as you can clearly see i have nothing better to do on a saturday evening

Familiar but Unexpected

One Shot: Jungkook Best friend!AU x Reader

Word count: 9.5k 

Genre: Fluff, Angst and NSFW! Smut. 

A/N: I recommend you read this in one sitting - strap yourself in for one heck of a rollercoaster ride, boys and girls. I’m back to ruin your life temporarily. @jeonjungrude @author–nim @btsbangtansarmyv

Summary: Jungkook, your ‘best friend’ needs a place to stay since his older brother unexpectedly came home. You try to fix their sibling relationship but that ends up costing you your friendship with Jungkook- a trade for something better or for something worse? 

@btsfanficss masterlist here 💕

Originally posted by armythreej

The doorbell rung simultaneous to the sound of constant knocks on your door. You opened your bloodshot eyes and reached over for your phone that sat on the bedside table. Who in their right mind would visit you at 4 in the morning? The violent knocking intensified and you groaned with frustration, peeling yourself away from the warm bed. You shuffled yourself over to the front door and swung it open while rubbing your tired eyes. Of course, only Jeon Jungkook, your best friend, would have the nerve to barge in at such an ungodly hour.

Jesus woman, I thought you were dead,” Jungkook’s voice sounded relieved at the sight of you in front of him, in your nighties that consisted of merely a singlet and terribly short running shorts. It exposed your supple skin to the handsome boy.

“Jungkook what the fuck do you want? I’m tired, it’s 4 in the bloody morning-” you sighed and wobbled with fatigue.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” Jungkook scoffed and entered your apartment with a small suitcase in his grip. “My brother came home unexpectedly just then, I need a place to crash until he leaves.”

You nodded without much thought, you knew his brother was always a sensitive topic for him so you understood.

“That’s fine by me. I’m going back to sleep,” you announced to the noir haired boy with a loud yawn. He merely snickered at your exhausted state and jumped onto your sofa- where he usually crashed after his nights out.

You glided back into the comfort of your bedsheets and closed your eyes to drift off into dreamland.

Morning came quicker than expected. You woke up to the sound of shuffling and fidgeting from the kitchen. It was unusual for Jungkook to wake up so early, early being 9 o’ clock since it was a Saturday morning. 

“Good morning,” you said in a nasal voice as you poured yourself a cup of coffee Jungkook had brewed. You peaked over Jungkook’s broad shoulders to see sizzling pancakes on the pan. 

“What’s the special occasion?” you murmured behind a hazy sounding giggle and Jungkook showed no emotion, a thin line across his lips. 

“Nothing..” Jungkook sounded inaudible as his chest grew with the inhalation of his breath. He let out a loud sigh and you gulped at the boy’s condition. It was rare for him to look so serious. He was normally always making the most inappropriate jokes and comments. 

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Let Me Show You

Author’s Note: I don’t where this came from but I’ve had this scenario in my head for days and I just had to write it. Sorry if there are any typos. I just wrote this on my phone in fit of passion. Also, I just started watching Hemlock grove so idk if I captured Roman’s character as well as I wanted, but oh well. Forgive me.

Rating: mature

Warnings: smut for smut’s sake

You were frustrated. You weren’t even convinced the word “frustrated” really encompassed the rage you felt towards yourself at this particular moment. It’s been awhile since your hands were able to get you off the way they used to. Recently, every time you were in the mood and you let your fingers slip down to your most sensitive spots, you would end up completely unsatisfied. No amount of flicks, tugs, or circular motions were enough to get you to the peek that you were desperately aching for. So it’s not even a surprise that you find yourself, once again, on your back and on the verge of tears.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon and you had the house completely to yourself. You thought that today would finally be the day you could reach that sweet high you’ve been craving. There was nothing pressing on your mind, no distractions, but after two hours of scrolling through endless porn videos and conjuring up every fantasy you ever had, it was still utterly pointless. So as you lay completely bare on your bed, throwing a tantrum, you were suddenly jolted from your thoughts by the doorbell. So with a huff, you pull yourself together enough to drag yourself to your front door.

And there he was.

The human embodiment of the sexual frustrations that have been pent up inside you in the form of a 6’4 man with the face sculpted by the gods themselves.

“What do you want Roman?” You say completely irritated. He was the absolute last person you wanted to see right now, especially now that the unstoppable throbbing between your legs somehow intensified even more since you left your room.

“Well, someone’s clearly happy to see me.” Roman teased, the corner of his full lips tugged into the infamous smirk that made every female within a ten-mile radius swoon. He pushed past you, and into your living room. The smell of his expensive designer cologne filled your lungs causing your eyes to drop for a second before looking back at him. He was completely unaware of the effect he had on you, but he could tell there was something off about you. Your breathing was heavier than usual and you were wearing a silk robe in the middle of the afternoon.

“So, what were you up to before I got here?” Roman asked as he circled mindlessly around the couch. Any other time you would be completely thrilled that he had come to you to spend his free time. But today was not one of those days. “Look Roman if you just want to shoot the shit, we do that another time. I’m busy,” you said bluntly. Roman spun around on his heels. He wasn’t used to you acting so unwelcoming, usually, you were the first person he could go to if he just needed someone to listen to him. He stepped up to you, so close his chest was almost next to yours. He took one of his long fingers and grazed it gracefully across your cheek. His big green eyes looking down at you, as if he’s never truly looked at you before.

“You know you can tell me anything. I’ve trusted you with more than anyone should. Let me be here for you.” He whispered quietly. You never felt so embarrassed in your whole life. Roman was here for you, willing to be your confidant, and the only reason you kept barking at him was because you couldn’t get yourself off.

“Roman, please. I can’t talk to you about this” you told him, backing away from him. However, he was able to grab onto your arm and bring you back into his space. Once again locking eyes. “I said anything,” he repeated slowly. Not being able to handle the intensity of his gaze, you looked down and whispered something he wasn’t able to catch. He leaned down, his ear now closer to your lips. “Come again?”

“God Damn it, Roman! I can’t get myself off, ok!” You yell at him. He shakes his head and you notice that he’s chuckling. “Are you laughing at me? See this is why I shouldn’t tell you shit. Everything’s a joke to yo-“ you were cut off by a swift movement. Before you were able to follow him, Roman has your back pushed against his chest and he begins kissing your temple. “Let me show you” he whispered. “I can help.” He pushed your hair away from your neck, tracing the length of it with his fingers. “Please?” He begged. Having little self-restraint, and feeling tired of losing the endless battle with your body, you willingly accept his offers.

He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. Once there he kisses your hand before promising to return. You start pacing as you wait, wondering if this was a terrible idea and if an orgasm was really worth sacrificing your friendship over. But when he comes back to your room, carrying the full-length mirror from the bathroom, you were intrigued. He gently places it in front of your bed.

“Come here,” he says softly. You did as he asks and drags his hand from your collarbone and up your neck, forcing you to look up at him. He captures your lips in a kiss. His lips were so warm and soft that you could feel yourself melting in his arms. You feel his other hand move down to the tie of your robe, undoing it swiftly, and letting the silky black material fall off your body. He breaks the kiss the look down at you before looking back up at you through his thick lashes.

“A body like yours should never go unsatisfied.” His compliment made your heart race and you were more eager than ever to get his hands on you. You wasted no time pushing off his blazer and untucking his white v neck from his slacks. You loved the way he dressed. He was the perfect combination of sexy, classy and dangerous. But as of right now, all you wanted was to see these designer clothes littered across your hardwood floors. Once he was completely bare, he took the time to take off his newest watch, an investment you couldn’t even imagine making.

“Don’t want to get this wet.” He explained, placing the piece with his ring on the dresser. Then turned back to face her. And you couldn’t help but moan out loud at the sight. He was flawless. Every part of him was better than the fantasies you created in your head. “I want you, Roman. God, I want you.” You confessed. You started kissing down the smooth planes of his chest, lowering yourself with every peck. But before you could reach the place you wanted to go the most, Roman stopped you.

“I’m here for you.” He reminded you. Taking your hand and led you down to the floor. He moved your bodies so that his back was against the end of the bed, and your back was placed against his chest. He shifted beneath you slipping his long legs beneath yours and opened your legs. Looking into the mirror in front of you, you were displayed perfectly for him.

“I want you to watch me. You need to learn how to take care of this pretty little pussy of yours” he whispered into your ears. His fingers traced the outline of your lips and you let the long digits slipped through. “There’s a good girl.” He removed his fingers and brought them down your nipple. Circling around it so lightly, it almost tickled before roughly pulling on it, cause you to let out a gasp. He smiled at you through the reflection before continuing his ministrations. He lazily moved downwards until he got to where you really needed him. You were rolling your hips against him, not being able to sit still with his teasing. His fingers dragged slowly up from your wet opening to your clit. Then he starts circling around it at a slow and rhythmic pace.

