The other morning I got into a ‘debate’ over the film Stonewall and one person said he didn’t care about the history of the Stonewall Riots or our queer history in general. Honestly, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This person didn’t seem to care that the only reason he (we) has any rights or can even happily come out without the fear of being arrested is because of events like the Stonewall Riots and the people that fought. Yet he enjoys the benefits of it (work equality, marriage, anti-discrimination laws, oh and being able to go to a gay bar and drink/dance the night away). So I wanted to put together a small overview of the riots in the hopes it enlightens anyone or gives someone the nudge to learn more. (If anything is incorrect just leave me a comment, I’m by no means an expert in this). Enjoy. 🏳️🌈✌️👭👬
today i noticed that life is very short. life is so short that we must follow our dreams. that we must kiss the person we love. that we must say hello to strangers. eat that creamy chocolate bar we were craving. leave our friends and family with hugs and kisses instead of just saying goodbyes. we should look at the sky. gaze at the stars and count it too. smell the flowers, pick it and give it to your neighbours. look at our lovers face and memorize the twinkle in their eyes when they talk about their day. call our mothers. call our old friends. dance the night away till your feet give up. enjoy the little things before it’s too late. before it’s too late to enjoy life.
I like the idea of humans not being the only species with a need to unecessarily bond and form ‘packs’ and whatnot, or the only species to enjoy putting themselves in danger for the adrenaline rush, or the only species to recreationally poison themselves, or even the only species to have parties.
You know what I love, though?
Crowd psychology and the concept of group flow.
I love the idea that humans are the species that is in love with group flow. Sure, any alien can listen to music and enjoy it, maybe even go to concerts in large groups. But humans are the only non-telepathic species where going in a large group enhances the experience simply because you know that dozens or hundreds or even thousands of other people are all getting in the zone with you at the same time for the same reason. Any alien can go to a concert, but they marvel at the sight of hundreds of humans singing along to their favorite artist not because it makes the song objectively better, but because it enhances the experience.
I love the idea of aliens trying to figure out mob psychology, looking at sports fandoms and the riots that happen if a team fails to win a game, and asking themselves and other humans how it gets to that point. Because they can put the same human in front of the same game and get two entirely different results based on whether the human is alone or not. A lone human may break a bottle or curse, but they will likely not do more than that, unless they go online to rant. A human in a group that feels the same way can do much more damage.
I love the idea of aliens trying to figure out the aspect of performative grief for dead celebrities, not understanding that it is not only practice for when a death comes closer to home, but that it is a form of bonding, a call and an echo of “I feel this way too. This person mattered to me too,” across thousands or millions of people’s screens and faces and pens.
I love the idea of aliens taking a look at frat parties and nightclubs and karaoke and being so confused, because they can understand that intoxication might be fun, sometimes, or that singing or dancing with strangers can be fun, but the sheer chaos of an out-of-control college party is terrifying to them. There is nothing here that people will enjoy come the morning, but somehow that doesn’t matter, because in that moment, with those people, the humans are connecting as they sing their drunken songs or eat their terrible food or dance the night away. There is a sense of belonging even in this awful mess, for those who know how to find it.
I love the idea of aliens looking at conventions and wondering how it is that there is such a difference in a person wearing a costume in the privacy of their home and wearing it to a large con, how the endorphin levels soar even when the human is not receiving compliments, just because the convention is an echo chamber of “I love this show, this character, this franchise, this life.”
I love the idea of aliens coming to earth and understanding the meaning of bonds and enjoying music and knowing fiction and surviving our weather and planets and everything and still not being able to understand how a room full of strangers with no telepathy can feel so connected and in-tune simply by sharing an experience. The feelings aren’t always positive ones, but they are there, and there is a comfort in sharing them with endless people you’ve never met.
Anyway, that’s my contribution for Space Australia.
John’s started reading classic fairy tales to Rosie at bedtime. Here are Sherlock’s reviews (on a scale of 1 to 5 stars):
Little Red Riding Hood: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
“I admire the girl’s independence, but this idiot child doesn’t recognize the difference between her beloved grandmother and a dangerous WOLF? The SAME WOLF she met in the forest less than an hour ago? And you think MY disguises are silly…”
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs:★★ ☆ ☆ ☆
“I like the part about the Evil Queen demanding Snow White’s heart – nice and macabre. So Snow White runs away to the forest and becomes a housekeeper for a gang of diminutive gay miners? They should’ve just ended the story there – I don’t care for all that pointless, predictable nonsense about the poison apple and the prince.”
Goldilocks and the Three
“If those bears were any worse at deduction, they’d work for New
“Thought you might relate to Goldilocks, love – you’re both picky,
impatient, show zero respect for others’ personal property…”
“Oh please, John. Goldilocks
is a moron – now, if Rosie wants to
learn how to perform a proper home invasion…”
The Three Little Pigs:
“It’s a scam, obviously. At least two of these pig brothers are guilty of insurance fraud, and the third
may be in on it as well. A wolf BLEW your house down? While straw and sticks
may not be the sturdiest of building materials, the lung capacity of the
average fully grown Canis lupus is not
great enough to produce the force necessary to demolish even an exceedingly shoddy
The Little Mermaid:
no pirates? Would be better with pirates.”
“I’d like to
know Rapunzel’s diet, genetic makeup (or at least ethnicity), cranial
circumference, surface area of her scalp, the height of the tower, the
surrounding climate and humidity level, what sort of shampoo/conditioner she
used, whether or not she used hairspray or styling product …numerous variables affect the tensile strength and growth rate of human hair, you know…“
“I love a
ball. The ball is good – beautiful gown, the prince in his dress uniform, love
at first sight, dancing the night away, AND a mystery! Yet it’s all ruined
because I can’t stand the utter STUPIDITY of trying the glass slipper on every
eligible maiden in the land…it doesn’t take a deductive genius to recognize
that’s a waste of time!”
one actually has some valuable lessons. For one thing, someone is always
listening – royal minions in a fairy tale, Mycroft’s cameras and covert agents,
the homeless network…we’re under surveillance of some sort at all times. Be
vigilant, be aware, observe. Also, if you happen to have a ridiculous name, OWN IT – there’s
no point trying to keep it a secret, because it’ll come out eventually, JOHN
I’ve been going through it in my head Thinking about the words I want to say But I’ll tell you this instead, “I’ll be your coach, starting today!” And love can wait For now, pick up your skates We’ve already danced the night away A little longer is okay Just let me love you one day
Hey you guys! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I’ve thought of making a part two for my first ficrec and here it is! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve enjoyed making this ficlist. Have a great time reading all these! Gives you more of a chance to fall in love with Victuuri even more! ╰(✿´⌣`✿)╯♡ As always, read the tags before reading because some might have some triggers, also, don’t forget to leave a kudos for the authors!
Yuuri thinks his life is progressing nicely. Good job. Nice apartment. Boyfriend? Nevermind: cheating ex boyfriend
His blackout drunken antics attract the young Olympic-gold level skater, Victor Nikiforov, who’s fled from skating in the middle of the season after fainting on the ice.
