why are you shaking my heart

anonymous asked:

So like, what if one day Jeremy and Michael are close to going to the next level, and Jeremy gets a little freaked out because of what the Squip made him do with Chloe??????

Ok so I had to write a fic about this?? This is my first fic for bmc so I’m sorry if it’s bad but,, here ya go! By the way it never gets to actual smut I promise it’s not bad at all they’re both really awkward but you can ask for this to be tagged!!

Here it is!!

It’s crazy how things can quickly turn tables. Michale and Jeremy had been hanging out and gaming as per usual, in the basement of an empty house. It was going pretty causal until Jeremy plopped down into his boyfriends lap, causing both of them to blush. Through the darkness of the room Michale looked down to Jeremy’s face, lit up by only the tv.

It was times like this that Michale didn’t get why the other was so bullied. His determined blue eyes shined against the tv shine, his many littered freckles and the way his hair looms over his eye. His cheek bones too, handsomely shaped, left him in awe as to how he even got this boy to date him. He didn’t realize he was staring until the tv flickered followed by the game over sound of Apocalypse of the Damned came on.

Jeremy huffed and turned to look at him with those eyes, “Ah man, dude we were so close, what the he-”

Next thing they knew their lips were connected. It was awkward, outside of movies and such neither of them had any experience whatsoever. Jeremy had…some, technically. But it wasn’t very good, to say least. Either way things began to heat up, Michale taking the lead of the kiss as Jeremy fixed himself so that he was sitting up and facing Michale.

For a brief moment Michale ran his hands through Jeremy’s hair, until his hands got stuck in a tangle. Jeremy pulled away with a little “ow.” Both of them sat there, the game over screen still flashing, and stared at each other. There was an awkward moment before the both of them where laughing, their faces flushed.

“That wasn’t…that wasn’t too bad” Jeremy tried.

“Yeah…not bad at all…can we uh..?”

“…yeah..yeah yeah of course”

Soon enough they were starting to get the hang of things. Going mostly off of movies, Michale started to kiss Jeremy’s neck. Jeremy breathed out, but it was more of an awkward laugh. In the heat of the moment Michale leaned against Jeremy, both hands on his waist.

Michale chuckled “dude…you watch so much of this crap, yet you suck”

“Hey I do- I do not! The only one here who sucks is you!”

Michale winked, to which Jeremy pushed his face away, “oh my god don’t even look at me Michale Mell”

To prove his point Jeremy gave a quick awkward kiss, then pulled away with a “ha take that” face.

Michale laughed lowly, his voice deep. He looked anywhere besides Jeremy, with uncertainty he said “ do you uh….wanna get..weird?”

Jeremy felt his heart flutter, but not with excitement. “Do you wanna get” reminded him of a certain night on Halloween. He looked at Michale. The boy was completely flushed, his eyes darting around the room. The longer he took to answer the more nervous Mike got. “Do you wanna get…” well..that was completely different. This is nothing like that night. The SQUIP is gone, Michale is clearly giving him the chance to back out. There’s no reason to be stupid about it. So Jeremy nodded his head.

Michale smiled, “cool! I mean uh-cool! That’s cool…very cool”

Jeremy rolled his eyes “get on with it already man”

Michaels hand found his way to Jeremy’s face, gently caressing him. He gave the boy a kiss and fumbled through his mind for what to do next. In the movies this is where things got intense, so Michale began to gently push Jeremy to the ground.

But then Jeremy flinched.

Michale instantly pulled away, wondering if he hurt Jeremy somehow. When he looked down at him Jeremy was staring forward with wide eyes, sweating a lot, and seemingly frozen. Those eyes he was admiring earlier were now struck with fear.

“…Jere?”

Jeremy took a sharp inhale, then exhale. But he didn’t stop. All he could think about was being unable to move, completely helpless to whatever was about to happen. He could only see Chloe pushing him down onto the bed aggressively after the SQUIP gave him a “you’re welcome”

“…remy? Shit Jeremy, you ok?!”

Michale was off of him and pushing him into a sitting position. When did that happen? Wasn’t Michale gonna keep going?

“Hey..hey man it’s ok…can I hug you?”

Jeremy shook his head, still frozen as he was.

“Ok…ok that’s fine buddy no worries. Do me a favor though, can you breath with me?? In 4, hold 7, out 8.”

Jeremy took another sharp inhale, trying to follow Michale’s instructions. He willed the little voice in the back of his head saying, “this is why you’re so pathetic” away.

Eventually Jeremy calmed down, his breaths even enough, his heart still pounding. He could finally move, looking to Michale through the blinking glow of the Tv.

“Are you alright..?”

“My face is kinda fuzzy…but yeah, I think so”

“Yeah that happens…can I hug you now..?”

When Jeremy nodded Michale wasted no time in wrapping the skinny boy in his arms protectively. His fingers running through his hair calmingly, this time avoiding any knots. He felt himself calm a bit when Jeremy melted into his arms, exhausted from his panic attack, still shaking.

“Damn that scared the fuck out of me…are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

He could hear his SQUIP telling him to lie, telling him to tell Michale he needed to step his game up. Jeremy knew better, “I’m sorry Michale that just…it just reminded me of some stuff that happened with the SQUIP.”

“Ah geez jere, you coulda told me man!”

“Yeah but you wanted to-”

“We don’t have to so fast, I promise. I want you to be comfortable too, you damn twink.”

Jeremy found himself chuckling, “thanks man…but I mean I kinda wanted to too”

“Another day ok??”

Jeremy leaned into the crook of Michale’s neck, nodding, “yeah that sounds good.”

Bare // Jughead Jones Smut

Summary: Heading to Pops after the reoccurring verbal fight between your sibling and Dad, your boyfriend notices how tired you look. Admitting the fighting he takes you to his favourite place to wait for to calm down. Things get heated quick between Jughead and you.

Characters: Jughead x reader, Hermione Lodge, and Archie Andrews (mentioned)

Words: 1702

Disclaimer: I do not own Riverdale or the characters. I also want to clarify, in the tv series Jughead is NOT asexual and this is based on the series not the comics.

Warnings: Fluff, mention of fighting, and smut

Author: Caitsy

Tagging: At the bottom

A/N Someone posted wanting Jughead smut because there isn’t. Under the forever tags I’m adding them to a Riverdale taglist. If you want off please let us know.

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Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

The night was cold, the type of cold that seeped through the thickest of jackets and clung for hours. The type that made you think that you would die from hypothermia at any point despite compelling evidence that it wasn’t possible. You were trying to get away from the fighting between your sibling and father.

Lately it seemed that the sounds in the house were the screaming match that went down every night when you tried to sleep. You would sneak out half an hour into the fight and you always walked yourself to Pop’s for a milkshake. It was getting around that your home life was terrible.

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake this time.” You mumbled digging into your pocket for change.

“It’s on the house.” Mrs. Lodge smiled seeing the pain and fatigue clinging on your features.

Normally you would argue that but as of lately you didn’t have the energy to do anything so you nodded before sitting down in a booth. It was late so you were one of the very few people sitting in the diner. You barely noticed the person that sat down in the booth until they spoke.

“Y/N.”

You looked up to see your boyfriend looking at you concerned, taking in the inky colours underneath your eyes. It wasn’t hard to see that sleep had evaded you for the last little while. It was concerning for Jughead.

“Hey.” You smiled placing your hands back into your lap while Jughead ran his eyes across your features, “Something wrong Jug?”

“Why are you here so late?”

“Can’t sleep-“

“The truth.” Jughead firmly said.

“I haven’t been sleeping.” You admitted, “I can’t fall asleep in a house where screaming takes place every night. There’s no peace at all.”

Jughead’s heart broke when the tears gathered as your voice broke in synch with his heart. You were normally one of the strongest girls he had ever known. When you learnt about his home situation you had fought him to tell the Andrews, despite Fred being a main reason why Jughead didn’t have a home anymore.

“Oh.” Jughead breathed sliding into your side of the booth instead. He wrapped his long arms around your shaking frame, leaning his chin on the top of your head, “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, “Why are you out so late Jug?”

“Couldn’t write in the house. I’m so used to writing with you by my side or in here. I have words racing in my head but I couldn’t write with Archie playing his songs. He’s an amazing singer but those songs aren’t putting me in the writing mood.”

You chuckled as Jughead pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You were still wired so Jughead gripped your hand and tugged you out of the diner. The milkshake forgotten and if Hermione Lodge was being truthful, she hadn’t started making it when Jughead showed up.


You knew that he could see that you wouldn’t be able to sleep for awhile so he did something he knew you would like. The Twilight Drive-In was still in the process of being demolished but the shack that Jughead had slept in still stood.

“Come on.”

“Aren’t we trespassing?” You mumbled walking in while Jughead made sure the coast was clear.

“Probably.” He shrugged, “I know you though.”

You chuckled as the two of you dropped to the bed in silence. Jughead was different when it was just the two of you and not around your peers. You each had an uncanny distaste for public displays of affection to the disappointment of Kevin.

“Do you remember when I invited you here for our first date?” Jughead asked putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Of course I do!” You laughed.

“Movies, and when the second movie started I couldn’t help myself from kissing you.” Jughead whispered leaning his forehead against yours. The atmosphere got charged when he pressed his lips against yours.

“I remember you pulled back and I crashed mine against yours.” You breathed.

“I don’t…” Jughead trailed off before, “Can you refresh my memory?”

Without another word you pushed your body onto his lap and pushed his hat off his head. Your lips moved against each other passionately as you gasped when Jug’s hand came to rest of your thigh.

Jughead pulled away to trail his lips down your neck to suck on your collarbone. You released a breathy moan as you clenched his hair in your hands, arching into his chest. You took pride in knowing you had turned him on.

“Y/N…” Jughead breathed as you rubbed yourself on his hard on. He moaned as his head rested on your chest before gripping your hips in a bruising hold.

He pressed his hands on your hips down as he slowly dragged you up and down his lap. You hissed when your clit dragged across the zipper of his black jeans. He let go to push his jacket and sweater off his arms before returning his hands back to your hips.

You grinded against him harder both of you hissing and panting as you leaned down. You ran your lips slowly up his jaw, teasingly leaving small bites. You bit him at the same time he groaned lowly.

