always-love-this-shot

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Sojiro, king of Atlantis - Atlantis AU

I was planning at first to make Hanzo as the king of Atlantis just for the delight to imagine him say “You presume much to think you are welcome here (one of the best lines of the movie). But well, who could be playing the role of Kida then? 

Also I always loved the shot of the guards kneeling in front of their fallen king, so have the sons grieving their father instead (yes Genji is here and he’s green). Hanzo is not supposed to be there at his part of the movie but WHY NOT ?

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 2

Well, since your response was so overwhelming, here’s part 2! Many many thanks to @diversemediums for helping me think things through! She and I are both excited to see what happens next. I can’t remember the last time when I had absolutely no idea what was coming on next in a story. Thanks for enjoying part one so much!

Catch up HERE


Claire didn’t go home with Geillis that night, unsure about what had happened with that strange psychic man.

“Claire please! You have to tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell! He read my tea leaves, read a little from my palms and told me to come back.”

“Then why won’t you come home? Afraid I’ll pester you until you crack?”

Smiling, Claire rolled her eyes.

“Well you’re likely to do that anyway. But no. I’ve got a date with Frank tonight.”

“Oh,” Geillis said flatly. “You’ll be spending the night with him, then?”

“Yes. Unlike you, I prefer my love making to be private.”

Geillis gave her a coy smile.

“I can’t help it if I’m a passionate lover.”

“My only wish is that your ‘passion’ would be a little more quiet. I’m just going to change and then meet up with him for lunch between his classes.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get the details out of you later.”

As they headed back toward their apartment, Claire realized she hadn’t gotten the number for the place or made an official appointment to return. No matter. She’d just come back when she had time.

Her lunch with Frank was normal, same as always. He talked about his classes, his problem students, how many he thought would pass his exams. She told him about the film she and Geillis had watched the night before. For some odd reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her strange experience with the mysterious Jamie Fraser.

She made dinner for them both in his apartment, ready and on the table when he arrived. They ate and made plans to go see a new museum exhibit the next week. A life with him would be comfortable, uneventful, and she would want for nothing. He would provide a good home and be a good father.

The palm of her hand tingled where Jamie had touched her and she thought about his words.

As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.

Looking up from her own hand, she saw Frank waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Are you ready for bed?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I completely zoned out for a moment.”

She followed him back to his bedroom where they made love the same way they always did. It wasn’t bad, but neither was it as amazing as Geillis always made it sound.

When she finally drifted asleep, she had the strangest dreams. The air around her smelled different, everything seemed younger, fresher.

She was walking, barefoot, through the wet grass. It was raining, but that wasn’t surprising for her. She was searching for something. No, for someone. He promised he’d meet her here, that he wouldn’t make her wait a moment longer.

“Christ, ye look like a wee Faerie, running about through the grass like that. Come here to me, Sassenach.”

“You’re late,” she said, turning to the familiar voice.

Turning around, she searched for his eyes, but her gaze couldn’t move from his lips.

“I was here on time, as I promised. But I didna want to interrupt ye.”

“Please, it’s been long enough!”

Large hands moved over her body in a way that only a lover would do. She felt him untie the laces at the back of her gown.

“It’s been two whole days, a nighean. Surely ye canna be that desperate.”

Her fingers found the sturdy folds of his kilt and began to tug them up. Finally, her gown loostened and she wriggled out of it, standing before him in only her thin shift.

“Closer to three, and yes I can. You’ve rather a voracious appetite, my lad, and I’ve gotten used to it.”

“It’s that good then, is it?”

“You know it is, you Scottish bastard.”

He had several days of stubble on his chin as he bent and kissed her. But oh! How she’d missed this mouth! Rough hands ran over her back and down to her buttocks, where he squeezed and let out a sigh.

“Roundest arse I’ve ever had the pleasure to see. And fondle.”

“I’m really not concerned with the fondling of my arse at the moment, good sir.”

“Fair point, my lady.”

While he worked on the ties of his shirt, she pulled his belt free and shook his kilt out on the ground. While this wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love out of doors, she wasn’t fond of the debris that got stuck on her everywhere.

God the smell of him, the feel of his toned body beneath her hands, the taste of his tongue probing inside her mouth. It was all too much. She shrugged out of her shift and lay down on his kilt, watching as he admired her naked body.

“Have I told ye lately, mo chridhe,” he whispered, speckling her skin with kisses as he made his way up to her lips. “How much I love ye?”

“Not in the last hour, no.”

“I love you,” he kissed beneath her left breast. “I love you.” A kiss beneath her right. “I love you.” A kiss right between them.

Taking fistfuls of his bright red hair in both her hands, she pulled his mouth up to her own.

“Come show me how much, my beloved husband.”

Then two blue eyes locked with her own. Eyes she’d seen before. The color seemed to be shifting through every shade of blue in existence.

“MINE,” growled his voice, thick with lust. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!”

“Yes!” she screamed back at him, digging her fingers into whatever flesh she could find.

