i don't know what i would do if he never got to lift the cup

3

Make Time

it wasn’t your fault. it was schools fault.

everytime that hyuk has a performance, you miss it because of your packed schedule. you wished that you could just go or do whatever or wherever you wanted when you wanted.

you remember like it was yesterday..your high school graduation. of course, hyuk was there but he seemed a bit off.

“hyuk? what’s wrong?” your eyes filled with worry quickly after realizing that your boyfriend had a pouty face.

he forced a fake smile to assure you that there was nothing wrong. but there was.

“come on, lets go outside.” you got up and grabbed his hand, guiding him out of the refreshments room.

you weren’t going to believe any lies that he was going to attempt to tell you. it was obvious that he had something on his mind. something that was dragging his regular happy self down.

“tell me what’s wrong.” you said.

“i just…nevermind.” he looked at you and bit down in his lip to hide his frown.

“c'mon i don’t want to hear that.. you better tell me hyuk.” you forced him.

he let out a sigh and broke his eye contact with you. “will you still be able to…”

“to what hyuk? you’re like how many years older than-”

“come to my shows. and please let’s not talk about our age gap…ever.” he whispered the last part, no one could know about that. not now.

“if this is what’s bothering you, then…yes i will still try to go to your shows. i’ve never missed one yet. and i damn sure don't  plan on missing one.”

“bu-”

you cut him off with a kiss, causing him to turn to putty in your hands. he was a sucker for you and he needed to make sure that you’d be around. you were his inspiration for everything after all.

you got a nonification from the angel that attended each and every one of hyuk’s performances. she went live so that those at home could watch him live.

you tapped on it and god…there he was, singing pour up. he looked amazing. and you noticed that he was wearing the necklace you got him for his birthday which made you smile and tear up. you were beginning to feel emo.

honestly, you felt distant from him. you’d see him every now and then but that was either for a quick fuck or to spend “time” together which only lasted for about an hour.

god knows you didn’t want to break up with him. you loved him too much.

you pushed your thoughts to the side just for now and focused on hyuk. of course, he was singing well and giving a great performance. he sung a few songs before getting to what2do. a song that he wrote when you two weren’t on the best page.

but right in the middle of the song, he stopped singing, covered his face and looked down. he walked off of the stage while shaking his head. but before he left, he spoke into the microphone, “i’m sorry”.

“what?” you asked yourself before hopping off of the couch and heading to your room to dress yourself.

you threw on a skirt, one of hyuk’s old supreme jackets and a pair of your old sneakers. you looked fine, if you excluded the fact that it looked like you had no bottoms on.

after locking up the house, you looked back at your phone. the ‘angel’ was apologizing to her viewers.

“dean is backstage. he’s been back there for a good six minutes…i hope he’s alright. if there are new viewers, the reason why you don’t see dean is because he cried on stage and left. he’s still here and maybe will be out soon. hang on.” she turned the camera around to face the stage.

hyuk had came back, with a hat on to hide his puffy eyes. “i apologize for my abrupt stop…. it’s just… i’m having problems.” he wasn’t going to continue the sentence but people in the crowd encouraged him to.

“tell us dean!”

he sighed into the microphone. “i wanted her to be here and…she’s not…”

“aww.” the crowd cooed as he started crying again.

you put your phone in your pocket and continued your walk to the venue. you hoped that security would let you in although they most likely wouldn’t.

even if you told them that you were hyuk’s girlfriend. they probably wouldn’t believe you because of how you looked. or maybe just because they were trying to keep him safe.

when you finally got to the back of the building, you saw that there was no one at the back door so you started to open it… until someone opened it before you.

“what were you doing?!” two men who looked like security guards asked you.

“umm…” you paused. “i’m here to see hy- dean. i’m his girlfriend.”

the both of them started to laugh and point at your features, telling you how hyuk would never date someone like you.

you just stood there. unfazed. how and why were you unfazed? because you were used to this. it was nothing new, so you let them get in on their jokes.

“y/n!” hyuk literally screamed when he spotted you from the hallway.

he pushed pass the guards and pulled you into a tight hug. “what are you doing here? i thought you said that you have a test tomorrow and you need to study?”

“they teased me hyuk.” you ignored his question and stared the two older men in front of you down.

“what?” he looked back at them and codly said, “you’re not the only ones. hardly anyone believes her.”

“sorry.” they said in unison and left the two of you alone.

hyuk stepped back and looked at you, he noticed his jacket and that brought a slight smile to his face.

“you cried…on stage. why?” you cut straight to the point making his smile drop.

“because i miss you y/n. i miss us.” he paused and ran his fingers through his hair. “i miss you being in the crowd and i miss spotting you out and singing to you. baby we’re not even around each other as much anymore. and when we are… it’s just..not the same.”

“i honestly feel the same way hyuk…i really do. but-”

“please don’t say but, just be here with me. we can work this out.” he looked down, obviously he was in some type of emo state.

“alright..after your show, let’s go home.” you suggested.

“after the show? home?” he asked. the tone of his voice was lifted and his eyes opened much more wider than before. You

“yes hyuk, now get in there and give your fans a good performance!”

he grabbed your hand and guided you through the building, to the stage. “what are you doing?” you asked him through gritted teeth.

he placed his finger over his lips and signaled for the dj to start the music. “everyone this is the woman in my life, y/n. and i will be singing to her.” his voice came out shyly and his cheeks were a pinkish red because of all the blushing that he was doing.

the crowd cheered him on until it was time for him to begin singing. they cooed along with you all the way till the end.

“i love you y/n.” he said, sincerely.

you mouthed i love you back to him and opened your arms wide. but, he didn’t hug you.. he cupped your face with his hands and kissed you. he kissed you in front of all the cameras.. something that he once said he’d never do.

when his set was over, he bowed at the crowd and thanked everyone for coming. he also apologized again a thousand times until you had to stop him.

“are you happy with me?” he asked, while holding the door of his car open for you.

you nodded and spat out a quick “yeah.” before he could close the door.

you didn’t lie, although things may have been a little off with your relationship with hyuk but that didn’t mean that you weren’t happy most of the time.

when he got into the car, he started the engine and turned up the radio. you leaned back into the seat and held onto his hand.

“you know, if you at least attend some of my shows, i’ll be the happiest man alive.” hyuk said.

“i’ll see what i can do.” a smirk stretched across your face. he didn’t exclude the"some" which made you feel good. he was finally understanding that school was a top priority.

“you better.” he laughed.

when you two got to your house, you watched a movie and talked about your relationship. thankfully, you worked it out with him completely. you would attend some of his shows and he would come over to your place everyday for way more than an hour time to spend time with you.

~

“tell me everything will be alright.” you said, while you snuggled deeper into hyuk’s chest.

“everything will be alright. i promise.” he kissed your forehead and sung one of his songs to you until you fell asleep.

“love, love the stars.
love, love the moon”

anonymous asked:

Alright, different anon, but let's do the flipside of the miscarriage ask. How do the Chocobros react to holding their first newborn for the first time. If you have any questions about how tumblr works, don't hesitate to ask us.

Hello different Anon :D Oooh, interesting- so we’re flipping the switch and engaging fluff mode, aye? I can do that *grins maniacally*. Also, thank you- I will be sure to ask for help if I get stuck, but so far so good! Tumblr is actually pretty user friendly, now that I’ve gotten my head around the basics! Though… my tagging could use a bit of work LOL! Anyways, I hope I did okay with these- I had to cut so much out because they were all getting ridiculously long- I had whole backstories woven in before I realised that all I needed to do was describe the chocobros holding their little ones xD Anyways, enough from me- hope you enjoy this fluffy stuff!

Noctis:

Noctis would forget everything around him as he holds his baby in his arms- he’s so in love with the small, fragile thing. He wants to protect it and be with it forever. He stares down at the small being, examining it’s small button nose, it’s small yet pudgy rosy cheeks and the vivid blue of its eyes. Small strands of black hair adorn the baby’s scalp, but it appears that it had inherited his s/o’s curly locks.

But then Noctis would frown. Not that it matters, but he has no idea whether his child is a boy or a girl! (Aaaand father of the year goes to…). He turns his gaze towards his s/o, whose eyes are closed from the exhaustion of giving birth. Feeling guilty, Noctis would turn to the helpful midwife beside him with an openly inquisitive expression on his face.

Again, no words are needed. The question on his face is clear. The midwife would laugh openly at the young father’s expense, much to Noct’s embarrassment.

“Congratulations, your Majesty, it’s a boy!”

Noctis would quickly get over his embarrassment and stare down at the small infant in his arms with an expression clearly filled with fatherly adoration. He would want to press a kiss to the baby’s cheek, but he’s afraid his son would awake from the sweet slumber he’s just fallen into. Instead he would just beam down at his slumbering baby before sparing an appreciative glance at his slumbering s/o, a rare occurrence indeed- this surly king hardly shows teeth!

“He’s perfect.”

Keep reading

Withering Away Innocence (Part 3)

Originally posted by lobo-de-luna

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader X Ivar

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: about 3000 words of the sex

-Part 1- -Part 2-


Since the idea was brought up of a more open marriage, you’ve finally made a choice of who to take that kind of leap with. Someone who you could feel a little more on equal ground with. Certainly not the one the rest thought you’d pick.


Keep reading

I Don't See Why Not // A Stiles Stilinski Smut

Prompt: To them, becoming friends with benefits seems like the absolute perfect idea. He’s madly in love with Lydia and she never wants to be in a relationship ever again. So, what could possibly go wrong, right? (Part 1 of 6)

Series: Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Epilogue

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Cheating (From an outside character), Oral (Male on Female), and Swearing.

Relationship: Stiles Stilinski x Reader/Stiles Stilinski x OFC

Word Count: 5,807

Song: DKLA by Troye Sivan Ft. Tkay Maidza

A/N: Hi! Yes, I’m back! I don’t know if my return is a permanent thing, but all I know is I just couldn’t get this story out of my head and had to write it down. Either way, I hope you guys like it

“You know, what? Maybe if we get back in the car and leave, Lydia won’t even notice we’re gone.” I suggested to my boyfriend, Trevor, and he immediately chuckled.

“Babe, this is Lydia Martin we’re talking about.” He laughed, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. “She’ll notice us leaving before we even get the chance to walk out that door.“ 

I groaned audibly as this sunk in. I hate to admit it, but he’s right. Lydia’s one hell of an observant woman and would realize something was off the second we planned a getaway.

Lydia Martin, being the wonderfully thoughtful person she is, decided to throw a crazy party for the pack. She kept saying how ’‘we’re constantly putting our lives in danger to save everyone else” and how “we forgot what it’s like to be actual teenagers”. So, this party here at her house is an attempt to help us all relax, for once, and just have some fun. 

I thank her for her effort, really, I do. And I was excited for this event, at first, that was until I got here and the sound of loud music pounded into my soul. People making out in every corner had my skin crawling and I feel like I will literally scream if I see one more person throw up in front of me. 

 "I’m going to go get a drink.“ I sighed, pulling Trevor’s arm off my shoulders and standing from the living room couch. “Want anything?”

“No, I’m good.” He simply stated, his eyes focused on something else in front of him. 

I didn’t even bother to look at what grabbed all of his attention. I was way too concerned with giving into my current need of an alcoholic beverage. 

Pushing against the sweaty bodies that danced across the floor, I somehow made my way to the kitchen. My mouth beginning to water as I thought about the bitter liquid burning down my throat. 

A small smile etched across my lips the minute I walked inside and a very relaxed and calm Stiles, leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink in his hand, came into sight. 

I’m not gonna lie, he actually looked pretty hot. The way his long sleeves were rolled up just enough to show the veins on his strong arms. How his hair was messy in such a sexy way and how he looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Basically all of Beacon Hill’s finest ladies in this one house and, yet, you still manage to be here in the kitchen, alone.” I laughed, approaching the counter with the alcohol on it and wasting no time in making myself a cocktail. “Why am I not surprised, Stilinski?“ 

Stiles let out a chuckle as he stood up straight, realizing he was no longer by himself. 

“Yeah, well, none of them really catch my eye.” He shrugged before taking a sip from his red plastic cup. 

“Not unless she’s a redhead with emerald green eyes, right?” I raised an eyebrow, picking up some ice from its bucket and dropping them into my own cup. 

“Right.” Stiles nodded, licking any lingering liquid off his pink lips. He slowly approached, stopping to stand behind me. “And what miracle brought you here? You hate parties.“ 

“As do you.” I smirked, turning around and leaning against the cupboards. “I remember a certain boy with a buzzcut telling me all about his social anxiety." 

“Well, some things have indeed changed for that boy and, yet, he still does have terrible anxiety." Stiles shrugged, resting his body against the island that was fixiated in the middle of the kitchen. "He manages to grow out his hair and even a few muscles, but can’t shake off the constant feeling of being threatened." 

