i had an intense debate on whether or not to post this

beginner’s guide to horror movies

Okay, so you’ve seen a few scary movies and enjoyed them, and now you’re looking to expand your horror prowess. Maybe you’ve been reading/listening to a lot of creepypasta, and you feel like you’re ready to take the plunge. Or maybe you just have a feeling that you’d like horror, but have no idea where to start. 

I’ve been a huge fan of all things creepy and scary for years. I was just reading an article called, “Horror Gems You Haven’t Seen Yet” and realized that I actually had seen almost every film on the list, so I guess that makes me an expert. So, my new baby horror fans, allow me to introduce you to the genre.


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Posting my HQ Rarepair Exchange gift for Brianna ( @anime-does-it-best​ lmao) super last minute! 

This was for your prompt of BokuOi and post-apocalyptic settings. I had a couple ideas behind this, like, in the future some disease starts spreading through cities and involves zombie-like symptoms. Oikawa, a young but dedicated botanist, has a theory on a few plants that might lead to a cure. He embarks with former college classmates to hunt down the few remaining specimens of the plant species to then bring back to his lab. Along the way he has his doubts, but he’s reassured by one of their especially resilient companions…

**also i had such an intense internal debate over whether bokuto would still be able to dye/style his hair… went with a compromise

FLUTTERS:  A Mature Ed Sheeran Fanfic Request *REPOST*

Authors Note: I’ve been debating whether or not to repost my Ed Fics for all the new followers I’ve/we’ve been lucky enough to accumulate, so, HERE WE GO!  I’ve been in a bit of a writing funk, so hopefully getting my stories back out there will help jumpstart the creative juices!  I’ll post over the next few nights, so as not to inundate anyone’s timeline!  This one is probably the one I love the most! <3  Any and all feedback/reblogs/etc would be amazing!  Love you guys! 

FLUTTERS:  NC-17 for SexyTimes 

“Feel the rhythm! Feel the rhyme! Get on up, it’s bobsled time!  COOL RUNNINGS!”

You cannot help but crack up at the childish enthusiasm that just spills out of your boyfriend every time his favourite movie comes on.  The way his clear blue eyes crinkle when he smiles and laughs, and the way that he knows EVERY word of this movie and quotes it verbatim, it’s endearing, really, never mind completely adorable.   He takes such pleasure in the simple things.  

It’s a dreary, cloudy day, pissing down freezing rain, and the two of you have decided that PJ’s, blankets, movies and your comfy overstuffed couch are your only goals for the day.  He’s sprawled back, laying kind of sideways against the cushions at one end of the couch, while you’re sprawled against a pillow at the other end, semi facing him, your legs battling for dominancy of the couch.  

You feel a toe poke you in the calf, and you look over to see one invisible eyebrow raised, staring at you with mock indignation. “You laughing at me, woman??” he says with a grin.  “A classic film such as this deserves reverence! Respect!”  

“The movie? Maybe. Your Jamaican accent?” You poke him back with determination.  “Not even!”

His mouth drops and he grabs his chest, feigning betray and horror.  “You cut DEEP, love! My accents are renowned, I’ll have you know!”  He moves suddenly, swooping over you and pinning you to the cushions with his body, and mercilessly digging his fingers into your ribs, tickling you until you beg for mercy. “EDWARD.  I swear to GOD, ED STOPPP!!”

You’ve got tears streaming down your cheeks as you shriek with laughter, and finally he lets up, pure satisfaction on his face as he lifts his hands in victory.  You take this handy opportunity to spring up and knock him backwards, straddling his hips and finding his sweet, soft belly in order to launch your own counterattack.  His eyes widen as he realizes your intent and his body twists sideways in order to evade your fingertips.  His unbridled, joyful giggles may be the best thing ever in all of life, as far as you’re concerned, you cannot get enough of them, and they are completely uncontrolled right now.  Your fingers find their target and he’s yelping, offering full surrender as your fingers find their target.  

By the end the both of you are gasping for breath, tears in your eyes from laughing.  He’s looking at you, that look that is so tender and so special, the one that’s reserved only for you.  You smile, almost shyly, and bite your lip.  His hand reaches for your face, cupping your chin, and as he pulls himself up to a semi-sitting position, he so softly brushes your lips with his. That familiar butterfly flutters in your belly, and your hands find his beard, fingers running through the soft copper scruff, pulling his face to yours, deepening the kiss. His tongue gently parts your lips, seeking to taste you, and his hand is gently running through your hair.  The pads of his thumb skates along the contour of your cheekbone, your jawline, your neck, tracing every inch of your face. Your hands find their way to his silky fiery-red hair, copper locks always in a disarray, and your fingers wind your way into it, loving the way he hums with contentment as your hands work their magic on his scalp.  

He moans as his mouth covers yours, deepening the kiss again, and suddenly, you can feel HIM, pressing against your thigh, as he holds you close.  You blush as he shifts, feeling it against you, and feeling you stutter, he pulls back just a bit.

You love Ed.  Intensely, deeply, and with no hesitation.  There were some things though that you hadn’t yet shared.  20 years old, you had grown up in loving, supportive household, but also a traditional one.  You had grown up with plenty of love and affection, in a very hands-on household, with very traditional values.  Sex was not something you had ever taken lightly. Growing up, you were taught that sex was something to be valued and cherished, a gift to be given to the right man, in love and trust.  Not some token to be spent whenever with whoever.  You had always taken that to heart, wanting to save such a special experience for the right person.  Up until your relationship with Ed, your love life had consisted of a string of cheaters and fuck boys, so there had never really been any temptation. Marriage-Only wasn’t necessarily something you were committed to, but being sure of the right person was.  

You and Ed had been together for just under a year, meeting at an industry event.  You worked as an event co-ordinator for a major company in your city, and your boss had introduced you that night.  You had been so charmed right off the bat, he was just as sweet, humble, kind and funny behind the scenes as his he was in front of the camera and on stage.  You’d talked for several hours that first weekend, and nothing had shocked you more when he continued to text you, and your relationship had bloomed.  The distance thing wasn’t always easy, but he made every second spent apart completely worth it.  Ed wasn’t one for grand, extravagant gestures, he tended to keep it simple, but so pure. So thoughtful.  Little things.  He knew exactly how you liked your coffee, and when you needed that pick-me-up the most, and would have it waiting for you without a word.  After a shit day, he knew your sweet tooth would make chocolate a MUST, and your favourite candy bar would be waiting for you in the fridge (Because Reese Peanut Butter Cups MUST be eaten cold) when you got home.  You were weirdly OCD about waking up to a clean kitchen, and he would, without a word, do the dishes and wipe the countertops after dinner while you dozed on the couch.  He knew the correct laundry detergent and which pants not to throw in the dryer, how to brush you hair after a shower, and that Jimmy Fallon or Ricky Gervais were the best way to make you laugh.   He knew which toilet paper to buy, the exact red wine that capped off your Friday evenings, and not to EVER play Justin Beiber in your house. He even put the seat down from DAY ONE. Until him you had no idea this kind of man even actually existed.    

He was kind and thoughtful and cuddly and sweet and funny and gentle and sexy…really you could go on and on.  He was a touch-feely kinda dude, loved to wrap himself around you from behind, play with your hair, and cuddle up for days.  You LOVED that, he had a way of making you feel so loved and important and valued. It wasn’t something you were really used to.  And making out with Ed?  It was delicious…his lips, they were so soft, so full, and the way they felt on your skin…The way he’d cup your face, the way his hands would leave trails of lightning over every bit of skin they touched.  It wasn’t as though he’d never touched you, his permanently calloused fingertips had the ability to light fires under your skin, and those moments when his hands were cupping and kneading your breasts, flicking your nipples, gently stroking your thighs or squeezing your ass cheeks…they’d almost swayed you a few times.  He knew your feelings concerning sex, and never once, in the entire time you two had known each other, had he EVER pushed you or your boundaries.  He knew without question that it was your decision, and that when the time was right, well…it’d be right.  You hadn’t gone far beyond making out, mainly because in your mind, it felt as though it wasn’t fair to Ed, and you knew it would likely sway you to other things.  You wanted to be sure before travelling down that path, and torturing the poor boy didn’t much seem very nice either.  It was pretty obvious a few times that he was decidedly less than comfortable when you’d pulled back before things went too far, but his only reaction ever was to breathe deep, adjust himself and pull you close for a cuddle.  Never once had he made you feel guilty about your choices, and to you, it made him perfect.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you see his cheeks dimple as he pulls back, noticing your blush.  “I love that color in your cheeks, love…” he says with a grin. “Soz if he made you uncomfortable…I keep telling him to behave, doesn’t always work though.”  He sits you both up, tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses you gently, while attempting to rearrange himself into a less…confining…position.  

“Not trying to make “him” uncomfortable…” you laugh, still blushing. “It’s not like you don’t illicit the same reaction, sir.”

“You’re so beautiful”, he says softly, gazing at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. “And sexy. And you can cook. And you’re funny. And smart as shit. And you always SMELL amazing.” He pauses and scrunches his face up in that way that is so freaking adorable.  “How do women do that??”

Inwardly your insides are a melted, messy pool of feels, but you’ve never been one to gush or wear your heart on your sleeve.  “Multitasking is our “thing…” you drawl with a straight face. “Being that men can’t even pee and aim at the same time, we’ve got that particular area sewn up, I think.” You crack a grin and giggle at the truly affronted look on his face at the pee-and-aim statement and you drop a quick kiss on his nose before you scramble off him, knowing you might be in trouble for that one.

“I always put the seat down!” he says quite indignantly, chasing after you into the kitchen. “I’ve been trained well! It’s not our fault that the male anatomy acts like a fire hose sometimes…”

“EW.  That’s a lovely image, Teddy, thanks for that.” You’re cracking up at the imagery that description has put in your head, but you’re beginning to think he needs to NOT be using your bathroom any longer, if that’s what’s happening. Jeez.

He catches up to you and lifts you up on the counter, hands flat against the underside of your bum, and softly places butterfly kisses all the way up your jawline to your ear, where he stops and nibbles just for a moment.  Oh my…the tingles and flutters and lightning strikes taking over your body….it’s amazing what he makes you feel with the slightest touch.

He leaves a soft, slow, lingering kiss on your lips, and then pulls back, a content expression on his face, as takes a deep breath.  “The things you do to me, woman” he chuckles softly.  

“You’re not so bad yourself, Teddy…” you whisper, gently brushing the silky copper curls from his forehead.  Your foreheads touch, and he gently rubs his nose against yours, once, and then again.  

The first time he’d uttered the words “I love you” it had turned your world upside down, in the very BEST way.  He’d flown in to spend a night with you, a much needed visit, and being jetlagged and exhausted, he’d pretty much collapsed on you and your couch when he’d arrived.  Knowing all he’d have had to eat was airplane food, you’d made sure to have his very favourite pizza in the world waiting for him when he arrived, and after he’d fairly GORGED himself on the Calabrese deliciousness, he’d dragged you to the couch, and pulled you into the Little Spoon position and buried his face in your hair.  You pulled your favourite blanket over the both of you, so content to just be encircled in his arms, and just when you thought he was asleep, you heard soft words muttered in your ear.  “God, I love you…Never go away from me…”  Your stomach had dissolved into butterflies and you heart had nearly exploded.  It was the first time anyone had ever said those words without wanting something in return, the first time those words had ever meant anything to you.  By the time those words had registered, the boy had completely conked out, and didn’t hear you say them right back.  It was the first time that you’d ever believed in those words enough to use them, and there was no doubt how deeply you believed them. Since that night, those words had been uttered many times, but the habit you two had developed, the “thing” that said I love you without words, was the Eskimo kiss.  It was such a tender, gentle, loving gesture, and one that always spoke volumes when there were no words.  

He kisses your cheek, and turns around, stretching his arms out, and surveys the state of the kitchen. There are pizza boxes still stacked up the counter leftover from lunch, and your plates are in the sink.  You hop down from the counter and head for the sink while Ed grabs up the pizza boxes and takes them out to the trash.  Kitchen clean, you turn around and see your favourite Ginger pawing through your fridge.  

“Is there EVER a time you’re not hungry?” you ask him, laughing.  “Practically a whole pizza at lunch wasn’t enough?”

“I’m a growing boy!” he protests, “Without enough food, I’d waste away, innit??”

He slams the door of the fridge, and grabs his hoodie from the chair, sliding it over his head. “We need oreos, I reckon!” he says with authority.  “Double stuf, if possible.  Gonna run to the store, love, a snack run is in the offing!  Want anything?”

“All I need is right in front of me.”  You smile softly and drop a kiss on his forehead. “Go ahead, I’ll find us a movie for when you get back.”

His hand brushes my cheek, and I feel his nose brush mine.  “Dunno how I got so lucky…?” he mumbles, a content smile spreading across his face. You grin and push him towards the door, knowing the faster he goes, the faster he’ll be back.

Once the door shuts behind him, you let your fingers wander to your mouth, unconsciously tracing where his lips have left their mark. You loved him. So much.  And suddenly, as clear as day, you knew how you wanted to spend the rest of this dreary afternoon.  You’d never felt so loved before, so cherished.  The desire to share yourself, all of yourself, with this man you loved so deeply, had been building for some time, and you were ready. Scared slightly shitless, perhaps, but there was no one you wanted to share this experience with more.  

The thrill of anticipation zinged in your bloodstream, and you decided you had better do some inventory before Ed got back. Taking the stairs 2 at a time you ran upstairs, locking yourself in the bathroom.  Luckily, you’d thoroughly showered that morning, including all necessary manner of shaving and exfoliation.  You didn’t quite know what to do with yourself, the nerves you felt were literally causing your hands to shake.  You decided fresh breath was a priority, and scrubbed your teeth within an inch of your life, and then dug through the bathroom cabinet till you found your hairbrush, and pulling the elastic from your hair and releasing the topknot, you brushed your long hair till it fell in loose waves over your shoulders.  You pulled your ratty old PJ shirt over your head, and with a deep exhale, you examined yourself in the mirror.  You were certainly on the curvier side, you’d inherited your mama’s birthing hips, but you’d always kind of liked your hourglass figure.  There were actually times you’d thought to yourself that smaller tits would be a blessing, but oh well.  All in all, there were some areas of your body you wish were a little more toned, a little flatter, but Ed was always one to tell you how much he loved every inch of you, and loved the fact that you could EAT.  You knew he’d appreciate every inch of you no matter what.  The thought of that “appreciation” sent a shiver of anticipation and nerves up your spine, and with a little skip in your step you hurry off to the bedroom.

You’re now faced with figuring out what you should (or shouldn’t?) wear.  You try on a sexy lace bra and thong, but TOO sexy, too obvious.  Just take it all off and lay there??  No chance, you were WAY too nervous to put yourself out there like that.  Finally, you settle on a pair of teeny, turquoise soft boy shorts that showed off your legs (minus your panties), and a stretchy, sexy lace cami with spaghetti straps that showed off your cleavage and midriff.  You’re awkwardly trying to decide how to position yourself on the bed when something VITALLY important crosses your mind, and you hop back up.  You hadn’t exactly planned this in advance, and so you weren’t currently on the Pill or the shot, and there was NO chance this experience was happening without being safe.  Ed had always been honest about his history, he’s by no means a virgin, but no manwhore either.  He also had always been strict about being safe, and not taking risks, which was reassuring.  You notice his backpack in the corner of the room, and you figure it’s worth a quick check. SURE ENOUGH, in the bottom of the side pocket, there’s a packet of condoms. The Sheeran motto apparently was “Always Be Prepared”.  You shake your head, laughing nervously, and thank the Gods that that small box was unopened, or he’d have some QUESTIONS to answer.

