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hotpinkhoshi · 5 years ago

Text

the pact (2)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: sexual content, cursing, alcohol, cliche fwb to lovers, fuckboy!jb

word count: 7.4k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: first of all, thank you all so so so much for the love for the first part! i was so nervous posting and it completely blew my mind to get such a good response. this part is a bit longer and the smut is a bit more ... smutty lolol so just be aware of that. again please let me know your thoughts/feels it absolutely makes my day :) enjoy!

(part one here)

The rest of the weekend went quickly, considering you ended up sleeping until nearly twelve o’clock Saturday afternoon.

You honestly thought the night before had been a dream, until you’d tripped on the box of condoms laying on the floor on your way to the bathroom to pee. Vaguely, you remembered Jinyoung tossing them there just before…

Groaning, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Surely, you’d made a mistake. A big one—risking one of your longest friendships just for one night of blissful ignorance. This was not something you would normally do.

While you weren’t nearly as calculated and cautious as Jinyoung, you usually knew better than to make hasty decisions, especially ones that could cost you your relationship with your loved ones.

Filled with guilt and regret low in your stomach, you trudged back into your bedroom to check your phone. There were more than a few drunken snaps from the boys that had gone out last night, including one of Jackson drinking some concoction from a wine glass that made you shudder.

No texts, though. Honestly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. You’d half expected Jinyoung to text you as soon as he got home, telling you he’d made a terrible mistake and that he’d rather not talk to you ever again.

However, it felt strange that he hadn’t messaged you at all, for a reason you couldn’t quite put your finger on. This had been what you’d wanted, right? Just two friends helping each other out, no extra strings involved. And Jinyoung had never been the type to text more than necessary.

This thought relieved some of your worries, enough that you could put your phone down and venture out to get some food in your stomach. You weren’t hungover, necessarily, but you felt the effects of staying up too late and to be frank, you were sore.

If Sana had any idea what had gone on last night after she retired to bed, she kept it hidden well. She was sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone and eating lunch.

“Good morning,” you muttered, praying the tee you’d chosen had a high enough neck to keep your marks from Jinyoung hidden. The last thing you needed was for Sana to see a hickey that you most definitely did not have the last time she’d seen you.

“Do you mean good afternoon? What time did you get to bed last night, anyway?” Sana asked, spoon of soup halfway to her lips.

You turned to the cupboard and pretended to mull over which mug you wanted to use for coffee. “Um, maybe... two? Not more than an hour after you went to bed...”

“Hm,” she replied, and you held your breath waiting to see if she would say anything else to indicate she knew something had happened. “Oh my god, look at this video of a corgi my cousin tagged me in.”

Your entire body relaxed as you turned back to your roommate to watch the video on her phone. Maybe you had gotten away with it after all.

~~~

The rest of the weekend, you found yourself back at work even though you weren’t scheduled to be there. There was always work to do, and it kept your mind busy to focus on something besides your reckless decisions.

By Sunday evening, you’d outlined an entire business plan to get your sales back up before the summer hit, reorganized the entire cookbook section, and laid out next month’s employee schedule.

Yugyeom made your life a little easier by staying until close, placing sale stickers on old paperbacks that you’d been trying to sell for months. He’d talked your ear off about Friday night, filling in all the details that you never asked for.

“I’m not kidding, noona, this guy was two seconds from sucker punching Jackson just because he accidentally made out with his fiance. But she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring! I checked!”

This was part of the reason you never went out with the guys when they hit the clubs. It was always fun until inevitably one of them caused utter chaos that you found yourself involved in every time, if only to try and diffuse the situation.

You were becoming too old for the nightlife scene, you figured.

“That’s crazy.”

“I know!” Yugyeom placed his next sticker harshly, almost knocking over the entire pile. “But apparently, there is a God, because at that moment, a bachelor party came through the crowd and we lost them.”

You were about to mutter another ‘wow’ or ‘that’s crazy’ when the front door jingled. Just as you were about to tell the customer you closed in a few minutes, your words died in your throat. It wasn’t just any customer, it was Jinyoung.

For a moment, you forgot that you’d just seen him naked two days ago. He was just Jinyoung, your oldest friend.

“Jinyoung!” you exclaimed, setting down your clipboard.

He offered you a smile, running his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Hey. Sorry, I know you guys close soon. I just wanted to see if you’d gotten a particular book in.”

Nodding, you came out from behind the counter once he told you the title, leading him to the row of shelves where you kept the new releases. You shouted back for Yugyeom to lock the front door and clock out a while, since this wasn’t the first time you’d let Jinyoung in the store past closing time.

“Ah, right here,” you said, pulling the book from the shelf and placing it in Jinyoung’s hands.

It wasn’t until you made eye contact with him, his shoulder close enough to brush against yours, that you had a flashback to the other night. His head between your thighs, your fingers laced into his hair.

You looked down abruptly, tucking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan. “Anything else I can help you find?”

Jinyoung didn’t answer at first, just rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you. About Friday.” He lowered his voice, leaning close enough you could smell his cologne.

You swallowed. “Okay.”

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, taking you by surprise.

“For what?”

Jinyoung sighed, chewing his lip with his teeth for a moment. “I was worried that I took advantage of you. You were drinking, you were upset, and maybe you didn’t exactly have a clear head.”

Somehow, his response was a relief. You’d been expecting him to have regrets for completely different reasons than just his conscience.

“I wasn’t drunk,” you told him, shaking your head. “I was basically sober. And yeah, I was upset, but... I don’t regret it. I think I needed it.”

Jinyoung looked relieved as well. His shoulders visibly relaxed and he raised his brows. “Me too, actually. It’s hard to explain, but--”

“I get it,” you said, because you were sure you did, without him saying the words. “It reminded you Yeri isn’t the only girl in the world that could want you?”

Jinyoung nodded. “Same for you?”

“Yeah. Except I know Jaebeom doesn’t want me, not the way I want him to. I just needed to see that someone else could. Plus, it was a nice distraction, right?” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “A really nice distraction.”

Again, you were reminded of the way it felt to have his skin against yours and the weight of his body on you. The way his teeth grazed your neck. It was hard to forget, considering you’d had to layer up concealer over the purple marks that just barely peeked over the collar of your shirt.

There was an air of awkwardness between the two of you, but that was to be expected, you figured. It didn’t make you regret that night or want to do it again any less.

“Well, what are friends for, right?” you joked, and Jinyoung let out a lighthearted laugh. Your stomach flipped ever so slightly that you could make him laugh like that, for some reason. You’d never cared before.

“Right,” he agreed. “Also, finding incredible books.” He held up the one in his hand, which served as a reminder that Yugyeom was still in the store somewhere, and he had a way of popping up places you didn’t expect him to be.

“Here, let me get you checked out and you can head home.”

You led Jinyoung back to the register, already feeling so much better about the whole situation. You hadn’t lost him forever, which was truly what you’d been worried about.

But you realized that was a silly notion. You’d both wanted it, and frankly, you’d both needed it.

After ringing up Jinyoung’s book, you walked him out of the store to bid him goodbye, letting him know to text you to let you know how the book was. Just like you normally would.

~~~

It wasn’t until Wednesday night that you found yourself contemplating texting Jinyoung. To be specific, texting Jinyoung for sex. It still sounded absolutely ridiculous in your head, but it was the truth.

You’d spoken a few times, no more than usual, mostly about his new read and other random things that came up. It appeared that your friendship would continue as normal.

Then Jaebeom had texted you. In the middle of the week, during your lunchtime, a simple ‘hey :)’ that had you gawking at your phone and almost choking on your chicken salad.

Since you weren’t an idiot and you were committed to truly moving on from your infatuation, you ignored it. But you couldn’t help thinking about it for the rest of the day, even after you arrived home.

You needed a distraction, and you needed it bad.

you: hey you: are you home from work?

Jinyoung: Yeah, why?

you: ...can I come over?

Jinyoung: Of course.

Even though he texted like a robot, you knew he would have said no if he really didn’t want you coming over. You prayed he understood the implications of your visit, that you weren’t just coming over to discuss the weather.

Jinyoung lived close enough that you were at his apartment within half an hour, a modest but definite upgrade from your tiny two bedroom.

Somehow, you pushed your nerves down by the time Jinyoung answered the door, dressed in a simple black long sleeved tee and his work khakis. You now appreciated him in this outfit in a way you wouldn’t have a week ago.

“Hey,” he said, inviting you inside. “I was just finishing up a quick dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Mm,” you replied, inhaling the scent of frying veggies and garlic. “Actually, yeah. What did you make?”

“Just some stir fry and ramen, nothing special,” he told you, leading you into the kitchen with a hand at the small of your back. It sent tingles up your spine, and something told you it was intentional on his part.

Once he sat you down at the kitchen island on one of the stools there, you watched as he made the finishing touches to the pan he had warming on the stove.

You hadn’t been to his place in a while, but it looked like nothing had changed. It was clean, even the kitchen, despite the fact that he’d been making dinner. When you made dinner, it looked like a tornado hit the kitchen.

There weren’t many personal touches in his space, but enough for you to recognize it as Jinyoung’s. A photo of himself and his parents on the fridge, an old record player set up in the corner, and bookshelf stuffed full with novels in the living room. The open floor plan made his apartment appear much bigger than it was, in reality, but you preferred it over your cluttered space.

“Here, try this,” Jinyoung said, holding a wooden spoon in front of your lips. You obeyed, letting him feed you the broth.

It was delicious. You’d never eaten anything he’d prepared as far as you could remember, but you were thoroughly impressed so far.

“Mm, I had no idea you were such a great cook.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and walking back over to finish up the food. “I’m not. I just know how to follow a recipe, that’s all.”

“Yeah, so do I, but somehow it always ends up terrible.”

“That’s because you’re actually awful at following a recipe,” he said as he turned back to you, a bowl of ramen in one hand and a plate of stir fry in the other.

You gasped, offended. “I am not!”

Jinyoung raised a brow. “Remember that cooking class we had to take in high school? You messed up banana bread. There are like, four ingredients in banana bread.”

“Well, the recipe was wrong.” You pressed your lips together defiantly. “It didn’t taste that bad, anyway.”

Jinyoung set your meal down in front of you, then leaned his elbows on the counter and stared at you. “Are you sure about that?”

You pouted. You vaguely remembered your teacher immediately coughing and grabbing for a napkin to spit your banana bread out into. Jinyoung, at the time, hadn’t even laughed at you even while everyone else did. He just came over to your station while everyone else was cleaning up, going over the recipe with you to find where you’d gone wrong.

“Well, I’ve gotten better since then. Maybe.”

Jinyoung chuckled, turning away from you once more to grab his own plates. “I believe you, though you might have to prove it to me sometime.”

“I will,” you told him firmly. “But it definitely won’t smell or taste as good as this.”

And it did taste good, once you took your first bite. Better than good. It’d been a long time since you’d had a warm, home cooked meal. You’d been lazy these days, heating up instant meals or ordering takeout. This was a welcome change.

While the two of you ate, you mostly talked about your days at work. Nothing in particular, but the conversation flowed the way it did between two friends that had known each other as long as you’d known Jinyoung. Even the silence while you ate was comfortable.

After you both finished with your meal, you stood and insisted on gathering up the dishes. If you couldn’t cook him a decent meal to return the favor, you’d at least help clean up.

You stacked the plates, dumping the bits of food left over into the trash and rinsing off the plates. When you turned back around from the dishwasher, you found Jinyoung much closer to you than he had been a minute ago.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he told you, crowding you against the sink. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, boxing you in. “But thank you.”

You shivered, looking up at him and nodding meekly. “You’re welcome.” Your voice came out much quieter than intended.

“Now,” he said, moving even closer until you felt his hips pressing into yours. “How about dessert?”

It would have sounded cheesy coming from anyone else, but from him, it sent a wave of heat through your body. After all, this was what you came for.

When Jinyoung finally leaned in to press his lips into yours, you relaxed, sliding your hands up his torso until they rested on his chest. Though neither of you had any alcohol in your system, you felt more at ease than you had the other night.

You knew he wanted you, and you both knew your intentions. There was no reason to worry. As a bonus, you could freely move about his apartment without trying to be quiet.

Jinyoung kissed you as if he’d been thinking of this all day, like he’d been waiting to feel your lips against his and your tongue dipping into the wetness of his mouth. It’d been so long since anyone kissed you the way Jinyoung did.

Though you’d been intoxicated beyond coherence, you had committed your one kiss with Jaebeom to memory at this point. He’d kissed you lazily—like he knew you weren’t going anywhere, like it could have been anyone and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Jinyoung was receptive when he kissed, as if gauging your reactions to each of his movements and using the knowledge to make your knees weak. Each lick, kiss, and bite was perfectly calculated to prepare you for the pleasure he would bring you later.

For a while, you simply just kissed. His hands traveled from the counter to your hips, sliding them upwards until they were on your skin underneath of your simple white shirt. This could have been enough for you, honestly. The way he melted his lips into yours was warming your entire body, just aching to be closer to him in whatever way you could.

When you pulled away, it was only to drag Jinyoung’s sweater up off of his torso and drop it to the floor. It still surprised you to see how fit he was, even more so in much better lighting this time—despite having just eaten a full meal. How had he been hiding this from you for so long?

You wanted to give his physique the proper attention it deserved, so you ran your fingertips down his solid chest, until they grazed over the ridges of his abs. You licked your lips, imagining what it would be like to run your tongue over the skin there.

He had just the lightest happy trail leading you right to the button on his khakis. Your eyes traveled back up his body until you locked eyes with him, where you found him staring at you hungrily.

“Jinyoung… can I…?” You started, popping open the button with your index finger.

His eyes widened ever so slightly once he realized what you meant. “Yes. God, yes.”

So you dropped to your knees right on the kitchen floor, tipping your chin up to maintain eye contact. “I kept thinking about this, you know.” You willed yourself not to blush and betray your nerves.

“Yeah?” he asked, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “What else have you thought about?”

You slid the zipper of his khakis down, revealing the plain black boxer briefs underneath. The fabric strained, fighting a losing battle with the bulge it was trying to contain. “The way you fit inside me—god, it felt perfect, Jinyoung.”

You teased the waistband with your fingers, your eyes traveling up his body once more until you could look up at him, blinking innocently. “I kept wondering how you’d taste. If you’d feel just as perfect like this.”

For the most part, Jinyoung kept his composure, but you knew him well enough to see beyond the steeled expression on his face. How his jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the countertop in front of him. The barely detectable hitch in his breath.

“Go ahead and find out.”

You sat back on your heels, your hand dipping inside his waistband to grip his erection. You were grateful for the lighting of the kitchen, allowing you to see up close just how flawless he was, from head to toe.

Jinyoung inhaled sharply as you freed his cock from inside of his khakis, your fingers wrapping around the middle of his shaft. You realized just how much you’d missed out on the other night.

Your eyes stayed on him as you leaned forward, sticking your tongue out flat as you ran it up the underside of the shaft. Though he didn’t make a noise, you caught the way his eyelashes fluttered and his gaze darkened.

You placed a wet kiss at the tip of his cock before you began to take him into your mouth. Slowly. You wanted him to feel every inch of your mouth as it surrounded him, desperate to break his steady demeanor.

One of his hands released its grip from the countertop, coming to the side of your face to brush your hair away, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So,” he said, “how does it feel, angel? Good?”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, your mouth still wrapped around his shaft. You weren’t quite ready to pull away, so you just nodded your head, careful not to let any bit of his cock slip out.

The way Jinyoung smirked back down at you sent warmth straight between your thighs, causing you to squeeze your knees together from where you sat on the cold kitchen floor.

Giving head had never been your favorite. You didn’t hate it, but something about it made you feel awkward and sometimes uncomfortable. It caused you a pinch of anxiety, worrying that you’d do something wrong or embarrassing like choke or accidentally bite down.

However, you were loving this. You really had fantasized about it all week, though you weren’t sure why, considering you never had before. Something about having this power over Jinyoung, even as he stared down at you with such a domineering gaze, turned you on beyond words. You were hungry for it for the first time.

Jinyoung slipped his fingers through your hair, gripping onto the strands to gently guide your mouth off of him, then pushed with the lightest pressure so you’d take him in again. You let your eyes fall closed, your hands traveling up his thighs to give yourself something to hold onto.

You let him set the pace with his hand at the back of your head. He was gentle with you, but you knew he was holding back. He’d looked the same the other night. His brow twitched, and his lips pressed firmly together.

“You’re doing so well,” he told you, his other hand coming to join the other at the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

Encouraged by his praise, you attempted to take just one extra inch inside your mouth on your next downstroke. You squeezed your eyes shut as the head hit the back of your throat, making you cough around his cock but you didn’t give up.

“Oh, fuck,” Jinyoung whispered, just as he slipped past the resistance of your gag reflex and you dug your nails into the fabric of his pants.

When you opened your eyes to look up at him, you were pleased to see you had definitely had an effect on him. His head was thrown back, his face screwed up in pleasure.

You continued. Working hard to train your throat to take more and more of him inside, even though your jaw ached and your throat was becoming sore. It was worth it for the quiet moans and groans you were pulling out of Jinyoung.

“Oh, oh shit—“ Jinyoung said suddenly after a few more minutes, his hands tugging harshly on your hair to pull your mouth off of him. You winced at the sudden sharp pain at your scalp. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I just. You need to stop.”

You’d gotten lost in the act, only focused on one thing, you hadn’t realized just how hard he’d become. As curious as you were to see what it would feel like, what he’d look like coming into your mouth, you needed him inside of you.

Standing from the kitchen floor, you wiped at your mouth and chin with your sleeve. You didn’t realize how messy you’d gotten.

Jinyoung didn’t waste much time. Your shirt was off in seconds, joining his sweater somewhere on the floor. His eyes caught sight of your marks, almost entirely faded but still visible.

He ran the tip of his index finger down the side of your neck and along your collarbone, making you shiver. “Did anyone see these?” he asked, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You shook your head. “No, I kept them covered. I had to use makeup the first couple of days, though.”

You’d been paranoid all week, making sure the collar of your shirts covered all of the hickies Jinyoung had left on your skin. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal if you didn’t live with Sana—if she had seen, she would have had too many questions and you were an awful liar. You would have broken in moments and told her everything.

Jinyoung hummed, slipping his fingers back to the nape of your neck. “I guess this time I’ll have to mark you where no one can see them but me.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his other hand sliding down to your lower back so he could bring your bodies flush together. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hardness pressed between you.

Jinyoung’s hand slid around to the front of you, undoing your jeans with one hand while the other stayed buried in your hair. You helped him out, pushing your jeans down your hips and kicking them off once they’d gotten down to your shins.

He parted from your lips after a moment and took his hands off of you, stepping back to take in your half naked frame. Your cheeks felt hot under his stare. He looked at you with such a lustful, predatory gaze that was totally new to you. Your skin tingled, just wanting to feel his touch once more.

“You wanna know what I thought about these last few days?” He asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip, pink and slightly swollen from your kisses.

All you could do was nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

“All the sounds I could get you to make. I bet you sound incredible when you just let go, and especially when you come.” Jinyoung took one step towards you, trailing a fingertip down the front of your throat, down between the valley of your breasts. “Let’s see how loud you can be, hm?”

You knew, deep in your soul, that Jinyoung could easily get you screaming and writhing underneath of him. It was as if the other night had just been a fraction of the pleasure he could give you. After all, you’d been forced to stay quiet and you’d been so nervous. But he had an air about him, a confidence that suggested he knew what he was doing, and exactly how to unravel you.

When Jinyoung stepped forward again, this time he was grabbing you around the backs of your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around him. He carried you the short distance over to the couch, setting you down so you perched on the back edge.

“Remember what I promised?”

How could you forget? The image he’d painted into your mind while he was thrusting inside of you, of your body bent over the back of his couch, letting the entire world hear just how good he could make you feel. It had replayed in your mind countless times since then.

“Yes,” you answered, hands gripping onto the fabric of the couch on either side of you.

“Spread your legs,” he told you, then kneeled down in front of you. You obeyed. You could feel his eyes raking over you once more, which never affected you any less. Had he ever looked at you like this before? It was taking the breath right from your chest. “Take that off.”

As he nodded to your top half, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra before letting it fall away. You would have done whatever he asked right now, no question. All you could see in your haze of desire was Jinyoung. You shivered and noticed his window was open, letting a light breeze drift across your half naked frame.

God, he really did want all of his neighbors to hear you.

Just as he did last time, he started slow. He propped one of your legs up on his shoulder, turning his head to place gentle kisses on your inner thighs. His hands kept your legs spread to his liking, giving him ample room where he knelt.

If anything, he was teasing you more this time around. Maybe because it was just you and him, no time constraints, no reason to keep your pleasure to yourselves. You were screwed, if your first experience with him was just a warm up.

You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, basking in the gentle ministrations of his mouth. He hadn’t even gotten to your heat yet, just nuzzling your thighs and leaving wet kisses on your skin. Every now and then, he stopped to suck at your skin, undoubtedly leaving a hickey in his wake.

When you felt his teeth sink into your thigh, you gasped, lowering your chin to look down at him. He raised a brow to check that you were okay, you nodded eagerly. Though most probably wouldn’t expect it from you, you absolutely loved when men were a bit more rough with you. Nothing too crazy, but you craved the delicate balance between pain and pleasure.

Jinyoung finally led his kisses upwards, closer and closer to your core. When his lips met the edge of your panties, he pulled back to remove them, sliding the lace down your legs until they dropped off your ankle.