“You like that?” He asked. He got his answer in the form of a soft moan. You reached behind you so you can grab his chocolate locks. Roman start nipping at your neck, finding the sensitive spot beneath your ear quite easily. He slid his other hand away from your nipple and down to your opening. Slipping two of his long and skillful fingers inside you. You had heard the rumors of the magical Roman fingers. But when he curved them to hit your spot so perfectly you almost screamed, you realized they were true.

“Look at yourself. You needed this didn’t you? You’re soaked.” You looked at yourself and you got the first glimpse of what he was capable of. Your whole body was on fire and your heaving chest and erect nipples were showing it. “I’m so close Roman. Please don’t stop.” You begged, grinding yourself harder against his length and his fingers. His legs kept you opened for him as both his hands worked tirelessly to get you off.

“Come on baby. Let it go for me, I know you can.” He encouraged. You reached the hand that wasn’t pulling at his hair to squeeze your own nipple. And with a few more seconds of stimulation your back arched away from his chest as your realase finally came. “Roman!” you screamed in ecstasy. Your orgasm hit you so hard that your whole body started convulsing. Roman’s hand slipped out of you and held you to his chest as his fingers kept circling around your clit, helping your release last as long as possible.

When your body finally stopped shaking, you slumped against his chest. You were completely spent. All those weeks of pent frustrations were finally gone and you never felt more relaxed. You turned back to look at Roman, his beautiful green eyes were completely blown.

“Do you want me to…” you trailed off. He shook his head and embarrassingly looked down at himself. “I already did.” You turned around to see he was right. The evidence was coated aross his chest and your back. You giggled a little. “The great sex god, Roman Godfrey, just came from having a girl grind on him?” You said teasingly. He lifted himself off the floor, shaking his head defensively. “You don’t get it. Watching a girl cum for you is just as sexy as getting blown. Especially if the girl is as gorgeous as you are.”

You made your way to your bed and by the time you got comfortable, Roman was back with a warm towel. Once you two were cleaned up, you guys made yourself comfortable on the bed. And with your head on chest and his hands in your hair, you let a “thank you” slip from your lips. You were so tired, you’re sure you imagined him saying “I’d do anything for you”.

broken rings & queens and kings | kth

summary: to make a long, long story very, very short, you and kim taehyung have been sworn enemies ever since childhood, that is, until you find out that you’re betrothed to each other for the good of your kingdoms, and everything comes crumbling down.

{a long (and quite frankly, unnecessary) mixture of enemies to lovers!au, royalty!au, and arranged marriage!au}

pairing: taehyung x female reader
word count: 24k (ahhhhhhhhH!!!!!!!!)
genre: fluff, light angst, light smut
warnings: hate sex and strong language (when will i ever stop w/ the hate sex)
a/n: u guys don’t know how much this took out of me. dedicated to the one and only @guktwt, without whom i wouldn’t have even written this. this one’s for u, lara!! 

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A Little Like Whiplash

(based on this, part two of this, Russian translations under the story itself) 

Jonathan isn’t generally a judgemental person. He likes to think that he sees the best in most people, even if they don’t deserve it.

For some reason, he’s never been able to do that with Yuri Plisetsky, the Russian bombshell that nobody knows or cares to know because he’s terrifying and has a tendency to be an asshole.

He has the distinct impression that Yuri, despite clearly not being a scholarship kid (he’s wearing designer everything, and he drives a Maserati; there’s no way that he came to Portland State for any reason other than that he wanted to), would rather be anywhere but here. He sleeps through the two classes that he shares with Jonathan, and for some reason, the professors allow it. If he was a bit less of an antisocial shit, though, Jonathan would probably have a crush; for all his faults, Yuri is one the most attractive person that he’s ever seen outside of magazines with his immaculately braided, waist-length hair and pouty lips and perfect eyeliner (Jonathan is sure he’s the only one that’s noticed that last bit; the subtlety of it is the reason it’s so damn perfect).

The first time he ever actually says anything, it’s one of those days that the professor decides, for whatever reason, not to show up for class. Until the fifteen minute limit passes, the class hums with a low buzz of noise. Yuri, predictably, is asleep.

Jonathan has a few friends in this class, Anthony and Thomas, and they’re chatting quietly about the baseball game on Saturday. Somehow, the topic shifts to that one asshole that’s always sleeping through class.

“Fifteen minutes!” The girl by the door calls out, and the class gets up.

“I’m just saying, why pay for the classes if you’re just gonna sleep through them?” Anthony says, shouldering his bag and heading for the door.

There’s a snort from behind them. Veronica. Jonathan really doesn’t want to deal with her right now; she’s even worse than Yuri, if only because she isn’t quiet about her disdain for the rest of them. “You know they only accept applications from people like him because he’s part of a minority, right?”

When she sees Jonathan’s raised eyebrows, she mistakes his irritation for curiosity. “Come on, don’t tell me you can’t tell. He’s a goddamn fairy.”

He’s wondering if outing himself here and now would make the situation better or worse when there’s an angry “Huh?” from behind them. The loud bang that follows terrifies all of them, but particularly Jonathan, Veronica, and the other two. Jonathan hadn’t even noticed that Yuri was awake, much less that he was nearby. Now his foot is against the wall, not even an inch from Veronica’s head (flexible, Jonathan can’t help but think). The look on his face pumps shards of ice through Jonathan’s veins.

“There is nothing wrong with being gay,” he growls.

His voice is different than Jonathan would have expected; maybe it’s a bit stereotypical, but he’d expected a low tenor, rather than a mezzo baritone, and his accent is there, but not nearly as thick as Jonathan expected. He stalks out of the room dangerously, and the entire class just stands there in shock for a moment.

Next week, when Veronica stops coming to class and he hears that she’s been expelled, Jonathan is sure that it has everything to do with the rich guy sleeping two seats behind him.

“Jonathan, there are only three people in your group for the upcoming term paper,” the professor says, jolting Jonathan out of his thoughts. It’s true; he, Anthony, and Thomas are planning on working together, since there were an odd number of people in the class. Now that Veronica is gone, that’s not true anymore. “I’m assigning Yuri to your group.”

Fantastic, Jonathan thinks, glancing at Yuri.

He looks up blearily and mutters something in the most snide, sarcastic voice Jonathan has ever heard– yoroshiku onegaishimasu –before dropping his head back on his arms. That didn’t sound like Russian, Jonathan thinks, packing up to leave.

Thomas nudges him. “Dude!” he whispers. “He speaks Japanese? What the hell? And I think that was supposed to be polite, but it sounded like an insult.”

“He can also hear you,” comes from behind them. Yuri has apparently given up on sleep since class is over, and has his phone in his hand. The one that isn’t texting reaches behind him and tugs on something that releases the bun he’s sporting today, letting the waist-length braid fall down his back. He leans his face in one hand and stares at his phone boredly. “You three aren’t the most oblivious people I know, but you’re definitely in the top twenty.”

Jonathan doesn’t know what to say, really. The hottest, laziest guy in class is in a group with him for a paper that’s worth twenty percent of their grade, and their first conversation has gotten off to the worst start possible.

“So,” Anthony says awkwardly. “When do you guys want to meet up?”

“I’m only free on Tuesdays. Yuri, I’m pretty sure you only have class twice a week? Maybe we can meet up for lunch,” Thomas says, trying a friendly approach.

“I can’t meet up on my days off. I have training. It’s a paper on the Japan’s involvement in World War II and how it affects today, right?” Yuri asks, still looking bored.

“Yeah. What do you mean? Do you practice all day on every one of your days off or something?” Anthony sounds mildly teasing, but there’s an undertone of disbelief there.

Yuri looks at Anthony, as if he can’t believe he would ask such a stupid question. “Um, yes? What else would I be doing?”

None of them really has a response for that. Yuri doesn’t look like the athletic type, really. He’s lean, almost willowy; not skinny by any means, since there’s definitely muscle there, but it’s not the build Jonathan would expect from an athlete who practices as much as Yuri claims to.

“Anyway, I’ll deal with the history part,” Yuri says, standing up and stretching. Jonathan tries not to stare at the thin strip of skin that appears when he does. What? He may be an asshole, but Yuri is gorgeous. He’d have to be dead not to notice. “I’ll have it to you by… Tuesday, right?”

“I can do Tuesday,” Jonathan says, not really sure what’s happening anymore.

“So can I.”

Yuri blinks and glances at the table searchingly. “Right,” he says, picking up a sticky note he’d left there and scribbling something down. “Here’s my number. Text me your emails and I’ll send you my part of the project. Bye.”

He walks out of the room, phone already at his ear. “Beka! Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya?

Jonathan looks at Anthony and Thomas, not totally sure what just happened. “So who’s going to pick up the slack on his part?”

That’s not actually necessary, it turns out. Jonathan sent Yuri his email out of courtesy, but when he rolls out of bed on Saturday morning, he finds four pages of 12 point Times New Roman font on Japan’s involvement in World War II, complete with instructions to let Yuri know if there’s anything else that they want him to do (but he won’t be doing the whole damn thing, he doesn’t have time for that).

Except for a few grammatical errors, there’s almost nothing wrong with the work. Jonathan is floored. Maybe this is why the professors let Yuri sleep through class. It’s disrespectful as all hell, but from the way he writes, it’s almost like he doesn’t need to be there at all.

