”Love?” Minhee’s voice rang out from behind the door and you knew the meaning behind her incredulous tone in an instant. “Are you seeing him again?”
“We are friends again. That’s all.” Your defense was quick, as was the speed of you moving aside so she could walk through your door. Saying it outloud felt strange. You could still feel the wet kisses he had playfully smacked against your cheek before he left. Your fingers longed to run along the softness of your own face the more you lingered on the recent memory.
Summary: Bucky Barnes is absolutely horrified when his four-year old daughter tells him she’s getting married. When he tries to figure out what the heck is going on, he gets the best surprise of his life.
Bucky Barnes had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was way too early for a pair of blue eyes to be staring him in the face.
“Becca, go back to bed,” he mumbled, pulling the covers over his head. He felt the bed dip as his daughter climbed up and cuddled against Bucky’s blanketed form. A small hand stroked the top of his head, and he couldn’t help but smile. He pulled the covers off and greeted his little girl.
I just have to say, I think V&V would’ve been a whole different aesthetic with Ryan. But assuming it did stay the same… I picture him wearing a brown pinstriped suit with vest and suspenders but with vest and tie in a unique color like maybe burgundy or plum. A top hat with feathers over short, pushed back hair. The eyeliner would’ve probably made a comeback - not the fever-era art designs but plain black liner. The steampunk vibes - goggles, gears, etc. - from the Mona Lisa video? That would’ve been Ryan during every show, because you know he always took the Look™ a step above everyone else.
Warnings: None, unless you need a warning that Percival will slay your soul with his perfection.
Request: “SOMEDAY KILLED ME. I’m typing from the grave … to request more Percival, because I can’t deal. Maybe something with 50/102? (I’m weak for danger-dodging kisses.)”
50. In order to avoid a dangerous situation, both characters are forced to stay hidden in a small, enclosed space.
102. “Kiss me, quick!”
A/N: AH what is wrong with me? Why am I such a jabber jaw? I literally can’t write anything short to save my life so consider this the first part of a two part series. Hopefully I’ll have the next one done tomorrow. Once again, I’ve made up some characters and something for the sake of the plot but hope you don’t mind. Eek!
The sound of tiny, flapping wings was incessant. I narrowed my eyes, rolling up the sleeves of my cardigan, because now I meant business. The paper currently fluttering over my head, which had been intricately folded into the shape of a bird, didn’t seem at all phased by this. I had already decided to jinx whoever had thought it was a great idea to send me a memo and then charm it to act like an utter idiot when I tried to coax it down from the ceiling. It had to be a joke. I was sure that when I finally got my hands on the paper and opened it up, there would be a big ‘HA’ written in bold, dark letters. It would take some investigating to figure out just who the culprit what. It was a good thing that was what I did for a living.
“Alright, you stubborn piece of crap.” I muttered, brandishing my wand toward it. “Accio memo!”
a while back the very talented @kevystel got a prompt
about a yoi western au and unfortunately i grew up with a dad who loves westerns and my brain wouldn’t stop (EDIT my brain continued to not stop, read about all the secondary characters here)
if i was being true to the prompt it’d be called “a ranch called love” but they kind of left the ranch and instead of being a list of headcanons it turned into something like actual writing oops but anyway here i go it’s Yuri!!! On the Range!
Yuuri is a taciturn, nervous but kind cowboy in the employ of rancher celestino. He’s good with a gun and known for bringing cattle to market with incredibly low losses, and everyone who’s ever ridden with him has nothing but kind words to say about him. Of course if you brought it up with Yuuri he’d downplay and deny and insist he’s only doing his job. He doesn’t talk much to the townsfolk but there is a quiet, common knowledge among them that if anyone is giving you trouble and you can’t reach the sheriff, Katsuki Yuuri is the man to call.
Viktor Nikiforov is the kind of adventurer-cum-celebrity that could only exist in the old west. Under the authority of sheriff Yakov Feltsman, he’s taken down more outlaws (and in a more dramatic fashion) than just about anyone. At the age of 27, dime store paperbacks are already being published about his fictionalized exploits (Yuuri has secretly hoarded every newspaper clipping and every shitty novella with Viktor’s name on it. He keeps a yellowed, faded newspaper photo of Viktor’s face in his belt pouch on long journeys. It’s ridiculous). Of course by the time our story opens Viktor has grown bored of that life and taken off to a sleepy frontier town where he can open a saloon in relative anonymity.