It all sounds very serendipitous but Yuuri wants nothing to do with men. Victor, desperate and running from his problems, promises that instead of a man, he’ll be Yuuri’s “pet” if that means he can stay with Yuuri for a little, citing that he has nowhere else to turn. Yuuri’s concerned that this shameless man who is willing to sacrifice his dignity so readily will get himself in trouble, so he accepts the offer with second-hand embarrassment.
This gambit lasts for all of two days before Yuuri finds himself teaching an ice skater how to dance off his blades, and Victor starts finding new reasons to stay in Japan.
This was a mistake. Viktor needed to somehow pry Yuuri off of him and leave the room immediately. Viktor was drunk, and Yuuri was so far beyond gone that there wasn’t even a word for it. But the alpha in Viktor was having an incredibly difficult time resisting the pungent scent of cherry blossoms and ocean that filled his nose. Viktor snapped.
Yuuri knows they were celebrating….something. But he can’t remember what. All he knows is that he was drunk and that he’s going to kill Phichit because chances are Phichit started all of this. And there might have been some video recording?
Teenager Yuuri always thought his future would be on the ice. But it changed when one day he finds a dragon egg. Curious he brings it home and soon the dragon hatches and Yuuri finds himself inexplicably drawn to him. After Aoba and him are found out, they have to enter the Dragon Air Force and Yuuri has to proof himself to the other dragon captains, the Air Corps and the whole military, all the while having to care for a way too curious and intelligent dragon.
Eight years later Yuuri is a highly decorated officer and war hero and meets his long lasting Figure Skating Idol Viktor Nikiforov. After a lot of problems and confusion, Viktor and Yuuri grow closer. Everything could be perfect … if it weren’t for an overly possessive and jealous dragon who is not at all pleased at the idea of sharing his beloved captain and aviator with an insolent and ungrateful Figure Skater.
Over the past few hundred years, Victor Nikiforov has perfected the art of luring women (and the occasional man) into his arms for an evening of passion and blood lust. But when he targets an unsuspecting college student, he quickly finds out that his antiquated techniques won’t cut it in the modern world and he needs to rethink things.
Victor is sloppy drunk. Yuri Plisetsky snaps pictures of the silver-haired man unbuttoning his jacket.
“You see that guy?” Victor slurs, hiccuping around a fresh mouthful of champagne. “That’s…that’s the best guy in the world. Do you - mmm - do you think he would say yes if I asked him to dance?” After a pause, he belts out the GPF gold medalist’s name.
Yuuri turns with a tipsy smile.
The Japanese man is so handsome, and Victor, who’s currently wasted, is so screwed.
For Yuuri, managing a quaint, little bookstore in a far-off corner of a small town is everything he could have asked for. He earns well, the folks are not that much interesting, the coffee here is great, he has nice friends and he’s got an endless pile of books.
It’s enough to make him stay, despite the desolate and boring atmosphere; that is until the Newcomer comes along.
Yuuri jumps when someone hurries into the elevator, apologizing profusely.
The apartment complex is full of eccentrics, seeing as it’s only a few miles from the artistic center of town. It isn’t the first time that the concert pianist has run into someone who’s late for work, fussing with their hair, or adjusting the lapels of a suit. Yuuri taps out a rhythm to fill the silence, something original.
When he sees the silver-haired man pull out a notebook, he recognizes the handwriting. Notes had been slipped under his door in that loopy script for weeks now.
Drabble series set between episodes as a kind of intermission. (Hence, the name.) The first one is set between episode 6 and episode 7. Yuri has just put on his first perfect performance, and understandably, he’s a little worn out and stressed. Victor, being the world’s greatest coach, rises to the occasion by providing him with some… distractions.
AU in which Yuuri never skated and instead is a small town cop with no idea who Victor Nikiforov, THE Victor Nikiforov, is until he arrests him for public intoxication. Meanwhile Victor is enamoured, and absolutely plastered.
In which Prince Victor gets swept off his feet at a royal banquet and will go to any length to find his ‘Cinderella’ Yuuri. (And Phichit is the fairy godmother who has no idea what he’s doing).
“The crown prince of the Nikiforov kingdom, infatuated with a mystery pastry chef he’s only just met. This is exactly the kind of scandalous love story my life has been missing… So, what’s he look like? What exactly is Prince Victor’s type?”
Artist Yuuri Katsuki lives in New York with his Best Friend Phichit. After a drunken night out that Yuuri has no memory of, he starts to Paint the most Beautiful man he has ever dreamed of. Only to realize that not only has he met this man, he has danced and laughed the night away with him.
Billionaire Victor Nikiforov, has made a living in the hotel business, owning the best hotels all around the world. His next one: New York. Where he and his Best Friend/Business Partner Chris meet a Charming, Flirtatious and Mysterious man on a night out to celebrate the deal.
It’s not an exaggeration when Yuuri says that he has had his eyes on Viktor ever since the singer debuted with a heartbreaking ballad that broke records at the tender age of 15. Now, with Yuuri at the ripe old age of 23 and Viktor, 27, they meet as talent and manager.
He can’t look away from Viktor, even when he turns and catches him staring. Truth be told, he can never look away from Viktor. Not even in the beginning; surely, not in any dimension or attic of spacetime, could Katsuki Yuuri have ever looked away from Viktor Nikiforov. And when Viktor looks back at him, smiling, it’s all that matters to him.
There are two kingdoms in the land. The first is the realm of the sun. It is a place of prosperity and growth, of peace and light. It is the realm of all things bright and beautiful. The second, less desirable kingdom, is the realm of the moon. It is a place of shadows and shrouded velvet, of secrets and hidden truths. The rulers of the two kingdoms are as distant as the stars themselves, yet the invisible thread of fate binds them together. What happens when the sun and the moon fall in love?
“I am going to like, like a human!” Were the exact words that Yuuri had said as a child. They were also the exact words Yurri kept with him for more than a decade later as a loveless vampire. After thinking his words were nothing more than fantasy Yuuri happens to meet the Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov. Now Yuuri has become a thirsty vampire whom’s human crush maybe even thirstier.
Viktor learns that a full week without Yuuri showing up at Yakov’s, all scraped-wire voice and double shot of whatever you have that helps people think, I have a paper to write and I haven’t slept since Saturday, please Viktor! is a good week for Yuuri. A very good week.
“I’m Yuuri.” Though his stutter was gone his blush wasn’t, which annoyed Viktor to no end. He extended his hand, which Satarou took far too quickly and shook far too long. Now there was definitely a weird feeling bubbling up in his stomach; but it wasn’t pain…it was something that just made Viktor want to wrap his hands around Satarou’s neck and pull his- and pull Yuuri away from him. Because the sight of someone else touching Yuuri, holding him- made Viktor tremble.
Christophe Giacometti watched the new interviewee walk out of Victor’s office. Everything about him was wrong from the clothes and the haircut to his general attitude and walk. At the same time there was something naïve about him and Chris was prepared to bet that he’d just graduated from college. “Who is that sad little person?” he asked Victor. “Are we doing a before and after piece I don’t know about?”
Viktor made his way back to his bed after a midnight trip to the bathroom, he was stopped in the hall outside his room by the sound of a faint moan floating through the closed door to Yuuri’s. His thin brows furrowed and he moved closer to the door, thinking Yuuri might be in pain from overworking himself during practice that day.
