This is, most certainly, not where Charles wants to be.
When he agreed to come with Hank on this trip it was
supposed to be purely academic in nature- research, conferences, maybe the odd
drink in a local bar if appropriate. Charles isn’t opposed to having fun, but
being very modest and very English there are certain situations he just doesn’t
expect to find himself in.
(i tried to write jealous Sandor a little differently than I usually would…meaning I tried to make it so he didn’t out right beat the crap out of someone lol. I hope you like it!)
(Word Count: 1,666)
You could see the hidden anger underneath the mask he always
worn around others, but there was nothing you could do to calm him. No one knew
that you were with him. You were a Lady of rather high noble birth and he…he
was a warrior from a small, poor Knight House. No one would understand why you
would rather have a man whose face was badly scarred from childhood abuse
instead of a “hot” young man from a “respectful” and rich House. Your family
only cared about their connection to the crown and to the other powerful families
of Westeros. But you only cared about him. About
My very first Viktuuri drabble yay!! Pure fluff to soothe my soul and hopefully yours ^^ Enjoy! (I tried to incorporate both Russian(thank you Soul!) and Japanese here because I find it’s an integral part of their relationship, feel free to correct me on any of it though it was pretty minor) Edit: thank you to homewriters and to Lili on Ao3 for the Russian correction!
“Yuu-ri!” Viktor called from the attic, pushing his way through the boxes, “Are you sure they’re up here?”
“That’s where you put them last year,” Yuuri called from the kitchen, before stuttering iie, iie, iie at Makkachin, because his Japanese always slipped out when scolding the poodle. Viktor giggled, picturing his darling Katsudon trying to keep the cookie dough away from their oversized dog.
Viktor definitely remembered putting the Christmas lights up in the attic at the beginning of January last year, but they’d accumulated so many boxes, and they were all just so brown, Viktor didn’t really know where to start.
He sighed, kneeling down against the first box he saw. He’d need to organize these better one day. Maybe after it stopped being so cold.
He pulled the box closer to himself, flipping open the side. No lights. Paper? What did they have paper for? Oh, not paper. Posters. Yuuri’s old trophies.
Viktor smiled. That was nostalgic. Some of his own were mixed in too.
He reached for another box, hoping to find more.
Nothing but his old costumes. The one Yuuri had worn for his Eros performance. Viktor held it up, admiring the sparkle from the black piece, wondering if he could convince Yuuri to wear it again. He’d gained a bit of weight since then (so had Viktor) but they were both still in relatively good shape, skating together on weekends and off days. The costume would be a little tight, but somehow that only excited the Russian further. A happy pink rose to his cheeks, the way it did after a few sips of vodka.
With childlike giddiness, he reached for the next box, popping it open and pulling out more posters. He pushed those aside, grabbing for the sets of trophies. Cute ones. Little ones. From so long ago that they had to be when Yuuri first started skating as a child. And he squealed in quiet glee at the sight of a few pictures, Yuuri probably around twelve or thirteen, cheeks red with cold and smile swelling with pride, holding up the medal around his neck.
“Viktoru!” Because Yuuri always added a ‘ru’ to the end of his name, “Did you find them?”
“Ah, almost!” Viktor quickly shoved the trophies back in the box, as if he’d been caught doing something bad. He grabbed for the pile of posters, which of course managed to all spill out of his hands, spreading out across the attic floor.
And Viktor stopped for a moment. Really looked at them.
All of them. Every single one, was of him. On the bottom corner of each poster, in handwriting that seemed to get sloppier as the Viktor in the posters got older, were dates. Or, at least, Viktor was almost sure they were dates. He knew that much kanji at least. But not enough to be overly confident about it. Especially when there were a few other things scribbled along the sides.
And then, between one of the many posters, was a picture of Yuuri, about seven or eight, and a poodle that was just about as big as he was.
He stared at it for a long time, seeing the happiness in his young lover’s eyes, squinting from smiling so hard, the poodle’s tail obviously wagging from the blur in the photo. Yuuri’s arms were wrapped around the dog in nothing but pure excitement.
Viktor continued to smile as he flipped the picture over, finding neat, even handwriting that didn’t match the ones on the posters.
And Viktor knew at least that much. Recognized his husband’s name, alongside his own. Knew that it was actually the poodle’s name, not his, but it almost felt like it was, like some strange wish that had been set on that day, fate placing the two names side by side. Maybe that’s why Viktor began to tear up. Or maybe it was out of frustration, because he couldn’t read what followed, didn’t recognize enough characters to.
These Japanese and their kanji.
Viktor wiped his face, putting it all away carefully, considered bringing down the posters to wave in his husband’s face, if only to see the blush that would follow.
Have you loved me for this long?