When he’s awake and recovered enough to send a reply, he does. He lets Yuri that there’s nothing wrong with the work, and that he’s looking forward to class on Wednesday. He’s not, but it’s the polite thing to do.

Apparently, Yuri doesn’t planning on extending the same courtesy. “Can’t make it,” he says again, looking bored as he taps away on his phone.

This time, Jonathan actually speaks up. “We could meet up after you’re done with practice or something. It actually works out better for me and Anthony, since we have class on Tuesday.”

“That would work, I guess, but I’m going to be in Japan on Tuesday.” The tone of Yuri’s voice doesn’t change, despite the bomb he’s just dropped.

Why the hell would anyone just up and leave for Japan in the middle of the semester? No matter how rich Yuri is (and he’s definitely rich; they may not know anything about him, but he’s definitely a rich Russian of some sort) it makes no sense. He’s going to miss at least three days of class even if he’s only going to be in Japan for one day, which Jonathan highly doubts. He doesn’t care how pretty or smart this kid thinks he is, there’s no way for him to pass his classes with the way he acts.

“Then cancel it.” He doesn’t even realize that he’s saying the words until they’re out of his mouth, and by then it’s too late.

The look that Yuri fixes on him is as dangerous as it was that day with Veronica. “Fuck you.”

Jonathan backpedals. “I didn’t mean–”

Yuri’s phone rings, cutting him off. The ringtone in itself is enough to cause all three jaws to drop; it’s some classical thing with a boys’ choir singing in what sounds like Latin. Yuri sneers at them, and Jonathan can’t help but think he may have fucked up pretty bad. “Just send me whatever part you want me to handle for the presentation and I’ll do it. Tell me to cancel my trip again, and I won’t do my bit. I’ll still pass without this stupid project.”

He gets up and stalks toward the door, picking up the phone. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way to the parking lot now. Shit! Would it kill you to wait a minute and a half, Dad? I said I’ll be there in a minute! Katsudon, get your husband off the goddamn phone when he’s driving. Do you want to die?”

Yet again, there’s this feeling of not really knowing what’s happening by the time Yuri is out of sight. I’ll still pass without this stupid project, he said. That’s almost impossible, unless he has an A in the class. Which he shouldn’t, because he sleeps through it. His participation grade alone should have dropped him to a B unless he’s gotten A’s on every single assignment. There’s no way.

“I need a drink,” Jonathan mutters, and there are murmured agreements from Anthony and Thomas both. “You guys want to go to Shizuku?”

“I’m down.” Anthony says. “Hell, I’ll pay. My treat, after all of that bullshit.”

It’s not even ten minutes to their favorite restaurant by car, but they figure it’ll be easier to walk. There’s no point in driving three cars to get to one place, and none of them are keen on getting their cars out of the student lot right now, since it’s nearly rush hour.

It takes them about thirty minutes to get there, and it’s blessedly empty when they do. There are only a few occupied tables. Still, it seems louder than it usually does, Jonathan notices as they’re waiting to be seated. There’s one table in particular that seems to be making more noise than the rest of the restaurant combined. That makes sense, he thinks, eyeing the back of a silver-haired man’s head. There are a lot of them. At least six, it looks like.

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste.” That voice… it sounds way too happy to be him, but given how the day has gone, Jonathan wouldn’t be surprised.

The silver haired guy moves slightly. It looks like he leaned his face on his hand. “Yurio, don’t be rude. You and your friend aren’t the only people at this table, you know. Richard and Estephania are here too, and they don’t speak Russian.”

“It’s fine,” the person on silver haired’s left says. She has long, dark hair that swishes when she shakes her head. “It’s funny to see Yuri so excited about something for once.”

Jonathan gets a partial view of someone with dark hair and a very serious face. It’s almost scary how quickly he realises that he’s being looked at, and he looks Jonathan dead in the eye. The man nods once, then looks away without acknowledging him further.

“Beka? What are you looking at?” A head of blond hair comes into view, and Jonathan finds himself looking directly into the eyes of Yuri Plisetsky.

I fucked up, Jonathan thinks immediately, watching the mirth drain out of Yuri’s eyes almost instantly, replaced with irritation.

“Johnny? What is it– Oh, shit.” Anthony hides behind a menu.

“If you’re stalking me, I swear to god I will shove my silverware up your respective asses,” Yuri says, looking dead serious. “I have more than enough stalkers.”

That’s cause enough for Jonathan to pause and wonder what he means, but then the strangest thing happens. Instead of looking even remotely alarmed, the way any normal person would, the three people with their backs facing toward Jonathan, Anthony, and Thomas all turn at a totally normal, unhurried pace. Two of them, the silver haired man and the Asian looking man next to him, are even smiling.

“Hello!” the silver haired man says, waving. “Are you Yurio’s friends? Here, come sit with us! We’ve never met any of his friends from school before.”

Who the hell says something like that after hearing him call us stalkers? Jonathan thinks, feeling out of his element and way too overwhelmed. There’s really nothing to do but accept, so the three of them walk to the table as a group.

“Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike,” the serious man says to Yuri quietly, probably trying not to be heard.

Yuri looks murderous. “Ya ne.”

There’s a split second war between Thomas, Jonathan, and Anthony as to who is going to sit next to the scary serious guy. Jonathan loses. It’s fine. He’ll take scary serious guy over angry Yuri Plisetsky any day.

“My name is Otabek. Yuri is my best friend,” scary serious guy says, holding out a hand.

Jonathan takes it hesitantly, but Otabek’s grip isn’t anything but polite. “Jonathan. That’s Thomas, and that’s Anthony. We take American History with Yuri.”

“My name is Victor, and this is my husband Yuuri! Not your Yuri, we call him Yurio,” the silver haired man says. The Japanese man next to him blushes, and Jonathan supposes that he’s the other Yuuri.

“I will shove my knife shoes so far up your ass, Nikiforov, that you won’t be able to sit for a year,” Yuri warns.

“Yurio is our son. We’re so glad Yuri is actually making friends at school, I was worried for a while. I’m sure you know how tricky he can be sometimes,” Victor continues, ignoring the incredibly violent threat as if it happens every day. What the hell did Yuri even mean by knife shoes, anyway?

“You shut the fuck up, old man!”

It doesn’t surprise Jonathan in the slightest that Yuri has two dads; it explains a lot about the whole incident with Veronica earlier this year. What he is surprised about is the fact that Yuri’s dads seem so… nice.

Jonathan isn’t sure if that’s pleasant or terrifying.

“Victor and Yuuri are my figure skating coaches,” Yuri mutters, sounding like he’d rather be doing anything but this.

“Wait, you’re a figure skater?” Thomas asks, looking intrigued; seriously, how that guy manages to be so laid back all the time is– wait, what?

“Is that what you keep missing meetings to practice?” Jonathan asks. Suddenly it all makes sense: the lean muscle, the crazy flexibility and precision it would require to nearly kick someone in the head, the whole random flight to Japan.

The entire table erupts into laughter, even the Hispanic woman and the other man that they haven’t been introduced to yet.

Yuri turns bright red, looking both flustered and annoyed. “Oh, fuck off, all of you. Especially you, Katsudon! You have no right to laugh after what happened with these two.” He points aggressively at the two people Jonathan and the others don’t know.

The Japanese man, Yuuri, is the first one to manage to stop laughing. “I’m sorry, Yura. I’m laughing because I know how you feel.” He turns to Jonathan, Thomas, and Anthony, still smiling brightly. “He actually medalled at the Olympics last year. He’s won gold for Russia several times, as well.”

Jonathan isn’t the only person at the table with his jaw dropped. The waitress comes by and sets waters in front of the three of them. Even when she leaves, he still can’t figure out what he’s supposed to say. He’s pretty sure that earlier today, he just told an Olympian medalist to cancel a trip to what was probably a competition at the last minute. He wants to die of embarrassment, even if he had good reason.

“He probably didn’t mention it because he’s too angry that he let that Canadian get gold and he only got bronze,” Victor teases. He slings an arm around his husband. “Still, my son and my husband on the podium at the same time! It’s any man’s dream. I’m so proud!”

There’s a scraping noise on the table. When Jonathan looks down, he sees that Otabek slid over a phone with the screen open to a news article about men’s figure skating and yep, there’s Yuuri. And that’s definitely Yuri, but he looks… different. Happy. Jonathan looks from Otabek to Yuri to the article, then back to Otabek. He knows he’s panicking, because there’s nothing he can really say to make himself feel less awkward but maybe someone calm like Otabek can help him out.

Otabek gives him a thumbs up.

Translations (let me know if I need to fix any, I don’t speak Russian) 

yoroshiku onegaishimasu - Japanese - I look forward to working with you (yes, he’s being a sarcastic little shit here)

Vy prikhodite na obed segodnya? - Russian - roughly translates to “we’re still on for lunch today?”

