amies filles

4

this love is o u r s

Courferre fake dating au where Courfeyrac is Instagram famous and his PR tells him the best way to reach his next follower goal is to hire a fake attractive boyfriend.

Of course when Courfeyrac thinks “attractive boyfriend” for some reason the first place his mind goes to is Combeferre, and Combeferre does owe him a favour for that time he pulled an all nighter helping him study. They’re so close anyway it would look so much more natural than hiring a stranger, and he’s just so photogenic… What could possibly go wrong?

once-uponacaptain  asked:

Not sure if you're still taking prompts, but if you are, how about 'finding the other wearing their clothes'?

The last thing he thought he’d be doing on a Tuesday evening when the sky opened up and let out a monster of a thunderstorm, was leaving the house and getting caught in the rain. And yet, here he is, wringing water out of his clothes in the bathroom sink to get them just dry enough that they won’t leave trails when he takes them to the laundry room downstairs.

He heaves out a heavy sigh but he can’t seem to get mad. Because every time he tries, he thinks of Emma Swan knocking on his door and pulling him down several flights of stairs to soak him to his toes. His best friend is a thunderstorm in herself.

There’s a knock at the door, and he hums in reply.

“I made apology coffee,” Emma calls out. He laughs, as though she has anything to apologise for. She could lead him anywhere and he’d follow willingly, as head over heels as he is about her.

“I’ll be right there, love.”

It takes him a few seconds to gather his clothes in the basket at the corner, to push his fingers through his hair several times and look in the mirror, giving himself a silent pep talk. It’s mostly new, the discovery of the severity of his feelings for Emma. He’s always known he was drawn to her, but there’s something else there, too – a need to never be separated, a sensation of care that extends well beyond the natural, and a word that starts with L that he doesn’t think he should ever utter out loud in her presence. Not now anyway. Someday, maybe.

He hears her humming from the kitchen and smiles to himself.

“Apology coffee and a musical performance? Aren’t I just the luckiest man in the world.” It’s easy for him to slip into a tone of levity, even easier when she teases him right back.

“Please,” she scoffs. “You’re going to have to make me coffee if you want to hear me sing.”

“I make you coffee every single weekend,” he replies, throwing in a pout for good measure.

Emma shrugs, her smirk taking away from her excuse of an apology. She turns around to pick up the mugs from the counter and that’s when he notices it, the deep red fabric that bunches around her arms where she’s pushed the too long sleeves to her elbows. It hangs loosely on her frame, the threads fraying, the small tear in the hem glaring at him in recognition.

He hasn’t seen this sweatshirt in years, had forgotten about it completely, in fact. And here it is, worn by the woman he would never, in his existence, want to forget.

She places the mugs on the table and hesitates when he stays frozen in place. He’s staring, he knows, but he can’t help it.

“I forgot to bring an extra sweater, I thought it would be okay if I borrowed one?” she explains, though it comes out more like a question. He opens his mouth but doesn’t get a word out. Emma’s fingers run along the hem, fidgeting. “I’ll just go put it back in your drawer, I’ll be fine in my shirt.”

He steps in front of her when she tries to pass by him, and shakes his head.

“No, no, I just– my brother gave me that sweatshirt. I simply haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

“Shit, sorry, I should–,” she moves towards his room but he grabs her by the elbow and pulls her back in place.

“Swan, it’s perfectly fine. It even suits you,” he grins. And gods, does it ever. It brings out the gold of her hair and matches the red on her cheeks that’s always present during colder months. And it’s something else, to see her wrapped up in clothing that’s his. He’s pathetic in his longing for domesticity, for wanting it with Emma and Emma only. Unbidden, he imagines her in nothing but his sweatshirt, greeting him on a morning after with intimacy he should not be letting creep into his mind when she’s standing right in front of him.

He coughs, trying to cover it up.

She eyes him warily. “Are you sure?” He knows what she’s asking, Are you sure you want to trust me with this? As though she and Liam aren’t on the same standing in his mind, as though she isn’t deserving of being compared to his late brother. How she doesn’t see his heart beat straight out of his chest when she’s near, he’ll never know.

He gently runs a hand up and down her arm, and she visibly deflates at the gesture. He’s so close to her that he can count the creases on her forehead, knows they won’t leave her until the unnecessary guilt subsides.

“Positive,” he reassures.

And perhaps if he was privy to her thought process, he would expect her reaching up on her tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Instead, he stands there like a fool, stock still, as it happens.

“Thank you,” she practically whispers. She squeezes his hand once before stepping back. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

He watches her walk to the table, damp curls hanging down her back, at home in a place that isn’t hers. Engulfed in an article of clothing that he associates with warmth and comfort. Completely and irrevocably making his heart pound. He lets out a gust of a breath. A thunderstorm in herself, indeed.

intimacy prompts

amistillfeeling  asked:

“you’re mine, and i don’t share” being said by Raven, protecting/jealous Raven~

One jealous Rae Rae coming up!


Manipulative bitch.

She’d been tossed around, insulted, made to look the fool for the last time that day. 

She’d never been more angry, more volatile. 

Then, as if to add insult to injury, the evil woman found another way to crawl under her skin.

“What’s the matter, Rae-Rae? Can’t handle me? Or do you just hate seeing your green gremlin of a boyfriend ignoring you?” She sneered in the distance.

Raven stood up on unsteady legs, trying to control her rage before it consumed her. 

“Damn it, Beast Boy,” she seethed through gritted teeth, wobbling forward towards her adversary. 

He wanted to be a celebrity, he said.

He wanted the hot, blonde, bombshell girlfriends. 

She had warned him. 

Nothing good ever came from such gluttony. 

Now here she was, being battered by a space alien witch that looked like she had crawled out of those horror sci-fi movies themselves.

And for what?

Well, his life, of course. 

