AU where instead of going to Samwell, Jack starts a widely successful Publicly Broadcast show for children.
Jack learns that he is great with kids after coaching them for a little over two years. Moreover, kids are good with Jack. There is no pressure to be anything other than who he is.
It all starts with a local news program doing a fluff piece on Jack Zimmermann’s coaching ability. But then it turned into something completely different when Jack skated onto camera and started to introduce every single one of his kids and what was special about them. He was…really enchanting actually. He didn’t ever really talk down to them. Jack just treated them as a tiny friend.
They ARE his tiny friends, but that’s not the point.
The footage they got of “snack time” was really the best. Imagine a good 16 kids piled around this massive man teaching them the best way to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
It should have been obvious that a local channel would contact him. It still surprises Jack. They want him to host a show? Why? Everyone always teased him about how impersonable he was during interviews. Is it because he’s Jack Zimmermann’s son? Or Alicia’s?
Jack asks all of these questions to his mother and she just laughs. “You made a PB&J interesting to 16 kids just by being you”
This is what happens when you get deep into Yuri on Ice and still have a place in your heart for Destiel so here’s some ice skating + Destiel
“Oh my god. Look! Is that who I think it is?”
“Right over there! On the ice rink!”
Dean rubbed his hands together briskly as he half-listened to the conversation that was getting louder from directly behind him in line. He frowned at the hole he’d just noticed in one of his knitted gloves - but they were something he’d quickly picked up at the dollar store, so he couldn’t be too upset over cheap quality.
“I don’t know what you’re -”
“I swear to god, Anna. Use your eyes and tell me that’s not him.”
The skate rental line wasn’t as long as he’d been expecting, but Dean had already been standing in the cold air for five minutes with nothing to do for entertainment but eavesdrop. Trying not to show he’d been listening in, Dean casually looked over his shoulder until he had a good view of the people currently skating on the rink. There were a few families slowly dragging each other along the ice, plenty of couples holding hands and laughing, a few people racing around the rink, and one lone skater doing a very impressive spin in the center that eventually slowed to a stop.
“Oh, I think… I think you’re right…”
The voice that had previously seemed to doubt her friend apparently belonged to a redheaded woman that was almost directly behind him.
“Told you.” Dean saw the blonde woman smirk out of the corner of his eyes. “What the hell is Castiel Novak doing here?”
Since the first time they met–sparring in a ring, their swords matching one another blow for blow, the world disappearing around them as they fought– he has been her partner in a way, the only man unafraid of her crown and her sword.
He had been but her rival at first, at the receiving end of her famed wit, at the pointy end of her practise sword, at the other side of the room, on the other side of the palace walls.
But as they had grown, as the fire within them had steadied and burned strong, he had become her partner in other ways.
The Princess and her Knight Commander.
At her side in every battle, escorting her through every painful ball with a sly joke whispered in her ear, with a tentative compliment at the end of the night before he walks away, leaving her with a soft longing for something that makes her heart sigh.
But as she stands facing him now, caught in a hug goodbye that had not ended, lingering instead– her forehead pressed against his, his breath puffing against her cheek, her hand resting upon his chest– she wonders if perhaps they could not be more.
Stiles listens to his dad ask him the same question that comes up way too often, and gets lost counting the dark flecks that scatter across the white expanse of the all-too-familiar hospital ceiling. Here again, and ‘He’ll be fine,’ the doctor says.
His dad wants to hear it from Stiles’ lips, though. Is he okay?
Is he really okay?
His answer doesn’t come as easily as it used to, no quip or snap back like it’s easy come easy go. The feckless lie sticks in the back of his throat, burning away like a hot coal choking the life out of him.
He’s said it more than a million times, and no super-hearing anybody has heard his heart skip a single beat. Or maybe they did, but that thought doesn’t make it any easier, because that means they’ve ignored it a million times, too. And it should be easy, he’s brilliant at lying straight to his father’s face these days. Stiles knows how to twist a definition to make it true, how to believe in nothing and make it something.
Molehills out of mountains.
Tip of the iceberg.
Shrink it down until it’s just an ember, a single flicker of pain low in his chest. It burns enough to remind him that it’s there, but cool enough for him to force the words out.