"I blame natural selection. This is life’s way of telling us we’re the weaker links.” I raised my cup to Stiles and smirked. “So, here’s to us actually surviving this long and proving evolution wrong." 

“Cheers.” Stiles chuckled, also raising his cup. We tapped our cups and with smiles on our faces, gulped down our drinks. 

“Mm.“ I swallowed the last of my drink and turned around to refill my cup. "I should probably go back to Trevor. Wouldn’t want him suffering at this party alone." 

"Ah, yes, your boyfriend.” Stiles raised an eyebrow, a look of disapproval spreading across his face. “Also known as Tragic Trevor by most." 

“Not this again.” I groaned, rolling my eyes at him. With a sigh, I put down the bottle of Jack I used to fill the contents of my plastic cup and faced Stiles.

“Sorry.“ He lifted his hands in surrender. "You know I’m just looking out for you, right?" 

“Yes, Stiles.” I sighed, beginning to walk out of the kitchen. “You and the rest of the pack have made it very clear how much you hate my new boyfriend." 

“Hey, no. We don’t hate him.” Stiles spoke, following behind me. “We just strongly dislike him." 

“It’s not like you guys ever tried to actually like him, anyway.” I scoffed as I entered the living room. A feeling of confusion came over me when I peered over to the couch and Trevor wasn’t anywhere in sight. 

“Okay, fine. You have a point there.“ Stiles confessed, standing beside me whilst I looked around the room to try and find my boyfriend. "But, we also have our reasons, Emma. You know what the rumors say about him being the spawn of satan or whatever." 

“Stiles, I’m not having this discussion with you again.” I stated, deciding to ignore him when my eyes landed on a very happy Scott. He was, currently, sitting at the bottom of the staircase with a bubbly Kira wrapped in his arms. 

“Hey, guys.“ I greeted the couple once I approached them, having to speak a little louder due to the deafening music. 

"Hey!” They both exclaimed in union, clearly thrilled to see me here. Kira was obviously drunk and even Scott seemed a little tipsy. He must have laced his drink with some species of wolfsbane to get this effect.

“Have you guys seen Trevor, anywhere?” I asked them, hoping they weren’t drunk enough to not even be able to notice their surroundings. 

“Oh, yeah.“ Scott spoke up, his words slurring, and a sigh of relief left my lips. "I think he went to the bathroom upstairs." 

“Thanks, Scotty.” I smiled at him and he smiled back, his eyes sparkling. 

A feeling of happiness washed over me as I stared at him. If there’s someone in this world that deserves nothing other than the absolute best, that person is Scott McCall. He does so much for the people around him, constantly putting their lives before his. But, the thing is, he doesn’t do it because he feels like he has to, he does it because that’s just who he is. A person so good and so pure that he can light up an entire room with just his smile.

I managed to walk past Scott and Kira and up the staircase. An annoyed sigh left my chest when I heard the sound of footsteps following behind me. 

“Stiles, what are you doing?“ I asked the brown eyed boy once we reached the top of the stairs. 

“I’m sorry for bringing all of that up again.” He apologized, scratching the back of his neck. 

“It’s fine, Stiles.“ I spoke honestly and walked up to the bathroom in the hall. "Just go back to the party." 

“No, I want to help you find him.” Stiles stood his ground and I nodded, allowing him to make it up to me. 

My right hand curled around the handle to the bathroom door and turned it. I slowly pushed the door open and, immediately, regretted ever trying to look for Trevor in the first place. I had no idea what I would end up actually finding. 

The drink that was still in my hands from the kitchen dropped down to the floor and all of the liquid spread across the hall’s carpet as I stared in shock at the scene before me. 

A girl I’ve never seen before was sitting on top of the sink’s counter with her legs wrapped around my boyfriend’s waist. The feeling of disgust washed over me as I watched Trevor stick his tongue down her throat. It was only then that I noticed her hands fumbling with his belt and I felt as if I was going to be sick.

Stiles was the first to speak with a faint ‘holy shit’ leaving his mouth. 

The two horny teenagers detached their lips from each other and turned their heads towards the opened door.

Trevor’s eyes instantly landed on mine and I could see his pupils go from filled with lust to absolutely terrified

“Emma.“ He said my name nervously, his voice laced with surprise. 

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t even think. All I could do was stare in shock as the realization hit me. 

My boyfriend pushed himself away from the girl with no name and anxiously tried to fix his belt. When he began to approach me was when I was finally able to actually move. 

"We’re over.” I stated weakly, my voice breaking and I could feel tears threaten to escape. 

“No, wait-“ He tried to protest, but I didn’t stick around to find out what excuse he would use. 

I ran down the stairs and rushed past Scott and Kira. I heard the sound of my name being called by my friends, but I didn’t even bother to answer. 

Without actually thinking, I pulled the front door open and trudged outside. I let out a scream of frustration so loud that I didn’t even hear the front door being opened behind me. 

Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder and I, immediately, jumped. Quickly turning around, my heartbeat slowed once I realized I wasn’t being attacked and it was just Stiles. 

He had this look on his face of I knew this would happen and I just wanted him to get the hell away from me.

“Don’t!” I shouted, anger lacing my voice, when he opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so’." 

“Actually, I was just gonna ask you if you wanted a ride home.” Stiles stated, his voice kind and soft. 

“Oh.” I wiped away the tears that were rolling down my cheek and sighed. “I would, thanks." 

“Don’t mention it.” He waved his hand at me. “Come on." 

I nodded as he rested his hand on the small of my back and lead us to his blue jeep. I closed my eyes once inside and leaned my head against the window. A feeling of defeat came over me as I thought about my, yet another, failed relationship. 

The ride to my house was peaceful and comfortable. The radio played soft music and Stiles talked all the way through. Constantly making stupid jokes and witty sarcastic remarks to make me laugh. The strange part is that they actually worked. 

“And here we are.” Stiles stated with a playful voice once we pulled into my house’s driveway. “Need anything else before I go, m'lady?" 

“Actually, yes.” I nodded, taking him up on his offer. “Can you stay over? My parents are gone for the weekend and I really don’t want to spend the night alone with my own thoughts." 

A soft smile spread across his face, Stiles’ eyes filled with care. A feeling of warmth and comfort washed over my body. If there’s someone who always manages to make me feel safe, that person is, without a doubt, Stiles Stilinski.

"Of course.” Stiles nodded and turned the ignition off.

We both got out of Roscoe and entered my house. Stiles immediately layed down on the couch, already making himself feel at home, and I went upstairs to grab blankets and pillows for him to sleep comfortably. 

It didn’t take me long to get what I needed and walk back downstairs to hand them to Stiles. 

“Thanks.“ He smiled, putting the blankets and pillows down on the couch he would be crashing on. 

“No problem.” I smiled back. “Do you need any pajamas to sleep in? I could go get something from my dad’s clothes." 

“Nah, that won’t be necessary.” Stiles waved me off, resting his head against the sofa. 

“Well, what are you going to sleep in?“ I furrowed my eyebrows at him and Stiles laughed, turning to look at me. 

“Emma, I’m a guy.” He chuckled, pointing to himself. “So, you know, my boxers." 

“Oh, right.” I laughed, a small blush creeping up on my cheeks. “I forgot how easy things are for your kind." 

“It’s a blessing, really.” Stiles shrugged. But then, suddenly, sat up with a look of surprise stretched across his face. 

Before I could even ask what was wrong, Stiles’ hands flew to his jean’s pocket and pulled out a buzzing phone. 

“Hey, dad.“ He answered the phone, his voice nervous and I laughed. "Yeah, no. I’m sorry, I forgot to mention there was a party-" 

Stiles abruptly stopped speaking and I can only assume his dad had interrupted him. He rolled his eyes in annoyance as the Sheriff clearly lectured his only son.

I chuckled a bit, standing up from the couch and Stiles’ eyes followed me. 

"I’m gonna go change.” I explained, pointing to the staircase behind me. 

“I know you hate it when I do that, dad…” Stiles sighed into the phone, but not without giving me a thumbs up, first. 

With a smile on my lips, I ran up into my room and put on comfortable clothes to relax in. My pajamas consisted of a blue tank-top and striped shorts. I didn’t go back downstairs before managing to quickly brush my teeth. 

“So, did you tell your dad you’re sleeping over?“ I asked Stiles with a grin on my face once I sat back down on the sofa. 

“Yeah, he’s not too thrilled about it, but whatever.” Stiles shrugged, putting his phone on the coffee table before him. “I’m here for you." 

“Thanks.” I smiled weakly and he faced me, his eyebrows raising up. 

“Speaking of which, are you okay?“ Stiles question was sincere and filled with concern. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” I sighed, leaning into the cushions. “We haven’t been dating that long, anyway. It wasn’t like we were in love or anything. Trevor and I were still getting to know each other, really. I don’t know, it just hurts that he would so easily humiliate me like that. That every boyfriend I’ve ever had only ever thought about themselves." 

Stiles looked at me as if he were trying really hard to understand what I was saying and I let out another sigh. 

“Look, every relationship I’ve ever been in ended badly. Maybe, I should just stop trying, you know? Maybe I should just have one night stands and never worry about being someone’s girlfriend ever again." 

“Hey, at least you have relationships.” Stiles intervened, letting out a breath of defeat himself. “I’ve been trying to be with Lydia since forever and it’s only ever lead to nothing.”  

“Okay, but you dated Malia.“ I pointed out and Stiles scoffed. 

“Malia was a mistake.” He shook his head. “I mean, don’t get me wrong she’s amazing, but we were never a real couple. I guess I just dated her because I pitied her, really.”

“We’re both such failures in the romance department.” I chuckled and Stiles chuckled along with me. “God, I am so done with romance." 

“Oh, you can’t be serious?” He smirked. 

“No, but I am.“ I disagreed and, then, turned my entire body to face Stiles. "You know what I really want?" 

Stiles shook his head and grinned. "What do you really want?" 

“To have someone that I can just have sex with.” I confessed and Stiles laughed. “I’m serious! I wish that that existed. You know, someone you meet with regularly just to satisfy your needs. No feelings and no complications, just pure sex." 

“It does exist.” Stiles stated. “They call it friends with benefits." 

“God, I want that.” I sighed, closing my eyes and returning to my resting position on the couch. 

“Yeah, me too.“ Stiles confessed and my eyes snapped open. 

“What?” I laughed. “What about Lydia?" 

“What about Lydia?” He shrugged and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “Yes, I’m in love with Lydia, but I also have needs, you know?" 

"Oh, my God.” I scoffed, staring at him in awe. “You’re such a guy." 

“You know what? I am going to take that as a compliment.” Stiles spoke, his expression clearly smug. 

I watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth and wet his bottom lip, a feeling of desire, suddenly, pulsing through me. That’s when a brilliant idea came to me and the lightbulb in my head went off. 

And apparently, I wasn’t the only one with this new thought inside my mind. Stiles’ eyes seethed want and excitement. The sexual tension in the room now beginning to feel palpable. 

“Stiles…“ I said his name slower than usual as my eyes went back up to his. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?" 

“Well, that depends.” Stiles grinned, his eyes piercing into mine. “Are you thinking about chicken nuggets?" 

"Stilinski, I know for a fact you’re not thinking about chicken nuggets, right now.” I stated, biting down on my bottom lip and I could see his eyes quickly flicker to my mouth then back up. 

“Okay.“ He smirked, leaning in closer to me. "Then, what am I thinking about?”

My eyes narrowed at him, a wave of lust crashing down on my body. 

“Well, I can only assume you’re thinking the same as I am.” I inched closer, the space between our faces slimming considerably. “And I just so happen to be thinking about taking off my clothes… for your amusement." 

“My amusement?” I could sense the cocky smile in his words even though our eyes shared an intense and tension-filled stare. 

I slowly nodded and reached behind my back to unhook my laced bra. Stiles’ eyes never left mine as I gently pushed the straps down my arms. 

“Because I know that what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours is filled with the smuttiest ideas that even porn can’t come up with.“ I took my bra out from under my shirt and threw it on his lap. "And I want you to know that I can help you persue them." 

Stiles’ eyes quickly broke our gaze and they shifted to the intimate garment on his thighs. With a small and almost inaudable moan escaping his lips, Stiles’ gaze rested on my erect nipples just underneath the thin layer of cotton.

"Stiles.” I called his name and his eyes reluctantly snapped up to mine. “Do you want to do this? To become friends with benefits?" 

“God, yes.” He groaned, his strong demeanor faltering.

A bolt of desire rushed through my body and rested down in my core. A smirk permanently etching on my lips.

“Then, take me.”

That’s all the encouragement Stiles needed to break the small space between us and push his urgent lips against mine. A moan fell from my mouth when his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me into him.

Stiles’ lips worked expertly on mine and it made me curious as to how perfectly his tongue must work as well. Sliding my tongue against his bottom lip, I asked Stiles for an entrance and he granted me one.