Victor turns, frowns at the license plate, and murmurs,“maybe I went too subtle.”
But he rallies and looks at Yuuri, so smug that Yuuri wants to kiss it off his face, “and you said,“ Victor affects a voice that sounds like Yuuri’s second cousin who’s eaten too many chili peppers, “‘Vitya, you’ve never been subtle in your life.’”
Yuuri crosses his arms in front of his chest, unimpressed, “there’s subtle and then there’s incomprehensibly cryptic.”
Victor is undeterred, “Yurio will get it. He uses Instagram.”
“What the fuck does that say?” Yurio growls.
Victor pouts, "does no one appreciate genius anymore?”
“No one appreciates you, there’s a difference.” ______________
Or: No one understands Victor’s new license plate.
“Is this because I let you watch American movies as a child,” says Yakov flatly. “The ones where the popular boy gives his coat to the pretty girl?”
Victor puts up both eyebrows in a delicately mocking gesture that was unbearable when he was a fey creature of sixteen and makes Yakov yearn to clip him around the ears now, when he’s twenty-eight. “'Let’ me?” he says.
Yuuri wears a dress, steps on Viktor, gets done just right.
The other, however, Yuuri has free — eyes still locked with Viktor’s, he shifts his weight, lifts his free foot. Lets the punched out gasp Viktor relinquishes go straight to the pooling heat in his groin and low in his spine, when he sets his foot delicately to the bulge stretching the fine silk of Viktor’s dress pants.
Despite having been living in Hasetsu with Yuuri for several months already, it wasn’t the first time the russian skater found himself staring outside the window of his bedroom comparing his native country’s weather to Japan’s.
Yuuri and Phichit don’t normally swear. But college life makes the word ‘fuck’ just so fucking relevant. Not to mention, it’s hard to be a normal college student when you’re a world class figure skater with an obvious crush that all your friends know about and make fun of you for. That just makes it twice as fucking fun. Seven times Yuuri and Phichit made each other swear plus two times they made others swear.
“So how did Georgi meet this girl?” Yuuri found himself asking. Victor immediately groaned, and Yuuri felt bad for asking. “They literally met on move in day, and she lives on the first floor! They’re acting like they’re so in love that they have to spend every moment together, and it has to be in our room because her roommate is ‘evil’ but come on, man. Calm down,” Victor complained, wildly gesturing with his hands to show his annoyance. Yuuri laughed at the way that Victor was completely over exaggerating his movements, and Victor smiled at him. Yuuri had to push thoughts of how beautiful Victor was from his mind again, though it seemed at this point to be a losing battle.
Or, Phichit and Yuuri live down the hall from Victor and Georgi, and Georgi keeps kicking out Victor to “hang out” with his new girlfriend. And maybe Yuuri thinks Victor is pretty cute, but he isn’t going to tell him or anything, no, that would make things weird. Right?
“Viktor gapes in wonder at the sight of his fiancé moving without inhibition, not out of inebriated unrestraint but as though caught up in the passion of the art. Yuuri is creating music with his body in a way Viktor could never have imagined. He steps forward, past the line of onlookers, starstruck by the raw emotion of this performance as it spontaneously becomes. Yuuri glimpses him, and lights up with the most radiant smile Viktor has ever seen, and Yuuri pulls him into the center of the circle before drawing back and bidding that he chase –”
Or, what happens in Barcelona the night of the Grand Prix Final.
Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone sees any marks on their soulmate’s skin appear on their own body; it starts with the first marks, drawn on by the midwife at birth. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soulmate who replies, but Yuuri does, and he knows that he should feel fortunate - however, when he’s trying to make a living as a small-time painter, and his soulmate is the famous artist, Viktor Nikiforov… well, it seems slightly less than fortunate. Yuuri can’t help but feel self-conscious. So self-conscious, in fact, that he’s never even shown Viktor his face, never let Viktor hear his voice. The only way that they’ve spoken is through ink, writing message after message to each other on their skin - but that’s all about to change.
Yuuri always gets a few extra pounds in the off season and since he knows Victor don’t really mind he’s less conscious about it. Still there are days Victor sees Yuuri rub his hand over his stomach as if he’s not happy with it. He just never thought the reason could be what it is.
This is not a A/B/O story, this is canon continued.
Canon-divergent AU. Just before he skates at the Hot Springs On Ice, Yuuri receives a photo of his drunken GPF banquet antics; consumed with humiliation over a night he can’t remember, he loses the competition. Victor goes back to Russia with Yurio, and Yakov comes to train Yuuri in Japan. One night, frustrated and miserable, Yuuri posts some personally relevant song lyrics on Instagram—and wakes up the next morning to find that Victor has posted lyrics that seem to be a reply.
With the world watching their every move, Victor and Yuuri begin trading lyrics in a secret conversation; from playful rivalry to intense seduction, through Savage Garden and San Fermin, their virtual affair unfolds, hidden in plain sight. But the Grand Prix approaches, bringing with it newfound opportunities for Yuuri’s career, and his new life hinges on two things: winning the gold, and staying away from Victor.
Meeting your soulmate was supposed to be effortless. Soulmarks made it easier than ever to find the one (or ones) you were destined to be with. If only soulmarks could do anything to prevent misunderstandings.
Secrets are normal in Viktor’s opinion. Yuuri shares his sentiments. Everyone has secrets they keep from others and he knows even Yuuri has some just as Viktor has. He is very grateful to have trust and understanding between them and Viktor allows his husband to maintain his privacy just as Yuuri gives Viktor his own.
The smart and responsible thing to do is to shake his head and say no. Send out a few messages to let people know that Viktor’s in his rut and they won’t be making it to practice any time soon, make sure they have supplies to last a week or so, and maybe ask Yurio to come over and get Makkachin.
But Yuuri does none of that because he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to Viktor.
Yuuri is determined to get to the bottom of why Victor keeps flirting with him. This leads to a conversation. With alcohol.
“Besides,” said Victor. “Maybe if I get you drunk I can learn some of your secrets.”
Yuuri coughed as he swallowed. “My secrets?”
“Yes. The secrets of the mysterious Katsuki Yuuri, enigma of the figure skating world.” Yuuri nearly choked again at that.
He laughed and shook his head. “You don’t need to make fun of me.”
“What? You are an enigma.”
“I’m not joking,” Victor assured. “No one really knows what to make of you, Yuuri. You’re so quiet most of the time and then other times…” Yuuri just looked at the other man as he trailed off. He shook his head and reached to pour them both more sake.
Some people snore, some people talk in their sleep, some people reenact fight scenes, and apparently some people can purr, when they are asleep. This leaves the one awake wondering if they should pet them or not. At least that is what Victor would love to do if not for the fact Yuuri is snuggled way tighter than is good for his mood, and he’s scared he might wake him.
“Good morning, I’m Victor Nikiforov, here with your daily forecast. It’s shaping up to be a chilly day of yet another volatile week, let’s take a look at our satellite radar. Hamburg at 14, Ann Arbor at 16, Essex at 10—”
His voice (oh God, even his voice sounds like an angel’s) worms its way into Yuuri’s head, and he wonders what his regular voice sounds like, what it’d sound like in the—
“You’re thirsty for the weatherman, aren’t you?” Phichit waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t suppose I deserve a thank you?”
