...there may have been a duck once that charged at me


A/N:  Sometimes when you’re having debilitating writer’s block, what you need is someone like @melissas173 whispering in your ear, sending you pictures, asking questions, and cheering you on with your feeble attempts to move past the block.  I think Secure is proof that she has a successful formula.  Thank you, Mel!!!!

As always, shoutout to my betas @little-black-dress-24, @niallandharrymakemestrong, and @emulateharry for reading, discussing and giving feedback.  No woman is an island.  Not with friends like this.

“Uhm, Jeffrey? May I, uhm, speak to you, uhm, in private?” my potential new client pulls at his lip while staring meaningfully at his manager.

I don’t flinch at the question. It’s to be expected. Still I tune my ear to their conversation when the office door doesn’t close all of the way.

“Harry,” the manager starts out reasonably, “We talked about new security since Mike is out on paternity leave.”

“Yes, but, uhm….how do I say this?” the celebrity is hesitant, obviously unwilling to voice the opinion I anticipate.

Keep reading

A Kiss For Clarity

I know I said I was gonna pace myself because I’m supposed to be busy with work right now but I saw this prompt from @birdlovesafish and I couldn’t help but write it:

Betty figures out she can think clearer when she kisses Jughead and they decide to basically have a make out session to see if she can solve Jason Blossom’s murder

It came out of nowhere, but before she knew it Jughead’s cool lips were covering hers, pressing with the most delicious pressure, fingers cupping the back of her neck gently. All thoughts of crazy parents swept from her mind as she focused every nerve in her body on the exhilarating tingle that shot through her. She brought her hand up to experimentally caress his neck, fingers shaking. The world melted away as she tasted his breath, fanning across her face as he sighed. No more parents, no more institutions, no more Jason and Polly…


“The car!”


She listened to him trip over his words as he tried to explain himself. 

“…who’ve been through what we’ve been through?” he stammered. She flexed her fingers round his, his grip a steadying hold on her as she floated through the insanity that has become her life. The concern in his voice made her heartbeat stop and then pick up in double time. Here he was, the boy that had waited for her while she fawned over Archie - she cringed at her behaviour now. He’d not said a word, patiently listening, caring, protecting. She leaned into him slightly while they continued the walk home, basking in the warmth he provided her. He may look blue but he was always golden to her. 

“How far did she get?” Betty stopped, her mind reliving the memory. She turned to look up at him, eyes honest and waiting. She couldn’t help but reach up, cupping his cheeks as he once did to her and place a chaste but firm kiss to his lips. She felt his mouth tilt upwards in a smile against hers. Everything was so much clearer with him around.


Betty felt as if she was going to go cross-eyed if she stared at this damn murder board a minute longer. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples slightly to release some of the ache that had built up in the middle of her forehead. 

“You ok, Betts?” Jughead asked from behind her, sitting at his desk, the tapping of his keys pausing momentarily as he looked over to her lowered head and hunched shoulders in concern. 

“Yeah, I just… we haven’t gotten anywhere recently and it just feels like we’re losing it. The longer it takes the less likely we are to find whoever did this. This whole thing,” she gestured to the board in front of her “just looks like a mess of lines to me now,” she huffed in defeat, shaking her head. Jughead appeared in front of her where she was perched on the edge of a desk, widening her legs slightly to let him stand between them comfortably. He rested both hands on her shoulders, ducking his head to look directly into her eyes. 

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re gonna figure this out, we’ll get there,” he mumbled reassuringly, tilting her head up with a finger under her chin. She gazed into his piercingly blue eyes for a beat, seeing nothing but concern and reassurance waiting for her there. She dropped her head to his chest, letting out a sigh as his arms moved to encircle her, one hand rubbing the middle of her back gently. She could already feel the tension leaving her back, her shoulders, the ache in her head numbing to a dull throb as she breathed in the smell of his detergent mixed with something else that was uniquely Jughead. 

“You always make it better,” she whispered earnestly, pulling back to watch as he ducked his head with an embarrassed chuckle, light pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. She meant it, though. Every touch they shared, every brush of their fingers or touch of their lips, made everything crystal clear to her, like when their skin touched the circuit was finally completed. She peered at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed in wonder before leaning forward, pulling him down by the back of the neck and crashing her lips to his.

This kiss wasn’t like their others. It wasn’t brief or delicate or unsure. It was passion and fire and Betty couldn’t help but pour all her frustrations and curiosities into it. 

He’d never been kissed like this before, never wanted to be before Betty. A groan rose from his chest, surprising even himself, as Betty’s tongue slipped out to run across the seam of his lips. She moaned needily, oh how he wished he could save that sound and play it again and again, as he opened his mouth under her ministrations. His hands fisted in the material at her waist, trying not to dig his fingers into her soft flesh at the feeling of her hooking her ankles round the backs of his thighs and pull him closer, her hands moving to tug at his hair. 

“What are you doing?” he managed to ask when they pulled back for air, heads both spinning at the new sensations.

“Just trying something,” she gasped, and who was he to argue as she came back in for more, willingly letting her take everything from him that he could give, she could have it all, anything she wanted. 

Time turned to dust around them as they stayed locked in that position, both exploring in ways they never dreamed they could. Betty slid up against him, pushing her chest intoxicatingly against his. A new feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrilling and terrifying all at once. Betty couldn’t believe that she’d been missing the chance to have this for all this time. Jughead made her feel whole, not on the verge of some dark plummeting precipice as she’d been made to feel her entire life. Where she was, right now, she’d be happy to jump without a second thought as long as he was with her, holding on tight. 

She pulled back suddenly, lips releasing with a wet pop, chests heaving in unison. They stayed there, trying to calm their breathing and flushed skin, never taking their eyes off one another. 

“Betts,” he breathed, thumb tracing her glowing cheek. She smiled shyly at him now the moment was cooling down. Her eyes flicked briefly, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“Juggie…” she started, hopping off the desk and charging towards their murder board. “We have to visit Mayor McCoy’s office. Now,” she commanded, flying round the office in a hurricane of pink and gold. He chuckled, shaking his head while trying to get his body under control. She was something else. She barely started towards the door before stopping abruptly again and rushing back to his side. Her hands grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for one last rough kiss, heady against their already swollen lips. 

“Thank you, Juggie,” she whispered against his lips, beautiful smile dazzling him for a moment longer, giving her a head start out of the room. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied breathlessly to the empty room, casting one last disbelieving look around before following his girl out of the door. 

Sorry about that

Happy unexpected anniversary! Here is another unexpected anniversary in form of fic. Based on “imagine Bilbo arriving to the anniversary party in Erebor late with a Starbucks”. Since there is no Starbucks in Middle Earth, he got an eagle and a tan, and, well, we all know Bilbo is only late when Gandalf is involved. XD

So: Bagginshield anniversary fic, alternating between humor and sap.

The first anniversary of the dwarves’ first meeting with Bilbo Baggins initially threatens to be a sad and solemn occasion. After all, once the dust cleared, no trace of Bilbo Baggins could be found, and all letters sent to the Shire remained unanswered. Gandalf, too, had vanished before the night was out; only leaving word he had urgent business to see to.

But as evening dawns and Thorin gazes westward from the parapets, he is drawn from his grieved recollections by a rustling of feathers. A very loud and sudden rustling of feathers. Followed by a familiar voice shouting: “Thorin, duck!”

And only because Thorin’s muscles are trained to respond to certain commands better than his mind does he manages to narrowly escape a painful skewering by eagle claws. While Thorin pulls himself up from his emergency dive and roll, said eagle manages to more crash than land on the other side of the parapets - among plumes of dust, feathers, and offended squawking.

Thorin’s mind sluggishly tries to catch up. He knows that voice. But it can’t be…

“I told you using your predator instincts to help with landing is a terrible idea,” said voice scolds from somewhere within the dust cloud. Another indignant squawk answers. “Alright, it may work when orcs are involved.”

The dust settles. Thorin forgets to get up, just stays sitting on tiles while to the west the sky drowns in pink and orange. Bilbo’s hair glows golden under it. It’s longer now - long enough to have been pulled back in a short ponytail. He looks glorious.

Keep reading

Wee Shadow.

A wee one shot of Jamie and Claire fluff + Jem and Mandy because why not? :) xx

With Bree and Roger both sick, Jem and Mandy had been dispatched to stay with their grandparents. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, particularly Jem, who was all but glued to his beloved Grandda’s side from the moment he entered the house.

“You’re sure you don’t feel at all unwell?”

“No Grannie. I feel fine.”