“I also remember what happened a few dates after that” you said as a smirk crossed your face as you began to speed up.

“You talking about the one that Archie walked in on?” Jughead smirked dragging his hands up under your shirt and pulling it off and onto the floor within seconds.

“More like the one after that.” You breathed slowly dragging his shirt up his body, “The one where we-“

You gasped when you turned flipped onto your back with Jughead hovering above you with one hand trailing fire down your chest to the button of your jeans. He slowly kissed the underside of your jaw while his fingers carefully and awkwardly undid the button and pulled back to remove your jeans.

“I’ll never get out of this.” Jughead whispered, his eyes igniting the fire in you to higher temperatures.

“Jug…please.” You whispered pulled him back down onto your body. The start had been intense but it slowed down, possibly because of the awkwardness, to wear you caressed each others skin.

You made quick work of Jughead’s black jeans by shoving them off by your feet along with his boxers. You moaned taking in his size despite it not being the first time you had seen each other naked.

“You’re wearing too many clothes. I’d prefer the soft, supple skin.”

With shaking fingers Jughead couldn’t entirely release your bra clasps with fluid movements but that was okay. With an apology breathed into the crook of your neck you switched positions with Jughead, now you straddled his thighs as you swiftly removed your underwear. Jughead had taken the time to stroke himself.

You took your tall and lean boyfriend splayed out on the cot with his green eyes darkened with desire and his tongue running over his swollen lips. Your heated gaze raked over his form from his ruffled raven hair going everywhere both from his hat and your fingers.

You didn’t even notice that his free hand had moved to the apex of your thighs. It never failed to amaze you how his touch could make you nearly collapse. You felt more than saw him move to lean against the wall and drag you up. In unison Jughead and you hissed as you sank down on him.

Jughead had this thing where he wouldn’t let either of you move as he let the feeling overpower him. A beat later he had you bouncing using his power as you felt boneless before you met him thrust for thrust. Swivelling your hips as you sank down you had Jughead gasping.

“Oh god.” You breathed squeezing your eyes closed as Jughead’s thumb pressed into your clit, “Holy sh-“

“I’m c-lose.” Jughead exclaimed tugging you down with his other hand. You ground your hips gripping his hair tightly. With a harsh brush against your clit you fell into your climax

Jughead got off on the way you came. You’re skin would colour into the most beautiful pink he had ever seen. Your toes and fingers would curl together while your nose crinkled at the strongest crest. Your hair would be a halo around your head and his favourite part was when his name fell from your lips like a raindrop from a flower petal.

Breathing was difficult as you both came down from your highs shaking from the intense love-making. Jughead dragged you down to lay down but the chill in the room caused goosebumps to raise on your body.

“We should probably go home.” Jughead breathed, “Getting caught by the cops in here wouldn’t be fun.”

“Yeah.” You yawned, “Do you want to stay over at my place?”

“What about your-“

“You know my parents love you. They’re fine with you staying if the door isn’t closed all the way.” You whispered.

In a comfortable silence you dressed quickly, only this time Jughead’s sweater was wrapped around you. In typical fashion it was much too big on you but in your rush to get out of your house you had grabbed the thinnest sweater you had by accident. Jug’s hat was back on his head and his arm was around your shoulder.

Jughead had a lot of shades to himself where he was a novelist, student, best friend and boyfriend. He was sarcastic and intelligent with a certain way of words. He was cool and collected with a witty remark to anything but he was different behind closed doors. Sex with Jughead wasn’t the smooth sailing in tv shows and movies but instead it was true with awkwardness that dissipated when you got more and more well versed with each others bodies.

“I love you.” Jughead whispered into your hair when you were asleep in his arms in the safety of your room. He didn’t say it often but he showed it a lot. Jughead loved you even if he didn’t say the words and you returned the same feelings.

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8

NOOOO WAY!! DID THIS REALLY JUST HAPPEN??DID YUGYEOM REALLY JUST–OH MY DEAR!!! MY HEART CANT TAKE MUCH MORE!! Why yugbam?? WHY YOU SHAKE ME LIKE SO?? 😱😱😱

No but seriously, I’m screaming!! Is this payback for the times Bambam has been feeling Yugyeom up recently?? Wooowwww baby!

Forbidden Love | Pt. 4

▷ Jimin Angst

❥ “I think about you a little more than I should..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Scrolling through the text messages for the last time, you took a deep breath and turned your phone off.

Leaning back on the bench you were sitting on, you closed your eyes and thought about what had happened just a while ago.

↳ One hour ago

“Your marriage with him is based on a contract, Y/N.”

The minute you heard those words coming out of Jimin’s mouth, your head shot up and you looked at him with a shocked expression plastered on your face. “W-What?”

Taking a deep breath, Jimin closed his eyes and mumbled. “Everything is fake, Y/N-ah..”

Not believing what he said, you covered your ears with your hands and started shaking your head from side to side furiously. “N-No! No you’re lying, Jimin! You’re saying that because you don’t want me to be with him! He wouldn’t do something like that! Taehyung wouldn’t do that!”

Hesitantly, he took a step towards you and reached out for your hands, stoking them softly. “This is the truth, Y/N.. His family forced him to marry you because they needed the money for their company. Taehyung was against it the whole time, until his family told him that he was allowed to divorce you after being married to you for 3 years..”

Closing your eyes, you let the tears roll down your face as you whispered with a shaky voice. “E-Everything was fake.. Every hug, every kiss, each ‘I love you’ was fake..”

Wrapping his arms around your shaking body, he stroke your hair gently. “Shh, I’m here.. I’ll be always by your side, Y/N..”

Pushing him away strongly, you punched his chest with your shaky hands. “No, you can’t! You belong to someone else, Jimin! You can’t be mine, we can’t be together!”

“Damn it, Y/N! Stop saying that I belong to someone else! I belong to you and only you! My heart beats for you! It belongs to you! Why can’t you understand this?!”

“Because my heart beats for Taehyung, Jimin!”

Min Yoongi, the dangerous man

Say something that would make me flush
Yoongi: You wanna come to my house

Is there any similarities between oppa and me? ㅠㅠ (please)
Yoongi: The fact that we love each other

Yoongi oppa! Every time I see you, I just end up complimenting you! Why am I like this?
Yoongi: Because you have fallen for me

I went to the Mokdong fansign event, but I couldn’t speak properly since my bias is Yoongi. I could’t even make eye contact with him, he noticed and looked at me from below. He said: “are you really not going to look at me in the eye?? Huh? Look at me ㅇㅇah~” I nearly screamed and my face was burning hot. 

Yoongi: Welcome~~
Fan: My bias is you oppa ㅠㅠ I came all the way from Busan (rural area) by the intercity bus to see you guys. Oppa, I bought some bath bombs for you but I don’t know if you’d like it or not, please take it. 
Yoongi: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ omg, you know that I like taking baths?
Fan: I heard about it so ㅠㅠ 
(suddenly teared up because I was so happy and Yoongi was startled) 
Yoongi: Don’t cry don’t cry, it’s true that I like taking baths. I like it so I’ll use it well. 
Fan: Oppa, you have to remember me ㅠㅠ! 
Yoongi: Of course I will remember you, you’re so pretty.
(Thinking about it now still makes my heart flutter. Everyone, Min Yoongi has gone crazy and next fansign Min Yoongi you said you will remember me)

This was my first time going to BTS fansign, so I was really nervous and my hands were shaking. When I was in the queue to get my album signed, I really wanted to run away but it was my turn to get signed from Yoongi. I was shaking so much I couldn’t even flip to his page, then he said he will do it instead and he asked: “why are you shaking?” I replied: “because I’m really nervous.” Then he said: “it’s not easy to come (to an fansign) won’t you be upset if you didn’t even look at me, let’s look at each other for 5 seconds.” So I made eye contact with him, my mind went blank and felt like my heart was going to jump out. Suddenly, Yoongi said: “you didn’t know that 10 seconds have passed right? See, you can look at me in the eye.” When he was signing, he asked if I had anything I wanted to say to him, so I confessed my love to him in a goat’s voice. He said: “since you’ve practiced with me, don’t be nervous when you go to the next member and say what you want to say to them. I’ll keep watching you.”

Yoongi actually remembers the people who came to the fan signs
Fan: Oppa, do you remember me?
Yoongi: ?? You’ve never attended (unconcerned)

Complied by: -某霏-
English Trans: KIMMYYANG
Pt. 2

Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

anonymous asked:

Hi! You've opened requsets again! It's so great! Can you please write some hc about how rfa + Saeran + V is nervous in wedding day with MC? In Jaehee case it can be that Jaehee is a bridesmaid or just helped a lot to organize that wedding.

Aww, this is so sweet! Hope you like these. 


Zen:

  • Normally, he’s really confident about things
  • But today he’s a mess
  • He’s in between wanting to see you and running out the door
  • Super fidgety
  • He keeps asking all the RFA members questions
  • “Is the tie straight? Does my hair look fine? How much time do we have left?” 
  • They all give him respective pep talks
  • By the time he’s standing at the altar, his palms are sweaty
  • And he can’t stop singing under his breath
  • Bounces on his toes
  • But when he sees you walking down the aisle in the dress, his heart calmed down
  • He didn’t even see anyone else there…only you

Yoosung:

  • Nervous chuckles at everything
  • Seven has to shake him out of it
  • “Dude, why are you laughing so much?”
  • He starts wandering off because his mind is just anxious
  • Caused a lot of panic at one point
  • “MC, your groom is missing!”
  • “What?!”
  • “Oh, no…false alarm. He just went to the bathroom…at the restaurant across the street.”
  • He nervously chuckles again “I brought churros!” But the bag is empty
  • You thought it was a joke until you kiss him at the altar and taste the cinnamon 
  • He doesn’t calm down until the reception when you two are having your first dance

Jaehee:

  • You asked her to be your maiden of honor
  • But she also did a lot of the planning with you
  • She’s so nervous something is going to go wrong
  • She’s checking on you every two minutes
  • “MC, you have your bouquet? You have your veil?”
  • “Yes! Yes!” 
  • “Last question….you sure about getting married?” 
  • “Jaehee!”
  • She teases you, but honestly she’s very happy for you
  • Still nervous she’s going to trip walking down the aisle though
  • She loosens up at the reception….you know, after a few glasses of wine

