never again will he be able to cup her cheek or cradle the back of her head

Crushed Love - Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

MASTER LIST

WARNINGS: SLIGHT CURSING, MENTIONS OF DEATH, VIOLENCE

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN HOMECOMING, BUT NOTHING TOO DRASTIC

Peter’s P.O.V.

“Wait, does Y/N know?” Ned asked, as we sat in my room, planning what we were going go wear for homecoming.

“No. And she never will.”

“Why not, she’s your best friend, well, second best,” Ned said the last part with a wink, causing me to roll my eyes.

“I’m serious.” Ned pushed. “Ned, no. Alright? If she knew, she could get hurt, and if she got hurt I’d never be able to live with myself. So please, just don’t say anything.”

I winced at just the thought of her getting hurt.

“Alright, alright. But I can’t promise I won’t tell her how you feel,” Ned said dragging out the last word in a sing-song voice.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, trying to pretend like I was oblivious to what he was talking about.

Ned rolled his eyes, “Please, it’s obvious you like her. I don’t know why you asked Liz to the dance, Y/N would’ve said yes.”

“I don’t like her Ned.”

He rolled his eyes, “Seriously, you trust me with knowing that you’re the Spider-Man, but not with your crush?”

I looked down at my feet and crossed my arms, knowing he was right. “I don’t like her… I love her,” I mumbled.

“Then tell her! The dance would be a perfect time dude!” Ned practically yelled, slapping me arm.

“I don’t know Ned, what if she doesn’t-”

“Trust me. She does.” Ned said, before going back to whatever he was doing on his phone.

I let out a sigh, maybe Ned was right.

-TIME SKIP-

“Liz, why don’t you go in, I’m gonna give Peter the dad talk,” Liz’s dad said with a wink. My heart dropped into my stomach.

Liz rolled her eyes, “Don’t let him scare you too much,” she said before getting out of the car.

Vulture was talking, but I could barely focus on a word he was saying, truth be told I was terrifying.

“As long as you stay out of my way, we’ll be good,” He said with a smile. I nodded, and reached for the door handle.

“Oh, and Peter, one more thing. Make one wrong move, and I won’t hesitate to kill her,” He said. I followed his gaze, my eyes landing on Y/N.

She was wearing a gorgeous long red dress that hugged every curve perfectly. Her hair was down and her smile was as vibrant as ever.

My heart stopped and my face went pale, “Yeah, I know about her.” He said in a taunting voice.

There was an audible click, signaling the door had been unlocked. I slowly climbed out of the car.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as I approached Y/N and the doors. “Peter? What’s wrong?” She asked, stopping me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

Her eyes sparkled as they looked into mine. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. “You need to go home, it’s not safe.” I whispered, my heart still racing.

She looked at me with a confused expression, “Peter what are you talking about?”

“Just, trust me, alright?” I said, in a dead serious tone. Before she could answer I ran inside, knowing that tonight, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the dance, or confess my feelings to Y/N.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I stood there in awe as Peter ran into the school. His last words echoing in my head. Why wouldn’t I be safe?

“Y/N? Are you ready?” My best friend asked. I shook my head, “You guys go, I need a minute,” I said, waving my friends inside, leaving me the only one outside.

I rubbed my arms as a cool breeze sent chills throughout my body. I grew uneasy, thinking of what Peter said about being safe.

All of a sudden, I felt a gloved hand cover my mouth and another wrap around my waist, roughly pulling me backwards as I struggled against my captor.

“I don’t usually do this, but you know what they say about desperate times,” A voice whispered into my ear, before a sharp pain exploded in my temple, and darkness slowly consumed my vision.

Peter’s P.O.V.

I walked into the empty warehouse, seeing nothing but Vulture and a metal table.

“It’s over,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

“Is it?” Vulture questioned before letting out a loud whistle. It was then that a man came out from hiding, pushing a girl in a long red dress in front of him.

The girl wad thrown to the floor by the force of the man. It didn’t take me long to realise who the girl was.

“Let her go!” I yelled as I began to run towards Y/N. But Vulture walked over and pulled her up by her hair, putting an Alien looking gun to her head, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Y/N let out a whimper, “Please, please don’t.” She begged, tears streaming down her face.

“She’s just an innocent citizen, she has nothing to do with this,” I said, still trying to hide my real identity from her.

“Now, now, there’s no need to act like a stranger. Why don’t you just tell the girl…” Vulture smirked before finishing his sentence with one last word, “… Peter.”

This caused Y/N to go still. “Take the mask off,” Vulture said. I stood frozen, staring at him, “Take it off!” He yelled, pressing the gun harder agasint Y/N’s head.

“Okay! Okay! Stop it, just don’t hurt her. Please.” I said, before slowly removing my mask, not being able to look Y/N in the eye.

“Peter-” Y/N started, but was interrupted by a loud crash, caused by vulture’s metal wings bursting through the ceiling and flying around the room recklessly.

“You missed,” I said, as I ducked out of the path of the wings. Vulture smirked as he threw Y/N to the ground, “Did I? Cause my distraction seemed to work.”

The wings flew around one more time, crashing into the concrete beams that held the building, before they attached to him, and taking him to safety, leaving Y/N and I.

The roof began to cave in, “Y/N!” I yelled, trying to run to her, but I was suddenly pinned down by massive blocks of concrete. Y/N’s screams echoed through the air.

“Please! Somebody. Help!” I yelled out, unable to move. “PLEASE! We’re stuck!” I screamed even louder, but I knew it was no use.

But what scared me the most was the fact that Y/N wasn’t screaming anymore. In fact, she made no effort to call out, leaving me to infer the worst.

“Y/N! Y/N! NO, PLEASE NO!” I screamed, shredding my throat. “SAY SOMETHING, PLEASE! Please.” I whispered the last word, my voice cracking and tears beginning to spill down my cheeks.

Sobs racked my body. I had to get out of here. I struggled against the concrete blocks, but each time I ended up failing.

I let out a frustrated scream that mixed with a sob. I looked down in defeat, seeing my mask floating in a puddle of water, my reflection staring back at me.

‘If youre nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it.’

Those words echoed in my head, and in that moment I realised Mr. Stark was right. I gave it one last trying, and slowly but surely, I was able to lift the concrete and free myself.

As soon as I was free and climbed over the debris to where I last saw Y/N and began digging through.

Her body laid lifeless just beneath the rubble, a gash on her head allowed blood to flow freely onto the floor, and her left leg was pinned beneath a slab of concrete.

I swiftly freed her, picking up her limp body, and bringing her to a clearing.

I gently laid her down, kneeling beside her and leaned my head down, pressing my ear against her chest. A faint heart beat just barely audible.

I cupped her face with my hands, “No. No. Y/N Please, please wake up.” I begged, as tears ran down my face.

Violent sobs racked through my body, “Come on, please. PLEASE!” I screamed the last word, only to be cut off by another sob.

“Please, I can’t do this without you, I love you, Y/N, please you can’t leave me . I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Please just wake up,” I barely got out, before erupting into another violent fit of sobs.

“Please,” I choked out, my voice breaking. It felt as if my heart had been crushed, I felt numb and empty.

“AHH!” I screamed, my fists clenched, and my body shaking. “GODDAMNIT!” I pounded on the ground with my fists, my knuckles growing bloody under my gloves, the fabric tearing.

I turned back to Y/N with nothing but guilt and sadness, this was my fault. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered as I pulled her into my lap and cradled her in my arms.

I placed a soft kiss to her forehead, my tears landing on her pale skin. I ran my thumb over her lips, stopping for a second when I felt something impossible. There was a small tingle of air just brushing my fingers. She was breathing.

“Y/N?” I said, shocked.

Within seconds her eyes magically fluttered open. “Peter?” Was all she said. But that was all she needed to say for me to break and pull her into my chest, letting myself cry without shame.

“I thought I lost you,” I whispered. Y/N let out a whimper and hugged me tighter, her fist tighly gripping the fabric of my suit. Her body shook as she choked back a sob.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, ” I whispered, trying to calm her, though it was more of an attempt to reassure myself that she was in fact ‘okay.’

“Peter, he- he said he was gonna kill me, and-” A wrangled sob escaped her body and cut her sentence short.

“Shh, I know, it’s okay, I’ve got you, You’re safe, no one is gonna hurt you ever again,” I said as I pulled away from the hug, cupping her face, keeping her eyes locked with mine.