Our tongues danced together, both mouths knowing exactly how to pleasure the other and, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been with such a good kisser before.

“Wait.” He broke the kiss, his chest breathing heavily. “We’re too close of friends, this can’t possibly work.”

“What are you talking about?” I furrowed my eyebrows, also out of breath. “That’s what makes this so perfect. You and I have no romantic interests in each other. We’re just here for the sex.”

“Okay, but what if one of us ends up wanting more than just sex?”

“That’s not gonna happen.” I shook my head and stretched my arms behind his neck. “You’re infatuated with Lydia and I never want a relationship again." 

“What if one of us falls for the other?” Stiles spoke with his voice full of concern.

“Stiles, you’re thinking too much.“ I smiled and pressed my lips against his neck.

"That’s not gonna happen and if by some off chance that it does, we shut this down immediately.”

“Emma-“

"Stiles, relax.” I spoke in between kisses. My tongue darting out to softly suck on his pulse point and Stiles moaned. “How about this? We do this tonight and, by the time we’re done, if you still feel this way about it, we never do it again. Do you think that’ll be okay with you?”

I looked up to see Stiles with his eyes closed as he lets me work my magic on his neck. He slowly opens his eyes once I stop and stares at me.

“Yes.” Stiles nods, his grip around my waist tightening. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Wonderful.” I smiled, urgently kissing him again.

Stiles’ hands lowered down to my ass and he squeezed it, a shameless moan being released from me. I let us enjoy this moment of devouring each others’ lips before deatching myself from his arms and standing up.

His eyes never left me, even though he was very confused, and I couldn’t help but gaze at his very swollen and plump pink lips. It makes me wonder about what his other swollen and pink body part must look like at this exact moment.

As I bite down on the bottom of my lip, I slowly pull up my shirt off my body. If we were in a cartoon right now, Stiles’ eyes would be out of their sockets with how wide they are.

I let him take in the sight in front of him before walking towards my staircase, never taking my eyes off of Stiles. Lifting my finger, I seductively called him towards me and he instantly jumped up.

The next thing I know, we’re both running up the stairs and into my room. Stiles’ mouth crashes back onto mine as soon as he closes the bedroom door.

My hands make their way through his silky hair, slightly pulling back and Stiles lets out a small whimper.

“That felt strangely good.” He laughed against my lips and smiling into the kiss, I pulled his hair again.

Something lit up inside of Stiles as he, suddenly, broke our kiss and urgently pushed me onto my bed. A laugh and an excited squeal escaped my chest the second I fall back onto the mattress.

Stiles hovers over me and my eyes flicker into his. The boy with beautiful freckles, currently, had large and dark pupils, full of burning lust.

It’s as if our lips had found this new addiction we just can’t shake off as we kiss continuously. My fingers slowly unbotton his plaid shirt and my hands go underneath the fabric, my panties getting wetter at the feeling of his smooth skin against my palm.

Breaking the kiss, I push Stiles’ shirt off his shoulders and my tongue grazes the bottom of my lip as I stare at his impressive chest.

Stiles has never been an athletic person, but he sure does have the body of one. His shoulders were broad, his arms surprisingly strong with muscles, and his stomach lean enough to show the start of future abs in the making. I guess playing lacrosse and running away from supernatural creatures all these years have really paid off.

With a smirk spread across my lips, I quickly pushed Stiles’ beside me and rolled over his body. He had a new sense of excitement spark in his eyes as I lowered my head, pressing my lips against his inviting skin.

My fingers played along with Stiles’ delicious happy trail and I could feel the goosebumps rapidly appearing on his skin. My tongue trailed down and stopped right before the immediate hair poking out of his kakis and I could see his chest rising up and down.

Stiles breathed heavily as I unlooped his belt out of his pants and threw them onto the floor. With anticipation aching inside of my body, I unbottoned his pants and slid them down his legs.

The fire burning in my core heated even more when my eyes came face to face with the bulge popping in his boxers. As soon as I finished pulling his pants off his legs and discarded of them, Stiles, unexpectedly, grabbed me. He pulled me up towards him and pushed me down onto the bed, him being back on top. 

“What are you doing?” I laughed at his suddeness and Stiles smiled cockily at me.

“I want to taste you.” He confessed, slowly sliding my pajama shorts off my legs. “Right now.”

“Damn.” I moaned, the smile on my face disappearing and being replaced with my teeth biting down on my lips.

Once the shorts were finally on the floor, Stiles hovered down to the bottom half of my body and my core ached in anticipation.

“Holy shit.” Stiles moaned, my breath hitching in my lungs as he swipes a finger over the thin layer of cotton covering me. “You are so fucking wet.”

All I could do was whimper, my body craving his most intimate touch. Stiles did the unexpected when he ripped apart my panties and I gasped.

Before I could even complain, his tongue swiped along my folds and an embarrassing sound came out of my chest in response.

My body seethed with lust as he stretched my legs apart and settled his head between them. Fuck, that’s hot.

I couldn’t contain my filthy moans when he slowly rolled his tongue over my clitoris, my fingers resting on the back of his head. Stiles drew figure eights with his tongue and I pulled against his hair, both of us now whimpering and moaning.

“Fuck, Stiles.“ I managed to call out in between pleasure-filled groans. "More.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as Stiles spread my legs apart even more and added his fingers to the mix.

Stiles licked harder at my clit and pressed a finger into my core, causing one hand of mine to let go of his hair and harshly cling onto the bedsheet.

Before I could even ask, Stiles added another finger. My body was already drowing in pleasure, but I really lost it when he curled his fingers inside of me.

“Fuck.” I grunted in lust, my heart beating faster than ever and my eyes flickering shut.

Stiles’ tongue and fingers did absolute magic and when my legs started shaking uncontrollably was when I knew I was close.

“Stiles, I’m almost there.” My voice sounded weak as the need to release flooded me.

With his free hand, Stiles gripped onto my thigh and worked harder. His fingers pumped faster along with his tongue.

The second Stiles gently bit down on my clitoris was when my orgasm had reached its much needed peak. All I remember was my back arching, my legs shaking, and my toes curling as the orgasm washed over me.

The pleasure made its way through my veins and I could feel it dance on every inch of my skin.

Stiles kept going to increase my high and only stopped when I had to literally pull him away from my body.

My chest rose and fell constantly with my heavy breaths, a grin planted on his face as he hovered back over me.

“Do you have any idea how fucking delicious you taste?“ Stiles smirked, his face inches from mine. His finger wiped some of my juices off my thigh and made its way past his swollen lips and into his mouth.

All I could do was shake my head, my panting too heavy.

With a cocky grin permanently etched onto his lips, he repeated his actions. But, this time his finger slowly entered my mouth.

Never breaking our eye contact, I sucked on his finger. My tongue grazed his wet skin and I could feel Stiles’ cock twitch against my thigh. A moan fell from my lips when I tasted myself. He was actually right, I really do have a pretty impressive taste.

"You are so fucking hot.” Stiles audibly moaned before pulling his finger out of my warm mouth and crashing his lips against mine.

I could faintly taste myself in his kiss and my hands flew to the hem of his boxers in response.

“This needs to go.” I breathed against his lips and Stiles nodded in agreement.

He broke away from me to take off his underwear and I swear I had to actually control myself from drooling at the sight of his penis.

“Well, fuck.” I groaned, my eyes unable to look away.

“Do you like what you see?“ Stiles chuckled, tossing his boxers on the floor.

"Oh, I love what I see.” I confessed, reaching my hand for his very pink and very swollen tip. “Damn.“

Stiles let out a hitched breath when my index finger came into contact with his head, wiping the precum from his skin. His wide and gleaming eyes never left mine as I put my finger with his precum into my mouth.

“Mhm.” I moaned appreciatively at the salty taste, my warm tongue running over my finger.

“Holy fuck.” Stiles grunted, wasting no time in placing himself between my legs and hitching them behind his waist. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Nightstand.“ I stated, ready for this to take its next step.

Stiles’ arm reached over to my nightstand and he opened the drawer. My lips planted wet kisses against his neck as he grabbed a condom from its box.

I began sucking on his pulse point, Stiles letting out a small moan before impatiently ripping the package with his teeth. My tongue grazed his delicious skin and Stiles put the protection on his member.

His hands carefully pulled my face away from his neck and laid me down on my pillow. Stiles’ lips fell back onto my own and he let go of my head. His left hand wrapped around my thigh as his other hand got a hold of his cock, positioning himself against my entrance.

“Ready?” Stiles asked before going any further. I nodded with a smirk, my tongue wetting the bottom of my lip.

He kissed me again before slowly pushing himself into me. We both let out animalistic moans against each others’ mouths at the feeling of our bodies deliciously joining.

His cock stretched my walls and my nails dug into his shoulder, a pained grunt escaping from Stiles. I quickly pulled my nails away from his skin.

“Sorry.” I apologized as he stopped once he was fully in, now waiting for me to adjust to his size.

“Don’t be.” Stiles lazily smiled, his eyes narrowing with a smirk. “I actually liked it.”

A chuckled erupted from my chest and Stiles laughed along with me. My nails once again digging into his back and he whimpered in satisfaction.

Stiles patiently waited for my body to be ready and distracted himself in the time being. He leaned in and began kissing my collarbone, swiping his tongue across.

“You can move now.” I suggested when my core began throbbing with need.

Without detaching his lips from my skin, Stiles slowly pulled out and, then, pushed back in. My heels dug into his ass as he thrusted in a slow, but amazing, pace.

Once he sensed I could go for more, Stiles picked up the speed and my body thanked him for it. 

I never imagined having sex with one of my closest friends, but boy was I sure glad it’s now happening.

Something about seeing a best friend in his most exposing and vulnerable moment is such a turn on. Having sex just for the sake of pleasure without any feelings attached is truly the dream… and I just might get to live it.

Stiles was now pounding into me at this point and the moans we were both releasing felt so dirty and I loved every second of it. His mouth found its way back on mine, but our kisses were too messy and actually lazy from how concentrated we were on the building pleasure in our groins.

With every thrust, my body was feeling increasingly good and nearing its peak. Who would’ve ever guessed that Stiles Stilinski was so impressively great at sex?

“Are you close?” A breathless Stiles asked against my lips.

“Yes.“ I nodded as I felt his pounding beginning to feel sloppy. "What about you?”

“Pretty much already there.” Stiles confessed and I smiled against his lips.

Poor thing’s trying to hold on as long as he can for my sake. I took one of hands from his back and made my way towards where our bodies were moving together.

“I got it.” Stiles stated between kisses and placed his middle finger on my clitoris before I could.

I moaned loudly in appreciation and Stiles grinned against my mouth. He wasted no time in rapidly working on my nub, getting me to my release faster.

With a scream falling from my lips, I was the first to cum. My orgasm crashing down on me hard. I could feel my walls clenching around Stiles and that’s when he lost it.

His face settling in my neck as my body muffled his own scream. Our bodies shook together, the intense pleasure taking over the both of us.

Stiles only stopped thrusting when we both couldn’t take anymore, our private parts too sensitive to handle movement.

“Fuck.” Stiles said completely out of breath, softly pulling out and falling on the bed beside me. “That was amazing.”

“I’ll say.“ I scoffed, wiping the accumulated sweat off my forehead. "Impressive work, Stilinski.”

I raised my hand into the air and Stiles laughed the second he noticed what I was requesting.

“You, too.“ His palm came into contact with mine for a much deserved high-five.

With a smile etched across my lips, I turned my head so that I could face him. Stiles was already looking at me with satisfied eyes.

"So, do you want this to be a regular thing?” I asked, smirking at his glowing smile.

“Well, I don’t see why not.“ Stiles shrugged.

"Attaboy, Stilinski.” I laughed and fistbumped his shoulder. “This is gonna be so much fucking fun.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.“

anonymous asked:

You remember how mick says he and len don't have heart to hearts? Well do you think they did when they younger and as they got older it changed? Under what circumstances do you think they would have a heart to heart?

So I know this isn’t what you’re aiming for…. but this is where I had to take it. #sorrynotsorry

Keep reading

Don’t Cave to Expectations

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where they are quickly falling in love. One of them (the reader) is worried because they don’t want to have kids. When Spencer notices something is wrong with her, he asks what’s up. When she tells him, she gets a surprising answer. @coveofmemories

                                                             —-

“Grandpa,” you said exasperatedly, “You’re going to have to get over it. Things aren’t the same anymore. I don’t want kids.”

This is why family dinners sucked ass. As one of five children, three girls and two boys, it was just assumed from the time you were little that one day you’d grow up and have a family of your own. Thing was, you never planned on having kids. And very few people in your family seemed to be able to accept that. Your mother and a few siblings got it, but your dad, your one brother, and all of the older members of your family couldn’t understand why you didn’t want them. “But you love kids,” your grandpa said frustrated at the fact that you wouldn’t be giving him another great-grandchild anytime soon, if ever. More than likely never. “And that boy you’re dating. The nice one that works for FBI, doesn’t he want kids?”