Jumin:

  • He’s not very superstitious, so he kind of wants to see you before the wedding
  • When the others say he can’t until you walk down the aisle…that’s when he starts getting nervous
  • He doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts
  • So he starts a fight with Zen to try to get his mind off of things
  • “Zen…start chattering away about yourself like you always do.” 
  • “What’s that supposed to mean???”
  • Constantly flattening his tux and adjusting his cuff links
  • Lots of pacing
  • He finally calms down when the procession starts
  • Stoic Jumin Han actually tears up when he sees you walk down the aisle
  • Doesn’t remember why he was nervous in the first place


Seven:

  • He’s super nervous something is going to go wrong
  • He wants to stress eat a little
  • But Zen and Yoosung keep taking away the bag of Honey Buddha Chips
  • They insist that he can’t get anything all greasy
  • When he starts getting really anxious, he says he needs to MC before the ceremony
  • But, he also doesn’t want to see her in her dress until it’s time
  • So they arrange it so the two of them could talk to each other on opposite sides of the door
  • Seven calms down a little when he can hold your hand
  • When it’s time to get on the altar, he gets super scared he’s going to mess up the vows
  • Everything goes on without a hitch though
  • He doesn’t truly calm down until halfway through the reception, where it just feels like normal party

Saeran:

  • He’s super nervous since he never made a life commitment like this before
  • He keeps doubting himself
  • He’s scared that he won’t be good enough for you
  • He needs a lot of affirmation from his friends and his brother
  • He’s super jittery though and easily startled by everything
  • He blanks out a lot while waiting for the ceremony to start
  • He soon forgets his anxieties when you walk down the aisle
  • He’s mesmerized by you and thinks of how lucky he is
  • He’s still a bit nervous throughout the vows and things, but the reception is just with close friends and family
  • So he gets a lot more comfortable
  • But he’s holding your hand a lot

V:

  • He’s really nervous, but excited
  • He wanted life to start fresh with you
  • But he still had some reservations because he was scared of his past faults
  • Jumin has to talk some sense into him when he thinks that
  • V just keeps talking to him to get his mind off of things
  • When he saw you in the dress, he was breathless
  • He had never been happier that he gotten the eye surgery
  • Loosened up to his normal self once the dancing started 

Check out our other headcanons~ Masterlist

Three’s a Crowd (Part 14)

Member: Taehyung x Reader x Yoongi

Type: Poly Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14.

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The Serpent Queen

Jughead x Reader

In which the reader is the one to go to Jughead’s trailer after the Jubilee and sees him put on the Southside Serpent jacket, and what ensues afterward.

Warnings: There is some straight up SIN ya’ll I said I wouldn’t write smut again but then things happened and now I’m here okay? Okay (although this is probably still just a once in a blue moon thing I have to be in the right kinda mood ya feel?)

Word Count: 3,060

A/N: I needed an ending to this scene and I can’t wait until season two so I wrote one myself.

Masterlist


The murder is solved, the town slowly healing, the thoughts of anything bad are being to the back of all of our heads, at least for tonight. After the Jubilee we all decide to go to Pop’s for milkshakes, and as we sit there in the moonlight we laugh at the jokes Jughead makes or just silly stuff that we see come up on Twitter.

We have way too many milkshakes, and Jughead’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, my hands around his knee that was up on the booth, and nothing seems to hurt us. As the clock strikes midnight we decided to finally get some privacy.

His trailer is empty, after all.

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You’re the Hero

Originally posted by dailytomholland


Title: You are te Hero Peter Parker x, reader

Summary: Spiderman gets in a little bit of trouble, and he just doesn’t know if he was going to survive, until someone steps in. 

Just a cute little imagine for you (Just kidding it isn’t little it's’ almost 3000 words I am so sorry I need to need to be stopped) Anyways I hope you like it and omg Tom Holland stop being so cute. Anyways I hope you enjoy!





Peter woke up with the worst headache in the world and had no idea where he was waking up too. The city sirens rang in the background and the cool lights shined and blinded his vision. He groaned and tried to get up, but a sharp pain stopped him in the stomach. It wasn’t until he felt his whole body ache did he notice that there was a pair of cold, delicate hands hovering over his stomach did he notice that someone else was with him. He tried to get up from the floor, but the hands laid a wet tissue that stung his cuts.

“Oh, what are you doing to me?” Peter complained as he fully came through. He looked at the kind face that tended to his wounds. He noticed that his costume shirt was off, mainly to tend to the wounds on his stomach, but it seems his savior has kept on his face mask. The lady looked up at him and smiled. She looked about the same age as Peter, but she had the kindest and most playful eyes he has ever witnessed. “Looks like Spiderman has gotten in a big boy fight, hasn’t he?” The girl teased as she took out a large bandage for one of the scrapes on his body. Peter smirked under the mask.

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anonymous asked:

Rfa+minor trio reacting to mc being the worst cook in history but she looks so goddamn optimistic that they cant say her food is shit so its THE SHIT

✿ i may or may not have done some of these things over the years. which ones? guess.

Yoosung

  • Didn’t realize someone could mess up more than him.
  • It’s not that your food is misshapen. Yoosung’s food is misshapen. Yours positively looks diseased - like, what are those weird spots
  • are those sesame seeds?
  • why did you put sesame seeds in your eggs.
  • Tries to be kind about correcting your mistakes, and is as endlessly positive as you are about improving.
  • “It’s really good now! But I bet if we do this, it’ll be even better!”
  • This man learns to lie like a saint.

Zen

  • Since you’re the perfect person, you have to be the perfect cook, right?
  • WRONG.
  • WRONG.
  • ZEN HAS NEVER BEEN MORE WRONG IN HIS LIFE, AND HE IS THE KING OF POOR DECISIONS.
  • there is absolutely no way he’s going to spoil that delightful expression on his face though so he chugs beer to drown out the taste of Sin Itself.
  • Treats eating your cooking as a harrowing experience he must go through where the reward is your smile.
  • Always has beer with his meals, though. Always.

Jaehee

  • She grew up in an abusive household where her presence was constantly dismissed, derided, and unwanted, and she still has never experienced anything as awkward as this moment.
  • How do you not know?
  • How do you not see?
  • THE MEAT IS BURNED ON THE OUTSIDE AND RAW ON THE INSIDE, HOW DID YOU DO THIS.
  • She tries to tell you but you’re just
  • you’re just so happy and
  • She starts walking cooking shows with you and prays it’ll do something to fix the travesty that is your food.

Jumin

  • Never, not once, has Jumin encountered bad cooking, so he doesn’t actually realize you’re doing anything wrong.
  • He just think’s that putting a cup of black pepper instead of a tablespoon into food is “a thing commoners do”, and treats it like a curiosity.
  • “How peculiar. Does the spiciness disguise the poor quality of the ingredients?”
  • “I see… is the texture both crunchy and hard to compensate for the pasta’s blandness?”
  • “Hmn… do the black parts give it extra flavor?”
  • doesn’t understand why you get mad after that. oops.

707

  • He puts his hands on his shoulders. He stares into your eyes. “MC,” he says gravely, like he’s about to deliver a terminal diagnosis. “I regret to inform you that you cannot cook.”
  • your heart is shattered to pieces, but before you can emotionally collapse, Seven continues.
  • “However, my love! Do not despair. This affords us with an excellent opportunity. Do you know what that is?”
  • You shake your head mutely, and Seven’s grin lights up the room.
  • “I can’t cook either. So together, we’re going to make the worst dish possible, and we’re going to force everyone else to eat it.”
  • It becomes a game. The rest of the RFA thinks you and Seven are unaware of how bad your Ratatouille de Actual Live Rats with Diced Grape Tomato Sauce actually is, and while they’d tell Seven to buzz off, they can’t tell you. So faced with your unending cheer, they eat it.
  • They consume it.
  • You make a corporate heir, a famous actor, and a former secret agent consume your terrible cooking.
  • you are monsters.

V

  • Doesn’t grimace. Doesn’t cower. Doesn’t say a word. He just smiles and says “thank you” when you present him al dente pasta that probably hasn’t actually ever touched water.
  • It’s not a lie. It’s genuine. This man doesn’t care that it’s garbage. You being happy and you trying to make him happy by spending time on something is enough for him.
  • Even when you ruin a slow cooked pot-roast by putting jelly in it.
  • Even then, he still smiles, eats it, and says he loves you.

Unknown (Saeran)

  • Like his twin, he’s also bad at cooking. Unlike his twin, he isn’t going to admit it, and he unknowingly joins you in being a terrifying force in the kitchen.
  • Dishes become exponentially worse when touched by the two of you. Saeran wants to add sprinkles, you want to add frosting, and suddenly your lasagna looks like a birthday cake.
  • “Let’s add candles! It can be dessert.”
  • The person who bears the brunt of your abuse is Seven, who doesn’t have the heart to tell either of you how awful your food is.
  • It culminates in you sending him to the hospital.
  • You’re enrolled in classes after that, becoming a poor home ec teacher’s problem.

Vanderwood

  • Vanderwood wakes up at 3AM to find you sobbing over the stove, its glass top shattered and spices scattered everywhere on the floor.
  • Apparently, you’d been possessed by the fae desire to make gingerbread cookies. Apparently, you were also too short to reach the cinnamon and cloves the recipe called for, and - in your flailing - the glass bottles all spilled out of the cabinet, breaking the stove, hitting you on the head, and scattering all over the floor.
  • In a vacuum, this might be an incidence of clumsy-cute, but you do this constantly. In a previous life you must have angered the god of cooking because kitchen appliances are always trying to kill you.
  • Vanderwood had to save you when you got your hair caught in the mixer. Vanderwood has had to bandage your wounds when you burned yourself on the stove. Vanderwood has had to help you pick up all the groceries from a collapsed fridge, and Vanderwood proceeds to baby-proof the kitchen and ban you from unsupervised cooking.
  • It’s for your own good, they say. I don’t want to come in here and find your decapitated body.
  • there is not a lot you can do in the face of their Motherly Tone.
Ryan's poem in 13 reasons why though

“The drag of your hand across my chest sparks a blaze my lips cannot extinguish
You, stubborn inferno
You drive fast and damn the red lights for slowing you down
You see my veins shake at your first touch
The power to move my blood on your own accord
The definition of heart
And after the stick shift jerk
I beg my skin to do tricks
Like forget how good it feels to lose control
Between the burning house
Of your hands”

a horrifying concept

The knock comes at a quarter to three. Dean, of course, is still awake. Drinking in the library. Ashamed as he is to admit it, his heart still lurches with hope at the sound.