His burning gaze scanned over you once more, full of hunger, before he finally leaned in and got to work. The moment his tongue touched your clit, your mouth fell open and your nails dug into the upholstery you were keeping balance on.

Even just the slightest kitten licks he started with had your hips twitching up towards his face, causing his hands to come around your waist, holding you in place. You had thought of him all week, just like this, more times than you would admit to him or yourself. He’d worked magic with his tongue, and you’d been desperate to feel it again.

At a perfectly angled flick of his tongue, you moaned out his name instinctively, which just encouraged him even more. He was pulling out all the stops, you figured, determined to have you noisy as could be.

“Fuck, right there,” you moaned, your hand reaching for the back of his head.

Jinyoung scooted closer, grabbing both of your thighs to hook them over his shoulders, while his tongue drifted down to your center to taste you there. He hummed as soon as your wetness hit his tongue, the vibrations going straight to your clit. He really wanted to drive you crazy.

He pulled back just enough to circle his index and middle fingers around your entrance, coating them with your arousal before they pushed inside. You whimpered, your walls clamping on his digits.

“Tell me how it feels,” he told you, his voice deep and laced with want.

Your eyes opened and you lifted your head, tilting your face down to watch him. “So—fuck, so good,” you started, biting hard onto your lower lip as you watched him twist his fingers inside of you. “I thought about this so many times,” you admitted.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in to suck at your clit for a long moment just because he could. Your hips lifted as he pulled away, whining when the sensation of his mouth left you. “Did you touch yourself?”

Your throat went dry as you stared down at him, cheeks going red as you thought back to the other night in bed. You’d tossed and turned, debating with yourself. It seemed to cross a line, somehow, to touch yourself while thinking of him. But you’d lost the battle, eventually shoving your hands into your sweatpants and rubbing yourself to your peak.

“Yes,” you answered, swallowing. “I had to. I couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth on me.”

Jinyoung had the nerve to smirk, his fingers still working in and out of you. “Dirty girl,” he teased, his voice condescending in a way that sent a tingle straight to your core. “Did you come?”

You could only nod, unable to form words with the way he was fucking his fingers into you. He looked awfully pleased with your answer, and you couldn’t believe how hot it was. He’d always been cocky, but you had no idea it would turn you on so much.

Just as you expected him to continue eating you out, he stood from between your legs, his fingers sliding out of you. He silenced your protesting with his lips on yours, kissing you hard enough to take your breath away.

As he pulled away, he grabbed your hips and forced you to stand. “You want to see what I’ve been thinking about all week?” He turned you around, sliding his arms tenderly around your waist and placing a kiss to your shoulder. “Bend over, angel. And don’t move.”

His touch left you then as he walked away. You stood there, bent over the couch with your arms folded in front of you for what felt like an hour but in reality, was probably less than a minute. You’d never felt so exposed, quite literally, even though you’d made sure that his curtains were closed and you weren’t giving any of his neighbors a free show.

When Jinyoung returned, you heard the clinking of his pants and underwear being shoved to the floor, then the foil of the condom wrapper. You waited, obedient as ever, while Jinyoung rolled the condom onto himself. It felt like your heart was about to pound right out of your chest in anticipation.

“Ready?” he asked, sliding his hand down from your shoulder blades to your lower back.

“Mm,” you responded, arching your back.

As he sank into you, you both let out sighs of pleasure. You felt like you’d memorized how he had felt inside of you before, but this was entirely new. The way his hips aligned with yours was heavenly, his cock angling inside of you just right.

“Oh. Oh my God,” you moaned, your hands grasping onto the couch. “Don’t move for a sec, okay?”

He listened, caressing your back with his hands and rubbing circles into your skin. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, you’re just—big,” you said, blushing and glancing back at him.

He managed not to smirk at you this time, but you knew he wanted to. Every guy liked to hear his dick was big, you were almost positive of that. As your walls stretched to accommodate him, you nodded at him, signaling for him to continue.

Jinyoung set a slow but deep pace inside of you and it had you moaning every time he bottomed out. He was muttering words of praise, mostly inaudible, but you could barely focus on anything besides the way he was pushing into your g-spot.

You made up for his silence. Moaning his name, louder and louder as he picked up his pace. Your head dipped forward to rest against your arm, one hand covering your mouth to silence a particularly loud cry.

Before you even realized what was happening, Jinyoung tore your hand away from your mouth. “I don’t think so,” he told you. He reached around you, relentless with his thrusts, and grabbed both of your hands. He pulled both of your arms behind you until he had your wrists linked behind your back, clasped underneath of his palm.

“Fuck, Jinyoung, I can’t—“ you whined, pressing your forehead into the cushion.

“You can,” he responded. “I told you, I want you loud. Tell me what you need.”

“You’re—” you started, letting out a strangled moan, “so good. Fuck me harder, please. Please.”

His hips snapped against you in a forceful thrust, pushing you forward into the couch, but you loved it. The noises he had you making were louder and dirtier than anything that had ever come out of your mouth with previous partners. You were still getting used to the fact that Jinyoung could get you to this place, so needy and desperate.

Jinyoung’s pace inside of you got faster, and you drowned out the sounds of his skin hitting yours with your moans, the volume reaching new heights when he reached around with his free hand to rub your clit.

“Are you close?” he asked, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. “You’re so tight. Jesus.”

You nodded. “I-I’m so close, Jinyoung. Please, please, don’t stop.”

For once, Jinyoung was the obedient one, driving into you at a consistently breathtaking pace. All you could think about was the way he felt inside of you and his two fingers drawing patterns on your clit.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered near your ear, “Be a good girl for me.”

That was all it took. Somewhere, in the back of your head, you knew you were too loud. It was the middle of the evening, there was no way there wouldn’t be a noise complaint called into his landlord. But you couldn’t help it.

The heat in your belly spread to flames, engulfing your entire body as you came, hard, around him. He practically had you sobbing, your hands pinned behind your back giving you absolutely nothing to hold onto. You were completely at his mercy.

Jinyoung at least let you rest for a moment, slowing his movements inside of you. He dropped your hands and you slumped over the couch, your thighs still twitching with the aftershocks.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you up to a full standing position and turning you around, his cock slipping out of you. Just that was enough to make you whimper, too oversensitive from your orgasm.

He lifted you up again, carrying you around to the other side of the couch. Laying you down, he climbed on top of you. You were finally coherent enough to wrap your arms around him, pulling him down for a kiss.

As great as your previous position had been, you had missed seeing his face, which was unexpected but you decided to push that feeling down.

When he pulled away, you locked eyes with him and nodded, silently signaling for him to continue. You wanted to make him feel good, wanted him to reach euphoria just as you had, though it’d be a much quieter experience.

You exhaled when he slipped back inside of you, your walls still wet and eager for him, if not more so now. He kept eye contact with you as if he knew that’s what you had been missing before. His gaze was so intense it had you pulsing between your legs all over again.

This time, his pace wasn’t as quick or forceful, but he was still reaching spots inside of you that made you shiver. One hand came up to the side of your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek gently, contrasting with the way he was pushing inside of you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your fingers into the skin of his shoulder blades. He groaned and leaned his forehead against yours, thrusting into you deep.

“Right there,” you told him, resisting every urge to squeeze your eyes shut. You wouldn’t come again, you were too worn out, but you knew he was capable of taking you there, if he had a little less mercy.

Jinyoung’s thrusts got faster, a bit less controlled, hinting that he wouldn’t last much longer. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. He dropped his head down, kissing down your jaw to your throat. “Gonna come soon.”

“Please,” you breathed, mustering the strength to roll your hips up to meet his next thrust. “I want it, Jinyoung, please.”

With a few more thrusts, he suddenly slowed to a stop, his entire body stiffening as he came. His teeth scraped against your skin, hard enough to nearly break skin. The sound he made was one you wanted to remember forever.

Jinyoung stilled inside of you after a moment, pressing his lips into your skin one final time before he pulled away. “Are you okay?” he asked, not because he was worried but just because he cared.

“Mhm,” you answered. “Legs are jelly still, though.”

He chuckled lowly and sat up, sliding out of you. “Should I apologize or say you’re welcome?”

You slapped playfully at his chest and sat up as well. “Loser. Get me a towel, please?”

~~~

Once you’d gotten cleaned up and your clothes back on, you and Jinyoung sat on the couch, Netflix playing some true crime documentary you’d both seen the first episode of before and never continued. Neither of you were one to binge TV. Books, however, were a different story.

The way you were curled up on the couch could have appeared rather romantic, but it was mostly because your legs were already sore from bending over the back of the couch. Or so you told yourself.

You leaned into Jinyoung’s side, his arm thrown over the cushion beside you. The evening was still young, and you’d both figured there was no need for you to leave so soon. Besides, it made the whole situation feel cheap if you left within five minutes of having an orgasm.

“Have you ever wondered how many serial killers you’ve sold books to?” Jinyoung asked, breaking the silence.

You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows. “No. But now I will, asshole.” He grinned, running his fingertips up and down the curve of your shoulder. “Oh, God. Probably so many.”

“You know that guy with the big cowboy belt? The one that’s always buying the sleazy novels?”

“Oh, definitely,” you answered, turning your head into his chest and giggling. “He always puts them face down as if I don’t know what I’m ringing up.”

“If you disappear, I’ll be sure to let the police know to add him to the suspect list.”

You huffed. “Thanks, Jinyoung.”

“Anytime.” He gave you a shit eating grin, squeezing your shoulder. “Hey, you going to BamBam’s birthday thing on Saturday?”

You hummed in response. “Are you?”

“I thought about it. Been a while since I’ve been out to a club, though. I’m afraid I’ll look like the old grumpy man in the corner.”

The mental image had you giggling again. “I mean, you might. But yeah, I’ll be there. Need me to get you drunk to loosen you up?”

Jinyoung chuckled. “Maybe. As long as you don’t take advantage of me, try and drag me into any dark corridors...”

You feigned offense, a hand to your chest. “Would I do something like that?”

“I don’t know,” he stared down at you, “would you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Never. I’m a lady.”

Jinyoung snorted. “Pretty sure the noises you were making just a bit ago were not very ladylike.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. “I’m a respectable young woman.”

When Jinyoung’s hand drifted down from your shoulder to your waist, pulling you closer, you stared up at him with raised eyebrows. “Do you need a reminder?”

You swatted his hand away, wiggling away from him. “Oh my God, you’re insatiable. I’m still sore, you freak. Give me at least a 24 hour recovery period.”

When his hand decided to squeeze and tickle your sides, you shrieked and tried to scoot away from him but he was too quick, grasping both your hips and keeping you in place.

“I’ll give you something, alright,” he said, grinning down at you. “You’re gonna have to work on your stamina.”

You tried and failed to move away from him, your hands weakly slapping at his shoulders while you giggled underneath of him. “Jinyoung!”

“Hmm, now that sounds familiar.”

“I hate you so much,” you said around your laughs, practically gasping for breath now. Jinyoung finally relented, ceasing his tickling but remaining on top of you.

“I doubt that,” he responded, leaning down to catch your lips with his. You relaxed under him, your hands clasping his shoulders as you deepened the kiss.

When you instinctively rolled your hips up towards the growing bulge in his pants, he pulled away, a shocked look on his face. “I thought you needed 24 hours?”

You scrunched your nose at him, pinching his ear. “Shut up and take my clothes off.”

~~~

It turned out, you didn’t quite need as much recovery time as you thought. After Jinyoung brought you over the edge twice, one time with just his fingers and another deep inside of you, you both got dressed once more.

Reminiscent of your first night together, Jinyoung smoothed your hair back away from your face and thumbed your chin as you stood by the door. “Drive safe.”

“I will. Thanks,” you told him again, chewing your lip. “I’ll see you Saturday?”

“Mm. Text me if you need me before then, okay?”

You both knew what he meant. Even as you walked out of his apartment down to your car, you had a feeling you’d be begging to see him long before Saturday arrived.

#got7 #got7 fanfic #jinyoung #park jinyoung #got7 fic #got7 smut #jinyoung fic #jinyoung smut #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #park jinyoung smut #jinyoung fanfic #got7 imagine #jinyoung imagine #writing

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mysticmelove · 5 years ago

Text

*I was tagged in a winter prompt post by the wonderful @mrs-han and I couldn’t ignore it. Also I’d like to wish a merry belated Christmas and a happy new year xx

Just for the day

(Jumin x MC)

It had only started off as a joke. A lame joke where MC had begged for one of the members to be her ‘date’ over the holidays while she visited her family. She would have only been there for a day but she couldn’t bare another year of being bombarded by questions about her love life- she had to make light of the situation somehow. Zen had cottoned on to the joke, playing along with her in the messenger as he went about his yearly confession of his distaste for the holidays and his lack of a love life. Jumin, on the other hand, had not seen the humour behind her halfhearted pleas and was quick to offer up some solutions.

He recognised that she couldn’t avoid her family over Christmas but he also knew how monotonous and irritating it was to be asked those same questions constantly by people you’re meant to show the upmost respect to. So that meant only one thing: the most rational and fitting solution was for him to be her date. Jumin was the obvious decision for multiple reasons- he was the most gentlemanly, could hold conversations with ease, knew when to simply be quiet- and after a very long (mostly one-sided) conversation, Jumin had decided he would accompany her to visit her family.

MC really wasn’t left with much choice following their conversation, he had left as soon as he’d entered. The next time they spoke was the early morning of their departure; he’d shown up on her doorstep, MC was part of the way through getting ready to leave and, even though she knew him to be a man of his word, she was not expecting him to really go through with it. He presented her gingerly with a bouquet of roses as he smiled with a hint of unease. She took them with a gentle laugh, welcoming him into her apartment, “Going to all the lengths to play the part, are you, Jumin?”

“Well, I thought it would only be fitting.” He scanned his immediate surroundings, curious to see the inside of the apartment he’d heard so much about over time but knew so little of. “I have to be the ideal gentleman today. Limit any suspicions they might have.”

“It’s only for the day,” MC marvelled back, fishing through the contents of her bag, “You really didn’t need to come, I was only joking around.”

Jumin shook his head with a tender smile, “No. I chose to come with you. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

“I hope you know you’re doing me a huge favour.” She gave him one of those intoxicating smiles that he’d never seen before he’d met her, and he found himself trying to suppress the urge to smile brightly back to her. “If anything I should be paying you to come,” her laugh was even more toxic than the aforementioned smile.

Jumin cleared his throat, regaining his stern composure, “It’s a moment away from work. We are both benefiting each other in one way or another.”

“Well, if you want to put it like that,” MC threaded her arms into her coat, before sighing deeply: “I supposed we should get going.” We have a long day ahead of ourselves.”

The journey itself was entertaining, albeit long. The hours that passed gave them chance to confirm any little details about their relationship: they’d been dating for three months and MC was absolutely head over heals for him- that was accompanied by another one of her laughs. And they even had the chance to speak in a less formal fashion than they had in the messenger or when being with the others. They’d made up an entire backstory as well as making general conversation all before they had even arrived at MC’s family house.

The visit itself had gone swimmingly; Jumin played the part of boyfriend extremely well and his experiences with simply being able to please people certainly paid off. He seemed to fit in very well with the family he had never met and he even managed to surprise MC with the amount he seemed to know about her. She even got the pleasant gift of seeing Jumin’s rare smile as he shot her glances across the table in response to something or another. Still, it would be ridiculous to think everything would have gone to plan and as the evening rolled around it was clear the ‘gradual’ snowfall was going to cause some issues.

Jumin had long since retired to the safe haven of MC’s bedroom by the time she sauntered up the stairs to meet him. The news of a cancelled train home meant a long night there, and not one he was quite prepared for. He had made himself comfortable, having intrigued himself with the contents of her childhood room, before perching himself on her bed to read one of the many novels that decorated the shelves. Its pages were bent several times over and its cover worn- an obvious favourite of hers and he could not blame her. The sound of her door creaking on its hinges brought him to immediate attention as he closed the book with care. He couldn’t smell it from where he sat, but her demeanour alone was evident enough that she was fairly intoxicated. MC’s hand gripped the door handle as she peered around the corner; Jumin’s eyes caught the flush of her cheeks and her beaming smile in an instant. “I’m sorry,” she cooed drunkenly, her eyes wide, “I shouldn’t have left you alone...” Jumin could see her thought process as her smile faultered ever so slightly, only for her to let out a quick chuckle or two, “But my aunt opened another bottle and suddenly I forgot what I was doing.”

He caught himself smiling at her toothy grin completely unreserved, before he could clear his throat and correct himself. “It’s nothing to apologise for. I chose to retire.” Jumin placed the book down beside him, subduing another emerging smile on his lips as he looked back to the woman in the doorframe. “I’ve been rather entertained by your selection of novels,” he traced his fingers across the title of the cover gently, “This one in particular appears to be a favourite of yours.”

MC hummed, entering the room further to take a better look at the publication. There was little elegance in the way she positioned herself on the bed beside him, yet it made Jumin smile nonetheless. She leant haphazardly against his frame as she sighed heavily, retrieving the book with slightly more care than she carried herself. She hummed once more, almost humoured by the long forgotten pages of the book, “I definitely read it more than a couple times.”

A silence fell among them and Jumin peered over his shoulder to find her examining the pages. She was so quiet and peaceful, he could have just held her there for hours despite knowing how wrong it would have been. He was here as a friend- nothing else. He sighed to himself and her eyes wandered to him questioningly. Her wide eyes were piercing, tempting him ever closer, yet he could only smirk. “What did your aunt have to say?”

“Oh!” MC exclaimed, wide eyed once more with her jaw lax and discarding the book much more carelessly than he’d imagined. “She claims she can see my future as clear as day,” she began slurring her words as her volume grew, waving her hands in some attempt to emphasise her words.

“Is that so?” Jumin humoured, turning more so now so she was now resting back against his chest and he could she her flushed face clearly.

MC nodded eagerly: “Yes! She claims that I’m going to marry you and that I’ll live some magical fairytale land with everything I’ll ever need.” She was giggling to herself as she spoke, her hands still flailing and her eyes fixed on the ceiling, until her volume finally dropped. “Isn’t that crazy?”

He found himself lost for words, he hadn’t spoken much to her aunt but he could he could see himself getting along well with her.

As though another thought had hit her, MC sat up all of a sudden, startling Jumin ever so slightly. She turned to him, perched on her knees and gave him another gentle smile. “I mean it must be crazy ‘cause the ‘man of my dreams’ is sleeping in my bed and I’m going to sleep down on the couch.”

“What?” His strong tone broke her innocent laughs, her gullible, drunken face almost looking sober at the sound of his voice.

The corner of her lips tilted upwards once more ever so slightly. “Well, I can’t let my guest sleep on a couch... and I can’t sleep with you, can I?”

Jumin could have sworn she was doing it on purpose, drawing out her syllables on the edge of her tongue and eyeing him down- in what he could only explain as seduction. He leant in closer to her, gazing at her docile features down the length of his nose. A smirk adorned him, his tone chilling yet somewhat playful as he retorted: “But it would be so ungentlemanly for me to kick a woman out of her own bed.”

In turn, she leant in closer to him, her eyes darkened and hard- even for Jumin- to read. “I thought you were against a man and a woman sleeping under the same roof before marriage, Jumin... Let alone in the same bed...”

He could smell it on her breath now- the strong scent champagne that had once danced across her tongue and now enraptured him. Hell, he could feel her gentle breath brushing against his skin with the little distance between them now. “Oh... I’m not sure if I recall saying that.”

“I’m sure you did...” MC spoke barely above a whisper, before she could downcast her gaze and laugh once more. She composed herself, returning to her sweetest grin before she questioned him: “So where am I sleeping tonight?”

Maybe it was his subconscious or the pure sight of her barely parted lips- he could never be too sure- but all Jumin knew was the second she had locked her gaze back on his, he was leaning in to kiss her and he had forgotten how he had even gotten in the situation. No more than a second, he assured himself of that, but that didn’t mean he pulled away in a haste. On the contrary, he took his time withdrawing from her puckered lips, his eyes slightly widened but he wouldn’t dare move an inch further from her. She gazed at him silently, almost in what he perceived to be wonder as she found herself lost for words. Jumin cleared his throat as modestly as he possibly could, before swallowing thickly and attempting to clear his conscience, “Forgive me... That was far beyond me, I had never planned to—”

MC had been the most patient woman- from the moment Jumin had first met her- but in that moment she couldn’t wait a second longer for him to finish his formalities. She had her lips locked back on to his quicker than he could comprehend, leaving his hands tense at his side before he dared to venture any further. Jumin found his fingers entrapped within the strands of her hair, all the while her hands were at the side of his waist and resting against his chest as she leaned over him. When she finally pulled away she couldn’t look him in the eye, but that sweet laugh did grace his ears once more. “Maybe I did,” she mumbled distantly, barely audible to Jumin.

“What was that?”

“Oh,” MC’s eyes finally trailed back up to his, her fingers creating circles over his jumper. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of his shocked features, her cheeks doing no favours to hide her embarrassment. “I might have planned this...?”

Jumin scoffed at her confession, his hand freeing itself from her locks, “Planned?”

“No.” She corrected herself before her teeth began to toy with her bottom lip. “I wanted it though...”

“But you practically begged me to reconsider coming here with you.” MC cast her eyes away from him once more and Jumin couldn’t help but hold her face, tilting her chin up in line with his own. “And yet you actually wanted me here?”

“I didn’t want you here,” she met him with a gentle whisper, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t slightly taken aback by her comment.