Her body was trembling beneath him, though not from cold. Both of her legs struggled to lock around him, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. God she didn’t want this to ever end.

“Look at me, Claire!”

Forcing her eyes open, she met his gaze.

“Promise me. Promise me that we’ll always find each other. In this life and the next.”

“I swear it. I’m yours, forever and always Jamie. I love you.”

Claire shot up in bed, panting and sweating. Her body shook in a way it had never done before. Her breasts ached and there was a heavy dampness between her legs that hadn’t been there before.

Trying not to wake Frank, she got up and went to splash water on her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she ran hands through her hair.

“What the hell was that, Beauchamp?”

***

Jamie tossed and turned, restless. In all his reading through his journals, he’d gleaned no further information on Miss Beauchamp.

Then all at once, he knew he’d fallen asleep. This wasn’t a normal dream, but the first vision he’d had in years.

He watched her wander through the field, stalking her as a wolf did a rabbit. But he would have her in his arms soon enough.

And then he had her, in his arms, smelling like the wet earth and that heady scent of her arousal. He couldn’t undress her fast enough, couldn’t feel her bare skin soon enough. Nearly three days, sleeping alone. Far, far too long.

Then he was above her, staring down into those inhumanly golden eyes, her breasts rubbing slightly against his chest as she panted.

“I love you,” he whispered against the skin of her chest.

“Come show me how much, beloved husband.”

Husband. They’d been married a month ago in secret. No one knew they had. He’d given her a silver ring and the key to his estate, along with his heart and virginity. But she kept them hidden.

He’d felt the ring sewen into one of her pockets, always with her. He had no idea what she’d done with the key. It didn’t matter. They belonged to each other and no one else. Soon enough, he’d get her with child and no one could separate them.

White hot pain pricked over his body where she clawed and drew blood.

“MINE,” he growled into her ear, resisting the urge to bite ite. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!”

“Yes!”

Hearing her say that, while her hips lifted to meet his, gave him a primal pleasure he didn’t understand. Her body jerked as he felt himself prepare for release. His howl started low and guttural, growing in volume until-

Throwing the sheets off, he swung his legs over one side of his bed and put his hands on his knees. It took him several minutes to catch his breath and keep his hands from shaking. Christ he’d forgotten how intensely real these visions could be.

Visions of things he’d never experienced were the worst. Having never lain with a woman, he could only assume it would feel like that.

“Holy God,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his head. “What just happened, Fraser? Get yourself together, man.”

Missing his longer hair, he took another breath and reached for the empty dream journal he kept beside his bed. For now he would jot down the notes and quick sketches quickly. Later, after he’d had time to study the vision, he’d write it down properly in the big book, sketch things out and take his time about it.

Wondering when he would see Miss Beauchamp again, he decided to take a shower and not dwell on his vision; or how he could still taste her in his mouth, or feel her breasts beneath his hands. Christ he could still feel her nipples between his teeth, feel her trembling, smell the intensity of her want for him. Perhaps it would be a cold shower.


Continue to Part 3 

Always Loved You: One Shot

Why hello there! It me! I have come to give you a teacher/single mother au! Have fun kiddos!

She sat at a table, a glass of red wine in front of her. Her hair was pinned into a bun, her bangs straightened perfectly and her blue eyes staring into nothingness. She wore a black dress, the end resting against her knees. She was beautiful, even in mourning she was beautiful. Even in the grey lighting from the rain outside, Marinette was still beautiful.

Keep reading

Sometimes images just hit you...

I’ve always been in love with this shot of Clara’s reaction to just-regenerated 12. It looks like something you’d see drawn in a comic book panel.

I got no photography skills or drawing skills to speak of, there is just something really dynamic about this image. The Doctor is frozen in place, still trying to figure out how to move this brand new body. He’s facing away from us, but the light is glowing on his jaw, which points to Clara’s right hand as it’s also lit by the same glow. 

His arms are down, but bent. He’s kind of stuck in the slightly hunched posture he popped up into after that “sneeze” regeneration. The whole curve of his body makes us look over at Clara. Her arms are spread, as she’s jumping back in shock, but her right hand is still pointed towards him. 

They’re connected by the light shining on her hand and his jaw. The goldish-white glow gives a weird warmth to the starkness of the TARDIS background. They’re looking at each other. Clara is looking for the man she knew, and the Doctor is looking at the woman he is going to build his entire identity around.

Just…the composition of this shot kinda reminds me of a yin yang.

ktwesterna  asked:

How about a chlonath response to other weddings (ie djwifi, Adrienette, even Maylene and Ivan)? I could see her getting very worked up about others getting married when she isn't. I also see him being very amused by that.

I combined this with @maerynn-blog​‘s suggestion, “clonath preparing their wedding???“



“This is gross.”  Chloe set down her empty champagne glass, scowling.

“Not everyone can afford Dom Perignon, Chlo.”

“Stupid tomato.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I wasn’t talking about the champagne, though now that you mention it, it is subpar.”

Nathanaël’s lips twitched in amusement.  “This is not gross, this is sweet.”