He wipes off his hands and tries to convince himself that he’s not rushing up the stairs, heart pounding all the while. He opens the door and his face hardens into a frown. 

“What do you want?” he spits.

“You know why I’m here.”

Dean shakes his head, wiping a hand down his face. It’s still cool with the condensation from his bottle. “Yeah, well, you’re too late. Sorry.”

He abandons the front hallway and walks back to the library, not caring if he’s followed. Judging by the quiet sound of tinny footsteps on the stairs, he is. His eyes follow his guest as she takes the seat across from him at the table, eyeing his bottle of liquor. He doesn’t offer her any.

He’s hit with an idea, sitting here and staring at her. It’s all but a shout. “Teach me,” Dean blurts.

“I can’t,” she says. “You know what it does.”

Dean grits his teeth. “I don’t care. I want you to teach me.”

“Why?”

Dean’s fists unclench, his shoulders drop. “Because I lost someone too. And I need to do something.”

A chair slides back from the table with a quiet squeak. Dean doesn’t raise his eyes, sure that this is the end. His last resort slipping through his fingers. But war-hardened hands take his and he does look up, right into the vacant stare of someone too far gone down the road of revenge.

Lily Sunder nods. “I’ll help you.”

Dean doesn’t feel afraid. He’s very good at making deals.

Catalyst

Request: “Hi! I was wondering if you could write something based on the song 18 by Anarbor, with Sirius please, I don’t know maybe something about reader having parents with a really strict no dates until out of howarts rule but Sirius has been always in love with her but she not as much as him, every time I hear it I can’t stop thinking of how fitting it is! The reader could be a slytherin who parents obviously kind of disapprove Sirius so that why Sirius or reader want to piss them off. Also, your writing is beautiful. X”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, implied smut

Originally posted by theunclaimedgeneration

Eighteen, crazy
pulled up in your daddy’s car
Should’ve seen this coming from a mile away
I know what you want from me

“So,” your father started, poking at his dinner, “are you going to meet up with your friends at the station tomorrow?”

You perked up at the mention, nodding, suddenly excited as you realised the break was finally over.

“Is that boy going to be there?” Your mother wiggled her shoulders, a cheesy grin spreading on her face.

“Boy?” Your father’s head popped up from the mashed potato he had been scuffing down. “What boy?”

“Oh honey did you fail to notice? (Y/n) was waiting with a boy when we went to pick her up after school finished.”

“No. Who is he?” Your father directed his severe attention to you now. “Pureblood, I hope.” He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“He is, actually.” You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you viciously stabbed your vegetables.

“Good, good.” He responded, eager to drift away from the conversation topic.

“What’s his name?” Your mother asked with raised brows, impatient to learn all the details.

The corner of your lip twitched as you twirled your fork. “Sirius.” No reaction from your father, who was now reading the headlines on his copy of The Daily Prophet. “Sirius Black.”

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Slipping Away- Newt Scamander x Reader

Request: Your writing is my life. Can I request something hella angsty. i dont care what it is but i need angst. Also can it be a happy ending? thanks

A/n: I love writing angst, also sorry this is kind of late

Warnings: insecurities, implied emotional breakdowns, angsty themes everywhere, slight swearing

Enjoy!

You sat combing your wet hair in the bathroom as drops of water from the faucet still echoed throughout, breaking the eerie silence. You allowed the comb to weave and untangle the messy locks of your hair before you hung the towel back up on its rack. With a sigh, you turned back towards the mirror, which was now fogging slightly. Your eyes were tired and your face lacked its usual perky smile, for its existence had long been faded. The water drops ceased, leaving you in silence once more, a sound you were far too accustomed to in recent times.

Newt had been spending so much time away in his habitats recently, and it was beginning to have a negative effect on you. You knew in your heart that the beasts were important to him, they were important to you as well, but he had spent days working constantly on his book, and you longed for some sort of affection besides a brief hug or kiss every now and then. Even now he was hard at work inside of his case, probably watching the occamies again since they had just hatched.

All you wanted was some attention, a sign that he was still there. The two of you had been dating for about a year or so now, and you thought he still loved you. If he did, then he wasn’t showing it or even really making an attempt to. You felt a dull throbbing ache in your chest on a daily basis. It often worsened as you prepared breakfast by yourself in your empty kitchen with nothing but a light jazz record to accompany you, or when you would end up falling asleep in a cold bed, only to wake up the next morning in the same state. You just needed someone to love, someone to talk to. By now you were starting to wonder as to what would happen if you just disappeared, if you just vanished into thin air or ceased to exist. He didn’t really need you anyways. If anything you stood in his way, he could easily live without you.

You readjusted your sweater collar before unlocking the door and heading out into the main room, only to stop in your tracks at the sight before you.

Newt was standing in your shared bedroom doorway, holding what appeared to be a worn blue notebook.

‘Oh no,’ you thought as a wave of anxiety washed over your form. You wanted to shrink away into a darkened hole and never come back out.

Newt stood slightly hunched over as he flipped through the pages of the notebook. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, shock, and hurt. What he didn’t know is that this notebook just so happened to be the one where his love wrote all of their deepest and darkest feelings. Tear stains and ink splotches dotted the page margins and creased lay darkened. His oceanic eyes scanned each word, stabbing his heart with a jagged knife. The entries all varied, but each had been written with a common theme.

October 2, 1925
Today I am feeling more lonely than usual, and the feeling itself is rather unsettling. I’m trying to occupy myself, but I still think that the pain would subside if Newt were here. However, I can’t interrupt is work, even though he’s been so busy with it. Sometimes I wish he would just take a break for once…

October 19, 1925
Another empty bed, and another sleepless night.


October 27, 1925
Newt and I got into a small disagreement today, and we haven’t spoken for a bit. I hope our relationship, or whatever is left of it, can survive. He’s been a bit more distant, and I know that he’s off working on his novel, but I really do miss him. Sometimes I wonder if he would be happier if I were gone, so that he could maybe be with someone else who isn’t as annoying or clingy or stupid. Maybe he can find another pretty and kind person to snuggle up to at night.
I wonder if he still cares or thinks about me. I prepared his favorite tea, hoping he would come back up for dinner, but he didn’t. I miss him, but I guess I can’t interrupt him.


He paused, and then looked at the most recent entry, which was dated to yesterday.

November 3, 1925
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I know he doesn’t hate me, but I can’t take being alone anymore. Maybe he’s purposely avoiding me, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t talk or hug or kiss me as much as he used to. If I had been better or smarter, or perhaps more beautiful would he have stayed? Am I that annoying and hard to be around to the point where my own boyfriend may not love me anymore?



Newt wasn’t able to make it through the final passage. It stung his heart and eyes too much. Sobs were choked back as his hands began to shake violently out of anger, not really towards you, but towards himself. Just then, a thud brought him back out of his thoughts.

You had accidentally dropped the comb in your hand, causing it to create a sound causing Newt’s worries and concerned expression to face towards you. He closed the book softly as if it were fashioned out of glass and he moved towards you. Your heartrate and breathing raced in panic as the world swirled around you.

Newt was probably furious, angry and packed with rage that you thought or said things like that about him, and not even towards his face. You had been selfish, he was only trying to write his book, but oh no, you had to be a pathetic person and desire attention at all hours of the day. You wanted to rip your hair out and scream, as you felt slightly betrayed that he had found the book from its hidden space under your side of the bed and read it, scanning over each word with his own two crystal eyes. You feared his reaction. If your relationship wasn’t over yet, it soon would be for sure. His eyes and face were already turning red and you braced yourself for the worst. You prepared for him to scream and yell and spit words furiously at you. You expected a full blown fight like never before. Your heart shattered into smaller remains, stabbing you from the inside out and pricking your chest. Your lungs became filled with toxic smoke, and all you needed was oxygen, but its freedom was nowhere to be found. You feared for darkness. You feared for a dark storm cloud. You feared for hell itself as you shut your eyes and covered your waterfalls of flowing tears with your tingling and shaking hands.

The darkness never came, but was instead, replaced with a warm embrace. The icy atmosphere and tension were slowing thawing away, like winter into spring as daisies and daffodils began to sprout through the last frost.

Newt had started to cry, and not just a few tears, but audible bawling surrounded by pain and aches. His voice was strangled, like someone was clutching his throat, forbidding speech from escaping his lips. His freckles glistened from the rivers that passed over them. He held you as if trying to keep all of your pieces together before sinking to the ground with you still in his arms. By now, all of the emotions and tears that had been locked up in your caged heart for weeks began to escape through the cracks, and your body trembled. Newts hand held your head as the coolness of your damp hair splashed onto his hands and cheeks, mixing with his salty tears.

“Y/n, why in the name of bloody Merlin didn’t you tell me that y-you felt like t-this? Why m-my darling? W-why!?” he choked out loudly, as he was now cross with himself for making you revel in this much pain and suffering for so long. He wasn’t wearing his coat, but he was still warm, as opposed to your shivering and shaking body.

“I-I didn’t want to bother you. Besides Newt, w-we’re so distant now.”

“Darling we aren’t that distant though-,”

“Newt when was the last time we had any time together huh? When was the last time you said I love you like you genuinely meant it?”

Newt opened his mouth to speak, but words didn’t come out. Instead another round of tears followed as he still continued to hold you as if you were going to disappear away from him.

“I am the shittiest boyfriend to ever live. Y/n I’m so sorry that I’ve d-done this to you, you must hate me! I don’t deserve you, oh what have I done! I’ve broken you. I need to fix you, How can I fix you!?” he panicked, and all he wanted to do was capture your lips, but he knew he shouldn’t cross that line right now. Hell, he may not even be able to call himself your boyfriend after this.

Your sobbing mixed with the sound of his, and you didn’t mean to sound so angry or snappy. Carefully, you brought your thumb under his eye to wipe a tear stream away, the touch causing him to look up from where he had buried his face in your chest.