I stared into her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, tears still finding there way down her cheeks. “You scared the shit out of me,” I said, before closing the distance between out lips.

We shared a long, passionate kiss, only breaking for air. “I love you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, smoothing the hair out of her face. “I’m sorry I never told you before, the thought of you dying before I could tell you- god it was unbearable.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around me again, clinging to me, “I love you too, Peter.”

We sat there just holding each other for a few seconds before the sad realization of reality hit me. “I have to go,” I whispered, causing her to look at me. “What?”

“Vulture, he’s about to rob Mr. Stark’s plane, I have to stop him.”

She shook her head, “No. No, Peter you can’t.”

I cupped her face with my hands and stared into her eyes, “I have to.”

Tears began to leak from her eyes, “Please be careful, promise me.” I nodded, before leaning in and placing my lips on hers once more, “I promise.”

I took my phone out of my pocket, which had surprisingly only sustained a few cracks in the screen and placed it in Y/N’s hand. “Call Mr. Stark, tell him what happened. Everything is going to be okay. I love you so much.”

And with that, I was off, more eager than ever to make Vulture pay for what he did.

-TIME SKIP-

Right after the fight with Vulture, I hurried to where I had last left Y/N. She was no longer there, instead, someone else was.

“Happy?” I said as I walked towards him. “Hey kid, you look like shit,” he said, his tone was proud and playful, which was a change from his usual annoyed and angry tone.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” I asked, in a panic.

Happy smiled, “She’s all right, Mr. Stark brought her to the new Avengers facility to be treated.”

I sighed in relief, “Can I see her?”

Happy nodded, “Come on, I’ll take you,” he said as he led me to his car. The drive there was silent and considerably long. Happy tried to make small talk, but I was too on edge from tonight’s events to talk.

The new Avengers facility was large and unbelievable. I would have loved to sit there and just stare at it, but I had more important things to do.

Mr. Stark greeted me at the door, “Hey kid, you did good tonight, I’m proud of you.”

“Where is she?” I said completely ignoring his compliment. “Come on,” Mr. Stark said, slinging his arm around my shoulder and walking me to where Y/N was.

She sat up right on a bed, a nurse tending to her wounds. She kept her gaze down, but I could still see that her cheeks were stained with tears and her eyes were red and watery.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat, causing the nurse and Y/N to look up in our direction.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Peter!” She yelled as she jumped off the bed and ran to me, throwing her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her waste and rest my chin on the top of her head.

“You’re alive, you’re alive,” she kept mumbling as if she couldn’t believe it. Her tears stained the front of my suit which I still had on.

She leaned back a bit and looked at me, “Oh my god, Peter,” she gasped, her fingers lightly tracing the injuries on my face. “What happened to you?”

“Hey, don’t worry about me alright? I’m okay.” I reassured her. She didn’t say anything, she simply wrapped her arms around me and brought me back into a hug.

We stayed like that for a few minutes before she whispered into my ear, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t need to be sucked into all of this, you were never supposed get hurt, none of this was supposed to happen. I’m so sorry,” I said, attempting to hold back tears.

Y/N let go from the hug and placed her hand on my cheek, I leaned in to her touch.

“This isn’t your fault Peter, no matter what I will always be by your side, I’m your best friend-”

“No. No, you are so much more than that to me, which is why I couldn’t put you into danger by telling you. I love you too much.”

Y/N stared at me for a few seconds before placing her other hand on my other cheek, and bringing my face down to meet hers. When our lips connected I could feel my heart instantly begin to race.

“I love you too, Peter,” She mumbled against my lips, “And I always will, no matter what.”

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

Section Two: A Hundred More 

(Eight) 


So close,” that wretched, strangled voice kept choking out over and over again. “Claire—” He kept trying to hold her closer, wrap his body around hers still more completely, searching, searching for her, though he knew she was beneath him. “So—so close—

To losing her. He had come mere minutes, moments away from losing her forever, again, right before his eyes.

Shhhh, darling, I know,” she kept whispering into his hair, his neck, though she was sobbing as hard as he. “I know—It’s—It’s alright, love—” 

“Don’t go…” The snow-flecked dark seemed to spin and scream around him, throwing everything into a hellish whirl that he couldn’t grasp, about to throw him off the very face of the earth. “Claire, ye canna—Claire—don’t—go—” 

“I’m not going—anywhere—” she gasped out, clutching harder around his back. “It’s over, Jamie—All—over….”  She cupped his head so urgently, so tenderly as she cradled him and wept into his shoulder. “Shhhh, it’s alright, love…it’s alright…It’s all over….

He hadn’t let her out of his arms, not for one single moment.

Those minutes on the hill, his body, his heart, his MIND had all been on the verge of shattering from the terror that she was leaving him. The strength—the pure, desperate strength— it had taken to keep upright and to speak, to ask instead of screaming and lunging? Never, not even in battle, had he ever felt something like that: the absolute life of him being ripped apart before him, shred by shred, hope by hope, until he was no more than a bloodied, quivering plea. 

 

But then, she had run to him and he had become flesh again, breathing and needing, with arms that could hold and a soul that could feel joy, this joy, 

and the rest of world had gone still. 


It had been hours—or perhaps only moments—before he’d crumpled to the ground.  Utterly overcome, utterly dissolved in relief and love, in scarce-contained panic, he’d laid her down and covered her like a cloak with his body, surrounding her, trying to convince himself that she was real. 

There, on the frozen ground of the faerie hill, oblivious to the wind and the snow, they’d broken apart in one another’s arms, each kept from vanishing only by the other grasping them tight enough to bruise, from feeling their arms, hearing what words they could manage to gasp out; and it was both everything and scarcely anything at all compared to what they each felt, in those moments. 

“Claire….” 

She felt the same under his hands, exactly the same. It was the same voice—the same gentle hands—the same glorious spirit. She was Claire; and he was going to die from her. 

“Are you shaking from—” She had to stop and get her sobbing breath under control before she could finish. “—from—crying— or cold?”

He truly didn’t know. 

She pushed up his sleeve. “God, Jamie, you’re like ice,” she moaned. He felt her shifting and fumbling about. “Here, put—Take this—”

Though he was still shaking, still barely able to see through swollen eyes, he managed to pull the cloak out from beneath her and throw it over them both, heads and all. It was quite large, of good, thick wool, and a pocket of warmth instantly began to form around them. While he wouldn’t have thought the cold had been affecting him so very much, the change was like a dram of good brandy, rushing through his body from head to toe in an instant. His sobbing eased, his mind began to clear, his breathing slowing to something like a normal pace. He could hear hers doing the same, tapering and settling as the calm and the gentle pool of heat settled over them both. 

He had had both arms around her before they’d shifted, hands gripping her side and twined in her hair, needing in every muscle and fiber of him to hold her. Now, in utter darkness, without even the faint glow of the snow-clouds to illuminate her, he could only reach for her face, needing, paradoxically, to see her, to look into her eye. And the moment his palm came to rest on her cheek— so cold and slick with tears—she gave a little whimpering sound that might have been his name, and she was reaching up for his mouth. He couldn’t stop kissing her; tasting her; touching her; couldn’t stop moaning her name. All the years—All the years of longing for her, and she was here in his arms, sharing his breath. 

“I’m here,” she kept saying back against his lips, knowing that he needed to be told. “I’m here, Jamie….I’m here….”


“When I saw ye,” he said, a long time later, when the world had once more gone quiet, his hand pressed against her heart. “When I saw ye climbing up that hill, Claire—” 

Jamie had found the horse a mile or two back. It was one of the Lallybroch mares, a beast he’d broken himself and would have known anywhere. Terror had driven him all the way from the Lallybroch dooryard, or so he had thought. No, he had only felt the true, ripping claws of it when he had seen that riderless horse and known that he had come too late. The furious minutes of that last hellish gallop were a blank in his memory, but he remembered the ecstatic fury of seeing her up there in the distance; seeing her turning; and then the life dropping out of him once more as she began to sprint upward, away from him, toward the stones.

“What would you have done?” Claire whispered, stroking his face. “If I had kept running?”

“I’d have run faster,” he said with what voice he had left, “and pinned ye to the ground until ye listened to sense.”

She stiffened. “…You’d have stopped me by force?”

