Another YoI Rival!AU theory that no one asked for …
Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki are the two best skaters in
the world. They are very well known rivals, for years exchanging places on the
podium, one winning gold only to hand the title over to the other the next year
and vice versa, though they are always standing next to each other on the
podium. It’s a back and forth that fans watch rabidly. The rivalry is not
altogether unfriendly, but intense. The fans are super into it, as well as the media, the skating world split
between Team Yuuri and Team Victor (even if they weren’t your faves, if you are
a skating fan, you will be asked this question – although Yuri’s Angels are quickly
becoming a significant third party).
Eventually, as Victor gets closer and closer to the ripe old
age of thirty, talk of retirement inevitably comes up around both skaters.
Victor is rumored to be considering coaching and Yuuri mentioning here and
there that he’d like to further his education.
The media keeps hounding the two about whether or not this is
their last GPF, do they think they’ll retire at the same time? What will one do
without the other to challenge them if only one leaves the ice? Neither give definitive
answers (they’re not entirely sure themselves).
Then, there they are, Russia’s Legend and Japan’s Pride,
standing next to each other on the three step podium once again (to no one’s
surprise at this point). Pictures are being taken, the crowd is cheering, an obvious line drawn between Team Victor and Team Yuuri fans. Then the bronze medalist, Yuri Plizetsky, throws a barely-there smile at the
other two and quietly steps off the podium before the photographers are
finished and the crowd quiets a bit in confusion.
Yuuri looks after Yuri, about to ask where he was going, but a
hand touches his and the crowd has gone completely silent now. Victor Nikiforov
is tugging Yuuri Katsuki off the podium so they are both on even ground, on the
ice again, and he’s kneeling, a velvet box in his hand.
The crowd is caught in confused silence long enough for Victor
to murmur something and Yuuri to nod slowly, a little smile gracing his face.
But when Victor grins and slips the ring on Yuuri’s finger the place explodes.
They’ve been dating in secret since practically the day they
Title: The Promise (Mechanic!Dean x Reader, Best Friends AU). Part 1.
Summary: When Dean Winchester was a little kid, he met a girl that would change his life. So, he stood by her through thick and thin and every time people asked him what home was to him all he could think of was her beautiful smile and her big, bright eyes and the sound of her laughter. Because, like Melville used to say, his home was not down in any map. True places never are.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Mary and John Winchester (mentioned), Sam Winchester, Benny Laffite, Leslie (OFC, only mentioned), Lisa Braeden
Word count: 7217 (I know, I know, it’s a monster fic but I hope it’s worth it)
Warnings: Language. Lots of fluff. Angst. Divorche, mentions of an almost-fatal car accident and drunk driving, death of a parent. Kid Dean (trust me that should be a warning). Lots of feels.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @luci-in-trenchcoats ‘s 2K Follower Challenge. Michelle, congratulations on your milestone, you deserve it so much!
Thank you for organizing this and for letting me participate. I had tons of fun writing this.
Now into the fic, my prompt was “
We’ll figure it out. We always do.” and it is included in the text below in bold. (This is an AU, written entirely from Dean’s POV and hopefully they’ll be more parts.)
Dean was five years old when he met the girl that would change his life.
Of course, he was too young to know it
then, but that didn’t stop Lady Luck from working her magic.
Everything started at the playground just a few blocks away from his
house. The little Y/H/C girl was there again that morning, just like the last
two times, jumping off the swing like she could fly, but Dean didn’t want to
leave his mum and his brother alone to go talk to her. So, he stayed away,
stealing glances every now and then, until another boy, older than him and
plainly mean, shoved her off the
swing and made her fall flat on her butt.
The girl gasped in surprise, her bottom lip wobbling and Dean knew he had to do something about it because he hated seeing girls cry; it reminded him
of that time his parents spent the entire night fighting, and of the next
morning, when his mother’s eyes were red and puffy and he had to hug her and
tell her that joke about the stick being brown and sticky to make her laugh.
So, the green-eyed boy walked to that annoying kid, told him to leave
her alone and when he didn’t listen and made fun of her again, Dean punched him
so hard that his stupid Pokemon hat
flew off and his whole face turned red.
A few seconds later, Stupid Hat
was leaving with his tail between his legs and Dean was turning towards the
girl that looked like a scared little bird, her big Y/E/C eyes wide open.
“Are you okay?” he implored, taking a step forward.
She nodded solemnly and looked down on the ground.
“Are you going to be mean to me like he was?” she asked.
Dean shook his head.
“No. He was an idiot. Here, give me your hand.” He said and she obeyed,
smiled shyly at him.
