a whimper escaping my parted lips. Harry’s hands moved gently, his fingers drew circles onto my skin. Normally the gesture was enough to calm me down but not today. I felt utterly embarrassed and I knew that Harry slowly began to realize too that this wasn’t just a small and simple break down. 
This was me, crumbling after having suffered under too much pressure for too long. This was me truly breaking down and falling apart right in front of his eyes.
I gasped upon feeling him press his face into my open palms. 

“My sweet girl,” Harry breathed into my hands, “Tell me if there is something that I can do for you, you hear?”

“There- there’s no-nothing, Harry.” I swallowed shakily and stared at the back of his head. 

Slowly he looked up at me, green eyes wide, kind and patient. His warm hands clasped mine and my breath hitched when his heart shaped lips pressed a loving kiss to them. 

“That’s okay, too,” he reassured, “In that case I will just do what I think you need right now, yeah? And if you want something different you tell me.” 

He waited for me to nod, a small smile gracing his lips. Harry got to his feet quickly and immediately I was scooped back into his arms and brought to his chest. I hiccuped and Harry chuckled. 
His body settled onto the couch and I gasped when he placed my own body right on top of his, my back pressed to his chest. His face settled into my neck and I shuddered upon feeling his warm breath. One of Harry’s arms wrapped around my middle while he gently touched my forehead with his other hand, making me rest my head on his shoulder. 
I sighed and turned so I could nudge his neck with my nose. Next a blanket was pulled over my form, making sure that I was warm. 

“Harry,” I whispered into his skin. 

He intertwined our legs together before kissing my cheek. 

“No more crying,” he said lowly, chest rumbling against my back, “It breaks my heart to see you like this. Which doesn’t mean that I want you to ever keep it from me again when you feel this way.”

The terrible knot at the bottom of my stomach loosened and the longer I breathed him in the more I could feel my heart relax. My breathing slowed, the tears slowly ceased from falling. My own arms wrapped around his and our hands found each other. 

“I’m sorry,” I apologized against his skin.

He shook his head and squeezed me. “No, no, my love. S’not what I want. You don’t have to apologize for anything. All I want is that you trust me. That you know that I’m here. Always.”

“I want to see you.” 

Careful not to hurt him I turned to lay on my stomach, my body pressed tightly against his chest and I leaned up to press a kiss to his soft skin of his chin. 
Harry groaned lowly at the sensation. 

“You’re my girlfriend,” Harry murmured, his hands rubbing up and down my back, “You can lean on me. Confide in me. Don’t want hear that you’re unwell and hiding it.”

I hummed.

“Are you comfortable?” I wondered quietly, referring to his position.

“Very,” he assured me with a nod, cheekily grabbing my bum and giving it a squeeze. 

I swatted his chest with a laugh and he removed his hands and settled them onto my hips instead. I found it hard to believe that having my body sprawled out on top of his was in any way comfortable but in this moment I knew there was nothing other than being in his arms that would heal my tormented mind.

“S’embarrassing though,” I admitted quietly, my unsure eyes finding his. 

“S’not,” he argued, “S’part of being in a relationship. I’m yours, you’re mine and we’re both there for each other.”

I liked how natural his words sounded. How much sense they made.

“But,” I began, “what I’m dealing with is so stupid and you-”

“And I’m never too busy to take care of you just like I trust in you always being there when I really need you. And nothing that makes you cry is stupid to me.”

Harry smiled kindly and I could feel myself doing the same. Gently I reached up to cup his cheek and a tiny gasp escaped my mouth before his lips found mine in a loving kiss. Instantly I melted into him. 
His hands held me close, my own scratched his cheek while the other held onto his hair and for the first time all week I felt like I could truly breath. Harry’s presence took over all of my senses as I cuddled myself even more into his embrace. We continued to kiss until my lungs burned and this time when I teared up it was because my heart couldn’t hold the amount of happiness. 

“Why are you like this?” I whispered, staring at my handsome boyfriend with wonder in my eyes. 

He smiled and pressed another kiss to my temple. “Because you’re important to me. I need you to know that, love.”

“I do. Thank you so much, Harry. And I care about you, too. So much.”

Another kiss followed to my lips before Harry drew back to rub his nose against mine in a heartbreakingly sweet gesture. 

Hope you liked this! Wrote it in one go so apologizes for any mistakes. Also, if any of you are dealing with something shitty at the moment I have my fingers crossed for you and know you’ll be alright. x

The rest of my writing: 
Masterlist

Neighbors (Part VI)

Soft sunlight is beaming through the blinds and she rolls onto her back, a hand covering her eyes.

She blinks slowly, rubbing her sleepy eyes and lets out a quiet groan. Her mouth is dry and her temples are throbbing slightly. She can feel her stomach clench in a weird way as if there’s something wrong. As if there is this gut feeling warning you.

Keep reading

Shawn Mendes Blurb - Sick

Shawn’s POV

     I woke up to my alarm clock beeping. I lazily opened my eyes and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of them before turning off my alarm. I stretched and yawned, looking at the other side of my bed. Y/n was still asleep, cheeks flushed, curled up into a ball. I have a press conference in an hour and a half, so I get up to take a shower and eat breakfast. I then go back to my room to get ready. 

     I see y/n still asleep, so I decide to let her sleep and leave her a note for when she wakes up. ‘Morning, babe! I went to a press conference, but I should be back around 12. Breakfast is in the fridge. Love you xoxo.’  I put it on our bedside table before softly kissing the top of her head and leaving.

*A few hours later*

     After my press conference, I grab some coffee at Starbucks before heading home. I unlock the front door and open it, kicking off my shoes. “Babe? I’m home,” I exclaim, putting the coffee down on the kitchen table. No answer. I walk into the living room, expecting to see her sitting on the couch. My eyebrows furrow, and I start up the stairs. “Babe?” I call again. Still no answer.

     I open the door to our room and walk in, surprised to see her still lying in bed, fast asleep. That’s weird. She never sleeps this late. I walk over to our bed and pull back the covers. “Y/n? Babe?” I say, lightly shaking her. She groans, eyes still closed. I sigh, “Y/n? Wake up.” I see her eyes slowly open. I frown when I see that they’re glassy with fever.

     “Shawn?” she croaks, painfully, making me wince. “Yeah, sweetie, it’s me. Do you feel okay?” I reply, moving her hair out of her face. My heart breaks when she shakes her head no. “What hurts?” I ask softly, kneeling beside her. “Everything. My throat hurts, my head is killing me, my nose is runny, and I’m sore. Everywhere,” she groans, resting her head against my arm. I immediately recoil.

     “Baby, you’re burning up. Like really burning up,” I say, voice laced with concern as I go to get a thermometer. I come back and stick it in her mouth, stroking her hair as I wait for it to beep. When it finally does, I take it out of her mouth, jaw dropping as I read it. “103.1. Baby, that’s really high. If it gets any higher, I might have to take you to the doctors,” I say, but she shakes her head. “I don’t want to go to the doctors. I’m fine,” she says, trying to sit up. “No, you’re not,” I reply, laying her back down.

     “I’m going to go get some medicine. Just sit tight,” I say, getting up and heading to the bathroom. I grab some water, medicine, and a wet washcloth and bring it back to her. After she takes the medicine, I put the washcloth on her forehead and start to climb in bed. Her hands reach out to stop me. “No, Shawn, I don’t want you to get sick,” she says, voice barely at a whisper, “You have a lot of important things you need to do.”

     I sigh and climb in anyways, wrapping my arms around her. “Baby, I’m not going to get sick. I was sick with the same thing a couple of weeks ago. Remember?” I whisper. I feel her nod as she finally accepts my embrace, melting into me. I graze my fingertips up and down her arm and hear her breathing even out. “Sleep well, baby,” I whisper, kissing her head and falling asleep myself.

Car Sex, Yoongi/Suga

I wrote this one a really long time ago and I’m going to post it for you guys, not that it makes up for any of the lack of posts but until I’m finished with the other requests this should suffice a little right? Hopefully. It’s a little different but enjoy. ~

Warnings: Language


We stopped driving some time ago. I don’t know how long we’ve just been sitting here, car parked on the side of the road, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. As soon as he stopped the car he pulled me to straddle his lap, his arms wrapping around me and his soft hands sliding up the back of his hoodie. His nails drew light circles on my lower back, Yoongi’s quiet voice whispering how much he loves me into my ear repeatedly. He just let me silently cry into his neck, the only noise being my sniffles and Yoongi’s whispers.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hands sliding to caress my sides. I don’t move my face from his shoulder and he kisses my ear. “Baby, look at me.”

I pull back so I could see him, but it’s not even like I could very well. It was so dark out, being almost one in the morning. The stars and moon shone brightly but it wasn’t enough to light up Yoongi’s face. I blink at him anyways.

“I love you,” he says and I nod. He’s been saying that for the last hour.

He pulls one of his hands out from under the jacket, resting his warm palm on my cheek. His thumb strokes under my eye, wiping at the dampness there from my endless tears.

“Don’t cry anymore,” he whispers. “You’re far too beautiful to have tears streaming down your face..”

“Don’t make me cry then,” I whisper back. He moves his hand back under my jacket, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close to him. I play with his hair, resting my cheek on top of his head while he snuggles his face into the front of me.

“I won’t ever,” he says.

I feel his head shift and I look at him, seeing him staring at me. He blinks, his eyes flickering everywhere on my face before settling on my lips. He strains his neck up, slowly leaning closer and I figured he was going to kiss me, but he just pushes his lips to my jaw. He moves down, trailing feather light kisses all the way down my neck before retreating back up and placing one right at the corner of my mouth.

“I’m promising you on everything, I won’t ever be the reason for your tears again.”

He was murmuring against my lips, his chapped ones brushing against my own but he wasn’t kissing me. It was driving me crazy, I just wanted a kiss. I initiate it, leaning down and capturing his mouth. My eyes slip closed when he doesn’t pull away and my heart flutters when he tilts his head so he could poke his warm tongue deep between my lips. He slowly licks at my tongue, his hands squeezing at my sides, his nails digging into the skin of my back. I arch myself into him and he sighs contently, pulling me impossibly closer.