He forgot the complete darkness enshrouding them and gave her a look.  “If you’re asking ‘would I have done whatever I could to keep ye running off forever before ye kent all the truth’ you’re damned right, I would. I’d have tied ye hand and foot to a tree, if I had to.”

“You bloody man,” she muttered, and it was not said in fondness. “Nothing changed.”

Anger flared up in him, red-hot and blinding with panic, and he closed his hand tight around her wrist. “You were going to just leave, Claire,” he hissed. “Can ye honestly blame me? God, I’m still so furious that ye would have—Had I not—” He swore, shaking her. “You damnable, foolish wom—

“Oh, is that the way of things?” she snarled at him, her breath hot in his face. “So, when YOU sacrifice your own feelings and well-being for love, it’s noble and right, but when I do, I’m just a ‘foolish woman?’”

“That’s—Damn you, that isna at all—”

She yanked herself out of his grasp. “Can you honestly tell me, James Fraser, that if the circumstances were reversed—if you’d somehow found your way to 1968—found that I’d married someone new—heard I’d had a child by him and was by all accounts blissfully happy—you’d have just waltzed right in and thrown yourself at me? You’d truly have put me in that position?”

Jesus.

“No,” he moaned, defeated, as the true tragedy of what she’d been planning to do for his sake settle around him. “No, I….I couldna have put ye through such a choice.”

“Well, I bloody couldn’t do it to you, either,” she spat at him, sobs starting to shudder through her again in her rage. “No matter how much—much it tore me apart to—”  

“Oh, lass….” He felt her convulse and cover her face with both hands, as though she might hide from the terror of what they’d so nearly lost.  “No,” he moaned, gathering her tight against his chest, covering her again, the intimacy between them knitting together once more. “No, it was noble what ye meant to do, Claire. If what Jenny told ye had been true, it would have been right. I—Christ, that ye would have done that for my sake…Thank you.” 

‘”Jamie….”

“We’ve been lucky, Sassenach.” He rocked her softly, buried his face in her hair as she wept.  “God….we’ve been so lucky, today. We were in the right places at the precise right moments to find one another again.” He kissed her, softly hushing as she had done for him. “And now, it’s all over, just as ye said… We’ll never be parted again, I swear it, Claire.” He sealed the promise with a kiss in the hollow of her neck. 

Not ever.


“But what—what will we do?” she managed, voice taut with worry. “About Laoghaire? The girls?”

What will we do, indeed?

“I dinna ken….not precisely,” he admitted. 

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence,” she said, with a tremulous smile in her voice. 

Lovely wee smartarse. 

“We’ll find some arrangement that separates me from Laoghaire as honorably as can be managed. You and I are still man and wife, after all. That must count for something wi’ the law.” 

Wife. His wife. 

Lord have mercy upon his soul, WIVES. 

“It will be a tricky business, Claire, and I’ll no’ say it will be over quickly, but I will fight for it with everything that I have.”

“What if it can’t be managed honorably?”

He exhaled. “Then I shall find a way to reconcile wi’ dishonor.”

She choked out a laugh and held him tighter, sighing in deep relief. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. At least we’ll be in hell together, eh?”

“And a happy damnation t’will be.” 

A warm, pulsing happiness had pushed away the tears from their sanctuary, and he suddenly wondered how long he could keep his eyes open amid such peace. He’d slept scarce more than an hour at a time on the ride from Lallybroch, and only then when he could no longer stay upon the horse. Each and every time, he’d awoken in a dead-panic that he’d slept overlong, leapt right into the saddle, and repeated the harrowing process over and over, pushing himself to the very limits until he reached Craigh na Dun. 

It wasn’t merely the actual fatigue—it was the relief. Many a time in his life—from battlefields to his examinations in the Paris days—he had witnessed the body’s incredible stamina to push through lack of sleep, of food, and of physical strength. It will go to incredible lengths to complete the task at hand, to survive. When the deed is accomplished, though, it takes its own, and fairly well damns the consequences. Jamie was hungry, true, but that could wait. Sleep, though…No, that could wait as well. In the growing warmth of her body and his together, captured by the warm cloak, it was harder and harder by the minute; but he didn’t want to miss a single moment with her. Not one. 

“Will you tell me….” It was such a tiny voice that asked it; so tentative and careful. “…why Laoghaire?”

He stiffened, steadied himself with a breath. It was a fair question.

“She was…there,” he hazarded, “at the right time, when I was come back to Lallybroch. It was Jenny’s idea, ken?”

“Mm.” A great deal unsaid in that mm, perhaps having to do with the destructive nature of Jenny’s ideas of late.

“She seemed—sweet, I suppose. Eager, and—Wi’ the wee lassies to feed, she needed me; and I needed—I needed something, too.

Claire didn’t say a word.

“I am sorry, mo chridhe. I ken it’s—painful.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, I certainly dinna delight in thinking of the men that have shared your bed.”

To his surprise, she bristled. “It’s not that she was another woman, Jamie. It’s that it was her.” 

“I do ken she was quite the jealous brat, all those years ago, at Leoch,” he said, carefully, at something of a loss. “But she was naught but a wee lassie at the time. Surely ye can forgive her a few youthful indiscretions?”

“Youthful ind—?” He heard her choke back whatever retort she had planned and instead breathe through her nose, calming herself. She was being careful, so careful, but there was true indignation, there, true hurt, kept in check for his sake.

“Say it, mo ghraidh.” He touched her face, bent down to kiss her. “Tell me what it is.”

“Wouldn’t it trouble you,” she said, very quietly, “if had chosen to marry someone who’d gone out of their way to have you hurt and killed?”

“Killed?” 

“Cranesmuir? Surely you remember that little episode?” 

He felt a jolt run through him. Then it walloped him over the head like a brick. “Laoghaire? She was—?”

“Jamie, she was the one who arranged for me to be taken with Geillis Duncan, that day, for Christ’s sake! You knew that! Surely we discussed it??”

“We certainly DID NOT. Sassenach! BELIEVE me, had I I known, I would never have taken her to wife. NEVER.” He gripped her tight, as though he could look into her eyes. “Had I KNOWN….Christ, the wicked wee bitch!

She laughed at that. “Well good, I’m—That’s a burden off my mind. I’d certainly have understood if you’d remarried. I did understand, until you mentioned her name. Lord,” she laughed, groaning. “Laoghaire bloody MacKenzie. Laoghaire….Fraser.” 

Lord forgive him, he had given Claire’s would-be murderess his name, shared her bed. “I’m—I’m truly so ashamed, Sassenach.” He felt as though he would vomit. “I’m so sorry for this. After what she did—” 

“Don’t be,” she said at once, and he heard the sincerity in her voice. “You didn’t know, and would have had no reason to ask. It’s water under the bridge. Though,” she said with good humor, “I do reserve my right to make snide comments from time to time, at her expense only, not yours.”  

“’Tis only your due,” he laughed weakly, grateful for the gift of levity, which did help the anxiety and shame abate. 

“Jamie, can I ask, does it….?”

More to do with Laoghaire, surely. 

“Does it what, mo nighean donn?”

“Does it frighten you? How—easy this is?” She touched his chest. “Like it was only yesterday we last saw each other?”

He released the breath he had been holding and touched her face. “It frightens me only insomuch as it makes my heart feel whole again; and it hasna been for a verra long time. It frightens me to feel that I must learn anew how to hold all these emotions in my heart, once more. But the comfort and the—us-ness between us? I couldna ever be frightened by that; no more than I could be frightened of my own voice.” He gently laid his palm flat against her breast. “Mo chridhe.” 

She traced the lines of his collarbone. “I very nearly went to Edinburgh first, you know.”

“Aye, ye said, in the…your letter.”

It was tucked away in his satchel, along with the PhotoGraphs; and he would keep it, always, but he wasn’t altogether sure he could bring himself to read it again. 

“All the way here from Lallybroch, after I spoke with your sister, I wondered if I ought to have gone there first.” She paused. “Do you think it would have been easier on us? If I had just appeared through your shop door?” 

“It would have given me back a hank of grey hairs that I’ve gained in the last week.”

She laughed, but was not to be dismissed. “What would you have done?” 

He’d have been toiling away at the presses, no doubt, with no notion of great happenings about to take place. Perhaps Fergus might have been present, but most days it was him alone in the shop. What would he have done, when he’d heard her voice with no warning? He’d likely have fainted, as he nearly did at Jenny’s news…but beyond that? What would he have done with Claire Beauchamp before him, alive and well and glowing like the June sun, ready and willing to spend the rest of her days with him? 