“They’re being nauseating again.”

“They’re newlyweds.  This is their wedding reception.  They’re supposed to be nauseating.”

“Why am I here?”

“Because you’re not actually the raging bitch you want everyone to think you are.”

“You’re such a pain sometimes.”  She picked up her champagne glass and scowled into it.  “Why is this still empty?  If I have to watch Ivan and Mylene hang all over one another, I’m not going to do it sober.”

Nathanaël plucked the glass from her hand and stood, snickering.  “Heaven forbid.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Watch it, Kurtzberg.”


“Chloe, why aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m not going.”  She walked away from the door without bothering to invite him in.

He came in anyway, closing the door behind him.  “Of course you are.  You’ve already done your hair and makeup.  There’s no way you’d let that go to waste.”

“I’ll go somewhere else.”  She put a perfectly manicured hand to her flawless coiffure with a sniff.  “This effort would be wasted on them, anyway.”

“Too bad, Chlo.”  He tugged her up from her couch, grinning.  “Come on, get dressed.  It’s time to go mingle with the commoners.”  He put a hand to the small of her back and gently pushed her towards her room.  She went, grudgingly.

“Ugh, gross.  Why do you keep dragging me to these things, Kurtzberg?”

“Because I love to torture you.”  He leaned an arm on the door frame, and smiled down into her beautiful, scowling face.  “And because I know you secretly want to go.”

She slammed the door on him, and he jerked back with a laugh.  

Chloe emerged a few minutes later in a lemon yellow cocktail dress, tucking her cell phone into a small white clutch and grumbling about interfering tomatoes, and Nathanaël allowed his gaze to rake over her appreciatively.

“You look lovely, Chloe.”

“I always look lovely, Kurtzberg ,” she shot back, but a blush darkened her cheekbones and she couldn’t look him in the eye.  She huffed.  “You do know that Alya and Nino are going to be even more gross than Ivan and Mylene were, don’t you?”

He grinned at her, amused and not at all fooled by her bluster.  “I have a whole bottle of champagne in the car, just for you.  It’s yours, if you can make it through the ceremony.”

“Of course I can make it through the ceremony,” she scoffed, snatching her wrap from the back of a chair.  “And the reception, too.  Keep your champagne, Kurtzberg.”

He hid a grin behind his hand, and followed her out the door.


“It’s not enough for him to make me be here.  Oh no, he had to make me a part of the damn thing!”  Chloe peeked out of the small room to the side of the vestibule, and glared at the people filling the church.  “He hates me, doesn’t he?”

Nathanaël’s lips curled into a smile. “No, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“Then why would he do this to me?”  She threw herself into his arms on a wail.  “Adrien knows I hate these things.  I can’t just duck out when I’m a member of the bridal party.”

He shook with suppressed laughter.  “I am too, don’t forget.  And we’ll be seated together at the reception.”

“It’s the only reason I agreed to this nonsense, really.”

“Mm-hmm.”  He tipped her chin up and kissed her languidly.  “The fact that he’s your oldest friend had nothing to do with it.”

She scowled, both because he was right, and because he’d stopped kissing her to speak.  “Shut up and kiss me, Kurtzberg.”

He grinned against her mouth, and kissed her again, more briefly.  “So is this why you dragged me in here?”  He nipped at her lip, then soothed it with another kiss.  “We can’t get carried away.  It’s going to start soon, and I’d hate to muss your hair.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”  She pulled away and returned to the door, frowning when she saw that the bridal party was gathering in the vestibule.  “Shit. I think we need to get out there. This isn’t going to be as long as the last one was, right?”

“No idea,” he said cheerfully.  “Come on, let’s go get in line.”

“You’re lucky I love you.  You and Adrien, both.”

He grinned at her back, thinking much the same thing.


“Hey, Chlo?”  

She glanced up at him as they meandered along the Seine, and wondered at the strange quality of his voice.  She raised her brows expectantly.

“Will you let me drag you to another wedding?”

She groaned.  “Another one? Who the hell is getting married this time, Alix and Kim? I thought they eloped!”

He stopped walking and caught at her hand, turning her to face him.  “I was hoping it would be ours.”  She gaped at him as he dropped to one knee, there in the middle of the sidewalk, and produced a small polished wood box from his pocket.  He opened it to reveal a beautiful, yet understated ring in a bed of black velvet.  A flawless yellow cushion-cut diamond sat perched in the center of a white gold ring, flanked by two, smaller, equally flawless trapezoid white diamonds.  It wasn’t large or flashy, but it was from him and it was perfect.  

“This isn’t the ring you deserve, but it’s yours—along with my heart.  I love you, Chloe.  Will you marry me?”

She looked from the ring to his anxious face, and put a hand to his cheek.  “Oh, you stupid tomato.  Of course I will marry you.”

“Oh, thank god!”  He surged to his feet and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, almost forgetting the box he still held in his shaking hand.  

She pushed him back, and held her left hand out to him, wiggling her fingers excitedly.  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Kurtzberg?  I want my ring!”