But that would be a ridiculous question. So he decided against it. Put the posters back. Kept the picture. Found the christmas lights easily after that, because they were in the box he’d labeled рождество last year, along with all the other decorations. He knew he’d done a bit of organizing.
“Did you find them?” Yuuri said, still stirring the dough with a wooden spoon, like an old-timey housewife, despite the fact that they owned the latest state-of-the-art mixer.
“Yup!” Viktor beamed, holding up the box, setting it down on the counter. Yuuri smiled in response, muttering some sort of sweet nothing to Makkachin in Japanese. It was too low, or too fast, or maybe both, for Viktor to catch.
“Lyubimiy,” he said, capturing Yuuri from behind, mindful of the bowl Yuuri still held. “Look what I found.” He held up the picture in front of their faces, Viktor pressing his cheek against his lover’s so that they could both see.
“You named your dog Viktor?” He grinned, “Was it after me?”
His husband set the bowl down and took the photo, admiring it with smiling eyes. “You were my inspiration for skating, back then.”
“Mmmm, only back then?” The Russian puffed his cheeks, “What about when I became your coach?”
Yuuri hesitated for a moment, giving a half, lopsided smile to the picture before setting it down on the counter, next to the bowl of dough. “When you were my coach, you stopped being my inspiration.” He cocked his head, so that their noses touched, blue eyes meeting brown. “You became my reason.”
It was now Viktor’s turn to hesitate, his eyes going wide, but then softening around the edges as they fluttered closed, placing a kiss on his husband’s cheek.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he warned, “I might just fall in love with you all over again.”
Yuuri smiled, turning his neck just a little bit more, so that this time, Viktor could kiss him on the lips. With bright eyes that shined behind his glasses, Yuuri gave a small giggle of a sound, the tops of his slightly chubby cheeks tinting with warmth, as he leaned in for another kiss.
“Is that a promise?”
And Viktor couldn’t help but smile, inhaling deeply and pushing his hair back, holding up his hands to catch Yuuri’s cheeks. “Mm,” he said, giving him another peck, “Promise.”
He let out a quiet grunt, one so hushed that it echoed in the room as he shifted on the bed. His eyes opened first, then only his arms moved on the bed when he woken up from his deep slumber. It sort of surprised him on how he could move so freely because based on his memory of last night, you were pretty much caught up in his arms, legs tangled underneath the sheets along with his arms tightly enclosed around you as if he was your shield. His eyes blinked a few time, adjusting to the room light as it was roughly 8 o’ clock in the morning. With that, his eyes grew accustom to the lighting before he set his eyes on you.
Almost immediately, a smile spread out on his lips at the sight of you.
The way the blanket wrapped around your bare body from last night’s activities, strands of your hair covering your face as you took in calm breaths, your eyes closed as you were in a deep sleep – he had the sudden urge to just kiss you everywhere when his eyes eyed your lips.
He swallowed, shifting on the bed carefully where he scooted closer underneath the blanket but his heart stopped when you let out a soft mumble as your hands in front of your chest moved a little. He released the breath he was holding in when you continued sleeping as if nothing happened and he managed to come so close that he could see how close your hands were together in front of your chest.
“Silly girl…” He mumbled with a grin, his hand moving at your direction where he placed it delicately on your cheek, his eyes staring at you in awe as he brushed the strands of your hair away – grinning with glee at the sight of your gorgeousness in this morning. Everything seemed so perfect…
He noticed how you were still sleeping, urging him to bend down where his hair brushed lightly on your skin as he kissed your forehead, “Angel…” He called out for your in the quietest voice possible, but you were still sleeping. He smirked when he knew he could do what he wanted to that his hands gripped onto the bed sheet to pull it down until your beauty unraveled before him.
For the life of him, he’ll need the rest of his life to get used to this…
He licked his lips nervously, but the excitement was bubbling in him as he kissed your cheeks with a gentle peck. His eyes roamed to see if you were going to wake up but there was no sign. His insides started to jump as he leaned so close, he could feel your breath hitting his skin. It made him gulp as he grew dominant all of the sudden, his hands enclosing around your wrist where he held onto you tight just so he could loom over your neck, his lips inching closer where he kissed your skin with his supple lips. He created a path of kisses, from the crook of your neck all the way until he was kissing down to your arms. He was rather surprised that you were still closing your eyes, which left him to ask in his incredibly good morning voice, “Angel, are you still sleeping?”
When he saw that your hands shifted in his adorably, your head shaking as you gave out a quiet whine about God knows what, he smiled again – how can someone be so cute?
“Then why are you closing your eyes?” He asked, voice coated with playfulness that only made you shrug as he let go of your wrists. Your hands moved up to rub your face but it only made him frown when you were covering your face. His hands glided down your body, over your stomach until his hands curved until he gripped onto your waist, pulling you close until your lower region was pressing against his, your legs tangled with his own as he smirked down on you.