The fool had gone off and become enthralled by her wiles and ways and magic, as the alien had shapeshifted into Beast Boy’s ideal girlfriend. Now, he was seconds away from becoming alien fodder only to later be regurgitated in space, unless Raven severed the tentacle that held him, and slayed the ruthless witch that had tricked him so easily.

“I’m going to end you if you so much as try to hurt him,” a battered and bruised empath growled under her breath, her hair falling before her eyes. 

The amusement and sarcasm in the witch’s tone was unsympathetic. “How fickle and shallow the object of your affections truly is; never knowing you, never seeing you. Poor, sweet girl. He’ll never love the likes of you, for who could ever love something so hideous?” She mocked her, cackling at her sad misfortune in the most insincere tone.

Tears burned the backs of Raven’s eyes despite herself, stinging. Her throat, parched, was aching, her fingers like claws digging into her palms. 

She hated how much her words hurt.

Hated how true they were…

For how long had she loved him from afar?

For how long was she always second fiddle to the normal girls? The ones with flaxen hair and eyes the colour of the summer sky. 

Shutup! Just shutup!” She yelled, clutching at her head as anger and hurt and sadness overwhelmed her.

“Never going to be good enough…always meant to be alone…” 

Beast Boy’s verdant eyes remained glazed over, his head lolling from side to side in the witch’s slimy clutches. He was under her spell, long gone to this world, and perhaps that was for the best.

For in that moment, Raven’s more unpredictable emotions won out, and two ugly horns began to protrude from beneath her skin on her forehead. She grimaced in pain as they grew in size, seemingly ripping her flesh like sharp, pointed bones. 

The empath’s pale skin slowly changed into a striking shade of crimson, and the strands of her obsidian hair faded into a glowing, moonlight white. 

Anger; it pulsed beneath her flesh, burning hot and searing her vision. Her eyes, now four of them, flashed yellow as waves of power coursed through her. Once she’d tapped into rage’s manifestation, there was nothing that could stop her.

The world was hers for the taking. 

Raven had to smirk with a cocky satisfaction at the the brief look of fear in the face of the predator before her. Then, in an ethereal voice, echoed by one that was not hers, Raven cocked her head to the side, and said, “He’s mine, and I don’t share.” 

~FIN


;)

anonymous asked:

captain swan + 93? hope you have a good day!

a bit of canon fluff for you, love, with a little nod to Killian’s dialogue on the horizon being calming. I hope you like it <3

93. “You have the most amazing eyes.”

“You have the most amazing eyes.”

The sentence drops unbidden from Emma’s lips, a soft string of words that breaks the comfortable silence between them and causes Killian to halt his caressing fingers.

He pulls back a little to look at her, equal parts confused and amused.

They’d been sitting pressed against each other at the balcony of their bedroom for what felt like hours. After the griffin attacked Storybrooke last week, she’d only finished with handling repairs and complaints late last night. Her dad had insisted (in what she assumed was his Royal Voice) that she stay at home for the next few days. Killian had agreed, texting David sporadically throughout the day to ensure him that she was, in fact, relaxing.

(She’ll never understand their relationship.)

Killian’s insistence is how they ended up cuddled together, watching the perfect view of the sea, with mugs of hot chocolate to keep the chill away. Emma doesn’t know when she stopped mapping the horizon and instead started mapping the planes of Killian’s face, just that she didn’t really want to stop. And then the evening started approaching, and in the light of the golden hour, well, she just couldn’t help but make her judgment out loud.

“Have you only noticed them now, love? You sure know how to wound a man,” he chuckles, voice as quiet as hers was.

Emma smirks. “Please. I was just making an observation,” she taps once at his chest with her hand that’s resting there.

He hums, resumes running his fingers up and down her arm but doesn’t break eye contact. “I’d say it was more of an opinion, Swan. Which could only mean you’re trying to seduce me with your words, and although I am a man of honour, I do accept.”

He says it with such propriety that Emma can’t help but laugh. When he breaks out into a full grin, she knows that’s what he was going for.

Emma reaches up and runs a thumb under the curve of his eye. It makes his expression soften, his eyelashes flutter. (And yeah, he’s got amazing eyelashes, too.) He doesn’t wear as much kohl anymore, only a little, and sometimes he forgoes it completely. It used to make his eyes brighter, but she finds his eyes are already a colour she can’t quite describe. It’s as though someone mixed all the oceans together to create the most striking blue.

“Your brother’s were a different shade,” she muses, knitting her brows in concentration to make sure she’s remembering Liam correctly.

Killian nods, leaning into her palm. “I took after my mother in that regard, or so Liam told me.” He smiles, and she can’t help but mirror it. When she leans into him, he doesn’t hesitate to respond with a lingering kiss that she can feel down to her toes.

“If you keep staring at me, you’re going to miss the sunset,” he says with a smirk when he pulls back. He raises an eyebrow for good measure when she doesn’t look away from him.

“I think I like this view better,” she hums.

Killian looks down and then back at the water, an adorable rosy hue tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. She wonders just how long he had to go without someone offering him a genuine compliment based on a simple observation. She thumbs at his cheeks for a moment before dropping her hand back to his chest, the other playing with the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck.

She wants to tell him about all the amazing things he is, and she promises herself to do just that.

Killian presses her a little closer to him. They fall back into silence, and Emma watches his gentle expression as he watches the water, his eyes like the ocean calming her like no other thing can.

onceuponaprincessworld  asked:

hi there, how about a "One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc." with captain swan?

“And then?” Emma urges him from behind the wooden folding panel, excitement evident in her voice.

Killian chuckles. “Then, I knocked two out when they came below deck, hands tied behind my back. Fought my way up after cutting the rope and nicking a sword. I had the captain on his knees in no time, sword to his throat and control of his ship in my hands. That’ll teach him to capture the crew of the Jolly.”

He admits, he has quite a bit of fun regaling his tales, especially to her. Even if her immediate response is almost always–

“How much of that is true?”