“Baby girl,” he mumbles, nipping at my bottom lip and massaging my hips. “I’m going to make you feel so good..”

I pull away and rest our foreheads together, both of us staring into each other’s eyes. His arm snakes around my back to hold me still, while his other hand slips into the front of my shorts. Two of his cold fingers push between my wet folds and rub, causing me to gasp at the temperature change. He slides through my wetness, keeping his eyes locked with mine as he gently strokes over my clit with the rough pad of his thumb.

“So swollen and wet..” He whispers, rubbing me gently. I whimper when he pulls away, slipping his hand in further and circling my entrance with his finger.

“Yoongi please.”

My head falls back when he pushes inside, slowly sliding in up to his knuckle. My breathing gets heavier, my hands weaving through his curly hair, tugging on the short strands as he moves his finger in and out. He slips another one in beside the first, his fingers massaging my inner walls. I moan and his arm tightens around me, bringing me back to him.

“Shh shh shh,” he whispers along my neck, wetly kissing my throat. “I’ve got you.”

He was pumping his fingers inside of me so languidly, so slowly and relaxed, I couldn’t take it. As soon as my hips push down on his hand once, he locks me in place with his arm, enabling me to move anymore while he drives in deep. He pulls and curls his fingers so perfectly it makes my stomach twist with want.

“Yoongi,” I whine his name.

“Okay baby okay,” he whispers, pulling his fingers out and his hand from my shorts. He wipes his fingers off on his jacket I had on and grabs my neck to pull me down for a kiss. “Lift your body.”

I hold myself over his lap, balancing my weight while he unbuttons his jeans and pushes the zipper down. He shimmies his pants down his thighs, bunching them up at his knees before grabbing my hips. All we have to do is move my loose shorts to the side so he could have access.

“Come here,” he pulls me closer to him until our chests are pushed together, his mouth gently pressing to mine. “I love you so much.”

I whimper and Yoongi grunts as he lowers me down onto him, slowly. When I’m sat completely on his bare thighs, his hips roll in tiny circles, helping me adjust to his thick size. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning forward to bury my face into his hair and he kisses along the juncture of my throat. His hands slide down my body and grip onto my thighs when he starts moving, pushing his body up and burying his cock deep inside me.

“Oh,” I squeak, tightening my arms.

My hands fist into his hair and he groans against my neck, his hips jerking. He keeps his thrusts slow, pulling out at an agonizing pace and pushing back in just the same, but deep. His arm wraps around my back, his other hand moving to my hip so he could move my body up and down on his shaft. I moan and he grunts as I bounce on his lap, his cock pulsing inside of me every time he thrusted in.

“God I love you so much baby girl,” he nibbles and sucks on my neck harshly, grinding up into me and making my head spin when he brushes against my sweet spot. “So so so much.”

“Yoongi,” I moan his name and his entire body shivers, his hips pushing up faster now.

His hand is on my side, his thumb pushing into my skin next to my belly button and his other four fingers pressing against my spine tightly, keeping me arched against him. His arm moves behind me, his hand sliding into the back of my pants and smoothing over my ass. I feel two of his fingers at my entrance, where his cock was pushing in and out quickly.

“Fuck baby. You’re so stretched out around me,” he lets out a loud whimper, breathing against my shoulder. “Wish I could see it right now. See how wrecked you are down there because of my thickness.”

I knew he wasn’t using nasty wording because of the intimate situation we were in and I loved him for it. I pull back and grab his cheeks, holding his head still while I kiss him, my body bouncing. My tongue dances with his, our slimy muscles sliding against each other so passionately. I breath heavily out of my nose and so does he, both of us panting with both our chests heaving. I slide my hands up his tank top and scratch my nails down his chest, his throat vibrating as he moans loudly into my mouth.

“Yes yes yes,” he grunts, shoving his hips upwards. He starts slamming me down onto his cock, over and over. “Right there baby girl, I’m right there. Keep riding me just like this. So fucking perfect.”

I whimper into his mouth everytime his swelled cock tip hits my sweet spot dead on, every thrust in he was hitting it. Heat curls low in my gut as my climax approaches and Yoongi’s thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, his memeber pulsing and jerking against my clenching walls.

“Oh fuck,” he whines. “Oh fuck baby. You bounce on me so beautifully. You look so beautiful right now. So gorgeous, I love you.”

He grunts and with one last thrust inside, we both come undone. I moan into his mouth, my nails digging into the sore skin of his chest and he whimpers out a loud, firm, ‘uh’ while he releases. After we’ve both calmed down, Yoongi pulls out and fixes my shorts for me. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up before grabbing me and pulling me to lay down on top of him on the seat.

“I came inside you,” he says, no worry in his voice whatsoever as he rubs my back. I don’t reply and close my eyes, my ear resting over and listening to his fast beating heart. The sound was soothing and almost lulls me to sleep as I cling onto him.

“Hey,” he whispers and I him to let him know I’m listening. His lips push to my forehead in a sweet kiss. “You’re so god damn pretty and I love you.”

~AdminB

Monsters

Requested: Please do some daddy Shawn.

A/N: I don’t know why I try writing fluffy things, because they’re awful most times. I also changed the lyrics of LOFP a little, sorry.

Word count: 2,066

A faint noise rang in my ears, but not nearly loud enough to pulled me out of my heavy sleep. Only seconds later, I felt the faint squeezes on my arms. When I finally managed to open them, the room was too dark for me to see anything properly.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes, feeling just how sore they were. I blinked a few times, before finally being able to see shadows in the dark bedroom.

“Daddy, daddy” she cried again, forcing down my gaze.

Keep reading

With All My Heart - Part 11

Word Count: 2691

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Medical situations

A/N: Thanks to @percywinchester27 for the help 

Feedback and Constructive Criticism Always Appreciated

With All My Heart Masterlist


“Can I have access to my girlfriend sometime this week?” Jensen glared at Emma who hadn’t stopped cuddling you since you let her in the room. You were going home today and she still refused to leave your side, taking up half your bed and clinging to you like glue.

“No.” She answered, burying her face in your neck. “She’s mine now. You had your turn.” You held your hand up to your face and laughed, cringing a little at the pain it caused. You didn’t see him snap the photo of you in that moment, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing you laughing again made him happy.

Keep reading

Only You

Hope you’ll like this!

Plot: Y/N cries over having seen Harry kiss someone else and he tries his best to comfort his friend. 

Warnings: None. 

Pic isn’t mine. 

My cheeks were flushed and felt sore just like my swollen and wet eyes did. I had been crying for much too long. The awful sense of disappointment shook my body for over half an hour now and all I could long for was for it to stop. Yet it seemed as though my heart wasn’t done yet.
It left Harry feeling helpless and distraught as he stood in front of the bathroom door. He’d been frozen there for the past twenty-eight minutes, his knuckles red and scratched from how many times he’d knocked and tried to get me to open for him. But there was nothing. In my state there was no way I would want to face him. I shouldn’t have come to this house party. Never before had I been this unhappy before.

With his eyes pressed shut Harry tried one last time, hissing under his breath as the contact of the back of his hand and the wooden door hurt. But after what he’d done, he supposed he deserved the pain if not much worse. 

“Y/N,” Harry tried for the fiftieth time, “Please.”

His stomach turned at the sound of my crying increasing and he felt as though his heart tried to break out of his chest. Never before had he felt so lost and frightened because of somebody else’s pain. But I wasn’t just anybody. Even though that was exactly how he’d made me feel. 

“Harry, please go,” I croaked, finally finding the guts to talk to him, even if it was through the closed door, “I swear I’m not mad at you or anything. Just… give me a moment.”

At that he frowned. “Not mad at me? Y/N, you stormed away the moment you saw me with Amy and you’re saying you’re not mad?” 

Of course I was mad. My anger wasn’t directed at him however, but at Amy. The girl who I had told that I loved Harry more than any friend should, that I wished for him and I to get together someday. The girl who’d reacted to that information by kissing him right in front of me. 
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Amy… she took what she wanted without concern for anyone else, not even somebody she was on friendly terms with. And of course she wanted Harry the by far handsomest guy in our friendship group, who had the kindest heart and whose wit could come up with the best jokes. 
Still, it had surprised me greatly to see them kissing. The image burned my mind and I shut my eyes in attempts of deleting it from my memory.
But I couldn’t and she kept on sneaking her way back into my head.
Her hands in his short brown hair, her chest pressed to his front tightly and her legs on either side of his waist as she sat straddling him. Her tongue in his mouth as she bit and licked his lips hungrily. 
So greedy, I thought as more tears fell from my eyes. She didn’t treat him half as gently as Harry should be treated. 

“Love.” I heard Harry whine once more. “Please let me in. You’re hurting me with shutting me out.”

My fingers shook but I forced myself to splash some tab water into my red face, cooling my skin down before reluctantly opening the door.

“Please, Harry. Just go, I don’t want you to see me like this and there’s nothing you have to say or do to-”

Before I could finish his arms were around me and my head was tucked into his neck, face pressed right against the warm and soft skin of his so oI could breath him in. And I let him hug me happily and embraced him just as tight, relieved but crying once again at the same time.
He was so kind and good. Patient with me even after the scene I’d just caused and he didn’t even ask what was wrong. I wished that if we weren’t going to be a couple than I could at least become more than just any friend to him. 
With quiet hushes he tried to soothe me and I laughed through my tears when he began to sway us back and forth. Shamelessly I nestled into his chest and smiled when his quiet laugh rumbled through him. 

“Tell me what I can do,” Harry spoke lowly into my ear, “Please. Want to make it okay again. M’so sorry, Y/N.” 

I shook my head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

He flinched at the noise of footsteps coming up the stairs and towards us. I jumped away from him, involuntarily taking a step back into the bathroom and shook my head. The thought of Amy seeing me like this frightened me and I could already imagine her evil grin.