Well this was a position he liked very much.
“Angel… why are you hiding from me?” He questioned, though, he knew you were just rubbing your eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you pulled your hands down, your lips muttering a confused ‘huh?’ as your eyes popped open at him. You continued to blink slowly at him as if you were going to fall asleep again but he snaked his arms around your bare waist, bringing you to him as he smiled at you, “Don’t fall asleep on me. As much as I like watching you sleep, I prefer it when you’re awake.”
You huffed, “But I’m tired…”
He laughed, “Isn’t sleeping six hours enough?”
Your eyes opened to partially glare at him, your head tilting to the side where your hands were still in between your chests as you looked at him. He simply gave you his signature smirk, one of his hands directing your arms to go around his neck before he resumed to hugging you by your waist, eyes locked on you. “So… six hours isn’t enough?”
You shook your head with a small pout, “Based on how long we went at it last night, six hours is too little… And it’s a Saturday, Kai…” He heard how you were whining at him, but he didn’t care. He could only sense how adorable you were being at a time like this. If only his mornings could be like this all the time – he would love it.
Not that he doesn’t love his regular mornings.
He loved ones like these too.
“Just stay awake with me for five minutes, then I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
It was the first laugh you emitted for the day as you couldn’t help but laugh – he was such a tease. “The last time we said ‘five minutes’, it ended up way longer than it was supposed to.”
He shrugged, “Maybe this time we’ll mean what we say.”
You blew your fringe away with a frown, “I’ll probably never get to sleep…”
He gave you a teasing pout, “Aw… Don’t say it like that…”
You hugged him back this time, you resting your head on his shoulder as you hugged him tight, “But I’m really tired…”
His eyes blinked at you sadly (though you can’t see it) as he looked down on you. He hugged you back, of course, his lips at the side of your head as he gave you a soft kiss before pulling away to sigh at you, “Then we’ll go back to sleep. I’ll sleep with you.”
You could see that he probably didn’t want to sleep, that he would rather do something else. You frowned instead and you felt bad when he was already tucking you in to sleep again, an arm of his over your waist, his eyes closed as he tried to go back to sleep just for you but you sat up, “Wait, Kai… Let’s do something.”
He pulled you back down to lie down on the bed, a leg had swung over your waist to keep you in place, “Don’t try to compromise your sleep, angel.”
You gulped at him, your eyes staring at him as he used one eye to peek at you before he smiled at you with his eyes closed, his arm around your waist that brought you closer until your hands had hugged him back around his chest. “We’ll do whatever I have in mind in the afternoon, so for now, we sleep.”
It might sound that Kai was bossing you around but really, you knew that he said that to make it look like you had no other choice but to sleep – when actually he knew that you needed your sleep. You snuggled against him, a kiss you gave on his chest before you murmured, “Thank you…”
He tightened his grip around you, a grin on his face as he peeked at you again with one side of his eye before he closed his eyes to sigh in content, “Anything for my angel.”
The Art of Caring for and Cuddling Your Washington
For the Fluff War. BlueT3, A Very grouchy Washington doth protest too much.
EDIT: fucking grammar
Tucker looks up from his pad, frowning. There’s that noise again. He swears he heard it again a minute ago, echoing up the stairwell. The Reds not be doing anything stupid again, like trying to drag a vending machine into their apartment. After the sound fails to show up again he goes back to his pad, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
A/N:……Look, before you read just let me say, I have no idea what happened to me to write this, but I’m kinda proud of this?? And It’s going to be a series which is new to me ???
So far I think it’ll be fluff so…..yea ENJOY.
A plain white canvas wasn’t interesting to look at. It was plain, colorless and out right boring.
A plain canvas doesn’t even get a second glance. A plain canvas will never be interesting to look at,no one would want to look at it.
It has nothing.
Just white and blank.
But only when A splash of color is added will it be noticed, will it be interesting. The more color you add the more eye catching it becomes and eventually it will create an image.
An image that people might want to see.
An image the creator would be proud of would get the most attention.
But canvas doesn’t always mean it will be a plain old a piece of paper, it could also mean a person.
Someone who doesn’t even know their own color. Someone who’s either too afraid to add a bit of color to their world or someone who just has never experienced the feeling of being filled with color.
It happens a lot, a lot of people often ignore the chance of being splashed with color and avoid it as best as they can because they’re too afraid to show them, scared of being rejected for who they really are.
But also being afraid of being accepted, cause once you are you never want to let go of them, but once they leave, you end up hurt.
Shattered into pieces.
But at one point or another you’re going to have to let your colors flow out the sooner you do the better you feel, you’re being more true to yourself and you accept the fact that your a bit different than others.
Being ignored, no one even bothered to look in your direction.