“I assure you, love,” he replies, putting hand to his heart even though she can’t see, “I would never lie to you.”

Emma hums in what he knows to be mock disbelief, but he can hear her amusement. It’s a game she plays, teasing him. He enjoys it quite a bit.

Killian fiddles with a trinket of a wooden swan on her dresser, turning it over and over in his hand before setting it back down. He looks up to see himself in the small mirror that hangs on her wall, and notes, not for the first time, how out of place his rougish character seems in the pristine room. He isn’t allowed to be in here, in the Princess’ bedchambers; it isn’t proper. But propriety left the equation the first time Emma kissed him in an alleyway behind a tavern, so there’s that.

He never would have thought, in any life, that the paths of a Pirate Captain and a Princess would ever cross, let alone become so intimately entangled.

“You sure you don’t want to join me at the ball?” his princess asks.

“Though I do appreciate the offer, I prefer my head attached to my neck.”

“Let it be known that the terror of the seven seas, the notorious Captain Hook, fears the Prince Consort,” Emma snorts. It is so unladylike, so far–he’s sure–from the mannerisms that would have been taught to her growing up. There is something to be said about this, the bits she hides from the rest of the kingdom but that are given so freely to him. He smiles.

“It’s your mother that terrifies me, darling.”

Emma laughs, and it warms him from the inside. He’s a fool to have fallen in love with a Princess, one who is fierce and intelligent, one who renders him useless with a touch, one whom he has no future with, would never truly be deserving of.

“So?” Emma says, piercing his thoughts. He hears a rustle of fabric and turns around, finding her in a gown of gold-ish beige, beads catching in the candlelight so it looks like she’s glowing.

He tries to speak but no words come out. She looks enchanting, he wants to tell her, riveting, like a glimmer of light in a long, dark, existence. (His, specifically, but perhaps he shouldn’t get too carried away.)

Emma watches him curiously, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” he gets out, a soft laugh swallowing up the last syllable. She rolls her eyes but grins anyway.

She hasn’t put on her high heeled shoes yet so she’s still a foot shorter than him when he steps closer. He reaches out his hand to the back of her neck, tracing the delicate golden chain she’s wearing. He gently tugs it out of the place where it’s caught itself in the handiwork of the strap of her dress.

The pendant is a gemstone, rare and unheard of in this land. It is the exact shade of green that matches her eyes. He’d gotten it for her on the occasion of her birthday a few months prior. He can’t help the way the side of his mouth quirks up.

Killian rights the direction of the necklace and stops his hand just shy of the pendant, thumb stroking her collarbone slowly. The air of lightness has subsided and when he looks up, he finds Emma fixated on him, gaze intense and breaths shallow.

“Truly, you look stunning.”

When she kisses him, it’s deliberately slow and deep as though she’s attempting to slow down time. He knows, he’s guilty of it too. His hooked hand encircles her waist and he presses her closer, wishing this could be a permanent embrace, and not one shared in secret behind locked doors and in shadowed alleys under disguises.

“This thing would be much more fun with you, Killian,” she murmurs, nudging his nose with hers once she breaks the kiss. They both know he can’t attend a royal gathering, not with the crimes of thievery and disservice to the crown on his head.

“Aye, I’m loath to miss an evening with you,” he rasps out. “But I’ll meet you after, and we’ll make sure you have some fun, hm?”

He feels her smirk pressed up against his lips when he kisses her.

intimacy prompts

shady-swan-jones  asked:

drabble prompts: i thought it would be fun if you did a combination of 57 and 62. <3

I’m sorry for taking so long with this Sophie, thanks for being so patient with me, I hope you like this <3

57. “Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!” + 62. “That came out wrong.”

Killian can barely feel his limbs by the time the chase is over and the criminals have been apprehended and brought in. He puts all his weight on his right leg, wary of his left that was injured in a tackle last week appears to be throbbing now.

He slumps down in his chair. It rolls a little backwards under his pressure and he can’t be bothered to drag it back to its original place. Not right now anyway; he’ll give himself a few minutes to collect himself and then proceed with the paperwork.

It’s late enough that it’s just him at his desk, their drug bust stretching out for longer than either him or Emma had expected. But he has nowhere to be, so he might as well get a head start on the documentation.

He hears footsteps and despite being turned away, he knows it’s her. He could recognise the heavy tread of her boots anywhere. It was only a matter of time before she sought him out to chew his ear off. He’s been preparing himself for this for hours.

“Jones, what the hell was that?”

He tilts his head to the side to regard her, a vision with her expression fierce and her hands on her hips. She’s tied her hair up and slid out of her signature red leather jacket. She looks like a marvel, and he laments for every instance she’s shot his teasing flirtatious down, every invitation for a celebratory drink she’s declined, and every smile she’s given him that’s disappeared before it’s even fully formed. Killian sighs and launches into his explanation, “I know, Swan, I didn’t follow the plan. But quite frankly I believe I was in the right. I saw an opening and I took it.”

“Jones–”

“And I know we talked about this and drew up a clear method to infiltrate them, and I know it was a risky move to bust in the way I did with the state my leg is in. It was not the brightest idea, I agree.”

“Jones–”

“But had I insisted on following through with our initial plan of attack, there is no doubt that one of the men would have found us out and have had us by our necks in an instant. Not to mention–”

“Damnit Killian, will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!”

Killian’s mouth hangs halfway open, his words cut off instantly. His brain doesn’t make the connection to close it, not until Emma sighs and runs a hand over her face.

“Go on, then,” he mumbles after a moment. He sure as hell was not expecting her to sing his praises after he did what she specifically told him not to do.

“You are such an idiot,” she huffs out, and Killian makes a noise of resignation in the back of his throat. Emma squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head heavenward. Under her breath, he hears her say, “That came out wrong.”

He sits up straighter when she opens her eyes and moves to lean on his desk, right in front of him.