“N-Newt?” you asked in a silenced whisper and almost ghostlike.

“Yes m-my dar-, yes Y/n?” he responded, pausing before he could say the word ‘darling’ as he wasn’t sure if he deserved the allowance to do so.

“Do you still love me?”

Newt’s heart crashed and splintered, like glass thrown against a wall. This was all his fault. He made you feel this way, he made you feel unloved and undesirable. This was all his doing, and he had been so involved in his life and where it was going that he didn’t realize that he was harming himself in the process.

“Of c-course I do. I love you so much Y/n. a simple apology won’t m-m-make this go away, I know that. But love I am sorry, I am so sorry that I have put you through this hell. I understand if you don’t love me though, I wouldn’t love me either right n-now.”

The notebook was long discarded as you pulled yourself closer into Newt’s chest, which began to rise and fall irregularly from all of his painful sobs. He reacted by grabbing your waits and pulling you closer and shielding you, as if he needed to protect your from the world.

“I still love you Newt.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course, I was just upset, and it was my fault anyway-,”

“Don’t even finish that sentence Y/n. This had nothing to do with you. I was the idiot who was too stupid and blind to see that my own darling was suffering alone. I love you my dear and I’ll do anything and everything to fix this, please. Please Y/n I can’t lose you. This is all my fault and I can only hope that you’ll forgive me.”

Your breathing had begun to fall back to a normal rate, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle, yet still desired kiss. Newt hesitated to kiss back at first, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was scared of hurting you more. His lips smoothed over yours and sweetly massaged against yours, as the passion within him ignited. He held onto you still, afraid that you would break if he let you go. Your hand graced his stubble, and he brushed his hand through your wet hair, sending a shiver down both of your spines. He began to move his hands back down to your waist to scoop you up into his firm arms, and this movement made you break the kiss.

“Newt what are you doing?”

He kissed your lips again, shuffling the notebook away as it slid across the floor.

“I’m taking my love for some alone time.”

“B-But Newt…”

“No, this is long overdue, and I was an idiot. You deserve this, and I shouldn’t have made you hurt like I did. Now please, I need you in my arms right now, I need to show you how much I love you.”

You pressed your head against his chest and you nodded sleepily, as the emotional breakdown had worn you out a bit. Newt noticed and kissed you hair before proceeding to wrap you in a blanket from off of your shared couch. His heartbeat echoed in your ears, as it began to lull you into an aura of comfort once more.

The two of you may have hit a bumpy road, but the two of you were strong. He didn’t mean to hurt you, you understood that, and you knew that everything would be okay. You heard him mutter an ‘I love you’ as he carried and set you onto your shared bed before he curled up next to you. His arms wrapped around you after he kicked his boots off, and the two of you made up for lost cuddles as you each dozed off on the protection of each other.

Masterlist:

http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/156427727241/masterlist-thing

anonymous asked:

After Claire reveals the truth to Jamie about who she really is, he replays the day they met in his mind to see it from a new perspective.

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 



Part VI 

He couldn’t get enough air. 

No, he wasn’t just suffocating. He was being suffocated, being pressed downward, screaming, but with no one to hear, no mercy from those cruel hands pinning him down. He struggled against them, struggled against the evil and the darkness of —

And then he was free and Jamie roared upward, lunging for his attacker’s throat. 

He came awake in mid-air, the cold air hitting his bare legs, reality still swirling and shifting in the darkness as he flung the intruder flat on the bed, pinning THEM, choking them with— 

“Ja—MIE—” came a strangled female voice, throat muscles working desperately beneath his hands. “—s’—ME!”

CLAIRE.

He leapt backward off her and off the bed so violently that he staggered and would have toppled onto his backside if he hadn’t caught onto the tall dresser. He steadied himself and his mind, though both were reeling: 

Leoch 

His chamber 

Dead of night 

Claire Beauchamp 

on his bed

She had sat up, and in the dim, flickering light, Jamie could see that she was clad only in her shift, a flimsy shawl underneath her on the bed. 

His heart thundered—melted— to see her; to see how lovely she was; to feel how deeply she roused him; to be hit with the aching of how much he wished to touch her—take her in his arms and tell her how much—how deeply, painfully—he’d missed her these last three weeks—

But the ice around his heart solidified again almost instantly, the ice that had kept him sane for those three weeks; the ice that would continue to keep him alive as long as he was forced to see her around Castle Leoch, until he could get himself away to Lallybroch, away from her. 

And yet despite everything, that very ice shuddered to see the fear in her golden eyes, her hands clutched at her throatDespite everything she’d done and said, his heart contracted with panic. His voice came out urgent and strangled. “Have I hurt ye, Mistress?” 

She dropped her hands at once and shook her head quickly. “No, just startled. I’m not hurt, Jamie,” she said more firmly, seeing him unconvinced, searching her skin for marks. “I promise. I’m alright.” 

“Aye, well…I’m glad of it. I’m—I beg your pardon for—” he made a vague gesture toward the bed. “Ye took me unawares from my dream, and—I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she repeated, giving him a weak smile. “No harm done.” 

He nodded, but the ice was firmly back in pace. “Tis time for ye to take your leave, Mistress Beauchamp.”

“No.” 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, not in the slightest.

“Mistress, ‘tis the middle of the night.  D’ye have any idea what they’d say if ye were found in my—” He took a step toward her. “Your reputation would be ruined.”

Her expression was hard, yet still somehow flippant in that damnable way of hers as she shrugged, “Don’t have a very good reputation to uphold, anyhow.” 

“Dinna be joking about,” he snapped, holding out his hand. “Come. NOW.”  

 “I’m not leaving. And before you threaten to carry me out yourself—” she said loudly, JUST as he’d been opening his mouth to do just that, “—know that if you so much as try, I’LL scream at the top of my lungs and see who comes running. I don’t give a rat’s arse about my reputation, and I’M willing to let the chips fall as they may. Do you want me to do that?” 

Damn her. DAMN her. 

No.” 

“Well then,” she said, raising her eyebrows, “look’s like I’m staying.” 

Defeated and all the more angry for it, he threw his hands up in the air. “What in God’s were ye doing creeping about touching me in the night, anyway?”

She glared at him. “To talk to you, of course.”

Talk?” He rubbed his hands backward through his hair to keep from throttling her in earnest. “Have ye no scruples, woman? Christ, there are proper times and places for—”

“Oh, there ARE, are there? DO be a dear and tell me when and where those might be, won’t you?” She made a sound of deep derision and crossed her arms sharply, apparently as angry and barely-restrained as he. “Jamie, you’ve spent THREE BLOODY WEEKS ignoring me—what else was I supposed to DO??”

*Avoiding* you, mo nighean donn; not ignoring you.

But avoid her, he had, and quite effectively, at that. Colum’s explicit instructions had been that she was not to leave the castle walls, nor had she, else she certainly would have come to find him at the stables, where he had spent every possible moment, save sleeping and mealtimes, though he’d contrived to eat at odd hours. She had tried half a dozen times to approach him, in the corridors, in the great hall, in the courtyards, but he’d said no more than a cool, “Mistress,” of acknowledgment as he took his leave.

Avoided, aye; never ignored. He had been as aware of her as of the daylight, her presence and absence fundamentally guiding his thoughts and activities. She was his light, whether he willed it or no. 

“What else was I supposed to DO, Jamie?” she was repeating, now standing just a few feet from him, moving with him as he stepped to and fro away from her, to MAKE him look at her.

He did look at her, hard. “Leave me be. That’s what.” Just go away. Go away from this Castle and rid me of the torment of having you near.

Jamie!” Frustration and desperation were battling for dominance in her wearied voice. “We HAVE to talk!”

“We dinna have to do any such thing. And, by all the saints,” he exclaimed, gesturing wildly at her body, desperate for anything to throw her off the scent, “even if we did, did ye have to come practically naked?? You’re in naught but your—” (thin-as-an-April-breeze) “—SHIFT and I’m—” 

He could feel the draft from the window sneaking up his legs, caressing every inch of bare flesh under his shirt, and his face burned

“—I’m not presentable.”

She didn’t budge an inch. “Put some damed clothes on, then.”  

When he didn’t immediately make a move, she rolled her eyes, turned, and walked to the bed, snatching up her shawl and jerking it around her shoulders and pulling it around her. 

Breasts now covered, she raised a defiant eyebrow.  He glared at her, but finally decided that even if he should risk her threats and carry her bodily into the hall and bolt the door behind, best to do so with breeks on. He threw open the trunk at the foot of the bed and rummaged until he found a pair, turning from her as he laced them.

“Can we talk now?” she said, as he turned back to face her.

In contrast to her evident amusement, his own voice was low and nasty. “Go ahead.”

She blinked and dropped her eyes to her crossed arms. 

A dhia, how he despised himself in that moment—he wasn’t the kind of man that spoke this way to women, not least of all to a woman that he—but Jamie simply couldn’t shake the anger and hurt that coursed through him at the sight of her. She didn’t want him for a husband—fine; but could she not just stay away? Go away. Just go away. 

When she spoke, she met his eye straight-on, quiet, but determined. “Thank you. For helping me talk my way out from under Colum and Dougal,” her eyes were shining with sincerity. “I truly couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else, Mistress?” He gestured toward the door.

She threw up her hands. “Jamie, for heaven’s sake will please just hold your goddamn horses and give me a chance, here? I’ve got things I need to ask you!”

He bowed his head. Stop being a child, Fraser.

“What is it ye wish to know, mistress?”

She heaved a breath and let it out, preparing herself, shivering. He strode to the fire and stoked it, to give them both a moment for it. The light danced on her face as he turned back to her, her face strained and urgent with her questions.  “Why did you help me with your uncles? After all I—You didn’t have to tell them anything. You had every reason to just leave me to my own fate. Why?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable, still fingering the poker. “Didna wish to see ye come to harm.”

“Harm?” That genuinely startled her. “You think they would have….ordered me tortured, you mean?”

“Perhaps not Colum….” He chose his words carefully. “But ye have—not the faintest idea of the—the depth of the hatred Dougal bears the English, even more than most Scots. If he truly believed ye to be passing on dangerous information…” 

He shrugged again. He had no doubt that she would have come to some form of harm, whether at the hands of the MacKenzies or the English, had he not interceded. No matter how deeply she had hurt him, he didn’t wish to see any ill befall her. Not ever.

