now that i drew him i want him to burn also

Angel

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Mardi Gras shenanigans. It’s porn, plot is optional.

Word Count:1,976

Warnings: Language, Smoking, Dirty Talk, Oral (MR)

A/N: Are you ready for the longest blowjob in history… (I don’t own the gif)

“Did it hurt?” Sam approached you, a sly smirk on his lips. When you didn’t play along and simply shot him an unimpressed look, he snickered. “…when you fell from Heaven.”

Yeah, you were dressed as an angel.

Not your idea, though. As it turned out, Wanda was a big fan of Mardi Gras and begged until you all agreed to throw a costume party. Tuesday morning, she shoved a white dress into your arms and said you were an angel. You didn’t want to upset her, so you just rolled with it.

Sam laughed at his own joke before the smell of pancakes drew his attention away from you. You looked around the room and sighed, sipping your second glass of… whatever it was Natasha had given you. It was good, a bit fruity and bitter enough to match your mood.

Wanda, who was dressed as Violet from the Incredibles, was running around the living room, filling plates with pancakes. Loud music blasted through the speakers.

“Looking for someone?”

Keep reading

✨Dangerous Woman✨

Song Imagine

Author: Joi A. Wade

Requested: Yes,  (Maybe a combo of both??) Based off of Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande, the reader is tired of Pan always being on top. She wants to test her limits, she doesn’t want permission. (..So basically she is top and Pan bottoms..) She is in charge of her sexual desires, not just there to fulfill Pan’s. The reader is a witch that pan is in constant competition with. She and Oan are always at ends with desire and anger ensuring,,,forced to work together and feelings ensure but neither will accept it

Warnings: Swearing | 18+ content | Long | smut 

Note: Gifs made by me. 


Don’t need permission
Made my decision to test my limits
‘Cause it’s my business, God as my witness
Start what I finished

“What am I going to do with you, love? You injured six to ten of my lost boys, stole from us, set fire to the camp…” He paced around the cage, arms behind his back as the she watched his every move with a smirk. “I just might have to kill you, darling.”

“You won’t kill me, Pan.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

“You would have done it by now, instead of interrogating me. Am I correct?” She raised her eyebrow in a smug way, seeing his frustration starting to build up in his face. With a quick lick to his lips, he made his way closer to the cage, no expression on his face whatsoever. 

“You do realize where you are and who I am?”

“I’m very aware. I just don’t care.”

“Why are you so goddamn irritating?” He growled, his hands gripping the bars so tight she could see the whites of his knuckles. Y/n only smirked deeper, getting as close to him as she possibly could. 

“Because. It’s adorable when you’re angry. How you act so strong and intimidating, and shit. Like, you really expect me to be scared of you.”

"Hm. Expect? No. You should be. And if you need reminding of that, sweetheart…then so be it.” 

Don’t need no hold up
Taking control of this kind of moment
I’m locked and loaded
Completely focused, my mind is open

Y/n scoffs in his face, turning the other cheek as she pretended she didn’t know where he was going with this. Sighing deeply, she returns her gaze back to his now deep green eyes, sneering his own words right back at him.

“Let’s play.” 

All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God
Don’t ya stop, boy

Pinned to the wall of his tent, rough and passionate kisses were exchanged between then two. Clothes were scattered all over the room, soft breaths and low growls the only sounds being heard. This was how every argument ended, how every teasing moment would come to; neither one would complain, or admit that this is what both of them lived for everyday. No, not just the sex (even though it’s a bonus) but it was the intense atmosphere the both of them fed off of, the little games they played with each other. 

Pan would never admit it, but he actually had feelings for this girl. Her dominance, her arrogance, everything about her was intoxicating. The same goes for her, only deeper. She loved toying with the lost boy since day one, everything about him she wanted. She needed. But, Y/n hated being controlled, and that’s not a good thing when you live on the island of an egomaniac, sadistic bastard who loves control, fear and agony. 

“Who do you belong to, love,” He would purr in her ear, thrusting at a speed that was inhuman, his hands holding onto her thighs so tight that the bruising he left would be brutal in the morning. 

Y/n chuckles breathlessly, raking her fingers through his hair. “Not you.” 

This only made him angry, his eyes getting darker to where the green was barely visible. He hoisted her legs higher, spreading them wider to where he hit that one spot that made her beg for more. Slowing down and going deeper, he watched as her eyes closed tightly, mouth hanging open slightly, while her moans increased. Pan wrapped one hand around her throat, pulling her in closer to where their lips brushed against each other, and their groans mixed together. 

“I’ll ask again,” He growls, making sure to hit that very spot each time, grinning at every reaction he got from her. “Who..do you..belong to?” 

Y/n opened up her eyes, staring at him with such a stare that could paralyze him right on the spot. And that’s exactly what she did. Halting his thrusts completely, Y/n had him under her hypnotic stare that she learned over the years, dark magic being another thing that drew the two of them together. 

Next thing Pan knew, he was laying down on his bed, with Y/n straddling his waist, a look of pure seduction upon her face. He didn’t move, even though he could, he just chose not to. She’s done this trick before, it’s one of his favorites; whenever he pushed her too far is when the night got even better. 

Y/n placed her hands onto his shoulders, slowly swaying her hips from side to side, grinding herself onto him. Pan bit his lip hard, holding onto her hips, trying to guide her movements, only for them to be smacked away. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t move. Don’t do shit. Just lay there, like a good boy. You come before me, injured lost boys and setting your camp on fire will be the least of your problems.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way-fuck!” He exclaims, as they finally connected once again, riding him at a steady pace. Cursing under his breath, and clawing at the bed, Pan’s eyes were shut tight at the intense pleasure he was receiving. Y/n’s moans were groaning higher and faster, as the new angle they were in was hitting every spot and nerve deliciously; leaving long scratches down his chest only increased the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, his member throbbing like crazy, begging for release. And if not being able to let go wasn’t frustrating enough, Y/n slowing down the pace definitely was. 

“No, love, please…” He begged, never in his life believing that it would to come to that. Y/n only smirked down at the boy, watching as his hips bucked upward, hitting her in the right way every time. Y/n leans downward to moan in his ear softly after every hip thrust he gave, practically making his head spin. 

Nothing to prove and
I’m bulletproof and
Know what I’m doing
The way we’re movin’ like introducing
Us to a new thing

“Shit, Peter, I’m close…” She whimpered, enough to push him to the brink of no control. This was the first time, in all the times they’ve messes around, that she called him by his first name. 

Unable to hold back any longer, he grabs her hips roughly before she could protest, and flips the positions. Pinning her down to the bed, his animalistic thrusts returned with Y/n wrapping her arms around him for dear life; moans and squeals spilled from her mouth like a waterfall while he chants her name like a prayer. 

He whispers unholy things into her ear, biting the said area roughly while keeping his pace fast and deep. Now with her scratching down his back, he had to fight to keep his release at bay, while trying to chase hers. It was as if they were both holding on, neither of them wanting to give up so easily. Putting up a fight, Y/n flips the positions back to what they were before, riding him as fast as she can with her head tilted back in pure bliss. Pan watches her in awe at how hard she’s trying to make him release first, not wanting to be the weak one in this situation. But, he could also see how badly she wanted release, tears starting to stream down her face in desperation. 

Gripping onto her hips one last time, Pan thrusts himself into her sharply, pivoting his hips in an angle that sent Y/n’s eyes to the back of her head and her toes to curl. Repeatedly doing that motion, while whispering encouragements to her breathlessly was more than enough to send Y/n beyond the edge. Arching her back and letting out a large and long scream of pleasure, Y/n finally was able to let go. Her pulsating walls had the same effect on him, as she kept thrusting to ride out her orgasm, his hips stuttered with his release coming fast and abrupt. 

“Oh, my fucking-!” He chokes on his words, his back arching off the bed as his euphoria finally hit. Pan came in long, hot spurts that painted Y/n from the inside, leaving a warm feeling deep inside her. Catching their breaths, glistening with sweat, and the smell of sex surrounding them…it was as if they were in their own little sick heaven. 

I wanna savor, save it for later
The taste of flavor, 'cause I’m a taker
'Cause I’m a giver, it’s only nature
I live for danger

As they were finally calming down, sitting in silence and still connected as one, this was the time where they would just sit and…stare. Watch each other, and just memorize one another’s features. This was a time where they weren’t at each other’s throats, where everything is calm and quite…

Y/n leaned downward to the boy, an exhausted look upon her face, while his wore nothing but a content smile. Keeping the intense eye contact for a little longer, Y/n pulled off him swiftly, wincing slightly at the emptiness she felt afterwards. Sitting up on the bed, she ran a hand through her hair, calming down from earlier activities. 

“Why do we keep doing this, Pan?” She rasped, sighing heavily as he sat up as well. Looking at the back of her head in confusion, he shrugged. 

“Because it’s fun. Satisfying.”

“But, we do this all the time, and go right back to hating each other. I’m starting to grow bored…” 

“I don’t think I ever asked for your opinion, I don’t care if you’re bored.” That was a lie. Inside, he was terrified of her being ‘bored’. What did that mean? Did it mean she was bored with him? Would she move on to someone else? He wouldn’t let that happen, not if he had any say in it. Turning her head toward him, the anger was evident on her face after he said what he said. Quickly, but carefully standing from the bed, she starts to collect her things, ready to leave. 

Like always. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, slowly starting to panic at how fast she’s trying to leave. Usually she would stay a little longer…what’s different now?

“I’m a fool to think that for once you would think of me. To think that maybe instead of these childish games, you would be a man and actually move past this useless bickering and bullshit. But, who am I kidding? We can never be anything but enemies, who fuck each other after every fight.” She snapped while getting dressed, not daring to make eye contact with him. Standing as well, Pan watched her with wide eyes, and mouth hanging open for a moment. He didn’t really know how to respond.

Finally finding the words, he spoke. “Wait, love. Don’t go. I…I do think of us as more…many, many times. I hate having the only way to talk you is by yelling, screaming, and constant headaches. You’re a bitch, of course, but…you’re a bad bitch. You’re a dangerous woman. And I love that about you, so much, darling. I wouldn’t trade you for anything else in the world. I love you.” 

Y/n continued to get dressed, before turning to look at the boy one last time. That angry scowl still colored her face as she glared darkly at his naked form, suddenly disgusted. “You can’t even respond to me. Pathetic.” 

His eyes widened as he realized he didn’t actually speak those words out loud. Pan only imagined himself speaking such words to her, but didn’t dare to utter any of it. He was too cold, too proud of his dark ways, such as an emotion as ‘love’ had no room in his brain, nor his heart. He’s been hating for far too long, cursed to possibly never be loved. 