“I heard you coughing outside.”

“I just kicked up some dust running back to the house. Ye did tell me to hurry…”

The note of accusation was distinct and not lost on Claire who had plenty experience with the Fraser capability for Machiavellian tenacity and was not fazed in the least.

“I did, but only because it is freezing out there and the last thing I need is another flu patient.”

She smiled as Jem narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pressed her hand to his forehead. Warm, but then he always was, just like Bree and Jamie, Jem seemed to have a natural furnace.

“You haven’t got a headache or a sore throat?”

Claire stepped back and put her hands on her hips surveying her grandson who was now fidgeting and shifting from foot to foot with impatience.

“No Grannie, I promise.”

There was a tap on the door and Jamie’s head popped into view. Jem gave him a discreetly pleading look, hoping for saviour as Claire began prodding at his throat again, feeling for swollen glands.  Jamie clucked his tongue sympathetically and stepped into the room, ducking slightly as he passed under bunches of drying herbs hanging from the rafters.

“Sassenach, I promise if he keels over I’ll call ye immediately.”

Jamie smiled, sliding himself between them. Claire frowned as she looked up at her husband.

“You shouldn’t be in here! If Jem is incubating the virus …”

“Then I may have it from last night when he arrived or from eating breakfast beside him this morning or possibly from picking up his stockings from the parlour floor, which I mean to enquire about presently anyway.”

“Sorry Grandda, I forgot to take them upstairs wi’ me…”

Jamie turned and gave Jem a level look down the length of his nose and a slow blink that passed for a wink.

“Aye weel, I’ve left them on the stair and ye may take them up to ye room and fold them properly away in your dresser. Now if ye please.”

Jamie’s tone was stern but there was a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth and Jem realised that far from scolding him, his Grandda was in fact offering him an escape from the surgery.

“Aye Grandda.”

“But …”

Claire began at the same time as Jamie jerked his chin in the direction of the door. Jem took the opportunity and scarpered, dodging around the far side of his Grannie’s work bench to avoid any further prodding

“Thank ye Grannie, I’ll let ye ken if I feel a bit poorly.”

He called and shut the door firmly behind him.

Claire blinked at the door for a moment and then sighed in defeat.

“Dinna take it hard Sassenach, there are many men who would long for your ministrations. Myself for one.”

Jamie grinned but Claire poked an accusing finger at his chest before pointing at the bench.

“Fine, then sit. And don’t think for a second I believe that you care where a pair of stockings are left.”

Jamie obligingly settled himself on the bench and loosened his stock, exposing the pale skin of his throat, adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Actually I do.”

Jamie squirmed as Claire’s fingers, deliberately chilly, felt for signs of swelling beneath his jaw

“No’ enough to make a fuss but the lad is old enough to put his clothes away wi’ out reminding.”

“I think he does normally,”

Claire murmured absent-mindedly, pausing to run her fingers over a certain area again, distinguishing between the rasp of red-gold stubble beneath her fingers and the sign of illness she challenged to be there.

“He probably dumped them because he heard you come into the house. Yon wee shadow.”

Claire smiled, gently mimicking the way Jenny had put it when she had seen the two red-heads together. Jamie retied his stock and ducked his head, trying not to appear too pleased to hear Jem referred to as such.

Claire made as if to inspect his ears and Jamie caught her hand deftly, turning her to be seated on his lap.

“That’s enough o’ that. I’m healthy as I ever have been and have ye to thank for it Sassenach. Stop prodding me, eh? Or at least prod in more satisfying places.”

“And wear exactly should I be prodding, hmmm?”

Claire leant forward, her fingers still encased in Jamie’s large palm, and ran her teeth along the edge of his jaw, gently nipping his chin. Jamie made a sound, not dissimilar to that of a bull readying for the charge and his thighs tightened beneath her.

“Have I just found a new erogenous zone Mr Fraser?”

“I wouldna say that … though I do find your teeth on me a wee bit stirring…”

Jamie’s breath came up short as Claire’s tongue dipped beneath the knot of his stock and traced the faint blue line of a vein, her teeth barely touching him this time.

“But it reminds me … it reminds … Christ!”

Jamie lifted her from his body and stood in the same fluid motion, bending to kiss his wife as thoroughly as he wished to before straightening to his full height, neck safely out of her reach as a sprig of drying thyme tickled his ear.

“You were saying?”

“I was trying to say,”

Jamie smiled wryly,

“That having ye on my lap as ye were just then, distracted and more interested in the medical state o’ my body than anything besides, it reminded me of the first night we met.”

“And that is a pleasant memory is it?”

Claire teased trying to keep her tone light, thinking back to that cold and violent Scottish night and narrowly avoiding a shudder.

“Weel, the meeting of ye is a pleasant memory aye but … I was terrified if truth be told and had ye not come along when ye did …”

“Dragged by Murtagh…”

Jamie waved this off as if her virtual kidnap was neither here nor there and continued

“I dinna ken that I would have made it through the night.”

“It wasn’t a fatal wound!”

Claire laughed, thinking of the bayonet wound on his torso and the way the blood had soaked into his shirt, so startling against the white linen and how it was the sight of this that finally jolted her into awareness of her new reality.


Jamie smiled

“It wasna a fatal wound but I was so verra scared, Sassenach. I thought my arm likely broken and although Murtagh was wi’ me, I kent well enough that had Dougal seen opportunity for it, he’d do away wi’ the both of us. So there I was, unable to defend myself, unable to protect my kinsman and just waiting for a dirk to slip betwixt my ribs and fearful that I might die wi’out ever goin’ home and then … then you were there.”

Claire listened to the soft lilt of his voice, the gentle dip in resonance that accompanied his thought of her and the lifting smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes and realised that she was once again on his lap on the bench, although she had no memory of moving.

“Ye centred me from the verra first moment I saw ye. Gave me a pretty face to focus on and a neutral party to speak to; ye made me remember that I was more than just a wanted man and unwanted guest.”

Jamie stroked his index finger down her jaw, lightly pinching her chin between his thumb and finger as if holding a delicate glass ornament up to the light for inspection.

“Ye saved me and didna even ken it, wouldna ha’ cared if I told ye either, fierce wee thing ye were.”

Jamie grinned and gently leant forward, this time meeting Claire’s lips as she reached for him, soft and familiar and warm.

“I would never have known you were scared. You seemed so brave to me. Foolish, but brave.”

“And so I was!”

Jamie smiled as the breath of their laughter mingled.

“Ye have always given so verra much mo nighean donn, ye gave me courage, then love, then family… ye ha’ given me all the verra best parts of my life.”

“As have you. Jamie I …”


The surgery door burst open and Mandy, grasping Esmerelda under one arm, stood in a riotous cloud of curls and determination.

“He’s coughing! We have to give him medicine!”

Mandy said firmly, heedless of the moment she had interrupted

“Alright love, lead the way.”

Claire smiled, holding out a hand to her grand-daughter.

“Yon wee shadow, was it?”

Jamie called after them, smiling to himself at the answering chuckle that echoed back to him.


Summary: The Company thinks you’re a man so when they find out that you’re not, one dwarf isn’t too pleased.

Warnings: Swearing. Multiple short time skips so it might be a jumbled mess, there is a part where some might get offended: please don’t. I didn’t mean it like that.

Pairing: Dwalin x Reader

Word Count: 2,844

A/N: Holy shit this was longer than I expected. I didn’t expect it to be this long, but as I kept writing, I had a hard time finding a way to end it so this happened. This is probably the longest one shot I’ve ever written. @fandomnationwhore I do hope that this is what you wanted. IF it’s not, let me know and I’ll write another one. Its so bad lmfao

Also, I don’t know if you guys realize this but my requests are always open lmfao


Keep reading

Conflict of Interest

Alright, folks, it’s been awhile and I’m rusty, so forgive me this self-indulgent fic drawing on the unnecessary research I’ve done recently for prosecutorial conflicts of interest.

E/R, lawyer AU, Modern AU, established relationship (of sorts).

“Your Honor, can we meet in chambers?”

Judge Fauchelevent sighed and just managed to avoid pinching the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Enjolras,” she said, drawing out the last syllable as an exaggerated sigh. “We’ve barely begun the arraignment. What is so important that it can’t even wait until the State brings forward charges?”

Enjolras straightened his tie, the red standing out starkly against his crisp white shirt and $2,000 suit, far nicer than the usual public defender could even consider affording. “I’d be happy to discuss it with Your Honor in chambers,” he said carefully.