Yuuri is finally back in town after a long time away. Tomorrow he will leave with his closest friend and fellow cowhand Phichit on a grueling cattle drive. Despite his excellent reputation, things aren’t looking up - there’s been talk of bad weather, banditry and rustlers on the road ahead, and the last season ended with them out $500. The worries pile up until Yuuri finds himself at the local saloon.
“Where the hell did you get that shirt, Eames?” “Do you like it, darling? I got it at a thrift store.” “You realize Macklemore was being ironic, right?”
“Does your shirt… have lemons on it?” “Yes! It made me think of Greece.” “…I’m pretty sure John Travolta never wore anything with a citrus-fruit print.” “Careful using the word ‘fruit’ in the same sentence as 'John Travolta,’ love. We can’t afford a lawsuit. But no, I meant Greece, as in the country. Remember that amazing avgolemono we had?” “This is a rather literal interpretation of that.” “Well, the tie is just yellow.”
“This is not how a plumber dresses, Eames.” “I’ve got denim! Multiple shades of denim, even.” “And a pinstriped vest.” “I thought it broke up the denim nicely.”
“I honestly can’t decide if I’m appalled or turned on.” “Why can’t you be both?” “Button up your shirt, Eames.”
“Did you get dressed in a dumpster this morning?” “They’re called skips, love.” “Because you’re managing to combine 'I got dressed in the dark’ with 'I found these clothes in the garbage.’” “Oi! I only found the tie in the garbage.”
“Is that another garbage tie?” “No! I found it draped over a fence by the bus stop.”
“Chili peppers? CHILI PEPPERS?” “You’ve never understood my whimsy.” “I can’t believe I’m sleeping with you.”
“No. Just… no.” “You told me to wear a jacket and trousers that are the same color!” “I didn’t say 'the same color as an eggplant.’” “It’s aubergine, darling.” “No, it’s ridiculous. Go burn it.”
“This is… surprisingly acceptable.” “I’m undercover as you.” “I’ll take it.”
[ KBTBB Co-Writing Fic ] Hate At First Sight ❤ At Last Glance Part 1
Fandom: Kiss By The Baddest Bidder Rated: Drama, Mystery, Thriller, Smut KBTBB OC:Ryoko Inui / Kyoko Nakama Characters: Eisuke, Soryu, Ryosuke Inu ( YES Inui is featured in this series!)
Background: A fic base on revenge- where I write as OC- Kyoko (true identity Ryoko)who’d do anything to ruin Soryu Ohthat the brilliant
will be writing his POV Summary: Notes: An honor to co Writing KBTBB Series with
The man gasps when his
cock begins to feel the warmth beneath me.
“Aghhhh…” He bucks his hip, his cock glides over the thin lace of my panties that barely cover my heated core. His mouth drops open with his tongue out, desperate to run across my lips.
“Yuuu…Yuki…chan…” The man gasps with his eyes closed, moaning
instinctively, still waiting for that kiss. “Fuck, you’re killing me here.”
With his wrists and
tied to the bed, bucking up and down is all he could manage.
Pressing my forehead against his as he loses himself under my touch.
My body continue moving with blood pumping to my sex, grinding them down onto his erect cock.
I sigh. “So impatient.” Running a hand down his heaving chest and tease his tip, “So what do you say?”
The man gulp nervously, eyes fixed on my cleavage. “I can’t….”
“Oh?!” I pout mockingly, slowly getting off the bed. “How unfortunate, I thought… you’d be interested to see these come off?” My fingers ghosting around the hem of my panties, “In that case, I’ll get going.”
“WAIT!” He mutters.
Letting out a soft laugh as his eyes are drawn to my movements. I unhook my bra while he swallows at my performance, hands covering my boobs before I purposely brush my bra over his burning face.
"I…I’ll do it…” His voice sounding husky
I crawl slowly towards him till my thighs straddle his hips, resting there simply as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Rubbing my hand over the increasingly hard member as a sharp gasp escapes his lips with his head falling back onto the pillow.