All girls wanna be like that
Bad girls underneath, like that
You know how I’m feeling inside
Somethin’ 'bout, somethin’ 'bout

Shaking her head, Y/n looks at the ground, shame starting to fill her from the inside. “These late nights that we’ve been sharing are over. From now on, I refuse to be played with, like some cheap sex toy, Pan.”

“Love-”

“I’m done wasting time playing these games with you. To think you were ever a challenge is what really baffles me.” He bites his tongue, while staring back at her in shock. Hurt and offended, he verbally growls at her, that anger starting to boil up from inside him again. On the inside, Y/n was beating herself up. She couldn’t stand making him angrier with her than he already was. The only way she knows how to talk to him would to just provoke him. It’s not her fault, it’s just how she was. Maybe it was for the best…

“Fine. If that’s what you want…prepare to be hunted down by my lost boys, like the filthy animal you are.” He spoke with bared teeth, fist clenched, as his soft green eyes returned to their piercing color from before. Rolling her eyes, Y/n only scoffs at his words, taking out one of the knives from her holster and pointing it in his direction. 

“Prepare to lose more of your lost boys.”

Pan started to stride closer to her, nostrils flared as he threatened. “I will make sure that they show no mercy to you when they catch you. That pretty face of yours won’t be pretty no longer.”

“Aw, then what will you masturbate to at night?” Y/n spat right back, also getting closer and closer to the boy. The last comment left Pan speechless, but it didn’t stop him from throwing another comeback. 

“There are other girls in the world, love. You can be replaced.”

“Can I?” Her eyes flickered downward for a split second, the sight she saw bringing a delightful glint into her eyes, as her smirk grew deeper. “Good luck finding one that can excite you as much as I can, just by using sarcasm.” 

Pan blushed slightly, looking anywhere but at her. Waving his hand, his lower half was covered again by his trousers, but the tent in them was still noticeable. Chuckling slightly, Y/n took a few more steps closer to the boy, to where she close enough to wrap her arms around his neck lazily. He wanted to push her away, but they both knew he couldn’t. 

“Face it, Pan. I weaken you. And you love it.” 

“I thought you were leaving. I recall you being done with my games. So go on, then. I’m not stopping you.” This only made Y/n chuckle more, as she grabbed his jaw to turn his attention right back to her. 

“I’m not hearing you deny it.” Leaning in slightly, she brushed her lips onto his for only a moment, sighing heavily in the process. “I hate that you can make me feel conflicted, Peter Pan. I want to leave, and just throw you out of my mind…but we both know that’s far from possible now. We’re in too deep.” 

Without realizing what he was doing, he had pulled her in closely, kissing her deeply but as softly as he could. Afraid that he might not get the chance, he was going to make sure that this kiss was memorable. Pulling away slowly, Y/n couldn’t hold back the little whine that escaped passed her lips one his were no longer there. Coming back to earth, she pulls away from him fully, seeing the mischief in his eyes, but the evident scowl on his face. 

“Get out. I suggest you start running. The hunt starts at dawn, which mean you have less than an hour to hide.” He crosses his arms, watching as she cracks her neck, grinning at the boy, while he fought not to grin right back. Already knowing where this was going and how it would end up, the both of them ended on the same page. 

“Let’s play.” 

somethin’ 'bout you.

Say It (1/2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6,594 (I have a problem, lol)

Request: “Could you write buckyxreader where the reader has a speech impediment.”

Warning: Angst, descriptions of blood 

A/N: This was a request by @gondorgirl01 a very very very long time ago, but I never got around to writing it before now. I’m apologizing though, I promised you fluff, but the angst wrote itself. Haha. I wanted to post this on your birthday, but I was like, “nope, not gonna angst her this hard on her b-day, that’s just plain rude”. I love you girl, and I promise to make up for this angst with some fluff for you at some other point! hehe. Love you! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


You didn’t know what it was about Bucky that drew you to him.

All you knew was that the pull you had towards him was like a magnet to steel.

Every time he would enter the room, every time he would speak, every time he would smile, the pull became stronger and stronger.

Your mother told you it was because girls were born with an instinct to fix what was broken, but you knew that wasn’t the case.

You didn’t want to fix Bucky because it wasn’t your job to fix him. He was broken, yes, but no one but himself could fix that. It was a battle he had to fight on his own.

But you wanted to help. You wanted to be there for Bucky, to support him in his journey to recovery.  

That was all you really wanted to do, but you didn’t know how. Bucky spoke to all the Avengers, he was kind, he did his very best to show the Avengers the gratitude he felt, and you wanted to talk to him as well. You wanted to assure him that all the Avengers including yourself were happy to have him here, were happy to help him, were happy to be part of his life. You wanted to tell him that so badly, but you couldn’t. And that was probably the hardest fact for you to swallow each and every day when you saw him. A million words you wanted to say, but the only thing you could do was smile bright his way and hope he understood why you were the only one who couldn’t say a word to him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hi im a new shawol!! what are some shinee inside jokes? i only know onew sangtae helP i dont get milk and etc

hi bebs WELCOME TO SHINEE WORLD, i’m your mom now. this got v long with loTS of links so i put it under a read more!
disclaimer: by no means a comprehensive list, i am but one human and i do not own any of the videos, credit is where credit is due!

Keep reading

“Stress Sex”

Request: Hey doll❤️ I’m so nervous about my upcoming exams tomorrow. Would you like to do a Bucky imagine form where you’re dating and you’re also really anxious about some tests and he tries to make you feel better and tries to calm you down but nothing seems to work. So he prepares the bedroom to give you a massage after he dragged you away from your work, but the massage slowly leads to something more intimate and Bucky makes the sex all about you with kisses, touches and things like that ? Thanks ❤️ - @tieddown-withbattleshipchains

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut

Word Count: 1229

A/N: this is the final request before i start my “Troop Leader” series. that taglist and my permanent are open


Originally posted by skywalkerr

You had been studying for hours. You went from the library at your University, to your small, shared apartment and you still had no idea what any of the material meant. With a loud sigh, you shoved your books away from you, and buried your head in the plethora of pillows surrounding you. You willed the tears not to fall, but they didn’t listen. Steady streams of salty, hot tears were leaving trails in their wake. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t pass this final. Lost in your thoughts, you failed to hear the hesitant knock on your bedroom door.

“Babe, maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at it for hours. You can go back to it after you relax and maybe eat.” You heard the soothing voice of your boyfriend, Bucky, come through the door. You pulled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. When you opened it, you saw Bucky’s face fall.

“Oh, My Love, come here.” Bucky pulled you into a strong hug. He held you as you let out heartbreaking sobs. He felt so bad. He couldn’t explain the material to you, but he could help you relax.

He led you to the bed and laid down next to you. He pulled you into a spooning position and wrapped his strong arms around you. He was humming in your ear and stroking your hair with his cool metal hand. Your sobs had started to subside. Your breathing was still hard to get control of.

“Let me help you, My Love. You’re working yourself too hard. You need to take a break. Your test isn’t for a few days. You can take the rest of the night off and go back at it tomorrow. For now, just let me pamper you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his proposition, but you didn’t have time. You pulled yourself out of his embrace and sat yourself back on the floor.

“That’s sweet, Buck, but I have to study. My test might not be for e few days, but I need all the help I can get.” You were a stubborn one, and Bucky knew it. He was going to have to literally pull you away from your work.

“Fine, you leave me no choice. You’re coming with me.” He came and scooped you up bridal style. You tried to fight him, but he was so much stronger.

“I drew you a bath and you are going to take it. Then we are going to cuddle in bed for the rest of the night. No more work Your got it?” Bossy Bucky was coming out and you knew better than to argue.

“Yes, Sergeant.” You sighed out.

You quickly got undressed when he put you in the bathroom. He helped you into the tub. It was nice and warm. He had started to burn your favorite lavender scented candle. You hate to admit it, but this was nice. You really needed to relax.

Once you were ready to get out, Bucky wrapped you up in a towel and picked you up once again. You giggled like a girl in love. He was seriously cute. He made his way to the bedroom, and he meant to set you down to get you pajamas, but you didn’t let go. You pulled him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips. you could feel his increasing smile when you said those words.

His hands were slowly roaming your body, and you felt his trapped erection against your bare core. He was peppering kisses along your neck and you were slowly rocking your hips against his. You let out a small moan at the much-needed friction.

He pulled away to discard himself of his clothing. You dropped your towel and made your way to the plethora of pillows at the head of your shared bed. Once he was fully naked, he climbed his way up to you, leaving small kisses in his wake. He stopped directly over your dripping core. His hot breath fanned the area. Your hips bucked, looking for release.

He moved his mouth to kiss at your thighs. He sucked and bit, leaving marks behind. He moved his face inward and dragged his tongue across your slit. You let out a surprised gasp. He made his way to suck on your outer lips. he knew how to make you moan for him.

He moved his way to your clit. His nose nudged the sensitive bundle of nerves. At this point, you were dripping. Before you could ask, he enclosed his lips around your clit and gave it a harsh suck. Your back arched painfully off the bed.

“just like that, baby! Yes!” you screamed out for him. He moaned and groaned. The vibrations were heaven against your sensitive core.

He started moving his tongue in and out of your entrance. You were on the brink of your orgasm when he pulled away. You whined and made grabby hands for him. He just laughed.

“relax baby, I want you to come around me.” He pulled himself up so he could align his throbbing cock with your core.

He was already a deep red and precum was dripping from his tip. He moved his dick up and down your pussy, coating himself in your wetness. With slow movements, he aligned with your entrance and pushed in. Your walls stretched to accommodate his length. He moaned when he was fully sheathed inside you.

Your hips bucked, telling him to move. He kept his pace slow, languid even. He was savoring every inch of you. You had one hand in his hair and one rested on his pert ass. It made him even harder when you squeezed him. His hands caressed your face and he was nibbling on your ear. You wrapped your legs around him so he could go even deeper inside you. He was still slow, but it was the perfect pace. You could feel every drag of his cock against your velvet walls. And it felt beautiful.

Your breathing started getting faster and you were becoming flushed. Bucky knew you were close. He propped himself up on his knees and thrust into you hard. You gasped out at his action. He moved his metal hand to your clit and rubbed small, fast circles. Just the way you like it.

“Bucky, baby, I’m gonna come!” you screamed out.