You grab the box and toss them in your nightstand drawer, and as you begin to contemplate what to do with yourself next, you hear the door slam down downstairs. The sound of the door alone has your heartrate revving like an engine, and the hairs on your arm and neck prickle.  You KNOW you want this, you KNOW you’re ready…it’s expressing that to him.

“Love??” you hear that cheery, sexy, British accent echo from downstairs, and you quickly smooth your hair down one last time, and lay on the bed, tummy down, facing the door.  

“Upstairs, babe!” you call out, in a tone slightly higher than it probably should be.  Your heart is literally in your throat, and you’re not sure whether to giggle, or hyperventilate, or faint. Maybe all three?

You can hear him coming up the stairs, calling your name like a question, trying to figure out where you are.  “Just in the bedroom!” you call, crossing and uncrossing your legs, shifting your weight to and fro, and trying to figure out where to put your arm.  He pushes the door open and pops his head ‘round the doorjamb, and his face lights up when he sees you.

“…We playing hide ‘n’ seek this afternoon?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye. “Cuz that wasn’t much of a look? Try under the bed next time!”  He come fully into the room and sees you’re laying on the bed, and immediately kicks his sneakers off, and launches himself onto the bed next to you.  He buries his face against the soft curve of your lower back, and nuzzles at the soft skin there.  It feels as though he’s trying to breathe you in, and it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but let out a little sigh of pleasure at the touch of his scratchy cheeks against your skin.  

You slowly turn yourself over and gaze him, taking in his beautiful big blue eyes, his tangle of silky orange curls and the way his perfect lips are curved into that little boy smile.  It’s ridiculous how PRETTY he is, and you just can’t get enough.  You thread your fingers into his beard, and tug him towards you, kissing him softly; his top lip, his bottom lip, and both, trying to put everything you’re feeling into that kiss.

“Mmmmm” he hums contentedly.  “I love your lips. More please.” He pulls you in and presses his lips to yours once more, deepening the kiss, winding his hands into your hair to pull you as close to him as you can, tasting every bit of you. His lips linger, drawing his kisses out to the point where your breath is gone but you don’t care.  He tastes so good, those exquisitely soft, perfectly pink lips the perfect fit to yours, his hands so strong and gentle at the same time.

The length of his body is pressed up against yours, and wrapped up in the intensity of this kiss you’re pushing your body against his, twining your leg with his fuzzy one, and you can feel peaks of electricity in your blood, like your whole body is on edge.  It’s not long before you can feel his reaction, it’s hard against your thigh, and suddenly he’s breaking the kiss and taking a deep breath.  His cheeks are pink, and he speaks before you can utter a word.

“Damn, he’s at it again….Sorry, love, we men need an off-switch apparently.” He laughs nervously and pushes his hands through his hair.  “Did you pick a movie…?  We can-“. You take a deep breath and cut him off before he can get another word out.

“Teddy…” you whisper softly, “I don’t want to watch a movie.”  You brush your fingers through the long strands on his forehead, and gaze up at him, trying to convey your message without words.  You could literally lose yourself in those sea-blue eyes.  He raises an almost non-existent eyebrow and says “Whaddya want to do then? Kind of a crappy afternoon to go anywhere, innit…?”

You stop yourself from giggling, but only just. Why are boys so DENSE sometimes? You take another deep breath, lock eyes with him and cup his cheek.  You kiss him softly, and then trace his lips with your fingertips.  “No…I don’t want to go out either.  I want to stay right here.  With you.”  You take in every last molecule of oxygen you possibly can, steel yourself, and pull yourself to a halfway sitting position.  “I want YOU, Teddy.  All of you.” And you exhale, watching for his reaction, your lip between your teeth.

His eyes widen, suddenly realizing what you’re trying to tell him.  “Babe…I know I got a bit carried away just then, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.  I love you, and you have my word I’m not in a rush…”

He’s looking at you, such tenderness in his eyes, and an uncertainty that’s so endearing you find yourself falling all over again.  Your heart is simply racing, your blood pulsing through your body as you pull yourself upright and gaze into his eyes, wanting so badly to convey what you’d been dying to tell him.  Lacing your fingers with his, you press a soft kiss to his warm fingertips and press both of your intertwined hands to your chest, to your heart that was hammering at the expression on his face, and tried to put everything you were feeling into the shaky words that spilled from your lips.  You wanted, NEEDED, him to know just how much you wanted this with him.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Teddy. I love you.  So much.  I always knew that the first time I had sex, I didn’t want it to be slam-bam high school thing. I didn’t want to “lose it” just to say I’d done it.  I wanted it to be with someone that wanted to actually make love to me, not just get laid.  I wanted to be sure I was in love and that he was in love with me.  And I am.  You know me better than anyone, and every little thing you do shows me how much you love me.  You’ve never once expected a thing in return, never pressured me, and that makes me want you. It makes me sure that you’re who I’ve been waiting for.”  You take a breath, feeling the warmth in your cheeks and look into his eyes, awaiting his response.

The look on his face…it was something you would tuck away and keep with you for as long as you lived.  There was such love and devotion in his eyes, and when he spoke, you could hear the emotion.  “You’ve no idea just how much I’ve fallen in love with you.  I never wanted to push you for anything, because the thought of pushing you away scares the shit out of me.  Just holding you, it makes me feel like I have the whole world, I don’t need anything else.”  He takes a shaky breath and continues. “I know how long you’ve waited for this…I mean…I- I just want you to be sure.”  He’s looking at you, biting his lip and playing with the edge of his hoodie.

You find that all of a sudden, your nerves have died down, and you know without a single doubt, that you’ve made the right decision.  You want this so badly, and more importantly, you want HIM.  You tip his chin up and catching his gaze, you touch your nose to his, once, and then again.  The biggest smile you’ve ever seen spreads across his whole face.

“We’ll take it slow, I promise…” he whispers, cupping your face.  “If you want me to stop, you’ve just got to say it.”  He gently lowers you back onto the bed, making sure you’ve got a pillow under your head, and slowly, oh so slowly, he lowers his head and begins to place the softest kisses all along your jawline, and your neck, and even your collarbone.  You let your eyes drift shut, enjoying the sensation of his lips and tongue worshipping you, leaving what feels like a trail of fire on every bit of skin he touches. He drops one last kiss at the tops of your breasts and looks up at you, wanting to make sure it was okay to move on. You’re not sure you can even speak coherently anymore, so you arch your chest up and breathe deeply, smiling at him and nodding.  He climbs over top of you, and you part your legs so he can settle in, wanting every part of him to be as close to you as possible.  He shakes his, almost imperceptibly, like he can’t believe this is happening, and lowers himself, supporting his weight with one arm, and he takes a moment just to look into your eyes and gaze at you.  

“I want to make you feel amazing…trust me?” he says softly, looking at you for permission.  

“Without a doubt.” You say softly.  You tangle your fingers in his hair and tilt your face to catch his lips, the need to feel them, to taste them, overwhelming you.  Your tongue gently parts his lips, sliding into his mouth, desperate to taste him.  His tongue tangles with yours, his breathing shallow, and it’s like he CANNOT get enough of you.  It is so sexy.  He breaks away from you, and biting his lip he smiles slow and sexy.  His fingers trail down your cheek, traces your jawline and run down your shoulder and neck.  One hand splays on your bared midriff, and the other catches the hem of your cami, slowly easing it up your body.  You bite your lip, knowing what he wants, and you arch your body so he can pull it off of you.  You lay back against the pillows, and notice that he’s just looking at you, drinking you in. He has the sweetest smile on his face, and when he notices you fidgeting, looking a bit…self-conscious, he shakes his head and tips your head up to meet his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful.  Every single inch of you.  I could just sit here and look at you for hours.  How did I get so goddamn lucky…”

You blush, and he kisses your cheek softly. He moves himself down the bed, and looks at you with a twinkle in his eye, a small grin playing at his features. He begins at your collarbones, and begins leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses, soft lips followed by his sexy tongue, from one side to the other, and then traces a path down between your breasts. He plumps one up with his hand, and your breath stutters as his lips find your nipple.  His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, alternating between gentle tugs and flicks.  While his mouth lavishes one nipple, his other hand is gently squeezing and massaging your other breast.  The sensations coursing through your body have you practically panting, your body writhing as he teases you.  It’s as though there’s an electric wire straight from your breasts right to your groin, what he’s doing feels SO good and you want more, MORE.

“Ed…God…” you moan, arching your body, trying to press your body into him as much as you possibly can. He’s switching between your nipples; sucking, tugging, nibbling, and it’s driving you to madness.  “More?” he asks softly, looking up at you, wanting to be sure.

“Yes….please….” your body is moving of its own accord, needing…what you weren’t sure, but so much more.  He pulls away from your breasts, and begins kissing his way back down your overly sensitive body.  He leaves a trail of kisses under each breast, and slowly, tortuously, makes his way down to your belly button.  His tongue dips into it as his focus shifts downwards, and he leaves feather light kisses from one hip to the other, all the way across.  You know where he’s headed, and your brain can barely comprehend what’s about to happen.  His mouth had never travelled your body this way, and it was leaving points of fire under every bit of skin he touched.  His hand slides under your leg and bends it at the knee, pushing it back gently, and does the same to your other leg, just as softly.  You feel utterly exposed in this position, but you’re so worked up that the thought doesn’t last long.  He lets the pads of his fingers skate up and down your thighs, tracing the length of your calves, even caressing your feet.  “Okay?” he whispers looking at you, and all you can do is nod, your body urging him on.

His lips are on you, his mouth leaving trails down the inside of each thigh, kisses on the insides of your knees.  He switches to your feet, gently lifting them and kissing the arches of your feet and OH god who knew feet were sexy and when he’s finished there he begins kissing his way up your legs, slowly, up one side, then he switches to the other leg, loving every inch of that one, from top to bottom.  You can feel his warm breath on you as he settles himself between your parted legs, and he gently hooks his fingers inside the waistband of your teeny shorts, gently tugging them down your thighs.  You lift your bum so he can pull them off, and he gently tosses them off to the side.  He works his way back up the insides of your legs, leaving butterfly kisses in his wake, tingles and jolts of electricity with every touch.  You feel his teeth skimming the softest part of the inside of your thigh, kissing, nibbling, and tasting every bit of your skin.  He stops, and grasps your thighs gently, pushing them open a bit more so he can have complete access, and suddenly you feel his fingers trace your lips, pushing them open oh so gently.  He very gently kisses the creases where your legs met your centre, and with his tongue, gently paints a stripe from the base of your slit all the way to the top.  Your whole body lifts off the bed as you gasp from the lightning strikes penetrating your belly, you’ve never experienced this kind of sensation, it’s overwhelming and SO GOOD and why in the hell have you waited this long?  

“Feel good, babe?” he murmurs, his face buried in your slit. You manage to lift your head enough to see the look of rapture on his face as he’s tasting you.  “You taste so fucking sweet.  I’ve wanted to do this for so long…”  His tongue is alternating between long, torturous licks and gentle nibbles at your labia.  It’s a storm you can barely weather, but God it is SO GOOD and in between trying to remember to breath, you manage to tell him “MORE.  Oh my…Teddy, please….!” You’re losing control of your body and you’re writhing under his ministrations, just completely out of control.  

“Anything for you, love” he grins, and pushing your lips back, his tongue finds that sweet pink spot.  His tongue swirls around and around it, nudging that sweet little pink button, like a piece of delicious candy, and your hands find his hair, that silky soft tangle of fiery curls, and you thread your hands through it, pressing his face as tightly against you as you can, completely lost to the building sensations in your belly.  You can’t form coherent words, just gasps, moans, guttural sounds that you had no idea could come from you.  His arms, the bright colours of his ink so sexy against the bare expanse of your skin, wrap around your thighs, pressing them to the sides of his head. He’s pulling you closer to him so his face is all but engulfed, the deep, throaty sounds escaping from his throat as he devours you so indescribably sexy.  His tongue is thrashing your clit, back and forth, quick and light, over and over and over, and you can’t comprehend the delicious fiery tightening in your belly, it’s SO GOOD, it feels like climbing the highest mountain and you want so badly to jump off that edge, and like he’s reading your mind, suddenly he switches from flicking and thrashing to sucking that little pink bundle of nerves right into his mouth and your mouth is wide open, there’s no words, your whole body is lifted up and your muscles locked, it’s like thunder crashing and lightning striking and like NOTHING you have ever felt before, your body is trying to jump out of your skin and there’s spots in your vision that don’t make sense but OH PLEASE NEVER STOP and he keeps sucking and tugging, helping you ride out this incredible explosion, your hands still in hair, keeping him exactly where you need him to be. Your body is STRAIGHT up off that bed, arching into his mouth, “TEDDY…” you gasp, as you fly off that cliff, riding out the most intense sensations you have EVER experienced in your life.  Finally the sensations begins to ebb away, your body sags back against the bed and you look down at the face between your legs, with a sated, disbelieving smile on your face.

He kisses your thighs one last time, and lifts himself up.  He crawls up the bed and gently nestles himself on top of you, catching your lips in a kiss, and stroking your hair, your cheek.  “That was so fucking sexy…” he murmurs.  “Incredible watching you, listening to you come undone….was it what you hoped for?”  

You pick your head up off the pillow, and gaze at him, trying to figure out how to put what just happened into words.  “That was…Teddy…that was incredible.  It was…I don’t even.  Holy shit.”  Your head flops back on the pillow, and he cracks a little boy grin at your words and dips his face to catch your lips for a kiss.  

Your ability to breathe is only just returning to normal, and as you lay sprawled beneath him, all you can think is how you love him so much right at this moment.  You bite your lip, and look at him, knowing what you’d like to do next. You kiss him softly, once, twice and run your fingers down his cheek.  You pull yourself up to a sitting position, and looking him in the eye, you hook you fingers under the edge of his hoodie and begin to drag it up his body.  He grins, and lifts his arms to help you get it off.  His shirt follows, and you awkwardly fumble with his belt buckle, trying to undo it. You manage to unbuckle it, and carefully unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper down.  He’s watching you, letting you take the lead.  You pause, wondering how to go about getting his pants down without looking like you have NO idea what you’re doing.  You can see him smiling at you, laughter in his eyes, and he lifts his hips without a word, helping you to peel his jeans off his legs. Once those are out of the way, he pulls you back down on the bed, and finds your lips.  His lips, so soft, so full, they taste so good.  Long, lingering kisses, deep kisses that you could feel down to the tips of your toes.  Kisses full of promise and passion and tenderness.  

Your let your hand fall to his hip, your fingers playing with the edge of his boxer briefs.  His hands have found your ass, cupping and kneading, squeezing, as he continues to bruise your mouth with kisses, tasting you with his tongue.  Your legs are intertwined, and you’re beginning to feel his reaction against your hip.

Your fingers slide under the waistband of his boxers, wanting to explore what was waiting for you.  His hips stutter as he realizes what you’re doing, and he pulls back to look you in the eye.  “Only if you’re sure, Love”, he whispers.  

“Mmm, I’m sure…” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips.  “Just…tell me if I’m doing it right?”

“Trust me Babe…there’s VERY little you could do wrong right about now” he chuckles.  

He shimmies his boxers down and you pull them off and WHOA.  Wow. Not like you didn’t know what a penis looked like…but, um. It was BIG.  How was that supposed to-?  Never mind. You’d get there.  Right now….you run your fingertips up his thigh, sifting the fuzzy hairs there between your fingers, enjoying the shiver you can feel run through his body.  You let your fingers walk to that soft crease where his thigh meets his groin, and then tentatively, you gently let your fingers wrap around his length, and give him one long stroke, letting your fist stop at the head.  Wow….so hot to the touch, but smooth.  Like silk.  A low throaty moan escapes Ed’s throat as his head falls back, enjoying the touch of your hand.  