“I ken I wouldna have told ye all the truth…about Laoghaire and William.”

“Oh? Why should that have changed?” 

“Is it no’ clear? I’d have been so scairt that it would be too much to hear.” He shook his head in growing conviction. “For all the terror and the near-missing in the way things did come to pass, at least I was able to tell ye all, Claire, wi’ no hesitation. There was nothing more to be lost and so I was able to just say everything, some things I hadna ever once spoken aloud to everyone! It just—The truth was the only thing that could keep ye from going. And so while I canna say this is precisely how I’d have wished things to occur, everything is known between us, now, and that is right. Do ye see?” 

“It was a gift to both of us, in its way,” she whispered, “though I know it wasn’t easy.”

“No.” He squeezed her hand, feeling the fine bones and the unbearable silkiness of it. How he wished he could see her. “But if ye’d come upon me in Edinburgh, so far from home, from Laoghaire, wi’ me living under a false name already…. Lord, if you’d just arrived there before me? Handed me the moon and offered this miracle of which I’d vainly dreamed for so long? Could I have told ye I had a son? Could I have told ye was marrit and risked ye leaving at once?” He swallowed, ashamed of the truth, but knowing it was truth all the same. “No. I’d have kept it from ye as long as possible. Maybe forever.”

“No you wouldn’t,” she said with immediate, easy confidence. “You’re too much of a noble hero-type to have conscienced any such thing, Jamie Fraser, and you know it.”

God, does she truly believe that? 

A new terror gripped him and he felt his mouth go utterly dry. 

The man he had been these last years—James Fraser or Alexander Malcolm or whoever he might be when he was alone only with his thoughts—had been shaped so deeply by grief and bitterness. Crushed first in the loss of her and the bairn; then laid low by the years of hiding and imprisonment, the strain of clearances upon his family; then William, first the fear of him, then tentative joy, and then the loss, forever; and finally rushing up that crest of hope, that desperate hope that something good was to be found in marrying again, and the ache of crashing down onto the sharp realities below. 

Claire held in her arms a man bitter and broken. Was he one that she could love, really love, once the euphoria of reunion had worn away? Was the shattered man he had been merely a relic of loneliness that would now vanish with her presence? Or would traces remain? Perhaps the Jamie she had loved had ceased to be and could not be revived. In fact, he was certain that it was not so very far from the truth.

“I’m none so very noble as ye might wish to believe, Sassenach.”

He felt her stiffen. 

“Perhaps it’s that I’ve lost too much to honor, or….I’m…” He withdrew, trying to touch her as little as possible as he got the words out. “Ye must ken I’m not altogether the same man of twenty years ago, Claire.”

“You are.” 

“But I’m truly not, Claire. I wish to be, will endeavor to be, for your sake; but I have…. such fears.” 

The wind had ceased to wail outside their cloak shelter. He could hear every intake and exhale of her breaths. 

He suddenly felt her hand, cool and sure, touching his cheek, the other coming to rest on the curve of his breast. “Is your heart still mine?”

God, Claire. 

“Yours,” he croaked. “Yours, mo nighean donn. Never did it stop being so.”

“Then, we’ll manage with the rest. All the rest.” She cupped the back of his neck to pull him down closer. “I see what you fear, what you dread you are. Perhaps I couldn’t have seen it, if I’d found you in Edinburgh; but I’m here now, and I see you.” 

She saw him. Even in darkness, Claire saw him. 

I love you, Jamie Fraser.”

And though that was a point on which he had never held the faintest doubt, the hearing of it now, her declaration, his true name…. 

To be seen, and yet still be loved. 

Tears came, fast and many, and he made no move to halt them. She pulled him down to her breast, murmuring love over him again and again as sleep pressed itself upon him, her hands holding him. He could sleep, at last. Claire was watching over him.

Hello everyone, I’m here to ruin your day

So this is the first fanfiction I’ve put on Tumblr, and I want to say I hope you like it… but after you read it, I doubt you will… 

This is my idea of what could happen if things go horribly wrong for Aelin, so be prepared. 

I would like to thank my sister @misspatsyjanereads for being my editor (it pays to have a sister in publishing)! 




“If only you had just done what I asked Aelin- you could have lived. You could have lived a thousand years; and I would have eventually brought your mate to you- if he survived Erawan’s attack of course.” 

Aelin was on the cold stone floor, her breathing heavy, blood dripping from her nose; surrounding her were the cadre- or what was left of it. Fenrys, Connell and Vaughan were positioned around Maeve, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Cairn stood directly next to Aelin, a whip gripped tightly in his left hand. Aelin had nowhere to go, she had nowhere to run; the months trapped in irons had left her magic almost useless, and any hopes of Rowan finding her had long vanished. Her heart was heavy with grief- not just for herself, but for her cousin who despite all odds had found her, for her friend who had deserved so much more than the hand she had been dealt, and for Rowan, her mate, who loved her through all the bad times, who walked the dark path with her back to the light. Choking back a sob, Aelin raised her head to look at Maeve. 

“Even when you know you’re about to die you continue to try and fight. Why bother? No one is going to save you.” Maeve continued forward, until she was standing right in front of Aelin. “Although, they did try.” This earnt a chuckle from Cairn and Aelin tried to hide her discomfort. “it was actually a very valiant attempt, Prince Rowan made it past the gates and into these walls,” a laugh from Maeve this time, “it was very impressive. He was so close to you Aelin, he was so close to freeing you, yet so far away.” 

Aelin couldn’t help the tears that fell, Rowan had been here, he had tried to save her. 

“Fenrys, if you would be so kind as to fetch our guest.” Maeve circled around Aelin, gently brushing her hand over shoulders as she passed. “You see, we couldn’t exactly let him go. I thought we could have a little fun whilst the two of you are here together.”

At that moment, Fenrys returned. Behind him, dressed in a loose tunic and pants, was Rowan. As if there was some invisible force, Rowan’s eyes immediately went to Aelin, who was now struggling against the restraints, tears leaking out her eyes, Rowan surged forward, trying to get to her, his eyes wide in panic. 

“Now, now Rowan. We don’t want to be too eager,” Maeve had returned to her throne, her crimson dress spread around her on the floor, “I think it’s time to begin the games… Don’t you think Cairn?” 

“It would be a pleasure my Queen.” Cairn’s rough voice echoed around the throne room, his next movements were quick- he grabbed Aelin by the hair, pulling her upwards into a standing position. 

“Touch her again bastard and I will kill you.” Rowan growled at Cairn, straining against Fenrys’ hold. The iron in the chains suppressing his magic, stopping him from carrying out his threat then and there. 

“Touch her like this?” Cairn grabbed Aelin’s face and yanked it towards his, licking her jawline slowly, all the while having his eyes trained on Rowan. Aelin was too weak to try and pull away, but her disgust was written all over her face. Cairn laughed and shoved Aelin back onto the floor, her knees cracking as they hit the stone. “Don’t worry your pretty face Rowan, I don’t like used goods anyway.” 

Maeve ignored Rowan’s shout of anger and directed her attention to Aelin. “This may bring back some fond memories for you. If you would be so kind as to remove your shirt, we’re going to give Rowan a little demonstration of what happened on the beach that day.” 

“Go to hell.” Aelin spat at Maeve. 

“Cairn, as she is unwilling to cooperate you’ll have to help her.”

Cairn didn’t waste time, he removed his dagger and tore through Aelin’s shirt, purposely grazing her skin as he did. A cool breeze, courtesy of Rowan, blew through the room, caressing her bare torso- her gaze turned to her mate, who was already staring at her, their eyes locked and neither would look away; not even when Cairn raised the whip to make the first strike. 

“Aelin, you remember how this works, you’ll count, and if you fail to do so, Cairn here will start again.” 

Rowan tried to shake off the hold that Fenrys had on him, his eyes were watching Aelin, watching the way she was letting the tears roll down her cheeks, the way she didn’t fight or flinch when the first hit of the whip came down on her. She was giving up. 

“What number was that Aelin?” 

Aelin remained silent, she refused to play Maeve’s games, she refused to even acknowledge the pain. All she did was stare at Rowan, silently praying to Mala that he would get out of here alive. 

“Start again.” 

The whip descended to Aelin’s back, the silence broken momentarily. 