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Approach the bench,” she ordered, watching as Enjolras stalked up to the bench while he conspicuously avoided glancing at the less well-dressed Assistant Defense Attorney who was taking his time ambling forward. “Mr. Enjolras,” Cosette said, a warning edge to her voice, “I’m sure whatever objection you want to raise on behalf of your client can wait until after the arraignment.”

Keep reading

Marry Me

(( Well @moyzi / @kalllura here’s your marriage proposal request! Hope you enjoy!))

“Lance I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Oh c’mon, of course, it’ll work! You got a ring, you’ve rehearsed the question, and even if you two have never actually used the word dating you’ve been going steady for, like…” Lance paused as he did the math. “I dunno, a year? Hard to tell in space.”

Keith didn’t look up as he rolled a small circular trinket between his fingers.

“It’s a wooden ring. I had to carve it myself.”

“Hey, it’s acceptable! I mean it’s not like there are a lot of Jared’s out here.”

“She doesn’t know what dating is Lance.” Keith sighed as he clenched the ring in his hand. “Besides, isn’t a year a bit soon?”

“Now you’re just making up excuses!” Lance scolded. “I mean my cousin popped the question after like six months. Still together with two kids.”

“Still, what if-”

The blue paladin finally lost his patience.

Keep reading

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 2

Coffee felt anticlimactic, after the noise and pound of the club. The fluorescents highlighted the bright orange vinyl booths, making every spilled sugar grain on the table glow.

Claire sipped slowly, enjoying the scalding of her tongue. The whiskey buzz had been on the verge of turning into tipsiness, but before that could happen Claire had dragged Geillis out of the club and into the closest open diner she could see. 24 hour caffeine purveyors.

“Do you regret it?” Geillis watched Claire over the rim of her cup. “Not going backstage I mean.”

“No. You were very clear on what their true intentions were. Why?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Not anymore.” G tilted her head towards the diner door behind Claire. The faint tinkle of a bell preceded the entrance and exit of customers.

The lounging server at the counter had her feet up on a stool, reading a magazine, but stood and grabbed a bunch of menus at the sound of the door. She dropped them just as fast and gasped.

Claire turned, and who should come through the door but James Fraser and the rest of The Clan. She couldn’t for the life of her remember all their names just then – her eyes were helplessly riveted on the tall man who smiled gently at the dumbfounded server and stooped to retrieve the fallen menus.

“Here you go.” James Fraser held them out to her – Laoghaire, read her tag. Claire and Geillis watched this encounter silently, while the men with James Fraser (could she stop thinking of his name like that?) waited patiently for the girl to react. She hadn’t, thus far. Her hands went to her flaming cheeks and her mouth fell open.

“You’re—they’re… you’re— “ Laoghaire stammered.

“Jamie. Pleased to meet ye.” Jamie put the menus on the counter once it seemed clear Laoghaire wasn’t quite up to the job at the moment. He extended a hand that was quickly taken in a death grip. Claire and Geillis exchanged amused glances.

“Oh my God, oh my God! It’s you! Here!” Laoghaire jumped up and down, still holding Jamie’s hand. He smiled good-naturedly and slowly extricated himself from her grip. “Could I have a picture?”

“Of course. Here, lads.” The men quickly surrounded them, subtly stepping in between Jamie and the girl. She pulled her mobile from her apron pocket and looked around wildly for someone to oblige.

“Would you mind?” Laoghaire finally shoved the phone at Geillis, who stood from the booth and held it up and snapped 3-4 pictures for good measure. As the flash went off, Claire caught Jamie’s eye, smiling at her and not for the picture. She allowed him a small smile in return, remembering certain invitations and talk of groupies.

“Thank you so much!” Laoghaire squealed. “Let me find you a table or do you prefer— “

“A table will be just fine,” Jamie interrupted. “Perhaps this one?” He pointed at the booth Claire and G were occupying.

Claire began to fume. The whole empty diner and he was seriously asking to have them booted? Rock star or no—

“May we join you ladies?” Jamie smiled disarmingly, running a hand through his hair. Behind the apparent nonchalance Claire detected a hint of nerves. “These are my mates, Rupert, William, Ian.” Each nodded and smiled in return.

“Sure!” Geillis grinned and moved down the seat. Claire followed suit more hesitantly, looking daggers at her friend. Jamie squeezed in next to her. Six to a booth was a slightly tight fit, but they managed somehow. “I’m Geillis, and this is Claire.”

The men (more boyish up close, including Jamie, Claire noted) turned to Laoghaire, still standing by breathlessly. Rupert, the drummer, winked at the girl. “Let’s have a keek at those menus then, shall we?”

Quarters were a bit cramped for flipping the laminated pages. Jamie couldn’t seem to help brushing Claire’s hands every time he ran a finger down the proffered items. Claire picked up her coffee cup only to discover it was empty.

“Can we get another?” Jamie gestured at the server, who scampered away for the pot.

“Thanks.” Claire smiled as her cup was topped off. Laoghaire ignored her, eyes only for Jamie.

The rest of the men ordered burgers, fry-ups, and more coffee. Laoghaire balanced the tray full of food and lingered eagerly by the side of the table.

“Could ye maybe leave the pot?” Jamie gave her a dazzling smile and she grinned back, setting the coffee down and backing away slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

“So.” Jamie forked some chips over to his plate, while Geillis flirted with the rest of the men—Claire focused on her cup like her life depended on it.


“We asked you backstage at the pub.”

We?” Claire raised her eyebrow at him, and sipped. Two could play this game.

“Och, weel.” He ducked his head and the red strands tickled his forehead. “Not we, then. I asked ye backstage. Ye looked… intriguing.”

Claire glanced at Geillis. She was laughing raucously at something Rupert had said – no doubt something lecherous. The men’s conversation had faded into the background as Claire focused her attention on Jamie.

“I’m not a local. I’m visiting with my friend. I had…” She took a deep breath. “A bad experience in London. I needed to get away.” She didn’t understand the need to pour her troubles out for this stranger.

“What kind of bad experience?” Jamie’s heavy eyebrows knit together.

Claire shrugged, despondency settling briefly on her features. “Romantic, you could say.” She waved her hand dismissively, not willing to go into details at the moment. “How about you?”

“Nothing as bad as that,” Jamie smiled, making the corners of her own mouth lift ever so slightly. “We’re on tour, heading south. We’ve done Edinburgh, tomorrow’s Glasgow, then Newcastle and Leeds . Then Manchester, Liverpool, and Cambridge, and ending in London.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Claire sipped again. “And where’s home?”

“Scotland, obviously. Place called Lallybroch. Family farm, for generations and all that. Can’t wait to get back. You?”

“Based in London. I’m a nurse.”

She spoke of the hospital and her cozy flat. Of her childhood with wandering Uncle Lambert and her favorite bookshop. Of her longing for mornings when she could sleep in and her dislike for high heels. Of the way she drank her coffee and the most difficult medical case to ever cross her path.

He filled her in with the details of his large family – his sister Jenny, married to Ian their keyboard player and his nieces and nephews. How he had taught himself to play guitar in between farm chores. How his parents had encouraged him to pursue his dream of music and crowds who clapped and cheered. How he had found his band – his clan – in Ian the pianist, William the bassist, Rupert the drummer, and his uncle Murtagh as manager.

Two hours later, as Claire happened to glance at her watch, and still going strong at 3 AM. The food was gone and the whole coffee pot practically empty. One of the other men—Ian, Claire recalled—raised his hand for the check, glancing briefly at Jamie, who nodded. Laoghaire bounded over, paper slip in hand.

“No charge for you. On the house.” She smiled ingratiatingly at Jamie and thrust the check into Claire’s hand. “Two coffees, £2.40.”

“Och, I insist.” Jamie pulled a £50 out of his pocket and set it on the table.

“But that’s too much!” The girl’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She reached out for the bill and drew her hand back, afraid to touch it for fear it wasn’t real.

“Nae bother. Thank you, lass.” He nudged Willie, who had been sitting to his left all along unobtrusively, and they all slid out of the booth. Geillis flushed and laughing still, her hand on Rupert’s shoulder.

Well, well, Claire thought, what have we here. She caught G’s eye and winked, which only caused Geillis to giggle unabashedly.

Jamie placed his hand on Claire’s back, guiding her towards the door. She couldn’t resist a dig at Laoghaire as she turned her head back and called out, “Thanks so much!” while the girl just stood there, agape and overwhelmed by what had transpired.