“Well, that’s nice to know,” he humoured.

MC thumped him playfully against his chest with an exasperated sigh: “No! You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

Her eyebrows furrowed further, her lips pouted. “I was joking when I said I needed a fake date today... But you don’t take too kindly to jokes...”

“And?” He questioned, stroking her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“And I’ve wanted to kiss you for the longest time.” He lent in at her words, as if they were some type of command.

Their lips brushed together once more for a millisecond, the lingering taste of alcohol blessing his senses again. Jumin brushed away the strands of hair falling over her delicate features with care, agreeing quietly as he did so: “And I you.”

She smiled purely at his gesture, her face flushing with warmth as she leant into the palm of his hand. “So?”

“So?” He mimicked questioningly.

She spoke smugly, her once mischievous smile returning alongside the yet to be answered question. “Where am I sleeping?”

Jumin could only laugh at her bold statement- so desperate for an answer she knew he didn’t wish to answer aloud. “If you’ll allow it,” he began, removing one of her hands from his chest to hold it within his own, “right next to me.”

“Gladly.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #mysme jumin #mc mystic messenger #mc myseme #mystic messenger drabble #mysme drabble #mystic messenger headcanon

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 5 years ago

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 4

Tags: @nowhereiswhereibelong

I jolt awake in terror clutching my chest and looking around wildly before my eyes adjust to the dark and I remember I’m in my own room. I try to focus on calming my breathing back to a normal level and hold my head in my hands. A thin film of sweat covers my forehead and the cool air against my back is an indicator that is also covered in sweat due to my nightmare. I take a deep breath and contemplate my next move carefully before I think fuck it and decide to throw caution to the wind. I fling the covers off of my body and get up turning my lamp on so I could see properly. I look around for clothing to throw on and find a pair of shorts and one of Tommy’s shirts he had lent me after getting a beer dumped on me by a drunk asshole at a show. I slip my feet into my slippers and make my way over to the boy’s apartment.

The music flows out of the open window near their front door, which is now nailed shut from the cops kicking it down so much. The potent odor of marijuana is also spilling out of the window along with a particularly shit faced girl who runs to the railing and proceeds to spill her guts over it. I hear Tommy before I see him as I crawl through the window into the living room.

“You guys are gonna fucking freak.” I hear Tommy say and I find him just in time to catch his face going between a girl’s legs going to town.

I avert my eyes and make my way around his public show into the kitchen to try to find any of the other boys. I successfully locate Nikki in the kitchen tearing through the cabinets in search of something. He nearly falls into me turning too fast, but luckily catches himself at the last minute.

“Hey Riv!” He yells excitedly messing up my hair. “Have you seen our rubbing alcohol?”

“I don’t live here Nikki.” If he’s looking for rubbing alcohol I know he’s up to no good.

“Come on River don’t be a fucking buzz kill.” He sighs annoyed with my concern for his well being.

“Under the sink.” I roll my eyes and he gets a goofy smile on his face running to get it.

I lean against the wall and watch as Nikki tears into the living room like a bat out of hell. A man laughs, egging Nikki on as he dumps the liquid on his leather jacket clad arm and uses his lighter to cover his arm in flames. The man clearly had never been to one of their shows if this little production had him wowed. Nikki flashes a shit eating grin my way and walks towards the man little fires falling from him singeing the carpet in his wake. The man backs away seeming genuinely scared that Nikki will burn him and I know Nikki will accidentally burn him so I spray his fire with the spray bottle I kept on the fridge to discipline them.

“River what the fuck?” Nikki scoffs at me in disbelief crossing his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“If you light the building on fire the band is fucked out of a living slash rehearsing space.” I say shrugging.

“You know you could at least try being less of a loser.” Nikki grumbles at me and I’m about to fire back for him to shove it when I see Vince adjusting himself in his pants coming out of the bathroom.

“Have fun? Did you enjoy the ride?” I directed him.

“I know she sure did.” Vince laughs giving Nikki a high five. “When did you get here, River? You normally say no to our invites to party with us.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I shrug.

The moans of the girl Tommy is “performing” on suddenly cut through the noise of all the millions of other things going on in the apartment. I turn to go deeper into the kitchen and look in the fridge for a beer to ignore them. The boys on the other hand go to check out the show. I take a sip of the beer and try not to cringe too much at the taste. I wasn’t a big drinker in general and I especially disliked the taste of beer, but it was the only thing the boys had in their fridge. I squeeze my eyes closed as the grand finale comes to an end in the living room and try to pretend that what was happening in there wasn’t happening. Tommy rounds the corner and catches sight of me, eyes closed squeezing a beer between two hands and stops dead in his tracks. I peek my eyes open and see Tommy stopped in front of me slowly turning a deep red shade all over his face.

“Hey.” I say cracking a smile and he smiles back, but he still looks embarrassed.

“Hey. How long have you been here?” He asks rubbing his neck nervously.

“Long enough.” I take a sip of my beer. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Can I?” He asked motioning to the fridge and I realize I’m blocking the door for him to get into it.

“Oh yeah I’m sorry.” I shuffle to the side and he cracks open his beer and chugs some of his beer leaning on the counter near me.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Just restless. I’m fine.” I lie not wanting to put a damper on his night.

“Want to take a shot with me?” He smiles wildly and I nod my head agreeing. Which was my first mistake that night. My eyelids feel as if they are a million pounds and my head feels like someone wacked me upside it with a brick. I groan and try to pull my covers over my head from the blaring light of the window only to be met with some unseeable force holding them down. That was about the time I noticed that not only was this not my cover, this was not my room at all. I sit up quickly, far too quickly and everything spins around me. I groan again and hold my head in my hands until I regain stability. I hear soft snoring next to me and look over to see Tommy laying on his stomach in just his underwear a small pool of drool next to his mouth. I look down and see I’m only in his shirt and my panties and a panic sets in my bones. Did I fuck Tommy last night?? I need to get to my apartment and quick.

I scan the messy bedroom and locate my shorts and bra discarded on the lamp in the corner and slowly make my way to them so as to not make much noise. I pull my shorts on and try to find my slippers. They seem to have been kicked haphazardly in front of Tommy’s door luckily and I slip into those before tip toeing out of the room. I close the door softly and turn to leave smacking right into Nikki’s chest.

“Well well well look who is doing the walk of shame this morning.” Nikki chuckles and I place a finger over his mouth shushing him.

“Not now Nikki. I have a killer hangover.” I whine in a whisper.

“Here come in the kitchen let a professional teach you how to treat a hangover ya big baby.” He motions for me to follow him and against my better judgement I follow him.

“How do you possibly do this all the time?” The dull thud in my brain is churning my stomach and I’m almost worried I’ll blow chunks right then and there.

“I told you, I’m a professional.” He smirks as he hands me a glass of mystery liquid. I take a drink and choke on the harsh burn of a jack and coke.

“Nikki what the fuck is your problem?!” I cough. “I’m hungover, why would you give me more alcohol?”

“Hair of the dog.” He shrugs.

“I’m going to my apartment. Where things make sense.” I storm out of their place as best as I can considering I have to crawl out of a window with Nikki calling out that he’ll see me later at the show.

Oh fuck I forgot about the show tonight. I try not to make too much noise getting to my room as Mick is sleeping vampire style on my couch, which seemed to be the new normal for us. Once I’m safely in my room I flop and the bed and shut my eyes praying when I wake up this hangover will be long gone.

The boys are rowdy as ever tonight in their favorite post show booth at The Rainbow. Tommy and Nikki have bashed each other's heads on the table more times than I can count and Vince would disappear every so often for the bathroom, but would return with pupils the size of saucers and a mouth ready to shout along with the overgrown idiots with whom he shared a band. Oh not to mention they had a girl sucking their dicks under the table. I tried to ignore the fact Tommy was struggling to keep his expression neutral as the girl gave him his “turn”.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I announce not that any of them are really paying attention besides Mick who nods to acknowledge me.

Instead of heading to the bathroom I stand outside listening to the sounds of the strip to calm myself. There was no need to get worked up. So what if you guys might have slept together and you couldn’t remember it? He was an on the rise rockstar that was their thing right, so why did it hurt so bad? I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts again before I went back inside to face the music, but I hoped the girl had moved on to Nikki by now. To my delight (and also surprise) the table girl is gone entirely. Just as I’m about to ask where their personal dick sucking machine has gotten off to a blonde slides in next to Nikki.

“Aye River!” Nikki acknowledges me in his state of drunken friendliness. “I want you to meet Beth.”

“Hello Beth.” Vince winks her way and I can already see the cogs of his brain trying to calculate a threesome at the very least. And taking Nikki’s girl at the very most.

“Hey.” I smile trying to play nice. She seems like most of the groupies the guys regularly fuck, a rich girl that likes coming to the strip to blow guys and daddy’s money on drugs.

As the night continues on Vince and Tommy trade places with him ending up right next to me. The booth is crowded and I try not to let my mind wander everytime Tommy’s fingers brush against my knee or when he tucks his face into my hair to laugh excessively from boyish joy and alcohol mixing.

“Alright well we’re gonna move on to the next bar you coming T-bone?” Nikki slurs holding Beth’s hips against his own and sways in the spot next to the table from being intoxicated.

“Nah man someone’s gotta make sure Riv gets home safe.” Tommy tosses an arm around my shoulder and I feel my face heat up.

“Suit yourself.” Nikki shrugs and a smug smirk falls over his face. “Remember kids the only sure fire way to prevent unwanted pregnancy is to swallow.”

He’s out of my reach when I lunge up to try to whack him which only increases his enjoyment at my embarrassment. He gives me the finger as he and Vince walk away snickering with Beth calling a “nice to meet you” back to the rest of us.

“Ya coming Mick?” Tommy asks as we pile back onto the strip.

“I have to go make sure things are cool with the she-beast at home. River leave the extra key under the mat for me just in case.” He rolls his eyes walking to his car.

Tommy and I have walked home at night alone more times than I could count now and yet there was this thick awkward silence between us this time. He normally would toss an arm around my shoulder or hold my hand, but his hands are jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket and he walks a few paces ahead of me. Just as I’m about to ask him if things are okay he starts to speak.

“You left.” Is all he says softly.

“What?”

“You left this morning and didn’t say anything.”

“I was just really hungover and wanted to sleep in my own bed.” I half lie to him.

“Do you even remember what you said to me last night?” He huffs.

“Tommy I don’t really remember last night.”

“You said you always wanted to sleep in bed and wake up together.” Neither of us continue walking at that point.

“I-”

“Did you mean it?” He asks looking at the ground.

“Yes Tommy.” I admit “You’re my best friend at this point. I feel safest when I’m with you.”

“Yeah. Best friend.” He repeats.

I take the few steps to bring me right beside him and snake my arms around him to hug his middle and by the grace of god he hugs me back. The rest of the walk home is quiet, but the silence doesn’t feel heavy anymore. I convince (not that it took much convincing) Tommy to shower and sleep at my apartment instead of me sleeping in his gross apartment again. My back is to the door and I can’t see Tommy enter my room but I can smell the men’s body wash I forcibly bought for him. The mattress dips and creaks slightly as he settles in next to me and the warmth the shower brought him radiates towards me in waves. An involuntary shudder rolls through my body and the next thing I know I’m being pulled against Tommy’s warm skinny body. I glance over my shoulder to see Tommy staring down at me with an unreadable expression.

“You don’t remember any of last night?” He asks barely above a whisper.

“Nope.” I copy his tone.

“So then you don’t remember…” he trails off and brings his hand up to cup and stroke my cheek and his tongue darts out to wet his lips quickly.

“What?” My eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth and back up again.

I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as the distance between us begins to shrink. My eyes flutter close and I’m sure I stop breathing when our lips ghost over each other not quite fully connecting them.

I hear the sound of shattering glass. Then I smell the fire.

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yetanotherreader · 5 years ago

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Birthday Surprise

Type: One Shot

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: On Dean's birthday, Y/N gives him a surprise which might just be a payback to his New Year surprise to her.

Warning: Nervous Dean. A very nervous Dean.

Fanfic Masterlist

A/N: Hey everyone. So this is my first ever fic so it's short and I have a feeling that it's going to flop so bad, but I'm still posting it coz shameless. I'm really nervous, so I wrote one on nervous Dean lol. So, uh, here goes nothing.

ALSO ONE HELP PLEASE: Sis can't understand how to have that Read More Break using the mobile app. It looks very messy without it. If someone could help, I'd do whatever you say for fifteen minutes.

Gif Credit: Google

"Dean, relax! You're going to choke yourself." You say looking at your boyfriend's pale face while he fixes his tie as tight as he could, looking at his reflection in the Impala's window.

"I'd rather do that to you sweetheart, but right now choking myself sounds better than what you're getting me into." You roll your eyes at his adorable honesty, trying to calm your tickling nerves yourself.

"Overreacting. That's what you're doing."

"Y/N Y/L/N, you, miss, do not tell me that I'm overreacting when I'm literally a few feet away from your parents' house. Which, might I add, was your birthday surprise for me." He squints his eyes at you, pursing his lips as he turns to face you to show how grumpy he is.

"Well, sir, you proposed to me in front of your parents, just 24 days ago. I just met them, and you proposed! What if they hated me?"

"But they didn't. It was my new year's surprise for you! And no one can hate you, obviously I was confident about proposing in front of parents." He says with a smug smile, kissing your temples softly.

"Aw sweet. It's just payback. 'Sides no one can hate you too, Winnie." You say as you look up at him with a smile and gesture him to walk to the two storey house in front.

"Don't you call me that," He visibly cringes at the nickname you gave him in a drunken state, back when you two weren't dating. The memory bringing a small, nostalgic smile on his lips, "and well, you hated me when we first met, Y/L/N."

"That's not what you said last night," You wink at him for his first statement, just to see him blush at the memory, "Win-nie." You aren't the boldest one in the deck, but the rare times you are, it leaves Dean all fumbling and flustered.

"Shut up," He mutters, embarrassed as he tries to get the blush off his freckled cheeks, "Let's go and get this done with."

"Hey, you're talking about my parents here!" You say slapping him on his suit clad shoulder, as you both make your way to the porch.

Dean's sweaty palm reaches your wrist as you are about to knock on the door, as he looks down at you nervously. This is important to you both, to him especially. He knows how much your parents matter to you, how much you love them. Dean knows there were things going on with you and your family. He knows you've suffered a lot, had to grow up too fast because of them—intentionally or unintentionally—and you still have it in you to love them and make them a part of such an important time of your life. Dean loves you with all his heart, yes, but this is that one reason which makes him respect you a lot as a person. Family has always been important to Dean, he knows the value of it like most people don't. He knows mistakes happen, he knows it takes a lot to forgive, and you did exactly that. Without any complain. That's what you do, you just give and give and give without demanding anything in return. And Dean is certain, has always been, that he'll give you all the love you deserve, just like you have made it your life's goal to give your fiance all the happiness he deserves.

Even after your troubled past with your family, you couldn't get yourself to have any ill feelings for them. You know that they were doing what they thought was best for you, even though it certainly did the opposite. You never really opened up to your parents, like a kid should, but you know they see little of it and are guilty for forcing you into things you didn't want to do. You are working on your relationship with them, and it was very important for you to share the most important time of your life with them. Introduce them to the most important part of your existence. Dean. The man who taught you to love yourself, the man who taught you that it's okay to be broken, that you didn't always have to be the strong one. The man who taught you to cry again when you felt pain, which you had forgotten to do for years. The man who made you believe that you weren't a curse. The man you love more than life. Dean, your Dean.

"What now?" You scowl up at him, for breaking the courage you mustered to knock that door.

"What if they hate me? What if I don't even understand that they hate me? What do you think they'll do? How will they behave if they didn't like me? Will they tell you to not marry me? Oh my god, Y/N, what if they tell you to not marry me? What if they get you married to someone else? Look, I'm not taking that, okay? I'm not letting anyone take you away from me. But they're your parents, they're even scarier than you. They'll beat the shit out of me with a vacuum cleaner and—" You look up at your man's lightspeed rambling with an amused expression and shut him up with a chaste kiss on his lips. With your hands on his chest, you can feel his fast heartbeats and boy, is he scared. As you kiss him, and make circular patterns on his chest from under his blazer, he relaxes.

You break the kiss and join your forehead with his to look into his puppy dog eyes that remind you so much of his taller little brother, as you cup his cheeks. "You'll be fine." You say in a whisper.

"Promise?" He looks into your eyes, as he brings his pinky finger up near your face, like a little child asking for reassurance would.

"Deany promise." You entangle your little finger with his as you giggle at his childlike beauty. You peck his lips once again before searching your bag for something.

Dean exhale a heavy breath and is about to knock, when you stop him this time. "No please not now," he whined defeatedly, "I mustered a lot of courage for that Y/N, now you'll have to kiss me again."

You grin as you reapply your lipstick and bring one of your face-wipes to his lips, "You don't want dad to see my lipstick on your lips now, do you? He owns a gun," Dean's eyes widen in horror, as he rotates on his heels so fast, it takes you a moment to realize what he's doing, "No to the power of hell, Winchester. Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh..I...um... forgot my Impala in the shoes," You raise your eyebrow at his piss poor excuse of an excuse, "My shoes in the Impala." He grins at you nervously before looking down at his shoes. "Arghh, come on. Issa gun, Y/N" He groans.

"Don't act like you haven't seen a gun ever before, Dean. You literally sleep with one next to your head."

"Yeah, well, sorry I haven't ever been shot by my girlfriend's father. So yes I'm so getting out of here." He narrows his eyes challengingly down at you, the action you reciprocate. He finally breaks the staring contest realizing you aren't taking any shit from him. He slowly starts walking back to baby, ignoring your glare when the front door opens as he hears a woman's voice happily taking your name. "Oh take me with you, Luci" He mutters under his breath the nickname you gave to his biggest enemy, shutting his eyes tight.

"Who is Lucy?" A masculine voice interrupts his moment of nervousness as his eyes widen in fear at the gun-owner he knows the voice belong to.

"Hello, s-s-sir." He turns back to the man standing on the doorway, "I'm D-Dean. And Luci is, well" He smiles nervously, and looks over at you for some sort of help.

Damn, that was...idk. I hope you found it decent, and well, feedback would be really appreciated—positive or negative (Yeah yo gurl got guts for honesty). I kinda really wanna know how it was. Also if you wanna be tagged in this or any future fics, send me reblog/comment or send me an ask.

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kyojurolover · 6 years ago

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Nobody Else But You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You have a thing for frat boy Bucky Barnes, and he may have a thing for you. But relationships aren’t as easy as they may seem...can you and Bucky make this work?

Author’s Note: I’m kind of in a writer’s block with my Sam Wilson fanfic, so here’s something for y’all to read that I had posted on my now-deleted sideblog. Anyways, I’ve always loved the idea of frat boy! Bucky and couldn’t help but come up with a story. I’ve got tons more of other frat boy head canons and yeah, hope you guys enjoy! (Also, in this series, Bucky has short hair)

Tag list & requests are open!

Warnings: none really

You always thought the whole sorority girl and frat boy thing was so overrated, it was so cliche and people tended to make a big deal out of it for no reason. So imagine the irony of you being at a frat party, one which your best friend made you attend.

————

“Y/N, you’re definitely coming.” Nat stated, hands on her hips as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone.

“No, no Nattie.” You shook your head. “Y’know I’m not a fan of them..”

Nat chuckled. “What? Frat boys or parties?”

“How bout both?” You grinned, placing your phone next to you face-down.

“Lies. You’re a fan of one frat boy in particular... Bucky Barnes.” She had a smirk on her face, as you felt the heat rise in your neck.

“Shut up! I am not!” You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid her gaze.

“Really? Because three times today you brought him up. This morning, during free period, and during lunch. You’re never the type to bring up anyone during any of our conversations THREE times!”

“Okay? He was bugging me is all..”

Nat started to mimic you. “‘He’s always calling me doll. And, ugh, that stupid cap of his that he’s always wearing..no one tells him to take it off! And don’t get me started on his tight shirts that make his muscles bulge out and somehow even though I hate him I can’t help but get lost in his icy blue eyes!’” She pretended to faint, then fell over in laughter.

“Still not going.” You muttered.

“Oh, you’re going Y/N. Definitely. Or I’ll change the Netflix password.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna enjoy it.”

————

You had stuck to your word. You were leaning against a far corner of the wall, where it was almost completely empty except for some crushed beer cans and a couple that was making out next to you. You were holding a red cup that was filled barely half way with water. You weren’t trying to get drunk..especially at a frat party.

And it was almost exactly how you pictured it to be: a room filled with college students that reek of Bud Lite and sweat. Some grinding action going on in the corner and a few girls dancing on top of a table, thinking they’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. A few boys wearing neon blue shirts that say “sober monitor”, while holding warm keg beer in their hands. The latest hits playing in one room and body-thumping techno music blaring down in the basement. Failed attempts to pick up girls and drunken PDAs with complete strangers. The beer pong champ running the table and a floor so disgusting you wouldn't dare take off your shoes... Yep, first frat party. What a delight.

Thankfully, no one was paying much mind to you. And Nat was only a few steps away, standing with her boyfriend Clint and sharing passionate kisses every second. Clint was a frat boy, which you almost always forgot because once you got to know him, he wasn’t cocky and rude...like most frat boys are.