Harry acted quick and grasped my hand. “Whoever’s coming surely wants to use the toilet. C’mon.”

He pulled me into his side and lead me towards one of the bedrooms in the house, shutting the door after us quickly once we were both inside. Sniffling I took a seat on the big kingsized bed and tried to somehow find a way how I could justify my complete breakdown. 

Harry was just a friend. No matter my affection for him, he didn’t see me as anything more and we weren’t that close either. All of this meant that he didn’t owe me anything and that I had no right to run away and cry after witnessing him kiss somebody else. 
The mattress dipped when he sat down next to me and I shuddered when his hand squeezed my knee. 

“I didn’t want to kiss Amy.” His voice was quiet and apologizing. 

I huffed and shook my head before turning to briefly leaning my head against his shoulder before pulling away again. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Apologize. Find an excuse. You’re single, at a party… and Amy is hot. You can do whatever you want.” 

A frown formed on his face. “I know I can. But as I just said I didn’t want to kiss her.”

I took in a deep breath. His words were a relief and slowly the horrible ache in my chest lessened. “Okay.” 

“She just…” Harry paused before releasing a short laugh, “She sort of tackled me. And she’s much stronger than she looks as well so I couldn’t just push her off.” 

“Poor Harry,” I murmured, my voice still thin, “Attacked by an attractive girl.” 

“Should I be jealous over how appealing you seem to find her?” Harry asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulders before his lips pressed to my temple in a soft kiss. 

My breath hitched. Jealous?

“What-” I sniffled, “What do yo mean by ‘jealous’? Why would you-”

“Well you seem awfully interested in how pretty she is while all I would want to hear is what you think of me. Why you start to cry when I’m with someone else, for example.” 

Harry smiled at me and unlike my expectations, I didn’t care if he knew anymore. My actions had said enough already anyway, I might as well just own up to it. I huffed and shook my head.

“You know I think you’re amazing,” I admitted quietly, “I’ve made it awfully obvious and tonight it all peaked.” 

Harry’s eyes widened at my words and I hesitated to meet them, relieved when I saw him smile. Slowly I pulled away and turned to sit on the bed in a cross legged position, facing him. 

“I have feelings for you and Amy knew that. I guess I started to cry because I… because I couldn’t believe that she made a move on you and it hurt to see you embraced by and kissing her. Not when-” I stopped, looking away and at my fingers, “Not when I wanted to be the one who gets to do that.”

Silence. Harry’s breathing increased and slowly his hand reached out for mine. “Y/N-”

“Look, Harry, I know this is a lot and I’m sorry that I caused such a scene. You surely didn’t expect this to be how your night would be and I’m just really sorry I reacted so dramatic and-” 

Suddenly and completely unexpected I had his lips pressed to mine. They were warm, so much softer than I’d imagined and kissing my mouth so tenderly my heart fluttered. I jumped back. 

“What are you doing?” I asked, shocked.

Harry chuckled nervously, my reaction causing his confidence to crumble slightly. “Kissing you?” 

“Why?” I was stunned. He’d just had an attractive Amy throw herself at him and a snotty, red faced girl confess her crazy feelings for him. And he chose the snotty girl?

My heart fluttered when the back of his hand gently brushed my cheek. 

“How oblivious can you be, huh?” He smiled and shook his head. “I told you didn’t want to kiss Amy. I ran after you the moment I saw you cry and my stomach is in painful knots, which I know will only lessen once I know you’re no longer tormented with worry.”

His hand squeezed mine. My hear pounded heavily in my chest. 

“You… do you like me?” The question sounded silly and stupid, but my head had difficulties making sense of the situation. 

Harry grinned. “Yes. Isn’t that obvious?” 

Momentarily time stood still. Harry. He liked me? He… chose me over Amy?

“But,” I began, my frown deepening, “I’m all snotty and just cried in front of you. And she’s-”

Harry rolled his eyes. “We seriously got to work on your confidence, love.”

I laughed. His hand cradled my cheek and this time he leaned in slowly, brushing his nose against mine and giving me a moment to get used to the thought of him kissing me. Though really how could anyone get used to that. He was Harry for crying out loud. 

I smiled when his lips found mine and so did he, making the kiss even more heart warming than the one before. My hands found his neck, his moved to my hips and soon we were full on making out on the bed. How surreal it all seemed and I couldn’t feel more happy. 
Out of breath I turned my head and gasped when his mouth moved to kiss my neck and jaw. 

“Don’t want-” he began to mumble, mouth still pressed onto my skin, “anyone else. Want only you.” 

My hands squeezed his shoulders. “I only want you, too.” 

“It’s settled then.” Harry pulled back and looked at me, eyes sparkling and lips, though slightly swollen, stretched in a bright smile. “You’re making me so happy, Y/N. So happy.”

Hope you enjoyed this one shot. I wrote it in one go and completely spontaneously so excuse any mistakes as it hasn’t been proof read. Love you all! xx

This is my masterlist: 

http://harryimaginedstories.tumblr.com/post/144920695218/masterlist

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Four)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

[Jenny] 

“Jen, love?”

I started and jumped from the pillow in the dark, my whole body seizing and splintering wi’ panic—

But it was only Ian, of course, half-asleep at my back. He pulled me closer against him and kissed my shoulder.  “Yr—tossin’ and turnin’ about like—S’matter?”

“Nothin’…Nothin’, only somethin’ I ate,” I whispered, tryin’ to catch my breath.

“Get—ye somethin’?” 

“Nay, lad, I’ll—I’ll do,” I panted, my blood racing and pounding. “Go b—back to sleep, mo ghriadh.” I pulled back the quilts and made to sit up. “I’ll—go take a turn— settle meself.” Nearly midnight, it must be. 

Ian groped clumsily for me and caught my hand. “Lov’ye…”

Tears prickled in my eyes, sharp and hot against the air of the night. God, the tenderness of him—the sweetness and care and love this good man lavished upon me, always

“D’ye think me a good person, Ian?” I whispered into the dark between us. 

Mm?”

My throat felt sore, the words as raw and frail and desperate as my pathetic heart. “Am I truly good? Or have I only been good at pretendin’ to be…while I’m no more than the verra worst kind of filth?”

The question rang out into the silence; unanswered. He’d have reassured me, had he actually heard, had the soft, familiar whiffle of his snorin’ not already resumed. It was as well not to be coddled wi’ comforting lies. I kent the truth well enough. 

Oh, but how I ached to wake him, to tell him at least of Claire and the evil that I’d done; to let him hold me tight and safe while I wept into his chest; let the comfort of him surround me, soothe me, as he convinced me wi’ gentle kisses and soft words that all would be well, that he’d carry the burden wi’ me—that I wouldna be alone, ever.  

Alone like Jamie. 

Alone like Claire.

This was my penance: this coldness—this regret—this utter, writhing, blistering shame. I’d taken away any chance for their happiness, so for the rest of my life, I had to bear it; to atone, myself, however I might. Emptiness, carried alone: a fitting punishment for my crime. 

I kissed Ian’s brow, slipped out of bed, found my shawl, and made my way down the stairs toward the study. I reeled a bit on the treads, my head achin’ and spinnin’, and small bloody wonder, for I’d drunk heavily all the evenin’. 

At first, it were only that I was preparin’ myself for the task at hand, hopin’ the drink would brace me, give me courage for when I found the right moment to face Jamie. Every time I looked at him, though, the gentle hunger in his eyes that lit over bein’ wi’ family; the smile on his face as he played with the wee bairns, as he joyed in the balm of home—of love—God, my coward’s heart had bucked and fled, at every opportunity. 

And by the time I might have finally confronted things, the drink had taken hold, bringing my fears to bear, and I’d staggered up to my bed long before anyone else, and dreamt of screams of pain—and sorrow—and—

Now, I was surprised and relieved to find as I reached the bottom of the stairs that I was hardened, a wall of conviction slowly rising up around me, protectin’ me. Jamie need not know; Jamie must not be told. It was too late, after all; Claire was too far gone. I’d done wrong, to my everlasting shame. I’d committed a terrible, cruel evil against them both. But what good would it do to torture him wi’ that knowledge, now? When he had no chance of findin’ her? None. T’would be only agony to him, that wisp of hope, now vanished by my hand. 

No. He couldna ever be told. It was the kindest thing I could do, now, to keep the secret from hurting him further. 

All that remained was for me to find a way to live wi’ myself—drink and distraction; and there was always a good decanter of whisky in the study along wi’ the books. I pushed through the study door and was no more than two steps in before I collided wi’ something solid and—

JESUS!”

“WHAT IN—?”

My candle was somersaulting through the air and onto the good rug, and just as suddenly, quick fingers snatched it up again before it could catch.

“I’m so sorry, Jen,” Jamie was sayin’, settin’ the candlestick on the table next to one of his own before turnin’ back to grin at me, all sheepish in only his shirt. “I couldna sleep and came down for a dram and was looking at the books just there by the door, and—” He stopped and blinked, surveying me in alarm. “Lass, you’re white as a sheet and shaking like— Are ye hurt, dove?”

“No, its—I’m fine—” I shrank back from his touch, from the heartbreaking sweetness of the endearment.

Tell him.

Only—agony to him, now. 

It’s far pa—past—(breathe)—too late—damn me to hell for it. 

I turned hastily for the door. “I didna mean to intrude upon your quiet, Jamie, I’ll just—”

“No-no-no, dinna be daft,” Jamie laughed, eagerly, stepping swiftly around me to block the door. “Stay! Sit wi’ me a time—have a drink.”

“No, really, I should—”

“Jen, we barely got to speak all this evening,” he said, and there was more than a touch of hurt in that soft voice, those soft eyes. “Please? Stay wi’ me?”

Brother, if ye only kent what I was, you’d cast me out into the cold this moment, and have me walk until the very sea swallowed me up. 

And I’d deserve it. 


[Jamie]

“Come on, wee fool,” Jamie said, gently, but in truth, he was begging. He wanted her to stay. He needed her to stay, to help drive this terrible sadness away, tonight. 