“What I mean is,” she pauses, chews on her bottom lip, and then finally says, “thank you. If you hadn’t did what you did, that guy would’ve shot me. And then you. And then this whole thing would’ve been over.”

Killian furrows his brows, not sure how to take her sincerity despite it making his heart thud harder and chest feel warmer. “I was only looking to protect you,” he says, his hand automatically going to scratch behind his ear in a nervous tic he despises.

“I know.” She nods and looks at her crossed arms. “But it was still a stupid move, your leg is jacked up and now you’ve probably made it worse.”

“Ah, and the true Swan returns,” he teases at her ability to throw insults at him in quick succession.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“I thank the heavens every day that you’ve taken it upon yourself to do that job,” he smirks.

Emma rolls her eyes and stands up. “You should really get home, you’ve had a long day. And you should rest your leg.” She’s still giving him orders but the earnestness in her eyes betrays her.

“As much as I appreciate the concern, love, I think I’ll stick around for a little while.”

She hesitates for a second before giving him a stiff nod, and disappearing into the kitchen, no doubt to grab her things and be on her way. He knows how she works, her flight instinct a blazing alarm in her mind. There’s something about her walls that remind him so much of his own, something about her pain that makes him want to erase it.

He’s still musing on his infatuation with his partner when she comes back into his line of vision. She carefully places two mugs of coffee on his desk and slings off her messenger bag before heaving out a stack of papers.

She’s rolled over a chair and seated herself on the opposite end of the desk before Killian catches on to what’s happening.

“Forgive me if I sound rude, but what are you doing?”

“I figured you could use some company.” She doesn’t meet his eyes, instead opting to unnecessarily sift through her papers. “Besides, I thought we could have a celebratory drink.”

Killian’s eyes move from her to the mugs, and before he knows it, he’s opening his drawer and uncorking his flask of rum. He raises his eyebrows in question and she nods.

“You keep alcohol in your desk?” Emma asks, a smirk forming on her lips.

“You don’t?” he shoots back.

She hums, but doesn’t say anything else. She lifts up her mug in a toast when he’s done and he follows suit. “To getting the job done.”

“To us,” he amends, “we do make quite the team.”

Emma smiles. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

(And when she kisses him after a few hours of conversation and laughter, tasting of caffeine and rum, there’s no doubting how good of a team they do make.)

Panic

You were always prone to mental breakdowns whenever you got too stressed. Why would this time be any different? You’d gotten behind in class due to illness and you had tons of work to makeup by the end of the semester. That just so happened to be in two days. So late Wednesday night, early Thursday morning you were surrounded by half finished homework papers, lots of disposable coffee cups, and a lot of tissues. Around three in the morning after finally finishing the hardest math sheet you had ever seen, that’s when it started. The mental dam in your mind cracked as you chucked your pencil across the room in frustration.
‘Fuck it,’ you thought. ‘I need ice cream.’ So down into the kitchen you went, trying to be as quiet as possible so your housemates wouldn’t wake up. Grabbing a spoon and your favorite flavor of ice cream from the freezer, you sit comfortably in a corner on the floor and dig in. But of course, what could possibly go right tonight? The first spoonful of the sweet treat fell right on the floor. That’s when the dam broke. Tears began to pour out of your eyes as you shoved the carton away from you, throwing the spoon so hard it probably dented the wall it came in contact with. Sobs built up in your chest that you just couldn’t hold back.
“Why is everything so FUCKING hard?!” You scream, your emotional distress causing your voice to raise an octave higher. You curl up into a ball and lie on the floor, sobbing violently and that’s how the team found you. Tyler was the first to get your attention.
“Hey, hey, shh Y/N shh. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here, everybody is here.” His tired voice rang in your ears as you felt yourself being moved. Something strong and warm wrapped around you as Tyler continued to murmur comforting words into your ear. A moment later, Mark appeared in your line of vision with tissues. He was followed by Amy, holding a mug filled with what you assumed to be tea based on the smell. Kathryn wrapped you and Tyler in your favorite heated blanket while Ethan got a new spoon from the silverware drawer. By this time, your sobs had quieted to sniffles but tears were still coming.
“You wanna tell us what’s wrong, Y/N?” Amy asked quietly, handing you the tea.
“Y-you guys are so nice.” You whimpered, curling farther into Tyler.
“I mean yeah, but why are you crying?” Mark grinned and you giggled a little, sipping the warm drink to try and soothe your raw throat. After a few minutes of patient silence, you sigh and wipe your eyes.
“I got so far behind in school because I’ve been sick the past two weeks. The stress really got to me and I just… broke.” Everyone gives you an empathetic look.
“We’ve all been there sweet pea.” Kathryn says, smiling. “Why didn’t you come to any of us for help? We would all have been glad to help you work.” You shake your head and cast your eyes downwards.
“I couldn’t ask you guys to do that. You do enough as it is.”
“Oh bullshit.” Ethan says. “You’re part of our little family now. We’ve all gotta help each other out, even if it means with,” he pauses and shudders dramatically. “Homework.” At this you laugh and some of the the tension leaves your shoulders.
“Thanks guys. You’re the best.”
“We know.” Amy says and grins. “Now let’s get some sleep, and we can all tackle that homework tomorrow. Sound good?”
You nod and smile.
‘I have got the best friends ever.’

A/N thank you so much to @sadboyoliverinvisibleboy for requesting this! Sorry it took a little longer than promised but hopefully it’s what you wanted!

Requests are open!

katie-dub  asked:

CS + 21 for the drabbles if you're up for it please 😊

I am always up for fake relationship aus, I hope you like this!

21. “We have to pretend to be married.”

“We have to pretend to be married.”

Killian almost chokes on his coffee, and she thinks maybe she should have picked another time to mention this to him. Maybe more strategically. And not in the middle of their favourite diner, during the breakfast rush, no less. “Pardon?”

“Actually, marriage would mean we’d have to have pictures of some kind of wedding and knowing Granny, she’d want to see the certificate, too.” Emma groans. “Engaged,” she nods to herself, and then to Killian, “we have to pretend to be engaged.”