With one more thrust he had you coming around his cock. It took a few more thrusts for him to release his hot, thick seed inside you. You were completely blissed out. He pulled out slowly and went to grab a wash cloth to clean you both up. When the coarse fabric hit your aching core, you jumped a little. You were still sensitive to any small touch.

Bucky’s face was red and he looked just as blissed out as you. He put the washcloth in the laundry bin and got back in bed with you. He pulled the sheets up and brought you into his arms.

“I love you, Y/N. You need to learn to relax more.” He told you as he pulled up your Netflix.

“I’m feeling pretty relaxed right now.” You retorted sleepily. He heard him giggle and then you were fast asleep before he could even pick a show.  

Tags: @opaque-daydream @ursulaismymiddlename @betsy1066 @imagine-all-the-fandoms @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @pacifikaproudaotearoa @tieddown-withbattleshipchains

anonymous asked:

I have a theory about Rincewind. We all know that Esk is the female Wizard but narritive convention would dictate that she have a counterpart. What if the reason Rincewind isn't good at wizard magic is because he's more suited to witchcraft then wizardry? Has anyone talked about this before? I want fanfiction of this...

“I can’t be having with this,” Granny said, each word sharpened to points and enunciated with the accuracy of a champion knife-thrower outlining an unlucky target. Her glare was focused like a laser. It looked as though it could shatter rocks and burn cities to the ground. It was only slightly undercut by the enormous array of novelty candles that adorned Nanny Ogg’s mantelpiece.
Rincewind, the unfortunate soul in her cross-hairs, shrank a little deeper into his armchair. He rather felt he couldn’t be having with this either, and tried to say so, but the old woman’s look seemed to have fused his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

Keep reading

Shape Of You

Originally posted by ackmichele

Word Count: 1641

A/M: Of course inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You, I feel like a story based off it was a long time coming for me. Mentions of some sexy time but not exactly R rated. I also just spent a good 10 minutes staring at different gifs of Harry, what a hard job that was😉 Hope you like it! Tell me if you do Xx

——-

You came to the bar with a couple of friends, celebrating a friend’s birthday. The plan was to take back a few drinks, go back to your friend’s place, and just have fun for the night. With everyone having busy lives, it was time to let loose. 

However, this bar wasn’t exactly your scene, but for your friend’s sake you tried to get comfortable, and with the liquid courage flowing through your system you were able to do so. 

You took to the little dance floor of the place and danced with your friends, and sang along loudly to the music. Other people at the bar had joined in, dancing with their friends, or dancing with yours. You eventually noticed that the whole place was up and dancing, except for one guy who was sat on a stool at the bar alone. 

With the shots from earlier still in your system, you felt yourself walk over, taking the empty stool next to him. 

At your presence the guy looked up for the first time away from his glass. He was young, and looked puzzled to see you there. However you just smiled, he was cute. 

“What are you doing here all alone?” You asked. 

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?" 

"Probably not. I’m [Y/N].” You smiled, and you felt relieved to see him smile back. 

“I’m Harry." 

"Well tell me Harry. Why are you sitting here all alone?" 

He looked you up and down and began to chuckle at your question. But ​in your very tipsy state you didn’t think too much of it. 

You waved at the bartender and she gave an acknowledging nod, "A shot for me and my friend Harry here.” You asked.

“Oh you don’t have to do that." 

"Nonsense, it’s one on me. Like not physically on me. Not those kinds, but it’s on my tab. It’s time for you, Mr. Grumpy, to get out on the dance floor and dance." 

He continued to chuckle and you felt relieved to hear it. 

The bartender poured out two vodka shots  and slid them to you both, and walked away to tend to someone else.

"Come on Harry. Either you can come have fun on the dance floor, or you can sit and sulk by yourself for the rest of the night. Your choice, I won’t force you.” You assured, holding your glass awaiting hopefully for him to clink the two together. 

Keep reading

SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️

———

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers.  The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone.  Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier.  Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening.  Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints.  Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!” 

(The rest is under the cut!)

Keep reading

When Quiet Is Violent - Part 3 (End)

Masterlist  -  Part 1  -   Part 2

Summary: You’re retired, living a quiet and secure life when your ex, Steve Rogers, turns up on your doorstep with his best friend, seeking refuge. (bucky x reader, enhanced reader)

Prompt(s): Okay I know I already wrote Night Walks with these prompts but I really wasn’t happy with it, so here is attempt #2. @pandarositarequest: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky?

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Plus anon request: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: swearing, fighting, deathy stuff and the aftermath.

Word Count: 3671

Author’s Note: The angst train’s brakes aren’t working. Prepare for a trainwreck. :) Remember that I love you.

Originally posted by dewiedawn

 Tony finally made it to the end of your long drive and stepped out of his car. Pieces of polished red metal immediately shifting into place around his body as you stepped down from the porch, looking casual and unassuming.

“Y’know most people call first,” you called to him, testing the waters, “and it works out for everyone, see, because then I can tell them to rent an SUV with snow tires, not a…” you paused, leaning to the side to peer around him at the flashy car that was just so Tony. “Bugatti?”

“Really? I thought you liked surprises?” he fired back, walking casually to the front of the car, face mask open, holding his hands out to the side in mock surprise.

“Is the car the surprise?”

Keep reading

Your hands feel like home

Request: Some college au lance and keith, where maybe keith gets like really badly sick (Up to you my friend how) and lance has to force him to stop going to classes/go to the hospital but keith gets so freaking stressed because he must have perfect grades (Klance if you want!!) Thank!!! C:

Summary: When Keith comes down sick, he assumes its nothing and carries on. But as classes and deadlines start to take their toll, it becomes more and more obvious to both Keith and his boyfriend Lance, that this ‘cold’ is anything but normal. How he made it to lectures with full blown pneumonia, he’ll never know, but something he does know is that no matter what, Lance will always be by his side. 


‘Babe, did you get the coffee?’

Keith raised his head, pausing in his feeble attempt to remove his shoes without experiencing a rapid, unplanned introduction to the floor.

‘Huh?’ he called, a small wince seeping through his teeth at the irritable scrape in his throat. He had been feeling ill for days, sluggish and tired, with a growing wet cough that burned his airways and pounded his head like a hammer on an anvil. He knew he had a fever - that morning while Lance had still been sleeping he had snuck into his bathroom and borrowed his thermometer, only find that his temperature had risen to 38.5 degrees. But college was just too busy to take a day off from, and so he had popped a few fever reducers and paracetamol and gotten on with his day.

‘Coffee,’ Lance repeated, sticking his head out of the kitchen door to raise his eyebrows at Keith. ‘you said you were gonna stop by the store on your way here and pick some up. I’m nearly out,’

Keith groaned, leaning his head against the wall, second shoe all but forgotten. ‘Damnit.. I forgot, sorry. Want me to go back out and get some?’ he asked, but every fibre of his body was praying that Lance would say no. Apparently, whatever Gods were looking down on him chose to be kind, and Lance shook his head, at ease.

Keep reading

Ask Me.[Newt Scamander Oneshot].

why do i love romance so much

Originally posted by karlmordo

Title: Ask Me.
Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader.
Words: 2,700.
Rating: T. (Mildly suggestive content.)


If you focused your hands in the correct position, you could almost feel the ghosts of the white scars that lined on his torso. Slowly healed reminders to Newt, that despite all the goodness and kindness in the world, there was always going to be a counter balanced reaction. In this very delicate case, it was put in the situation of his creatures, his naturally kind hearted nature and the injuries he may have gotten when trying to gain their trust. You could hear his voice inside of your mind, echoing, ‘They’ve never been dangerous. I was, and still am utterly willing to prove people wrong’.

You supposed that it was his gentleness and graciously loving attitude towards his passions that made you fall in love in the first place. Typically, his actions reflected his personality, especially in moments of bliss like the one you found yourself tangled in.

His hands were entwined deeply in your hair, and with nervous fingers, he’d twist a piece between them and hum more to himself as he craned his head down for another kiss. Not allowing such satisfaction, your playful side rose as you pecked his nose lightly. Newt hovered still, his full lips curling on the sides into that infamous half-grin. Newt surely made you question whether or not he was aware that his appearance had such an altering effect on you, because occasionally he acted the part, where as other times he found himself rather clueless.

Right now was a memory of the latter.

The look on his face nearly shouted at you, ‘So, you want to play games?’ Raising yourself against him with your hands flat against your chest, your lips grazed against his to answer him silently. Dropping his hands, Newt cupped your cheeks and allowed his fingers to slip across your smooth skin. A shudder of appreciation reached down his spine, or better yet, a shiver of anticipation of the unknown. Heavily dilated eyes caught hold of yours while his fingers continued a journey downwards now resting gently on your shoulders.

It was there that he paused to hesitate. Dropping his head to avoid eye contact so you couldn’t catch onto his contemplation, he stared at your right shoulder, almost admiring the way that the dim light of your hallway was illuminating your skin. Giving it the appearance of being on fire, he thought to himself. And the strange wonderment rose in his mind, crashing like a wave. If he were to touch you now, would your skin be hot like the blaze he imagined? Or would it be like a chilled fire, cold and eager to be warmed?

The dress that was so beautifully sculpted to fit you was non-existent there and left your skin free for all to see, and for him to touch. And in all honesty, such a naked piece of body had been begging to be touched all evening. And when he said all, he meant, all evening. Since the sun went down, to this second in your hallway. Newt stood pinned against your body and the wall and lifted his eyes. You had been hinting all evening, his mouth tilted upwards, that you wanted this so why would he be one to deny it when it was so close? He finally figured out your game, and to say that he was proud of himself for catching on would be an absolute understatement.

“There are quite a few names to which I could call you right now,” He whispered, pressing his mouth against your ear, “Let me think…” The rush of his fingers now touching your bare skin rose goosebumps onto your arms and through your body. Even if it were chaste and inexperienced, you wouldn’t have it any other way or with anyone else. “Seductress,” He began, relying on the depth of his voice rather than the actual volume, “Or are you a temptress? Are they the same thing, or is there a difference? Of course-” His hands rose from your skin before pattering back down on your back, where the dress too, left little to be imagined. It dipped far, resting to stop on the small of your back. He didn’t allow his curious fingers to dive any lower than the base of your neck though. That’s where they rested, and that’s where they would tickle you. “Seducing and tempting are very similar, but not the same. To seduce is to be… Well, pulled into a sexual act, isn’t it? Whereas, one would use the word ‘tempt’ in a more subtle, gentler tone.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you vaguely questioned where this sudden burst of confidence came from as his voice tuned down your hallway, echoing off the plaster walls. You had thought, for at least a minute that maybe he was turning this into a lesson, into a lecture like he did when put into nervous situations. He’d begin blundering, finding a way out without actually confronting the situation he was put in front of. But, after giving it a good hard think, you deduced that it couldn’t have been that. The way that he was speaking to you, so huskily, the way his hands were raking along bits of your body that he hadn’t actually seen before, were telltale signs that this was something else. This was slacked confidence, raw emotion and genuine sex appeal. A side of Newt that you didn’t even know existed was getting clearer and clearer the more he allowed himself to build up in self-awareness.