He stops counting the tiny holes in the ceiling, and plasters a bright, brilliant lie across his face.
code green: everything is okay, no one is crying code yellow: bokuto is crying. while this is a semi-occasional occurrence, try to either distract him or calm him down asap with compliments, jokes, affection, offering to play volleyball with him, etc, etc code orange: kuroo is crying. this is unusual, but not unheard of. figure out what is wrong and help fix it, if possible. offer physical affection and (if available) twizzlers code red: tsukishima is crying. (how did you even make tsukishima cry, you monster?) don’t try to placate him; either solve the issue yourself or help him do so. his tears can turn into fury very fast
((code black: AKAASHI IS CRYING WHAT DO WE DO HE DIDN’T MAKE NOTES FOR IF HE’S THE ONE CRYING OH GOD WHO EVEN MADE AKAASHI CRY– TSUKISHIMA NO WE CAN’T JUST HIRE A DEEP WEB HITMAN TO– BOKUTO GET BACK HERE YOU CAN’T JUST FIND THE GUY AND PUNCH HIM– okay wait nvm akaashi just told us to stop fooling around and watch a movie on the couch with him. okay. okay. we’re good. it’s all good. okay. kuroo out))
A huge s/o to everyone who liked my previous fic and it was so immensely amazing to see the response you guys are the best I love all of you thank you so much okay I’m going to stop now.Also,again, thanks to @ghostiemakingposties and Shradha(who still,apparently,has her wits about her and isn’t on this site) for beta-ing this.
Also, I’d just like to say that this? It’s tooth-rotting .I shit you not,this is so mushy I might puke.
That being said,constructive criticism is,as always,appreciated.Come talk to me.
Spread the love y'all!
The sun is what wakes him up and at first,Alec can’t place where he is.He feels a warm body pressed against him and an arm thrown across his torso.
Magnus Bane.High Warlock of Brooklyn. Possibly the most powerful downworlder in the state.
He slowly turns to his side, careful not to jostle the (beautiful) man next to him.The sight takes his breath away.
His boyfriend’s face is devoid of any make-up whatsoever and Alec feels so tremendously privileged to see him like this.
He’s told Magnus countless times that he’s beautiful without all the glitter and eyeliner but he respects his decision to use it because I don’t do this to look beautiful,Alexander.I do this to feel beautiful.
And right now,in the calm,with the sun streaming into the room through the cracks in the curtain and the tranquility the early morning offers,Alec can sort of see what he means.
His boyfriend is,no doubt,absolutely breathtaking without all the make-up on his face but it’s like all those products make him seem so much more…in control.It’s like an armour.Like this mask,preventing the world from seeing him as vulnerable or in need of help.
And Alec still feels honoured at being able to see this man without the façade he shows everyone else.
At getting the opportunity to see him so bare,but at the same time,so whole.
Right now,he sees the way the sun falls on his face,highlighting the hollows of his cheekbones and jaw.
He sees the way his nose slightly shifts and the small movements his lips make as he breathes in his sleep.
He notices the slight stubble on his chin that Magnus will no doubt shave off when he gets up,because Beards are for old people,Alexander,and I’m too fabulous to age.
He notices the soft sounds he makes as he exhales.A slow phew.
He notices his hair spread out around his head on the pillow like a mane.
He can count the number of eyelashes on Magnus and he does, because anything to do with Magnus is magical and beautiful and so absolutely lovely and Alec wants to know everything about him.
He looks at this man lying down next to him,cuddling into him,so calm and serene,and has two thoughts.
The first one is about how Magnus right now,this Magnus,is a contradiction. He’s so completely different from the one awake. The one who wouldn’t be caught dead wearing pajamas,albeit silk ones,on the streets unless he feels like starting a trend.The one who wouldn’t dare be seen unshaven and makeup-free.The one who would rather have dinner with Maryse than not be the life of the party,bright and exuberant and fun and so alive.
The second thought is about how lucky Alec is.He hardly dares to think about what his life could have been if Magnus hadn’t entered it when he did.He came in like a hurricane and refused to leave and for that Alec can’t be more thankful.
He vaguely thinks that he’s being exceptionally sappy this morning when his train of thought is interrupted by a voice.
“Staring is rude, I’ll have you know.”
It’s mumbled and a bit hoarse with remnants of sleep but nonetheless, Magnus’s voice makes him feel all warm and cozy inside.
“It’s more of an appreciative gaze than an intrusive one, really.”
He feels tingly,knowing that they’re so comfortable around eachother, that he can say these things to him, unreserved,without overthinking it.