Aelin still refused to say a word. 

“Start again.” 

“Stop this Maeve. You’ve had your fun with her, let her go. Please.” Rowan had stopped resisting Fenrys, his eyes teeming with sadness and anger, he couldn’t watch his Fireheart be tortured, not like this, not after everything she had been through. “I beg you Maeve, I will do anything you want, just please don’t hurt her.” 

A cruel, wicked smile spread across the queen’s face. She did not say a word, instead just held her hand up, signalling for Cairn to step away. 

“You’ve gone soft Rowan, I expected better of you. You certainly are not the warrior you used to be.” Maeve rose from the dais, coming to a halt in front of Rowan and Fenrys. “Let him go to his mate Fenrys. I suppose I shall let him say goodbye.” 

Without another word, Rowan tore away from Fenrys and straight to Aelin. He got to one knee and gently pulled her away from Cairn who had backed up a few steps. Rowan cradled Aelin in his arms, kissing her head, whispering he loved her. It was hard to distinguish whose tears were who’s. Aelin was gripping Rowan’s shirt as tight as she could, taking in the smell of pine and snow, the smell of home. 

Neither one let go, Rowan had sunk down to both knees, holding Aelin close to his chest, their hearts beating together. 

“I want you to know Rowan, that I love you, I will always love you. I want you to know that every moment spent with you I will cherish; I will never forget you. You made me want to live,” Aelin barely choked out the last word before more tears fell, “you made me want to live, and I will be forever grateful for the time I got with you.”

“Aelin you are not going anywhere; do you hear me? We are going to get out of here alive, and we’re going to have those thousand years together. You are not leaving me.” He wiped the tears from his own face, and held Aelin closer. 

“Look after Terrasen for me-” 

“-Aelin,” 

“It’s okay Rowan, I’m ready. You don’t need to be scared for me, I’ll be okay, I promise.” 

“But I don’t think I will be. Aelin I can’t live without you. I-I can’t lose another mate, please fight, please stay with me.” 

Aelin brought her hand up to Rowan’s face, cupping it and gently stroking her thumb along his soft cheek. 

“Look after Terrasen for me; and tell the others that I couldn’t have asked for a better family.” 

“Please don’t do this Aelin. Don’t you dare give up!” 

The whipping had reopened old wounds that hadn’t been able to heal, her body was slowly giving up on her- the iron had stopped any healing from happening. She’d known from the moment she stepped foot in that room that that was when she was going to die. And dying in the arms of someone she loved didn’t seem like a bad way to go. 

“Get out of here alive Rowan, find the others and win this war. Go rattle the stars.” 

And as she gazed into Rowan’s eyes for the last time, she wondered what her life would have been if she had been dealt a different hand. Maybe she would have met Rowan in different circumstances, and they could have fallen in love and lived happily, maybe she would have been able to experience life without war and bloodshed. 

“Fireheart…” 

She gave a weak smile, and dropped her hand from his face. She took in his features one last time, before shutting her eyes and repeating the one phrase that would help her through anything. 

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius- and she would not be afraid. 

Resurgam: A Moriel Fic

Rating: E

Length: 9k

Summary:  Azriel returns from a mission after he’s been gone for a month and Mor is waiting for him, as always, to welcome him home.

Thanks to my dearest, @highfaelucien, for betaing! <3 

AO3

When Azriel winnows into their house for the first time in weeks, trying to mask how tired he is, how much the weight of his mission is pulling on him, it doesn’t take Mor two blinks to see right through him. She jumps up from the table, heart hammering suddenly in her chest with the relief flooding through her at seeing him in person for the first time in almost a month. It’s never pleasant, him having to leave like this, entirely alone for days, weeks, but it’s been… a particularly hard time.

Usually they can at least alternate when they’re gone so someone is always there, available for whatever the other needs. But Rhys had asked her to take a sudden trip to the Court of Nightmares and she’d panicked. She knows she doesn’t have to go. That if she told Rhys, he would send someone else, would go himself, but she goes anyway.

And it’s bad. It’s always been bad, difficult to deal with, shutting part of herself down like that, to crush part of the lightness in her at facing her family, her father. But it’s worse when her mate isn’t waiting for her back in Velaris. Or if he doesn’t go with her to the Court of Nightmares at all.

No one forces her to go. It’s her job. It’s not as if she doesn’t know it’s going to take something out of her the moment she steps through those great stone doors.  But usually Azriel is there to welcome her back when she’s done. She doesn’t have to hide with him, pretend like she’s okay with herself when she isn’t. He understands deeply enough that she doesn’t even have to say anything. Can winnow back and he’ll already have her favorite food prepared, have a bath drawn and waiting for her, still hot enough to steam up the tile walls in the bathing room.

But this time, she’d come home to an empty house, the ache of Azriel gone ringing hollow in her tight stomach. The darkness of being in that… that place piling on top of the uncertainty of having him gone in the first place?  The empty space beside her in that huge bed only has her curling in on herself more, hiding her pains when he’s gone like this.

And it had built, on and on over itself, as she’d tried to swallow it, to the point where she’d shoved it all aside. Had slapped on a polite smile and moved on, refusing to deal with it. She knows it’s not healthy. She can deal with one at a time. Can handle going to the Court of Nightmares as long as she has the reassurance that her mate is safe, that he’s not shoving down his own burdens. Can handle Azriel leaving if that means she knows she can be ready for him when he returns. Can be there, through the bond at a moment’s notice if he sends even just a sliver of a request.

So when she sees him standing there, brushing snow from his black hair, kicking off the bits clinging to his shoes, Mor barely registers the choked cry coming from her own mouth, can’t resist stumbling out of her chair, not even cognizant enough to think to winnow, practically throwing herself across the room and into him.

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New York, New York

Originally posted by shawnskisses

Requested by anonymous: I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! Can you do one where shawn finished a concert, on his way to a plane to go to you and he get in a car accident. After months in coma he wakes up and your still there waiting for him even if a lot of people told you to move on?

Note: tears, just tears and it’s super long so prepare yourselves

-

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11; 7:37 PM EST

This was not happening.

You were not going to let this happen.

Everyone was silent.

And then you lost it.

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Stupid

This was stupid

This whole thing, it was so stupid, and it made Annabeth feel stupid, and she wasn’t stupid, she was smart, gods damn it, so why couldn’t she do this? She should have been able to do this.

She only realised she was crying when a tear splashed on to the page of her textbook, blurring the black letters printed on the white page. That tear falling felt like conceding defeat, and soon enough she was crying in earnest, sobbing hard enough that the words became even less intelligible than they’d already been.

She put her head down on the book and let herself cry, feeling terribly stupid and sorry and frustrated. Her whole face felt hot, flushed with anger and annoyance - at this essay, at herself, at the fact that she was a daughter of the goddess of wisdom and she couldn’t seem to write a simple fucking essay.

When the door to her room opened she instinctively straightened, grabbing her dagger and spinning in her seat to face the intruder. When she saw who it was she immediately collapsed back onto the desk, face first, letting her dagger fall to the floor. 

She heard Percy shut the door behind himself. There were a few soft footsteps, and then a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder and a quiet question. “Annabeth, hey, what’s up?”

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I was prompted bed sharing so I used this: Your mate has taken your room to get lucky after the party. You’re my roommate and I can’t make you sleep on that shitty couch…

also on AO3

Not smut really but on the mature side…

It was the right thing to do. She couldn’t make Killian sleep on that couch - it was worn with springs that liked to bite you in the ass at the most unexpected moments. And she had a king size bed. Plenty of room.

“Least I can do,” she smiled when he asked again if this was okay, dancing in her doorway with his hip hugging jeans and permanently ruffled hair.

Of course it was. They were roommates, had been for three months now. Craigslist had not failed her for once, providing someone who was neat and gainfully employed. In the time that had lived together in the downtown loft, they had become friends. Amigos. Amis. Etc. But she wasn’t blind. It didn’t hurt that he was just about the hottest man she had even came across. With an achingly beautiful face and a set of manners that would make the most suspicious mother swoon and beg him to marry their daughter. Far too good for anyone as messed as up her.