Your luck was starting to run out though, because Bucky was making his way over to you. Okay, Nat was right that you had a crush on him. But who doesn’t? He’s so mind-shockingly gorgeous that even if the most stupidest thing came out of his mouth he’d have every girl (and maybe every boy) on their knees. His hair was always ruffled in a cute “I just woke up like this” look, his face was always clean shaven showing his jawline of perfection, he always wore different colored caps but put them on backwards, and he was always wearing loose fitted jeans that made his thighs look good.

The thing you loved most about him though, were his beautiful blue eyes. They were like two deep pools, but always changing color. Sometimes they were grey, like storm clouds. Other times, they almost looked green; resembling sea foam..

You didn’t realize you were in a trance until Bucky cleared his throat. “Hey, doll. Never thought I’d see you here.”

“What do you want, Bucky?” You furrowed your brows and tightened the grip on your cup. You tried ignoring the light skip of your heart at the sound of his nickname for you.

“You on your knees.” He smiled cheekily, leaving you unfazed. “C’mon, Y/N. Be a party gal and go up there and show some of your moves.” Bucky gestured vaguely to the table top where suddenly two girls were making out.

You made a face. “You want me to make out with someone?”

Bucky chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No, doll. That would be entertaining though. I want to see your dance moves.”

“Yeah...you’re not ready for that.” You grinned, taking a sip from your cup.

“What does that mean?” Bucky still bore a smile on his face. “Do I have to take you out to dinner first?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you. We all know Bucky Barnes takes it straight to the bedroom..” You scoffed sarcastically.

“Oh, but baby it’d be different with you. I’d meet up with you at a party like this...” Bucky started to come closer to you. “Take you alone in a corner..” He was standing in front of you now, one arm extended forward on the wall as he leaned in closer, your guys’ lips barely an inch apart. “And..”

“Hey, Barnes! Somebody beat your beer pong record!” A dark skinned boy called from across the room.

You heard Bucky growl as he turned his head. “What, Sam?” He sounded angry, but you didn’t think it was about the beer pong thing.

Bucky’s blond best friend, Steve Rogers, stepped out from the crowd. “It was me, Buck-o!” He had his hands on his hips, smiling proudly as a bunch of people slapped him on the back and a few girls gave him kisses on the cheek.

“Great job, Stevie!” Bucky yelled, but everyone ignored him as they quickly turned back to the game. Bucky turned back to you, smirking. “Now where were we?”

“You were invading my personal space.” You were still holding your cup, but you were now pushed up against the wall, your chest touching Bucky’s.

“This okay?” He stared at you innocently, as fluorescent lights shined down on him. You nodded your head, too nervous and excited to say anything.

Bucky put his lips softly on yours, gripping the back of your head with his hand that was originally placed on the wall next to you. His free hand drifted to your hips as he deepened the kiss. You dropped your cup as you placed both hands around his neck, pulling him in for more. One of you let out a moan, and suddenly it didn’t feel like you were at a frat party anymore. It felt like you two were isolated in your own bubble, filled with lust and passion as the smell of Bucky’s cologne and thumping bass of the music urged both of you on.

“Mm, Bucky..” Your voice came out muffled against his lips, as you placed both hands on his chest trying to push him away.

Bucky kept his lips against yours for a little bit longer, before pulling away. “What, doll?” His pupils were blown and his hair seemed messier, if possible.

Nat suddenly called out your name. “Y/N! C’mon, girl, we gotta go!” She was wearing Clint’s varsity jacket over her black dress, one hand wrapped around Clint’s arm.

“Right..” You whispered under your breath. You stepped out from underneath Bucky. “Um..bye.” You didn’t wait for a response as you made your way over to Nat and Clint. And as you guys walked out of there, all you could think was, What the hell was that?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #jealous bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #marvel #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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starspatter · 6 years ago

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WIP Challenge

Tagged by: @summertime-children

Tagging: @astrologista, @atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine, @benditlikegumby, @cryptoriawebb, @ibmiller, @iceperialprincess, and @otherwise-uncolonized

Challenge: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

I'll also do what deta did and post comments + short fragments. (Be warned it'll be very long though, and most of these are actually Pokémon fics since I was a much more prolific writer when I was younger, and that was the fandom I wrote mainly for.) I also won't be including "Heroes and Thieves" on here (or any DC/superhero stuff really since I’ve essentially “done” everything I had planned for now), as *technically* it is all already completed in draft form, and I'd like to keep things a surprise for whenever I do end up posting~

Hero and Seek

“Well, we’re all together now, so let’s have some fun, all right? Don’t worry, it’s really simple. One person is the ‘demon’, and the others have to hide from him.” “Eh? A ‘demon’? But that’s scary!” Three pairs of eyes turned up to her in fear. Those eyes, which screamed and streamed the stark color of blood the first time she saw them – not just from tears, but from the ‘monster’ they believed dwelled deep within. She thought for a moment, then removed her scarf. “How about this then? Whoever’s the ‘hero’ has to find and rescue the others. It’s a very important Blindfold Brigade mission!”

I’ll start with the one Kagepro fic I did attempt at least, which I described previously here, but is basically about Ayano + the Meka Trio playing “Hide and Seek” for the first time. (I actually had it originally titled as that but just came up with this new version on the spot lol I’m so clever~) For some reason I’ve always been hesitant about reading/writing Kagefic, but I actually got a fair bit farther in this than I thought, so perhaps I should try to finish it someday... Princes and Frogs

“K-Koizumi-senpai… Um… Please go out with me!” Itsuki stared down at the tiny underclassman, watching a rose mantle spread slowly over her cheeks as she gazed back with shy, but determined hope in her bespectacled eyes. The older boy could make out his own handsome face reflected off the lens, a virtual image embellished by sparkling hearts and stars. With dim satisfaction and relief, Itsuki ensured that his bright, patient smile betrayed no hint of the weary sigh that whispered behind it.

This is an intro excerpt of the first chapter I planned to write for an ItsuHaru fic from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, which I only ever posted the prologue for. ItsuHaru was my first obsessive OTP, and I still think about returning to this story someday (especially since I have now proven to myself I *can* finish a full chapter fic if I put my mind to it), but it’s been so long I feel like I’d need to refresh my memory of the whole series/am still holding out hope for a Season 3 to motivate me again. *shot*

Fall to Pieces

As Itsuki stared at Yuki’s vacant visage, his resentment kept building. His hands clenched, rigidly gripping the edge of the table. Somehow, it just didn’t seem fair. That she could so easily ignore the madness fate had dealt them, never reveal any signs of suffering or bitterness towards her situation, and yet always, always wear the same damn expression on her face. How could she possibly stand it? He can’t stand it. (any more)

An ItsuYuki one-shot, where Itsuki basically blows up at her from pent-up frustration over having to wear a mask all the time and his hidden feelings for Haruhi. The two start to form a connection over their respective “unrequited loves”/understanding of each other’s pain, and one thing leads to another... Like “Heroes and Thieves”, this is in fact technically “complete”, since I actually used the leftover steam from the former towards finishing at least one thing I started a long time ago - although I’m still not sure I’m totally satisfied with it/kinda want to wait to figure out what I’m doing with my other ItsuHaru fics before I publish it by itself. (Incidentally the working title comes from an Avril Lavigne song lol.)

Little White Lies

“Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty--perhaps the difficulty.” -George MacDonald, The Light Princess - Haruhi Suzumiya was walking on air. Itsuki could tell by the way she glided into the clubroom, sailing like a paper airplane – or a balloon with an inflated ego to match.

...Yeah that’s as far as I got with this. This was meant to be a “White Day” story, which is Japan’s “answer holiday” to Valentine’s Day, where guys reciprocate by giving gifts to the girls who gave them chocolates. I always wondered how the boys actually responded in-universe, and I imagine Itsuki secretly stressing out a lot about taking care to not upstage Kyon, but at the same time wanting to sincerely express his genuine appreciation and feelings towards Haruhi - whatever they may be. In the end, he settles on a copy of “The Light Princess” by George MacDonald, which I highly recommend reading since it reminds me so much of this pair, and in general is such a fun and snappy “tongue-in-cheek” take on the fairytale genre. Sora in Wonderland

But wait- this one was a bit different from all its brothers and sisters. For one thing, it was wearing a fancy waistcoat with pockets- and sleeves that were far too long for it. As soon as it passed by her head, it stopped and slowly turned its head around to stare directly at her with its huge circular yellow eyes. Sora stared vacantly back for a full five seconds before the information registered in her brain and she suddenly yelled, “Hey!”, and sat bolt upright. The Heartless panicked upon hearing her voice and fled at top speed across the white sands, headed towards an opening in the rocks; Sora jumped down off her perch and immediately chased after it, no longer caring about the heat. The Heartless hastily disappeared inside the cave, and Sora soon followed after, determined to catch the freaky little thing and ask it some questions, like what it was doing on the island at this time, and where on earth did it get a waistcoat.

OKAY SO I TOTALLY FORGOT THIS WAS A THING but apparently I tried to write a Kingdom Hearts parody of “Alice in Wonderland” lmao. I’ve never actually played the games (aside from half of CoM), but it was probably inspired by a crossover art my friend drew? ^^; Also Sora is a girl in this bc that’s my headcanon and I’m sticking to it. XP *shot* Note: The following fics are all Pokémon-related so I’ll just be listing them in roughly chronological order (from most recent to ancient, although they’re all pretty old at this point). Stranger

The elder slowly rose to his feet, gazing at the boy, the champion, the stranger. “In all this time, why didn’t you come back? You could have seen for yourself how she was.” Lance wanted to yell something defiant, like a child. But he wasn’t a child. Children were forgiven for their mistakes. And he didn’t want to be forgiven. The professor’s ancient hand came to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s the way this town works. We don’t talk about things that happen outside our own world. Maybe it was too long ago – too late for you to understand.” Lance didn’t say anything. “At least talk to Delia. She’s been wanting to see you.” “Sorry. It’s too late.” “You’re a bastard.” “I know.”

So this looks to be among the last things I’d written before taking a long break from fanfiction circa... 2007, jeeze. Over 10 years, huh. But, I think it speaks a certain amount of maturity that it’s the piece I liked most upon rediscovering. It’s based on an idea I once had that Lance was (unknowingly) Gary Oak’s father, and he was friends/rivals with Ash’s father, who originally won the title of Champion but relinquished it so he could be with his “wife” and kid (or rather, then-pregnant teenage girlfriend). *Something* happened though (I forget what I had in mind) and he ended up dying, leaving Lance bitter and depressed so he refused to return to Pallet Town because of too many painful memories. (Though he *cough* “comforted” their other female childhood friend for one night of drunken grief before he left. ;() What I like most about it honestly is the parallels bw Lance’s relationship with Ash’s dad and their sons’, and that amidst all the angst I enjoyed portraying the earnest energy and optimism of Ketchum(?) senior (”like father like son” after all). I was definitely inspired by Mitsuki’s father in Full Moon wo Sagashite/Maes Hughes from Fullmetal Alchemist by making him a total “dork dad” who’d brag about his (illegitimate) family on national TV during the championship tournament lol.

Ihavenoidea

Either way, I get the feeling this really wasn’t what I had in mind when I made my decision to quit training. I mean that in an intuitive sort of way. Like, sometimes I feel as if I’m not meant to be here, like my life should have ended up differently someplace else. Perhaps this is just one of those weird inconsistencies I told you about. Perhaps not. Even after all that’s happened to me recently, I still can’t really be sure about it.

...No seriously, I have no idea where I was going with this. As far as I can tell it’s written from the POV of Gary Oak, whom I’ve always had a lot of... “complicated” feelings towards. It probably has something to do with another concept I’ll discuss next, although for some reason it sounds like I was going for some sort of AU? *shrug* By contrast to the above, it reads like a whiny teenager complaining about his life - which makes me cringe but is probably an accurate portrayal of who I was at the time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This one was actually dated a little after the previous, so my best guess is it was some kind of vent rant where I would “give up” writing/creating and “childish” ideals for a while, as I was wont to do - but I still always come back to it somehow... RainbowMolly

Molly stepped out from the car and onto the dusty road, her heart beating wildly. She could hardly believe she was actually here, of all places. The ride had been long and mind-numbing with anticipation, and now that they’d finally arrived at the destination, it all felt somewhat surreal to her. A small bear clambered out from the vehicle, joining her as she stopped to take in the rustic view that met her bright blue eyes. She smiled and picked up her Teddiursa, cuddling its warm, fuzzy body close to her own. Her gaze traveled down the road which stretched in both directions, houses lining up against its margins. She followed it with her eyes towards a hill in the distance, on top of which sat what looked like a quaint little farmhouse with a windmill, turning in the summer breeze. She breathed in the country air, catching whiff of a faint salt smell from an ocean in the distance. So this was Pallet Town.

...Why I didn’t actually name the file “Chasing Rainbows” - which was the title I had planned for this - I don’t know. This dates back to an old idea I had where I believed Molly Hale from the third Pokémon movie was secretly the true “God” of the Pokémon world - in the sense that the entire universe was an unknowing fantasy of her own creation, similar to Haruhi Suzumiya (ok fine this was totally a crossover/rip-off of the same concept so sue me OTL). In a place where children never seem to grow up and can go on grand fantastical adventures forever, Gary always struck me as an anomaly who willingly *chose* to forego such a life to pursue more “adult” interests by becoming a researcher. So I saw him as filling the role of “Kyon” - the cynical narrator who was destined to ground “God” and bring her back down to earth, but at the same time be won over by her innocence and charm and learn to appreciate “kids’ stuff” again. However, the Legendaries were actually aware of the power Molly holds, and so saw Gary as a threat to their very being - as by “waking” the dreamer and having her face reality meant erasing their kinds’ entire existence. As the “apocalypse” nearly occurred in the third film, Mew and Celebi took on human disguises (in the form of May and Max respectively) to investigate Ash, who was able to calm Molly and “save” the world by “perpetuating” the delusion (and whom Molly totally has a crush on btw *shot*). So it’s a bit of a love triangle lol, with Mew and Celebi (*cough* an alien and a time traveler, get it? *shot*) acting as mediators/interference. (Although Mew might’ve secretly shipped Gary and Molly herself. ;O)

Betrayal

And these blades, these damned scythes that attached themselves to my arms when I was born, a curse upon me since birth, though it had not been apparent up until now. They were covered with blood, the vital crimson liquid that flows through our bodies, now dripping down the steel surface in a webbed pattern, drops beginning to splatter the pure, emerald grass below. The arm felt heavy and weak as I tried to lift it, as if it did not belong to me, but that was only a wishful thought. I gazed calmly at it, inspecting the intricate designs the flow of the substance had created, as if it were an abstract piece of artwork. Tentatively, a pink tongue rolled out and caught a small droplet of it just before it fell from the sharp edge, just to convince myself that it was real. The semi-sweet, metallic taste confirmed this. I had indeed taken these men’s lives, just as I had taken hers.

So I remember this was written from the POV of a Scyther who seemingly went on a murderous rampage. I only know that I wanted to give him an “Edward Scissorhands”-like story, since the idea of having such sharp objects attached to one’s limbs so that one could never directly “touch” another without being a danger is pretty tragic. I suspect “her” was someone (a human?) he cared about but killed by accident, and after that he was only seen as a symbol of power/treated as a tool to incite fear before eventually rebelling against his “master”... Roses

“If you love someone, you should give them something that’s yours. That shows how much you care for them.” In the darkness, I pictured his smiling face, explaining to me as he wrapped a present for his girlfriend. His blue eyes were shining with a sort of spirit unfamiliar to me; I guessed, a feeling of love.

Another “dark” take on a Pokémon’s biology (I really liked writing explorations of those back then lol), this time of Roselia. The idea was that a Roselia was so in love with her trainer that she would do anything for him - including allow him to cut off her arms so he could give them to his girlfriend. I actually ended up turning it into a poem at one point:

Love is like a rose they say, And affection leads to grief they warned. For in the end love betrays, Its Beauty maimed by a poisoned thorn. You gave me pure water with a smile. Your cheerful face became my sun. I offered up my blood to you, And in return demanded none. Chop off my wrists, and tie them together. I’ll gladly bleed myself to death. In order to give you that which I hold most dear. My dear, my dear, Won’t you accept this bouquet? You take it, smiling warily. A blush creeps onto your face. And in those eyes I can see A garden of roses stretched out, Composing a wondrous place. Then you bound my hands in lace, And brought them to the girl next door. You presented them to her with grace. … My blood continued to pour.

Fanfic

She smiled at me, although something about her expression indicated something wasn't quite right. I watched as she glanced over towards the west, her gaze lingering momentarily on the setting sun. The glowing, orange sphere was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, peaks cloaked in a pale, lavender haze illuminated by flickering beams of gold and scarlet cast across the horizon.

More accurately, I found this buried in a “catch-all” file where I had several (mostly finished) fics saved. This was meant to be from the POV of an Eevee who had just evolved - supposedly into an Espeon due to happiness and bond with her trainer, which is what both wanted. However, since it took place at sunset, she didn’t realize she had become an Umbreon instead, and her trainer ended up abandoning her for it. ;( It was a warm

Children’s shrieks and laughter echoed across the park as they flocked towards each other, and soon were chasing one another round the playground, weaving in and out between the swings as they partook in an innocent game of Tag. One child was It; she was trying desperately to catch one of her friends so that they would take over the job instead. Then it would be her turn to run away, for none of them wished to play the loathsome role of It. Or was it because they feared being tainted by the person’s touch? It must have been one of the two, for while she would struggle to reach them, catch hold of them, they would only flee, thoroughly enjoying the fact that they were vexing her. Twice she nearly caught one. Her fingertips were almost within reach of one of the other girls’ dresses, whose russet tresses were flowing wildly from the rush of movement and shining with golden highlights as the rays of the sun struck individual strands. The target shrieked and shook her head, whisking her skirt free in time to escape capture, laughing with glee at the sight of the girl left behind, miserable and alone.

Yeah I totally just went with the default beginning of the first sentence lol. I guess this comes full circle with the first Kagepro fic I mentioned (although I’m not even sure I was aware back then that the Japanese version of the game literally called “It” a “demon”, which is even more fitting). I believe this was part of a Pokémon series I was writing involving a creepy little girl and Mewtwo who would bring about the end of the world or something like that, but generally I guess I was just going for a “Catcher in the Rye” feel. *shrug* Golden Lights

The pale, rosy fingers of dawn were filtering in through the Granite Cave entrance, basking a small area near the opening in pinkish illumination. Just out of reach of its expanse sat little Mika, huddled in the gloom of the shadows, watching the light creep steadily towards her as the glowing ball of fire rose slowly towards the East. She knew about the Light that came from Outside. There were plenty other small apertures broken into the cavern walls and ceiling that allowed some thin streams of gold brilliance to trickle through. She had always done well to avoid them. The brightness was like poison to her skin. But they weren’t the Lights she’d had described to her by the old Crobat that always resided now deeper within the underground chambers, dozing now, most likely. He wouldn’t awaken until night came round, and she did not wish to rouse him and perhaps disturb him from a pleasant dream. She was very wise about things like that, being the young child that she was. Still, she would have liked to hear a story to comfort her just then.

Last one I could find, about a Sableye who, like Icarus, literally “flew too close to the sun”. In this interpretation I imagined that Sableye were creatures who could not stand sunlight at all, as it would cause their skin to burn. But Mika (pronounced like “Mica”) always dreamed of going outside to see the “Light” anyway. She was eventually tempted by Mew to leave the cavern under her angelic PROTECTion and step into the Light, who was acting as Ho-Oh’s messenger to “recruit” souls to “live eternal as an element of Ho-Oh’s Guarding Flame“, as the PROTECT faded and a “holy fire” began to spread. I guess I was going for a Biblical/”Rapture”-esque reference. (...Man I sure was obsessed with the endtimes as a kid. *shot*)

#Kagerou Project #Tateyama Ayano #Mekakushi Trio #Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu #ItsuHaru #ItsuYuki #Pokemon #Gary Oak #Molly Hale #fanfiction #starstories #astrologista #atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine #benditlikegumby #cryptoriawebb #ibmiller #iceperialprincess #otherwise uncolonized

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unholyhelbiglinked · 6 years ago

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Dead Ivy | Chapter Four

CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START | AO3 LINK

Her skin prickled against the air that the window unit created. It fought tirelessly against the propped open front door, the porch light pouring warm light into the hallway. It reflected off the hardwood with more subtly than the shifting waves of the lake paired with a crescent moon. Beca was drunk. She let her keys fall into the dish by the door with a little clank- and she stared at them for a moment.

When she was younger, she had a curfew. It was ten o’clock on school nights and eleven on weekends. Her mother would wait up with a book in hand and the curtains drawn. She would let the night air take over the house, the screen door not doing much against the elements. Beca would still try and sneak in, even if the hinges creaked more than the wrap around porch. Then her mother died, and she didn’t have to tip-toe anymore. Just like she didn’t have to now.

“Beca? That you?”

Her father had changed out of his work clothes, though the oil was a permanent fixture under his nails. He looked tired, like the ghost of a man who had once had everything. Maybe that was the moon. Or maybe it was the fuzzy feeling that accompanied Beca, but it made her feel a deep ache. She felt bad for him. How she was the only one he had left.

“Yeah, it’s just me, dad.”

“I waited up for you… you didn’t call.”

She stared at him curiously. Even when she was a teenager, he hadn’t done that. After coming home from work he would shut himself away in his garage and work on yet another car. Her mom used to say it helped him think, but Beca always believed that it helped him be anywhere but here: Trapped in a southern domestic life with two kids and a wife that was dying.