Spencer was your boyfriend of nearly five months - and you were falling for him hard, but you hadn’t had that conversation yet. “We haven’t talked about that yet, grandpa. But if he really wants kids then that’s not the relationship for me. I wouldn’t have kids to keep a man. I’d have them if I wanted them. No questions asked.” Although the words came out of your mouth with ease, the possibility that Spencer wanted kids was high and you weren’t ready to end this relationship. You loved him so much and you could tell he felt the same way about you. 

Down at the opposite end of the table, your grandpa muttered to himself about the importance of having kids. “Listen, grandpa,” you started. You really did love him. He would do anything for you. But he was living in the 30s and 40s still and society just wasn’t there anymore. “I love you. But the world is changing. You just had kids back then, and I get that that’s the way it was, but it’s not that way anymore. You’re right, I do love kids. My nieces and nephews mean the world to me and I would do anything for them. But given my job and Spencer’s, if he’d the one I decide to marry, bringing a child into the world when we couldn’t give them our absolute all would be unfair to them.”

He wasn’t going to get it; you could tell as he huffed and puffed at the end of the table. You loved your family, but this dinner needed to be over soon. Plus, you were starting to get sick to your stomach. What if Spencer really wanted kids? You loved him so much…

                                                            —-

“Okay!” Spencer said, turning around to face you. It was a nice weekend at his place, but after your dinner with your family a few weeks earlier you’d been uneasy, stumbling over your words because you were so nervous about losing him. “What is up with you? You’ve been pulling away for weeks now? And I know you wouldn’t just go from loving me to pulling away for no reason. So what’s up?”

Spencer grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. “You know I love you, so much.” 

“Then what’s the problem?”

With a deep breath, you decided to cross this bridge now. If he really wanted kids then you couldn’t be with him, but if he didn’t want them, then you’d know. “It’s just something that was brought up when I went to visit my family a few weeks ago.”

“I knew it,” he said, his smiled bright. He did love being right. “What happened?”

Ugh. This sucked. “My grandpa got on my case about me having kids.”

His eyes widened for a moment and then smiled. “He thinks you should have kids?”

You nodded, still unsure of where he stood. “I love kids, but my job is hectic, and I love my job, so I don’t think I could devote all the time that a child needs. Plus, I enjoy my independence and my nieces and nephews fill that need in me. I love kids, but I don’t want them.”

“Makes sense,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips and then turning around to go back to what he was doing.

Wait, what? “That’s it?” You chuckled nervously. “You don’t have anything else to add to that?”

Spencer turned around on his heels, confused as to why you were confused. “Yea, what’s the problem?”

“Do you want kids, Spence?”

It was then that he finally seemed to understand. “That’s why you’ve been pulling away?” He exclaimed, walking back over to you and cupping your face in his hands. “You were nervous about me?”

Shakily, you nodded, pressing your forehead against his as you swallowed back nervous tears. “Yea. I see the way you are with your nephews and how much you love them, so I always figured you wanted kids. And although I love them, I don’t want kids, so if you really did then that would be the end of us and I didn’t want anything to end, so that’s why I was nervous.” Apparently, in five months of dating, you’d become much like Spencer in that you’d started rambling when you were nervous. 

His lips pressed gently against yours once again. “I love my nephews…but I don’t want kids either. I thought I did once, but I don’t.” An immediate weight was lifted from your shoulders.

“Oh thank god,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him. “I didn’t want to break up with you…I kind of love you a lot.”

“I kind of love you a lot too,” he said. “My nephews mean everything to me. They’re enough.”

God, you felt so much better. Now you and Spencer could tell your grandpa to get over it. “Can I ask what made you decide you didn’t want them?…When you thought you once did I mean.”

Spencer grabbed your hand and led you to the couch, both falling to the comfy cushions as he pulled you into his lap. “Well, one, I love my job. I can’t imagine doing anything else, and I think it would be unfair to a child. JJ makes it work, but I don’t know how I could. Secondly, I love Henry and Michael so much, and I know I could love my own kid just as much, but given my job, I would never want them to be a target. JJ almost lost Henry once…I don’t think I’d survive that. And three, and probably most importantly, I have a lot of things in my medical history that I wouldn’t want to pass on to a child.” For a few moments, a comfortable silence fell between you. “I guess I’d just like to devote my time to my job, my studies, a couple of dogs at some point, and…the love of my life.”

Craning your head around, you crashed your lips into his. “You are definitely the love of my life,” you replied. “I feel better now.”

“Good.” He kissed you on the shoulder before pulling your feet up so you were fully situated in his lap. “And next time your grandpa gives you crap and I’m there, I’ll rattle off some statistics about why people who don’t want kids shouldn’t just have them for the sake of societal expectations.”

You had the best boyfriend ever. “Fantastic,” you said. “I’m sure my grandfather will have nothing to say to that.”

methods of destruction

au: she’s gone, and she’s never coming back.
warnings: major character death(s), suicidal ideation, violence
word count: 1951


[day 1]

He breathes.

His throat burns with the weight of the heavy air that doesn’t want to leave his lungs, and his eyes are unfamiliar and salt-soaked. He feels like a stranger in this grieving body, a numb observer behind the panic and tears. His unsure hands shift from tugging at his hair to gripping his neck with enough intensity to crack bone. He glances at her, horrified to look but unable to stop.

She doesn’t move from her cocoon of blankets, mouth parted slightly, hair sprawled out on her pillow. She could’ve been sleeping, if not for her half-lidded, glassy stare.

“It was me?” He asks her softly, voice wavering. “You’re fuckin’ joking.”

Natalie doesn’t reply, just keeps looking at him with unseeing eyes.

Keep reading

chrichardrachtle  asked:

Hi! First of all, I would really like to thank you for every single bit you have written for this fandom, you're amazing. I don't know if you take prompts right now, but there's one that has stuck with me over the years and since you're my favorite fanfic writer it would mean so much if you wrote it! Here it is; setup/countdown takes place after 47 seconds. Again thanks for everything! Love, Emma

He’s so stiff against her, his arm like a vise around her shoulders, his chest like a board beneath her cheek, and she doesn’t believe it’s all wholly from the cold.

“Castle?” she calls, her voice raspy, trembling through the ice in her lungs, up the chilled hollow of her throat. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m right - right here,” he answers with chattering teeth, and at least he’s still shivering, still feeling enough to shake. 

She stopped trembling quite a while ago.

Kate attempts a breath, does her best to open her eyes that continue to fall closed, and uses what little strength she has to lift her hand from his chest, touch her fingers to his chin.

There’s so much she wants to say, but it’s been so different between them lately, so devastating, and he’s made it clear that whatever they once had, whatever chance they had at becoming more, is gone. But she refuses to die with words unspoken, to sin by silence - as he’d not so subtly accused her of - even as it burns to scrape the confessions out of her mouth.

“Thank you. For being there,” she rasps, the slow beat of her heart exalting for a brief moment when his head bows ever so slightly, his lips grazing the frozen tips of her fingers.

The pressure of his arm around her increases just a little more and she hums in approval. “Always.” 

And the sound of that word - their word - one she honestly never expected to hear again, not from him, has a small chunk of the ice encasing her heart melting away, allowing it a little extra time to continue beating.

“I just want - need you to know how much I love you.”

His entire body shudders beneath her and then he’s shifting, tugging her in closer. 

“W-what?” he gets out, one of his hands rising to her face, stroking at her cheek, and she fights so hard to feel it, to stay awake for it, but she’s fading too quickly.

“Love. You,” she manages, the encrusted ice coating her lashes weighing down her eyelids, but she forces another blink, has to see the crisp blues of his eyes staring down at her, the bitter shade of grey she had become so used to softening into the cerulean she’d so greatly missed. The way he’s looking at her now the only source of warmth she has left. “Missed you. Love you.”

“Oh, Kate,” he rasps, his hand clumsy at her cheek, his lips useless at her forehead. “You def-definitely can’t pass out on me now.”

She hums, but her eyes are falling closed, sleep so near-

Castle’s mouth touches her, his chapped lips scraping against hers, the heat of his tongue sparking at her bottom lip. And it has her neck aching, cracking, but she lifts her head, parts her lips, and mm, for a moment, gentle frissons of heat and clarity thawing away some of the ice. 

But not enough.

“Come on, Kate,” he mumbles, his lips brushing hers as he speaks, his breath a fraction warmer, burning her cold lips. “Stay with me this time.”

She tries to press in closer, but - but it’s all black and heavy and she can’t see anything anymore.

“Kate, open your eyes. Please, I - I love you too. You know I love you. You have to-”

“Good silver lining,” she mumbles, drifting off against his shoulder. “Not - so bad like this.”

And it isn’t, being allowed to remain curled against him in the snow, to fade slowly into the warm darkness with his love in her ear. Better than the bullet she would have expected to kill her at its next chance.

His cheek hits the top of her head, the last thing she feels, and she sighs out a final breath of contentment.

-

He emerges from the ambulance with a matching blanket around his shoulders and she manages a smile for him, unsure of how much he remembers from the freezer, if karma has come for her and erased her love from his mind as she had done with his a near year ago. 

But despite the hypothermia she knows he’s suffering from, Castle strides up to her with purpose, the blanket slipping from his shoulders once he reaches her and lifts his hands to her face.

Kate breathes a sigh of relief into his mouth when he kisses her, no preamble or hesitation, only the certain press of his lips spreading heat through the chilled parts of her. 

He reluctantly pulls back at the whistles from Ryan and Esposito, but Beckett arches on her toes, swallows his quiet groan as she sucks on his upper lip. 

“You really love me,” he mumbles, staining the statement against her lips, question and awe in his voice, and Kate nods her head. 

“Yes,” she breathes, opening her eyes to see into the ones looking down at her. “Wasn’t just a deathbed confession.”

“Neither was mine,” he murmurs, narrowing his gaze on her as his thumbs stroke along her cheeks. “I love you too, Kate.”

Her mouth spreads into a smile that she seals to his, one of her hands abandoning the clutch of her blanket to cup the back of his neck-

“Hey, lovebirds,” Fallon calls with a snap of his fingers and Beckett sighs, presses a final kiss to the corner of Castle’s mouth before descending back to the balls of her feet. “Hate to interrupt the celebration of survival here, but we’ve got work to do.”

“After,” Castle whispers, his hands slipping down to her shoulders, squeezing warmth into her stiff bones.

“After,” she echoes, splaying her hands at his sides and biting down on her bottom lip to conceal the smirk curling there. “Won’t ever let you feel cold again while you’re with me.”

Lovely embers of heat spark through his eyes and Castle leans in to push a hard kiss to her mouth. 

“Thank god we lived.”

She breathes a laugh against his lips before she draws back, steals his hand from her shoulder and twines their fingers, grateful for the warmth, the ability to feel the fit of his hand in hers and the flame that travels through her veins, heating her blood. 

“Hurry, Beckett,” he murmurs, dragging her along with him towards Agent Fallon. “The quicker we save the city, the quicker you get to warm me up.”

Random HC #26 (Continuation of #4 - #25)

Memory?!