“Well,in that case,appreciate all you want.”
Alec lets out a small laugh and marvels at this man’s ability to get him to show some kind of positive emotion before 8am and his cup of coffee.Actually,the fact that he gets him to show any emotion at all.
Magnus has made him feel so much in this short span of time and it’s like he brought so much light into Alec’s life with him.
“What are you thinking about?”
It sounds more awake but it’s somehow softer,more gentle.Like he knows.
And as Alec looks at this magnificent warlock next to him,this stunning man holding him like Alec’s his lifeline, clinging onto him,he feels so full of affection and there’s really only one thing he can reply with to that question.
I'd LOVE if you could write a drunk Simon confessing his feelings to Jace when he drives him home! Especially if it's super fluffy!
yeeeeeeee i love Drunk Shenanigans!!!
“So this is what you do when I don’t go out with you?” Jace asks, huffing warm air over his fingers. It’s freezing, and he forgot his gloves, because he rushed over here to pick up one Simon Lewis from trying to get back to the apartment they share while drunk as hell.
“Don’t get mad at me, I made good choices, did good things!” Simon says, pouting prettily as he tilts his head back and looks up at Jace. He’s slumped against Maia and Clary, who are quietly giggling to themselves.
“He did - ‘good things’ is the cute blonde back in there!” Maia sniggers, and Jace feels his heart break a little more. He scowls, trying to get over the tiny pang in his chest. He’s long since accepted that Simon doesn’t feel the same way as he does, but it still fucking sucks because the guy he likes is the guy he lives with, and the guy who’s made it his mission to insert himself into every part of Jace’s life.
“I didn’t do him.” Simon insists. “I was gonna, but he’s verrrrrrrrrrrry.”
“Very what?” Clary asks, leaning forward. Jace sighs and pushes her back as she begins to topple off the bench.
“Very.” Simon agrees, and Jace raises an eyebrow. He’s about to press for more information, when Magnus appears.
“Oh, finally.” He groans. “Take Simon home, I’ll deal with the girls.”
“What did you guys drink?” Jace asks, exasperated as Maia nearly punches him in the face in her haste to cling to Clary.
“We had a competition, and I severely underestimated their tolerance.” Magnus sighs, massaging his temples. “Come along, darlings.” Maia and Clary stumble off with Magnus, and Jace tugs Simon upright.
“You good, man?” He asks quietly. Simon hums quietly and leans into Jace’s side.
“Not gonna be sick or anything.” He confirms, and Jace laughs softly, slinging an arm around Simon’s shoulder and steering him to the car.
“I’ve drunk enough with you to know what you’re like.” Jace muses. “And I am so glad you’re not the kind to throw up. I would not let you within ten feet of my car if you were.”
“What kind of drunk am I?” Simon asks brightly, then promptly slips on the sidewalk and crumples, holding on to Jace’s arms for dear life. Jace sighs and hauls him back up, and suddenly Simon is very close, close enough to count each eyelash fluttering over warm brown eyes.
“Clumsy.” Jace says hoarsely, transfixed by the hazy desire clouding Simon’s eyes, before he remembers that Simon is fucking drunk, and he sighs and steps away. “Come on, Lewis.”
He manages to get Simon into the car with minimal fuss. Simon does try to convince Jace that North Dakota doesn’t exist, but it’s not even the biggest conspiracy theory Simon’s brought up, so Jace isn’t worried as he starts up the car and peers behind him, backing slowly out of the parking space.
“Oh my god you’re driving.” Simon says suddenly. Jace snorts as he waits patiently for a gaggle of teens to cross the street. “Since when do you drive?”
“Since a month ago, you went with me to get my license.” Jace mutters. “You’re such a dumbass when you’re drunk.”
“Let me out, Jace is gonna kill me with his driving!” Simon moans, sinking low into his seat.
“I’m gonna dieeeeee.” Simon warbles, and then pauses. “Do you have any water? Or can we stop by the ocean to get a drink?”
“Yeah, I don’t think the Atantic is what you need right now.” Jace says, reaching behind with one hand and grabbing the water he’d thrown in the back seat when he’d heard Simon was drunk.
“Lifesaver.” Simon says gratefully as he takes the bottle and twists the cap off, guzzling it down. He only gets one tiny dribble of water down his chin, and Jace glances over as the car idles at a red light on an empty street.