At last, she relented, and let him close the door. He held out his arms to her, and after a very long moment, she came to him. “It’s very glad I am to see ye, lass,” he whispered into her hair, trying not to let his voice crack with just how glad he was of it. 

“Aye—well—” 

Lord, why did she sound so tentative around him, tonight? She had been cool toward him all the evening, busying herself with the meal and with clearing it, and with taking another whisky, offering him one, but then bustling onward to the next task and retiring early before they could exchange more than a dozen words. 

“Tell me true.” He gently took her by the shoulders and held her far enough away to look her in the eye, beseeching. “Have I done something to wrong ye, lass?” 

She gaped at him, going even paler than before. “Wrong me?” 

“I dinna think I’m mistaken in noticing you’re no’ pleased to see me, this visit. So I’ll ask again….Have I done something that’s wronged ye?” Even moments ago, she had seemed barely to touch him as he embraced her. “I’ll do anythin’ I can to make it right, I swear it.” 

“Never.” To his astonishment, her face fell, and she made a little sound almost like a sob as she at last hugged him tight, a real embrace. “You would never do anything to wrong me, Jamie.” 

He held her close, the sense of home finally settling around him. His blood—his sister. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” she said, muffled into his chest, “I am glad to see ye. I’m just—no’ quite myself, tonight.” 

“Is something amiss wi’ ye then, dove? Are ye feeling ill?” 

“No, I’ll do.” He could have sworn she shuddered, but she pulled back and put her hands on her hips to study at him with brows drawn, as she always did, the dear, wee busybody. “Lord above, you’re too thin, ye great toad.”

“Are great toads typically thin?” he laughed, placing a kiss on the top of her head and moving to settle onto the plump cushions of the settee.

“Aye, and your voice all scratchit like one, to boot,” she laughed with something like her usual fire, curling her legs under her on the armchair facing him. “But truly, do ye get yourself fed at all, in Edinburgh?”

“Aye,” he said, passing her a whisky glass, “not grand fare, mind,” he winked, or tried to, “but dinna fash: I make it a special point of policy to eat every day.”

“Well, that’s good. Do it more, aye? You’re—” She shook her head, looking actually pained as she took him in again. “You’re….wasting away, Jamie.” 

He waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s why I must visit my sister, whose excellent cooks will always get me fattened up again.” 

“I must thank ye again for seeing my wee Ian safely home to me.”

“’Course, Jen,” he murmured, “happy to do it. The lad continues to be quite the handful, I see.” 

“God,” she groaned, “I’ve not the faintest idea what’s to be done about the wee eejit. S’like tryin’ to trap a breeze upon a mountaintop. I’m sure he’ll ask to be allowed to go back wi’ ye wi’ our blessing this time, but—” 

“I’d no’ mind it, owermuch” He tried to sound casual, not as desperately eager as he felt. “In fact, I verra nearly let him talk me into letting him stay, this time.”

“Wheedles something fierce, does wee Ian,” Jenny agreed ruefully. “I suppose ‘tis good for his hope of catchin’ a wife one day. A boy that’s so plain best ken how to wield charm to his good uses, at least,” she said with a grimace and a deep draught from her glass.

“Aye, that’s so,” Jamie laughed. “He can argue the black off a boot. Though, it was less to do wi’ him than me,” he added quietly, a moment later. 

“How’s that?”

“I’d have been happy for the company.” He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but it was a shrug of unease. “It’s quite lonely, there in the shop.” His emptiness rang into the very corners of the room in the saying of it. 

Jenny heard it too, and put on a cheery, winning manner as she scoffed, “Nonsense, you’ve got Fergus, aye?”

“Fergus is a great help, true, and an even greater comfort to me,” he agreed. The boy—Christ, he was fifteen years or more past being a *boy,* but Fergus would always be so, to Jamie—was his pride and his right hand. 

“But, of course, ye may not ken how often Fergus is gone from Edinburgh seeing to—other business. Scarce half the days of the month, do I see him, in fact.” He shrugged. “And of course, I’m alone in my rooms, after the shop closes. Wi’ only myself for company, the conversation tends to be a trifle repetitive.” 

He meant it as a wee jest to lighten the mood. It didn’t work, for either of them. There was a fair-sized lump in his throat. Jenny’s hands were tight around her glass, her eyes down. He knew he shouldn’t speak so, so wretchedly self-pitying, but damn him, he needed to have someone hear him and understand.

“Sometimes, I go an entire week or more wi’out anyone—not a soul— speaking to me as if they knew me. And it can be longer, even, wi’out anyone saying my real name to me….In Edinburgh, ken, I’m Alexander Malcolm.” 

She gave a weak smile, whispering, “Sawney.” 

“Aye. And folk smile and bow and say, ‘Good Day, Mr. Malcolm.’….‘Shall we see ye on Saturday, Sawney?’….’When are ye thinking of taking a wife, Mr. Malcolm?’” 

The empty glass shot from Jenny’s hands and spun ‘round on the carpet. Neither of them moved to pick it up, and Jamie found he couldn’t stop talking. 

He swallowed. “Before the cave—prison—England——”

Lord, that he might be safe. 

“—I didna truly ken how much it meant to me to be….known. MyselfAnd after everything that’s happened these twenty years, I now find most days as though—” He shook his head. “—as though I’ll just fall away and vanish into naught, from lack of it. I havena….” He dropped his eyes, too ashamed to look her in the eye as he spoke the darkest desolation of his heart, “I can hardly even name the broken pieces of me, any longer…..let alone hope to put them back together.” 

Jenny blinked hard as though holding back tears. Lord, no, there were tears in her eyes, to his shame. He wasn’t saying these things for pity. It was simply the truth of his heart, and it was a true gift to be given the grace to say it aloud, rather than having it tear him apart in the quiet of his mind, day after day. And yet it pained him to grieve Jenny so, to give her any more reason to fear and fret for him. 

He started to say so, but she suddenly blurted, “Maybe—” She was pale, and Jamie could swear she was trembling. “Maybe ‘tis time to—to come back to Balriggan.”

“No,” he said at once with half a laugh, standing and walking over to one of the bookcases.

“Jamie…”

“No, I said.”

“I ken things wi’ Laoghaire—”

“There’s no’ moving me on this,” he said, more sharply. He had no desire for her to dream up another scheme for rehabilitating his personal happiness. “I’ll continue to do right by them, of course, see them taken care of but…No. I’ll no’ try to find comfort, there, again.”

“Jamie, mo chridhe, please just listen—” She was right on the verge of weeping, from the sound at his back. “I ken she’s not—that she’s… what she is…but I dinna want—” There came the sound of Jenny throwing up her hands in desperation, “—Ye shouldna spend the rest of your days alone, Jamie, wi’—wi’ no JOY! The thought of—”

“There is no joy to be had at Balriggan, sister. Not that kind.” 

“If—” 

He turned to her and gently grasped her shoulders. “You’ve known me all my life, Jen,” he said softly down into her face, contorted as it was with shockingly-vehement feeling. “I’ve been wrong about many things; been hasty and reckless and a fool, when my emotions got ahead of my better judgment, or before I kent proper facts—” He cupped her cheek, his voice hoarse. “—but trust me to ken my own heart, at least: to be alone, to be empty, is better than—than that; to lose what pieces of me still remain to—anger…bitterness….”

She stared up into his face, lips pursed, eyes red and glistening, voice trembling uncontrollably. “But can ye no’—?”

He released her and kissed her cheek, putting all his self into being strong and brave-faced once more, as was his duty. “Dinna fash yourself about me. I’m sorry I let myself carry on down such a maudlin road, this night.” 

Jamie smiled, as warm and broad a smile as he could, as he walked past her back to the settee, meaning to sit. “But it means a great deal to me how much ye do trouble yourself for my sake, truly. I ken ye always mean the best for me, Jenny, and I’m—”

The sob burst out of Jenny like a cannon blast in the night and Jamie whirled, reaching for an absent dirk. “Jen, WH—”

Her face was a broken thing behind her hands. “I’m so—sss—so SORRY, brother.”

“Sorry?” Jamie felt as though he’d been hit by a charging horse. That wasn’t pity in her ‘sorry’: it was true apology. “Whatever for??”

“For the fool that I am,” she sobbed, the tears flowing over her fingers. “After all ye’ve been through—your own sister ought—OUGHT to—Christ, Jamie, I’m so—ashamed.”

“Jenny, dove, mo chridhe,” he whispered as he reached for her, “what on earth  are are ye going on ab—?”

“Wait here—” she managed to choke, already staggering for the door. Her eyes were wild and she put out a staying hand as she went. “Dinna move, just—Just—wait!!”

Too stunned to do otherwise, Jamie stood unmoving on the study rug, mind racing, absolutely at a loss to guess what had come over her. 

When at last she came back through the door, she was white as death, a paper, or envelope, perhaps, clasped against her breast. 

“Jenny, you’re frightening me. Tell me at once what’s happened.” 

“I’ve done—” Her chest seemed to cave in around the envelope, wracked with her sobs. “I’ve done a terrible wrong against ye, brother.” 

“Nonsense,” he vowed, moving toward her to sort things out. “Whatever’s the—”

Don’t,” she hissed, halting him with a frantic shake of the the head, her teeth gritted. “Just—stop.”

He raised both his hands to her in desperate plea.“I dinna understand, Jenny.” 

She closed the distance between them with halting steps and forced the envelope into his hands, holding her own tight around them. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, for it was an expression he’d never seen there—absolute anguish and absolute shame. 

His eyes dropped to his hands. Aye, a thick envelope, the face bare and unmarked. 

He turned it over and saw the single word there written:

J a m i e

He might have been screaming—he might have been crying—he might have fallen into a dark pit, with the earth closed in over him.

He was on the ground, his leg aching from where he’d fallen against something. The envelope stared up at him from the floor and he stared back. 

those five letters 

written in Claire’s hand

a thin interlace pattern pressed into the blood-red seal.