You gently let your hand continue to glide along the length of his penis, from the base to the tip, and judging by the quick, raspy breaths falling from Ed’s mouth, you’re doing something right.  You LOVE the effect your touch is having on him, and on the next stroke, you gently tighten your fist, tugging the head and the hiss that escapes his lips is so satisfying.

“Jesus baby….” He just manages to get out. ”You’re gonna be my undoing….”

He slides his fingers into your hair, pulling you close so he can kiss you.  Not so tender this time, it’s fierce and passionate, the lust he’s feeling spilling out of him into you.  You’re moving your hand more quickly, and you can feel his length thickening and growing as you stroke him.  It’s a heady, powerful feeling that his body is reacting this way because of you. Between strokes and tugs, you gently cup his balls, and watch him carefully, afraid of squeezing too tight.  “Shit…babe…like that”, he hisses, and you happily pick up the pace, loving the sound of his voice, the way his eyes are squeezed shut, the way his leg is tensed as he braces his body.  His hips stutter, and your eyes widen as you notice a bead of fluid roll out of the slit in the tip of his penis, as you’re pumping and stroking.  You’re surprised at his how sexy, how pretty, it is. Framed by the same soft, orange strands that adorn the rest of his body, the plush, pink head, the silky soft shaft…it was incredible.  You loved how rock hard he was, that you were the one that make it that way.  The foreskin was stretched back now, and the breathy sounds coming from his lips are coming fast and you can tell he’s fast losing control.  He sucks in a breath and his hand is suddenly on yours, clumsily pulling it away.

“Fucking hell… feels so good,” he gasps, “but…stop. …I don’t want to finish like this, not like this.”  His mouth is yours, his tongue is tasting every bit of you, and his body flush with yours.  He cups your cheek, and staring at you tenderly.  He tilts your face up, and touches his nose to yours.  “…Love you so much, baby.  I want you so damn bad…”  He whispers this, but there is so much intensity to his words, such reverence. It takes your breath away.  You push yourself back against the pillows, and wrap your fingers into the sweaty curls at the base of his neck, pulling him close.  You press your lips to his and lift your hips to his.  “I want you too, Teddy, make love to me.”  You take a deep breath, ready to take the plunge (in more ways than one…) when through the emotions and lust you remember something important.  

You twist your body and your hand finds the knob on the drawer beside your bed, and you fumble in the drawer, your fingers finding the box.  Ed cranes his head, looking at what you’re doing, and then smiles knowingly.  “How’d I never notice you having rubbers in there before??” he says with a teasing grin.

“Because I didn’t!” you look at him with a raised eyebrow and a teasing grin, and then purposefully turn your head and motion to his backpack.  His eyes widen, and his cheeks turn the most ADORABLE shade of pink.  “Um…” he stutters with an adorable innocent boy smile on his face, “Always be prepared??”

“I love that you cared enough to want to be safe, to protect me”, you say, softly kissing his lips.  “That and the fact that you left them in there.” you giggle softly.

“I just figured…I mean, I didn’t want you think I was trying to-“.  You cut him off.  “Teddy…Shut up.  No more words, I’m not upset.  I love you and I want you.  Now.  Please, Teddy…”  You slide your fingers into his beard and tug him close, looking him straight in the eyes. He swallows hard, his breathing suddenly quicker.  “I want you too” he whispers and gently pulls the box from your hand.  He fishes out a foil packet, and as you watch with wide eyes, he quickly tears it open and looks at you, his eyes hooded.  He quickly slides the condom down over his length, and then you feel his soft hand slide under your ass cheek and he tugs you down.  You swallow deeply, your blood tingling and coursing through every part of your body. You shakily exhale; trying to remember to breathe, and let your legs fall open, your heart hammering in your chest. Ed lifts himself up, and crawls up over your body, moving slowly and gazing at you with such love and softness.

“Babe…look at me.”  He can obviously sense your nerves, and he brushes his fingers down your cheek, under your chin and drops a kiss between your breasts.  “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, we’ll take it slow. Promise…”  

He gently grasps your calf and pushes your leg back just a bit, and his lips are on you, lingering and tender and sweet, tugging your upper lip, then your bottom lip, deepening the kiss as he covers his body with yours.  Your leg is hiked up, pinned to his waist, and he’s leaning on his forearm, nestled between your legs.  He carefully lifts himself just a bit, and takes himself in hand, guiding his penis gently to your slit, and allows the head to just slip between your folds.  He makes no move to penetrate, not yet, but just gently slides the head of his dick against your cleft, allowing you to adjust to the sensation, up and down between your lips, allowing the moisture that’s gathered there to lubricate his length so that it glides like silk.  Your eyes close tight and your head falls back, GOD, he’s not in you yet but it feels SO good, so intimate, the anticipation is almost too much.  It feels like your blood is going pulse right out of your body.  

A low moan rumbles from his throat and he lets out a deep breath as feels you begin to surround him.  “You’re so wet, babe….It’s so hot.  You’re so sexy….” He groans as you tilt your hips up, wanting more.

He stops the gliding motion, and gazing into your eyes, he gently pulls your other leg up so their pinned to either side of his waist, and then reaching down between the two of you, he positions himself at your entrance.  He cups your face, and with so much tenderness it nearly undoes you, he touches his nose to yours.

Your heart is so full, you love him SO much, and you want nothing more than to stay with him like this forever.  You gasp as you feel the tip of him gently push against your opening, past your sensitive tissues, and your body jerks as you tense up. He gently strokes your hip and you hear him breathe the words “Relax, Love…I’ve got you”, as he kisses your lips. He only pushes himself in a bit, just the head, slowly, letting you adjust to his size. “…Tell me when…” he whispers, letting his fingers run up your thighs, leaving fiery trails behind them. You respond by tightening your legs around him, and squeezing his bum to press him closer.  He pulls his hips, back and in one slow motion, very gently, he fills you.  

You bite down hard, gasping, oh GOD, you knew it would hurt a bit, but it STINGS. Fuck.  Tears prick at your eyes as your sensitive flesh stretches in a way it hasn’t ever before.  His voice, it’s in your ear again, soft and reassuring.  “I love you so much, babe….I promise it will feel so much better. I won’t move till you tell me to…”  His thumbs tenderly wipe away the moisture under your eyes, and he slows his body, and strokes your face.  He stays buried inside you, and concentrates on kissing you until you’ve no breath left in you, and slowly you realize your body is adjusting to his size.  The sting is dying out, but the feeling of being stretched that way, it’s something you must get used to.  He’s not moved, just holding you, caressing you, loving you, and remaining deep inside you while your body adjusts to him.

“Baby…” he half moans, “Let me try-“.  You kiss him and urge him on with your hips, and he slowly lifts his hips and slowly pulls himself part way out, not all the way, and nudges his head through your slick folds, bumping up against your clit, and slowly thrusts back into you, gently, unhurriedly.  Oh, oh not so painful anymore, it…there’s still quite the sting as you stretch to fit him, but it’s wonderful, the feeling of him filling you up, actually being INSIDE you…The thought pops through that it’s happening, you’re actually having SEX. You push aside the urge to giggle and the thought is extinguished as both his hands find your ass, and he pulls his hips back, pulling almost all the way out but not quite and oh, it’s a surprisingly empty feeling, you want him back and your hands run down the length of his back to the rise of his ass and tug him, beckoning him to keep going, heavy breaths, loud breaths, falling from your lips, and he groans at your reaction, setting a slow, languorous pace, your ass in his hands and he continues to thrust in to you, long, gentle strokes, filling you up.  You can feel your walls tightening around him every time he enters you, wanting to keep him inside you.  “You’re so goddamn tight….Jesus!” he grunts as you envelop him at every stroke. “You feel so fucking amazing….you alright baby??” he whispers in your ear.

You manage an “Oh…oh… yes….” And you tighten your legs around him, pressing your feet into his back, urging him on.  One hand slides out from under your ass, and he moves it up to your hair, his fingers tangling in the long strands falling over your shoulders.  His lips are on your neck, leaving a wet trail from your pulse point down to your shoulder and across your collarbones.  His breathing is heavy, uneven, and the hand that’s tangled in your hair and cupping your face is pinning you to the pillows, and his mouth frantically finds yours, kissing you deeply, his tongue everywhere, and not once do his hips stop moving, his body is lifting and pressing into you, over and over and it feel SO good, the feeling of him filling you up, every bit of his soft, warm body pressed against yours.

“More Babe…I need…ohh…” you gasp, trying to find the words but failing.  

“Oh, love….Yes…Fucking hell!” he grunts, lifting himself up off of you a bit, supporting himself with his hands and forearms, switching his strokes from long, languid thrusts where he’s not even pulling all the way out of you, to quicker, rhythmic, more frenetic thrusts, the head almost all the way out before he plunges back in, and you let one leg drop, using your foot to brace yourself against the mattress, allowing yourself to open to him as much as possible.  You’re concentrating on the connection between you, the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, the zings and flutters and sparks that his every movement sends pulsing through your body.  The way he’s still cupping your face, caressing your neck, your shoulder, the rise of your breasts, how he can’t help but be drawn back to your lips, his kisses are so full of desire and lust, yet so tender.  Like a promise with every touch.  It’s so damn intimate. In this moment, with your heart and your body so incredibly full, you know that THIS is why you waited.  

He’s gasping with every movement, every thrust, and he’s trying to keep his eyes open, watching you and wanting to take you in, and holy GOD, the desire and drive in his eyes, how his pupils are blown and the way his mouth is dropping open with every sweet stroke, like he can’t control the sensations, it is sexy beyond words.  Your hands find their way to the back of his head, tangling in those delicious sweaty curls at the back of his neck, kissing him so deeply you could just about devour him.  

“Babe…so close…” he hisses, gritting his teeth and you realize he’s holding back and waiting for you, not wanting to put his needs ahead of yours. You let a hand drift down to rise of his ass cheek, and let the other hand find his jaw, and kiss him deeply, gasping for breath as the sensations race through your body.  You realize that all you want is for him to find that peak, to find his release, because the earth shattering climax he gave you with his tongue, that beautiful mouth, it was enough.  The feeling of him being inside you, being a part of you, him worshipping you like this? It was enough.  You had all the time in the world to explore each other from now on, and right now, this moment was all about him.  

His hips are moving in short, messy thrusts as he chases the sensations that are taking him over.  “Baby it’s okay…” you whisper, staring into his eyes and wanting him to feel as good as he made you feel.  “Let go!” you gasp, as little explosions of pleasure ricochet through your body, it’s insane how amazing he feels, and you pick your hips up and try to match his thrusts, pushing your pelvis against him, grinding against him, wanting every bit of contact you can get.  The hand that’s tangled in your hair tightens, his thumb brushing your ear, and he’s got his forehead pressed to yours as he tries to maintain eye contact. You can feel a bead of sweat roll off his temple, and the sounds escaping his mouth are now completely out of his control.  Low, throaty moans, guttural noises that you had no idea he was capable of, and you want this.  Oh you want this. You hold his face between your hands, and look him in the eyes, a feat, because he can barely keep them open, and kiss him so softly, so tenderly. “I love you….God, I love you.” You whisper to him, caught up in overwhelming emotion.  

His eyes are fluttering, and his whole body tenses up, his muscles caging you onto the bed.  “Ah ah ah…!” He’s making a concerted effort to lock eyes with you, to keep connected, but that battle is lost as they slam shut, his orgasm taking him over. “Jesus, baby I…Ah…Oh Fuck!” and his whole body shudders as his hips finds you one last time, and he’s pushing your body up the bed, bracing himself against you, trying to keep every last inch of you wrapped around him.  His muscles are tensed and shaking, and you can feel him shudder once more, and then his whole body sags, soft against you, and his head falls to your chest.  

You’re still struggling to catch your breath, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and the emotion coursing through you is threatening to overflow.  Ed, still panting himself, gingerly lifts himself off you, reaches down and hooks his finger into the condom as he gently pulls out of you, assuring it won’t slip off. “Oh…” you breathe, feeling the emptiness.  He slides it off quickly, and discreetly tucks it into a Kleenex he grabs from your nightstand and puts it off to the side. He rolls back over on to his side, facing you, and he can’t hide the smile spreading across his face as he cups your cheek and kisses you, over and over and over, with such fervour it almost renders you breathless.  He breaks away and a soft smile plays across his features as he just gazes at you, not saying word, just seemingly savouring the moment.  He pulls you into his chest, and you savour his warmth, wanting nothing more than to be held.

“Ed…” you falter, trying to figure how to put what you’re feeling into words.  “Every time I thought about what this experience would be like….when I thought about what I wanted it to mean?  Teddy, this was it.  I-“. He puts his finger to your lips.

“I love you.” The way he says this, it’s so quiet, but so full of conviction.  “You are everything to me…and it means the world to me that somehow I’m deserving enough that you chose to share yourself with me.  That was…fucking incredible.  YOU are fucking incredible.”

You smile softly, and run your fingers lazily through his beard.  You stretch your arms above your head, and then your legs, and as you go to cuddle your body into his chest, you suddenly feel…something…on the sheets between your legs. You glance down, and oh. Oh God.  You knew it would hurt, when he entered you, but you didn’t think about the possibility of THIS.  Your face feels a thousand shades of pink, though you know there’s no real reason to feel embarrassed.  It’s just some blood, but still…Ed notices your discomfort, the blush on your cheeks, and he looks where you’re looking.  

“Love, it’s no big deal…honestly.  Happens the first time.  I’m not bothered!”  He brushes the hair from your eyes and kisses your cheek, a reassuring smile on his face. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, and drop a kiss on his nose before pulling your cami back over your head.  You’re suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.

“Gonna run to the bathroom, baby, clean myself up a bit…” you smile awkwardly.

“Course, Love.  Hurry back though….need cuddles from my girl after all that…” he murmurs with a crooked smile.  You hurry off to the bathroom, clean yourself up, pee because that seems like a good idea, and run a brush through your hair.  You stop for a second, and look at yourself in the mirror, studying your features. You feel different….empowered and well, like a real grownup. You lift your shoulders and feel a grin spread across your face. You finally did it. No longer a virgin!  You giggle, flip your hair back and head back to the bedroom.  You walk through the door and stop short, staring at your bed. Sweet boy, in the 5 minutes you’ve been in the bathroom, he’s pulled the bloody sheet off your bed, and put fresh linens back on.  He really does think of everything. A disbelieving smile crosses your face, and you shake your head slightly, so enamoured with this boy. You feel a strong of pair of arms wrap around you from behind, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment as you let your head fall back onto his chest.  Your fingers absent-mindedly begin tracing the colorful shapes on his forearms, and you feel his lips in your hair.

“Best day ever, innit?” he says softly. “Best girl ever too…”

You spin around and look him in the eyes, tracing his cheeks and jaw with your fingers, pushing a few stray fiery strands of hair from his forehead.  “You’re not so bad yourself, baby…” you whisper with a smile.

“Mmmmmmm” he hums contentedly, and softly, slowly, he leans in.  He touches his forehead to yours, and you feel his fingers tip your chin up, and just when you thought your heart couldn’t take anymore, he touches his nose to yours.

Welcome to the VWC’s Weekly Bulletin, where we feature what’s new and exciting in Victuuri fanfic every week. Look here to get a glimpse at new works that have been posted in the fandom, updated WIP fics, works from our Collective authors, and what the admins have been reading this week.