“And do they truly believe you?”

“Aye, they do.”

She nodded slowly, then suddenly dropped her eyes and began fingering the hem of her shawl. “The ‘allegiances’ you spoke of…Was that…” Christ, she was squirming like a worm on a hook, “were you talking about Laoghaire?”

He snorted. “Certainly NOT.” The look on her face made him realize too late that infatuation with Miss MacKenzie would have been a perfect ruse to hide behind; but then again, Miss Beauchamp always had a knack with catching him off guard. Without waiting for her to press, he grudgingly added, “It was my allegiance to Colum of which I spoke. That’s why he took it to heart as he did”

“To Colum?” 

He couldn’t shake the glow that had lit the ice around his heart when her face had lightened instantly at his disavowal of Laoghaire MacKenzie. 

He cleared his throat, squeezing the poker. “Colum wishes that I should succeed him as clan chieftain, someday.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s—Jamie, that’s wonderful!” She looked genuinely delighted and impressed. “Such a great honor.”

“Perhaps, though it’s a honor I dream not of.” 

“No?”

“I’ve no intention of leading the clan, at least not until after Dougal’s tried his hand at it. He’d skin me alive for taking ‘his’ position, and I’ve no desire to start a clan war. The easiest way is for me to remove myself. Colum doesna ken that, yet, though.” 

“But how does—? What does that have to do with…?” 

“My taking a Sassenach wife—” the word cut his throat like glass, “—would have negated my eligibility for clan leadership outright.”

She dropped her eyes. “I see.”

Aye, I would have done it in a heartbeat, mo ghraidh.

He cleared his throat again. “And so, while Colum and Dougal dinna yet trust that you’ve no other motive for being amongst us, same as before, they do believe my tale about why ye fled.”

Why she fled.

“I had a LIFE, and I’m far past due to return to it!”

“I don’t need your ‘protection,’ Mr. McTavish.”

And still, most cutting of all, the coldness in those golden eyes as she had said: “You were mistaken.”

“I don’t expect your forgiveness,” she was saying, still facing him boldly, though he could see her twisting the fabric of her shawl again, faster and harder. “I don’t even expect you to speak to me again after this. And I’ll go, tomorrow, if that’s what you want.” 

Christ, she meant it. she would leave. 

Aye, Sassenach, just go. 

“I’ll tell your uncles to hand me over to the English and be done with it. It doesn’t bloody matter anymore.” 

Dinna leave me. 

He thickened the ice around his heart. 

“But—” A deep breath, and then her voice was softer. I can’t go another day without saying...I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

The depth of feeling in her voice was powerful enough to catch the breath in his throat… but the ice was powerful too. He only managed a quiet, hard, “What for?”

“For acting the way I did, the night I left. I was…” She paused, shaking her head, “—vicious….and you didn’t deserve that. Not at all. You are—were… are my friend, and I had no cause to treat you in such a fashion.” She took another deep, ragged breath. “The thing is—”

“Let’s just leave it be, aye?”Jamie didn’t think he could bear this. He moved from the fireplace to the window on the far side of the bed, quickly, that she might not see his face. “I accept your apology. There’s no point discussing it further, Mistress.”

“No point?” she whispered from behind him.

His anger flared and he had to grit his teeth. “Ye told me in no uncertain terms, that night, what your feelings were, Claire. Whether or not ye should have been nicer about it is truly neither here nor—”

“But Jamie—” He could hear her moving closer to him, her voice now with an edge of eager desperation. “—I had good reason to leave, I swear it, but—the most important thing you have to hear is—” Her voice was tremulous with emotion. “— you weren’t mistaken—and I came back for you.” Her hand came to rest softly on his arm.

“Jesus, Claire, can ye no’ hear yourself?” He threw off her touch and twisted to face her, hating the rage and scorn coursing through him, but feeling utterly powerless to halt its path. “So, your grand plans of returning to your old life came to naught, and ye came crawling back to Leoch because ye imagined I would be better than nothing, aye?” 

“Jamie,” she whispered, horrified, “it isn’t like that.”

“Oh, no?”

“No, you bastard!” she hissed, on the brink of tears, following behind him as he stormed back to the hearth. “it BLOODY isn’t!”

“Tell me, then, Claire,” he demanded, keeping his voice low. He’d come to stand behind the big armchair—to put some goddamn space between them— and he gripped the back of it hard with both hands to ground himself, “where did ye go?”

Silence. Fear in her whisky eyes. He could see the lie forming, see her closing against him in that glass face. 

“Ye left with haste and wi’ a purpose,” he pressed. “Why?”

Her eyes were down. Her head was shaking hard, fast. “I—I can’t tell you why.”

“You could.” 

“I CAN’T!” 

He nodded, shaking all over. “Then why on EARTH should I trust your word?”

She looked up with glassy eyes.

WHY?” he repeated, more angrily, more pained with every choking syllable “When ye sleep in my arms, hold me wi’ your head on my chest of a morning and then shun me twice to my face before the next sunrise? When your face and your body told me one thing, and then your words another?” His hands were fists, quaking with fury and pain. “When ye STILL willna tell me where it is ye came from or where it is ye went? Why should I believe a word you say, Claire?” 

Silence. 

“TELL ME!!”

“You shouldn’t.” 

Her sudden quiet startled him and he searched her face. No longer angry and defensive, no longer controlled. He watched it fall, moment by moment, into a blank of despair.  She continued her descent, apparently helpless to stop it, and sank down onto the trunk at the foot of his bed. “You shouldn’t—you have no reason to believe me.” She released a gasping sob and buried her face in her hands. 

A long silence, punctuated only by the heart wrenching sounds of her sudden brokenness. 

Heart-wrenching. His heart was wrenching apart to see her in pain. 

He tried to be indifferent, to see in this another charade; but after a long moment, he couldn’t help but speak, to reach out to her. “Claire?”

She gave no answer, only wept harder and shook her head back and forth.

Another minute. 

“Why d’ye say I shouldna believe ye, Claire?”

Silence. 

Gently. “Why?” 

Why, mo nighean donn

“Because—” Heaving breaths. Crying. “If I told you the—truth, Jamie—the real, actual truth,” she sobbed still harder into her hands, her voice a strangled wheeze, “You’d never believe me…you’d think me completely—completely mad…”

Would he? Could he ever believe this marvel of an individual to be out of her mind? A lunatic? No. That simply couldn’t be. Whatever it was that she’d concealed, whatever it was she didn’t want to tell him, needed to tell him—it was truth. 

Slowly, he moved from behind the chair, slowly settled beside her on the trunk. 

She exhaled, moved and overcome. “Jamie….”

He couldn’t touch her, wasn’t sure what he would do if he touched her; but he was glad that she knew he was  near. She was right, after all: whatever else passed between them, she was his friend. “I’m here. Tell me….lass.”

Lass. 

It was the first time he had called her anything close to an endearment since she’d returned to Leoch—no, since the night she left—and the saying of it—Christ, it sent a bolt of blazing lightning into the ice around his heart. 

My lass

The crack was deep, deep enough so as not to be repaired, smoldering, spreading.  

My own lass. 

“The woman of Balnain.”

“The—what?”  She had blurted it with no preamble, and he yanked himself back from the melting of his heart to try to understand. “The—Welshman’s song? What of it?”

“I am the woman of Balnain.”

He gobbled for a moment, looking sidelong at her. “Well, the—the words actually translate more to ‘I am the wife of the laird of Bal—”

She shook her head, eyes squeezed tight. “No. No, that’s not what I mean.” 

“I…dinna understand.” 

“I. AM. her.” she whispered, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard.  “I, Claire Beauchamp, AM the woman of Balnain.”

The room seemed to crystallize and go silent. Even the fire was muted out, a faint humming in the distance. 

“The truth…Jamie….The truth is that I am not of this time.” She was still shaking with sobs but was nonetheless speaking with an intensity that he’d never heard from her, not ever before.  “I woke up one morning in the year nineteen hundred and forty-five…and I landed in seventeen forty-three.” She could barely get the words out. “I woke up in Inverness and went searching for a flower I’d seen on the hill of standing stones…” 

She recited the eerie song, her voice—God, her voice—

“I stood upon the hill, and wind did rise….
I placed my hands upon the tallest stone
and travelled to a far, distant land,

….but Jamie….it wasn’t a ‘distant land.’ It was a distant time. The eighteenth century.”

He was gaping at her. She gave another desperate sob, her eyes boring into him, despairing. “That’s the truth, Jamie; The truth of where I came from. I—traveled—back—traveled here—in time.” 

Nineteen hundred…and forty….

Back… 

in time….? 

There were tales, of course—folk being stolen away by the fairies and being taken to times not their own—

—but as an educated man, he’d always—surely those were only—

But with a jolt akin to being kicked by a great beast, all of it flooded into his mind at once, bowling him over: 

The strange shift she had worn

Her lack of friends and relations

Her inability to account for her background, her intentions among us

The way she had asked for the town, that night we’d found her—a town that must have been visible, two hundred years hence

The way even the most common words and customs seemed foreign to her

The daft words she herself had used

The way this remarkable woman had fallen into his life….

The way this woman like no other he’d ever encountered in his lifetime…

“I was born in nineteenth hundred and eighteen,” she was saying intently, breaking apart, “I was born two hundred years from now.” She make a desperate sound at his silence—anger—fear—tragedy. “Jamie, do you hear me?”

But Jamie heard her words as though from under water; silently reciting the rest of the Welshman’s song

But one day, I saw the moon come out
and the wind rose once more,
so I touched the stones
and travelled back to my own land
and took up again with—

“You’ve been trying to get back to him,” he moaned, the horror and the grief of it washing over him in a landslide, “’the man ye left behind.’

She gasped, then gaped at him, utterly dumbstruck. She couldn’t speak for a long time. Nor could he; could only hear the wailing of his heart. 

When she did finally find her voice, it was strangled and tear-choked. “You—believe me??”

“Aye,” he said at once, his own voice far from strong, but confident in that, at least. “I do believe ye, Sassenach.”