“Allow me to ask…” Newt swallowed, kissing the shell of your ear, “Am I seducing, or am I tempting?” He pushed his head back and gazed down at you. Through the very little light you were getting, you could see a bit his beautiful eye color. “I know what you are, or at the very least, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“May I ask what you think that is?”

Newt gave you a small grin, pecking your lips before uttering against them, “You’re being a big flirt who’s denying me the simplest of pleasures, like an actual kiss.”

“Why give you the pleasure of such when you’re the one so blantly seducing me?” Your tone of voice dropped as you attempted to stay in control.

“Me?” He questioned. Heat burned on the tips of his ears, down his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose at your accusation. “I’m not one to seduce, and you know that.”

“Don’t lie.” You snickered, “At the very least-” You mocked him, “You’re building yourself to be a small bit tempting.”

“Never.” He shook his head in playful denial, his beautifully ashy hair bouncing along with the movement. You found yourself entranced for a second at his unspoken beauty. “I would never do such a thing to you.”

“Lies.” You ran your hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. Newt licked his bottom lip at the sensation of your hands running along his body, even if he was fully clothed in front of you. That was something he’d never get used to. The meager brush of your hands, and what they would do to him in moments like this constantly amazed him. “You’re tempting. Standing there, looking amazingly beautiful…” His eyebrows raised at your choice of words, “Oh excuse me-” You spoke sarcastically, “Did I say beautiful? I meant handsome.”

“I’d have been okay with beautiful.” Newt laughed quietly. Keeping one hand rested on the back of your neck, he swooped his right hand forward and put it under your chin. There, he propped your head up so he could properly look down at you.

“I was going to use pretty.” Your expression was smug, teasing and a bit flirtatious. He could see the latter, especially in the little glint behind your eyes.

“I’d have been alright with pretty as well,” His voice dropped once again as he looked at you lovingly. “But, I’d prefer to call you that.”

“I hope you don’t just like me because I’m pretty.” You pouted. Newt shook his head once again with a small cackle. Keeping the position of his hands, he pushed himself off the wall, successfully moving you back so you were now pinned between the wall behind you and his body.

“I love you because you understand me, which I had been looking for. And, honestly. I had lost hope. I was ready to marry Pickett, because I thought only he would understand my blabbering.” Newt joked, the hand under your chin now dropped to dance down your neck before caress your sternum. “Imagine that, Pickett Scamander. Sounds pretty awful to me.”

“Who’s to say I want to marry you?” He raised his brows once again, only this time in a way that said, ‘Are you kidding me?’ Newt was right to react in such a way, though your question once more of a tease than to be taken literally.

“Who’s to say I’ll ever ask?” He replied rather smoothly, his eyebrows still skeptical. “Unless you, my love, intend to tie me up and make me, you can’t assure that I ever will pop that question.”

“I actually expected it tonight.” You admitted, “Queenie may have let it slip that you were planning it-”

“Wait, wait-” Newt panicked, feeling his heart drop into his stomach at the sound of your statement.

“She also told me that Niffler stole the ring? Did you ever find it? Oh goodness, I hope you found it.”

“Of course I found it.” Newt scrambled slightly to rest one of his hands on his coat pocket, where the ring was lying snug.

Silence spilled between the two of you as he stood awkwardly in front of you. Mentally, he was cursing at Queenie for letting the cat out of the bag like this, but then again, she probably didn’t mean to. She rarely thinks before spilling out things like this. Getting vicious at her was going to do Newt no good right now. He drew a deep breath in, prepared to take on the accidental mishap with as much grace as he could.

“I was just kiddin’,” You popped your mouth and looked at your love in front of you, “Queenie didn’t… She didn’t tell me anything… I— was just playing around with you…”

He stopped moving altogether, and his breath hitched in his throat. It was coming to him now, the smack in the face of intense realization. “You didn’t….” You shook your head no, an obvious expression of guilt washing onto your face as you stared at him. “Oh, no…”

“I mean, now I do, and I know Niffler did steal the ring so…” Your voice cracked. “Surprise.”

“I was going to ask,” He said quickly and looked off to the side, “I just, couldn’t find the moment to do it? I mean, dinner, wouldn’t that be a cliché? I’m not a fan of doing it in such a way, I want you to remember it. I don’t want your engagement story to be a copycat of so many others.” He began speaking a bit faster, tears pricking at the back of his eyelids, “So, I thought, maybe on the walk home? But, I caught myself staring at you and before I knew it, you had lead me home, and then this, and now, and I thought maybe I could stave until the morning and perhaps… I don’t know, surprising you with a ring at breakfast? But, is that too cliche as well? I don’t know.

“Then last night, I nearly had a heart attack when I had misplaced the ring… what an irresponsible thing to have happened…” He rubbed his forehead, “I had left it sitting on my desk, and left for a moment, only a moment and when I came back it was gone. I went into an absolute frenzy. I should have figured it was Niffler, that little bugger… So obsessed with shiny things. He had taken it, and if I was bloody thinking, I’d have checked him first before throwing my case into a mess for two hours…

“And now, I’ve gone and ruined one of the biggest surprises of your entire life, because I couldn’t understand that you were only joking around. I ruined it…” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, plucking out a small velvet box, “This was meant to be something special, not some night of-of…”

“Newt.” You spoke quietly, contradicting his frantic voice. Reaching up with your right hand, you put it onto of his. “Shhh…”

“But, I…”

“You didn’t ruin it, it just…” You puffed, “Didn’t go as planned. That’s okay…” He swallowed quietly and balled his hand into a fist around the small box in his hand. “Any moment you asked me would have been special. I’m positive I’d have remembered it for the rest of my life, just like how I’m going to remember this…” You laughed quietly and clasped your hands around his, “I mean, you still get to ask… If you still want to…”

“I do…” Newt looked at his hand, “How do you want me to? I guess, at this point it doesn’t matter, does it…?”

You thought for a second and smiled lovingly, “Do it the way you want.”

He took a deep breath in and nodded, dropping to his knee without a second thought. Despite his attempt to remain cool and situated, his mind was racing. Of course before hand, he had mentally written a letter, things he was going to say to you but now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t find where he had stored it. Newt was left speechless. He kissed your knuckles slowly, looking up at you as you pulled your hand away from his balled fist so he could open the velvet box. It was smooth under his fingertips, alarmingly so that Newt actually found himself shaking in an attempt to open it as quickly as possible.

“I never imagined myself to be the type to marry, simply because for years, I was seemingly married to creatures and to finishing my book…” Newt told you, “Maybe love was for some, and never for me. I didn’t need it, until I met you… Everything changed then…”

His voice was breaking with emotions as he stared down at the ring, “I can’t give you much, other than a case full of creatures, an old scarf, a few bow-ties and magic spells and maybe a good solid kiss every so often, and I know not a lot of people would jump to be with someone as… Annoying as I, but for you, it seemed to be considerably different….

“From the time that Queenie had informed me that you thought I was, quote ‘Cute’, to the first actual encounter, there was something so different about you, and I couldn’t take my attention off of you. The way you walked, carrie yourself, the way you talked with such confidence, something that I wish I had, and something you’ve actually helped me with… I cannot thank you enough for the opportunities and things you have shown me…

“And if you’d allow me, for the rest of our lives…” He looked up at you Newt’s stare was intense, digging deeply into your own that you could almost feel him infiltrating your thoughts. “I’d love to show you equally amazing things… If you’d allow me the pleasure of a ‘yes’ to my next very needed question so I can stop talking and finally kiss you.” He fumbled, raising his wrist slightly to reveal to you the ring that he had so carefully thought about and chose. It was simple, but beautiful.

 A golden band and placed delicately in the center was a flower of diamonds. Small, beautiful and absolutely everything you could have ever wanted all rolled into one ring. You sniffled, staring at it for a moment before looking back at Newt. And the second your eyes caught hold of his, the question flowed from his mouth and sang into your ears.

“Will you, (Full Name) the love of my life, and the dazzling, perfect, amazing mother to my creatures… Will you marry me?”


Hey guys, hope you enjoyed because I know I had a lot of fun writing it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated. Stay tuned for more Newt! :D 

I left it on a cliffhanger, for a reason guys. ;) More to come.

Red Jamie and the White Lady AU - Part 1

Well, this is the random plot bunny I had earlier today. I really have NO idea where this is going. I’m really intrigued by it though, so we’ll all have to wait and see I suppose. Tell me if you think I should continue on with this or just let it die. Not sure how many parts it should/will have. 

I don’t think I’ve ever written anything with Geillis in it before, so I’m not sure how well it works. Let me know what y’all think!!


Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a practical woman - belief in fairy tales, knights in shining armor, and love everlasting just didn’t have a place in her life. Geillis Duncan, her best friend and roommate, was the complete opposite. Claire often wondered to herself how they’d become friends, with so little in common.

“I don’t believe you,” Geillis said one night, tossing her thick, blonde hair over one shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. That has no bearing on the truth.”

Geillis’ green eyes rolled hard and she finished her glass of whiskey.

“How can you not believe in true love?”

“Because it doesn’t exist! Love is just a chemical reaction between two people who find each other visually appealing. Nothing more.”

“You mean to tell me,” Geillis said, sitting forward in her seat. “That you don’t believe your parents didn’t love each other?”

The blood drained from Claire’s naturally pale face.

“That was low and you know it.”

“Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean you should avoid it. They loved each other, didn’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was too young when they both died. You know that, Geillis. Why would you bring it up?”

Her best friend, and often best source of irritation, stared at her curiously.

“There’s something about you, Claire. Always has been. Like you belong somewhere else.”

Claire grabbed Geillis’ bottle of her favorite whiskey and looked at it dramatically.

“Exactly how much was in this when you started drinking?”

“I’m not drunk! But I believe you are the product of true love, and that’s a rare thing. EVEN IF,” she said loudly to interrupt Claire’s protest. “You don’t believe in it, I do. And true love is the most powerful magic in the universe.”