Yuuri, under the username of Eros, is a size queen omega who most certainly does not have an obsession with fellow camboy and legendary silver-haired alpha Aria. Just like Phichit is not the most meddlesome roommate known to man.
“Victor, you could have let some psychopath into your apartment.”
“Oh come on, he’s not a psychopath,” Victor chides. Christophe makes a gesture with his hand that says ‘are you seriously this naïve or are you drunk at work again?’.
“Victor, you don’t know that. You don’t know anything about him. Whose name am I going to give to the police or face I’m going to describe to the sketch artist when they find your body chopped up like Hannibal Lecter’s side dish?”
in which Victor and Yuuri are roommates and Yuuri has a secret
Dressed in little more than black gossamer, Eros had poised himself inside of his dressing room’s doorframe with a tube of lipstick between his painted fingers, the makeup’s ruddy tip already conformed to his lower lip. It was like watching the Cheshire reappear, one swipe of his smile at a time. He purred, Do you think, Mister Nikiforov, that if I tried very hard, I could make you redder than Russian Red’s namesake?
Yuuri was just trying to be a gentleman by walking the red-haired woman home.
He hadn’t meant to get whisked away by the top members of the Russian Mafia, he definitely hadn’t meant to get two of the most powerful men in the world trying to kill him, and he definitely definitely hadn’t meant to seduce the pakhan.
But now that he’s in this mess, he’s going to fight to the finish.
“Yuuri!” Viktor calls. “I’ve come to rescue you!” Yuuri stares at him blankly. He gestures to the various unconscious space pirates with his recently discharged phaser. “Oh, Captain,” he deadpans. “Save me.”
A year in the life of badass science officer Yuuri Katsuki, Captain Viktor “Team Mom” Nikiforov, and simultaneously the best crew and worst crew in Starfleet history.
(No prior Star Trek knowledge needed! It’s a loose AU!)
Yuuri Katsuki has been betrothed to the High King’s son, Victor, since he was just a child; furthermore, as an omega, he’s forbidden from practicing magic in combat. For years, he’s been able to put off the former because the Prince was traveling abroad, and gotten around the latter by practicing with his mentor in secret.
Now Victor Nikiforov has finally returned home, and Yuuri is being summoned to the capital for their wedding. He needs a plan to put off marriage long enough to find a way to break the betrothal, while keeping his practicing from being discovered.
For the students, it was making fun of Katsuki Yuuri.
For Yuuri, it was letting himself become too stupid.
For Viktor, it was not doing anything.
Once there was a boy named Katsuki Yuuri, who was shy, loved to make clothes, had adorable smiles and was fatter than the usual average human being. Unfortunately for him, apparently being chubby wasn’t all that accepted in the norm back then. After numerous accounts of bullying, Katsuki Yuuri disappears for good.
Now years later, there is now a man only known as Y.K. Fashion tyrant, multimillionaire, professional cold-stare giver… and is trying his ultimate best to run away from his dark past, until a certain silver haired CEO of a certain rival company who went to the same certain college he went to back then decides to flat out entangle their fates together. Do both of them have anything to say for it? Sadly, no. No they don’t.
Viktor’s promposal for Yuuri had to be perfect. He knew Yuuri, though, and he knew that it couldn’t be extravagantly over the top, but it also couldn’t be a stereotype he pulled off of Google. It was harder than he expected it to be. Also known as: Five ways Viktor considered promposing to Yuuri and one way he didn’t.
Yuuri and Phichit registered and named the pet shop when they were drunk. They didn’t exactly expect it to become the most popular pet shop in Seattle. (It was only supposed to be a front to fund Phichit’s (undercover) animal rescue missions.) Enter Viktor Nikiforov, the man with the pink Cadillac and the giant brown poodle (that’s stolen Yuuri’s heart), and Yuuri might have lost his mind, because apparently he keeps flirting with a client – and he never even notices.
When you’re born, you have the first words your soulmate says to you on your arm. When they say them to you, they turn red and you get another set of words that change your relationship with your soulmate. Viktor’s first set is in Japanese and he doesn’t understand, but the second is “Be my coach, Viktor”.
He has the second set for 10 years before he finally hears them.
Because the universe is somehow both cruel and indifferent, Yuuri sees Victor again two days later in the lobby of his ballet studio. He’s just finished his advanced pointe workshop. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, he’s painted with a full body flush, and he’s wearing a shirt Phichit custom ordered that says “Tastier Than Katsudon” in screaming neon orange.
“Hi Yuuri!” Victor’s beaming and blocking his only exit. ____________
A falling-in-love story told through questionable t-shirts.
1. Having to yell at kids for skating like idiots 2. Explaining to parents of said kids why they were kicked off the ice 3. The horrifying smell of Phichit’s feet 4. Victor Nikiforov almost decapitating a 12 year old
In which Yuuri works as an Ice Guard with Phichit, and Victor is the stupidly attractive figure skater who tries to practice flying camels in the middle of crowded public sessions.
Victor stops the car, turns off the engine, and Yuri rolls out the car with the attitude of every slightly inconvenienced teenager. Yuri flips his shades up, stares in disbelief at the sign in front of the well-manicured lawn squished between two old barber shops: DETROIT DENTAL AND ORTHODONTICS.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he says.
Or: Victor has a crush on his favorite shy, attractive dentist, and Yuri suffers.
“Yuuri was a hurricane: beautiful and destructive. He swept Viktor (and arguably half the skating world) off their feet and destroyed the ball room in the process. Reuniting with Yuuri had been… confusing. He was that anxious person once again. He was still beautiful, but less like a hurricane. He was timid comparatively.
Victor blinked, before his blood grew cold. The box of chocolates fell out of his hands. He reached for phone, hitting speed dial.
There pinned to the wall was piece of Yuuri’s favorite jacket held in place by a knife. The gleam of moonlight reflected off the golden ring, Yuuri’s engagement ring tied to the end of the fabric. Cut into the wall, letters jagged and crooked, a note: 'We have your fiancée, Agent King.’
After a whirlwind night Victor is sure he’s found his mate in one Yuuri Katsuki. But Yuuri doesn’t remember any of this? Worse still-how can Victor control his every alpha instinct screaming at him to claim his omega?
This story covers Victor and Yuuri meeting at the GPF banquet through the canon timeline, and beyond!
The photographer sets the Danseur up for a blind date with one of his models.
Yuuri loves Phichit, really he does. It’s just that he rather just not be personal around people. So dates are just not his cup of things. Crushes, now those he can do. He kinda has had several. And if all of them in one way or another resemble his first one, just means he has a type.
Viktor had kissed him for all the world to see, but Yuuri can’t even work up the nerve to talk about it afterwards. He can’t put into words how badly he wants more; he can barely admit it to himself. It’s a good thing Viktor knows *just* how to build up his confidence.
Prompt- You kicked two guys out for being rude but turns out they were a couple and now everyone including your crush thinks you’re homophobic but you’re actually 100% homosexual aka Yuuri was not dealing with this shit today.