“…You said that you moved to LazyTown from Iceland…along with your parents when you were four years old…” Sportacus is sitting on the bed, across Robbie, his legs crossed, and watches the villain carefully, knowing that he has to take slow, careful steps in this subject. Robbie, propped up by pillows in his back, so he’s sitting, as well, his legs bend and slightly pulled up against his chest (despite the hero’s short protest that he worries whether he won’t get stomachaches because of this again), is still busy keeping himself from falling asleep and nods weakly now. “…But…when I asked whether you’ve ever experienced any kind of love… I also asked…”
“They didn’t love me,” Robbie’s voice is low but steady and after a short pause, he continues with a weak shrug “…They never helped me against Number Nine. They didn’t care one bit why I was crying and all alone most of the time, starting shortly after he showed up for the first time. Before, I was okay with their disinterest in me… I had found some friends here, shortly after we moved here and I had my hobby: inventing stuff. But…when Nine…motivated my friends to play outside all the time…” he wraps his arms around his knees a little tighter “…Let’s just say…even when I tried to play with them and gave my best…I ended up getting laughed at by them…and…him… But my parents didn’t care. They barely listened to me… And my brother…” he breaks up with a low groan and presses his palm against his forehead, swallowing hard. “Shush…” Sportacus reaches out and gently, soothingly runs his hands up and down the villain’s bare arms. Once Robbie has recovered a little again, the hero asks softly “…You have a brother?…”
“Yes…” Robbie calms himself again “…He was older than me by five years… We never got along that well, but when Nine started with all these sports…it became worse… He was his biggest fan, you could say… And he was one of the older kids in town, so he quickly became their leader… When Nine wasn’t around, he was the one, ordering the others around, ‘motivating’ them to keep practicing and playing even when they were tired… And he…” Robbie lowers his eyes “…He even slapped me once…because one of my schemes against Nine…went wrong and turned out to be a little more dangerous for him than I intended… You know how this is sometimes…” he forces a laugh but at the same time quickly wipes a tear from his cheek. Sportacus gently cups his cheek, wiping the next tears away for him, his voice soft but firm “But he though mustn’t have slapped you! I know that you would never hurt anybody with purpose! And I…never approved of Nine’s methods, anyway… I don’t know much about him, but when I was in my last semester at school, he visited the students and told us about his…adventures… I realized at once that I didn’t like him. That’s why it didn’t really surprise me when I met you and saw that you are not evil, like he claimed, but incredible…lovable…” he blushes and clears his throat “…But tell me more about your parents, please…”
“There’s not much to tell… As I said, they didn’t care at all… Never told me why we left Iceland, either… And one day…they and Ray, my brother, were…gone…” Robbie shrugs again, a small part of his mind tells him that he should react on the hero calling him ‘lovable’, but he can’t… “Gone?” Sportacus quirks a brow “What do you mean 'gone’?…”
“Well, I mean that they left me!” Robbie clenches his hands into fists “Like one day, they’re still there and when I wake up the next morning, I’m alone in the house! Like they left me behind! No letter! No note! Not even a single word before!” he’s never talked about this with anybody before, but now he feels something deep down inside him shatter into a million of pieces and he can’t help a sob “I-I mean, it’s not like it made a huge difference! I was able to take care of myself at this age, after all… I-I was just surprised… Although it only proved what I already knew - that nobody wants to live with me… B-But…”
“Robbie. Robbie! Hey,” Sportacus gently lifts the other’s chin up to look into his teary eyes “This is NOT true. You hear me?! This had absolutely nothing to do with you!…”
“B-But why did they leave me then when I was only fourteen years old?? What did I DO to scare off my OWN family?!?” Robbie’s sobs become more hysteric and he buries his face in his hands. “You did nothing… Oh, Robbie…” the hero shifts on the bed, until he’s sitting next to the villain and carefully wraps an arm around his shoulders “…Robbie, please, calm down… You didn’t scare them off…”
“They LEFT me, Sportacus!” Robbie turns his head to give the other a pained, desperate, and slightly angry look “What other reason can parents have to leave behind their fourteen year old son, besides feeling nothing but hate and disgust for him?!”
“…Robbie…”
“No! Let’s be honest! I…” he gets cut off by strong arms, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I AM honest. And I tell you, it’s not YOUR fault, Robbie!” murmurs Sportacus against the villain’s neck, gently running his hands over the other’s tensed back and seconds later, he can sense the body, pressed flush against his own, convulse with more violent sobs than before and Robbie returns the embrace, clinging to him so tight, as if his life depended on it “Hush. It’s okay. Let it go…”
“…Th-They hated me…” repeats the villain with broken, by Sportacus’ crook of the neck muffled, voice. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s TRUE!”
“No, it’s not.”
“How could YOU know?! Have you ever met them!?” Robbie’s voice isn’t angry. No, Sportacus can hear the desperation in it and…maybe even a trace of hope?… “…No… Of course not…” the hero gently runs his hand through the tousled black hair “…But I do know…that there’s no chance that any parent would leave behind their child like this! Not when they first took you with them when they moved! And not if they took your brother with them when they left LazyTown!”
“But that’s exactly what they DID!” whimpers the villain lowly and swallows hard. “Robbie…”
“No… It’s okay, Sportacus…” Robbie squeezes his eyes shut and realizes just now that he has been digging his fingers into the hero’s back and quickly stops this now, mumbling “…Sorry…”
“What?”
“…I hurt you…” his voice breaks and he tries to free himself from the other’s embrace. “Nonsense,” Sportacus shakes his head and lets Robbie pull back, but holds him at his shoulders, searching his gaze “You didn’t hurt me. You held on to me for comfort. That’s normal.”
“…Normal?…” Robbie furrows his brows. “Yes,” the hero cups the other’s cheek again and smiles sadly “…So you…never got hugged or comforted by your parents, either?…”
“No, I…” Robbie’s expression changes to slight confusion “…I don’t…think so… I…” he takes a shallow breath in “…M-My…head hurts…”
“I know, Robbie, but you have to focus. Do you REMEMBER that your parents NEVER hugged you?” Sportacus cups his other cheek now, as well, searching his eyes. “…I…” the villain’s eyes grow wide for a moment, then he suddenly starts shaking his head “No, they didn’t!”
“Are you really sure?”
“Why do you keep questioning my memory?! I’ve got a headache, but I should be able to remember my own childhood, shouldn’t I?!” Robbie winces at his own yell and covers his mouth with one hand for a moment, gasping with now muffled voice “I’m… I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to…yell at you like this! I…”
“It’s okay, Robbie!” Sportacus gently pulls the villain’s hand away from his mouth, squeezing it gently “It’s okay.”
“N-No, it’s not!” Robbie wildly shakes his head “You’re only trying to help me and I freak out like this! No wonder that nobody…” he gets cut off again. This time, by lips, pressing on his own. Seconds later, Sportacus pulls back again, smiling broadly at Robbie’s stunned expression “…Well… Now I found a way to stop your panic attacks…” he lovingly strokes through Robbie’s hair “Hey… It’s okay. Really.”
“But I yelled at you…”
“That, as well, is completely normal. You’re under immense pressure and stress right now. And you’re still sick and tired… Robbie…” the hero sighs lowly “Listen. Take deep breaths and just listen now. Okay?”
Robbie nods weakly, barely noticeably and instinctively grabs Sportacus’ comfort offering hands. “Good… So… I just wanted to know whether you’re completely sure that your memory is correct because…” Sportacus takes a deep breath in now, himself, trying to find gentle words “…Because…there’s a chance that…you get a headache now, when you think about this because…your memory got…manipulated…”

Thirteen Months - A Hiddleswift Drabble

“Do you think of me anymore?”  She runs a finger along the edge of her glass of whiskey as she thinks of his words.  She’s pretty sure that he already knows the answer to that so she doesn’t give him one.  The fact that she’s sitting in the corner of a dimly lit dive on the wrong side of town should tell him all he needs to know.

She briefly contemplated not coming when he called and said he was in town and wanted to see her. But she didn’t.  She’s not entirely sure why.  Or at least she tells herself she’s not sure why.  

It’s been thirteen months since she’s seen him.  Thirteen months since she sat across the table from him at his home in London and told him that she was tired of the cat and mouse game they had been playing for the two years since their breakup.  Weary of their private meetings away from the microscope they had been subjected to before. She told him that she relished her time with him, of their raw and passionate escapades and their insatiable desire for each other.  But she wanted, she needed, more.  And she told him that she loved him, the words escaping her lips for the first time in years.  

Keep reading

Title: I need you right now (so don’t let me down)

Rating: T for blood and stuff

A/N: for @therebelcaptainnetwork appreciation week day 2 “song” and @rebelcaptainprompts comfort. I heard this song the other day and it was like BAM. enjoy


Jyn pressed her arm to her abdomen, hot, sticky blood seeping through her shirt and dripping down her fingers. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen, it went wrong, it went all wrong.

And, fuck, it hurt like hell.

She forgot just how bloody and painful slash wounds to the abdomen were.

She felt like her organs were trying to fall out, like there was a gaping gash in her side.

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

There was and she should probably stitch herself up, but the ship needed to be set on autopilot, and then when she took care of that, then she could take care of herself.

Keep reading

Domesticity

Shore Leave Part Two 

Part One

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Pairing: ReaderXBones

Word Count: 1341

Rating: Everyone

Beta’d: No

You roll over in the bed and a cold draft hits your hand. You frown and feel around on the other half of the bed. Raising your head you open your eyes and find the bed empty. Sighing you sit up and glance at the time. Eight o’clock. You turn back to the empty bed and notice a piece of paper stuck to the pillow. Picking it up you smile as you read Leonard’s messy handwriting.

Donna had to leave early and I didn’t want to wake you. Come down when you’re ready and I’ll make breakfast.

Setting the note on the bedside table you walk over to the dresser and pull out a worn red t-shirt with “Ole’ Miss” across the front in fading blue letters. You pull the oversized shirt on and slip into a pair of leggings before heading downstairs. Walking into the kitchen Kirk grins at you from the dining room table, “Nice shirt.”

Leonard looks around and smiles at you. “Good Morning! I thought you’d sleep later than this.”

You shake your head and make your way over to him, “I guess I’m just used to being on the ship.”

“I do like the shirt.” He says as he moves a pot from the stove to the counter behind him.

You smile and wrap your arms around his waist. “It’s comfy and it smells like you.”

Kirk snarls his nose, “I think I’m gonna go. I can’t handle all this lovey dovey business.” He stands to his feet and ruffles Joanna’s hair. “Later small fry.”

She looks up at him, “Bye Uncle Jim.”

Leonard stares down at you and waves Kirk off, “Bye Jim.” He bends his head down and kisses you on the forehead. “You hungry? I’ve got biscuits about to come out of the oven and the sausage gravy is ready.”

You raise an eyebrow and peer into the pot on the counter beside you, “You cooked? Is it edible?”

His hands slip down to your waist and he leans in closer to you, “You know what I ought to do to you for that?” he says quietly.

You nod and kiss his cheek, “Maybe later. I think your biscuits are burning.”

“Dammit!” He releases you and spins around to the oven. Grabbing the potholders he pulls the door open and yanks the tray out. Dropping the tray on the stovetop he sighs.

Joanna turns around in her chair to look at him, “Did you burn them daddy?”

“No doodle-bug, they’re just a little more brown than usual.” he says, transferring the biscuits to a plate.

“Aunt Donna says you never learned to cook.”

He takes the plate over to the table and sets it down in the center. “Aunt Donna doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’m a perfectly good cook.”

Keep reading

I Don’t Do Tequila - Part Six

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Summary: You and Sam come to terms with your relationship, and Dean has more predictions about your baby’s birth.

Words: 1,066

Sam x Reader

Warnings: None

Your name: submit What is this?

The crib ended up staying in Sam’s room.

As did all of the (remarkably gender neutral) baby clothes and shoes.

As did the changing table.

And the diapers.

And so did you.

Keep reading

Don't listen to me ever again

A/N: it took me longer than expected to complete this and it still didn’t feel finished. POV changes a little bit. I’m uncertain about this one, which is weird because you’d think that if I spent more time on writing this it would be better. Who knows, maybe it’s just me. Well, I hope you like it and thanks for reading❤️❤️

🚫WARNING🚫:

MATURE LANGUAGE AND VIOLENCE

Sun rays lit up the inside of your eyelids, alerting you to the new day. A small yawn escaped your throat as you lazily nuzzled your cheek into the spandex covered chest rising and falling beneath your face. You knew for sure you didn’t go to sleep with his chest beneath you but you didn’t mind.

“Wade?” You quietly asked, just in case he was asleep. A part of you hoped he was, so you could slip back into slumber with Wade’s chest supporting your head. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up with Wade in your bed. Sometimes it was weird if he wasn’t there. Your heart thumped with the thought of how much you loved waking up with him right beside you, even if you never admitted it to him.

Unfortunately for your heart’s most treasured desires, he had been waiting for you to wake up.

“Good morning kitten. I’ve been waiting for two fucking hours for you to wake up,” Wade faux groaned and yawned.

Your lips lifted at the pet name he had given to you out of the blue one day.

“Sorry, did you need something?” You asked.

Wade shook his head no, “Just my best girl underneath me.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo then looked up to comment when you found he was already staring at you. Mask off.

You would never get used to Wade’s face being the first thing you saw in the morning. He used to always leave his mask on before you woke up, spewing his opinion on how his ugly mug would just start off a bad day whenever you told him to leave it off. But then one morning you woke up before him. He was dead to the world from the exhaustion of chasing around bad guys during all hours of the night.

You remember the odd feeling of him leaving himself in a vulnerable state, you knew he didn’t do that around just anyone. So of course you did something that might make him shut you out and never talk to you again but it was worth the risk to make him see that the bright smile, boyish smirk, and beautiful brown eyes that were the features of his face were the first thing you hoped to see every morning.

You took off his mask. He didn’t stir or wake, just laid unconscious as you untied the back of his mask and slowly slipped it from his head then placed it on your bedside table.

After that, he never left his mask on while sleeping in the same bed as you again.

“Actually (Y/N), I did want to talk to you about something.”

Uh oh. Wade only used your actual name when he was being serious and really wanted you to listen.

Your heart skipped with concern, not knowing what to expect. Wade sat up, causing you to roll off his chest and back up to lean one side against the headboard so you could face him fully.