She tucked that thought away as she dove into the bathroom to change, leaving him to get under the covers. The party had been to celebrate his birthday. It had been deemed a success when her friends had really gotten along with his friends. So good that his best mate was now getting friendly with her best friend in his room. She couldn’t wait to tease Mary Margaret come the morning. Her friend rarely did anything that spontaneous so she knew this must be something special. That realization sent a little pang of longing for her own special someone to her heart. It had been a long time since Walsh and he’d turned out to be such a cliched asshole that she’d well and truly climbed back into her shell when it came to men.

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k-drama, k-iss.

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

 Member: Kim Taehyung

Genre: fluff + kiss scene

Word Count: 1,827

Author’s Note: a little scenario I thought of for this week. Been busy writing college essays, but I still wanted to post something… hope you like it!


“Yes….yes….yes….YES!! Finally!” you scream, pumping your fists in the air in victory. A big smile appears on your face, as you continue to squeal on the inside. You lean back into the couch in Taehyung’s living room. 

“It’s a good day,” you think before focusing your eyes back on your laptop screen. 

Your arms freeze in the air and your smile immediately drops. This long awaited celebration has been cut short. 

“Are you freaking serious!?!” you exclaim, “I waited twelve episodes….I waited a month and half for THIS!?!” You let out a groan and plop against the back of the couch. In your defeated state, you hear Taehyung finally speak up. 

“What’s wrong with you? What happened?” asks Taehyung looking up from the phone in his hand. 

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potatoesareimportant  asked:

"you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital" nalu pleeeeasse

Natsu’s heart stutters to a stop as he nears the hospital room. His pulse roars in his ears, overwhelming, drowning out the sounds around him. Fingers graze the doorknob, but he hesitates, stomach twisting sickly at the thought of what he might find beyond the white walls. Natsu inhales sharply, imagining Lucy—bright, happy, smiling Lucy—lying on the other side, broken. Mouth going dry, Natsu swallows thickly. Teeth scrape along his lower lip, biting until the skin splits and he can taste blood on his tongue. His chest tightens, an invisible hand curling around his heart and squeezing.

When he answered the phone earlier he thought for sure his heart had been ripped clear through his rib cage, shattering bone and puncturing lungs. He simply couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel anything for the longest time, could barely hear himself think as the words kept echoing through his head.

He never liked the word accident, but not he thinks he might hate it.

It’s been three months and a handful of days since he last saw her, since they ended things. He thought he was over it, done, but maybe he’s just spent too long lying to himself. He’s always been good at that.

The door creaks as he pushes it open, squealing loudly before banging against the wall roughly, a thunderclap in an otherwise silent area. He should feel bad about the noise, given where he is, but Natsu simply can’t bring himself to care.

Inside the room a head snaps up, hazy, brown eyes locking with his, startled and confused. Wispy, wild hair tumbles over the girl’s shoulders, half-pulled away from her pretty face with a pair of clips to leave the bandage along her temple uncovered. Her eyes widen as she sees him, her lips parting just the slightest. She stares, unblinking, as if he’s a ghost—her ghost.

“Lucy,” he breathes, voice cracking, heart in his throat. He steps farther into the room, hands trembling at his sides as he takes her in: disheveled and exhausted, but still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Lucy,” he says again, suddenly able to breathe again.

Her lips tremble. “Natsu?” she croaks, voice thick and afraid, but her shoulders relax when she sees him, a light flickering in her eyes. “What are you—”

He crosses the room in two steps and she cuts off as he cups her face in his shaking hands, her skin clammy beneath his burning fingers. Natsu ducks down, crouching to meet her gaze, his thumbs brushing along her cheeks, wiping at stray tears and flecks of blood and dirt. Her own hand comes up to clutch at his wrist, her fingers freezing as she clings to him, nails biting into his skin. He only holds her tighter, searching her expression for any discomfort.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, swallowing thickly as she quivers. Blood dots the bandage on her temple, and the hand not caught in hers slides along her cheek briefly, his finger ghosting along the edge of the bandage. She flinches and he pulls back, palm pressed to her cheek. “What happened?” It comes out more demanding than intended, but if it startles Lucy she certainly doesn’t show it. He figures she’s put up with him for so long that she’s simply desensitized.

Her fingers curl tighter around his wrist, her free hand knotting in the bed sheets roughly. Her leg jiggles where it’s tossed over the edge of the mattress, her knee bumping against his briefly. A nervous tick, he knows.

Lucy tries to smile for him, but it comes out watery. Her lips tremble against the edge of his palm, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. God, but does she try to smile. “I’m fine,” she tells him softly, squeezing his hand slowly, “just a concussion.” His lips part, a protest on his tongue, but Lucy continues before he can ask what happened. “Natsu, what are you doing here?”

A lump builds in his throat when she says his name, his heart clenching. It sounds familiar on her tongue, sweet as honey and twice as thick. He hadn’t realized it was something he missed until just now. He hadn’t realized it was something he could miss.

His fingers stroke along her cheek and she leans into his hand. Her gaze is expectant, questioning, though not unfriendly. The last time they saw each other left them on bad terms, but they seem to be forgotten now. “They called me,” he murmurs, barely able to manage more than a breathy whisper as he stares down at her. “Emergency contact.”

Lucy is silent for a long moment, though she doesn’t protest as his fingers continue to peruse her cheeks, her jaw, the length of her neck, his thumbs barely brushing against her collarbone, just barely visible beneath her scarf. He thinks he should stop staring, touching her like he was scared to death of losing her, but he’s willing to admit that for a moment he felt the world beginning to crumble around him when he got that phone call.

Her lips brush along his palm, not quite touching and not quite kissing. “You shouldn’t be here,” she tells him, voice cracking. She quivers, fingers squeezing around his wrist, and Natsu slips a hand down to cradle the side of her neck, just below her jaw.

“Lucy,” he breathes, tilting her chin gently so that she meets his eyes. He wonders if she can see the raw, biting terror there, lingering just beneath the surface. Natsu swallows, wets his lips, then tilts his head down to rest his temple against hers, his arm sliding around her back and pulling her close, as if he could swallow her whole. Lucy makes a home against his rib cage, curling close to him, her own arms winding around his torso and holding him close. “I would be here even if they didn’t call me,” he whispers against her hair, the beating of his heart growing steady, echoing hers.

Lucy doesn’t ask why and he doesn’t explain, instead they stitch themselves together, hands curling though hair and arms consuming the other.

Constellation

This story was requested by @tizniz and was inspired by the soulmate prompt that was circulating a little while ago. I hope you enjoy, love bug!<3


The squeaking of trolleys and squawking children surrounded them as they entered the supermarket. It was a warm and bustling Saturday afternoon in the heart of London. Normally, these food trips were saved for later in the night or during the week so the boys wouldn’t be noticed as much. But, turns out, none of them had properly prepared for the Maynard’s house party, and had chosen to put it off to the last minute.

And, as luck would have it, everyone else was busy. So, it was just Y/N and Joe on this little outing. And, she was annoyed.

“Come on, then,” Joe called out as he headed further into the shop. “No dilly-dallying!”

Y/N groaned as she rolled her eyes. Joe Sugg. From the very beginning, he just rubbed her the wrong way.

It all started when she first met Jack over Tinder. The date had been a disaster, but the hilarity of it all made her agree to a second one. Though, half way through the second date, it was pretty clear they were better suited as friends. They got along so well that Jack thought it’d be great to introduce her to the rest of the boys at a holiday house party, certain they’d all love her.

As far as first impressions go, everyone was great. Except for Joe. When Y/N had met him, he had already been drunk, arm slung around the shoulders of a, equally as trashed, girl. He had spared her maybe two or three words tops before retiring for the night, female friend in tow. The day after, he apologized and introduced himself properly, but his feminine shadow lurked at his back the entire time, silk robe falling from her delicate shoulders.

From then on, even the sound of his name left a bad taste in her mouth.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N was around him, she was his target for constant teasing. She didn’t consider herself to be a sour puss, but whenever he picked on her, it drove her up the bloody wall. It was like he always had something smart to say accompanied with a stupid little smirk on his stupid, stupid face.

She gasped when she ran into something hard and warm.

“Oi oi. Watch out,” Joe drawled, looking over his shoulder. “Deep in dream land, are we?” He continued rummaging through the wine selection.

Y/N scowled at his back when he wasn’t looking anymore, finger rubbing at her forearm, “I was just thinking about everything we needed to get while we’re here.”

“And, yet you haven’t been helping in the slightest,” Joe said. “Maybe less thinking, and more looking.”