Posmotrite na kotenke, Beka! Eto tak milo! Posmotrite na svoikh malen'kikh lapakh i khvoste. - Russian - Look at the kitten, Beka! It’s so cute! Look at its little paws and tail.

Ya dumal, chto u vas ne bylo druzey v Amerike - Russian - I thought you said you don’t have friends in America.

Ya ne. - Russian - I don’t.

I’m Sorry

Request: Can you do an imagine if y/n and Shawn fighting and maybe she accidentally cuts herself or just hurts herself during the fight and Shawn kinda just rushes to hell and forgets about the fight? Thank you!!
A/N: hey hey hey!! i’ve been having a social life but i’m back now bitches. THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR 472, SO ALMOST 500 NOTES ON KEEP QUIET, IT’S INSANE OMG
Rating: I for INTENSE BITCH no jk maybe maybe not
Word count: 1.2K

I woke up, feeling as I do everyday. Normal. I showered, cleaned, read and finished paperwork, all the same as any day I would. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I definitely felt off today, like something would go wrong. Nothing did, not even while grocery shopping. That was normally the point of my Saturdays where everything goes south and I return home ready to cry or kill.

I was lugging the bags towards the humble abode when I noticed Shawn’s jeep in the parking lot. It was strange not seeing his name flash up on my screen for the duration of my shopping trip, not even a text to ask me to get him a Toblerone from the candy section. I’d assumed he was napping or something since he’s been in the studio all day.

“Hey Shawn, could you come he—What’s your problem?” I breathed once I finally entered the front door, Shawn’s icy gaze already on me. I set the bags on the countertop and huff, resting my hands on my hips.
“Nothing, m’fine.” He mumbles, waltzing straight past me and into the kitchen.
“Yeah, clearly, right?” I gave up for the moment, refocusing on the remaining bags in the car. I mustered up the last of the energy I had and marched down the stairs to claim the last of the shopping bags.

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Ardor – six.

❝  After your art professor notices your ardor towards nudeness in arts, he sends you to apprentice under his old friend, the Korean painter Byun Baekhyun who’s infamous for his erotic pieces and cocky demeanor. Rumors surrounded Baekhyun at any second and women who had been with him described him as “an unforgiving lover of bodies”. What happens when you find him taking a liking to you–and your body? ❞

Reader x Painter!Baekhyun

!Smut in next chapter.

one. two. three. four. five.

That night with Jongin had given you confidence, albeit making you feel a bit odd, you were satisfied and confident again. Possibly the thought of the way Jongin was able to go all night with you, made you believe you were desirable and worthy of being prioritized again. All these positive feelings gave you the strength and power to return to Baekhyun’s house the following day, intentions not quite clear in your own mind. You hoped you could continue the apprenticeship without trouble, but deep inside you could sense a desire for something more than that. 

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A little Father’s Day gift inspired by the amazing artwork of  @blvnk-art which confirmed a headcanon of my own. A companion piece to Of Bros and Babes. I hope you enjoy! Again a nod to @callieskye for editing advice and to @jenn582 & @idearlylovealaugh for motivation and support (Jenn I promise there is some smut coming, just not today)!

The early morning light was just beginning to filter into the bedroom, but Ron Weasley had no trouble seeing his wife clearly. His clear-sightedness, both literal and figurative, was legendary in the Auror corp. Perspicacious, that’s the word Hermione taught him; she said she loved the way he could always see the things no one else could.

Now more than ever he was seeing clearly: his heart full as he watched her sleeping form. He gently moved an errant curl from her face, careful not to wake her. She needed her rest: a lopsided grin broke over his face she’s resting for two now.

The news was so fresh that it still bore the weight of unreality. It was hard to imagine, almost impossible to wrap your mind around, really. He ghosted his fingers across her abdomen with awe. Their child was in there, right now. A child that they had made, together. A child that would have his sense of humor and her sense of determination. A child that would have her nose and his hair.  Poor kid…the Weasley hair…at least we can always see you in a crowd.

Ron’s thoughts began to run into a future full of firsts: first smiles, first laughs, first words, first steps. He was wise enough to know that parenting would not be without challenges. He chuckled at the memory of the panicked patronus Harry had sent him the first time Ginny left him alone with James. He was sure the Daily Prophet would have paid handsomely for pictures of the wizarding world’s toughest Aurors scrambling under the demands of a colicky baby.

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I get it.

Authors Note: Hey! Here is a small blurb for you guys.
Blurb from the pompt list found, HERE.

“It’s 3am and my kid is out of diapers please I know this sucks to last-minute ring up someone I’m really sorry but it’s an emergency.”

You can find my Harry Master List, HERE

You whine to yourself as your arms embrace your daughter and your eyes stare at the place on the shelf where the diapers are always located, but tonight, tonight you are left with a blank shelf. Things haven’t been too easy lately, trying to keep everything together while keeping up with a five-month-old has proven to be a difficult task.

You bounce your little girl around in an attempt to calm her as you hurry to your bedroom, your phone becoming instantly clasped in your hand, “I know darling, I know. Mummy is sorry,” you whisper, pressing the phone to your ear as it dials the only person you ever call at ungodly hours, Harry.

After a few rings you contemplate hanging up, but you’re swiftly alerted by his raspy voice mumbling a ‘hello,’ through the phone, the shuffling of sheets becoming evident as rustling sounds through the line.

“Harry, I am so sorry to call,” your voice is delicate as your heart races, guilt taking over your thoughts as the sound of his raspy voice softens your heart. He must have been curled up happily in bed and soundly sleeping, just like you were before your daughter woke up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s 3am and my daughter is out of diapers, please I know this sucks to last-minute ring up someone, I’m really sorry but it’s an emergency.”

“Okay, okay. I’m getting dressed, just thirty minutes and I will be at your place. No need to be sorry, promise.” He assures you through the phone while shuffling takes place on the other end.

“Thank you, please be careful.”

“No a problem, love.”

The moment you hear the faint knock at the door, you sigh in relief and hammer down the hallway, swinging the door open promptly to reveal Harry standing in front of you with a few plastic bags in his hands, Grey sweatpants hung around his hips and a thick jacket covering his body. You usher him in out of the bitter cold and close the door as he shuffles towards the couch where he drops everything to the couch, his hands immediately rummaging through the plastic.

“I’m not quite sure I got the right ones, so I got a few and other things,” he smiles over at you and your daughter, “love, you look terrible.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You sigh, “I have a baby, it’s the middle of winter, I’m tired—,” you begin and Harry cuts you off promptly,

“Here, let me change her. Go curl up under the covers,” he steps closer towards you, his arms reaching out towards your daughter who has yet to settle and for great reason. “Don’t protest, come on.” He smiles that same magnificent smile that he has harboured since you can remember. Even as a young kid he had this charming smile that always made the girls swoon over him. Girls’ used to chase him around at the park when your Mum would take the two of you to give his Mum some alone time.

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Crossing Boundaries - Carisi

Sonny Carisi x Reader

She was single for more than a couple of years after her long term relationship. Her friends all badgered her to get back out there and start dating. It was getting pretty irritating. She could usually tone out the badgering. When they saw that they were wasting their breath, they would cunningly set her up on dates without her knowing. They were all so sneaky. It happened so much that she gave in and just let them play matchmaker.

They were going to give up after her few failed first dates, but this is where Sonny came in. They introduced him to her at a housewarming party. He was a great guy, but he was always so busy with work so they never introduced him to her. They all told her to just forget the whole pressure of dating and just give him a chance, as friends. It didn’t sound like such a bad idea, so she did. This was the only way she could get them off her back. When the friends saw how well they got along, they scheduled more group social hangings. The plan was to slowly ease her into seeing him more often and being comfortable with him. Thankfully, their plan worked. After all, they were both very likable people. Soon enough, they became friends. Not close friends at first, but friendship always takes time.

Sonny, was Sonny. He was the guy that everyone liked because he was overly friendly and quick to help anyone in need. The man had a way with taming sour atmospheres and always had a joke in the back of his mind. He was what people would describe a physical embodiment of a ray of sunshine. Though, if you were to ask her if she found him attractive at first, she would deny it. Why? Because she would say that he was loud, trying too hard to please others, and talked too much with his hands. Eventually, those annoying little things, turned into charming little things. It took some time, but she warmed up to him.

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‘’Don’t get any wild ideas.’’ Ch. 4

A/N: There’s not much Bucky in this part but he his shirtless mmmhmm. Please give me some feedback if you time, hope you like it! Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes.

Pairings: Bucky X Reader

Prompt: Bartender Au / You’re not sure what started it but one thing is for sure, Bucky Barnes is a person you can’t stand and he’s not particularly happy with you either. What do you do when your feelings towards your annoying coworker during the preparation for your best friends’ wedding suddenly shift to a different direction, leaving you terrified.


Word count: 1461

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 

Originally posted by canttthelpfallinginlove

‘’You never told me Bucky was a dork.’’ You slurred, licking your finger clean of the frosting you swiped of the extra cake you had picked up earlier that morning. You’re not sure what made you drop that sentence but somehow it was the only thing occupying your mind at the moment. ‘’Why not?’’ 