You nodded to give him the go ahead to start talking. He took a deep breath and stared off to a space on the wall over your left shoulder.

“I need you to stay home today,” he solemnly said. You cocked an eyebrow and chuckled,

“Wade, it’s Saturday. I don’t have work, if that’s what you mean.”

Wade shook his head from side to side, “No, (Y/N). You can’t go anywhere. You have to stay inside until I come to get you.”

You pulled back, shocked by the commanding tone in his voice, he never spoke to you like this.

You protested his directions, “I can’t just-”

“You can and you will. Promise me,” he demanded. Your body shook at the intensity in his eyes and voice.

“Wade-”

“Promise. Me.”

The sincerity in his voice struck home. You started to see there was no changing Wade when he set his mind to something, so you gave in.

You jerkily nodded your head and cupped his warm cheek with your palm, “Wade, what’s going on? Why do I have to stay inside?” You questioned while your thumb rubbed soothing circles over his scarred face.

In turn, Wade cupped your elbow, softly caressing the bare skin, “It’s nothing for you to worry about pretty darling. Okay, now that I’ve got you set, I need to go.”

Wade stood abruptly, letting his hand travel down your arm to squeeze your hand briefly. You scrunched your brow and got up to stand behind him as he strapped his katanas to his back.

“Where are you going?” You asked and turned him with a hand on his broad shoulder. Wade let out a deep sigh and pursed his lips. He didn’t answer you, only walked out of your bedroom door with determination. You noticed he forgot something and grabbed the forgotten item off of your bedroom floor before following him.

Because of the difference in height, you had to almost jog to keep up with him as he walked the distance from your bedroom to your door. However, your heart pounded with more than just the early exercise.

You stood right behind him when he stopped in front of your door. Before you knew it, he was facing you again, towering over you. Wade stared down at you, love and concern fighting for dominance in his eyes. You knew the same reflected in yours.

You broke the silence by offering up his mask, “You forgot this,” you meekly said. Wade returned with a big grin and bowed his head down to allow you to put the mask on. Once it was properly attached to its owner, Wade leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to your cheek and smirked,

“Thanks sugar cakes. Now be good while daddy’s gone.”

The door opened, shut, and Wade was gone.

—-

The whole time Wade had left you the day had gone by smoothly, albeit slowly.

Until the bomb exploded.

Around five thirty, a loud boom sounded, accompanied by shaking of California earthquake standards. You had been making a large box of frozen tacos, hoping Wade would be back by the time they finished. Screaming erupted from everywhere you heard as you fell to the floor from the explosion.

‘Maybe this was why Wade wanted me to stay inside,’ you thought through your haze of panic.

Fear seized your heart and you quickly got off the kitchen floor to run to the door. You nabbed your phone and keys off the coffee table as you tripped by, attempting to pull your sneakers on.

Finally, you reached the door and wrenched it open, mind flying through different scenarios. Aliens attacking, mutants attacking, non mutated, non alien, people attacking.

The stairs flew under you as you sprinted down them, gunning for the exit. If you knew anything about earthquakes or explosions, it was that they could destroy a building along with everything in it in the blink of an eye.

You ran towards the glass door, arms up, and body slammed it open then tumbled out onto the destroyed street with a gasp. Your feet stopped working as you took in the warfare invading your home. There were small fires and people bleeding. Some alive, some not so alive.

Tears stung at your eyes as you thought of where Wade might be in all of this. You knew it wasn’t rational because he couldn’t die but he could still feel pain. And right now, he could be somewhere feeling extreme pain. Or even worse, he could be buried beneath a building with no way to escape.

Your thoughts were interrupted as another explosion rocked the world around you. This time, you screamed out as you were flung into the middle of the road. Dust flew through the streets. Dust that you didn’t have to turn around to know was from your apartment building that just collapsed.

So you did the logical thing. Stood stock still and screamed for the only one you wanted. You ignored the blood dripping down your forehead and into your eye. You pushed past the fear of not knowing when another building was going to collapse. You only screamed Wade’s name, hoping he was somewhere around you.

“Wade!” Your voice became more hoarse with every scream, your legs grew tired. And you eventually stopped. Your brain was sloshing against your skull, threatening to spill out of your ears. Without warning, your legs gave out from underneath you.

All at once, the world shut up. Ringing took over your ears and blurry tears took over your eyes. Your mouth was filled with dust from each toxic inhale. But the only thing clear through the carnage was the thought of Wade.

—-

Wade Wilson took off running towards your apartment when the first explosion presented itself. He could hear his Avengers teammates yelling for him from behind,

“Deadpool!”

“Where’s he going?”

“Deadpool, come back!”

But he would never come back. Not when you were potentially in danger. Wade could hear Iron Man flying over him and Captain America running behind.

Wade jumped over cars and people, trying to get to you as soon as possible. Images of you bleeding, left all alone, flashed through his mind, giving him motivation to run faster.

He arrived just in time to see your apartment building collapse completely and send a cloud of dust in every direction. Wade couldn’t seem to breathe.

“(Y/N),” his voice cracked while whispering your name. His brown eyes, suddenly wet, scanned the masses of people, looking for you, hoping that you didn’t listen to him and didn’t stay home.

Tony Stark interrupted Wade’s thoughts, “No sign of life in the wreckage. JARVIS scanned the rubble. I’m sorry Wilson.” Wade didn’t know how Stark knew there was someone in that building that meant something to him, but he did. And he put a heavy metal hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“No, she’s in there. She’s in there somewhere, we have to find her. She’s not-

There’s no way she’s-”

Wade couldn’t finish his sentences, he only spoke in fragments because of the huge lump in his throat he kept having to swallow around.

For the first time in five years, Wade was feeling a wound that even his regenerating cells couldn’t fix. He couldn’t accept that you were gone. Smart, young, beautiful (Y/N) was gone. Wade looked around, not in any particular direction though. He was too focused on thinking about how much he never told you, how much he never showed you. It was like his world had been ripped right out from underneath him.

That’s when he thanked his lucky stars that ‘Captain Flagpole’ was such a do gooder.

“Excuse me, ma'am, are you alright?” At first he tried to tune out the cap’s deep voice.

“Yeah, just a headache is all.”

The tone of your voice wasn’t as perky as it usually was but still unmistakable music to Wade’s ears.

Wade whipped his body around and saw the cap helping you up off your knees with a hand in yours and another on your back. Before you could get fully pulled off the ground, Wade ran over to you and pushed capsicle out of the way so he could envelop you in his arms.

You knew how strong Wade could be, so you also knew when he hugged you and such he would hold some of his strength back so he didn’t crush you. Not this time. This time, he completely wrapped you up to his chest, one arm banded across your back, the other made its way to your hair.

You returned the hug, your arms almost as strong as his. Both of you were shaking of relief and tears when Wade suddenly pulled back but not completely.

He brought both of his gloved hands around to your face and firmly gripped your pale cheeks, “Never do that again. Do you understand?”

Through the tears streaming down your face and sobs threatening to wrack your body you fiercely nodded. However, Wade didn’t seem to be finished,

“Because I can’t lose my best girl.”

And with that, to the surprise of the other two avengers present and to yours, Wade ripped his mask off and slammed his lips into yours.

You barely registered Iron Man’s wolf whistle and you didn’t see Captain America’s blush. You were too busy enthusiastically returning Wade’s kiss.

After what felt like too short of an amount of time, Wade pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“(Y/N), I…”

“I know Wade, me too.”

A/N: OMG 20 FOLLOWERS?! That’s crazy, thanks for the love, there’s some coming to you from this end too ❤️

Romanogers || Lost and Found

There’s always “a first"–a first glance, a first laugh, a first kiss, a first, ‘I love you,’ and now, this. The once steady pulse of Steve’s thumping heart gradually began to climb. She knows you have never done this before; she knows everything. So why are you still so afraid? Notes from Marvin Gaye’s "Distant Lover” drifted through the air like snowflakes slowly falling to the ground, but the cool, nostalgic melody of the piece was not enough to sooth Steve’s mounting state of concern. Sam said Marvin should get things up-and-running, so why isn’t it working? You’re gonna ruin this for both you and her. Stop thinking so much and just do it. But his thoughts muzzled the desires of his heart. They held him tightly in their grasp, desperately fighting to keep him paralyzed. I want this. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Get out of your head, Rogers. Why can’t you just let go?

           The dull, jumping flame of the candles illuminated the furrowed lines of his brow, allowing Natasha to notice his unease. “Steve,” she lifted the back of her head up from her pillow and propped herself with her forearms, “You’ve been straddling  me for a minute straight, now. All the blood is starting to rush to my head.” She carefully leaned her back against the mahogany headboard. “You okay?”

           Steve released a heavy sigh and brought his leg over and away from Natasha, allowing her to move freely. He crawled next to her and mimicked her position. The frigid headboard clashed against the warmth of his skin causing a chill to run down his spine. After a long, contemplative pause, he managed to blurt out, “I just don’t want to disappoint you, Nat.”

           Slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes studied the intensity of his gaze. The flush of his cheeks. The dilation of his pupils. The creased lines that had formed between his brows.

           "You won’t disappoint me.“

           "But what if I do?”

           "Then I’ll pack my bags and leave.“

           "WHAT?”

           "Steve,“ she appeared amused, "I’m only joking. But if you start crying during it or some weird shit like that, I might just have to–” As she gazed at him, she caught a look of alarm, rather than a look of amusement. “Look at me,” she said.

           He angled himself towards her. His eyes hesitantly rose until they leveled with hers.

           "I only want to do this if you do. There’s no need to rush anything.“ Gently, she nudged him in the side with her elbow. "We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

           He breathed a sigh of relief.

           "Come here.“ Natasha motioned for Steve to come sit between her legs.

           Carefully, he situated himself in the open spot. He leaned into her, his back and shoulders pressing lightly against her stomach. The back of his head rested on the crest of her bosom."I don’t deserve you.”

           Natasha chuckles. “No,” she said jokingly as she ran her fingers through his hair, “you don’t.”

           Subtle cracks from the candles disturbed the silence. The music player softly switched songs in the background. What was once Marvin Gaye had now melted into Etta James’ A Sunday Kind of Love­–her longing, hopeful voice adorned the room in conceptual awareness. He closed his eyes, soaking in the ambience. The hum of the speakers. The drum of the rain falling against the window. The beating of Natasha’s heart. They sat in silence, reveling in each other’s company.

           Right, and then left. Right, and then left. Her hands traveled around Steve’s scalp, leaving no area untouched. Relaxed and in a trance, his head swayed in the direction of her movements. He succumbed to her touch. Around and around. Back and forth. The two had developed a natural rhythm.

           For a moment, he opened his eyes and glanced upwards at Natasha. Her head was propped against the headboard and her eyes were closed. Although no words had been exchanged–and even if they had spoke, Nat would never share her true feelings–he could tell she felt comfortable. A soft smile graced her lips long ago, staying there for what seemed like a lifetime. He rarely saw her like this–relaxed, and genuinely content. And in this moment, he realized what he truly wanted.

           “Nat?”

           "Hmmm?“

           "Do you know how beautiful you are?”

           Her fingers stopped swirling around the nape of his neck.

           "I mean, really beautiful. Radiant.Captivating.

           She opened her eyes and looked down at him, searching his face for any indication of deceit. His pupils were dilated. His breathing was slow. "No,” Natasha replied. She gingerly ran her hand down the side of his cheek, “you’re the beautiful one.”

           All at once, he wanted her. Every part of her. He saw himself in her, around her, with her. Every inch of his body screamed for her, begging him to approach the warmth that emanated from her being. To touch her; to feel her. "Do you mind if we try again?”

           Her eyebrows raised, “Of course not, but I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you don't–”

           Steve lifted his head off of her chest, pushed himself up, flipped over on his hands and knees, and threw his legs over hers, straddling her once more.

           "– want to,“ Natasha finished.

           He smiles, "I want this,” he said, “and I want you.” Steve moved backwards on his hands and knees like lion preparing to dine. He took a deep meditated breath in and out, then dropped down, and began kissing her ankles. Slow movement was imperative. He would never dream of rushing a moment like this. “Do you know what else I want?” Steve made his way up her leg, kissing her shin, and then her inner thigh. “I want–” he kissed the curve of her hip, “–to make–” now, her shoulder blade, “–you happy.” Gently, he pecked at the hollow cove of her neck. A paper-thin kiss so heavy that the weight of it resided on Natasha’s skin for what seemed like an eternity.

            He took her chin between his fingers, angling her head upwards. “And the way I do that,” his lips pressed lightly on her forehead, “is by finding out what you want.” The warmth of her flesh was more than stimulating to him. It was an invitation for him to give her what she always deserved: a relationship based solely on mutual respect and trust. No politics. No secrets. Just a genuine connection. “Natalia,” he kissed her left eye, “what is it that I can do for you?” In one fluid movement, Steve kissed her right eye and then the tip of her nose. “Name it, and I’ll do it. I’m here for you.”