The burst of cold air on her face was most unwelcome, after the secluded warmth of the diner. Instinctively her shoulders hunched against the chilled wind, and she drew her coat about her. The rest of the band was still talking animatedly with Geillis, and Claire managed to catch her slip a napkin with her number to Rupert the drummer; he tucked it in safely into his jacket pocket.

She turned to face Jamie as much as she could, still shielding herself from the freezing gusts. “Thank you for the coffee Jamie. It was nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand a bit idiotically and was surprised to feel the enveloping warmth of his own.

“Claire. It was lovely to meet ye. I hope… perhaps… we can meet again.” Jamie gave a most convincing bow, which would not have been amiss in an earlier century. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into her skin.

Her heart stuttered, against her will.

Against her will, images of Frank flooded her mind. When they went out on dinner dates, when she sat through his endless lectures, when he supported her decision to apply for medical school, when they spent time together in the morning reading the paper, when they had kissed and touched and loved. When she had been betrayed.

And she thought, Never again.

Claire pulled her hand out of Jamie’s grasp as gently as she could, hoping her face would not betray the anguish his simple gesture had triggered. “I wish you good luck Jamie, with the rest of your tour.” No word on meeting again, no number exchanged, no last name given.

She turned to the William, Rupert, and Ian; shook hands with each of them quickly, nodding goodbye. She took Geillis by the elbow and pulled her away, down the street, and managed to glance back only once.

Jamie stood there, fiery hair glowing in the street light, smiling after them. A smile that said, Soon.

24| Pas De Deux

Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Ballet au, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 4343

Masterlist | Prev | Next

Jiwoo and you turned the lights out and went into the corridor, going to the left as Dawon had told you. The passages were narrow down there, and you had to carefully manoeuvre the stiff tulle through it. Soon you began seeing numbers on the doors. Voices of students chattering excitedly behind them. A group of second year boys hurried past. “I can’t believe you forgot your boots again!” One of them said. They took no notice of you, pressed against the wall with a bright blue tutu between the two of you as you kept going.

“We need to find our dressing room.” You said.

Keep reading

Off The Menu

The kitchen was too small for two chefs: especially when one was an arrogant flirt who was after HER job.

Also on FF.NET and AO3

@chasingawaythefoosa wanted a chef au. Part of my series of tropey fics that I’m currently working on (open for more prompts for a little longer).

I got totally carried away and this ended up 4.7k. Oops.

Killian Jones had a lazy smirk, perfectly disheveled hair, questionably tight dark jeans and a way of undressing you with his eyes that was all too appealing when one’s guard was down. Not that Emma Swan ever let her guard down around him. From the moment she met him she saw him for what he was: an arrogant skirt chaser who was also chasing her job.

When Archie Hopper, head chef and owner of ‘Archibald’s’ had announced that he would be taking on a another sous chef, Emma had been furious. She’d spent three years working her ass off to climb the hierarchy at Boston’s best French restaurant, sacrificing anything resembling a social life to achieve her dream of culinary success. Six months ago when she had been promoted to second in command she’d been elated.

The next step would be her own kitchen. She knew if she continued to show her dedication that Archie would notice; he’d already hinted about opening another restaurant and she knew she had a shot at the head chef position.

But when Archie had formally revealed the opening of another outlet on the other side of town, instead of looking to hire (or promote) another executive chef, he instead employed a second sous chef to work at the original restaurant and began to split his time between the two businesses. Which was completely demoralizing when she was the one who should be in charge. To make matters worse her new ‘co-chef’ (as Archie had called them) was an arrogant Brit who thought he knew everything about French cuisine;‘I’m European, darling,” he would drawl.  In addition, he was an incorrigible flirt and he spent far too much time with the waitresses - and waiters.

Keep reading

BNHA: Riddles in the Heart, 1/3

Pairing: Tododeku

Summary:  The law is clear: whoever correctly answers three riddles will marry the prince, while all who fail are to be executed. The people live in fear as more challengers try and fail, and the throne grows bloodier with every passing year. But a young prince, nameless and in exile from his home, believes there may be more to this brutal challenge than meets the eye. 

Of course, there’s only one way to find out: ring the gong, and take the trial.

(Royalty/Fantasy AU)


Act I: The Challenge

The sun was low in the sky, and the streets on the outskirts of the city were quiet. The people who lived here were those that kept their heads down, minded their own business, and did their best not to draw attention to themselves.

This mattered little to the young man racing through the streets, feet aching as they pounded the stones. His breath was short but he was not yet winded, the pressure in his lungs not quite a burning.

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, and slowed his pace when he saw that his pursuers were beginning to lag behind. Losing them now was no good—if they gave up, they might go back to hunting the others.

Keep reading

Adventures in Babysitting -Buckle up for safety

A/N: This is the first of a little Baby Groot series I am doing based on the cutest gif I can find. Of course it is a shout out to the classic Adventures in Babysitting as well. This is the song I figured would be playing.

Warnings: language, Groot cuteness, potentially violence idk yet

tags: @courtneychicken @thecupcakeconsumer @grootiez

Originally posted by kane52630

Keep reading

It's Not Personal Pt. I // 11:48 PM

Pairing: Reader x Bucky

Featuring: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Prompt: Bucky and Steve are assigned to track down and attack an alleged threat. But what happens when that alleged threat is you, and your intentions are more mysterious than they thought?

P.S ~ this will be separated into multiple *parts*. if you’re liking this and what to make sure you don’t miss the next parts that follow, then turn on post notifications or send me a DM.

Following Parts:

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

The field was dark, only the grass was lit by the moon and stars. Two figures slipped into the shadows to not be seen by any one lurking by. They stayed low, their breathing shallow and their voices hushed. It was a secret mission. No one from the outside knew about the threat that imposed on SHIELD. It was their mission to take down the threat and rid it from any possible means of danger.


Crouched high, just high enough to not be seen on eye level, was you. Sitting, waiting, scanning your area awaiting the two intruders who were looking for you. It was obvious that they’d be on the hunt. Ever since you made an appearance after New York. It wasn’t your fault, exactly. The Mind Stone just happened to fall into your lap. By accident, really. It wasn’t really clear how it happened. After you fled New York, staying low and issuing false identities, you managed to stay out of SHIELD’s line of sight.

That only worked for awhile, though. Now, as you were crouched in a tree, with who knows what kind of bugs flying around you, you awaited your attackers.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey hey hi hi 👋🏼, can I request a Bucky x reader where it's post-civil war and the teams all together again and the get attacked by a Winter soldier reader and Bruce and Bucky help her overcome hydras brain wash 🖤❤️💗

Hi, nonnie! I’m sorry that it took me so long to post this. This gonna be quite a mental trip, so be sure to have fasten your seatbelt before beginning! I hope you’ll enjoy it.


Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: oh well, there is so much wrong with this story that I doubt to be able to list everything (feel free to point out if I have missed something I should add). An overwhelming amount of angst, brainwash, violence, attempted assassinations, completely screwed up mind-set, imprisonment, astonishment, loss of memories, terror, fear, pain, sleep deprivation, nightmares, implied physical torture, nudity… this should be all.

Notes: Everything that isn’t in English is always translated between { }, except for Солдат {Soldat / Soldier} that is the name that the reader uses for refering to Bucky as the Winter Soldier. This story has got a little bit out of hand, and it’s become extra-long for my standards. I have decided to close it in the moment when the reader begins to improve and decides to actively go past Hydra brainwash. Anyway, there is much more that I could write about this story and the reader has still a long way to go… so let me know if you’d like to read more of this story. Enjoy the reading! I’d really love if you could leave some feedback!

Word count: 17022

(Photo not mine, found it on google. Credits to whomever it belongs.)

“Ready to comply.” You await for your orders.

“This is your mission, Soldier.” Your handler shows you your targets on a tablet’s monitor. “No need to make it look like an accident.”

You scroll through the file: thirteen enhanced people. You’ll have to take them down separately; attacking them when they are all together won’t be a winning tactic. You frown. One of the faces is strangely familiar, his set of abilities incredibly similar to yours.

“He is a traitor.” Your handler explains noticing your perplexed expression. “He has betrayed our good cause and joined this group of subversive. They are a menace for the world that Hydra has spent decades to build.”

The glacial blue eyes of the traitor scratch your empty memory. A bolt of pain echoes through your right arm, as a flash of a training section waltz in front of your eyes.

“I know him.”

“He participated to some of your trainings.” Your handler confirms.

You nod shallowing down the pain.

“It’s that a problem, Soldier.”

“Absolutely no.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Jonsa, purple (modern royalty?)

Oh no, Anonny. I screwed up! I totally didn’t realise you had written ‘modern’ royalty because I totally did a fantasy period piece instead. I hope that’s alright! Sorry!!! 