‘’He is a dork.’’ Clint responded, chuckling lightly at your drunken state before pouring milk into two glasses and sliding one over to you. You took a sip from the glass, smiling contently at the late night snack you had laid in front of you, a generous piece of chocolate cake. 

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His favorite things are the summers, because that’s when you return from boarding school, and his life becomes a lot more bright and a lot less dull.

“friendship can be an excuse. a cover for when there’s something there you don’t want to admit or you’re too scared to explore.” - gossip girl

pairing: park jimin x reader 
words: 8,653
genre: skinny!love,  
warnings: mature themes, slight angst
before: alright, so please keep in mind that this is the first oneshot I have ever written, therefore please don’t be too harsh on me. I hope I get better in time. I received two Jimin requests and decided to combine them both into one. any who, I hope this is somewhat tolerable! I apologize in advance.

Jimin’s not sure when it began.

As he watches you dance with a very inebriated yet still somehow skillful Hoseok, who insists on being a little too touchy with you (at least in Jimin’s opinion) it’s all that seems to cross his mind.

That, and the thought of how badly he wants to remove Hoseok from the current situation and instead replace the older with himself.

You both are dancing to the slower version of one of your favorite songs, one that’s permanently etched in Jimin’s mind because of your refusal to listen to anything else but the damn song the entire summer break of last year.

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anonymous asked:

I got really sick this afternoon, could i maybe have something with Tony Stark being sick, and trying to hide it? And someone takes care of him?

i’m sorry you don’t feel well! i hope this helps <3

Tony pulls on Rhodey’s air force hoodie when he crawls out of bed at eleven.

He’s grateful it’s Saturday because that means he doesn’t have to try and piss Pepper off in a sentence or less so she doesn’t realize he’s sick.

Miserably, horribly sick.

His chest aches and his lungs feel like they’re filled with wet cotton and his head is throbbing—he’s had hangovers that felt better than this.

At the bedroom door, he pauses a minute to put his head against the wood and moan to himself, “Ughhh, whyyy.”

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My Saviour - Five

A/N: I’m loving all the feedback on this. Thank you all so much. There will be two chapters this week, on today and one on Thursday or Friday. Special shout out to my beta @thorne93, you are awesome.

Characters: Dean, Reader, Jo Harvelle, Alex. A little time jump. a tiiiiiny little cliffhanger at the end…

Warnings: Alex is a DICK. Angst. Cheating. Alcohol.

Wordcount: 2488

Catch up HERE

The next couple of months flew by in a hurry. Alex was pretty busy trying to finish his project before the deadline, which meant working long hours and spending very little time at home, which was a huge bonus for you. There had been a couple of incidents since you were released from hospital, but nothing major, nothing that needed medical attention.

You had been busy at work as well, taking on a few night shifts here and there in addition to your regular hours, just to make a few extra bucks.

Dean was by the bar almost every day, having breakfast or lunch, or even dinner. He made sure to come by when there wasn’t much chance of running into Alex though, and whenever he was in to eat, he sat at a booth or a table instead of at the bar, in case your husband did show up.

You were feeling a lot better, not as dizzy and not as nauseous as you had been for a while, probably because your arm had healed and you were no longer in pain.


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High School Reunion fic (3/3)

The drive back to Anna’s house was thankfully short, with Mulder and Scully sitting in the back of the car, making polite conversation whilst Mulder tried to ignore Skinner’s hand skirting up Anna’s thigh. When they arrived back at the house, Anna gave them a quick tour of her home, before showing them to the spare room. “I hope it’s okay for you guys,” she said, as Mulder and Scully took in their accommodation for the evening, a moderate-sized room and at the centre a cosy double bed for them to share. They’d shared a bed before of course, not so long ago in Kroner, but that was under different circumstances, the bed was a lot bigger, and their boss wasn’t sleeping in the room next door. “Dana, I’ll get you some clothes to wear. They might be a little big on you but it’s better than nothing. Unless you’d rather nothing,” Anna giggled.

Scully paled. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, thank you.”

“And Mulder, Walter has some spare clothes that you could–”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” interrupted Mulder with a polite smile. Scully bit back a grin at his insistent response. “I’ll improvise.”

Raising her eyebrows, Anna grinned, then elbowed Scully conspiratorially. “I bet you will. Well if you’re sure, I’ll just grab you both some towels and I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she was gone, Mulder flopped down onto the bed, his head in his hands. “Oh god,” he groaned. “You were right Scully, apparently we are dreaming.”

“You didn’t want to wear Skinner’s clothes?” she asked with a smile.

“It’s a nightmare. A nightmare where we’re having to sleep in the room next door to Skinner while he and his lady friend get it on.”

“Here are your things,” Anna announced in a singsong voice as she breezed back into the room, placing two towels and Scully’s nightclothes on the bed. “Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine, thanks Anna.”

“Alrighty then.” Mulder raised his eyebrows at his partner as her friend spoke, but Scully chose to ignore him. “Sleep well, and if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll see you in the morning. There’s no rush to go out for breakfast, unless you two have other plans?” Despite herself Scully shook her head, while her inner voice cursed her for not having an excuse on the tip of her tongue. “We don’t usually get up too early on a Saturday. Walter likes to sleep in on the weekend.”

“Goodnight Anna,” Mulder said politely, finding out a lot more about his boss than he could have ever imagined.

“See you tomorrow. And thanks again Anna.”


After she’d closed the door, leaving Mulder and Scully alone, Scully padded over to the bed, sitting down next to her partner.

“Alrighty then? Who says that?”

She ignored him, still thinking of his earlier comments. “Mulder, they will not “get it on” this evening. They have visitors in the house.”

“Didn’t you see his hand riding up her leg during the drive here?”

Scully looked horrified. “No I did not.”

“Well I did, and it’s not something I’ll forget in a hurry.”

She groaned. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Me either. Maybe we could raid their drinks cabinet until we’re so wasted we don’t care what they get up to.”

Scully sighed heavily. “They’re grown adults, and I know they’re allowed to do things like that, but she’s my friend and he’s our boss and I don’t want to think about that.”

“There are some things you shouldn’t have to find out about your boss.”

“Yeah.” Scully looked deep in thought. “You don’t think they would…you know…tonight?”

Mulder shrugged. “She is pretty. Skinner seems to think so too. And if his antics in the car were anything to go by…”

“But we’re sleeping next door. What if we hear them?” Now she looked horrified. “Oh god, what if they want us to hear? What if that turns them on? What if they want us to join in?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Somehow I don’t think I’m Skinner’s type. You maybe…” He was joking, but Scully didn’t quite catch on.

“Maybe we should go.”

“You’re her friend Scully, I think you’d know if she was a swinger.”

“She had a threesome in college,” Scully replied, as if that explained it all.

It was always the quiet ones, Mulder thought to himself. “Interesting. What was the male to female ratio?”

“Two men.”


Suddenly Scully’s expression turned sour. “If you’re that interested in her, she’s only next door,” she spat, suddenly getting to her feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just you said she was pretty…”

Mulder eyed his partner suspiciously. “I’m not interested in sleeping with your friend.”

“It’s none of my business if you are.”

“We’re in a fake relationship Scully, of course it’s your business.”

Letting out a deep breath, Scully forced herself to relax, shooting him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m being ridiculous.”

“Only a little. But I guess I deserve that after getting us into this mess.”

“Only a little.” Mulder watched as she moved to pick up the clothes Anna had left for her, then hesitated.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me she’s slipped a love letter from Skinman into your clothes.”

“Not quite.” Scully held up the item of clothing, and Mulder could instantly see what the issue was.

“Oh my.”

Scully looked as though she was about to cry as she peered down at a cream, silk chemise, while Mulder shifted uncomfortably on the bed, once again regretting getting them both into this mess. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get any sleep with Scully next to him wearing that. His imagination was already running wild.

“I thought she meant pajamas.”

“Anna obviously thinks that less is more.”

“Yeah,” Scully replied in a small voice, clearly uncomfortable. Mulder decided to put her out of his misery, hoping his solution would help himself out too. “Here,” he said, getting to his feet and moving to unbutton his shirt.

Her eyes widened. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a striptease.” When he realized his partner wasn’t in a joking mood, Mulder decided to put her out of her misery. “I figure you might be a little cold in that outfit. Here…” He removed his shirt to reveal a white tee underneath. “You take this,” he suggested, holding out his dress shirt. “And I’ll wear this.” He pointed to his tee.

“Thank you,” replied the relieved-looking Scully. She picked up her towel. “I’ll just…”

Already the tension was creeping in, and they weren’t even sharing a bed yet. “Sure…” As he watched Scully walk towards the bathroom, clutching the chemise and his dress shirt, Mulder contemplated a cold shower to help him get through the night.