New Works

Happy Easter, Yuuri! by nerdlife4evaVictor surprises Yuuri with an American style Easter egg hunt, while Yuuri… Yuuri surprises Victor in a whole other way.

The Tsesarevich lives! (WIP) by mtothedestielAn Anastasia AU. Victor is an orphan with no name, no family, and no memory of a time before he was ten years old. Could he really be the missing Nikiforov heir? An adventure across Europe with two conmen will lead him to the answer.

Hopeless Teenage Heart by kiaronnaWell-adjusted adults do not usually consider a tipsy teenage encounter in a bathroom to be the peak of their sexual experience, especially if that encounter was mostly chaste, closed mouth kisses and sighing into each others shoulders as they sat on the cool, real marble of the hotel’s sink basin. Yuuri might not be a well-adjusted adult.

Viktor and Yuuri meet in a high school debate competition, and then later as lawyers in New York. Some things change with time, but others never do.

Lawyer/debate kid AU, short one-shot.

Golden Boy by wildenessat221b: The rise of Viktor Nikiforov, the pedestals he’s been put on, the people he’s been and eventually, the person who makes it all worthwhile. It’s a crazy ride, but he gets there.

You Set My Heart on Fire by whelvenwingsEveryone has a soulmate. And everyone sees any marks on their soulmate’s skin appear on their own body; it starts with the first marks, drawn on by the midwife at birth. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soulmate who replies, but Yuuri does, and he knows that he should feel fortunate - however, when he’s trying to make a living as a small-time painter, and his soulmate is the famous artist, Viktor Nikiforov… well, it seems slightly less than fortunate. Yuuri can’t help but feel self-conscious. So self-conscious, in fact, that he’s never even shown Viktor his face, never let Viktor hear his voice. The only way that they’ve spoken is through ink, writing message after message to each other on their skin - but that’s all about to change.

WIP Updates

the “real” victor nikiforov (WIP) by thishasbeencary: So, fine, maybe Yuuri’s a little bored and lonely when he likes a dating profile claiming to be Viktor Nikiforov. And, maybe, he’s a little pathetic when he gets excited when the account messages him almost immediately after. And, he’s definitely stupid for falling in love with someone pretending to be his idol, but he can’t help it. It’s not like it’s the real Viktor Nikiforov, anyway. He knows someone is catfishing him, but he still falls ridiculously in love.

The Return of the Little Piggy (WIP) by SASS_QUEEN: Once there was a boy named Katsuki Yuuri, who was shy, loved to make clothes, had adorable smiles and was fatter than the usual average human being. Unfortunately for him, apparently being chubby wasn’t all that accepted in the norm back then. After numerous accounts of bullying, Katsuki Yuuri disappears for good.
Now years later, there is now a man only known as Y.K. Fashion tyrant, multimillionaire, professional cold-stare giver… and is trying his ultimate best to run away from his dark past, until a certain silver haired CEO of a certain rival company who went to the same certain college he went to back then decides to flat out entangle their fates together. Do both of them have anything to say for it? Sadly, no. No they don’t. (Fashion & Couture AU)

Setting Sun (WIP) by LittleLostStarCanon-divergent AU. In which Yuuri humiliatingly loses Hot Springs on Ice, Victor goes back to Russia to train Yurio, Yuuri is trapped in Japan with a sadistic replacement, and everyone is miserable—until the night that Yuuri posts some personally relevant song lyrics on Instagram, and wakes up the next morning to find that Victor has posted lyrics which seem to be a reply. Yuuri is sure he’s just projecting his regretful wishes onto irrelevant social media posts, rather than Victor talking to him—until it happens again. And again. With the world watching their every move, Victor and Yuuri begin trading lyrics in a secret musical conversation; from playful rivalry to intense seduction, through bubblegum pop and pulse-pounding guitars, their virtual affair unfolds, hidden in plain sight. But the Grand Prix approaches, and one wrong move from Victor or Yuuri could destroy their careers. They’ll just have to pretend they’re not crazy about each other; how hard could it be?

fire on ice (WIP) by indianchai: Everyone in the world had some sort of affinity with one of the four elements; the proper term was elemental affinity– whether they were best suited with fire, water, earth, or air. All figure skaters were water users. Never in the history of the sport was there professional ice skater that didn’t have water as their elemental affinity. Katsuki Yuri had a well-guarded secret that he couldn’t have anyone find out about. aka, the one where Yuri could potentially decimate the rink every time he steps on ice, but no one can know. Especially Victor.

Re: Yuri Katsuki (WIP) by Ishxallxgood: A story about how Phichit and Viktor bonded over their most favorite topic; Yuri Katsuki. Phichit knows all the things.

New in #victuuriwriters

Katsuki Yuuri: Ascended Fanboy by Defiant-Dreams“And wow, that was a beautiful Viktor—I mean, a beautiful Quad Flip by Viktor.” Yuuri visibly winces and he momentarily covers his face. Morooka glances at him in concern but Yuuri shrugs it off quickly and shakes his head as he continues, “Really, others try to do it, but no one does a Quad Flip quite as well or quite as clean as Viktor—if they even manage to land it.”

Or:

AU where Yuuri goes into commentating instead but he still has a Huge Gay Crush on Viktor Nikiforov and everyone can tell.

fall even deeper with you by missmichellebelle: Right at the start of the dock is a series of signs, prohibiting diving, warning against swimming without supervision, and absolutely forbidding entering the lake at night.

chaos theory (WIP) by thishasbeencary: "Spare no expense,“ had been Yakov’s response to every phone call that Viktor made about the park, which was exactly why Viktor had worked to revive Jurassic Park into Jurassic World. The same idea, but bigger, and better. Bigger park, bigger attractions, bigger dinosaurs, better structures… So why is attendance dropping so much? Maybe the addition of a brand new genetically modified dinosaur would fix that problem.

(Meanwhile, Yuuri Katsuki has a pack of Velociraptors, and Yuri Plisetsky gets invited to bring a friend on an all expense paid trip to Viktor’s park.)

And while they’ve built everything up so that things couldn’t possibly go wrong, well… Life finds a way.

Come Fly with Me by Multiple_UniversesPhichit and Yuuri work for a charter airline, the CEO of which is Celestino. One day they have to fly legendary pilot Victor Nikiforov who saved 232 passengers by making a miraculous landing. Can Yuuri get a date from him before the plane lands? And what will it lead to?

Penicillin and Butterfly Band-Aids by doeinstinct:
 Yuuri is sure that he really isn’t that sick. Viktor and their children aren’t so sure.

Admin Picks

Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare (WIP) by exile_wrath: the tale of Yuuri Katsuki, who never ages and never dies and has lived frozen in time for centuries, and his attempts to keep his adopted son from killing the new guest.

Immortality au!! It’s so good :’)

Who Is Coach Yuri? by glitteryimagaythe aged-up au where three oblivious teenage boys are clueless when it comes to famous people in the skating world and don’t realize their coach is actually just as famous as the rink owner

Ngl, identity reveals are my favorite yoi trope and this one had me in stitches. Absolutely hilarious!

(after)life and love by thishasbeencaryAfter Yuuri died, he woke up to a bright, flickering light above him. And, well, yeah, Yuuri had heard the phrase that after you die you "see the light”, but he was almost positive that “the light” didn’t refer to an overhead lamp. Especially not the overhead lamp in Viktor Nikiforov’s bedroom. Wait, no, what? Maybe this was heaven. Except, if this was the afterlife, why was Viktor acting like he didn’t exist? And why was Yuuri’s afterlife some creepy stalker-dream of him following around Viktor Nikiforov?

This is such a cool soulmate au?? 10/10 would recommend

ivan da maria (WIP) by c0rnfl0wer: Viktor never minded when human civilization built up around him, or when other spirits began sharing the waters with him. He easily dominated every tradition that the centuries presented; that was what he minded. No one wants to be known for tragedy. No one wants to be bound to loneliness and despair forever. No one wants to drag their beloved one down. Everyone wants a happy ending, even if it isn’t in their nature.

This is a Russian/Slavic mythology AU where Victor is a rusalka who sees Yuuri in the village one day. I’d recommend this if you’re into historical/ethereal fairytales or enjoy a poetic writing style. I was enchanted by every word and I can’t wait for the next update! (And I promise that the MCD warning is not what it seems at all. Do not let that deter you from reading it!) 

centripetal force by bravetenVictor speaks seven languages.(Physics isn’t one of them.)Luckily, though, he ends up rooming with his antithesis: a shy, black-haired boy who just so happens to be a physics major.

Listen, I’m probably way behind because I just finished centripetal force this week, but it literally was so magical I can’t not recommend it! If you’re one of the rare fandom members like me who hasn’t experienced this beautiful, fun fic yet, then please read it. You won’t be disappointed at all! 

Expectancy–The Discovery (Part 1/?)

Next

So a long while back I saw this post by unflavoredskelly in the Papyton tag, and honestly I was so taken by the idea that it wouldn’t leave me alone until I put it into fic form.

(I’ll be putting it up onto AO3 within the next couple of days!)

Rating: Mature
Pairing: Papyton (mentioned Alphyne)
Word Count: 5074
Summary: After some drunken night shenanigans at a party, Papyrus ends up pregnant… by Mettaton. Unfortunately the latter can barely even remember who the skeleton even is. Maybe by spending time with Papyrus, Mettaton can rediscover the charm that his drunk self had been so taken with to begin with.

Warnings: Skelepreg, mentions of vomiting, alcohol mentions

Something was off.

Papyrus rolled over in bed, screwing his eye sockets shut against the headache and nausea that surged through him. Was he getting sick? It didn’t happen so often, but on the occasions that it did, it was unbearable.

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Sunday Afternoon’s Thoughts

I feel like I have absolutely nothing to write about right now (<– a sure to be thrilling post, when it starts like that).   It’s been a really quiet weekend for me; so much so I’m debating whether I should extend the rotation I’m on, or not. Right now I head back to Toronto July 1st weekend, however I could stay until the end of October (aka for the summer), but given my intense lack of friends and things to do, I’m not too sure… 

I have a date this evening. I suppose that’s news. As always I’m super nervous and keep thinking of reasons to back out, but it’s also something to do.  I find dating in Detroit to be a lot easier than dating in Toronto; the guys here are mid-west gentlemen; friendly. Or, I’m more easy going.  But… all the dates I’ve been on so far I’m the person who has not wanted a second date, and I keep wondering if I have got to such an independent point now, that it won’t matter if Mr. Right even comes along, because I’m so stuck in my little bubble of one. Cool cool. #dyingalone

I went to CrossFit this morning and did 17.4 (the official CrossFit workout released this week).  I did the 55 deadlifts at 100lbs, 55 wall balls at 10lb, made it through the 55 calorie row, and got one (modified) handstand up push-up in. Felling pret-ty baller right now. 

I was up (laying in bed) till about 4am last night. At 8pm I drank a “decaf” coffee which I’m 99% sure was not decaf, and I want to go back and complain now to Starbucks. 

Have you watched Big Little Lies yet? ohmy, get on it! It’s sooooo good.  I may buy the book, as waiting for the episodes to come out is too suspenseful.  

Next weekend my parents are coming to visit, and the weekend after my friend Veronica. And then friends from Boston are coming in April!  I’m pretty excited to show people around Detroit.  I’ll also admit I’ve sort of been shocked at how much some of my friendships in Toronto have sort of fallen off a cliff from me moving here.  Perhaps my expectations are way too high, but I feel so isolated here, and when I message friends, there’s usually no reply. Cool cool.  Perhaps it’s karma, as I’m pretty terrible with texting at times too. 

I am feeling a really strong urge to go for a run lately. Note, easier to type than actually do.  I’m doing CrossFit four or five times a week, but think I may drop down to three and add one or two runs in.  When I see people running (they’re few and far between in Detroit though!) I get so jealous.  Perhaps I should sign up for a 5 or 10k to motivate myself.  

I built myself a shoe rack today.  It’s the worst ikea-type job I’ve ever done, as I had no screwdriver, just a knife, but it gets the job done.   I’m going to add a photo of it to the bottom of this post because I’m weirdly proud of it. 

I have been really obsessed lately at looking at jobs. Don’t get me wrong I have zero intention of leaving my company (ever, right now), but I keep looking up Product Manager jobs at large tech companies to ensure I am learning and doing items to be able to one day check off all the requirements.  

I’m down to 193lbs. Or, perhaps you could say up to 193lbs.  That being said I had to buy a belt from Gap the other day to help with a now-too-big pair of jeans. YES. And, I went shopping yesterday and fit most size 12 dresses, which is a win, as I think around Christmas size 14 was a stretch.  I’m still counting calories, not as diligently as before, but I’m now 40 days consistently on My Fitness Pal, which is good because it feels like a habit. 

How do you make adult friends? I signed up for Bumble BFF (like a dating app, but for for friendships) and it was SO WEIRD. Almost more awkward than talking to guys.  Ha. Although my friend/colleague from the Toronto office is heading to Detroit for six weeks (starting today!) and she’s living in my building, and I’m super super excited for that, as I think I’ll now have a friend to actually go out with, and/or do a hiking trip up north with. Yesssssssssss! 

And would you look at that, I did somehow have something to say, Happy Sunday! 

My brilliant work. I couldn’t screw the middle rack in, so it’s just balancing on the screws pushed in. ha

Rain - Mark (Day 1/100)

You can find my post explaining the 100 Day Drabble Challenge here

To read the other drabbles in my drabble challenge, click here

Prompt: Rain
Member: Mark x Reader
AU: N/A


“Hey, is it supposed to rain today?” you asked your roommate, as you bent down to put on your shoes. You heard her hum before she popped her head out of the kitchen.

“I don’t think so. The forecast said it was sunny all weekend!” she exclaimed cheerfully. You glanced out the window at the bright blue sky before nodding and before bidding her farewell.

Oh how wrong she had been.

You hissed slightly, running through the torrential downpour as you tried to get back to your apartment. Your clothes were almost completely soaked through, and you didn’t know if you would ever feel dry again. You thought back to that morning’s conversation and made a mental note to always check the weather before leaving instead of just asking your roommate. Today, you were grateful that she had gone home for the weekend, otherwise you might have been tempted to confront her in your sour mood.

Once you finally reached the door, you let out a sigh of relief and reached into your pocket to grab your keys. The rain was still pouring down on top of you as you fumbled around, unable to find them. Your heart began to pound as you tried to remain calm. You took your bag off your arm and unzipped everything, not caring whether the rain water ruined its contents. You looked incesentaly through your bag, but in your heart of hearts, you knew the truth.

You had forgotten to pick up your key that morning.

You felt the fury and rage that had been building up inside of you the whole walk home threaten to spill out as you sat down with your back against your door. The relality of the situation began to overtake you and you felt hopeless. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as you felt the rain continue to drench you, cold and unforgiving.

“Okay, it’s okay, stay calm,” you said. You were frustrated and you felt hot tears in your eyes as you tried not to scream in anger, but in all honesty, it didn’t really matter. The tears quickly mixed with the rain and you felt as you were taking a shower.

You quickly pulled out your phone and checked the battery. Thankfully, you were responsible enough to charge it often and you dialed the maintenance for your apartment, asking them to come up and open your door for you. Unfortunately, the owner was working, and the lady on the other side of the phone politely told you that he wouldn’t be back until the next morning.

You bit your lip as you held back all of the curse words in your vocabulary, opting instead to tell her how ‘dissatisfied you were with the quality of service’ and quickly shutting off your phone. You groaned, banging the back of your head against the door and then immediately regretting the decision. You pulled your knees towards your chest and rested your forehead on them so that you were looking down at your phone.