Yuuri found himself ignoring the television, hyper-aware of his hand finding its way to the top of Victor’s thigh. He gave a slight press into the hard muscle, slowly making his way to Victor’s knee in a light stroke.
A long-fingered hand gracefully covered his, smooth and playful as they interlocked. “Oh right! It’s our day off tomorrow, isn’t it?”
He said it like it was a huge surprise. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it,” Yuuri muttered, face reddening deeper even as his gut grew warm with anticipation, and his cheek still pressed against Victor’s shoulder.
Yuuri is absolutely gorgeous. Viktor could write poems about the soft pink that paints his cheeks and nose. He could pen lyrics about the slope of Yuuri’s smile and the way he bites his lip to try to keep the laughter inside. The sparkle in Yuuri’s eyes would be enough to give hope to even the most lovelorn soul. The warmth of Yuuri’s body pressed against his and the bubbling heat of the feelings he induces in Viktor would be more than enough protection from even the harshest of Russian winters.
Yuuri laughs again and ducks his head, embarrassed, and Viktor covers his mouth with his hand because he thinks he may have said some of that out loud. Oops.
“I know as well as you do that you’re a big romantic at heart, or you wouldn’t be the most requested wedding planner in New York City. Maybe it’s time you give the City a chance”.
Or, the one where Victor organizes weddings for a living but has never been in love, Katsuki Yuuri is a very stressed best man of honor, Chris wants Victor to pull a Jennifer Lopez and Yurio would very much like to be excluded from this narrative.
From all the things this was the last thing either Yuuri or Victor ever thought they’d argue about. They just can’t seem to get to a good middle ground on it unsettling all the other Russian skaters with their bickering.
But honestly, until the Russians find out what it was about they have some opinions of their own.
The leader of the Russian Mafia could be described in many ways. Of course to the public’s eye, Viktor Nikiforov was nothing short of perfection. Tall, rich, powerful, charming, and unbelievably handsome. He knew this fact very well, using this to his advantage at getting anybody he wanted whenever he wanted.
That is until Yuuri Katsuki caused him to fall flat on his butt and make him rethink everything he’s ever known.
Introducing the mafia AU nobody asked for about how a cocky self reliant bachelor falls incredibly in love with the adorable sassy dancing protégée of Lilia- Yuuri Katsuki.
“Someone needs to make sure that you don’t go lusting after him too hard and accidentally enchant him with your beautiful voice and get him drowned. The royal family of Russia has no heir at the moment, so it would definitely drive the country into a chaos, and then it would be no use trying to make an alliance with them.”
aka The Little Mermaid AU no one asked for. This one is based on the Disney version, because anyone who has read the original fairy tale knows it doesn’t end happily.
Where Yuuri remembers the banquet, Viktor forgets, and Yakov Feltsman has his own plans. “I’ve been made aware of your recent break with Celestino Cialdini, and would like to offer you a trial period where you train under me, in St. Petersburg. There are only three conditions: you will board with another one of my students, you will take ballet with Madame Baranovskaya, and you will help me coach Yuri Plisetsky, who refuses to listen to my criticisms of his spins.” Yakov nods at this point, leans forwards and looks Yuuri in the eye. “I will charge no coaching fees.” With a deal like that, even if it means he has to face Viktor again, Yuuri has no choice but to agree.
Victor surprises Yuuri with a trip to an adult store and gets a little more than he bargained for. Or maybe that was the plan all along.
“The colors match our Stammi Vicino costumes!” Victor’s eyes positively sparkled. Meanwhile, his hands held two packaged, decently-sized, ribbed, purple and blue vibrators. With gold rings around the hilts, presumably where they would untwist to replace the batteries.
“You knew this wasn’t a toy store,” Yuuri accused flatly.
“Well, technically, it is a toy store.”
The Rules For Lovers by ADreamingSongbird
Prince Yuuri Katsuki has a duty to his country, above all else (his desires, his dreams, and his happiness included), and he knows this alliance will help to ensure the safety of his people. That’s the only reason he accepts Prince Nikiforov’s hand in marriage. The pleasant surprise, of course, is the part where they fall in love along the way. The unpleasant one, well…
Yuri Katsuki never wanted to meet his idol. He couldn’t imagine Prince Victor ever caring about a lowly college student. Yuri’s also pretty sure he’d screw up everything if he ever met Prince Victor and he’d like to save himself the embarrassment. Unfortunately for Yuri, he’s going to lose his dignity and his shirt in very short order after meeting the prince.
Getting drunk at an after-party at work did not look like a bad thing at first. Yuuri had hoped it would have gotten him to talk to some of his co-workers as normally he’s too shy. He should have known that getting drunk at an after-party would get him into trouble. There was no way he could have seen this train wreck coming though.
Yuuri wasn’t that short. If anything, he was an average height. No, it was the grocery store’s fault. With the store so understaffed and the shelves so poorly stocked, how can anyone reach anything? At least, Yuuri can say something good came out of his ordeal. After all, he had quite a fateful encounter.
How do you love someone who you can’t touch? Simple – with a force of burning fire, enough to melt your heart.
- or the fic where Victor is the Witch of the North and Yuuri is the principal apprentice of the Rising Sun and they can’t be around each other without someone getting hurt (it’s Victor, it’s always Victor)
So this is it for now, I guess? I still have a whole bunch more and I’ll update this I promise! I hope you enjoy this and have a nice day! x
Request// I’d like to request a Klaus x reader where he turns the reader because they’re in love and they sleep together and it’s her first time and fluff please
*I’ve separated the smut from everything else with an ‘x’ so you can still read it even if you don’t wanna go through the naught parts! So sorry to the anon who sent this to me. I started it but then got distracted by the Derek week that just ended. Just know that I really really love getting requests from you guys! Please keep asking for stories and I’ll keep trying to write them to the best of my capabilities*
To most, Klaus had been the monster that scared small children and the myth that lurked in the shadows. The only that wrong with their assumptions was that he wasn’t a myth at all. He had been alive and well for centuries and how somehow ended up with you. You had met a year earlier at a ball in New Orleans and ever since, you had been captivated by one another. Klaus once thought of it as a hex by a vengeful witch but you had thought of it as fate.
You and Klaus were polar opposites. Where he craved vengeance, you pushed for peace and when he demanded blood to rain through the streets, you were the only light that could bring him back from his darkest hours. You were his Persephone and he was your Hades.
“Tell me another story, Klaus,” you whispered into his ear as your laid against him.
“What do you want to hear about this time?” His body moved closer towards you as your fingers wandered through his hair.
“I want to hear about life in the 1920s.”
“The Roaring 20s, eh?” You could feel a low chuckle run through his stomach.
“That’s what they call it, nowadays.”
“I was a different back then, love,” he said quietly. “If you think that I’m dangerous now,you couldn’t bare to see me decades ago.”
“Well, then,” You turned his face to look towards you and gave him a friendly smile. “How about just the good parts?”
He swallowed and took a moment to think before answering. “There was no other decade like the 20s. The first World War had just ended and the cities were exhilarating, always stirring with life. Alcohol had been abolished in 1920, but if you knew the right people, you could still get your hands on it.