Besides, Beca was an adult. A twenty-nine-year-old woman with a career and an apartment on the West Coast. He didn’t’ need to wait up for her, just like her roommate didn’t’ ever need to call her an Uber when she was out drinking late. She accepted both gestures as they were.

“You’ve been drinking.”

Beca breathed out heavily, she could still taste the ghost of her whiskey sour on her lips. “Yeah.”

Beca turned her attention to the staircase, putting her right foot against it. Her palm was met with the initial shock of the cold railing. She went for a second one when her father spoke. “Did you drive?”

A certain weight overturned in her stomach like she had swallowed something a little bigger than a marble. The glass was turning against her insides in a cold and unnatural way. The greasy slab of pizza that she had scarfed down after walking back into the bar was threatening to resurface. “What?”

“Did you drive home tonight?”

“No, no, I heard you.” She swallowed, dropping her hand from the railing. Her father’s face was hard, and his eyes were dark. Maybe it was because he looked so sickly, but she was sure that wasn’t it. It was anger. Seething anger that seemed to be contagious. “I took a taxi. Why would you ask me that?”

He kept his features smooth, but let out a labored sigh, finally frowning down at the hardwood floor. Beca could feel her nails digging into the railing. Whatever buzz she was carrying had tapered off. She could hear the deafening click of the hands on the clock hung beneath thoughtfully arranged family photos. Nice snapshots in time that made everything look so pristine.

“I don’t know, Bec.” He ran his hand over his freshly shaped hair. “It seems like the rational thing to ask. You’re my kid, I’m allowed to worry.”

“Not about that. You think I would get behind the wheel after that happened?” She asked, and his eyes snapped back to her with a flash of anger. They quickly softened. “I’m not some reckless teenager anymore. I’m not going to get plastered and then…”

Beca’s voice and thoughts wandered off. It wasn’t a teenager who had hit Jason, and she knew that. It was an older guy, sad and drowning his sorrows in a few whiskeys at the local bar. He taught himself how to drink and still stay within the lines. Fell asleep behind the wheel, maybe- but he had walked away with a few scratches and nothing more. Jason hadn’t walked away at all.

“You really think I would do something like that? That I would endanger not only myself but everyone else on the road because of a stupid fucking choice?”

“Someone did!” He rose his voice, dropping his hand to the side “Someone got drunk and got behind the wheel of a vehicle before smashing it into Jason’s car and I lost him. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. Not to me, not to you, not to his ex-wife. Because he can’t. He fucking can’t.”

She swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around the banister. She stared at him for a moment and he stared right back. He looked like he had woken up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water, but instead, he walked away with glassy eyes and a sullen face. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Beca.”

She forgot how painful a hangover could be. How her head would pound, and her mouth would feel deadened with a metallic edge. The AC unit continued to hum evenly and Beca let out a breathy sigh when she heard her father’s car start up in the driveway. The sun had barely begun to peak out, and part of her hated the fact that she was awake in the first place.

Beca reached blindly for the water bottle next to her bed but settled for her phone instead. She cringed away from the seemingly blinding light and pulled open her notifications. Facebook. She didn’t even know why she kept it on her phone. It was a place that linked her here.

Stacie had tagged her in a few different posts that she doesn’t remember posing for. If people in town didn’t’ know she was back before, they knew now. She was posing sloppily next to the older woman, her nose pressed against her cheek and a drunken smile on her face. Stacie captioned it: Some things never change.

But a lot had.

She continued to scroll through the notifications before clicking on her memories. She found herself doing it every morning- looking at things she had posted on this day years before. Eleven years before. There were a few posts about school, mainly how she had just gotten her license and was looking for cars. But then there was Chloe.

A picture of the two of them leaning against the tree that was in her backyard. She could see the base of the carving. The sun peaked from behind the large oak, haloing Chloe’s natural red curls. Her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled, and her focus was solely on Beca. It made her stomach knot up.

Beca let out a sharp huff and clicked off her phone, staring up at the ceiling instead.

Everything about this town had plunged her into a world she worked so hard to forget. But burying the bad came with dismissing the good. And Chloe was everything good. Even after eleven years, Beca felt like this woman knew more about her than anyone.

She blinked away any sleep from her eyes and peeled the duvet back, sweat already wracking her body. She remembered the first time she saw her roommate going for a jog after a long night of drinking. They both had the same amount of liquor and Beca had curled up on the end of the couch while Aubrey resounded to taking a shot of ginger-infused juice and went for a run around the block. She was fine and Beca suffered. She thought it was an LA thing, but Aubrey pointedly told her that it was a human being thing.

So, she found herself jogging. Not because she was hungover, or the vague memory of what her father had said to her last night, just in general. Because it was something to distract her from the phone she left on her nightstand, and the sudden urge she had to go into the tool shed for an ax. Getting in a few blocks seemed like an easier option than sawing down a tree the size of her house.

Beca placed her headphones accordingly and began her journey along the sidewalks in her neighborhood. This place used to feel so big to her: the classic southern ranch homes that occupied families covering their own secrets while searching for others. They would sit on the porch and sip their sweet tea and wait for someone like her to run by. Following her with their eyes, the daring looking up from their books to offer a wave in exchange.

She could feel the back of her shirt cling to her skin, the spring heat eating away at her as her feet pounded against pollen dusted sidewalks. She expertly dodged couples walking their dogs, edging to the end of the third block she covered. Beca pulled her headphones out, placing her hands behind her head as she struggled to catch her breath in the heat.

Beca turned around Montgomery street, ignoring the pounding against the inside of her wrist. She followed the beat of the song until she made a right on Hope Avenue. Then another left against main street. The small town suddenly came into view and her mind dripped with the thoughts of the last time she had jogged this far.

It was freshmen year.

Nina Blanchard had cornered her in the girl’s locker room, backed into another locker that wasn’t her own. She considered that a small mercy among miracles. Nina had hit puberty over the summer, had grown in height among other things. Beca took a few blows to the stomach and one to the face before she grabbed her bags and made a run for it.

She had sprinted across town and all the way to Hope before struggling to drag one breath into her starving lungs. She was drenched with sweat and her cheek throbbed. The door was locked when she finally made it home and Beca had sunk to her knees in the backyard next to a big oak tree. One that swayed in the wind, making its long arms tap against her windowpane during dark storms.

Beca stopped next to the flower shop on the corner: the door was propped open with a bag of mulch and Goldenrods hung under the windows. The coffee shop next store gave off the scent of pastry and Beca fought back the nausea in her stomach. She placed her hands behind her head and tried to steady her breathing.

A businessman balanced his coffee while sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear. Two women sat at the outside table, casting a few sparing glances to a little girl that sat on the sidewalk. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls, her head downcast as she picked evenly at the grass poking up between the sidewalks. Beca couldn’t tell over her heavy breathing, but she looked like she was crying, tears dripping from her chin.

Beca wanted to leave, to begin her long jog home, but instead, she pulled her headphones from her ears and lowered herself to the curb- not completely next to the girl, but enough for her to pick up her head and give her a strange look. They sat in silence while Beca continued to catch her breath.

“Why are you sweating so much?” The girl finally asked, voice foggy.

“I went for a run.”

“You stink.” She wrinkled her nose and looked up all at once. Beca was a bit taken aback by the sheer blueness of her eyes. She felt a pain beneath her ribs and she wasn’t sure if that was the three miles, or if it had something to do with the familiarity of them.

“Yeah well, you’re the one crying on the curb, kid.”

She frowned for a moment and Beca continued to stare before the two of them burst into laughter. This kid couldn’t’ be more than ten, maybe eleven, but she couldn’t’ tell. Either way, it pained Beca to see her eyes rimmed in red and nose on the brink of running.

“Some kids at my school… they’ve been torturing me since we could walk. Nothing really helps, you know? So I try to ignore it but sometimes it’s too much.”

Beca nodded as she understood, and for once in her life, she did.

“My mom sent me to get some things from the store, and I was going to, really, I was. But they were blocking the way and I ran in the other direction because that’s easier than getting pushed to the ground again.” She dragged her arm against the base of her nose. “So now I’m here with this stupid list I was supposed to get an hour ago.”

“Let me see that,” Beca reached out her hand and the girl apprehensively gave over the folded-up piece of paper. The handwriting was looped in a mix of cursive and print. Beca had to bite back a scoff. It was nearly unreadable, but she could make up the word eggs. “Your mom write this?”

The girl hummed and took it back. She shoved it into her jean pocket and stared forward, blinking silently at the little crosswalk that had no one begging to cross it. “Sometimes people tear you down because they have nothing better to do. It’s easier for them to fight their envy against you than to face their own. You just can’t let it bother you, kid. Once you shut all of that out, life gets a lot easier.”

She shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Is that why you’re out here running?”

Beca laughed, finally letting her heart settle “Don’t be a smartass. Don’t you have a list to get?”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #bechloe fic rec #Bechloe #bechloe fanfiction

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sleepyverstappens · 6 years ago

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When the stars align (baby that's when you'll be mine)

Title: When the stars align (baby that's when you'll be mine)

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count; ~4.7k

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, First Kiss

Summary: His mum brushes a hand through his hair and starts to explain then. About how the mark tells him what his soulmate’s initials are. That somewhere out there, there is someone that’s made just for him.

A/N: I totally forgot to post this on here as well. But yeah just another soulmate!AU that hopefully has some twists from the usual trope.

Read on AO3

Max is eight when his mark appears. He’s in the middle of a karting race when nausea starts building up inside of him. He’s in the lead when the weird feeling starts swirling in his stomach, breaking his concentration. The boy he’s been keeping behind him for most of the race passes by him in a blur as his skin begins to overheat and becomes sticky with sweat. An itch crawls over his whole body and he has no way to scratch it if he wants to keep on the track.

By the end of the race 3 more karts have passed him and he’s fighting back to urge to throw up right there in his helmet. He knows his dad will be angry with him, throwing away a lead for seemingly no reason. He drags himself out of the kart slowly, clutches his helmet tightly in his hands as he slowly walks over to his father.

He ducks his head as soon as he sees his father’s angry face, preparing himself for the barrage of angry words that will surely follow. He swallows back some bile that’s trying to make it’s way up his throat as his father starts in on him. He’s going on and on and Max is apologising quickly “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just…” And he throws up there and then, barely avoiding his father’s leather boots.

His chest heaves as he’s trying to catch his breath once his stomach has stopped rolling. He mumbles out another apology and looks up to find his dad look at him with a confused frown on his face. His dad’s eyes focussing in on where he’s scratching at the skin of his hand, between his thumb and pointer finger. It itches so bad now and sweat is literally running down his face in droplets.

“Max, how about you stay at your mum’s tonight yeah?”

Max looks up at his dad, confusion written on his own face now. They were supposed to be cleaning up his kart together, working on it the next day as well. But his father is looking at him puzzled, mouth downturned but different from before when he was just angry with him.

Everything feels weird to him then. His father is more caring than usual, his touches softer than usual as he helps him get out of his sticky racing gear. As he brushes his hair from his sweaty forehead. As he runs a thumb over the skin between his fingers slowly.

As they arrive at his mum’s house his skin is already sticky with sweat again even though he’d only just taken a shower at the track. His mum opens the door, confused to see them when he wasn’t supposed to be staying with her tonight.

“Max is sick and wanted his mum,” Jos says simply. And he hadn’t told his dad that he wanted his mum, but actually, yes he really does. As he thinks that he steps forward and hugs his mum tightly, his face buried into her belly. He mostly tunes out his parents then, the soft hand running through his hair soothing the headache that had started throbbing at his temple. He catches a few words here and then.

“I think it’s his mark, he’s been scratching his hand a lot.”

“But he’s so young, it can’t be.”

“Just keep an eye on it yeah. I just, I can’t be dealing with it tonight I’ve got things to do.”

“Fine.”

“Come on Max, let’s get you into bed.”

He sleeps then, somehow.

He wakes up and there’s still some light filtering into his room. He can make out his world map with the flags of all the countries all around it on the wall opposite his bed. He focuses his eyes on one of them, tries to remember which country it belongs to, but the headache that was throbbing in his head has only gotten worse now. The nausea is a familiar heavy feeling in his stomach as he scratches over the clammy skin of his hand once more. It hurts, his skin aching and still so very itchy. He digs his nails in deeper, tries to scratch away skin like you would the silver on a scratch card.

It doesn’t help. His eyes float back to the map, to the flag he was trying to connect to its country. Australia. A flash of pain shoots through his head then, his stomach lurching and he’s scurrying out of his bed quickly.

He makes it to the toilet just in time. There isn’t much left in his stomach after he threw up earlier, but his body tries its hardest to get every last bit of it out.

“Mama, I don’t feel so good,” he chokes out as he shuffles into the living room. The TV is playing some game show, but the way his mum is twisting the straps of her bathrobe around her hands tells him she wasn’t really watching it.

She pulls him close then, holds his right hand in hers and brushes her thumb over the skin between his thumb and pointer finger softly. He sees it then, the ever so light mark starting to appear. He knows about the marks on people’s hands of course. Knows they are important somehow, but he doesn’t know exactly why. And he doesn’t know why it has to hurt so freaking bad for it to appear.

His mum brushes a hand through his hair and starts to explain then. About how the mark tells him what his soulmate’s initials are. That somewhere out there, there is someone that’s made just for him.

“Why does it have to hurt so much though?” He asks, tears pooling in his eyes as his body keeps aching.

“I don’t know sweetie, it’s really bad huh? I don’t remember it being so bad for me, I’m so sorry it is for you darling.”

The aching doesn’t stop until late the next morning, when after a fitful night sleep three dark black letters are now decorating his hand. DJR.

---

Daniel is 12 when he first starts noticing the marks appear on the hands of some his peers. He doesn’t mind too much then that his own hand is still the blank canvas that it has been for twelve years. He knows you get your mark when your soulmate is 16, so surely his soulmate is just closer to his own age.

He’s sixteen and more and more of his peers and close friends have gotten their marks. Dark letters covering the skin between their thumb and pointer finger. Meanwhile his skin is still blank. He still doesn’t worry about it too much, maybe he was just a little older than his soulmate. It doesn’t stop people at school teasing him for it though.

He’s eighteen and the teasing only gets worse, turns into vile remarks. People call him a weirdo, a pedo for having a younger soulmate. He doesn’t get it, people didn’t get made fun of if they got their marks when they were 14, didn’t get called a toyboy or girl. His mum tells him to ignore it, that it’s just high school and people will get over it once he starts college next year. He tries to believe her and make the best out of the rest of the school year, tries to keep his trademark smile on his face even though it gets harder each day.

College doesn’t happen, instead he’s racing in Formula Renault where people don’t seem to care about the blank skin of his hand so long as he drives good races. They don’t care so he doesn’t either, just enjoys the experience of travelling around Europe to all the races.

When he’s in Formula 3 the next year people around him start to notice the blank space on his hand, though. They don’t outright say anything nasty to him, but he still sees the disgusted looks they barely try to hide from him.

It’s his twentieth birthday and he finds himself in a tattoo parlor at midnight after a night of drinking away his sorrows. He’s glaring at the empty space of skin, figuring he’ll take matters into his own hands. He’s picked out the letters already, W.B.B., his drunken brain picking the first letters of the things around him at the time. A glass of whisky, empty bottles of beer and a bar.

The tattoo artist manages to talk him out of it. He tells him he’s far from the first person to stumble into his tattoo shop half drunk wanting fake initials tattooed. He tells him he’s far from the oldest person he’s ever seen come in either. He tells him that there are people that get born with their marks. Meaning their soulmate is at least 16 years older than them, meaning their marks don’t show up until they’re at least 32.

The tattoo artist manages to talk him out of getting the initials tattooed on his hand, instead he leaves the parlor with a rose on his hand, leaving just enough space for when his mark decides to finally show up. A rose because he knows he’ll love his soulmate no matter how long it takes for his mark to appear.

---

It takes a while before his peers start to notice the mark on his hand, they’re too busy learning new stuff and playing the new game they’ve invented that particular week. The teachers and parents are a different story though. He can’t help noticing the looks his parents get when they drop him off and pick him up at school. How the eyes from his teacher had widened almost comically when she noticed the mark on his hand on monday morning.

He’s ten when kids start to pick on him for it, some mouthy kid has found out what the mark means and blabs about it to the whole school. Eyes follow his every move then, making his skin crawl.

He doesn’t cry when no one wants to sit with him at lunch anymore. He doesn’t cry when he gets shoved on the playground, no matter how much his knees hurt after it. No, he doesn’t cry until he’s back home and his mum asks him about his day.

“Why didn’t you tell me I am some abnormal freak?” He asks almost angry, as frustrated tears finally fall from his eyes.

“Of course you aren’t sweetie. Why do you think that?”

“People at school said I was a freak because I had my mark already and you aren’t supposed to get it until you’re 16.”

“Oh darling, you’re not a freak I promise. You get your mark when your soulmate is 16 not you, so you’re soulmate is just a few years older than you. But I promise you, you are not a freak because of that.” He does the math in his head quickly, if his soulmate was 16 when he got his mark than they are 8 years older than him.

“My soulmate is eight years older than me? That’s almost my whole life!”

“I know it seems like a big difference right now, but trust me when you meet them it won’t seem like that,” his mum promises him.

While the talk with his mum does make him stop worrying about being a freak it doesn’t stop the bullying. He’s twelve and he learns that high schoolers can be some of the most vile creatures that exist in life. He can see people’s eyes zoom in on the mark on his hand the first day of high school. Most people only send him slightly disgusted looks and don’t say anything, but it’s high school and people are already trying to gain popularity. Apparently making fun of the kid with a soulmark is the way to gain popularity.

“Hey, hey freak have you found grandma or grandpa yet? Oh no wait, they won’t even know you exist yet.” They snigger as he walks past a group of them in the hallway.

After ending up in detention after lashing out the first time, he learns to ignore them. The other boy hadn’t looked so smug anymore with blood running from his nose though. But it does make him think, about the fact that somewhere out there his soulmate doesn’t even know he exists yet. A thought that makes him feel a bit miserable. Would they be cursing the blank space of skin the same way he would sometimes curse the black letters on his?

By the time he graduates from high school the insults from the bullies just roll of his back as he tells them to at least get more creative with them. He knows he won’t be bothering with college, he barely managed to graduated from high school because he was away for races so much, but his mum still forces him to go to some introduction day. It’s fine, but Formula 3 is definitely a lot more interesting.

He’s 17 when he first meets him as he’s the new Torro Rosso rookie getting introduced to everyone from the big team as well. Daniel.

---

After his twentieth birthday he ends up back at a tattoo parlor on his birthday each year his skin remains blank. He would go back to that same one, but he’s on the road most years so he ends up googling the best tattoo shop in town instead. He doesn’t arrive half drunk and doesn’t ask for initials though. No, each year that spot of skin remains blank he adds a new tattoo to his right hand. A simple tulip appears next to the rose the first year. Then the year after a small flying paper plane gets added to the side of his pointer finger, with a shooting star joining it on the side of his thumb the year after.

And then when he turns 24 he fills the small gap between the tulip and the rose with three flying birds. But the space between his pointer finger and thumb, in between all of the ink, remains blank still.

He’s out celebrating a point score in the Italian Grand Prix with some of the crew. It’s nothing too crazy, but 7th place is still an amazing result for Torro Rosso. He has just downed his second shot in a row when nausea hits his stomach like a wrecking ball. He’s gasping for air as the room around him becomes sort of fuzzy, and really he’s never been such a lightweight. He shakes his head, tries to clear the fuzziness, but the bar stays blurry.

“Shit, what was in those things?” He asks Robert, one of the mechanics that had come along. The guy just shrugs and knocks another one back like it’s Ribena. The bar isn’t too crowded, but the music is on loud enough that the guys are talking loudly around him and a headache is starting to throb at his temple.

His stomach rolls again and sweat is making his loose t-shirt stick to his back and he needs to get out. He’s pushing himself back from the bar and blindly makes his way to the exit, gasping in fresh air as soon as it hits his face. He’s still so hot though, the cool night air not doing anything for his clammy skin. With a groan Daniel presses his face against the brick wall and squeezes his eyes shut. The shots can’t have kicked in that quickly can they? And no one else seemed to think they were strong, happily downing another one or switching to beers.

“Daniel dude!” Someone calls out to him and slowly he turns around, pressing his back against the cool brick instead as he tries to gets his eyes to focus on the guy walking towards him.

“You alright mate?” Jean-Éric asks with a concerned face.

“Don’t think those shots agreed with me, might need to call it an early night,” he manages to breathe out. There’s still concern written all over Jev’s face and he gives him a sympathetic smile.

“Okay, do you need me to call you a taxi?”

“No, it’s fine I can do it myself. Can you tell the others though, I don’t think going back in will help.”

“Yeah sure, take care yeah.”

Daniel gives him a nod and Jev disappears back inside, the music swelling up as the door opens and closes. He’s fiddling with his phone to call a taxi when one turns up just in front of him, a pretty woman in a red dress getting out followed by a guy that’s definitely punching above his weight. He steps up to the taxi before it can leave again and tells him the address of the hotel they’re staying at.

He’s in the back of the taxi and he’s scratching at his clammy skin, his body starting to itch all over for some reason. He’s scratching at his hand and briefly wonders if his new tattoo, the three little birds he got almost 3 months ago, somehow has gotten infected, when he notices that his nails keep raking over the blank space in between the tattoos. The space where his soulmark would be.