“You’ve got a - “ He gestures, and Simon frowns.
“A printer?” He asks, excited. Jace shakes his head, bemused.
“Why the fuck would there be a printer?” He asks, glancing once to check that it’s still a red light before he reaches over and swipes his thumb over the drop of water, Simon’s stubble rough under his skin. “There.”
The light changes to green and he drops his hand back to the wheel, focusing on driving - Simon’s partially right, Jace isn’t the best driver - and there’s silence in the car until he looks back to Simon, worried about the lack of unstoppable rambling.
Simon is looking at him with a strange, unreadable look on his face, his eyes dark and stormy. Jace frowns and opens his mouth, about to ask what’s wrong, when Simon blurts out, “Do you know Jace Wayland?”
“Oh my God.” Jace says, shaking his head. “Not this again.” Simon has a habit of conflating Jace and Captain America while he’s drunk, which is cute, but so not helpful.
“If you see him,” Simon continues, his voice turning a little sad, “can you tell him to kiss me?”
“What?” Jace asks, not at all proud of the way his voice goes an octave higher.
“I mean, you’re Captain America. He has to listen to you, right?” Simon asks as Jace tries desperately to focus on pulling into their building’s garage.
“Buddy,” Jace gets out in a strangled voice, “I think Jace Wayland doesn’t need me to tell him to kiss you.”
“Did he say something? Does he not want to?” Simon asks, insistently patting Jace’s arm.
“No.” Jace says shortly, killing the engine and opening the door.
“Then you should command him. Jace would listen to you, you have muscles!”
“Oh my God.” Jace groans as he gets Simon out of the car. He staggers a little as Simon leans in with all his weight. “Why is drunk you so horny?”
“I’m not horny, I love him!” Simon declares. Jace promptly drops Simon. “Ow.” Simon complains from the floor.
“Lewis. Always complicating things.” Jace says, his heart beating faster and a smile creeping onto his face despite himself.
“I’m serious, he’s adorable and he cares so much and he’s so good to the world.” Simon says as Jace hauls him off the ground. “Please get him to kiss me.” Jace’s heart clenches and he smiles giddily at Simon.
“Wake up sober, and I will.” He promises, and Simon nods sleepily, nuzzling into Jace’s neck.
(The next morning, Jace waits as long as it takes for Simon to stumble into the kitchen and blearily make himself a cup of coffee before he backs the other man into the counter, gets a hand in his shirt, and kisses him as thoroughly as he can. Simon whimpers, his hands flailing for a bit and hitting Jace’s head before settling around Jace’s back, and then he gets with the program, pressing back and sliding his tongue across Jace’s.
“Got a message from Captain America.” Jace murmurs when they break apart to breathe, his voice low and amused as he watches the bright red flush overtake Simon’s cheeks.
“Oh God.” Simon groans. “Of all the idiotic things I’ve done - “
“I love you too.”
“ - that was probably not the worst.” Simon concludes, his smile turning blindingly bright. Jace laughs warmly at that and reels Simon in for another kiss, unable to help himself. The guy he’s in love with is nerdy as fuck, but it’s the sweetest thing in the world, and Jace will send the creator of Captain America a fruit basket if it makes Simon happy.)
hiiiii ✨ i know i’ve been posting a lot of writing this week, but i hope you don’t mind one more. in my head, this is set five years in the future. maybe this will be a thing? if i can make myself actually follow through on what i’m picturing for it lol
For dinner, Even has made lasagna. It’s probably a new recipe, Isak thinks. Even has been marathoning Iron Chef all the last week, and that always seems to bring out the urge to recipe-hunt in him. It’s not anything Isak is going to complain about.
“Do you like the sauce?” Even says, of course right as Isak is shoveling a steaming forkful of pasta and cheese into his mouth. It burns a little, from the size of the bite and how fast he tries to chew, and he winces even as he nods.
“What’d you put in it this time?” he asks, mouth still half-full.
“A splash of vodka, a little red pepper.”
“Spicy,” Isak says, exaggerated and in English. Even grins. “It’s good, though, really. Really good.”
“It still needs something. I think I might try making the pasta next time.”
“Like. From scratch?”