Summary: The life of a hunter is always dark. But, with Dean Winchester as a friend and a partner, there are definitely moments that are so worth living. And maybe, just maybe, one of these moments will change Dean’s and the reader’s life forever…
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Bobby Singer, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, John Winchester (all mentioned)
Word count: 3977
Warnings: A bit of angst I suppose. Mentions of nightmares. Loss of a parent. Kid Dean (yes, that’s a warning). Implied smut. Language. And. Fluff. So much fluff, guys.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @becs-bunker’s 21st birthday challenge. My dear Becky, thank you so much for letting me participate and for being kind and patient enough to grant me an extension. Life’s been insane lately, but I do hope that this fluffy piece of writing is worth the wait. (Also, happy belated birthday).
As always special thank you goes to my wonderful twin @ravengirl94 who’s like the most brilliant person in the entire world. Honestly, I have no idea what I’d do without her. So. Thank you, twin. You’re the best.
My prompt for this fic was the song I’m Yours by Jason Mraz (that, by the way, brings back so many childhood memories).
Again, thank you all for bearing with me. You guys are the best and I love you all! Enjoy <3
intertwined with Dean’s, you let out a content sigh as he pulled you closer
to him, long torso pressed up against your own as you walked down the shore
together, warm sand dancing between your toes.
It was one of
those rare days when the world seemed to be doing just fine without you, so, you’d
taken your chance, batted your eyelashes pleadingly at the eldest Winchester
and, when his defenses began to crack, you managed to get him to agree into spending the entire weekend at the beach with you.
“I still can’t
believe you talked me into this.” He grumbled into your ear as if his thoughts had aligned with yours, hands rubbing
circles on the fabric of your sundress.
“Oh, please. You’re enjoying this.”
“Hmmm, not nearly
as much as I enjoyed helping you shower this afternoon.” He gloated playfully,
lips brushing up against that soft spot on your neck. “In fact. I think we
should do that again tonight.”
chuckled, incredulity strapped into your voice. “How can you not be exhausted?”
At first, your little deal with him didn’t seem so bad. How could it? He wanted to go with you! Even if it was just as friends, he planned to match with you- planned to have fun with you. You. Oh- you were more excited than you should’ve been- but it was the first time you were really asked anywhere. Yeah, you’d been asked by friends before- but not by a friend you happened to also like. You’d never gone anywhere with a boy you liked, especially not a school dance. Hell- at the rate you were going, you didn’t think you’d have a date to your own Senior Prom in a few years.
I’m listening to Christmas music in June because why not and I was thinking of H and had to share this.
I’ve always imagined living with Harry in this small apartment in London for as long as I can remember, and it’s a small and not that modern or fancy but it’s home. But what about on Christmas morning. When you wake up in the morning and the light is coming through the gap in the curtains, with diffused swirls of sun drifting through the air.
The bed would be warm, a contrast with the chilling air from outside the covers. But that would seem like a different world from the one you two are in, wrapped up together in the warmth your body heat has created. One of his legs would be in between yours, with your back to his stomach, and his arm draped over your
You’d wake up before him. It would be so peaceful, I can just picture it, where you could turn around and just see his face, free of any stress, any pressure, just a sleepy young man so vulnerable in front of you. But he’s so beautiful. You could notice all the little details about him. Like the freckles that adorned his cheeks and and crease that always seems to be between his eyebrows, and the way his skin looks in the light.
He’d wake when you started to stroke your finger tips across his skin. You’d start at his arm, following the curve of his shoulder and across his collar bone and up his neck. You’d know he had woken when a little smile crept onto his face, and his legs shifted a little between yours.
He wouldn’t say anything for a moment, just appreciating the two of you together.
“Mornin’” He’d say, voice thick with sleep, his arm pulling you into him. He just be so warm and so cosy, like home. You’d be able to feel his hair tickling against your neck and his hot breaths against your skin.
"Merry Christmas” Would be the first thing you’d whisper to him. The quietness seemed appropriate for the tone of the morning, matching the volume of the soft birds outside and the faint sound of a car every so often.
"Mmm” He’d him. You’d let out a squeal when his finger tightened on your waist and he flipped you around, a little grin gracing his face as he hovered on top of you.
He wouldn’t hesitate to kiss you. Lips brushing yours so lightly, yet they burnt against yours, until you lifted your chin up to connect them together. It was slow and soft, and the kind of kiss you could compare to the drizzle of honey.
His thumb would brush across your cheek when he lifted his hand up to your face and you wouldn’t be able to find any space between you two as you pulled him down by his shoulder blades. You could feel the beat of his heart against your chest and the movement of his back underneath your hands.