It was definitely a mistake to loan Scully his shirt, Mulder realized the moment she came out of the bathroom. The dress shirt fell to her knees and left little to his imagination. Of course it didn’t help that he had several fantasies, all involving Scully wearing his clothes and not much else underneath them. Trying to ignore the stirring in his pants, Mulder hurried into the bedroom to get ready. By the time he emerged, Scully had thankfully settled in the bed, and was sitting up with the comforter pulled up to her waist. She looked up, taking in Mulder’s appearance, his dark boxers and white tee, blushing when she caught his eye. “Good news,” she said, as he placed his pants on a nearby chair and then made his way over to the bed.

“This is a dream and we get to wake up in our own beds shortly?”

“Even better.” She grimaced. “Thin walls.”

Mulder paused. “You’re kidding?”

“I can hear them.”

“Doing what?” He was almost afraid to ask.


“Good job we’re just in a fake relationship Scully, because the sound of Skinner’s voice would certainly be a turn-off.“ He settled into bed beside her. "I’m sure one day we’ll laugh about this.”

“Maybe when mom tells Bill about our relationship.”

“I don’t think I’ll live long enough to be able to laugh. I’d be a dead man the instant he found out.” Reaching out towards the bedside table, Mulder switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He shifted in the bed, listening as Scully did the same, snuggling down onto her pillow. “Just make up a good break-up story at your next reunion.”

Scully huffed out a laugh. “I can’t make it too good. Skinner might make your life hell at work.”

“He already does. Besides, it’s the least I deserve after -” Mulder paused as he heard a noise from the neighboring room. Moments later he heard it again. “Please tell me that isn’t what it sounds like.”

“What? I can’t hear-” There it was again. “Oh my god.”

“Turns out they would get it on with visitors in the house.”

“He’s our boss. How are we supposed to look him in the eye on Monday morning after this?”

“We could always try and drown him out with some action of our own.”

“Nice try.”

“Hmm. Do you think they’d notice if we stole their car and drove off?”

Skinner answered his question with a moan. "Right now Mulder, I don’t think they’d notice anything.“

He laughed, unable to stop himself, the ridiculousness of the situation getting the better of him. "You know, when you invited me to your school reunion, I was expecting some gossip, maybe a few arguments and revelations, but certainly not this.”

“Me either.”

“I’m sorry for getting you into this mess Scully.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so reluctant to admit I was single.”

“If you’d have left me at home you could have had a good time.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Scully shifted, rolling on her side to face him. “You made the evening a little more bearable.”

“And a little more uncomfortable.”

“There is that, although I’m glad you were here so I didn’t have to endure a loved-up Skinner by myself.”

"You know, there’s nothing wrong with being single,” Mulder said suddenly, trying to fill the silence for fear of more noises from the bedroom next door. 

“I know that,” sighed Scully. “Sadly my friends don’t, and I can’t stand being their project. I tell them I’m happy, but they don’t believe me.”

“You are?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No, I’m just…I guess I’ve never asked you before.”

“I’m happy.” She didn’t sound overly sure. “I have a job which interests and challenges me. I have my health, and I think back to a time not so long ago when I didn’t think I was going to live to see my next birthday…” she sighed. “I don’t want to spend my life thinking about what I don’t have. Yes it would be nice to have someone to share my life with, and children…but I want to focus on the good. And this is why I shouldn’t drink,” she added with a huff. “I get too serious.”

“I think that’s a good way to live a life,” replied Mulder, deep in thought. 

“What about you?”

“Come off it Scully, what woman would want me? I piss you off enough and we’re only in a fake relationship.”

“You’re not that bad. Sometimes.”

“I’m the same,” he replied. “The work interests me, though I’d prefer it if we didn’t make quite so many trips to the hospital. I have my health, a little more gut than I’d like, and a few grey hairs on their way reminding me that I’m getting old. But I have you.”


“I’m serious Scully.” The alcohol was clearly loosening his tongue. “I don’t know why you stick around, but I’m eternally grateful that you do. I’ve told you before how much you mean to me, but honestly…there’s no one else I’d rather be in a fake relationship with than you.”

He heard his partner laugh, before she reached across and took hold of his hand, squeezing it gently. “I guess you do make a pretty good fake boyfriend.”


“Well my friends liked you. And you paid for the drinks.”

Chuckling, Mulder shifted closer to his partner. “What can I say? I’m old-fashioned when it comes to dating. I pay my way, and I don’t put sleep with guys on the first date.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I’m sorry for kissing you earlier.”

“It’s ok. I know it was for show.”

There was a pause, followed by a groan from the next room. He continued, despite his brain telling him to stop. “But it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t what?” She knew full well what he was saying.

“It wasn’t just for show. I wanted to kiss you. If anything I took advantage of the situation.”


“The truth is I liked being your fake boyfriend. I can’t say I like all of your friends, and I really do know what you mean about Susan, but I liked spending time with you, and dancing with you and kissing you.” He paused as the action from next door came to an abrupt ending. “I can’t say I’ve enjoyed listening to Skinner having sex, but I like being here with you now and I like seeing you wear my shirt. And I know I should shut up before I ruin everything, but I’d even risk getting my ass kicked by Bill if it meant kissing you again.” Scully said nothing. “Surely you knew how I felt Scully, after Bermuda…?”

“You were drugged.”

“I knew what I was saying.”


He nodded, then spoke when he realized Scully couldn’t see him in the dark room. “Yeah. Hell Scully, I’d even come to future reunions with you and endure nights out with Skinner if it means -“

He was interrupted when he suddenly felt Scully’s lips press against his own insistently, and he’d barely had time to register what was happening when he felt her arm slip around his waist, pulling him towards her. Smiling into the kiss, he sighed contentedly, moving his free hand to Scully’s back. He was disappointed when she finally pulled away. “That was umm…unexpected, but not unwelcome,” he added, not wanting Scully to think he didn’t want the kiss. 

“I think we should stop,” his partner said, though she didn’t sound too sure of herself.

“We should?”

“Skinner is in the next room.”

“He already thinks we’re doing it.” Mulder yelped then laughed as Scully slapped his shoulder.

“It’s already going to be difficult enough looking him in the eye in the morning.”

“You’re right. And I’m not sure I’d be able to give a decent performance knowing he was listening to us.” But he couldn’t resist another kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear the smile in his partner’s voice. “I guess we should get some sleep.”

“I guess so.” Mulder was too keyed up to sleep, too aware of his partner and how she tasted. “The sooner we sleep, the sooner we can wake up and leave.”

“Don’t forget we have breakfast with Anna and Skinner first.”

“Damn it.”

“This is your fault Mulder.”

Smiling to himself, he felt Scully snake an arm around his waist and rest her head against his chest. “I take full responsibility,” he murmured. “Hey Scully?”


“You asleep?”


“When we get fake married, let’s not invite your friends.”

Laughing, Scully shook her head against him, clearly amused. “Goodnight Mulder.”

Kissing her crown, Mulder closed his eyes, and together they drifted off to sleep.

Aperture - an Everlark Ficlet for Burkygirl

It’s Burky’s birthday! 

My dear, sweet friend, beta extraordinaire, #tumblrqueen and fellow smutkateer @burkygirl is celebrating a birthday today! This is for you, T! Thanks for making this place so very much better!


rated T

I shift my bag further up on my shoulder as I fish around in my pocket, finally extracting a deckle-edged piece of notebook paper and squinting at the messy scrawl on it.

Panem Arms, 12E.

This is a swankier hotel than I’ve ever been in before, the carpeting under my feet plush and  pristine, high quality reproductions in expensive frames lining the corridor.

The room I’m looking for is in the corner, the door propped partially open, revealing an opulent space with a full wall of windows. My bag thumps against the heavy wood as I shove it open a little wider, and a voice floats towards me from somewhere deeper in the suite. “Peeta? Is that you?”

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When We Were (M)

request: are you still looking for something to write about? I’ve been dying for an angsty (w/ a happy ending) Yoongi fic. Something like they’re in an arranged marriage and he’s angry about it, but she’s trying to make the best of it, but he’s usually mean/rude to her. I didn’t see any fic request rules, so I hope this is ok! Thanks! :)

group: bts

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst, fluff & smut

word count: 6.5k

A/N: I hope you like it! remember I really appreciate feedback :’)

Originally posted by mn-yg

Min Yoongi was your best friend since childhood, both families were friends generations ago and even though your friendship wasn’t exactly your choice, for him it felt more like a duty. At four he was mean, hiding your favorite toys and pretending he never saw them and he only admitted once you found them sitting under his bed.

At eight, somehow he managed to appreciate it more, taking in the idea of your forced friendship. And he was okay with it.


His weird manners and random rudeness didn’t stop you from falling for Min Yoongi, and you fell hard. Sometimes he was mean, others he seemed to be kind and even fond but most of the time, and he didn’t give a shit about you. Every Saturday night he would pretend to care, giving you warm smiles that were nothing else but a spectacle, to show your parents and his. Those were the memories you cherished more from him, ignoring the bad treats to replace them with those nights.