With a sigh, she put the cap back on the whiskey and took her empty glass to the kitchen. They’d had this discussion before, at least a hundred times. But Claire was a practical woman. True love wasn’t practical or useful.

A small part of her, and she’d never admit this to Geillis, also believed no man had yet been worthy of her love - had she any to give. Even the one she was currently seeing was a calculated choice, not an infatuation. Frank was smart, had a successful career as a university professor, and had a good future. Herself newly finished with her medical training, she saw a comfortable future with Frank. Perhaps a child or two, once they got married. He was the practical choice, a good match of intellect and physical attraction. What else was there to look for in a man?

“You talk like you’ve felt this elusive true love before.”

“And what if I have?” Geillis asked from the depths of her room. “Would that change anything for you?”

“I can count on one fist the number of men you’ve loved, Geillis Duncan. We’ve been friends far too long for you to get away with that.”

Geillis returned to the front room dressed in her favorite baggy shirt and trousers, ready for their weekly film date.

“You cannot!”

Claire held up a fist and tried to count her fingers.

“That’s… None. Geillis, you’ve never been in love with anyone.”

“That is not true! I fall in love all the time! I LOVE love!”

“Nooo,” Claire said slowly, walking down to her own room. “You fall in lust. You bring him home, shag the hell out of him, and send him packing before the sheets have cooled.”

As she, too, dressed in her sleeping outfit, she heard Geillis snort.

“Just because I fall in love all the time doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I long for the day,” Claire said, emerging as Geillis put a DVD into the player. “When you finally meet the man you’re just meant to be with. We’ll see what you say then.”

Those too-green eyes lit and glinted at her.

“You said when. Not if. When. As if you believe it could happen…”

“It could happen to you, perhaps. Not to me. I don’t have any use for those sorts of things.”

Geillis hit play on the DVD remote, but turned to face Claire on their small couch.

“What if I could prove it.”

“Hush, Geillis. The film is starting.”

After making a sound of irritation, she paused the movie and waited for Claire to look at her.

“So? What if I could prove it?”

“You can’t.”

“But if I could?”

Claire shrugged, at a loss. She had no idea what it was Geillis was getting at.

“What if you could? What do you want?”

“I want you to fall in love. That reckless, all-consuming passion. You can’t expect me to believe that beanpole you’re seeing is a good lover.”

Claire’s face, always too easy to read and too pale, flushed deep red. Geillis smiled, smelling victory.

“I’ll have you know Frank is an excellent lover. NOT that it’s any of your business.”

“Would you leave Frank if you knew there was something better out there, waiting for you? If I could prove to you that true love does exist?”

With a sigh, Claire knew they’d never get this movie properly started while Geillis was fixated on something.

If, and that’s a very BIG if, you could prove to me, without a doubt, that true love exists and I have some bloody soul mate waiting for me out there, yes. I’d leave Frank.”

A triumphant smile came to Geillis’ lips and she settled back in her seat, smug. There was no way in hell Claire would leave Frank, though. But she knew Geillis well enough by now to know that the only way to get her to stop was to give her what she wanted.

“Good. Because we’ve an appointment with a powerful psychic tomorrow.”

Claire barely contained her moan of irritation. This wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, that Geillis had dragged her to some psychic’s shop to have her palms read. The only benefit from those trips came in the form of Geillis paying for both their sessions and taking her out to lunch after.

“Besides,” Geillis said, hitting ‘play’ on the remote again. “It’s not as if Frank’s even proposed yet.”

***

Grudgingly, Claire followed her crazy best friend into a very ordinary looking shop. There were no signs or posters anywhere advertizing it as a psychic’s place of business. It didn’t really look like a shop at all, really. Claire was beginning to wonder if Geillis had set her up on a blind date. Again.

“Geillis, if you’ve-”

She stopped suddenly when she saw a large figure looming in a doorway.

“Morning, ladies. I take it you’re my first appointments?”

“Yes,” Geillis said, popping up from nowhere. “We are. I’m-”

“Please,” his deep, strong voice came. “Don’t tell me anything. It taints the reading.”

He stepped out from the shadows and Claire looked up to meet his eyes. They were a curious shade of blue, seemingly shifting in hue as she looked at them. The hair on his head was short and bright red, with a hint of a curl at the very tips. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“I’ll see you first,” he announced abruptly.

Claire was about to protest and insist that Geillis had the first appointment, but he didn’t wait for her to agree. Instead, he turned and strode off into a back room, clearly expecting Claire to follow.

“Geillis you owe me,” she hissed as she rushed after him.

“Tell me everything!” Geillis called back.

The room was nothing like she expected. No crystal balls on a red velvet tablecloth, no candles or incense burning, no dim lighting or macabre art on the walls. It was quite simply, a plain sitting room. A small table had a teapot and settings for two, biscuits, and two large, comfortable looking chairs.

“Would you like some tea, Miss Beauchamp?”

Her mouth fell open, staring up at him.

“Did-”

“No,” he interrupted. “Geillis didn’t tell me anything about you. I’m not even the one that makes appointments.”

“So what are-”

She cut herself off when he offered her a cup of tea.

“You think I’m a fraud.”

Hiding her face behind the elegant cup, she tried to come up with an answer.

“That wasn’t a question, Miss Beauchamp, but a statement of fact.”

“Oh.”

“Not your first time visiting a psychic then?”

Claire’s eyes rolled.

“No.”

She was in the habit of giving out as little information as possible. That was how the others had worked, sucking information out of you until they could lie enough to convince you to believe it.

“I’m Jamie Fraser. When you’ve finished with your tea, I’ll read the leaves.”

“No crystal balls or seance?”

He shot her a wicked grin and shook his head.

“Well we’re not here to call up the dead, are we? I was given to understand you’re looking for your soulmate.”

Yet again, her mouth fell open.

“I… How did-”

“I’m very good at reading people, Miss Beauchamp. And you are quite an easy read, more so than most.”

“How in the hell do you always know what I’m about to say?!”

“Everything you think is written across your face, plain as day. As for the other things, well… Let’s just call it a family trait. My sister also has the Sight, though not as strong as mine. Her children will likely not inherit the gift, though it could still happen. How about we take a look at those leaves, hm?”

Handing the cup over, Claire fell silent and waited. Jamie got up and pulled an old book from a table in one corner, flipping through it for reference. His brows drew down in puzzlement.

“So tell me, oh seer. Am I to meet a tall, dark stranger and go on an adventure?”

“I’ve never seen leaves like this before,” he said absently, still staring at the table. “No’ in my whole life.”

She blinked in shock at the slip of an accent. Was he not an Englishman?

“I’d like to read your palm, if you don’t mind,” he said, sitting up suddenly. “It’ll be a part of your appointment. Won’t charge extra.”

“Oh, um… Alright?”

Holding her hands out, palm up, she offered them to him. He leaned over them, tracing the lines in her skin.

“This is quite unusual indeed.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never seen a lifeline forked like this. As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.”

“Which one? What sort of choice?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer those. But I can see you’ve a strong will. Always a good thing in a woman.”

His large fingers still traced her hand, warm against hers.

“Miss Beauchamp, would you mind returning later in the week for another reading? I’ve a few things I’d like to research and ask some experts about. You’re quite a mystery and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t think-”

“Please?”

Meeting those unusually blue eyes, she watched them shift and change.

“Al-alright.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve taken up yours and Geillis’ appointments and my next client will be here soon.”

Claire sighed.

“Something tells me Geillis won’t mind.”

“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”

***

As soon as the women had left the house, Jamie slipped to the back and went up the stairs. He lived on the floor above where he met clients. Most were what anyone would expect, people seeking to remove the veil of mystery from the future. Few came looking for real answers and fewer still came and didn’t believe any of it.

But this Claire Beauchamp… He was sure they’d never met before, and yet he knew her. Knew her face, the way her tawny eyes evaluated the words he spoke. Somewhere in his mind, he knew the taste of her full lips, knew the feel of her body beneath his. He knew the sounds she made in the throes of passion, or her grunt of irritation when something didn’t work the way she hoped.

There was no other appointment after Geillis and Claire, that had been a lie. But he needed to check something, just to be sure. Throwing open the door to his library, he went straight for a shelf he’d scarcely looked at in five years.

Each leatherbound book had a date on the side. They were his dream journals, or the dreams he was sure had been visions. He hadn’t had a dream like that in some time, not since his father’s passing, but he had a niggling feeling.

Closing his eyes, he opened the book and began turning the pages without looking. He suddenly stopped, feeling that he’d reached the right place. When he looked down, his heart began to beat erratically.

Sketched on one entire page was the woman he’d just met with. Her gaze was piercing, even in a sketch, and he felt as if she was looking right at him. The dark, curling hair was wild around her, not fully contained on the page. Her lips curved with the hint of a smile, like she knew something he didn’t.

Hastily, he turned the page. Only a short passage was written on the back.

I must find her. I have dreamt of her every night for a month, in flashes. I do not know her, but I know she is my very soul. She is the only person I might love. For the White Lady born of True Love could be the only match for Red Jamie. I. Must. Find. Her.


Continue to Part Two

—One of these nights 💔touken&blackreaper headcanon

summary: Months after turning into the Black Reaper, Kaneki makes Touka a phone call.

I think I’m gonna keep doing this for a while now, “mini fics” for certain headcanons that I don’t feel like writing as a 3,000(or more) word fic due to many reasons (lack of inspiration, the plot not being strong enough for a long fic, things I wanna keep short..) all of these mini fics (that will reach their limit with 1,000 words approx..) will end with “headcanon” at the end of the title… you can read the rest of these headcanons // mini fics series here, and I will add the link on my fics page as well. These headcanons will have a very poor and light writing, so don’t expect the greatest prose of all—hence the whole point of being just a headcanon, haha. You can also request headcanons/mini fics for me to write this way, it’s way easier and faster(&less frustrating) than writing a whole one-shot :’) remember, these are not full fics like most of my writings, so there might be some writing differences! 

enjoy this little thing!


It’s been months since Haise went to :re.

Actually, almost a year.

Yes, Touka kept the count. It would have been embarrassing to admit it years ago when she was still a teenager, when proud was like a shield that would protect her lonely and wrinkled heart from people obsessed with abandon her. But she’s not proud anymore, and her arms feel way too tired to keep holding the shield against her chest when her heart has been already torn apart so many times. She has lost so much already, that sometimes she feels that there’s nothing else to lose anymore. So it won’t matter… it won’t matter.