He lifts his hand up to his face to get a closer look, but he can’t see anything but red skin from where he’s been scratching. It still itches like hell though and he has to force himself to stop scratching at it, because if he keeps going at it like this it’ll bleed.

He’s stumbling his way out of the taxi as soon as it stops in front of the hotel. The driver must think he’s absolutely wasted, but he can’t help it with how his vision keeps going blurry. The airconditioning in the elevator up is absolute bliss and he doesn’t care how he must look to the people already on it as he presses his face against the cool mirrored wall. His eyes falling shut as he lets out a soft groan, his breath fogging up the mirror. As he blinks his eyes open he can barely make his own face out from where the mirror is fogged up and his vision is still swimming as well. Someone has to tell him they’re on his floor and he sends a polite smile in their general direction as he pushes himself from the wall.

The second he’s in his room he’s peeling his now soaked shirt from his back and dragging his jeans down from where they are clinging to his legs. Once he’s fully naked he sprawls himself out on top of the plush bed, his hand blindly looking for the remote for the aircon. He pushes at the buttons until the aircon is on high, making him almost shiver against the cold, but it’s a welcome reprieve from how his skin was overheating before.

The headache from before is back and he’s resorted to keeping his eyes shut as he kept struggling to focus his eyes. He somehow falls asleep like that, sprawled out naked on top of the sheets.

When he wakes up he’s shivering against the cold. He crawls underneath the sheets and almost misses it, his brain still clogged with sleep, until he’s reaching for the remote control to turn the aircon off. Three black letters have now filled the space that had been left blank on his right hand. MEV.

---

Daniel is just another person he meets in the big Formula 1 world at first. Someone in a big mass of people that shakes his hand. And while the big grin on Daniel’s face does catch his eye their first meeting still blends into the big blur of meeting everyone.

He’s not really thought about his soulmate for a long time, with racing really taking off the last couple of years, so he doesn’t notice the letters on Daniel’s hand when they shake hands. And he doesn’t register the way his mark flares up red underneath Daniel’s thumb as their skin touches.

So for a year and a half Daniel just stays that driver on the big team, the one with the big smile that everyone loves, the one that charms the pants off everyone around him. But he’s still just this guy he only nods at in the paddock and barely sees otherwise. The guy he wants to replace one day.

That is until May 5th 2016, when all of a sudden he’s a Red Bull Racing driver and Daniel is his new teammate.

---

When he just gets his mark it’s all he can think about, the fact that he actually has a soulmate out there somewhere. He’s giddy like his classmates were when they got their marks when he was in high school. He tries to catch the letters on other people’s hands to see if they match his name, tries to leave little touches to see if his mark flares up. But the fact that he had to wait so long for his mark to even appear doesn’t mean he meets his soulmate faster.

Eventually he stops obsessing over it so much, figures he’s already waited so long to even get his mark, he can wait some more. He gets promoted to Red Bull Racing the next year and all his attention is on the car. He wins three races and finishes on the podium 5 more times, resulting in a 3rd place in the championship and he couldn’t be happier.

The next year Jean-Éric, one of his best mates in this crazy F1 world, gets replaced by some young up and coming guy. Max.

Their meeting is nothing special, he gives him one of his usual friendly smiles and then goes on with his day. He doesn’t notice the way his mark turns bright red underneath Max’s thumb as they shake hands.

His season that year is pretty shit, only 2 podiums and no win compared to the 8 podiums and three wins the year before is not what he wanted for his second year at Red Bull. He tries to forget the season quickly, enjoying his summer break then focussing on the next season quickly.

The news breaks not long after the Russian Grand Prix, Daniil will be replaced by Max. He had noticed the Dutchman last season of course, the rookie of the grid finishing with a decent amount of points in his first season, but hadn’t paid him too much attention otherwise. And now all of a sudden they would be teammates.

---

He wins, he wins his first race at Red Bull. He’d gotten a bit lucky with the Mercedes drivers crashing into each other for sure, but still a win is a win! A grin is splitting his face as he jumps onto the highest step and listens to the Dutch national anthem. The champagne sticks to his skin as the Ferrari drivers aim their bottles at him and he’s just so happy.

The press conference afterwards is a blur of questions he tries to answer succinctly and then he’s lead to the press circle for even more questions. He lets out a sigh as he’s finally back in the Red Bull energy station, the hubbub around him forming a pleasant background noise as he finally lets the happenings of the day really sink in.

All of a sudden there’s an arm slung over his shoulder and Daniel is saying, “You were amazing out there.” But all Max can focus on is his right hand. His right hand where three letters are flaring up bright red.

“It’s you.”

“What?” Daniel asks confused.

“It’s you,” Max says again as he shoves his hand in Daniel’s face to show his soulmark. It’s still bright red as Daniel’s arm is still slung over his shoulder. And instead of pulling his arm back to look at his own mark, Daniel just pulls his arm closer to his face from around Max’s shoulder, nearly choking him in the process.

“Wow, yeah,” Daniel says with a stunned expression. And his face is still so close to Max, his body warm against his own through the fireproofs still clinging to his body. His face flushes as a pleasant tingle runs down his spine at their close proximity.

“Can you stop choking me for a second so we can actually talk about what this means,” he manages to get out after Daniel just keeps staring at his own hand.

“Right, sorry,” Daniel says sheepishly.

Max points towards where their driver rooms are, figuring they should take this somewhere a bit more private and with a nod Daniel follows him. He sits down on the makeshift sofa heavily and looks down at his hand again. It’s not red anymore now that Daniel isn’t touching him, but he kinda wishes it was as he’s already missing Daniel’s touch. He shakes his head at himself, 5 minutes ago he barely knew the guy and now he wanted him to keep touching him forever? Was this some side effect of being soulmates?

“Well I guess this means we’re meant for each other or something,” Daniel speaks up from the other side of the room. He’s got one of his legs up against the wall behind him and keeps stroking over his soulmark, not meeting Max’s eye.

“Did you want it to be someone else?” Max asks, all of a sudden feeling unsure of himself.

“No, no of course not. I just… I just never really thought about what it’d be like when I finally met them… you. I’ve only had this for a little over 2 years you know, I’m still getting used to it to be honest.” Daniel says sounding unsure as well, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ve had nearly ten years and I still haven’t got a clue,” Max chuckles.

“We’ll figure it out, right?” Daniel asks, finally meeting Max’s blue eyes with his own beautiful brown ones. And wait where did that come from? This soulmate business was gonna be interesting for sure.

“Yes. Now can you please come here,” Max says whilst patting the empty space beside him.

Dan shakes his head with a laugh and pushes himself away from the wall. He lets himself fall down next to Max with an excited grin on his face and Max can’t help but match it with a grin of his own.

“Can I kiss you now?” Daniel grins, wiggling his eyebrows around and Max can already see himself shaking his head at this silly soulmate of his, for the rest of his life.

“Yes,” Max breathes out nodding excitedly as Daniel’s excitement seems to be catching.

He feels Daniel shift around next to him, pushing himself closer to Max. And then Dan’s hands are on his cheeks, rubbing soft circles over them as Daniel’s face comes closer and closer. He feels his eyes fall shut before their lips even touch, Daniel’s breath warm against his lips and then finally they meet. It’s soft and slow and not at all like he’d expected, but it’s everything he didn’t know he wanted.

His heart flutters as Daniel’s lips keep moving over his own and he feels a pleasant hum go through his body, like a part of him just clicks in place. He feels like he never wants to stop kissing this man, so keep on kissing him he does. Bolstered by the happiness swirling in his belly he kisses firmer, opens his mouth and runs his tongue over Daniel’s still closed lips. They fall open for him easily and then they’re really kissing, mouths smacking together as their tongues touch.

They kiss and kiss until the need for air overtakes the need to keep kissing. They both gasp in the air they so desperately needed, eyes blinking open slowly. And he’s sure the dazed expression he can see on Daniel’s face is right there on his own as well, a smile spreading out on his face at the thought.

“That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Daniel repeats his earlier words. And it’s way too soon for Dan to be calling him amazing, but he can’t help but think the same of the other man. All of this will surely take some getting used to, their lives changing massively, but they’ll figure it out. He knows they’ll figure it out.

“So are you.”

~~The End~~

#my fic #maxiel #max verstappen/daniel ricciardo #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one fanfiction #for anyone that hasn't already read it over on ao3 #since I totally forgot to crosspost this for like a week

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aingealcethlenn-archive · 8 years ago

Text

Why

Characters - Rhionnan (OC), Bucky, Steve

Pairing - Bucky x OC

Summary/Request - A rough night of memories, Rhionnan lets her guard down for the first time in a very long time, thinking no one would find out. But that wasn’t the case.

Word Count - 2,258

Warnings - Angst, Fluff, Feelings of sadness, regret, loss, Bucky cuddles (yes, that’s a warning now :P deal with it) (If you spot any other warnings I should add, please let me know so I can edit this post to include them!)

A/N - So..Uumm..This wasn’t going to be posted. It was written to try to ease my mind. BUT, my sister convinced me to finish it & stuff, so I did. And it was crap, so she worked her magic, capturing me perfectly..which is a little scary LOL, and made it so magnificent that it made me cry! (honest! it did!). SO..Thanks @wrenwritesometimes!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 This is about me..basically. My name isn’t Rhionnan, & obviously I’m not an Avenger (duh), but the details about the death and traditions and such are my personal details. The feelings, the demeanor, the attitude, the emotionlessness (is that a word?)..even the bit about feeling like emotions are wrong..all those little details and shit...yep, that’s me! *waves* As I said, it was written to ease my mind after March 17th passed. Basically...welcome to my St. Paddy’s Day traditions -.-

Tags (Want on or off? Send a message/ask!) - @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @buckyywiththegoodhair @theimpossibleg1rl @hushothermuses @grooveandshit @blondekel77 @xfirespritex @i-stole-rudolphs-nose @thepalaceofmelanie

Story -

While sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television, I could hear the other Saint Paddy’s Day parties thrum around the city below. My legs were crossed under me, with Bucky’s sweatshirt wrapped tightly around my body. I watch as the little leprechauns dance on the screen of my television.

It may sound fucking weird, but the longer I looked at those little fuckers, tears began to sting my eyes and nose.

Maybe it was the Jameson sitting on the coffee table, I don't know. Nursing a small glass one too many times always brought me to tears on days like this... Me, sitting on my own legs, sipping from the cup in my hand, half full of the whiskey… trying to will the tears away.

The rest of the tower had all gone to their rooms about an hour ago. I had made sure that they were all gone before I made my way to the common room.

Though... it felt more like a trance. I had Buck’s sweatshirt on with the bottle and movie in my hands. I put the movie’s disk in the player, and turned it on before grabbing a glass from the kitchen. Once I got comfortable on the couch, and poured my first shot, I lifted my glass, staring blankly out the window to the dark sky above.

“Lá fhéile Pádraig sona dhuit,” I mumbled to myself, taking the shot quickly. I swallowed slowly.

It always felt cathartic to force the liquid to slow down as it made its way down my throat.

Now, here I sit, a fair bit into the movie, and I… I am next to blackout drunk.

I had no idea what was going on. Other than I had definitely had more than one shot. Knowing the movie like the back of my hand, I knew how long I must have been sitting, but my head was… somewhere else. Call it an out of body experience.

I felt my hazy brain turn on the rose colored glasses… I felt and remembered the emotions I felt when I was just an eight-year-old watching the television with my dad behind me. A hand on my shoulder as we watched it together.

Curled up, with a dazed smile on my face, I started paying more attention to the screen, as if something new might appear.

It had been the same way every single year... March 17th rolled around, dad would buy a bottle of whiskey, take a single shot, and give away the rest to a friend.

The man hated whiskey. But tradition was tradition.

We’d sit on the couch, and watch movies like this all day. Usually, it was whatever we could find, but it was always a guarantee that Darby O’Gill would grace the screen.

So there I was, watching that beautiful movie, but instead of a simple shot, I was drinking the entire bottle of that damn whiskey.

Why?

Because it was the only damn thing that could get my sorry ass through this holiday anymore.

The one time I could be close to my dad despite the… distance.

My mind had already taken me back to when I was younger, watching with my dad. Listening to him say the lines in that perfect Irish brogue. Singing the songs along with the television... Or even rambling on about different things, like telling me what a banshee was.

Sure, I’d heard it all before… but why would I deprive us of the tradition? No matter how I wanted to fill in details that he either forgot or glossed over, I would always lap it up like it was brand new.

I couldn't ignore the happiness I felt from being so drunk that I could actually hear his voice as I sat alone.

I hadn’t noticed anyone else enter the room. I was lost in my own world; tears falling silently, sipping on whiskey, lost in my fantasy. It wasn’t until I felt the surprising yet familiar cold of his metal arm wrap around me that I even realized someone had been trying to talk to me.

Looking over into those damned concerned blue eyes, I shook my head clear of my haze and snapped myself back to reality.

“B-Bucky,” I mumbled, my voice weak, slurred, and still a little confused.

“What’s wrong, Rhi?” I heard him ask. The concern was evident in his voice.

Bucky had never seen any... hint of emotion like... this. From me.

Hell, none of these avenging bastards had. To them, I was strong. To me… I was frail.

Sure, I had emotions. Everyone does.

But no one had ever seen me weep like a baby. No one had. It wasn’t something I ever did.

I couldn’t.

Tears, meant weakness. If not to anyone else; to me.

I had to stay strong. Everyone counted on me for something or another. Family, friends - hell - even the general population looked to me, and the rest of the Avengers, in times of crisis.

I needed to stay strong for everyone else. Screw me having a moment of slack...

I didn’t have time to back off. I didn’t have time to break down.

I guess this could possibly mean I had never given myself a chance to grieve...

Sure, I may have done it my way, but it wasn’t the right way. Wasn't complete.

I must have been silent too long, because Bucky gently but forcibly took the glass from my hand, setting it on the table next to the now nearly empty bottle. Pulling me into his chest, he just held me.

I didn't know I was still crying until I noticed Bucky’s warm chest was wet and uncomfortable against my cheek from my own tears soaking in his shirt.

Feeling immediately ashamed and guilty, I wanted to move away from him, but I felt fatigued when my eyes fixed on the TV again.

“Rhionnan?”

I shook my head ever so slightly against his collarbone. Waking myself from my odd trance.

“Why does it still hurt so much, Bucky?” I heard myself ask; my voice weak, shaky, and… resigned. “After five years, please,” I whimpered. “Explain to me why it still hurts?”

“What hurts, doll?” He murmured into my hair. “How can I help?” His voice was still laced with concern, though he was trying to hide it.

From my position, I had to look up at him through my lashes, but I needed to look at him.

I had seen Bucky scared before… but this was different.

His eyes shown with a mix of emotions I’d never seen from him before. Fear, concern, sympathy, pain...

I’d never told anyone about my past. Nothing that wasn’t already in my file, anyway.

I’d never talked about my family - my siblings or my parents - because though I trusted these people with my own life, I didn’t want to burden them with the knowledge of my personal life.

“What happened, doll,” he mumbled lowly but warmly. The way he usually spoke. His voice was home for me. “What’s got you so--”

“--Weak? Broken?” I offered indignantly. I sat up slightly, still leaning against him, my head now on his shoulder.

“No,” he objected, slightly surprised. “I don’t see either of those right now, or ever.” His voice had softened by the end of his objection. I felt his lips press against the top of my forehead. “Talk to me Rhi,” he said with a steadfast nod. “What happened?”

“Five years ago,” I said after a long pause and a deep sigh. The whiskey was leaving my system so fast, and I could just feel my heart return to its natural resting heartbeat. “Five years ago was the last time I celebrated this stupid holiday with my father,” I mumbled petulantly (not all the drunkenness had worn off). “A mere four months later was the last time I ever heard his voice.”

My voice had cracked and I felt the water in my eyes give way again, soaking through yet another spot on Bucky’s shirt. My head was throbbing, though I don’t know which made it worse, the alcohol or the crying.

“Two months later, he was gone. I never saw him. Never went to see him in the hospital, never called him on the phone again, nothing,” I said. “Instead, I offered to stay at the house and watch all the little kids while everyone else went to be with him.”

Bucky was silent.

Upon a quick and fleeting glance at his face, I could see it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Not a ‘I wish you didn't tell me this’ silence.

In fact, from the look on his sharply angled face he wanted desperately to say something comforting.

I could tell that the words eluded him. I could understand that.

He silently pressed a kiss to my hair and pulled me into a tighter embrace.

“When I got the call, I just…” my voice cracked again, “nodded… and hung up. I made the calls to family… since I was the only one who could actually still speak… I then helped with arrangements… because I could keep my composure.”

I shook my head vehemently, settling my face in my hands. “I couldn’t show how bad it… how bad it hurt. Everyone needed someone who was holding it together to turn to.”

“And… that was you,” he mumbled, his breath hitting my neck.

“Yep,” I mumbled into my hands, rubbing my stale eyes. “Though I was the one who lost the most. I still knew that I couldn't break down. I just… I just couldn't.”

“That’s why you never seem phased by anything during missions, isn’t it?” Bucky’s voice was still low and rough despite everything. “You think we all need someone to keep us afloat when things go wrong…” Bucky mused. “Or why you’re always the first one I see when I wake up from a nightmare? You’re trying to be everyone else’s foundation, while your own crumbles.”

“When you say it like that it sounds horrible.” I said, trying to laugh a little through the tears, but it just came off as pathetic and… sad.

“You think no one sees that chip on your shoulder…” Bucky mumbled to himself. “It doesn’t make you weak or anything else. You can’t just keep it all… bottled up inside of you. Aren’t you tired of having to stand so tall?”

I sat up and looked into his eyes with a cold stare. “I break down every once in awhile,” I defended petulantly. “It’s just behind closed doors, screaming into my pillow, so none of you can fucking hear me.”

“Doll… “ He smiled a small smile before pulling me back to him. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Bucky, it’s just not the way I am,” I retorted. “I can’t show that to anyone. I've… I guess I've convinced myself that it's wrong.”

I took a deep, haggard sigh and I could smell the whiskey on my own breath.

“Hell,” I grumbled. “You're literally the first one who’s seen this side of me. Probably ever. And the only reason you did, was because I was so out of it… and, well, drunk... I didn’t hear you come in the room.”

“Well,” Bucky replied softly, seriously. “You should trust me enough to see it again... Let me be the one to catch you when you fall.”

“Buck I--”

“You’ve been a solid rock for me since I arrived, Rhionnan. Let me return the favor, huh?”

I tilted my head and looked up at him for a very serious and long moment. “Only if you promise to never say a word about it to anyone,” I conceded.

“Deal,” he murmured resolutely, kissing my forehead again. “Now, let’s get you to bed. It's late.”

“Can we watch the movie just one more time?” I asked suddenly, catching his arm before he detached himself from me.

“Sure, doll,” he said with a wide and brilliant smile - the one that mostly shone in his eyes more than his lips… “Anything for you.” He reached for the remote on the table, and restarted the movie.

I sat up so he could lay across the couch, settling myself between his legs. Resting my head back against his chest, I took a deep breath, unabashedly taking in his scent. Feeling my body relax, I nuzzled as close as I could.

Bucky wrapped his arms around my shoulders easily, and placed another gentle kiss against my hair. Smiling as he felt me relaxing against him.

I closed my eyes, and let this new feeling take me over. The feeling of contentment, the feeling of safety… the feeling of home.

The next morning, Steve walked into the common room looking for Bucky. Finding the both of us on the couch, he gently tapped Bucky’s shoulder.

“Buck?”

I felt him shift behind me, but not enough to wake me completely. His arms tightened around me, and I relaxed again.

“Yeah?” He looked up at Steve, still half asleep.

“Everything okay?”

“Everythings fine, but I think I’m gonna skip our run today,” he replied with a croaky and quiet chuckle.

“That’s fine,” Steve responded, glancing at my still body, still wrapped in Bucky’s sweatshirt. Steve nodded toward me, asking carefully, “Is she okay?”

“She is now, I think,” Bucky responded, shifting me so he could properly look up at Steve.

“Good,” Steve nodded slightly. “She needs you Buck. Take care of her.”

“Til the end of the line,” Bucky murmured sleepily, grinning knowingly up at Steve.

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x reader #reader insert #steve rogers #bucky one shot #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #personal

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hitinmiss · 8 years ago

Text

@swordandsorcery-lover Here is your request!

And since this fits with the Victuuri Week Day Six Prompt: Soulmates, i’ll post this in conjunction with it as my bit for the week!

Link to Prompt List: Here

Link To Fic on Ao3: Here

Word Count: 9469

See you soon Yuuri

Yuuri stared at the words on his right wrist. Just his luck he would get the most generic, most stereotypical words written on him. How would he manage to get anyone to not mention these words around him in fear that they did end up being soulmates and that those were their last words to him?

Ah, it truly was a strange phenomenon. That the last words your soulmate ever said to you would be written on your wrist. It annoyed many people that they mightn’t even know if the one they love is the one until they had died already.

Yuuri didn’t think he minded, until he realised just how often people said the words on his wrist.

Every time he left school: “See you soon Yuuri!”

Every time he left the rink: “Later Yuuri.” “Yeah, see you soon Yuuri!”

He sighed in defeat. He was going to have to live with the fact that anyone could be his soulmate and he wouldn’t even know the fact because his damned soulmate mark was so generic. He had even seen a few people in public with almost the exact same words on their wrists.