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Auston Matthews - Part 31

One more part to go and I’m emotional

Waking in the morning in a sea of sheets and Auston’s face nestled against my shoulder, I can’t help but stare down at him. His hair is a complete mess, and I can already see the shadow under his eyes from lack of sleep. We had spent the night gently waking each other until we were both utterly exhausted. Even though he had played games on back to back nights, he still lasted longer than I had. Now looking down at him, his bare chest just visible from me throwing the sheets off, probably from overheating from his body and mine, I can hardly believe I’m waking up next to him again.  

               I try to lay there as long as I possibly can, letting Auston sleep but my bladder doesn’t let it last much longer. Luckily, he’s only resting his torso against me and I’m able to wiggle my legs to the edge of the bed, though getting his head off my shoulder proves to be a little more difficult. I move as slowly as I possibly can but it still wakes him. Auston blinks his brown eyes at me, the tired expression on his face melting my heart and a small part of me dies.

               “Hi,” I whisper, smiling at him while lightly touching his face with my fingertips.

               “Hi,” he whispers back, taking a deep breath and sighing, nuzzling my chest and frowning when he realizes I have a t-shirt on. “I don’t remember you getting dressed?” He asks, picking at the shirt with his finger.

               “After the last time, you were kinda out of it after…” I bite my lip to keep from laughing when his eyes narrow at me.

               “I remember that very clearly, just nothing after,” he says and I giggle.

               “As much as I would prefer to lay here with you… I really have to go the bathroom,” I shift my legs and make a face at him.

               “Fine,” he pouts and detangles his arm from around my waist and lifts himself on to his elbow so I can slide out from under him. The sheet pools at his waist and I blush, quickly looking away. Auston chuckles and pinches my side.

               “Still shy?” He asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me down for a kiss.

               “I’m not shy! I’m just being respectful!” I protest but let him kiss me anyways.

               “You can disrespect me anytime you want,” he smirks up at me and I swat at his bare chest.

               “Auston!” I scold and he laughs.

               “Hurry back,” he says, putting his hands behind his head and giving me a look that makes my stomach clench.

               I make to stand up and instantly have to sit back down, wincing slightly.

               “Everything okay?” Auston asks, frowning at me and probably wondering why my face is fifty shades of red.

               “Uh… yeah, everything’s good,” I say quickly, gritting my teeth and cringing as I stand again. Oh my god! I whimper quietly as I retreat to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, letting out a sigh of pain. Dear God, what did he do to me? I stumble to the sink and look into the mirror. My eyes are too bright and my cheeks a dusting of red, a slightly smug look on my face but also a twinge of discomfort.

               When I walk back out into the bedroom he’s still laying on the bed, his eyes flash up my bare legs to my face.

               “Quit just standing there and come here,” he says, holding out a hand to me.

               I gingerly make my way to bed and hope he doesn’t notice. “You’re walking funny.” So much for that.

               “I am not,” I mutter, climbing onto the bed and resting on my knees beside him.

               “You are, I didn’t mean to make you sore,” he says outright and I blush furiously, looking anywhere but at him.

               “Why are you so blunt with everything?” I ask him exasperated.

               Auston laughs and rests a hand on my leg, squeezing it gently.

               “Because I’m comfortable with you,” he says and I warm at his words, biting my lip to hide my smile.

               “Come here,” he whispers, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me across him, kissing my neck before rolling me underneath him. “I’ll make you feel better,” he whispers against my skin and shiver.

               “I don’t remember you becoming a nurse,” I mutter and he grins.

               “Well, I feel a little responsible…” he starts and I cut him off.

               “A little?” I ask him and he laughs.

               “Okay, fully responsible. Although, you did wake me more times than I woke you,” he adds and I smile shyly up at him.

               “Worth it,” I mumble and as he nips at my neck.

               “However, you do need to lose the shirt in order for me to fully make up to you,” he says, his hands already at the hem and tugging it up my belly.

               “Right… I’m sure the shirt is just hindering your best possible performance…” I muse at him, though I arch my back to help.

               “You were hardly awake last night, obviously I wasn’t up to par,” he says, his lip trailing down my throat.

               “Less talking, more showing,” I whisper, my eyes closing on their own.

               “Whatever you want.”


               Less than an hour later I’m stepping out of the shower and towel drying my hair when I hear the front door open and my dogs bounding up the stairs, overly hyped up after a play session with Auston outside. They come barreling into my room and look around for a second before they spot me and jump around at my knees.

               “Morning, girls,” I laugh, leaning down and kissing them both on their soft heads.

               Auston appears behind them, a little out a breath still.

               “Mitch texted me and asked it was safe for him to come over,” Auston says, grinning at me.

               “Ahh, fun police Mitchell swooping in,” I roll my eyes playfully.

               “Funny, he says the exact same thing about you,” he says and I scowl.

               “Of course he does. It’s not my fault he’s like a five year old when he eats!”

               Auston holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just relaying information, babe. Mind if I shower?” He adds, and I notice his overnight bag at his feet.

               “No, go ahead,” I say, moving past him into the bedroom and towards my closet.

               Auston gets in the shower, not bothering to close the door at all much to my embarrassment. Wonder what its’ like be so confident… I step back into the bathroom to brush my teeth and Auston’s phone goes off next to the sink. I glance at it out of habit of looking at my own and notice his background is a picture of me. Going still, I tilt my head at the screen and try to ignore my heart pounding against my ribs.

               “Hey Auston?” I ask through a mouthful of toothpaste.

               “Yeah?” He says.

               “What are you doing next Saturday? You don’t have a game do you?” I ask him, rinsing my toothbrush under the sink tap.

               “No, why?”

               “Well… um…” I blush for a reason unknown to me, suddenly unbearably shy.

               I hear the curtain pull back slightly and I can see Auston’s head sticking out.

               “Were you going to ask me on a date?” He smirks at me and I turn even redder.

               “No!” I snap, looking anywhere but at him, choosing the ceiling to stare at. “I mean yes,” I admit, chewing on my tongue.

               I don’t have to look at Auston to know that his face is nearly splitting in two with a grin.

               “Then ask me,” he teases and I make a face at him.

               “Do I have to?” I whine, and his face lights up even more.

               “Yep, I think someone asked me if I wanted to hang out with them next Saturday… better have a good reason to cancel on them…” he says and I know he’s lying.

               Scrunching my nose, I face him and right when I open my mouth he talks over me.          

               “Can you not look like you just stepped in dog shit while asking me? Kinda gives me a bad vibe,” Auston says, biting his lip to hide his laugh.

               I huff at him and put on the sweetest face I possibly can, leaning into him slightly until I feel the mist from the shower.

               “Auston, will you please be my date to my cousin’s wedding on Saturday?” I bat my eyelashes at him, and push my arms together which in turn presses my boobs together and his attention goes directly to my chest.

               “You stand like that, I’ll say yes to whatever you want,” Auston says and I smile, I go to pull away but Auston grabs my waist and pulls me half into the shower, my upper half once again getting completely soaked.

               “Auston!” I squeal, trying in vain to pull away. “I just got dry!” I complain through my laugh.

               “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” Auston whispers alluringly to me and I hit his arm.

               “What are you? A jack rabbit?” I pull back out of the shower much to his amusement and peel my now sopping wet shirt off and throw it in the sink. Auston peeks out at me right when I go for the clasp of my bra and I scowl at him, deciding to go into my closet to take that off, this time much to his disappointment.

               Half an hour later I’m scarfing down my cereal while Auston makes an omelet, he eyes my cereal warily and opens his mouth to speak and I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

               “Don’t you dare say a single damn thing about my cereal. I’m not the professional athlete, I can eat whatever the hell I want,” I say without even looking up from the maze on the back of my Reese’s Puffs box.

               Auston shuts his mouth and goes about getting his breakfast ready. There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later which surprises me, but then in barges Mitch and Will and the surprise disappears. They immediately weasel their way into the kitchen and Mitch opens the fridge and throws a scowl at me.

               “You didn’t even notice did you?” He asks me.

               I look up from my cereal puzzled, “What?”

               Mitch reaches in and when he pulls back, in his hand is two bags of carrots and he throws them on the counter in front of me and I raise my eyebrows at him.

               “I bought you your carrots and you didn’t even notice!” Mitch exclaims and I stare at him for a moment before bursting out laughing at the ridiculous expression on his face. “Too busy with your fancy new telescope to even care,” Mitch mutters under his breath and I laugh harder.

               “I appreciate the carrots, Mitchell,” I eventually am able to get out through my laughs. “You’re no longer on my shit list,” I wink at him and he rolls his eyes, flinging the carrots back into the fridge and going into the living room to pout and play COD with some guys online.

               Eventually Auston goes and joins them, all three of them with their headsets on. I lean back across the counter I just cleaned in the kitchen and watch them. My two dogs seem to decide that Mitch is at the perfect level for a kiss attack and I hear his protests as they knock him over onto his back and proceed to step on and kiss every exposed part of him, much to the amusement to Will who is apparently on a different team as Auston and Mitch and proceeds to kill Mitch’s character.

               The two quickly get into a heated argument once Mitch rights himself and fights off the attack of Zalla and Andie. I press my lips together in a smile as I watch them, and can only imagine what is being said by the guys who aren’t here.