She counts the days, the minutes, the hours, as she feels Yomo’s gaze upon her back, parting his lips to say something (something that she fears it may sound like “he’s not coming back”) but quickly shouting them again, not finding the courage to speak. She stares behind the window, waiting for something, always waiting for something… but nothing appears.

Last time Haise visited :re, he decided that he would be a bold guy. Girls like bold guys, and if he really wanted for that pretty waitress to set his eyes on him and actually see him, instead of seeing something else (he had that vague impression sometimes), he decided to give a small but decided first step. When she turned around towards the counter after delivering him his coffee, he took a paper and a pen and with shaky hands he wrote a simple but important question.

“Can I have your number?
-Haise.”

Keep reading

unidentifiedblackthorn  asked:

we were forced to hide in this very cramped space (from friends/authority figures/people trying to kill us) and this is a very awkward position to be stuck in with someone you’re avoiding because they’re too attractive for you to deal with” au WITH RHYS AND LUCIEN?? PLS??? I CRY???

this was for the prompts from a while ago!! still doing them, it’s just taking me 5ever lol. BUT THANK U FOR THIS GIFT IM ALSO CRY. 

WHO IS READY FOR RHYCIEN?????

———————

“Get off me, you idiotic–”

“You’re the one who’s on me, you get off.”

But there is nowhere to go, and after a few moments of futile struggle, Lucien is forced to settle with his shoulder wedged against the door, half being poked by the cleaning supplies sticking from the shelves in this comically small maintenance closet, and half with Rhysand flush against him, their limbs askew and intertwined as they’re posed to avoid randomly hung buckets and mops.

Lucien swears and Rhysand asks, almost incredulous, “does the Fall Court not believe in adequate storage space?”

“Couldn’t you just replace all their memories with giant squids or something?” Lucien snaps in response, “Cauldron boil me, you’re supposed to be this all-powerful godlike creature and we’re hiding in a closet–”

Rhysand puffs out a laugh and Lucien can feel it on his ear. “I am an all-powerful godlike creature, first of all. And there should be an ‘extraordinarily handsome’ somewhere in there too.”

Insufferable. Insufferable. That he is, in fact, extraordinary handsome, and the slight implication that he knows Lucien thinks that… there are so many awful people in this court it seems impossible that Rhysand could introduce him to new ways to hate a person, but here they are, pure frustrated loathing coursing hot through Lucien’s veins as they hide from the Fall Court guards.

It is entirely Rhysand’s fault, a stunning highlight to this diplomatic trip that seems to have been planned with the specific goal of making Lucien’s life difficult every turn. Today Rhysand had been taking an uncomfortably close look at one of the Fall Court heirlooms, when he definitely had no business being unaccompanied in the vaults–Lucien had stumbled across him and must have startled him, because Rhysand dropped the precious glass artifact he was inspecting, and the sound of shattering was met with cries from the guards and the sounds of approaching boots. A mutual look of fury and fear–neither prince wanted to be associated with the crime, much less face Beron’s wrath for it–and they’d taken off down the hall, since winnowing was magically disabled in the palace. Lucien had been the one to pull them into a closet as the guards drew closer, and as Rhysand’s elbow digs further into his side, he regrets it fervently. His father’s retribution–or almost anything–would have been better than enduring this. It’s pitch black in the closet, and the darkness is heightening his other senses: Rhysand is warm and firm against him, and Lucien is discovering nuances in Rhysand’s scent, thick between them, something like saltwater under the citrus-musk, and he likes it and he hates that he likes it.

Rhysand goes on after a pause; Lucien suspects it’s because he can’t handle the mere suggestion that he’s less powerful than he’s supposed to be.

“In any case, the peace between Night and Fall is tenuous–”

“It gets more tenuous with every passing second of your knee jamming into my thigh.”

Rhys pauses to make a huffy little show of being interrupted. “–As I was saying, is tenuous, and tampering with will or memories leaves traces, if you know where to look. Your father employs people who know where to look. I’d like to not endanger that peace by giving anyone cause for suspicion.”

“Yes, we certainly wouldn’t want you, sneaking around the vaults alone and fondling ancient magical items, to seem suspicious.” Lucien loads it with as much venomous sarcasm as possible.

“Interesting word choice.”

“Oh, you’re going to distract me from your snooping with innuendo? Very mature behavior from a High Lord apparent.”

“I’m not the one who said fondling.” A pause, and Lucien can hear the filthy smirk in Rhysand’s voice when he adds, low and breathy, “And I could distract you with a lot more than innuendo, if I wanted to.”

The points where their bodies press into one another suddenly feel very heavy, and the air around them very thin. Lucien is going to kill him. He’s going to set all of Rhysand’s clothes on fire at once; even if Lucien gets third degree burns by proximity and/or murdered by Night Court spies in retaliation it’ll be worth it.

“Do you just go through life assuming everyone in the world is insatiably attracted to you?” He hisses.

Rhysand hums faintly. “Mostly. I tend to be right, though.”

How can he be so casually haughty, so at ease in this ridiculous pose they’re holding? How in the world does this not phase him?

And what would it take to break that cavalier composure of his?

Lucien feels the urge to try, one way or another, throttle him or kiss him, something, anything, to bring him down to some part of Lucien’s emotional level of lusting contempt. He manages, with great effort, to ignore it and lie instead.

“Consider me an exception.”

“Really?” It’s an amused little purr. “You’ve never thought about me fondling anything other than glass trinkets?”

“Incredibly, I find arrogance something of a turn-off,” Lucien bites out.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe I should rifle around in your head and check.”

“Stay the fuck out of my mind, Rhysand,” Lucien snarls; aware that it’s bait, rising to it anyway. “I catch you trying to get past my shields and I swear I’ll—“

“You’ll what? Mouth off to me some more?” Rhysand says, sharply, baldly. Lucien feels thin fingers find his face in the dark, finds himself paralyzed with equal parts fury and heat as Rhysand traces the shape of his lips, his jaw.  “That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble, little Lucien. I hope you get as good at finishing things as you are at starting them.”

The nickname is too much.

Lucien snaps with something like a growl in his throat, and they collide with the clatter of cleaning supplies, door rattling as Rhysand shoves him against it, lips hot and seeking against Lucien’s. Hands grapple ungracefully, pulling, tugging, digging into clothing, both of them seeking to take; Rhysand tastes like sweat and the dust of the room and a bittersweet darkness, and Lucien is all teeth in search of more of it.

“You bit me,” Rhysand grunts, although it doesn’t stop his hand’s frenzied ascent up under Lucien’s now-untucked shirt to touch his bare chest.

“You called me Little Lucien,” Lucien pants petulantly, as Rhys latches onto his neck, sucking out his revenge.

“Well you are proving me wrong, aren’t you?” Rhys palms the generous bulge of Lucien’s hardening cock by way of explanation. “Not so little.”

Lucien holds back a groan, instead gritting out, “Fuck, I hate you.”

Rhysand chuckles, and Lucien kisses him again, rough, sloppy, just so he’ll shut up, for cauldron’s sake—

And then the world is bright, and they’re both tumbling backwards. Lucien hits the ground hard, arousal interrupted by the painful weight of Rhys landing almost entirely on top of him.

The poor maid who opened the door—and managed to dodge out of the way before her prince and the foreign dignitary he’s clearly making out with tumbled out—stands there in absolute shock, a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Lucien apologizes to her vaguely, feeling his shame return to him with his sense of sight.

———————

Rhysand rights himself and slips away before Lucien can finish calming the frazzled, embarrassed maid, and is mercifully absent for the rest of the day, as Lucien grows more and more mortified about the event. By the time he retires for the night, he’s considering hiding in his room for the remaining days of Rhysand’s visit and also maybe the rest of eternity.

But he opens the door to see Rhysand, calmly inspecting the contents of his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien blurts, too surprised and lingeringly embarrassed to put any real hostility behind it.

Rhysand puts down whatever he was playing with, walks over to where Lucien is rooted to the floor with that brand of disaffected self-assurance that reminds Lucien: he hates him, he hates him, don’t make out with him again–

“We weren’t finished when we were interrupted earlier,” Rhysand murmurs, and kisses him.

Arrogant, entitled, presumptuous, insufferable, insufferable, insufferable–

Lucien’s resolve crumples like wet paper and he kisses him back, Rhysand’s night-cool aura washing over his senses, making him forget why this was ever a bad idea. Somehow they end up stumbling towards the bed, Lucien gripping the back of Rhysand’s neck as they tumble onto it.

“It’s Rhys, not Rhysand, when you come,” Rhys manages to get out against Lucien’s lips, somehow still imperious when he’s underneath Lucien, both of them flushed.

Lucien swears softly. “Only if you promise to stop talking.”

Hatred (Part 3)

Summary: After walking in on you with Jughead, Betty makes it her mission to convince you guys to talk about your relationship. It takes some prodding, but eventually you work everything out.

Part 1: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157668611423/hatred

Part 2: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157709938523/hatred-part-2

Masterlist: https://beronica-josie.tumblr.com/post/157919516668/masterlist

You walked all the way home and went straight to your room before you even looked at your phone. 9 missed calls from Betty. But 0 from Jughead. Why hadn’t he called? Whatever. You knew you’d have to deal with this on Monday anyways, so you might as well enjoy the rest of the weekend.

MONDAY

You went to your locker that morning, hoping to put your stuff away and go straight to class. Unfortunately, Betty had other plans. She was waiting for you at your locker. You tried to turn and leave, but she had already seen you.

She jogged over to you. “What the heck, [Y/N]? Why didn’t you answer my texts or calls this weekend? I didn’t mean to mess things up with you and -”

“Betty, I don’t want to talk about it.” You interrupted. You were annoyed that he hadn’t bothered to contact you at all. If he actually did care, wouldn’t he have done something?

“What’s wrong?” She could tell you were upset. “Didn’t he talk to you? After you left on Friday, we had a long talk about you two.”

You were a bit surprised. Jughead had talked to Betty about it but not you? “What did he say?” You asked, biting your lip. Whatever he said could make or break your relationship.

“It’s not my place. You should ask him.” The bell rang just as she finished her sentence. “I’ll see you later.” She walked off. You sighed. You’d have to take this into your own hands.

LUNCH

You were prepared to ambush him at lunch, but he was nowhere to be found. After 10 minutes of looking for him, you gave up and went to sit with Betty, Veronica, and Archie.

Betty looked surprised as you took the seat next to her. “Why aren’t you talking to him?” She leaned over to whisper so only you would hear.

“I can’t find him anywhere.” You rolled your eyes. You just wanted to focus on your lunch and spend some time not thinking about Jughead.