Maybe, he thought, mine is a generic one because I’m going to be a generic person…

—

Love you too Vitya

Aside from his skating, Victor knew which two words came to mind. Life and Love. So he found it somewhat poetic that the last words his soulmate would ever say to him were about love.

Though could he really be happy, knowing that saying ‘I love you’ to him could be what kills his soulmate? At least he knew that he would get truly close to his soulmate. He didn’t let just anyone call him Vitya after all. Only his family and Yakov called him that, and he knew that there was no way in hell any of them were his soulmate.

So he tried to not let anyone get close to him, so, by some strange way, he would know who his soulmate is because they would manage to get past his barriers and get close to him and stay close to him. But part of him also knew that he was trying to keep his soulmate alive, even if he didn’t know who they were.

Victor was sure he would find his soulmate. Otherwise, what was the point of love coming to mind?

—

Years later, after his original decision of not getting close to any of his 'lovers’, hardly twenty seven, Victor finally felt it. A feeling he couldn’t quite describe. And what caused that feeling? Or rather, who?

A fellow skater, drunk out of his mind and dancing the night away.

Really, Victor thought he had higher standards than this but… the way the lights danced around the man (Yuuri his mind supplied to him), the way his face was stuck in a drunken grin, blush spread over his face, his victory cheer as he won the dance off with Yuri… he already knew he was going to be screwed.

Then he danced with Yuuri and by god, he was impressed. How could someone so drunk manage to win the dance off they had? A tango no less. He was stuck swimming in his thoughts. This man couldn’t be his soulmate, could he? There was no way-

Oh. He can pole dance.

Блядь

The next thing that really registered in his mind was the fact that Yuuri was grinding against him, moaning something that was directed towards him. What he was saying, he hadn’t a clue (He was speaking Japanese his mind told him).

Until…

“Be my coach Victor~!”

Блядь Блядь Блядь.

—

Yuuri woke up with a pounding headache, telling him everything he needed to know about the previous night. He slowly tried to remember what happened.

Celestino brought him to the banquet. He didn’t speak to anyone as he felt too nervous. He started drinking the flutes of champagne… … Then he drew a blank.

Did he really drink that much that he lost memories of the night? He just hoped he did nothing too embarrassing during his drunken adventures.

He left the hotel, wheeling his bag behind him, just wanting to leave and get back to Detroit where he could think about his next steps.

“Oh Yuuri.” A voice said from behind him, wrapping their arm around Yuuri’s waist.

“C-Chris?”

“I hope to see you soon, hopefully next time on the podium with me~”

“U-uh…”

“Come on now Chris, can’t have my pupil missing the flight now.”

“Sorry Celestino, better let Yuuri go then. See you soon Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s heart froze. Nope nope nope.

“I better see you at the worlds, or the next Grand Prix at least.” Chris added. Yuuri let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Thank god. Not in the sense that Chris could potentially be his soulmate (he was sure whoever Chris’s soulmate was would be treated amazingly by him, Chris was a great guy) but rather that he wouldn’t want his friend to die… or himself.

He was whisked away by his coach, rushing to get the next tram from the hotel to the airport. He pulled his case through the door, facing towards the lobby to make sure the whole case was through the automatic doors.

The last thing he saw before he left was Victor, their eyes meeting briefly. He could swear he saw Victor’s eyes widen in recognition but he paid it no heed, thinking his mind was playing yet another cruel trick on him. Why would Victor recognise him? Victor didn’t even recognise him as a fellow competitor, thinking of him as a mere fan.

He ignored the warm feeling in his chest when their eyes met.

—

Victor couldn’t understand it. Why did Yuuri ignore him? He could feel that Yuuri was special. Even if he wasn’t his soulmate, he just knew Yuuri was going to be a vital part of his life.

Didn’t Yuuri realise that too?

Of course not, he was drunk of course he wouldn’t know. He probably didn’t realise the feeling when he woke up either, probably putting it to his hangover.

God. He was such an idiot. He swore he wouldn’t get close to anyone like this and after one night of dancing he was already attached to Yuuri.

Yakov didn’t question his now disheartened mood as they left the dining hall of the hotel, ready to go up and pack for the short flight back to St. Petersburg from Sochi.

He glanced at his soulmate mark, Love you too Vitya…

He knew everything would right itself.

—

It started with one notification. A causal text from an old friend he made through skating, congratulating his latest win at the World Championships, making him the five time world champion.

Then another.

And another.

Until:

Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

Confused, he scrolled through the notifications quickly on his lock screen, the general gist of the notifications being along the lines of 'Victor! You have to look at this!’

He unlocked his phone, Makkachin resting against his side as he looked at the notifications.

They were all from his fans; posts that tagged him in them, comments on those posts… Confused, he found the link that lead to all the commotion. Clicking on it, he didn’t know what to expect.

[Katsuki Yuuri] tried to skate to Victor’s FS Program [Stay Close To Me]

That certainly was not what Victor was expecting.

He watched intently, feeling drawn in by Yuuri’s skating, knowing the music he was interpreting in each point in time. It seemed like, to Victor, that Yuuri was creating the music just from his body movements.

He felt upset when Yuuri stopped, signalling the end of the program. He wanted to see more of it, more of his skating.

He remembered Yuuri’s request from the banquet. (“Be my coach Victor~!”)

He forgot his self-promise. He made his choice.

—

Yuuri still didn’t know why his mind went straight to Victor when his father mentioned a handsome foreigner being at the bath. It could have been anyone that happened to have a poodle just like Vicchan and Makkachin, that also happened to be handsome and from elsewhere.

But Yuuri was still surprised to see a very naked Victor Nikiforov standing alone in an outdoor bath in the snow, proclaiming that he was going to be Yuuri’s coach.

So when Yuuri was sat, waiting for Victor to wake from his nap and the initial shock gone, he really couldn’t deny the strange feeling he felt. He hadn’t come across a feeling like it before.

Time passed and he still couldn’t put a name to the feeling. He thought maybe he was just feeling in awe that Victor was there but after living together for a few days, he had grown somewhat accustomed to him being in the bathhouse.

But the feeling never faded.

—

Victor tried to avoid thinking that Yuuri could be his soulmate. He knew the feeling meant they were destined to be close but he wanted to let there be a sign first that Yuuri was the one.

Yurio, as named by Yuuri’s sister to avoid confusion, had come and left, having competed against Yuuri for Victor. Victor didn’t even realise Yurio had left until after Yuuri had skated.

Victor felt somewhat upset that Yuuri was thinking of Katsudon during his performance of Eros, but he could tell there was a hint of something else in there, that he didn’t know.

He couldn’t help his whistle at the smirk Yuuri gave him.

Victor knew it was love he felt after his skate at the nationals. He had sneaking suspicions beforehand, when he choreographed the free program. But it wasn’t until he performed it, at the competition and finished, pointing towards Victor in his final position, that he truly knew he was in love with Yuuri.

Soulmates? He didn’t know at this moment in time. But he knew he would happily spend his life with Yuuri.

And while he could hardly understand a word of his speech at the ceremony afterwards (noting that he had to get Yuuri a new tie because it looked absolutely awful), he knew the theme of Yuuri’s season: Love. While 'Eros’ was an outright statement of this, 'Yuuri On Ice’ was more subtle. One could interpret it the program for his love of skating, Victor knew the real story. It was Yuuri’s story, his skating… Victor knew the moment the violin joined the piano was meant to symbolise Victor arriving at the hot springs and coaching him.

Victor had hope that Yuuri felt the same way.

Victor knew Yuuri was his soulmate when Yuuri attempted the quad flip at the Cup of China. Victor always had an idea that his soulmate would be able to surprise him, even more so than he imagined. And Yuuri did just that. It wasn’t his best skate, he had done far better in practice but the way he skated, it was like he was projecting his love in every movement. He realised he had fallen even deeper in love. Then Yuuri changed the last jump to a quad flip, Victor’s signature jump, the audience and commentators murmuring amongst one another and Victor’s body started to move to where Yuuri would come off the ice. There was only one way to surprise Yuuri more than Yuuri had done to surprise him today.

He very much enjoyed kissing Yuuri (and wanted to do it again and again). The moment their lips made contact, Victor felt as if the whole world suddenly made sense, everything clicked into place. He had heard of stories when he was young about soulmates, many telling of a similar thing of everything feeling right when they finally found one another.

He wished Yuuri felt the same way, or at least recognised how much Victor loved him.

—

“See you soon Yuuri.”

Yuuri didn’t know what he was going to do when Victor left to go be with Makkachin after he choked. He had gotten so used to Victor being at his side, watching him at the side of the rink, comforting and supporting him after his skates… It had only been two competitions and he was already this used to him being there?

He waited to start his skate, dread filling his being. He hadn’t felt this since the warmup at Nationals. He wished Victor was there to help him, Yakov could only do so much after all.

The music started and his body moved, gliding through the motions he had skated several times before. Keep calm, focus. He tried to tell himself, building speed up for his first combination. He knew he could do this one. He landed the quad, popped the double toe loop, only doing a single.

I can’t let everything Victor’s done for me go to waste. I have to prove this with a gold medal.

His thoughts went to Victor (“You tend to flub your jumps when you have something on your mind. Want to talk about it?”). He thought of when Victor appeared, saying he was going to coach him.

He didn’t understand how Victor knew how he felt. Before Victor came along into his life, he never said out loud that he was going to win. He would never deny that he wanted to win, at every competition he wanted to win but once Victor appeared… He still couldn’t believe he loudly announced he would prove his love with a gold medal. He hadn’t even a clue who his soulmate was, and yet he was saying he would prove his love?

He stepped out of the quad salchow, but he refused to let it get him down. He had to keep going, to focus and just push through the program. He went through the next set of jumps, all triples, landing them almost effortlessly. He truly loved this program, the program he and Victor made together.

He wanted to stay in skating till he won the gold medal with Victor.

Flashes of Victor appeared in his mind. He was on a roll with his jumps until the final combination, hands brushing the ice to keep him upright. Well he couldn’t deny he was disappointed but he had to keep going.

The music drew to a close, wishing he could see Victor standing at the side from the end of his finger tips but it was best for him to be back at the hot spring with Makkachin in the vet. He didn’t want Victor to deal with the feeling he had when Vicchan died and couldn’t be with him.

The moment he arrived at the airport, when he saw Makkachin wagging his tail through the glass he felt so relieved. He looked up to see Victor, spotting him at just the same time as Victor spotted him.

They both ran to get back to each other. The moment he passed the doors into the airport waiting area, he and Victor were in one another’s arms once again. He never felt so glad to hug someone before. Especially to hug Victor again. He never realised just how much he wanted to be in the arms of the man he was in love wi-

Huh? When did he fall in love with Victor? Why was he only just realising this now?

“Yuuri… I’ve been thinking about what I can do as your coach.”

“So have I.” It took everything in Yuuri to push Victor away. “Be my coach until I retire.”

Victor had a small look of shock before his face relaxed into a smile, lifting Yuuri’s hand to his lips and pressing a small kiss to his fingers.

“It almost sounds like a marriage proposal.” Victor said. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. They pulled in for another hug, arms wrapped around each other, thankful they were together again.

“In that case I hope you never retire.”

Warmth flooded Yuuri’s entire being as the meaning of those words took root. Tears started to form as he held Victor tighter, not wanting to let go again.

As they headed away from the airport, Victor glanced down at Yuuri’s right wrist, his future words staring back at him.

See you soon Yuuri

Victor understood why Yuuri tensed up at the hotel when he was waving goodbye, why a wave of panic briefly passed over his soulmate.

He made a silent promise to never say those words.

And he was determined to keep that promise.

—

They arrived in Barcelona for the Grand Prix Final. After a lovely time in the (freezing) pool with Chris, Victor rejoined Yuuri back in their hotel room where Yuuri had been sleeping off his jet lag.

The next day, after the practice session for the finalists where Yuuri kept attempting the quad flip over and over. Yuuri was determined to keep the flip in, winning Victor over with a promise of getting plus three on the grade of execution of the jump and the fact that if he wanted a chance of winning against JJ, he had to add the flip in.

Yuuri demanded to go shopping, to which Victor could hardly decline. He hadn’t been shopping in awhile and he got to spend more time with Yuuri. It was a win-win situation really.

But what Victor didn’t expect, and how Yuuri managed to surprise him once again (one of the many things he fell in love with about Yuuri), was to be stood face to face with Yuuri in front of a cathedral with a ring being slowly pushed onto his finger.

Though Yuuri said it was a good luck charm, Victor felt as if there was a deeper meaning to the ring.

Victor had always known having the ring in his pocket would come in handy. What use is a 'good luck charm’ if the person needing luck isn’t wearing his?

Yuuri was shocked as the ring was put into his finger. He felt as if he could cry again.

They walked away from the cathedral, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, their relationship deepened even further.

Yuuri’s bag of nuts that they were searching for was now completely forgotten.

—

In Yuuri’s opinion, he absolutely bombed the short program. Phichit tried to comfort him afterwards by saying he was in fourth place, which still meant he could go up in the rankings but it just wasn’t good enough for Yuuri. He wanted to win.

Sure, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy for Yurio. He really knocked it out the park with his skate. Yuuri could practically feel all of the Agape coming off of him.

He was happy for Chris and Phichit as well. In the skating world (and probably in any world), especially recently, they were the closest to best friends he could have. Well Phichit was Yuuri’s best friend. He thought he should include Victor in that list but both his heart and head knew Victor was more to him than a friend.

He didn’t know Otabek all that well but he was still happy for him. He oddly felt proud of him, especially for befriending Yurio. He should thank him for that.

And… JJ… Yuuri really sympathised with him. He knew how it felt to absolutely ruin a skate. His heart really went out to him the moment JJ popped the first jump. He spotted him going about after the competition with his fiancé Isabella, looking upset. He wanted to go over to him and tell him it was ok, even if they weren’t the closest in the world.

He told himself that he would speak to him as soon as he spoke with Victor.

And that really didn’t go well. Victor felt his heart break when Yuuri said he wanted to end it, not noticing how Yuuri seemed to wince at the same moment he felt his heart shatter.

Yuuri tried to explain himself but Victor just couldn’t understand why Yuuri would want to retire and have Victor go back alone. Didn’t he realise that they were soulmates? That they belonged together?

They eventually decided to let the results of the competition make their decision.

Everyone seemed to notice the slight tension in the air between the pair of them. The warmup on the ice with the group went moderately, nothing too extraordinary. Yuuri still hadn’t landed the quad flip.

He waited in the back as JJ prepared to go on first, wishing a silent good luck to him as he passed him going off of the pad. He couldn’t exactly hear the score he got but due to the loud applause, he could only assume he did rather well. That was good, managing to make a come back after the short program.

He saw Phichit heading out towards the rink side with a grin on his face. Phichit had told him already that he didn’t care whether he won or lost. He got here and had made Thailand proud. (If only Yuuri recognised that sooner after the Grand Prix Final last year)

Phichit got a loud cheer as well, telling Yuuri it was time to go out.

He stood on the ice, giving himself one last little stretch.

“Don’t worry. You can win gold, Yuuri,” Victor said, placing his hand gently on top of Yuuri’s. “Believe in yourself.”

“Hey Victor… You said before that you wanted to stay true to yourself, right? Don’t suddenly start trying to sound like a coach now.”

Victor’s eyes widened in shock.

“I want to smile for my last time on the ice.” Yuuri continued, lifting his hand slightly to hold Victor’s better.

“Yuuri, listen to me. I was debating whether to tell you this now but…” Victor started, drawing Yuuri’s eyes up to him. “I took a break after becoming the five-time world champion to coach you, so how is it possible you still haven’t won a single gold medal?”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say, lifting his head fully to look at him.

“How much longer are you going to stay in warm up mode?” He asked, pulling in to hug Yuuri. “I really want to kiss the gold medal.” He added.

He didn’t know how, but he felt all his worries simply slip away. A smile grew wider on his face as he pulled in closer to Victor, hugging him as tight as he could. He started trembling, suddenly not wanting to go.

But his name had been called and if he didn’t want disqualified he had to go.

They held hands before he pulled away, feeling Victor keep his hand up.

I’ve already made up my mind about my goal.

Presenting himself to the audience and the judges, he thought back to when he was last here, how he got here.

He went to his starting position and as the music started, he started moving, flowing through as easily as breathing.

For more than half my life, I’ve been trying to catch up to Victor.

Thank you for bringing me all the way here, Victor. (I love you)

And it’s not just Victor I have to thank.

He thought of all of the people who had helped him. Yurio, Minako, Phichit, Minami, his family, Celestino, everyone.

He continued through his program, landing his quad salchow and triple flip with absolute ease. He changed it from the triple loop, making the program slightly harder here.

My performance needs to be better than flawless for a chance at gold.

I’ve been thinking that ever since the short program.

I would like the … Final skate of my career to be the same difficulty as Victor’s.

He changed the triple flip to a quad toe, ignoring the small murmuring that could be heard in the audience from the change in composition.

Do you realise it now, Victor?

He landed his three jump combo.

I don’t want it to end here, Victor.

I want to be in figure skating with you forever. (I love you so much)

Triple lutz, triple toe.

But your staying on as my coach means slowly killing you as a competitor skater.

Look at the Victor that lives on inside me.

Your becoming my coach wasn’t a waste of time.

I’m the only one in the whole world that can prove that.

Each step in the step sequence happened as easily as falling in love with Victor, each turn, each step, each twizzle, each loop flowed into the next with no issues.

The quad flip was next, and he knew he had nothing to lose. He took a deep breath, turning to the back inside edge, driving the toe pick into the ice and pushing into the air. He hardly registered that he did in fact land it perfectly, only feeling a sense of pride and love bursting from his chest.

He was no idiot. He knew it was from Victor. He should have known all along that all instances of these feelings was from Victor.

How could he be so blind to not see it was his soulmate in front of him, even when he wore his glasses.

He did his final spin, front camel into a twisted intermediate, changing onto the back foot hydroblade spin position into a back spin position, arm reaching for the ceiling, head leaning back to stare upright.

He pulled out of the spin, wanting each second to last an eternity so the program would never end. His arm pointing towards Victor, soft fingers gently positioned so his line of sight followed his arm down to his index finger’s tip to Victor.

And he was glad to see Victor, hand placed on his heart as his ring (the ring that Yuuri gave him) shining in the bright lights of the rink.

He caught his breath, panting as he fought to get oxygen back in his system after the long program. Once energy had refilled his body, his arms shot into the air as he gave a cry of victory, tears starting to slip from his eyes.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri turned around to the love of his life, who’s arms were wide open.

He didn’t want to go back to the kiss and cry. That would mean it was all over. He didn’t want it to be over.

Regardless, he found himself on the seat, Victor’s hand laid gently on his back as Yuuri held his hands together tightly, he’s bowed.

“Your performance was so perfect, I’m sure you’ll get a great score.”

He couldn’t help the slight nervous tension as he waited for the announcement of his score. It was always the most suspenseful part.

“We have Yuuri Katsuki’s scores…” The announcer called out, his head lifting to listen better to the score. “His free skate score is two hundred and twenty one point five eight!”

Wait… Is that…?

“He’s broken Victor Nikiforov’s long-time world record for the Men’s Singles Free Skate!”

No way.

“His total score is three hundred and nineteen point four one! He has jumped all the way to first place!”

He hardly heard the last part, all focus on the hand that was held to him. He slowly grabbed a hold of it before being pulled in by Victor.

“Congratulations Yuuri.” He said. “Having both Yuri’s beat my records… Is the ultimate bliss as your coach and choreographer.”

Yuuri was stunned in silence.

“But… It’s the ultimate diss as a competitor.”

“Huh? Does that mean you’re coming back?” His smile brightened on his face. Victor nodded slightly.

The rest of the competition seemed to blur past him. He heard Chris’s music start but he was stuck in his own world, noticing Victor hand his phone over for a picture.

They yelled for him to go at the same time.

Victor found Yakov and Yurio quicker than he expected, quickly telling them what he needed to. By god he really wanted Yuuri to win gold but if he wanted Yuuri to stay competing… Yurio had to win.

He felt guilty but he wanted to stay with his soulmate forever. Yuuri could easily win another competition: the Four Continents, the Worlds, the next Grand Prix Final… He just needed to keep skating.

While Yuuri waited for Victor to return, he thought through his original decision to retire. He wasn’t so sure about it now.

He shook his head and rushed to the stands to watch Yurio’s skate.

“Yurio! Davai!” Yuuri called out.

“Yuri, Davai!” He heard from below him, spotting Otabek standing at the edge of the kiss and cry, waiting for Yuri to finish skating before leaving. He was still thankful that Otabek became friends with Yuri; that’s probably what Yuri needed most.

He felt some pride in his 'friend’ as he skated. When Yurio fell, he felt bad. Yurio was on a roll before the fall, he could only hope that he could recover afterwards and not let the fall affect his skate.

And then he added in a quad at the end. He could feel the emotion in his skate, it almost brought him to the brink of tears.

Yurio finished the skate and burst into tears, falling onto his knees. In Yuuri’s opinion, it seemed as if Yurio was disappointed in himself. Like it wasn’t what he wanted to do, like he failed.

The final score came out, Yurio in first with point twelve in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri was disappointed but second place was still a major improvement from the previous year.

He stood on the podium, silver medal glinting in the spotlight and camera flashes. He spotted Victor through the crowd, smiling in pride.

He left the podium and skated to Victor, holding the silver medal to his soulmate.

“It’s not a gold medal but…”

Victor smiled.