You began debating what to do. You had very few friends here since you were relatively new to the area and it was already pretty late at night. Since it was Friday, most of them had gone home to their families and weren’t anywhere near your apartment. You debated calling your parents, but with your family in the situation it was in, you didn’t want to add anything else to their plate. You felt the tears threaten to burn once more as you closed your eyes.

Suddenly, you became very aware of a strange sensation.

You lifted up your head and glanced up, as you realized that something was blocking the rain from pounding down on you. As you looked around, you noticed you were no longer alone. A stranger was peering down at you, holding his umbrella over his head as well as yours.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, concern filling his voice. You let out a nervous noise and instinctively apologized as you began to stand up, slipping slightly before the man offered you his hand. You took it gratefully and hoisted yourself up, feeling the burn in your legs from sitting for so long.

“Yea, I’m alright, thanks” you answered once you were back on two feet. You stood awkwardly, not wanting to make eye contact with the man, but grateful that you were finally dry under an umbrella.

“Wait, I’ve seen you before,” the stranger said. At this, you raised your eyes up to his and were immediately struck by his beauty. His golden hair fell perfectly into his dark eyes as he looked at you intensely. You felt naked under his stare and then realized that, since your clothes were pretty much see-through at this point, you almost were naked. This just made you even more embarrassed and self-conscious as you crossed your arms tightly to shield from the cold of the night and, more importantly, his eyes.

“Um…have you?” you asked, immediately feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, wanting to bang your head back against the door because of your awkwardness. At this, he gave you a toothy smile that made your heart feel like it was about to melt into a puddle.

“Yea, you live here, right?” he asked, pointing to the door behind you. “I’ve seen you around the apartment complex,” he explained. You let out a small ‘oh, okay’ and nodded slowly. Once again, there was a small pause and when you faced him once again, his eyebrows were lifted in expectancy and he had a small smile on his lips. You coughed lightly and looked away quickly.

“I…uh…Yea, I forgot my key so I’m just waiting for maintenance to come,” you explained, waving your hand like it was no big deal. The boy looked down at his watch and then chuckled lightly.

“It’s past 10. I don’t think they’re going to come until tomorrow morning,” he stated knowingly, bringing his eyes back to you. You pulled out your phone and checked the time, cursing under your breath.

Once again, there was a small pause and when you faced him once again, his eyebrows were lifted in expectancy and he had a small smile on his lips. You coughed lightly and looked away quickly.

“It’s fine, I can wait,” you said, stupidly. The boy’s eyes grew wide as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re gonna wait here until tomorrow morning?” he asked, making your words sound even more nonsensical as before. You mentally berated yourself as you took another breath, trying to calm yourself as the despair from the situation settled back in.

“I don’t…” you began to say, but your voice choked and you stopped yourself short. There was a moment of silence before the boy spoke again.

“Well, come on,” he said, motioning for you to follow him. “You can decide what you want to do when we get back to my place.” You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off. “Besides, I don’t wanna be out here in the rain any longer than I have to,” he stated, smiling gently at you. You felt the heat rush back to your face, despite the cold air and you nodded slightly as you followed down the hall to his room. When you got to the door, he fiddled with the key before unlocking it.

“Oh,” he added, turning towards you holding the umbrella in one hand and holding out the other. “I’m Mark by the way. Mark Tuan,” he said, smiling once more at you. You gave him a small smile back and shyly took his hand.

“I’m F/N. F/N L/N,” you stated. You relished in the warmth of his hand for a moment before letting of and following close behind as you left the cold, wet outside and stepped into the warm, bright apartment.

Word Count: 1,304

shions-heart  asked:

YOUR SHIRATORIZAWA MAGIC GUILD AU LOOKS SO !!!! I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT OMG YES

i mean, if you can’t wait, who am i to deny you? 

both tender fire and bitter squall, a preview

Semi blinks open his eyes, takes one look at the room around him, and immediately turns over in bed, reaching up to smoosh his pillow over his head to stifle his groan. It’s no good, however. The sunlight is already peaking though his skewed curtains, making falling back asleep impossible. His only choice is to roll back over and face the day, as terrible a proposition as that is.

He kicks at the wall with one foot, trying to roll himself and his wrap of blankets to one side, but ends up overjudging the distance. Instead of stopping at the edge of his bed, he ends up rolling too far, landing in a heap of sheets on the floor.

“Damnit.” It takes a moment to extract himself—he’s landed on top of a single shoe, yesterday’s pair of pants and what feels like his guild badge. He gropes behind him for a moment before his fingers land on cool metal, and he pulls the badge up to eyelevel, frowning at it.

Shiratorizawa, also known as the Guild of White Feathers, boasts a badge indicative of the steep costs of joining. It’s shield-shaped, made of white gold and about the size of Semi’s fist. Two birds—a swan and an eagle—are engraved on its front, each embellished by a garnet eye. The back of the badge is engraved with Semi’s name and the date he was officially accepted by the guild. Now, he traces the numbers with his fingers, frowning in thought.

Has it really only been five years? It seems like so much longer than that, so much to let go of, if he had to…

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Withered Red Rose

Genre: Angst, and if you squint, fluff

Pairing: Park Jinyoung X Reader

Warning/s: Childhood love ahead

A/N: Hello, everyone. I’m back! Anyway, this isn’t what I intended to post, but I just had to. This is actually based on my own life story. Enjoy!

P.S.: I love Chichyu okay.

Originally posted by jypnior


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Everything Is Different Now: Part 10

I wasn’t going to do a recap of episode 10, partially because the whole point of these posts was to re-examine everything /leading up/ to it, and also, it has been exhumed for meaning, like, A LOT already.  But I’ve gotten a lot of messages asking for one and I guess it couldn’t hurt to finish the series up. (Here’s part 1 if you’re interested in reading the whole thing.)

I  don’t want to repeat too much of what’s already been said at length, but here are a few thoughts.

Episode 10: Victor Nikiforov is Dead

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On Not Attending Your  “Dream School”

“You just won’t get the same experience if you go there.”

Those were the words of the admissions counselor at my dream school when I called her a year ago to ask if there was any way to reduce the cost to be at least a little closer to the offer I received from another school (the one I go to now). She said she would see what she could do, because they really wanted me to be at their school (spoiler alert: she didn’t do anything). And then that’s when she dropped that line.

Now, consider this. I was a 17 year old high school senior in the middle of the most stressful moment of decision-making I had experienced in my short life. Deciding on a college is a huge life-changing decision to make, and this comment was just so… out of line. I distinctly remember getting really choked up and holding back tears until I could end the phone call. In that moment, with no distance, time, or mature perspective on the situation, it felt like my life was ending. Like, it literally felt like the life I had planned for myself just ceased to exist.

I was a wreck that week. But I also started to become a more mature person. After many serious discussions with my parents, and a lot of soul-searching (ahem, crying), we came to the conclusion that it was overwhelmingly more beneficial for me to attend the other school. And after a week of reflection… I was okay with it? Once the other shoe dropped, it gave me time to let the fog of the idea that my “dream school” was the only place I could succeed fade away. I was still disappointed, but felt very sure when I made my deposit, and sent in the letter saying I would not be attending my dream school.

So now to the point I want to share with you. Your success does not ride upon the sole factor of you attending your dream school. Whether you are turned down or are financially unable to attend, it doesn’t matter. There are so many different paths to take in life. The notion of needing to attend your “dream school” or the school that is “perfect for you” to be successful is simply false. Humans beings are wonderful at adapting to situations- it’s possibly our best skill.

An an important point to note is that I know it doesn’t help that you are seeing people from your high school posting on facebook about committing to their dream schools. And the fact that every peer and adult uses college decisions as a main talking point for those months of your life. But never let those be influences in your decision. I promise you those things will pass. Completely. Don’t let jealousy or embarrassment hinder you in making a decision. When I was making a decision, I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the kids in one of my classes had been trash talking this school for months. What was I going to say to them? Turns out nothing. No one really cares, and if they do they’ll keep it to themselves. It isn’t their life. Also, the truth is that you’ll probably all blissfully forget about each other in a couple months anyway.

Attend a school that fits your financial situation. If a school is “perfect for you” except for the price… it isn’t perfect to you. (this also applies to location) Even to those with a good concept of money, loans can seem like free money. Even if you understand that you have to pay them off later. But is that really the position you want to put yourself in? Personally, the two schools I was debating between had a $100k different in total cost (including my scholarships). ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. That’s… more money than I will make for many many MANY years of my life. Considering the facts of what I was majoring in (art), and that I knew I wanted to go to grad school (also for art), this was more than enough to convince me, honestly. The idea of my parents and I paying/taking out loans to pay THAT MUCH MORE for a comparable education was… ridiculous.

But, I was… In love. I had attended a precollege program at my dream school, and it was one of the most influential months of my entire life. That was were I met my best friend, fell in love with being in the studio, and came into myself as an artist. I romanticized the idea of this art school and this place so much that I didn’t even realize, crazily enough, art school is kind of a universal concept (this is actually crazy to me in the most wonderful way- art school is a cool phenomenon). I was dead set on going there, and I had this feeling deep in my heart that it was the only place I would become a successful artist.

A year ago, I slowly came to accept that this was logically not the truth. But now, looking back even just a year later, I can tell you that it is completely and utterly false, which I know from the bottom of my heart. Now is the part where I tell you how amazing of an experience I have had going to my school this year…

I came to realize that my peers here care just as much. They’re just as creative. The professors here are just as amazing and inspiring. And just as crazy stuff goes on here as I would witness there (sigh… art school). But more than the fact that it’s just as great, I also want to emphasize how amazing the differences are. If I hadn’t gone here, my art wouldn’t be going in the direction it’s going now. I wouldn’t have met the peers and professors who are going to shape my art.

The experience of going to this school was something I had never expected, and because of that I think it changed me more than my dream school would have. I had to grow up a lot. I had to learn that I needed to be the driving force behind my personal success, so that environment was not the largest factor. But I also realized that the school I go to is an AMAZING school. I have already experienced so many things that I wouldn’t have otherwise, and have even more grand things lined up for the future, none of which would have happened if I didn’t go here. I got to continue marching band (my high school passion), go to school in a new city, meet people from all kinds of backgrounds with all kinds of interests (not just art). I got the resources and energy of a giant university and the quirky, awesome, and intense art school all wrapped up in one amazing package. And now I’m part of an awesome honors program (as an art student!), and have the amazing opportunity to study abroad in both TOKYO and ROME (coming soon spring of 2017 and 2018, stay posted), things that never could have happened otherwise.

You know when you look back to see the line of actions that lead you to meeting a certain person, getting to a certain place in the conversation, or to getting to a certain place in your life and just stopping to think about how crazy it was that it happened that way? That everything clicked into place in just the right way? That feeling is most likely going to happen to you no matter what decision you make. Because yes, deciding on what college to go to IS a huge decision. But it’s not a life or death decision. It’s more like, choosing between two really good foods you want to eat and no matter which one you choose, you’re going to have a great time. Alright, okay, that’s not a very good analogy, but do you know what I mean? So if you can’t go to your dream school, it’s okay. Maybe cry a little. Talk to your parents a lot. Know that it’s going to be okay. But allow this door closing to become a chance to really open your eyes to see what other opportunities are waiting. I keep having these blissful moments of happiness that I would love to share with past me, and by writing this I hope I can help at least one person who is in the same place I was a year ago, the closest I’ll get to that. I promise you that you will find your way no matter what path you take.

Saturday Self Recs (on Sunday)

Ohh this one is fun and I got tagged for it twice by my lovelies, @mugglelissa and @oceaxereturns!


Harry Potter:

Partners of the Four-Legged Variety [Harry/Draco; NC-17; 18K]
“Training starts in the home, Potter, so your new Crup and I will need to stay with you for a few weeks while I show you how to properly train and bond with him.” The Auror Department is instating a K9 Crup Unit, and Harry is the first to sign up. Turns out the professional trainer is Draco Malfoy, and he has to live with Harry as part of the Crup training programme.
Highkey still my favorite thing I’ve ever written. I had a blast exploring Draco as a Crup trainer for H/D Pet Fair! I fell so hard for @gracerene09‘s prompt for this fest and had so much fun creating this one!

Weasley Wrapping Party [Ginny/Luna; G; 1.8K]
Out of all of their traditions, Ginny always thought this one was the strangest, because wrapping presents at the Burrow is always a struggle.
This was one of my first times playing with my favorite witchy babes for HP Mini Fest 2016.

Seeing Stars (brighter than the constellations) [Harry/Draco; NC-17; 7.3K]
After “accidentally” overhearing a rumour that Harry Potter is hung, Draco cashes in a few favours to ensure he’s the reporter doing the Puddlemere United post-game interview with the team’s prized Seeker in the team locker room.
Possibly the most indulgent thing I’ve ever created haha, written as a birthday giftfic for my dearest @capiturecs!

Weekenders [Harry/Draco; PG-13; 9.4K]
As the newly appointed Head of Muggle Liaison, Draco needs more than just knowledge he’s gained from a book to do his job. Potter offers Draco a hands-on experience of Muggle living in the form of a weekend road trip. He doesn’t mention that they’re going to be going full-Muggle, with Potter driving his Muggle sports car.
Another giftfic, this one written for @digtheshipper‘s birthday! I really had fun researching coastal towns for a weekend getaway in England. I also had a blast having Draco discover pub games and karaoke on his Muggle adventure.

Never Got No Good Doing What I Told [Harry/Draco; NC-17; 41k]
Draco works as a consultant for the Auror Department, much to Harry’s continued consternation. The idea that Malfoy’s got an ulterior motive and hiding something rankles Harry enough to follow him home, discovering that Draco lives a decidedly Muggle lifestyle. Harry, sure that he’s Up To Something™, stalks Draco all over Muggle London. Draco, all too aware of Harry’s latest obsession with him, decides to take him on an adventure. Meanwhile, they both need to work together in a race against the clock to get a deadly illegal potion off the streets of wizarding London. Draco has ulterior motives when it comes to the case at hand, and Harry’s suspicions get the best of him when the pressure is on to arrest a suspect.
This was written for the 2016 Erised and it’s quite intense and pretty angsty towards the end, and my longest fic to date. It’s plotty and there’s a lot of different stuff going on in terms of character motivations. It doesn’t shy away from the antagonism between Harry and Draco. I’m pretty proud of how it turned out overall, especially with the world-building I did in terms of the addictive potion for the case and its effects. I’m also really proud of the characterization of Neville and Pansy, too!  It does have a happy/hopeful ending and ends on a resolved note, and I do also still have plans (and a plot idea!) for a sequel for this one, it’s just taking me forever to work on it. I debated whether to rec this one or not, but decided to throw it in because I am proud of this fic overall, even though it’s a bit darker and shies away from my usual brand of humor/lightheartedness in my style.


Voltron:

Stuck on You [Keith/Lance; NC-17; 25K]
Go to Thalgor, Coran had said. It will be easy, he’d said. Well, it wasn’t easy being literally stuck to his rival thanks to getting exposed to some stupid alien plant in the middle of a humid jungle, after hiking all day with said rival. Lance and Keith just have to make it through two weeks of being around each other constantly, with their arms glued together, before they can go their separate ways. But first, they’ll need to make it through sharing a room and learning how to live on top of each other until they’re free.
Just my response to a lack of forced proximity fics for my two favorite rivals turned space ranger partners! Contains gratuitous amounts of UST and copious amounts of bed sharing, because it’s me and I am a bed sharing monster. ;)

I’m tagging @firethesound@shiftylinguini@kikibluemay@bixgirl1@melonbugg@seefin, @hello-my-stars , @galaxiebot and of course anyone else who wants to jump in!