Of course, that moment was when Jughead decided to show up. He sat down next to Archie, across from you. You tried to give him an angry look, but he didn’t even bother to look your way.

“What’s up, Jug?” Archie turned to greet him.

Jughead turned to Archie and began chatting, as if everything was normal. How dare he just ignore you like that? You turned to Betty, shocked and angry. She gave you an apologetic look before turning to Jughead.

“Hey, Jughead, do you want to study with me and [Y/N] tonight for the next history quiz?” She asked politely.

“Not if she’s going to be there.” He finally looked at you, but he was glaring. What was he doing? Why was he acting like nothing had ever happened?

You clenched your jaw and your fist tightened around the plastic spoon you were holding. “No, you know what? I won’t be there.” You looked at Jughead. You wished you could burn a hole with your eyes.

“Yes, you will. You’ll both be there. At my house. 6 pm.” Betty’s voice was a bit more forceful than usual.

Jughead glanced at you again, his eyes narrow and dark. You continued to clench your fist and when you opened it again, you found you had split the plastic utensil in half. You threw it on your tray. “Whatever.” You said as you stood up and walked away.

AFTER SCHOOL

You really didn’t want to go to Betty’s but you knew that if you didn’t go today, she would push you to go tomorrow and then the next day until something actually happened. Might as well get it over with.

You showed up at Betty’s house around 6. She answered the door and led you to her room, where Jughead already was. He was sitting backwards in her vanity chair. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked past him to sit on the seat in front of the window. You immediately wished you hadn’t come. You sat, folding your arms in front of your chest and keeping your gaze straight so you wouldn’t be looking at him.

Betty sat on her bed and glanced back and forth between the two of you, waiting for one of you to start a conversation. When that didn’t happen, she spoke up. “So, why don’t we start with Jughead? Isn’t there something you wanted to say to [Y/N]?” He slouched in his chair and refused to speak.

You were tired of this game. You had to start this conversation, because obviously he wasn’t going to. “Damn it, Jughead! Why can’t you just say something to me? Why didn’t you call me this weekend? And why were you being a jerk at lunch today? Does none of this matter to you?”

“Of course this means something to me, [Y/N]! I was the one who kissed you first!” He turned to you. He was very angry. “Do you know how hard it was for me to decide what to do? I’ve hated you all my life and then somehow I liked you? It makes no sense!” He stood up quickly, knocking the chair to the floor.

“Jughead, calm down. It’s okay, we’re going to work this out.” Betty said, calmly.

“Betty, why does this even concern you?” He snapped at her.

She looked up at him, shocked. You’d never seen Jughead this angry before and you bet that she hadn’t either. “Okay, Jughead. I’ll leave, but you two are going to fix this.” She sounded a bit hurt. She silently walked out of the room.

“Jughead what the hell? You just kicked Betty out of her own room!” You stood up, now as angry as he was. Being this rude to you was one thing, but being this rude to Betty? That’s where you drew the line.

Jughead sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He seemed shocked himself at what he had just done. He instantly lowered his voice. “I know, I didn’t mean to…” He slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t stand to see him so upset with himself.

You walked over to him, gently sitting down so your right leg was touching his left. “It’s okay, Jughead. She just wants us to talk it over, so let’s do that.” You reached over to grab his left hand. “For Betty.” Your voice hardened a bit on those last words. You were still angry with him.

He glanced at you. You gave him a small smile, hoping to cheer up. He smiled back.

“Okay, here it all is.” He turned his gaze to the floor as he spoke. “I was still struggling with how felt about you after the party. I really liked the kiss and you seemed to, too, so I thought we might have a chance. But on Friday, when you left as soon as Betty showed up, it seemed like you were embarrassed to be seen with me. That’s also why I didn’t bother calling you. I was mean to you today because I thought that if I went back to acting how I used to act around you, maybe things would go back to normal and I would stop liking you.”

“Jughead…” You started. Your actions did sound pretty bad. You never meant to hurt him like that. “Jughead, look at me.” He looked up, looking into your eyes. You placed a hand on his cheek. His hand moved to cups yours. You loved the warmth of his hand on yours. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings when I left on Friday. I was confused, too. You told me that it was ‘too complicated,’ so I thought you didn’t want an actual relationship. When Betty showed up, I panicked and left because I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to know. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was embarrassed of you.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry that I was being so difficult about everything. I just wasn’t sure about what I felt or what I wanted.”

“Well do you know what you want now?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I want you.”

You placed your other hand on his other cheek and pulled his face to yours. You pushed your lips to his. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Before the kiss could turn into anything deeper, you pulled away.

“Is something wrong?” Jughead asked worried.

“You need to go apologize to Betty.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I was a bit rough on her.” He stands up and heads for the door. As he opens the door, the two of you see Betty backing away from the door quickly. She flashes you a guilty smile. “Oh, have you guys worked everything out?”

“I think Betty was listening in on our conversation.” Jughead says, turning to smirk at you.

You fake gasp, making a shocked face. “Betty!” You jokingly scold her.

“Okay, maybe I was.” Betty laughed.

“Listen, Betty, I want to apologize for -” Jughead began, sounding worried.

“Don’t worry about it, Jug. I forgive you. I just wanted you guys to make up and you did, so I’m happy. Does this mean I can tell Veronica and Archie about you guys?”

“Uh, I don’t know… It might be weird given how we used to act around each other. They might tease us about it.” Jughead turned to you.

“Oh, they’ll definitely tease us. But it’s nothing we can’t handle.” You smirk at him.

THE NEXT DAY

“So does this mean you guys have been having anger sex the whole time?” Veronica asked at lunch the next day.

You sat next to Jughead, across from Veronica. Jughead looked at you with shocked eyes and a slightly red face.

“Very funny, Veronica.” You said, mockingly. You smirked and raised your eyebrows at her as if to say “yes.”

“I saw that.” Jughead said, causing everyone at the table to laugh.

Late - Bughead Fic

Prompt: @marissamoncan you write bughead fic with 19, 22, 34 & 36?

Because I want to keep these rather short and sweet I decided to just do the first two, 19 and 22, hope that’s okay! Also I’m ecstatic to be writing my first Bughead fic, I know quite a few of my followers and friends aren’t massive fans of Bughead but I hope that they can treat this as a small oversight. This also serves as an alternative and less angsty version of Homecoming, i.e no FP getting arrested. 

19 - “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

22 - “Choose me.”


Betty Cooper found herself perched in a booth at the dimly lit diner owned by one Pop Tate. Aimlessly she spun her candy-striped straw around her rapidly melting vanilla milkshake, worry lines were etching their way deeply into her forehead. 

‘Betty, you look - I mean, seriously wow.’ 

Archie’s words still buzzed in her ears, like an annoying fly that she desperately wanted rid of. 

He wanted her. 

Now he wanted her. Now she was over him. Now he had Veronica. Now she had Jughead. 

‘Can I cut in?’ He’d asked later that night, her arms were slung lazily around Jughead’s neck and his lightly on her waist, he shrugged and handed her over to the broad ginger. 

Betty looked down at the offending item of clothing, her silky blue off-the-shoulder dress, aimlessly she pressed down on the ruffled creases of the skirt. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, she thought of the mess that had been created tonight, her potentially unsalvageable relationships. She was sure that Ronnie was going to give her the cold shoulder for the next few weeks. Her friendship with Archie was going to face its biggest strain yet and Jughead -

‘Oh God, Jughead.’ She thought miserably. 

The ginger boys large warm hands felt foreign on Betty’s tiny waist, they held a strength that was unfamiliar and possessive. His calloused thumbs rubbed deep circles into her hips bones and annoyingly ruffled the material of her dress. 

‘Jughead’s a lucky guy, Betty.’ He said with a hint of charm lilting his voice.

Betty smiled sweetly in response, an uncomfortable awkwardness loomed over her from his words. The soft and slow music was the only noise that filled the silent gap between them.

‘Archie-’

‘Betty-’

They both broke the silence at the same time.

‘You first.’ She offered meekly. 

‘I-’ He looked up at the gymnasium ceiling, seemingly hoping words would just fall from the sky.

He sighed deeply and raised his hand to Betty’s cheek-

The sound of Pop’s diner bell brought Betty back from her memories of the night. A frantic beanie-less Jughead Jones entered through the door, his wide eyes searched the diner before they finally settling on the petite young woman whose eyes pleaded back into his. 

‘Jughead.’ His name caught her throat in a silent choke of desperation.

He slid quickly into the booth, his eyes burned with an intense panic and roamed her face looking for answers to a question he hadn’t asked.

‘Choose me.’ He pleaded and drew her hands into his. ‘I don’t want to sound desperate Betts, but choose me.’ 

His once composed and formal attire was dishevelled his tie hanging loosely around his neck now and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, his voice was dry and needy, and his hands clung desperately to hers as though if he let go she’d float away. 

‘What?’ She whispered timidly, unsure of what the boy in front of her was possibly thinking. 

‘Archie.’ He confirmed. ‘Don’t pick him. He doesn’t-’

‘Jughead,’ she stopped him with a raised hand, ‘what on earth are you talking about? Archie? Why-’

‘Because-’

‘Jughead.’ She stopped him again, firmly this time. 

His panicked eyes continued to search hers, they bore into her soul and pleaded with her heart. Looking at his broken and unsure face made Betty’s bottom lip tremble, how could one person be so unnurtured and unloved. 

‘Jug-’ she began quietly with a quivering voice, ‘it’s always going to be you, that was never a doubt in my mind.’

‘But Archie-’

‘Isn’t you.’ She whispered resolutely.

His eyes stilled at her words, they gazed disbelievingly into her own, still apprehensive; still unsure. Betty sighed and drew herself further across the table, plucking his bony hands gently into her own slim ones, she lightly rubbed the familiar callouses of his knuckles. 

‘When Archie told me-’ she took in a deep breath, ‘told me he’d never see me in that way, I was crushed - sure.’ 

Betty looked down at their entwined fingers and chose to focus on them before continuing her story.  

‘I was convinced at that time that I loved him, Juggie, but when he told he’d never feel the same way I managed to move on. I could live without the love of Archie Andrews.’ She sighed. ‘But you-’ 

Her eyes chanced a glance at him, his eyes - like hers had been- were now staring at their tangled fingers. He ran his wet tongue along the bottom of his dry lip absentmindedly, momentarily pulling Betty away from the point she was trying to make. 