Killian pushes his coffee mug away from him, and shakes his head as if coming out of a daze. “Apologies, Swan, but I don’t follow.”

Emma sighs. “My brother’s getting married.”

“And apparently so are we?” he interrupts with a quirk of his brow.

“No. Well. Look, David is getting married and I have to go back to my hometown for the wedding. Which means every single person will realize how much of a loner and shit at life I am and I can take it, but my mom doesn’t need that from her neighbours and her colleagues and, like, the fucking grocery store cashier.” Emma inhales heavily, and squeezes her eyes shut. Honestly, small towns and their stupid judgmental gossip mills. “So, would you pretend to be my fiance?”

When she opens her eyes, Killian’s blinking at her. The whole concept is ridiculous, and it’s just for that reason that she think it might work. Besides, when she came up with the plan at three in the morning, a very large part of her brain told her that letting Killian wrap an arm around her waist and curl his hand around hers wouldn’t be the worst thing. (It would probably be one of the best, if she lets that small voice in the back of her head be heard.)

“You are going to your brother’s wedding,” Killian says slowly.

“Yes.”

“I am to be your date.”

“Yes.”

“And not just any date. A fiance. Your fiance.”

“Yes.”

He continues to stare at her with an expression she can’t read. She fidgets with the zipper of her jacket before reaching up and curling her hair around her ears.

“Is it really necessary for you to go through such a charade?” he asks, finally breaking the tense silence.

And okay, she knew there was fifty percent chance he’d say no. They were best friends, but that didn’t mean he would willingly jump into the mouth of a snapping crocodile for her. But she’ll be lying if she says she isn’t a little disappointed. At the prospect of not getting to act like he’s actually hers, or him not wanting to see her that way, she isn’t sure.

He’s still waiting on her answer, so she supplies him with a weak nod.

“And when is this wedding?”

“In three weeks.”

“How long will it be?”

“A week, maybe two, if David wants me to come early and help out.” She sighs, and resigns herself to his rejection, tries not to take it too personally. It’s not like she’s told him flat out that she has feelings for him and he’s shot her down. But, still.

Killian keeps his expression pointedly neutral, and reaches for a napkin. He lays it out in front of him and maneuvers a pen out of the pocket of his jeans. He clicks it open and begins writing in his stupidly perfect cursive.

“What are you doing?” she chances, after he’s already reached halfway to the bottom of his napkin.

“I’m writing you a list of things I will do as your fake fiance, should you need me to do them.” He says it so casually, that she can only assume he’s making fun of her.

“Killian, I was being serious about this.”

He looks up at her, pen poised over the napkin. “As am I.” It takes everything in her not to jump over the table and pull him into a crushing hug when she hears no lie in his words. Instead, she nods, and picks up her mug of coffee while he goes back to his list. She watches as strands of his hair fall into his eyes, and as he pauses every few moments to think before jotting down more points, ever so often smiling to himself. Some days she tries to talk herself out of loving Killian Jones, but in moments like these she finds that that isn’t exactly possible.

It takes him a few minutes, but eventually he slides his napkin to her side of the table and watches her expectedly as she picks it up.

  • Regale the story of our first meeting and of how I proposed to you
  • Constantly provide you with drinks to make the experience easier
  • Alternatively: propose a drinking game based on your relatives
  • Brag about your achievements
  • Start a fight with an old boyfriend who decides he wants you back (can be physical, if need be)
  • Steal the mic at the wedding to tell everyone how much I adore you
  • Pretend to be really drunk so you can leave early
  • Let you eat my slice of the cake

More to be decided upon further request from the future (pretend) Mrs. Swan-Jones

There’s a tightness in Emma’s throat as she re-reads it once (okay, maybe twice) more, which is why she prides herself in how even her voice comes out when she says, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you want to marry me anyway.” He gives her a full grin this time, the one that reaches his eyes and brings his dimples to life. She has to snap herself out of staring, has to remind herself that even if there’s a lining of truth to his words, that this will all be pretend.

Two weeks. She can do two weeks of pretending to be in a long term relationship with a guy she’s head over heels about, one who doesn’t share her feelings. How hard could it be?

want a drabble?

I- Um- Feels.

(x)

Prompt: (Sonic Forces, cause I can’t stop thinking of scenarios xD ahhh!!! lol)

After a pretty big fight concerning leadership decisions and ethical standings, Amy stormed off away from the team, and carried off Classic her too.

Once far enough away, Amy tried to make a plan for retrieving the Ancient Powered Gears that Eggman was using to control the world and get his wishes and way.

She paced back and forth, as Classic Amy seemed worried about her, before looking over her shoulder, concerned as well that she wasn’t able to be with her hero…

“We could do this in a safe, strategic, and morally correct way where no one needs to get hurt or feel used and unappreciated. Don’t you think my plan will work, little m- ROSIE!”

Classic Amy twitched at her nickname, and swiftly spun around, sitting on her knees politely, she shivered slightly at the abrupt noise, before pouting at how rude it was to yell her thoughts away from Sonic.

Amy bent down and placed her hands on her hips, looking upset she wasn’t listening, and slightly frustrated too.

When she saw her face, she immediately knew what she was feeling… and her heart filled with loneliness too…

It just… wasn’t like how it was before… But she still wondered…

“I know, little me… I know.” she turned her head down and away, placing a fisted-hand up to her chest, and seeming sorrowful.

“I-… Ohh! I would miss him more if he wasn’t being so.. so.. difficult!” She stomped her foot down and looked away.

Classic Amy bent her ears slightly and smiled emphatically, before her ears perked up with a spinning noise and she turned around, jumping to her feet.

Holding her hands in light fists up to her face, she scanned over the area.