“What really made the decade so exciting was the clubbing. That’s when people really came to life. Big bands played for hours on end and flappers danced the night away. Somedays, I wish I could go back to those moments.”
“I wish I had the chance to experience the 20s.”
“You still have decades upon decades to experience, Y/N. Don’t get caught up in the past, especially if it’s not your own.” He smiled down at you as he teased you.
You try to smile back, but the enthusiasm wouldn’t stick. “That’s the thing Klaus..”
“What is it, love?”
“I… I want to spend years with you.”
He looked worried, knowing your words ran deeper than he could see. “And it would be my honor to spend the years with you.”
“In fact,” you pulled him closer, bringing his forehead to yours. “I would love to spend eternity to you.”
and a Long Island Iced Tea | Harry Styles One Shot
So this might be a little different to how the anon had in mind but this premise can get a bit samey sometimes so I tried to do something a little different. I dunno. Hope you like it, I x
You hadn’t slept in nearly three days. You’d managed to eat a couple of slices of toast but the unrelenting nausea made it hard to swallow. You sipped at water but by this point that was the only thing you were living off. Anxiety made your body shake constantly, even when you were busy pinning garments and making alterations your hands shook making the work that came so easily to you, so difficult. The only thing in your mind was how you could make it right, how you could fix the mistake you’d made. You knew you couldn’t, you knew you couldn’t because you’d always feared it being the other way round and when you thought about it and your gut tied itself in knots and you felt sick, you knew it wouldn’t have been able to be fixed. But it was you who had done what you never thought you could.
Three days had passed since the phone call, and now you were waiting in what had become your shared living room, your own flat virtually unlived in on the other side of town, waiting for him to appear. His flight was due in early that morning and as you sipped on black coffee, a bad decision considering you already had the shakes and your mind was working on overdrive, and watched the sunrise you were wondering if he felt as sick as you did.
‘Please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.’ Harry’s voice was monotonous, emotionless as it came down the line. He didn’t even say Hello, let you know how he was. You knew what he was talking about but you were hoping he wouldn’t know yet. You were going to tell him, you wanted to tell him before he found out from someone or somewhere else but you were too late.
‘I’m so sorry Ha-’
‘Fuck Y/N.’ He shouted and you gasped. You shouldn’t have been taken back, he was angry, of course he was angry, he had every right to be but he never shouted at you. You’d seen him get angry at others, seen him shout at others, but frustration with you was always harnessed into something calmer. ‘After everything you put me through about coming out here, you’re the one who actually does it.’ His voice was quieter but you could still hear the anger in it. You’d argued about him going out to LA again. He never seemed to be home much these days, you knew he was busy and it was an important time for his career but you missed him, you were lonely and every time he went to LA something happened, something kicked off and you were the one left at home without a clue what was really going on trying to hold the pieces together.
You’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t sit in London fighting of paparazzi questions and tweets from fans and gossip mongrels whilst he sat back in LA and let it blow over. You knew that wasn’t what he did, if something happened he would call you and comfort you tell you he’d sort it, and he did but that didn’t stop the questions. ‘Have you spoken to Harry?’ ‘He’s cheating on you can’t you see it.’ ‘She’s an idiot to think she could keep him away from the models out there.’ How could you ignore it? He’d promised he’d be working the whole time he was there and he’d be back as soon as it was all sorted, there’d be no time for partying or socialising and it seemed there hadn’t been, but that wasn’t the case for you.
You’d been invited out for a night out with some friends and you decided to go. You’d been working to the death the last few weeks on your collection and you deserved to let your hair down. Apart from anything else it would take your mind of Harry for a while. And it did just that. You didn’t know what you were thinking when you let the young lad, that looked like a brit-pop throwback, who had been dancing too close all night, press his lips onto yours. You pushed him away as soon as you realised what was going on but not before someone in the club had snapped a picture. Within hours it was doing the rounds on social media before you even knew about it, by the time you knew it was too late to do any kind of damage control.
‘Harry please listen to me.’ You were crying now. You were scared of what what you could lose, you couldn’t be without him but it would be your own fault if he decided he couldn’t be with you now and you weren’t sure how to process that. He was silent, that was the only cue you needed. ‘I was lonely, I was missing you, I was st-’
‘You were missing me?’ He laughed in disbelief and you sobbed. ‘Missing me so much, were you missing me while you were kissing him?’ You stayed silent just sobbing. ‘Answer me.’ He screamed.
‘Harry please don’t shout at me.’ You begged, your voice faltering as tears flooded down your face.
‘Stop crying, you have no right to cry, you fucked up I’m the one that should be crying.’ He told you angrily, spitting his words down the phone to you. You knew he was right but you were shaking with the fear of losing him and you couldn’t help but cry. You breathed trying to hold it back. If it would make him tolerate your voice until you could explain, or try to explain, you’d hold the sobs back until you couldn’t breathe.
‘It just happened, he kissed me, I pushed him away and that was it.’ You told him quickly in one breath before you hiccuped. You wish you could see him, you wished he could see you. If he could see how much you hated yourself, how angry you were at yourself, how much you loved him maybe he’d realise.
‘Did you kiss him back?’ He asked quietly. In honesty you couldn’t remember, if it wasn’t for the photos you might not have even remembered the kiss had happened. You wished you could forget but now it was all you could think about. ‘You did didn’t you.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ He laughed and you could hear his voice sticking to his mouth. His voice wetter, you knew he was crying now. Maybe he could cope if some random guy had come onto you, he’d seen you dancing on nights out, he knew how attractive you were, and yeah a guy might come onto you. Not when he was there because he wouldn’t leave your side when he was there but on your own, catching you unaware maybe he could get over that. But the thought of you pushing your lips, his lips, into a stranger was too much to bare.
‘Harry I’m sorry, I love-’
‘Don’t.’ He told you and sobbed loudly. ‘I don’t want to speak to you right now I can’t deal with it, I’ll see you when I’m back.’
‘I love you Harry.’ He didn’t reply and the phone line went dead before you could finish. Now you were about to see him. You’d thought about staying in his grey, random donut shop hoodie that you’d been wearing for the last three days but you didn’t know how he’d react so you opted for your hoodie and some jeans. Your uniform for working days. You could really do without this today. You needed to be in the studio, in only five days your first collection would be on the catwalk at London fashion week. You needed to be doing alterations, getting measurements, making sure everything was sorted but the two page long to do list on your desk hadn’t even crept into your mind yet. All you could think about was Harry, all you could think about was how all you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms the way he normally did when he got back from a trip but you knew that wouldn’t happen.
You heard his key in the door and you closed your eyes taking a deep breath. You didn’t move, you didn’t wander out to find him. Tears were already stinging your eyes as you heard him pulling his bags through the door and the door close heavily. It was seconds, but it felt like minutes until he was stood in the living room door looking at you. He looked as tired and weak as you did. The bags under his eyes were heavier and darker than you’d ever known them, and despite having been in LA for two weeks his skin looked pale and matte. The tears that had been stinging your eyes fell down you cheeks at the sight of him and he just shook his head.
‘Say something.’ You begged him, not moving as he took his first few steps into the room but not coming near you.