Beyond the memories, all the evidence of her otherness running through his mind like a vision, he could see it in her eyes; he could see it in the slant of her shoulders, broken, but no longer on guard, no longer holding back; he could see it across her glass face, finally free of secrets and lies. Finally free. Aye, he believed her…

…and the truth broke his heart all over again, into more pieces—millions more—than they’d been before. She was married. She wasn’t free to give her heart—Nor had she been; not from the first moment he’d laid eyes upon her. Claire Beauchamp was another man’s wife. 

“Forgive me, lass,” he murmured, rising and going to the fire, trying to keep his voice from breaking, to keep from showing her his despair. He understood, now; understood why she had acted the way she had, but the pain was too great. He had only enough strength left to appear strong. “Stay here for the night—I’ll find another bed.” 

“Forgive?” came her voice behind him, truly bewildered. “Whatever for?”

He had tears in his eyes and he blinked them away fiercely, gritting his teeth. “I canna even bear to think of the—the fool I made of myself in your eyes back wi’ the rent party. Proposing marriage, professing love, when ye already had—”

“No!” she said, jumping to her feet and wiping her own tears away, hard. “Jamie, no, please—that’s what I’m trying to tell you—you weren’t a fool.” 

She came close to stand beside him, and after a long pause, she took his hand. “Jamie…..you… weren’t mistaken.”

He wasn’t—? He hadn’t been—?

He couldn’t shake off her touch. Couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t even move at all from the inrush of feeling and hope and—

“I felt—just the same as you, Jamie—” she said, carefully but firmly through her tears and emotion. “—from the—God, the first time you held me here at Leoch,—From then onwards, I felt what it was between us.”

A Dhia, just slay me now, lass. Kill me here and let my heart be gone, rather than this torture. He felt like a boy, so eager for her love, and so frightened to hope for it.

“That’s why I left that night—” She was squeezing his hand so hard it hurt, and was staring up at him, her eyes unblinking and spilling with tears. Jamie was staring into the fire, trying to keep control of himself, but she wouldn’t look away. “—because I cared for you too and I felt—” She gave a wracking sob, “—so ashamed because it was like he—my husband—like Frank never—even existed to me—” 

She cares for me. 

She cared for me all along. 

“—And so when you—when you said those things—poured out your heart to me, and I—wanted to pour mine out to you—and I had to get away—and I ran—”

He was squeezing her hand to keep from flying apart. 

She ran because she felt she must 

She cares for me. 

“—and I was praying the whole time I rode it would have been a dream—that I would touch the stones and wake up, but it wasn’t a dream—you were real—and what I felt for you was real—”

—Jesus—

“—but I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d come back—”

She ran because of duty .

Her hand in his shook. His hand in hers shook. 

Claire cares for me, too.

“—then I got to the stones and I—couldn’t get through—” She was sobbing, harder than she had yet sobbed in his presence, panic and weariness overtaking her such that she swayed next to him. “—I couldn’t get back—was pounding on that stone for hours—hours—but I—I couldn’t get—couldn’t—”

“Oh, lass—” And before he could stop himself, he was clutching her tight against him, comforting her, holding her, trying to shield her from the sobs that wracked her body.  “I’m so sorry…Claire, I’m so sorry…”

God, and he was, too. The pain and turmoil she’d undergone, that had been tearing her apart with no one to help keep her sane; no one to keep her from being alone. He held her, forcing himself to think only of her. “It’s alright….shhhh, it’s alright… Christ, I’m so sorry.” 

She pressed her cheek hard into his chest. “Jamie, I was so ashamed.” 

“Ashamed? Lass, you’ve nothing to be—”

She pushed back from him and staggered away toward the fire,  just far enough to look him in the eye,. “Because I was relieved—Jamie— I was RELIEVED that I couldn’t go back to him—” She raised her hands aimlessly to the level of her eyes, watching them quake. “—RELIEVED—and I think part of me will be ashamed of that all my life—But I don’t care.”

Jamie didn’t say a word, just let his eyes cling to the sight of her face, open and breaking along with his. ‘Breaking,’—no, he was being utterly torn apart by the gathering of joy and hope, the banishing of the anger and pain. His heart was a gushing torrent, now—the skeleton of the ice wall still standing, but with the current clearly visible beneath, roaring to be free. 

“The fact is that I was relieved. Relieved that I could come back to you.” 

She cares for me 

She left from duty. 

She came back. 

She—

“Jamie….?” she begged, repeating the word like a prayer of supplication. “Jamie…..?”

“Aye?” he croaked.

“Jamie, I’m so sorry—I hate what I did to you— the look on your face when I denied you and—shamed and—wounded you—it killed me—”

“Dinna spare a thought for it,” he started to say, but she quieted him, begging to be allowed to speak uninterrupted.

“—And I can’t bear how this will seem—Like it does seem,” she amended. “You said it yourself: my plans fell through and I’ve come crawling back to you. But that isn’t true.” She took a deep breath and her eyes spoke true to him as she said, strong and clearly even through the gasping and the tears: “I love you, Jamie.”

The ice wall shattered. 

She loves me. 

She loves me. 

SHE LOVES ME. 

“I love you—” she was saying, over and over crying, laughing as the joy of it rushed through her,”—and I care for you—and I respect you, and—” She reached a hand toward his face. “— and I want to marry you.” 

Before he could reach back to her, she was kneeling before him, taking his hand, bowing her forehead over it. “I haven’t anything—I’m no one, in your world— but all I have, and all I will ever have, they’re yours—if you’ll still have me.”

Later, he never would quite recall the exact moment when he moved; the thoughts that went through his head at seeing Claire before him, asking him to share her life. All he could recall was the feeling of her in his arms, the burning in his heart as he crushed her to him; the way he could barely speak the most important words of his life: 

“Yes, mo chridhe—All my life, yes.”

And then he was kissing her. He was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her and feeling her pressed against him. Feeling her kissing him back, the joy and relief in her tears. Sinking back into the armchair, letting her straddle him, holding her and kissing her and drinking her into him.

The rasp of her voice as she clutched his face and groaned into his mouth. “I want to stay with you. I need to be beside you tonight.”

The agony of forcing himself to slow, to still. “No, lass, ye must go now,” he whispered, though his traitorous body kissed her deeper and pulled her closer. “Else I’ll have ye here…now…..”

“Have me,” she moaned, bringing his hand up to her breast—Jesus Christ, the nipple was hard, shockingly firm even through her shift, and she groaned so exquisitely as he ran his thumb round and around it, as she moved her hips against him with shocking urgency. “—Have me—Jamie, please—”

He felt those words strike directly down into his cock and he thought he would die of wanting her, but he managed a soft laugh and pulled away. She gave a growl of urgent protest, of need, and he felt the same rip through his own body at remaining separated from her another moment…but he forced himself to take her face in his hands. “Ye must go. Because as much as I want to be inside ye right now—you’re so much more to me than that, mo chridhe.”

He kissed her, slowly and gently. Kissed the tears on her cheeks. Felt her kiss his as her fingers ran across his face, his hair, claiming him as she settled, quieted to a slow burning, her forehead against his. “What does it mean?” she whispered, her hair falling ‘round them. “Mo…cree?”

Mo chridhe. My heart.” He leaned his forehead against hers; the tip of his nose against hers. “It means, my heart.”

She took his face, then, her words strong and sure. “You’re more to me than that to me, too; than anything else, anyone else… mo chridhe, Jamie.


[to be continued]

Bend Over My Lap A.I

Originally posted by loserxhemmo96

warning: smut

word count: 1600+

summary: dominant!ashton - y/n cheats on ashton because she’s unsatisfied but he proves her wrong

requested?: yes, hope you liked it anon!! this is written by Hannah whoop whoop. Keep your eyes pealed for me and Hannah’s secret project, details will be coming in the near future so keep your snacks on the ready!

requests are not open! you can request as many times as you want :))

find Hannah here: @lukeasfuck

- Find my Masterlist here -________________________________________________________________

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked me and I saw his face start to quiver. 

“I slept with another man.” I looked down, trying to avoid his burning gaze. 

“You slept with another man?” He repeated in disbelief and I nodded my head. I looked up and could see the hurt in his eyes before he broke eye contact and looked at the ground. His expression was grim before he turned around and stalked to the kitchen sink, dropping his fork into the sink of soapy water.

I could see his arms clench as he gripped onto the counter and he slumped his head down, making my heart drop. How could I do this to the man I love? Yes, I had been unhappy and unsatisfied, but that gave me no reason to do what I did. I had no excuses.

Keep reading

The One-Night Perfect Relationship | Alex Standall X Reader

English isn’t my first language, so please excuse any mistakes.

Characters: Alex/fem!reader. Clay and Hannah are mentioned.

Warnings: fluffy. Also happy!Alex. And may or may not have some High School Musical songs in the story, but, oh well…

(E/C) stand for “Eye color”/(B/F/N) stand for “Best friend’s name”.

Word Count: 2550 words.

Masterlist

One part of her didn’t want to be there, but the other one, which she decided to listen to, felt that the night could get better somehow. (Y/N) was on the bleachers, considerably alone since she didn’t know anyone who was sitting there, watching people dance with their dates and friends at the dance. They were jumping around, but they seemed to be having fun while doing it, which made her feel like dancing too, but everyone there had a group of friends and she didn’t want to be the weirdo jumping alone.

(Y/N) wanted to dance and her body was starting to send signals that she needed to move. So she began to sway slightly from side to side, trying not to draw attention of anyone on the bleachers. When a familiar song began to play, (Y/N) forgot for a second to try to be discreet and shook her head as she moved her arms up, letting a small smile escape her lips until she realized what she was doing, her eyes widening and bringing her arms back down. Damn the upbeat songs. It was only for a few seconds, but she had already managed to get someone’s attention.

The girl lowered her head, looking down at her own feet. And then she felt that sense of when someone is staring at you. The girl’s (E/C) eyes looked up shyly and started looking for someone who was looking at her, stopping at a boy with bleached blonde hair who was sitting a little distant of her. He had a small grin on his face, he wanted to laugh. This made (Y/N) feel her cheeks heating up as she looked down again, even more embarrassed.

“Nice moves.” she heard a male voice, which obviously came from the boy, talking to her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” she gave a small wave, looking sheepishly at him.