You’re plain, a blank canvas, nothing interesting.
Always alone,alone in the back of the classroom, no one bothering to even make sure your present.
From where you always are, everyday sitting in the same place, looking observing everyone with their own color.
Every shade of every color surrounding everything.
Everything, but you.
You might as well be non existent.
You’re lonely, wanting to be noticed, to be talked to, to have friends and maybe even eventually fall in love.
But…for you that’s impossible, cause you’re a blank canvas.
A canvas with no color, not even a soft sketch of images made with a pencil.
Nothing is on the canvas.
You’re a canvas needing to be colored, painted, sketched.
Is it too much to ask to have even just a small dot of color?
Asking yourself that everyday of every hour, minute and second.
But never getting an answer.
Not being able to bare anymore of this room full of colorful people you stood up, barely making any noise, making your way out of the classroom.
Walking with your head down low, hair covering your eyes, and your face emotionless.
Laughter, giggles and chatter willed the hallway.
Even they had colors. Brilliant shades of yellow and green, the colors of happiness and glee were clouding your sight of vision.
Not daring to race your head and heading straight towards the stairs that lead to the library.
No one was usually there.
It was quiet and big, shelves filled with many books.
Stories of all kind, stories of people without color getting they’re own color.
People falling in love, tragic deaths and so much more.
Never getting enough of the amazing stories with beautifully worded sentences. Each line elegant and continuing the story, with each line comes the end of the story closer.
You never get tired of them.
coming face to face with the big wooden doors to the room filled with endless shelves of literature you took hold of the handles you opened the door.
The room was big, filled with shelves and tables. Room was filled with all shades of browns and rusty reds. No bright colors, just soft browns and rusty reds.
The smell of the old and new books filled your nose, you always enjoyed that smell.
Face still missing any signs of emotion, you made your way to the self you had left of at last time. Picking out the next book to read and heading to the usual place you sat at.
Between two shelves in that back, on the padded window seat with a few pillows. You could even see if someone came into the library you could see the wooden doors so clearly from where you were.
And it was a place only you knew of.
You’re own special place to forget everything and just read.
You could hear the bell ring to class, but there was no need to go.
Cause no one would even notice that you’re gone.
Opening the book to the first page you immersed yourself into the story.
And before you knew it the school day had ended.
Looking up towards the wooden doors into the library just in time to see them open to reveal a figure of a man overflowing with colors.
So many rich and beautiful colors were surrounding him, it was mesmerizing and you couldn’t look away.
From the ends of hair to the heals of his feet he was overflowing with the colors, the canvas was filled with color. No spot was left blank.
Before you knew it you were on your feet and in the man’s sight of view.
Locking eyes, you were shocked making you’re eyes go wide.
Seeing your reaction he chuckled softly and smiled, with both his eyes and lips.
I wish you would write a fic where someone sings in the shower~~
Now once upon a morning cold and dreary, In a flat south of London, oh so bleary, Among the suds came a voice like butter, Creeping through the fog, without a shudder.
It comes as no surprise that a voice like this, Would ring out in such displays of concerted bliss, He sings, unaware of a figure at the door, “I would walk 500 hundred miles, and I would walk 500 more!”
She watches with delight, and giggles with glee, At the greatest sight a lover can see, The cup in her hand trembles, tilting with tea, “Is this the real life? Is this fantasy?”
She watches him frolic, completely mesmerised, By the sight of his meandering country backside, The melody changes, he’s hitting his stride, She’s loathe to interrupt him, and injure his pride.
The spray of the shower hits a crescendo, That’s literal, not figurative, and not innuendo, She takes a step forward, unable to stop, He’s getting too raucous, they’re gonna have to mop–
“If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it,” “Already did that,” she says, grinning quite a bit. He freezes mid-chorus, hands in the air, Expression as horrified as if he’s eaten a pear;
She gives him a once-over, hands on her hips, Delights in his terror while licking her lips, “You better not be using my expensive body wash,” “It’s twenty quid a bottle,” was lost in the splash.
Adam would be the first to admit that Kurt can be a bit snappish when he’s under pressure. He isn’t mindlessly cruel, doesn’t find joy in making anyone cry but he’s sharp in his fury and cold when he’s been hurt.
Santana delights in Kurt’s temper- Adam’s seen her go from despondent channel surfing to unholy glee at the sight of Kurt’s ire. She loves him, Adam would know this without bearing witness to five years of their friendship, but the way she expresses her love leaves a sour taste in his mouth.
guys, lmfao. true story, i was just in times square and this dude with a girl comes out of american eagle and steps on my shoe and i go “what the hell” and look up and the dude is fucking matt morrison. so i was like HUH WHAT and then as he was walking away i was like “MISTER SHUE!” and he turns and smiles and that’s the real life story about the time i was one step closer to chris colfer.