                       When his lips came in contact with her cheek, he was surprised by an unanticipated wetness. He stopped abruptly, pulling back to examine her face. The candle casted light on a lonely tear glistening against her ivory skin. “O–Oh my goodness, Nat, I–”

           She cupped the sides of his face with her hands. His freshly shaved skin felt great against her touch.

           "I–I didn’t mean to–did I do something wron–was it something I said?“

           She drew him in closer, motioning for him to continue.

           It was tempting to proceed, to act like nothing was wrong. But, deep down, he knew he couldn’t. He craved to make her happy more than he craved his own happiness. "No,” he stated softly, but sternly, “Nat…what’s wrong?”

           Her hands dropped from his face and she sat down silently.

           "Come on,“ he got up from his position and returned to the spot where he had once sat. He nudged her with his elbow, "We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

           Natasha turned around to face him. “I­–” she lowered her gaze. “I, uh–I just–you didn’t do anything wrong.”

           Steve cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t?”

           "No,“ She replied, "that's­–well–actually, that’s why I’m crying.”

           He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

           "You don’t have to say anything, just–just give me a moment to explain.“ She leaned against the cool headboard and began tracing imaginary lines on the palm of her hand. "When I was in the Red Room,” she took a deep breath, “the success of the mission was the only thing that was important. It didn’t matter how you felt about your assignment. They just didn’t care, and I wasn’t supposed to, either.” Tears begin welling up in her eyes.

           "Natasha, if this is too painful for you, you don’t have to tell me any–"

           "But I want to,“ she wiped the forming tears out of her eyes and placed her hand on top of his. "I want to.”

           "Okay,“ he squeezed her hand.

           Once again, she took a deep breath, then continued. "Many times, while I was undercover, I had to play a multitude of different roles. Sometimes, I was a wealthy estate owner looking for new markets to tap into. Other times, I was a lost tourist asking for directions,” she paused. “But, more times than I’d like to recall, my role consisted of me using my sexuality to get vital pieces of information, and you and I both know how easy it is to get people to do what you want them to do when sex is involved,” she chuckled. “I did what I had to do. And, do you wanna know something funny?”

           Steve kept his hand on hers, moving his thumb back and forth against the smooth surface of her wrist.

           "Even though I was using them in order to gain power,“ she admitted, "I never felt more powerless than I did when I was with them. I knew I wasn’t supposed to care. That it was all for the mission. But I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that what I was doing was in no way what I wanted to do. I mean, of course I was the one who engaged with them. I was the one who took them into a room and began undressing them, but I never really had a choice, you know?” Once again, tears began forming in her eyes. Only, this time, she didn’t wipe them away. “No one from the Red Room ever gave me any other alternative. No one that I slept with ever asked me who I was or what I wanted. Not the men, not the women, no one. It was always about them.”

           "Nat, I am so sor–”

           She put her free hand up, signaling for Steve to stop. “But, just when I began to think that love was some bullshit concept made up by children,” she drops her hand, “ you showed up.” The tears fell rapidly, now, rolling off of her cheek and onto the cotton sheets below. “You helped me figure out why those missions always left me feeling empty. Love is not one-sided. It’s about losing yourself in your partner and in their happiness. It’s about asking permission; it’s about asking them how they feel. It’s about trust.” Natasha leaned over and intertwined her lips with his.

           Soon, they broke apart.

           "And I trust you,“ she said.

           Steve cupped her face in his hands and brushed the tears off of her cheeks. "I trust you, too.” He opened his legs, motioning for Natasha to sit in between them. “Come here.”

           With a timid smile on her face, she made her way over to the empty space. She rested the back of her head on his chest and melted into him.

           He embraced her, making sure to leave no inch of her skin out of contact with his. A wide grin crept on his face. “And you thought I was the one who was going to cry.”

           "Shut up,“ Natasha playfully slapped his arm and laughed uncontrollably.

           "If that’s what you want me to do, then I’ll do it,” Steve retorted between breathy laughs. He hugged her a little tighter and lightly placed his chin amidst her auburn hair “And now that I’ve got you,” he smiled, “I’m not ever letting go.”


(Inspired by @chalantness  || read her one-shots here)

Deal of a Lifetime Fixer-Upper

For @spamanoweek2016 !

Day three : Unexpected laughs 

A day late ;A;

On AO3. On FFn

Lovino placed the box down, coughed, and swatted his hand through the air.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “They couldn’t clean this place up any before we came, could they?” he called to Antonio. “This is fucking horrific.”

Antonio came into the kitchen, placing his box next to Lovino’s. “Well, it has been abandoned for a couple of years.”

Lovino eyed the kitchen. “More than a couple. This place doesn’t even have a fucking microwave.” Lovino opened a couple of the cabinets, eyeing the layer of filth. “Let’s move the furniture into the basement. It’ll make it easier to figure out where everything is going.”

Antonio laughed. “We might not have enough furniture for this whole place!” He grabbed Lovino by the waist and swung him around. “A big improvement from the apartment, no?”

Lovino grinned. “It’s filthy.”

“It’s ours!”

“Uh huh. Come on, let’s get a move on. I want to have at least the living room looking presentable.”

Keep reading

Good Intentions

Summary: Seven, Zen and Yoosung decided to hang out over at Jumin’s place (Jumin did not sign up for this) when the three get into a messy wrestle fight. Unfortunately, Seven and Zen team up on poor Yoosung and decide to take things to the next level as soon as they pin him down: tickle the absolute hell out of him. 

Author’s note: Was finally able to finish this asdfjkasdf I finished Yoosung’s route a long time ago, totally fell in love with this adorable cutie and here I am, pulling this fic out of the trashcan. I think anyone with an older sibling, or worse siblings, has gone through this at least once in their life. I salute thee, I’ve been there 8]]] 
PS: Help I’m almost at 200 followers I’m nooo t o ka y don’t look at me fasdi jas


‘Twas one of those rare nights where all the members of the RFA had found a gap in their busy schedule to hang out and catch up face-to-face instead of chatting all the time. Jumin hadn’t really agreed to this, though, but that didn’t stop them from barging into his apartment and making themselves at home. Seven had quite literally forced the paperwork out of Jumin’s hands and pushed him onto one of his expensive couches.

Even after convincing him that one night off wouldn’t hurt, Jumin wouldn’t leave his phone alone, texting Jaehee and calling his colleagues every five minutes to make sure they did exactly as they were told. Zen even threatened to take his phone to which Jumin snarled in response and got up from the couch to finish his latest business call in the kitchen.

Right now they were watching a random drama Yoosung had found while flicking through channels and Seven got out some of the snacks he had brought along.

“’Cause I was sure Jumin didn’t have any,” he said and sent a mocking glare towards the kitchen door, fishing out some chips and popcorn and laying the bags on the glass table in front of them. “If you make a mess it’s your funeral, though.”

“The guy says he eats super healthy but maybe he has something like a guilty pleasure,” Zen mused after he had taken a seat right next to Yoosung who was already stuffing his face and moving towards the edge of the couch to be closer to the food. “Offer him some of those chocolate thingies. I’m pretty sure he’ll like those.”

Ooh, maybe I will. Let’s see if we can get him to admit he’s not a perfect human being after alls.”

Yoosung vaguely registered their words as he held the bag of potato chips, listening intently to every word of the actors on screen. His hand worked like a robot: scooping up a large amount of popcorn and practically throwing it into his mouth, barely giving himself time to chew before he’d throw in the next handful.

The other two didn’t seem to mind as much, probably because Seven had bought a lot of food and there was practically enough for the four of them to last for a week. Zen was leaning against the back of the couch, one arm lazily draped over the edge while Seven was busy playing a game on his phone but also trying to keep up a conversation with Zen about the series they were watching.

At last, Jumin came back from the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw them. “Oi! Stop eating on my couch!”

“We’re keepin’ it clean, so stop worrying,” Seven spoke up without even looking up from his phone. “Yoosung here, on the other hand…”

“Haven’t dropped a single thing!” Yoosung quickly said and held up his hands in defense. “You know I’m not a messy eater!”

“Right, you’re a messy cook,” Zen smirked and got a good punch in the arm for that remark. “Hey, hey! I have a photoshoot tomorrow! Be careful with my beautiful shoulder, will you?”

“Yoosung’s that one friend with anger issues, Zen, how could you forget?”

The three of them got into a rather messy wrestle fight, which Jumin definitely did not appreciate. Zen, thanks to his strict work-out routine, easily got the upper hand and worked together with Seven to help pin Yoosung’s wrists down, but Yoosung was having none of that and kicked out as much as he could. Jumin was yelling at them to “fucking quit it because I will call the police,” but the three easily ignored him, too busy trying not to lose.

It only took a few seconds before they rolled off the couch, almost knocking over the table, and Yoosung cried out in frustration as Zen finally managed to pin his wrists down on either side of his head while straddling his waist. Small bits of candy and chips were thrown into the air as Yoosung whined and flopped around like a fish on dry land and Seven barked out a laugh because Jumin looked so very offended and so done.

“You two always team up on me,” Yoosung huffed and screeched again when Seven gladly took a seat on his lower legs to keep them from kicking. “Oof, Seven, you’re heavy! Get off!”

“Nah, I’m quite comfortable. And hey, you didn’t say Zen’s heavy!”

“That’s because I’m not.”

“Muscles are heavier than fat, you idiot. I think you’re heavier.”

“Didn’t hear little Yoosung here complaining, though.”

“Guys!” Yoosung called out and tried moving his legs but Seven’s full body weight was enough to completely immobilize them. “Can you at least get off me if you’re gonna have some random pointless discussion?”

This was not very uncommon and even though Yoosung still had a lot of fight left in him, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. This usually lasted until he’d get tired of struggling or give in and say whatever they wanted to hear from him and it was so frustrating because they always combined forces and it wasn’t fair.

It appeared they had stopped paying attention to Yoosung for the time being because Zen was very offended that Seven was practically insulting his beauty and grace while Jumin was still trying to get them out of his house by threatening to leave the RFA, which didn’t work, either. Neither Seven nor Zen seemed impressed by his words and calmly continued to debate and Yoosung laid his head on the floor, blowing his bangs out of his face.  

“Will you three stop acting like you’re five years old and go home already? I’m sure Yoosung still has a lot of homework to do anyway.”

“Was actually planning on playing LOLOL tonight but if these two oafs won’t get-off-of-me-right-now,” Yoosung puffed out, trying to lift up his hands and bending his knees again, but Zen casually pushed his wrists a little harder into the floor while Seven shifted a little to divide his weight more. “I won’t be able to.”

“You should do your homework, though,” Seven said and tapped Yoosung’s thighs. “If you promise you’re gonna do homework and do some reviewing, Zen and I’ll let you go.”

Ugh, no. They released a new weapon this morning and I haven’t had the chance to gain enough experience to buy it yet!” Yoosung started struggling again because now he really wanted to go back home to play. “It’s one of the strongest weapons yet so homework can wait!”  

“No, it can’t,” Jumin sighed, forever annoyed.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with our nerd here,” Seven added and nudged Zen with his elbow. “Yoosung needs a little encouragement, Zen.”

Uh-oh. Yoosung’s eyes widened at those words and he started jerking around once again when he felt Seven’s hands on his thighs and Zen calmly lifting his arms so he could wrap one hand around both of his skinny wrists. The only thing he could do was dig his heels into the floor and beg and plead before the attack would come, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.  

His arms were now pinned above his head, his thin shirt ridden up enough to bare his taut stomach and Yoosung knew his fate was sealed as soon as Zen smirked down at him, wiggling his fingers right above his trembling skin.

“Ready?”

Keep reading

“I can get home fine on my own,” Lois said.

“I know you can,” Clark said, continuing to escort her home.

“I barely even drank.” She drank a lot. She’d been teaching Steve an important lesson about… something. He’d passed out right at the bar, which meant she’d won.

Her claims of sobriety were undercut when she stepped slightly wrong, had her heel land crooked to nearly give out beneath her. Not that it had the chance to, because Clark was there in an instant to catch her by the shoulders and hold her upright.

Very gentlemanly about it, too. He made it easy to forget that he was goddamn huge. Something about his posture, or the way he almost always stood at a distance. But then he did things like this, walked her home and offered his arm and generally acted unrealistically gallant. And the distance was gone, and all of a sudden he seemed like he’d doubled in height.

She took his arm only because the sidewalks were a mess, and she didn’t want to risk damaging her heels. They were very nice. They were very expensive. They hurt like hell.

“I’m basically sober,” she added.

“I see that.”

She scowled up at him. The fact that she had to look up was irritating. Lois was, objectively, not a short women. And she was in heels. “You don’t get to talk.”