She shot him a glare, “Well, it’s not like you wrote a list.”

“Actually.” His hand dug into the pocket of his joggers, pulling out a small, folded paper. “I did.” He passed it to her, a small grin on his lips. “Now, go on. Chop, chop. We’ve got about 30 more minutes until we have to start setting up.”

She knew it was immature, but she couldn’t help rolling her eyes before walking off. Y/N could have sworn she heard him chuckle as well. She gritted her teeth and grumbled as she set out on her mission to find snacks.

About 10 minutes had passed and Y/N was confident that she had got everything that was needed.

“Now, time to see where that idiot buggered off to- AH.“ She jumped when a sudden poke came to her ribs.

“I surely hope you weren’t talking about me.”

Y/N leveled him with another glare, which seemed to be a common thing when around him, “I got everything on the list.”

“Perfect,” Joe took the basket from her hands with ease, placing the few items he had in his hands inside of it. “And, we’ve still got time to spare.”

“I can carry that, Joe.”

Joe smirked, “S’alright, love. I think I can handle it.” He jokingly flexed his free arm at her. “Besides, you’ve been favoring your arm all day, so I figured I’d help out.”

She chose to ignoring his showing off and went straight to confusion, “What are you going on about? I’m fine.”

He pointed down at her, “Then why do you keep messing with it?”

Y/N looked at where he was pointing, realizing that her constant rubbing and pinching had succeeding in making a rash on her right forearm. “Oh.” She blinked, still staring at the thin, rectangle of little, red bumps. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Might want to check your house for bed bugs.”

“Oh, piss off. I don’t have bed bugs.”

“Mites?”

“No.”

“Fungus?”

“I shower twice a day, no!”

“You shower twice a day? Jeez, clean freak much.”

Y/N sighed, exasperated, “Why must you ALWAYS be such a smart ass.”

Joe just laughed, heading toward the registers.

“I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” He shot her a wolfish grin. “Cheer up, the worst is yet to come.”

In that moment, Y/N’s vision went white. She heard Joe’s muffled voice, but couldn’t comprehend anything that he said. Her knees hit the floor. Her hand cradled her arm to her chest. She heard calling. Who was calling her?

Reality snapped back to her with a pop.

“Y/N?”

She jumped.

Joe’s face was close to hers, his eyes full of worry, his hand on her shoulder.

“Love, are you okay?”

She took in her surroundings. A few people stared from the aisles closest to them, but for the most part, no one was alarmed. She was still on the floor, her left hand wrapped tight around her arm. She let go, pulling her arm away so she could look.

The rash was gone, but in its place, was tiny lettering in jagged script.

Cheer Up, The Worst is Yet to Come

Y/N stared at it wide-eyed, not quite believing her own eyes. She switched her gaze to Joe, who was staring at her strange tattoo just as intently. His face that was contorted with worry earlier, then to mild shock, now softened into a small smile. Joe’s eyes met hers.

“Well, it’s about bloody time.”

“What?”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her up to her feet. Once she was standing, he rolled up the jacket sleeve on his right arm, flipping it over. Y/N’s breath hitched.

On his forearm, in the same font and in the exact same spot read:

You’re Killing Me, Smalls

Y/N let out a sharp laugh. Joe grinned as he pushed his sleeve back down.

“Of all the things I’ve said to you, THAT’S what pops up?” she asked.

“I mean, it’s fitting,” his eyes glittering with mirth. “You did say, I will be the death of you, earlier.”

“But, you don’t even like me!” Y/N said. “When did that happen? Just now?”

“No,” Joe said. “Maybe about three weeks ago.”

She blinked.

“And you never said anything?”

“Nope.” He started scanning the items on at the self-check-out.

“We’re you planning on it?”

“Not unless it happened to you, no.”

She was so confused. It took her a few moments to realize that she was standing there like a fish out of water, and Joe was done paying for everything. And, before she knew it, he was out the door.

Y/N hurried after him, her confusion and frustration with the man growing by the second.

“Wait.” He didn’t respond. “Joe, wait!”

He stopped, turning to her, “Yes?”

“Can we talk about this?”

“Not right now. We’ve got to go set up for the party.”

Y/N froze, “You’re actually joking me.”

Joe kept walking, “Nope!”

Well, surprise, surprise. That’s not changed.

Joseph Graham Sugg still held the title of most infuriating person she knew. Soulmate or not.


A few hours had passed and the party was underway. Joe had purposefully kept his distance from her the whole night, and much to her annoyance, Y/N wasn’t able to corner and confront him at all.

At least the party was a hit. She attempted to keep her mind occupied with beer pong for a bit. She was Jack’s partner, playing against Mikey and Conor. Mikey was useless, but in the end, it was all good fun. Her and Jack cheered as she sank her ball in the final cup, nearly knocking over the game table in their excitement.

They started to clear off the table, but was stopped by a voice.

“Alright, our turn,” Joe shouted over the music. “You two, against Oli and I.”  

“Ohh, you’re on mate,” Jack smirked, setting up the cups with Oli. Both completely unaware of the staring contest happening between the other two.

Y/N felt a shudder run down her spine. His cheeks were slightly pink, evidence of the alcohol strumming through his body. His hair was disheveled. His shirt clung to his chest. But, his eyes were what stopped her in her tracks. They were the bluest she had ever seen. His pupils wide. Were they always that blue? Had she just never noticed before?

The other boys shouted that they were ready and the game started. Oli went first and missed. Jack didn’t do much better. Joe stepped up and aimed, but instead of looking at the cup, he stared right at Y/N. She felt her face flush as she stared right back. She heard the plop of the ping pong ball hitting liquid, the cheer from the people watching and the groan of anguish from her partner.

“Your turn,” Joe said, a small smirk on his lips.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jack clapped his hand on her shoulder. “You got this.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle as the Maynard brothers gathered behind her, talking smack to the opposing team.

Again, Y/N realized that it wasn’t mature, and had a high chance of going badly for her, but she wasn’t going to step down. Taking the same stance as Joe had just a second ago, she aimed, leveled him with a hard stare and a smirk, and shot.

The resounding plop turned her smirk into a full-on grin as the people around the table went nuts.

“Unlucky.”

Jack and Conor both threw their arms around her neck and shoulders, jumping up and down.

“OHHHHHH!”

Oli looked proper shocked. Joe just shook his head and laughed.

The game continued, both teams doing stupid things to show off and distract the other. In the end, Y/N and Jack won again, the rest of the boys cheering and jumping around. Oli hung his head in defeat, his feet kicking the air, while Joe just stood in place and smiled, slowly drinking the rest of his beer.

The night had really improved from when she had first walked in, and she was glad of it. The party was starting to wind down a bit, some people starting to filter out. Y/N was talking with Josh and Mikey about what a friend’s date had done to Joe’s plants, when Joe himself popped into the corner of her peripheral.

As soon as she turned his gaze to him, he beckoned her to him, his shoulder leaning against the wall. Y/N sighed and excused herself from the boys, and followed Joe to the guest bedroom. When he closed the door after she stepped in, she couldn’t say she was surprised.

“So, he finally decided he wants to talk?” she drawled.

“Why do you hate me?”

“Uh,” Y/N blinked. “I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you certainly don’t like me.”

“I don’t like that you tease and contradict me all the time, simply because you know it annoys me.”

He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, “I pick on everyone.”

“Not as much as you pick on me.”

“Well, of course not. But that’s not why you don’t like me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, my god, Joe. You’re doing it now! I’m literally telling you why I get frustrated with you, but you won’t let me get a word in edge wise.”

“No, I just know better. That’s not why you hate me.”

“I obviously don’t hate you. This is proof!” She flung her right arm in the air.

He glanced at it, a smile growing on his face. “No, that’s just proof that you’re stuck with my ‘annoying’ ass for the rest of your life. Nothing more.”

“Really?” she glared.

He just grinned, the tip of his tongue running along the bottom of his teeth, his eyes shining with amusement.

“Of all the people in this universe to have me tethered to, why you?!” her hands clenched into fists, trying her best to stop staring at his mouth. Why did his lips have to look so damn kissable? It wasn’t fair.

He took a step closer to her. “What’s so bad about me?”

“Everything.”

Joe chuckled, “Oh, really.” Another step closer. “That’s why you can’t stop staring then?”

“You’ve been staring too.”