“Huh? That sound..?” Amy turned, and immediately looked hopefully surprised for something, and raced to Classic Amy’s side, before stepping further up…

When the two heard it again, Classic Amy’s face lit up, seeing a stream of blue light coming over and arching down the hill.

“…He came back…” Modern Amy breathed out, as if amazed and touched. “He came back for me…” She stepped a few, several wobbly steps forward.

When the streak of blue swerved towards the girls, Classic Amy jumped in a type of happy-victory dance, and waved both hands up wide to signal where they were.

In amazement, Modern Amy stopped.

When the light drew closer, she squinted her eyes…

It.. it was small.

The light dimmed to reveal a small stature, but a determined little face, holding a striking stare that could only mean annoyance.

“…It’s not-…” she stumbled backwards, lowering her hands and looking down.

Crushed.

Had he not forgiven her?

Was he not going to come back?

Classic Sonic sped right past Modern Amy, as she held her head down, her eyes covered in shadows, as her hair moved with his speed in a delicate, but swift motion.

Bouncing giddily at her hero’s appearence, Classic Amy hopped to the side and waited for him to skid to a halt.

In the which case, he paused and put his hands on his hips, leaning forward as if to scold her a moment, though realizing it wasn’t entirely her fault for being whisked away by her older self.

He leaned back and rolled his eyes, clearly there for her and her alone.

She seemed to squee and jump towards him, hugging him as he struggled slightly but didn’t push her away.

Hearing Classic Amy’s happy, joyful sounds made Modern Amy grit her teeth and tighten her fists.

She flung herself around.

“She’s not going ANYWHERE.”

Classic Sonic had gotten Classic Amy to let go, and had his arms folded as he looked to her, before being shocked and frankly spooked a bit at Amy’s alarming declaration as she marched over and scooped up Classic Amy again, holding her over her shoulder.

Classic Amy blinked her eyes, not sure what was going on, but not fighting it either it seemed.

For a moment, she lay limp, still used to getting captured. But after a moment, she started kicking her legs and flailing her arms out to her hero, wanting to be put down and rejoin with him in his arms~<3

“Hmph.” Modern Amy glared down at Classic Sonic, before swiping her head to the right, and puffing up her cheek.

“If you want her, you fight for her!”

Classic Sonic raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take that declaration, before bending his knees and ducking his head, looking ready to fight.

Amy flinched, lifting and withdrawing a hand back. “Yeesh! I didn’t mean for you to get all serious like that!” she blinked in worry… before…

He spun into a tight ball and started jamming into her head like a homing attack x 4.

She was knocked back quite a few times before summoning her hammer, flailing it around as she closed her eyes, not wanting to get hit anymore.

“Q-quit that! You-!! Why you little-! Stooop!!!” she swung around but he landed a little aways from her, folded his arms and faced her from the back.

He shook his head, thinking this ridiculous, before sighing.

He looked up just then, seeing a taller figure as a hand came down from above him and gestured in a bob of itself to remain calm.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I got this…”

It was a calm and affirming voice, one that sounded trustworthy, as Classic Sonic didn’t quite understand, but allowed him to pass and didn’t torment the older Amy any further.

Classic Amy had her eyes filled with swirls, dizzy from the spinning and rapid movements, as Modern Amy kept trying to dodge invisible attacks she thought were still around her.

With her eyes squinted shut, she didn’t see a hand grip her hammer, stopping it from it’s random movements.

“H-huh?” Amy noticed the power struggle shift a moment, and didn’t remember Classic Sonic being so…

Tall.

“What are you trying to do? Fight the wind?” Sonic shook his head, and let her hammer go.

“Hand over little you. My other me is worried about her.” he gestured to Classic Sonic a little ways away, as he did look pretty fed up with Amy’s rebellion, and outstretched his hand.

Amy looked at that hand… wishing to trust it again, but feeling hurt from before, and held onto her younger self tighter, bringing her in front of her and pulling her away from him.

“No! I won’t let him miss treat her like a toy!”

The word caught both Sonic’s off guard, and the hand immediately withdrew in a painful flinch.

The look of surprise and hurt was apparent, before Classic Sonic lost his temper, and sped forward.

He stomped the ground and let his anger full force be known, and then threw out his hand, demanding the girl!

Classic Amy looked down, innocent to his actions, and tilted her head, looking like she didn’t quite understand.

Sonic looked down, understanding his frustrations, and how he wasn’t used to Amy’s new behavior in the future…

He glared up at her, showing his frustrations too. “Amy! Quit this!” he swished his hand out in front of him.

“You’re not helping!”

“I’m trying to help, Sonic! If you would only listen to me!”

“Listen to what?! Amy? You’ve been at my throat since I got here. Why are you so against me!?” he spread his arms out, as Classic Sonic tapped his toe, folding his arms again, realizing the only way to get Amy was probably to let them talk things out, but he was growing impatient with that tactic…

“I’m not against you! How could you say such a thing! I thought.. for a moment I thought you weren’t coming back!” her anger suddenly turned to her true sorrow, and Sonic suddenly lost some of his anger’s fire through the water of her beginning tears…

She held them back, beautifully, though.

He also held himself back now, standing more up and trying a new tactic too..

Listening.

“All I’ve wanted to do is help you! And all you keep doing is ignoring me! You give orders and you leave as if you haven’t been gone for so long! You make such rash decisions and don’t think of the lives at stake here! I’m not trying to fight you, Sonic! I have a bigger issue concerning a common enemy to even DARE and think such a thing!” she pointed an arm out and towards the sky, gesturing to Eggman’s large robots.

Sonic’s eyes followed the notion, before frowning deeply and looking back at her, still not sure what she was getting at.

“Then why do you fight me?” He asked this pretty tenderly, as if truly seeking understanding instead of an argument over ideals for a change.

He motioned his arms out, stepping forward, as Amy avoided the gestured by looking away.

“All I’ve been trying to do is save lives here… yours included, Amy…”

Getting annoyed with the touchy-feely way this conversation was going, Classic Sonic twitched an eyebrow, opening his eyes and finally being done waiting.