“Yeah,” Even says, stretching the tail end a bit in a clear how else?
y’know what i really live for? yoongi breaking people’s expectations
like i somewhat have this coffee shop au in my head, no specific pairing really, but like yoongi frequents this coffee shop all the time
he always has his laptop open and he sits in what the employees all dub, “his” corner, with his laptop and his notebook out and huge ass headphones on and he’s there every morning on weekdays for a few hours before he leaves
and poor guy has the most intimidating resting face and he always looks so tired and dead that everyone just automatically dubs him as the typical morning grump that always orders black coffee, no milk or sugar, and hates people
the employees and the regulars all know of yoongi and everyone gives him a wide berth usually
but then one early morning, these 2 boys come in
they’re younger guys, relatively same height, one with a wide boxy smile and the other with cute bunny teeth
they both order drinks and they look around and they spot yoongi. they get huge smiles on their faces and they start. heading. to the corner™.
and the whole coffee shop just inhales as one and holds their breath because omfg there’s gonna be a murder
the guys sneak up on yoongi and then the boxy smile guy just thumps his hands on yoongi’s shoulder and yoongi jumps so hard and he turns around and
the cutest, most endearing gummy smile with crescent eyes and squishy cheeks and everyone is flabbergasted and a little bit in love
and after that day, he sometimes comes in with a few other boys, always the same 6 though, and he smiles and laughs and jokes around all the time
I’ve become obsessed with the idea of FAHC!Ryan getting called for jury duty.
Like pick your favorite reason that he gets that summons in the mail. Maybe it’s the really convincing tax returns for one of his fake identities that Gavin created. Personally, I really like the idea that even as a criminal Ryan is still an upstanding citizen who’s made sure to register to vote in Los Santos. So Ryan gets his summons and runs to the crew, ready to demand (or have Lindsay or Geoff demand) that Gavin hacks the system to get him out of it.
So of course the second he goes to complain to Lindsay about it they get the word that Michael’s case didn’t get excused at pre-trial like they had planned. Lindsay makes the executive decision that, instead of just breaking him out of prison, the best way to make this go away is for the jury to find Michael not guilty.
Which means Ryan gets stuck playing nice all through the entire trial process. There was an outfit montage where Lindsay, Mica, and Meg went through Ryan’s closet to pick out the least threatening outfit they can for the city’s most notorious killer to wear to court. (It was surprisingly easy and they all agreed how disturbing it was to see the Vagabond in wireless glasses and a frumpy dad suit).
When it comes to the actual trial Ryan really has things cut out for him. Michael is so obviously guilty that Ryan honestly can’t believe they bothered with a trial. He didn’t know it was even possible to leave that much evidence when you blew up a building.
And it’s 11 to Ryan’s 1 when they go back to deliberate and he’s forced to use every ounce of charm he has to convince the other eleven people in that room the cherub faced kid who looked like he was wearing his dad’s suit couldn’t possibly be the same person who blew up the westbound bridge. It took two full eight hour days before they finally came back with a vote of not guilty.
Ryan insisted his code name be Henry Fonda for their next heist.
The Villain Wrangler, 4.6k,based on this post, and I wonder why I never finish any projects in a timely fashion
“You won’t believe the request I got handed
today,” Danica said. Maddie looked up at her.
“Yeah? Try me,” she challenged.
Danica told her. Maddie didn’t believe it.
“You have a kid who wants to meet Loki,” Maddie
said. “The Loki. Like, New York and aliens Loki, that one?”
“Of course I told them that was off the table,”
Danica said. “I mean…obviously. But…god. The little girl - Midge - was just
devastated. And I was half thinking, you know, how would I
hypothetically make this happen, but that’s just…crazy. We can’t.”
How about Genji helping
Zenyatta recover from a serious hacking attempt?
“Genji, please, calm
down,” Zenyatta asked, but his voice was still modulating in a strange way,
reminding Genji of what had happened yesterday. He cursed himself for not
knowing more about omnics and technology, that he might be able to help
There had been an attack
on the temple, not the first, but their assailants didn’t come manned with
guns, but computers. They’d attempted to hack the monks. They were lucky that
their attackers didn’t know about Genji, they’d sat there laughing as he
approached them, expecting to have hacked his programme before he reached them,
Genji had just kept walking towards them, watching as the glee melted off of
their faced and morphed into confusion, the beginnings of fear as their
computer did nothing.