The world he had known erupted in flames the night the royal family was massacred in their sleep. Rebels from the south swarmed the city of Winterfell in droves, wielding weapons forged in blood and steel, as screams echoed in the hollow city. Jon had barely been awake for more than a minute when incessant pounding forced him to hastily slip on his coat to answer the door. Brienne stood before him, blood trickling down past her armour, and blue eyes dampened in what he would later come to recognise as grief. She stepped to one side and revealed the princess. The eldest Stark daughter glanced up at him.

“Lord Snow,” she said. Her voice was soft, barely audible above the cries of the fallen city, but it was strong, steady and deceptively calm. “The Stark – I need your help.”

Jon shook his head. “I am no lord, m’lady.”

Princess Sansa’s eyes flickered over him, scrutinising his attire, which consisted of a simple tunic, coat and trousers. “You may not look as one, but you cannot hide your birthright.”

“I never sought to deceive anyone,” he said with more bite than was appropriate, but the world was on fire and Jon was not going to have this discussion with a Stark.

Jon,” Brienne cut in, sighing wearily. “The royal family are dead. Sansa is the only one left. We need to keep her safe.”

His heart stuttered to a stop, mind flashing through memories of grey eyes, dark hair and lips perpetually curved in a smirk. “No,” he exhaled, as his hand shot out to grip the door frame. “No. Not… Is she –?”

“My sister is dead.”

Jon shook his head. He refused to believe that Arya – wonderful, strong, determined Arya – could be gone from this world. She had been the only person in his life who ever thought he could amount to anything more than what he allowed himself to be, and not because of his family, but because she knew him.

“The rebels?” He finally looked up towards the last remaining Stark. Her face betrayed no emotion, but even stone cracked.

“The Lannisters led them,” Brienne provided, as if he had needed any more kindling for the fire raging inside him, but his head snapped up at that. She nodded minutely. “They have the South, North and then they will head West.”

“The Eastern lands are barren,” the princess explained. “It’s the only conceivable plan.”

An explosion rocked the city, and even from where Jon lived just on the outskirts of Winterfell, his home shook with the force. They were wasting time. They needed to leave now.

Jon turned away from the two women to grab his rucksack. He threw in clothes, food and weapons, unsure of what exactly he was taking with him, but his mind was in a haze. It was fogging over like the farmlands in the early morning, thick with grey mist. He could not make sense of this new world; he could not comprehend any more than the menial task before him. If he allowed himself, Jon would fall and he may let himself burn down with this city if he did.

“What of you, Brienne?” he asked as soon as he latched the door close behind him. If she was coming to him for assistance, she was not coming with them. It was the only reason the guard would ever abandon Princess Sansa.

“She will not be coming with us,” the princess answered instead, her tone effectively ending the line of query. She glanced to her personal guard and the women exchanged small nods. The princess clasped a hand around the older woman’s arm. It was soft and fond– the first crack in her steely armour.

Once Brienne had left, Jon led the princess round back to his trusty steed. “You will have to ride with me, princess. Two horses will attract too much attention.” To his surprise, she merely nodded. From all the stories Arya had told him about her older sister, Jon expected more of an argument. But then, in the few minutes he’d been speaking to her, Princess Sansa was nothing like Jon imagined. She was not a young girl caught in the throes of romance and songs; she had ice in her eyes, hardened against the coming storm, and in spite of the copper hair, she reminded him of Arya in this moment.

They rode for two days only stopping for food and water. Jon could ride to the West without much sleep and so he had planned to do exactly that, but by the eve of the third day, Princess Sansa removed her hands from around his waist and squeezed his right arm tightly. “Jon,” she said carefully, as if wary of startling him. “You need sleep. Please; just rest.”

“They’ll be looking for you, princess. I can’t let them catch up to us,” Jon answered, but he could feel his muscles beginning to tense with exhaustion, locking up against the strain it’s been put through.

“But if they catch up to us now, will you the strength to fight them?” she asked pointedly, and Jon knew she was right. “Now, we will find shelter and we will both rest.”

Even though she had just lost her entire family, her city, everything she’d ever known, the command with which she spoke was as authoritative as if she was on the throne. Jon could not be miffed at a woman who knew how to demand respect with just the snap of her words. She must haved learned it from her mother. Arya had the same way about her; although she was more aggressive. She played her emotions clear on her sleeves, whereas Princess Sansa appeared to keep it buried deep within.

It only took an hour for them to find a small hidden cave in the woods. The proximity to a stream was a small miracle, but Jon warned her that it could lead others here too so she was to stay by his side at all cost. If she wished to bathe, Jon would accompany her and turn to keep her modesty.

“It would scandalise all my ladies-in-waiting, but modesty is the least of my concerns, Lord Jon,” she said.

Jon ducked his head to hide his amusement. “That may well be, m’lady, but I’m afraid I must insist.”

She laughed and the sound brought his gaze back to hers. She looked as surprised by it as he did.

“If you insist then, my lord,” Sansa said, smiling at him, before wading ankle deep into the water still fully-clothed. “You may turn.”

As soon as Jon heard the rustle of her clothes dropping to the muddied bank, the air around them appeared to change, charging with some kind of current he could not readily recognise. The water splashed softly behind him with Princess Sansa’s ministrations. He was despicable for thinking of her in such a fashion when she was at her most vulnerable. Jon was sworn to protect her; was he so depraved as to stand here imagining her soft skin under the silver light of tonight’s moon? Could he not be in the presence of a beautiful woman without being so racked with want?

Jon shifted, fingers clenching by his sides. He would not desecrate Arya’s memory by lusting after her sister. She would punch him for it if she knew.

Abruptly, a quiet giggle tore his attention away from the self-loathing waging inside of him. Jon nearly turned in curiosity, but stopped himself just in time. “Princess?”

She giggled again. “I did not think of how short my sister was.”

“Pardon, m’lady?”

“Oh, Jon, you may turn.” And when he did, he found the princess standing there in a white tunic and tight dark breeches. She met his eyes with a small bemused smile on her face. “A dress is not so helpful when you are running. This is Arya’s.”

“Aye,” he nodded, smiling back at her. “There’s a tear right there,” he pointed to the top of her thigh, “where she ripped it trying to escape being seen by your mother.”

Sansa’s eyes widened and she bent over to get a better look. “Oh, that girl. She was always so troublesome.” Her smile turned despairing and Jon’s heart ached with grief. Sansa returned her gaze back to him. “You loved her.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyways. “Yes. I loved your sister very much. She was –” He sighed, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. “The greatest friend a man could ever ask for.”

“Friend?” she questioned. “You do not have to lie to me, Jon. I would not hold it against you for falling in love with my sister.”

Jon gaped at her for a long second before chuckling loudly, disrupting the quiet of the evening. “Princess, I assure you I am not,” he said. “She is like family to me.”

It shouldn’t please him as much as it did when her face brightened at his words, but it felt like they were dancing on the precipice of something, and Jon couldn’t quite tell if he should be afraid of what that might be.

“I see,” was all Sansa said, as she ducked her head and walked towards the direction of the cave.

Jon followed obediently behind, watching the sway of her copper hair, wet from the stream. Droplets of water dripped down the white tunic and turned the cloth transparent. Jon clenched his fists more forcibly. “Princess,” he said as calmly as he could. She stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Your hair. You’ll be cold.” He stripped himself of his jacket and closed the distance between them to drape it across her shoulders.

Her brows furrowed together, a frown settling on her lips in a way that made him long to kiss it from her face. Jon nearly reeled back from that sudden and unwelcomed thought.

“And what of you, Jon? Will you not be cold?”

“I’ll survive, m’lady,” he answered a little more gruffly than he intended, but her prolonged presence in his life was beginning to overwhelm him.

Sansa nodded slowly, reluctant to agree, but she turned back towards the cave.

The night was long and harsh. Even in the safety of the cave, the wind carried to where they slept, reaching out for any exposed patch of skin, biting and unrelenting. Jon wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had the intention of doing so. He knew they had stopped specifically to allow him rest, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were far from safe. His eyes scanned the darkness beyond their shelter, listening for movement and waiting in anticipation for something he hoped would never come. But it was hard to hear anything through the howling wind.


“Princess.” He moved to her prone figure. “What is it?”

“Why –” She stopped and pulled herself up to a sitting position to level a glare at him. “Why are you awake? You should be resting.”

Jon sighed, and ran a hand through his unruly curls. “Someone has to stand guard, m’lady.”