He saw the opportunity to grab his era’s Amy when her hand moved away, and bounced up to kick her other arm away as she was avoiding eye-contact.

“H-hey!”

Classic Amy jumped into his arms, wrapping her hands around him, as he quickly got down and took off, having what he came for.

“Little me-!”

Amy reached out and started to run after them, but Sonic turned around and gripped her arm, pulling her back.

“Let them go.”

“N-no! I don’t want her to feel… to feel…” she could barely even utter the word, her mouth trembled shut when she attempted too, and little whimpers slightly escaped her as she tried to form the breath to say it.

He pulled her back into his arms, and put an arm around in front of her, slightly below the neck.

She reflexed a hand up and gripped the arm, blinking her eyes wildly as tears threatened once more, and she looked to the ground, then out to where they ran off too.

She opened her mouth before closing it again, hearing him speak just behind her lowered head.

“Feel what… Amy?”

Classic Sonic sped off as Classic Amy smiled and leaned into his embrace, before feeling something was unright, and looked over his shoulder.

Her eyes filled with compassion when she saw her older self throw her hands over her eyes, and be turned around as the older Sonic held her, tightening his hold and seeming to comfort her.

She made a face of shocked horror, realizing her older self needed her.

She looked angrily up at her Sonic, and kicked and struggled as it threw him off course.

He made a video game noise of slipping up and wobbling, as if being hit, and skidded to a halt over the dew’d grass, and then turned his head to her, narrowing his eyes as he searched for understanding in his confusion of her actions.

She made another noise and pointed behind her, back to their future selves.

He turned around to look over his shoulder, and twitched at the intimate scene he saw going on.

He shook his head, in what looked to be fear, and reered a leg up with Amy to the side in his arms as if ready to dash off.

She puffed up a cheek, and bonked him with her hammer on his head.

His eyes swirled as rings plopped out, and then shook his head from the effect and glared back at her, pouting.

She looked more sincerely to him, tilting her as if saying, ‘come on..!’ and showing she was truly worried about them.

Classic Sonic leaned his head up and away from her, but his eyes stayed fixed.

His ears drooped back in frustration, but he couldn’t resist her heartfelt plea.

He turned back to the Modern tragedy, and sighed, before racing back to them.

Sonic looked up from Amy crying and moved slightly, as Amy felt the shift and turned her head back to their Classic selves.

Classic Sonic stared at her a moment, not really liking her, but put his Amy down and folded his arms, waiting once more.

She nodded to him, a huge smile as to say ‘thank you for waiting for me’ and then ran up to Amy with a skip in her step.

Amy knelt down.

“I’m sorry… I pulled you away from your hero. All because me and my Sonic were fighting…” she put a hand up to her eye, wiping it gently. “I was… I was jealous… and embarrassed… because I knew you expected so much more from your future.” she bent her head down. “Sonic’s not always mean… And he doesn’t mean to be sometimes, but..”

Modern Sonic’s shoulders dropped as air escaped his nostrils, and he looked away, feeling awkward about being called out.

His younger self raised a judging brow to that comment, and looked to his future self.

Modern Sonic doubled-taked his expression before stomping a foot down and lifting a fist, warning him indirectly to quit judging him.

He then pulled back to turn away.

“Either way. I’m sorry for my selfish behavior. Me and Sonic are going to have a long talk now. So you can go. We’ll be okay. Many challenges can come up when you have close friends. But…” she looked down to the side, before up behind her at Sonic.

“Greater friends put differences behind them. And walk on towards a brighter future.” she smiled, as Sonic looked back to her, and then away to scratch his nose, as if embarrassed.

She giggled and turned back to Classic Amy.

Once she turned around, and he checked with his eyes to be sure of this, he leaned up to address Classic Amy, and held up a thumbs up and a signature wink with a smile.

It was as if he was telling her it would be alright too.

Seeing that the two were going to make-up made Classic Amy’s worried expression of love turn to pure delight, and she did her usual dance and happy twirling of jumps before rushing into Modern Amy’s arms and hugging her.

Once done, she raced back to her hero, who casually, as if duty, just scooped her back up without much care for the Modern scenario and walked off a moment, bouncing Classic Amy in his arms to get a good hold on her.

Also… it made her laugh, that could have contributed to the action too.

Modern Amy smiled when she saw them leave, before returning to a small, neutral frown and getting up, dusting off her dress.

“…You ready?” Sonic turned back to her, and offered his hand.

“….Em.” she looked at him, then the hand, and accepting a new trust needed to be formed, along with a new understanding, she took it.

The two, led by Sonic, walked off further down and away from humanity, finding some privacy.

“I’m… not good with compromises Amy… but I can explain… a little, of what I was doing so far away from everything.” he looked down, kicking the ground.

She nodded, her hand still in his.

“…I don’t want you to think… that it’s… entirely because of what I’m going to say. But i hope it explains my behavior lately…. especially towards you.”

She nodded again, wiping her eyes.

“…I… We’ve been getting..*ehem* we’ve spent a lot of time getting to know each other, you know?”

He let go of her hand, and threw his arms up behind his head.

She was surprised and perplexed by his suddenly shift in uneasiness, and blinked up at him.

“Huh?”

He stared off towards the sun.

“…We… We’ve *Ehem* had a lot of adventures together… you know?” he once again dropped his hands and continued to press his toe into the dirt.

“Makes a guy think… exactly… what this is… It’s difficult for me to really call it anything… or place a title on it… but…” he turned away and walked on, looking up again.

“Made me think. That’s all.”

She was suddenly, and very slowly, growing more and more interested in what he was trying to say.

She followed, suspiciously, behind him.

“What you took for um…*cough, ehem* ‘Anger’ was actually a cover.” Sonic placed a fist over his mouth, as if this was hard for him to articulate.

Amy’s stare held, before her eyes widened.