Genji had been so angry,
an anger he had not felt in a very long time, the kind that made his dragon
restless. Zenyatta and too many of the other monks were lying incapacitated and
in pain in the temple and Genji knew that the only way he could help them was
by silencing the attack. So he had silenced it. He remembered the panic on the
faces of the hackers when Genji did the unthinkable and removed his face plate,
he wanted them to see, their
realisation that he was man not machine, how they attempted to flee as he drew
his dragon blade.
voice, crackling but soft, broke through Genji’s thoughts, drawing his
attention back to his master, sat recuperating in his room, waiting for his
systems to recover.
Genji had contacted an
expert to come and help them, someone who was friendly to their cause, to check
that the monks would be okay, but they were in the mountains of Nepal and she wouldn’t
be here until tomorrow at the earliest.
“You are worrying me,”
Zenyatta called out to him, the lights on his forehead were still wavering
uneasily from the effects of the hack, Genji felt so helpless, so useless. Zenyatta
did not ask Genji to tell him what was wrong, he likely already knew, he knew
Genji so well after all.
“They almost – you nearly
– ” Genji balled his fists, could feel the tears well from fear and
helplessness under his faceplate.
“Genji, will you come
here?” Zenyatta asked, extended one long arm, hand reaching out to Genji.
Genji took it without
hesitation, coming to rest on the floor beside Zenyatta, feeling his breath
catch as Zenyatta brought his hand up to caress his faceplate.
“May I remove this? I
wish to see you, my heart.” Genji’s nodded shakily, allowing Zenyatta to reach
around and unclasp the plate, gently removing it, brushing a metallic thumb
under Genji’s eye and wiping away his tears. “Do not cry, I am alright.”
Zenyatta reassured, Genji held his master’s hand against his face, it was
“I’m sorry master,”
“I just feel so useless,
I cannot make it better, I couldn’t stop them before – ”
“Hush, Genji,” Zenyatta
cut him off, soothing him, “You did stop them, before any lasting damage could
be done to any of us, and we all will recover, fully, thanks to you, Genji, my
sweet sparrow. You help me simply by being here with me, you must know this.”
Zenyatta leant forward, nudging
the seam of his faceplate and jaw against Genji’s lips and Genji kissed him
back a little desperately.
“You are exhausted, and
my systems also need rest. Stay with me?” Zenyatta asked, even though they both
knew that nothing could pry Genji from his side now.
“For as long as you want
“Forever, then.” Zenyatta
answered, and though his face did not change with his moods, Genji knew he was
one of the things that i really appreciate about this fandom is that you can literally ship fucking ANYONE,, like sometimes i’m convinced that the haikyuu!! fanart ppl just roll some dice and are like “oh damn ok so today i’m gonna draw yahaba and ennoshita” and even though we’re kinda like “??? what” with some of it, we accept it and most of the time end up sobbing over a ship that we didn’t even know existed
I begged @didjamissme for a prompt yesterday and she gave me Patater pre-school au so… here you go tumblr, enjoy the fruits of my labor.
The first day of school is always daunting, Kent thinks as he surveys his classroom one last time and nudges a corner of the quiet time rug flat with the toe of his Sperry.
It’s daunting, but it’s fun. It’s another year of watching his full day preschoolers grow and learn and develop and GOD if that isn’t the best feeling in the world he doesn’t know what is.
He’s been teaching in Seattle since he graduated from UBC with his teaching degree and finished up his Masters at UW, and he loves it. He loves the city, the people, the fact he’s hours from the mountains or the ocean or the rivers or the lakes. He loves the night life and the daily vibe and he loves the fact that the Schooners literally play two light rail stops from his apartment and he has season tickets.
He’d played Juniors in Portland for two seasons before being traded to Seattle for the last two and his overager season, and after aging out without being drafted he’d gone up north and played four years of college hockey while getting his degree to teach small humans.
He wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
At 9:45 on the nose he props open the classroom door that leads to the playground and greets the parents and little ones and invites them inside, shaking parental hands and soothing a few worried kids and a ton of worried parents and getting everyone involved with crayons and nametags with big block letters for them to color and have on their desks.
It’s 5 till when he looks up from where he’s crouched in the front corner of the room and his only coherent thought is ‘Oh shit he’s hot.’ Followed closely by 'Oh shit that’s Alexei Mashkov.’