Aftershocks Part 7

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Characters: Reader, Bucky Barnes, Captain America

Warnings: PTSD, ALL THE FLUFF, and a bit of smut too ;) (This is just the beginning, the smut storm is coming)

Word Count: 3625 (I know, I’m a wordy mother fucker) 

Summary: After your first mission you seek comfort in Bucky, finding more than just reassuring words. 

Authors Note: Uggg this might be my favorite bit so far but I feel that way about every new piece. This one is a little longer than usual and part 8 will be as well but that’s because part 8 is gonna be smut city. Thank you so much for reading this and all the lovely words of encouragement, let me know how you all like this one, feedback is deeply appreciated. Tagging is open, just ask <3

Tags: @crapythings @buckyismyaesthetic @endless-dawn

Aftershocks: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 8b, Part 9, Part 10, Part 10b, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Post Credit Scene


You finally arrive back at the compound and everyone goes their separate ways to shower and recover. “Any injuries go to the medical bay,” Cap orders, “The rest of you, get cleaned up and get some sleep, we’ll debrief tomorrow. Good work today team.” You move forward, slightly dazed, gliding down the hallway. It is only when a slight pressure is applied to your hand that you realize your fingers are still interlocked with Bucky’s. 

He moves you forward down the hall until stopping in front of your door, “You alright doll?” He questions, noticing your vacant expression, concern etched across his face. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired. Need a break. Shower.” He continues to look at you, trying to read your face, you smile weakly. “Ok…” he says tentatively, squeezing your hand gently. “If you need anything, I’m right down the hall,” he smiles, that perfect little half smirk, “we both know I don’t really sleep so don’t hesitate.” 

“Thank you” you sigh, giving his hand a tight squeeze, your arms aching to be wrapped around him again, your chest wanting nothing more than to be pressed against his, your eyes swim with desire and confusion. He gently raises your hand to his lips, brushing a small kiss across your knuckles, his blue eyes not moving from your face, “Goodnight.” 

The moment is over before you even realize it happened, he leaves you, standing there with your heart pounding in your chest, watching his perfect form as he strides down the hallway. You sigh, retiring to your room and to a much-needed shower.

_______________________

You sob gently into your pillow, your wet hair adding to the saturation. Sleep is not something you are afforded tonight, your head battling with painful memories, making your heart race and your body shake. You get up to go get some water from the kitchen, walking down the hallway you stop to stare at Bucky’s door, a light shines underneath the crack between the door and the floor. 

You take a deep breath, debating whether or not to knock. You bite your lip, throwing caution to the wind as your knuckles gently rap against the wood. The door creaks open slightly at the force of your knock but there is no response on the other side. “Bucky” you whisper tentatively, stepping cautiously into the room. 

The light is on in his bathroom and you can here gruff and strained noises coming from him. You step warily towards the noises, taking a sharp intake of breath as you catch site of his shirtless form in the mirror, as he digs at a hole on his back. 

“Bucky” you splutter, identifying the mark as a gun shot wound, “Y/N” he stammers out, his face flooding with shock and embarrassment, “are you ok, what’s wrong?” He abandons his medical instruments and moves quickly to you, taking your hands gingerly in his. 

“You’re hurt,” you whimper, “You got shot. Why didn’t you… why didn’t you say anything, or go to the medical bay?” He smiles slightly at how concerned you are about him, his face flushing with joy, but then breaks your gaze, eyes moving to the floor sheepishly. “You… you got shot protecting me, didn’t you?” “It’s fine doll, it’s just a bullet wound, it’ll heal, just have to get the damn bullet out.” 

You stare at him for a moment, his eyes focused on the floor, his shoulders hunching slightly in shame. You nod and release his hands, moving forward into the bathroom and picking up the tools that he had left abandoned on the sink. “Come here,” you instruct him, your voice firm, almost scolding. 

He smiles at your tone, “I’m in trouble now, huh” he laughs guiltily at your stern expression. “Sit” you instruct, pointing to the toilet, he lowers himself onto the closed lid, straddling the cold porcelain, his sweatpants straining across his thick thighs. You move behind him, noticing the perfection of his carved shoulder muscles, peppered with scars and burns. 

You set to work on his right shoulder, gently cleaning the wound before digging in it with forceps. He sits very still, not making a sound, not even flinching. You hear the steadiness of his breathing and try to take a deep breath yourself to steady your own hands. Your palms grow slick as you feel the intensity of the heat radiating from his bare back.  

You finally make contact with the bullet and with a smooth pull you are able to extract it. “Thanks” he sighs; making to stand up, you push him back down “Sit. I’m not done with you” he grins at your firmness, “As you wish” He chuckles quietly, resting his chin on his forearms as he leans against the water tank. You clean the wound once more before stitching the skin together; you then wrap it carefully with gauze and tape. 

“There” you finish, washing your hands off in the sink. “Good as new” He smiles standing to admire your patch job in the mirror. “So help me god Bucky,” you turn round to face him, aware of your uncomfortably close proximity to his bare chest, “if you ever get hurt and lie to me about it again, I will kill you myself” He smiles at your concern, “Understood” he says, wrapping you in a gentle hug, his hand finding it’s way into your hair again. 

You breath deeply taking in his scent as your arms wrap easily around him, as if they already knew their place. You feel your whole body slacken into his warmth, your muscles relaxing for the first time since the mission. 

“Now,” he continues, hands moving to your hips and suddenly applying pressure, picking you up and plopping you down on the bathroom counter at his eye level, “Why did you come over?” He asks, hand moving to your cheek, his thumb pressing small circles into your smooth skin. The tip of it grazing the dark circles under your reddened eyes, he looks so worried, so gentle, how could this be the same man who lost his temper with Sam, who tore through so many Hydra agents earlier.  But it was, he was the same man that held your hand on the plane and helped you keep control. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks gently, interrupting your thoughts. 

You nod your head, softly pressing your cheek into his hand. “Come on.” he says, picking up your hands as you hop off the bathroom counter, he leads you back into his bedroom. “Here,” he pulls back the thick navy comforter on his mattress, motioning for you to get in the bed. “Bucky, it’s fine, it’s just a few nightmares, I’ll just watch some tv.” You insist, feeling as if you are encroaching. 

“You know,” He sits on the foot of the bed, holding back the comforter to expose soft gray sheets, “when Steve first found me I couldn’t get through the night without screaming, he would sleep in my room every night until it started to get better.” You stare for a moment before nodding calmly, you slowly move forward towards the bed, towards him. “Sometimes it just helps knowing you have someone here with you.” He finishes, gazing up at you. 

You stand in front of him, hands shaking slightly as you steady your breathing. “It just feels so real sometimes. It feels like I’m back there, trapped again.” You whisper as his warm fingers find your hand once again, sending a jolt to your stomach at his touch. “I know. It will get better in time, I promise. But you should get some sleep,” he pats the exposed sheet next to him, you nod, grateful for his offer. 

You move forward and sit on the bed, lifting your legs onto the soft mattress as he stands and draws the blanket up around your shoulders, his fingertips gently grazing along your curves. You take a deep breath, biting your lip at his touch, your head swimming, his sheets smelling of his intoxicating scent. 

He moves around his room as you lay there, heart pounding, waiting for his presence in the bed. He sets a glass of water beside you and goes to rummage in a drawer, pulling a tank top gingerly over his head “I won’t ever let them take you.” He confesses, turning around to make eye contact with you as he settles into the chair beside the bed, leaning forward to cradle your face gently in his warm palm.

“I told you, I will always protect you, I promised you that…” You bite your lip, gazing up at him, heart pounding quickly as heat radiates from his palm on your face down through your stomach and between your legs, you inhale sharply as you feel your clit twinge slightly. 

He gazes at you, something flashing in his eye as he abruptly pulls away, clearing his throat awkwardly as he settles back in the chair, “Humf, I mean… ahem… We all will. All the Avengers. We’ll protect you. You’re safe here.” He finishes awkwardly, fingers tapping uncomfortably on his thigh, his eyes looking around the room, looking at anything but you. 

He suddenly pulls a blanket from beside the chair and raises the footrest, making to settle into a sleeping position, continuing his campaign to look anywhere but at you. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach as you realize that he will sleep on the chair, not with you. Never with you. 

He would rather sleep on a chair than share a bed with you. “Goodnight” he grumbles, closing his eyes and feigning intense exhaustion. “Goodnight” you whisper, a lump hard in your throat. You curl up in a ball, forcing yourself to stay in the bed and not make it more awkward. You squeeze your eyes shut, confining the stinging tears.


Bucky’s POV:

His fingertips glide over her skin, his brain whirring as he feels the soft heat of her every curve. His eyes flicker up from the progress of his hands to her face. Her delicate face, the rosiness of her cheeks making his own flush, he groans internally as she bites her lip, that plump bottom lip, how I wish I could bite it, suck on it, taste the perfection of her mouth.

He felt his cock twitch warningly in his sweatpants and turned quickly away from her, bustling around his room, trying to regain control. He brings her over a glass of water, stealing one more glance at her perfect features, watching her face curl into his pillow and wishing that it were him beneath her soft cheek. 

He turns away once more, pulling a tank top from his drawer and stretching it over his head.  “I won’t ever let them take you.” He confesses, turning around to face her, her sparkling eyes, wide and staring, he falters slightly, noticing the red tint now flushed in her pouted lips from her biting. 

He breathes shallowly, giving into his urge to be near her again and positioning himself in the chair next to the bed. I wish I could hold you, wrap you in my arms and make you feel safe. He thought, wishing to climb over her body and sink into the bed beside her. 

In a hope to satisfy his craving to be near her he leans forward and gently places his right hand on her exposed cheek, letting his fingers slide softly into her hairline. “I told you, I will always protect you, I promised you that…” He implores, looking for some indication that that was what she wanted, that she needed him, wanted him. 

She bites her lip again her heart rate quickening beneath his hand, her wide eyes stare up at him. He thinks about curling his fingers into her long silk hair and crushing his lips against hers, drawing redness too them with the pressure of his kiss. She inhales sharply; he quickly retracts his hand, fearing that he’s scared her. 

It’s too much for her, he thought, cursing himself for pushing it, Of course she’s scared of you, how could she not be scared of you? “Humf, I mean… ahem… We all will. All the Avengers. We’ll protect you… You’re safe here.” He finishes awkwardly, tapping uncomfortably on his thigh, hoping that she’s ok, but unable to look at her. Unable to control himself if he saw those eyes again. 

He moves swiftly, drawing a blanket around himself and shifting into a sleeping position, forcing out a fake yawn. “Goodnight” he grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. “Goodnight” she whispers, her soft voice causing his stomach to tighten, as he imagines her whispered word at his ear, her breath against his skin and her small form wrapped in his arms.

________________________

Y/N POV:

“NOOOOO!!!! PLEASE!!!!” Bucky sits bolt upright, quickly turning to see your thrashing body in the bed in front of him, your sobbing cries gurgling out of your mouth. He moves quickly until his hands are at your shoulders, gently shaking you, “Y/N! Y/N honey wake up, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream!” Your eyes finally flash open, your breathing ragged as you focus on the man in front of you, his eyes two glowing blue specks in the dark, you start to sob, shaking and bending forward into his arms. 

In one swift motion his arms are under you, lifting you out of the tangle of blankets and into a cradled position. He sits back down on the bed, bringing you to rest in his lap, holding you closely and making gentle shushing noises. “It’s ok, you’re safe, I got you. It was just a dream. You’re safe.” You cry softly into his shoulder as you melt against him, your heart rate beginning to slow as you regain control of your breathing. 

“Bucky” you whimper pathetically as you grip at his shirt, pulling yourself more securely into his grasp. “I know, I’m here doll. Not going anywhere.” He answers softly, moving the arm behind your back up slightly to cradle your neck and rub gently at your scalp. 

You shiver slightly and he moves backwards onto the bed, pulling you smoothly with him, as he wraps you both back in the comforter. “You… In my dream… my nightmare… I lost you.” You sputter, trying to explain your distress. “Don’t worry love, I’m not that good at hide and seek.” He jokes, you feel the rumble of the small laugh in his chest and you can’t help but smile slightly at the sound. 

“No,” you continue, tilting your head up to him, seeing his eyes staring down at you. “You died. There was nothing I could do, I lost you.” You choke on another sob as a beaming smile spreads across his face, his hand moving up to cup your jaw. “I’m not going anywhere doll” he reassures you. “It was just so real” you continue, shaking slightly, your fingers gripping tighter on his shirt. 

He moves to shift you, sliding you off of his lap and to his side, keeping his right arm wrapped around your shoulders as he slides you both into a laying position in the bed. “Here,” he says as he gently repositions your head onto his hot chest, pulling you even closer to his body. 

Your heart speeds up as you lay on him, every inch of your body pressing against his smooth, muscled, form. “You hear that?” he asks, his hand reaching up around you to knot in your hair again, pulling soothingly at your damp locks. “That’s my heartbeat, I’m alive. I’m right here next to you.” He sighs gently as you swing your arm over his torso, encasing him in your own embrace. 

“I’m not going anywhere” he whispers, his lips gently ghosting over your hairline as you curl into him tighter still. Feeling safe in his arms. Feeling warm. You smile softly as your mind relaxes, reveling in the feeling of his rough fingertips gliding over your soft skin, breathing in rhythm with his rising and falling chest. You sigh contentedly, and allow yourself to drift off again, knowing, that you are safe.  

_________________

Thump. You move slightly, adjusting the pressure of your hips, hearing the sound of fast movement through the hall. You curl in deeper, the warmth of the bed swallowing your relaxed body, feeling a slight pressure of heat against your back and across your stomach. 

You stir more actively now, rolling your shoulders and motioning to move your hand, finding it interlocked with the warm, long fingers of the arm stretched underneath your head. You shift slightly, causing Bucky to stir behind you, his metal arm curling tighter around your abdomen, pulling you closer. You stretch cautiously, rolling your hips back against him, not wanting to wake him but needing the movement. 

You hear him moan quietly behind you, his hot breath tickling your neck. Something jumps in the pit of your stomach, forcing your legs to squeeze tightly together in response to the heat rising at the apex of your thighs. His metal arm moves down your stomach, sliding under your shirt, fingers lightly playing at the waistband of your shorts. Your breath catches in your throat, the heat in your core begging for his fingers to travel lower. 

He pulls you tighter to him, his hips curling up against your backside. You can feel the stiff pressure of his thick cock, hard against your ass, straining against his sweatpants. You concentrate on the pressure, him grinding against you ever so slightly. His breathing growing slightly labored as his heavy breaths brush against your neck. You feel the wetness pool between your thighs, forcing your awareness of how badly you want him, how badly you need him. 

You can’t help but imagine the satisfying feeling of his thickness sliding into you, wanting his hands to dig into your skin as his hips slam against you. You moan inaudibly, arching your back slightly, forcing the curve of your ass to grind harder into his swollen member, you are met with a sharp intake of breath behind you and an increased pressure on your abdomen. 

He clears his throat, finally starting to wake up and come to full attention. His shoulders tense beside you as he becomes aware of his actions, dislodging his hips from behind you and distancing your bodies except for his arm still trapped underneath your head. 

You wince at the sudden cold now tickling your skin, the lack of his heat not being the only thing you miss, you exhale slowly trying to regain control and frustratingly aware of the wetness between your legs. You make to turn to face him and meet his closed eyes and furrowed brow. “Bucky,” you whisper with concern, he purses his lips opening his eyes and looking down at you. 