Jenny was sobbing. “She was here— Claire was here, Jamie—”

“Claire’s gone—” he was screaming or whimpering, “Claire—is—GONE—”

“She came back.”

“—GONE—”

“No, she came for ye—CAME here

Nothing made sense

“—And I did such grievous wrong by ye in the things I said to her.”

There was no damned SENSE in the words that she—

C l a i r e

Jenny kneeling before him. 

Claire—

Jenny, grabbing his hand, hard. “She said it would give ye peace, what’s inside.” 

CAME for’—?

Jenny, pressing the packet against his chest wi’ his own hand, holding it there, tight. 

CLAIRE? 

Jenny’s face, mere inches from his, breaking apart with weeping—all but mute from the violence of her pain. “I'm—so—sorry, Jamie.” 

A kiss on his cheek, and then she was gone.

Watching like one paralyzed as the envelope fluttered once more to the ground onto its face. 

J a m i e

…his real name. 

He lunged, but he couldn’t even lift the envelope. His fingers felt like claws—lacking thumbs—lacking everything except brute force. He managed to rip off the seal and force open the pages, but he could only press it flat onto the floor with both his hands, hunched over it like a starving beast over its kill. 

And though he’d feared it some nightmare, his soul burst like the lungs of a drowning man as he read—as he believed— the words beneath him:  

“My own Jamie,” 


Four Times Part 2 | Baron Corbin

Title: Four Times (I told him I loved him) (Part 1)

Pairing: Baron Corbin/ Reader

Summary:  “I thought I fuckin’ lost you.”

Word Count: 5,324

Warning: Hospital environment, mood swings and spiraling emotions, talk of death.

Tags:  @calwitch | @rebelfleur22 | @xfirespritex | @blondekel77 | @abschaffer2 | @alexahood21 | @taryndibiase | @isawthesights | @swedish-strong-style | @wrasslin-rollins | @megnog | @kitkat8 | @ellothelongwaydown | @wwesensualfanfics | @blueblazezz | @ratedrkohardychick91 | @wweburnitdown | @1dluver13xx | @nickysmum1909 | @balorismydemonking | @ifyouarentaprowrestlerthenleave | @alexekaydus | @cfloyd776 | @bbmbabe | @finish-her | @kakakatey | @caramara3 | @haylaansmi | @heelturn-timesten | @itsnethbellins | @maryskahadeondawwe | @elizkomskairu | @unabashedwwesmut | @florenceivy Please let me know if I missed anyone or if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Originally posted by zaynsbalor

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Ballerina Eddie

Ok, guess who’s jumping on the bandwagon of Eddie as a ballerina?


- first of all, eddie is basically amazing at hair, like all the girls in his class beg him to do their buns and braids

- richie is fascinated by this, like, how can one even do that Satan shit with their fingers like w h a t??

- also, richie is grossed out when they’re cuddling or whatever, and eddie shifts, and every joint in his body seems to crack, ew

- in fact, eddie now clicks his joints on purpose all the time, just to get a reaction

- “EDS S T O P gross”

- eddie’s legs, hooooo boi, richie loves them. they’re so long and flexible and muscular compared to richie’s scrawny ass

- “how the fUCK did you get your leg up there???”

- ballerina bum

- “richie stop grabbing my ass PLS”

- heart eyes when eddie nails a performance

- “THAT’S MY EDDIE SPAGHETTI”

- richie is an honorary member of the dance team, the girls love him, he’s so funny when he embarrasses eddie

- eddie is always hungry, and richie has to live with him stealing food off his plate

- richie is now also now pretty much a professional masseuse; eddie LIVES for when he rubs his back and his feet cus they’re always stiff and sore

- if richie happens to watch class, eddie always tries that little bit harder

- mmm, that one dance when eddie had this prince costume on, hooooo

- richie always supporting eddie, no matter what, and eddie loving and supporting him back

Hold On (trigger warning)

A/N: I’m in Prague with a friend this week and I put this on schedule so lets hope it works.
Requested to use the line “because I love you, that’s why.” Be aware this has a trigger warning, so think twice before reading. Also, I would love to hear feedback on this because I am honestly so fucking nervous.

Word count: 2,646

Hearing someone you love cry, is probably the worst feeling in the world. The worst kind of pain I’ve ever experienced. I felt her pain. Deep in my chest. In every fibre of my body. With every dense heart beat. I felt it. Hearing her desperate sore cries from the other side of the door, it killed me inside. Left me numb and frozen.

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anonymous asked:

Will we get a Hail Mary update soon?? Claire need to get back to Jamie and set things right!! :-)

Hail Mary

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

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV


Part V

It was eight days later that I rode into the courtyard of Castle Leoch, just as dawn was breaking.  

I could have gotten there sooner, certainly, but I had kept off the main roads to the greatest extent possible, taking no chances of falling into the hands of strangers. I’d had quite enough of that, thank you very much, and while my stint with one highland clan had turned out rather well on the whole, I had no desire to try my luck with another, let alone the English army. 

And, despite the danger and the fatigue of the journey, my heart had been light and ready to burst for all eight of those days.

…’Rather well’…

Understatement to the extreme.

It had brought me Jamie.

As foolish and romantic a notion as it perhaps was, I had found myself many times on that hopeful, frantic journey wondering….was it fate that I had come through the stones? That I hadn’t been able to get back to Frank?  Had some bizarre destiny planted the fascination with wildflowers in my mind that morning so that I could be brought to Jamie, and him to me? Or had it all been mere luck? Could chance alone truly have resulted in this wonder? Could I honestly believe that mere odds should have allowed two people— so exquisitely attuned to one another, and yet separated by centuries and custom and country—to find one another in a dangerous, lonely universe?

But even as I had wondered endlessly in the long hours and days and nights on the Highland tracks, I knew it didn’t matter; made no true difference why or how by what means I had found myself in this place, this time. What mattered was the burning in my chest as I swung down from the horse; the need of him singing out from my heart; that he was the only thing my bleary eyes sought among the dozens of faces that gaped staring—glaring—at me from around the mist-laden courtyard.

“Mary, Michael, and Bride–CLAIRE!”

It was not Jamie but Mrs. Fitz barreling toward me from the kitchen dooryard, eyes wide…and wary.  

So, my suspicions had been right, then— the rent party had come directly back to Leoch. Part of me had hoped against hope that they would have continued further north, upon the secondary loop that Ned had pointed out to me that night upon the map. If they had, I would have arrived well before them—giving me precious, valuable time to convince Colum of the perfectly logical (and fictitious) explanation for how I had been so tragically and unexpectedly abducted from Ned and Murtagh and the rest and then escaped. It would have worked, I thought; as long as Jamie kept his silence. Would he?

I care for you, Claire.

My mind snapped back into awareness, back to the cold, stark realities of the present. I hadn’t arrived first, and thus the entire castle knew of my desertion.

Nonetheless, Mrs. Fitz had genuine affection in her voice as she clasped me hard to her bread-and-herb-scented bosom. “Oh, m’dear,” she said, sniffing, and voice tremulous with emotion, “they said—Och, child, they said such terrible things—!“

I returned the embrace, feeling affection flood my heart, even in the same moment as fear and dead-panic. “What—what have they said about me, Mrs. Fitz?”

Forewarned is forearmed, after all. 

She pulled back to stare searchingly up into my face, whispering each word so as not to be overheard by the many watchful onlookers. “That ye’re an English spy—and that ye made off in the night wi’ no warning—and that ye came among us tae do the Mackenzie harm wi’ the knowledge ye’ve gleaned in our midst…”

Well, all things considered, I suppose I couldn’t expect fairer than that. I’d carefully formulated my story, rehearsed the details forward and back—all I could do was pray that Colum would buy it. And that I could talk to Jamie at the first possible moment.  

“I’m not a spy, Mrs. Fitz,” I said, as confidently and reassuringly as I could, bending to kiss her warmly on the cheek. “I can assure you, it’s all a dreadful misunderstanding.”

Lord knew I was not a grand actress, but Mrs. Fitz gave an enormous exhale of relief, looked both flustered and pleased as she took both my hands in hers. “I didna wish tae believe it of ye, m’dear—Such treacherous behavior, I couldna—No, I DIDNA myself believe it, child, but Dougal said–”

“I understand perfectly, Mrs Fitz, truly I do. I promise that I’ll explain the truth as soon as possible to Colum—I mean the laird. In the meantime,” I was literally swaying where I stood, “might I—trouble you for some food?—and perhaps a basin of water to wash? Before I attract more attention?”

The water would be pleasant, but it was food that I needed desperately. The bannocks I had filched from camp were long gone when I reached Craigh na Dun. Having no skill as a hunter, I had had to make do with what roots and berries and other edibles I could forage along the roadside. I had made it to Leoch on stubbornness and hope alone; but the reality was that I was very close to spent from hunger, and was having trouble keeping my legs and my vision aright.  

“Of course, of course!” Mrs Fitz said, already guiding me toward the kitchens. “Sweet child, starved and half-frozen.” She stopped sharply as we reached the doorway, looking apologetic. “Of course, I will have tae send word tae Himself at once that ye’ve arrived, Claire….given….weel….”

Given that I was still a presumed English spy who had just sauntered back into MacKenzie Clan HQ.

“Of course, Mrs. Fitz,” I said gently, “it’s the right thing to do.”

While she commissioned the boy known as Young Alec to take the message to the laird’s cambers and deliver my few belongings up to a spare chamber, my eyes swung once more around and around the courtyard. No Jamie.

Ten minutes was all I needed—ten minutes to explain how wrong I’d been to run; that everything I’d spat at him that night had been a dreadful, vicious lie; that I missed him; that I wanted him; that I wanted to stay. And failing that, even one minute just to be in his arms; to lay my head against his chest and feel his arms pulling me safe and warm against him. One minute just to hold him, and tell him with the gentle softness of my touch, with my eyes, that he hadn’t misjudged my affections; that he hadn’t been…’mistaken.’