               A beam of sunlight suddenly comes in through the window behind my sink and crosses across my toes on the floor. I move closer to the window, still facing into the living room and bring my wrist up to the sunlight, the beam hitting the center charm and sending a thousand sparkles across my kitchen and into the living room.

               Auston looks up from his controller and meets my eyes. A thoughtful expression on his face as I send another shower of sparkles sprawling across the room. I return my attention to the charm, zeroing in on the individual points and markings, wondering why I didn’t kiss Auston seven weeks ago when he slid it across the table to me.  

The Missing Piece

Pairings: Dean x Reader x Cas, Destiel x Reader (Dean x OFC mentioned)
Warnings: sex, a little angst, drinking, poly relationship, oral sex, friends to lovers
Word Count: 4,200
Dean, the Reader, and Cas are best friends. After a drunken night out they all realize they could be so much more.
A/N: This is an old fic that’s been sitting in my drafts I decided to finish it and it’s completely different from my original idea for it but here it is. I really liked writing these three so this might turn into a fluffy smutty series if you guys like it. Beta’d by @nightmarenoodle

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iamafangirlforeverthing  asked:

Do you have any information on the founding fathers on their deathbeds?

In chronological order:

A few days before his death, Benjamin Franklin, already on his last days began to run a temperature and felt pain in his chest from an imposture in his leg lung. His difficulty in breathing increased until he was almost suffocating. “He rose from his bed,” wrote Benjamin Rush later to Richard Price, “and begged that it be made up for him so that he might die in a descent manner. His daughter told him that she hoped he would recover and live many years longer. He calmly replied: “I hope not”. Upon being advised to change his position in bed, so that he might breath easy, he said: “A dying man can do nothing easy.” The empyema burst and breathing became almost impossible and he passed into a coma. His grandsons William Temple and Benjamin Bache watched him as he died quietly at eleven in the night of April 17th at eighty-four. (Benjamin Franklin by Karl Van Doren. 

On Thursday, December 12, 1799, George Washington was out on horseback supervising farming activities from late morning until three in the afternoon, however during this ride it began to hail and rain. The next morning brought a sore throat and Washington’s voice became increasingly more hoarse. Saturday, December 14th, he was seen by three different doctors who bled and nearly suffocated him with drinks and was bed-ridden. At five in the afternoon George Washington sat up from bed, dressed, and walked over to his chair. He returned to bed within thirty minutes and Washington said, “Doctor, I die hard; but I am not afraid to go; I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it; my breath can not last long.” Soon afterward, Washington thanked all three doctors for their service. At ten at night George Washington spoke, requesting to be “decently buried” and to “not let my body be put into the Vault in less than three days after I am dead.” His last words were “’tis well.” Between ten and eleven at night on December 14, 1799, George Washington passed away surrounded by his wife, a few friends, three housemaids and his valet Christopher Sheels. (Washington by Ron Chernow). 

After being shot in a duel with Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton was rowed across the Hudson and was preoccupied with spiritual matters. No sooner was he brought to the Bayard home, he asked to see Reverend Benjamin Moore, the rector of Trinity Church. Moore balked at giving Hamilton holy communion as he wrestled with death. Hamilton then turned to Reverend John M. Mason, pastor of the Scotch Presbyterian Church. When Mason entered the chamber he took Hamilton’s hand and the two men exchanged a “melancholy salutation”. Hamilton was unable to get it from him either. Mason tried to console Hamilton, “I perceive it to be so,” Hamilton said. “I am a sinner. I look to His mercy.” He then stressed a hatred of dueling “I used every expedient to avoid the interview, but I have found for some tie past that my life must be exposed to that man. I went to the field determined not to take his life.” He then said “My dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate situation and no doubt have been made acquainted with the circumstances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the communion at your hands. I hop you will not conceive there is any impropriety in my request.” He added, “It has been some time past been the wish of my heart and it was my intention to take an early opportunity of uniting myself to the church by the reception of that holy ordinance.” He also expressed his faith in God’s mercy. Lifting his hands, he said, “I have no ill will against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened” The next morning, Hamilton’s mind still clear but his body was motionless. Eliza allowed the children into his presence and lined them at the foot of his bed. According to the Doctor, “he opened his eyes, gave them on look, closed them again till they were taken away.” (Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow). 

A few days before Thomas Jefferson’s death, bedridden, he said goodbye to his family, addressing them each in turn. To an eight year old grandson, he smiled and said, “George does not understand what all this means.” To a great-granddaughter he quotes the Gospel of Luke: “Lord, now wettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” Thomas Jefferson Randolph, a grandson, suggested he was looking better, but Jefferson would have none of it. “Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude about the result,” Jefferson said, “I am like an old watch, with a pinion worn out here, and a wheel there, until it can go no longer.” He awoke to a noice and wondered wether he had heard the name of the Reverend Frederick Hatch. No, he was told. “I have no objection to see him, as a king and good neighbor,” Jefferson said, turning over. He composed a poem for Patsy alluding to his imminent reunion with his wife and Polly. Lying in his alcove bed, Jefferson mused about the Revolution, telling stories of the great drama. “A few hours more, Doctor, and it will be all over,” he said at one point. A five forty-rive pm on July 2nd, he took laudanum in grog. He was given tea three hours later and brandy four hours after that. He slept fitfully as the clock tinged. In the evening of July 3rd at seven pm, he asked, “Ah! Doctor, are you still there?” before saying “Is it the Fourth?”. The Doctor confirmed this and Jefferson said “Oh God!” before taking more laudanum. Two hours later at nine pm, the Doctor awoke him to give him more but he said “No, Doctor, nothing more.” Three hours later he asked, “This is the Fourth?” and there was silence because it was not, he repeated the question and the man lied to him. “Ah, said Jefferson. “Just as I wished.” During one of his dreams he said “Warn the Committee to be on the alert,” and motioned in the air as if he was writing something. At ten he stirred and stared at a grandson and wanted his head elevated. His lips were then at a request wetted with a sponge. At twelve fifty on July 4th, Thomas Jefferson died with his eyes open mixed upon his alcove. (Thomas Jefferson: Art of Power by Jon Meacham).

July 3rd, 1826 John Adams was only able to utter a few words. Early morning of Tuesday, July 4th, Adams lay in bed with his eyes closed, breathing with great difficulty. Thomas Adams sent off an urgent letter to John Quincy Adams saying their father was “sinking rapidly.” Efforts were made to give Adams more comfort by changing his position and he awakened. Told that it was the fourth, he answered “It is a great day. It is a good day.” Late in the afternoon, he stirred and whispered clearly enough to be understood “Thomas Jefferson survives.” Somewhat later, struggling for breath, he whispered to his grand-daughter Susanna, “Help me, child! Help me!” then lapsed into silence. At about six twenty on July 4th, 1826, John Adams was dead. (John Adams by David McCullough). 

On the night of May 14, 1829, John Jay was stricken with palsy, probably caused by a stroke. He lived for three days, dying in Bedford, New York, on May 17. That same day, as John Jay was near his death he was asked if he had any final words for his children. He responded with four words: “They have the Book.” [x]

After his wife’s death, unable to live by himself and forced to sell all his property to pay for debts due to Congress not paying him, James Monroe lived with his daughter Maria in New York with her children and husband. After his wife’s death he also expressed that he would not live the year without her and by December, 1830 it was tough for him to leave his bed. He grew weaker, plagued by a cough. When  John Quincy Adams came to visit him in April, 1831, Monroe could not leave his room and cut his visit short. In May he wrote up his will dividing everything equally between his two daughters. In a letter to James Madison, he said his greatest regret was that they would never see each other again. That was the last letter he ever had the strength to write and did not respond to Madison’s letter back. On July 4th, 1831, surrounded by Maria’s family, he died shortly after three in the morning, fully conscious. According to sources at the scene, Monroe’s last words were, “I only regret that I should leave this world without again beholding him.” The “him” Monroe was speaking of was James Madison. (James Monroe: The Quest of Destiny by Harry Ammon).

For six months before James Madison’s death, he was “unable to walk, and spent most of his time reclining on a couch.” My mind, however, “was bright and with his numerous visitors he talked with as much animation strength of voice as I ever heard him in his best days.” May 1836 he roused from bed one final time and talked eagerly about his War of 1812 experience. A few days before his death, Madison spent his time reading Professor George Tucker’s life of Thomas Jefferson. On June 27th, he spent several hours painfully dictating thanks for the dedication of the book to him. It was suggested he take “stimulators” which would prolong his life until the 4th of July and be the last founding father and fourth to die on the famous date. The morning of June 28th, Paul Jennigs, a slave, shaved him and brought him breakfast. Nelly Willis, a niece came to visit with her uncle as he ate, when he had difficulty swallowing, Mrs. Willis asked him what the trouble war. Jennings recalled that Madison replied, “nothing more than a change of mind, my dear” and then “his head instantly dropped and he ceased breathing as quietly as the snuff of a candle goes out.” (James Madison by Ralph Ketcham).