“Morning,” he says politely, redness rising in his cheeks. “Morning…“ you repeat back slowly, confusion etched across your face. You thought for a moment that he wanted you, that he needed you the way you needed him, the distant expression on his face now told you otherwise. You were just a warm body to a sleepy man. 

“Buck?” you hear a knock on the door and Steve’s anxious voice radiates through the walls. You tense, freezing in bed, eyes wide, staring at Bucky as his arm stiffens under your shoulders. He slowly presses a finger to his lips, you nod in understanding. “Yeah pal?” He answers, eyebrows rising, gaze locked on the door. “Have you seen Y/N this morning, I can’t find her anywhere and I wanted to check on her before debrief.” 

Bucky looks down at you smirking slightly, you slowly shake your head, and he suppresses a chuckle. “Can’t say that I have, bud, sorry. Try the training room, she sometimes likes to workout around this time.” He finishes, barely keeping his composure. “Ok, thanks, let her know I’m looking for her if you see her.” Steve finishes, disappointed. 

You hear his footsteps pad heavily down the hall as you sit up in the bed, dislodging yourself from Bucky’s warmth. He smiles behind you, eyes locked on your curves, your tight shirt drawing attention to your hard nipples, exposed in the cold air. “Steve is looking for you.” Bucky laughs moving slightly to drag an arm back around your waist. 

Not noticing his move, you stand up, removing yourself from the bed. “Thanks,” you roll your eyes, reaching for a sweatshirt on his desk chair, “Kinda got that impression.” You slide the sweatshirt over your head; it’s size swallowing you whole. Bucky snickers at the site of you, “By all means borrow my clothing, no need to ask.” His joke elicits an eyebrow raise from you. “It looks better on me anyway,” you grumble, pressing your ear to the door. 

“That it does, can’t argue with you there” Bucky smiles, eyes scanning the exposed skin of your thighs peaking out under the hem of his sweatshirt, “What are you doing?” he questions noticing your curious actions against the door. “Making sure that no one is in the hallway” you respond, preoccupied with your listening. 

His face falls, the smile quickly slipping off it as he gets up quickly from the bed, “Right,” he grumbles, “wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” You turn around to say more but only catch the whisper of his steps as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. You feel a sinking in the pit of your stomach, “Bucky,” you whisper, as you hear the shower turn on. You sigh as you take your leave, quietly slipping out of his room and into the empty hallway.

DE is seriously hella contrived [TVD 1x11 Review]

Sorry guys, I know it’s been a while but I’ve been a little busy lately, which reminds me, for the month of May I will be doing a writing residency by the Rockies. I don’t know what my schedule will be like since I get it when I’m there so I may not be able to check into to tumblr much next month or maybe everything will stay the same, who knows. But let’s get down to business. As per usual, here are the guidelines: Considering that I haven’t sat down to watch a full episode of the past seasons of TVD in a few years and my memory might not be the greatest I will start with my usual disclaimer: I write my thoughts in real time so if I make a mistake at the beginning of this post, it will be corrected by the end. There will be anti-Damon and anti-Delena senitments and I feel the need to say there may be some anti-Jenna sentiments too. I will probably bring up other shows and call attention to misogynoir, racism and anti-blackness. OK. Ready? Let’s go.

I still think it’s absolutely ridiculous that Elena left her necklace with Stefan, like it has a function.

I’m salty that “Cosmic Love” was given to DE, I mean technically it’s given to Isobel and Alaric but it’s playing when Elena wakes up in Damon’s car.

Also it’s not cute that Damon kidnaps Elena and brings her to another fucking State, like that’s legit terrible.

And he took her phone.

I get that Elena is upset about the photo of Katherine but not talking to Stefan is stupid because you are with a man who has killed, like, half your town Elena.

And her deciding to go with him just doesn’t make sense. Just because he says you can trust him doesn’t mean you actually can, he has done nothing to prove that she can trust him, he’s terrorized everyone she knows! Seriously, this ship is so manufactured.

Lol BD fans used to like to talk about how Kai traumatized Bonnie but so did Damon, she can’t do magic because she’s traumatized by him ripping open her neck.

I’m still upset that Gina Torres was killed on this show. Queen Gina Torres. Ugh.

“Cheers to the man that broke my heart, crushed my soul, destroyed my life and ruined any and all chances of happiness.” What’s funny about this toast to Damon is that it’s exactly what Damon does to everyone around him except in a non-romanticized way.

I find it really funny that from Day One people keep telling Elena what she feels for Damon. Like Bree is all “how did he rope you in?” “I’m not roped I’m actually dating–” “Honey, if you’re not roped, you’re whipped.” Or not? Like. This is the longest interaction she and Damon has ever had and he KIDNAPPED HER.

I didn’t have levels in my high school library.

Is that sad?

So Bonnie can just take off school like that?

Ugh, Bonnie’s wardrobe.

Seriously, Elena suddenly letting her guard down around Damon because he likes pickles is absurd.

LOL Anna and Jeremy’s debate about whether or not vampires are real sounds like Steve went to a Wikipedia page.

Legit, Elena and Damon don’t even spend much time together in this episode.

Elena being defensive over Damon, “WHAT DID HE DO?” and that look of surprise when he says, “he killed my girlfriend” is ridiculous. Elena, you have seen Damon try and kill Bonnie, abuse Caroline, be responsible for Vicki’s death, you know he killed Tanner so why the fuck are you surprised that he killed someone’s girlfriend?

And her rushing to Damon because he’s hurt? WHY? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE. And they didn’t know each other long enough or well enough for a bond to even be made. Completely contrived relationship.

Sure, Sheila can run an anti-war demonstration in 1969 but we won’t talk about civil rights within the South. Mmkay.

If Bree is a witch then why can’t she give him an aneurysm like Bonnie could? Like she let’s herself get killed.

And Elena bantering with Damon in the car after is fundamentally ridiculous.

Paul does earnestness so well. Stefan’s explanation of him saving Elena’s life, those shining eyes and furrowed eyebrows. Legit, in the YA I’m writing, I model one of the male protagonist’s expressions after Paul’s because it’s just so intense.

OK now, I’m fine with how quickly Elena forgave Stefan about the Katherine thing but it just makes her seem legit dramatic. Like she does the most this episode when all it took for her to calm down was Stefan’s explanation? THEN SHE SHOULD’VE LET HIM PICK HER UP.

Oh look a shot of Damon feeding from Isobel, Alaric’s wife and Elena’s mother, but this dude isn’t a fuckboy to tumblr users and Stefan is. OK.

This episode is kind of ridiculous.

We just want to give you the best possible service.

(warning: long story)

So, I thought I’d share another tale from my time working at a pool store several years ago! Be forewarned, this is a serious wall of text coming.

As anyone who has worked in retail knows, you will always have at least a few quirky “regulars” who come in to your store. Sometimes it’s a good kind of quirky, like “She bakes cookies a lot and so brings us some when she comes in.” Sometimes, however, it’s a bad kind of quirky. This one customer we used to have was the bad kind of quirky.

This customer (not his real name, but we’ll call him Mr. Rogers, because I always thought he looked like he could be Mr. Rogers’ evil twin brother) had a nasty habit of coming in to the store about 5 min. before we close. This would happen every time he came. Now, when doing a water test back then, it would take a couple of minutes. we didn’t have those fancy colorimeters that use lasers to measure the chemicals. We were doing old-fashioned titration and using other reagents to measure everything. Normally it didn’t take too long, but it definitely took longer after we had already cleaned everything up for the night. Not to mention, it can be a messy process, meaning we’d have to clean everything again before we close up.

Keep reading

Everything is Different Now: Part 7

I’m re-watching Yuri on Ice with an eye for all the things that are re-contextualized based on what we learn at the very end of episode 10.  This blog series chronicles that adventure.  With screencaps!  Very spoilery, obviously. Read on by clicking the jump cut below, or start at part 1 here

(Also, this post is SO LONG.)

Episode 7: Stupid Victor

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Monster’s Daughter (Namjoon angst pt. 10) Finale

Summary: Your 4-year old daughter is a HUGE BTS fan. Unknown to her, Namjoon is her father.

Request?: No

Type: Angst/Fluff

Reader Name: Rose Lowe

~~  One  ~  Two  ~  Three  ~   Four  ~  Five  ~  Six  ~  Seven ~  Eight  ~  Nine  ~  Ten  ~~

This chapter is not in chronological order, not messy though.I debated SO LONG (obviously) about how to end this. After a certain point I felt I couldn’t post it unless it was PER-FECT. Finally I settled on this with maybe a few related drabbles for the ideas I didn’t get to include. Thank you to everyone who has read and supported Monster’s Daughter and I deeply apologize for the outrageous wait. Much Love

Chu~

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Mad {BK Regency Fic Pt. 6}

OK here is the sixth part to The Tudor-esque Bonkai fanfiction. It’s my favourite part yet, things get a little more heated, moving along a little quicker so I hope you guys enjoy it. I do not historical accuracy, in fact absolutely nothing is historically correct so people keep that in mind when you inbox me questions, haha.

The first part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/151942784000/the-gambit-bk-regency-pt-1

The second part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/152178534030/the-moon-bk-regency-fic-pt-2

The third part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/152739097855/winded-bk-regency-fic-pt-3

The fourth part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/153795180910/tonight-bk-regency-fic-pt-4

The fifth part: http://zalrb.tumblr.com/post/154224617970/ensnared-bk-regency-fic-pt-5

People to tag: @seeyda @misslilmel @kissmebluesexyvioletsme @humbu-bumbu @wasabicakes @youareatypo @bonkai-is-life @bonkai-diaries @bonkaimonluv @malachaibennett @darkbonkai @jordanjanellejoy @bonkaicoven @bonkais-witchywoo @bonkais-aurora-borealis @writeturnlove @tvtaughtmehowtofeel @mysticfalls-originals @offlinebonkai @queensfelicity @sunnydrive92 @tasha-sews @ecksnohhs @l0nd0ninnit @lisaluvslife @beccacupcakesxo @giggleangel

*not my gif*

“Lady Bonnie! Lady Bonnie!”

                A servant came rushing into Bonnie’s bedroom, making her put down her copy of Utopia. “Jane, you’re shaking. What is it?”

                “His Majesty! His Majesty is heading this way! I saw his brigade from the courtyard.”

                Bonnie’s gut coiled into knots. She’d suspected he’d appear at her front door. No king handled rejection well but especially not a king like Malachai de Parke. Returning his gifts had ignited a resentful obsession, an insult to pride that would compel him to pursue the perpetrator. Bonnie had known this when she’d made the decision, she’d calculated his reaction. And yet … and yet a part of her wondered if it was the King who rode to see her or the man, the man whose desire for her was so intense it drove him to irrationality.

                She shook her head. “Foolish thought.”

                “My lady?”

                Bonnie turned to Jane and pressed her lips together, taking a moment to think. “Meet the King in the foyer, I will be downstairs shortly.”

                Jane curtseyed slightly and left the room. Bonnie stood up and smoothed her hands down the front of her bodice, glad she had chosen to wear her dress of black satin, a dress that flattered her dearly. Elena had left the estate for the day, giving Bonnie a vague excuse that Bonnie knew meant she was meeting Stefan at a private rendezvous point.  Both Alaric and Damon were back at court attending business, for which Bonnie was truly grateful — no prying eyes, no intrusive ears, she would be able to speak … … … Bonnie closed her eyes and sighed, frustrated with herself. Speaking freely was irrelevant, every word, every touch, every breath was all in service to the ploy, to the family.

                “Nothing real,” she whispered.

                The sound of the doors banging open snapped Bonnie into action and she walked out of her bedroom, down the stairs to the foyer where Malachai stood in the entryway with Jane bowing in front of him. For a split second, Bonnie’s mind turned suspicious, debating whether or not Jane was the type of woman Malachai was accustomed to bedding, if he was fantasizing about bedding her at that moment. She chased the thought away.

                “Leave us,” said Malachai.

                Jane scurried out of the foyer and Bonnie stood, frozen, at the foot of the steps, taking in the King’s strong jaw and black stubble, his blue eyes and broad shoulders. Neither she nor Malachai said anything but the silence between them was screaming, heavy with a tension that made Bonnie want to crawl out of her skin; he was suffocating her with his presence, torturing her with his distance. She had never experienced such desire, one that agonized and burned; she was about to bow just to do something with herself when Malachai rushed forward and thrust his lips against hers. Bonnie instantly put her hands on the back of his head, pushing him into her, her fingers gripping his hair as his hand slid up to her neck. She had yearned for his touch for days, craved the feel of his lips against hers ever since their first kiss in the corridor, ever since the experiential fantasy that took a hold of her when she gazed upon the jewellery he bequeathed upon her. She had never wanted anything so much and now that she was reveling in it, drowning it, it was terrible because the instant they pulled away from each other, her hunger for him would only intensify.  

Malachai wrenched away from her. “You’ve consumed me entirely,” he said, breathless. “You’ve made it impossible for me to function.”

“You’ve made it impossible for me to breathe,” Bonnie countered.

                Malachai kissed her again and Bonnie moaned softly, prompting Malachai to press his lips harder against hers, his mouth opened hers with a passionate urgency that agitated Bonnie. “Give yourself to me,” he whispered between kisses. “It’s the only way to keep either of us from going mad.” Bonnie leaned forward and kissed him again, causing Malachai to splay his fingers on her throat. “If you promise me and only me your body and soul,” he said. “I will take no other woman, I will love no other woman, I will serve no other woman.  Say you will, Bonnie. Be my maitresse en titre.”

Bonnie moved, it was a slight shift away from him, barely noticeable but Malachai felt the distance and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” he said. “What is it?”

Bonnie’s expression cooled, her demeanour hardened, she was turning to stone as Elena would say whenever Bonnie was too angry at her to yell and so detached herself instead.  His proposition wasn’t surprising, it was yet another reaction she had calculated, one any King would make. It was her own reaction that Bonnie had not expected; nothing within her was collected or detached, inside she was in turmoil, inside she was a wreck. She’d planned what she would say to him if he made this offer and yet Bonnie couldn’t find the words she’d devised; she could only say what she felt.

“Your mistress?” she repeated.

“My official mistress,” said Malachai. “My only mistress.”

“Is that all you see me as then? Someone to be used and discarded at your leisure?”

                Malachai’s eyes flashed with an angry incredulity. “Do you think so little of me that I would mar you with such dishonour? I am committing myself to you.  I am bonding myself to you. I only ask you do the same.”

                “You’re asking no such thing. You’re asking me to spread my legs for you at your convenience!”

                Malachai started shouting. “You dare speak to your King this way? You dare look him in his eye?”

                Bonnie knew she was on dangerous ground but she couldn’t stop; he made her impulsive, reckless. “I dare to call an impossible situation impossible. I have already bonded myself to my husband and only he, whoever he may be, will be graced with my maidenhead!”

                Malachai turned away, throwing his hands up in the air, pacing the foyer. “I am the King of England, Bonnie!” he yelled.  “Do not pretend not to understand my responsibilities! Do not feign ignorance of my position!”

                “And do not feign ignorance of mine! I know what happens when women are made to be mistresses, official or otherwise! A woman’s reputation is the only card she has to play in this life and I intend to keep mine unsullied.”

                “Are you saying that binding your name to mine will sully yours?”

                “I am saying that people will talk!”

                “Then l will cut out their tongues!” he roared.

                Bonnie’s lips parted as Malachai strode over to her. He placed his hands on either side of her face, piercing his eyes into hers. “I will strike down anyone who dares to speak out against you!”

                She trembled slightly at the earnest fury in Malachai’s voice. He meant it. Every word. “It’s not enough,” she whispered. It was true. “I will not share you.”