“Oh god….” His eyes roll into the back of his head while I grind myself against his needy cock, my tongue dart out and leaves a hot, wet trail up to his stomach and pause for a moment before my teeth latch onto his left nipple, laughing at his strained gasp as his arms and legs jerk instinctively.
“Yoshi san,” I call his name in between my busy licking and sucking, “if you do as I say, then I’ll let you put it ANYWHERE on our next date.”
The young specialist of (the security firm) Visionary whimpers beneath me, mind completely blank by the pleasures from my hands and lips. He would want more, they all do- men are always the same. After denying his climax one last time, the impatient man has leaked all I need to know and makes sure to switch an older version of hardware during the upcoming upgrade in few days, I grant him his long awaited release before leaving him drained and tied up in bed for housekeeping to discover.
Summary: Eisuke Ichinomiya has no time for you because well, he has businesses to attend to… and for that, he’ll be making up for those lonely nights with a business you can’t resist. [#3]
Note:Smut. Kids, don’t read. It’s a really long, hot and heavy one. So yeah, I bless this blog with its first smut ever and yet of all the Voltage guys, I chose the one I like the least (*sarcastic coughs*). I’ve only played his main story and will be blowing more money on him soon (that bastard). And well, I’m honestly proud of this. My grandma would be incredibly disappointed though. Maybe. Okay. Let’s get nasty.
Eisuke Ichinomiya has been pretty busy last week. He’d come home a bit later than he usually does. Of course, you tried to stay up just to see him… but the last time you’ve tried, you wounded up falling asleep around 3 AM. He also hardly invited you to go out with him since they were mostly and strictly for businesses. With so much going on, you haven’t seen him in a long time…
You made a lot of attempts to take even just a pinch of his time. You would wake up earlier than he does to prepare breakfast. Sometimes he’d eat it with you but in other times he had to leave after receiving an urgent call from a potential client he has a dealing with. It’s been going on for a while now and so even if you see him around, you started to feel as though he was fading from your reach.
You didn’t want that.
In an attempt to fill up the hole in your heart, you made and sweetened his coffee the way he likes it. At the back of your mind, the image of his rare smile scorched with a crazed yearning to see it… Though at the same time, it gave you a lump in your throat and a sting in your heart.How long since you’ve seen that smile?
Hannibal's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and Will is TOTALLY OK with it! (Hannigram featuring jealous/possessive Will and a certain thirsty scarf dad who's always sniffing around Will's favorite cannibal booty.)
You said milkshake… things happened.
Bedelia’s Malt Shoppe was known for two things: exceptional milkshakes and a specific kind of clientele. Bedelia’s silent but tacit recognition of her patron’s proclivities had made her shop a safe haven for young men of a certain predisposition. So much so that it was rare to see the counter stools lined with anything but young clean-shaven boys, barely men, armed with twinkling eyes and toothy smiles.
Will Graham was blissfully oblivious of this when he entered Bedelia’s for the first time, though all eyes instantly turned to him.
Scruffy and surly looking, with oil-stained jeans and well-worn flannel, he looked positively primeval in comparison to the row of slicked-back hair and tight t-shirts. He tugged at the wily ends of his curly hair and his cheeks flushed. A few sets of teeth smiled at him, but most of their attention had already diverted back to the man behind the counter.
Wiping the trickling beads of sweat from his brow, Will sat at the furthest stool from the crowd, squinting over his glasses at the menu on the wall.
He frowned. It just read ‘Milkshakes’.
“Uh, excuse me?”
The man behind the counter turned to look at him, and Will felt his glasses fog up. He blinked repeatedly, focusing the man back into view. He was gorgeous. Clad in a garish pinstripe vest that somehow looked tasteful on him, shirt sleeves rolled up to display muscled forearms, and a pristine white apron folded and tied precisely over his hips. His ungelled hair fell softly into his face, a honey-brown curtain of fringe from behind which shone alarmingly warm chocolate eyes.
“Yes,” the man said softly. His voice was smoky thick with just a trace of an accent.
“I-I er, uh,” Will cleared his throat and shook off his stuttering, “sorry, could I see a menu?”
The row of young men snickered under their breath. Will bit his lip to prevent his grimace.
“There is no menu,” the man replied. “What would you like?”
Will shook his head in bemusement. “How would I know what I like if I can’t see a menu?”