(Y/N) had seen him around school, but she couldn’t remember if she’d ever heard his name.

“Why are you alone here?” he spoke again after a few seconds in silence.

(Y/N) grimaced. “I didn’t even know I was coming here today.” the boy raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t plan to come, but my friend bought two tickets and dragged me here.”

He nodded, staring at the rest of the people in the bleachers. "Why isn’t she here with you, then?”

“She brought me because she thought her date wasn’t coming.”

“But he came.” he completed his reasoning on his own. “So she dumped you alone here.”

“Sitting here isn’t so bad.” he gave her a disbelieving glance, but she just laughed. “Why are you here?”

His eyes turned to the dance floor and he pointed to someone she couldn’t define who it was. “I was hoping to dance with her.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nah, I deserve it.”

Neither of them said anything for a few more seconds, watching people still dancing in their strange way.

“What’s your name?” (Y/N) broke the silence, turning to him.

“Alex.” he gave her a small smile, turning his head toward her. “And you are?”

“(Y/N).” she smiled back at him.

Alex looked at her for a few more seconds before pointing to the empty seat beside her. “Can I…?” he asked for her permission to approach.

“Sure.” (Y/N) smile widened as the boy crawled over to her side.

The dance was supposed to be, well, for dancing, but soon (Y/N)’s urge to dance was decreasing while talking to Alex. On the dance floor they hardly would be able to talkbut there where they were, they could enjoy each other’s company more. They spent more than half of the Winter Formal getting to know each other better, starting a competition of who had the most shameful story to tell and, overall, talked about everything.

"So, I was already in my pajamas and getting ready to watch my shows when I heard a horn outside.” (Y/N) started telling the story of that night, seeming to amuse Alex with it. “And I went to see who it was and (B/F/N) was all ‘Get in loser, we’re going to the dance’.”

“The ‘Mean Girls’ of real life.” he said with a laugh.

"Yeah, I totally am Lindsay Lohan.”

Alex looked at the girl from head to toe before smiling. "You’re not upset about being left by your friend?”

“Not at all.” she shrugged. “I wasn’t joking when I said it wasn’t so bad to be here. I think it’s kind of cool to be able to see this big socialization of confused teenagers from afar.” (Y/N) pointed at them dramatically, then turning to point at the boy next to her. "And a little socialization right here.”

Alex still had a smile on his face as he took the girl’s finger pointing to his face.

"I’ve never noticed you until today, you know.” he said, then frowned. “Did that sound rude?”

“A little bit, yeah.” (Y/N) chuckled as he apologized. “Well, I had noticed you before.”

That seemed to get his attention, his eyebrows arching with curiosity. “Oh, really?”

"I took an interest in you because of your hair.”

“Oh, this.” Alex grimaced as he pointed at his hair.

“It’s like it’s from another world. I always wondered what it would be like to touch it.”

“Be careful there, it’ll take you to another dimension.” he grinned, nudging her.

(Y/N) smiled, looking once more at the dance floor, something catching her eyes. She frowned at the scene she was seeing before she began to laugh. Alex smiled slightly, caught by the girl’s laughter.

"What are you laughing at?”

“They got style.” she answered, motioning two people jumping in a very strange –yet funny- way. (Y/N) managed to recognize the boy as Clay Jensen, but she wasn’t sure of the girl’s name, even though she had already seen and heard about her.

“Your moves are better, though.” (Y/N) laughed at his words, remembering the ridiculous dance that had performed.

“Shut up.” she smiled slightly, listening to a slow song start playing and people start to pair up. “Wanna go out?”

“Hm?” he looked confused.

“The dance is about to end. Want to walk out there a little?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alex stood up and reached out to help her up. What a gentleman.

He was walking ahead and as soon as the girl stood up the urge to dance came back. Then she tried to sway a little as she stepped out of the bleachers. Wrong move. She stumbled and almost fell, catching the attention of a few people who looked at her, laughing.

"What the hell are you looking at?” Alex asked them as he came back to help the girl out.

(Y/N)’s ankles ached slightly making the girl whimper down as she walked. She saw her friend looking at them both with a smirk, causing the girl to roll her eyes and lower her head.

“What the hell was that?” Alex asked as they walked toward the exit from the school.

“I was trying to perform, if you didn’t notice.” she stopped to massage her leg for a second before continuing to walk. “As if it were High School Musical or something.”

Alex’s head turned to her with the mention of the movie, a smile on his face. "So it looks like I got a Disney fan here.”

“Totally, man.” she said before she felt the cold night air hit her face as they reached the outside.

They continued to walk in silence until they were completely off the school grounds and started walking on the sidewalk, where some people passed as well. Alex started to walk slightly faster than (Y/N), staying a little ahead of her before turning to her, making her stop walking too.

“Alex…?” she frowned when she saw him taking a deep breath.

Livin’ in my own world, didn’t understand.” he began to sing. Oh no, he wasn’t doing that. (Y/N)’s mouth opened slightly, not knowing exactly what to do. “That anything can happen, when you take a chance.

(Y/N) was still, not knowing what to do, when Alex looked at her expectantly, making a smile spread on her face, before she cleared her throat. “I never believed in.” the boy smirked at her. “What I couldn’t see, I never opened my heart.”

“Ooh.” he made sure to say it in a very dramatic way, which made (Y/N) laugh.

“To all the possibilities.” she continued to laugh as he approached her. “Uh.”

Alex started to swing toward her as they sang. “I know that something has changed.” (Y/N) mimicked his movements and began to swing too. “Never felt this way.” she was sure that people were looking at them at that moment. “And right here tonight, this could be the start of something new.” after all, it wasn’t so usual to see two teenagers singing loudly in the middle of the street. “It feels so right to be here with you.” they both grinned at each other. “And now looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart the start of something new.”

The boy, with an amused smile, raised one of his hands, motioning for her to hold it. “Now who’d ever thought that.”

(Y/N) copied his smile, raising her hand and intertwining in his as they sang. “We’d both be here tonight.”

“And the world looks so much brighter.” she continued as he lowered their hands and pulled her down the sidewalk. “With you by my side.”

Alex seemed to have found something he was looking for on the sidewalk, letting go of (Y/N)’s hand, and walking quickly to a bench, getting up on it as they continued. "I know…” he turned to her, holding out his hands to help the girl up. “That something has changed.” (Y/N) laughed through her words, shaking her head as she walked quickly to where he was. “Never felt this way.” she accepted his help. “I know it for real, this could be the start of something new.” Alex took careful steps, imitating with his hands the moves she had made earlier that night, making her laugh while doing the same thing, shaking her head from side to side. “It feels so right to be here with you.” (Y/N) felt like jumping, just like people were doing at the Winter Formal, but she knew she would either break the bench or fall from there. “And now looking in your eyes.” Alex slowed his dance moves, looking for the girl’s eyes; (Y/N) did the same. “I feel in my heart …” they smiled at each other. “The start of something new.”

They kept staring at each other for a few more seconds, neither of them daring to break the eye contact, until a car stopped in front of them, honking. (B/F/N). (Y/N) got startled, almost felling off the bench because of it, causing Alex to hold her, holding the girl by her waist.

“Thanks.” she murmured a little sheepishly.

“Hey girl, you want a ride?” (B/F/N) asked.

(Y/N) was about to accept when Alex’s voice caught her attention. “If you want, I can take you home.” a small hopeful glow gleamed in his eyes, and only then she realized that his arm hadn’t left her waist. Not that she was going to complain about it.

“Alex will take me.” she turned again to (B/F/N), who smirked, nodding.

“She better get home alive, Standall.”

“As you wish, ma'am.” the girl laughed at his answer before winking at them and driving away. “She seems to be cooler than Regina George.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Sometimes she is.”

“Come on.” he released his arm from her waist and getting down from the bench, then helping the girl do the same.

Thank God that High School Musical performance hadn’t taken them so far from the school parking lot. (Y/N) had always complained that school was really far from her home, so she had to wake up early if she wanted to be in time for class. But at that moment she couldn’t be more grateful for that, it meant she would have more time to talk to Alex.

In the end, she could see that the part of her that thought that night could have got better had guessed right. She’d met Alex and that had made that night exceptional. They had hit it off, and that night seemed somehow magical. So that could only mean: either that was really the beginning of something new or that had been an one-night perfect relationship. (Y/N) sincerely bet on the second, although she wanted the first one to be right.

An one-night perfect relationship is the one you have, well, for one night. When you aren’t suffocated with your daily problems and the pressures of your friends. You are a diferente person on this one night, more relaxed and even happier. Who would know how things would be between them if they talk to each other every day, or what would it be like in front of their friends? Well, there’s no way of knowing if it’s just a one-night thing or something else until you try it, what really counts is making the night worthwhile.

These thoughts passed over (Y/N) mind as they got out of the car, since Alex had offered to walk with her to the door.

“Well, I’m sure I won’t not notice you from now on.” he said when they reached her door.

"Well, it’s not just your hair that makes me interested in you anymore.” she said, a small smirk on her lips.

He chuckled. “I’m glad.”

They looked at each other for a few more seconds, both thinking practically the same thing. Alex wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him. But would not that be wrong? Would not it be too soon? But then again, what if the next day they didn’t feel the same thing they felt at that moment? Don’t think too much, make the night worthwhile. It’s now or never.

Alex quickly leaned toward her, pressing their lips together, placing one of his hands on her waist and the other on the girl’s cheek. (Y/N) wasted no time and soon began kissing him back, moving her lips against his, placing her hands on his neck, but only so she could touch his hair. Alex noticed that and gave a small smile into the kiss, which soon turned into a laugh, making him pull away from her and rest his forehead on hers as he laughed.

“Sorry.” he said still laughing, which made the girl laugh together.

"I really thought for a moment that this was going to take me to another dimension.” it only made him laugh more, being accompanied by her.

The laughter took a while to decrease, until there were only smiles on their faces. “Bye, Gabriella.”

“See you around, Troy.”

Alex gave her a long peck before letting go of her and starting to walk away, a smile still on his face. (Y/N) watched him for a few seconds before opening the door, listening to him honking at her, waving goodbye from inside the car before leaving. The girl closed the door, resting her back on it. Whether it was the beginning of something new or just a one-night thing, it was worth it.