What she had felt for Archie, she thought that was love, but how could it ever have been? Without Archie she could still breath, she could still eat and sleep, she could still live. 

But without Jughead? 

‘I’m in love with you, Jughead.’ The words fell from her mouth in a simple truth. ‘I’m in love with you, and it scares the crap out of me.’

His dark eyes continued to stare at their locked hands but Betty could see the effect that her words had on him, his chest rapidly rose and fell as his heart hammered within its dark cavity and his shallow breath hit the back of her hands.

‘I’m pretty terrified too.’ He whispered before pulling her hands up to his wet lips with a chaste kiss.

And that was all she needed to hear.


[A/N: So my first Bughead fic! I’m not sold on the ending but I needed it to end at some point! Also it hasn’t been fully proofread but I will do so before I add it to my masterlist, hope you liked regardless!]

Request from this prompt list here and here!

Siren’s Gold Chapter 2

The adventure continues! Thank you all so much for the support and love, I’m so glad you love this AU as much as I do. Let’s get the ball rolling, shall we?

The other side of a chance encounter, and the first moments of a new beginning.

Read on AO3 HERE
Rated:M
McHanzo, Pirate McCree MerHanzo AU

Keep reading

bottomtothetop  asked:

i think I already sent one in for the prompt thing (if you're still doing that) but can you either do 6 and 19 or 15 ? tq :))

Omg I wrote waaaayyy too much! Ahhh I’m a clutz!
Forgive me! (And thank you for the prompts)

6 - “Don’t you die on me”
19 - “I’m scared”

———

“FIRE!” Was the only warning Jeremy received before he was violently pushed into a wall by a group of stampeding girls. The party was thrown into chaos as more and more people began to notice the very real threat of a fire as the smoke from the next few rooms began to spread though the residence. Jeremy couldn’t think properly, maybe due to the abundance of teenagers pushing past him or the fact that he had just finished downing a few cans of beer after what had happened with Christine.

The Squip had turned on a few minutes after the incident and had immediately started shouting at him about his reputation, his image and his stupidity. After calming down, the Squip had suddenly felt the need to get Jeremy out of the house, to which Jeremy responded by getting drunk… again.

He wasn’t in the mood for the Squip’s antics and his attempts at getting Jeremy higher on the school map - and leaving the party at that very moment wouldn’t have benefitted him anyway. He had still asked out Christine and she had still said no. That was that, there was no point running from it - or at least, that’s what Jeremy thought the Squip was taking about.

Now, stood in the midst of all this mess, he knew exactly what had happened. The Squip must have seen a future in which a fire had started and told Jeremy to leave the building before it got out of control. God, if he had only listened. But now wasn’t the time for dawdling. Rubbish sudden sense of adrenaline, Jeremy pushed through the crowd and once everyone was through into the living room he shut the door tight, barricading it with a sofa chair. He tried to calm everyone down but it was no use, no one could hear him shout over the sound of screaming and mass panic. All the guests of the party were trying to squeeze through the tiny front door of Jake’s house which was clearly not working. At this rate, the fire would catch up to them in no time.

Spotting the large glass window through which he could see the party people running out of the house in panic, Jeremy grabbed onto the nearest throwable hard item and launched it at the window, smashing it instantly. The sound was enough the gain the attention of the majority of the crowd, now aware of the second escape route. Jeremy cleared out the remaining shards of glass before ordering half of the crowd to exit through there, an order they happily complied with.

Jeremy stood on the sofa, coughing into his cyborg costume as the fumes from the room next door began to seep through. He spotted Jake outside, dragging something on his shoulders and limping to safety. That something was clearly Rich, Jeremy could recognise that fashion sense anywhere. He knew that the girls had left the party early after the earlier fiasco with Chloe and Christine had left with Jenna to take her home safety. That meant that everyone was safe, everyone except…

Michael.

He had left Michael in the bathroom after shouting at him earlier, calling him a loser under the influence of alcohol, lack of Squip and irrational thinking. God, what was he thinking?! That was his best friend for gods sake he needed to find him. He needed to know that he was ok.

Racing towards the door, Jeremy pulled out his phone and dialled the number he had memorised since childhood. He turned and watched the burning house as he ran out into the crisp cold. Everyone seemed to have made it out, which was good except… Michael wasn’t answering. Jeremy stared down at the blank screen on his phone, Michael always answered!

He tried to reason with himself. ‘Of course he wouldn’t answer, you called him a loser!’ Jeremy told himself, and it made sense. Michael had all the right in the world to be upset with him so of course he wouldn’t answer his call. He probably went straight home after their argument and was in his basement right now getting high. Still… what if…

Jeremy pulled up his iMessage and started typing frantically:

“Ok I know you’re still mad at me and you have every right to be I was an asshole and a prick and I deserve all of this but please just listen for a sec and text me back. It doesn’t have to be anything, just a blank message, a middle finger emoji I DONT CARE! Just- trust me when I say I really need to hear from you right now. Please Michael.”

A few minutes later, Jeremy was getting restless. The flames were getting bigger and bigger and there was no denying that everyone who could have gotten out had… but…

Suddenly, his phone lit up with the familiar ringtone of the Apocalypse of the Damned soundtrack, level nine to be exact. Their favourite. Jeremy’s heart did a double take when he saw the caller ID. His fingers immediately went to pick up the phone.

“MICHAEL! Oh thank god I was so worried. Something happened at the party and there’s a fire and I thought for a split second that… you… Michael?”

Michael wasn’t responding. All Jeremy could hear was a soft, crackling noise at the other end of the call.

“Michael!” He said again, a little louder.

Suddenly, a voice came thorough.

“Jeremy- can you… me?” It was faint, and there was barely anything there but Jeremy could recognise his best friend’s voice anywhere.

“Michael what’s going on? Are you ok?”

“…. it’s locked Jer-…. can’t…. closer-…. help me!” Michael sounded panicked and distressed, his voice coarse and rough.

Jeremy didn’t need another second to think. He ran back into the flaming building, ignoring all those behind him who were telling him that he was crazy, that he would die. He needed to save his best friend.

“Michael tell me where you are, I’m coming in.” He ordered down the line.

“Bathroom…” he barely heard over the flaming world around him but Jeremy knew exactly where he was; exactly where he had left him. Jeremy threw the barricade off of the door and buried himself and his phone in the cloth of this Halloween costume to prevent anymore smoke filling his lungs.

If the Squip was active right about now, he didn’t want to know what he would say…. he didn’t really care.

“Jeremy…” he heard his best friend whisper in his low yet soft voice, “I’m scared.”

Jeremy’s heart broke in two. He had never heard something like that come out of Michael’s mouth in all the time he knew him. Michael was the highlight of his life, the one good thing that got him through high school and yet he had never seen him without a smile on his face.

“Hang… hang in there Michael I’m almost at the door,” Jeremy tried to comfort his best friend despite the suffocating fumes around him. But he couldn’t hang up the phone, he couldn’t leave his best friend alone. He needed to save him.

Jeremy eventually came to the bathroom door. The flames had made the structure extremely weak so he knew that if he were to force the door open the whole floor might collapse.

“Ok Michael, I’m outside,” he said calmly despite the burning sensation in his lungs. He tried the knob, no dice. The door wasn’t budging. Michael must have locked it from the inside.

“Michael, you have to listen to me. You need to open the door, we need to get out of here now!” Jeremy yelled over the flames, hoping his best friend would hear him through both the phone and the thick walls.

He waited a few seconds until he heard the soft click of the door. Flying it open, he threw his phone to the ground and ran into the bathroom, cloth still covering up most of his face from the smoke.

Michael was slumped up against the wall, weak and dying. His eyes were closed and his hand was gripped over his hoodie which he had zipped right up to his neck to help him breath. Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat before returning to reality and lifting his friend up off the ground.

“Come on Michael, don’t die on me dude.” He whispered, hauling his best friend over his shoulder. Jeremy limped towards the window and smashed it open with his remaining strength, knowing the fire below was now too great for both of them to make it out that way alive. The drop from the bathroom wasn’t too bad, considering it was situated on the second floor. Jeremy could see a reasonable sized bush below which would break at least some of their fall.

“Ok Michael, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me, we have to jump ok?” He shook his best friend awake who barely responded with a brief nod. Jeremy could only take that before he climbed out the tiny window and threw himself out of the house.

——-

Michael slowly opened his eyes as the voices all around him started to invade his mind. He didn’t want to, they hurt like hell, but he knew that he should. His whole body hurt too, he felt like he had just thrown himself into a fire. Ironic, once he realised what had happened.

Michael was lying on the concrete pavement just outside of Jake’s burning residence. The sounds of firetrucks sirens filled the air as the vehicles drew closer to extinguish the flames. The sounds of drunk teens also filled the air, telling Michael that at least most of the party must have escaped the fire.

He slowly sat up despite the pain, wanting to get a better perspective of the situation, but was stopped by a hand abruptly meeting his chest. He looked up to meet the bright blue eyes of his best friend, who looked just as worse for wear. His costume was burnt to the brim and his hair was disheveled and filled with ash. He smelt like smoke, a drastic change from the sweet vanilla scent that Michael was used to. Before he could say anything, Jeremy’s eyes started to fill with tears. He clutched onto Michael’s hoodie as he launched himself at his best friend.

The two sat there, on the pavement, embraced in each others arms. The rest of the world was a blur, it was just him and Jeremy. Nothing else mattered but him and Jeremy.

Sweet Tears Pt. 1

Jungkook x Reader { Cat Hybrid Au! } (a)(f)(eventual smut)

Warnings: Mature themes, abuse, graphic descriptions, violence

Who could have known that taking home a hybrid would change ones whole life? How could y/n have guessed he would affect her so much? All she wants to do is help, but she doesn’t even know if he’ll let her.  

Wordcount: 2k+

*edited*

masterlst  

next



“Why did it have to start pouring, right when I get out of work?” You say out loud to yourself, walking just a little bit faster with the hope of getting home soon. After a long day of typing up reports, making not one, but two power points for a meeting coming up, and staying over three hours later than you planned at your work, you just wanted to go home. It was dark, and you were freezing in your business attire. Curling up on your couch with some tea and a Korean drama sounded like heaven at the moment.

Your heels splashed through the puddles that were covering the once light gray sidewalk, soaking through all the way to the black tights covering your feet. Passing by a darkened alleyway, a bolt lightning hit the ground, lighting up the world around you. Jumping slightly at the sudden blinding light, you noticed a figure hidden in the shadows. Even if you only caught it for a split second in the corner of your eye, you knew someone, or something, was there.

Keep reading