“I don’t feel like kissing it unless it’s gold. Man… I was really looking forward to kissing Yuuri’s gold medal.” He said, complaining slightly as he stepped to Yuuri, leaning over him. “I’m such a failure as a coach.”

No, you’re not a failure Victor.

“Yuuri, do you have any suggestions? Something that would excite me?” Yuuri had to clear his mind of every single thought that was in his head at that moment to avoid any possibly dirty thoughts crossing his mind. “What did you think just now?”

“Oh… Um… Well…” His face melted into a look of determination as he pushed forward to sit on top of Victor, hugging him as his medal went flying. “Victor! Please stay with me in competitive skating for one more year! This time, I’ll win gold for sure!”

Victor was sure he hadn’t heard any words any sweeter before.

“Great!” He cheered. “But keep going!”

“What?” Yuuri asked, confused.

Victor picked up Yuuri’s silver medal. “Even I’m worried about making a full comeback if I’m going to stay on as your coach.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened once more as the material of the medal slipped over his head and rested on his neck.

“In exchange, I’ll need you to become a five time world champion at least.”

Yuuri started to tear up once again.

“Okay.”

—

The time moved so fast Yuuri didn’t even realise he only had minutes left till his gala performance, blue costume on as he stood in the centre of the rink, the music that brought him to Victor, his love, his soulmate playing.

He skated the music as naturally as he did his own programs, landing the quad lutz, quad flip and triple flip effortlessly as Victor joined him on the ice in their surprise pair routine. No one knew Victor planned to join him, having only performed this routine by himself before in the gala skates.

They skated together like two puzzle pieces finally joined together.

They came to a conclusion of the skate.

“Victor…” Yuuri breathed.

“Yes Yuuri?”

“I love you. Please… Stay close to me… Forever.”

Victor’s favourite words changed yet again.

—

Months passed, Yuuri moved to St. Petersburg to live with Victor, unofficially moving into the flat. Makkachin accepted the extra person in his home almost immediately as Yuuri settled in. He also made the engagement more official, rather than using the guise of a good luck charm. The look on his fiancé’s face made his heart beat faster.

The Europeans occurred first after the Grand Prix Final in the Czech Republic, Victor having competed in the Russian Nationals and getting a place to skate in it. He placed second to Yurio, who definitely deserved the win. Chris stood on the third place podium. Yuuri cheered for his fiancé loudly from the stands.

They then flew to the Four Continents which was being held in South Korea this year. Victor was absolutely stunned in Yuuri’s skates, they were absolutely perfect, at least it was in Victor’s eyes.

When Yuuri stood on top of the podium, there were probably more tears in Victor’s eyes than in Yuuri’s. Especially as they found their way to one another.

More than just Yuuri’s gold medal got kisses that night.

They announced that they were starting to plan for their wedding.

With some help from Phichit, aka the master of social media, aka the King of selfies, #victuuriwedding started trending.

They could hardly contain themselves in the planning. They were soulmates and deeply in love, what else could be a great motivator to get the wedding as soon as possible?

Aside from Makkachin wearing a bow tie and flower crown of course.

—

“And now announcing, for the very first time… Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki!”

They emerged into their wedding reception area hand in hand with their faces flushed. The guests cheered loudly as the newly weds waved to them, smiles so large it made their cheeks ache.

They sat down at their table, waiting for the food to arrive. A light tinging noise rang out around the room, drawing everyone’s attention to Yuuri’s best man, Phichit.

“Hey everybody! For those who don’t know me well, my name is Phichit and I am Yuuri’s best man,” He announced, holding his glass of champagne low in his hand. “If someone were to tell me a year or so ago that my best friend was going to get married, I would have laughed, no offence Yuuri.”

Yuuri shook his head, laughing slightly. His hand gripped his husbands, worried for what could occur in Phichit’s speech.

Chris’s would probably be more worrying anyways.

“So when I first saw the ring on Yuuri’s finger, and a matching one on Victor’s… I was so shocked and happy for him, that he finally found love. Though admittedly I wish he had told me that he had a boyfriend or was in love sooner. But oh well.

"I could end it here with a lovely message but let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be a best man speech without some embarrassing stuff! Press play!”

Their eyes were drawn to the blank wall, where a projector had been set up. The first images were a collection of drunk Yuuri pictures, supplied from various sources. Yuuri started to slip further down into his seat.

The next image was a slightly blurred one, but still very obvious what it was. It was a picture of Yuuri, during their college days in Detroit, holding one of his many Victor posters, mouth open in horror at being spotted.

“Ah, love.”

Victor nudged his elbow into Yuuri’s side, eyebrows raised with a small smirk on his lips.

The next one was a video of Yuuri practicing a still familiar routine, although it was only a small snippet.

“I have regrets that I doubted Yuuri’s choice to learn the program but it definitely was the right one. I mean, it brought these two lovebirds together.”

The pictures that followed were similar to the previous ones, but containing both Yuuri and Victor. Photos from before competitions, selfies that had them in it and one of the most important of all:

“I think I almost cried the moment they kissed on live TV. It was such a beautiful moment at that point. In fact, and I quote him here, Chris said 'what’s the bet they end up together?’. In all honesty I wish I took him up on it and betted for before the final because in the restaurant, the night before, there they were, rings on their fingers!”

Phichit’s speech continued on a similar wavelength until he finally drew to a close.

“So, raise your glasses and take a drink! For Yuuri and Victor!”

The guests cheered, downing the flute of champagne. Yuuri hesitated but did it anyways.

Chris stood up and cleared his throat.

“Hello all, I am Christophe Giacometti; a fellow figure skater and Victor’s best man.” Chris said, all eyes falling on him. “Victor here is one of the closest people to me, one of my very best friends.” He clapped Victor on the back playfully.

“I wasn’t aware we could do power points or films or whatever to do the speech, so it probably isn’t as good as Phichit’s.”

“My first point will be that Victor you are going to have an absolutely amazing time because Yuuri has one fantastic body. I should know, we have pole-danced together on a few occasions.”

“What?!” Yuuri exclaimed suddenly. He was only aware of one time, let alone multiple times. The guests burst into laughter.

“Aside from the banquet in Sochi, it happened this year at Barcelona and when you were the main attraction at Victor’s bachelor party as his stripper, which I may or may not have also crashed onto the pole.” Chris explained with a wink. Yuuri covered his face in embarrassment. “I didn’t bring the pole with me so don’t worry your cute butt about it.”

Victor playfully glared at Chris, muttering 'don’t flirt with my man’.

“Anyways where was I? Ah yes. Yuuri, you’ll also be lucky for Victor because he is also a very appealing man.”

The newlyweds didn’t know what else they expected as the speech continued on. Regardless of what was said, they were touched by it.

Sooner than Yuuri would have liked, their champagne had been swallowed and it was his turn to speak.

Yuuri stood shakily, partly as the champagne was slowly getting to him, partly because he was nervous.

“I can distinctly remember the first time I ever saw Vitya. I was young, off of the ice with my friends Yuuko and Takeshi. The junior world championships in Sofia, Bulgaria was playing on the old TV and that was where I saw Vitya for the first time. I was completely awestruck, inspired. That day I knew I wanted to be on the same ice as him.”

“I started doing everything to be like him; I learned his program, I got my own poodle… I’m sure you all know that my dog was called Victor.”

“I certainly got my wish to skate on the same ice as him, but unfortunately I had a disaster of a skate. I left Sochi in a pit of despair and depression, unsure how to move on.”

He took a quick break, realising how long his speech actually was. He noticed every single pair of eyes trained on him, hanging onto every single word.

“I learned his free skate 'Stay Close to Me’, and while at the time I was completely and utterly embarrassed that the video got leaked, I still haven’t thanked Axel Lutz and Loop for posting it online. After all, it brought me to my soulmate. So, thank you.”

“At that point, I was completely shocked as to why Vitya was there. If only I remembered a certain drunken escapade.” Yuuri laughed a little, accompanied by the others in the crowd. “But as the months went by at the competitions, I slowly but surely realised that I had fallen deeply in love with him. In fact, the moment I realised was when we reunited after the Rostelecom Cup in the airport. The moment we finally hugged, back in one another’s arms again, I knew.”

“If I felt blind then, it was nothing compared to the moment I realised we were soulmates. I realised literally right in the middle of my free skate in Barcelona. And here I really should thank Yurio, because if he didn’t win that day, I wouldn’t be skating right now.”

“Ever since that day, I’ve only fallen in love with Vitya more and more, further than I even thought possible. But now, after spending my time with Vitya, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.”

He hadn’t even noticed tears were starting to flow from his eyes.

“And before I finish, I want to thank some people. Thank you Phichit, for being the best friend I could ever imagine and for being an awesome best man. Thank you Chris for being a fantastic friend as well. A thank you to my family, to the Nishigori’s, to Minako, to Celestino… you’ve all been so supportive, so helpful, keeping me on the right track.”

“Thank you to all the friends I’ve made through skating, you’ve all helped me in a way, even if you don’t know it.”

“And my final thank you, to you Vitya. I can’t imagine life without you, you are the best husband I could ever imagine and I can’t wait for what lies ahead, surprises and all. I love you, and please continue to stay close to me for the rest of my life.”

He raised his glass and drank it, wiping his tears as he sat down. Victor pressed a kiss to his cheek, comforting him.

“You did great.” He whispered to him before standing up himself, grabbing yet another glass of champagne.

“There are two main L-words that are important to me; Life and love. With skating as a large portion of who I am, I never got to focus much on those two major important words. That is, until Yuuri came into my life.”

“I think I realised much sooner than Yuuri that I was in love, and that we had to be soulmates. My first hint, surprisingly, was at the Sochi banquet. Somehow, despite his drunken state, he found his way into my heart and stuck there. At that moment I knew Yuuri was going to be an important part to my life.”

“The morning afterwards, I really should have noticed he didn’t remember anything because when he spotted me, he seemed to deflate. It made me think it was just a quick infatuation but when I saw that video of him skating 'Stay Close to Me’… I don’t think I booked plane tickets that fast before in my life.”

“I think the moment I knew I was in love was at his National competition the first time he performed his free skate and when he pointed at me once he finished… I knew. At that point I didn’t care if we ended up soulmates or not, I just knew I would happily spend the rest of my life right by his side.”

“And I knew we were soulmates when he attempted that quad flip for the first time. He had already surprised me so many times, but that surprise was the cherry on the cake. We kissed for the first time that day and I felt completely at home.”

“I have no clue what else to say that Yuuri hasn’t covered already. I love you so much Yuuri, and I don’t want to spend another second without you. Thank you for becoming the definition of the two L words for me. Always stay close to me.”

The wedding was a success, everything went according to plan. The music to their first dance as a married couple was 'Stay Close to Me’. The very same version that they did their duet on the ice after his silver in the Grand Prix Final.

And then the 'chaos’ started when everyone, seemingly following the same plan, attempted to get Yuuri drunk. He refused, mainly because this was his wedding and he wanted it to be a day he remembered.

As the night wore on, the guests gave their congratulations, even those they didn’t expect.

(“Congrats Yuuri, Victor. A little disappointed you did end up getting married before us but I can’t say you didn’t deserve the win at the Four Continents.” JJ stated as he shook their hands, Isabella giving them a kiss on the cheek in congratulations.

“Thank you JJ. I hope you and Isabella do get your wedding soon, you two make a great couple.”

“Not as great as us thought Yuuri.” Victor added at the end. The four laughed.

“I should thank you though Yuuri for speaking to me after the final. You certainly helped, especially after the short program going the way it did.”

“It’s no problem, I literally did the same thing the year before. I was glad to help.”

The pair grinned.)

And then the dancing began. Though there wasn’t any dance offs (they couldn’t get Yuuri drunk enough), there was still as much enthusiastic dancing. Yuuri and Victor couldn’t stop smiling.

“I love you Yuuri.”

“Love you too Vitya.”

—

Many days later, as they lay in bed together, arms wrapped around one another in a gentle embrace, their conversation steered back towards soulmate marks.

Yuuri showed Victor his wrist,

See you soon Yuuri

He traced the letters that formed the final words he was going to say to Yuuri, even though he had no intentions of ever saying them ever. He hummed to himself.

“Is something the matter Vitya?”

“Nothing… just thinking.” He said. He didn’t speak for a moment before continuing. “I’m so sorry for saying them before I went back to Hasetsu for Makkachin.”

“No no no, it’s fine. Besides, I highly doubt whatever I said to you were the words you’ve got on your wrist right?”

Victor remained silent.

“Vitya? What’s wrong?”

Nothing.

“Vitya?” Still no response. “Vitya.”

He felt Victor pull his wrist away slightly and he huffed in annoyance.

“Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki, what are the words on your wrist?”

Victor tensed up before reluctantly showing Yuuri his wrist. Yuuri slowly read the words, taking in every single letter.

Love you too Vitya

Yuuri was unable to speak for a moment.

“I-I said that to you on our wedding day. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Yuuri, I know. And trust me, while I was slightly worried, nothing would make me happier than to hear you say those words to me.”

“But Vitya-”

“Yuuri. I love you, and even if those words are your supposed last words towards me, I would have no regrets. Besides, if I remember not to say se- I mean your… wait… my words, we should be ok.”

“Vitya…”

“I love you Yuuri, I always will.” Victor pressed a kiss to his husbands forehead, savouring the action for each second before pulling away. He didn’t stay away for too long though, Yuuri pulling him back in close to him.

“… I love you too Vitya.”

Victor smiled as the pair slowly fell silent and went to sleep.

—

Several years passed since their wedding, retiring from their competitive days at some point. Victor retired before Yuuri, the moment he did he dedicated every second to being the best husband (as if he wasn’t already) and being the best coach Yuuri could ever ask for, until Yuuri finally retired at twenty nine years old.

The pair decided to start as a coaching team, their main base being in St. Petersburg. Yuuri primarily taught the younger skaters that were coming up through the levels while Victor attempted to teach the higher levelled skaters.

Yurio became their unofficial top pupil. Until Yakov himself retired, he was technically still under his teaching but the moment he hung up his skates forever, Yurio was being coached by Yuuri and Victor.

Some skaters from elsewhere joined the club, the familiar voice of Minami calling Yuuri over the phone asking if he could come over to St. Petersburg for lessons and their coaching being one instance.

They were truly content with their lives. Their lives were perfect.

Yuuri was coaching in the rink, putting a program together for Minami when his phone rang. Minami told Yuuri to answer, he didn’t mind waiting a little while to get the rest of his short program choreographed. He skated off to the rink and started going through what he had already been taught.

“Vitya, you know I’m doing a lesson right now?”

“Whoops, my bad there. I can hang up if you’d like?”

“It’s fine, Kenjirou already told me to answer the call and is working on his partially made program.” Yuuri said, turning to watch his student as he practiced the steps. “So what do I owe the pleasure of getting to hear the beautiful voice of my husband?”

“Nothing much really, am I not allowed to call my soulmate who I love so very much?”

“I suppose you can.” Yuuri joked, giving Minami a quick thumbs up as he completed the segment correctly.

“Ah, I love you so much, you know that right?”

“Well, I would have to be deaf not to know. I mean, you say it to me nearly every second of every day, not that I’m complaining about it. There are definitely far worse things you could say over and over.”

“Like what exactly Yuuri? What sort of things could be worse? Could it possibly be me saying how much I love your d-”

“Victor I’m in the presence of a child.”

“I’m twenty four! I’m not a child!” Minami called, having heard his coach’s comment.

“Vitya, how dare you even consider ruining this poor child’s innocence?”

“You heard him yourself, he’s twenty four. I hardly doubt what I was going to say would ruin any of his innocence.”

“Sure Vitya, whatever you say.” He teased before sighing. “Say Vitya, where are you? I can hear the car running.”

“That’s because I’m driving at the moment!”

“And you are calling me? What a risk taker!”

“I’m using the Bluetooth function Yuuri, hands free! So much safer than putting a phone to my ear.”

“What were you doing in the car?”

“Just went for a little drive, nothing to worry about. Visited Yakov since I hadn’t seen my old coach in a while, I’m on my way home now actually. Probably about twenty minutes away if there is little traffic.”

“Did you say hi from me at all? I mean he has technically been my coach when you haven’t been there.”

“Yuuri for the last time I’m sorry I couldn’t be there at the Grand Prix Final four years ago, the food really didn’t agree with me.”

“Be thankful I managed to get over your lack of appearance and still got the gold medal.”

“I know I know.”

Yuuri always found his conversations with Victor flowed easily, even as the years went by. The small smile that stayed on his face as he spoke with his husband. God he loved Victor so much.

“I better hang up now though Vitya, I should finish Kenjirou’s program soon.”

“I should hang up as well, I suppose I can wait until we both are at home before I hear your lovely voice again. I love you Yuuri.”

“Love you too Vitya.” Yuuri said, making a kiss sound through the speaker of the phone. Victor laughed (a laugh that Yuuri found absolutely amazing and made his heart grow every time he heard it) and returned the action.

“See you soon Yuuri.”

They hung up before they realised the implications of what they just said, Yuuri placing his phone down on the barrier as he skated out to Minami, who was waiting for his call to end.

“You and Victor are relationship goals to be honest. I hope I find someone like him some day.”

“You’ll find someone Kenjirou, I was your age when I found my soul…mate…” Yuuri’s face darkened with realisation before panic set in, rushing back to the side of the rink as he scrambled to unlock his phone.

“Come on Vitya pick up, please.”

“What’s going on Yuuri?”

“We… we said the words.” The call went to voice mail. He tried again immediately. No answer yet again.

He changed contacts to Yuri.

“Yurio!”

“What’s up with you Katsudon? I don’t have a lesson today, unless I forgot about it.”

“No, it’s not that. I need you to get Victor to answer his phone.”

“Why?”

“Yurio please, there isn’t time. Just get him to answer me I need to speak to him.”

“Fine fine, sure I’ll try get him to pick up.”

“Thank you Yurio. You don’t understand how much I need him to pick up right now.”

“… Katsudon i’m worried. What happened? You haven’t been this panicked since your last anniversary when you couldn’t get anything booked.”

“Yurio… we… I’m so stupid why did I say that? I shouldn’t of said that to Vitya. I should have known…”

The silence he was responded with let Yuuri know that Yurio understood what the situation was, hanging up almost instantly.

He tried calling Victor again, still getting no response.

Tears started pouring down his cheeks in worry.

“Yuuri, I’m sure it will be fine. It was just a coincidence.” Minami said, trying to comfort his panicking coach. “Deep breaths.”

He followed his students instructions as best as he could, his heart rate lowering from the hammering it was doing a minute previously.

“I’m meant to be the coach. You shouldn’t be comforting me.”

“It’s no problem, least I could do after all you’ve done for me.”

Yuuri tried to clear his mind of the end of the conversation, phone resting in his pocket as he continued giving Minami his choreography for the program.

They got quite a bit further through the program, almost reaching its completion with only thirty or so seconds remaining of the music to create movements too. That is, until his phone pinged.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to look, though he regretted it instantly the moment he read it.

[Breaking News] Devastating Car Collision on the Motorway near St. Petersburg

He looked at the notification and unlocked his phone to get more on the story. He regretted his actions as he saw an all to familiar car broken far beyond repair in the image that accompanied the news title.

“I-I’m sorry K-kenjirou… I-I have to go… Y-you don’t have to p-pay me or anything f-for this lesson. I-I’m sorry.” He mumbled out as he rushed to the side of the rink, gathering his stuff and yanking his laces undone. “F-feel free to s-stay longer i-if you want t-to.”

Minami was left alone in the rink as his coach disappeared from sight. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. He hoped, for Yuuri’s sake, that everything would be ok.

Yuuri sprinted towards the location of the crash. He didn’t care that it was several miles away through the almost blizzard of snow, he had to get there in time.

His shoes slowly soaked through and he could hardly feel his toes but he kept pushing. He could make it. He would make it. He had to make it.

He didn’t know how far he ran, for how long, all thoughts merged into one.

Vitya.

He gasped as a strange feeling overcame his body. He felt as if his heart stopped. Tears already started flowing down his face as his pace slowed.

He tried to regain his breath but the feeling of being torn apart took over. No no no. His breathing rasped as he fell to his knees.

His trousers became soaked from the snow that was on the ground but he didn’t care. He didn’t care the looks he got from the few people that were walking around as he bawled his eyes out.

I didn’t make it.

All he could do was think, thoughts stewing in his mind.

(“Starting today I’m going to be your coach.”)

(“Unleash the Eros that is within you. Maybe no one has seen it yet, but I know it’s in there, just smouldering there, waiting for it’s chance to rise.”)

(“Can you do that? Can you show me?”)

[Breaking News] Devastating Car Collision causes one fatality and several injuries

(“That was the only way I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.”)

(“It almost sounds like a marriage proposal… In that case, I hope you never retire.”)

(“When are you going to get out of warm up mode?”)

(“I really wanted to kiss the gold medal.”)

(“I love you Yuuri. Stay close to me, forever.”)

(“Thank you for becoming the definition of the L words for me.”)

(“I love you Yuuri.”)

[Breaking News] Fatality at Car Collision revealed to be world famous Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki

(“Love you too Vitya.”)

(“See you soon Yuuri.”)

#yuri on ice #yoi #victuuri #victuri #victuuri week #day 6: soulmate au #victor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #is that angsty enough for you at the end? >:3 #for bonus feels #listen to 'yuri on ice' for the last bit #it made me #the writer #have feels #hitt writes #my fics

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