“What..”

“… was the cover?”

Sonic turned back around, facing her.

The light through the sky seemed to blare over the image of the two, details were lost, but words were crisp and clear…

He looked down again after a moment of staring.

His feet kicked up slowly over the other.

“That’s the thing… that’s hard for me to address… one I can’t name. Nor identify…”

He stopped closer in front of her, and slowly… rose his head up to her eyes.

“Out of fear.”

The wind rushed by.

Amy’s hair gently floated behind her, as she slowly held a hand up to her chest in a tight ball again, her heart pounding.

He looked at her expression, then her eyes, trying to read what she was getting from all this.

He looked away again, and walked briskly ahead once again, swinging his arms around.

“I can’t say I have an answer! But half the reason I wasn’t around for so long was one, the Gears, and two, some thoughts. More things popped up, but the thoughts were the most present and…”

He stopped from his carefree facade, and turned back to her… then swished his head away as if embarrassed or ashamed at his next word.

“Haunting..”

“Sonic…”

He immediately noticed her expression and grew shyer, more defensive, and especially continued to avoid being directly assertive again.

“Ehem.” he cleared his throat once more and folded his arms, looking away. “We should head back. I’ll try and be more considerate of your feelings this time. I’ll let you battle more and even take charge of your own positioning. Just… Just promise me one thing, Amy Rose.”

He turned back to her, swaggering up, before stopping the swaying to try and hold himself seriously again, but his nature suggested he tried to play most of his feelings off, and Amy was picking up on that.

His eyes were a serious plea, and Amy could hear the slight shift in tone too…

He wasn’t playing around.

This was a sincere desire of his heart for her too keep.

“Just.. Don’t get hurt. Don’t let me lose anything more.”

“….”

“Okay?”

She was going to keep that promise, forever..

And ever.

My feels right now, I need to go to bed, goodbye sweet, cruel world.

(AU-y, but I tried to stick to character as much as possible…)

sir-sirius-black  asked:

CS + 91 please 😊

so, how about a monster hunters au?

91. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Killian tightens his grip on his gun, knowing full well they won’t be able to hide from the beast any longer. He did guess that by taking the job to hunt down the realm’s most dangerous hybrid dragon, he’d be putting his life at the most peril that it’d ever been in. 

He turns his head to look at Emma, her mouth set in a thin line. What he did not guess was that he’d actually want to live, for once. 

It’s easy to be a monster hunter when you’ve got nothing to lose besides yourself. That’s why their profession is full of loners with pasts much like his own. What isn’t easy is taking on the most dangerous job of your career and reluctantly working with an assigned partner, only to find yourself wanting nothing more than to have someone worth fighting for. Never in his life has he wished harder than now that he was born in another time, another life, but with Emma Swan by his side for all of it. 

He swallows heavily. These could be his final moments.

“Perhaps this is not the time,” Killian says in between panting, catching her attention, “but you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Emma blinks at him, and for a brief second he wonders if she’s blinking away some sort of emotion. “Is that really the pep talk you’re going with? You’re usually better at these.”

She’s deflecting, and it eases something in his chest when she quirks one corner of her mouth up despite her shining eyes. 

“Forgive me, I’ve a tendency to get emotional when I’m at death’s door,” he says only half joking. 

She shakes her head. “You’ve got a lot of life left to live, Jones, don’t count this as your best moment.”

Killian makes sure his dagger is still securely clipped to his belt when he hears a heavy roar that shakes the ground beneath them. He looks to Emma, her back pressed to the wall opposite from him. She’s close enough that he can see the littering of scratches she’s acquired from their weeks of trailing and chasing this beast. 

“Starting to believe in happy endings, are you?” he grunts, trying to maintain their banter so the fear doesn’t overcome the both of them. 

“Guess you’ve rubbed off on me. You ready?” she adds after a second of just looking at him. 

He nods, feels her slip her hand in his and squeeze once before she slips out and yells to catch the attention of the monster. It’s all the courage he needs to follow after her.

-/-

When he comes to, it’s with a heavy pounding in his head and a numbness in his left shoulder. 

“Killian?” It takes him a moment to place Emma’s frantic voice, and then he groans in recognition. “Killian, God,” her voice comes out in a relieved rush and he feels her fingers on his cheek. 

He manages to open his eyes in time to see Emma lean in close. Then her lips are on his in a soft kiss that he wishes would never end. All the hurt in him dissipates as he tangles his hand in her hair to keep her close, focusing only on the way her mouth moves against his. 

When she pulls back she doesn’t get far with him holding her. He’s on the ground, he realizes, and Emma’s on her knees. She’s got a gash that runs down the side of her neck but her mouth is pulled up in a wide smile. 

“I told myself if we made it out alive, I’d kiss you.”

“Did we?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

“Forgive me, love. With a kiss like that, a man can only assume he’s made it to heaven,” he murmurs, still toying with her hair. And then it hits him. “You did it, Swan.”

“We did it.” She looks to her left and he follows her gaze to see the fallen dragon, its skin sizzling in deterioration. She turns back to him, “Even if you did get knocked out and didn’t see it happen,” she teases. 

“Not a very good move for a partner,” he scrunches his nose up, hating himself for leaving her to finish the battle alone. 

Emma shakes her head, and pulls him up by his arms so he’s sitting. She brushes his hair away from his eyes. “I wouldn’t trade my partner for the world,” she whispers. 

His chest swells with happiness and hope – two things he’s been devoid of for a very, very, long time. “I believe we share that sentiment.” 

She smiles enough that her dimples peek out. It’s a rare thing to see on her, especially considering the field of work they’re in. She wraps her arms around him and embraces him tightly, her nose pressed into his neck. He holds on as hard as he can without hurting himself further, placing a kiss on her hair. 

“For the record, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too,” she mumbles into his skin. 

He doesn’t know where he’ll go from here, but he knows that wherever he does, he wants to go there with her.

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