‘I don’t know what to say Y/N.’ He told you. He was staring straight at you but it felt like it was more straight through you. He didn’t know who you were anymore.
‘Will you let me explain.’ He shrugged and you swallowed hard on nothing, your coffee long since finished. ‘I was drunk, that’s not an excuse but I was, I can’t remember hardly any of the night-’
‘These sound like excuses Y/N.’ He told you looking cocky. That look would either normally turn you on or annoy you but right now it just made you feel even more guilty.
‘They’re not,’ You told him trying to assure him you weren’t excusing you inexcusable behaviour. ‘He’d been moving in on me and Jen all night and we pushed him away but finally I’d had enough and I let him dance with us, he obviously took it the wrong way-’
‘You seem to remember a lot of the night you can hardly remember any off.’ He interrupted again and you sighed. You couldn’t get annoyed at him for taking stabs at you or for interrupting you when you were trying to explain. And apart from anything else he was right.
‘He obviously took it the wrong way and he kissed me.’ You finished, Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head.
‘And you kissed him back.’ He said it like he knew, like he’d seen it himself. You shook your head. ‘That’s what the papers and Twitter is saying.’
‘So you’re going to believe them over me?’ You asked he shrugged, he didn’t seem to care. Perhaps he was over it by now. ‘Harry you know what those people are like, you know the shit they come out with, I’m your girlfriend-’
‘No you’re not.’ Your heart broke in that instant. You were shocked into silence, your voice gone and your heart rate tripling. You wanted to fight back, to question it but you thought you might be sick if you opened your mouth. Harry moved closer to you, you could feel his breath as he pulled your face up to look at him. ‘I trusted my girlfriend with everything, I loved her with everything I am, I’d have gone to the ends of the earth for her, she’d have done the same for me.’ Your tears were falling fast and hard, blurring your vision so you could hardly make him out. ‘I don’t know who you are.’ He spat before dropping your face and walking away from you toward the stairs.
‘I’m going for a shower, I want you out by the time I’m done.’ You went to chase him, protest, he was already half way up the stairs by the time you got to the bottom and called his name. ‘I said I want you out Y/N, I don’t want you here right now.’
You sat at the bar on the other side of town from where you’d been three hours ago, waiting. Three hours ago you’d just finished your first show at London fashion week. For most it probably got lost amongst all the other, bigger, well attended shows, but for you it was the biggest deal, made bigger by Harry’s presence. He’d promised he’d be there, of course he’d promised before you’d betrayed his trust, you should have known he wouldn’t break that promise. Harry Styles was many things but he never went back on his word. You should have known that. He sat in the front row with other mutual friends of yours looking better in a shirt from your collection than the model who was wearing it. It certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by you, but it also hadn’t gone unnoticed by the journalists and paparazzi outside either. He’d told them he didn’t want to talk about your relationship but they couldn’t help themselves.
‘That’s one of Y/N’s pieces you’re wearing, isn’t that comment enough?’ One of them asked, Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. You knew the sort of questions they would ask in the current climate, he knew too, you didn’t know why he stopped. You wished he hadn’t, you didn’t want to hear his potential answers, you didn’t want to hear the questions that were on everyone’s lips, yours included. But there were for you to ask, no one else.
‘Look, she’s a good designer I’m here to see the show, shall we leave it at that?’ Harry said before walking away. You saw the video on Twitter, there were the usual nasty comments alongside it and you’d been tagged in some of them but you ignored them all, just watched the video and closed the app. You were there to do your job, you were good at your job, you focused on that.
You caught his eye as you walked down the catwalk at the end of the show to a wildly loud applause. He was smiling,standing with your friends to applaud you and he even gave you a wink. You wished he hadn’t, it confused you even more than it comforted you. Once you returned back up the catwalk he was holding his phone up in front of his face and you felt a little less comforted. He didn’t care as much as he once would have done. It was that, that ensured you didn’t feel good about the meeting he’d proposed, the text coming through to your phone as you were taking garments from models.
Can we meet at the bar later?
It was vague but you knew where he meant.
Sure, I’ll be a couple of hours here so 7ish ok?
See you then
Those few hours passed too slowly. You were confident of what he was going to say, which way it was going to go. He wasn’t going to forgive you, he couldn’t. How could he trust you? If he couldn’t trust you what kind of relationship did you have? You knew it, you could feel it in your stomach but you just wanted to hear it. You wanted to see him, see if anything could be salvaged even if it was just the shadow of a friendship. The wink he’d given you, the proud smile on his face as you walked down the catwalk after your models, made you think that maybe.
It was all whirling around your head in a mess of thoughts as you sat at the bar, Long Island iced tea in hand. You moved it around on the bar, spinning it in your fingers occasionally taking a sip as you mulled your situation over and tried to put yourself in Harry’s shoes. You couldn’t though. He’d never done anything like this to you and you knew he never would. Your drink was half finished when Harry arrived. His hand on your back made you aware of your presence. You smiled weakly as he sat on the stood next to you leaning it to kiss your cheek politely, always polite. The bar man wandered over before anything other than ‘Hi, how are you?’ Could be said.
‘Can I just get,’ He hesitated thinking about it. ‘Ah screw it can I get a daiquiri and another Long Island Iced Tea.’ He didn’t even have to ask, he knew what you’d be drinking in here. Best Long Island Iced Tea in town he’d told you the first time he met you in this bar. He had no idea what he was talking about, and it certainly wasn’t the best Long Island Iced Tea you’d had in London but you couldn’t order anything else. ‘How was your afternoon?’ He asked turning to you, it seemed like a normal conversation wa going to ensure but you knew, not only because it was obvious, but because of the way he was playing with his lips that he was just waiting for his drink to arrive so you’d be undisturbed until he broached the subject.
‘Not bad ta you?’ You asked taking a sip of his drink, he nodded and shrugged. He was wearing exactly the same clothes as he had been earlier. Black jeans, of course, your white silk shirt, black leather boots and the black woolen trench style coat you’d bought him. ‘Where’s everyone else?’ You asked, you knew.
‘Gone for drinks you know that.’ You did know that, that was the plan for after the show. You were all going to go for celebratory drinks before a night on the town but things had changed and Harry was more important.
‘This is more important.’ You told him and he agreed with a nod as the barman bought your drinks over. Harry thanked him and took a sip of the pale yellow cocktail.
‘Collection looked great by the way Y/N.’ He told you with a smile and you thanked him nervously. ‘Got my eyes on a few things.’ He told you cheekily and you chuckled lightly through your straw as you slurped the last mouthful of your cocktail.
‘Well you get friends and family discount, and that’s not a bribe.’ You joked but regretted it instantly. ‘Sorry that was inappropriate.’ You looked down at the bar pulling the second drink closer and pushing the finished one away.
‘Don’t be silly it’s fine.’ He smiled placing his hand on your thigh. You sighed and tried to ignore the contact, you didn’t know what it meant and you were scared to ask. You’d missed it though, his hands on your, his arms around you, his lips. The small touch was enough for now, it was more than you expected and you’d take what you could get.