“No?” He always played so innocent. She could see right through it, though. A glint in his eye that his glasses couldn’t hide.

“No,” she confirmed. “Because you didn’t even drink.”

“True.”

“You never drink,” she added.

“Also true,” he agreed.

“You know what I think?” She was just prodding at him now, really. Trying to get a rise out of him. He could be fun, sometimes, when he took the bait.

“No,” he said, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t try to get smart with me, Smallville.”

Clark smiled. It was a good smile, even she had to admit that. Kind of goofy in the earnestness of it, but that could be okay every now and again. “Never. I’m always stupid with you.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I love your stories. I'm pretty upset about all the freaking out going on in this fandom, regarding the rumored removal of a certain feature. Can you write some Fem!Kamui/Xander fluff? Maybe the morning after their wedding night or something? :)

[for that reason alone, anon, I would write an entire novel :’D]

You were in a daze when you woke up, at first. The pleasant buzz of lingering endorphins from the last night relaxed you, and added to the confusion upon realizing you were elated, at the same time. 

Euphoric, even. 

And to find the answer why, all you had to do was look to your right. Because the strange new man who lay next to you there, was the man you had devoted your entire life to only a day before.

“…Xander.” 

Keep reading

never

“Yuuri,” a familiar voice whispered.

Who was it again? He was sure he knew that voice. A voice that belonged to someone dear to his heart.

“Yuuri, I’m going back to Russia.”

What? No. You can’t leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m happier on the ice.”

Victor.

He was leaving?

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

No. I don’t want you to go.

Please, don’t leave.

Ah, but Yuuri knew it would happen eventually, didn’t he? He knew it all along. Victor belonged in the ice. He was only going to be with Yuuri for a short time. A little moment to get some inspiration back for his career.

Where were they? It was so dark. So cold. So empty. All that Yuuri could see was Victor’s back as he was leaving. Yuuri’s hands reached out on their own, trying to hold onto Victor’s fading image. His heart felt like giving out from the force of denying the desire to go after the other man. He didn’t have the right to hinder Victor from what he had decided to do.

But I don’t want this.

Come back. Come back.

Please stay. I want you to stay with me.

Please.

Yuuri crushed that voice that kept threatening his resolve to let Victor go. If that was what Victor wanted, then he would honor it. He had decided, hadn’t he?

He had taken Victor’s time. Had taken whatever the man could give him. He wouldn’t take anything else from Victor anymore, especially not his happiness.

I don’t want this.

I don’t want this.

That voice inside his head just wouldn’t stop. His voice. Why won’t it stop?

Stay with me.

Stay by my side!

“STOP!”

Yuuri was panting, his heart hammering in his chest. Confused, he looked around to get his bearings. What had happened to him?

“Yuuri?”

That same voice, the one he heard just moments ago. The voice he loved hearing alongside his own. He turned toward the speaker, and found Victor’s worried expression looking back at him.

“You’re still here,” Yuuri breathed. He was still affected by the emotions from his dream. Was that relief he could hear in his tone?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Victor returned, sounding as puzzled as he looked. “What’s wrong, Yuuri? You look so scared. Bad dream?” Victor slid towards him, the sheets rustling as he did.

Ah, Yuuri remembered now. That was the day he had gotten back from the Rostelecom Cup. Tired from the flight, Yuuri was intending to sleep once he got home which Victor agreed to.

At Yuuri’s door, Victor had grabbed his hand and requested, “Sleep beside me, tonight?”

Yuuri couldn’t say no to that. Not when he had missed Victor so much. Their time apart had been too long, had been so lonely. The older man must have been feeling so as well to ask them to sleep together.

So both of them decided to sleep that night in Victor’s bed. It was still dark outside though, which meant they had woken up in the middle of the night.

Warmth enveloped Yuuri as he was wrapped in a tight embrace, pulling him away from his thoughts of earlier that night. After that nightmare, Victor’s hug was definitely what he needed to steady himself. “Mmm,” was all that Yuuri managed to say in reply to Victor. He was still shaken from that dream.

He knew he shouldn’t have slept that night while he was thinking. But honestly, he hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep. He only planned to think about everything that had transpired recently, but his mind wandered to what happens after the Grand Prix Final. In a few days, they were leaving for Barcelona. The Grand Prix Final was just around the corner, so of course he got waylaid by thoughts of the future.

Sure, he was determined to make Victor stop being his coach, and he was resolved to support the man in whatever he planned to do next. They had only talked about the Grand Prix Final, never broaching the subject beyond that.

Yuuri had no clue about what Victor wanted to do after the competition. In a way, he was touched by how much Victor had focused only on him throughout the Grand Prix Series. But the end was nearing, and with it, might come the end for their stay together.

What did Victor want to do afterwards? More importantly, what was Yuuri planning to do? He was set on retiring after this season. What would he do once he retired, then? He wasn’t sure of that yet.

A thought kept pushing its way to Yuuri’s mind. A wish, a small hope, really. One he kept tightly locked up inside himself. He was so afraid that once he had given it a chance, it would grow into something more. He was afraid he would desire it so strongly. He wouldn’t be able to take it if he was denied, and so he kept ignoring it. Wishful thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere.

But what if?

Damn that voice. What did he have to do to make it stop?

His thoughts were interrupted by a touch between his brows.

“You get this ‘V’ right here,” Victor murmured as he pressed onto the area, “whenever you’re thinking too much, Yuuri.”

“I’m sorry. I got lost in thought,” Yuuri said apologetically. He looked up at Victor and offered a small smile.

“The same thoughts that had you screaming awake?”

Had he screamed? He couldn’t remember now. If only the dream was as easily forgotten.

“You want to talk about it?” Victor offered softly. He started stroking up and down Yuuri’s back to comfort the skater.

“I’m fine, Vitya,” Yuuri declared firmly. “I guess I was just feeling a bit stressed.”

Victor didn’t seem convinced, but the Russian let it go with a shake of his head. He did that whenever he thought the younger man was being needlessly stubborn. Deciding to take a different course of action, Victor asked, “Can’t I do anything for you?”

Yuuri gave a genuine smile at that. He was always so thoughtful of him and his feelings, his Victor. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had to change, right?

That thought snuck its way into Yuuri’s head, catching him off-guard that he clutched at Victor reflexively. He laid his head on Victor’s shoulder to hide his expression. His distress was surely on his face right now and he didn’t want to show it.

“Yuuri?” Victor sounded worried again.

“Just, please. I just need this,” Yuuri rasped as he clung tighter to Victor. He wasn’t lying. He needed to be held as much as he wanted to hold onto Victor. He could still recall the emptiness he suffered after his Free Skate performance. He felt that something was missing. Try as he might, he couldn’t find it.

Until he saw Victor again. Those hours Yuuri spent far apart from his coach were excruciating. He hadn’t experienced that before. The temporary loss hurt more than he thought it would. It was only relieved the moment he felt Victor’s hug, as if his soul knew it had come home right there in Victor’s arms.

That was from just a temporary separation. What if it became permanent?

You can’t take it. You won’t.

It hurt. His thoughts hurt too much.

“Shh,”Victor whispered in Yuuri’s ear. “Why the tears, Yuuri?”

Yuuri hadn’t realized he was crying. Try as he might, he couldn’t say anything to respond. He was a mess–his thoughts were overwhelming and his heart was feeling too much. Yuuri tightened his grip on Victor’s shirt in a silent plea for more. What more, he didn’t know. He knew nothing anymore.

“I’m here, Yuuri,” Victor reassured empathically. “I’m right here.”

Yuuri cried harder, his emotions spiralling out of control. Maybe this was what Yuuri needed right now-to purge whatever negativity his nightmare had given him. Victor must have known. It must be why Victor didn’t stop Yuuri from weeping. Victor just held on tighter to Yuuri’s trembling form and kept murmuring the same words: I’m right here.

When the tears finally abated, Yuuri felt so worn out but also relieved. Crying his heart out helped ease his distress.

Victor was now stroking Yuuri’s head with one hand, the other enfolding Yuuri in a loose hold. “Feel better?”

Hai,” Yuuri sighed. He definitely felt lighter.

“You got snot on my shirt, Yuuri,” the older man teased.

Yuuri lifted his head up so fast he became dizzy. “I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed in embarrassment as he looked up at Victor.

“You finally looked at me.” Victor cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands, warmth in every touch. His expression was one of utmost tenderness. Perhaps it was because of the lighting, or the intimacy of their positions, or most likely the combination of the two, but Yuuri thought Victor was so beautiful at that moment.

Yuuri never wanted to lose this.

You won’t have to. Just say it.

Tell him.

Tell him what you want the most.

If only he could, but no. Yuuri wouldn’t be that selfish.

You want to stay together with him, that voice insisted.

Yes, he acquiesced, finally admitting to himself that painful desire.

Then ask him to stay.

Only if that was what Victor wanted as well.

On that, he wouldn’t budge. Yuuri was all too aware of what awaited Victor if his coach ever decided to return to skating. His fans would still be there for him, were even now clamoring for him to come back. And if Victor did decide to skate again, he would support the other man.

But it wouldn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t be together then. Now that Yuuri had acknowledged his desire to stay with the Russian man, new thoughts were beginning to take form. After all, Victor had left his skating career on hold for Yuuri. Why couldn’t Yuuri do the same this time around?

Once Yuuri retired, nothing would hold him back from going with Victor. And if, or when, the time comes for Victor to retire, they would still be together. They had been through so much and had grown stronger together.

How many times had he claimed that they would win with the power of love? They wouldn’t just fall apart. Yuuri was starting to really believe that now.

“Ah, happy thoughts at last, my Yuuri?”

That startled the skater back into focus. “How did you know?” he asked as he gazed into Victor’s eyes which held only affection.

Victor gave Yuuri a fond smile. “Your face says whatever it is you’re thinking or feeling. I’ve been with you long enough to know.”

“Mmm.”

Victor waited a beat, and then blew out a breath. Yuuri obviously wasn’t planning on sharing anything with him. Well, he hadn’t shared yet either. He was still waiting for the right time, and Yuuri evidently was as well. Guess they were both going to play a waiting game, then.

Deciding to take the subject somewhere else, Victor reminded the dark-haired man, “My birthday’s coming up, Yuuri. What are you giving me?”

Yuuri glanced at Victor, seeing the quirky smile he adored on Victor’s lips. Thankful that they were moving on to other matters, Yuuri played along and muttered, “Something round and golden.”

“Wow,” Victor rejoiced, “Is this the continuation for your proposal from the airport?”

Heat crept up from Yuuri’s neck to his cheeks. Victor was never going to let that go. Groaning from embarrassment, Yuuri hid under the blanket and ignored Victor’s teasing grin.

“Yuuri, ne, Yuuri, is it?” Victor kept bugging Yuuri for an answer playfully. He was glad that his skater was feeling better. The scream Victor heard from Yuuri was branded onto his memory. He never wanted his Yuuri to do that again.

“Go back to sleep, Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice muffled from under the covers.

Victor laughed, the sound like music to Yuuri’s ears. Victor gave up on pestering Yuuri and settled down to lie beside him.

“I do need the blanket as well, Yuuri.”

Yuuri lifted one side of the blanket, an invitation for the silver-haired man. One which Victor took, of course. He wasn’t an idiot.

Victor pulled Yuuri towards him, his front to Yuuri’s back. Spooning, they were spooning. Victor’s arm was fastened at Yuuri’s middle, the latter’s hand entwined with the former.

Yuuri was about to fall asleep when he heard Victor whisper, “Let’s take this one moment at a time, Yuuri.”

“Mmm.”

“I wish we’d never stop,” Victor muttered sleepily.

Those words, they wove their way into Yuuri’s fearful heart and anchored themselves there. They might have been words said unwittingly, but it was enough to give Yuuri some hope of a positive future.

They still have this moment. Yuuri was sure they would get where they both wanted to be. Wherever and whatever that may be, he will just have to trust that the power of love would guide them.

Victor was right. They just have to take it one moment at a time.



Okay. So, we’ve gotten a glimpse of what Yuuri’s thought process was like in Episode 9, but nothing yet from Victor. How I wish Episode 10 would help and give us a damn clue already. We’ll have to wait for another week to find out.

I took full liberty with this one. I’ve been seeing a lot of positive and negative thoughts on Episode 9 that it got me thinking: What can I do to get the fandom’s spirits back up? I can’t draw for sh!t, and my laptop breaks down every time I try to make an AMV. The last resort was this: a hastily written fanfic with a bad attempt on cheering people up. Do pardon any mistake or poorly written sentence I have made.

Now, we’ve all watched over them both since Episode 1. Wherever Victor and Yuuri’s journey takes them, whatever path they both decide to go on, let’s all believe in the show and what Victor and Yuuri had always shown us: the power of love can win it all.

I love this show, I love this fandom, and I love Victuri.

Thank you for taking the time to read this!