“And do you think me frail, Jon?” Sansa questioned, and there was that steely glint in her eyes again that warned him against answering. “Because a few less hours of sleep a night will not kill me.”

He should have realised that in spite of their differences Sansa Stark would be as stubborn, if not more so than her sister. He glanced back to the cave door. The night was cold and harsh; it would be reasonable to assume they would be safe inside here till morning.

“We will both sleep.”

He laid his head down on the hard floor and wrapped his arms around himself to preserve some warmth. But the thin tunic he wore was no match for the raging wind. He longed for a fire, but knew it was an unnecessary risk. He could survive. He had survived much worse than this night.

It was barely a minute later when the princess spoke again. “I can hear your teeth chattering, Jon.” He made an affirming grunt, which earned him a resigned sigh. To his surprise, he felt her settle in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and throwing the jacket over the both of them. “Stop thinking so loudly,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Propriety is the last of my concerns when we could both easily die in our sleep from the cold. Just rest.”

“Princess Sansa, if anyone were to –”

“And who would?” she interrupted, the teasing gone, replaced by a sharpness he hadn’t heard before. “Who is left out there to care? My family is dead. The royal family is no more. I am as much a princess as you are, Jon. I have nothing left.”

“You are not alone,” he said instantly, a fierce yearning to protect her draping over him. Against all odds, come hell or high water, Jon would lay his life down for her.

Sansa stirred behind him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. “You kind-hearted buffoon. No one can protect anyone in this world. I am merely prolonging my death.”

The defeated sigh forced him to roll over to face her, his arms pulling her tightly against him, because she was right about one thing: propriety be damned. “Sansa, look at me.” She shook her head and hid herself against his chest. “Please, princess.”

“What, Jon? Are you to tell me everything will be better in the morn?” Sansa scoffed. “We are being hunted by an army of rebels who hate me and my family. We are riding to Targaryen land in the hopes that your family, whom you have not spoken to or seen in many moons, will let me take refuge. Your hope is misplaced, my lord. There is none.”

He fought against the voice telling him to place some distance between the Stark princess and himself, and cradled her face in his hands. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I won’t let you die until you’re grey and old, Sansa Stark. Your life is much too important.” At her sceptical look, he chuckled softly. “You will take back Winterfell. I’ll help you. And you will lead, better than any ruler ever had.”

“A queen without a king? It’s unheard of,” she whispered back, but her eyes were shining, fond and hopeful, and his heart constricted at the sight. Beauty had never looked so sweet until this moment.

“Then you will be the first.”

She placed a hand over one of his and smiled. “Will you be my knight?”

“What is a queen without her knight?” Jon grinned, unable to stop himself from tracing the line of her cheek with his thumb.

“One without her heart.”

The look she sent him was so earnest, so full of an emotion Jon did not want to see, yet relished in all the same. She would be his salvation and his damnation. “Sansa, please…” He needed to tell her how this could never be, but before he could even form his thoughts into words, her lips were on his, gentle, coaxing and shy all at the same time.

“You are thinking too loudly again, my lord,” she whispered against his lips, and that was all the encouragement he needed before his hands carded through her hair to tug her closer to him.

Sinking into the kiss was as easy as falling in love. In a way, it was easier. Jon could quiet his mind by letting his body react to hers, their lips moving in perfect tandem as they pressed needily against each other. Everything about Sansa was easy if he only let it, because loving her was more natural to him than breathing. He had never known anyone who understood and challenged him as well as her. In this moment tonight, she was his salvation – the mate his soul had searched far and wide for. And maybe tomorrow, their love would bleed out, crimson against the ground, as she damned him to death, but he would gladly cross that threshold if he could have this with her.

Lightning thundered out beyond their cave, and Jon sighed into her, pulling back to rest his head on her shoulder. “It should be impossible to feel joy in the face of such tragedy, and perhaps I have cursed us for it.”

“Then I have too,” Sansa said with a gentle smile that was only for him. “My heart still grieves, Jon. I fear it will never stop grieving for my lost family, but it will heal too and I believe that is because of you.”

He smiled back, leaning forward once more to capture her lips, when thunder roared above them again. But something in the back of his mind forced him to sit up, pulling her with him.

“Sansa,” he breathed out, dread rising in his throat. “That’s not thunder.”

To be continued…

Dream Sweet in Sea Major 2

When considering traditional standards of beauty or masculine charm, the features that made Yagura recognizable were not often considered. A notable scar below the one eye, irises colored bleeding pink, and a diminished stature that confused him with children if viewed from behind. No, Yagura was not what tradition would call beautiful, but he was other things.

Among those things he was old, considerably old, and in all the years of his long existence he had learned how to be. He knew what angles worked for him, what lighting suited his features, and how to lower his tenor to a velvet edged voice that could turn razor sharp in a second.  He knew how to hold himself, how to dress himself, how to carry himself. He knew his worth and his worth was pretty damn high. The world was meant for him and was his. He acted as haughty as he pleased and the world slid right into his palm.

It gave him no little delight to be proven time and time again that the world was his to manipulate and take from as he pleased. The woman in the doorway seemed to do nothing more than stoke his already engorged ego.

There was blood across the floor and a dead hand under the toe of his designer shoes. Yagura leaned his head to the side and lowered his lids before lifting a rolled cigarette to his lips and cupping the end. A small burn of red and the end caught and began to smoke.  

With the toe of his shoe he poked under the dead hand and kicked it up so it flopped back down onto the face of the corpse just as he took a long drag to exhale in semi dramatic fashion. The woman in the doorway didn’t move, and her eyes were still glued in appreciation to his figure even though half the other employees were scared and hiding.

“That’s enough for now,” he said to the other boys, turning away so the tail ends of his jacket flapped like a cape behind him. It made his walk all the more purposeful as he walked past the hungry woman and left her wanting. He didn’t even glance her way as he called out to the boys behind him.

“I think they got the message here. We’ll be back in the hour though if they step into our turf again.”

“You think we needed to leave so few alive?” Haku asked in a clear voice that reminded Yagura of the ice.

“Ao?” Yagura grunted before exhaling smoke again.

Ao came up behind Hake and purposefully stopped to turn and look behind them before pulling his gun out from the front breast pocket of his gray pinstripe. He aimed in less than a second and recoiled only slightly when the shot rang out and sank into the woman in the doorway’s forehead.

Slowly, purposefully, Ao put his gun away and reached for his hat instead. The rack had all their hats, as well as a few others that would never be worn by their owners again.

Yagura fit his fedora and pulled the front down low over his eyes before stepping out. A thin mist had settled and every so often the rain would come and wet the world further. It was perfect weather and the Mizu boys were all the stronger for it.

Haku begrudgingly followed his betters out and kept his head down, least his questions lead to more avoidable bloodshed. One woman was too risky to leave alive if she sported a handgun in the belt on her thigh? Apparently.

Ao drove, but Yagura rode from the backseat and was the real directioner for their group. If he didn’t want to go back to Mei’s place than they didn’t have to. She was technically their boss and really the only person that could handle Yagura enough to boss him into doing things for her.

Keep reading

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 review

Guardians of the Galaxy was a fantastic film, a real masterpiece for just how oddball and different it was from the rest of the Marvel cinematic universe. It was so different, with such a great group dynamic, great actors, and plenty of kickass scenes… this was lightning in a bottle, and there’s no way to catch that twice, right?

Wrong. They did it again. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is every bit as good as the original, and what’s more… I actually think it’s a bit better. How is this? HOW COULD YOU TOP THE FIRST? I’ll explain, but be warned: after the plot synopsis, there’s gonna be a few spoilers, so just be warned.

So what are the Guardians up to this time? After doing a mission for the Sovereign race, the Guardians end up pissing them off because Rocket stole some precious batteries. During their escape attempt, the Guardians end up being saved by a mysterious stranger… and that stranger is none other than Peter’s dad, a strange being named Ego. While Peter, Gamora, and Drax head off to Ego’s planet, Rocket and Groot get kidnapped by the ravagers, who mutiny against Yondu. Shit starts going down, and now the two groups gotta get back together to guard the galaxy yet again, though this time the threat may be even greater than ever before…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi ! I Absolutely love your stories and i have seen you getting many prompts, so here's mine... There is actually no prompt just do whatever your heart desires, have fun ! ;)

n*w*n So then…



Shadow had began to notice something off with Amy, she definitely being a bit too submissive with just letting her ideas go unheard, but he started to wonder what she was actually trying to talk about.

Later, Silver stated that the future was at stake if this last attack didn’t go well, however, Amy stood back, and began to walk away from the crowd.