“I’ve never denied that.” Another step. “I have no problem saying that I like what I see. I always have.” He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face and behind her ear. “You, on the other hand…”

Her breath caught in her throat. He was so close now. Y/N could smell the dark musk of his cologne. She could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. His baby blues gazed down at her. She felt as though she could get lost the longer she looked.

“Fuck it.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down, their lips crashing together. She sighed into his kiss. Joe’s arms immediately snaked around her waist, backing her up until her shoulders met the wall behind her.

The bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the spring stopper. The couple jumped apart.

“FINALLY!” Jack, Conor and Josh piled into the door way.

A flash of light caught their attention, and they all looked down at Joe and Y/N’s arms. The gold glow dimmed down until there was no more. The only evidence of the words ever being there was a series of raised dots on both of their arms. An identical constellation.

“Well, that’s just freaky.”

“Kind of wish we had filmed that.”

“Oh, my god, yes. Think of the views.”

OUT!” Joe and Y/N both retorted, startling the boys away, the door shutting closed behind them.

Joe sighed, looking back at her, “Anyway, where were-“ Her lips stopped him in his tracks. He chuckled, picking her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. She grinned.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe.

anonymous asked:

jerejean in the rain?

you come…..to my house….ask for rain and jerejean………….when u know FULL WELL they live in drought city, U S A … and my weakness is dampness. good god u anons are good


Jeremy is an athlete, which means he wears a watch with a timer no matter how nerdy and ugly it is; and he’s a college athlete in his senior year, which means he has a Google Calendar more packed than one of his suitcases when he needs to fly home. In other words: Jeremy keeps track of time to the minute at least. He’s not organized in other parts of his life, but in this one, knowing when and how long, he’s basically a walking bullet journal.

All of which is to say: Jean has been in L.A. for six months, fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes when Jeremy blinks during lunch with the team and realizes he’s staring. 

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The First Time

Originally posted by leelakoiwolff

Characters: Kenny Omega x OC/Reader

Summary: First time with Kenny Omega. Sweet n’ Smutty. 

Warnings: nsfw, losing virginity, terrible jokes

A/N: I originally wrote this as a “you” Drabble but I don’t like writing long fics using that so I switched it to she/her. 

PS. I haven’t been a virgin for like.. WELL LONGER THAN I CARE TO ADMIT. But I hope I captured some of those nervous feelings.

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A Lesson in Love (The Little Things Part One)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,286

A/N: Hi babes! I’m sorry for taking so long to update this story. School is a pain in the ass and finding time to write is not easy. Hopefully this super fluffy chapter will make up for it 😊

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - you’re the Groffsauce to my Lin-Manuel Miranda. Thank you for editing this and thank you for existing.

Originally posted by impalastan

“I think I’m going to freeze to death,” Wanda manages to say through her chattering teeth.

Natasha hides further under her fleece blanket, so much so that all you can see are her green eyes. “I think I am too.”

“You know I love the cold, but this?” You turn to glare at the heater in the corner of the room. Of course it had to break down during one of the coldest weekends of the school year and of course there was nothing the school could do about it tonight. “This is too much.”

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i’ll always be by your side, don’t you worry

FRIENDS I DID IT. i took matters into my own hands and i present you with the Thing™ . the Amy’s-Reaction-To-Jake’s-Beard-Thing™ . it’s long and i sort of went on a tangent but??? i’m happy with how it turned out & i hope u like it too. also i got 1.5k followers this week wtf i love u all thanks for followin’ :)


This would be so much more comfortable with a cushion, Amy thinks to herself as she sits on the cold metal chair.

But cushions are luxury in prison and prisons aren’t supposed to be luxurious. Prisons are for criminals - hard, angry, dirty criminals. So why was she here again?

Oh yeah. Her boyfriend was framed for bank robbery. That’s right.

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Do You Believe in Miracles?

Characters: CastielXPregnant!Reader, ft. Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1135

A/N: Drabble request from anonymous – “Could you please do an imagine where the reader is pregnant with twins (boy and girl) and Castiel is happy yet worried cause the babies are Nephilim.” Well, this one went in a bit of an interesting direction. Fluff, descriptions of child birth (nothing super intense), perhaps ever-so-slightly angsty in the middle, and then even more fluff, cause fluff.

Originally posted by princesscas

“She’s an angel.” Castiel stared awestruck at the sticky squirming pink newborn held in his trembling arms.

“Yeah man, she’s beautiful,” Dean agreed, squeezing his friend on the shoulder before aiding in the angel’s awkward attempt to swaddle his infant daughter. Dean grimaced at the total ineptitude of Cas’ swaddling ability, gently prying the baby out of his fumbling arms to wrap her securely, “No offense, but she’s lucky she got her mother’s looks.”

“No Dean,” Cas corrected, shaking his head, tone disbelieving, “I mean she’s an actual angel.”

“You mean?” Dean’s jaw slackened askance.

“She’s not a Nephilim.” The wash of joy and relief flooding Cas’ expression was short-lived, drowned out by your renewed screams in the adjoining room.

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3AM {c.h. & a.i.}

(A/N: thanks to Keelyn @stopirwin for being a real pal and helping me come up with the plot of this fic. I owe you one fam <3)

Summary: threesome with cashton inspired by that mf pic of them dressed as the dudes from reservoir dogs 
Word Count: 2.344
Warnings: smut, overuse of the word cock (no seriously i used it 21 times), anal (lmao i know right), double penetration, a bit of anal fingering, this is so nasty rated N for Nasty

The bright green glow of your alarm clock was the only source of light in your bedroom. You lied in bed, underneath a pile of duvets as you waited for your two flatmates to come back home. Safe and alive, you hoped, especially due to the circumstances.

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What’s Destructed ‘round You

Originally posted by captaine-duckling

Pairing: Jaime X (Tyrell) Reader

Word Count: 1600

Warnings: none

-Part 1- -Part 2-


With the better half of your family dead in a fiery blaze at the Sept of Baelor, you are now Cersei’s prisoner, the focus to take out her hollow frustrations, the prophecy inching her further into madness. Jaime can only stand by to watch, as his duty would bid him, for so long.


Jaime had never known what to think of you. Margaery and you were like night and day, Margaery joyful and bright, you reserved and stiff. Though you did have that shifty eye all Tyrell’s seemed to have.

And maybe in another time it would have been strange to see you crying, but Jaime heard about the destruction of the Sept of Baelor. How Mace, Margaery and Loras had been in there when it blew. At court you never shed a tear no matter how Cersei taunted. You were her prisoner now, but you held so strong in the face of her abuse. Jaime supposed he was witnessing a moment meant for no one, if anything he was being cruel just having stumble upon it.

All alone in the garden, sobs only coming in little gasps, Jaime wasn’t sure if he should just leave. But seeing you cover your face and somehow look even smaller tugged all the right strings. Giving a hard sigh, he quietly made his way to you. If you heard his approach, you didn’t show it, remaining by the small murky pool, trembling into your hands.

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Clary and Jace cave scene, director's cut

demishadowhunt19 said: Hello!! It’s the Thanksgiving season so I thought I’d let you know how thankful I am for your wonderful books! Also, I have a question I hope you’re willing to answer. Will there ever be any COHF deleted scenes or experts on your website? I ask because there are a lot of extras from the other books and I need something occupying while I wait for TDA 😄 Thanks so much for reading and for being awesome!… Okay so maybe I also ask for the reason of finally reading that unrated cave scene… 

You demand zee sexytimes? Fine, here they are! I break! My will = shattered. Okay, so basically this is just the Jace and Clary cave scene (yes, THAT one) from CoHF before it was edited down for length and Less Obviousness About What Was Happening. I don’t think they actually do anything different here, and really it’s a scene about people having feelings about sex rather than particularly about sex. But enjoy! Um, happy Thanksgiving!

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la douleur exquise (7)

Originally posted by veriloquentmind

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Masterlist

I tried my best to not let Sehun’s dismissive attitude towards me affect me. I told myself repeatedly that I did not care anymore and that I should just focus on my relationship with Baekhyun and work extra hard with my job.

I thought maybe it was just Sehun having a bad day, but I was proven wrong since he had remained that way for the past few days.

Also, this was the time of the year when work was the most stressful which didn’t help lift his mood either. I could see that he was stressed out. He had a permanent frown stuck on his face and everybody has been whispering to each other that he had become a lot more snappy recently.

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