Come find me, Jamie, I prayed upward into the walls of Leoch. Find me. Let me tell you what’s in my heart. What was there all along.

I followed Mrs. Fitz inside and down the familiar corridors to the kitchens. She ushered me—ignoring the stares and whispers from the kitchen staff—into a small room behind the kitchen hearth that I had never noticed before. Less than a minute later, I was gulping a mug of thick beef broth (“Drink slowly, m’dear, ye dinna want griping  in yer wame, aye?”), while she and a teenage girl drew me a warm bath in a small wooden tub before the fire. While I had protested that cold water was perfectly sufficient, the warmth of it and the sweet scent of the chamomile soap were together as comforting and bracing as brandy to my weary body. She helped me wash and rinse my hair, then wrapped me thick towels with a second mug of broth as she conjured a clean gown, shift, and stays for me, and then helped me herself to dress.

She sat with me by the fire as I inhaled porridge with honey and a small loaf with soft cheese. Her manner was still kind and sympathetic, but her eyes remained sharp and leery.

“I willna hide from ye, Claire, that the laird is no’ likely tae speak your name with kindness. Dougal was cursing ye roundly tae anyone that would listen—Old Mr. Gowan has scarcely ceased wi’ shaking his head and bemoaning yer actions— and wee Jamie, weel, he’s barely spoken, hasn’t he?”

That jolted my heart into a frenzy. “Has he?” I said lightly, not meeting her eye.

“Jamie? Och, aye,” she said, nodding gravely. “He must ha’ been sore affected by it. I suppose ‘tis only right, wi’ his loyalty to his uncles, ken? But my Laoghaire— she was sae glad tae see him return (she carries quite the torch for him, ye see)—but he’s been silent and lifeless as a stone these past days—Has scarcely given her as much as a ‘Good day.’”

Perversely, that made my heart leap. He doesn’t want Laoghaire, not even for comfort. He doesn’t want just any woman. He wants…

“Begging your pardon, Mrs. Fitz.” Young Alec’s head appeared around the door. “The Mackenzie requests Mistress Beauchamp’s presence in his study at her earliest convenience.”

I didn’t have the balls to ask Mrs. Fitz for a heaping four-finger glass of whisky, but Jesus H. CHRIST how I needed one.

‘Her earliest convenience.’ Which was to say, immediately. Which was to say my fate was to be decided at once. Which meant that if it were the laird’s pleasure, I would be expelled from the castle before I’d had the chance to even lay eyes on Jamie. Which meant—

Dammit. God bloody fucking dammit.


“Will ye do me the honor of sitting with me a time, Mistress Beauchamp?”

I sat in the proffered armchair across the broad desk from Colum MacKenzie. The laird of Castle Leoch was—outwardly, at least— as serene as ever, his appearance decorous and tidy, despite the earliness of the hour. Despite my earlier need for a stiff drink, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the glass he’d had a servant bring me.

He sat there surveying me, that quiet, wry smile playing at his lips. I lowered my eyes and waited, looking awkwardly around the room by way of distraction from the tension in the room. The laird’s study was just the same: luxuriously crammed with its beautiful furnishings befitting the MacKenzie’s station and wealth. His birds cheeped and chirruped eagerly, apparently not at all sensible of the tension pervading the room.

“Déja vu,” Colum said at last.

“What? I mean—“ I stammered, trying to recover from his startlingly calm non-sequitur. “I beg your pardon, my laird?”

“Déja vu. It’s French,” Colum said evenly, eyes twinkling. “It means, ’already seen.’ But surely—“ he said, gracefully arcing an eyebrow, “you, having family in France, would know that?”

I returned his level gaze with one of my own, though I smiled sweetly. “I do apologize, my laird, I simply was taken off-guard. Yes, I do know what the word means.”

“Aye, verra good…excellent.” He nodded sagely, lacing his fingers together on the tabletop, not breaking eye contact. “Then you’ll perhaps know, too, why I should be experiencing such a phenomenon at this moment….”

I knew precisely what he was getting at, but I feigned polite ignorance, waiting for him to continue, to make the first move. 

He did. “You…in my study…playing the harmless ingénue…after appearing on clan lands under highly suspicious circumstances.” He raised his eyebrows. “It does seem—to ring a certain bell, does it not?”

My heart was racing with adrenaline, but I smiled a smile of simple regret and opened my mouth to speak—I had rehearsed this all the way from Craigh na Dun, after all—but a pounding on the door made me all but jump out of my skin. 

“Enter,” Colum said, not seeming in the least bit surprised by the interruption. I regained my composure and remained facing forward. 

There came the squeal of hinges and the unmistakable snort behind me. “So it’s true then,” Dougal MacKenzie’s voice said said, low and hissing, “the prodigal wench has returned.”

My mind was a constant stream of all the curses I’d ever learned, in every tongue, and I’d played with street urchins in countless countries.It shouldn’t have surprised me, now that I came to think of it—Dougal was Colum’s right-hand, after all, and I had officially been in his charge when I’d made my escape— but it did. I had prepared for Colum, for his savage cunning masked in level-headed civility; I was equipped for that: for the turn of phrase and the traps of language and logic. But Dougal was another matter entirely—I couldn’t trust myself to remain calm and collected in the face of his pugnacious and irreverent manner. But I had to bloody do it, prepared or no. 

I didn’t bother to turn around, just said simply, “I’m not a wench, Mr. MacKenzie. And yes, I have returned.” This exchange was too important to let him raise my ire. 

“Prodigal liar, then,” he said, appearing to my left and coming to stand next to his brother, arms crossed and eyes blazing as he glared down at me. “Conspirator. Agent.”

My gaze was still cool, my voice still polite, but I could feel the shards of glass in it, dangerous to both of us. “I swear to you, Mr. Mackenzie: I’m none of those things.”

He laughed, cruelly and vicious, bending at the waist to put his face mere inches from mine. “Ye expect us to just believe the mere word of a lying, filthy wh–”

Will ye tell us, Mistress Beauchamp,” Colum said, his sharp tone a silent warning which Dougal must have comprehended at once, for he stepped back from me, and came to stand at Colum’s right hand, his own hand resting on his dirk handle.

Colum continued. “Will ye tell us what it was, exactly, that made ye suddenly choose to leave the rent party….and just as suddenly return?”

I took a deep breath, ready. “You will certainly recall, my laird, that since my—“ (Filthy, barbarous abduction). “—Arrival— with the Clan MacKenzie, so shortly after the death of my husband, it has been my desire to reach Inverness.”

The laird nodded. 

“It was my intention to join with friends there in hopes of beginning a new life among those I trusted. It was to them that I went the night I departed from the rent party. My longing for familiar faces had grown so strong, that I could no longer bear to wait. That is why I left. The simple desire to be among friends once more.” 

Dougal made a sound of deep derision, but Colum only nodded. “Would ye be so kind as to share with us their names?”

“Reverend Reginald Wakefield and his wife, Catherine, both old friends of my departed parents. I was a child, the last time I met with them, but there was no doubt in my mind that they would receive me. However–” I heaved a deep breath, pleased to feel a lump in my throat that lent emotion to my voice as I revealed the ‘sad’ news. “Upon arriving in Inverness, I learned that the Wakefields had taken ship for the Indies three years ago, to begin a Presbyterian mission on the island of—”

“How daft do ye think we are, woman?” Dougal growled, with a gesture so violent I shrunk back instinctively into my chair. “Ye dinna have friends in Inverness and ye NEVER did. Else you’d have written to them upon your first arrival here.”

I straightened once more and did my best to appear innocently perplexed. “What makes you think I didn’t write to them, Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Because—“ Colum interjected, his calm—earlier, such an asset to my nerves— now terrifying. Not a hand of clemency: a razor-thin knife,“—I make it my business to be aware of all correspondence in and out of the castle. Oh, not necessarily the contents,” he said, seeing the shock and disapproval on my face, “just who is writing to whom while enjoying my hospitality—as is my right as laird.” He folded his hands. “And there has been no letter to or from a Claire Beauchamp at any point since you arrived on MacKenzie lands.” 

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a soft, “—And if ye did manage to communicate with them… it does make one wonder…” He gave me his most piercing gaze yet, stealing my breath, “—why a woman with nothing to conceal should go to such lengths to do so…undetected?”

No. No no no no no, this was slipping so quickly away from my control.

“I do appreciate how all this must appear on the surface.” I could feel my heart racing with panic as I grasped at straws, desperate to remain calm and failing miserably. There was an audible quaver in my voice—damn it, damn ME!—“All I can do, my laird, is swear that I mean you and your clan no ill will, I have no ties or contact with the English government, whatsoever and I am willing to attest to those truths on anything you wish to name. The simple fact, however it may appear, is I saw a chance to reach Inverness and I took it. That is all.”

“Liar,” Dougal hissed. “Admit it: You’re a paid informant for the English. Ye left our company ten days ago to report our goings-on to your superiors, and now you’re back, despite your sweet face and claim to innocence, wi’ fresh orders and OPEN EARS.”

I was panicking. “That—that is simply not—”

He was looming over me again. I could smell his breath and feel it hot on my forehead. “Admit the truth, woman, and we’ll perhaps show ye some mercy. SPEAK!” 

A cacophony of sound filled the room and startled the birds. 

Dougal’s violent snarling: “Liar! LIAR!”

A whimpering sound. Me? 

Colum’s sharp, commanding, “I can think of no just reason—”

“LIAR!”

“—that a woman wi’ nothing to hide, should—” 

“Please—please—you must believe–”

Dougal’s hands on the arms of my chair. 

My eyes closed, the colors roaring in the dark. 

Stop. Just make it stop. Stop.  

“—DUNGEONS–”

“Please—“

“—Loosen your tongue–”

“JUST TELL THEM, Claire!”

I felt his voice jolt through my body like a wave of electricity and I whirled my head to see him standing in the corner, arms crossed. 

JAMIE. 

I nearly sunk to the floor in abject relief. He must have entered with Dougal, remaining silent. But he was here. HERE

Jamie. MY Jamie.