Sonic had turned around, seeing her departure. “Amy! Wait up.” he turned and gestured a small motion with his hand towards her, as she jumped skillfully up a building, before continuing to face her back to him.

Shadow turned around too, wondering…

Was she finally going to speak up about what she thought now?

“…I… I need to do something. Something that feels right.”

Confused, Sonic was about to walk over and kindly as what she was talking about, but Shadow immediately held out a hand and came up to Sonic, shaking his head.

“I may not know Amy very well… but I think you should trust her on this one.” Having spent some time on a mission with her, he trusted that whatever she had wanted to speak up about before to Sonic,… was probably very important to her.

Silver suddenly also dashed in the line of Amy and Sonic, spreading his arms out, and assertively slashed a hand down to put some passion to his words, “Let her go, Sonic. This is how it must be…”

Sonic raised an eyebrow, looking up and at the two hedgehogs. “You mean… she’s meant to leave?”

“Only for a short while but…” Silver looked down, as if something was nagging him… something was catching in his throat, but he forced it up, trying to not make eye contact. “Yes…”

Sonic looked up at Amy, worry coming across his face, before Shadow stepped up again, seeing as Amy had looked over her shoulder, wondering if he’d be okay with letting her go off on her own too.

Shadow put a hand to Sonic’s shoulder. “I normally wouldn’t do this… but with what Silver just said… I think you should consider the possibilities… and how this is our last chance…”

The tone Shadow used on the end was pretty clear to Sonic… he had to consider the battle… if this assault didn’t work, according to Silver, they would fail and Eggman will succeed in his creating his new world.

Something… bit inside Sonic. Something… pinched and strained to rip at little areas in Sonic’s heart. It was like the worry inside him was bothering him… what if something happened to her.. and he wasn’t there to save her?

Another flinch of pain.

He barely showed this, just squinted his eyes in a slight twitch, as he began to process all the possibilities…

So many…. possibilities…. that don’t all end well.

Sonic turned back to Amy, shaking his head. “I don’t quite get it…But,” he looked up, giving her a thumbs up, and confident smile.

“I understand you gotta do what’cha gotta do! Hurry back, Amy!” Sonic waved her off and turned, having only for a split second see her smile with genuine love for him.

But he couldn’t look at it for long… he had to turn away… it was necessary.

Everything was pulling him back to her side. She belonged safely there. Not off on her own..

But he knew that everything around him was reassuring him she’d be just fine, he had to get his mind off that and trust her.

After all… she had trusted him to return to everyone’s aid. And he did so.

What constitutes that she won’t do the same?

Shadow and Silver turned to watch him walk away, but only moved when they saw him run towards the teams.

They were assured now he was willing to stick to his decision, and Shadow closed his eyes, almost in a nod, before running ahead of him. Silver, looking oddly guilty for some reason, turned away with his teeth showing in his frown, a harsh look of ‘keeping it together’ for a moment, before he took off ahead of Sonic and up with Shadow too.

Sonic purposefully slowed down, watching the two take off ahead of him, and slowly turned to look back.

She was gone.

‘…Be safe…’ he’s eyes bent to an arch of concern. ‘…Amy…’

He moved his head forward, not giving the intruding thoughts a second more.

Later in the game, Sonic was enraged.

Not only had Silver lied to him to try and keep the mission from failing for the future’s sake, but Amy had allowed her soul to be absorbed to power into a powerful, ancient machine.

This machine could ensure victory in seconds, but Sonic wasn’t willing to go through with it.

Defeating the machine, taking it down before it could fully charge up Amy’s soul-power to attack, he broke the metallic mirror beast into fragments, and when he saw Amy’s image in one, he beat against it.


“Sonic…” Amy’s voice sounded echo-y… it didn’t feel right.

He moved closer to the mirror, breaking any distance between them. “Get out of there! It isn’t safe!”

“Sonic… This is what needs to happens.” Amy nodded, but far in the distance, Shadow had fought Silver in rage, also believing him. He then left him with a threat, and went to try and keep the assault going without Sonic’s help.

Silver, getting up from the ground, coughed in pain at having the wind knocked out of him.

Everyone… walked by him.

He was shunned from the team, but he still felt he only did what was required of him.. to save his future… even if that meant losing an innocent soul…

What was one soul to an entire future of souls?

“I’m so sorry, Amy…” he lowered his head, holding in tears as his shoulders bounced. “I couldn’t let him save you!!!” he slammed his fists to the cold, cracked pavement, letting the black soot of war grip around the side of his glove.

He tightened his fists, letting it scrape back and forth against the pavement as he bent his head down, “But I couldn’t lose this mission… I couldn’t let Blaze… or anyone down!!! Not again!!!”

“AMY!” Sonic saw her fading, as the machine was broken but not completely destroyed yet.

She smiled kindly, “Sonic, all I want to do is help! Even Silver said this was necessary!″

Sonic’s expression was still very intense, as he ducked his head, realizing she wasn’t going to listen to him.

He started smashing into the mirror through his spin-attack, homing around her image as to not crack what little he had to see of her.

She stepped back and looked around, seeing him trying to break in.

“Sonic! No! Don’t-!”

He stopped and pushed against the mirror, feeling some foreign aura from it.

As he strained, he spoke through gritted teeth, “You’ve always been so stubborn, Amy! You know I would never have let you gone through with this. Then why!? When you knew I would be upset! I don’t want to win this war without every one of my friends safe and sound beside me. We were suppose to win this together! Amy!!!” he shoved the shard of the mirror again, ramming into it, starting to get desperate. “Fight!!”

She did nothing, but watched in touched horror as he kept attacking the mirror, doing everything in his power… just to save her…

“Sonic…” she started tearing up.

And then…

“If…” he started shaking against the mirror.

He put his hands up, leaning his head down and upon it’s reflective surface, his face not even present in it, but just her image… her hand against the mirror…

He placed his head right upon it, before his voice turned cold and almost sounding betrayed…

“If you love me…” he began, “You wouldn’t do this…. not to me.” 

Her eyes shook.

The mirror began to quake.

Suddenly, Amy summoned her hammer and smashed from the inside of the mirror, struggling as she looked behind her, seeing a light coming for her.


He looked up, a broken man before seeing her struggling, the fear in her eyes at the light coming to engulf her.

He once again took a powerful swing at the mirror, looking serious and dead-bent on not failing her, or his team, ever again!

Suddenly, the mirror broke and Amy leaped out.

Her body was spiritual, not physical, so when she went to embrace him, and him her, to grab her and carry her far away from here… from danger…

Her body faded and disappeared.

In shock, he looked around himself, only having caught air.

“I’m here!” Amy called, as he gripped his chest, breathing out a second in shock.

He couldn’t hear it.. but he felt the words come to his mind.


He looked up but was sucked into the mirror.

Within the mirror world, Sonic had to the fight the being that first drew Amy in, deluding her with lies that this was the only way she could save her friends, and this angered Sonic, immensely… cause this ‘being’ had convinced her that Sonic would have honored her deed, and understood it.

“Like heck I would have!” he drew back a fist, and broke the mirror containing the ancient machine’s being, an old spirit who last sacrificed himself for his people when it was first made.

He escaped the mirror world, realizing how Amy may be feeling now, before suddenly getting a swarm of images, memories that he didn’t own, and feelings that were also not his own.

The connection he felt with Amy was unbearable. He didn’t like having two sets of thoughts, feelings, memories,…even desires..

He shook his head, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude Amy, but…” A memory from her flashed through his mind, and a feeling of joy he had never felt before, a silly emotion, so it seemed, of butterflies and energy swarmed up his chest and flushed all other thoughts out of his mind.

Was this how Amy felt when she was around him?

“But cut it out!” Sonic stopped, shaking his head profusely. “Ugh… I think I’m gonna be sick…” he gripped his stomach, not liking all the different sets of emotional and mental strain having two souls inside him was doing.

“Just pipe down a moment and I’ll get you back to-”

He was amazed to see Tails, and the rest of the team by Amy’s body.

“…Everyone…” he was shocked to see them.

They turned around, smiling calmly to him.

Tails walked forward, speaking first. “We couldn’t continue without you. Both of you.” He nodded, and Sonic smiled, putting a hand to his shoulder, and nodding.

Amy was deeply touched, and Sonic could feel it.

He smiled wider, knowing she would want him to say something on her behalf.

But they didn’t know about her being a soul and all that…

He just simply closed his eyes, looking a bit awkward as he stated, “She would appreciate that, Tails.”