When he pulled away, he’d chuckle as your lips followed his as his head moved up.
Summary: Even after three years, Katniss Mellark still cannot resign herself to the death of her husband. When Peeta Mellark returns, she is willing to go to any lengths to keep him with her, even agreeing to abandon everything and embark on a journey that will change everything she believes about love, regret and the persistence of hope. A story in three parts.
I wiped down the last of the tables
just as the sun set beyond the mountains that were visible from the main
thoroughfare of District 12. Open only one year, Mellark’s Tea and Coffee
Shop was already considered a fundamental part of District 12’s downtown
culture. Some of it had to do with the clever nature of the shop, which doubled
as a used bookstore where people could read as they took their coffee or tea.
But I could not deny that the use of the already familiar Mellark family
name was also critical to its success.
A/N: This is all @mystic-biscuit fault…blame her. So if you’ve never seen the movie Death Proof watch this clip before you read so you understand what’s about to happen. Also this is another long one because apparently I don’t know how to write short fics anymore lol. So enjoy!
“This is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Dylan mumbles.
“Seriously. All you talk about is hot guy this and hot guy that!”
“Is there anything else better to do?”
“Yeah, read a book!”
“I’m not talking about those weird erotica books you get from that shady porn joint. Read a real book that doesn’t include sex.”
You were at a local coffee shop with your best friend Caroline chatting and hanging out like most normal people do. As always she was going on about two hot guys in suits she had seen a few days ago. She claimed they were tall, muscular, and “absolutely fucking bangable”. She had problems. You had joked that she was a total nymphomaniac and she accepted the title like it was a compliment. She was crazy, which was probably why she was your best friend. The world needed balance.
The quiet kids are exactly that; quiet. They live the label very well, very few ever escaping the name. Rose Sullivan was a quiet kid, she always had been, but she, unlike the other few kids, had no desire to escape said group of children. Truth be told she quite liked it.
Luke Hemmings was a quiet kid, he was very artistic, always had a sketchbook or notebook with him. He constantly wrote down lyrics to songs or drew small figures. His favorite thing to draw though, were roses. His sketchbook was filled with seemingly pointless pictures of pretty roses. ‘Nearly as pretty as her,” he would often think to himself.
Luke had a whole world in his mind made up of gardens and perfection. Oh, and a small plastic dog in which he called Ketchup.
Rose had a world in her mind, too. Hers was made of the hypnotizing sound of guitar and beautiful vocals. Luke sang to her a few times, when she wasn’t able to sleep, or when she was sad because of a stupid heartbreak. She also had a large canvas of a rose painting that Luke had made for her a year prior. It was hung up right above her bed.
Rose was a very artistic person as well, she enjoyed drawing petite pictures of music, from guitar strings unhinged, creating a harp, or a violin, or music notes flowing from the page. They seemed as if they jumped out.
Luke, above his bed, had a painting of hers that consisted of a violin lying in a small patch on daisies, tulips, and roses. Her signature stood in the shadow of a rose, and Luke appreciated its beauty everyday.
“Luke, stop,” Rose squealed half- heartedly to her best friend. “Give me one good reason, Rosie,” he smirked after seeing something spark up in her eyes, metaphorically of course.
“You haven’t called me that in years, Lucas,” she mumbled a small smile gracing her pretty little face. He smiled lovingly at her, slowly leaning in to her, she met him halfway, there lips locking in a crash of adoration on both ends. “I love you Rosie,” he mumbled on her lips, she could still taste the words he left there when he pulled away. “I love you too, Lukey.”
He leaned in to her to steal another kiss. When their lips met she put her hands flat on his chest, he rested his on her waist. As the kiss got more heated, she started to ball up his shirt slightly in her hands, and his hands drifted to the hem of her (technically his) hoodie, and he slipped his hands underneath it, sighing happily when he felt the warmth of her skin under his fingers.
Her hands drifted to the hem of his shirt and she pulled lightly at the hem, “what do you want, baby girl. Tell me,” he mumbled to her huskily. “I want this off.” He nodded and slowly peeled his shirt off, she relished his beauty, and placed a kiss on his jaw. “Can I take your hoodie off?” He murmured sweetly.
Instead of answering him, she led his hands to the hem, and pulled up slightly for him. He smiled lightly and stripped her of the top, only to find she had nothing on underneath, aside from some pretty pink lace panties. “God sweetie you’re perfect,” he whispered to her, kissing right under her ear.