Floor be damned: I wanted to leap out of the chair and fly into his arms—those strong arms that had held me and warmed me and kept me; Wanted to feel his skin against mine. Wanted—wanted so badly it felt like physical pain in my chest—to kiss him and feel his fingers in my hair. To talk. To tell. JAMIE. 

I forced myself to remain still, but inside I was thrumming with relief and joy. Everything would be alright, now—Jamie was here.

Tell them, Mistress,” he said, and the coldness in that voice was so shocking I blinked as though struck. 

He had stepped forward a pace or two, so I could see that his eyes, too, were hard and icy, revealing none of his usual bright eagerness. Even more disturbing than this, they held an alarming intensity, some silent meaning I couldn’t comprehend. “It’s alright, mistress. Tell them the truth of why ye fled.”

Another jolt, and I could do nothing but stare, my mouth gobbling open and shut. The truth? 

For one wild, ludicrous moment, I was screaming: ‘how does he know I was trying to get through the stones?’

But he didn’t know; he couldn’t know; he could never know that truth.

“I….CAN’T.” I finally said, teeth gritted and voice tight. (Because I don’t know what in bloody hell you mean, you damned, wonderful—)

“Ye can,” he said, walking around to my right to stand with his uncles. “Go on, Mistress. There’s less shame in it than being mistaken and hung for a spy.”

“What’s this about, Jamie?” Colum demanded, his eyes flashing.

Dougal, too, was mounting in his own brand of fury. He took a menacing step toward his nephew. “D’ye mean to say that ye had further knowledge of her departure—Information that you chose to withhold??”

“Aye,” Jamie said, his eyes downcast. “Though it wasna mine to disclose, before.”

Dougal gave a guttural roar and made as if to lunge for Jamie behind Colum’s chair, but before he could say another word, Jamie raised a hand and looked directly at me with that same hard eye as before. “With your permission, Mistress?”

I saw it now, what that look meant.  

It said: be silent.

I nodded and dropped my eyes to my lap, seeing the three of them behind the desk only from the upper periphery of my vision.

“Mistress Beauchamp fled that night…because I spurned her advances.”

I couldn’t have spoken a word if I’d tried. If I could have, it might have been a gut-punched, ‘…Jesus.’

He went on, quiet and careful. “I begged her to forgive me—Told her truly what a fine, beautiful lady she is, and how much I admired and respected her—but that—my allegiances lay elsewhere.”

He placed a hard emphasis on that word, and I thought I saw a shifting, enough so that I chanced a glance upward to witness the significant look Jamie was sharing with Colum. To my astonishment and relief, I thought I saw something dawning in the laird’s expression. Jesus Christ…this was going to work!

“And—being, as we all know—a verra strong-willed and reckless sort of woman, Mistress Beauchamp departed in the night—” He turned his gaze to me, “—too hurt …and vexed to remain…That’s how it was….aye, Mistress?”

I felt myself nodding but I was still staring down at my hands . I could see him in my periphery, his image blurring and distorting as the tears gathered. My throat was burning. With shame.

That’s how it was. Despite his phrasing, he wasn’t asking me. He was telling. Hurt and vexed—the mildest words possible for what I had done to him. His eyes told me the truth: Furious. Heartbroken.

God, what a fool I was. I’d come back, free in my own heart, ready to sing out a ‘ten-minute’ apology, then throw myself into his arms with hardly a thought for just how deeply I had savaged him with my words, my rejection.

His eyes were on the floor, now, and I wanted to tear my own guts out. 

Beauchamp, look at yourself.

I was.

And I saw—vividly—how I had ground his heart into the dirt when he’d handed it to me so tenderly and freely.

I had had my reasons at the time, yes. But God, how I had twisted the knife in his flesh. How I had ripped him.  

He’d made me a gift of himself and everything he would ever be, and to his eyes, I hadn’t even glanced at it before flinging it into the fire.

I did, Jamie! God, I DID glance. I looked and looked and it frightened me because I WANTED it. And I ran because I was married—because of Frank. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I want YOU. 

Can’t you see that in my face? LOOK, Jamie. Find me, here.

“Well… that does seem to explain things.”

I looked up at Colum in surprise, wiping my eyes, which had been streaming. Apparently my regret and shame over what I’d done to Jamie was playing off rather nicely in support of the narrative that I was the lover that had been spurned. Even Dougal’s hostile posture had softened, though his look of distaste had not.

Colum, however, was not done. “Though it doesna altogether account for your return, this morning. If it was our Jamie’s disregard that prompted ye to flee…why come back?”

“I knew almost immediately,” I said quickly, marshaling my tremulous voice and picking up the narrative from Jamie, thanking him silently for handing me a lie with a fighting chance of success, “that it would look dreadful—as it indeed does, I am well aware—to have forsaken my word to the MacKenzies on a mere affaire de coeur.”  

I met eyes with Jamie and lost my breath for a moment. He seemed to sense that my looking at him disrupted my train of thought, and he casually began pacing before the bookshelves, moving to my right and slowly out of my line of sight.

I carried on. “Upon learning that my friends were unreachable, I did consider going south to England—or to Edinburgh or some other place I might have cause to use my skills as a healer, but my honor prompted me to return–”

“Honor,” scoffed Dougal.

“—and to beg the forgiveness of the laird and permission to remain in his service. Which I do now, humbly, under whatever terms you demand.”

Silence reigned, interrupted only by the chirping of the birds.

Colum and Dougal  leaned their heads together, sharing a heated, whispered conference. I wanted desperately to turn in my chair and look at Jamie, touch his hand, thank him, but I forced myself to stay still.

At last, Colum straightened with a look of decision, and surveyed me intently for a long moment before saying, “You may remain at Leoch, Mistress Beauchamp.”

My sigh of relief was far louder than I’d anticipated. “Thank you—THANK YOU, my laird.”

“BUT—” he said, firmly, “you will confine your movements within the walls of the main castle. And an escort will be reinstated until you have earned my forgiveness. And my trust.”

I nodded. “That is—more than fair, sir. I will respect your wishes.”

We made our farewells and I rose, taking the time to give my deepest, most respectful curtsy I could muster, but turned the very first second I was able, tuned so that I could see Jamie, ask where we might go to talk, alone.

But all I saw was the swish of a vanishing plaid.



[[Next week they talk, I promise]]

Keep reading

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part V)

Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”

Twenty-six

I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.

“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair – fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”

“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever. “I want to tell you.”

“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”

“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten her keys when you knocked.”

“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.

“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.

We made our way through the pleasant streets of Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch, keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.

“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten papers along the way.

“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way, admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”

I grinned in content – almost purring in satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.

“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”

“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my room. “Whatever ye need.”

I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process. Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and peaceful in the womb.

I came around the bed and managed to lay down – silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.

Without a word she slid her hand to the middle of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.

“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to dance on her features. “In Scotland?”

“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”

“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed to calm her enough to go on.

“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was.  He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war between us. A long and tiresome war.”

I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction. With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.

“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly broke the vow to protect her – to love her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I would bestow upon her.

“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank said he still loves me.”

“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling the urge to ask her if she still loved him.

“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt like this, before.”

I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage – her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.

“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things would have been different.”

“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”

I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly, so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in enjoyment of the intimate touch.

“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.

“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.

Frank.” I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye are still married to him.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to decide, mo nighean donn. But I need ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar, happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”

“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding, speaking enough to silence her.

“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them, I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”

“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.

I cherished her and held her hand until she fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.

Even when night came and we were left in complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly – opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her, afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.

In the wee hours of night, I fought against sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to slumber.

I must have surrendered at some point. I had the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.

In the morning, she was gone.

Broken Dreams

MASTERLIST

A/N: This was requested by my lovely @lovethatmendeskid and I just loved the idea. I’m super nervous, legit shaking. I really hope you like it!

Word count: 3,502

I was sitting at the dining table in the kitchen, staring over at the full plate of - by now – very cold food. Food that – once again – weren’t going to be eaten.

I’d been sitting here for hours, but I stopped counting exactly how many that had passed by now. The more seconds that flew by, the more it stung in my heart.

Keep reading

It Hurts

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Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Angst

Words: 1.7k

Part 2

Originally posted by chaisoo


I felt my eyes sting as I caught a glimpse of him. I had specifically told Youngjae I didn’t want to come to this stupid party. I didn’t want to have to see him, it still hurt too much. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as him because of the pain I felt coming from my chest.

It had been about two months since we had broken up but my heart still had yet to recover. I mean how was I supposed to forget him? We had been together for three years. I never loved anyone as much as I had loved him. Hell I still love him, I don’t think I’ll be able to ever stop loving him.

“I’m going home.” I mumbled to Youngjae, sparing Jaebum another glance.

My breath hitched at meeting his gaze, quickly looking away and leaving. I ignored Youngjae’s calls, cursing him internally at making it more noticeable that I was leaving. I shoved my way out the front door, taking a deep breath once I was outside. I willed myself to not let any tears falls, feeling pathetic for not only crying over him but still being hung up on him. He was the one that forced me to end things with him, he was the one that cheated on me. That must’ve meant that he didn’t love me enough so why should I care about him at all?

“Y/N!” I stopped in my tracks, my heart sinking at hearing him call after me.

I refused to turn around and face him, knowing that the walls I had built up when he called would come crashing down the moment I looked at his face. I clenched my hands into fist, feeling angry at not just him but at myself for letting him affect me this much.

“What do you want Jaebum?” I asked, proud of myself for keeping the emotion out of my voice.

“I just wanted to know if you were okay…I saw you storm out of the party.”

I let out a bitter laugh, combing my fingers through my hair before finally turning to face him, “No, I’m not okay. You wanna know why?”

“Because I’m in pain Jaebum…it–it hurts so much….and I don’t know what to do…”
I trailed off, finally letting the tears fall.

Jaebum walked closer to me, his face clearly showing how worried he was. He reached out for me, placing his hands on my shoulders, trying to figure out where I was hurt, why I was in pain. He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it.