                Malachai gritted his teeth and turned away again. He put his hands on the nape of his neck and raised his head to the ceiling. “I apologize if I offended you,” he said quietly. He looked at her, his expression anguished. “I spoke too freely of my affections.”

                He walked swiftly out of the foyer back to the courtyard and Bonnie felt herself break slightly. “Your Majesty—” She took a step toward the door but stopped herself. A tremor ran through her body and she felt herself come apart; she didn’t know if she had ended something or escalated it and the ambiguity rendered her speechless, for if she tried to say even one word, she would say nothing and only weep.

                                              ___________

Malachai bent low so Mary ran into his arms and then he picked her up, twirling her around.  “Papa!” she giggled.

                “Mary,” he said, closing his eyes. “Your father has missed you.”

                “I missed you too, Papa.”

                “How are your studies going?”

                “I can count to 100 in French!”

“C'est vrai? Laisse-moi écouter.”

                “Un, deux, trois…”

                Malachai smiled as he listened to his daughter, reveling in the peace she brought him, the only peace he’d had in weeks. He had sent for her upon knowledge that the King of France was making a visit to betroth his youngest son to Mary.  When Malachai saw Tyler approach he set Mary down and handed her to the First Lady.

                “Take her around the garden,” he said.

                “Majesty.” Lady Isabelle led Mary away and she ran through the labyrinth of hedges. Malachai turned to Tyler.

                “What is it?”

                “The King of France will be here in a day’s time.”

                “Mm.” Malachai nodded his head.

                “If Your Majesty will forgive me …” Tyler hesitated, moving his hands, trying to find the right words. “It might fair better if you could reconcile with the Queen for this visit. Act as husband and wife to ease the King’s concerns.”

                “He has concerns?”

                Tyler pressed his lips together at the note of danger in Malachai’s tone. “I only meant that closing the distance between yourself and Queen Caroline could allow proceedings to move more smoothly and efficiently.”

                Malachai sighed. “Fine.”

                “Of course it is your right to alleviate your passions, Your Majesty,” said Tyler slyly. “A few new ladies in the Queen’s service have caught my eye. I could —”

                “Nevermind that,” said Malachai brusquely. “They don’t have what I need.”

                “Ah,” said Tyler. “Is the Lady Bonnie such a woman that she has forever shamed all women who follow? I must confess harbouring curiosity of how she likes to be ridden —”

                Abruptly, Malachai clasped his hands around Tyler’s throat and squeezed so that Tyler began kneeling on the ground. “Do not ever speak of the Lady Bonnie in such a manner, do you understand me?” said Malachai, his eyes wide with fury. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

                “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Tyler, wheezing. “Forgive — Forgive me …”

                Malachai released Tyler from his grasp and he stayed kneeling on the ground, gasping for breath. Malachai stared at him, a mixture of resentment and regret battling within him. “Rise,” he said.

                Tyler stood up, red in the face.

                “Where is Her Majesty now?” said Malachai.

                “At prayer,” said Tyler. “Then I believe she will be handing out alms.”

                “A Queen of Queens,” Malachai muttered.

                “That she is, Your Majesty,” said Tyler. “The kingdom is always in high spirits when she walks amongst the people.”

                “Yes,” said Malachai dully. If only her influence had effect on what most mattered — himself.

                                                 __________

Malachai sat at the centre of the long table watching the courtiers dance before him. The proceedings introducing Mary to the dauphin had already taken place and now they were in the middle of a feast. Caroline sat to his right, speaking to King Luc in rapid French and every few seconds he laughed, charmed. She was an excellent diplomat, a gracious Queen. Malachai took her hand in his and she glanced briefly at him, smiling brightly before returning to the conversation with King Luc.

                He barely felt it, her skin against his, when the Lady Bonnie’s touch still electrified his blood days later. He had chosen to commit himself to the act of a husband deeply devoted to his wife, attempting to force the affection he had felt for Caroline years ago but his heart, his loins, his gut would not take direction from his mind, they were aching. Aching for her.

                Malachai detected Sir Stefan slipping out from behind a curtain, a foolish grin on his face. Moments later the Lady Elena crept out from behind the same curtain, suppressing a fit of giggles. Malachai smirked; he was bearing witness to the beginnings of a pure, excited love, wholly different from the desire he shared with Bonnie, the one that cursed him with sweats and sleepless nights and a longing that hardened him to the point of distraction.

He itched for news of her and started to tell a servant to bring Stefan to him so he could inquire about the Lady Elena and by extension Bonnie. Halfway through his command he saw Alaric move through the crowd and decided to be more direct. Malachai raised his hand as Alaric looked up to the table and he beckoned the lord to him.

                “My Lord Saltzman,” said Malachai.

                “Your Majesty,” said Alaric, bowing his head. He turned to Caroline. “My Queen.” He looked at King Luc. “Your Highness.”

                Caroline smiled and King Luc nodded his head in acceptance before returning to his meal.

                “I only wanted to tell you in person that I have noticed the strides you’re making your office,” said Malachai.

                “Oh thank you, Your Majesty, I live to serve, your pleasure does me great honour.”

                “Your loyalty warms the heart,” said Malachai. “As such I would like to make you Comptroller of the Royal House.”

            Alaric raised his eyebrows at the sudden elevation and Malachai could sense the cold incredulity in Caroline’s gaze, though she said nothing and remained politely tight-lipped.  

            “Your Majesty is most gracious,” said Alaric, beaming. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that I am deserved of the title.”

            “Oh I know you will,” said Malachai, an implicit threat in his tone. “Your nephew…”

            “Damon,” Alaric offered.

            “Yes, Damon.” The corners of Malachai’s eyes narrowed before he spoke. “I hear great things about him as well. Exceeds all expectations.”

            “He is quite efficient, extremely loyal to the crown,” said Alaric.

            Malachai regarded him for a few moments. “He will be afforded a position in the Knighthood of the Garter.”

            “Your, Your Majesty…” Alaric bowed. “You are most kind. Most gracious. Thank you. The news will be most receptive by Damon, he is very much like a son to me.”

            “Alas, you have no sons. Only daughters.”

            “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Alaric.

            “I see one of them at court. The other…”

            “Bonnie,” said Alaric.

            “Yes, Bonnie.” Malachai felt Caroline’s coldness enhance but continued to speak. “My Queen misses her in her service. How is she? Well?”

            “Yes,” said Alaric. “Quite well.”

            Malachai’s jaw tensed and his chest constricted. “Quite well” was she? Their separation had not affected her even in the slightest fashion? She was able to live her days as though her heart hadn’t been ripped in half? The notion enraged Malachai with grief.

            “Well actually…” said Alaric.

            Malachai looked at him. “Yes?”

“Your Majesty if I can speak plainly, I must confess that my dear Bonnie has been stricken with melancholy of late. I am not sure of the cause.”   

                Malachai tried to conceal the smile that played at the corner of his lips. “I am sure it will pass. Whatever it is,” he said. “Enjoy the festivities.”

            Alaric bowed and returned to the crowd. Caroline turned to him, smiling. “Colour has returned to your cheeks, my love,” she said. “You seem in higher spirits.”

           Malachai took a sip of wine. “It is a beautiful night,” he said.

           The joy that uplifted him at the news of Bonnie’s sorrow was only matched by the pressing need to rid them both of their agony. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up from his seat. “I will return in a moment.”

           A servant pulled out his chair, allowing Malachai to leave the table, exiting a back door that led him to private quarters. He stood by the entryway, his eyes searching for a desk. On it he spotted some parchment and a quill.

           “Leave,” he told the servant.

           When he slipped out of the room, Malachai rushed over to the desk and without bothering to sit down, took the quill out of its ink bottle and started to write.

                                                   _________

Bonnie sat by the window, Alaric and Damon a few feet away from her. “Well,” said Alaric. “Read it.”

            She cleared her throat. A least she had the opportunity to read the letter before her father and cousin heard of it. “My dearest Bonnie,” she began.  “I have made many an effort to carry on with my life as if you had never been a part of it but I could no sooner stop the sun from rising. You have overwhelmed me, burrowed into me. Please accept this gift as a token of my affection, the thought of it against your skin warms mine. It is a pain beyond endurance that you have refused to be my mistress. I’m going mad not seeing you, mad with thoughts of you …” Bonnie stopped reading, biting her bottom lip in embarrassment. This was private. Intimate. Between them. And yet, it was her duty to divulge every detail so as to better plan the strategy.

            “Continue, dear daughter,” said Alaric.

… mad with thoughts of you, your lips, your breasts, the pleasures I have yet to indulge in. I beseech you, reconsider.”

            Alaric laughed and clapped his hands once, triumphant. “You have done well,” he said.

           “Yes,” said Damon quietly. “The King is in love with you.”

           Bonnie looked up at him and seeing the subtle rage in his eyes, glanced away.

           “He spoke of a gift, what gift?” said Alaric.

           Bonnie sighed and moved her hair away from her face, brushing the strands off her shoulders, revealing a pearled cross draped around her neck.

           “My God,” said Alaric. “This one you decided to keep then?”

           “Yes, I …” Bonnie lowered her eyes. “It seemed the wise choice.”

           “We have the King exactly where we want him, now is when we move to strike against Lockwood,” said Damon.

           “No, not yet.”

           “He promoted you to a much coveted office,” said Damon. “I have been anointed a member of the Knighthood of the Garter. He is elevating our family more quickly than imaginable.”

“Tyler is beloved by the King,” said Alaric. “He will not part from him easily, this requires yet more finessing. This is when we start to plant seeds of doubt in his mind and you, Damon, you must show your face to the King more.” He turned to Bonnie. “How do you like your charge?”

Bonnie’s lips trembled as she tried to speak diplomatically. “I confess I did not like the idea of being offered to the King but Malachai …”

“Malachai?” said Damon, raising his eyebrows.

“Dearest daughter, be careful not to be fooled by your own deception,” said Alaric. “We need you focused on the task at hand.”

“Yes,” said Bonnie, thoughtlessly stroking the cross around her neck, stricken with images of Malachai’s fingers trailing her throat, her chest … “Focused.”

__________

Malachai lay in bed, his arms and back sliced. The physicians had decided to bleed him, rid him of the toxins that caused his fever, that turned his skin pallid. He’d been ill for two days after a riding accident, in which he nearly drowned in a swamp. The horse that threw him off had since been put down but the news brought him no relief. Upon entering the thirty-sixth hour of nausea and cold sweats, Malachai realized that he would find no relief until he righted his wrongs. In the dimness of the candlelight, Malachai could barely make out two figures approaching his bed, one was Tyler, the other his councillor, Jeremiah.

           “Your Majesty,” they both murmured.

           Malachai glared at them, indignant of their soft tone as if they were speaking to someone on his death bed. He sighed.

           “Speak properly, I am not yet dead,” said Malachai.

           They glanced at each other and then nodded.

           “Ingrates,” he muttered. “It will take more of a swamp to destroy me.”

           “Of course. Your Majesty is indestructible,” said Jeremiah. “A God among men.”

           “Enough,” said Malachai, irritated. Jeremiah sobered. “I am not dead,” Malachai repeated. “However, this is the second time in a few short weeks that I have nearly died.” He paused. “God is punishing me.”

           “Punishing you?” said Tyler. “Your Majesty, I don’t understand, I…”

           “Caroline,” said Malachai. “God is punishing me for marrying my brother’s wife. Our marriage is a sin.”

           “But the papal dispensation—” said Tyler.

           “I have no male heirs,” said Malachai. “Caroline has lost each one. Is that not proof, Lockwood? I have nearly died. Again.”

           “Your Majesty,” said Jeremiah. “What are you saying?”

           Malachai turned his head upward to the ceiling. “A divorce,” he said. “I want a divorce.”

                                                     __________

“YAH!”

           Malachai urged his horse onward so that it galloped at a pace that his guards had difficulty keeping pace with. They were riding through the forest to the Saltzman estate, Bonnie’s letter compelling Malachai to press his horse faster. It had come just that afternoon, three simple, glorious words: Come to me. Enclosed was a locket containing a miniature portrait of her in a red dress, the words Ever yours engraved in the gold. He had set off from the palace immediately after receiving it.

           Yes. She was saying yes.

Bonnie head the gallops of horse hoofs and ran down the stairs to the foyer. It was imprudent, impractical, illogical. Damon would be furious if he found out, her father would be profoundly displeased, it could ruin everything, it could destroy her, but all of that paled to how much Bonnie wanted him. She had to have him. Gossip spread of Malachai’s desire for divorce and the news did something to Bonnie, unleashed her, provoked her. He was proving himself hers and the need to claim him overwhelmed her, chewed away at her until there was nothing left but yearning.

           Bonnie reached the bottom of the stairs as the door banged open and before she had the chance to take him in, Malachai ran toward her, kissing her instantly, his lips hard and insistent, his tongue massaging hers, a groan deep in his throat. Bonnie’s skin tingled, her heart thudded; she was faint and breathless, it felt like death, the sweetest death, and she inwardly begged for it to envelop her.

           Malachai pulled away. “Yes,” he said. “You’re saying ‘yes’?”

           “Yes,” said Bonnie.

           A soft growl escaped his lips and Malachai kissed her again, allowing his hands to explore. Bonnie could feel his eagerness in the way he clenched her waist, his fingers rubbing the dips of her curves, his hands slipped up her bodice to her breasts, cupping them, making her sigh into his mouth so that he groaned

Suddenly his hands were beneath her and he lifted her onto him so that Bonnie wrapped his legs around his middle. He kissed her neck, running the tip of his tongue along her throat, she clenched his head, burying his face deeper into her cleavage.

           “Upstairs,” she gasped.

           “No, I won’t wait any longer,” he whispered back. He set her on the stairs and Bonnie could feel him against her leg, his readiness inflamed her, spawning an ache in her groin that pulsated throughout her entire body. He’d been right all those weeks ago; denying themselves each other would drive the both of them mad. She needed this.

           He hovered above her. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “Your maidenhead, I claim it.”

           Bonnie brought him down to her, kissing him with a fervour that compelled him to rock into her. She yelped. “And when we’re married,” she whispered. “We’ll have many sons. So many sons.”

           Malachai stopped and pulled away from Bonnie. Everything within him was screaming, he was crazed beyond reason, being so close to her but not in her, above her, overwhelming her. His aching for her made his entire body tremor, it inflamed him, he could barely think, barely see, she was all he wanted and all he ever would want with such potency but he couldn’t, he couldn’t let it happen, not like this.

           “I won’t,” he said. “I will…” He closed his eyes, the anguish of his words tearing through him. “I will respect your maidenhead. We won’t consummate until marriage.”

           Bonnie sat up, bewildered and pleased as Malachai backed down a few steps to the floor. He had to leave, he couldn’t be around her, not now, not like this, when he was so close to burying himself in her, he was too sensitized, her mere presence was temptation.

           “Malachai…”

           It was the first time she said his name and he was ready to erupt at the sound of it on her tongue. Quickly, he dashed forward, kissing her hard on the lips and then he walked swiftly out of the foyer back to the woods. He couldn’t ride like this, he would surely kill himself, distracted by the thought of her. He slipped behind a tree and lowered his hose, the image of Bonnie left on the stairs, wanting and breathless and moist for him in his mind as he stroked himself for relief. He would have her. He would marry her.  By God he would.

7

sorry for the super long post, but after like a few days i finally got a bunch of these ralts crossbreed variations drawn out, inspired by too-much-green‘s crossbreed variations. i’ll go on about specific details about each crossbreed under the readmore, and i’ll also provide links if and when i draw out all the evolutions.

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