‘I’m so sorry Harry, I wish-’ You began but he interrupted you and took your hand, turning you in your stool so you faced him.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ He told you and you looked at him confused and slightly panicked. If he wouldn’t even hear you out you stood no chance. You thought he’d wanted to meet so you could talk but perhaps he’d already made his mind up, perhaps it was already over for him and there was no going back. ‘It was all a bit much at first and I didn’t handle it very well.’ You went to interrupt him, tell him he handled it better than you probably would have, that his reaction was more than understandable. ‘You were right, I should have trusted you over what everyone was saying and I do really it just took me a while to realise.’ You nodded taking it in. ‘I don’t want you to explain it, I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want you to apologise, I just want to forget it and move on.’ You thought you were going to cry from overwhelming happiness this was going in the complete opposite direction to that you’d thought and prepared for.
‘Harry.’ You gushed. ‘Are you sure, I mean I’d understand if you never wanted to see me again.’ You told him and he laughed.
‘Y/N you’re being ridiculous.’ He told you, your brow furrowed instinctively not quite believing what you were hearing. ‘A drunk guy in a club kissed you, you pushed him away, I mean I’m not happy about it but I’m not going to lose you over it.’ You laughed in disbelief and joy. ‘Let’s just be glad I wasn’t there or you might have been about to become a regular visitor at the local prison.’ You laughed again but this time with humour, everything felt right now and your hand in his didn’t feel like an intrusion. ‘I love you, let’s not something like this happen again.’ You nodded and leaned in to kiss him, savouring every second of his lips on yours. ‘I was thinking, you need to talk to your landlord about your flat.’ You nodded in agreement as conversation flowed in a way it might have done when he’d first arrived back from LA five days earlier, it was like the last week was erased and you couldn’t have been more grateful. ‘Also I’ve got a friend in LA who wants to look at your collection.’ Your eyes went wide and Harry laughed at your reaction.
‘Are you serious?’ London was one thing but the states was another. Harry nodded at you still chuckling.
‘She couldn’t get enough of this shirt and when I told you it was your design she asked if there was more.’ You laughed. You knew Harry Styles walking around in clothes you’d designed could only be a good thing but you’d never imaged it could be that good.
‘Oh my god Harry, thank you.’ You practically leaped off the chair and into his arms. ‘Thank you.’ You said quietly, comforted by his body so close to yours again his arms wrapped around you.
‘You don’t have to thank me, I’ve got nothing to do with you abundance of talent.’ He told you to which you giggled as you pulled back from him a little pressing another, single kiss against his lips. ‘Shall we go find the others?’ You nodded Harry downing the last of his drink before standing from his stool and taking your hand leading you out the door.
The next morning you wake up, naked in Harry’s bed. The smell of his sheets engulfing you. Harry’s side of the bed is empty but the sound of the coffee machine whirring downstairs and the smell of sweet, blueberry pancakes tells you he’s downstairs sorting the normal Saturday breakfast. You pull the heavy duvet in closer for a few seconds, enjoying his sheets alone for a little longer while you check your phone. You pull the charger out of it and the screen illuminates with notifications. Texts of congratulations, a couple of emails and a retweets but one twitter mention that catches your eye.
‘@Harry_Styles mentioned you in a Tweet!’
You unlock your phone slightly confused. It takes a few minutes to load but when it does you could cry. A photo of you walking back up the catwalk the previous day after your show. You’d worn a navy pant suit but lost the jacket earlier in the morning in the mess so you had the tailored trousers on, a black high neck top, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and your everyday silver bracelets and rings glittering. Your hair was tied in a loose bun at the nape of your neck and the bright red lipstick you’d decided on to make you look a little more alive stood out. You had a smile on your face, a smile of relief but also a smile of dread as you saw Harry, phone in hand ceasing to smile and clap you. Now it made sense.
‘My gorgeous girlfriend doing me proud as she does everyday with you to the end. H x’ You felt the tears stinging in your eyes. It looked like it was directed to you, it was your twitter handle in the tweet but you knew it was a message to the world and everyone who continued to feel the need to ask questions and talk about your relationship like they had a clue about it. You took a deep breath and liked the tweet so he knew you’d seen it before swinging your legs out of the bed and searching for the donut hoodie that you couldn’t wait to put back on.
YOU GUYS THEY JUST POSTED THE TRAILER FOR THE NEW STUFF PACK AND I’M SO EXCITED
The Sims 4: Bowling Night Stuff Pack
“Your Sims will soon be able to take to the lanes and level up their new bowling skill with the all new Bowling Lane object! Accompanied with a slew of retro vibe objects, including new seating, lighting, and even bowling ball racks, builders out there will be able to really deck out their venues. Whether customizing your local bar to include a nice bowling space, or turning your nightclub into a sweet local hangout spot where your Sims can dance the night away, Sims can also enjoy a bit of Moonlight Bowling to really set the vibe.
And objects aren’t the only new addition to this pack, we’ve got a slew of new clothing items that will make your Sim the envy of their friends with some swanky retro hairstyles and clothes to match! Now you can have your Sims bowling team dress up in matching outfits (with corresponding bowling shoes!) so the locals know that you mean busy.”
We all know that I hate bowling (there was a childhood incident, don’t ask) but I just watched the trailer like three times and I’m suddenly obsessed. Especially with the new CAS stuff. I’m such a fan.
Prompt: @belle6026 I was wondering if you could write a Draco x reader where he crushes over her and he finds out she’s deaf so he learns how to sign and she is flustered and everything is fluffy plsssss
A/N: OK THIS IS LITERALLY SO CUTE (sorry it’s so short)
Dumbledore stood in front of the students in the Great Hall. The whole room erupted in cheering and clapping. You continued to eat, unsure of the commotion. You took another bite of your apple as your friend sat down. You cocked your head at them hoping for an explanation.
Their mouth made an ‘O’ shape as they signed the announcement to you. There was going to be a ball more specifically the Yule Ball and everyone was excited to dance the night away with beautiful French girls and kiss strange boys they didn’t know. You, on the other hand, were not as thrilled. No one wants to go with someone who’s deaf. You would spend your evening in the common room alone while everyone else partied.
The students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their first class of the day. You quickly followed suit but there was one boy who stayed behind. Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table coming up with a way to ask you to the Yule Ball.
Draco was not one for being subtle, he stood from his seat and marched over to you right away. He called your name but you never saw him and continued to walk to class.
“I-I can’t believe- I’ve- I’m”
“It’s called rejection Malfoy,” Crabbe said coming up behind him.
“It happens to the best of us,” Goyle chimed in after.
“No. It happens to you. I can’t believe I was completely ignored. How rude.” Draco lifted his chin and walked to class.
He walked into Potions just to see you happy as could be with one of your friends. You smiled and signed to your friend. Draco saw your friend sign back and he frowned. A smile began to spread across his face.
“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor Snape yelled. “If you could please take your seat and stop staring at (Y/N)(L/N).” Draco’s face turned tomato red and quietly shuffled to his seat.
Your friend giggled and quickly explained what had happened. Your face was burning and you laid your head on the desk in embarrassment.
The class ended and you rushed out of the class as quickly as possible. You felt your heart racing as you sped down the hall while Draco ran in the opposite direction after your friend.