“Why am I the only one in pain? Why am I the only one that’s hurting, huh?” I questioned in agony, shoving him off of me.

“Why am I the only one? Did my foolish heart really fall for you that much?”

He simply stood there dumbfounded, his face expressionless. This angered me, seeing him so emotionless. He was always like this, closing himself off when confronted. He was always guarding his emotions, even when we were together it was a rare thing for me to ever see him cry. I think in the three years that we were together I had only seen him cry once.

“Why am I the only one that misses you? Why am I the only one that’s miserable? Why am I hurting more? Why, Jaebum, why?!” I yelled, shoving at his chest angrily, “Tell me why it hurts seeing you smile and laugh without me. Why it feels like my chest is about to cave in on itself every time I see you. I used to feel so elated every time I saw you but now–now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m literally about to die. You seem completely fine without me so why, why do I still feel this pain?”

“I feel so pathetic crying over a man that doesn’t love me as much as I thought he did.” I whispered, wiping the tears away.

I turned to walk away from him but stopped when I felt his hand grab my wrist. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, yanking my wrist out of his grip. I turned around to yell at him but stopped short at seeing that his eyes had glossed over.

“If you think I’m fine without you you are sorely mistaken. It physically hurts to see you’re no longer next to me every time I wake up. I can’t breathe properly whenever I see you around. My heart breaks at knowing that this is my fault, knowing that I’m the one that’s causing you so much pain and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He said softly, trying to keep his own tears in, cupping my face in both his hands, “Fuck I’ve missed you so much, I can’t stand it. There’s this constant weight pressing against my chest and I don’t know how to fix it. You’re not the only one hurting because believe me when I tell you it’s killing me. If I could take it all back I would.”

I pulled away from him, pushing at his chest once more. He didn’t budge as I punched at his chest. I hit his chest again, and again, and again.

“I hate you…. I hate you…. I fucking hate you, Im Jaebum.” I sobbed, hitting him one last time before resting my head against his chest, emotionally drained.

“Y/n…I’m sorry…”

“Stop. Stop saying you’re sorry and tell me why.” I pleaded with him, “You promised…you promised that you’d never cheat on me, that you’d never hurt me, that you’d love me until the day you stopped breathing. Was it just a lie? Was our whole relationship meaningless to you?!” I yelled, feeling the anger I felt that day return.

“Y/n…you don’t understand how sorry I am. I know what I did was wrong, it was unforgivable but baby, believe me when I say everything I ever promised you…I meant it. I meant every word.” He pleaded with me, cupping my face in his hands.

I pushed him away from me, “ Then why did you do that to me?! Why did you cheat on me?! With her of all people! She was my best friend Jaebum! I don’t even know how long the two of you were fucking each other before I caught you!”

“So tell me, how long? How long were you both lying to my face?” I questioned, knowing that this was the only chance I had to finally hear the truth.

The day I walked in on the two of them I didn’t give either of them a chance to explain themselves. I didn’t want to hear any excuses they had to offer. I packed up my bags and left that same night, moving in with Youngjae the next morning after spending the night at a motel.

“How long!” I yelled as he took too long to answer me.

He mumbled something I couldn’t quite catch, inhaling shakily before looking me in the eye, “A year and a half.”

I took a step away from him, tears immediately falling at his answer. I shook my head and turned on my heel, ready to walk away from him. Like before he reached out and grabbed my wrist in his hand. And like before I yanked my arm out of his grip, turning around to face him but this time I did something I never thought I’d do.  I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap would’ve caused me to wince if I was a mere passerby. Jaebum’s head was turned slightly to the right, in the direction I slapped him, his hair falling over his eyes.

“For half of our relationship, half. Did you ever ever love me at all?” I questioned, my voice breaking.

“Was I not good enough for you? Was that it? Did you just grow tired of me?”

“No! You were more than enough for me, you were too much for me, I didn’t deserve you. Y/n, I still love you, I’ll never be able to stop loving you…”

“I can’t believe you Jaebum, not after what you did. I wish I had never met you, I wish that I had never fallen in love with you because it hurts. God, it hurts so much Jaebum and I can’t handle it, it’s too much. The worst thing is that after all this time and after knowing the truth, I still love you.” I sobbed out, wanting to just leave his presence.

“Then–then let’s start over….we can, we can still fix this. fix us.” He pleaded with me, reaching out to place his hands on my shoulders.

I just stood there, too tired emotionally to push him away from me, “There’s nothing to fix Jaebum.”

“Baby please…”

I tried leaving his grip but he just held on tighter. I winced as his grip got a bit too tight, “Jaebum let me go.”

He didn’t listen to me, probably unaware of how tightly he was holding on to me. I tried prying his hands off of me but he was too strong.

“Jae, you’re hurting me.”

“Hyung I think that’s enough.” Youngjae said, steeping in.

I didn’t realize that he had followed us, until this very moment. I didn’t know that he was standing a ways from us this whole time, standing back, waiting for us to talk it out.

He took Jaebum’s hands off my shoulders before wrapping his own around me and bringing me into his chest. I buried my face into his chest, not wanting to be here anymore.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Youngjae told Jaebum, his voice firm.

“What? So are you guys a thing now?” Jaebum scoffed out angrily.

Youngjae sighed heavily, “Hyung…,” he paused before continuing, “You’ve had a few drinks, I think you two should have this conversation when you’re completely sober.”

There was a minute of silence before Youngjae swiftly moved me so I was standing behind him. I assumed Jaebum tried to reach for me but Youngjae was obviously not having it. He took a step away from him, holding his hand out in front of him to stop Jaebum from taking a step towards us.

“Hyung, don’t make this more difficult. I will get physical with you if I have to.” Youngjae warned him, before grabbing my hand and leading me away from him.

Sanctuary- Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 1  Part 2

Summary- You are a princess on the run from your cruel brother. Three men- Bruce (the court doctor), Tony (a weapons designer who worked for your father) and Clint (your most trusted guard) sneak you into enemy territory.  They bring you to the Winter Court where they ask King James for assistance in exchange for their skills and your hand in marriage. He agrees. Will this arrangement turn into love? Or will it always be political?

Message- Here’s part 3!! There is a time jump in between part two and this part! Sorry if it sucks!

Word count- 969

WARNINGS- mentions of abuse, and torture. Mentions of smut. 

You were currently getting ready for your wedding a maid was helping you with your hair. You were excited to be marrying King James. He was incredibly kind and you have grown very fond of him these past two months. But you were also very nervous because after every wedding day there was a wedding night where you would have to consummate the marriage. You knew very little about what that activity entailed. But you had heard whispers growing up. So you know that it would cause you a great deal of pain and that there would be blood from when your barrier (whatever that was) broke. You hear the door to your chambers open and you look up to see Tony.

“Are you ready, Y/N?” You nod your head and walk over to Tony. You wrap your arm around his and the two of you make your way to the church. The wedding and reception went by quickly. There was a lot of dancing, laughing and drinking. Eventually King James grabs your hand and leads you away from the festivities. He brings you to a room you are unfamiliar with, you look around and then you realize that this is his room. He turns towards you and uses his hand to cup your cheek. Then he pulls you into a searing kiss. You feel his tongue run over your bottom lip so you open your mouth a bit. You feel awkward and you aren’t entirely sure what you should be doing with your hands, so you leave them at your side. Eventually King James pulls away and gives you a small smile that you can’t help but return.

“K-king James, I-.”

“Just James, or Bucky. We are husband and wife now. There is no need for such formalities.” James whispers.

“James, I-I don’t know much about what happens between a husband and wife.” As you confess this James’s eyes darken and his smile turns wolfish.

“Then as your husband it is my job to teach you, my wife.” He growls as he pulls you to him.

Keep reading

Warm Me Up pt. 21

songs I listened to: Wasting all These Tears- Cassadee Pope, Echoes of Love (yes still), Here Without You- 3 Doors Down, Through Glass- Stone Sour, So Sick- Ne-Yo, Water Under the Bridge and Turning Tables- Adele

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click here for Ch. 20

Classes were relatively easier now. It wasn’t so hard to keep up. And now, with Spring break, Will finally had some breathing room. Sadly, breathing room also meant thinking time. And he didn’t want that.

Paolo, Alex, and Cecil were sitting in the café with him. Alex and Cecil were going back home. Paolo would be staying, because a trip back to Brazil was too expensive for just a week. While they chattered on mindlessly, Will’s eyes drifted to the door on the side of the café. Then to the pillar outside. To the smoke clouds from the people sitting outside, happily talking to their friends.

“Okay, my ride’s here, I have to get my things,” Cecil said as he stood. “I’ll see you all next week.”

They waved at him and Alex squirmed anxiously in his seat. “I guess I have to go back some time, right?”

“Remember, you have us here. We’ll welcome you with open arms the second you get back,” Will offered.

“And a lot of cookie dough and blankets,” Paolo added. “We’re here for you, Alex.”

“Thanks guys.” He took a breath and gave them a thumbs up. “Wish me luck.” He left the café and Will watched as he zipped through the crowd.

Suddenly, a hand was on his forearm. He looked over at Paolo who was looking at him curiously with black eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I know you. And I can read your expressions. So spill.” Will rolled his eyes and began folding a napkin mindlessly. “It’s him, right?”

“It’s stupid,” he muttered. He shook his head and tossed the napkin aside. “I thought that by giving him his stupid sweater back I would be able to let go of everything else. The last little bit of hope and, by default, whatever emotions I have left.” He felt a burn in the back of his eyes and sighed as he shut them, putting his forehead in his hand. “But then, I see those stupid marks on his neck and… it hurt. It still hurt. Now I have this image in my head of some random guy kissing him, and… him kissing that guy back. And it hurts.” His voice broke and he groaned in frustration.

After a second, Paolo nudged him and pulled him up from his seat. “Come on,” he said. Will frowned, but followed. “We’re going for a drive.” He hauled him to Will’s car and asked for the keys. Will gave him the keys uncertainly and got in.

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