Kent knew the story. Everyone in Seattle knew the goddamn story. Alexei had adopted his goddaughter after a terrible series of events that left him the only person with any legal say over her. Three years, a Stanley Cup and two All-Star nominations later there’s a giant schooners DMan holding a small one in his arms gravely listening to her prattle at him in a mix of English and Russian standing in the door of his hockey themed classroom.
Kent decided it was probably time to pretend he was a fully grown human that knew how to adult and hoisted himself up from his crouch, meandering over and sticking out his hand in greeting.
“Good morning! I’m Mister Parson! You must be Anna!” He greeted with a smile at the little one and then a smile for the very. Tall. Hockey man. “Kent Parson.”
Alexei smiled and shook his hand, “Alexei Mashkov. I think you know of me.” He said, nodding his head at the big “Schooners Read” banner Kent had on one wall. It had all the players on the roster from two years ago. Including Mashkov.
Kent was not blushing.
“Ah, yeah. I played in the dub as a kid. Gotta share the love of hockey, right?” He looked down at the tug on his hand and smiled at Anna.
“Let’s get you settled in!” He told her and with a final smile and wave to Alexei as his high school student assistant shooed the parents out the door and pulled it closed, Kent calls the attention to him and shoves all thoughts of Alexei Mashkov out of his mind.
Well.. Out of his mind until he can go over to Bitty and Jacks after school and lay on their couch and moan about unfairly pretty hockey men.
The year goes, it passes in a flash, and his casual friendship with Lyosha grows into something more like best friends and on the last day of school as Kent is hugging Anya and assuring her kindergarten will be wonderful and that she will see him all the time that Alexei reaches out and loops his arms around them both.
“School is over, Kenny. You not teach Anya anymore. You can date me now, yes?”
Kent is absolutely blushing at that.
But he nods and tries to control his smile and instead of making a fool of himself, he tucks one arm around Anya and the other around Lyosha and he smiles and nods his head.
The reward is a kiss on the cheek from not just Alexei (who is grinning like a crazed loon), but one on the other cheek from Anya who still has both little arms firmly tucked around his neck.
Hello, dear friends! I’m currently sitting in a tiny Paris flat where I’m on holiday with @noeeon (who is the best wife ever.) I’ve already seen the Eiffel Tower, walked through Rue Cler and Boulevard Saint Germain, and run across Draco Malfoy on a bicycle, wearing a grey wool coat that looked remarkably like an Auror uniform. Guess which was the highlight so far of my trip, lol.
I’ve managed to get started on the follow-up to my Kinkfest fic, which I’m having an absolute blast writing. I’m posting it as a WIP, one chapter a week on Thursdays (except for next week when travel plans will require me posting on Friday.) Feel free to read along, or when it’s finished in 10 weeks. (I have 10 tightly plotted chapters, thanks to @noeeon, yay!)
Title:Lost In Your Arms Chapter: 1 out of 10 Rating: Very. Very. VERY NC-17. You’ve been warned. Pairing: Harry/Draco Word Count This Chapter: ~19,400
Content/Enticements: Aurors, voyeurism, dirty talk, light dom/dub, switching, public sex, shower sex, power imbalance, blow jobs, facials, Slytherins being Slytherins, fingering, bondage, oral fixation, drarry, others to be added as the story goes on :)
Summary: Three months after their brief encounter, Draco has almost forgotten about Potter–or so he tells himself. Then a Dark wizard shows up on the Auror radar and all hell breaks loose. Draco will have to choose between everything he holds dear–everything he’s worked so hard for–and a few stolen moments of passion with a certain green-eyed Inspector, once his sworn enemy and now something rather different entirely. He’ll make the right choice, won’t he?
Who is he kidding? He’ll ruin everything, as per usual. Bad choices and the name Malfoy go hand in hand.
Author Notes: This fic starts after Can’t Get You Out of My Head. While it’s not crucial for you to have read that one first, it’ll probably make a bit more sense if you have. :) Title once again courtesy of Ms. Kylie Minogue.
This is a long fic that will be posted weekly on Thursdays. There are 10 chapters. However, the second installment will go up on a Friday since I’m on holiday and don’t have regular access to wifi. I’ll get back on my proper schedule with chapter three.
Also, please note that this fic is set eight years after the Second Wizarding War (in 2006), so any Muggle technology referenced herein is going to be of that era, and most definitely not up to our current standards. Hint: no iPhones. :)
Huge thanks to my betas sassy_cissa and @noeeon for all their brilliance. They’re the best. <3