Her cheeks flushed a bright red and she giggled cutely. He kissed her again, taking her by surprise, her hands flew to his hair tugging lightly, causing a small moan to leak from Luke’s mouth, to her it sounded like a beautiful musical.
He started moving his kisses lower, spending time on her neck, leaving a small love bite that he was sure to hear about later. He left wet, open mouthed kisses on her body, making sure to give special attention to each of her breasts. Her back arched from her bed, a moan leaking out of her mouth. At the sound, he closed his eyes, grinding his hips on the bed to create some friction. She looked down at him desperately trying to get some pressure in his lower region. “Let me help, baby,” she mumbled. “No, babygirl let me take care of you first.”
Rose smiled lightly, and nodded. He didn’t strip her of her pretty panties yet, not yet. He just pushed his hand into them, and applied pressure to her heat where he knew it would make her weak. She let out a squeak when he applied pressure just where she needed it. “Jesus, Rosie, you’re so wet babygirl,” he muttered into her ear, causing a whimper to fall out of her mouth.
Luke moved down a bit so that he could grind his erection into the bed, needing some pressure desperately. He decided to take hold of Rose’s panties with his teeth, gingerly pulling them down her legs. As soon as they had joined the ever growing pile of clothes, he attached his mouth to her heat, groaning at her taste. “You’re Little pussy tastes so good, baby girl,” he moaned, sending vibrations through her body causing her to let out a heavy high pitched moan.
He held her hips down, to stop her never ending squirming and she had weaved her hands through his hair, gently tugging the roots. “Luke!” She screamed out as she got closer to her climax. “How close are you baby,” He rasped. “So close Lukey.” “Ask me to cum baby,” he whispered in a deep tone of voice. “Can I please cum Luke, please,” she cried out desperately. “Yes darling, cum for me.”
She released the knot that had formed in her stomach, he smirked at the sight, but he rode out her high, even through her pleas for him to stop, she really didn’t want him to.
“You did so good sweetie,” he murmured. “It’s your turn Lukey,” she mumbled, as she stripped him of his pants quickly.
For the most part, Laurent seemed content to observe the
child from a distance—watching with interest, but no apparent desire to
participate, as Damen rocked and bounced and babbled at him. Damen had insisted
that Cassina, the nursemaid, bring little Augustos to their rooms twice each
“I’m sure Cassina is happy to do that,” Laurent
said, one day when Damen took the time to spoon thin gruel into the baby’s
“She is,” Damen said cheerfully, “and so am
I. Do you not have the saying in Vere, that if the steward feeds the king’s
dog, it is the steward’s dog?”
Laurent cocked his head. “No,” he said
thoughtfully. “I don’t believe we do.”
“You have enough experience of hounds and horses,
though, to know it’s the truth. I’ll choose a more personally relevant example,
though—did your brother not make time for your company?” Damen felt this
was still strange fragile territory between them, yet the point was worth
making. And make it he did, judging by the way Laurent’s head jerked back an
Damen, his gaze still on baby Gus as he tried to coax
another spoonful into his mouth, ventured onto ground more dangerous still.
“From what little you have said, I have assumed—and correct me if I do it
wrongly—that your father and perhaps even your mother were content to make sure
you were well cared for by others, but it was Auguste who took the time to do
“My mother,” Laurent said, and stopped a long
moment before finishing simply, “tried.”
IGNIS!! Arranged marriage au "I know it’s already been arranged, but let me do this properly…Will you marry me?”
Sure thing, hon!
As you looked in the mirror and smoothed your hair, you
wondered to yourself where it was that Ignis was taking you to dinner. It was
his idea, and you certainly didn’t mind, but surprises sometimes made you
nervous. It was a relief, though, that Ignis was willing to spend more time
with you as of late. Yes, it was true that your betrothal was an arrangement
between his uncle and your mother, but it was nice to spend time with your
closest friend anyway. You didn’t mind marrying Ignis – not really. What was
bothering you, though, was that you were marrying the love of your life without
him loving you back.
“That should do it,” you thought aloud as you looked over
yourself once more. You descended the stairs, making your way to the front door
as you called to your mother, “I might be home late, so don’t wait up!” Shortly
after, you heard her reply, “That’s fine, ____. Have a good night!” You walked
out the door, and right on cue, Ignis pulled up in front of your house. You
entered his car with a smile, greeting him as you slipped your seatbelt on. “Good
evening. I must say, you look exquisite as usual.” Your smile brightened as you
gave him your thanks. “So, where are we going tonight, Iggs?”