The young men laughed a little louder. Will shot them an irritated glare.
The chocolate-eyed man just smiled. “I assure you, I’ve never disappointed anyone with one of my creations.”
He leant in just a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps I might surprise you?”
Will gulped, watching as the man’s gaze traveled to the column of his throat.
“Sure,” he choked out, “go for it.”
“Of course, Mr –” the man tilted his head in question, one fine eyebrow just slightly raised.
“Graham,” Will said, “Will Graham.”
He stuck his hand out and the man looked at him in surprise. At the end of the counter, the young men had gone oddly still. A communal breath was being held.
Hannibal wiped a genteel hand on his apron and then took Will’s, shaking it firmly. He kept them pressed together just a little too long before retreating, and the men murmured quietly among themselves in surprise.
Will curled his hand into a loose fist and released it, feeling the residual heat move through it. Hannibal. He smiled quietly to himself. He felt like he’d uncovered a secret he wasn’t supposed to.
Hannibal busied himself behind the counter with scoops of ice cream and various frothy things, his attention focused laser-sharp. The energy in the shop had gone askew, and a few of the young men were now sending curious gazes Will’s way. Will felt his cheeks burn and tried to sink as low in his seat as he could. He hadn’t asked for this. He just wanted a fucking milkshake.
As if on cue, Hannibal slid a confection toward him in a tall frosty glass. It didn’t look like any milkshake he’d ever seen. It looked like a work of art.
“Can I - can I drink this?” Will asked uncertainly.
Hannibal laughed lightly and leant back against his side of the counter.
“You can, Will,” he said, “I promise it won’t bite.”
Will leaned forward and pulled the straw between his lips, careful to avoid the lacy curlicues of chocolate that sprung out of the sides of the glass. The curving peaks of whipped cream were difficult to work around, but they looked painted on and he was loathe to disturb him. A dot of cream landed on his nose and Hannibal made a very quiet but very approving sound.
Will took the first sip with his eyes directly on Hannibal’s. This was a mistake, because the moment the drink touched his tongue, he moaned. Hannibal saw it all. His eyes went a shade darker and he licked his lips.
“Is it good?” Hannibal asked.
Will nodded, mouth still full. He released the straw and swallowed loudly.
“Delicious,” he replied.
Will leaned forward to take another drink. Hannibal’s eyes were on his mouth, blatant and unabashed. One of the men at the end of the counter quietly set his money down and slinked away. Another followed quickly, hands in his pockets and frowning disappointedly. Will watched them with bemusement and drank his milkshake, Hannibal just watching him all the while.
Boldness seized him on his third pull from the glass, and he let the straw linger against his mouth as he released it. He kept his eyes to the counter when he licked his lips, but he was all too aware of the heated scrutiny he was under.
“Hannibal,” called a bold voice from the end of the counter. Will watched Hannibal prickle at the clearly unauthorized use of his name and looked at the source. A sandy-haired man with flirtatious blue eyes, his smile just a little too wide. He drew his fingertip around the rim of his empty glass.
“I don’t suppose I could have another?” he asked with an exaggerated pout.
“No Anthony,” Hannibal said, “I don’t suppose you could.”
Anthony’s face fell. Hannibal hadn’t even turned to look at him. He slipped his own bill under his glass and slunk out glumly. The rest of the pack quickly followed suit, the wind summarily blown from the sails. Will watched it all with a mixture of confusion and strange pride.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked Hannibal once they were alone.
Hannibal untied his apron and began folding it neatly.
“Defeat,” Hannibal answered succinctly.
Will creased his brow in a frown. “Defeat from what?”
Hannibal slid his palms across the counter so that they caged Will’s half-drunk milkshake.
“From you, Will.”
He reached his index finger to smear a line through the condensation on Will’s glass, moving slowly down.
“Now finish your milkshake.”
Will took the straw between his teeth, sucking down another sip to soothe his suddenly dry mouth. He swallowed slowly and let another pleased noise hum from his throat. Hannibal’s chest rumbled in approval.
“Bedelia will be here to relieve me in ten minutes,” he murmured. “You’ll wait until then.”
“I will?” Will’s heart was beginning to race.
Hannibal nodded, splaying his palm wider so that his pinky brushed over Will’s thumb. The touch set off fireworks under his skin.