Sonic walked over to her, and bent down by her bodies side.

“Anything?” he wasn’t sure if her soul was just going to spring out of him back into her body, and waited as Tails pulled out the Miles Electric.

“W-woah!” Tails was shocked, seeing signatures that read two different wave lengths inside of Sonic’s being.

A wave length did leave Sonic, giving him some relief, but was torn between the space of him and the resting body.

“Ah! It looks like she’s trying to wake up!” Tails looked down, along with the rest of the team, trying to see if she’d be okay.

She squirmed, calling for Sonic gently as he bent over and gripped her hand.

“I’m here, Amy… I’m right here…”

The subtle touch made the aura stronger, as she smiled, able to speak more audiably.

“I can’t… I can’t fully feel…” she felt blind, like she couldn’t hear, only understanding him through their rare connection.

Tails was trying to read what he was seeing, but couldn’t understand.

“It got stronger the closer you were to her, but… Ah! It’s moving away!”

The aura was being pulled back into Sonic, as he slightly panicked, getting closer to her.

“Amy… Hang on!”

“She’s losing it!”


The teammates looked away, thinking the worst was bound to happen.

They had lost… so many….  along the way… they were the few left to defend the world now.

Amy slowly stirred at the closeness, but her soul couldn’t fully attach.


Again… that strange feeling…

Sonic bent down slower.

“The readings! They’re off the-!”

There was a light press as Sonic once again felt the relief of her soul leaving his presence, and hoped this meant she had fully returned.

The party all turned to stare once again, before a wild cheer was had when Amy opened her eyes, Sonic fully leaned back, and resting as he knew she’d be alright now.

Shadow and Silver had carried out the mission with their bare hands, but were about to fall to exhaustion and face their demise till the team showed up.

After the final battle, Silver was shocked that not only did they succeed, but they succeeded without Amy being lost.

“That’s… that’s not…” Silver was glad, don’t get him wrong, but he couldn’t fathom how it worked out.

“There are…urk..” Shadow strained, laying down on the grass where the team had placed the two to recover. “Many … possibilities… in this world. Life times… change… destinies… rewritten..” he fought the pain, as his body began to hyper-regenerate itself.

Sonic had come back after seeing Tails and Amy had already returned to help Silver and Shadow, before Amy turned around, gasping at Sonic being alright, and racing across towards him.


He nervously smiled, then stepped back a few times, holding his arms out to brace for impact…

She collided into his arms, laughing as he turned his face to avoid hers, but kept his eyes bent in care for her well-being, chuckling in his nerves.

“I’m so glad you didn’t risk your soul! I’m sorry, Sonic! I had to break out! I had to prove that I-!”

Suddenly, she was cut off when Sonic returned her nuzzling for a brief moment, before looking away.

“I-I-I’m glad you’re safe too.” he looked away, his mouth turning to a slight swiggle as he spoke.

She blinked her eyes, not fully understanding or having it click in her mind before a huge, open grin crossed her face once more.

She lovingly looked to her hero before closing her eyes and lowering her eyelids, seeing that things may change for the better now that he had experienced her feelings and thoughts from before.

Maybe… this meant he also understood why she did what she did.

Suddenly, she turned away to see Shadow trying to lean up, before falling back in down in exhaustion.


“Huh?” Sonic, not liking the sudden ‘shift’ of her attention looked shocked with blinks of confusion at how fast Amy left the situation.

He hadn’t had much time with her other than helping her to ‘wake up’ so to speak, and frowned a bit as he walked after her to Shadow’s side.

She bent down by Shadow’s side, as he looked up, smiling.

“Heh, I just knew they couldn’t kill you.” he smirked, before feeling the pain spike up his back again. “Ugh…. you’re too stubborn to lie down.”

She grinned warmly to him, before tried to help him get up.

He patted his hand in the air, a motion for her to leave him be, and slowly rose up, before falling back down. “D…Darn it.” his eyebrow twitched as he held his chest for a second.

“Just let yourself rest..” Amy gently lowered him down, as he didn’t have much chance to put up a fight about it. “It’s not that you’re weak, you’re just spent. So no complaining or beating yourself up over this! Okay?”

Sonic folded his arms… looking away with a slight pout on his face.

Seeing his reaction, Shadow smirked, knowing the hero was probably wanting some time with Amy.. Alone… without distraction.

He looked to Amy, “Did you know how Sonic revived you? I think you would be.. erk! …hah….hah… interested… to know…”

It was probably the only act of kindness Shadow would do for Sonic, and he mostly did it for Amy’s sake.

He had grown fond of her positive but forth-going attitude, and knew that in some ways… she was perfect for Sonic’s weaknesses and flaws.

She complimented what he couldn’t have on his own, and gave him strengths he couldn’t have possessed without her influence in his life.

Shadow felt that first hand, but didn’t say anything.

Sonic flinched at his words, leaning back, his spines bristling upwards.

“S-Shadow!” he looked like he was trying to threaten him. “Don’t you dare!”

“Huh?” Amy blinked.

“Just like a fairytale… he bent down… and kissed you alive.” Shadow closed his eyes, before breathing hard and seeing Sonic point a finger at him, only one eye slightly opened as a wicked grin spread across Shadow’s face.

Sonic had leaned down to him, “I’ll get you for this!” he whispered, before waving his hands to Amy and stepping back, seeing her lean forward with excitement and get up, rushing after him, hands behind her back, humming as if wanting him to admit it.

“Is that so..?” she giggled, as Sonic nervously tried to sway her away.

“N-now Amy, Shadow probably just saw things! You can’t take his word for it-Eeee!” he dashed off, as Amy laughed and took off after him, calling his name as she usually, fondly, did.

Shadow’s ears turned slightly, as he smiled and closed his eyes.

“He’s not moving… nearly as fast… as he could be. Heh. So I was right.” he strained to get up again, not having Amy as his annoying nurse anymore, he was glad by the sounds of the sweeped passed bushes that Sonic was only fibbing his fears..

He was skillfully leading her away from the open eyes of the crowd…

“You… did that… for them to be alone?” Silver looked confused, also trying to lean up.

Shadow kept a smile before it faded, “I owed her one.”

Silver didn’t get it, but looked away, still feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry..” Shadow got up, feeling more strength as his body quickly began to mend itself. “I won’t tell her of your deceit.”

“She may have figured it out by now…” Silver looked away.

“Or she’ll think it was her own fluke. A stroke of bad luck. Don’t say anything and you’ll be fine.” Shadow glared, still not forgiving him, but accepting that Silver wasn’t a bad guy.

Later that day… Sonic struggled as Amy had ‘caught’ up to him, and tackled him down to the ground with mini-kisses all over his face.

He alluded any ‘real’ ones but seemed to try and push her off, ducking, turning, doing whatever he could to avoid the doting on and kicking his legs as if to escape.

Suddenly, the speaker on his communicator turned on that was attached to his wrist.

Suddenly, his expression of uncomfortability faded and he looked quite normal, turning to answer the call. “What is it?”

“Sonic! The others are heading back, you should too!”

“Oh… Can’t do, Tails.”

Amy leaned back, a little surprised to hear that.

“Amy’s got herself into trouble again. Don’t worry! Nothing too big I can’t handle. Anyway, I’ll bring her back soon. Until then, I’m busy.”

Sonic clicked the communicator off and quickly shot himself back to his back, as if still ‘imprisioned’ or ‘stuck’ under her.

“.. Trouble?” Amy smiled, raising an eyebrow as she wondered if this meant…

“…Well,-” Sonic leaned up, close to her.

“You aren’t now… not yet.” His expression suddenly shifted.

Her eyes widened and her face blushed.

(A combination of daydreams I had. WAY AU, lol. I need to start writing back in Canon again.. it’s just.. less fun XD but more realistic of them. Thanks for letting me write it, precious anon!)

snifelisnifsnif  asked:

could you write some Ryan Haywood fluff(or smut) in gta au? maybe where the reader is a criminal too and somehow gets involved with fahc?

A/N - Here we go! This is only my…second (?) time getting to write in a GTA AU, so I hope this fits most people’s headcanons about that whole shebang. This could have gone a lot longer when I planned it in my head, but due to some trouble I had when I was actually writing it out, I tried to condense it down to make more sense, and went more of the fluff route because smut sadly didn’t make too much sense in the context I came up with. Regardless, this was a ton of fun to write and I hope you like it, buddy!

Pairing - Ryan x Reader

Warnings - Swearing, guns, violence, general GTA AU schtuff.

Word Count - 2, 691

Keep reading