“You’ll see,” he answered, and with that, he began to drive
off. You certainly weren’t satisfied with his answer, yet you couldn’t help but
get some amusement out of his teasing. “Fine,” you sighed, your tone almost
contradicting the bright smile on your face. As Ignis drove along, you examined
the city lights that seemed to be zooming past you. The Crown City was a place
of wonder, in your opinion. Yes, you grew up here, but there was something
about home that even stories could never touch.
“When we get there,” remarked Ignis, pulling you from your
thoughts, “I was hoping that we could discuss the wedding a bit more. I know
you wanted something a bit smaller, but being within the royal circle, I can
only shrink it down so much.” You shook your head, keeping your gaze still on
the passing scenery as your heart fluttered a bit. You should have been used to
talking about your wedding by now, but for whatever reason, you still couldn’t
shake your nerves. “Oh, ah, that’s fine. I guess the size isn’t that big a
deal. I mean, the most important detail is the cake flavor, right?” You
laughed, and Ignis chuckled a bit as well.
“You want strawberry, yes? I’ll make sure the chef has the
perfect recipe.” Finally, you turned to face Ignis as your laughter got just
slightly louder. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t you tell the chef how to do their job.
I’m sure their ‘recipeh’ is just fine.” With his eyes still on the road, Ignis
raised a brow as a little smirk graced his face. “Making fun of my accent now,
are you? And here I thought you liked it.” You gave a bit of a shrug. “I really
do,” you admitted.
The minutes passed, and the two of you arrived at your
destination. Your eyes went wide, and your lips curled into a bright smile. The
two of you had made it to the Accordon style restaurant, La Cucina di Leonardo.
Though it was your favorite, you didn’t always have the chance to go there, as
it was a bit on the expensive side. “Really, Iggs?” you giggled, still
unbelieving that he brought you here. “It is your favorite, isn’t it? Let’s be
on our way then.” Ignis got out of the driver’s seat and opened the door for
you, offering his hand to help you out of the vehicle.
The two of you walked inside together and were seated almost
immediately. As Ignis examined his menu, you quietly observed his features.
There were certain subtleties in his expressions like the slight crinkle in his
nose when he reads that you loved. Even his “flaws” like the acne scars on his
face were little details that reminded you of how long you’ve known him, and
how long you’ve wanted to be by his side. What was it about tonight that got
you thinking so much about what you wanted from him? Finally, you couldn’t stop
yourself from speaking.
“I love you,” you said abruptly. Ignis sat still, so much so
that he stopped breathing for a moment. The man set his menu down and slid his
glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What made you decide to tell me this now?”
he asked. Part of you wanted to back down, but there was no way you could do
that. You’d already opened the box; whatever you needed to say had to be said
now. “We’re going to get married, and part of me is ecstatic because if I had
to get married, you’re the one I want, but… you don’t love me back, and I’m
afraid of what that’ll do to us in the long run.”
“… I see.” Ignis took in a slow breath, relaxing his
shoulders before taking your hand into his. “____, I apologize. I thought asking
to spend more time with you would have made my intentions clear, but I don’t
suppose I did well enough in expressing my affections for you.” At his words,
you felt your heart stop. “… Say what now?” you stumbled. A little smile graced
that beautiful face of his as he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.
“When Uncle told me that he wished to arrange a marriage for
me, I wasn’t particularly keen on the idea. However, he said that it would be
good for our family, politically and otherwise. When he suggested that you be my spouse, though, my
apprehensions were… lessened. When Uncle met with your mother, I wanted to earn
your affections, which is why I’ve been trying to spend time with you and get
closer to you. I told myself that if I’d not won your love by one week prior to
the wedding, we would call it off. Little did I know that I’d already earned a
place in your heart.”
You remained silent. You had no idea that all this time,
Ignis felt the same way as you. In fact, you felt a bit silly. Finally, you
found yourself laughing gently as a wave of relief washed over you. “Well then…
I guess things worked out in our favor.” Ignis smiled and gave your hand a
little squeeze. “I suppose it did. Although… I know it’s already been arranged, but let me do this properly…”
The man knelt by your side, your hand still in his as his teal eyes peered into
your lovely ones. “____… Will you
Your heart melted, a single tear springing from your eye.
Hearing him say the words was almost surreal, but here you two were, and you
had no desire to question it. “Yes,” you answered without hesitation. Ignis
smiled before kissing the back of your hand, and then your lips. “I love you,”
he whispered. “I love you back,” you answered. Ignis kissed you once more
before he returned to his seat, his hand still holding yours. You weren’t
inclined to let go either. What could have possibly made tonight better? “So,
let’s revisit the discussion of our wedding cake,” Ignis spoke. Well, perhaps
there was one thing that could make
the night even better.