The bell on the shop door tinkled lightly and Hannibal looked up in hope.
No. Just another lost cause.
Hannibal’s stomach tightened in lieu of his fist and his mouth set into a barely pleasant line.
Anthony swung his leg over a counter stool and propped his elbows on the counter, chin in hand. “What do you have for me today?”
Hannibal flipped a glass up into his hand and began to scoop ice cream into it, not bothering to answer. Anthony tipped his head in faux concern.
“Oh dear,” he said, “did our scruffy shipman weigh anchor without saying goodbye?” He stuck his lip out obscenely. “Poor thing.”
Hannibal stirred viciously, teeth gritted.
“Just as well,” Anthony went on, “you’d have gotten grease all over your nice clean surfaces if he’d kept at it. That man was constantly dirty, you must have hated it.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Blink if you did.”
Hannibal jammed a straw into the deliberately undecorated glass and set it down before Anthony with a loud click.
“Do not presume to think that because I let you look on me with fondness once that I will allow you to again.”
He stared directly into Anthony’s surprised eyes and did not blink. Anthony, for once, had nothing to say. Hannibal turned back behind the counter and began wiping down the already spotless machinery with deliberate force, steadying his breath and his heart. He was not going to cry over a boy who had already forgotten him. His shoulders trembled with effort and his head fell to his chest.
He could at least have said goodbye.
The double-hinged door that led to the back room swung open and Hannibal sighed. Bedelia wasn’t supposed to relieve him for another hour. He really didn’t need her smug and icy judgment at present.
“Excuse me,” said a familiar voice.
Hannibal turned in wonder, breath caught in his throat.
“I was wondering if you could show me how to make a root beer float.”
Will stood before him, smiling wide, looking truly dreadful in that silly pinstripe but despairingly handsome all the same. A paper hat - the kind that Hannibal had refused to accept as part of the uniform - was perched precariously atop his beautiful curls.
Anthony set his glass down in shock. “Bloody hell.”
They both ignored him. Hannibal was shaking. Will shrugged cheekily.
“Needed a job if I was gonna stick around town.”
Hannibal descended on Will in overwhelmed relief, sweeping him up into his arms and sinking their mouths together in a series of cold-warm kisses, the chill from the casings behind them swiftly melted by the heat between them. Will swung his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, smiling giddily between each kiss. Anthony, betrayed by his own innate romanticism, grinned at the display.
Will clutched Hannibal tightly, and once the fever of their kisses had simmered he buried his face into Hannibal’s throat and just held him as close as he could.
“Idiot,” he muttered into his skin, “thinking I’d leave you.”
He looked up fondly, merriment dancing in his eyes.
“How could I leave the man who makes the best chocolate malt in the world?”
Anthony raised his glass in a toast. “Hear, hear!”
Will turned his head sharply, eyes shooting daggers.
“You,” he pointed his finger accusingly, lip upturned in a near-growl, “hands off.”
Anthony nodded, only a little begrudging. “Fair enough. I know when a battle’s lost.” He rose from his seat and set his money down. “Congratulations to you both.” He exited with an unnecessary flourish, setting the bell clanging loudly.
Hannibal looked down at Will, positively beaming. He cupped his face between his hand, stroking it with his thumbs.
“You stayed,” he whispered.
Will turned to kiss his palm, curls brushed soft over his fingertips. He tipped his chin back to accept another kiss from Hannibal, then another, mouths gentle and soft.
Because I love Killian’s shirts, here is a compilation of most, if not all, of them (not including anything very very new to avoid spoiling people who don’t wish for that). I’ve added captions to each pair of shirts if you are interested in my comments.
For a guy who seems to never change his clothes, he is a bit of a clothes horse. You can also see that he has at least 3 vests in here, too, although the leather one has gotten the most use in seasons 4 & 5.
(only a couple of shots are my screencaps. Most come from either farfarawaysite’s collection of promo stills. I’ve also borrowed from @rogermackenzie and @opustwelve—thanks!)
“Imagine: Being best friends with cool kid Malik in high school and one day he tells you he has a crush on the biggest nerd ever (Altair) who always trips and wears sweater vests with pinstripe trousers and you help them get together because how cute is that?”